eddie by frank riley _it's no surprise that the top brass was in a complete swivet; eddie knew answers to questions that weren't even asked. what's more_, nothing _was a secret with him around!_ [transcriber's note: this etext was produced from worlds of if science fiction, december 1957. extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the u.s. copyright on this publication was renewed.] _philip duncan, the st. louis attorney and former fbi agent, who wrote the definitive "history of espionage", observes that in all the records dealing with spies and counterspies there is no more significant case than that of dr. john o'hara smith, an electronics research engineer. duncan maintains that dr. smith, whose rather quixotic name is real and not assumed, contributed more to the advancement of espionage and counter-espionage methods than any one person in history._ _for a period of more than a year, the case of dr. john o'hara smith was known to only a few security and defense officials. the first public reference to it came on november 22, 1956, when an assistant to secretary of defense wilson obliquely commented on it in testimony before the house military affairs committee. subsequently, more details were leaked to several washington correspondents, and then vigorously denied. a brief account of the matter appeared on an inside page of the new york times, but aroused no general interest._ _as a matter of fact, so little is known about the entire case that several of the people who were in on its early phases are still not sure whether dr. john o'hara smith is alive or dead, or whether he was a spy or counterspy._ _however, on the basis of information now declassified, plus two highly technical papers presented to the institute of research engineers, anyone sufficiently interested can reconstruct most of the case._ * * * * * it began at approximately 7:15 p.m., august 11, 1955, when dr. john o'hara smith returned with a bag of groceries to his house trailer in the mira mar trailer park, overlooking a long blue reach of the pacific ocean, some twelve miles south of los angeles. he put the groceries on the drainboard beside his spotless two-burner butane stove, carefully flicked away a speck of dust and then stepped eagerly toward the rear of his trailer, where an intricate assembly of tubes and wires occupied what normally would have been the dining area. dr. smith flipped on a switch, and then received what he later called, in his precise, pedantic way, a split-second premonition of danger. the go-nogo panel light flashed and went out; the transistor looked grey instead of red; the wires to the binary-coded digitizer were crossed; the extra module in the basic assembly had not been there that morning.... dr. smith methodically catalogued these details, and he stepped backward, just a breath of a moment before the low hum sharpened to a whine. he tripped, and in falling his left shoulder knocked open the door to the small toilet closet. instinctively, he writhed the upper part of his body through the narrow doorway. his thick-lensed glasses fell underneath him, leaving him practically blind. his elbows and knees were still making frenzied, primordial crawling movements when the detonation brought a wave of oblivion that almost, but not quite, preceded the pain. * * * * * a squad car from the los angeles county sheriff's department turned in the first report: _john o'hara smith, male, white, about 45; critically injured by explosion in house trailer; removed by ambulance to general hospital; explosion occurred at...._ two days later, the sheriffs department apparently closed the case with a one-line addition to its original report: _explosion believed to have been caused by leaking butane connection._ but, in the interval, other agencies had entered the case. the first was the industrial security office attached to the western division of the air force's research and development command in the once suburban community of inglewood, california. when chief security officer amos busch received a call at 11:32 the morning after the explosion, he automatically noted the time on his desk pad. the call was from pacific electronics, inc., a subcontracting firm in nearby el segundo. the president and owner of pacific electronics was on the phone. in a tone that betrayed considerable agitation, he identified himself as wesley browne. "one of my research engineers--my best engineer, dammit--was nearly killed last night in an explosion ... maybe he's dead now," reported browne, his words breathlessly treading on each other. "there's something damn funny about this...." amos busch wrote: research engineer ... explosion ... nearly killed. then he asked judicially: "what do you mean by 'damn funny', mr. browne?" "this engineer was working on our vernier actuating cylinder for the atlas guided missile.... just two days ago, he--he said he wanted me to know where his files were ... in case anything happened to him...." amos busch was a jowly, greying man who gave the appearance of being slow moving. but before the president of pacific electronics, inc., hung up, busch had already used another phone and the intercom to put in motion a chain reaction that would deliver to his desk the security report on dr. john o'hara smith. there was nothing out of order in the report. there couldn't have been, or dr. smith wouldn't have been cleared for the ballistic missile program. according to the report, he had lived aloofly for all of his adult years. even as a boy, his sole interest had been to tinker with mechanical projects. his grades and iq were high above the norm, and his attitude towards his classmates varied between impatience and out-right sarcasm. "i always thought john was a lonely boy," a former teacher had recalled to an fbi officer during the security check. "he never had anything in common with other youngsters." after obtaining his ph.d. in electrical engineering from the university of wisconsin, he had worked for allis-chalmers research division in milwaukee and lived with his mother until her death in 1951, when he bought a house trailer and moved to the coast. he had no close friends, no record of even a remote connection with any communist or communist-front group. security officer busch decided to visit the trailer, or what remained of it. he was not an electronics man, or even a normally incompetent do-it-yourself mechanic, but when he saw the shattered tangle of wires and tubes, along with the obvious remnant of a short-wave receiver, amos busch promptly called major general david sanders, commander of the usaf's western development division. general sanders scratched his tanned bald head, and said, "we'd better get the fbi in on this, amos." the fbi went to work with a thoroughness that made john o'hara smith's previous security investigation look like the processing of an application to join the kiwanis. while agents sifted every detail of his life since the day of his birth, he was moved to a private room at general hospital and three nurses cleared for security were assigned to care for him. for eight days, smith was in a coma. on the morning of the ninth day, he groaned, turned to one side and rolled back again. the nurse on duty put down her magazine and moved quickly to his bedside. she moistened a cloth and wiped the perspiration from his high forehead, brushing back the thinning tangle of fine, brown hair. his eyes blinked open, stared at her. he whispered: "eddie ... what happened ... to eddie?" remembering her instructions from the fbi, the nurse turned to make certain the door was closed. "was eddie in the trailer with you?" she asked, bending closer to catch his reply. he gave her a look of utter disgust, and tried to moisten his cracked lips with the tip of his tongue. but he drifted off again without replying. this incident was duly recorded in the fbi's growing dossier, along with another conversation that took place in the office of wesley browne at pacific electronics, inc. after carefully reviewing john o'hara smith's work record, fbi agent frank cowles inquired: "is there anything--anything at all, mr. browne--that you would consider out of the ordinary about smith's recent actions?" there was a trace of uneasiness in browne's manner, but he tried to cover it by looking annoyed. "i don't know why in the devil you fellows are spending so much time on smith!... he sure as hell didn't blow himself up!" "of course not," cowles said, placatingly. "but we never know where a lead will come from...." he repeated the question. browne hesitated. "i suppose," he began, shifting his big bulk uncomfortably, "this will sound kind of odd ... but you know we've got the subcontract to produce this actuating cylinder for the atlas...." the agent nodded. "well, six months before we were asked to submit specs and bids on such a cylinder, smith came to me and said he had an idea for something the air force might soon be needing...." agent cowles maintained his air of polite attention, but his cool grey eyes narrowed. browne shifted again, and continued: "i told him to go ahead--you never can tell what these research guys will come up with...." "and what did he come up with, mr. browne?" "you won't believe this, maybe--but he came up with the design for the complete vernier hydraulic actuating cylinder--including the drive sector gear--at least three months before we had the faintest idea such an item would even be needed!" the fbi man's ball-point pen moved swiftly. "anything else?" browne instinctively lowered his voice: "smith even suggested that the cylinder would help to offset the roll and yaw in an intercontinental ballistic missile!" a brittle edge came into the agent's courteous tone: "did you report this to security?" in spite of the air-conditioning unit in the window, the president and owner of pacific electronics, inc., seemed to feel that the room was getting very warm. he ran a fat forefinger under his white collar. "no," he admitted. "we got the contract, of course--it was a cinch!--and i just wrote it off as a lucky break.... you can see how i'd feel, can't you?" "yes," said cowles, "i can." bit by bit, a new picture of the meticulous, professorial dr. smith began to emerge from the fbi dossier. during the working week, his habit had been to keep his trailer in a small park just off sepulveda blvd., a half-mile from the pacific electronics plant. after work on fridays, he invariably left for the weekend, usually for any one of a dozen scenic trailer parks along the coast between san diego and santa barbara. he always went alone. no one had ever seen or met "eddie". outside of working hours, smith's only association with his professional colleagues was through the institute of research engineers. he attended monthly meetings, and occasionally wrote dry, abstract articles on theoretical research for the institute's quarterly journal. under microscopic study and chemical analysis, investigators determined that nitro-glycerine had caused the explosion. the fused mass of electronics wreckage in smith's trailer were identified as parts of a computer assembly. thousands of dollars had been spent on components over the past three years. purchases, usually for cash, were traced to various electronic supply companies in the greater los angeles area. dr. smith's bank account showed a balance of only $263.15. but the big find came from a safety deposit box in the same branch bank. there, along with a birth certificate, his mother's marriage license, an insurance policy, his doctor's degree from the university of wisconsin and an unused passport, was a duplicate set of computer memory tapes. * * * * * it took the fbi forty-eight hours to play a few selected segments from these tapes, which obviously had been recorded over a period of several years. two notations made by agent cowles indicate the type of material contained on the tapes: "if a deliberate attempt were made to run a thermonuclear test explosion within the frontiers of russia, in such a way as to avoid detection, it would almost certainly be successful...." "the soviet union may soon develop a new ratio of fusion to fission energy in high yield weapons and will require additional data...." fbi agents listening to these playbacks were convinced, almost to a man, that they had stumbled across the hottest espionage trail since the arrest of klaus fuchs and the case of the rosenbergs. a round-the-clock security guard was placed outside the hospital room of john o'hara smith, while federal authorities waited impatiently to see whether he would live or die. smith would answer, or leave unanswered, a lot of vital questions. * * * * * security notwithstanding, it was the day after labor day before the medical staff of general hospital would permit the first direct questioning of dr. smith. and then the interrogators were instructed: "only a few minutes." three men filed quietly into smith's room as soon as the nurse removed his luncheon tray. they stood in a semi-circle around the foot of his bed. agent frank cowles opened a black leather folder the size of a small billfold and presented his credentials. he introduced general sanders and security officer busch. it was the first time any of the men had seen john o'hara smith. the reports had called him pudgy, but now he had lost twenty pounds and his cheek bones were gaunt under his pallid skin. he wore unusually thick, dark-rimmed glasses that magnified his eyes and gave him an owlish appearance. he returned their scrutiny with a mixture of assurance and impatience, like a professor waiting for his class to come to order. "good morning, gentlemen," he said tartly. "it's about time someone came to see me about this...." cowles cleared his throat and suggested cautiously: "then you're willing to give us a statement, dr. smith?" "don't talk drivel, man! how are you going to know anything about it if i don't make a statement!" though still weak, dr. smith's voice had a high, imperious quality. clearly, he did not wish to waste time or strength on mere conversation. the three men exchanged glances. cowles and amos busch took out notebooks. "now, dr. smith," cowles began, "what is your view as to the nature of the explosion in your trailer and the reason for it?" "i'm an electronics research engineer, not an expert in explosives," smith retorted with some asperity. "but as to the reason, i'm sure they wanted to destroy eddie and me!" he glared, as if daring anybody to challenge this statement. "eddie?" ventured cowles. "i try to speak plainly, mr. cowles.... i said 'eddie and me'!" general david sanders rested two large hands on the foot of the white iron bedstead and squeezed until his knuckles bulged ominously. a volatile man, he had trouble with his own temper even without being provoked. but his voice was deceptively calm: "dr. smith, do i gather that someone else was in the trailer with you at the time of the explosion?" smith grimaced expressively, and answered as if speaking to an eight-year-old: "no, general sanders.... i was quite alone." after thirty years in the air force, amos busch was not used to hearing a major general spoken to in this way. it violated his sense of propriety. "dr. smith," he exploded, "just who or what in the hell is or was eddie?" with what was remarkably close to an air of incredulity, smith looked slowly from one to the other. "i gather you gentlemen haven't read my latest article." "not thoroughly," cowles admitted. "then you don't know of my research work with an educatable computer," smith said accusingly. seeing that they didn't, he added: "i have named it 'eddie'!" "what ... what is an educatable computer?" ventured cowles. it was clear that dr. smith welcomed this question. his eyes glowed behind their thick lenses, and his high voice dropped its edge of sharpness. "eddie is a computer with a capacity to learn," he replied proudly. "it learns from assimilation of information and deductive reasoning--at a rate at least 10,000 times that of the human mind! that's why eddie comes up with so many answers!... the only problem is, we seldom know what questions the answers answer." his three interrogators had the look of men leaning into a heavy wind. general sanders recovered first, and demanded: "what the devil was it made for then?" "eddie was not designed for any specific task--that's why eddie is so valuable ... and dangerous!" dr. smith rolled out this last word as if he relished it. "do you realize," he went on, with careful emphasis, "that eddie has solved problems we won't even know exist for another thousand years!" this pronouncement was greeted by a moment of strained silence. general sanders finally said, "h-m-m-m." he looked at busch, who looked at cowles, who asked: "does eddie solve any problems closer to our own time, dr. smith?" "of course...." "did eddie come up with the idea for that atlas stabilizing cylinder?" "certainly." general sanders moved a step closer to the bed. "any other ideas like that?" he inquired eagerly. dr. smith's smile was neither wholly supercilious nor merely self-assured. it was a little of both, plus a lot of pure satisfaction at being stage center with his favorite subject. he cocked his head back and stared down his stump of a nose. "you're working on a missile defense system for bombers, aren't you?" he challenged general sanders. "what about it?" hedged the general. "have you learned how to design a finned missile which can be launched across the bomber's airstream without being thrown off course?" general sanders ignored a warning glance from amos busch. "do you ... does this eddie know how to do it?" "eddie says it doesn't matter!" "what?" "eddie says what difference does it make if the missile is thrown off course by the airstream--as long as you can reorient it into a compensated trajectory. we were working on a new gyroscope principle that might do the trick...." fbi agent cowles was always the personification of courtesy, but he could assert himself when necessary. he did so now. "excuse me, general," he interrupted, "but first there are some other matters we must go into with dr. smith." the general nodded reluctantly. he took out an envelope and made some notes of his own on the back of it. "now, dr. smith," said cowles, "let's get back to the explosion.... why do you feel someone wanted to destroy you and eddie?" "i believe they had copied eddie's circuit design and wanted to make sure another one wasn't built--at least in the immediate future." "why not?" dr. john o'hara smith showed a neat flair for timing as he waited just long enough to build suspense, before answering: "because eddie knew that our security system for safeguarding the missile program is about as up to date as the horse and buggy!" his words couldn't have been better chosen to startle his audience. amos busch took them as a personal affront. "horse and buggy!" he snorted. "you'd better spell that out, dr. smith!" smith's reply was prompt and precise: "eddie has concluded that human methods and minds alone are not enough to cope with security issues in an area where even the simplest technical problems must be handled by intricate computing devices...." his owlish eyes moved from one man to another, trying to judge whether they were following him. "you see, gentlemen," he went on, "the technology we are dealing with is so unbelievably complex that the possibilities for espionage are multiplied infinitely beyond the capacity of a human intellect to grasp and evaluate...." "for example," demanded general sanders. "for example," smith retorted with equal sharpness, "what good does it do to surround ballistic missile plants with security regulations if the missile itself can be stolen right out of the air?" "fantastic!" said general sanders. "nuts," said amos busch. agent cowles said nothing. john o'hara smith sank back against his pillow, panting a little. his high forehead glistened with sweat. when he gathered the strength to speak again, he directed his words to general sanders: "general, these icbm missiles being fired into the atlantic ocean from the coast of florida.... are you sure you know what's happened to all of them?" "i think so," the general answered calmly. "and what about your own x-15 project, general?" the question was almost a taunt. general david william sanders had jumped with his paratroopers into france on a morning in june, 1944. he had risen in rank through the test of battle and the more excruciating ordeal of the pentagon. he was a rock-jawed, six-foot, two-hundred pound man whom little could shock and nothing could deter. but he had never faced a challenge like the seconds of silence that followed dr. smith's mocking question. there was nothing he dared say, yet in saying nothing he was saying everything. fbi agent frank cowles looked at him, then looked quickly away. security officer busch studied his own hands as though discovering them for the first time. the tableau remained frozen and silent until the door opened and a doctor said, "that's all for today, gentlemen." the three men left without a word. dr. john o'hara smith closed his eyes. on his pale lips was the suggestion of a smile. * * * * * when they were alone in the general's staff car, amos busch exhaled and said, "i'll be damned." "i gather," observed cowles drily, "that something called an x-15 has turned up missing." "a week ago," sighed general sanders. "somewhere in the mojave desert near lancaster.... it was a very elementary prototype--the actual x-15 won't be ready for another three years...." "any idea what happened to it?" "it was on a routine test flight and ran out of the tracking screen--headed northwest.... we haven't found a splinter from it! but there's a lot of rough country around there." "who knows it was lost?" "just the local base and our headquarters staff. the pentagon, too, of course." "and dr. smith," added amos busch, incredulously. the staff car detoured off the freeway to deliver cowles to the federal building. "what do you make of this, frank?" the general asked him. "i'm just supposed to be gathering information." "oh, hell! we've been talking and you've been thinking--what?" cowles grinned. "i've been thinking how lucky it is i don't have to make a decision about smith!" "so?" "so we'll question him again tomorrow.... as long as he's willing to talk, the more he says, the better." but, next morning, the medical staff again exercised its veto power. john o'hara smith had developed an infection and fever during the night. there could be no further questioning for the time being. on the second day, when his fever ebbed, dr. smith irascibly ordered a pad of paper and began an interminable series of sketches. the nurse managed to sneak out a few of them, and fbi experts sat up all night vainly trying to figure out what they meant. the following evening, when the last visitor's bell had sounded and the patients were bedded down for the night, dr. smith was staring unblinkingly into the dark shadows of his room. he had been given a sleeping pill at 9:30, but had held it under his tongue until the nurse left, and then had put it on the night table behind his thick-rimmed glasses. he seemed to be struggling with a problem. once he turned on the night light, put on his glasses and made several rapid sketches that vaguely resembled a spider web. a half hour later, his eyes began to droop. he picked up the sleeping pill, rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, then put it back on the table. his breathing became deeper. a sound startled him awake. it was an odd sound, not a part of the subdued hospital noises. it was a persistent, metallic, scraping sound, and it came from outside his window. dr. john o'hara smith grabbed his glasses and rolled out of bed. he bunched up his pillow under the covers and crawled into the deeper darkness of the corner to the left of the window, which was open several inches. he crouched there, knees quivering from weakness. there followed an interval of almost inaudible prying at the screen, broken by periods of silence as someone outside the second-story window apparently paused to listen. finally, the screen was released with a faint pop. the lower half of the double-hung window eased upwards. again there was silence, save for the distant clatter of the self-service elevator. abruptly, a pencil-thin beam of light shot through the room, toward the bed. it focussed on the mound made by the pillow. short tongues of flame leaped out three times, with soft, spitting sounds. the pillow and the tangle of blankets twitched realistically. the beam of light winked out; the screen plopped back into place. there were a few hasty, sliding noises of retreat, and that was all. john o'hara smith's breath came in short, strained gasps, as though he were choked up with asthma. when he got control of himself, he eased back the edge of the drape and looked out the window. it was nearly twenty feet to the ground. a car turned off the boulevard, and came up the side street. the glow of its headlights briefly silhouetted the ladder angled against the side of the hospital. dr. smith sat on the edge of the bed to think things over. his left thumb probed the holes in the blanket and pillow. this seemed to make up his mind. he got his clothes from the closet and dressed as quickly as he could force his hands to move and co-ordinate. his trousers hung so loosely that the last hole in his belt made no difference. he pulled the belt tight and knotted it. next, he carefully folded his sketches and put them in the inside pocket of his coat. as an after-thought, he also put the sleeping pill in his pocket. then he drank half a glass of water and painfully edged himself out the window. his chest scraped the ledge, and it was all he could do to strangle an out-cry of pain. at the foot of the ladder, he staggered and nearly fell. but after a moment's rest, he squared his shoulders and walked across a corner of the lawn, into the shadows and the night. * * * * * the los angeles mirror-news got further than any other paper with the story of dr. john o'hara smith's mysterious disappearance from general hospital, leaving behind a bed riddled with three bullets. in fact, the mirror-news story had cleared the copy desk and was on its way down to the composing room before it was killed by the managing editor "for security reasons". an all-points police bulletin was sent out, but no one was optimistic about immediate results. when you can't admit a man is missing, when you can't publish his photograph, you deprive yourself of the eyes and ears of the public, which turn up seventy-five percent of the leads in missing persons cases. security considerations posed three alternatives: if dr. smith was telling the truth, then it was better to let whoever had twice tried to kill him wonder whether the second attempt had been successful. if smith had broken with an espionage ring, and had been marked for death by former associates, the various agencies concerned with security wanted a chance to find him first. if smith was playing some devious game of his own, let him make the next move. as days went by, telephone circuits from washington to los angeles carried messages that grew increasingly uncomplimentary. fbi headquarters hinted that certain field representatives might be transferred from southern california to southern kansas if results in the smith case were not forthcoming promptly. the air force suggested that if both dr. smith and the x-15 prototype continued to be among the missing, it would not be wise to present the pending promotion of general sanders to the white house. the general was moodily digesting this thought, while half-listening to a discussion at a morning staff conference, when an aide whispered: "a call from the north american lancaster plant, sir. it's urgent--and personal...." general sanders excused himself and hurried into his adjoining private office. "sanders," he barked. the high, imperious voice that replied was instantly recognizable: "general sanders, i suggest you don't try to have this call traced, or we might not be able to finish our conversation!" the general pressed his intercom button and held the connection open, waiting for a chance to use it. "go ahead, smith," he said. "i'll come directly to the point," said smith. "i want two things: a place to work in safety and the funds to build another eddie!" "and what makes you think you can get them from me?" "because eddie can help you find the x-15." the general hunched closer to the intercom, raising his voice. "smith," he stalled, "why don't you come in and talk things over?" "i do not intend to sit around waiting to be killed while your security bunglers try to decide whether i'm telling the truth!" a staff sergeant looked in the door. "is anything wrong, sir?" the general motioned for silence, then scrawled on a note pad: "trace this call!" "now, dr. smith," he said, "if you're telling us the truth, you've got nothing to worry about...." "general," smith replied acidly, "do you know any better way of convincing you than to let eddie find the x-15?" "well, i--" "goodbye, general. you think it over--and i'll call you later. your word will be sufficient!" the phone clicked, and general sanders cursed bitterly. later, he talked it over with amos busch, who nodded agreement to the general's proposal. "sure," he said. "it's worth a gamble--and we'll have smith where we want him!" when john o'hara smith phoned that afternoon, the general said promptly: "come on in, dr. smith--you've got a deal." the available records on this phase of the case show that a dr. j. o. smith and three "assistants" were added to the payroll of a small pasadena electronics firm on september 17, 1955. they were installed in one wing on the top floor of the building. the entrance to this wing was sealed off with the familiar sign: "restricted--permission to enter granted only on a need-to-know basis". apparently, few needed to know, for smith and his assistants seldom had visitors. deliveries of electronics components were received by one of the assistants. the four men arrived together, and left together. they brought their lunch. dr. smith, of course, had been interrogated briefly when he had turned himself in at usaf western division headquarters. but only the general and amos busch had questioned him this time. "look, smith," said amos, "if we're supposed to protect you, i want to know from what--and why it's necessary...." john o'hara smith looked almost embarrassed. "i suppose i made the same error that is so often made in declassifying information...." "how's that?" "when information is declassified, it's done without mathematically computing the infinite number of possible ways such information may be useful to a hostile government.... of course, you need an eddie to make such a computation!" "what's this got to do with trying to knock you off?" busch demanded. "it's quite evident that someone read my article in the research engineers' journal more carefully than you did! as a matter of fact, eddie actually warned me that anyone hostile to the united states could not possibly allow my work to continue!" amos busch and general sanders exchanged wary glances. "all right," said general sanders, "we'll let that go for the moment--but what made you ask about the x-15 in the first place?" "eddie suggested that if the icbm missiles could theoretically be stolen over the mid-atlantic, it would be vastly less difficult to steal an x-15 over the mojave desert!" as the two air force men digested this statement, along with the indisputable fact that an x-15 _had_ disappeared, john o'hara smith blandly informed them: "incidentally, gentlemen, you'll have to get eddie's duplicate tapes for me." busch reddened, and could not resist asking: "including those short-wave broadcasts from moscow radio?" "naturally!" dr. smith snapped. "i'm sure eddie extracts a great deal of useful information from them!" this second interrogation, like the previous one in the hospital, ended on a triumphant note for the exasperating dr. smith. when they were alone, general sanders turned to busch and sighed: "we've got a double security problem, amos! if word of this deal with smith gets back to washington, i'll be laughed right out of the service!" but the general didn't begin to grasp the full implications of his predicament until the afternoon of oct. 7, when dr. smith phoned to say eddie was completed. "good," grunted the general. "get going, then!" "we'll need more information first." "what kind of information?" general sanders demanded suspiciously. his suspicions were reinforced by smith's terse dictum: "eddie must have all the facts on the x-15." "impossible!" dr. smith's sniff indicated he nurtured utter disbelief in the concept of the impossible. "eddie operates on facts," he reminded the general. general sanders didn't sleep much that night. neither did amos busch. they talked and argued until three in the morning, when the general poured one last drink and raised his glass. "o.k.," he said grimly. "i've gone this far and i've got to go the rest of the way!" they drank, and he continued: "at least, now i won't have to worry about being laughed out of the service--i'll get court-martialed out!" he jabbed viciously at an ice-cube with his forefinger. "but there's one thing i'll do first," he promised. "what's that, sir?" "strangle smith with my bare hands!" * * * * * general sanders sat on a metal folding chair in front of eddie, the educatable computer, and stared belligerently at the roughly-finished aluminum facade. eddie didn't look like much--certainly nothing like $13,456.12 worth of components paid for out of the general's contingency fund. speed had been the primary consideration in rebuilding eddie. the exterior case was unpainted, and rather inexpertly held together with metal screws. there were no knobs on the front panel controls. the vocader grill was open; the input microphone simply rested on the workbench beside the case. the entire assembly measured about three feet long, two feet deep and eighteen inches high. "o.k., what do i do now?" rasped the general. "just start talking--into the mike." general sanders took a sheaf of papers from his briefcase. he glared at smith: "you get the hell out of here! this is classified information!" dr. smith smiled mockingly. on his way out of the room, he paused. "the circuits will stay open--take as long as you wish." feeling like a combination of fool and benedict arnold, general sanders cleared his throat and began to read: "the north american x-15 is one of several projects now nearing the hardware stage that will take living men as well as instruments into the fourth environment of military activity, that of space. "as soon as the satellite project completes preliminary exploration of the massive high energy spectrometer, the x-15's system should be ready to fly within two years. x-15s a, b, and c will explore 3000 mph, 50 mi. up; 4500 mph, 100 mi. up; and 6000 mph and over, 150 mi. up and out...." general sanders jerked open his tie. his tanned bald head was damp with sweat. he glanced around the empty workroom, set his jaw stubbornly and continued: "meanwhile, tests are in progress with a pilot model of x-15 to work out an entirely new vehicle system slow enough to maintain laminar flow in the boundary layer and fast enough to maintain control effectiveness at near sea-level environment. unlike the icbm which need only remain lethal for a few seconds, both the x-15 and its personnel must return to fly again...." for three hours, general sanders read steadily from his file material. during the last half hour, his voice grew husky, his throat dry and raw. when he finished, he went to the door and shouted: "all right, smith.... come in here and put this damn thing to work!" smith came in and informed him imperturbably: "not so fast, general! eddie will still require a great deal more information." "more? dammit, i covered everything!" "everything you know about the x-15," dr. smith agreed, "but eddie is now venturing into a new field and must have more than technical electronics and avionics data. he needs complete reports on the progress of the search to date, as well as the weather, topography, economy, history and current happenings in the entire peripheral area. i have built a supplemental circuit to accommodate this sort of material...." general sanders groaned. "how the hell do i get into these things?" during the next ten days, eddie scanned microfilm on all the newspapers published since x-15's disappearance. also marshalled before the scanner was every pertinent reference work available at public, private and university libraries in california. at length, even john o'hara smith seemed satisfied. he shut off the scanner, turned on the selector mechanism and the vocader switch. for two hours, eddie did nothing, except hum contentedly, like a miniature washing machine. occasionally, a weird, flickering pattern of multi-colored lights would trace across the scanning screen. at 11:06 a.m., october 19, 1955, a flat, toneless voice came from the vocader grill: "laminar flow equilibrium temperature at mach 8.0, altitude 150,000 ft., of a point 10 ft. back from the leading edge is 1000 degrees fahrenheit, assuming skin has 0.85 emissivity." there was a small, whirring noise, and the vocader circuit clicked off. "what the devil does that mean?" demanded the general. "your aerophysicists might like to know!" came back the tart reply. at 1:34, eddie clicked into action again: "in flight between two planets, the theory of minimum energy orbit should be discarded in favor of acceleration at reduced speed for calculated periods of time." "by the time we're flying between planets," general sanders commented bitterly, "the record of my court-martial will be ancient history!" twenty minutes later, eddie added: "in the operation of small exploration vehicles, the fuel cell of the 4-h clubs in hanford and bitteroot creek will compete with the chemical energy of recombination for the prize sweet potato trophy." even john o'hara smith looked startled. but he recovered his aplomb instantly. "must be a circuit crossover," he explained. "no trouble to adjust it...." while he probed into the interior of eddie with a glass-handled screwdriver, general sanders took out a fresh cigarette and shredded it between his fingers. at 2:51, eddie had this to report: "just as the basic physical precept of invariancy to reflection is not necessarily true, newton's laws of motion may not always apply under certain circumstances. this would make it possible to penetrate and misdirect a navigational system based on the concept of inertial guidance." general sanders had been tilted back in his chair, half dozing. he bounced forward with a jar. "what was that?" dr. smith replayed this portion of the output tape. "we talked about that at the hospital," he sternly recalled to the general. "and if the long-range missiles fired from florida can be taken over in flight, what's to prevent their being guided to a submarine at sea?" the general frowned in deep concentration, then relaxed and shook his head. "even if something like that would be possible, we've got nothing to worry about. every missile carries a device which can be used to destroy it if the missile goes off course." john o'hara smith shook his head like a teacher confronted with a pupil who was not too bright. "now, general, if an inertial guidance system can be penetrated, a destructor can be blocked." "that's a mighty big if," the general shot back. dr. smith smiled sardonically. "it may not be so big when eddie tells us what happened to the x-15!" "when!" the general groaned. then he came back to the problem of intercepted icbm missiles. half seriously, half sarcastically, he asked: "what does eddie think we should do about those missiles?" "undoubtedly there are other guidance systems that can't be broken so easily ... meanwhile, eddie suggests booby-trapping the missiles so they'll explode when tampered with." general sanders closed his eyes again, and tilted back his chair. the frown between his eyes deepened. it was six o'clock, and the early dusk was closing in on the workroom, before another statement came from eddie. in its characteristic monotone, the educatable computer said: "the existing developmental missile program will not be affected by the rising divorce rate in bakersfield and kern county." dr. john o'hara smith pursed his lips in disapproval. "eddie's not behaving at all well! i'm afraid that new circuit relay will take some working over...." general sanders climbed slowly to his feet. he picked up his hat. "o.k., smith," he said, "you sold me a bill of goods, and i bought it! now i'm turning you and this whole damn mess back to the fbi! let cowles go crazy for awhile!" * * * * * as frank cowles sat in the general's office and heard what had been going on, he said mildly: "well, i guess you had to take the gamble." "thanks," said general sanders. "i hope the pentagon will look at it the same way--but i doubt it!" "we've got a problem, too, general," cowles pointed out. "when everything's said and done, there's absolutely no charge we can file against smith." "but he just can't walk away--not with all he--or that miserable eddie--knows about the x-15!" cowles smiled faintly. "i would imagine that eddie now belongs to the air force." "we'll break the damn thing up for scrap!" the general's intercom buzzed. an aide's voice said apologetically: "that dr. smith is calling you again, sir." "tell him to go to hell!" a few seconds later, the intercom buzzed again. "dr. smith on the line, sir--he says it's something about the x-15 missile." general sanders looked as though he wanted to sweep the intercom off his desk. "why not talk to him," cowles suggested. "i'd like to hear this." the general picked up his phone, and said with deceptive calm: "all right, smith ... make it short." "it was the logging truck," dr. smith replied, in his most superior manner. "huh?" "eddie's circuit is coordinated now. he says that the same afternoon the x-15 disappeared, a passenger car ran into the back of a logging truck northbound on highway 395, about fifty miles from the lancaster base. two people were killed...." "smith, what kind of pipedream are you peddling now?" "general, the truck was loaded with redwood logs and heading north!" "i don't give a damn where it was going!" "wait, general!" dr. smith's tone was almost a command. "eddie wants to know why a logging truck was traveling _toward_ the redwood country with a load of logs. he also points out that the x-15 is about the size of a redwood log, and could be concealed perfectly in the middle of a load!" the general seemed to be swallowing something angular and unpleasant. "we'll check that truck," he said, at last. "but remember, smith, you've had it--you'll never hook me again!" he put down the phone, and said to cowles: "you get on the merry-go-round this time!" * * * * * the california highway patrol in mojave had the report on the accident. clearly, it had been the fault of the passenger car. the truck driver was identified in the report as art backus, an independent hauler, working out of eureka, located on the far northern tip of the california coast, about eight hundred miles from the scene of the accident. a routine check by the fbi disclosed that backus had done time in san quentin on a morals charge involving a minor girl. he had driven trucks for a dozen lumber companies in northwest california until the past summer, when he had bought a new truck and trailer, for cash, and gone into business for himself. two fbi agents stepped up to him in a roadside cafe on highway 1, between eureka and trinidad bay. a gaunt, stooped man, he nearly collapsed when the agents showed him their identifications. he was broken, and ready to talk, even before mention was made of the fact that the penalty for peace-time espionage is death. backus guided the fbi to an abandoned sawmill, some two miles inland, where the x-15 had been taken apart, minutely photographed, and then sunk in the old log pond. the men who had hired backus and dismantled the x-15 had left the area several weeks earlier. they were remembered with friendliness by the residents of trinidad bay, who described them as "real nice guys and good fishermen, too." they had told backus they would be back in the late autumn for the steelhead run, and perhaps would have some more hauling business for him at that time. the fbi offered backus one chance for life. he accepted it, with abject eagerness. * * * * * beyond this point, there are no more available records on the case of dr. john o'hara smith, and eddie, the educatable computer. but several items, not apparently related in any way, make interesting speculation. on january 3, 1956, the air force reported that a thor intermediate-range ballistic missile, launched from patrick air force base, florida, had been destroyed when it appeared to be wandering off course. about the same date, a panamanian freighter, riding the gulf-stream toward the west indies, radioed a report of sighting a massive oil slick and a scattering of debris, some of it bearing russian insignia. no survivors were found. the u.s. state department solicitously inquired of the soviet union if any of its vessels had been lost in the winter storms of the caribbean. the soviet union testily replied that no soviet vessels could have been lost, since soviet vessels, as a matter of sound international principle, confined their operations to their own territorial waters. during easter week of 1956, the fbi announced the arrests of four men on charges of espionage: a druggist in tucson, arizona; an importer in san francisco; a retired real-estate operator in los angeles; an obscure trucker in northern california. all pleaded guilty in order to escape the gas chamber. the details of the charges against them were not disclosed, except to members of a federal grand jury. two other published items are worth noting: the may, 1956, issue of the journal published by the institute of research engineers reported that one of its members, dr. j. o. smith, had recovered from injuries suffered in the explosion of a butane stove and had accepted a government research position in washington, d.c. the other item was a paragraph in aviation weekly, congratulating major general david william sanders on his promotion to brigadier general. scenic mount lowe by george wharton james. in and around the grand canyon of the colorado river in arizona third edition. 346 pages. cloth. 8vo. one hundred illustrations. $2.50 net. postage 30c. extra. the indians of the painted desert region second edition. 268 pages. cloth. 8vo. seventy illustrations. $2.00 net. postage 25c extra. indian basketry. third edition. over 400 pages. upwards of 600 illustrations cloth. 8vo. $2.50 net. postage 25c. extra. how to make indian and other baskets. second edition. 140 pages. cloth. 8vo. 220 illustrations. $1.00 net. postage 12c. extra. in and out of the old missions of california 450 pages. 135 illustrations. $3.00 net. postage 30c. extra. travelers hand book to southern california. second edition. cloth. 16mo. for the pocket. 520 pages. many illustrations. $1.00. postage 10c extra. _the grandest railway in the world_ scenic mount lowe and its wonderful railway how the sierra madre mountains have been surmounted by electric cars, and the most beautiful and grand views of mountain, valley and ocean scenery made accessible to all profusely illustrated fifth edition by george wharton james author of travelers' hand-book to southern california in and out of the old missions of california in and around the grand canyon the indians of the painted desert region indian basketry; how to make indian and other baskets etc., etc. 1905 pacific electric railway los angeles, california mountains. centuries old are the mountains; their foreheads wrinkled and rifted, helios crowns by day, pallid, serene by night; from their bosoms uptossed the snows are driven and drifted like lithonus' beard streaming, disheveled and white. thunder and tempest of wind their trumpets blow in the vastness; phantoms of mist and rain, cloud and the shadow of cloud, pass and repass by the gates of their inaccessible fastness; ever unmoved they stand, solemn, eternal and proud. --longfellow in "the mask of pandora." contents. page mountains, by longfellow 4 man's love for the mountains 7 distinguished testimony 13 mount lowe railway 21 origin of the mount lowe railway 23 rubio canyon 27 great cable incline 29 echo mountain 31 echo mountain house 33 lowe observatory 35 professor larkin 38 the spectroscope 43 great world's fair searchlight 47 operating machinery of great cable incline 49 glen canyon 51 mount lowe eight 53 phantom sea 55 alpine division 57 nature and art 59 magnificent views 61 circular bridge 65 alpine club house, hanging of the crane 69 benefits of mountain climbing 79 health gained in the mountains 83 mountain canyon in the winter 85 flora of mount lowe 88 coast islands from mount lowe 93 looking from mount lowe over the valley 94 from alpine snow to semi-tropical sea 96 from the mountains to the sea 102 dawn on mount lowe 104 tri-crested summit of mount lowe 106 a forest of pines 106 the name 107 how to see mount lowe 110 summer on mount lowe 112 the summing up 114 the beauties of mount lowe 115 other picturesque trips on the pacific electric railway 116 long beach 116 whittier 119 san gabriel 120 monrovia and baldwin's ranch 123 [illustration: alpine scenery in winter on shoulders of mount lowe.] the mount lowe division pacific electric railway [illustration] scenic mount lowe man's love for mountains. in all ages of the world man has been a lover of mountains. ruskin says, "mountains are the beginning and the end of all natural scenery," hence it is natural that man should love them and that they should exercise great and potent influence upon him. carmel, ararat, hor, horeb, nebo, sinai, olivet, hermon, calvary, and others have left--through the literature of the bible--ineffaceable impressions upon the highest civilizations of the world. all oriental literature abounds in references to mountains, and men were incited to lives of majesty, power, and purity by contemplation of them. every student of japanese literature knows the influence fuji yama has had upon the destinies of that thoughtful nation. life in the mountains of afghanistan, beloochistan and northern india transformed the calm, meditative, pastoral hindoos into active, impulsive, warlike peoples, whose movements resemble somewhat the fierce storms that play upon their mountain summits or the wild winds that whirl down their canyons. [illustration: robert t. lincoln and other distinguished visitors in the snow near echo mountain, mount lowe railway.] the mountain traditions of europe would fill many large volumes, and the folk-lore of the peasantry, as to how they came by their names, makes most fascinating reading. who is there that cannot discern--what sir walter scott so forcibly presents--the influence upon the national character of the scots and the swiss exercised by the rugged, bold and snow-crowned mountains of their native lands? and the proverbial philosophy of both these peoples contains many coins with a mountain superscription. there is scarcely a poet of any age or clime whose soul since homer made olympus the home of the gods and parnassus the seat of poesy, has not thankfully accepted the uplift of mountain influence. of nearly all the true, pure, heroic souls of history one could exclaim: "he made him friends of mountains," and we read with thrilling delight the thoughts inspired by mountains in homer, virgil, dante, goethe, schiller, moliere, fenelon, bourdaloue, massillon, wordsworth, browning, agassiz, winchell, clarence king, leconte and others. [illustration: white chariot ascending from rubio canyon.] on sinai's rugged brow it was, amid heaven's awful thunders, god showed himself to moses, and, through him to mankind, in the two tables of the law. on hor's solitary peak he condescended to place the priestly aaron in his tomb. on carmel, his servant, the dauntless elijah called for fire, and god responded with the devouring element from heaven. on ararat, above the drowned world, the family that was to re-people the earth, started after their long confinement in their floating home. on pisgah, moses stood to survey the promised land. on hermon christ's transfiguration took place. on hattin he proclaimed the beatitudes. on calvary he was crucified, and on olivet he ascended. while the exigencies of business and commerce have made it necessary for the large majority of people to dwell on level plains or on the shores of the ocean, the greatest peoples and the nations which have longest maintained their independence have been those which inhabited mountainous sections, and breathed the pure air of the higher altitudes. the purest patriotism, the highest intellectual attainments, the greatest love of family, and the most perfect physical development have been found among people who were inspired by the grandeur of mountain scenery. the clinging faith and stern patriotism of the hebrews were the result of their love of the mountains of palestine; the love of the greeks for the mountains on which they lived gave them the intellectual and physical vigor which enabled them to roll back the persian hosts; the sunny mountains of italy were an inspiration to the romans which enabled them to rule the world, and the heroism of the swiss in preserving their national autonomy in spite of all europe, is the most illustrious example of what has been the history of all mountaineers. mountains are the barriers which have preserved nations from destruction, and national borders generally run parallel with mountain ranges. [illustration: looking through open door of alpine tavern, mount lowe.] distinguished testimony. as a specimen of many such testimonials which have been publicly given in regard to the popularity of the mount lowe railway, i append herewith portions of an admirable letter written by the hon. w. c. patterson, late president of los angeles chamber of commerce, to its membership. the date is september 27, 1895. he said: "in the interest of my health and for the sake of most exquisite recuperation and enjoyment, i have made thus far thirty-nine visits to echo mountain, and several trips to the summit of mount lowe. i have also passed three or four times over the matchless five miles' extension which is called the 'alpine division,' and which extends to mount lowe springs, where is situated alpine tavern, an altitude of 5,000 feet above sea level. "the mount lowe railway, which enables one to penetrate the very heart of the sierras with entire ease and comfort, has no counterpart in the world, either to the originality of its conception, the solution of what has been heretofore considered impossible engineering problems, or the indescribable picturesqueness of the ever-changing scenery through which it passes. "any one who makes a single visit becomes full of enthusiasm, but mine has grown cumulative to such an extent that language seems utterly inadequate. as i have witnessed the results of professor lowe's great genius, enterprise, and perseverence, and have studied his personality, i am more and more impressed with the belief that he is an unique character, and one of the great men of this progressive age. [illustration: professor lowe addressing his guests on the suspended boulder, rubio canyon.] "it is a matter of intense surprise to me, and almost disgust, that so few of our own people right here in sight of our beautiful sierra madre, have availed themselves of the opportunities which he has opened for studying their more than alpine beauties, their inexhaustible and intensely interesting geological and botanical resources, to say nothing of the benefits to be derived from the delicious mountain air, freighted as it is with sweet odors and buoyant exhilaration. "these mountains are not, as many suppose, barren and bare. vegetation extends to the very summit, more than 6,000 feet above the sea level, and the flora which abounds is a surprise, both as to its beauty and variety. the alpine extension passes and repasses through delightful and romantic oak groves, and through forests of stalwart pines. prof. lowe's discovery of the existence of a quiet, steady, clear atmosphere suggested to him the idea of establishing in these mountains scientific institutions, especially astronomical and meteorological. the former science has already been installed in the splendid observatory, which is presided over by a distinguished astronomer, who nightly delivers free lectures illustrated by glimpses of the heavenly wonders through the great telescope. this observatory has already achieved a world-wide reputation, and from the superior conditions of the atmosphere in which it is placed, numerous discoveries have already been made, while other similar institutions have made no progress. it is said that for astronomical purposes, similar atmospheric conditions can scarcely anywhere else be found. these mountain peaks ascend almost abruptly from the ocean level, and in the great valleys adjacent the fogs and mists settle, leaving the air clear and transparent. the cool ocean breezes modify the effect of the sun's rays during the day and reverse the currents at night, whereby the atmosphere is, as it were, drawn from the desert over the higher ranges--nearly twelve thousand feet in height--having such cooling effects that the waves and tremors so annoying to astronomers in other localities are entirely absent. * * * * * [illustration: ready for the ascent to echo mountain.] "there exists in the minds of eastern people an impression that southern california is a hot climate, especially in summer. this impression arises from a variety of causes. many assume that oranges grow only in hot countries. this is not necessarily true. they will not mature in cold climates, but they will thrive luxuriantly in mild climates. it is said that in florida, where the summer climate is hot and sultry, oranges mature in six months, whereas a year is required in california. another cause for the existence of a false impression as to our summer lies in the fact that heretofore some of our large hotels, which were owned by eastern capitalists who control eastern summer resorts closed their doors about the first of may, which is really just the period when our climate becomes the most delightful. even when our inland districts become somewhat warm there is always delicious relief to be found at the seashore or in the mountains. it would seem strange to those not familiar with the fact that the mildest and most equable portion of our climate is found at altitudes of three to four thousand feet. those who visited echo mountain during the last winter may remember that delicate flowers flourished, while at an elevation of a thousand or fifteen hundred feet above snow fell to a depth of several inches and remained in the bright sunshine but dry atmosphere several days without melting. this has made possible an interesting experience, by which within thirty minutes after leaving the beautiful flowers of echo mountain and the valley below one can enjoy a sleigh ride among the pines in the vicinity of 'ye alpine tavern.' the mountain atmosphere during the full six months is so mild and dry and pure that one could sleep in the open air without the least danger of taking cold. [illustration: hon. r. t. lincoln, marshall field, and other distinguished visitors in white chariot of great cable incline, mount lowe.] * * * * * "i can guarantee that every person who goes over the mount lowe railway from end to end will want to repeat the experiment and will urge his friends to go. the enterprise should have the hearty co-operation of all people interested in literary and scientific progress. "the mountains of switzerland, especially since the advent of mountain railroads, have made that country, with all its climatic drawbacks, a mecca for tourists from all over the world. when the beauties and attractions of the sierra madre are fully made known why may not a large percentage of this vast tourist travel be attracted to our very midst?" [illustration: prof. t. s. c. lowe.] [illustration: group of alders near mount lowe springs.] the mount lowe railway. a few years since, a man whose boyhood was passed among the mountains of new england, conceived the idea that by the use of modern electrical appliances the summits of the highest peaks of the sierra madre could be reached and an easy route opened up whereby people could scale these heights with the same ease they ride over a modern railway. the result was the construction of the mount lowe railway, the most scenic railroad on earth. the originator and constructor was professor t. s. c. lowe. he constantly kept in view the artistic effects as well as the engineering conditions, and the result has been a road of easy grades and one where the most artistic pictures of scenery are brought into relief. [illustration: winter at mount lowe springs. thirty minutes from perpetual flowers at echo mountain house.] [illustration: scene near maple springs, mount lowe railway.] origin of the mount lowe railway. the genesis of the mount lowe railway is not far away. in 1889 some preliminary surveys that had been made for the purpose of scaling the sierra madre were submitted to professor t. s. c. lowe. he became interested in the matter and decided to make a personal examination of the ground, and shortly afterwards placed his corps of engineers in the field for the purpose of making a thorough survey in order to determine whether the work was practicable. after the engineers had been at work upon another route for many months professor lowe cut the gordian knot by suggesting the now world-renowned great cable incline. it was like a revelation to the engineers, and from this on the engineering problems were of easy solution. [illustration: in glen canyon, near echo mountain, mount lowe.] the route starts from altadena, a beautiful residence section about four miles north of pasadena, from which point an electric railway runs over the high mesa and up rubio canyon, a distance of 2-1/2 miles. the lower portion of this distance gives some very beautiful views of valley and ocean, and as the route enters the canyon it winds in and out following the devious course of the sparkling little stream which leaps over the rocks, now crossing smaller canyons on substantial bridges, and then cutting through solid rock, making a picturesque road which, were it not overshadowed by the greater glories of the upper portion, would of itself be famous. at rubio canyon the foot of the great cable incline is reached at an altitude of 2,200 feet above the sea. [illustration: rubio pavilion and concert hall, rubio canyon, mount lowe.] rubio canyon. rubio canyon above the pavilion is one of the most picturesque and beautiful spots to be found in the mountains. immediately on entering the visitor is charmed and surprised with the richness of the verdure, the trees, shrubs, ferns and flowers that greet his eye. from the valley the mountains seemed barren,--now we see that they are fairly covered with mountain mahogany, lilac, holly, and other chaparral, while in the deeper canyons, pines, spruces, bays, maples, sycamores and live oaks flourish in large numbers. ferns, mosses and trailing vines in profusion and variety cover the rocks, while 'the witching tangle of the maiden-hair, the sweet grace of the gold and silver ferns, the nodding coffee fern with beauty rare' seek shelter in hidden nooks, whose perfect solitude is only penetrated by the lover and the enthusiast. among the objects of interest in rubio canyon are suspended boulder, fern glens, moss grottos, peculiar stone formations, grand chasms, ribbon rock, thalehaha, and nine other exquisitely beautiful waterfalls. just below the suspended boulder is mirror lake. it extends across the complete width of the canyon, which somewhat narrows at this point, and reaches for quite a distance, being bridged by the plank walk leading to the grand chasm and thalehaha falls. the exquisite reflections of the trees, shrubs and towering rocks, together with the electric lights and japanese lanterns on festive nights, give to mirror lake an indescribable charm. [illustration: great cable incline, mount lowe.] the great cable incline. the distinguishing feature of the road below the summit of echo mountain is the great cable incline, run by a novel application of electric and water power. this marvelous piece of railroad engineering has called forth the unstinted praise of many eminent engineers. the scientific press has been unanimous in expatiating upon its unique features and designates it "the greatest mountain railway enterprise in existence," and says "the engineering problems have been solved in a manner to challenge admiration." this incline extends from rubio pavilion 2,200 feet above the sea, to the summit of echo mountain, 3,500 feet in altitude. it is upward of 3,000 feet in length, and makes a direct ascent of about 1,400 feet. the grade begins at 60 per cent., after passing the turnout it is 62 per cent for quite a distance, then it makes two "buckles," one to 58 per cent., and on nearing the summit to 48 per cent. sixty-two per cent. means a rise of 62 feet in going forward 100 feet, which gives an idea of its great steepness. the cars are permanently attached to an endless cable, and are so balanced that in ascending and descending they pass each other at an automatic turnout, exactly midway on the incline, and are so arranged as to keep passengers always on the level, regardless of the steep grades of the incline. the cable is of the finest steel and was thoroughly tested to a strain of one hundred tons, and, as under any circumstances the loaded cars will never exceed five tons, its absolute safety is at once apparent. [illustration: "white chariot" nearing summit of echo mountain. on least grade of great cable incline.] the view, in ascending, is indescribably grand. the motion is smooth and easy as if soaring to the clouds on wings. at first, the mountains composing the rubio amphitheater appear to rise with the car, and yet the view enlarges every moment. passing through granite gorge,--an immense cut in the mountain slope, where all the workmen who could possibly be crowded upon the mass were engaged for eight long months before a single tie could be laid--over the macpherson trestle--an immense bridge, 200 feet long and 100 feet higher at one end than the other--the san gabriel valley unfolds its incomparable charms, and, as the elevation increases, the view expands until, on reaching the verandas of echo mountain chalã©t, the whole scene is presented in its full glory. the grade of this incline was such that burros had to carry cement and water for building the walls and buttresses, before the track could be laid, and, as there were many points where not even burros could climb in safety, men carried the required materials on their shoulders. echo mountain. seen from below, echo mountain appears as a mere abutment from the main range, but when one stands on its summit the name "mountain" is then seen to be singularly appropriate, for it is dissevered, except by a small "saddle," from the main range by glen and echo canyons--canyons half a mile and more in width and over a thousand feet in depth. hence the location on this mountain, midway between the san gabriel valley and mount lowe, with towering mountains and abysmal canyons, affords a variety of scenery almost inconceivable to the dweller in the valley. [illustration: echo mountain chalet and white chariot on great cable incline.] this outlook, 3,500 feet above the level of the sea, with mountains, foothills, ever verdant valleys, cities, towns, villages, old missions, sea beach, shipping, islands and ocean in full view, has no equal. thirty miles of bridle roads radiate from echo mountain, on which guests may roam or ride into romantic canyons, dells and nooks innumerable with freedom and safety. these foot paths and bridle roads and the scenery they reach are not equalled at any resort on the surface of the globe. an entire week can easily be spent in rambles without visiting the same place twice, and then only a small portion of the delightful mountain and canyon recesses will have been explored. echo mountain house. on the crest of echo mountain professor lowe placed two hotels, one "the chalet," which still remains, the other, "echo mountain house," which was destroyed by fire three years ago. it was a superbly equipped hotel, of magnificent proportions and unequalled outlook, where many visitors from all parts of the world congregated. it is the intention of the pacific electric railway to rebuild echo mountain house in the near future. this decision will be gratifying to those who have experienced the delights of this beautiful hotel in the past. the exact location of the new hotel is not yet decided. [illustration: lowe observatory, with hotel and buildings on echo mountain, mount lowe railway, after a snow fall.] lowe observatory. this observatory is located on a slope above echo mountain. a walk has been constructed from the hotel to the observatory, so that all who desire to visit it may do so without inconvenience or fatigue. it is presided over by professor edgar larkin. the instrument with which he is now searching the heavens is a 16-inch refractor, made in his best days, by alvan clark, the late lamented lens-maker of cambridge, mass., and it is, according to the maker's testimony, the best glass he ever made. professor larkin thus writes of the advantages of the lowe observatory for astronomical work: "the site of this institution is ideal, both for telescopic and spectroscopic purposes. so great is the purity of the air that both these instruments can be used in the most accurate measurement. the definition of the stars and disks of the planets is perfect, and the entire year presents but few nights during which a micrometer cannot be used. stellar spectra are clear cut and steady, and in the solar spectrum the fraunhofer lines are perfectly defined, the thin lines, in diameter equal to that of a spider's web, can be seen without difficulty. few observatories in the world have a clearer sky, or a location presenting less trouble from air currents and changes. to illustrate the clearness of the atmosphere, it will be merely necessary to state that the trapezium in the great nebula in orion shows distinctly at the exact instant of rising over the mountain peaks! the writer has often observed the trapezium--the entire seven stars--when only one minute had elapsed since rising over the rocks forming the summit of the mountains! this will be appreciated by all who have long used a telescope in any of the eastern observatories. the moon is white--not yellow, and the floors of the craters, the cones, whence escaped molten lava ages ago, and the delicate tracery of shadows are revealed with marvellous accuracy of detail. [illustration: the 16 inch equatorial telescope of the lowe observatory, echo mountain.] "nebul㦠can be seen here that are invisible in many other instruments of equal or greater aperture. double stars are separated at this observatory, that would seem to be beyond the power of a sixteen-inch glass. closely packed clusters are dispersed into separate diamonds, rubies and sapphires. but no tongue or pen can describe the glories of the milky way. imagine jet black velvet spread over with heaps, streamers and spirals, made up of every possible color of precious gem--with diamonds in excess. these stars all separately invisible to the unaided eye, are seen as individual points in the telescope. they glitter with supernal light, and scintillate in every hue of the spectrum. they are piled up by the million on the inconceivable blackness of infinite space, for never-ending space is black in the telescope. the zodiacal light in autumnal evenings and mornings is seen extending almost to the zenith--a cone of pearly light. professor larkin. "edgar luciene larkin was born in a log cabin, twelve miles north of ottawa, la salle county, illinois, on april 5th, 1847. "but why? to this moment it has been an inscrutable mystery why nature allowed this event to occur. it happened on a farm. my parents were poor enough to furnish a topic to a writer of modern socialism, such as 'unequal distribution of wealth'; 'submerged nine-tenths'; 'why billionaires exist' and the like. the log hut was in a beautiful place, near a stream of clear, cool water--indian creek. it runs along through the north, from west to east, bending to the south, and discharges into the illinois river at ottawa. this stream is lined for miles with a magnificent forest, called the 'woods.' stately trees of oak, ash, elm, maple, walnut and many other species waved in the winds, and in the autumn, colors beyond description fell on the leaves and they were all splashed with careless gold and scarlet. and the 'sear and yellow leaf' abounded. and 'oh! those days in the woods!'--nature days--whose memory now is enough to awaken the highest impulse in the mind. the neighbors did not find fault with my folks, and they were considered to be respectable, by even the nearest--not more than a mile away. father was just ordinary, and the friends said that i 'took after him.' he farmed and mother merely kept house--the hut. these were pioneer days; a few cabins broke the distant line of horizon, to the west and south. as far as could be seen, even from the writer's perch in the top of a tall tree, there was one vast expanse of tall, green grass waving in the wind. but how beautiful! climbing trees to see the 'waves roll' was ideal. the wind tumbled and tossed the grass into rolling waves, miles in length. the scene was wonderful; it was that of a prairie in illinois. just now, as we write, looking out of the window, the waves of the pacific ocean are seen thirty miles away. they are not more impressive than those majestic waves in the grass. for the writer became as expert in tree-climbing as his pre-historic and remote ancestors in south american forests. my mother--still living--is a woman of mental force and ability, of high morality and nobility of mind; but she could not bring me up right, that is, to be a farmer. the writer was sent to plow corn, and from subsequent events he now believes that he actually did; the weeds escaped entirely. i was transferred to the dairy department, and had sole charge of the cows. these loving creatures and the writer became fast friends. one was 'ring streaked,' and another 'spotted and speckled.' old 'brindle' led the procession down to the creek for water, with the writer in the midst. and 'the lowing herds wound slowly o'er the lea,' in those happy childhood and bucolic days. a mighty event took place; grandfather put up a frame house, with boards outside, real boards of pine, brought to ottawa on the new canal; and the boards were painted white! [illustration: prof. edgar l. larkin, director of the lowe observatory.] "my father died when i was eleven years of age, so mother and i went to live in the new white house, with the grandparents. but there was no schoolhouse; the settlers were poor, but finally one was erected. it was not red, in fact never had a coat of paint; and was about the size of a large room in a modern dwelling. teachers were scarce and books likewise. another event happened; a retired german physician came to 'farm it.' he had a library. i borrowed all the books he had in english, but the great volumes in german were as hieroglyphics. school opened in september, 1858, and the onerous, difficult and discouraging job of 'educating' the writer began. "then the greatest event of all occurred, on an auspicious day, october 5th, 1858, and i was asleep. grandmother came in haste at about 10 p. m., aroused me and said, 'oh! edgar, come and see the comet.' when behold! the mighty comet of donati seemed to span the heavens, and looked as though it came out of the black forests and extended to the zenith. mortal eye has not seen a more wonderful display. "its blazing nucleus was then passing the star arcturus, and the scene is now in the writer's mind as though it were but yesterday. cuts of the comet at the time of passing arcturus may be seen in works on astronomy. next day the writer decided to begin the study of astronomy. but how without books? the teacher had a copy of burritt's geography of the heavens and atlas. the writer asked her to sell it; she would for $1.00, although it cost her more. but the dollar! grandfather was perpetually paying for land. dollars were exceedingly scarce. grandmother had one gold dollar; this she gave me and the book was purchased. a surveyor living near had a four-inch lens. he placed it in a square tube of wood, and with one eyepiece made up a telescope, which he loaned to me. so the study of astronomy was commenced with this outfit in my eleventh year. the first work was to trace the path of the comet among the stars on the atlas. the pencil mark is on the atlas yet, with 1858 scrawled in boyish figures. five terms of school of three months each were attended, when arrangements were made for me to go to a high school and later, an academy in ottawa. then came disaster, weakness of the eyes. school, reading, the telescope, all had to go; and with heavy heart the little telescope was returned to the good old surveyor. grandfather died, the dear old home was broken up; we moved to a nearby village, earlville, ill. in my fourteenth year my eyesight became strong enough to permit two terms in a graded school of six months each. "this 'finished' the work of education, for events were such that i never entered school again. in 1879 the writer built a private observatory in new windsor, ill., and on january 1st, 1880, a fine six-inch clark equatorial, with circles, was set upon its pier. in the spring of 1888, knox college, in galesburg, ill., erected a good observatory on the campus. all the instruments were removed from new windsor and placed in the new dome. the writer was director of the knox observatory from aug. 1st, 1888, to aug. 1st, 1895. "upon coming to this fairy land of the earth, southern california, i was appointed director of this mountain observatory, the lowe, taking charge on aug. 11th, 1900. everything happened in august. here is an elegant clark sixteen-inch telescope, with spectroscope and tele-camera, with accessories. the writer has not startled the world by capital discoveries in astronomy, but has confined his work to writing for journals and magazines. enough has been published to make several volumes. only one series has been printed in book form--'radiant energy.' study of science has been continuous, save for one deflection of six years, which were devoted with intense interest to hindoo, iranian, persian, egyptian and greek philosophy and esoteric mysteries, the occult. "the writer is a life fellow of the american association for the advancement of science, of the southern california academy of science, and of the astronomical society of the pacific, but has not surprised any of these societies by the discovery of a law greater than gravity, nor what matter is, nor electricity, nor how grass grows, or why we are here on earth. none of the mean things that the writer has performed are inserted on account of the inordinate length of this note." the spectroscope. about 1600 a. d., kepler placed a prism in a beam of sunlight and saw what had not before been seen--so far as known--the first solar spectrum. a century later newton darkened a room, admitted solar rays through a round aperture in a shutter, passed them through a prism and obtained a clearer spectrum than kepler's. little was thought of these things, however, until, when in 1802, wollaston made a slit in a shutter, projected a spectrum, in which he was surprised to see a few dark lines. in 1814 fraunhofer made a spectrum in the same way, but happened to look at it with a telescope. this act changed the course of the science of optics for all time; it was the origin of spectrum analysis, one of the chief products of the human mind, one of the corner-stones upon which rests the structure of modern science. men's minds immediately began to expand, and a period of mental activity set in, the like of which was never known before. fraunhofer saw hundreds of lines, but the great spectroscope in the mount lowe observatory shows thousands, in width from that of a spider-web to one-tenth of a millimeter. they are the most valuable set of lines known. they enable finite man to tell what the earth, sun and stars, meteors, comets and nebul㦠are composed of. the prism of newton and fraunhofer is now displaced by the diffraction grating--ruled by rowland 14,438 lines to the inch. these stri㦠break up light into its elements, reflect them to the eye, and in solar and stellar light reveal the absorption lines. the spectroscope of the lowe observatory made by that accomplished optician brashear is one of the finest. [illustration: white chariot nearing the chalet on echo mountain]. [illustration: night scene, with searchlight, echo mountain house, mount lowe.] great world's fair searchlight. the great world's fair searchlight, which is now so well known from its operation on echo mountain, first became famous at the world's fair, chicago, where it excited great interest, and surpassed all other exhibits in its line. after the fair, it was taken to san francisco and exhibited at the mid-winter fair, where it delighted thousands from the bonet electric tower, 264 feet high. when the mid-winter fair was over, professor lowe purchased it and removed it to echo mountain, where it rests at an altitude of 3,500 feet above sea level. until this great searchlight was established in its present location its powers could not be brought out on account of its location so near the general level of the surrounding country. here, however, it is so located that its rays can be seen for 150 miles on the ocean, and the most distant mountain peaks can be made visible by its penetrating rays. the beam of light is so powerful that a newspaper can be read for a distance of thirty-five miles, and its full sweep illuminates the peaks of mountains which are hundreds of miles apart. it is of 3,000,000 candle power, and stands on a wooden base, built in octagon form, which has a diameter of about eight feet. the searchlight itself stands about eleven feet high, and its total weight is 6,000 lbs., yet it is so perfectly mounted and balanced that a child can move it in any direction. [illustration: machinery for operating the great cable incline, mount lowe railway.] the reflecting lens is three and a quarter inches thick at the edges and only one-sixteenth of an inch at the center, and weighs about 800 lbs. the metal ring in which the lens is mounted weighs 750 lbs., the total weight of lens, ring and cover being about 1,600 lbs. this great mirror is mounted at one end of the big drum, the outer end of which is furnished with a door, consisting of a narrow metal rim, in which are fixed a number of plate glass strips five-sixteenths of an inch thick and six inches wide. the value of this great searchlight in meteorological work has already been demonstrated on a small scale. when there is moisture in the atmosphere, and varying wind-currents, the light turned upwards discovers the directions in which the wind is conveying the clouds, and aids in revealing the conditions that cause these variations. operating machinery of the great cable incline. like many other things in connection with the mount lowe railway, the machinery is unique and unlike anything ever before constructed. the power was originally furnished by water. for the first nine months the great cable incline was operated by water power and electric power generated by two monster gas engines. now the power is supplied from the pasadena plant of the pacific electric railway. it is transmitted by large copper conductors to the echo mountain power house, supplying current to the 100 horsepower electric motor, which makes 800 revolutions per minute. then by a series of gears the revolutions are reduced from 800 to 17 per minute, which is the speed at which the massive grip-sheave turns. the grip-sheave consists of a tremendously heavy wheel, on which about 70 automatic steel jaws are affixed. as the wheel revolves, these jaws close and grip the endless cable, to which the cars are permanently attached, and thus are they raised or lowered as occasion requires. by this method there is practically no wear whatever to the cable. it is not strained and chafed by the constant operation of gripping as on the street railway cars, where the inertia of trains of cars of many tons weight has to be overcome by the gripping of the ever-moving cable. [illustration: leontine falls, near echo mountain, mount lowe railway.] every safety device and appliance of known utility that could be used has been placed upon the machinery and thoroughly tested, so that the unanimous verdict of the many eminent engineers who have scientifically examined in detail the machinery and its working is a deserved tribute to the foresight of professor lowe. that verdict is, that it is the safest railroad ever constructed; and the possibility of accident is reduced to a lower minimum than on any cable, electric or steam system in the world. glen canyon. this is one of the many quiet and secret ferny nooks reached in a few minutes from echo mountain house. bridle roads and foot-paths reach these secluded spots, and there in ferny dells, surrounded by towering trees and majestic rocks, charmed by the babbling brooks, the rustling of the leaves and the sweet singing of thousands of birds, one may while away the hours in delicious restfulness. [illustration: among the giant ferns. glen canyon, near echo mountain, mount lowe railway.] mount lowe eight. to ride on well constructed bridle roads up mountain slopes, winding in and out on diversified paths, through and by bowers of fragrant trees, shrubs and flowers, looking _up_ through towering pines to majestic cliffs and ponderous rocks, looking _down_ into the depths of vast canyons, where deer find shady coverts, and looking _out_ upon scenes of perfect beauty and sublimity--these things fill the body with vigor and buoyant enthusiasm, and the mind with lasting pictures of increasing interest. [illustration: on the bridle roads of the mount lowe "8."] [illustration: the phantom sea in the sierra madre.] realizing this professor lowe early had constructed more than thirty miles of wide and easy-graded bridle roads radiating from alpine tavern to all the higher peaks and summits of the range. the most important sections of these roads are known as the "mount lowe eight," for, in making the complete ride to the summit of mount lowe from echo mountain and return, the figure "8" is described, the rider crossing his own path in one place only, and nowhere else riding twice on the same road. the phantom sea as seen from echo mountain and mount lowe. one of the most exquisitely beautiful sights ever witnessed is when a low fog covers the san gabriel valley. this fog never rises above a level of about 2,700 to 3,000 feet, and when one is on echo mountain, 3,500 feet in elevation, the upper surface of this fog is spread out "like a phantom sea" below. the "cities of the plain" are covered with this snow-white or creamy pall. underneath is partial gloom and dampness. above, the sun shines upon a silent sea, whose waves are tossing and lifting, swaying and waving, until finally--generally between 8.30 and 9.30 in the morning--the heat, in dissipating the glowing white ocean, builds fantastic and mysterious forms on its surface, and draws them upwards to rapidly swallow them up and make them disappear in its warm embrace. such a sight stirs the soul to its greatest depths, and suggests thoughts sublime and soul-uplifting. [illustration: point diablo, mount lowe railway.] the sea is made of the exhalations from the pacific ocean and covers the whole valley with its white, misty veil on certain mornings. it is 1,500 to 2,000 feet deep, and never reaches the summit of echo mountain. as seen from the great hotel it looks like a vast expanse of hummocky ice, as is often noticed in winter off the atlantic coast. the alpine division. the guest who has reached echo mountain should not conclude that he has seen the chief beauties which align the route of the mount lowe railway. not so! what he has seen are but the adornments which are festooned around the vestibule of the greater glories of the alpine division which carries him into the very heart of the sierra madre range, and amid the solitude which reigns among the higher peaks and spurs. this division extends from echo mountain to ye alpine tavern, a distance of five miles. the road is a substantially built electric road, with grades but slightly exceeding seven per cent., on which the cars are easily propelled by electricity. indorsing all that has been said of the beauties of rubio, of the great cable incline, and of echo mountain, yet these afford but comparatively limited ranges of vision, sometimes obscured by the fogs and smoke of the valley. on the alpine division, however, one is above these impediments to sight, and the range of vision extends until lost on the distant horizon. the air is clear and transparent, so that mountain peaks, distant islands and far-away valleys seem to draw near and pass in review like a silent procession of giants. [illustration: the mount lowe railway and valley from mount lowe.] nature and art. in the construction of the railroad professor lowe exhibited the same skill and energy that were so manifest in the lower portions of the route. the grade of the road has been made so low that one imagines he is riding on a level surface rather than climbing the steep and rugged sides of the sierras. this grade enables the cars to be propelled with a great saving of power, and at whatever speed necessary to give passengers the finest views of the incomparable scenery which aligns the route. with that fine artistic taste which the originator of the enterprise has shown in every detail of the construction, he has built the track just where the best views of mountain, valley and sea are to be found, so that the road, instead of disfiguring the landscape, as do so many of the old-fashioned cog-wheel roads, adds to the beauty and charm of the scenery and gives to the particular section of the sierra madre where the "city on the mountain" sits, an added charm. the road climbs up the sides of the mountain in graceful curves, and as one is being carried along he often wonders where an opening to the apparently impassable walls of granite which hem in the way can be found. at one point of view, by looking up and down the steep sides of the mountain, nine different tracks can be seen rising one above the other. one of the unique features of construction is a bridge, which spans a canyon, and rounds a mountain peak, thus forming a complete circle. this division of the road is the only railroad in the world in which, throughout its entire length, the ties are laid upon a shelf of solid granite. and so carefully has the work of construction been done that since its completion no accident has occurred to any of the thousands of people who have ridden over it. its solidity ensures safety and exempts it from the dangers which environ railroads in the valley. [illustration: jason brown on mount lowe bridle road, castle canyon.] [illustration: view from artists' point, head of grand canyon.] magnificent views. but the grand views which are revealed along the route are the principal charms of the alpine division. until echo mountain house is reached the view is somewhat hemmed in by the nearness of the mountain sides, in rubio canyon and even when going up the great cable incline. from echo mountain, however, a wider expanse of view is obtained, and as the higher altitudes are reached the scenery becomes bolder and the range of vision enlarged until it seems as though the whole of southern california was spread out beneath. distant catalina island and the more remote channel islands, off santa barbara, have drawn near in the clear atmosphere, and the numerous cities which bestud the plain appear close by, while the higher peaks of the sierras stand out against the sky with startling vividness. the vast depths of millard and grand canyons serrate the mountains as if the "plowshares of god" had upturned a path for winter torrents through the solid granite. nature blends her softest and most bewitching vistas with the stern grandeur which pervades the mountain heights and the broad expanse of ocean which ultimately unites with the distant horizon. [illustration: in glen canyon, five minutes from echo mountain house.] as the road finally swings around into grand canyon, the character of the scenery changes and the vistas of valley, plain and ocean are shut out. all hint of the habitation of man is gone, and one realizes a sense of the solitude of nature. the vastness of surrounding mountains and the great canyons impresses itself on the mind and one feels that the only thing which connects him with the abode of man is the frail wire which pulsates with that mysterious power which is doing so much of man's drudgery. the terminus of the track, at "ye alpine tavern," is 5,000 feet above sea level, at the head of grand canyon, and from that point the summit of mount lowe can be seen, towering eleven hundred feet above. a short and enjoyable walk brings one to inspiration point, from which the observatory and buildings on echo mountain are seen as the play houses of children, so far are they away; and the orange orchards and vineyards and green grain fields in the valley resemble the variegated patchwork upon the old-time bed-quilts. to those who from here desire to ascend to the summit of mount lowe, a wide and safe bridle road offers the opportunity of an exhilarating ride up the mountain side, from whence a greater variety of views are obtained of distant mountain ranges, extensive plains and broad expanses of sea. [illustration: approaching grand circular bridge, from head of millard canyon, mount lowe railway.] people go many miles, pay large railroad fares and spend much time to visit watkins glen and ausable chasm, new york. at mount lowe the scenery is an hundred-fold more grand, the canyons deeper than the highest peaks of hills which are dignified with the name of mountains in new york, and yet the expense of reaching mount lowe is but a fraction of what is charged there; no charge is made for guides; the time necessary to make the trip is much less, and the hotel accommodations very much superior. the circular bridge. bridge builders, as a rule, build upon a tangent, and are very particular to have the floor upon a dead level. the reason that these two conditions are thought necessary is to avoid too much strain upon the structure, and in building railroads they are generally looked upon as absolutely necessary. where the conditions are such as to admit of such construction it is undoubtedly the part of wisdom to follow the beaten path, but occasionally such a course would either largely increase the expense, or, as in the construction of the mount lowe railway, stop further progress. such a dilemma was thrice presented in the construction of the mount lowe railway. first in the numerous bridges along the lower portion of the route, in rubio canyon; again in building the great cable incline, and lastly on the alpine division, where it became necessary to build a circular bridge in order to get a proper grade. [illustration: general view of the mount lowe railway. from a painting by gardner symons.] in the second instance the bridges were built on the same incline as the balance of the grade, in one instance the upper end being one hundred feet higher than the lower in a length of 200 feet. it was, however, in the construction of the circular bridge that the most radical departure from the usual rules of bridge construction was taken. at that point it was necessary for the track to swing around a spur of the mountain, making a circle about 400 feet, with a diameter of 150 feet across and on one side a deep canyon had to be bridged. this was accomplished by the construction of a circular bridge built on a grade of 4-1/2 per cent. many engineers would have declared that a car could not be run over such a structure, but it was so carefully and scientifically built that cars are run over it with as much ease and safety as over any other portion of the road. stoppages are often made upon it and the start is again made without any strain upon either the bridge or car. on other portions of the alpine divisions loops are made around the heads of great canyons, and the track turns upon itself in such a maze that in one place nine different tracks can be counted on the mountain side, each successively reaching a higher altitude, all the bridges along the line conforming to the curvings and twistings of the track. [illustration: near mount lowe springs and alpine tavern. march, 1896. three quarters of an hour from orange blossoms and roses.] alpine club house. "hanging of the crane." harrison gray otis, the able veteran editor of the los angeles daily _times_, describes the opening of the mountain club house, called "ye alpine tavern," on december 14, 1895, in the following manner: "as was reported in yesterday's _times_, the recently completed extension of the mount lowe railway to the new 'alpine tavern'--five miles beyond the echo mountain house, and 5,000 feet above sea level--was made the occasion of an interesting celebration last saturday. a hundred visitors or more from los angeles, pasadena and abroad accepted the hospitality of the indomitable builder, and made the trip over the new line. it was a happy journey, a fortuitous occasion. the day was all that is implied in the term, 'a december day in southern california.' a glorious southern sun shone straight down, flooding the scene with warmth and light. the air was limpid, thin, bright and bracing, and the spirits of the party rose as the electric chariot bore them on toward the summit, under the inspiration of a ride, the unique character of which can be found nowhere else on the foot-stool. "the car goes swinging along the precipitous flank of the rugged mountain and the line is marked by astonishing sinuosities, startling curves, bold headlines and sharp angled rock piles. the road appeared dangerous to the more nervous and timid, but, in fact, it is as safe as any railway line running on the level, for the road bed, track and bridges are built in a most thorough and substantial manner, and were not made to 'fall down.' [illustration: glimpses of mount lowe railway. grand circular bridge at upper right hand corner.] "the picturesque route is through majestic forests, growing heavier and more luxuriant with the ascent, and the line penetrates deeper into the sierra, where the snowfall of winter furnishes increased moisture, and the shade of the close set trees shields the ground and gives the fertile soil a chance to feed the abundant tree and plant life of this high altitude. "the whole journey is alluring and picturesque, not to say thrilling. on one side of the road rises the towering uplift of the bulky mountain, its slopes bright in verdure and covered with heavy timber, masses of displaced rock and fallen trees. on the other sink immeasurable canyons, filled with a dense forest growth, thickets of chapparal and beds of luxuriant ferns. "far away, seaward, spreads the eye-filling panorama of the lower levels. foothill slopes, big and little valleys, spreading plains, deep-cut arroyos, clearly defined watercourses, cultivated fields and gardens, sweet cottages and opulent homes--all are clear to the vision of the beholder from this summit height. pasadena, los angeles and their environs are seen; the blue and restless ocean lies beyond, its ceaseless breakers ever lashing its unyielding shore into whitest foam. "the delighted travelers brought up at the alpine tavern, not merely because it is a hostelry affording 'entertainment for man and beast,' but because the railway line runs, as yet, no further than that point. the hotel, built at the point known as mount lowe springs, is constructed something after the style of a swiss chalet, and is as attractive as it is unique. it is set into the very ribs of the mountain, being built to suit the location rather than after any stereotyped plan of the average modern architect, who would ruthlessly fell the finest forests--god's first temples--for the sake of building a wall 'just so.' [illustration: carriage road from alpine tavern to inspiration point.] "in the forest all about the 'tavern' are giant pines and immense oak trees, their branches touching the very roof of the building. these trees are interspersed with maple, sycamore, manzanita, bay, etc., and almost every variety of fern is to be found in the adjacent canyons. "in addition to the main dining hall there is a billiard hall and some twenty sleeping rooms, neatly finished in natural woods, and each heated by means of hot water circulation. these rooms are designed especially for visitors during the winter season, when it is desirable to be housed in a single building, but for summer months surrounding the tavern are numerous tent cottages which allow all who desire to sleep practically out of doors. these tents are large and commodious, and are equipped with comfortable beds and all the essentials of home. many prefer them to the rooms of the tavern. [illustration: a woodland dell, mount lowe springs.] "the 'tavern' is of an entirely original design, the construction being a combination of blocks of granite and oregon pine, finished in the natural color of the wood. the building is forty by eighty feet, and the main floor is used for office and dining room purposes, in which one hundred people can easily be seated. in this dining room there are five cheerful open fireplaces of unique construction; the main one, in which swings the great crane, measures twelve feet from side to side, and seven feet high, with stone blocks for seats in each corner. over the mantle is the hospitable inscription 'ye ornament of a house is ye guest who doth frequent it.' on one side is a large old-fashioned brick oven, and on the other side an opening forming a buffet of most unique construction, where 'mystery' and other fluids are kept for the people of pasadena. [illustration: observation car near granite gate, grand canyon, mount lowe railway.] "it is estimated that more granite has been displaced and rolled down the canyon in building this last five miles of road than would be sufficient to construct a city the size of pasadena. the road-bed is literally 'rock-ribbed,' if not 'eternal as the sun.' "the completion of the next section of the road is expected to be accomplished at some time in the future. already two sections--that is, the one to echo mountain and the one beyond--equal, it is claimed, two and a half times the length of the famous mount washington road. "while the improvements were going on at echo mountain the road beyond was being steadily built, and, as before stated, is now completed to these springs, 5,000 feet above the sea, and five miles beyond echo mountain. the redwood ties, which are of the standard size, lie on solid rock the whole distance, making this the only road in the world, the builder proudly claims, which for so long a distance is built on a shelf of granite. "beyond this point nearly a mile of road has been graded, which will be used as a carriage road for the present, and for sleighing when snow comes. gentle saddle animals are provided here, at nominal expense, for those desiring to ride, and many do so in order to look off from inspiration point, at the summit of the first range, from whence can be seen echo mountain, and the whole magnificent panorama below and beyond. [illustration: saddle horses at alpine tavern, ready for the trip to the summit of mount lowe.] "returning to the 'tavern' the interested company further inspected the quarters, and presently the ceremony of 'hanging the crane' was simply carried out by the chef and assistants, uniformed in white aprons, and 'bossed' by the whole party. the ceremony was quickly over, and was greeted with applause and expressions of delight all along the line. [illustration: mount lowe, looking north from summit of first range.] "then followed the dinner, which was a toothsome repast, elegantly served. prof. and mrs. lowe occupied the head of the table, and the guests were seated at will about the board. the repast was discussed with joy and satisfaction, and thereafter col. g. wiley wells, col. h. g. otis, judge mckinley and dr. conger of pasadena, each responded to calls, and made little talks for the entertainment of the company. "each of the speakers paid a handsome tribute to prof. lowe and his successful work, giving him full and high credit for his genius, perseverance, indomitable will, large faith and astonishing mastery of details. they dwelt upon the importance of the enterprise to southern california, and predicted great results to flow from it in the years to come. the boldness and energy of the builder in undertaking, single-handed and alone, an enterprise vast enough to engage the efforts of a large corporation were dwelt upon by more than one of the speakers, and these references elicited the plaudits of the appreciative company. "prof. lowe responded, modestly telling of his work as a practical modern man of business, who had simply undertaken the very feasible task of building a mountain railway to fit a mountain as he had found it--a work which required a very different sort of talent from that employed by the great artist to whom reference had been made in one of the toasts. the possibilities for sleighing, and the unequaled views from inspiration point were touched upon--a striking view that may be had from a small level spot near the tavern, not much bigger than an army tent would cover. it is certainly a view such as can be had from no other spot on the wide globe. "the host's modest and candid speech was listened to with keen interest, and at its close the speaker was warmly applauded. "this ended the high revelry, and then the revelers took the train for the lower regions, but later got to their respective homes all right, after a most enjoyable day, long to be remembered." the benefits of mountain climbing. the higher one climbs in the mountains the less becomes the atmospheric pressure upon him, and lungs, heart and nerves all feel the reduction of the pressure. all experience new sensations of freedom and vigor, activity and exuberance, felt only on the levels in times of excitement or stimulation. the lungs expand and the breathing is more profound; the heart thereupon beats fuller and more vigorously, while the subtle oxygen, no longer stealing into the body in a half-afraid, surreptitious way, but taking fuller possession at each more vigorous heart-beat, healthfully stimulates the nerves and the brain. renewed activity is the result, with the vim, _verve_, joy and happiness that are natural concomitants of healthful physical conditions. so mentally and spiritually. the higher we go, the less atmospheric pressure is there upon us. we think easier and to better advantage, and our hearts respond more readily to the grand, the good, the beautiful and the sublime. the subtlety of the mental and spiritual stimulus that comes into the life when we are above the fogs and the clouds, breathing deeply a pure atmosphere, is one of its chief charms. we feel the stimulus or respond to it and wonder how and whence it came. a quickened mental and spiritual life is the result. thoughts whose existence were never before dreamed of come and go with rapidity, and we experience all the thrilling joy of mental and spiritual discovery. [illustration: on grade of mount lowe railway, near alpine tavern, thirty minutes from flowers at echo mountain house.] not only are spiritual, mental and physical power gained on the mountains, but in them is contained a marvelously extended store of material for the building up of the artistic and ã¦sthetic sides of men. here artist, poet, orator may gain a stock of unforgettable memories and provide themselves with gallery after gallery of perfect pictures; pictures of beauty, sublimity, majesty and grandeur. just think for a moment of the canvases depicting mountains. some of the greatest artists of the world have built up their reputations through their mountain pictures. three of our greatest artists owe their success to mountain pictures. bierstadt, moran and hill are alike mountain lovers and worshippers. then who can overlook the place mountains have in the poetry of all peoples, of all times? and to merely recount the exquisite and strong, the beautiful and the sublime passages in literature, of which mountains are the theme, would fill many hundreds of volumes. their heights and their unattainableness, and yet the luring of us onward and upward. the snow-capped peaks, the emblems of eternal purity. the dangerous precipices. the shady recesses. the thrilling canyons. the cooling fountains. the secret stores of waters they contain. the minerals they hide. the towering rocks looking down upon all below. the trees they nourish. the flowers they cherish. the valleys they make and sustain. the clouds they arrest and make contributors to the common good. the shields they are to the winds. [illustration: our artist among the bounders. bridle road through castle canyon, near echo mountain house, mount lowe.] health gained in the mountains. physicians are now recognizing more than ever before the great value of conditions that exist in the mountains for the restoration of invalids to health. hence year by year thousands of people leave the stern winters of the east, with their fierce snow-storms, blizzards, winds and tornadoes, to enjoy the equable, delicious climate of our sun-kissed land of the south, and nowhere can these benign influences be enjoyed as well as on the various elevations of the mount lowe railway. those who desire a moderate altitude find it at echo mountain, 3,500 feet above the sea, while to those who need the rarer atmosphere of the more elevated points, alpine tavern, among the pines, is an ideal spot. it is no mere formal statement that the hotels at these two points are first-class in every respect. in all essentials no modern hotel in the greatest cities of the continent surpasses them. the health conditions, too, are simply perfect. pure water from uncontaminated sources,--springs that bubble up through the disintegrated granite and give a naturally-filtered water free from all mineral and organic matter; pure air, changing twice a day in gently flowing currents, which alternate from ocean and desert, both ideal purifiers of the atmosphere; balsamic and health-giving odors from pines, firs, spruces and other mountainous trees and plants; absolute freedom from all malarial or other injurious and noxious influences; the quietude of gentle nature; these are some of the conditions of distinct therapeutic value which minister to the physical and mental well-being of those who dwell in these favored spots. [illustration: winter scene, thirty minutes from perpetual roses at echo mountain house. now reached by alpine division, mount lowe railway.] a mountain canyon in winter. mountain canyons are always beautiful. no matter how rugged the scenery is, dame nature is such a finished artist that she paints the most huge rocks, or the most gnarled and twisted trees, so that all the human painter can do in order to become famous is to properly interpret and place on canvas the touches which nature has imprinted on the landscape. at best man is only a copyist; all his "creations" and "interpretations" are suggested to him by some manifestation of the great creator painted or impressed on some canvas hung on the mountain sides, or in the valley, or on the ever restless waves of the sea. it is in the solitude of the mountains where the finest inspirations for the artists are to be found. here he is alone with nature. here the grandest exhibitions of the titanic power of the creator are manifest, toned and modified by the beautiful tints of flowers and ferns. in this climate the summer is a season of rest for all natural vegetation, except in the mountains. only where man has reversed the course of the seasons do we find growth and development. but even then the canyons possess wonderful beauty, although the songs of their brooks are sung in minor tones. as compared with the brown and parched valleys their cool retreats are refreshing. in winter, however, they possess their greatest charm. then nature is busily at work. the rock gives out bounteous streams of water, which leap down their mossy sides, singing as they go joyful anthems and imparting to every kind of vegetation the moisture which gives them renewed life. where the landscape has been brown and bare comes the rich green of a new life, the very rocks putting on a richer coloring by absorbing their quota of the vivifying fluid. [illustration: alpine tavern in winter.] many people climb to the summits in order to get views of the canyons, imagining that from such heights can be found the best vistas of their caverns. they thereby get a beautiful glimpse of the dark recesses below; but one must see the canyons from their depths in order to fully grasp their beauty and grandeur. we now get close to nature, and she talks to us in a language which all can interpret, and what glimpses of the outer world we see are toned and made mellow by the setting of rocks and forests which are blended by the variegated colors of brilliant green and the "sere and yellow leaf" of those trees which cannot overcome their hereditary nature and sleep while all other vegetation is bursting into new life. professor lowe, having the eye of a true artist, laid out bridle paths, built stairways and walks, and, without disturbing nature, made access to the canyons along the route of the mount lowe railway easy and pleasant, either on foot or on saddle animals. one can spend days and weeks with pleasure and profit in exploring these recesses, with the advantage of having a home at night with all the conveniences of urban life, at no greater cost than when stopping at hotels in the valley. visitors should therefore come prepared to prolong their stay until they have leisurely roamed over all the paths and explored the canyons which constitute the itinerary of the mount lowe railway, and not be satisfied with a cursory glance at the wealth of scenery which is so easy of access, especially when its hotel accommodations are superior to all others in southern california and at no greater cost than in the valley. the flora of mount lowe. the sierra madre are not composed of dry, barren earth heaps, but, true to their name, are mother mountains, fostering and protecting life's children. a refuge for all, for primitive man of past times, who was forced to depend upon them for water and food, and for the civilized man of to-day, seeking health and enjoyment in their oxygenated atmosphere and restful solitudes. [illustration: acorns grown upon the summit of mount lowe. 6100 feet above sea level.] for the lowest as well as the highest of organizations the mountains are a grateful retreat. the simple amoeba, whose existence is undoubtedly the oldest of all times, finds living here impossible, for in water it must live and move and in desert wastes it must perish. the stately yuccas--the candlesticks of our lord--their white fragrant blossoms borne on the straight stalks, at a distance looking like so many white stakes set by surveyors, grow only on the mountains and foothills; while down in the deep canyon streams the lowest of plants, the algã¦, abound. the nearer one approaches to the mountains the more abundant are the signs of life, the more prolific is nature, the more do the flowers multiply; until when the foothills are reached one sees them to be literally covered with blossoms. the ferns are already at the mountains, while the flowering plants all seem to be on their way thither, as emigrants from the dry valley, leaving but few by the roadside, stragglers loitering on the mountain march, or perhaps not stragglers, but simply doubters, hesitating whether to still proceed to where the water ever flows, or whether to wait and see what further wonders man can accomplish with his irrigation. from the fertile, semi-tropical fields of altadena, aglow with golden poppies, stretching up in the mountains to the rocky summit of mount lowe, where saxifrage and penstemons, ferns and nightshade harmoniously cleave to the rocks and strive to gain a living in summer time against altitude and dryness only to be buried in snow in the window months, the line of march extends. [illustration: garden of the gods, showing two sections, with portion of circular bridge, mount lowe.] shrubs and flowers in profusion vie with each other as to which will brighten the landscape the more. the california lilac of the lower altitudes, lays downs its masses of purple blue color, the manzanita thickets of the heights send out their heavy white fragrant blossoms, a pleasing contrast to their rich red gnarled stems, while the brilliant gilias, the showy mariposa lilies, the various primroses, the mocking monkey face flowers--the mimuli, make the trails and bridle roads resplendent. the spotted tiger lilies look down upon the water flowing in the canyons, the woolly blue-curls--the trichostema, relieves the dull browns of the chapparral and the baby blue eyes, the nemophila, hugs closely the mountain sides. the abundant phacelia whitlavia nods in its blue bells over the bank's edge, while its relative, the white phacelia, creeps over the rocks higher up. downy yellow violets--wild pansies the children call them, so much larger are they than the eastern violets--grow on the rich moist earth by the mountain springs. over the scrub oaks the yellow and white honeysuckle winds, while the clematis drapes other thickets with its graceful festoons of white blossoms in spring, leaving for the fall the funny seed balls still clinging to the vine. later in the year the wild fuchias and wild astors come unexpectedly forth when valley flowers have long since given up blooming, keeping up the reputation of the mountains for having flowers at all times and at all seasons. [illustration: observation car on grand circular bridge en route for alpine tavern.] the coast islands from mount lowe. the coast line of the pacific ocean, as seen from mount lowe is peculiarly fine. on a clear day many islands can be seen from the summit, where the eye can scan a distance of nearly three hundred miles along the shore. some of the islands rise from the surface of the water only a few hundred feet, their surfaces being high table lands, which can be cultivated; others are mountains, the highest peaks towering 3,000 feet high, while others are apparently the rocky tops of submerged mountains. [illustration: log cabin, mount lowe springs.] the position of mount lowe is such that with one sweep of the eye they will pass in review on a clear day (which in this region is the normal condition of the atmosphere), giving a panorama of ocean, island, mountain and canyon scenery which cannot be equaled on the globe. looking from mount lowe over the valley. the san gabriel valley and the mesa lands lying between the mission hills and the ocean are choice bits of god's creation, as are also the interior valleys which radiate from them. this stretch of fertile land, all of which can be seen from some point of view on mount lowe, already contains two hundred and fifty thousand people, and yet only a small portion of the soil is cultivated. it is capable of sustaining a population of several million from the products of the soil alone, not to say anything of its superior location for manufacturing and commerce. probably before the new century is half a decade old more than a million people will have their homes here. the portion of this region lying immediately at the foot of mount lowe is the most thickly populated section of southern california. directly underneath, within a few miles of its base, is the beautiful city of pasadena, with its sixteen thousand people, and just beyond the mission hills, the metropolis of the southwest, los angeles, is located, with one hundred and forty thousand population. these two cities show a greater annual per cent. of development than can be found in any other portion of the united states. the upper or western portion of the san gabriel valley is cut up into fruit farms, which look from the mountains like well kept gardens, and the whole scene is one of busy activity. these cities, towns, orchards and farms give added charms to the landscape. [illustration: swimming in the pacific ocean at long beach on new year's day.] through a good opera glass or a field glass the celebrated avenues of baldwin's ranch, the mission san gabriel, the convent at ramona, a portion of the industrial school at whittier, many of the public buildings of los angeles, and other objects of interest may be seen. a score or more of cities, towns and villages are clearly discernible, and the course of their streets well outlined. the puente hills, the mission hills, the san rafael hills and their surrounding mountain heights, with the peaks of santiago, san antonio, san bernardino, san gorgonio, san jacinto, santa monica, santa inez and san fernando are all in sight, and beyond these fertile valleys and highlands can be seen the peaceful waters of the pacific sparkling and glimmering in the warm sunshine, studded here and there with some of the most beautiful islands in the world, the headlands of santa catalina standing out in a clear day like the bold cliffs of gibraltar, and san clemente, st. nicholas, santa rosa, san miguel, ancapa, and santa barbara bedecking the ocean like the isles of the grecian archipelago. from alpine snow to semi-tropical sea. on several new year's days i have made this wonderful and memorable trip. the climatic conditions are so peculiar that within three hours' time of enjoying a swim in the warm waters of the pacific one may be snowballing his friends, sleighriding or tobogganing on the heights of mount lowe. the accompanying pictures give some faint idea of the unrivaled charm of this unique trip. sometimes i have started at the snow in the mountains, but on new year's day, 1897, i first took a swim in the pacific ocean at long beach. this, "the atlantic city of the west," is twenty-one miles southeast of los angeles, and the beach is one of the finest in the world. it has a gentle slope, is of firm sand, and is equally as good for horseback riding and driving as for bathing. its great length of solid sand is what suggested the name, hence it is an ideal spot for those who love the ocean and the sands. here, with several friends, i reveled in the surf and beyond, and then returned to the hotel with an appetite vigorous and healthy. the cravings of hunger satiated, the train whirled me back towards the mountains. now the electric cars of the pacific electric railway, over a broad-gauge track, surpass even the steam cars in their speed and easiness of motion. the green lawns of long beach were left behind, that the eye might feast upon the rich green of the alfalfa fields and sugar beet ranches. the old dominguez ranch was passed, the mesa upon which the last fight with the mexicans took place before california was secured to the united states, and the interesting gardens of the industrious "heathen chinee." never for a moment were we out of sight of the majestic sierra madre range, while hoary san antonio (so inappropriately and disrespectfully called "old baldy," by the uncouth and irreverent), lifted his sentinel head in watchfulness over the ever-verdant and glorious san gabriel valley. to the right and somewhat to the rear was the cloud banner mountain of southern california, mt. santiago, while further away to the east were the giant peaks of san bernardino, san gorgonio and san jacinto. [illustration: at the pasadena tournament of roses, new year's day.] on reaching los angeles change was made to the pasadena cars and a thirty minutes' ride conveyed me to the flower-embowered streets and avenues of pasadena, where a score of thousands of citizens and visitors were assembled to enjoy the annual tournament of roses. this great mid-winter festival fully illustrates the climatic felicities of this god-blessed region. it is a midsummer fãªte, where, generally, flowers are lavishly expended in a wealth of floral decorations that to an eastern mind seems incredible. floats, carriages, tally-hos, bicycles, horses and burros, decorated with choicest flowers, pass in procession through the streets and avenues, cheered by enthusiastic visitors. after reveling in the scene, the electric cars whirled myself, a solitary unit among several hundreds of people, to the heights of echo mountain and alpine tavern. here, taking horse, and accompanied by a distinguished medical professor of the university of minnesota, we were soon on the north slopes of mount lowe, where scores of patches of snow were seen. in the mid-winter air we rode without any inconvenience from cold, even light overcoats being unnecessary. returning to echo mountain, we enjoyed there a concert, and then the doctor and i returned to pasadena and los angeles, respectively, he delighted with the novelty of his trip, and i satisfied that in no other country in the world can such a three-hours' new year's day trip be enjoyed than in our "land of the sun down sea." [illustration: mr. andrew mcnally's gardens on new year's day.] [illustration: in the snow, overlooking great bear canyon, mount lowe.] from the mountains to the sea. although the trip so briefly described above was taken on new years' day it must not be thought that it is a trip specially confined to that day. snow generally is to be found on the north slopes of mount lowe from the end of november (after the first rains) until the middle of may, so that thousands of visitors may enjoy this unique trip. stopping over night at alpine tavern, one may revel in the snow in the morning and be photographed at an elevation of 5,000 feet, taking a sleigh-ride to inspiration point, where he may stand or sit and look over the blossom covered orange and lemon groves and flower gardens of pasadena. in three-quarters of an hour he may be driven in a carriage near those very orchards and gardens, where snow has fallen but twice in eighteen years. after dinner, a little over another hour's ride brings him to the shore of the semi-tropical pacific, and here he may enjoy a swim, or, if he prefers, stand on the beach and watch a hundred people sporting in the warm breakers. this is no unusual experience for the delectation not only of those who are robust and strong, but even the delicate may, with perfect impunity, make such a trip, and thus be enabled to write to eastern friends, shivering in the rigorous cold of an alpine winter, of the pleasures of this almost unbelievable three hours' journey "from the mountains to the sea." [illustration: outlook from one of the bedroom windows, alpine tavern, mount lowe, march, 1896.] dawn on mount lowe. looking southward to the sunlands, on the ocean's ebb and flow, keeping watch o'er echo mountain, dwells the spirit of mount lowe- in the glowing light of noonday, in the midnight calm and lone, gazing outward from the summit like a ruler from his throne. at his feet sits pasadena, framed with fields of fruit and grain where the valley of san gabriel slopes in beauty to the main- pasadena, decked with roses and with gems of gold and green, resting on the landscape's forehead like a crown upon a queen. and the "city of the angels," on her hills of bronze and gold, stands amidst her groves of olives like jerusalem of old; with the purple sierra madres smiling downward from the dawn, as mount hermon smiled on zion, in the ages that are gone. west and south the blue pacific, hemmed with surf and fringed with spray, bathes in floods of molten silver headland, island, beach and bay; east and north the inland deserts, with their ever shifting sands- more unstable than the waters- fade in distant mountain lands. oh! that vision of the sunlands where the skies are ever fair, and the autumn woos the winter with young rosebuds in her hair- where the orange blooms forever and its leaf is never sere, and the mocking bird is singing to his mate the livelong year. it has haunted me in slumber, it has gleamed and throbbed again in my solitary musings, and in crowded throngs of men; like a vanished revelation floats the memory back to me of that dawn upon the mountain 'twixt the desert and the sea. james g. clark. [illustration: mount san antonio, july 4, 1895, as seen from mount lowe.] tri-crested summit of mount lowe. no photograph or engraving can give any adequate conception of the grand proportions of this majestic mountain. seen from los angeles, pasadena, or the intermediate or surrounding points, its three crests are clearly outlined against the sky, and it stands--the proud monarch of the sierra madre range--centrally located and immediately overlooking pasadena and the head of the san gabriel valley. the bridle road of the "mount lowe eight" reaches its topmost crest, where there are delightful mountain parks surrounded by live oaks, pines, firs, sycamore and other trees. the climatic and atmospheric advantages of this site for astronomical and meteorological observations have been enthusiastically expatiated upon by such scientific experts as president eliot and prof. pickering of harvard, profs. barnard and burnham of the lick observatory, prof. kent of chicago and many others. no more suitable site could be selected in the whole domain of the american continent. a forest of pines. along the alpine division the cars pass through a forest of giant pines, which covers all the northern slopes of the sierra madre. the symmetrical branches weave a network against the background of blue sky. these hardy trees grasp the granite rocks with their gnarled roots and send a lacework of delicate fibres down the almost imperceptible fissures for nourishment. the roots of pines and oaks have penetrated the crevices to a depth of twelve to fifteen feet below the surface. the name. the "naming" of mount lowe was quite an interesting ceremony. a large party of distinguished citizens of los angeles and pasadena had ridden to the summit to see the progress made in the construction of the railway and bridle roads, and an article written at the time by one member of the party and published in an eastern paper, the anglaise county (ohio) _republican_, says: "while in the enjoyment of the beauties and grandeur on this magnificent elevation more than 6,000 feet above the sea, some one inquired the name of this grand and lofty mountain, and then it was discovered that until this time this giant peak, the monarch of the sierra madre, was unnamed. one of the party suggested that whereas professor t. s. c. lowe, the great scientist, had first ridden to the top, had made the first trip to its lofty summit, was the first man to have planted the stars and stripes on its highest point, and was the first man to conceive the project of reaching its dizzy height with a railroad, and with courage and means to put such a project into execution, as was now being done, no more fit and appropriate name could be given this mountain than the name of 'mount lowe.' the motion to so name it was put and carried without a dissenting vote, and so, there above the clouds, it was named; and it will continue to be so named, when every one of the party present at the christening shall have been laid away in mother earth; and generations yet unborn shall trace its rugged outlines on their physical geographies and call it mount lowe." [illustration: "gut heil" loop, mount lowe railway, looking from winter to summer.] [illustration: rounding sunset point, mount lowe railway.] how to see mount lowe. there are various ways of "doing" mount lowe, but many people do not give themselves time enough to fully enjoy the various attractions which are to be found along the route. to people of leisure who desire to thoroughly explore the canyons, enjoy the scenery in all its varied manifestations, many days can be profitably and most pleasantly passed, the varied scenery furnishing new enjoyment every day. those whose time is limited should come prepared to stop at least twenty-four hours. by taking an early train echo mountain is reached in time to take a ride over the alpine division, and also to the summit of mount lowe, going over the bridle roads from alpine tavern on saddle animals. the afternoon can be profitably spent in exploring the many canyons of the "mount lowe eight," and viewing the sunset from echo mountain. in the evening there can be witnessed the operation of the great world's fair searchlight and telescopic views of the moon and the planets, the great milky-way, with its millions of suns as large as our own; saturn, with its beautiful rings; jupiter, with its grand belts and moons, and many other celestial objects. the lick observatory at mount hamilton is reached by a tedious round trip by stage of 54 miles without a chance to stop over night at the observatory. after viewing the splendid telescopic views from lowe observatory, all are invited to inspect the incline machinery, elsewhere described. [illustration: observation car, descending from grand circular bridge, mount lowe.] summer on mount lowe. the sierra madre range has long been regarded as the most beautiful location in which to escape from the heat of midsummer, or to make the change of climate and scenery. heretofore the seashore has been more largely patronized on account of its ease of access, but many hundreds of people have annually made pilgrimages to remote mountain resorts because of the pure air and healthful surroundings there to be found. the building of the mount lowe railway into the very heart of the mountains, and the erection of a modern hotel at alpine has drawn the attention of the people to these attractions, and the trend of travel is now turned mountainward. accommodations at the tavern are not surpassed by any on the coast, and the liberal policy of the company to those who desire to pass the summer here has so greatly reduced the expense of living that it costs no more, railway fares included, than at the seashore, and far less than by traveling long distances where they can find nothing to compare with this resort. other mountain resorts are hard to attain, and the cost in money, time and exertion places them beyond the reach of most people. but here, all the enchanting pleasures of mountain life can be enjoyed with the same ease and comfort and at no greater exertion than in the lowlands. for those who are affected by the heat and dust of the valley it is an ideal retreat, where complete exemption is to be had from all complaints of the respiratory organs, especially asthma and hay fever. the healthy and robust also find a variety of scenery and exercise which made life glow with new vigor, attaining in a large degree all needed rest and recuperation. [illustration: around the great fire place, at "ye alpine tavern," mount lowe springs.] at mount lowe springs the alpine tavern affords excellent accommodations at an elevation of 5,000 feet above the sea, in the giant pines which crown the summit of the first range, in which, also, are opportunities for cottage and tent life in a region in which are found the purest water, air which is perfectly adapted to delicate lungs, and innumerable opportunities for the physical and intellectual upbuilding of overtaxed minds and bodies. here one can find rest and sleep as they have never slept before, awaking refreshed with the tonic of mountain air and sweet repose. the summing up. in closing the history of this remarkable enterprise, one thought overshadows all others as we contemplate the author and his work. it is the thought of the unsolved mysteries and sublimities and beauties of these mountains--their inaccessibility, their remoteness--had it not been for the persevering efforts of prof. lowe. the dark curtain that had hung for ages over these craggy chasms, these phenomenal canyons, these magnificent forests, these abysmal depths and cloud piercing heights, these grottoes and glens, these solitary habitations of bird and beast would still be drawn down but for his enterprise and genius--thus shutting out a thousand delights to the multitudes who have already looked upon them, and the myriads in the coming century who are yet to rejoice in their glories. the beauties of mount lowe. and no words of mine can express the charms, delights and beauties of mount lowe better than the following apt and eloquent summary by dr. j. h. barrows, of chicago, the well-known president of the parliament of religions at the world's fair, and later, until his lamented death, the honored president of oberlin college, ohio: "thousands of trees grow out of its sold granite slopes; soft mountain breezes sing luring songs to the trees, the birds reply in a perfect ecstacy of liquid melody, the cataracts here and there dash and boom in accompaniment, and the rippling streams gossippingly carry the joyous news of the mountain heights and solitudes to the sweet mesas and plains below. "four varieties of scenery are here combined: the beautiful san gabriel valley pastoral scene; the sublime ocean and pearl-like island views; the alpine, swiss, norwegian and himalayan effects, the circle of magnificent peaks from san antonio to san jacinto. here we have italy and switzerland, both together! snow and orange groves! icicles and heliotrope! sleigh-riding and rose gardens! toboganning and humming birds! skating and butterflies! snowy mountains and pearly faced ocean, hazy islands and eden's garden, all held in the bottom of god's hand, in the sight of one man's eyes, at one and the same moment!" other picturesque trips on the pacific electric railway. it was from mount lowe that the president of the pacific electric railway gained his first insight or "oversight" of the vast possibilities of the region in and around the city of los angeles. when it was suggested to him that the time was not far distant when the whole of this region, from the mountains to the sea, would be threaded over with electric railways, he was inclined to regard the suggestion as chimerical. time has made his the hand to perform the improbable. nowhere in the civilized world is such a suburban and interurban system of electric railways to be found as radiates from the city of los angeles to the cities, towns, seaside and mountain resorts of this portion of southern california. visitors to the mount lowe railway should request the conductors to point out from the summit of echo mountain the location of the following places. long beach. one of the most interesting trips out of los angeles is over the pacific electric railway to long beach. this enterprising city is located twenty-one miles southeast of los angeles on the shores of the pacific ocean. its location is such that the natural advantages make it the finest seaside resort in california. taking the cars at the corner of sixth and main streets, the city of los angeles is soon behind us and we are "spinning" along at sixty miles an hour over the smoothest piece of broad-gauge track ever built, in cars that are large and commodious. [illustration: long beach, reached by the pacific electric railway.] many points of interest are passed en route--the extensive fields of the co-operative colony, vegetable ranches with their picturesque mongolian workmen; through the prosperous town of compton, which is situated in the centre of a fertile district, where sugar beets, garden truck, alfalfa and other products of the soil are raised; thence by the old dominguez ranch, famous for the old spanish bull fights held there, also the old chapel where every catholic bishop in this state has held divine services. the surrounding mesa was the field of one of the fights of the mexican war. the track is so straight that the poles, rails and wires converge and the vanishing point is seen. the miles are slipping by at a rapid rate. over bridges, through fields, by shady nooks and deep pools we go. rich fields of alfalfa, with their valuable herds of cattle grazing in the foreground, while in the distance san antonio rearing its hoary head to the skies, the sentinel of the tropical san gabriel valley, makes a picture long to be remembered. passing over a most attractive lagoon and up a slight grade--the steepest on the trip--we are nearing the city of long beach. houses with their beautiful lawns appear on every hand. situated on the right is the new high school building, an example of the old mission architecture. turning from american avenue on to ocean boulevard, the broad pacific greets our unobstructed view. hundreds are enjoying the bracing air and delightful surf. the large building to the left is the open air pavilion, in which concerts are given every day in the year, dances being held tri-weekly. from here the broad pleasure pier runs out through the roaring surf to the distance of eighteen hundred feet. fine fishing is had from this point of vantage, although by going out in boats one may enjoy the pleasures of deep sea fishing. the world renowned leaping tuna and june fish are taken, some running as high as 200 pounds. among the attractions of the beach is the new $90,000 bath house. finely equipped in every respect, it is the best appointed and largest bath house in the south. the warm plunge is 60ã�120 feet, graded to all depths. here one may enjoy still water bathing and acquire the art of swimming more readily. up and down the beach for miles as far as the eye can see is the broad expanse of hard, white sand--fourteen miles long at low tide--making one of the finest drives imaginable, while off shore the white winged yachts add an enchantment to the scene. the city in itself is very attractive, the parks, public and private buildings, broad, well laid out streets, show prosperity everywhere. roses, calla lilies, violets, carnations and other flowers are always in bloom. the chautauqua assembly of the pacific coast is held here every summer, in a large tabernacle built for that purpose, and interesting lectures are given by men of national repute. whittier. the great quaker poet has here his california namesake, a beautiful town nestling on the lower slopes of the puente hills. here pio pico, the last mexican governor of california, built a home for his young bride, and here, forty years later, three quakers decided upon this as the location for a town they had decided to establish. that was fifteen years ago. now it is a prosperous town of fully six thousand inhabitants. in 1900 it had but one thousand five hundred and sixty inhabitants; in 1902, three thousand; in 1903, six thousand. in the same time bank deposits in the city have increased from $90,000 to $275,000. in the first six months of 1903 more than $90,000 have been invested in buildings; a $12,000 church, two $12,000 school buildings, a $15,000 odd fellows hall, besides scores of beautiful residences. a fire department has been organized, a building erected and an ample equipment secured. the city has been lighted with electricity and 25,000 feet of gas mains have been laid. new $25,000 high school building, a city hall, and a dozen miles of cement sidewalks are not far in the future. a ride out to whittier, therefore, cannot fail to be of interest to traveler and stranger. in the whittier oil fields great activity is manifested, and on the journey one may see some of the finest of orange orchards, walnut groves and field after field of monster "small" fruits, such as blackberries, loganberries and the like. the old pico mansion is one of the historic landmarks of the state that all should see. here also is located the state industrial school for both sexes. cars run regularly from depot, sixth and main streets, los angeles. san gabriel. this historical landmark was founded by the franciscan fathers padres benito cambon and angel somero september 8, 1771, for the purpose of converting the indians in that territory to the christian faith. the indians readily yielded to the teachings of the mission fathers, at one time there being 1,700 indians under their supervision at this mission. [illustration: mission san gabriel, reached by the pacific electric railway.] the old mission structure is substantially built of brick, covered over with adobe as plaster. the walls are from four to six feet thick. to-day one can see it, as of old, standing as a monument to the men who braved death and sacrificed their lives to bring religion to a heathen people. it is one of the best preserved of all the old missions, and contains many interesting old frescoes, hand carved images and paintings which were brought to this country from spain. the old bells, of which originally there were six (at present only four), still chime forth the angelus, and peal forth their summons to mass. they were brought from spain and traded for in hides, beeswax and tallow. among the numerous attractions is the old mission grape vine, over 100 years old; the cactus hedge and the campo santo or old spanish burial ground. the pacific electric cars en route to this picturesque spot pass many points of interest to the traveler. majestic pepper trees line the way. after leaving the junction of the pasadena short line the raymond hotel stands out in bold relief against mount lowe, many miles distant. the cars then pass in front of the famous san gabriel winery, one of the largest in the world. visitors are allowed to sample freely of the rare old vintages. thence the cars wend their way through the main street of the town of alhambra, which is noted for its fine villas and fruit products of all kinds. beautiful villas greet the eye on every hand, and the beauty of the flowers is everywhere;--thence to san gabriel, the home of the oldest inhabitants of the san gabriel valley. monrovia and baldwin's ranch. about sixteen years ago an enterprising citizen of los angeles, mr. w. n. monroe, realizing the beauties and natural advantages of the foothill country, developed water where the town of monrovia now stands, and laid the foundations of the enterprising city of that name. it stands to-day a marvel of beauty; verdure surrounds you on every hand. the agricultural possibilities that have laid dormant through the ages have been brought to a reality, and this section is now considered one of the richest sections of southern california. the new double-track broad-gauge electric line from los angeles to monrovia, eighteen miles long, passes through the famous san gabriel valley, with the peaks of the sierra madre range, mount lowe 6,100; wilson's peak, 6,700 feet, and san antonio 10,000 feet, standing in bold relief against the blue. starting from los angeles we go over the new pasadena short line to monrovia junction, where we turn to the east, the short line continuing in a northerly direction to pasadena. a grand view of the raymond hotel, with its dark background of mountains, is to be had as we turn east onto the "orange grove route." this is through orange groves all the way, one may say, for we are riding through all kinds of fruit groves and orchards until monrovia is reached. here and there we see stretches of pasture, dotted with live oak trees, with herds of cattle grazing peacefully under their scraggly but picturesque branches. country roads guarded by tall eucalyptus and graceful pepper trees, wineries and vineyards add to the scene. passing through the l. j. rose and chapman ranches we now enter the famous ranch of the west, baldwin's ranch. arcadia is the station we stop at for baldwin's ranch. tallyhos meet the cars, and the nominal price of 50 cents is charged for the drive through the ranch. on this drive all points of interest are visited--the house, winery, race track and stables. twenty-five years ago, mr. e. j. baldwin, better known as "lucky" baldwin, took up land and secured ownership to the vast acreage, now comprising 54,000 acres. it stands, actually a principality in itself, the finest ranch in the west. time and money have not been spared to beautify the grounds and orchards. the ranch house is situated in the midst of an immense orange grove, surrounded with artificial lakes and pools, majestic palms and drooping boughs of the weeping willows. roses are in profusion; giant cacti and stately pines show a contrast of production. the scene challenges description. nestling under this canopy of beauty is the old log cabin, a relic of the early days, and the first house occupied by mr. baldwin when the surrounding country was claimed by the greatest land owner of all, the desert. [illustration: the lake at baldwin's ranch, reached by the pacific electric railway.] at the stables are to be seen the best thoroughbred horses in the west, all with records for their fleetness. the emperor of norfolk, a most knowing animal, won the derby of '89, winning in one race $44,000. this horse won in two years more than any other horse living, winning over $200,000 for his owner. cars leave sixth and main streets every half hour. [illustration] for literature, descriptive of .... the trips, write .... general passenger department pacific electric railway los angeles, cal. [illustration: (ad)] a demand satisfied! $1.00 a day for $1.00 _via._ orange grove route _to_ ostrich farm } _parlor_ san gabriel mission } _car_ baldwin's ranch } _"poppy"_ leave los angeles, 6th and main, 9.30 a. m. return arriving in los angeles, 1.55 p. m. _stopping at all points via_ pacific electric railway los angeles, cal. write for particulars. * * * * * transcriber's notes page 55: changed "covererd" to "covered." (orig: the "cities of the plain" are covererd with this) page 63: changed "sierrate" to "serrate." (orig: depths of millard and grand canyons sierrate the mountains) page 72: changed "mazanita" to "manzanita," and removed duplicate "the." (orig: maple, sycamore, mazanita ... in the the adjacent canyons.) page 77: changed "mounain" to "mountain." (orig: from whence can be seen echo mounain,) page 77: changed "guest" to "guests." (orig: and the guest were seated at will about the board.) page 89: changed "montain" to "mountain." (orig: stragglers loitering on the montain march,) page 98: changed "surpasss" to "surpass." (orig: surpasss even the steam cars in their speed) page 114: changed "abyssmal" to "abysmal." (orig: these abyssmal depths and cloud piercing heights,) page 122: changed "mision" to "mission." (orig: the old mision structure is substantially built) retained spelling variations of chaparral, chapparal, and chapparral. standardized some hyphenated words. made minor punctuation corrections. moved some illustrations to paragraph breaks. out of doors california and oregon by j. a. graves profusely illustrated 1912 contents a motor trip in san diego's back country a hunting trip in the long ago professor lo, philosopher a great day's sport on warner's ranch boyhood days in early california last quail shoot of the year 1911 an auto trip through the sierras to the memory of my sons selwyn emmett graves and jackson a. graves, jr. both of whom were nature lovers, this book is lovingly dedicated. illustrations j. a. graves frontispiece mount pitt cuyamaca lake, near pine hills el cajon valley, san diego county, from schumann-heink point, grossmont in san diego county san diego mountain scene fern brake, palomar mountain the margarita ranch house san diego and coronado islands from grossmont grade on palomar mountain pelican bay, klamath lake on klamath river klamath lake and link river spring creek wood river, oregon the killican williamson river scorpion harbor, santa cruz island smugglers' cove, san clemente island arch rock, santa cruz island cueva valdez, santa cruz island lily rock, idyllwild the entrance and mission arches, glenwood mission inn, riverside magnolia avenue and government indian school, riverside hemet valley from foothills on the south ferris valley grain field orange groves looking southeast across hemet valley, california view from serra memorial cross, huntington drive, rubuidoux mountain, riverside some barley victoria avenue, riverside a rocky stream fern brakes four feet in height at fine hills california white oak another view of spring creek harvesting in san joaquin valley nevada falls from glacier nevada falls, close range point upper yosemite yosemite falls cedar creek at fine hills scene near fine hills lodge a motor trip in san diego's back country. come, you men and women automobilists, get off the paved streets of los angeles and betake yourselves to the back country of san diego county, where you can enjoy automobile life to the utmost during the summer. there drink in the pure air of the mountains, perfumed with the breath of pines and cedars, the wild lilacs, the sweet-pea vines, and a thousand aromatic shrubs and plants that render every hillside ever green from base to summit. lay aside the follies of social conditions, and get back to nature, pure and unadorned, except with nature's charms and graces. to get in touch with these conditions, take your machines as best you can over any of the miserable roads, or rather apologies for roads, until you get out into the highway recently constructed from basset to pomona. run into pomona to gary avenue, turn to the right and follow it to the chino ranch; follow the winding roads, circling to the chino hills, to rincon, then on, over fairly good roads, to corona. pass through that city, then down the beautiful temescal canyon to elsinore. move on through murrietta to temecula. three routes. beyond temecula three routes are open to you. by one of them you keep to the left, over winding roads full of interest and beauty, through a great oak grove at the eastern base of mt. palomar. still proceeding through a forest of scattering oaks, you presently reach warner's ranch through a gate. be sure and close all gates opened by you. only vandals leave gates open when they should be closed. warner's ranch is a vast meadow, mostly level, but sloping from northeast to southwest, with rolling hills and sunken valleys around its eastern edge. a chain of mountains, steep and timber laden, almost encircles the ranch. for a boundary mark on the northeastern side of the ranch, are steep, rocky and forbidding looking mountains. beyond them, the desert. the ranch comprises some 57,000 acres, nearly all valley land. it is well watered, filled with lakes, springs, meadows and running streams, all draining to its lowest point, and forming the head waters of the san luis rey river. you follow the road by which you enter the ranch, to the left, and in a few miles' travel you bring up at warner's hot springs, a resort famed for many years for the curative properties of its waters. the springs are now in charge of mr. and mrs. stanford, and are kept in an admirable manner, considering all of the difficulties they labor under. the run from los angeles to the springs is about 140 miles, and can be made easily in a day. once there, the choice of many interesting trips is open to you. past temecula. after leaving temecula, another road much frequented by the autoists is the right hand road by the red mountain grade to fallbrook, either to del mar, by way of oceanside, or into the escondido valley by way of bonsal, vista and san marcos. the third route, the center one between those i have described, leads to pala. with a party of five in a six-cylinder franklin car, i went over the latter route on april 20th, 1911. every inch of the road was full of interest. we passed through pala, with its ancient mission of that name, and its horde of indian inhabitants. the children of the indian school were having a recess, and they carried on just about in the same manner that so many "pale-faced" children would. leaving pala, we followed the main road along the left bank of the san luis rey river--where the san diego highway commission is now doing work, which will, when finished, bring one to warner's ranch by an easy grade--until we had gotten a few miles into the pauma rancho. we crossed the pauma creek, and some distance beyond it we left the river to our right, turned sharply to the left, and ran up to the base of smith's, or palomar mountain. then came the grade up the mountain. if you are not stout-hearted, and haven't a powerful machine, avoid this beautiful drive. if you are not driving an air-cooled car, carry extra water with you. you will need it before you reach the top. the road is a narrow zigzag, making an ascent of 4000 feet in a distance of from ten to twelve miles of switch-backing around the face of a steep rock-ribbed mountain. to add to its difficulties, the turns are so short that a long car is compelled to back up to negotiate them. about an hour and a quarter is required to make the trip up the mountain. we did all of it on low gear. when the top is finally reached, the view of the surrounding country is simply beyond description. belated spring. the mountain oaks of great size and broad of bough, were not yet fully in leaf. pines and cedars, and to my astonishment, many large sycamores, were mingled with the oaks. a gladsome crop of luscious grasses covered the earth. shrubs and plants were bursting into bloom. as we moved on we saw several wild pigeons in graceful flight among the trees. after traveling the backbone of the mountain for some distance we came to a dimly marked trail, leading to the left. the "major domo" of our party said that this road led to doane's valley, and that we must go down it. it was a straight up and down road, with exceedingly abrupt pitches, in places damp and slippery, and covered with fallen leaves. at the bottom of the descent, which it would have been impossible to retrace, we came to a small stream. directly in the only place where we could have crossed it a log stuck up, which rendered passage impossible. after a deal of prodding and hauling, we dislodged it and safely made the ford. doane's valley is one of those beauty spots which abound in the mountains of california. its floor is a beautiful meadow, in which are innumerable springs. surrounding this meadow is heavy timber, oaks, pines and giant cedars. pauma creek flows out of this meadow through a narrow gorge, which nature evidently intended should some day be closed with a dam to make of the valley a reservoir to conserve the winter waters. we followed a partially destroyed road through the meadow to its upper end. then as high and dry land was within sight we attempted to cross a small, damp, but uncertain looking waterway. wheels stuck. the front wheels passed safely, but when the rear wheels struck it they went into the mud until springs and axles rested on the ground. two full hours we labored before we left that mud hole. we gathered up timbers and old bridge material, then jacked up one wheel a little way, and got something under it to hold it there. the other side was treated the same way. by repeating the operation many times we got the wheels high enough to run some timbers crosswise beneath them. we put other timbers in front and pulled out. we soon reached bailey's hotel, a summer resort of considerable popularity. we continued up the grade until we came onto the main road left by us when we descended into doane's valley. we got up many more pigeons, graceful birds, which the legislature of our state should protect before they are exterminated. we moved on through heavily timber-covered hills, up and down grade, and finally came out on the south side of the mountain overlooking the canyon, some 5000 feet deep, at the bottom of which ran the san luis rey river. what would have been a most beautiful scene was marred by a fog which had drifted up the canyon. but the cloud effect was marvelous. we were above the clouds. a more perfect sky no human being ever saw. the clouds, or fog banks, were so heavy that it looked as if we could have walked off into them. i never saw similar cloud effects anywhere else except from mt. lowe, near los angeles, and mt. tamalpais, in marin county. warner's ranch. we now began our descent to warner's ranch. it was gradual enough for some distance, and the road and trees were as charming as any human being could desire. finally we came out onto a point overlooking the ranch. the view was simply entrancing. imagine a vast amphitheater of 57,000 acres, surrounded by hills, dotted here and there with lakes, with streams of water like threads of burnished silver glittering in the evening light, softened by the clouds hanging over the san luis rey river. there were no clouds on the ranch; they stopped abruptly at the southwest corner. this vast meadow was an emerald green, studded with brilliant colored flowers. vast herds of cattle were peacefully completing their evening meal. the road down to the ranch follows a ridge, which is so steep that no machine has ever been able to ascend it. i held my breath and trusted to the good old car that has done so much for my comfort, safety and amusement. we were all glad when the bottom was reached. we forded the river and whirled away to warner's hot springs, over good meadow roads, arriving there before 7 o'clock p. m. some day these springs are going to be appreciated. now only hardy travelers, as a rule, go there. their medicinal qualities will in time be realized, and the people of southern california will find that they have a carlsbad within a short distance of los angeles, in san diego county. we slept the sleep of the tired, weary tourist that night. hot baths. the following day we passed in bathing in the hot mineral waters, sightseeing and driving around the valley. saturday morning at 7:30 o'clock we bade adieu to mr. and mrs. stanford and left the ranch by way of the rancho santa isabel. the rain god must have been particularly partial to this beautiful ranch this season. nowhere on our trip did we see such a splendid growth of grass and flowers, such happy looking livestock, such an air of plenty and prosperity as we did here. leaving the ranch at the santa isabel store, we took the julian road, which place we reached after a few hours' riding over winding roads good to travel on, and through scenery which was a constant source of enjoyment. julian is one of the early settlements of san diego county. mining has been carried on there with varying successes and disappointments these many years. now apple raising is its great industry. the hillsides are given over to apple culture. the trees are now laden with blossoms. as we topped a hill or crossed a divide before beginning an ascent or descent, the view backward of the apple orchards, peeping up over slight elevations in the clearings, was extremely beautiful. leaving julian, we whirled along over splendid roads through a rolling country, given over to fruit farming, stock raising and pasturage. we next reached cuyamaca and visited the dam of that name, which impounds the winter rains for the san diego flume company. the country around the lake showed a deficiency of rainfall. the lake was far from full. we took our lunch at the clubhouse near the dam. after resting in the shade of the friendly oaks we then pursued our journey to descanso. we passed through alpine and finally entered the el cajon valley, famed far and wide for its muscatel grapes, which seem especially adapted to its dark red soil. the vines were in early leaf, and not as pleasing to the eye as they will be when in full bloom. then came bostonia, a comparatively new settlement, rosamond, la mesa, and finally we whirled off on a splendid road, through an unsettled country overgrown with sage and shrubs, to del mar. the sky was overcast all the afternoon. a stiff ocean breeze blew inland, cool and refreshing. the entire day had been spent amid scenes of rare beauty. the wild flowers are not yet out in profusion, but enough were there to give the traveler an idea of what can be expected in floral offerings later in the season. it was early spring wherever the elevation was 3500 feet or better. the oaks were not yet in leaf, the sycamores just out in their new spring dresses, the wild pea blossoms just beginning to open and cast their fragrance to the breezes. far below. yellow buttercups adorned the warmer spots in each sunny valley. way below us in the open country great fields of poppies greeted the gladdened eye. the freshness of spring was in the air. each breath we inhaled was full of new life. the odor of the pines mingled its fragrance with that of the apple blossoms. del mar is the del monte of southern california. we arrived at stratford inn, at that place, which is as well furnished and as well kept as any hotel on the coast. a small garden, an adjunct of the hotel, shows what the soil and climate of del mar is capable of producing. tomato vines are never frosted. the vegetables from the garden have a fresher, crisper taste than those grown in a drier atmosphere. how good and comfortable the bed felt to us that night! sleep came, leaving the body inert and lifeless in one position for hours at a time. the open air, the sunshine, the long ride, the ever changing scenery, brought one joyous slumber, such as a healthy, happy, tired child enjoys. the next morning, after an ample, well-cooked and well-served breakfast, we took the road on the last leg of our journey. over miles and miles of new-made roads we sped. soon the long detour up the san luis rey valley will be a thing of the past. the new county highway will pursue a much more direct course. we passed through miles of land being prepared for bean culture. miles of hay and grain, miles of pasturage, in which sleek cattle grazed peacefully, or, having fed their fill, lay upon the rich grasses and enjoyed life. near the coast the growth of grain and grass far surpasses that of the interior. santa marguerita rancho, with its boundless expanse of grass-covered pasturage lands, its thousands of head of cattle and horses, its thousands of acres of bean lands, ready for seed, is worth going miles to see. at noon we reached san juan capistrano. we drove into the grounds of the hospitable judge egan. at a table, beneath the grateful shade of giant trees, amid the perfume of flowers, the sweet songs of happy birds, we ate our lunch. after a short rest we took up the run again. we passed el toro and finally came onto the great san joaquin ranch, every acre of which is now highly cultivated. then came the santa ana region, thickly settled, rich in soil and products. we passed through beautiful and enterprising santa ana, through miles upon miles of walnut, orange and other fruit groves, through a solid settlement extending far on each side of the road, to anaheim. and still on through more walnut and orange groves, more wealth-producing crops. through the orange and lemon and walnut groves of fullerton, extending to and forming a large part of whittier, i could not help exclaiming to myself, "what an empire this is! where is the country that yields the annual returns per acre that this land does?" at whittier we got into one of the newly constructed county highways, and at 3:30 p. m. we were home again, after four days in the open, four days of pure and unadulterated happiness. a hunting trip in the long ago one of the disadvantages of old age, even advancing years, is the pleasure we lose in anticipating future events. enthusiastic youth derives more pleasure in planning a journey, an outing or a social gathering than can possibly be realized from any human experience. with what pleasure the young set out, getting ready for a hunting trip, or an excursion to some remote locality never visited by them! from the first day i arrived in los angeles, i had heard of the fort tejon and the rancho la liebre country as a hunting paradise, extolled by all people i met, who were given to spending an occasional week or two in the mountains in search of game. in consequence of what i had heard of this region, i made up my mind to go there the first time i got an opportunity. among the first acquaintances i made here was a dear old man named a. c. chauvin, formerly of st. louis, mo., and of french descent. he had spent many years in the northwest, hunting and trapping. he was an excellent shot with both rifle and shotgun. notwithstanding the fact that he was slightly afflicted with a nervous disorder akin to palsy, which kept his left arm and hand, when not in use, constantly shaking, the moment he drew up his gun, his nerves were steady, and his aim perfect. he despised the modern breech-loading rifle, and insisted on shooting an old-fashioned, muzzle-loading, single-barrel rifle, made by a fellow townsman, henry slaughterbach. it was an exceedingly accurate and powerful shooting gun. chauvin was a thorough hunter, well versed in woodcraft, up in camp equipage and the requirements of men on a two or three weeks' hunting trip. off in the dust. during the summer of 1876 i had been hard at work. the weather had been hot and trying. in the latter part of september, mr. chauvin proposed that i go with him on a deer hunt to the liebre ranch. i was practicing law, and after consulting my partners, i eagerly consented to accompany him. he made all the preparations. on the 30th of september he started a two-horse wagon, loaded with most of our outfit, on ahead, in charge of a roustabout. on october 2nd, we followed in a light one-horse wagon, taking with us our blankets, a few provisions and a shotgun. we had a hard time pulling over the grade beyond san fernando, but finally made it. we went on past newhall, and camped the first night on the bank of the santa clara river. without the slightest trouble we killed, within a very few minutes, enough quail for supper and breakfast. after we had finished our evening meal, quite a shower came up very suddenly. just enough rain fell to make things sticky and disagreeable. the clouds vanished and left as beautiful a starlit sky as any human being ever enjoyed. our wagon had a piece of canvas over it, which shed the rain, and left the ground beneath the wagon dry. upon this spot we spread our blankets and went to sleep. next morning the sun got up, hot, red and ugly looking. we breakfasted, hitched up and started up san francisquito canyon. chauvin remarked we were in for a hot day, and he proved a good prophet. there wasn't a breath of wind stirring as the day progressed. the heat fairly sizzled. a goodly part of the road was well shaded. we were loath to leave the shady spots when we came to the open places. to lighten our load we walked most of the way. we stopped for lunch, fed and rested our weary animal, and just at dark after a weary afternoon's work we reached elizabeth lake, where we overtook the other wagon. we had been two full days on the road. i have made the same trip in an automobile two summers in succession, in less than four hours. in antelope country. on leaving elizabeth lake next morning we transferred everything of any weight from our wagon to the larger one, which made the going much easier for our animal. we descended the hill beyond the lake, went up the valley a few miles, and then cut straight across to a point near where fairmont is now situated. chauvin said he wanted to get an antelope before going after the deer. we crossed the valley into some low, rolling hills and camped on a small stream called rock creek. chauvin said this was a great place for antelope. the horses were picketed out on a grassy cienega, which offered them pretty good feed. we got our supper, made camp and went to bed. during the night a wind began to blow from the northwest, and in a few hours it had become a hurricane. small stones were carried by it like grains of sand. they would pelt us on the head as we lay in our blankets. we could hear the stones clicking against the spokes of the wagon wheels. great clouds, of dust would obscure the sky. by morning the velocity of the wind was terrific. our horses, driven frantic, had broken loose and disappeared. we could not make a fire, nor if we had had one could we have cooked anything, for the dirt that filled the air. for breakfast we ate such things as we had prepared. the roustabout started off trailing the horses. chauvin and i sat around under a bank, blue and disconsolate. about 11 o'clock we saw a great band of antelope going to water. they were coming up against the wind, straight to us. when fully half a mile away they scented us and started off in a circle to strike the creek above us. we put off after them, following up the creek bed. they beat us to it, watered and started back to their feeding ground, passing us in easy range. we shot at them, but without effect. the wind blew so hard that accurate shooting was an impossibility. we went back to camp. not far from it we found quite a hole under the bank, which the winter waters had burrowed out. it afforded shelter enough from the wind, which was still blowing, to allow us to build a fire of dry sage brush. we then prepared a good, warm meal, which we at with great relish. by 1 o'clock in the afternoon the wind began to abate, and it died away almost as suddenly as it came up. it left the atmosphere dry and full of dust. great sight. we heard nothing from the man who had gone after the horses. about 3 o'clock chauvin said he was going to get an antelope or know why. he argued that they would be coming to water soon. he told me to remain near the camp. he went up the stream, intending to get above the point at which the animals usually watered. he had been gone about an hour, when i saw the dust rise toward the east--such a dust as a drove of sheep in motion makes. pretty soon the advance guard of the largest band of antelope i ever saw, or ever hope to see again, appeared in sight. as they scented our camp, what a sight they made! there they stood, out of range, looking to the point where their keen noses notified them that danger lurked. then they would wheel and run, stop and look again. the white spots on their rumps shone in the sunlight like burnished silver. they would stop, look awhile and again wheel and run. suspicious and anxious they stood, heads up and nostrils dilated, sides heaving. they made a beautiful picture of excited and alarmed curiosity. several times they advanced, and then fell back. finally they whirled away and headed up stream. in a few minutes i heard the report of chauvin's rifle, followed a little later by another shot. then the whole band appeared in wild disorder, running as only frightened antelopes can run, in the direction from which they came. shortly afterwards i saw chauvin on a little knoll. i waved my arms. he saw me, took off his hat and beckoned for me to join him. off i put, as fast as my legs could carry me. when i got to him, i found he had killed two antelope bucks. they lay within 400 yards of each other. he had already cut their throats. maybe you think we were not happy! we drew the animals. chauvin was an old man, compactly built, but very strong. he helped me shoulder the smaller of the bucks, and then he, with the greatest ease, picked up the other one, and we trudged to camp. we hung our game up on a couple of stunted stumps and skinned them. then we prepared supper. we cooked potatoes and rice, made coffee, and cornbread, and fried the antelope livers with bacon. just as our meal was ready, our roustabout came into camp, riding one of the horses barebacked, with only a halter and leading the other two. he had had his hat blown away and was bareheaded. he was nearly frozen, having started off in the morning without his coat. horses recovered. he trailed the horses, which were traveling before the wind, for twelve miles. fortunately at a point on the south side of the valley, they entered a ravine, in which there was plenty of bunch grass. here, sheltered from the wind, they fed up the ravine a mile or so, where he found them lying down in a sheltered spot near a water hole. he had had nothing to eat since leaving us. coming back he faced the wind until it died away. riding a horse bareback, with a halter for a bridle, and leading two other horses, you can well imagine was no picnic. we tied the animals to some willow stumps, so there was no danger of their getting loose, and gave them a feed of barley. by this time the roustabout was thawed out by our fire, and we had supper. as we had all the antelope we wanted, we made our plans for the next day. chauvin knew the country thoroughly. he proposed that the next morning we go to where the horses had been found, and proceed up that canyon onto the liebre ranch to a camping spot he knew of. he was certain we would find deer there. at peace with the world, we went to bed that night well fed and contented. next morning we had antelope steak, right out of the loin, for breakfast. i never tasted better meat but once, and that was a moose steak served us one morning at the hotel frontenac in quebec a few years ago. we broke camp early. about noon time we had crossed the valley and gained our new camp, which was an ideal one. there was a spring of hot and a spring of cold iron and sulphur water within ten feet of each other, each near a stream of cold, clear mountain water. the first thing we did was to take a bath in the hot sulphur water. there was quite a hole in which it boiled up. it was almost too hot for comfort, but how cleansing it was! it took all of the sand out of our hair and beard and eyes, and left the skin as soft as satin. after our hot bath, we cooled off in the stream and got into our clothes. refreshed and encouraged, we were extremely happy. deer plentiful. deer tracks were very plentiful. we fixed up our camp, cut up our antelope, put a lot of it out to dry or "jerk," as the common expression is, and then about an hour before sunset, chauvin and i set out to look the country over. there was plenty of timber, pinons and other pines, and oaks, scrub and large, all full of acorns, upon which the deer were feeding. returning from camp, not 100 yards from it, we jumped two bucks. we killed both of them, each getting one. just about then, we began to think things were coming our way. we drew the deer, and in hanging them upon a small oak tree, i pressed a yellow-jacket with the middle finger of my right hand. before i got the stinger out, my upper lip swelled up to enormous proportions, and both my eyes were swollen shut. chauvin looked at me with open-eyed and open-mouthed astonishment. in a characteristic tone, native to him, he remarked, "if i hadn't seen it, i couldn't believe it," he had to lead me to camp. i have been very susceptible to bee stings all my life. several years before this a bumble bee had stung me on my upper lip, and my whole face was swollen out of shape for many days. i suppose that fact had something to do with the peculiar action of this sting. at any rate, i was in great misery, and lay in camp with my eyes swollen shut for three days before the swelling began to abate. i drank great quantities of the sulphur water, and bathed my face in it continuously. the morning after the yellow-jacket incident, chauvin and the roustabout, the latter taking my gun, left me in bed and went out after deer. they left without breakfast, about daylight. shortly afterwards, two of the horses broke loose and ran through camp terror stricken. the third horse strained at his stake rope, but did not break it. he snorted and stamped at a great rate. the loose horses did not leave camp, but kept up a constant running and snorting for some time. when chauvin came back, he found that a bear had come down from the mountains near by, torn down and partially devoured one of the deer we had killed the night before, not one hundred yards from where i lay in bed. don elogio de celis, a well known citizen of los angeles, was camped in a canyon about a mile west of us. that afternoon he killed a grizzly bear of pretty good proportions, and we all supposed that he was the marauder who had visited our camp that morning. while i was laid up chauvin got two more bucks, several tree squirrels and some mountain quail. we made plenty of jerky, while living off the fat of the land. about four or five days after i was stung, the swelling went down sufficiently for me to see again, but i had lost my appetite for further hunting, especially as chauvin had had several long tramps without any luck. we stayed in camp a couple of days longer, then, as signs of a rainstorm were prevalent, we packed up and left camp very early one morning, and the first day got back to newhall. the next morning, when we reached san fernando, as i was not feeling any too well, i took the train for los angeles, so as to avoid the hot, dusty ride in by wagon. for many months chauvin repeated to our friends the extraordinary circumstances of my lip and eyes swelling up from a yellow jacket's sting on the finger. he had hunted and trapped all his life, but could not get over that one incident. what we had expected to be a pleasant outing proved to be rather a hard experience, but we were too old at the game not to have enjoyed it, and do you realize that after we got rested up, we felt better for our experience? life in the open, the change of air, the excitement of hunting, all united in sweeping the cobwebs from our brains and left us better prepared for the battle of life than we were before we started. professor "lo," philosopher my interview with an educated indian in the wilds of oregon: in the summer of 1902 i was camping, in company with the late judge sterry of los angeles, on spring creek in the klamath indian reservation in southeast oregon. spring creek rises out, of lava rocks and flows in a southeasterly direction, carrying over 200,000 inches of the clearest, coldest water i ever saw. in fact, its waters are so clear that the best anglers can only catch trout, with which the stream abounds, in riffles, that is where the stream runs over rocks of such size as to keep the surface in constant commotion, thus obscuring the vision of the fish. two miles, or thereabouts, from its source, spring creek empties into the williamson river. the williamson rises miles away in a tule swamp, and its waters are as black as black coffee. where the two streams come together, the dark waters of the williamson stay on the left hand side of the stream, going down, and the clear waters of spring creek on the right hand side, for half a mile or more. here some rapids, formed by a swift declivity of the stream, over sunken boulders, cause a mixup of the light and dark waters, and from there on they flow intermingled and indistinguishable. nine miles down stream, the sprague river comes in from the left. it is as large as the williamson, and its waters are the color of milk, or nearly so. the stream flows for miles over chalk beds and through chalk cliffs, which gives its waters their weird coloring. the union of the waters of the williamson and the sprague rivers results in the dirty, gray coloring of the waters of klamath lake, into which they empty, and of the klamath river, which discharges the lake into the pacific ocean. killican. the place where the williamson is joined by the sprague is known as the "killican." the stream here flows over a lava bottom and is quite wide, in places very deep and in places quite shallow. there seemed to be quite an area of this shallow water. the shallow places suddenly dropped off into pools of great depth, and it was something of a stunt to wander around on the shallow bed rock and cast off into the pools below. i tried it and found the lava as smooth and slippery as polished glass. after sitting down a couple of times in water two feet deep, i concluded to stay on shore and cast out into the pool. following this exhilarating exercise with indifferent success, i noticed approaching a little, old indian. he was bareheaded and barefooted. his shirt was open, exposing his throat and breast. his eyes were deep set, his hair and beard a grizzly gray. he had a willow fishing pole in one hand and a short bush with green leaves on it, with which he was whacking grasshoppers, in the other. he circled around on the bank near me, now and again catching a hopper. i noticed that he ate about two out of every five that he caught. the others he kept for bait. finally he approached the stream. he paid no attention whatever to me. he selected a spot almost under me, squatted down upon a flat rock, put two grasshoppers on his hook, threw it into the stream, and in a very short time drew out a good six-pound trout. filled with admiration for the feat, while he was tying a string through the fish's gills i said to him, "muy mahe," which another indian had told me meant "big trout." without looking up or turning his head, he said to me in perfect english, "what sort of lingo are you giving me, young man? the true pronunciation of those words is," and then he repeated "muy mahe," with just a little twist to his words that i had not given them. resuming the conversation he remarked, "why not speak english? when both parties understand it, it is much more comfortable. i intended to catch but one fish, but as you have admired this one, allow me to present it to you with my compliments." he had turned around now, and held out the struggling trout, a pleasant smile upon his worn features. embarrassed beyond measure, i apologized for attempting to talk to him in his own language, and accepted the trout. he baited his hook, cast it into the stream, and in a short time landed a still larger trout. without removing it from the hook, he came up the bank to where i was seated. he laid his fish and rod on the grass, wiped his forehead with his hand and sat down. "i never catch more fish, or kill more game than i need for my present wants," he remarked. "that trout will be ample for my wife and myself for supper and breakfast, and in fact for all day tomorrow. when he is gone, i will catch another one." then, turning to me, he asked, "from what section of civilization do you hail?" i told him i was from los angeles. "ah, los angeles," he murmured. "the queen city of the west and angel city of the south. i have read much of your beautiful city, and i have often thought i would like to visit it and confirm with my own eyes all i read about it. what a paradise that country must have been for the indian before you white men came! i can hardly imagine a land of perpetual sunshine, a land where the flowers bloom constantly, where snows never fall. yes, i would like to go there, but i imagine i never shall." then, with an inquiring glance, "what may be your calling?" he asked. i told him i was an attorney-at-law. "a noble profession," he remarked. "next to medicine i regard it as the noblest profession known to our limited capabilities. do you ever think," he asked me, "that the medical profession is devoted to relieving physical ills? to warding off death? the law, on the other hand, takes care of your property rights. it is supposed to be the guardian of the weak. how often, however, do we see its mission perverted, and how often it becomes an oppressor of the unfortunate. how many times do we see it aiding in the accumulation of those large fortunes with which our modern civilization is fast becoming burdened and brutalized." while i had never contracted the filthy habit of smoking, i had in my pocket several good cigars. i extended the case to my newfound friend. he took one, thanked me, bit off the end, lit it and puffed away with evident enjoyment. i took the liberty of asking him his business. "i am a professor of belles lettres and philosophy in the indian college on the klamath reservation. i am here on my vacation. i was born and reared to early manhood in these mountains. they still have a charm for me. while i love my books and my labors, there is a freedom in my life here which appeals to me. here i go back to natural life, and study again the book of nature. each day i take a lesson from the wild animals of the forest, from the surging streams and twittering birds. here i can better realize how small is man in the general plan of creation." he hesitated, and i took advantage of his silence and asked him about the religion of his race. whether the modern red man adhered to the teachings of his tribe, or leaned toward the white man's god. replying, he delivered to me a discourse of considerable length, which, as near as i can recollect it now, ran as follows: a red agnostic. "my people have been too busy these many years filling their stomachs to pay much attention to saving their souls. we teach a religion that inculcates good behavior, and promises as a reward for a well-spent life an eternity of bliss in the happy hunting ground. our future is depicted by our priests as a materialistic future, where we follow the chase, defeat our enemies and enjoy to our full those things which render us happy in this world. personally, i have long since discarded the teachings of my people, and i am in a state of doubt which seriously perplexes me. i have read much and widely on this subject. i find that you white men have not one religion, but many. you are divided into sects, torn by factions. from the teachings of history i would think that the multitude of denominations you support was your greatest safeguard. you know from times past, when a religion becomes too powerful it becomes also intolerant, and persecutions follow. i am loath to accept the christian theory of the origin of man or his probable destiny. science teaches us that the human being has existed for millions of years longer than the churches admit we have existed. the idolatry practiced by the catholic church repulses me, and yet its stability has strongly appealed to me. you will remember what macaulay, in reviewing ranke's history of the popes, said of this church. after reviewing its history, its defeats and its triumphs, he added: 'and she may still exist in undiminished vigor when some traveler from new zealand shall in the midst of a vast solitude take his stand on a broken arch of london bridge to sketch the ruins of st. paul.' and yet, neither the age of the church nor its stability is conclusive to my mind of its divine origin. i am rather convinced from these facts that it has been governed by a skillful set of men, who were able politicians and financiers, as well as religious enthusiasts. certainly no protestant church can lay claim to divine origin. we know too well that the episcopal church was founded by an english king, because the pope of rome refused him a divorce. luther quarreled with his church and broke away from its restraints. wesley founded the methodist church, calvin the presbyterian church. the more i study the religious history of the world, the more i am convinced that religion is founded on fear. the immortal bard, from whom nothing seems to have been hidden, lays down the foundation of all religion in those words from 'hamlet,' where he makes the melancholy dane exclaim: "to die:--to sleep,--to sleep! perchance to dream:--ay, there's the rub; for in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have, shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause." "do you realize that ingersoll, by his teachings and his denunciations of what he termed the 'absurdities of orthodox religious beliefs,' has done more toward shaking faith in many church doctrines than any man of this age'? and, after all, is not his doctrine a sane one? he says, in effect: 'i can not believe these things. my reason revolts at them. they are repugnant to my intellect. i can not believe that a just god will punish one of his creatures for an honest opinion.' he denies that there is such a god as the churches hold out to us. he denies that the world was created in six days; that man was created in the manner described in the bible, and that woman was created from man's rib. he denies that miracles were ever performed, or that there was any evidence, reliable or authoritative, that they were ever performed. and yet he does not deny the existence of a future life. his doctrine on this point is, 'i know only the history of the past and the happenings of the present. i do not know, nor does any man know, anything of the future. let us hope there is a life beyond the grave.' "the old poet, omar, argues against a future life. you will recall these lines: "'strange, is it not, that of the multitudes who before us pass'd the door of darkness through, not one returns to tell us of the road, which to discover we must travel, too.'" "the churches tell us we must have faith to be saved, but the great minds of the present age are not satisfied, any more than many of the great minds of the past were satisfied, to admit as a matter of faith the whole foundation of the christian religion." "people want to be shown. they are not willing to rely upon poorly authenticated stories of what occurred several thousand years ago. the question presents itself to us: is the world better, for its present beliefs than it formerly was, when religion was a matter of statute people may not be as religious as they once were, but they are certainly more humane. women are no longer slaves, chattels, with unfeeling husbands. slavery itself no longer exists in any civilized nation. polygamy is not practiced to the extent that it was in biblical days. the world progressed as fear ceased to rule the human mind." "but, pardon me," he added with infinite grace and a charming wave of. his hand, "you see your question has aroused in me the failing of the pedagogue. i have said more than i had intended." "how do your people," i asked, "look upon the material progress of the age?" "they are astounded," he answered. "since the modoc war many of my people have prospered. you have seen their farms, their houses, and noted their occupations. they are rich in lands and stock, and even in money. they have many comforts and even many luxuries in their homes. some of them have traveled extensively, and they come back filled with awe and admiration with what the white man has done and is doing. i read the modern press, and many scientific works, and i am satisfied that man will fly in a few years more. already the automobile is displacing the domestic animals. the telephone was a great triumph of science, next in importance to steam locomotion. but, are your people as happy with your modern methods, your crowded cities, your strenuous existence, as your forefathers were, who led the simple life? and where is this mad scramble, not for wealth alone, not for power but for mere existence, nothing more, that the human race is engaged in, going to end? can you tell me? take america, one of the newest civilized lands of the earth, how long will it be before her coal measures are exhausted? her iron ores exhausted? her forests will soon be a thing of the past. already you hear complaints that her fertile lands are not yielding as they once did, and your population is constantly increasing. with coal gone, with iron gone, with the land poverty stricken to a point where profitable production of cereals can no longer be had, what is to become of your teeming millions?" the awakening. i assured him i could not answer these questions. that i had asked myself the same things a thousand times, and no answer came to me. i handed the professor another cigar. he lit it. just then an old indian woman clad in a calico wrapper, but bareheaded and barefooted, came down the road towards us. she stopped some fifty feet away, and in a shy, low voice, but in good english, she called him. "papa, did you catch me a fish for dinner?" the professor turned his head, and seeing her, said to me, "ah, here is my guardian angel, my wife," and then to her, holding up his trout, he said, "yes, i have it. i am coming now." he arose, held out a dirty hand for me to shake, and in parting, said, "my dear sir, you can not imagine how much i have enjoyed our chance meeting, resulting from your poor pronunciation of two indian words. when you return to your civilized surroundings, ask yourself, 'are any of this mad throng as happy as the indian i met at the killican'." he joined his wife, and the aged pair passed into a brush hut beneath some stately pines. i, too, turned toward the wagon which was to carry me back to camp, meditating long and deeply on the remarks of this strolling compound of savagery and education. environment is largely responsible for man's condition. here was a man who had acquired considerable knowledge of the world and books, he was still a savage in his manner of life and in his habits. his manner of talking was forceful and natural, and his command of language remarkable. the ease and abandon with which he wielded the arguments of those who rail against the existence of a divine being would lead one, listening to him, to imagine himself in the lecture-room of some modern university. a great day's sport on warner's ranch. think of three days in the open! three glorious days in the sunshine! "far from the madding crowd!" far from the rush and stir and whirl and hum of business! far from the mcnamara horror, and its sickening aftermath of jury bribing! a short time ago, whirling over good roads and bad roads, through orange groves with their loads of fruit, rapidly assuming golden hues; through miles and miles of vineyards, now 'reft of all leaves, vineyards in which the pruners were already busily at work; past acres and acres of ground being prepared for grain; through wooded canyons and pine-screened vales; ascending from almost sea level to upwards of 3000 feet--a party of us went to warner's ranch after the famous canvasback ducks. we left my home at 7:30 o'clock a. m., some of us in my machine, and two of the party in a runabout. filled with the ambition of youth, the driver of the latter car reached mr. william newport's place in the perris valley, a run of seventy-six miles, in two hours and twenty minutes. we jogged along, reaching newport's in three hours, and found the exultant, speed-crazed fiend waiting for us. he was loud in the praise of his speedy run. of all of this take note a little later in the story. we lunched with mr. newport, and then took him with us. what a day it was! a radiant, dry, winter day! the whole earth was flooded with sunshine. not a cloud was in the sky. the air was full of snap and electric energy. the atmosphere absolutely clear. we wound in and out of the canyons, over dry and running streams, always ascending, climbing the eastern shoulder of mt. palomar, not to the top, but to a pass by which the ranch is reached. before 4 o'clock we were on warner's ranch. this property could well be described as the "pamir" of southern california. true, its elevation is but slight compared with the 16,000 feet of that great asiatic country, bearing the name of "pamir," where roams in all his freedom the true "ovis poli" or "big horn." the ranch comprises about 57,000 acres of land, and is the largest body of comparatively level land at even an elevation of 3500 feet in southern california. it is an immense circular valley, rock ribbed and mountain bound. out of it, through a narrow gorge to the southwest, flows the san luis rey river. the ranch is well watered. much of it during the winter season is semi-bog or swamp land, and at all times affords wonderful grazing for stock. there are circling hills and level mesas and broad valleys here and there. nestled between the hills are a number of mountain lakes, fed by innumerable springs around their edges. these lakes furnish food for the canvasback duck in the various grasses and other growths, of which they are extremely fond. first bag. contrary to good judgment, we drove to one of these lakes, and had half an hour's shooting that evening. we got about twenty birds. we proceeded to the hotel, and after drawing our birds, hung them up where they would freeze that night and not be in the sun while we were shooting next day. a cold north wind was blowing, which whistled mournfully through the cottonwoods, and suggested a night where plenty of blankets would be more than acceptable. the hotel is situated at the warner's hot springs, celebrated throughout all of southern california for their wonderful curative properties. the proprietor, mr. stanford, and his good wife, made us comfortable, and were as accommodating as we have always found them. after a good supper we proceeded to our rooms and got ready for the next day's slaughter. well into the night the wind whistled and blew. it finally went down. then the temperature began to fall. the thermometer went to 29 degrees before morning. wherever there was a thin surface of water, there was ice. we did not get out very early. it is not necessary at warner's. the ducks fly from lake to lake when disturbed. if too heavily bombarded they leave the valley. we breakfasted about 7 o'clock. taking our guns and ammunition, we started out over the frosty roads for the lakes. as we reached the lower ground the frost was heavier. i found the surface of one small lake solidly frozen. at the larger lakes there was just a little ice on the edges. we distributed our men to the various lakes, and the shooting began. say, neighbor, did you ever hunt those big mountain canvasback? if you have, you know the story. if you have not, i am afraid i can not give you a correct impression of it. sitting in a frozen blind, all at once you hear the whirring of wings, far off in the sky. before you can locate the source of it, "swish!" an old can goes by. you look at the streak of light he leaves in the atmosphere. then you hear another far-off alarm. you seize your gun as the gray mark passes overhead at about 125 miles an hour. you shoot at it and realize that you have shot just fifty feet behind it. another one comes by. bang! again goes the gun. you have done a little better this time, but you are yet not less than thirty feet in the rear. again you try it. just a few feathers fly. you are alarmed now, and there comes to you the admonition of an old duck hunter, who laid down the following three rules for duck shooting, viz: "first, lead them considerably. "second, lead them a little more than last time. "third, still lead them further yet." the next time you get your bird, a great big, magnificent can. kerplunk! he falls into the water, or with a dull thud, he strikes the ground with force enough to kill a horse if hit squarely by it. what a bird he was! how beautifully marked! how bright his wing! how deep his breast, compared with any other duck in the land! how magnificent the dark brown, velvet coloring of his head! how soft and satiny the white streaked back! all over the valley the guns were booming. out of the sky, a mile away, you would see ducks flying rapidly, suddenly crumple up and plunge to the earth or water. ducks go skating. in a lull in the shooting i left my blind and went a quarter of a mile away to the little lake mentioned before as frozen over. i crept up to the top of a hill and looked down upon it. although the sun was high in the sky, the lake was still frozen. it was surrounded by ducks. i don't want to say that they were skating on the ice. i saw one old canvasback drake, however, peck at another duck. the latter squawked and waddled out of the way, going where the water should have been. when he struck the ice, he slid for quite a little distance, balancing with his wings in a most ludicrous fashion. while cautiously watching them, i saw this performance repeated several times. there was no hope of my approaching them within shooting distance, so i stood up to arouse the ducks, hoping to send them to my companions. they filled the air with a great clatter of wings, and circled off to various portions of the valley. i heard a great bombardment as they crossed the other lakes, and i knew that someone had taken toll from them. it was a beautiful day, with cloudless sky. the sun's warm summer like rays were in marked contrast to the icy breath of winter, encountered at sunrise. what a grand sunrise it was! from behind the mountains of the east, up out of the depths of the salton sea, old sol first illuminated the sky, the mountain tops and wooded ridges to the southwest and north, and then with a rich show of crimson coloring, he suddenly vaulted into the sky, touching with his golden wand each frosted leaf and frozen bush and tree, and hill and vale and mountain top. fine luck. we shot with varying success during the morning hours. many of the ducks, especially the larger ones, circled high in the air like miniature aeroplanes, almost beyond human vision. how they sped on frightened wings, gradually going higher and higher, and finally darting off over the eastern rim of the valley in the direction of salton sea. just before noon time my companion at one of the lakes, and myself, gathered up our ducks and hung them high in a tree at the water's edge. we then went to another lake by which the autos stood, where we had agreed to muster for lunch. the entire party were in high spirits, and pronounced the sport the best they had ever had. after lunch two of the party in the runabout drove out of the valley to some place familiar to them. they returned later with the limit of jacksnipe--big, fat, thick-breasted, meaty looking birds. my companion and myself returned to our blinds. the duck flight during the fore part of the afternoon was exceedingly light. i managed to land, among others, a beautiful canvasback drake. shortly afterwards i stopped as fine a mallard drake as i ever saw. this was the only mallard killed on the trip. in the gathering shadows of the coming night we drove back to the springs. seven guns had killed 118 ducks, fifty of them canvasback. there was a fine sprinkling of sprig, redhead, widgeon, plenty of teal, bluebills and some spoonbills, all fine, fat birds. then there were the jacksnipe. tired and happy we dined. until retiring time, we lived again the sport of the day. when we sought our beds, sleep came quickly, and i do not think any of us turned over until it was time to get up. we had packed our belongings, taken on gasoline and breakfasted, and started homeward a little after 7 o'clock. we visited another section of the country known to one of our party, and fell in with some mountain pigeons, and in a couple of hours managed to kill sixty-eight of them. talk about shooting! oh, mama! how those pigeons could fly! and pack away lead! no bird i ever saw could equal them in that particular. even at close range, a well-centered bird would, when hard hit, pull himself together as his feathers flew in the breeze, and sail away out into some mountain side, quite out of reach of the hunter, undoubtedly to die and furnish food for the buzzards or coyotes. we had to take awful chances as to distance in order to kill any of them. while looking for a dead pigeon that fell off towards the bottom of a wooded bluff in some thick bunches of chapparal, i heard the quick boof! boof! of the hoofs of a bounding deer. i did not see that animal. an instant later, in rounding a heavy growth of bushes, i saw a magnificent buck grazing on the tender growth. he stood just the fraction of a second with the young twig of the bush in his mouth, looking at me with his great luminous eyes, and then he made a jump or two out of sight. strange that these two animals had not fled at the sound of our guns. a game warden hailed us and insisted on seeing all our hunting licenses and on counting our ducks. this privilege, under the law, we could have denied him, but we were a little proud of the birds we had, and as we were well within the number we could have killed, we made no objection to his doing so. as a result of its speedy run the day before, the runabout had for some little time been running on a rim. we left its occupants, who disdained our help, putting on a new tire. after a beautiful run we again reached the newport place, where we lunched. the car did not appear. we hated to go away and leave them, as we thought they might be in difficulty. we telephoned to temecula and found they had passed that point. about two hours after our arrival they came whirling in. they had had more tire trouble. they took a hasty lunch, and we all started together. we made the home run without incident. spread out in one body our game made a most imposing appearance. besides the 118 ducks there were 50 jacksnipe and 68 fine large wild pigeons. such days make us regret that we are growing old. they rejuvenate us --make us boys again. boyhood days in early california my boyhood days, from the time i was five until i was fifteen years of age, were spent on a ranch in yuba county, california. we were located on the east side of feather river, about five miles above marysville. the ranch consisted of several hundred acres of high land, which, at its western terminus, fell away about one hundred feet to the river bottom. there were a couple of hundred acres of this river bottom land which was arable. it was exceedingly rich and productive. still west of this land was a well-wooded pasture, separated from the cultivated lands by a good board fence. the river bounded this pasture on the north and west. in the pasture were swales of damp land, literally overgrown with wild blackberry bushes. they bore prolific crops of long, black, juicy berries, far superior to the tame berries, and they were almost entirely free from seeds. many a time have i temporarily bankrupted my stomach on hot blackberry roll, with good, rich sauce. the country fairly teemed with game. quail and rabbit were with us all the time. doves came by the thousands in the early summer and departed in the fall. in winter the wild ducks and geese were more than abundant. in the spring wild pigeons visited us in great numbers. there was one old oak tree which was a favorite resting-place with them. sheltered by some live oak bushes, i was always enabled to sneak up and kill many of them out of this tree. i began to wander with the gun when i was but a little over eight years old. the gun was a long, double-barrel, muzzle-loading derelict. wads were not a commercial commodity in those days. i would put in some powder, guessing at the amount, then a wad of newspaper, and thoroughly ram it home, upon top of this the shot, quantity also guessed at, and more paper. but it was barely shoved to the shot, never rammed. sad experience taught me that ramming the shot added to the kicking qualities of the firearm. how that old gun could kick! many times it bowled me over. st. george littledale, a noted english sportsman, in describing a peculiarly heavy express rifle, said, "it was absolutely without recoil. every time i discharged it, it simply pushed me over." that described my gun exactly, except that it had "the recoil." i deemed myself especially fortunate if i could get up against a fence post or an oak tree when i shot at something. by this means i retained an upright position. armed with this gun, an antiquated powder flask, a shot pouch whose measurer was missing, and a dilapidated game bag, i spent hours in the woods and fields, shooting such game as i needed, learning to love life in the open, the trees, the flowers, the birds and the wild animals i met. i was as proud of my outfit as the modern hunter is of his $500 gun and expensive accompaniments. when i went after the cows, i carried my gun, and often got a dozen or more quail at a pot shot out of some friendly covey. if i went to plow corn, or work in the vegetable garden, the gun accompanied me, and it was sure to do deadly execution every day. when it was too wet to plow, no matter how hard it was raining, it was just right to hunt. clad in a gum coat, i would take my gun and brave the elements, when a seat by the fireside would have been much more comfortable. i loved to be out in a storm, to watch the rain, to hear the wind toss and tear the branches of the trees, to hear at first hand the fury of the storm, and watch the birds hovering in the underbrush, and the wild waterfowl seek the protection of the willows. in such a storm great flocks of geese would scurry across the country within a few feet of the ground. they usually went in the teeth of the gale. at such times they constantly uttered shrill cries and appeared utterly demoralized. if there were game laws in those days, i never knew it. it was always open season with me. often my mother would tell me to shoot something besides quail, that she was tired of them. there was a slough on the place which was full of beaver and beaver dams. how i tried to get one of them, always without success! they were very crafty, very alert, and at the slightest indication of danger dived under water to the doors of their houses, long before one was in gunshot of them. full many a weary hour have i spent, hidden in the brush, watching a nearby beaver dam in the hope of getting a shot, but always without avail. they would appear at other dams, too far away, but never show themselves close enough to be injured. in the winter the slough fairly swarmed with ducks of every variety. they were disturbed but little, and they used these waters as a resting place, flying far out into the grain fields and into the open plain at night for their food. the beautiful wood duck, now almost extinct in california, was very plentiful. they went in flocks as widgeon do. they would go into the tops of the oak trees and feed upon the acorns. i killed many of them as they came out of these trees. in flying they had a way of massing together like blackbirds, and one shot often brought down a goodly bag of them. the slough i mentioned above was not a stagnant one. it was fed by water from feather river. after winding around an island, it emptied its waters back into the river farther down stream, so that fresh water was continually entering and flowing from it. along its banks grew a fringe of tall cottonwood trees. many of them were completely enveloped with wild grapevines, which bore abundantly. the slough was full of two or three varieties of perch, or, as we called them, sun-fish; also a white fish called chub. these fish were all very palatable, and i caught loads of them. in the fall, when the wild grapes were ripe, they would fall off into the water and were fed upon by the fish. beneath the vine-clad cottonwoods the fishing was always good. one afternoon i was following a path just outside of the pasture fence, through heavy wheat stubble, left after cutting time. i saw a pair of pink ears ahead of me, which i knew belonged to a rabbit. i blazed away at the ears. the gun, as usual, did execution at both ends. i went over on my back. when i regained my feet i saw a great commotion on the firing line. rabbits' legs and feathers were alternately in the air. investigating, i found two cottontail, one jackrabbit and three quail in the last stages of dissolution, all the result of one shot at two rabbit's ears. i felt bigger than napoleon ever did as i gathered up my kill and started for home. on one of my wanderings i came across; the barrel of a rifle on an indian mound, which had been plowed up when we were preparing the land for planting. it was so coated with rust that the metal was no longer visible. floods had covered the ground many times. not knowing how long it had been buried there, i dug the rust and dirt out of the barrel as best i could and took it home. on my first trip to marysville i took it to a blacksmith named allison, who did all of our work, and asked him to cut it off about a foot from the breech end, so that i could use it as a cannon. he put it in his forge, and pulled away upon his bellows with his left hand. he held the muzzle end of the rifle barrel in his right hand, and poked at the coals with it so as to get it properly covered. he intended to heat it and then cut it off. all at once, bang! and that horrid old thing went off. the bullet went through allison's clothing and slightly cut the skin on his side. he was the worst scared man in all california. when he felt the sting of the bullet he threw up his hands and fell on his back, yelling lustily. i was almost as badly panic-stricken, thinking surely he was killed. i began to see visions of the gallows and the hangman's rope. he recovered his self-possession, and when he found he was not hurt, his fear turned to anger. he threw the rifle barrel out into the street, and then drove me out of the shop. when i got outside and my fear had left me, i sat down on an old wagon tongue and laughed until i was entirely out of breath. allison came out, and my laughter must have been contagious. he leaned up against a post and laughed until he cried. his anger had left him, and we were soon fast friends again. at the proper time i ventured the opinion that the rifle could not go off again, and that it would be well enough to finish the cutting process. he consented and soon had the barrel cut off. i took the breech end home with me, and endangered my life with it many years. i generally loaded it with blasting powder, for the reason that it was usually on hand and cost me nothing, and so loaded, the cannon made more noise than had i used gunpowder. during the campaign in which gen. george b. mcclellan ran for the presidency against abraham lincoln, the democrats of northern california had a great celebration which lasted two or three days. among other things was a barbecue at the race track, two or three miles out of town. great pits were dug which were filled with oak stumps and logs, and burned for about twenty-four hours before the cooking began. these logs were reduced to a perfect bed of live coals. over these, old-fashioned southern negroes, of whom there were many in the neighborhood, cooked quarters of beef, whole sheep, pigs, chickens, ducks, turkeys and geese. there were at least five thousand people on the ground. my blacksmith friend, allison, was firing a salute with an old cannon. he fired the cannon after it was loaded, with an iron rod, one end of which was kept heated in a small fire. i attended to the fire for him. after the discharge the gun was wiped out with a wet swab. the powder was done up in red flannel cartridges. allison, with heavy, buckskin gloves on his hands, would hold his thumb over the vent or tube of the cannon. two men, first slitting the lower end of the cartridge, would ram it into the gun. during each loading process i straddled the gun, looking towards allison. after a number of discharges, the heat burned a hole through the glove that allison was using, and his thumb, coming in contact with the hot metal, was withdrawn for an instant, while the assistants were sending home a charge. there was an immediate premature explosion. i was sitting astride the gun, and felt it rise up and buck like a horse. allison's eyes were nearly ruined, and his face filled with powder, the marks of which stayed with him the rest of his life. the two assistants were horribly mutilated, but neither of them was killed. for a time i thought i never would hear again. my ears simply shut up and refused to open for some time. it would seem that this disaster should have been sufficient for one day, but it was not. that night there was to have been public speaking in front of the western hotel, by many prominent politicians. opposite the hotel was a two-story brick building, with a veranda built around it. all of the offices on the second floor opened on this veranda. it was crowded with people. the weight became excessive. the iron posts next to the sidewalk, which sustained the veranda, slid out, and the platform swung down like a table leaf, spilling everybody onto the sidewalk. eight or nine people were killed outright, and many more very severely injured. when about twelve years of age i got hold of two greyhounds, sisters, named "flora" and "queen." during the winter time i spent much time chasing jackrabbits. in summer time the ground got so hard that the dogs would not run. the ground hurt their feet. but in the winter we had great sport. there was an immense open plain east of our property, miles long and miles wide, and level as a floor. there was a dry weed, without leaves and of a reddish color, which grew in patches all over this plain. these weed patches were the hiding places of the jackrabbits. the game was exciting and stirred one's sporting blood. i found a great difference in the speed of jackrabbits--as much in fact as in the speed of blooded horses. occasionally i would get up one that would actually run away from the dogs, which were a fast pair. i followed the sport so persistently, and paid so little attention to fences when they interfered with my going, that i got the appellation in the neighborhood of "that d ã� d graves boy." when we got up a hare, away we went after the dogs, just as fast as our horses would carry us. the sport was hard on horseflesh, so much so that my father finally forbade me running any of our horses after the hounds. there lived in our neighborhood a man who owned, and who had put upon the track some of the fastest horses in the state. at this time he had retired and raised horses for the fun of it. he also had some good hounds. he enjoyed the sport as much as i did. having plenty of good horses, he furnished me with as many as i needed. we spent many days in trying to determine which of us had the best dogs. incidentally, we wrecked some promising thoroughbreds. the question of the superiority of our dogs was never settled. we always left the door open for one more race. our place was the haven of all the boys of my acquaintance. when i was attending school at marysville some boy came home with me nearly every friday night. we would work at whatever was being done on the place saturday forenoon, but the afternoon was ours. with the old gun we took to the pasture, hunted for game, for birds' nests and even turtles' nests. the mud turtle, common to all california waters, laid an astounding number of very hard shelled, oblong, white eggs, considerably larger than a pigeon's egg. they deposited them in the sand on the shores of the slough, covering them up, leaving them for the sun to hatch. they always left some tell-tale marks by which we discovered the nest. often we got several hundred eggs in an afternoon. they were very rich, and of good flavor. there were many coons and a few wildcats in the pasture woods. with the aid of a dog we had great sport with them. hard pressed, they would take to the trees, from which we would shoot them. on one occasion we found four little spitfire, baby lynx, which we carried home and later traded to the proprietor of a menagerie. we got some money and two pair of fan-tail pigeons in exchange for them. when quite small they were the most vicious, untamable little varmints imaginable, and as long as we had them our hands were badly scratched by them. on the bottom land, each year, we had a large and well assorted vegetable garden. it produced much more than we could possibly use. we boys would sell things from the garden for amusement and pin money. during one summer vacation, a boy, one johnnie gray, a brother of l. d. c. gray of this city, was visiting me. we took a load of vegetables to marysville. after selling it, getting our lunch, paying for the shoeing of our horse (which in those days cost four dollars), and buying some ammunition for the gun, we had $1.50 left. we quarreled as to how we should spend this remnant. not being able to agree, we started home without buying anything. on the outskirts of marysville was a brewery. the price of a five-gallon keg of beer was $1.50. we concluded to take a keg home with us. it was an awfully hot summer day, and the brewer was afraid to tap the keg, thinking that the faucet would blow out under the influence of the heat before we got home. he gave us a wooden faucet, and told us how to use it. "hold it so," he said, showing us, "hit it with a heavy hammer, watch the bung, and when you have driven it in pretty well, then send it home with a hard blow." we were sure we could do it. we drove home, put the beer in the shade by the well, spread a wet cloth over it, and then put our horse away. my parents chided us for throwing our money away on beer. in the cool of the evening we concluded to tap the keg. one of us held the faucet and the other did the driving, but we did not have the success predicted for us by the brewer. at the critical moment we drove in the bung, but not with sufficient momentum to fasten the faucet. it flew out of our hands into the air, followed by the beer. in about a minute the keg was entirely empty. we were overwhelmingly drenched and drowned by the escaping beer, but never got a single drop of it to drink. on another occasion some of us children were coming home from marysville. we were driving an old white horse, named "jake," who knew us and loved us as only a good horse can. he submitted to our abuses, shared in our pleasure and would not willingly have hurt any of us. we were in a small, one-seated spring wagon. while driving through a lane, moved on by the spirit of deviltry, one of us whipped jake into a run, and the other one threw the reins over a fence post. the result was as could have been expected by any sane-minded individual. the horse stopped so suddenly that he sat down on the singletree, and broke both the shafts of the wagon. we were hurled out with great force, and got sundry bruises and abrasions. we wired up the shafts and got home as best we could, and, i am sorry to say, we lied right manfully as to the cause of the accident. we told a story of a drunken mexican on horseback who chased us a considerable distance, and finally lassoed the horse, bringing him to so sudden a stop as to cause the damage. instead of being punished, as we should have been, we were lauded as heroes of an attempted kidnapping. one of my uncles made for us a four-wheeled wagon, the hub, spokes and axles being made out of california oak--such a wagon as you can buy in any store today, only a little larger. we made a kite of large dimensions, and covered the frame with cotton from a couple of flour sacks. at certain times of the year, the wind across the marysville plains blew with great velocity. this kite, in a strong wind, had great pulling capacity. we would go out into the plain, put up the kite, and fasten the string to the tongue of the wagon, three or four of us pile on, and let her go. the speed that we would travel before the wind by this means was marvelous, but we tried the kite trick once too often. we got to going so fast we could not slow down nor successfully guide the wagon. it ran over an old stump, spilled us all out, and kite and wagon sailed away clear across feather river into sutter county and we never saw either of them again. the boys of the present age have no such opportunities for out-of-door sports as we did in the olden days. now it is baseball, automobile exhibitions and moving picture shows. increased population, high-power guns, cultivation of the soil, the breaking up of large ranches into smaller holdings, have resulted in the disappearance of much of the game with which the land then abounded. fifty years ago in california, conditions of rural life were necessarily hard. our habitations were but little more than shelter from the elements. we had none of the conveniences of modern life. at our house we always made our own tallow candles. we hardened the candles by mixing beeswax with the tallow. we made the beeswax from comb of the honey taken from bee trees. we corned our own beef and made sauerkraut by the barrel for winter use. we canned our own fruit, made jelly and jam from wild berries and wild grapes. we selected perfect ears of corn, shelled it at home, ran it through a fanning machine, and then had the corn ground into meal for our own consumption. we raised our own poultry and made our own butter and cheese, with plenty to sell; put up our own lard, shoulders, ham and bacon and made our own hominy. the larder was always well filled. the mother of a family was its doctor. a huge dose of blue mass, followed by castor oil and quinine, was supposed to cure everything, and it generally did. in the cities luxuries were few. to own a piano was the privilege of the very wealthy. speaking of pianos, in the flood of 1863, before marysville was protected by its levee, which is now twenty-five feet high, the family cow swam into the parlor of one of the best mansions of the town, through the window. when the flood waters had subsided, she was found drowned on top of the piano. life under the conditions here given was necessarily hard. our amusements were few. we, who lived in the country, had plenty of good air and sound sleep-two things often denied the city resident. our sports were few and simple, but of such a nature that they toughened the fiber and strengthened the muscles of our bodies, thus fitting us to withstand the heavy drafts on our vitality that the hurly-burly of modern life entails upon the race. last quail shoot of the year 1911 were i musically inclined, i could very appropriately sing, "darling, i am growing old." the realization of this fact, as unwelcome as it is, is from time to time forced upon me. on friday, november 10, 1911, i went to the westminster gun club, in an open machine, through wind and storm. got up the next morning at 5 o'clock, had a duck shoot, drove back thirty miles to los angeles, arriving there at 11:30 a. m. at 1 o'clock i drove to my home, and at 2 o'clock was off for ferris valley on a quail shoot. had a good outing, with much hard labor. the next day i got home at half past five, completely done up. as i went to retire, i had a good, stiff, nervous chill. so you can well see that i can no longer stand punishment, and am "growing old." as i lay there and shook, i said to myself, "old fellow, you will soon be a 'has-been.' your gun and fishing rod will soon decorate your shooting case as ornaments, rather than as things of utility." ah, well, let it be so! the memory of pleasant days when youth and strength were mine; days when the creel was full, and game limits came my way, will be with me still. i would not exchange the experience i have had with rod and gun for all the money any millionaire in the world possesses. on my trip to the grounds of the quail valley land company, some thirty miles below riverside, two members of the club and my wife accompanied me. we were in one of my good, old reliable franklin cars, and from ontario to riverside we bucked a strong head wind that was cold and pitiless. it necessarily impeded our progress, as we had on a glass front, and the top was up, and yet we made the run of seventy-six miles in three hours and a quarter without ever touching the machine. in fact, none of the party got out of the machine, from start to finish. the big, open fireplace at newport's home, and the bountiful, well-cooked supper with which we were greeted, were well calculated to make us happy and contented. the long drive in the wind rendered all of us sleepy, and by 9 o'clock we had retired. i never woke up until 6 o'clock next morning. shooting grounds. after breakfast we proceeded in our machine to the shooting ground. the sky was heavily overcast with watery, wicked looking clouds. rifts in the sky, here and there, let some frozen looking sunbeams through, but there was no warmth in their rays. we had our first shoot on the edge of a grain field, but the birds quickly flew to some high hills to the west. rounding the pass through these hills, i never saw the perris valley more weirdly beautiful. the clouds were high. on the north mt. san bernardino loomed up, grim, snow-capped and forbidding. to the east old tahquitz, guardian of the passes to the desert, reared his snow-capped head, far above the surrounding country. to the south mt. palomar stretched his long, lazy looking form, with his rounded back and indented outline, from east to west. his distance from us made him look like a line of low, outlying hills, instead of the sturdy old mountain that he is. all of these mountains bore most exquisite purple hues. the same coloring was assumed by those groups of lesser hills that, cone-like, are scattered over the easterly edge of the perris valley, and which separate the hemet and the san jacinto country from the rest of the valley. the coloring of the floor of the valley itself was particularly exquisite. there was just enough light, just enough of sunbeams struggling through the sodden clouds to illuminate, here and there, an alfalfa field, or here and there a grove of trees, so as to bring them out in startling contrast to the somber colors of the shaded portions of the valley. but with it were signs of the dying year, a premonition of storms to come, storms unpleasant while they last, but revivifying in their effects. many quail--too cold. in the fifteen years during which i have shot upon these grounds, i never got up more or larger bands of quail than we did that morning. the day was too cold for good shooting. give me the good old summer time, with the thermometer about 80 degrees, for good quail shooting. in the cool days the birds run or get up and fly a half mile at a time. they will not scatter out and lie close, so that you can get them up one by one and fill your bags. on the cold days they also break cover at very long range. they led us a merry chase up the steepest hills and down the most abrupt declivities. all of the time we were slowly making good. lloyd newport was there on his buckskin horse. now you could see him way up on a hillside, then again down in some deep valley, running like mad to check the flight, or turn the running march of some band of birds that was leading those of us on foot a double-quick run. shooting as he rode, now to the right, now to the left, then straight ahead, he got his share of the birds. little fred newport, only 14 years old, was shooting like a veteran, and long before the rest of us had scored, he proudly announced that he had the limit. the final round-up found us with 109 birds for seven guns--a good shoot, under very adverse circumstances. we had the satisfaction of knowing that we left plenty of birds on the ground for next year. the quail shooting of 1911 is at an end. only the memory of it remains. i shall cherish the memory deeply in my affections, and let it stir my enthusiasm for the out-of-door life when the world seems all balled up, and things are going wrong. the rattlesnake. while proceeding along an unfrequented road, with sage brush on each side of it, we ran across a rattlesnake, about four feet long, and of good circumference, twisted up into a most peculiar position. investigation found that, notwithstanding the coolness of the day, he was foraging for game, and was engaged in swallowing a good-sized kangaroo rat. the tail of the rat protruded several inches from his mouth. the snake glared at us, but made no effort to escape or fight. he seemed dazed, probably half choked by his efforts to swallow the rat. we straightened him out on the ground and blew his head off with a shotgun. we then disgorged the rat, which was at least four or five inches long, and an inch and a half in diameter. the snake was then quickly skinned. he had eleven rattles and a button. snakes eat the eggs and the young of the quail. in view of the ravages by snakes, hawks, weasles, skunks, wildcats and coyotes i do not see how there are any quail left for the sportsmen. the fight of these marauders is constantly going on, while the sportsmen's efforts are at present limited to a very short period. at a quarter after two we left newport's for home. we took in a little gasoline at riverside. this was the only stop made on the home run, which was accomplished in three hours and a quarter (seventy-six miles) with a perfect score so far as the machine was concerned. nature at her loveliest. we did not encounter the cruel wind in returning that buffeted us on the outward trip. i never saw the san gabriel valley more beautiful than it was that afternoon. as we bowled along the road this side of san dimas, the entire valley lay before us. to the west were the rugged sierra madre mountains; on the east, the san jose hills. they connected with the puente hills to the south. west of these came the hills of the rancho la merced, running from the san gabriel river westerly, and still west of them come the hills, which run east from the arroyo seco, north of the bairdstown country. from our position these hills all seemed to connect without any breaks or passes in them. thus the valley before us was one mountain-and-hill-bound amphitheater. the sky was overcast by grayish clouds. the sun hung low in the west, directly in front of us. how gorgeous was the coloring of the sky and valley! how the orchards and vineyards were illuminated! how the colors lingered and seemed to fondle every growing thing, and paint each rock and point of hill as no artist could! the sun hung in one position for quite a time before taking its final dip below the horizon. the clouds assumed a golden tinge, turning to burnished copper. through breaks or irregular rifts therein, we got glimpses of the sky beyond of an opalescent blue in strong contrast with the crimson coloring of the clouds, all of which were intensely illuminated by the setting sun. underneath this vast sea of riotous coloring there was a subdued, intense light, which i can not describe or account for. it brought every object in the valley plainly into view, lifted it into space, and illuminated it. after we had passed azusa we chanced to look back at "old baldy" and the cucamonga peaks. they were in a blaze of glorious light, purple, pink, crimson, fiery red, all mingled indiscriminately, yet all preserved in their individual intensity. oh, land so rare, where such visions of delight are provided by the unseen powers for our delectation! as i surveyed this vast acreage, evidencing the highest cultivation, with princely homes, vast systems of irrigation, with orange orchards and lemon groves in, every stage of development, from the plants in the seed beds to trees of maturity and full production, i congratulated myself on living in such an age, and amid such environments. let us appreciate, enjoy and defend until our dying day, this glorious land, unswept by blizzards, untouched by winter's cruel frosts, unscathed by the torrid breath of sultry summer, a land of perpetual sunshine, where roses, carnations, heliotrope, and a thousand rare, choice and delicate flowers bloom in the open air continually, where in the spring time the senses are oppressed by the odor of orange and lemon blossoms, and where the orchards yield a harvest so fabulous in returns as to be almost beyond human comprehension. an auto trip through the sierras. tule river and yosemite. i have been in california fifty-four years. during all of this time i had never visited the yosemite. before it was too late i determined to go there. we started in june, 1911. accompanied by mrs. graves, my son francis and a friend, dr. a. c. macleish, we left alhambra, june seventh of this year at seven o'clock a. m. we passed through garvanza, glendale and tropico, and were soon on the san fernando road. the run through the town of that name and through the tunnel, recently constructed to avoid the newhall grade, was made in good time and without incident. newhall. at newhall we procured and carried with us a five-gallon can of gasoline. a short distance out of saugus, we turned into the san francisquito canyon road. shortly afterwards a brand new inner tube on the right rear wheel went completely to pieces. it had been too highly cured and could not stand the heat. we replaced it with another one, and were soon crossing and recrossing the stream which meanders down the canyon. constantly climbing the grade, we were whirling from sunshine to shadow alternately as the road was overhung with or free from trees. old memories aroused. i could not help recalling my trip over the same road with my old friend, mr. a. c. chauvin, on the third day of october, 1876. the road was fairly good. our machine was working nicely, the day a pleasant one, and the trip enjoyable. in a few hours we reached elizabeth lake. i pointed out the very spot at which chauvin and myself camped thirty-five years before. ah, the fleeting years! how quickly they have sped! what experiences we have had! what pleasures we have enjoyed! what sorrows endured in thirty-five years! well it is, that then the future was not unfolded to me, and that all the enthusiasm and hope and ambition of youth led me on to the goal, which has brought me so much joy, as well as much sorrow. momentous events have affected not only my own life, but the life of nations in these thirty-five years. crossing antelope valley. we passed the lake, turning down the grade into antelope valley. after several miles of very rolling country, we halted under some almond trees in a deserted orchard for lunch. the grasshoppers were thicker than people on a hot sunday at venice or ocean park in the "good old summer time." we managed to eat our lunch without eating any of the hoppers, but there wasn't much margin in our favor in the performance. before starting we emptied our can of gasoline into the tank. soon we intercepted the road leading from palmdale to fairmont and neenach. we passed both of these places, then quail lake and bailey hotel. we were soon at lebec. then came the beautiful ride past castac lake, and down the canyon, under the noble white oak trees, which are the pride of tejon ranch. we passed through ft. tejon with its adobe buildings already fallen or rapidly falling into ruinous decay. still descending through the lower reaches of the canyon, we took the final dip down the big grade and rolled out into the valley. a pleasant stream of water followed the road out into the plains, at which sleek, fat cattle drank, or along whose banks they lolled listlessly, having already slaked their thirst. we whirled past the dilapidated ranch buildings put down in the guide books as rose station. from this point, since my trip over this country a year ago, much of the road to bakersfield has been fenced. cloud effects. while crossing antelope valley during the afternoon, i observed a most wonderful cloud effect. a perfectly white cloud hung over frazier mountain. its base was miles long and as straight as if it had been sheared off by machinery. its top was as irregular as its base was finished. it extended into the sky farther than the blue old mountain did above the surrounding country. irregular in shape, it assumed the form of mountains, valleys, forests, streams, castles and turrets. i watched it for hours, apparently it never moved. it hung there as immovable as the mountain beneath it. it was at once an emblem of purity and apparent stability. after we had passed fairmont, my attention was diverted from it for a short time, not over ten minutes, and when again looking for my cloud, it was gone. every vestige of it had vanished completely, and in its place was the blue sky, its color intensified by reason of its recent meager obscuration. bakersfield. we reached bakersfield early in the evening, having made the run of one hundred and forty-six miles, over a heavy mountain range, on fifteen gallons of gasoline. this i call a good performance for any six-cylinder car. coming down the tejon canyon, we passed the only joe desmond of aqueduct fame, with some companions, taking lunch by the roadside. he had come from mojave. he was bound for bakersfield to buy hay. off for porterville. we left bakersfield at seven a. m. next morning, over an excellent road, for porterville. fifty miles after starting we picked up a nail and had a flat tire. porterville was reached at eleven o'clock. as a side trip we were going to a camp of the san joaquin light & power company, way up on the tule river, for the purpose of visiting a grove of big trees located in that vicinity. as we had many miles of uphill work ahead of us, we concluded not to delay at porterville for lunch. we replenished our lunch basket of the day before from a grocery store, filled our tank with gasoline and sped on. at twelve o'clock, a few miles beyond the small village of springville, which will shortly be connected with the outside world by a railroad now in process of construction, we halted for lunch in a shady spot on one of the forks of the tule river. for many miles before reaching porterville, we saw quite extensive evidence of the orange industry. there were many groves in full bearing and miles and miles of young groves but a few years planted or just set out. tule river canyon. from porterville to springville, the canyon of the tule river is quite wide. the course of the river itself is marked by a heavy growth of timber, some quarter of a mile in width. orange and lemon groves have been planted in favored localities on the bench lands, here and there, but not continuously. there is much hilly land back of the canyon proper, covered with wild oats and evidently devoted entirely to pasture. shortly after our noon halt we came to the power plant of the mount whitney power company. here they told us our journey would end twelve miles further up the stream. from this point the canyon narrowed rapidly until it became a mere gorge. while precipitously steep, the roadbed was good. it ran along the left side of the canyon, going up. at all times we had the right hand side of the canyon in plain view. far above us on our side, now in plain sight, now hidden by a projecting point or tall timber, was the flume of the mount whitney power company, which carried water from the river to the powerhouse we had passed. as we ascended, we continually got nearer to this flume, which was run on a grade, and at last we passed under it. we saw it shortly afterwards terminate at an intake in the canyon below our road. from here on i never enjoyed a more beautiful ride. to my mind there is nothing more attractive than a california mountain canyon and its thickly-wooded sides. below us, foam-covered, white, radiant with light and beauty, ran the tule river. in its rapid descent, confined to the bottom of the canyon, it hurtled along over water-worn boulders of great size, its swollen masses of surging waters forming here and there cascades, immense pools and miniature falls. it kept up a loud and constant roar, not too loud, but with just enough energy to be grateful to the ear. the canyon--a bower of beauty. we had left behind us the scattering timber of the lower foothills. the sides of the canyon were clothed and garlanded in various shades of green from top to bottom. black oak trees in their fresh, new garbs of early summer, intermingled with stately pines. all space between these trees was filled with a rich growth of all the flowering shrubs known to our california mountains. in the damper places a wild tangle of ferns and vines and bracken entirely hid the earth from view. lilacs, white and purple, in full bloom emitted a fragrance which rendered the air intoxicating and nearly overpowered one's senses. mingled with these bushes were the cascara segrada, bright-leafed maples, and the brilliantly colored stems and vividly green leaves of the manzanitas, some in full bloom, some in berries set. the graceful red bud, found in luxuriant growth in lake county, was also here. likewise the elders, with their heavy clusters of yellow blossoms. the buckeye, with its long, graceful blossoms, reached far up above the undergrowth. the mountain sage, differing materially from the valley sage and bearing a yellow flower, was also here. the mountain balm, with its long purple blossoms, mingled its colors with its neighbors. occasionally an humble thistle, with its blossom of purple base and intense pink center, thrust up its head through some leafy bower. crowding all of these was the grease wood with its yellow bloom, the snow-bush or buckthorn, with a blossom resembling white lilac and fully as sweet, and all the other shrubs of our mountain chaparrals, all, however, blended into one beautiful and fragrant bouquet, so exquisitely formed that man's ingenuity could never equal it in arranging floral decorations. then again a turn in the road would bring us great masses of tall dogwood with its shining leaves and beautiful white blossoms with yellow centers. they also, like the ferns, sought the cooler, darker spots. never before have i seen the california slippery elm or leatherwood tree in such perfect form. it makes a stately branching tree. its great yellow blossoms almost cover the limbs. the shade of the flower is a deep golden yellow. when mingled with the dogwood, the intense green of the foliage of the two trees, coupled with the white and yellow decorations, made a bouquet of rarest beauty. thimble-berry bushes, rich in color, bright of leaf and rank of growth, sported their great white blossoms with much grace and dignity. yellow buttercups, carnations, violets of three colors, white, yellow and purple, half hid their graceful heads under the tangled growth of various grasses by the wayside. the wild iris moved their varicolored flowers with each passing breath of air. hyacinths, lupins and hollyhocks were freely interspersed with the glistening foliage of the shrubbery. the tiger and yellow mountain lilies were not yet in flower, although we frequently saw their tall stems bearing undeveloped blossoms. the columbine and white and yellow clematis were much in evidence, and presented a charming picture as they wound in and out, and over and around the green leaves of the shrubs, displaying their creamy blossoms with a dainty air and self-conscious superiority. in open places beneath the forest trees, where no large underbrush grew, a fern-like, low shrub, locally known as bear clover, completely hid the earth. it bore a white blossom with yellow center, for all the world like that of a strawberry. to my surprise, the spanish bayonets in full bloom reared their heads above the lower growing evergreens. we saw them no further north than the tule river canyon. what a picture the sunlight made on the mountain tops and the sloping sides of the lateral valleys of the canyon! ah, that river, how beautiful it was! there it ran below us, in the very bottom of the canyon, ever moving, ever turbulent, ever flashing in the sunlight, ever tossing its foamy spray far up into the air, a thing of life, of joy and ecstatic force. it sang and laughed and gurgled aloud in the happiness of its life and freedom. above was the sky, pure and radiantly blue. its exquisite coloring was intensified by the wild riot of color beneath it. we still ascended. each breath of air we drew was rich with the odor of pine and fir, mint and balsam. the line of survey on the opposite side of the canyon from us, marking the course of the tunnel now being constructed by the san joaquin light & power company, which terminates at a point on the mountain side at the junction of a side canyon sixteen hundred feet above the stream, was now on a level with us. we could see ahead of us where it, like the flume earlier in the day, reached the river level. at this point we knew our journey ended. we were pulling slowly up a stiff, nasty grade, when all at once a loud crash announced the demolition of some of the internal machinery of our car. we stopped from necessity. "auto" breaks down. our "auto" was a helpless thing. when the clutch was thrown in, it could only respond with a loud, discordant whirring. it made no forward movement. we all thought our differential had gone to smash. one of our party went on ahead, and at a nearby camp we telephoned mr. hill, superintendent of the power company, of our predicament. he directed a man who was working a pair of heavy horses on a road near by, to hitch onto us and haul us up to his place, a mile or so distant. all of us, except mrs. graves, and our chauffeur, who had to steer the car and work the brakes, walked. it was slow going, but the journey finally ended. we found a good, clean camp, clean beds and a good supper awaiting us. that night we reaped the sweet repose which comes from exertion in the open air. early next morning we blocked up our car and took off the rear axle, uncoupled the differential case and found everything there intact. we then removed the caps from the wheel hubs and took out the floating axles, or drive shafts. one of them was broken into two pieces. it either had a flaw in it when made or had crystallized, no one could determine which. we got los angeles by phone, ordered the necessary parts by express to porterville, and, think of it, we had these parts delivered to us at two o'clock the next afternoon! the soda spring. we spent the rest of friday, june ninth, in visiting a magnificent soda and iron spring, a mile above camp, which is for all the world like the spring of the same quality in runkle's meadows, above the lake on kern river, some ninety miles above kernville. the waters of the spring were deliciously cool and refreshing. a tramp up a mountain. next morning the male members of our party started up a steep mountain trail to see some sequoias i had heard about. unused as we were to excessive exercise and the altitude, the climb was a hard one. we ascended from four thousand feet elevation to over seven thousand feet. most of the way the trail was through heavy fir and sugar-pine. going up we ran into two beautiful full-grown deer, a buck and a doe. they fled to security with easy, graceful jumps, into the thick underbrush. we heard grouse drumming loudly, in two or three different localities and saw one bird make a long dive from one pine tree to another. we found wild flowers in profusion, of the same variety, fragrance and coloring as encountered in the canyon the day before. just as we reached the summit, we found, standing on the backbone of the ridge--so located that rain falling on it would flow from one side of it into one water-shed, and from the other side into another water-shed--a great, stately sequoia gigantea fully three hundred feet high and of immense circumference. there wasn't a branch on it within one hundred feet of the ground. it was in good leaf, except at the top, which was gnarled and weather-beaten. its base had been cruelly burned. this tree bears a striking resemblance to the grizzly giant which we saw later in the mariposa big tree grove near wawona. not far from this fine old guardian of the pass, were groups of noble trees, fully as tall, but not as large as the one described, but perfect trees, erect, stately, and imposing. the bark of all of these trees was very smooth and very red, much more highly colored than the trees in the wawona grove. i was too much fatigued to make another mile down the west side of the mountain (we had come up from the east) to inspect a much larger grove of still larger trees. two of the younger members of our party, my son francis and harry graves, our chauffeur, made the trip while dr. macleish and i awaited their return on the summit. they came back enthusiastic over the lower groves, the trees there being much more numerous in number and much larger in size than the ones we first ran into. we sat around resting a while, straining our necks looking for, the tops of those trees, all of which were way up there in the blue sky. we wondered how many years they had been there, and what revolutions in climate and topographical appearance of the country they had witnessed. finally, having satiated ourselves with their beauty, we started on the return journey, which was made without incident, except that we disturbed a hen grouse with a fine brood of little ones about the size of a valley quail. a mother grouse. the mother bird flew into a scrub oak. she there asserted the privilege of her sex and scolded us in no uncertain tones. when all her young had flitted away to cover, still scolding, she took one of those long dives down to a deep dark canyon, flying with incredible rapidity, and apparently not moving a feather. no other bird i ever saw can do the trick as a grouse does it. we saw but few other birds on this excursion. an occasional blue-jay, a vagrant bee-bird, now and then a robin, and once in a while a most brilliantly colored oriole made up the list. fluffy-tailed gray squirrels chattered at us noisily from the wayside trees. they seemed bubbling over with life and motion. we stopped at the soda springs for a life-giving draught of its refreshing waters, and were back to camp in time for lunch. flight of lady-bugs. when we reached the soda springs, we met the most remarkable migration of red lady-bugs that i ever saw. they were coming in myriads from down the main canyon and each side canyon. they extended in a swarm from the ground to a distance above it of from ten to twelve feet. huge rocks would be covered six or eight inches deep with them. occasionally they would light upon a tree, and in a few moments the tree or bush would be absolutely covered, every speck of foliage hidden. it was difficult to breathe without inhaling them, and we were kept busy brushing them from our faces and clothes. they were all traveling in one direction--down stream. i believe that they had been into the canyons laying their eggs, and were returning to the valleys. all afternoon the flight continued, but by nightfall there wasn't a lady-bug in sight. we tried fishing, but the water was too high and too turbulent for success in the sport. auto repairs arrive. about two o'clock that afternoon our new floating axle and fittings had arrived, and in another hour the car was set up and ready for business. the following morning (sunday) we bade mr. hill and his men good-bye and started for crane valley. the drive out of the canyon was a beautiful one. we did not go all the way to porterville, but went several miles beyond springville, turned into frazier valley, and went to visalia by way of lindsay and half a dozen small villages, and from there on to fresno, which place we reached at about two o'clock. the ride was a hot one. we drove through miles and miles of orange orchards, some in full bearing, but mostly recently planted. fresno. we left fresno at about four-thirty o'clock over the same road we traveled a year before. however, before crossing the river, we turned to the right and went up through a town, pulaski, where we crossed on a splendid cement bridge. the road was pretty badly cut up from heavy teaming, but we got to crane valley about ten o'clock p. m. we had considerable trouble with our carburetor during the afternoon, and lost much time trying to locate the trouble, but without avail. the younger members of the party, although the hour was late, went to prowling around the camp for something to eat. they raided the cook's pie counter in the dark. we had had a splendid lunch at fresno at two o'clock, and mrs. graves and i were too tired to want anything to eat, and retired on our arrival. crane valley. since our visit to crane valley a year ago, we found that the then uncompleted dam was finished. instead of a small reservoir of water, we found a vast inland sea, with water one hundred and ten feet deep at its deepest part. it is six miles long, by from half to one mile in width. it is twenty-five miles in circumference. the dam proper is nearly two thousand feet long, and at one part is one hundred and fifty-four feet high on its lower side. it is built with a cement core, with rock and earth fill, above and below; that is, on each side of the cement work. the inner and outer surface of the dam are rock-covered. to give you an idea, of its capacity, if emptied on a level plain, its waters would cover forty-two thousand acres of land one foot deep. when we were there a discharge gate had been open two weeks, discharging a stream of water two and one-half feet deep, over a weir thirty-eight feet wide, and the surface of the reservoir had been lowered but two inches. i say, "all hail to the san joaquin light & power company and its enterprising officials, for the great work completed by them." it is a public benefactor in storing up, for gradual discharge, at a time of the year when it could do no good, this vast body of water which would otherwise run to the sea. what a place for rest are these mountain valleys! after inspecting the dam, catching some bass and killing a 'rattlesnake, we were all contented to sit around for the remainder of the day. a certain languor takes possession of the human frame when one has come from a lower to a higher altitude. one ceases to think, his mentality goes to sleep, he can doze and dream and be happy in doing so. again on the road. tuesday morning, leaving mr. dougherty, the superintendent, and his good wife, we started for wawona. we traveled up the left side of the lake, over a good road, above the water level, to its extreme western end. here we climbed a mountain to an elevation of five thousand five hundred feet, over a cattle trail which was badly washed out, to a road leading to fresno flats. this place we soon reached over a good but steep roadbed. then, winding in and out of the canyon through a foothill country, we made steady progress until we reached the main road from raymond to wawona. the grade was uphill all the time. we left the lumbering camp known as sugar pine to our right. the lumber interests have made a sad spectacle of miles and miles of country, recently heavily forested. there seems to be no idea in the lumberman's mind of saving the young growth when cutting the larger timber. all the young growth is broken down and destroyed, and finally burned up with the brush and wreckage of the larger trees, leaving the mountain side scarred and blackened, and so lye-soaked that immediate growth of even brush or chaparral is impossible. we passed through fish camp, and in a short time came to the toll-gate at which point the road to the mariposa grove of big trees branches off. wawona. the rest of the run to wawona was all downhill, through heavy timber, over a good but dusty road. we reached the hotel in time for lunch. that afternoon, with mr. washburn, we took a drive of some miles around the big meadows, near the hotel, went up the river and took in all points of interest in the neighborhood. wawona hotel is pleasantly located. it is an ideal place to rest. there inertia creeps into the system. you avoid all unnecessary exercise. you are ever ready to drop into a chair, to listen to the wind sighing through the trees, to hear the river singing its never ending song, to watch the robins and the black birds and the orioles come and go, and observe the never-ending coming and going of guests. some are just arriving from the san joaquin valley, some are departing to it, or coming home or going to the yosemite, or starting off or coming from the big trees or signal peak. you eat and sleep and forget the cares of life, forget its troubles, and smelling the incense of the pines, sleep comes to you the moment your head touches your pillow and lasts unbrokenly until breakfast-time the next day. los angeles people known everywhere. we took passage on a stage-coach next morning for the wawona big trees. the trip is one ever to be remembered. the road winds around over the mountains, always ascending, for about eight miles. the great trees are scattered over quite an expanse of territory. a technical description of them would be out of place here. to realize their size and majesty you must see them. many are named after prominent men of the nations, and after various cities and states of the union. i was glad to see the names of los angeles and pasadena on two magnificent specimens. we drove through the trunk of a standing tree, and present herewith a picture of the feat. the gentleman on the left on the rear seat is a mr. isham, and the lady and gentleman on the same seat are a mr. and mrs. risley, just returned from a trip around the world. they are from the same city in the east as dr. and mrs. w. jarvis barlow, and mrs. alfred solano of this city, to whom they desired to be warmly remembered. go where you will, you meet someone who knows someone in los angeles. we lunched in the open air at the big trees, and made the return trip in a reverent mood, almost in silence, each of the party given over to his or her reflections. i realize that there is in my mind an ineffaceable mental picture of those gigantic trees, which are so tall, so large, so impressive and massive that they overpower the understanding. during our stay at wawona we tried fishing in the main river, which was swollen to a raging torrent by the melting snows. we found it so discolored and so turbulent that fishing was not a success. we also visited the cascades. an immense body of water comes down a rocky gorge very precipitously. from one rock to another the water dashes with an awful roar. mist and spray ascend and fall over a considerable area, keeping the trees and brush and grass and ferns dripping wet, and it would soon render one's clothing exceedingly uncomfortable. we go to yosemite by stage. it is twenty-six miles from wawona to yosemite valley. the stages leave wawona at eleven thirty a. m. to make the trip. on june sixteenth we took our places with some other victims of this piece of transportation idiocy, on an open four-horse stage for yosemite. the going was very slow. it was hot and dusty, and we soon got irritable and uncomfortable. why the traveling public should be subjected to this outrage is beyond me. we ground our weary way over the dusty road, oblivious to the scenery, until six o'clock, when we suddenly came to inspiration point, our first view of the great valley. yosemite valley. the beauty of the scene to some extent compensated us for a beastly ride. beyond us lay the great gorge known as the yosemite. below us the merced river. on the left were ribbon falls, and just beyond them el capitan. on our right, but well in front of us, were the bridal veil falls. we were just in time to see that wonderful rainbow effect for which they are celebrated. surely no more beautiful sheet of water could be found anywhere. a wonderful volume of water dashes over the cliff, unbroken by intercepting rocks, and drops a straight distance of six hundred feet. then it drops three hundred feet more in dancing cascades to the floor of the valley and divides up into three good-sized streams which empty into the merced river. when once started on its downward course, the water seems all spray. at the bottom of the first six-hundred-foot descent it made a mighty shower of mist like escaping steam from a giant rift in some titanic boiler, and soon reached the floor of the valley. the road from el portal comes up on the north side of the river. we passed el capitan, which rears its massive head three thousand three hundred feet in the distance, perpendicularly above the river. we were shown the pine tree, one hundred and fifty feet high, growing out of a rift in the rocks on its perpendicular face, more than two-thirds of the distance from its base. the tree looked to us like a rose bush, not two feet high, in a garden. as we proceeded up the valley there were pointed out to us the three brothers, a triple group of rocks, three thousand eight hundred feet high. cathedral spire, sentinel rock, yosemite and lost arrow falls, and all the other points of interest that can be seen on entering the valley. the river was abnormally high--higher we were told, than it had been in many years. it flowed with great rapidity, as if hurrying out of the valley to join the flood waters which had already submerged many acres of land in the san joaquin valley, miles below. it looked dark and wicked, as if it carried certain death in its cold embrace. half of the yosemite valley was flooded. meadows, rich in natural grasses, were knee deep with back water. we reached the sentinel hotel, and sloughing off the most of the fine emery-like mountain dust with which we were enveloped, we got our first good look at the yosemite falls. they were at their best. imagine a large river, coming over a cliff, a seething, foaming mass of spray, and dropping, in two descents, two thousand six hundred and thirty-four feet, sending heavenward great clouds of mist! i took one look, then looked up the valley to the great half dome, to glacier point, from there to sentinel peak and the cathedral spires, and i concluded that the yosemite is too beautiful for description, too sublime for comprehension and too magnificent for immediate human understanding. in the presence of those awful cliffs, towering, with an average height of over three thousand feet, above the floor of the valley; those immense waterfalls, as they thundered over the canyon walls; that mad river, gathering their united flow into one embrace, scurrying away with an irresistible energy that almost sweeps you off your feet as you look at it, all things human seem to shrink into the infinitesimal. you do not ask yourself, "how did all this get here?" you accept the situation as you find it. you leave it to the scientists to dispute whether the valley was formed wholly by glacial action or by some gigantic convulsion of nature, which tore its frowning cliffs apart, leaving the valley rough, unfinished and uncouth to the gentle, molding hand of time to smooth it up and beautify its floor with its present growth of oaks and pines and shrub and bush and ferns and vines, and laughing, running waters. you are four thousand feet above sea-level. all around you cliffs and walls tower three thousand feet and upwards above you. back of these are still higher peaks, whole mountain ranges, clothed in their snowy mantles, this season far beyond their usual time. the air is delightful, pure as the waters of the yosemite falls, soft as a carpet of pine needles to the foot-fall, balmy as the breath of spring, and cool and invigorating. the valley overflowing with visitors. the valley is full of people; the hotels crowded, the camps overflowing. from early dawn until the setting summer sun has cast long shadows over meadow and stream alike, there is a moving mass of restless people, either mounted on horseback, in vehicles or on foot, going out or coming in from the trails and side excursions. the walker seemed to get the most fun out of life. man and woman are alike khaki clad and sunburned to a berry-brown. they walk with the easy grace of perfect strength and long practice, and think nothing of "hiking" to the top of yosemite falls or sentinel peak and back. one of the favorite trips is to glacier point by the illilouette, vernal and nevada falls, a distance of eleven miles, remaining there all night at a comfortable inn and returning by a shorter route by sentinel peak. looking up between the rocky walls of the valley, how far away the stars all looked at night! in that pure atmosphere, how beautiful the sky! how perfect each constellation! each star with peculiar brightness shone. one's view of the sky is circumscribed by the height of the cliffs. instead of the great arched vault of heaven one usually looks up to, one sees only that part of the sky immediately above the valley. it was like looking at the heavens from the bottom of a deep, narrow shaft. i looked in vain for well known beacon lights. they were not in sight. the towering cliffs shut them out. the sky looked strange to me, yet how beautiful it was! through the gathering darkness we took one more look at the yosemite falls and betook ourselves to bed, to sleep the sleep once enjoyed in the long ago, when as children we returned, tired but happy, from some long outing in the woods. we visit the floor of the valley. on the following morning we took in the sights of the floor of the valley. we rode to mirror lake, which, however, did not come up to its reputation. this summer the entrance to the lake has changed its channel from its west to its east side, and a long sand bar has been deposited in the lake proper, all of which our guide told us marred the reflections usually visible therein. we passed hundreds of people of all ages walking through the valley. in visiting the yosemite you do not realize that the valley is several miles long, and has an average width of about one-half a mile. the great height of the surrounding walls dwarfs your idea of distance. even the trees, many of which are of great size, look small and puny. the happy isles. we drove to the happy isles, small islands covered with trees, around which the river surges in foaming masses. standing at the upper end of the one of the happy isles, one gets a splendid impression of the cascade effect of the waters, rushing madly down a steep rocky channel, with an irresistible, terrifying force. the descent of the bed of the stream is very marked. the waters come over submerged, rocky masses. just as you think that maddened torrent must sweep over the island, engulfing you in its course, the stream divides, half of it passing to the right, and half to the left. these divided waters unite again farther down the valley. on our return from this short excursion, francis, dr. macleish and harry, taking their lunch with them, walked up to the top of the yosemite falls. they stood beneath the flag at yosemite point and got a comprehensive view of the entire valley. they reported the trip a heart-breaking one. military government. the valley has a military government. what major forsyth says goes. there are no saloons in the yosemite, nor are there any cats. the major saw a cat catch a young gray squirrel. he issued an edict that the cats must go or be killed. they went. excursion to glacier point. the next day all of our party, except mrs. graves, who had made the journey some years before, went to the top of glacier point. we took a stage to the happy isles and there mounted mules for the trail. the climb is a steady one. soon we got our first view of the vernal falls. to my mind they are the most perfect waterfalls in the valley. the water flows over the cliffs an unbroken mass, one hundred feet wide. the initial drop is three hundred and fifty feet. the effect can not be imagined by one who has not seen the actual descent of this great mass of water. the emerald pond above the falls, in which the waters assume an emerald hue, and appear to seek a momentary rest before taking the final plunge over the cliffs, is one of the valley's beauty spots. the roar of the falling waters, striking the rocks below, is loud and reverberating. great clouds of spray and mist float off in falling masses, appearing more like smoke than water. after passing vernal falls you come to the diamond cascades. they are below the nevada falls. the long flowing waters from the nevada falls have cut a channel deep into the bed rock. you cross this channel on a bridge. under and below the bridge the water flows with such velocity that great volumes of it are hurled into the air in long strings, one succeeding the other. the sunlight on these strings of water makes them flash like diamonds. the effect is as if some one were sowing diamonds by the bushel above the water. a similar effect is noticed, though not so pronounced, just above the nevada falls. the latter are something like a mile above vernal falls. they are six hundred feet high. they seem to come over the cliff like the yosemite falls, through a broken or distorted lip, and the water is lashed to foam and looks for all the world like the smoke of some mighty conflagration, upon which a score of modern fire engines are playing. near the top of the nevada falls is a fir tree more than ten feet in diameter, said to be the largest tree in the yosemite valley. just above the falls we again crossed the river on a bridge. near the bridge, on the rocks is plain evidence of glacial scourings. a glacial deposit is left in patches on the rocks which is today as smooth as plate glass. abandoned eagle's nest. above vernal falls we skirted the base and climbed partly around the side of liberty cap, one of the great granite domes of the valley, until we reached the top of the cliff over which the nevada falls plunge. well up on the side of this cliff, in an inaccessible retreat, our guide, who had traversed this route for twenty-two years, showed me an ancient but now abandoned eagle's nest. the noble birds, in late years, not liking the coming of the thousands of excursionists who passed that way daily, forsook their home for some other locality. the trail now winds around the mountainsides, finally crossing the canyon above the illiouette falls. in a short time we are at glacier point. as you go out to the iron railing erected on the outer edge of a flat rock on the extreme edge of the cliff, and look down into the valley below you, you can not help a shrinking feeling, and you are only too glad soon to move back and get a view from safer quarters. overhanging rock. the celebrated overhanging rock is at this point. it is a piece of granite, say four or five feet wide, flat on top, but with rounding edges. it sticks out from the cliff several feet. foolhardy people walk out to the edge of it and make their bow to imaginary audiences over three thousand feet below. one of the guides with our party, wearing heavy "chaps" (bear-skin overalls) walked out upon this rock, took off his hat, waved it over his head, posed for his photograph, even took a jig step or two, stood on one foot and peered into the abyss below with apparent unconcern. earlier in life i might have taken a similar chance, but it would be a physical impossibility for me to do it now. we feasted our eyes on the magnificent view. we were now nearly level with the half dome (our elevation was seven thousand one hundred feet), below us the beautiful valley with its winding river, bright meadows and stately forests. horses staked out on the meadow looked like dogs; people, like ants. the yosemite, vernal, nevada and illilouette falls, mirror lake, the roaring cascades above, the happy isles, all the peaks of the upper end of the valley, and mountains for miles and miles beyond, snowcapped and storm-swept, were in plain sight. after an appetizing lunch at the hotel, we took the short trail for the valley. it is three and a half miles long, almost straight up and down, and is hard riding or walking. but the journey was soon ended, and that night we again slept the sleep of the joyously tired. morning came too soon, ushering in another perfect mountain day. we simply loafed around, never tiring of looking at the river or falls in sight, or the everlasting cliffs above us. we put in an hour or two watching a moving-picture outfit photographing imitation indians. views through a "claude lorraine glass." that evening as the daylight waned, while sky and stream, trees, mountains and jagged peaks were still gloriously tinted with the sun's last rays, mr. chris. jorgenson, the artist, brought out a "claude lorraine glass." we stood upon the bridge of the merced river and caught upon the glass the half dome, bathed in mellow light; the yosemite falls with its great mass of falling waters exquisitely illuminated; sentinel peak, the swiftly moving river fringed with green trees, the grassy meadows and the fleecy clouds. the picture of reflected beauty so produced, such tints and colors, such glints of stream and forest, such a glorified reproduction of the beauties of the valley can only be imagined, they can not be described. there were enough los angeles people in the yosemite at the time to have voted a bond issue. they were all out for a good time, and were having it. our return to wawona. not wishing to undergo the torture of the noon-day ride back to wawona, a party of us chartered a stage to leave the valley at six o'clock a. m. we got off next morning at six-forty and had a delightful drive, making wawona before noon. thus a few hours' difference in the time of starting made a pleasure of what otherwise would have been a torment. while we were in the valley some los angeles friends had arrived at wawona and were in camp near the hotel. signal peak. we rested at wawona several days. during one of these i went with the boys on horseback to signal peak, whose elevation is seven thousand and ninety-three feet. the san joaquin valley was enveloped in haze, but the mountain ranges east of us were in plain sight. we could see all the peaks from tallac at lake tahoe to mt. whitney. mt. ritter, mt. dana, mt. hamilton, galen clarke, star king, lyell, the gale group, and others whose names i do not now recall, stood out in bold relief, encased in snowy mantles. the view from signal peak is well worth the trip. we enjoyed it so much that we persuaded mrs. graves and some ladies to take it next day by carriage, which is easily done. on june twenty-third the boys went to empire meadows, some eleven miles distant, with a fishing party. they had fair luck, the entire party taking nearly two hundred eastern brook trout. homeward bound. on the morning of june twenty-fourth, at six o'clock, we started on our homeward journey. we had carburetor trouble coming up--we still had it going out, until at last our driver discovered that one of the insulating wires had worn through its covering and, coming in contact with metal, had resulted in a short circuit. when this was remedied our troubles were over, and our machine performed handsomely. the first forty-four miles to raymond were all downhill, over a very rough road, with sharp turns and depressions every one hundred feet or so, to allow the rainwater to run off of the road, which rendered the going very slow. we were three hours and a half reaching raymond. passing this point we sped into madera, then to firebaugh. during the morning we saw a stately pair of wild pigeons winging their swift flight in and out of some tall pine trees. water high in san joaquin valley. the san joaquin river was very high and had overflowed thousands of acres of land. our road, slightly elevated, passed for miles through an inland sea. to reach los banos, we made a wide detour to the left. we crossed the pacheco pass into the santa clara valley. we had intended to go to holister by way of san felipe. some three miles from the latter place we saw a sign reading "hollister nine miles." we took the road indicated and must have saved six or seven miles. hollister. this portion of the country is largely given over to fruit growing and raising flower and garden seed, acres and acres of which were in full bloom, and the mingled colors were exceedingly charming. we reached holister in good time, one hundred and seventy miles from wawona. we found good accommodations at the hotel hartman. bright and early next morning we were off. we went due west. we found the bridge over the pajaro river utterly destroyed by last winter's rains. we crossed through the bed of the stream without difficulty and were soon upon the main road to salinas, just below san juan. as we ascended the san juan hills, we paused at a turn in the road and got a view of the beautiful valley in which hollister lies. no more peaceful landscape ever greeted mortal eye. every acre as far as one could see, not devoted to pasturage, was cultivated. there were grain and hay fields, orchards by the mile, and the seed farms in full bloom, while cattle and horses grazed peacefully in many pastures. we turned away with regret at leaving a land so beautiful, so happy and contented looking. "the ferryman." at salinas river we found a man with a good-sized team of horses, who, for one dollar and fifty cents, hauled us through a little water which we could have crossed without difficulty, and a quarter of a mile of loose, shifting sand which we could never have crossed without his aid. he has a tent in which he has lived since last winter, and he gets them "coming and going," as no machine can negotiate that stretch of road unassisted. he earns his money, and i wish him well. fine run to los olivos. taking out the time spent at lunch and in taking on gasoline, we reached los olivos, two hundred and thirty-one miles from hollister, in eleven hours' running time. we again had good accommodations at los olivos and were off next morning on the final "leg" of our journey. the road from the north side of gaviote pass to within a few miles of santa barbara is a disgrace to santa barbara county. i prefer the valley route with its heat to the coast route, and i warn all automobilists to avoid the latter route. we had a good lunch at shepherd's inn, and then ran home in time for dinner. we came by calabasas, and just before we reached the cahuenga pass we turned off and went through lankershim on our way to alhambra. we all remarked that in no section of the state we had visited did the trees look as healthy, the alfalfa as luxuriant, the garden truck as vigorous, as they did at lankershim. every inch of the ground there is cultivated; there are no waste spots. "home again." home looked better and dearer to us when we reached it than it ever did before. we had traveled one thousand and forty-five miles and used on the trip one hundred and four gallons of gasoline, thus averaging over all sorts of roads, including several mountain ranges, a little better than ten miles to the gallon. i defy any six cylinder car in america to beat this record. i used the same old franklin car, in which i have made four tours of california. i have no apology to offer for breaking the driveshaft. the parts of any car will stand just so much. pass this point and trouble ensues. this grand old car has run over eighty thousand miles and seen much hardship. i salute it! the end. the smiling hill-top and other california sketches the smiling hill-top and other california sketches by julia m. sloane illustrated by carleton m. winslow [illustration] new york charles scribner's sons 1921 copyright, 1919, by charles scribner's sons _published october, 1919_ to my three companions of the road one large and two small this little book is lovingly dedicated contents page introduction 1 the smiling hill-top 5 a california poppy 19 gardeners 35 thorns 55 the gypsy trail 77 an adventure in solitude 94 a sabine farm 116 the land of "whynot" 132 where the trade wind blows 155 sunkist 176 the smiling hill-top and other california sketches introduction the following sketches are entirely informal. they do not cover the subject of southern california in any way. in fact, they contain no information whatever, either about the missions or history--a little, perhaps, about the climate and the fruits and flowers of the earth, but that has crept in more or less unavoidably. they are the record of what happened to happen to a fairly light-hearted family who left new england in search of rest and health. there are six of us, two grown-ups, two boys, and two dogs. we came for a year and, like many another family, have taken root for all our days--or so it seems now. the reactions of more or less temperamental people, suddenly transplanted from a rigorous climate to sunshine and the beauty and abundance of life in southern california, perhaps give a too highly colored picture, so please make allowance for the bounce of the ball. i mean to be quite fair. it doesn't rain from may to october, but when it does, it can rain in a way to make noah feel entirely at home. unfortunately, that is when so many of our visitors come--in february! they catch bad colds, the roses aren't in bloom, and altogether they feel that they have been basely deceived. we rarely have thunder-storms, or at least anything you could dignify by that name, but we do have horrid little shaky earthquakes. we don't have mosquitoes in hordes, such as the jersey coast provides, but we do sometimes come home and hear what sounds like a cosy tea-kettle in the courtyard, whereupon the defender of the family reaches for his gun and there is one rattlesnake less to dread. on our hill-top there are quantities of wild creatures--quail, rabbits, doves, and ground squirrels and, unfortunately, a number of social outcasts. never shall i forget an epic incident in our history--the head of the family in pajamas at dawn, in mortal combat with a small black-and-white creature, chasing it through the cloisters with the garden hose. oh, yes, there is plenty of adventure still left, even though we don't have to cross the prairies in a wagon. people who know california and love it, i hope may enjoy comparing notes with me. people who have never been here and who vaguely think of it as a happy hunting-ground for lame ducks and black sheep, i should like to tempt across the rockies that they might see how much more it is than that. it may be a lotus land to some, to many it truly seems the promised land. "shall we be stepping westward?" [illustration] the smiling hill-top no one should attempt to live on top of an adobe hill one mile from a small town which has been brought up on the declaration of independence, without previously taking a course in plain and fancy wheedling. this is the mature judgment of a lady who has tried it. not even in california! when we first took possession of our hill-top early one june, nothing was farther from my thoughts. "suma paz," "perfect peace," as the place was called, came to me from a beloved aunt who had truly found it that. with it came a cow, a misunderstood motor, and a wardrobe trunk. a finnish lady came with the cow, and my brother-in-law's chauffeur graciously consented to come with the motor. the trunk was empty. it was all so complete that the backbone of the family, suddenly summoned on business, departed for the east, feeling that he had left us comfortably established for the month of his absence. the motor purred along the nine miles to the railroad station without the least indication of the various kinds of internal complications about to develop, and he boarded the train, beautifully composed in mind, while we returned to our hill-top. it is a most enchanting spot. a red-tiled bungalow is built about a courtyard with cloisters and a fountain, while vines and flowers fill the air with the most delicious perfume of heliotrope, mignonette, and jasmine. beyond the big living-room extends a terrace with boxes of deep and pale pink geraniums against a blue sea, that might be the bay of naples, except that vesuvius is lacking. it is so lovely that after three years it still seems like a dream. we are only one short look from the pacific ocean, that ocean into whose mists the sun sets in flaming purple and gold, or the more soft tones of shimmering gray and shell-pink. we sit on our terrace feeling as if we were in a proscenium box on the edge of the world, and watch the ever-varying splendor. at night there is the same sense of infinity, with the unclouded stars above, and only the twinkling lights of motors threading their way down the zigzag of the coast road as it descends the cliffs to the plain below us. these lights make up in part for the fewness of the harbor lights in the bay. the pacific is a lonely ocean. there are so few harbors along the coast where small boats can find shelter that yachts and pleasure craft hardly exist. occasionally we see the smoke of a steamer on its way to or from ports of lower california, as far south as the point where the curtain drops on poor distracted mexico, for there trade ceases and anarchy begins. there is a strip of land, not belonging to the united states, called lower california, controlled by a handsome soldierly creature, governor cantu, whose personal qualities and motives seem nicely adapted to holding that much, at least, of mexico in equilibrium. only last summer he was the guest of our small but progressive village at a kind of love feast, where we cemented our friendship with whale steaks and ginger ale dispensed on the beach, to the accompaniment of martial music, while flags of both countries shared the breeze. though much that is picturesque, especially in the way of food--enciladas, tamales and the like--strays across the border, bandits do not, and we enjoy a sense of security that encourages basking in the sun. just one huge sheet of water, broken by islands, lies between us and the cherry blossoms of japan! there is a thrill about its very emptiness, and yet since i have seen the golden gate i know that that thrill is nothing to the sensation of seeing a sailing ship with her canvas spread, bound for the far east. from the west to the east the spell draws. first from the east to the west; from the cold and storms of new england to our land of sun it beckons, and then unless we hold tight, the lure of the south seas and the glamour of the far east calls us. i know just how it would be. perhaps my spirit craves adventuring the more for the years my body has had to spend in a chaise longue or hammock, fighting my way out of a shadow. anyway, i have heard the call, but i have put cotton in my ears and am content that life allows me three months out of the twelve of magic and my hill-top. there is a town, of course--there has to be, else where would we post our letters. it's as busy as a beehive with its clubs and model playgrounds, its new thought and its "journal," but i don't have to be of it. there are only so many hours in the day. i go around "in circles" all winter; in summer i wish to invite my soul, and there isn't time for both. i think i am regarded by the people in the village as a mixture of recluse and curmudgeon, but who cares if they can live on a hill? one flaw there was in the picture, and that is where the first experiment in wheedling came in. a large telegraph pole on our property line bisected the horizon like one of the parallels on a map. it seemed to us at times to assume the proportions of the washington monument. i firmly made up my mind to have it down if i did nothing else that summer, and i succeeded, though i began in july and it was not till october that it finally fell crushing into the sage brush, and for the first time we saw the uninterrupted curve of beach melting into the pale greenish cliffs beyond. the property on which the pole stood belonged to a real-estate man. he was pleasant and full of rosy dreams of a suburban villa resort, the gem of the pacific coast. that part was easy. he and i together visited the offices of the corporations owning the wires on that pole. as they had no legal right of way they had to promise to remove it and many others, to the tune of several hundred dollars. nothing was left them but the game of delay. they told me their men were busy, that all the copper wire was held up by a landslide in the panama canal, that the superintendent was on a vacation, etc. however, the latter gentleman had to come back some time, and when he did i plaintively told him my troubles. i said i had had a very hard and disappointing summer, and that it would soothe me enormously to have one look at that view as the lord intended it to be, before i had to go away for the winter, that it was in his power to give me that pleasure, etc. perhaps it was an unusual method, but it worked so well that i have often employed it since. i may say incidentally that it is of no use with the ice man. perhaps dealing with merchandise below zero keeps his resistance unusually good. i have never been able to extract a pound of ice from him, even for illness, except on his regular day and in my proper turn. i think i should also except the fish man, who always promises to call fridays and never does; much valuable time have i lost in searching the highways and byways for his old horse and white wagon. next to the execution of the telegraph pole i felt a little grass lawn to be of the utmost importance. nothing could better show how short a time i had been in california than not to realize that even if you can afford to dine on caviar, paté de fois gras, and fresh mushrooms, grass may be beyond your means. i bravely had the ground prepared and sown. first, the boys' governess watered it so hard that it removed all the seed, so we tried again. then the water was shut off while pipes were being laid on the highway below, and only at dawn and after dark could we get a drop. i did the watering in my night-gown, and was soon rewarded by a little green fuzz. then all the small rabbits for miles around gathered there for breakfast. they were so tame you could hardly drive them away, so i invited the brothers who kept the hardware store in the village to come up and shoot them. they came gladly and brought their friends, but were so very anxious to help that i thought they were going to shoot the children too, and had politely to withdraw my invitation. the gardener and i then made a luscious compound of bacon grease and rough-on-rats, which we served on lettuce leaves and left about the edges of the grass plot. did you ever hear a rabbit scream? they do. i felt like lucretia borgia, and decided that if they wanted the lawn they could have it. oddly enough, a lot of grass came up in quite another part of the garden. i suppose it was the first planting that fräulein had blown away with the hose! we often have surprises like that in gardening. we once planted window-boxes of mignonette and they came up petunias--volunteer petunias at that. of course, it all adds to the interest and adventure of life. after the water-pipes were laid the gas deserted us, and we had a few meals cooked on all the little alcohol lamps we could muster. then the motor fell desperately ill, and from then on was usually to be found strewed over the floor of the garage. jerome k. jerome says about bicycles, that if you have one you must decide whether you will ride it or overhaul it. this applies as well to motors. we decided to overhaul ours with a few brief excursions, just long enough to give an opportunity for having it towed home. one late afternoon we were hurrying across the mesa to supper, when our magneto flew off into the ditch, scattering screws in all directions. fortunately, a kind of knight errant to our family appeared just in the nick of time to take us home and send help to the wreck. i once kept a garage in san diego open half an hour after closing time by a caruso sob in my voice over the telephone, while my brother-in-law's miserable chauffeur hurried over for an indispensable part. poppy, the cow, contributed her bit--it wasn't milk, either--to this complicated month, but deserves a chapter all to herself. the backbone of the family found my letters "so entertaining" at first, but gradually a note of uneasiness crept into his replies after i had told him that joedy had fallen out of the machine and had just escaped our rear wheels, and that the previous night we had had three earthquakes. i had never felt an earthquake before, and it will be some time before i develop the nonchalance of a seasoned californian, whose way of referring to one is like saying, "oh, yes, we did have a few drops of rain last night." one more little tremble and i should have gathered the family for a night in the garden. after an incendiary had set fire to several houses in town, and fräulein had had a peculiar seizure that turned her a delicate sea-green, while she murmured, "i am going to die," i sat down and took counsel with myself. what next? i bought a rattlesnake antidote outfit--that, at least, i could anticipate, and then i went out with the axe and hacked out the words "suma paz" from the pergola. we are now "the smiling hill-top," for though peace does not abide with us, we keep right on smiling. [illustration] a california poppy it would doubtless be the proper thing for me to begin by quoting stevenson: "the friendly cow, all red and white, i love with all my heart," etc. but i'd rather not. in the first place she wasn't, and in the second place i didn't. the only thing about it that fits is the color scheme; poppy was a red-and-white cow, but i'd rather not. in the first place she wasn't, and in the second place i didn't. the only thing about it that fits is the color scheme; poppy was a red-and-white cow, or rather a kind of strawberry roan. perhaps she didn't like being inherited (she came to us with "the smiling hill-top"), or maybe she was lonely on the hillside and felt that it was too far from town. almost all the natives of the village feel that way; or perhaps she took one of those aversions to me that aren't founded on anything in particular. at any rate, i never saw any expression but resentment in her eye, so that no warm friendship ever grew up between us. the only other cow we ever boarded--i use the word advisedly--did not feel any more drawn to me than poppy. evidently i am not the type that cows entwine their affections about. she was pennsylvania dutch and shared poppy's sturdy appetite, though it all went to figure. two quaint maiden ladies next door took care of her and handed the milk over our fence, while it was still foaming in the pail. miss tabitha and miss letitia--how patient they were with me in my abysmal ignorance of the really vital things of life, such as milking, preserving, and pickling! they undertook it all for me, but in the end i had a small laugh at their expense. i gave them my grandmother's recipes for brandied peaches and pickled peaches, and though rigidly temperance, they consented to do a dozen jars of each. alas! they mingled the two--now as i write it down i wonder if perhaps they did it on purpose, on the principle that drug stores now put a dash of carbolic in our 95 per cent alcohol. in which case, of course, the joke is on me. to return to poppy. at first i was delighted with the thought of unlimited milk, bought a churn and generally prepared to enjoy being a dairymaid. i soon found out my mistake. poppy was "drying up" just as the vegetation was. the finn woman who milked her morning and night, and who seemed to be in much closer sympathy with her than i ever hoped to be, said that what she must have was green food. having no lawn, for reasons previously stated, that was a poser. my brother-in-law's chauffeur, who was lent to me for a month, unbent sufficiently to go to town and press a bill into the hand of the head gardener of "the place" of the village, so that we might have the grass mowed from that lawn. alas for frail human nature! it seems that he disappeared from view about once in so often, and that his feet at that moment were trembling on the brink. so he slid over the edge, and the next man in charge had other friends with other cows. i tried the vegetable man next. he was a pleasant greek, and promised me all his beet-tops and wilted lettuce. that was good as far as it went, but poppy would go through a crate of lettuce as i would a bunch of grapes, and i couldn't see that we got any more milk. the finn woman said that the flies annoyed her and that no cow would give as much milk if she were constantly kicking and stamping to get them off. she advised me to get some burlap for her. that seemed simple, but it wasn't. nothing was simple connected with that cow. i found i could only get stiff burlap, such as you put on walls, in art green, and i couldn't picture poppy in a kimono of that as being anything but wretched. finally, in a hardware store, the proprietor took an interest in my sad tale, and said he'd had some large shipments come in lately wrapped in burlap, and that i could have a piece. he personally went to the cellar for it and gave it to me as a present. much cheered, i hurried home and we put poppy into her brown jacket, securing it neatly with strings. by morning, i regret to say, she had kicked it to shreds. also the finn woman decided that she needed higher pay and more milk as her perquisite. since we were obviously "city folks" she thought she might as well hold us up, and she felt sure that i couldn't get any one in her place. i surprised her by calmly replying that she could go when her week was up, and i would get some one else. it was a touch of rhetoric on my part, for i didn't suppose that i could any more than she did, though i was resolved to make a gallant fight, even if i had to enlist the services of the dry cleaner, who was the only person who voluntarily called almost daily to see if we had any work to be done. the joke of it was that i had no trouble at all. a youth of sixteen, who viewed me in the light of "opportunity knocking at the door," gladly accepted my terms. he was the son of the foreman at a dairy in the neighborhood, and rode over night and morning on a staid old mare loaned him by the dairyman. donald was bright and willing, and eventually was able to get near enough to poppy to milk her, though she never liked him. the finn woman was the only person with whom she was in sympathy. i think they were both socialists. donald said we must do something about the flies. i told him about my attempts to dress her in burlap, and we concluded that a spray was the thing. donald brought a nice antiseptic smelling mixture, and we put it on her with the rose sprayer. probably we were too impulsive; anyway, the milk was very queer. did you ever eat saffron cake in cornwall? it tasted like that. the children declined it firmly, and i sympathized with them. after practice we managed to spray her in a more limited way. by this time we were having sherbet instead of ice-cream for sunday dinner, and my ideas of a private cow had greatly altered. i have a black list that has been growing through life; things i wish never to have again: tapioca pudding, fresh eggs if i have to hear the hen brag about it at 5 a.m., tripe, and home-grown milk, and to this list i have lately added cheese. every one is familiar with the maxim that rest is a change of occupation. j----, being tired of latin verbs, greek roots, and dull scholars generally, took up some interesting laboratory work after we emigrated to california. growing bulgarian bacilli to make fermented milk that would keep us all perennially amiable while we grew to be octogenarians, was one thing, but when the company, lured by the oratory of a cheese expert, were beguiled into making cream cheese--just the sort of cheese that lucullus and ponce de leon both wanted but did not find--our troubles began. the company is composed of one minister with such an angelic expression that no one can refuse to sign anything if he holds out a pen; one aviator with youth, exuberant spirits, and a new england setness of purpose; one schoolmaster--strong on facing facts and callous to camouflage, and one temperamental cheese man. (it turned out afterward, however, that the janitor could make the best cheese of them all.) developing a cheese business is a good deal like conducting a love affair--it blows hot and cold in a nerve-racking way. it is "the public." you never can tell about the public! sometimes it wants small packages for a small sum, or large packages for more, but mostly, what it frankly wants is a large package for a small sum! some dealers didn't like the trade-mark. it was changed. it then turned out that the first trade-mark was really what was wanted. then the cheese man fell desperately ill, which was a calamity, as neither the book of common prayer, an aeroplane, nor a latin grammar is what you need in such a crisis. j---waded dejectedly about in whey until a new cheese man took the helm. he also fell ill. i always supposed that making cheese was a kind of healthful, bucolic occupation, but i was wrong. apparently every one that tries it steers straight for a nervous break-down. i have gotten to a point myself where, if any one quotes "miss muffet" to me, i emit a low, threatening growl. however, i'm digressing, for our life was not complicated by cheese or bulgarian bacilli till much later (and when you think of what the bulgos have done to the balkans we can't really complain). that first summer poppy seemed care enough. a neighbor across the canyon, who had known her in her girlhood, took too vital an interest in her daily life. it was maddening to be called on the telephone at all hours and told that poppy had had no fresh drinking water since such and such an hour, or to have donald waylaid and admonished to give her plenty to eat. that she had, as my bills at the feed and fuel store can prove. at this juncture the backbone of the family fell desperately ill, and i flew to the hospital where he was, leaving poppy to kick and stamp and lose tethering pins and dry up at her own sweet will. after the danger and strain were over, i found myself also tucked into a hospital bed, while a trained nurse watched over the children and poppy. one morning a frantic letter arrived. poppy _had_ dried up! according to what lights we had to guide us, it was far too soon, but reasoning did not alter the fact. there was no milk for the boys, and the dairyman had always declined to deliver milk on our hill, it was outside his route! two helpless persons flat on their backs in a hospital are at a disadvantage in a crisis like that. however, one must always find a way. i think i have expressed myself elsewhere as to the value of wheedling. it seemed our only hope. i wrote a letter to the owner of that dairy, in which i frankly recognized the fact that our hill was steep and the road bad, that it was out of his way and probably he had no milk to spare, anyway, but that billie and joe had to have milk, and that their parents were both down and out, and that it was his golden opportunity to do, not a stroke of business, but an act of kindness! it worked. he has been serving us with milk ever since, and i'd like to testify that his heart is in the right place. before i leave the subject of wheedling, i might add that if it is a useful art in summer, in winter it is priceless. after a week of rain, such as we know how to have in these parts, adobe becomes very slippery. this hill is steep, and i have spent a week on its top in february, feeling like the princess in the fairy tale, who lived on a glass hill ready to marry the first suitor who reached the top; only in my case there were no suitors at all; even the telegraph boy declined to try his luck. speaking of telegrams, i think that as a source of interest we have been a boon to this village. one departing friend telegraphed in latin, beginning "salve atque vale." this was a poser. the operator tried to telephone it, but gave that up. he said, "it's either french or a code." the following season he referred to it again, remarking, "a telegram like that just gets my goat." but to return to the now thoroughly dry poppy. we determined to sell her, in spite of the fact that we never are very successful in selling anything. things always seem at their bottom price when we have something to dispose of, while we usually buy when the demand outruns the supply. still, i once conducted several quite successful transactions with an antique dealer in pennsylvania. i think i was said to be the only living woman who had ever gotten the best of a bargain with him, so i was unanimously elected by the family as the one to open negotiations. a customer actually appeared. we gradually approached a price by the usual stages, i dwelling on his advantage in having the calf and trying not to let him see my carking fear that we might be the unwilling godparents of it if he didn't hurry up and come to terms. at last the matter was settled. i abandoned my last five-dollar ditch, thinking that the relief of seeing the last of poppy would be cheap at the price. there were four of us, and we would not hesitate to pay two dollars each for theatre tickets, which would be eight dollars, so really i was saving money. a nice little girl with flaxen pigtails brought her father's check. she and her brother tied poppy behind their buggy and slowly disappeared down the hill. there was the flutter of a handkerchief from the other side of the canyon, and that was all. in the words of that disturbing telegram: "salve atque vale." [illustration] gardeners "venite agile, barchetta mia santa lucia, santa lucia!" accompanied by the enchanting fragrance of burning sage-brush, is wafted up to my sleeping-porch, and i know that signor constantino garibaldi is early at work clearing the canyon side so that our matilija poppies shall not be crowded out by the wild. it is a pleasant awakening to a pleasant world as the light morning mist melts away from a bay as "bright and soft and bloomin' blue" as any kipling ever saw. it seems almost too good to be true, that in a perfect italian setting we should have stumbled on an italian gardener, who whistles verdi as he works. true, he doesn't know the flowers by name, and in his hands a pair of clippers are as fatal as the shears in the hands of atropos, but he is in the picture. when i see gardeners pruning i realize that that lady of destiny shows wonderful restraint about our threads of fate--the temptation to snip seems so irresistible. signor garibaldi is a retired wine merchant driven out-of-doors by illness, a most courteous and sensitive soul, with a talent for letter-writing that is alone worth all the plumbago blossoms that he cut away last year. the following letter was written to j---while garibaldi was in charge of our hill-top, the bareness of which we strove to cover with wild flowers until we could make just the kind of garden we wanted: march 15. dear sir: the last time i had the pleasure of see you in your place, villa collina ridente, you exclaimed with a melancholic voice, "only poppies and mignonette came out of the wild flower seeds." "so it is," said i in the same tune of voice. time proved we was both wrong; many other flowers made their retarded appearance, so deserving the name of wild flower garden.... your place (pardon _me_ as i am not a violet) could look better, also could look worse; consequently i consider myself entitled to be placed between hell and paradise--to have things as one wishes is an insolvable problem--that era has not come yet. many people come over to the smiling hills, some think it is not necessary to go any farther to collect flower to make a bouquet. with forced gentle manner i reproached some of them, ordering to observe the rule, "vedere e non toccare." it go in force while i am present, not so in my absence. those that made proverbs, their names ought to be immortal. here for one, "when the cat is gone, the rats dance." how much true is in the say. every visitor like the place profane or not profane in artistic matter. a glorious rain came last night to the great content of the farmers and gardeners--others not so. while i am writing from my observatorio i can't see any indication of stopping. i don't think it will rain as much as when we had the universal deluge, but if the cause of said deluge was in order to get a better generation, it may. i don't think the actual generation is better than it was the anti-deluge, pardon me if you can't digest what i say. i am a pessimist to the superlative grade, and it is not without reason that i say so. i had sad experience with the world. thank god for having doted me with a generous dose of philosophic! swimming against the tide, not me, not such a fool i am! here is another pardon that i have to ask and it is to take the liberty of decorate the smiling hill with the american flag. la bandiera stellata (note: i am not an american legally, no; to say i renounce to my country, impossible, but i am an american by heart if u. sam can use me. i was not trained to be a soldier, but in matter of shooting very seldom i fail to get a rabbit when i want it, more so lately that a box of shells from 60 cents jumped to $1.00). as a rule the ridents colline are very monotonous, but when i am home, more so the sunday, the "marseillaise" no where is heard more than here; no animosity against nobody; cosmopolitan, ardent admirer of c. paine! the world is my country; to do good is my religion! with fervent wishes of not having need of doctors or lawyers; with best regards to you and family, i am yours respectfully, constantino garibaldi. unquestionably he has humor. after receiving more or less mixed orders from me, i have heard him softly singing in the courtyard, "donna e mobile." i only regret that as a family we aren't musical enough to assist with the "sextette" from "lucia!" ever since we came to california we have been lucky about gardeners. i don't mean as horticulturists, but from the far more important standard of picturesqueness. of course no one could equal garibaldi with the romance of a distant relationship to the patriot and the grand manner no rake or hoe could efface, but banksleigh had his own interest. he was an englishman with pale blue eyes that always seemed to be looking beyond our horizon into space. there was something rather poetic and ethereal about him. perhaps he didn't eat enough, or it may have been the effect of "new thought," in one of the fifty-seven varieties of which he was a firm believer. he told me that his astral colors were red and blue, and that a phrenologist had told him that a bump on the back of his head indicated that he ought never to buy mining stock. with the same instinct that undid bluebeard's and lot's wives he had tried it, and is once more back at his job of gardening with an increased respect for phrenology. i have a grudge against phrenologists myself. i had a relative who went to one when he was a young man, and was told that he had a wonderful baritone voice that he ought to cultivate. up to that time he had only played the flute, but afterwards he sang every evening through a long life. it distressed banksleigh to see me lying about in hammocks on the verandah. he usually managed to give the vines in my neighborhood extra attention--like garibaldi, he was a confirmed pruner. he told me that he wished i would take up new thought, and was sure that if i thought strong i'd be strong. i wonder? one summer, lying in bed in a hospital where the heat was terrific, i found myself repeating over and over: "sabrina fair, listen where thou art sitting, under the glassy, cool, translucent wave," and finding it far more cooling than iced orange juice. was not i proving banksleigh's contention? i was thinking cool and i was cool. in his own case new thought seemed to work. he always looked ready to give up forever, and yet he never did. california is full of people with queer quirks and they aren't confined to gardeners. i haven't had a hair-dresser who wasn't occult or psychic or something, from the colonial dame with premonitions to the last one, who had both inspirations and vibrations, and my hair keeps right on coming out. i don't quite understand why gardeners should be queer. they say that cooks invariably become affected in time by so much bending over a hot stove, and that is easy to understand, but bending over nature ought to have quite the opposite effect, but it doesn't always. the lady gardener who laid out the garden that finally replaced our wild-flower tangle, proved that. she had a voice that would be wonderful in a shipyard, a firmness and determination that would be an asset to congress and a very kind heart, also much taste and infinite knowledge of the preferences and peculiarites of california plants. her right-hand man, "will," was also odd. unfortunately, his ideas were almost the opposite of hers. before they arrived at our gate sounds of altercation were only too plain. she liked curves in the walks, he preferred corners; she liked tangles, he liked regular beds. what we liked seemed to be going to cut very little figure. all that was lacking was our architect friend, who had made the sketches and offered various suggestions of "amusing" things we might do. he also is firm, though his manner is mild, so the situation would have been even more "amusing" for the family on the side lines, had he been present. owing to the placing of the house, we are doomed to have a lopsided garden whatever we do, but we want it to look wayward rather than eccentric. after a battle fought over nearly every inch of the ground the lady was victorious, for will said to me as he watched her motor disappear: "i might as well do what she says or she'll make me do it over." in this j---and i heartily concurred, for the simplest of arithmetical calculations would show that it would otherwise prove expensive. will had a worker whose unhappy lot it was to dig up stumps, apply the pick to the adobe parts of the soil, and generally to toil in the sweat of his brow. as a team they made some progress, and i began to have some hope of enjoying what i had always been led to believe was the treat of one's life--making a garden. i felt entirely care-free--the lady gardener was the boss and there was only room for one--directions were a drug on the market. this state of affairs was short-lived. will failed to appear the third day out, and the lady gardener's pumping system for her nurseries blew up or leaked or lay down on the job in some way, so that the worker and i confronted each other, ignorant and unbossed. i will not dwell on the week that followed. the lady gardener gave almost vicious orders by telephone and the worker did his best, but it is not a handy way to direct a garden. when the last rosebush is in, including some that will is gloomily certain will never grow, i think i shall go away for a rest to some place where there is only cactus and sage and sand. j---arrived on the scene in time to save the day, and the garden is very lovely. next year it will be worth going a long way to see, for in this part of the world planting things is like playing with japanese water flowers. a wall of gray stucco gently curves along the canyon side, while a high lattice on the other shows dim outlines of the hills beyond. in the wall are arches with gates so curved as to leave circular openings, through which we get glimpses of the sea. it makes me think of king arthur's castle at tintagel. in the lattice there is a wicket gate. there is something very alluring about a wicket gate--it connotes a robin. unfortunately, my robin can only appear from friday to monday, but i'm not complaining. any one is fortunate who can count on romance two days out of seven. at the far end of the garden is a screen designed to hide the peculiarites of the garage. the central panel is concrete with a window with green balusters; below is a wall fountain. the window suggests a half-hidden señorita. it really conceals a high-school boy who is driving the motor for me in j----'s absence, but that is immaterial. the fountain is set with sapphire-blue tiles and the water trickles from the mouth of the most amiable lion i ever saw. he was carved from boisè stone by one "luigi" from a sketch by our architect friend. he has albrecht dürer curls--the lion i mean--four on a side that look like sticks of peppermint candy and we call him "boysey." the pool below him is a wonderful place for boat sailing. it fairly bristles with the masts of schooners and yachts, and the guns of torpedo destroyers, and while the architect and the grown-ups did not have a naval base in mind when the sketch was made, i do appreciate the feelings of my sons. "there's a fountain in our garden, with the brightest bluest tiles and the pleasantest stone lion who spits into it and smiles! it's shaded by papyrus and reeds and grasses tall, just a little land-locked harbor beside the garden wall. "they talked of water-lilies and lotus pink and white- we didn't dare to say a word but we _wished_ with all our might, for how could we manoeuvre the submarine we've got, if they go and clutter up the place with all that sort of rot. "but mother said she thought perhaps we'd wait another year, 'it's such a lovely place to play, we ought to keep it clear.' so there's nothing but a goldfish who has to be a hun, i don't suppose he likes it, but gee, it's lots of fun!" some day we are going to have a sun dial. j---thought of a wonderful motto in the best latin, and now he can't remember it, which is harrowing, because it would be so stylish to have a perfectly original one. it was something about not wanting to miss the shady hours for the sake of having all sunny ones. at any rate, we are resolved not to have "i count none but sunny hours." there are all kinds of responsibilities in life, and picking the right shade of paint for a house you have to live in is a most wearing one. painting the trimming of ours in connection with the garden was very agitating. i had sample bits of board painted and took them about town, trying them next to houses i liked, and at last decided on a wicked spanish green that the storms of winter are expected to mellow. as i saw it being put on the house i felt panic-stricken. for a nice fresh vegetable or salad, yes, but for a house--never! and yet it is a great success! i don't know whether it has "sunk in," as the painter consoled me by predicting, or whether it is that we are used to it; at any rate, every one likes it so much that i have cheerfully removed smears of it from the clothing of all the family, including the puppies' tails. as to ourselves in the rôle of gardeners--there were not two greener greenhorns when we first resolved to stay in california; we still are, though i think i do j---an injustice in classing him with me. we can make geraniums grow luxuriantly, but we don't want to. i wish they would pass a law in southern california making the growing of red geraniums a criminal offense. so many people love to combine them with bougainvillia and other brilliant pink or purple flowers, and the light is hard enough on eyes without adding that horror. we are resolved to progress from the geranium age to the hardy perennial class, and are industriously studying books and magazines with that end in view. the worst of garden literature is that it is nearly all written for an eastern climate. once i subscribed for a garden magazine, lured by a bargain three months' offer. never again! at the end of the time, when no regular subscription came in from me, letters began to arrive. finally one saying, "you probably think this is another letter urging you to subscribe. it is not; it is only to beg that you will confidentially tell us why you do not." i told him that all our conditions here are so different from those in the east. people want italian and spanish gardens, and there is the most marvellous choice of flowers, shrubs, and vines with which to get them, but we want to be told how, and added to this, it is heart-breaking to love a fountain nymph in the advertisements and to find that her travelling expenses would bankrupt you. one marvellous opportunity we have--the san diego exposition, whose gardens are more lovely than ever, though soldiers and sailors are feeding the pigeons in the plaza de panama instead of tourists. the real intention of that exposition was to show people in this part of the world what they could do with the great variety of plants and shrubs that thrive here. i used to wonder why so little has been written about gardeners when there are shelves and shelves of volumes on gardens. there are no famous gardeners in literature that occur to me at the moment except tagore's, and the three terrified ones in _alice's adventures in wonderland_, who were hurriedly painting the white roses red. i should love to read the diary of the one who trimmed the borders while boccaccio's gay company were occupying that garden; or to hear what the head gardener of the d'este's could tell us, but i know now why it is so. with the best of intentions i haven't been able to avoid the pitfall myself. [illustration] thorns there may be a more smiling hill-top than "la collina ridente" somewhere on the southern california edge of the pacific ocean, but deep down in my heart i don't believe that there is. it is just the right size hill-top--except when i first began to drive the motor, and then it seemed a trifle small for turning around. it's just high enough above the coast highway and the town to give us seclusion, and it's just far enough from the waves to be peaceful. it used to be called "suma paz"--perfect peace--but we changed the name, that being so unpleasantly suggestive of angels, and, anyway, there isn't such a thing. if "the smiling hill-top" were everything it seems on a blue and green day like to-day, for instance, it would be a menace to my character. i should never leave, i should exist beautifully, leading the life of a cauliflower or bit of seaweed floating in one of the pools in the rocks, or to be even more tropically poetic, a lovely lotus flower! i should not bother about the children's education or grieve over j----'s bachelor state of undarned socks and promiscuous meals, or the various responsibilities i left behind in town, so it is fortunate that there are thorns. every garden, from eden down, has produced them. i haven't catalogued mine, i have just put them down "higgledy-piggledy," as we used to say when we were children. j----'s having to work in town, too far to come home except for an occasional week-end, the neighbors' dogs, servants, bermuda grass, tenants, ants, the eccentricities of an adobe road during the rains, and the lapses of the delivery system of the village. of course they are of varying degrees of unpleasantness. j----'s absence is horrid but the common lot, so i have accepted it and am learning "to possess, in loneliness, the joy of all the earth." truth compels me to add that it isn't always loneliness, either, as, for example, one week-end that was much cheered by a visit from our architect friend, who rode down from santa barbara in his motor, and made himself very popular with every member of the household. he brought home the laundry, bearded the ice man in his lair, making ice-cream possible for sunday dinner, mended the garden lattice, and drew entrancing pictures of galleons sailing in from fairy shores with all their canvas spread, for the boys. as we waved our handkerchiefs to him from the good-by gate on monday, joedy turned to me: "i wish he didn't have to go!" a little pause. "muvs, if you weren't married to father, how would you like--" but here i interrupted by calling his attention to a rabbit in the canyon. one thing i do not consider a part of the joy of all the earth--the neighbors' dogs. on the next hill-top is an airedale with a voice like a fog-horn. he is an ungainly creature and thoroughly disillusioned, because his family keep him locked up in a wire-screened tennis-court, where he barks all day and nearly all night. he can watch the motors on the coast road from one corner of his cage, and that seems to drive him almost wild. he ought to realize how much better off he is than the lady of shalott, who only dared to watch the highway to camelot in a mirror! sometimes he has a bad attack of lamentation in the night--he is quite jeremiah's peer at that--and then we all call his house on the telephone. you can see the lights flash on in the various cottages and hear the tinkle of the bell, as we each in turn voice our indignation. once i even saw a white-robed figure in the road across the canyon, and heard a voice borne on the night wind, "for heaven's sake, shut that dog up." we all bore it with christian resignation when his family decided to take a motor camping trip, prince to be included in the party. he is probably even now waking the echoes on lake tahoe, or barking himself hoarse at the bridal veil falls in the yosemite, but thank goodness we can't hear him quite as far away as that. i dare say that he might be a perfectly nice, desirable dog if he had had any early training. our own "pufflers," as the boys call "rags" and "tags," their twin silver-haired yorkshire terriers, could tell him what a restraining influence the force of early training has on them, even on moonlight nights. prince is the worst affliction we have had, but not the only one. the people on the mountain-slope above us acquired a yellowish collie-like dog to scare away coyotes. he ought to have been a success at it, though i don't know just what it takes to scare a coyote. at any rate, he used to bark long and grievously about dawn in the road across the canyon. one morning i was almost frantic with the irregularity of his outbursts. it was like waiting for the other shoe to drop. suddenly a rifle shot rang out; a spurt of yellow dust, a streak of yellow dog, and silence! i rushed to j----'s room, to find him with the weapon, still smoking, in his hands. i begged him not to start a neighborhood feud, even if we never slept after dawn. i even wept. he laughed at me. "i didn't shoot at him," he said. "i shot a foot behind him, and i've given him a rare fright!" he had, indeed. the terror of the coyotes never came near us again. as to servants, the subject is so rich that i can only choose. unfortunately, the glory of the view does not make up to them for the lack of town bustle and nightly "movies," so it isn't always easy to make comfortable summer arrangements. as you start so you go on, for changing horses in mid-stream has ever been a parlous business. a temperamental high-school boy who came to drive the motor and water the garden, though he appeared barefooted to drive me to town, and took french leave for a day's fishing, pinning a note to the kitchen door, saying, "expect me when you see me and don't wait dinner," afflicted me one entire summer. i tried to rouse his ambition by pointing out the capitalists who began by digging ditches--california is full of them--and assuring him that there were no heights to which he might not rise by patient application, etc. it was no use. he watered the garden when i watched him; otherwise not. i came to the final conclusion that he was in love. love is responsible for so much. another summer i decided to try darkies and carefully selected two of contrasting shades of brown. the cook was a slim little quadroon, with flashing white teeth and hair arranged in curious small doughnuts all over her head. she was a grass widow with quite an assortment of children, though she looked little more than a child herself. "grandma" was taking care of them while the worthless husband was supposed to be running an elevator in new orleans. essie had quite lost interest in him, i gathered, for i brought her letters and candy from another swain, who used such thin paper that i couldn't avoid seeing the salutation, "oh, you chicken!" mandy was quite different. she was a rich seal brown, large and determined, and had left a husband on his honor, in town. we had hardly washed off the dust of our long motor-ride before trouble began. a telegram for mandy conveyed the disquieting news that george had been arrested on a charge of assault at the request of "grandma." it appeared that after seeing wifey off for the seashore he felt the joy of bachelor freedom so strongly that he dropped in to see essie's mother, who gave him a glass of sub rosa port, which so warmed his heart that he tried to embrace her. grandma was only thirty-four and would have been pretty except for gaps in the front ranks of her teeth. she had spirit as well as spirits, and had him clapped into jail. telegrams came in--do you say droves, covies, or flocks? night letters especially, and long-distance telephone calls--all collect. the neighbors, the masons, the lawyer, and various relatives all went into minute detail. grandma, being the injured party, prudently confined herself to the mail. as we have only one servant's room and that directly under my sleeping-porch, it made it very pleasant! the choicest telegram j---took down late one night. it was from one of mandy's neighbors, and ended with the illuminating statement: "george never had a gun or a knife on him; he was soused at the time!" mandy emerged from bed, clad in a red kimono and a pink boudoir cap, to receive this comforting message. she wept; essie, who had followed in order to miss nothing, scowled, while j---and i wound our bath-robes tightly about us and gritted our teeth, in an effort to preserve a proper solemnity. of course we had to let her go back to the trial, which she did with the dignity of one engaged in affairs of state. she and the judge had a kind of mother's meeting about george, and decided that a touch of the law might be just the steadying influence he needed. the sentence was for three months, which suited me exactly, as i calculated that his release and our return to town would happily synchronize. mandy really stood the gaff pretty well and returned to her job, and an armed neutrality ensued, varied by mild outbreaks. essie was afraid of mandy. she said that she would never stay in the house with her alone; mandy wouldn't stay in the house alone after dark, so it became rather complicated. we apparently had to take them or else find them weeping on the hillside, when we came back from a picnic. in justice to the darky heart i must say that when billie was taken very ill they buried the hatchet for the time, and helped us all to pull him through. the summer was almost over when i began to suffer from a strange hallucination. i kept seeing a colored gentleman slipping around corners when i approached. as mandy was usually near said corner, i certainly thought of george, but calmed myself with the reflection that he was safe in jail. not so. george had experienced a change of heart and had behaved in so exemplary a manner that his sentence had been shortened two weeks, and what more natural than that he should join his wife? it wasn't that i was afraid of george; i was afraid for george. i did not want him to meet essie, for if grandma's smile had cost him so dearly, i hated to think of the effect of essie's black eyes and unbroken set of white teeth. i needn't have worried, for george was apparently "sick of lies and women," and never let go his hold on the apron-string to which he was in duty bound. this summer i am unusually fortunate, owing to a moment of clear vision that i had forty-eight hours before leaving town. i had a christian science cook, a real artist if given unlimited materials, and she didn't mind loneliness, as she said that god is everywhere; to which i heartily agreed. i know that he is on this hill-top. so far so good, but her idea of obeying mr. hoover's precepts was not to mention that any staple was out until the last moment. at about six o'clock she usually came pussy-footing to my door in the tennis shoes she always wore, to tell me that there wasn't a potato in the house, or any butter. not so bad in pasadena, with a man to send to the store, but very trying on a smiling hill-top, one mile from town, with me the only thing dimly suggestive of a chauffeur on the place. at 3 a.m. i resolved to bounce her, heavenly disposition and all. i did, and engaged a cateress for what i should call a comfortable salary, rather than wages. she can get up a very appetizing meal from sawdust and candle-ends, when necessary, and that is certainly what is needed nowadays. also, she has launched a wonderful counter-offensive against the ants. there was a time when we ate our meals surrounded by a magic circle like brunhilde, but ours was not of flames, but of ant powder. not that they mind it much. i'm told that they rather dislike camphor, but do you know the present price of that old friend? there are singularly few pests or blights in the garden itself. bermuda or devil grass is one of our western specialties, though it may have invaded the east, too, since we left. it is an unusually husky plant, rooting itself afresh at every joint with new vigor, and quite choking out the aristocratic blue grass with which we started our lawn. at first you don't notice it as it sneaks along the ground, some time above and some time below, as it feels disposed, and then suddenly you see it's cobwebby outlines as plainly as the concealed animals in a newspaper puzzle. if you begin to pull it out you can't stop. it reminds me of the german system of espionage, and that adds zest to my weeding. the other day i laboriously uprooted an intricate network of tentacles, all leading to one big root, which i am sure must have been wilhelmstrasse itself. being able to do so little to help win the war, this is a valuable imaginative outlet to me! everything about the place, as well as the lawn, seems to get out of order when we have tenants. no one likes tenants any more than we like "central." there is a prejudice against them. they do the things they ought not to do and leave undone the things they ought to do, and there is no health in them. i have more often been one than had one, and i hate to think of the language that was probably used about us, though we meant well. i am not going to tell all i know about tenants after all. i have changed my mind. i am also going to draw a veil over the adobe road during the rains, because we really do like to rent the place to help pay for the children's and the motor's shoes, and it wouldn't be good business. the village delivery system enrages and entertains me by turns. i was frankly told by the leading grocery store that they did not expect to deliver to people who had their own motors, and when i occasionally insist on a few necessities being sent up to my house, they arrive after dark conveyed by an ancient horse, as the grocery manager is conservative. a horse doesn't get a puncture or break a vital part often (if he does, you bury him and get another) and it is about a toss-up between hay and gasoline. every now and then i am marooned on my hill, if the motor is "hors de combat," and then i get my neighbour to let me join her in her morning marketing trip, sometimes with disastrous results. one day the boys and i sat down to dinner with fine sea-air appetites, to be confronted by a small, crushed-looking fish. i sent out to ask the cook for more. she said there was no more, and as no miracle was wrought in our behalf, we filled up the void with mashed potatoes as best we could. just as the plates were being removed the telephone rang, and my neighbor's agitated voice asked if i had her cat's dinner! light flooded in on my understanding. we had just eaten her cat's dinner. she went on to say that the fish-man had picked out a little barracuda (our household fish in california) from his scraps and made her a present of it. i faintly asked if she thought it was a very old one, visions of ptomaine poisoning rising vividly. oh, no, she said, "it wasn't old at all, he had merely stepped on it." my own perfectly good dinner was at her house. i told her to take off a portion for her cat, and i would send the boys for the rest. i heaved a sigh of relief--a fresh young fish, even if crushed, would not have fatal results. i will pass rapidly on to my last thorn, which isn't on the list because i'm not quite sure that it is one. it is a small, second-hand, rather vicious little motor, which i have learned to drive as a war measure. after the first time i ever tried to turn it around, and it flew at our lovely rose-garlanded lattice fence at one hundred miles an hour, i christened it "the little fury." i missed the fence by revolving the steering wheel as though i were playing roulette. i almost went round twice, but j---rescued me by kicking my foot off the throttle. since then i have sufficiently mastered it to drive to town for the laundry and the newspaper. i am like a child learning to walk by having an orange rolled in front of it. i must know how far the allies have driven the germans, so i set my teeth and start for town in the "little fury." every one told me that i'd have to break something before i really got the upper hand. i have. i bravely drove out to a japanese truck garden for vegetables and came to grief. one of the boys tersely expressed it in his diary, "muvs ran into a japanese barn and rooked the bumper!" now that that is over, i begin to feel a certain sense of independence that is not unpleasant. it is some time since i have stalled the engine or tried to climb a hill with the emergency brake set. the boys and the "pufflers" are game and keep me company; we live or die together. after all, the loveliest rose in my garden, the sunburst, lifts its fragrant flower of creamy orange on a stalk bristling with wicked-looking mahogany spikes. if i'm very careful about cutting it, i don't prick my fingers and the thorns really add to the effect. [illustration] the gypsy trail a friend of mine once wrote an article on motoring in southern california for one of the smart eastern magazines. in it she said that often a motor would be followed by a trailer loaded with a camp outfit. what was her surprise and amusement to read her own article later, dressed for company, so to speak. "a trailer goes ahead with the servants and outfit, so that when the motoring party arrives on the scene all is in readiness for their comfort." great care must be taken that the sensibilities of the elect should not be offended by the horrid thought that ladies and gentlemen actually do make their own camp at times! so the trailer has to go ahead, and that is just where the lure and magic of southern california slips through the fingers. most of us have a few drops, at least, of gypsy blood in us, and in this land of sunshine and the open road we all become vagabonds as far as our conventional upbringing will let us. when you know that it won't rain from may to october, and the country is full of the most lovely and picturesque spots, how can you help at least picnicking whenever you can? trains are becoming as obsolete in our family as the horse. we wish to take a trip: out purrs the motor; in goes the family lunch-box, a thermos bottle, and a motor-case of indispensables, and we are off. no fuss about missing the train, no baggage, no tickets, no cinders--just the open road. i had heard that every one deteriorated in southern california, and after the first year i began earnestly searching my soul for signs of slackening. perhaps my soul is naturally easy-going, for somehow i can't feel that the things we let slip matter so greatly. this much i will admit. there is no deadlier drug habit than fresh air! the first summer on our smiling hill-top kind ladies used to ask me to tea-parties and card-parties, but i could never come indoors long enough to be anything but a trial to my partners at bridge, so now i don't even make believe i'm a polite member of society. of course, there are people who carry it further than i do, and can't be quite happy except in their bathing-suits. i'm not as bad as that. i can still enjoy the sea breezes and the colors and the sound of the waves with my clothes on. i don't even wear my bathing-suit to market, which is one of the customs of the place. it is a picturesque little village; half the houses are mere shacks, a kind of compromise between dwelling and bath-houses, everyone being much too thrifty to pay money to the casino when they can drip freely on their own sitting-room floor, without the least damage to the furnishings. life for many consists largely of a prolonged bath and bask on the beach, with dinner at a cafeteria and a cold bite for supper at home or on the rocks. it is surely an easy life and yet a great deal of earnest effort and strenuous thinking goes on, too, women's clubs, even an "open forum," and there are many delightful people who live there all the year for the sake of the perfect climate. also, there are a few charming houses perched on the cliffs, most suggestive of sorrento and amalfi. an incident j---is fond of telling gives the combined interests of the place. he was on his way to the post-office when he met two women in very scanty jersey bathing-suits with legs bare, wearing, to be sure, law-fulfilling mackintoshes, but which, being unbuttoned, flapped so in the breeze that they were only a technical covering. the ladies were in earnest conversation as he passed. j---heard one say, "i grant all you say about the charm of his style, but i consider his writing very superficial!" it is a wonderful life for small boys. my sons are the loveliest shades of brown with cheeks of red, and in faded khaki and bare legs are as good an example of protective coloring on the hillside as any zebra in a jungle. quite naturally they view september and the long stockings of the city with dislike. there is a place on the beach by the coast road between pasadena and san diego where we always have lunch on our journeys to and from town. just after you leave the picturesque ruins of the capistrano mission in its sheltered valley, you come out suddenly on the ocean, and the road runs by the sand for miles. with a salt breeze blowing in your face you can't resist the lunch box long. with a stuffed egg in one hand and a sandwich in the other, joedy, aged eight, observed on our last trip south, "this is the bright side of living." i agree with him. one late afternoon a friend of ours was driving alone and offered a lift to two young men who were swinging along on foot. "your price?" they asked. "a smile and a song," was the reply. so in they got, and those last fifty miles were gay. that is the sort of thing which fits so perfectly into the atmosphere of this land. perhaps it is the orange blossoms, perhaps it is that we have extra-sized moons, perhaps it is the old spanish charm still lingering. all i know is that it is a land of glamour and romance. j---said he was going to import a pair of nightingales. i said that if he did he'd have a lot to answer for. places are as different as people. the east, and by that i mean the country east of the alleghanies and not iowa and kansas, which are sometimes so described out here, has reached years of discretion and is set in its way. california has temperament, and it is still very young and enthusiastic and is having a lot of fun "growing up." i love the stone walls, huckleberry pies, and johnny cakes of rhode island, and i love the associations of my childhood and my family tree, but there is something in the air of this part of the world that enchants me. it is a certain "why not?" that leads me into all sorts of delightful experiences. conventionality does not hold us as tightly as it does in the east, and a certain tempting feeling of unlimited possibilities in life makes waking up in the morning a small adventure in itself. it isn't necessary to point out the dangers of an unlimited "why not?" cult--they are too obvious. "why not?" is a question that one's imagination asks, and imagination is one of the best spurs to action. i will give an example of what i mean: when war was declared j---suggested putting contribution boxes with red crosses on the collars of "rags" and "tags," the boys' twin yorkshire terriers, and coaxing them to sit up on the back of the motor. i never had begged on a street corner, but i thought at once, "why not?" the result was much money for the red cross, an increased knowledge of human nature for me, as well as some delightful new friends. i should never have had the courage to try it in new york--let us say; i should have been afraid i'd be arrested. at first to an easterner the summer landscape seems dry and dusty, but after living here one grows to love the peculiar soft tones of tan and bisque, with bright shades of ice plant for color, and by the sea the wonderful blues and greens of the water. no one can do justice to the glory of that. sky-blue, sea-blue, the shimmer of peacocks' tails and the calm of that blue italian painters use for the robes of their madonnas, ever blend and ever change. trees there are few, the graceful silhouette of a eucalyptus against a golden sky, occasional clumps of live oaks, and on the coast road to san diego the torry pines, relics of a bygone age, growing but one other place in the world, and more picturesque than any tree i ever saw. one swaying over a canyon is the photographer's joy. it has been posing for hundreds of years and will still for centuries more, i have no doubt. were i trying to write a sort of sugar-coated guide-book, i could make the reader's mouth water, just as the menu of a parisian restaurant does. the canyons through which we have wandered, the hills we have circled, grossmont--that island in the air--point loma, the southern tip of the united states, now, alas, closed on account of the war (fort rosecrans is near its point), and further north the mountains and orange groves--snow-capped sierras looming above orchards of blooming peach-trees! even the names add to the fascination, the cuyamaca mountains meaning the hills of the brave one; sierra madre, the mother mountains; even tia juana is euphonious, if you don't stop to translate it into the plebeian "aunt jane," and no names could be as lovely as the places themselves. so much beauty rather goes to one's head. for years in the east we had lived in rented houses, ugly rented houses, always near the station, so that j---could catch the 7.59 or the 8.17, on foot. to find ourselves on a smiling hill-top--our own hill-top, with "magic casements opening on the foam"--seemed like a dream. after three years it still seems too good to be true. they say that if you spend a year in southern california you will never be able to leave it. i don't know. we haven't tried. the only possible reason for going back would be that you aren't in the stirring heart of things here as you are in new york, and the _times_ is five days old when you get it. your friends--they all come to you if you just wait a little. what amazes them always is to find that southern california has the most perfect summer climate in the world, if you keep near the sea. no rain--many are the umbrellas i have gently extracted from the reluctant hands of doubting visitors; no heat such as we know it in the east. we have an out-of-door dining-room, and it is only two or three times in summer that it is warm enough to have our meals there. in the cities or the "back country" it is different. i have felt heat in pasadena that made me feel in the same class with shadrach, meshach and abednego, but never by the sea. one result of all this fresh air is that we won't even go indoors to be amused. hence the outdoor theatre. why go to a play when it's so lovely outside? but to go to a play out-of-doors in an enchanting greek theatre with a real moon rising above it--that's another matter. i shall never forget "midsummer night's dream" as given by the theosophical society at point loma. strolling through the grounds with the mauve and amber domes of their temples dimly lighted i found myself murmuring: "in xanadu did kubla khan a stately pleasure dome decree." in a canyon by the sea we found a theatre. the setting was perfect and the performance was worthy of it. never have i seen that play so beautifully given, so artistically set and delightfully acted, though the parts were taken by students in the theosophical school. after the last adorable little fairy had toddled off--i hope to bed--we heard a youth behind us observe, "these nuts sure can give a play." we echoed his sentiments. i should make one exception to my statement that people won't go indoors to be amused. they go to the "movies"--i think they would risk their lives to see a new film almost as recklessly as the actors who make them. the most interesting part of the moving-picture business is out-of-doors, however. you are walking down the street and notice an excitement ahead. douglas fairbanks is doing a little tightrope walking on the telegraph wires. a little farther on a large crowd indicates further thrills. presently there is a splash and charley chaplin has disappeared into a fountain with two policemen in pursuit. once while we were motoring we came to a disused railway spur, and were surprised to find a large and fussy engine getting up steam while a crowd blocked the road for some distance. a lady in pink satin was chained to the rails--placed there by the villain, who was smoking cigarettes in the offing, waiting for his next cue. the lady in pink satin had made a little dugout for herself under the track, and as the locomotive thundered up she was to slip underneath--a job that the mines of golconda would not have tempted me to try. moving-picture actors have a very high order of courage. we could not stay for the denouement, as we had a nervous old lady with us, who firmly declined to witness any such hair-raising spectacle. i looked in the paper next morning for railway accidents to pink ladies, but could find nothing, so she probably pulled it off successfully. every year new theatres are built. we have seen ruth st. denis at the organ pavilion of the san diego exposition, and julius cæsar with an all-star cast in the hills back of hollywood, where the space was unlimited, and cæsar's triumph included elephants and other beasts, loaned by the "movies," and brutus' camp spread over the hillside as it might actually have done long ago. there is a place in the back country near escondido, where at the time of the harvest moon an indian play with music is given every year. at easter thousands of people go up mount rubidoux, near riverside, for the sunrise service. some celebrated singer usually takes part and it is very lovely--quite unlike anything else. so we have come to belong to what the french would call the school of "pleine air." i once knew an adorable little boy who expressed it better than i can: "sun callin' me, sky callin' me, comin' sun--comin' sky." [illustration] an adventure in solitude my windows were all wide open one lovely april day, the loveliest time of all the year in southern california, filling the house with the sweetness of wistaria and orange blossoms, but also, truth compels me to add, with so many noises of such excruciating kinds that i followed ulysses' well-known plan and then tried to find quiet for my siesta in the back spare-room. the worst of this house is that it really has no back--it has various fronts, like the war. the spinster next door but one has a parrot--a cynical, tired parrot, but still fond of the sound of his own voice. the lady across the street is raising pekinese puppies, who apparently bitterly regret being born outside of pekin. she puts them in baskets on the roof in the sun and lets them cry it out, in that hard-hearted modern method applied to babies. a sight-seeing car had paused while the gentleman with the megaphone explained to a few late tourists the arroyo seco, that great river-bed with only a trickle of water at the bottom, on whose brink our house perches. at home two plumbers were playfully tossing bricks about our courtyard in a half-hearted endeavor to find out why our cellar was flooded. hence the back bedroom. no amount of cotton wool in one's ears, however, could camouflage a telephone bell. "the red cross executive committee will meet at ten on wednesday." a short interval followed. "will mr. s---make a 'four-minute' speech on friday at the strand theatre for the liberty bond campaign?" another interval during which i began to feel drowsy. "will mr. s---say a few words of appreciation and present a wrist watch to the chapter secretary just starting for france?" etc. just here i made a resolve. escape i would, for one week, to my lovely hill-top by the sea, and leave j----, the two boys, the two dogs, the two white mice, the red cross, the red star, food conservation and liberty bonds to manage beautifully without me. i even had the reckless idea of trying to forget that there was a war going on! i was furnished with a perfectly good excuse; we had rented "the smiling hill-top" for two months, and it must be put in order. hence my "adventure in solitude." everything is called an adventure nowadays, and to me it was a most exciting one, as i had not gone forth independently for many years. one chauffeur, one smiling helen to clean house for the tenants and cook for me, my worst clothes and my best picnic lunch went into the motor, and i followed. i think my family expected me back next day, when i bade them a loving farewell. not i! my spirit was craving silence. i wanted not to curl my hair or be neat or polite or a good mother, or any of the things i usually try to be, for just one week. longer, and i would be lonely and homesick. it was a lovely day. the coast road to san diego runs through orange groves for miles, and the perfume of the blossoms hung about us till we came to the sea, where a salt breeze blew away the heavy sweetness. i lunched on the sand and watched the waves for an hour. there, at least, are endless re-enforcements! as fast as the front ranks break more come always to fill their places. i felt no hurry, as the smiling hill-top is some fifteen miles nearer pasadena than san diego--an easy day's run--and i had no engagements, but at last my impatience to see how much our garden had grown started me once more on my way, and we arrived at our wicket gate in the late afternoon. there were twenty-seven keys on the ring the real-estate agent gave me--twenty more than caused so much trouble at baldpate--but none fitted, so i had the chauffeur lift the gate bodily from its hinges and i was at home! in california things grow riotously. grandparents who haven't seen their grandsons for years, and find that they have shot up from toddling babies to tall youths, must feel as i did when i saw the vines and shrubs, especially the banana trees planted only six months before! the lawn over which i had positively wept lay innocent and green--almost english in its freshness. the patio was entrancing with blooming vines. the streptasolen, which has no "little name," as the french say, was like a cascade of flame over one end of the wall. the place was ablaze with it. the three goldfish in the fountain seemed as calm as ever, and apparently have solved the present problem of the high cost of living, for they don't have to be fed at all. the three had picked up what they needed without human aid. i really felt like patting them on the head, but that being out of the question, i was moved to rhyme: "i wish i were a goldfish, all in a little bowl; i wouldn't worry whether i really had a soul. i'd glide about through sun and shade and snatch up little gnats, my heaven would be summer my hell--well, call it cats!" all this time the chauffeur had been wrestling with the key ring, and finally had our bare necessities in the way of doors open. i had telegraphed our agent that i was coming only long enough before for the house to have what is vulgarly known as "a lick and a promise," but it looked just as comfortable and pleasant as i knew that it would, and the terrace--no need to bother about that. the south wind does the housework there. that night i went to sleep between sheets fragrant with lavender from my own garden, while the ocean boomed gently on the beach below the hill. in the week that followed i abolished a number of things. first of all, meal hours. i had my meals when i felt like it; in fact, i didn't wind the clock till i was leaving. i only did it then on account of the tenants, as some people find the ticking of a clock and the chirping of a cricket pleasant and cosy sounds. i don't. then i cut out the usual items from my bill of fare, and lived on young peas, asparagus, eggs, milk, and fruit, with just a little bread and butter--not enough to agitate mr. hoover. i never had had as much asparagus as i really wanted before. i wore an old smock and a disreputable hat, and i pruned and dug in my garden till i was tired, and then i lay on the terrace and watched the waves endlessly gather and glide and spread. counting sheep jumping over a wall is nothing to compare with waves for soothing rasped nerves. my first solitary day was so clear that the pasadena mountains, as we call that part of the sierra madre, rose soft over the water on the far horizon, so that i couldn't feel lonely with home in sight. long unused muscles expostulated with me, but smoothed-out nerves more than balanced their twinges. of course i couldn't forget the war. who could, especially with flocks of aeroplanes flying over me as i lay on a chaise longue on the terrace, listening to the big guns of camp kearny roaring behind the hills; but it no longer gave me the sensation of sand-paper in my feelings. i thought about it all more calmly and realized a little of what it is doing to us americans--to our souls!--that is worth the price; and in addition, how much it is teaching us of economy, conservation, and efficiency, as well as more spiritual things. it has also brought home to me the beauty of throwing away. in a fever of enthusiasm to make every outgrown union suit and superfluous berry spoon tell, i have ransacked my house from garret to cellar, and i bless the belgians, servians, and armenians, the poles and the french orphans for ridding me of a suffocating mass of things that i didn't use, and yet felt obliged to keep. my wardrobe is now the irreducible minimum, the french relief has the rest, and at last i have more than enough hangers in my closet to support my frocks. the shoes that pinched but looked so smart that they kept tempting me into one more trial have gone to the red cross shop. no more concerts will be ruined by them. the hat that made me look ten years older than i like to think i do, accompanied them. it was a good hat, almost new, and it cost--more than i pay for hats nowadays. i do not need to wear it out. my large silver tea-pot given me by my maid of honor did good work for the belgians--i hope if she ever finds out about its fate that she will be glad that it is now warm stockings for many thin little belgian legs. nora, from ireland, viewed its departure with satisfaction--it made one less thing to polish. many odds and ends of silver followed, and were put into the melting-pot, being too homely to survive--i'm saving enough for heirlooms for my grandchildren, of course. one must not allow sentiment to go by the board; we need it especially now that we have lost such quantities of it out of the world. so much was "made in germany," that old germany of the fairy tales and christmas trees which seems to be gone forever. i need not go on enumerating my activities. every one has been doing the same thing, and in all probability is now enjoying the same sense of orderliness and freedom that i feel. even the children have caught the spirit. i was just leaving my house the other day when a palatial automobile stopped at the gate and a very perfect chauffeur alighted and touched his cap. "madam," he said, "i have come for a case of empty bottles that master john says your little boy promised him for the red cross." there was a trace of embarrassment in his manner, but there was none in mine as i led him to the cellar and watched with satisfaction while he clasped a cobwebby box of--dare i whisper it?--empty beer bottles to his immaculate chest and eventually stowed it in the exquisite interior of the limousine. how wonderful of the red cross to want my bottles, and how intelligent of my "little boy" to arrange the matter so pleasantly! to do away with the needless accumulations of life, or better still, not to let them accumulate, what a comfort that would be! letters? the fire as rapidly as possible! no one ought to have a good time reading over old letters--there's always a tinge of sadness about them, and it's morbid to conserve sadness, added to which, in the remote contingency of one's becoming famous, some vandalish relative always publishes the ones that are most sacred. j---has the pigeon-hole habit. he hates to see anything sink into the abyss of the waste-basket, but i am training him to throw away something every morning before breakfast. after a while he'll get so that he can dispose of several things at once, and the time may come when i'll have to look over the rubbish to be sure that nothing valuable has gone, because throwing away is just as insidious a habit as any other. if only one could pile old bills on top of the old letters, what a glorious bonfire that would make! but that will have to wait until the millennium; as things are now, it would mean paying twice for the motor fender of last year, and never feeling sure of your relations with the butcher. it isn't only things that i am disposing of. i've rid myself of a lot of useless ideas. we don't have to live in any special way. it isn't necessary to have meat twice a day, and there is no law about chicken for sunday dinner. butter does not come like the air we breathe. numerous courses aren't necessary even for guests. new clothes aren't essential unless your old ones are worn out--and so on. and so i'm stepping forth on a road leading, even the graybeards can't say where, with surprises behind every hedge and round every corner. there hasn't been so thrillingly interesting an age to be alive since that remote time when the creation was going on. except for moments of tired nerves, like this, it is very stimulating, and i find myself stepping out much more briskly since i threw my extra wraps and bundles beside the road. here on my hill-top i have even enjoyed a little of that charm of unencumberedness that all vagabonds know--and later if i come to some steep stretches i shall be more likely to make the top, for i'm resolved to "travel light." there is usually one serpent in eden, if it is only a garter snake. ours was a frog in the fountain. he had a volume of sound equal to edouard de reske in his prime. i set the chauffeur the task of catching him, but after emptying out all the water one little half-inch frog skipped off, and john assured me that he could never be the offender. but he was "edouard" in spite of appearances, for he returned at dusk and took up the refrain just where he had left off. i decided to hunt him myself. it was like the game of "magic music" that we used to play as children: loud and you are "warm"; soft and you are far away. i never caught him. he was ready to greet the tenants instead of the cosy cricket, and may have been the reason why they suddenly departed after only a three weeks' stay, but as it was a foggy may, as it sometimes is on this coast, that is an open question. j---tersely put it, "frog or fog?" the smiling helen smiled more beamingly every day, but the chauffeur hated it. he was a city product and looked as much at home on that hill-top as a dancing-master in a hay-field. he smoked cigarettes and read the sporting page of the paper in the garage, where gasoline rather deadened the country smells of flowers and hay, and tried to forget his degrading surroundings, but he was overjoyed when the day to start for home arrived. i did not share his feelings, and yet i was ready to go. it had been a great success, and the only time i had felt lonely was in a crowded restaurant in san diego, where j---and i had had many jolly times in past summers. on the smiling hill-top who could be lonely with the ever-changing sea and sky and sunsets. i dare not describe the picture, as i don't wish to be put down as mad or a cubist. scent of the honeysuckle, the flutter of the breeze, the song of pink-breasted linnets and their tiny splashings in the birds' pool outside my sleeping-porch, the velvet of the sky at night, with its stars and the motor lights on the highway like more stars below--how i love it all! i was taking enough of it home with me, i hoped, to last through some strenuous weeks in pasadena, until i could come back for the summer, bringing my family. much bustling about on the part of the smiling helen and me, much locking of gates and doors by the bored chauffeur, and we were off for home! after all is said and done, "home is where the heart is," irrespective of the view. the first part of the way we made good time, but just out of one of the small seaside towns something vital snapped in the motor's insides. it happened on a bridge at the foot of a hill, and we were very lucky to escape an accident. i will say for the chauffeur that while, as a farmer, he would never get far, as a driver he knew his business. one slight skid and we stopped short, "never to go again," like grandfather's clock. it resulted in our having to be towed backwards to the nearest garage, while the chauffeur jumped on a passing motor bound for pasadena, and was snatched from my sight like elijah in the chariot--he was off to get a new driving shaft. the smiling helen followed in a ford full of old ladies. i elected to travel by train and sat for hours in a small station waiting for the so-called "express." in a hasty division of the lunch i got all the hard-boiled eggs, and of course one can eat only a limited number of them, though i will say that a few quite deaden one's appetite. i had an amazing collection of bags, coats, and packages, and was dreading embarking on the train. however, i have a private motto, "there is a way." there was. the only occupant of the waiting-room besides myself was a very dapper gentleman of what i should call lively middle age, with very upstanding gray mustaches. i took him to be a marooned motorist, also. he was well-dressed, with the added touch of an orange blossom in his button-hole, and he had a slightly roving eye. his hand-baggage was most "refined." i had noticed him looking my way at intervals, and wondered if he craved a hard-boiled egg; i could easily have spared him one! while i am certainly not in the habit of seeking conversation with strange gentlemen, there are always exceptions to everything, and i concluded that this was one. i smiled! we chatted on the subject of the flora and fauna of california in a perfectly blameless way till my train whistled, when he said, "i am going to carry those bags for you, if you will allow me!" i thanked him aloud and inwardly remarked, "i have known that for a long time!" what made it especially pleasant was that i was going north and he was going south. so ended my adventure--not all solitude, if you like, but as near it as one can achieve with comfort. the amazing thing about it was how well i got on with myself, for i don't think i'm particularly easy to live with. i must ask j----. probably it was the novelty. [illustration] a sabine farm i once remarked that i thought new york city a most friendly and neighborly place, and was greeted with howls of derision. i suppose i said it because that morning a dear old lady in an oculist's office had patted me, saying, "my dear, it would be a pity to put glasses on you," and an imposing blonde in a smart fifth avenue shop had sold me a hat that i couldn't afford either to miss or to buy, for half price, because she said i'd talked to her like a human being, the year before--all of which had warmed my heart. i think perhaps my statement was too sweeping. since we have changed oceans i notice that the atmosphere of the west has altered my old standards somewhat. there is an easy-going fellowship all through every part of life on this side of the rocky mountains. take banks, for instance. can you picture a dignified new york trust company with bowls of wild flowers placed about the desks and a general air of hospitality? in one bank i have often had a pleasant half-hour very like an afternoon tea, where all the officers, from the president down, came to shake hands and ask after the children. of course, that is a rather unusually pleasant and friendly bank, even for california. always i am carefully, tenderly almost, escorted to my motor. at first this flattered me greatly, till i discovered that there is a law in california that if you slip and hurt yourself on any one's premises, they pay the doctor's bill. hence the solicitude. i was not to be allowed to strain my ankle, even if i wanted to. probably the same geniality existed in the east fifty years ago. i have been told that it did. it is a very delightful stage of civilization where people's shells are still soft, if they have shells at all. there is an accessibility, a breeziness and camaraderie about even the prominent men--the bulwarks of business and public life. we are accused of bragging and "boosting" in the west. i am afraid it is true. they are the least pleasant attributes of adolescence. banking isn't the only genial profession. there is real estate. of course about half the men in california are in real estate for reasons too obvious to mention. providence was kind in putting us into the hands of an honest man, better still, one with imagination, when we came to look for a winter bungalow. he saw that we had to have something with charm, even if the furniture was scarce, and took as much pains over realizing our dream as if we had been hunting for a palace. it was he who found our "sabine farm," which brought us three of the best gifts of the gods--health, happiness, and a friend. we had almost decided to take a picturesque cot that i named "the jungle," from its tangle of trees and flowers, even though the cook could reach her abode only by an outside staircase. the boys had volunteered to hold an umbrella over her during the rainy season, but i wasn't quite satisfied with this arrangement. just then we saw an enchanting bungalow set in a garden of bamboos, roses and bananas, and looked no further! it belonged to an english woman who raised toggenburg goats, which made it all the more desirable for us as the goats were to stay at the back of the garden, and provide not only milk but interest for the boys. j---dubbed it "el rancho goato" at once. our friends in the east were delighted with the idea, and many were their gibes. one in particular always added something to the address of his letters for the guide or diversion of the r. f. d. postman: "route 2, box so-and-so, you can tell the place by the goats"; or during the spring floods this appeared in one corner of the envelope: "were the goats above high water?" it wasn't just an ordinary farm. there was a certain something--i think the names of the goats had a lot to do with it--corella, coila, babette, elfa, viva, lorine, and so on, or perhaps it was the devotion of their mistress, who expended the love and care of a very large heart on a family that i think appreciated it as far as goats are capable of appreciation. if she was a little late coming home (she had a tiny shack on one corner of the place) they would be waiting at the gate calling plaintively. there is a plaintive tone about everything a goat has to say. in his cot on the porch j---composed some verses one morning early--i forget them except for two lines: "the plaintive note of a querulous goat over my senses seems to float." of course that was the difficulty--creatures of one kind or another do not lie abed late. our sabine farm was surrounded by others and there was a neighborhood hymn to the dawn that it took us some time to really enjoy--if we ever did. sopranos--roosters; altos--pigeons, and ducks; tenors--goats; bassos--cows, and one donkey. there was nothing missing to make a full, rich volume of sound. of course there is no place where it is so difficult to get a long, refreshing night's sleep as the country. one rarely comes through any new experience with all one's preconceived ideas intact. our first season on the sabine farm shattered a number of mine. i had always supposed that a mocking-bird, like a garden, was "a lovesome thing, god wot." romantic--just one step below a nightingale! there was a thicket of bamboos close to my window, and every night all the young mocking-birds gathered there to try out their voices. it was partly elocutionary and partly vocal, but almost entirely exercises--rarely did they favor me with a real song. this would go on for some time, then just as i dared to hope that lessons were over, another burst of ill-assorted trills and shrills would rouse me to fury. i kept three pairs of boots in a convenient place, and hurled them into the bamboos, paying the boys a small reward for retrieving them each morning. sometimes, if my aim was good, a kind of wondering silence lasted long enough for me to fall asleep. there is an old song--we all know it--that runs: "she's sleeping in the valley, etc., etc., and the mocking-bird is singing where she lies." that, of course, would be impossible if the poor little thing hadn't been dead. by day i really enjoyed them. to sit in the garden, which smelled like a perpetual wedding, reading lafcadio hearn and listening to mocking-birds and linnets, would have undermined my new england upbringing very quickly, had i had time to indulge often in such a lotus-eating existence. then there was "boost." he was a small bantam rooster, beloved of our landlady, which really proves nothing because she was such a tender-hearted person that she loved every dumb creature that wandered to her door. had boost been dumb i might have loved him too. he had a voice like the noise a small boy can make with a tin can and a resined string. he had a malevolent eye and knew that i detested him, so that he took especial pains to crow under my windows, generally about an hour after the mocking-birds stopped. i think living with a lot of big hens and roosters told on his nervous system, and he took it out on me. great self-restraint did i exercise in not wringing his neck, when help came from an unexpected quarter. boost had spirit--i grant him that--and one day he evidently forgot that he wasn't a full-sized bird, and was reproved by the sultan of the poultry-yard in such a way that he was found almost dead of his wounds. dear miss w----'s heart was quite broken. she fed him brandy and anointed him with healing lotions, but to no avail. he died. i had felt much torn and rather doublefaced in my inquiries for the sufferer, because i was so terribly afraid he might get well, so it was a great relief when he was safely buried in the back lot. though i love animals i have had bloodthirsty moments of feeling that the only possible way to enjoy pets was to have them like those wooden japanese eggs which fit into each other. if you have white mice or a canary, have a cat to contain the canary, and a dog to reckon with the cat. further up in the scale the matter is more difficult, of course. one of our "best seller" manufacturers, in his early original days, wrote a delightful tale. in it he said: "a cheetah is a yellow streak full of people's pet dogs," so perhaps that is the answer. the ultimate cheetah would, of course, have to be shot and stuffed, as it would hardly be possible to have a wild-cat lounging about the place. i think the idea has possibilities. so many of our plans are determined by pets. "no, we can't close the house and go motoring for a week, because there is no one with whom to leave the puppies." "yes, we rented our house to mrs. s---for less than we expected to get for it, because she is so fond of cats and promised to take good care of pom pom"--which recalls to my mind a dear little girl who had a white kitten that she was entrusting to a neighbor. the neighbor, a busy person with eight children, received the kitten without demonstration of any kind. little lydia looked at her for a few moments and then said, "mrs. f----, that kitten must be loved." that is really the trouble, not only must they be loved, but they are loved and then the pull on your heart-strings begins. we have a pair of twin silver-haired yorkshire terriers, who are an intimate part of our family circle. i sometimes feel like a friend of mine in san francisco, who has a marvellous chinese cook, and says she hopes she will die before li does. i hope "rags" and "tags" will live as long as i do--and yet they are a perfect pest. if they are outdoors they want to come in, or vice versa. it is practically impossible to sneak off in the motor without their escort and they bark at my best callers. since they made substantial sums of money begging for the red cross, they have added a taste for publicity to their other insistent qualities and come into the drawing-room, and sit up in front of whoever may be calling, with a view to sugar and petting. and the worst of it is i can't maintain discipline at all. rags has had to be anointed with a salve compounded of tar and sulphur. it is an indignity and quite crushes his spirit, so that after it has been put on he wishes to sit close to me for comfort. the result is that i become like a winter overcoat just emerging from moth-balls rather than hurt his feelings. of course it makes some difference whether the pet that is annoying you belongs to you or a neighbor. i doubt whether i could have loved boost, however, even if i had known him from the shell. in spite of these various drawbacks we led a most happy life. it was so easy. the bungalow was so attractively furnished; our own oranges and limes grew at the door. there was just room for us with nothing to spare, that had to be kept in order, and our landlady was as different from the cold-hearted ones we had known as the bankers and real-estate men. she seemed to be always trying to think of what we might need, and to provide it. dear miss w----, she will never be a good business woman from the world's point of view; she is too generous and too unselfish! we all loved her. many were the hours i inveigled her into wasting while we sat on bales of the goats' hay and discussed life and the affairs of the country--but mostly life with its curious twists and turns--its generosities and its stinginesses. the boys spent their time in the goat-pen making friends of the little kids, whose various advents added so much interest to the spring, and learning much from miss w----, whose attitude towards life was so sane and wholesome for them to know. "buckaboo," the only buck on the ranch when we came, was a dashing young creature, prancing about and kicking up his heels for the pure joy of living. joedy informed j---that he reminded him of him, "only in a goat way, father"--a tribute to the light-heartedness that california had already brought to at least one member of the family. if our sabine farm's vocation was goats, its avocation was surely roses. we were literally smothered in them. a cecil brunner with its perfect little buds, so heavily perfumed, covered one corner of the house. the lady bankshire, with its delicate yellow blossoms, roofed our porch, and the glorious gold of ophir, so thorny and with little fragrance, concealed our laundry from the road. there was a garden of bush roses of all kinds to cut for the house, and the crowning glory of all was a hedge of "tausend schön," growing luxuriantly, and a blaze of bloom in may. after years of illness and worry, it was good to feel life coming back joyously in a kind of haven--or heaven--of roses. [illustration] the land of whynot when alice stepped through the looking-glass and ran out into that most alluring garden, she must have felt much as i did long ago when i stepped off the santa fé limited and found myself in southern california for the first time! it isn't just the palm trees and the sunshine, though they are part of the charm. it isn't even the mocking-birds and the orange blossoms altogether. it is something you can't really put your finger on, that lures you from your old habits and associations. at first you are simply glad that you have left the cold and snow behind you, and that the earth is so sweet with flowers, and then you begin to find a new world of possibilities. there are all sorts of little garden gates with golden keys on glass tables, and you set about growing shorter or taller, as the case may be, to make yourself a proper height to reach the key and slip through the door. you don't even need to hurry, if you are firm about not grasping the hand of any red queen that may come your way, and yet it isn't a land of mañana; it's a land of "why not?" the magic has nothing to do with one's age; i feel it now even more than i did twenty years ago, and grandmother felt it at eighty just as i did at eighteen. ulysses could have himself lashed to the mast and snap his fingers at the sirens, but i know of no protection against the southwest except to somehow close the shutters of your imagination. however, let me not be a calvinist; because it is enchanting, why should i fear it? i shall never forget my first experience of the spell. i was invited by my grandmother to go to california for several months. there were four of us, and we were all tired, for one reason or another; grandmother because she was eighty, and it's a strenuous matter to live eighty years; my aunt because she had been desperately ill; c. c. because she had nursed my aunt back to comparative health, and i because i had been a débutante that winter, and every one knows that that is the hardest work of all. we went as far south as the train would take us, and settled ourselves at coronado to bask in the sunshine until the tiredness was gone and we became a band of explorers, with the world before us! a pair of buggies drawn by nags of unblemished reputation for sagacity and decorum, driven by c. c. and me, carried us over many a picturesque and rough road. it invariably took us all day to get anywhere and back, irrespective of what the distance was supposed to be. the outfit was so old that i often had to draw up my steed and mend the harness with a safety-pin. trailing ramona was our favorite game. fortunately for that part of the country, she and allessandro managed to be born, or sleep, or marry, or die in pretty nearly every little settlement, ranch, or mission in san diego county, and it's a great boon to the country. now, of course, with a motor you can cover the ground in a day, but then, with a guaranteed horse and a safety-pinned harness, ramona was good for weeks. we usually took a picnic lunch, and it was on one of these trips that i first saw the smiling hill-top and knew it not for my later love. how often that happens! jogging home, with the reins slack on the placid mare's back, grandmother liked me to sing "believe me if all those endearing young charms" and "araby's daughter," showing that she was a good deal under the spell of the palm trees and the sunset, for i have the voice of a lost kitten. it also shows the perfect self-control of the horse, for no accidents occurred. it was a very different coronado from the present day, with its motors on earth and water, and in air. i liked ours better and hated to leave it, but after six weeks of its glory of sunshine i was deputed to go north to pasadena to rent a bungalow for two months. it was my first attempt of the kind, and aided by a cousin into whose care i had been confided, i succeeded in reducing the rent twenty-five dollars a month for a pretty cottage smothered in roses and heliotropes and well supplied with orange and lemon trees. i was rather pleased with myself as a business woman. not so grandmother. she was thoroughly indignant and announced her firm intention of paying the original rent asked, a phenomenon that so surprised our landlord, when i told him, that he insisted on scrubbing the kitchen floor personally, the day of her arrival. thus did raleigh lay down his cloak for the queen! everything was lovely. it only rained once that spring--the morning after we had gone up mount lowe to see the sun rise, to be sure, but it would be a carping creature who would complain when only one expedition had been dampened. for twenty years i cherished the illusion that this was a land of endless sunshine. i don't know where i thought the moisture came from that produces the almost tropical luxuriance of the gardens and the groves. i know better now and, strange to say, i have come to love a rain in its proper time and place, if it isn't too boisterous. we discovered a veteran of the civil war turned liveryman, who for a paltry consideration in cash was ours every afternoon, and showed us something new each day, from racing horses on the lucky baldwin ranch to the shadow of a spread eagle on a rock. grandmother's favorite excursion was to a picturesque winery set in vineyards and shaded by eucalyptus trees. she was what i should call a wine-jelly, plum-pudding prohibitionist, and she included tastes of port and fruit cordials as part of the sight-seeing to be done. you can be pretty at eighty, which is consoling to know. grandmother, with a little curl over each ear and the pink born of these "tastes" proved it, and she wouldn't let us tease her about it either. it was an easy life, and so fascinating that i even said to myself, "why not learn to play the guitar?" for nothing seemed impossible. it shows how thoroughly drugged i was by this time, for my creator wholly omitted to supply me with a musical ear. i always had to have my instrument tuned by the young man next door, but i learned to play "my old kentucky home" so that every one recognized it. now, if years had not taught me some fundamental facts about my limitations, i should probably render twilight hideous with a ukelele, for a ukelele goes a guitar one better, and aloha oeè wailed languorously on that instrument would make even a quaker relax. it was in the late spring that the great idea came to aunty and me. i don't know which of us was really responsible for it, and there was a time when neither of us would own it. a course in small "why nots?" made it come quite naturally at the last. why shouldn't we drive into the yosemite valley before we went home? by the end of may it would be at its loveliest, with the melted snows from the mountains filling its streams and making a rushing, spraying glory of its falls. it did seem a pity to be so near one of the loveliest places on earth and to miss seeing it. aunty and i discussed the matter dispassionately under a palm tree in the back yard. we honestly concluded that it wouldn't hurt grandmother a bit, that it might even do her good, so we began to put out a few conversational feelers, and the next thing we knew she was claiming the idea as her own and inviting us to accompany her! in her early married life she was once heard to say to grandfather, "edwin, i have made up our minds." so you can see that aunty and i were as clay in her hands! where we made our great mistake was in writing to the rest of the family about our plans until after we had started. they became quite abusive in their excitement. were we crazy? had we forgotten grandmother's age? what was c. c., a trained nurse, about, to let a little delicate old lady take such a trip? they were much shocked. we had to admit her age, but aunty and i weren't so sure about her delicacy, and anyway her mind was made up, so we burned their telegrams and packed the bags. it happened twenty years ago, but i can see her sitting in a rocking-chair on the piazza of leidig's hotel in raymond, surrounded by miners, all courteously editing their conversation and chewing tobacco as placidly as a herd of cows, while grandmother, the only person whose feet were not elevated to the railing, rocked gently and smiled. of course we planned to make the trip as easy as possible, and had engaged a spring wagon so that we could take more time than the stage, which naturally had to live up to a bret harte standard. we made an early start from raymond after a rather troubled night at leidig's hotel. you hear strange sounds in a mining camp after dark. every one in town saw us off, as grandmother was already popular, and looked on as rather a sporting character. al stevens, who drove us, was a bitter disappointment to me, not looking in the least romantic or like the hero of a western story. i shan't even describe him, except to say that he smoked most evil-smelling cigars, the bouquet of which blew back into our faces and spoiled the pure mountain air, but we didn't dare say a word, for fear that he might lash his horses round some hair-pin curve and scare us to death, even if we didn't actually go over the edge. i don't think he would really have rushed to extremes, for he turned out to be distinctly amiable, and our picnic lunches, eaten near some mountain spring, were partaken of most sociably and al stevens didn't always smoke. how good everything tasted! i don't believe i have ever really enjoyed apple pie with a fork as i enjoyed it sitting on a log with a generous wedge in one hand and a hearty morsel of mouse-trap cheese in the other. we spent three days driving into the valley, staying at delightful inns over night, and stopping when we pleased, to pick flowers, for wonderful ones grow beside the road; mariposa tulips with their spotted butterfly wings, fairy lanterns, all the shades of blue lupin, and on our detour to see the big trees i found a snow-plant, which looks like a blossom carved out of watermelon--pink and luscious! it is hard to realize how big the big trees are! like st. peter's, they are so wonderfully proportioned you can't appreciate their height, but i do know that they would be just a little more than my tree-climbing sons would care to tackle. stevens was a good driver and approved of our appreciation of "his" scenery, and i think he was proud of grandmother, who really stood the trip wonderfully well. at last came the great moment when a bend in the road would disclose the valley with its silver peaks, its golden-brown river, and its rainbow-spanned falls. we had never suspected it, but stevens was an epicure in beauty. he insisted on our closing our eyes till we came to just the spot where the view was most perfect, and then he drew in his horses, gave the word, and we looked on a valley as lovely as a dream. i am glad that we saw it as we did, after a long prelude of shaded roads and sentinel trees. nowadays you rush to it madly by train and motor. then it was a dear secret hidden away in the heart of the forest. we spent five days at the hotel by the merced river, feasting on beauty and mountain trout, and lulled by the murmur of that gentle stream. moonlight illumined the whiteness of the yosemite falls in full view of the hotel verandah as it makes the double leap down a dark gorge. we could see a great deal with very little effort, but after a day or two i began to look longingly upward toward the mountain trails. at last a chance came, and "why not" led me to embrace it. a wholesale milliner from los angeles invited me to join his party. we had seen him at various places along our way, so that it was not entirely out of a clear sky. he was wall-eyed--if that is the opposite of cross-eyed--which gave him so decidedly rakish a look that it was some time before i could persuade my conservative relatives that it would be safe for me to accept the invitation, but as the party numbered ten, mostly female, they finally gave me their blessing. being the last comer, and the mules being all occupied, i had to take a horse, which i was sorry for, as they aren't supposed to be quite as sure-footed on the trail. the party all urged me to be cautious, with such emphasis that i began to wonder if i had been wise to come, when charley, our guide, told me not to pay any attention to them, that i had the best mount of the whole train. charley, by the way, was all that al stevens was not, and added the note of picturesqueness and romance which my soul had been craving. he was young, blond, and dressed for the part, and would have entranced a moving-picture company! the wholesale milliner called me "miss black eyes," and was so genial in manner that i joined charley at the end of the parade and heard stories of his life which may or may not have been true. every now and then jesse james, an especially independent mule, would pause, and with deliberation and vigor kick at an inaccessible fly on the hinder parts of his person, while his rider shrieked loudly for help, and the procession halted till calm was restored. at last we reached the end of the trail. somewhere i have a snap-shot of myself standing on glacier point, that rock that juts out over the valley, clinging to charley's hand, for i found that standing there with the snow falling, looking down thousands of feet, made me crave a hand to keep the snowflakes from drawing me down. the wholesale milliner and the rest considered me a reckless soul, and many were the falsetto shrieks they emitted if i went within ten feet of the edge of the precipice. they did not realize the insurance and assurance of charley's hand. of course i endured the anguish of a first horseback ride for the next day or two, but it was worth it, and by the time we were ready to start for home i could sit down quite comfortably. the trip was accomplished without a jolt or jog sufficient to disarrange grandmother's curls. aunty and i were always so thankful that we defied the family and let her have her last adventure, for soon afterward her mind began to grow dim. for myself, i treasure the memory both for her sake, and because i can't climb trails myself any more, and that is something i didn't miss. was it schopenhauer or george ade who said, "what you've had you've got"? twenty years later another party of four, consisting of a husband and two boys, were led by a lady moses into the promised land, and were met by an old friend, the civil war veteran, with a motor instead of his pair of black horses! he was too old to drive, but he had come to welcome me back. billie and joedy were thrilled. they adored the tales of his twelve battles and the hole in his knee, even more than their mother had before them, being younger and boys. it was as lovely a land as i had remembered it, only, of course, there were changes. the motor showed that. i should not say that the tempo of life had been quickened so much as that its radius had been widened, or that the focus was different; the old spell was the same. to reconcile the past and the present, i have thought of a beautiful compromise. why not a motor van? the family jeered at me when i first suggested that we spend j----'s next vacation meandering up the coast in one. of course, the boys adored the idea at first, but sober second thoughts for mother made them pause. billie: "but, muvs, you'd hate it, you couldn't have a box spring!" joedy: "and you don't like to wash dishes." quite true. i had thought of all that myself. i don't like to wash dishes, but we use far more than we really need to use, and anyway i had rather decided that i wouldn't wash them. as to the bed-spring, i could have an air mattress, for while it's a little like sleeping on a captive balloon, it doesn't irritate your bones like a camp cot. the family distrust of me, as a vagabond, dates from a camping trip last august to celebrate billie's twelfth birthday. it lasted only one night, so "trip" is a large word to apply to it, but i will say that for one night it had all the time there could be squeezed into it. we selected a site on the beach almost within hallooing distance of the smiling hill-top, borrowed a tent and made camp. i loved the fire and frying the bacon and the beat of the waves, but i did not like the smell of the tent. it was stuffy. i had been generously given that shelter for my own, while the male members of the party slept by a log (not like one, j---confessed to me) under a tarpaulin--i mean "tarp"--with stars above them except when obscured by fog. my cot was short and low and i am not, so that i spent the night tucking in the blankets. the puppies enjoyed it all thoroughly. though they must have been surprised by the sudden democratic intimacy of the situation, they are opportunists and curled themselves in, on, and about my softer portions, so that i had to push them out every time i wanted to turn over, which was frequently. i urged them to join the rest of the party under the "tarp," but they were firm, as they weren't minding the hardness of the cot, and they don't care especially about ventilation. i greeted the dawn with heartfelt thanksgiving, and yet i'm as keen about my vacation idea as ever. i have simply learned what to do and what not to do, and it won't matter to me in the least whether my ways are those of a tenderfoot or not. why not be comfortable physically as well as spiritually? think of the independence of it! to be able to sit at the feet of any view that you fancy till you are ready to move on! doesn't that amount to "free will"? yes, i am resolved to try it out and billie says if i make up my mind to something i generally get my way (being descended from grandmother probably accounts for it), so if you should see a rather fat, lazy green van with "why not?" painted over the back door, you may know that two grown vagabonds, two young vagabonds, and two vagabond pups, are on the trail following the gypsy patteran. [illustration] where the trade wind blows mr. jones meets his friend, mr. brown: "surprised to see that your house is for sale, brown." "oh--er--yes" replies brown; "that is, i don't know. i keep that sign up on the lawn." then with a burst of confidence: "mrs. brown meets so many nice people that way, don't you know!" so it is that we have a reputation for being willing to sell anything in california, even our souls. of course, it isn't at all necessary to have a sign displaying "for sale" to have constant inquiries as to the price of your place. after the days of "the sabine farm" were only a lovely memory, we bought a bungalow in pasadena, or, rather, we are buying it on the instalment plan. it is really an adorable little place with a very flowery garden, surrounded by arbors covered with roses, wistaria, and jasmine (i think i should say we have been very fortunate in our dwelling-places since we emigrated), and passers-by usually stop and comment favorably. young men bring their girls and show them the sort of little place they'd like to own, and often they ring the door-bell for further inquiries. driven to bay, i have put a price of half a million on our tiny estate. when i mention this, the investigators usually retreat hastily, looking anxiously over their shoulders to see if my keeper is anywhere in sight. as to the real-estate men, they are more in number than the sands of the sea, and the competition is razor-edged. if you have the dimmest idea of ever buying a lot or house, or if you are comfortably without principle, you won't need to keep a motor at all. the real-estate men will see that you get lots of fresh air, and they are most obliging about letting you do your marketing on the way home. we have an especial friend in the business. he never loses hope, or his temper. it was he that originally found us "the sabine farm." he let us live there in peace till we were rested, for which we are eternally grateful, and then he began to throw out unsettling remarks. the boys ought to have a place to call home where they could grow up with associations. wasn't it foolish to pay rent when we might be applying that money toward the purchase of a house? of course it told on us in time and we began to look about. "the sabine farm" would not do, as it was too far from j----'s business, and the lotus-flower existence of our first two years was ours no longer. every lot we looked at had irresistible attractions, and insurmountable objections. at last, however, we settled on a piece of land looking toward the mountains, with orange trees on either hand, paid a part of the price, and supposed it was ours for better or worse. just then the war darkened and we felt panicky, but heaven helped us, for there was a flaw in the title, and our money came trotting back to us, wagging its tail. it was after this that we stumbled on the arbored bungalow, and bought it in fifteen minutes. i asked mr. w---if he liked bass fishing, and whether he'd ever found one gamier to land than our family. he will probably let us live quietly for a little while, and then he will undoubtedly tell us that this place is too small for us. i know him! in case of death or bankruptcy the situation is much more intense. every mouse hole has its alert whiskered watcher, and after a delay of a few days for decency, such pressure is brought to bear that surviving relatives rarely have the courage to stand pat. probably a change of surroundings _is_ good for them. if people can't be induced to sell, often they will rent. there is an eccentric old woman in town who owns a most lovely lot, beautifully planted, that is the hope and snare of every real-estate man, but, though poor, she will not part with it. she has a house, however, that she rents in the season. one day some eastern people were looking at it, and timidly said that one bath-room seemed rather scant for so large a house. "oh, do you think so?" said mrs. riddle. "it is enough for us. mr. riddle and i aren't what you'd call bathers. in fact, mr. riddle doesn't bathe at all; i sponge!" real estate isn't the only interest of the west. we all read the advertising page of the local paper just as eagerly as we do the foreign news. if i feel at all lonely or bored i generally advertise for something. once i wanted a high-school boy to drive the motor three afternoons a week. the paper was still moist from the press when my applicants began to telephone. i took their names and gave them appointments at ten-minute intervals all the following morning, only plugging the telephone when j---and i felt we must have some sleep. in the morning, forgetting the little wad of paper we had placed in the bell, i took down the receiver to call the market, when a tired voice started as if i had pressed a button: "i saw your 'ad' in the paper last night, etc." when they arrived they ranged in age from sixteen to sixty. the latter was a retired clergyman, the rev. mr. bain, who said he drove for his wife, but (here he fitted his finger-tips together, and worked them back and forth in a manner that was a blend of jauntiness and cordiality) he thought he could fit us both in! i blush to state that i selected a younger chauffeur! emboldened by the success of my first advertising venture, i decided to try again. this time i wished to sell our superfluous old furniture. the war has made me dislike anything about the place that isn't really in use. having lived some years in pennsylvania, and having amassed quite a collection of antique mahogany furniture, i felt justified in thinning out a few tables and odd pieces that our desirable bungalow is too small to hold. the results weren't as pronounced as before, but they quite repaid me. i sold my best table to a general, which gave me a lot of confidence, but my greatest triumph was a hat-rack. it was a barren, gaunt-looking affair, like a leafless tree in winter, but it was mahogany, and it was old. two ladies who were excitedly buying tables spied it, and exclaimed in rapture. i rose to the occasion: "that is the most unusual piece i have," i unblushingly gushed. "it is solid mahogany and very old. i never saw another like it. yes, i would sell it for twenty-five dollars." they both wanted it--i was almost afraid it might make feeling between them, till i soothed the loser by selling her an old brass tea-kettle that i had picked up in a curiosity shop in oxford years ago. it was so old that it had a hole in it, which seemed to clinch the matter. i sent for the packer the moment they were out of the house, and had the things boxed and away before they could change their minds. when i showed j---the money, he said i was wasting my time writing, that he was sure i had a larger destiny. speaking of having furniture boxed carries me back to the time when we lived in pennsylvania and i bought many things of a pleasant old rascal who just managed to keep out of jail. one time he showed me a lovely old table of that ruddy glowing mahogany that adds so much to a room. i said i would take it, but told him not to send it home till afternoon. i wanted time to break it to j---after a good luncheon. j---was very amiable and approving, and urged me to have it sent up, so i went down to the shop to see about it. to my dismay i found it neatly crated and just being loaded into a wagon. i called frantically to my rascally friend, who tried to slip out of the back door unobserved, but in vain. i fixed him with an accusing eye. "what are you doing with my table?" i demanded. "did you really want it?" he queried. "of course i want it. didn't i say i'd take it?" i was annoyed. "oh, well," to his men, "take it off, boys." "you see," turning to me, "a man from seattle was in after you left, and he said he'd take that round table over there if i'd sell him this one too. i showed him another one every bit as good as this, but he wouldn't look at it; still, i guess i'll box it up in that crate with his round one, and when it gets to seattle i reckon he won't want to send it way back. it's a long way to seattle!" "that's your business, not mine," i remarked coldly, though i felt an unholy desire to laugh. "just send mine home before any one else tempts you." i still sleep in a hepplewhite four-poster that he wheedled out of an old pennsylvania dutch woman for a mere song. the posts at the head were sawed off so that the bed could stand in a room with a sloping ceiling, but, fortunately, the thrifty owner had saved the pieces instead of using them for firewood, so i have had them neatly stuck on again. i think perhaps a subconscious recollection of his methods was what made me so successful with the hat-rack. war work has brought out much latent ability of this kind. lilies of the field, who had never needed to toil or spin for themselves, were glad to do so for the red cross. in pasadena we had a small spanish street (inside a building), with tiny shops on either side, where you could buy anything from an oil painting to a summer hat. in front was a gay little plaza with vines and a fountain, where lunch and tea were served by the prettiest girls in town in bewitching frilled caps with long black streamers and sheer lawn aprons over blue and green frocks. the tired business men declined to lunch anywhere else, and there was a moment when we feared it might have to be given up, as there was some feeling in town on account of the vacant stools at their old-time counters! it all went to prove that you don't need to be brought up in "trade" to be a great success at it. no one has stuck to his or her usual rôle in the past two years, which has added a piquancy to life. we have all wanted to do our bit and the "why not?" that i feel so strongly in california has spread over the whole country. in order to make the most efficient use of the newly discovered talents on every side, the red cross sent out cards with blanks to be filled by all those ready to work, asking what they felt themselves fitted to do, when could they work, and how long. one card read "willing but nervous, might possibly pray." our red cross street brought in many people full of enthusiasm and energy, who might never have rolled a bandage. i shan't soon forget the strenuous days of its opening. j---and another diplomat, who also has a talent for pouring oil on troubled waters, were in charge of the financial part of the enterprise, and theirs was the task of seeing that none of the chapter funds were used, so that no possible criticism could arise. a pretty young actress offered to give a première of a comedy which she was about to take on the road, for the benefit of the street, and every one was delighted until they saw a rehearsal. it was one of those estranged-husband-one-cocktail-too-many farces, full of innuendo and profanity. j---and his partner were much upset, but it was too late to withdraw. the company, in deference to the red cross, agreed to leave out everything but the plain damns. even then it wasn't what they would have chosen, and two very depressed "angels" met in the hall of the high school auditorium, on the night of the performance. nothing had gone right. the tickets were late coming from the printer, the advertising man had had tonsilitis, every one was "fed up" with red cross entertainments, and it was pouring in torrents. there was a sprinkling of gallant souls on the first floor of the big hall, and that was all. the fact that they wouldn't make much money wasn't what was agitating the "angels" nearly as much as the wrath of the pink-and-white lady about to appear. then came the inspiration. i wish i could say it was j----'s idea, but it was mr. m----'s. a night school of several hundred is in session in that building every evening, and a cordial invitation to see a play free brought the whole four hundred in a body to fill the auditorium, if not completely, at least creditably. they loved it and were loud in their applause. the "damns" didn't bother them a bit. they encored the lady, which, combined with a mammoth bouquet, provided by the "management," gave the whole thing quite a triumphant air. when we all went behind the scenes after the play, the atmosphere was really balmy. the lady expressed herself as greatly pleased and gratified by so large and enthusiastic an audience. ("on such a bad night, too!") i retired behind a bit of scenery and pinched myself till i felt less hilarious. one thing i know, and that is that if j---should ever change his business it won't be to go into any theatrical enterprise. i don't think even the "movies" could lure him, and yet she was a very pretty actress! it is a far cry from blonde stars to funerals, but j---feels no change of subject, however abrupt, is out of place when talking of his "first night," so i would like to say a few words about that branch of california business. in the first place, no one ever dies out here until they are over eighty, unless they are run over or meet with some other accident. j---says that old ladies in the seventies, driving electrics, are the worst menace to life that we have. when our four-score years and ten have been lived--probably a few extra for good measure--an end must come, but a california funeral is so different! a los angeles paper advertises "perfect funerals at trust prices." we often meet them bowling gayly along the boulevards, the motor hearse maintaining a lively pace, which the mourners are expected to follow. the nearest j---ever came to an accident was suddenly meeting one on the wrong side of the road, and the funeral chauffeur's language was not any more scriptural than j----'s. as we were nowhere near eighty, we felt we had a lot of life still coming to us and gave grateful thanks for our escape. life is a good thing. i maintain it in the face of pessimists, but it is a particularly good thing in california, with its sunshine and its possibilities. i shan't go on because i believe i have said something of this same sort before. it makes you ready for the next thing, whatever that may be, and you feel pretty sure that it will be interesting. it's a kind of perpetual "night before christmas" feeling. some time ago when i picked up my evening paper my eye fell on this advertisement: "wanted: a third partner in a well-established trading business in the south seas. schooner now fitting out in san francisco to visit the islands for cargo of copra, pearls, sandalwood, spices, etc. woman of forty or over would be considered for clerical side of enterprise, with headquarters on one of the islands. this is a strictly business proposition--no one with sentiment need apply." when i read it first i couldn't believe it. i rubbed my eyes and read it again. there it was next to the belgian hares, the bargains in orange groves and the rebuilt automobiles. it was fairly reeking with romance. i felt like finding an understudy for my job at home, boarding the schooner and sailing blithely out of the golden gate. the south seas is the next stop beyond southern california. i think i could keep their old books, though i never took any prizes in arithmetic at school. how amusing it would be to enter in my ledger instead of "two dozen eggs" and "three pounds of butter," "two dozen pearls at so much a dozen" (or would they be entered by ounces?) and "fifty pounds of sandalwood," or should i reckon that by cords? i could find out later. i would wear my large tortoise-shell spectacles (possibly blinders in addition), and i should attend strictly to business for a while, but when a full moon rose over a south sea lagoon, and the palm trees rustled and the phosphorescence broke in silver on the bow of the pearl schooner, where she rode at anchor in our little bay, could i keep my contract and avoid sentiment? how ridiculous to suppose that stipulating that the lady should be forty or over would make any difference! what is forty? if they had said that she must be a cross-eyed spinster with a hare-lip, it would have been more to the point. i'm not a spinster or cross-eyed, but why go on? i don't intend to commit myself about the age limit. i don't have to, because i am not going to apply for the position, after all. i have a south sea temperament but as it is securely yoked to a new england upbringing, the trade wind will only blow the sails of my imagination to that sandalwood port. [illustration] sunkist we saw a most amusing farce some time ago which contained much interesting information concerning the worth of advertising. i forget the fabulous figure at which "the gold dust twins" trade-mark is valued, but i know that it easily puts them into charley chaplin's class. i am sure that "sunkist" cannot be far behind the "twins," for no single word could possibly suggest a more luscious, delectable, and desirable fruit than that. it would even take the curse off being a lemon to be a "sunkist" lemon. it contains no hint of the perilous early life of an orange. truly that life is more chancey than an aviator's. they say that in the good old days there were no frosts, but that irrigation is gradually changing the climate of southern california. we would not dare to express an opinion on this much discussed point, as we have never gone to any new place where the climate has been able to stand the shock. it is always an unusual season. i do know, however, that bringing up a crop of oranges is as anxious an undertaking as "raising" a family. little black smudge pots stand in rows in the groves, ready to be lighted at the first hint of frost. the admonition of the hymn applies to fruit growers as well as to foolish virgins: "see that your lamps are burning, your vessels filled with oil." on sharp mornings the valleys are full of a gray haze still lingering protectingly over the ranches. then there are blights. i don't pretend to know all the ills the orange is heir to. sometimes it grows too fat and juicy and cracks its skin, and sometimes it is attacked by scale. every tree has to be swathed in a voluminous sheet and fumigated once a year at great expense. after living out here some time, i began to understand why even in the heart of the orange country we sometimes pay fifty cents a dozen for the large fruit. there is a way, however, of getting around the high cost of living in this particular--you can go to a packing house and buy for thirty-five cents an entire box of what are called culls--oranges too large or too small for shipping, or with some slight imperfection that would not stand transportation, but are as good for most purposes as the "sunkist" themselves. in california, orange day is next in importance to washington's birthday and the fourth of july. i shall never forget our first experience of its charms. we were motoring, taking a last jaunt in an old machine which we had just sold for more than we ever had expected to get for it. it was a reckless thing to do, for we had no spare tire and it is very like speculating in oil stocks to start for a run of any length under those circumstances. it worked out about as it would have done if we had been trifling with the stock market. a rear tire blew out, and we were put under the disagreeable necessity of giving our purchaser more nearly his money's worth. this was a poor start for a holiday, but being near a delightful inn, we crept slowly to town on our rim and found a fête awaiting us. we also found friends from the east who asked us all to lunch, thereby, as one member of the party put it in pollyanna's true spirit, much decreasing the price of the new tire. the inn is built in spanish style and we lunched in a courtyard full of gaudy parrots, singing birds in wicker cages and singing señoritas as gay as the parrots, on balconies above us. the entire menu was orange, or at least colored orange. it was really charming, and our spirits rose to almost a champagne pitch, though orange juice--diluted at that--was the only beverage served. (i believe that there is a raisin day, also, but on account of its horrid association with rice and bread puddings we have let that slip by unnoticed.) our california color scheme is the very latest thing in decorative art. there is nothing shrinking about us, for we come boldly forth in orange and yellows in true cigar-ribbon style--even our motor licenses of last year had poppies on them. speaking of poppies, i heard the other day of a lady who voiced her opinion in all seriousness in the paper, that mr. hoover should have california poppy seeds sent to him for distribution among the belgians to sow over the ruins of their country. of course there is something in the power of suggestion, and i suppose it would brighten up the landscape. joedy is strong on the color idea. we had a neighbor who had a terrible attack of jaundice, which turned her the color of a daffodil. i was saying what a pity it was, then joedy observed: "well, muvs, i think she makes a nice bright spot of color!" there is a road leading toward the san fernando valley, with fruit stalls on both sides, very gay with oranges, grape-fruit, and lemons. one particularly alluring stand is presided over by a colored mammy in bandana shades, turban and all. all this profusion makes one feel that it is no trick to get a living out of this very impulsive soil, but before buying a plot of one's own, it is wise to see the seasons through. california is a very unexpected country. you see a snug little ranch, good soil, near a railroad, just what you were looking for, but three months of the year it may be under water. after the spring rains we once went for a change of air to one of the beaches, which we particularly disliked, because it was the only place that we could get to, bridges being out in all directions. for the same reason it was so packed with other visitors, maybe as unwilling as we, that we had a choice of sleeping in the park or taking a small apartment belonging to a papa and mama dane. it was full of green plush and calla lilies, but we chose it in preference to the green grass and calla lilies of the park. we passed an uneasy and foggy week there. i slept in a bed which disappeared into a bureau and j---on a lounge that curled up like a jelly roll by day. mama dane gave us breakfast in the family sitting-room where a placard hung, saying, "god hears all that you say." j---and i took no chances, and ate in silence. anyway, the eggs were fresh. we explored the country as well as we could in the fog, and found quite a large part of it well under water. on one ranch we met a morose gentleman in hip boots, wading about his property, which looked like a pretty lake with an r. f. d. box sticking up here and there like a float on a fishing line, while a gay party of boys and girls were rowing through an avenue of pepper trees in an old boat. the gentleman in the hip boots had bought his place in summer! j---and i decided then and there that if we ever bought any property in california, it would be in the midst of the spring rains, but we know now that even that wouldn't be safe--another element has to be reckoned with besides water--fire. of course rain in california is spelled with a capital r. noah spelled it that way, but we didn't before we came west. it swells the streams, which in summer are nothing but trickles, to rushing torrents in no time. bridges snap like twigs, dams burst, telegraph lines collapse; rivers even change their courses entirely, if they feel like it, so that it would really be a good idea to build extra bridges wherever it seemed that a temperamental river might decide to go. i have heard of a farmer who wrote to one of the railroads, saying, "will you please come and take your bridge away from my bean-field? i want to begin ploughing." this adds natural hazards to the real-estate game. there are others--fire, as i said a moment ago. i have a very profound respect for the elements since we have come west to live. a forest fire is even more terrifying than a flood, and in spite of the eagle eyes of the foresters many are the lovely green slopes burned over each year. i have seen a brush fire marching over a hill across the canyon from us, like an army with banners--flying our colors of orange and yellow--driving terrified rabbits and snakes ahead of it, and fought with the fervor of crusaders by the property owners in its path. the very impulsiveness of the climate seems to give the most wonderful results in the way of vegetables and fruit. around pasadena there are acres and acres of truck gardens, developed with japanese efficiency. i love al fresco marketing. if i can find time once a week to motor up the valley and fill the machine with beautiful, crisp, fresh green things of all kinds, it makes housekeeping a pleasure. the little japanese women are so smiling and pleasant, with their "good-by, come gen," the melons are so luscious, the eternal strawberry so ripe and red, the orange blossom honey so delectable, and everything is so cheap compared to what we had been used to in the east! i think that in san diego one can live better on a small income than anywhere in the country. once some intimate friends of ours gave us a dinner there in january that could not have been surpassed in new york. the menu included all the delicacies in season and out of season, fresh mushrooms, alligator pears and pheasants. j---and i looked at one another in mingled enjoyment and dismay that so much was being done for us. finally our host could not help telling us how much for each person this wonderful meal was costing, including some very fetching drinks called "pink skirts." you wouldn't believe me if i told how little! one more delicacy of which we make rather a specialty: i should call it a climate sandwich. if you live in the invigorating air of the foothills, to motor to the sea, a run of some thirty miles from where we live in winter, spend several hours on the sand, and before dark turn "home to our mountains" gives a mountain air sandwich with sea-breeze filling--a singularly refreshing and satisfying dainty. perhaps my enthusiasm for california sounds a little like cupboard love. there is a certain type of magazine which publishes the most alluring pictures of food, salads and desserts, even a table with the implements laid out ready for canning peaches, that holds a fatal fascination for me. i have even noticed j---looking at one with interest. when my father comes out to visit us every spring, the truck gardens, the packing houses, and the cost of living here, i think, affect him in much the same way that those magazines do me, and i wonder if every one, except a dyspeptic, doesn't secretly like to hear and see these very things! could it be the reason people used to paint so much still life?--baskets of fruit, a hunter's game-bag, a divided melon, etc. i frankly own that they would thrill me more if i knew their market price, so that i might be imagining what delightful meals i could offer my family without straining the household purse, which is my excuse for the intimate details concerning food and prices which i have given. surely human beings ought to respond as the fruits do to this climate, in spirit as well as in body, and become a very mellow, amiable, sweet-tempered lot of people, and i think they do. even the "culls" are almost as good as the rest, though they won't bear transportation. it is the land of the second chance, of dreams come true, of freshness and opportunity, of the wideness of out-of-doors--"sunkist!" the end [transcriber's note: the following changes have been made to the original text: page 520: "pinus lambertiana" changed to "pinus lambertiana" page 531: "virginia opossom" changed to "virginia opossum" page 551: "4600 ft. 3" changed to "4600 ft., 3" page 555: "laural sumac" changed to "laurel sumac" page 566: "concealed itelf" changed to "concealed itself" page 582: "oakshott, g. b." changed to "oakeshott, g. b." instances of inconsistent hyphenation have been preserved. in cases where tables were located in the middle of a paragraph, they have been moved to the next paragraph break. this may affect at what page number a table was originally located. the list of university of kansas publications was originally printed on the front and back covers. for this version of the text, the list has been combined and placed at the end of the text.] university of kansas publications museum of natural history volume 7, no. 9, pp. 513-582, 4 pls., 1 fig. in text, 12 tables november 15, 1954 mammals of the san gabriel mountains of california by terry a. vaughan university of kansas lawrence 1954 university of kansas publications museum of natural history volume 7, no. 9, pp. 513-582, 4 pls., 1 fig. in text, 12 tables november 15, 1954 mammals of the san gabriel mountains of california by terry a. vaughan university of kansas lawrence 1954 university of kansas publications, museum of natural history editors: e. raymond hall, chairman, a. byron leonard, robert w. wilson volume 7, no. 9, pp. 513-582, 4 pls., 1 fig. in text, 12 tables published november 15, 1954 university of kansas lawrence, kansas printed by ferd voiland, jr., state printer topeka, kansas 1954 [illustration] 25-5184 mammals of the san gabriel mountains of california by terry a. vaughan contents page introduction 515 description of the area 516 biotic provinces and ecologic associations 518 coastal sage scrub association 521 southern oak woodland association 523 chaparral association 524 yellow pine forest association 526 pinyon-juniper woodland association 527 sagebrush scrub association 530 joshua tree woodland association 530 accounts of species 531 literature cited 581 introduction this paper presents the results of a study of the mammals of the san gabriel mountains of southern california, and supplements the more extensive reports on the biota of the san bernardino mountains by grinnell (1908), on the fauna of the san jacinto range by grinnell and swarth (1913), and on the biota of the santa ana mountains by pequegnat (1951). the primary objectives of my study were to determine the present mammalian fauna of the san gabriel mountains, to ascertain the geographic and ecologic range of each species, and to determine the systematic status of the mammals. in addition, certain life history observations have been recorded. field work was done in the north-south cross section of the mountains from san gabriel canyon on the west, to cajon wash on the east; and from the gently sloping alluvium at the pacific base of the mountains at roughly 1000 feet elevation on the south, over the crest of the range to the border of the mojave desert at an elevation of 3500 feet on the north. camps were established at many points in the area with the object of collecting the mammals of each association and each habitat. field work was begun in the san gabriels in november 1948, and was carried on intermittently until march 1952. i was unable to carry on field work in any summer. for advice and assistance in various ways i am grateful to drs. willis e. pequegnat, walter p. taylor, henry s. fitch, e. raymond hall, mr. steven m. jacobs and my wife, hazel a. vaughan. more than 350 mammals were prepared as study specimens; most of these are in the university of kansas museum of natural history. approximately a fifth of them are in the collection of the department of zoology at pomona college, and a few are in the university of illinois museum of natural history. no symbol is used to designate specimens in the university of kansas museum of natural history. specimens from the department of zoology of pomona college and the university of illinois museum of natural history are designated by pc and im, respectively. [illustration: fig. 1. map of the san gabriel mountain area showing the positions of places mentioned in the text.] description of the area the san gabriel mountains are approximately sixty-six miles long, and average twenty miles wide. the main axis of the range trends nearly east and west, and extends from longitude 117°25' to longitude 118°30'. the widest part of the range is bounded by latitude 34°7' and latitude 34°30'. the san gabriel mountains connect the sierra nevada with the peninsular ranges of southern california and baja california. on the west the san gabriels are bordered by the tehachapi mountains, which stretch northeastward to meet the southern sierra nevada; to the east, beyond cajon pass, the san bernardino mountains extend eastward and then curve southward to the broad san gorgonio pass, from which the san jacinto range stretches southeastward to merge with the peninsular ranges. the rocks comprising the major part of the san gabriel mountains probably were intruded in late jurassic times, with severe metamorphic activity taking place concurrently. a long period of erosion followed after which deposition took place during much of the tertiary. deformation and uplift beginning in middle miocene times resulted in the formation of east-west-trending faults along both sides of the range. by repeated movements along these faults the late jurassic crystalline rocks were lifted above late tertiary and quaternary sediments and elevated above the surrounding terrain. continued uplifts in post-pleistocene time together with erosion in recent times have shaped the san gabriel mountains (oakeshott, 1937). the alluvial slopes at the coastal base of the range give way to the foothills at roughly 1800 feet elevation; whereas the mojave desert merges with the interior foothills at elevations near 4000 feet. the crest or drainage-divide of the range varies from 6000 to 8000 feet in elevation, and many peaks are more than 8000 feet high. san antonio peak, the highest peak of the range, rises to an altitude of 10,080 feet. the mountains are characteristically steep and the slopes are deeply carved by canyons, the larger of which have permanent streams. the abruptness of the pacific slope is in many places impressive. the horizontal distance from the top of cucamonga peak, at an elevation of 8911 feet, to the base of the coastal foothills directly to the south, at 2250 feet, an elevational difference of 6661 feet, is only 3.8 miles. from the base of evey canyon, at 2250 feet, to an unnamed peak to the northwest with an elevation of 5420 feet, the horizontal distance is 2.1 miles. because of the steep, rocky nature of many of the slopes and the lack of soil on them, vegetation may be sparse even at high elevations. there are few meadows in the mountains. because the san gabriels stand approximately thirty miles from the pacific ocean and are a partial barrier to pacific air masses sweeping inland, the desert side and the coastal side of the range differ climatically. the coastal slope receives much heavier precipitation than the desert slope. the precipitation, for 1951, of 25.36 inches recorded at the mouth of san antonio canyon on the pacific slope contrasts with 7.17 inches recorded at valyermo at the desert base. nearly all of the precipitation comes in winter. the higher parts of the range, above approximately 5000 feet, receive much of their mid-winter precipitation in the form of snow. snow often extends down the desert slope well into the joshua tree belt. when there are heavy winter rains the channels of the usually dry washes are filled with rushing, turbid water. there are striking differences in temperature between the two sides of the range and between the lower elevations of the mountains and the higher parts. for example, in december 1951, the mean temperature at the base of san antonio canyon (2225 feet) at the coastal foot of the range was 55.4°f, while at llano (3764 feet) at the desert base it was 43.7°f. in this same year the december mean for table mountain (7500 feet), on the desert slope, was 33.4°f. the temperature means for july, 1951, at san antonio canyon, llano, and table mountain, were 77.3°f, 82.1°f, and 69.2°f respectively. the weather records for 1951 were used for illustration because average temperature and average precipitation for many other years are lacking for most of the weather stations in the area. there is an important difference in the humidity on the two sides of the range, but actual data are not available. at certain times, especially in spring, fog banks moving in from the pacific ocean frequently blanket the coastal base of the mountains and the foothills. on such days the fog generally "burns off" in the morning, but may persist into the afternoon or throughout the day. never in my experience has fog spilled over the main part of the range far onto the desert slope, although the fog may push through the lower passes to be dissipated quickly in the dry desert atmosphere. the obvious differences in the biota on the two sides of the range are probably due to the contrasting climates. biotic provinces and ecologic associations because of the elevational extremes and attendant climatic contrasts in the san gabriel mountains, there is a rather wide range of environmental conditions. four life-zones are represented: lower sonoran, upper sonoran, transition, and canadian. within these zones certain ecologic communities can be recognized; these represent several biotic provinces. table 1 shows the relationships between the environmental categories recognized by the writer in the san gabriel mountains. the biotic province and ecologic community system is that developed by munz and keck (1949), and the life-zone system is that of merriam (1898). table 1.--relations of the major environmental categories of the san gabriel mountains. ======================================================================= biotic province | plant community | life-zone | slope ----------------+--------------------------+-----------------+-------- |1. coastal sage scrub | lower sonoran | pacific californian |2. southern oak woodland | upper sonoran | pacific |3. chaparral | upper sonoran | pacific ----------------+--------------------------+-----------------+--------sierran |4. yellow pine forest and | transition | pacific | limited areas of | canadian | and | boreal flora | | desert ----------------+--------------------------+-----------------+--------nevadan |5. sagebrush scrub | transition | desert | | upper sonoran | ----------------+--------------------------+-----------------+--------southern desert |6. pinyon-juniper woodland| upper sonoran | desert |7. joshua tree woodland | lower sonoran | desert ----------------+--------------------------+-----------------+--------the californian biotic province dominates the biotic aspect of the coastal slope of the range. thirty-nine out of the seventy-two mammals recorded from the san gabriels are typical of this province. the coastal sage-flats at the pacific base of the mountains and the vast tracts of chaparral of the coastal slope are included in this province. forming a hiatus between the pacific and the desert slope is the sierran biotic province consisting of coniferous forests on the crest of the range. the chipmunk (_eutamias speciosus speciosus_) and the introduced black bear (_ursus americanus californiensis_) are the only two mammals which can be considered typical of this area. on the higher peaks of the range, such as mount san antonio and mount baden powell, the canadian life-zone is represented by certain boreal plants. at scattered points along the crest of the range and on the desert slope, the nevadan biotic province is represented by the sagebrush scrub association. no mammals can be considered typical of this region. the southern desert biotic province occurs below 6000 feet elevation on the interior slope of the range, and markedly influences the mammal fauna of this slope. twenty-one species of mammals are typical of this province. scientific and common names of plants mentioned in this report _pinus lambertiana_ sugar pine _p. monophylla_ one-leaf pinyon _p. ponderosa_ yellow pine _p. contorta_ lodge-pole pine _pseudotsuga macrocarpa_ big-cone spruce _abies concolor_ white fir _libocedrus decurrens_ incense-cedar _juniperus californica_ juniper _ephedra sp._ desert-tea _bromus sp._ brome grass _yucca whipplei_ spanish bayonet _y. brevifolia_ joshua tree _salix sp._ willow _alnus rhombifolia_ alder _castanopsis sempervirens_ chinquapin _quercus kelloggii_ california black oak _q. agrifolia_ california live oak _q. dumosa_ scrub oak _eriogonum fasciculatum_ california buckwheat _umbellularia californica_ bay, california-laurel _ribes nevadense_ gooseberry _r. indecorum_ currant _r. roezlii_ currant _plantanus racemosa_ sycamore _rubus vitifolius_ western blackberry _cercocarpus ledifolius_ mountain mahogany _c. betuloides_ mountain mahogany _adenostoma fasciculatum_ greasewood _purshia glandulosa_ antelope-brush _prunus virginiana_ choke cherry _p. ilicifolia_ holly-leaved cherry _larrea divaricata_ creosote bush _rhus diversiloba_ poisonoak _r. trilobata_ squaw bush _r. laurina_ laurel sumac _r. integrifolia_ lemonadeberry _r. ovata_ sugarbush _rhamnus crocea_ buckthorn _ceanothus sp._ lilac _c. cordulatus_ snow-brush _fremontia californica_ california slippery-elm _opuntia occidentalis_ prickly-pear _arctostaphylos sp._ manzanita _salvia mellifera_ black sage _s. apiana_ white sage _lycium andersonii_ box-thorn _haplopappus squarosus_ _chrysothamnus nauseosus_ rabbitbrush _baccharis sp._ mule fat _franseria dumosa_ burroweed _artemisia tridentata_ basin sagebrush _a. californica_ coastal sagebrush _lepidospartum squamatum_ scale-broom _l. latisquamatum_ scale-broom _tetradymia spinosa_ cotton-thorn coastal sage scrub association major plants _artemisia californica_ _salvia apiana_ _salvia mellifera_ _eriogonum fasciculatum_ _rhus integrifolia_ _opuntia occidentalis_ _haploppapus squarrosus_ this association is restricted to the pacific base of the range, is typical on the alluvium at the bases of the coastal foothills, and usually grades into the chaparral at about 1800 feet elevation. when seen from above, the rather level terrain of the association is broken sharply at the mouths of canyons by dry washes, and is limited below, to the south, by cultivated land. the coastal sagebrush is the most characteristic plant of this association, occurring in all undisturbed parts of the area. there are several habitats within the coastal sage scrub association. these differ from one another chiefly on the basis of soil type. the soil of the rather level sageland in most places is rocky or gravelly, or, as adjacent to washes, it is finely sandy in texture, and supports the major plants of the association. most of the eroded adobe banks at the bases of the foothills support these same plants, with white sage being the dominant species. locally, as in damp hollows or cleared areas, there is grassland. jumbles of boulders, sand, gravel, and steep cutbanks, are characteristic of the channels of dry washes, these areas supporting sparse vegetation. the fauna and flora of the washes are distinct from those of surrounding sage flats. because they are included within the geographic limits of the coastal sage belt, however, the washes are discussed along with this association. the abruptness with which one habitat gives way to another in this association causes sharp dividing lines between the local ranges of certain mammals. for example, in trap lines transecting dry washes and level sageland two assemblages of rodents were found. that part of the line amid the boulders and cutbanks of the wash took mostly _peromyscus eremicus fraterculus_ and _neotoma lepida intermedia_, while _perognathus fallax fallax_, _dipodomys agilis agilis_, and _peromyscus maniculatus gambeli_ were taken in the adjacent sage flats. the steep adobe slopes of the foothills, which constitute the upper part of the coastal sage scrub association, are commonly inhabited by _peromyscus californicus insignis_, which rarely occurs in the level tracts of sage a few yards away. thus, this association is not homogeneous with regard to its rodent population; many of these species have local and discontinuous distributions. the following list gives the results of about 500 trap nights (a trap night equals one trap set out for one night) in typical coastal sage-scrub association one-half mile southwest of the mouth of san antonio canyon, at 1700 feet elevation. table 2.--yield of 500 trap-nights in the coastal sage scrub association. ====================================================================== | number | per cent | | of total --------------------------------------------------+--------+---------perognathus fallax fallax | 31 | 30.7 dipodomys agilis agilis | 20 | 19.8 reithrodontomys megalotis longicaudus | 4 | 4.0 peromyscus californicus insignis | 4 | 4.0 p. eremicus fraterculus | 7 | 6.9 p. maniculatus gambeli | 20 | 19.8 neotoma lepida intermedia | 9 | 8.8 n. fuscipes macrotis | 2 | 2.0 microtus californicus sanctidiegi | 4 | 4.0 --------------------------------------------------+--------+---------the list below indicates the catch in 200 trap nights in san antonio wash, at 1700 feet elevation and within the realm of the coastal sage; all of the traps were set in rocky and sandy main channels of the wash. table 3.--yield of 200 trap-nights in san antonio wash. ====================================================================== | number | per cent | | of total --------------------------------------------------+--------+---------perognathus fallax fallax | 2 | 5.1 peromyscus californicus insignis | 2 | 5.1 p. eremicus fraterculus | 26 | 66.7 neotoma lepida intermedia | 9 | 23.1 --------------------------------------------------+--------+---------the prickly-pear cactus is of obvious importance to certain mammals of the coastal sage belt. this cactus is most common in disturbed areas such as sandy flats bordering washes, eroded adobe banks, and land once cleared by man. in these areas it is often the dominant plant with respect to area covered, usually growing in dense patches each covering approximately 150 square feet. it provides substitute nesting sites for _neotoma lepida_ in areas devoid of rock piles, and is probably the major factor governing the distribution of this wood rat in the sageland. cottontails and brush rabbits use prickly-pear cactus extensively as refuge. their forms and short burrows can be seen beneath many of the clumps of cactus. this cactus serves as food for many mammals at least in the fruiting period in the fall. usually only the fruit is eaten, but some pads are chewed by rabbits. the fruit or seeds of this plant are eaten by striped skunks, gray foxes, coyotes, pocket mice, kangaroo rats, wood rats, and probably white-footed mice. the coyote is the dominant carnivore of the coastal sage flats. many individuals spend the day in the adjacent chaparral-covered foothills and travel down into the flats at night to forage. southern oak woodland association major plants _alnus rhombifolia_ _quercus agrifolia_ _ribes indecorum_ _rhus integrifolia_ _rhus ovata_ _rhus trilobata_ this association is limited to the pacific slope of the mountain range, occurs in the mouths of canyons and on the floors of canyons, and extends up the larger canyons to 4000 feet elevation or higher. in a few areas on the flats at the coastal base of the range the oaks replace the coastal sage. the large oaks forming an overhead canopy and the lack of much undergrowth give the oak woodland a shaded parklike appearance. few brushy or herbaceous plants grow in the mull-laden soil beneath the oaks. some grasses, however, are present locally. two habitats are found in the oak woodland: the pure oak woodland and the riparian. much of the oak woodland is in canyons and therefore near streams or seepages. the larger streams have bordering growths of alders, willows, and blackberries, inhabited by meadow mice and shrews that are normally absent from the adjacent oak woodland. neotoma fuscipes macrotis and peromyscus californicus insignis are commonly found in the riparian habitat, and _peromyscus boylii_ probably reaches peak abundance in the stream-side thickets and tangles of plant debris. the rather open floor of the oak woodland is relatively devoid of mammal life. _peromyscus californicus_ and _peromyscus boylii_, the only ground-dwelling rodents commonly found here, usually are taken near the limited areas of brushy growth, or the shelter afforded by logs and fallen branches. the paucity of shelter for small mammals seems to be an important factor limiting rodent populations in the oak woodland. in the foothills of the san gabriels the gray squirrel is restricted to the oak woodland, even though this association may be represented by only a narrow strip of canyon bottom oak trees. the presence or absence of "bridges" of oak woodland between mountains which are centers of gray squirrel populations and nearby ranges has probably been a major factor influencing the present geographic distribution of this animal. the raccoon is the most abundant carnivore of the oak woodland, being especially common in the riparian habitat. chaparral association major plants _adenostoma fasciculatum_ _rhamnus crocea_ _quercus dumosa_ _cercocarpus betuloides_ _yucca whipplei_ _prunus ilicifolia_ _ceanothus sp._ _arctostaphylos sp._ _umbellularia californica_ this association is characteristic of the pacific slope of the san gabriels and extends from roughly 2000 feet elevation to 5000 or 6000 feet elevation. the ecotone between the chaparral and yellow pine forest associations covers a broad elevational belt, with chaparral following dry slopes up into coniferous forests, and conifers extending down north slopes surrounded by chaparral. the chaparral association is characterized by tracts of dense brushy plants. these plants are from three to ten feet tall, their interlacing branches often forming nearly impenetrable thickets. typically little herbaceous growth is present beneath the chaparral, the ground being covered with varying amounts of mull. the effects of fire, slope, exposure, and elevation, make the chaparral association extremely varied with regard to habitats or plant formations. there are nearly pure stands of greasewood on the lower arid slopes; scrub oak, sumac, and lilac clothe less dry exposures; scrub oak and bay trees occur commonly amid granite talus; and locally groves of bigcone-spruce are found. because of the many habitats present, and the difficulty of collecting in the chaparral, less was learned of the ecology of the mammals in this association than of those occurring elsewhere. the distribution of several chaparral-inhabiting mammals seems to be influenced by the distribution of locally characteristic plants, for example oak and bay woodland, or greasewood chaparral. several habitats within the chaparral community support few species of mammals and few individuals. possibly the compact, rocky nature of the soil limits burrowing rodents, and the lack of herbaceous growth limits the food supply. steep rocky slopes in san antonio canyon grown to mountain-mahogany and scrub oak were sparsely populated by _peromyscus boylii rowleyi_, _peromyscus californicus insignis_, and _neotoma fuscipes macrotis_. fifty traps set on such a slope for one night caught only three _peromyscus_. traps set in tracts of greasewood brush on dry south slopes at the head of cow canyon produced only california mice, _peromyscus californicus insignis_ rhoads. following is a list of the mammals taken in the course of approximately 600 trap nights in the lower parts of the chaparral belt. all of the traps were set on slopes in san antonio canyon below 4000 feet elevation. the list gives a general indication of the relative numbers of rodents inhabiting one chaparral habitat: the arid greasewood-covered south slopes of the lower chaparral belt. table 4.--yield of 600 trap-nights in greasewood chaparral. ====================================================================== | number | per cent | | of total --------------------------------------------------+--------+---------perognathus californicus dispar | 4 | 10.0 dipodomys agilis agilis | 4 | 10.0 peromyscus californicus insignis | 25 | 62.5 neotoma fuscipes macrotis | 7 | 17.5 --------------------------------------------------+--------+---------heteromyids are evidently absent from the upper parts of the chaparral association, but cricetid rodents are common there beneath heavy clumps of lilac and in the talus beneath oaks and bay trees. the following list gives the mammals taken in the course of about 200 trap nights in the granite talus one half mile northwest of the mouth of icehouse canyon, at 5200 feet elevation. table 5.--yield of 200 trap-nights in the upper part of the chaparral association. ====================================================================== | number | per cent | | of total --------------------------------------------------+--------+---------eutamias merriami merriami | 3 | 6.3 peromyscus boylii rowleyi | 38 | 79.2 neotoma lepida intermedia | 2 | 4.2 neotoma fuscipes macrotis | 5 | 10.4 --------------------------------------------------+--------+---------the gray fox is the dominant carnivore of the chaparral association and forages widely in all habitats. yellow pine forest association major plants _pinus ponderosa_ _p. lambertiana_ _libocedrus decurrens_ _abies concolor_ _quercus kelloggii_ _ribes nevadense_ _ribes roezlii_ _arctostaphylos sp._ _ceanothus cordulatus_ the crest of the range, from the upper limit of the chaparral association at roughly 6000 feet to the limited areas of boreal flora above 8500 feet elevation, is covered by yellow pine forests. on the desert slope of the range the coniferous forests which extend down to about 6000 feet represent the best development of this association, while the coniferous forests on the coastal side of the drainage divide are often more or less diluted by chaparral elements. for example, yellow pines on the pacific face of blue ridge at 7000 feet elevation often grow in association with scrub oak and mountain-mahogany. few mammals are resident in the typical yellow pine forest as characterized by dense coniferous timber and little herbaceous or brushy growth. here most of the species recorded actually find optimal conditions in an adjacent habitat. the forest probably harbors surplus individuals from adjacent preferred habitats, or, as in the case of chipmunks and ground squirrels, the forest often serves as forage ground while nearby brushy areas are utilized for breeding and shelter. the abundance of birds in the timber contrasts strikingly with the paucity of mammals there. the lack of a seed-producing understory, and the open duff-covered stretches of ground on which rodents would be extremely vulnerable to predation, probably in part account for the scarcity of rodents. within the general area encompassed by the yellow pine forest there are two major habitats, namely coniferous forest and chaparral. the species of plants comprising the chaparral of the transition life-zone are different from those comprising the chaparral of the upper sonoran life-zone on the pacific slope. in the chaparral of the transition life-zone, basin sagebrush and snowbrush grow in extensive patches in clearings in the timber. dense thickets of choke cherry cover many damp hollows, and these thickets harbor the houses of _neotoma fuscipes_. the food and shelter afforded by these chaparral areas importantly influence the local distribution of rodents: for example, _dipodomys agilis_ and _perognathus californicus_ in the yellow pine area are found only in association with chaparral, being completely absent from wooded areas. the severe winter weather in this association must force many of the mammals into periods of inactivity. probably during the long periods in the winter when snow covers the ground the heteromyids and sciurids remain below ground. pinyon-juniper woodland association major plants _pinus monophylla_ _juniperus californica_ _quercus dumosa var. turbinella_ _purshia glandulosa_ _fremontia californica_ _cercocarpus ledifolius_ _yucca whipplei_ in the san gabriel mountains this association is limited to the desert slope and reaches its lower limit at the bases of the foothills and extends up to the lower edge of the yellow pine forests. the altitudinal extent of the pinyon-juniper association is from roughly 4000 to 6000 feet elevation. several habitats are evident within the pinyon-juniper belt. on north slopes in the upper part of this association, scattered stands of pinyon pines are found with dense patches of scrub oak intervening, while on other such slopes a dense chaparral is present, consisting primarily of scrub oak, mountain-mahogany, and california slippery-elm. in this type of chaparral several hundred trap nights yielded only two rodent species: _neotoma fuscipes simplex_ and _peromyscus truei montipinoris_. there are few pinyons on the south slopes, especially in the lower parts of the association; many of these slopes are clothed with an open growth of manzanita and yucca, while northern exposures there support mostly scrub oak. many of the flats of the pinyon belt are grown to basin sagebrush. following is a list of the mammals taken in about 400 trap nights at one locality in the pinyon-juniper association. the area supported a mixed growth of pinyon, scrub oak, mountain-mahogany, and antelope-brush, together with smaller brushy plants, and was at the head of grandview canyon, at an altitude of roughly 5000 feet. table 6.--yield of 400 trap-nights in the pinyon-juniper association. ===================================================================== | number | per cent | | of total -------------------------------------------------+--------+---------perognathus fallax pallidus | 3 | 11.5 dipodomys agilis fuscus | 9 | 34.6 peromyscus truei montipinoris | 10 | 38.5 neotoma fuscipes simplex | 4 | 15.4 -------------------------------------------------+--------+---------although munz and keck (1949:101) considered the pinyon-juniper belt as one association, on the desert slope of the san gabriels pinyons and junipers do not generally grow on common ground; but rather the juniper belt represents a well defined habitat occurring between the pinyon covered slopes and the flats that support joshua trees. because the mammalian populations of the pinyon belt and the juniper belt are somewhat different, the mammals of these areas are most conveniently taken up separately. in the juniper belt the juniper tree is of marked ecologic significance; the distribution of _peromyscus truei_ and _neotoma fuscipes_ is determined here by the presence of junipers. at certain times of year the fruit of this plant is eaten by coyotes, kangaroo rats, and wood rats. the list below indicates the results of approximately 500 trap nights in the juniper belt near mescal canyon, between 4000 and 5000 feet elevation. table 7.--yield of 500 trap-nights in the juniper belt. ====================================================================== | number | per cent | | of total --------------------------------------------------+--------+---------perognathus fallax pallidus | 16 | 16.7 dipodomys merriami merriami | 3 | 3.1 dipodomys panamintinus mohavensis | 36 | 37.5 peromyscus truei montipinoris | 22 | 22.9 peromyscus maniculatus sonoriensis | 12 | 12.5 neotoma lepida lepida | 2 | 2.1 neotoma fuscipes simplex | 2 | 2.1 onychomys torridus pulcher | 3 | 3.1 --------------------------------------------------+--------+---------plate 1 [illustration: fig. 1. view of typical coastal sage scrub association, showing in foreground white sage, and coastal sagebrush. the adobe banks beyond are grown mainly to white sage. small mammals are abundant in this association, with _dipodomys agilis_, _perognathus fallax_, and _sylvilagus audubonii_ being characteristic of the area. photo march 25, 1952, at mouth of san antonio canyon, 1800 feet elevation.] [illustration: fig. 2. view of a main channel in san antonio wash on pacific slope. the wash is a distinct habitat in the coastal sage scrub association, and is the preferred habitat of _peromyscus eremicus fraterculus_ and _neotoma lepida intermedia_. these rodents find shelter in the piles of boulders. photo february 2, 1952, in san antonio wash, at 1700 feet elevation.] plate 2 [illustration: fig. 1. southern oak woodland association. the open leaf-strewn floor of the woodland lacks shelter for ground-dwelling rodents and the population of rodents is small. _peromyscus boylii rowleyi_ is the commonest rodent. photo march 10, 1952, in evey canyon, 2700 feet elevation.] [illustration: fig. 2. yellow pine forest association, composed largely of yellow pines, white fir, and black oak. photo april 27, 1952, at big pines, 6800 ft. elevation.] plate 3 [illustration: fig. 1. view of the sagebrush scrub association showing a nearly pure stand of basin sagebrush. _dipodomys agilis perplexus_ and _reithrodontomys megalotis longicaudus_ occur in this association, and _peromyscus truei montipinoris_ is present where this association merges with the pinyon-juniper association. photo april 27, 1952, in swarthout valley, 6200 feet elevation.] [illustration: fig. 2. view of a pinyon pine woodland. this habitat constitutes the upper part of the pinyon-juniper association, and is the habitat of _neotoma fuscipes simplex_, _peromyscus truei montipinoris_, and _eutamias merriami merriami_. photo april 27, 1952, in sheep creek canyon, 5500 feet elevation.] plate 4 [illustration: fig. 1. view of the juniper belt. this habitat forms the lower part of the pinyon-juniper association. _perognathus fallax pallidus_, _dipodomys panamintinus mohavensis_, and _peromyscus truei montipinoris_ are typical of this area. photo april 27, 1952, at desert springs, 4300 feet elevation.] [illustration: fig. 2. joshua tree woodland association. the characteristic mammals are _dipodomys panamintinus mohavensis_, _d. merriami merriami_, and _onychomys torridus pulcher_. photo january 4, 1952, 6 miles east and 2 miles south llano, 3600 feet elevation.] the biota of the washes that cut through the juniper belt in and below many of the larger canyons differs from that of the surrounding juniper-clad benches. because the washes are in the same geographic area as the juniper belt they are discussed together. these washes on desert slopes are densely populated by rodents derived from adjacent areas, and support vegetation typical of higher floral belts in association with xerophytic, typically desert, species. in a sense, the washes serve to mix up the mammals of adjacent areas. for example, _onychomys torridus pulcher_ and _peromyscus eremicus eremicus_, which are mammals typical of the desert, were found in mescal wash above their usual desert range; and _peromyscus californicus insignis_ and _peromyscus boylii rowleyi_, which are chaparral inhabiting mammals, were found in the wash far removed from their chaparral environment. washes are evidently effective agents in facilitating the dispersal of certain species of mammals. it is easy to envision a species crossing hostile habitats _via_ dry washes to invade suitable niches in an area which is geographically and ecologically isolated from the original home of the species. approximately 500 trap nights in mescal wash, at 4100 feet elevation, in the lower edge of the juniper belt, yielded the following mammals: table 8.--yield of 500 trap-nights in mescal wash (desert slope). ========================================================== | number | per cent | | of total --------------------------------------+--------+---------perognathus fallax pallidus | 5 | 4.5 dipodomys panamintinus mohavensis | 43 | 38.7 peromyscus californicus insignis | 3 | 2.7 peromyscus truei montipinoris | 1 | .9 peromyscus boylii rowleyi | 2 | 1.8 peromyscus eremicus eremicus | 28 | 25.0 peromyscus maniculatus sonoriensis | 23 | 20.5 onychomys torridus pulcher | 4 | 3.5 neotoma lepida lepida | 3 | 2.7 --------------------------------------+--------+---------_dipodomys panamintinus mohavensis_, _neotoma fuscipes simplex_, and _peromyscus truei montipinoris_ are probably the most characteristic mammals of the pinyon-juniper association. sagebrush scrub association major plants _bromus sp._ _artemisia tridentata_ _chrysothamnus nauseosus_ _purshia glandulosa_ this association is found on only the crest and desert slope of the range between 5000 and 8000 feet elevation. there it characteristically occupies flats and clearings in the yellow pine forest and pinyon-juniper woodland. the dominant plant of the association is basin sagebrush, and in many places this plant forms mixed growths with snowbrush and _haplopappus_. the low brush of this association is formed by closely spaced bushes with grasses growing between. because of its limited occurrence in the san gabriel mountains, this association there has relatively little effect on mammalian distribution. locally, nevertheless, the presence of this association governs the distribution of certain mammals. for example, on blue ridge, islands of sagebrush amid the conifers provide suitable habitat for _dipodomys agilis perplexus_ and _perognathus californicus bernardinus_; and in swarthout valley _d. a. perplexus_, _reithrodontomys megalotis longicaudus_, and _lepus californicus deserticola_ are seemingly restricted to the sagebrush flats. joshua tree woodland association major plants _yucca brevifolia_ _lycium andersonii_ _eriogonum fasciculatum_ _tetradymia spinosa_ _ephedra sp._ _larrea divaricata_ this association is on the piedmont that dips toward the mojave desert from the interior base of the san gabriels. the widely spaced joshua trees with low bushes between, and the dry washes breaking the level terrain below the mouths of canyons are typical of this area. field work was extended no farther down into the desert than about the 3500 foot level, where this association was still dominant. although the vegetation of this area is scattered and sparse, presenting a barren and sterile aspect, the area supports a rather high population of rodents. the soil at the bases of many large box-thornand creosote-bushes is perforated by burrow systems of _dipodomys panamintinus_ or _dipodomys merriami_, and those burrows abandoned by kangaroo rats are used as retreats by _onychomys torridus_ and _peromyscus maniculatus_. the mammals of this association are all characteristic of the fauna of the mojave desert, with the ranges of such species as the coyote and jack rabbit extending well up the desert slope of the mountains. the mammals listed below were taken in 1948 in roughly 400 trap nights in the joshua belt, at an elevation of 3500 feet, one mile below the mouth of graham canyon. table 9.--yield of 400 trap-nights in the joshua tree belt. ====================================================== | number | per cent | | of total -----------------------------------+--------+--------dipodomys panamintinus mohavensis | 36 | 59.0 dipodomys merriami merriami | 15 | 24.6 onychomys torridus pulcher | 4 | 6.6 peromyscus maniculatus gambeli | 6 | 9.8 -----------------------------------+--------+--------populations of _dipodomys merriami_ and _d. panamintinus_ fluctuate widely, possibly in response to weather cycles. in november of 1948 trapping in the joshua belt showed that _panamintinus_ outnumbered _merriami_ approximately three to one, whereas in december of 1951, after a succession of unusually dry years, _merriami_ was the more numerous. further, _merriami_ occurred in the lower parts of the juniper belt in 1951 where in 1948 it seemed to be absent. _dipodomys merriami merriami_ and _onychomys torridus pulcher_ are diagnostic of the joshua tree woodland association in the san gabriel mountains area, since few individuals of either species occur outside of this association. accounts of species family didelphidae =didelphis marsupialis virginiana= kerr virginia opossum the opossum is common in and near small towns and cultivated areas at the pacific base of the mountain range and does not thrive away from human habitation; extensive trapping in the coastal sage and chaparral belts produced no specimens except immediately adjacent to citrus groves. pequegnat (1951:47) mentions that opossums in the santa ana mountains of southern california are in the lower parts of the larger canyons, especially near human habitation. _specimens examined._--los angeles county: claremont, 1600 ft., 2 (pc). family talpidae =scapanus latimanus occultus= grinnell and swarth california mole workings of moles were found on the pacific slope of the mountains from 1600 feet at claremont up to 7500 feet on blue ridge, and on the pacific slope beneath basin sagebrush in cajon canyon one mile from desert slope joshua-tree flats, but not on the desert slope, although moles probably occur on that slope in some of the places where there is suitable habitat. near camp baldy in the sandy soil beneath groves of alders moles seemed to be especially abundant. although common on the coastal face of the range, moles shunned compact, dry, or rocky soils. in the greasewood chaparral one-half mile west of the mouth of palmer canyon, where the soil was hard and rocky, mole tunnels were in soft soil that had accumulated at the edge of a fire road beneath a steep road cut. the assumption is that this accumulation contained insects attractive, as food, to the moles. _specimens examined_, 2: los angeles county: camp baldy, 4200 ft., 1(pc); claremont, 1600 ft., 1(pc). family soricidae =sorex obscurus parvidens= jackson dusky shrew jackson (1928:124) recorded a specimen from camp baldy, 4200 feet, san antonio canyon. =sorex ornatus ornatus= merriam ornate shrew both of my specimens were taken amid riparian growth on the pacific slope of the range. _specimens examined_, 2: los angeles county: san antonio canyon, 3500 ft., 1; cobal canyon, 5 mi. n claremont, 1800 ft., 1 (pc). =notiosorex crawfordi crawfordi= (coues) gray shrew one was taken in 1946 beneath a woodpile on the campus of norton school, two miles northeast of claremont, and examined by dr. w. e. pequegnat. family vespertilionidae =myotis yumanensis sociabilis= h. w. grinnell yuma myotis a female was taken in lower san antonio canyon, 2800 feet elevation, on september 27, 1951. =myotis evotis evotis= (j. a. allen) long-eared myotis this species was observed and collected at several stations ranging from 2800 feet elevation in san antonio canyon, to blue ridge at 8200 feet, and down the desert slope to 6000 feet at jackson lake. this distribution encompasses most of the chaparral and yellow pine forest associations. within these areas, however, this bat shows marked habitat preferences. woodland habitats seem to be preferred by _evotis_. at several ponds in lower san antonio canyon this bat was observed repeatedly as it foraged over the water and coursed low between rows of alders and _baccharis_. at blue ridge in september, 1951, these bats foraged approximately six feet above the ground beneath the canopy of coniferous foliage and between the trunks of the trees. most of the bats were taken by stretching fine wires above the surface of a pond as outlined by borell (1937:478). collecting was generally carried on until at least 11:00 p. m., and the time at which each bat was taken at the pond was recorded, thereby making possible a rough estimate of the pre-midnight forage period of each bat commonly collected at the ponds. usually bats taken at the start of their supposed forage period had empty or nearly empty stomachs, whereas those taken towards the end of their forage period had full or nearly full stomachs. _m. evotis_ usually first appeared just at dark, well after the pipistrelles and california myotis had begun foraging. the forage period of _evotis_ seemed to begin approximately 30 minutes after sunset and to end approximately two and one-quarter hours later. individuals of this species were taken from may 4, to october 14, 1951. a female taken on may 19, 1951, in san antonio canyon, carried one minute embryo, and one taken in the same locality on june 8, had one embryo four millimeters in length. _specimens examined._--total, 12, distributed as follows: los angeles county: san antonio canyon, 2800 ft., 11; claremont, 1100 ft., 1 (p.c.). =myotis volans interior= miller interior long-legged bat although seldom found to be plentiful, this bat was recorded from many points on both the coastal and desert slopes of the mountains. specimens were taken in the chaparral association in san antonio canyon, near jackson lake among yellow pines, and in mescal canyon at the upper limit of the joshua tree woodland. bats, probably _volans_, were noted over sage flats at 8000 feet elevation on blue ridge. the only place where these bats appeared to be numerous was jackson lake on the interior slope; there, on september 19, 1951, _volans_ appeared with the pipistrelles, and was the most common bat before dark. an individual of this species taken on october 28, 1951, in a short mine-shaft in the pinyon belt at the head of grandview canyon was slow in its movements and felt as cold as the walls of the tunnel. it was late afternoon and the temperature outside the cave was below 40°f. the floor of the tunnel was covered with the hind wings of large moths of the genus _catocala_; _volans_ probably hung in the cave while eating them. the series of _volans_ from the san gabriels shows that the two color phases of this bat both occur in the area. two specimens from jackson lake contrast sharply with the rest of the series in their dark coloration. benson (1949:50) states that color variation in a series of _volans_ from a given locality may be striking. this bat was collected in san antonio canyon from 50 minutes after sundown to two hours and 40 minutes after sundown. in this area these bats did not visit the ponds in large numbers as they seemed to do on the desert slope. a female taken on may 29, 1951, contained one embryo nearly at term. _specimens examined._--total, 9, distributed as follows: los angeles county: mescal canyon, 8 mi. e and 5 mi. s llano, 4900 ft., 1; 3 mi. w big pines, swarthout valley, 6000 ft., 3; san antonio canyon, 2800 ft., 5. =myotis californicus californicus= (audubon and bachman) california myotis on the pacific face of the mountain range this bat was recorded commonly below approximately 5000 feet elevation, where it seemed to be most common in the oak woodland of canyons. on the desert slope it was collected at jackson lake in yellow pine woodland, in mescal canyon in the juniper belt, and bats presumably of this species were observed at several points in the pinyon-juniper woodland. individuals of this species were often observed foraging from five to ten feet above the ground around the alders and _baccharis_ near san antonio creek, but they did not fly so low or so near the vegetation as did _myotis evotis_. here they were taken from 18 minutes to 55 minutes after sunset; this indicates an early and short forage period. this bat may be active even in winter. on february 8, 1952, in lower san antonio canyon, a bat, probably of this species, was noted foraging; and collecting in early november, 1951, yielded specimens. on may 22, 1951, a female obtained in san antonio canyon had one five-millimeter embryo, and subsequently all the females examined had embryos until june 12, when collecting was discontinued. _specimens examined._--total, 16, distributed as follows: los angeles county: mescal canyon, 4800 ft., 2; jackson lake, 6000 ft., 1 (pc); san antonio canyon, 3900 ft., 1; san antonio canyon, 2800 ft., 12. =pipistrellus hesperus merriami= (dobson) western pipistrelle this is the most obvious if not the most common bat of the lower coastal slopes of the san gabriels. in the spring and fall of 1951 individuals were noted from 1700 feet in the coastal sage scrub association to the white fir forests on blue ridge at 8200 feet elevation and were commonest in the rocky canyons of the lower pacific slope below 4000 feet, and usually foraged near the steep canyon sides high above the canyon bottoms. pipistrelles were generally the first bats to appear in the evening, although the times of their appearance were irregular. in april and may, in lower san antonio canyon, they appeared from 28 minutes before sunset to 30 minutes after sunset, with the average time of appearance eight and one-half minutes after sunset. like _myotis californicus_ this pipistrelle seemed to have a short and early foraging period. no pipistrelles were recorded at ponds later than one hour and five minutes after sunset, and usually they were not seen later than 40 minutes after sunset. most of the specimens taken later than one half hour after sunset had full stomachs. more than 50 pipistrelles were captured at the ponds in san antonio canyon; six were kept for specimens. this species is probably present in the area throughout the winter. pipistrelles were active in early april in evey canyon, were observed in early november in san antonio canyon, and on january 26, 1952, an individual was noted foraging near the mouth of palmer canyon. they are probably not active in winter on the colder desert slope of the mountains. pipistrelles often foraged in loose flocks of about half a dozen individuals. on many occasions these groups were first seen foraging high up above the canyon bottom, then, as it grew darker, they descended and foraged within 50 or 100 feet of the floor of the canyon. immediately before dark these groups seemed to have forage beats; one minute several pipistrelles would be overhead, and the next minute none would be in sight. a female taken in san antonio canyon on june 8, 1951, contained two five-millimeter embryos. _specimens examined._--total, 6, distributed as follows: los angeles county: san antonio canyon, 2800 ft., 5; evey canyon, 2400 ft., 1. =pipistrellus hesperus hesperus= (h. allen) western pipistrelle this species was common in the spring and autumn of 1951 from the lower edge of the yellow pine forest down into the belt of joshua trees. in early april on the desert slope at 4800 feet in mescal canyon, pipistrelles foraged on evenings when it was windy but not cold. on cold evenings (when the temperature was below roughly 45°f) none was seen. on windy nights the pipistrelles often forsook their usual high forage habits and foraged 15 feet or so above the ground where the vegetation and outcrops of rock broke the force of the wind. in 1951 no pipistrelles were noted on the desert slope later than october 15. _specimens examined._--los angeles county: mescal canyon, 4800 ft., 4. =eptesicus fuscus bernardinus= rhoads big brown bat this bat was on the coastal slope from the sage scrub association at 1100 feet, up to 8000 feet on blue ridge, and on the desert slope down to the upper edge of the joshua tree belt at 4800 feet in mescal canyon. it was the most common bat at the ponds in san antonio canyon in may and june of 1951, but in september and october of the same year none was obtained there. on the pacific slope of the san gabriels the big brown bats segregate according to sex in the spring, the males occupying the foothills and mountains and the females the level valley floor at the coastal base of the range. of 70 big brown bats captured in may and june of 1951, at the ponds in san antonio canyon, only one was a female. a large colony of more than 200 individuals in a barn near covina, in the citrus belt, was composed of only females. times of capture of this bat at the ponds in san antonio canyon ranged from ten minutes after sunset to two hours and thirty minutes after sunset. generally these bats came to the ponds in groups of several individuals, and often more than a dozen were captured in the course of an evening's collecting. _specimens examined._--total, 7, distributed as follows: los angeles county: mescal canyon, 4800 ft., 1; san antonio canyon, 2800 ft., 2; covina, 1100 ft., 4 (2pc). =lasiurus borealis teleotis= (h. allen) red bat one female was taken on september 30, 1951, in san antonio canyon, at 2800 feet elevation. the descriptions which the citrus growers of the claremont and glendora vicinity give of the bats they find occasionally hanging in their citrus trees accurately describe this species. its seasonal occurrence there is unknown. =lasiurus cinereus cinereus= (pasilot de beauvois) hoary bat specimens were collected in spring in 1951 at elevations of 2800 and 3200 feet in san antonio canyon, on the coastal slope, and in mescal canyon at 4900 feet, on the desert slope. large, fast flying bats, probably of this species, were seen at jackson lake, 6000 feet elevation, on october 15, 1951. hoary bats are present in the san gabriels in the fall, winter, and spring. in 1951 the last spring specimen was taken on june 11, in mescal canyon; then collecting was discontinued until late september when the first hoary bat was taken on the thirtieth of that month. from this date on into the winter hoary bats were recorded regularly. they seemed to be as common in early june as in most of april and may; possibly some remain in the san gabriels throughout the summer. in spring these bats seem to segregate by sex; of twelve kept as specimens and at least an equal number captured and released only one was a female. all were captured above 2800 feet. hoary bats seem to have a long pre-midnight forage period, having been captured at ponds from 21 minutes after sunset, to three hours and 26 minutes after sunset. generally those taken early had empty stomachs and those taken later had full stomachs. on the night of may 24, 1951, a hoary bat captured two hours and five minutes after sunset had only a partially full stomach. on may 25, 1951, an unusual concentration of hoary bats was observed at a pond at about 3200 feet elevation, in san antonio canyon (vaughan, 1953). the day had been clear and warm, one of the first summerlike days of spring. beginning at 30 minutes after sundown hoary bats were collected until two hours and 35 minutes after sundown; in this period 22 were caught and at least as many more observed. many were released after being examined, whereupon they hung on the foliage of nearby alders to rest and dry themselves. this concentration of hoary bats may have been due to a sudden beginning of migration with a resultant concentration of bats at certain altitudinal belts. the warm weather might have set off the migration. on evenings that followed subsequent hot days no such concentration of hoary bats was seen. b. p. bole (hall 1946:156) observed a concentration of hoary bats on august 28, 1932, in esmeralda county, nevada. several captive _myotis californicus_ in a jar next to a pond in san antonio canyon set up a squeaking which seemed to attract a hoary bat. repeatedly the large bat swooped over the jar. _specimens examined._--total, 12, distributed as follows: los angeles county: mescal canyon, 4900 ft., 2; san antonio canyon, 3200 ft., 2; san antonio canyon, 2800 ft., 8. =antrozous pallidus pacificus= merriam pallid bat the pallid bat is probably the most common and characteristic bat of the citrus belt at the pacific base of the mountains. only once, on may 4, 1951, was this bat taken in the mountains. on that night two individuals were collected at 2800 feet in san antonio canyon. all of the other specimens and observations were from colonies in old barns and outbuildings in the citrus belt where these bats are found in spring, summer, and fall. the impression gained by examining many mixed colonies of _antrozous_ and _tadarida_ was that the former greatly outnumbered the latter. for example, a small colony of bats in an old barn near san dimas wash consisted of about thirty pallid bats and five freetails. large numbers of wings of moths of the family _sphingidae_, and legs and parts of the heads of jerusalem crickets (_stenopelmatus fuscus_) were beneath an _antrozous_ night-roosting place in a barn near upland. pallid bats were collected in 1951, from april 16 to october 17 but probably were active in the area into november. each of two pregnant females taken two miles northeast of san dimas on april 20, 1951, carried two embryos 4 millimeters long. _specimens examined._--total, 6, distributed as follows: los angeles county: 2 mi. ne san dimas, 1200 ft., 2 (1pc); ontario, 1100 ft., 4 (3pc). family molossidae =tadarida mexicana= (saussure) mexican free-tailed bat this bat, regularly met with in the citrus belt at the coastal base of the range, occurred in small numbers with colonies of _antrozous_, and was once found with a colony of _eptesicus_ near covina. none of the females taken in april 1951 was pregnant. _specimens examined._--los angeles county: 2 mi. ne san dimas, 1200 ft., 4. =eumops perotis californicus= (merriam) mastiff bat h. w. grinnell (1918:373) mentioned individuals collected at sierra madre (at the coastal base of the san gabriels west of the study area), and sanborn (1932:351) reported specimens from covina and azusa. probably this bat occurs locally all along the coastal base of the range. family leporidae =lepus californicus bennettii= gray california jack rabbit this species was found in the coastal sage belt from cajon wash west to san gabriel canyon and was most plentiful in thin stands of sagebrush, and in and around citrus groves. because of their preference for semi-open country, jack rabbits are absent from much of the coastal belt of sagebrush where the brush is fairly continuous, and they never were observed in the chaparral association. coyotes catch many jack rabbits and regularly forage around the foothill borders of the citrus groves for cottontails and jack rabbits. a female examined on february 19, 1951, was pregnant, and one taken on march 15, 1951, carried three small embryos. _specimens examined._--san bernardino county: 2 mi. nw upland, 1600 ft., 3 (pc). =lepus californicus deserticola= mearns california jack rabbit there was sign of jack rabbits along the desert slope of the san gabriels up to about 6700 feet, one-half mile west of big pines. they were fairly common in the joshua tree belt, occurred less commonly in the juniper belt, and were present locally in small numbers in the pinyon-juniper association. the population seemed to be at a low ebb from 1948 to 1952, when field work was done on the desert slope. i often hiked for an hour or more on the desert or juniper-covered benches without seeing a jack rabbit. the species was commoner in washes where as many as eleven were noted in two hours' hiking. in december, 1951, below graham canyon, the leaves on large areas of many nearly recumbent joshua trees had been gnawed down to their bases, and jack rabbit feces covered the ground next to these gnawings. probably the joshua tree is an emergency food used by the rabbits only when other food is scarce. in years when the population of jack rabbits is not low they serve as a major food for coyotes. in the joshua tree belt below mescal canyon, jack rabbit remains were fairly common in coyote feces, and tracks repeatedly showed where some coyote had pursued a jack rabbit for a short distance. a large male bobcat trapped in the juniper belt in graham canyon had deer hair and jack rabbit remains in its stomach. _specimens examined._--total, 7, distributed as follows: los angeles county: 6 mi. e and 1 mi. s llano, 3500 ft., 4; mescal canyon, 4800 ft., 3. =sylvilagus audubonii sanctidiegi= (miller) audubon cottontail cottontails are common in the coastal sage scrub association and in and around citrus groves, but generally penetrate the mountains no farther than the lower limit of the chaparral association. they are everywhere on coastal alluvial slopes, except in the barren washes, and prefer patches of prickly-pear and often are loathe to leave its protection. after completely destroying a large patch of prickly-pear in the course of examining a wood rat house in the center of the cactus, i found hiding, in the main nest chamber of the house, a cottontail that dashed from its hiding place only when poked forceably with the handle of a hoe. cottontails are seldom above the sage belt in the chaparral associations, although along firebreaks and roads they occasionally occur there. habitually cottontails escape predators in partly open terrain offering retreats such as low, thick brush, rock piles, and cactus patches; but on open ground beneath dense chaparral, cottontails may be vulnerable to predation. examinations of feces and stomach contents of the coyote reveals that it preys more heavily on cottontails than on any other wild species. remains of several cottontails eaten by raptors were found in the sage belt. in april, 1951, many young cottontails were found dead on roads in the sage belt, and a newly born cottontail was in the stomach of a coyote trapped four miles north of claremont, on february 7, 1952. _specimens examined._--total, 3, distributed as follows: los angeles county: mouth of san antonio canyon, 2000 ft., 1 (pc). san bernardino county: 2 mi. nw upland, 1600 ft., 2 (pc). =sylvilagus audubonii arizonae= (j. a. allen) audubon cottontail this subspecies was recorded on the interior slope from 5200 feet elevation, as at the head of grandview canyon, down into the desert, and was common in the sagebrush flats of the upper pinyon-juniper association. piles of feces under thick oak and mountain-mahogany chaparral indicated that the rabbits often sought shelter there. adequate cover is a requirement for this rabbit on the desert slope of the san gabriels; in the juniper and joshua tree belts the species occurs in washes where there is fairly heavy brush, and only occasionally elsewhere. in the foothills, when frightened from cover in one small wash cottontails often run up over an adjacent low ridge and seek cover in the brush of the next wash. in the wash below graham canyon tracks and observations showed that cottontails were taking refuge in deserted burrows of kit foxes. in the pinyon-juniper association cottontails and jack rabbits probably occur in roughly equal numbers, but in the joshua tree belt cottontails seem far less numerous than jack rabbits. in the course of a two hour hike in lower mescal wash, at about 3500 feet, eleven jack rabbits and two cottontails were noted. _specimens examined._--total, 2, distributed as follows: los angeles county: 6 mi. e and 1 mi. s llano, 3500 ft., 1; mescal canyon, 4800 ft., 1. =sylvilagus bachmani cinerascens= (j. a. allen) brush rabbit brush rabbits inhabit the pacific slope of the mountains from about 1200 feet in the coastal sagebrush belt up to at least 4500 feet in the chaparral, and are the only lagomorphs found commonly above the lower edge of the chaparral association. here they were often on steep slopes beneath extensive and nearly impenetrable tracts of chaparral. the ecologic niche of the brush rabbit is in brush where the plants form continuous thickets with little open ground. in the coastal sagebrush flats, areas supporting only scattered bushes are uninhabited by brush rabbits, while areas grown to extensive tracts of brush harbor them. when the brush rabbit's mode of escape from its enemies is considered, the reason for their habitat preference becomes more clear. almost invariably these rabbits seek escape by running through the densest portions of the brush, never appearing in the open; in this way they travel quickly away from the source of danger without being observed. because they avoid being seen in the open, and do not seek safety largely through running ability, they need continuous stretches of brush for escape. while hunting in the coastal sagebrush belt i have repeatedly seen frightened brush rabbits turn and dart beneath the bushes a few feet from a human being rather than be driven into the open. a great horned owl shot in march, 1951, in the sage belt, had in its stomach the remains of a freshly killed adult brush rabbit. although coyotes and brush rabbits often occur in the same general sections of the sage flats, remains of these rabbits have been notably scarce in coyote feces from these areas. this is probably because the coyote hunts along clearings and in open brushland, precisely the type of habitat avoided by brush rabbits. family sciuridae =sciurus griseus anthonyi= mearns western gray squirrel gray squirrels were on both slopes of the san gabriels in oak woodland. a gray squirrel was observed in april of 1948, as it climbed a telephone pole adjacent to an orange grove near cucamonga. this, and one noted bounding up a slope of greasewood chaparral near cattle canyon, were the only gray squirrels seen in areas which were not grown to oaks or adjacent to oak woodland. in the lower foothills gray squirrels were invariably found in association with valley oak, this plant forming limited woodland areas in canyon bottoms. in the upper chaparral association the squirrels frequented the large scrub oaks growing on talus slopes and canyon sides. in the yellow pine woodland, gray squirrels are restricted to black oaks, often where they formed mixed stands with the conifers. on the interior slope these squirrels were found only at the lower edge of the yellow pine woodland where black oaks are common. there, in the vicinity of big pines, they were present between roughly 5800 and 7000 feet, while on the pacific slope they inhabited oak woodland from 1600 feet to about 7000 feet elevation. in live oak canyon in december of 1950, tracks indicated that a bobcat had killed a gray squirrel in a small draw beneath the oaks. in evey canyon on march 6, 1951, while watching for bats at late twilight, i observed a gray squirrel traveling through the branches of a nearby oak. a great horned owl glided into the oak in an attempt to catch the squirrel, which leaped quickly into a dense mass of foliage and escaped. for roughly ten minutes the owl perched in the oak watching its intended prey, then flew off down the canyon amid frantic scolding by the squirrel. on march 17, 1951, a female gray squirrel taken at about 3500 feet elevation in san antonio canyon contained two embryos, each roughly 40 millimeters long. =spermophilus beecheyi beecheyi= (richardson) beechey ground squirrel from the coastal sage belt, into the yellow pine forest of the pacific slope, this species is common on land cleared by man or disturbed in the course of construction, or on severely eroded slopes where the original climax vegetation is partly or completely absent. thus in the sage belt, ground squirrels live along dirt roads through the brush, on the heavily eroded banks often found in the foothills, on land grazed closely by sheep, and in those parts of major washes such as san antonio and cucamonga washes where scatterings of huge boulders offer prominent vantage points. in san antonio canyon _spermophilus_ was restricted to the vicinity of roads and firebreaks, and an especially large colony of at least forty individuals lived at a dump one mile southwest of camp baldy at about 4500 feet elevation. ground squirrels used burned stems of large laurel sumac as observation posts. because of a preference for open areas offering unobstructed outlooks, ground squirrels originally probably did not penetrate the main belt of heavy chaparral on the pacific slope of the range except in some of the large washes. in the spring of 1951 and the preceding summer there was a marked increase in the ground squirrel population near padua hills as a result of sheep grazing on approximately one-half square mile of sage land. grasses and smaller shrubs were eaten down to the ground, and in some places coastal sagebrush and _haplopappus_ were killed by browsing and trampling. the area formerly had a sparse growth of bushes with intervening growths of tall grasses and one colony of perhaps 20 ground squirrels; but after the sheep grazing the area was open brushland with large clear spaces on which the herbage was trimmed to the ground, and had at least four colonies of ground squirrels as large as the first. also there were other ground squirrels established in various parts of the area. probably the dry weather in the winter of 1950-51 with consequent retardation of the vegetation aided the spread of the squirrels in this area. in the sage belt, most ground squirrels are dormant by december. in 1951, after a mild winter, squirrels were noted on january 25 near padua hills. on february 8, 1951, males in breeding condition were collected, and on march 16, a female taken near san antonio wash carried three small embryos. in early march of 1951, ground squirrels were active at 4500 feet elevation in san antonio canyon. _specimen examined._--los angeles county: 1 mi. s and 2 mi. e big pines, 8000 ft., 1. =spermophilus beecheyi fisheri= (merriam) california ground squirrel this ground squirrel inhabited the desert slope of the mountains up to 5000 feet elevation, and was most common in the juniper belt; burrows often were made under large junipers. in may, 1949, ground squirrels were common in the rocks adjacent to mescal wash at an elevation of 4500 feet. in an apple orchard near valyermo, squirrels fed on the fallen fruit in early november of 1951. no squirrel was seen in december, january, and february, indicating that all were below ground in winter. _specimen examined._--san bernardino county: desert springs, 4000 ft., 1 (pc). =ammospermophilus leucurus leucurus= (merriam) antelope ground squirrel antelope ground squirrels were common in the joshua tree woodland where they were noted up to 4500 feet elevation in graham canyon. none was found on the pinyon slopes, possibly because of the competition offered there by _eutamias merriami_, or because the rocky nature of the soil there rendered burrowing difficult. although observed less often in winter than in summer, this species is active all year. on february 6, 1949, in mescal wash, an antelope ground squirrel was foraging over the snow which was at least six inches deep. these squirrels were attracted to the carcasses of rodents used as bait for carnivore sets, and caused a good deal of trouble by disturbing the traps. antelope ground squirrels used the topmost twigs of box-thorn bushes extensively as lookout posts, and many of their burrows were at the bases of these thorny bushes. this habit of regularly using observation posts is well developed in each species of ground squirrel found in the san gabriels. _specimens examined._--los angeles county: 6 mi. e and 1 mi. s llano, 3500 ft., 2. =eutamias speciosus speciosus= (merriam) lodgepole chipmunk this chipmunk was characteristic of the most boreal parts of the san gabriel mountains. it was recorded from 6800 feet elevation at big pines, to an altitude of approximately 9800 feet near mt. san antonio, and was common where coniferous timber was interspersed with snowbrush chaparral. in upper icehouse canyon and near telegraph peak these chipmunks were associated with lodgepole pines and chinquapin, and one mile east of mt. san antonio individuals were often observed in thickets of manzanita. this chipmunk usually shunned pure stands of coniferous timber except as temporary forage ground. on blue ridge these chipmunks used the uppermost stems of snowbrush as vantage points, and when disturbed ran nimbly over thorny surfaces of the brush in seeking refuge in the tangled growth. in early november of 1951, these animals were not yet in hibernation on blue ridge. they were noted on november 6, after the season's first snows had melted; on november 13, however, a cold wind with drifting fog kept most of them under cover, and only two were noted in the course of the day. _specimen examined._--los angeles county: 1 mi. s and 2 mi. e big pines, 8100 ft., 1. =eutamias merriami merriami= (j. a. allen) merriam chipmunk the lower limit of the range of this species, on the coastal face of the range, is roughly coincident with that of manzanita--that is to say, it begins in the main belt of chaparral above the lower foothills. _e. merriami_ seems to reach maximum abundance amid the granite talus, and scrub oak and _pseudotsuga_ growth at the upper edge of the chaparral association. it was absent, however, from all but the lower fringe of the yellow pine forest association. on the desert slope _merriami_ was partial to rocky areas in the pinyon-juniper association but was also in the black oak woods on the ball flat fire road near jackson lake. nowhere was _eutamias merriami_ and _e. speciosus_ observed on common ground. _specimens examined._--los angeles county: san antonio canyon, 5500 ft., 2 (1 pc). =glaucomys sabrinus californicus= (rhoads) northern flying squirrel no specimens of this species were taken in the field work in the san gabriels, nor did i find any rangers or residents of the mountains who had seen flying squirrels in the area. nevertheless sign found in the white fir forests in the big pines area indicated that flying squirrels may occur there. on a number of occasions dissected pine cones were noted on the horizontal limbs and bent trunks of white firs. these cones were too large to have been carried there by chipmunks, and gray squirrels were often completely absent from the areas. i suspect that extensive trapping in the coniferous forests of the higher parts of the mountains would produce specimens of flying squirrels. willett (1944:19) mentions that flying squirrels probably occur in the san gabriel mountains. family geomyidae =thomomys bottae pallescens= rhoads valley pocket gopher this gopher was found below about 5000 feet elevation in disturbed or open areas from cajon wash at devore westward all along the coastal base of the san gabriel range. in the lower part of the chaparral belt the gopher evidently was absent from the chaparral-covered slopes, but was common along roads and on fire trails. burt (1932) and von bloeker (1932) discuss the distribution of the three subspecies of this species, _pallescens_, _neglecta_, and _mohavensis_, which are in the san gabriel mountains area, and burt indicates that _pallescens_ grades toward _mohavensis_ in the southern part of antelope valley. =thomomys bottae neglectus= bailey valley pocket gopher in the forests of yellow pine and white fir of the higher parts of the san gabriel mountains the workings of this gopher were common, and sign of its presence was found above 4500 feet on both slopes of the mountain range. the rocky character of the coastal slope seems to limit the occurrence of gophers, for they are not continuously distributed there. on the desert slope they occur locally down into the pinyon-juniper belt. in the vicinity of big pines, on the interior slope, these gophers preferred broken forest where snow brush or other brush occurred; their workings, however, were also found beneath groves of conifers and black oaks. the abundance of earth cores resting on the duff indicated that this species is active in the snow in winter. _specimens examined._--total, 5, distributed as follows: los angeles county: 2 mi. e valyermo, 4600 ft., 2; 3 mi. w big pines, 6000 ft., 1; 1 mi. s and 2 mi. e big pines, 8000 ft., 2. =thomomys bottae mohavensis= grinnell valley pocket gopher one specimen of this subspecies was taken on december 31, 1951, in the joshua tree belt, eight miles east of llano, 3700 feet elevation. family heteromyidae =perognathus fallax fallax= merriam san diego pocket mouse this pocket mouse is restricted to the coastal sage scrub association, and was recorded from cajon wash west to live oak canyon. the mouse does not inhabit even the lower edge of the chaparral belt, but in the coastal sage flats is usually the most abundant rodent. in disturbed parts of the coastal sage belt _fallax_ is less common, and was never trapped in channels of rocky washes. trap lines in the eroded adobe banks of the foothills, where white sage and coastal sagebrush are the dominant plants, took mostly these pocket mice. although the soil of such slopes is compact and seemingly is unsuitable for burrowing by heteromyids, _fallax_ is the most common rodent. because few burrows of pocket mice were noted there, it is possible that the many old unused burrows of _spermophilus_ and _dipodomys_ which honeycomb certain parts of adobe banks are used also by _fallax_; some of these burrows shelter _peromyscus eremicus_ and _peromyscus californicus_. these mice are inactive above ground in cold weather. in the sage belt near thompson canyon, where this subspecies had been found to be the most common rodent, none was trapped on the sub-freezing night of december 3, 1948, although other rodents were found in usual numbers. individuals have been taken on nights of intermittent rain, yet none has been trapped on freezing nights. this species is characteristically heavily infested by a large species of mite. usually these mites congregate around the base of the tail. on october 11, 1949, one lactating female and two carrying embryos were taken. _specimens examined._--total, 11, distributed as follows: los angeles county: 4 mi. n and 1 mi. e claremont, 1900 ft., 5; 3 mi. n claremont, 1600 ft., 6 (5 pc). =perognathus fallax pallidus= mearns san diego pocket mouse on the desert slope of the mountains this species is found in the part of the pinyon-juniper association that is between elevations of 4000 and 5200 feet. the mouse is absent from the higher chaparral and pinyon-covered slopes, but is present on south slopes in the pinyon belt where more open growths of pinyons and scrub oaks are interspersed with yucca. i recorded this pocket mouse from the vicinity of cajon pass west to valyermo. the local distribution of _pallidus_ is striking because of its close positive correlation with the distribution of yucca. on benches around 5000 feet, where yuccas are scattered in their occurrence, _pallidus_ is nearly always taken near (often right at the base of) this plant. lower in the juniper belt the dry rocky south slopes supporting yucca plants are well populated by _pallidus_, while adjacent flats, and north slopes grown to antelope brush and scrub oak, are completely uninhabited. near the mouth of grandview canyon, on steep rocky southern exposures grown sparsely to burro weed and yucca, one hundred traps produced in one night eight _pallidus_ and no other rodents. here many of these pocket mice were trapped on large fractured rock outcroppings, where most or all of the mice probably lived in the daytime in the deep cracks; in any event no burrows were noted near these rocks. this species prefers barren slopes supporting yucca plants. these plants produce large seeds which are staple food items for _p. f. pallidus_ and other rodents during the lean part of the year, that is to say, late summer and autumn. many of the dry capsules of the yucca plants were examined in october, 1951, and these generally still contained a few seeds. pocket mice taken in october usually carried in their cheek pouches seeds of yucca together with some other material, and often they carried only the seeds of yucca. probably the wind shakes only a few seeds out of the capsules at a time, thus tending to drop the seeds over a fairly long period. trapping in winter in the juniper belt revealed that these pocket mice were not active above ground on nights colder than about 40° f. on nights when the temperature was about 36° f. none was taken, but on the one night in late december, 1948, when the minimum was 44° f., several specimens were taken. in this same area in may 1949, pocket mice were the most numerous rodents. because of their evident sensitivity to cold weather, these mice must remain below ground for weeks at a time during the cold weather of december and january. specimens of _pallidus_ from the desert slope of the san gabriels are grayer (less brown) than specimens taken farther southeast in the mojave and colorado deserts. further sampling of populations of _perognathus fallax_ from areas adjacent to the san gabriels might demonstrate differences of sufficient magnitude to warrant subspecific distinction of the san gabriel population. possibly, however, the san gabriel series manifests only local variation in the race _pallidus_. grinnell (1933:54) characterizes the ecological niche of the race _pallidus_ as being "open, sandy ground, often ... surrounded by rocky slopes," whereas these pocket mice in the san gabriels inhabited gravelly or rocky juniper-dotted benches. _specimens examined._--total, 11, distributed as follows: los angeles county: 5 mi. e and 4 mi. s llano, 4500 ft., 7; 2 mi. e valyermo, 4500 ft., 3; 4 mi. e valyermo, 5000 ft., 1. =perognathus californicus dispar= osgood california pocket mouse mice of this subspecies were recorded from the lower chaparral association below about 4000 feet elevation along the coastal face of the san gabriel range. they were trapped on greasewood-covered slopes, in mixed growths of white sage and buckwheat, and beneath scrub oak and lilac chaparral; however none was taken in the heavy chaparral of the upper parts of the chaparral association. one small juvenile in gray pelage was taken in san antonio canyon on october 1, 1951. _specimens examined._--total, 5, distributed as follows: san bernardino county: lytle canyon, 4000 ft., 2 (pc). los angeles county: san antonio canyon, 3000 ft., 3. =perognathus californicus bernardinus= benson california pocket mouse on blue ridge these mice were recorded between 7100 and 8000 feet elevation. here they were restricted to dense tracts of snowbrush and sagebrush, often where these tracts were interspersed with, or beneath, open groves of conifers. these mice seemed to favor areas where this thick brush was broken by patches of open, grass-covered ground. benson (1930:450) records this subspecies from swarthout valley, near big pines, at 6860 feet elevation. while setting traps for pocket gophers one mile southwest of big pines, in september of 1951, i frightened a pocket mouse from its burrow. the animal jumped into the tangle of interlacing twigs of a nearby clump of snowbrush, and with great dexterity climbed into the center of the bush, where it was lost to view. i was surprised at the facility with which this saltatorial rodent traveled through the network of small branches. in winter, in areas inhabited by this mouse, snow covers the ground for long periods during which these mice are probably forced to remain below ground. _specimens examined._--los angeles county: 1 mi. s and 2 mi. w big pines, 7400 ft., 2. =dipodomys panamintinus mohavensis= (grinnell) panamint kangaroo rat this rat is common in the joshua tree and juniper belts, and locally penetrates the pinyon belt at about 5000 feet elevation. it occurs regularly along the entire desert slope of the san gabriel mountains. the upper limit of the range of this species roughly coincides with the upper limit of the juniper belt, and within this range it was found to inhabit areas having widely different soil types. it occurred on the sandy ground of desert washes, the gravelly soil of the juniper-clad benches, and the mixed sandy and rocky ground of washes in canyons. a preference is shown by _panamintinus_ for fairly level ground. rough terrain or steep slopes are generally avoided, whereas rather large colonies of these kangaroo rats are found in small flats of the desert foothills. below about 4500 elevation on the interior slope this species was the most numerous rodent, and seemed to reach maximum abundance in the joshua tree association. about 500 trap-nights in the juniper belt near graham canyon yielded 31 specimens, whereas about 300 trap-nights in joshua tree flats took 34 individuals. the cheek pouches of many specimens taken in early winter contained green shoots of grass and little dry material. on many occasions rat traps set next to wood rat nests beneath large junipers produced _panamintinus_, and many of these animals had their cheek pouches crammed full of juniper berries. in december, 1948, _panamintinus_ was trapped consistently on nights when the temperature dropped to below 20° f. on december 27, 1948, after a three inch snowfall, tracks of this species were noted in the snow at the mouth of mescal canyon. parts of the skulls of this species were found in many coyote feces from the desert slope. _specimens examined._--total, 11, distributed as follows: los angeles county: mescal wash, 4000 ft., 8 (6 pc); 2 mi. e valyermo, 4600 ft., 3. =dipodomys merriami merriami= mearns merriam kangaroo rat this kangaroo rat barely enters the area under consideration and is almost restricted to the joshua tree association, for only a few individuals were taken at the lower edge of the juniper benches. this species inhabits the joshua tree belt all along the desert base of the san gabriels. as mentioned in the description of the joshua tree association, the relative numbers of _dipodomys merriami_ and _d. panamintinus_ shifted from 1948 to 1951, possibly concurrent with the seasons of low rainfall in this period. whereas in 1948 _merriami_ was decidedly less abundant than _panamintinus_ in the joshua tree belt, in 1951 the numbers were reversed. in december, 1951, it was found by tending the traps in the early evening that _merriami_ foraged fairly early before the ground had frozen solidly. _specimens examined._--los angeles county: 2 mi. nw mouth of graham canyon, 3500 ft., 5 (pc). =dipodomys merriami parvus= rhoads san bernardino kangaroo rat one specimen of this subspecies was trapped on november 26, 1951, in a sandy channel of cajon wash near devore beneath a clump of scale-broom. =dipodomys agilis agilis= gambel pacific kangaroo rat this species was found below about 4000 feet elevation all along the coastal face of the range and reached maximum abundance in the level tracts of coastal sage. it was one of the most abundant rodents there, usually being second to _perognathus fallax_ in point of numbers. large colonies of kangaroo rats occurred locally on sandy ground adjacent to large washes. the rats were found sparingly on the foothill adobe banks and in the greasewood chaparral of the lower foothills, but in heavy chaparral where a layer of plant debris covered the ground, such as on north slopes grown to scrub oak and lilac, kangaroo rats were completely absent. thus, in the lower chaparral belt, this rodent had a discontinuous distribution. the coyote probably is one of the major predators of these kangaroo rats; remains of this rodent were often found in coyote feces, and coyotes excavated many burrow systems in large kangaroo rat colonies in the sandy ground near san antonio wash. the soil there is so soft that coyotes probably were often successful in digging out their prey. the shed skin of a large pacific rattlesnake (_crotalus viridis helleri_) was found four feet inside the mouth of a kangaroo rat burrow; probably this reptile preys on _agilis_. great horned owls (_bubo virginianus pacificus_) come down nightly from the chaparral to hunt in the sage flats. beneath the perches of these owls i have found pellets containing bones of _agilis_. _specimens examined._--total, 13, distributed as follows: los angeles county: san antonio wash, 1900 ft., 11 (10 pc); 4 mi. ne claremont, 1600 ft., 2. =dipodomys agilis perplexus= (merriam) pacific kangaroo rat all the specimens of this species from the desert slope of the san gabriel range are referred to the subspecies _perplexus_. they were taken in brushy habitats between the elevations of 4500 and 7400 feet. throughout much of this area _perplexus_ was found only in certain restricted areas more or less surrounded by inhospitable ground. for example, at 7400 feet on blue ridge, they were found occasionally in the strips of sagebrush and lilac brush which locally capped this ridge. often these patches of chaparral on blue ridge were surrounded by areas unsuitable for kangaroo rats: on the pacific slope, talus, oaks, and yellow pines prevailed; on the ridge scattered yellow pine groves were present; and on the steep desert slope there were yellow pines and white firs. in swarthout valley _perplexus_ was found in flats that supported basin sagebrush and _haploppus_, while the coniferous forests to the south, and pinyon-covered slopes to the north were uninhabited. on flats supporting antelope brush and juniper, _perplexus_ was often common, but it did not penetrate the chaparral of adjacent slopes grown to scrub oak and mountain-mahogany. in general then, _perplexus_ was found in fairly open brushy flats or slopes, even where these were surrounded by unsuitable habitats. specimens of _d. agilis_ from the desert slope two miles east of valyermo are referrable to the subspecies _perplexus_. a series taken in cajon wash at devore, on the pacific slope, is intermediate between _agilis_, of the coastal slope of the san gabriels, and _perplexus_ of the desert slope, but approaches more nearly the later subspecies. thus, different subspecies of _d. agilis_ occur on opposite slopes of the san gabriel mountains, with intergradation taking place in the cajon pass area and probably also at the west end of the mountains. both scrub oak acorns and juniper berries were found in the cheek pouches of this subspecies, and one immature individual taken in swarthout valley had its cheek pouches stuffed with approximately 550 seeds of brome grass. on november 13, 1951, at 7500 feet on blue ridge, a small juvenile was taken; it must have been born not earlier than september. _specimens examined._--total, 17, distributed as follows: los angeles county: 2 mi. e valyermo, 4600 ft., 3; 5 mi. e valyermo, 1; 1 mi. e big pines, 6600 ft., 6; 1 mi. s and 2 mi. w big pines, 7400 ft., 2. san bernardino county: cajon wash, 1/2 mi. sw devore, 2200 ft., 5. family cricetidae =reithrodontomys megalotis longicaudus= (baird) western harvest mouse this species inhabited grassy areas of the coastal sage belt, and reached maximum abundance on cleared land grown thickly to weeds and scattered brush. the mouse was only locally abundant--being scarce throughout much of the sage belt--but was found under contrasting conditions. in san antonio wash the species was taken among rocks and sparse weeds, at palmer canyon specimens were trapped on a barren ridge sparsely clothed with greasewood and white sage, and also one mile e of big pines in flats supporting basin sagebrush and a fairly dense growth of grasses. the western harvest mouse was recorded from 1500 feet elevation to 3200 feet on the pacific slope, and at 6600 feet near big pines on the desert slope. those specimens of harvest mice from near big pines may be grading toward the desert race _megalotis_; my series of specimens from this locality, however, is too small for clear indications on this point. individuals in juvenal pelage were taken on november 26, 1951, near devore. _specimens examined._--total, 6, distributed as follows: los angeles county: 1 mi. e big pines, 6600 ft., 2; palmer canyon, 2000 ft., 1; 4 mi. n claremont, 1700 ft., 3 (pc). =peromyscus eremicus eremicus= (baird) cactus mouse in mescal wash on the desert slope of the san gabriels, this mouse was one of the most abundant mammals and was the only rodent other than _peromyscus maniculatus_ regularly trapped in the barren channels of washes. in mescal wash, at an altitude of 4000 feet, _eremicus_ occurred along with the chaparral-inhabiting _peromyscus boylii_ and _peromyscus californicus_. the two species last mentioned were associated with the occasional large patches of manzanita, antelope brush, and other brush of the wash, whereas _eremicus_ was trapped in the rocky and sandy channels among scattered bushes of scale-broom. no specimens of _eremicus_ were taken on the juniper-clad benches adjacent to the wash. _specimens examined._--los angeles county: mescal wash, 4000 ft., 10 (4 pc). =peromyscus eremicus fraterculus= (miller) cactus mouse this mouse was recorded from 1900 feet elevation, one mile south of the mouth of san antonio canyon, to 3200 feet elevation in cajon canyon. this subspecies is characteristic of the sage belt and shows a strong preference for the rough rocky areas found in dry washes. although in many areas the channels of the washes are immediately adjacent to sandy sagebrush-covered flats, _eremicus_ is not common in the latter areas. rocks seem to be essential to _eremicus_, for sandy areas in the sageland which were devoid of rocks yielded only an occasional specimen. for example, 100 trap-nights in the main channel of san antonio wash yielded 23 _eremicus_ and only six other rodents; while in the sandy sage areas nearby 200 trap-nights yielded only one _eremicus_ and 32 other rodents. in lower san antonio canyon _eremicus_ seemed restricted to the rocky canyon bottom, none having been trapped on the steep slopes nearby. this subspecies occurs commonly, however, on the adobe banks grown to white sage at the base of the foothills. there _eremicus_ occurred on common ground with _perognathus fallax fallax_, and was often the only _peromyscus_ taken. this species may be restricted by temperature; washes above 4000 feet elevation, which seemed suitable were uninhabited by these mice. on december 1, 1949, two females taken at the mouth of palmer canyon had well advanced embryos. a female trapped in san antonio canyon on september 19, 1951, was lactating. juveniles were caught in the sage belt in october, 1951. _specimens examined._--total, 6, distributed as follows: los angeles county: san antonio canyon, 2500 ft., 1; san antonio wash, 1800 ft., 5 (pc). =peromyscus californicus insignis= rhoads california mouse this mouse inhabits areas supporting chaparral on the coastal slope of the san gabriels below 5000 feet. in the chaparral it is usually the most plentiful rodent, being dominant on slopes which have been burned over and on which greasewood chaparral has taken over. on one such slope at the head of cow canyon, at 4500 feet, this was the only rodent trapped, although an occasional wood rat house was noted. trapping records gave the impression that this form was the most ubiquitous rodent in the entire chaparral belt. nearly every trap line, even in such non-productive areas as oak woodland, took the california mouse; and in many areas, as in thick lilac brush, this mouse was by far the most abundant rodent. specimens were taken on the damp ground next to san antonio creek, and in the riparian growth. in san antonio wash the california mouse was found in thickets of laurel sumac and lemonade berry, or other large shrubs, but were absent from most of the adjacent sageland. the one place where they were found away from heavy brush was on a series of barren adobe banks, near palmer canyon, clothed mostly with white sage. here they found shelter in the unused burrows of kangaroo rats and ground squirrels. the only place on the desert slope where this species was taken was in mescal wash. there it was taken occasionally near the large clumps of antelope-brush and manzanita which grew in the main channels of the wash. lactating females of this species were taken in october, 1949, and february, 1950. two pregnant females were trapped on february 25, 1950, at the mouth of palmer canyon. _specimens examined._--total 16, distributed as follows: los angeles county: mescal wash (4200 ft., 4; 4300 ft., 1; 4500 ft., 1), 6(2im); san antonio canyon, 4500 ft., 1; san antonio canyon, 3000 ft., 5; mouth of palmer canyon, 1900 ft., 4 (pc). =peromyscus maniculatus gambeli= (baird) deer mouse this species occurs from 1000 feet elevation to above 9000 feet elevation on the pacific slope of the mountains, but although probably the most widespread rodent in the area it is absent from many habitats. this mouse reaches maximum abundance in the coastal sage scrub association, particularly where the soil is sandy with scattered vegetation--usually coastal sagebrush and black sage. on the foothill adobe slopes none was trapped, nor have any been taken in most of the chaparral habitats. a few _gambeli_ were trapped amid the talus beneath growths of scrub oak and bay trees in san antonio canyon, at 4300 feet elevation. on blue ridge, at elevations of from 7200 feet to 8300 feet, this mouse inhabited areas clothed with snowbush, basin sagebrush, currant, and scattered conifers, and was found sparingly in the coniferous forests. thus this species lives on contrasting soil types in association with many different vegetational assemblages, from the coastal base to the crest of the range. there is a rather wide variation in color in _gambeli_ from the san gabriels. certain individuals taken in open, sandy coastal sage areas are pale, some being indistinguishable from examples of _sonoriensis_ taken in the pinyon-juniper association on the desert slope. specimens from san antonio canyon have somewhat darker pelage than those from the sage belt, and than individuals taken on blue ridge. possibly a large series of _peromyscus maniculatus_ from the san gabriel mountains would show definite local trends in color of pelage. this species is active on sub-freezing and rainy nights as evidenced by trapping results, and at big pines there were tracks around the bases of conifers after a heavy snowfall in december, 1951. several females taken in the sage belt in october, 1948, carried embryos, and a lactating female was recorded from blue ridge on november 13, 1951. juveniles have been taken in september, october, november, and december. _specimens examined._--total, 9, distributed as follows: los angeles county: 1 mi. s and 2 mi. w big pines, 7400 ft., 3; 1 mi. s and 2 mi. e big pines, 8200 ft., 1; 4 mi. ne claremont, 1900 ft., 2; san antonio wash, 1800 ft., 3 (pc). =peromyscus maniculatus sonoriensis= (le conte) deer mouse this subspecies is associated with contrasting types of soil and vegetation. it is seemingly absent from the upper pinyon-juniper sage flats and areas grown to chaparral, but is fairly common on the gravelly benches dotted with junipers, and in the washes issuing from the canyons on the desert slope. it is present in small numbers in the joshua tree association. in 1951 the numbers of _sonoriensis_ were noticeably less than in 1948; probably this was correlated with the series of dry winters in this period. in december, 1948, this animal was one of the most common rodents in mescal wash, 200 trap-nights yielding thirteen specimens; but in november, 1951, none was taken. in parts of the juniper belt, where an average of about six _sonoriensis_ was taken per 100 trap-nights in 1948, the average had dropped to one per 100 trap-nights in 1951. specimens of this species from the desert slope of the mountains have been assigned to the subspecies _sonoriensis_. those from blue ridge tend toward _sonoriensis_ in color, and may be considered as intergrades between this subspecies and _gambeli_. this species was active on nights when the temperature was as low as 10° f., and individuals were trapped in the juniper belt in december, 1948, when four inches of snow lay on the ground. gray-pelaged juveniles were taken on the desert slope in december, 1948, and a female taken in mescal canyon on december 22 of this year carried four embryos near term. _specimens examined._--total, 11, distributed as follows: los angeles county: 8 mi. e and 4 mi. s llano, 4000 ft., 6 (4 pc); mescal canyon, 4800 ft., 5. =peromyscus boylii rowleyi= (j. a. allen) brush mouse the main range of this mouse in the san gabriel mountains lies between 1600 and 6000 feet elevation on the pacific slope of the mountains, thus encompassing much of the chaparral and oak woodland associations. it was the most common mammal in the oak woodland association in the lower foothills and often was trapped there on leaf mold beneath the oaks. while trapping for shrews i regularly took this species in riparian growth right down to the edge of the water. in san antonio canyon many _boylii_ were trapped beneath logs and dense vegetation, and on wet seepage slopes adjacent to the creek. this species shows a definite predilection for rocky habitats where these occur in the chaparral. in heavy lilac brush near camp baldy _peromyscus boylii_ was outnumbered by _p. californicus_, yet where talus slopes or boulder piles occurred _boylii_ was more numerous. at the head of cow canyon amid boulders beneath scrub oak, bay, and big cone-spruce, this species was especially abundant and no other _peromyscus_ was taken. of special interest is the occurrence of this mouse on the desert slope of the mountains; there it was taken beneath scrub oaks in the pinyon-juniper association at the mouth of mescal canyon, and amid boulder and debris piles in mescal wash at 4000 feet elevation. while manzanita and scrub oak grew in the wash at the points of capture, the animals were actually surrounded by the desert conditions of the joshua woodland, and associated with such desert forms as _onychomys torridus pulcher_ and _peromyscus eremicus eremicus_. immature individuals were taken in october, november, february, and march, and a female with two large embryos was taken near icehouse canyon on november 8, 1951. _specimens examined._--total, 8, distributed as follows: los angeles county: mescal wash, 4000 ft., 1; mescal canyon, 4800 ft., 2; san antonio canyon, 5200 ft., 2; san antonio canyon, 4500 ft., 1; san antonio canyon, 2800 ft., 1; thompson canyon, 1800 ft., 1 (pc). =peromyscus truei montipinoris= elliot piñon mouse only once was this mouse found outside the pinyon-juniper association of the desert slope; in november, 1949, several were collected near cajon in mixed manzanita, scrub oak, and greasewood chaparral. this was the only _peromyscus_ of regular occurrence in the pinyon-juniper area, and was recorded from the upper limit of this association, near jackson lake, at 6000 feet, to the lower limit of the association at the mouth of graham canyon at roughly 4000 feet elevation. although in the juniper belt _truei_ often occurs on common ground with _peromyscus maniculatus sonoriensis_, the habitat preferences of these animals are generally complementary. where the mice occur together, traps set in a variety of locations caught _peromyscus maniculatus_, but typically traps set amid the brush or on the open ground away from the junipers were productive. on the contrary _truei_ was invariably trapped quite near the junipers and often in association with the large nests of _neotoma fuscipes simplex_. in fact traps set right on the beds of litter beneath the junipers were most likely to catch _truei_. records kept of trapping localities show that _truei_ was without exception trapped within twenty feet of some treelike shelter such as junipers, pinyons, joshua tree or scrub oaks. thus _peromyscus maniculatus_ occupies the open stretches between the trees, while _truei_ inhabits the ground beneath and immediately adjacent to the trees. in nevada the piñon mouse prefers rocky areas (hall, 1946:520). in the san gabriel mountains this mouse does not seem to have this predilection. in the juniper belt _truei_ was second to _dipodomys panamintinus_ in point of numbers. in the course of 500 trap-nights in the juniper belt twenty-two _truei_ were taken with thirty-six _dipodomys_. i consider my series of _peromyscus truei_ from the desert slope of the san gabriels to represent the subspecies _montipinoris_. the series is closely comparable to specimens of the subspecies _montipinoris_ in the california museum of vertebrate zoology from the mount pinos area, but differs from specimens of the race _chlorus_ from the san bernardino mountains in certain diagnostic characteristics. in his recent paper on _peromyscus truei_, hoffmeister (1951) considered the populations of this species in the san gabriels to be of the race _chlorus_. hoffmeister had only one specimen available from the san gabriel mountains (lytle creek, on the pacific slope) which was intermediate between _montipinoris_ and _chlorus_, but on the basis of cranial measurements it was referred to the race _chlorus_. specimens of _peromyscus truei_ from the eastern end of the desert slope of the san gabriel mountains and the cajon pass area would probably demonstrate that the race _montipinoris_, which occupies the desert slope of the san gabriels, intergrades with the race _chlorus_, which occurs in the san bernardino range immediately to the east, in the cajon pass area. although _montipinoris_ occurs on the desert slope of the san gabriels, _chlorus_ may occur on the pacific slope. i took no specimens of the piñon mouse on the pacific slope of the san gabriel mountains. in december, 1948, many small juveniles were taken in the juniper belt, and on october 15, 1951, two females trapped at the head of grandview canyon had embryos: one three and the other four. on november 13, 1951, a partially gray-pelaged subadult female was trapped which had recently suckled young. _specimens examined._--total, 17, all in illinois museum of natural history, distributed as follows: los angeles county: mescal canyon, 4500 ft., 8 mi. se llano, 11; mescal canyon, 4300 ft., 2; 6 mi. se valyermo, 5100 ft., 1; grandview canyon, 6 mi. se valyermo, 5100 ft., 1. san bernardino county: 1 mi. w cajon, 3200 ft., 2. =onychomys torridus pulcher= elliot southern grasshopper mouse grasshopper mice seemed to be partial to the more sandy parts of the joshua tree flats where the mice were trapped regularly but not abundantly. this mouse inhabited the barren sandy channels of mescal wash but was rare on the adjacent juniper-clad benches. in the arid, sandy washes this typical desert rodent penetrated the high pinyon-juniper association. wherever grasshopper mice occurred they were outnumbered by most of the other rodent species. for example, on november 26, 1949, below graham canyon, 100 snap traps yielded 10 _dipodomys panamintinus mohavensis_, 2 _dipodomys merriami merriami_, 4 _peromyscus maniculatus sonoriensis_, and 3 _onychomys torridus pulcher_. where abandoned kangaroo rat burrows were common in the joshua tree belt these burrows were used as retreats by _onychomys_. some traps set at the entrances to old burrows caught grasshopper mice. _specimens examined._--total, 7, distributed as follows: los angeles county: 8 mi. e and 3 mi. s llano, 3500 ft., 1; mescal wash, 4200 ft., 5 (3 pc); 2 mi. s valyermo, 4600 ft., 1 (pc). =neotoma lepida intermedia= rhoads desert woodrat this species was on the pacific face of the mountains from 1600 feet elevation in the coastal sage belt, to 4800 feet elevation in open groves of big cone-spruce and scrub oak of the chaparral association. the local distribution of this woodrat is determined by suitable nesting sites. although taken in different types of vegetation, _lepida_, without exception, was associated with rocky areas or areas supporting patches of prickly-pear cactus. in the channels of san antonio wash, _lepida_ was commonly associated with jumbles of boulders and boulder-dotted cut banks. there the vegetation is sparse, and the rats dwell among the rocks; only their droppings and faint trails indicate their presence. among boulders _lepida_ builds only small houses of sticks and debris, and even these only occasionally. the effect of the prickly-pear cactus on the distribution of _lepida_ in the sageland is striking; trap lines there yielded no woodrats where extensive rock piles and patches of prickly-pear were absent, but many rats were taken where patches of prickly-pear are plentiful. on an acre supporting coastal sagebrush at the mouth of san antonio canyon, at 1800 feet elevation, there were fourteen patches of prickly-pear, each covering at least thirty square feet. in these patches there were thirteen occupied woodrat nests. only one patch lacked an occupied nest, and this one contained the remains of an old nest. on this acre there were at least thirteen individuals. in the sagebrush belt only an occasional large patch of cactus lacks a woodrat house occupied by _lepida_. seemingly _neotoma fuscipes_ does not build houses in patches of prickly-pear. most of the houses built by _neotoma lepida_ are small and simple as compared to those of _neotoma fuscipes_, and often in rocky areas no nests are in evidence. the most elaborate nests are built among the pads and spines of the prickly-pear and under laurel sumac or other large shrubs growing near washes. one of three houses examined at the mouth of san antonio canyon was on sandy ground in a patch of _opuntia_ measuring approximately 11 x 14 feet. the house was 14 inches high and 41 x 37 inches at the base. it was built around the main stem of the prickly-pear and a rock about 10 inches in diameter. the house was constructed of sticks of coastal sagebrush and buckwheat, and was dotted with dissected fruits and flowers of the prickly-pear. the main chamber was arched over by the main stem of the prickly-pear and was roughly 12 x 19 inches, inside dimensions, being reached through two three-inch openings, one on the east side of the chamber and one on the north side of the chamber. two cup-shaped nests were inside the chamber, these being constructed mostly of grasses, and each resembling a well constructed bird nest 4 inches in diameter. the grass nests were free of feces, but feces were piled up against the west side of the chamber with many snail shells and dissected fruits and flowers of prickly-pear. thirty-five inches from the main chamber was a third grass nest on the ground beneath a cluster of cactus pads. next to this there was a blind burrow about eight inches long, and one and three-quarters inches in diameter. no burrow led to the main chamber, in this or in either of the other houses, but all had at least one short blind burrow beneath the house. at many houses there were one to three grass nests outside the house on the ground, within four feet of the house. from each nest a well worn path lead to the house. traps set in these nests invariably caught woodrats. the many prickly-pear fruits and snail shells in and around the houses of _lepida_ probably were remnants of food. so many of the rodents caught in traps near woodrat nests were partly eaten--usually the brains were taken--that i suspect the woodrats of eating their relatives. the heads of many composite annuals were piled near woodrat nests. immature individuals were taken in september, october, and early november, and on september 26, 1951, a lactating female was trapped near palmer canyon. an old female bobcat trapped in thompson canyon had masses of cactus thorns beneath her skin, especially about the forelegs. these thorns were probably received while she was foraging in growths of prickly-pear for woodrats. the other bobcats from san antonio wash also had accumulations of thorns under the skin of the forelegs. fragments of the skulls of _neotoma lepida_ were recovered from horned owl pellets and coyote feces. _specimens examined._--total, 7, distributed as follows: los angeles county: san antonio canyon, 4500 ft., 2; san antonio wash, 1800 ft., 5 (2 pc). =neotoma lepida lepida= thomas desert woodrat these woodrats were present in rocky situations along the desert slope from the lower edge of the juniper belt down into the desert. specimens were taken in piles of boulders in mescal wash, and amid rock outcroppings on the steep, barren, south slopes at the base of grandview canyon, whereas none was found on the juniper-clad benches. this woodrat built no nests in rocky areas; however, in the joshua tree belt _n. l. lepida_ often built small nests at the bases of large standing or prostrate joshua trees. there sticks from creosote bushes, along with cow dung and small stones were favorite building materials. judging from the large number of unused woodrat nests in the joshua tree flats it seemed that this rat was formerly far more common than it was in the period of this study. _specimens examined._--total, 9, distributed as follows: los angeles county: 6 mi. e and 1 mi. s llano, 3500 ft., 4; mescal wash, 4200 ft., 5 (3pc). =neotoma fuscipes macrotis= thomas dusky-footed woodrat this subspecies was widely distributed along the coastal slope of the mountains from the coastal sage belt, at roughly 1600 feet, up to 6500 feet at the lower edge of the yellow pine forest and was most common in the chaparral association. in the coastal sage belt these woodrats are restricted to wash areas where large chaparral plants such as lemonadeberry and laurel sumac are used as nesting sites. in san antonio wash the occasional large juniper trees almost invariably harbor the nests of _fuscipes_. the general absence of suitable nesting sites in the sage belt probably limits the spread of _fuscipes_ in this area. in the upper part of the chaparral belt in talus these woodrats live beneath the angular boulders and build no visible houses. several areas of talus occupied by woodrats were examined carefully and no sign of houses was noted. two juveniles were found in the stomach of a rattlesnake (_crotalus viridis helleri_) killed in may, 1948, at the mouth of evey canyon. remains of woodrats were found in feces of the coyote and gray fox. lactating females of this species were taken on march 16, and october 2, 1951. _specimens examined._--total, 4, distributed as follows: san bernardino county: icehouse canyon, 5500 ft., 2. los angeles county: san antonio canyon, 2800 ft., 2. =neotoma fuscipes simplex= true dusky-footed woodrat these rats were recorded from the yellow pine forests on blue ridge, at 8100 feet, down to the lower edge of the juniper belt, at 3800 feet. their presence there as elsewhere was determined by the occurrence of adequate cover. on blue ridge they were taken in and near patches of snowbrush, currant, and choke cherry, and one was taken beneath a pile of logs where no nest was in evidence. the thickets of choke cherry in hollows on blue ridge were favored house-building sites of woodrats. among the tangle of branches large nests were built, and in september, 1951, the remains of choke cherry fruit and gnawings on the limbs of these plants indicated that woodrats were active throughout these extensive patches of brush. in the pinyon-juniper association most of the large plants were used as nesting sites, but scrub oak, seemed to be especially preferred. because it often grew in a twisted irregular form with the foliage nearly reaching the ground, the oak offered good shelter for the woodrat nests. in an acre of scrub oak and mountain mahogany brush one-half mile north of jackson lake, at 6100 feet, thirteen occupied woodrat nests were found. in the juniper belt, houses were of more irregular occurrence, and were always beneath juniper trees, usually beneath the largest and most widely spreading individuals. those specimens from blue ridge, on the crest of the san gabriels, are intergrades between the coastal race _macrotis_ and _simplex_ of the desert slope. although specimens vary widely in color, comparison with series of these two subspecies in the california museum of vertebrate zoology indicates that all specimens from the desert slope of the san gabriels are referable to the race _simplex_. two specimens of this species from the granite talus above the base of icehouse canyon at 5500 feet on the pacific slope, grade strongly toward _simplex_. hooper (1938:231) mentions that specimens of this species taken along the san gabriel and san bernardino ranges may be intermediate between _simplex_ and _macrotis_. at the head of grandview canyon, tracks indicated that a coyote had foraged for about one half mile along the edge of a tract of dense oak and pinyon growth. it seemed as if the animal had been foraging for woodrats. a gray fox trapped near graham canyon, in the juniper belt, had in its stomach the remains of a freshly killed adult woodrat. the remains of an adult woodrat were found in the stomach of a rattlesnake (_crotalus viridis helleri_) obtained on the desert slope of the mountains. _specimens examined._--total, 6, distributed as follows: los angeles county: 6 mi. e valyermo, 5600 ft., 1; 1 mi. e big pines, 6600 ft., 2; 1 mi. s and 3 mi. w big pines, 6000 ft., 1; 1 mi. s and 2 mi. e big pines, 8100 ft., 2. =microtus californicus sanctidiegi= r. kellogg california meadow mouse owing to the paucity of extensive areas of grassland in the san gabriels, this is one of the least common rodents of the area. it inhabits, however, even small patches of grassland up to 4000 feet elevation on the pacific slope, and is locally plentiful. for example, a small patch of grassland amid the chaparral at the mouth of palmer canyon supported many _microtus_, and in san antonio canyon at about 3000 feet elevation meadow mice were found amid boulders and yuccas in a small grassy area near the stream. _specimens examined._--total, 3, distributed as follows: los angeles county: san antonio canyon, 2800 ft., 1; palmer canyon, 2100 ft., 1; 4 mi. n claremont, 1800 ft., 1. family ursidae =ursus americanus californiensis= j. miller black bear eleven black bears were introduced into the san gabriel mountains "near crystal lake" in november 1933 from the sierra nevada (burghduff, 1935:83). i do not know whether or not there have been subsequent introductions. there are still bears present in the higher parts of the mountains, especially north of the study area, where they seem to be maintaining their numbers. the grizzly bear that formerly occurred in the san gabriel mountains was exterminated there some years before the black bear was introduced. family procyonidae =bassariscus astutus octavus= hall ring-tailed cat large sections of the san gabriel mountains are uninhabited by this species, while locally, in the chaparral belt near water, ring-tails are common. many reports of ring-tails were received from owners of cabins and homes who reside in the canyons at the pacific base of the mountains. because of the distinctive appearance of this animal it is likely that many of these reports were accurate. the reports testified to the presence of ring-tails in san gabriel canyon, dalton canyon, palmer canyon and san antonio canyon. hall (1927:41) lists specimens from san antonio canyon. kenneth hill of upland told me that ring-tailed cats often have been trapped above that town near citrus nurseries that are regularly irrigated. this species probably is not present on the desert slope of the range. the only specimen that i took was a female weighing one pound and fourteen ounces. it was trapped on march 24, 1951, among granite boulders, beneath scrub oak and bay trees, near the mouth of icehouse canyon, at 5500 feet elevation. =procyon lotor psora= gray raccoon the raccoon was one of the most common carnivores in the san gabriels and was found on both slopes of the range. tracks were noted and one old male was trapped at the base of the pacific slope foothills at 1900 feet elevation, and raccoons were captured at several localities from this point up to 5500 feet in san antonio canyon. they were noted on blue ridge at about 8000 feet elevation foraging around the camp grounds. on the desert slope they occurred down to the lower edge of the pinyon-juniper belt, for example near the mouth of sheep creek canyon. sign of raccoons was most often found near water; tracks, however, indicated that these animals, along with other carnivores, used fire roads for traveling through the chaparral. in a small draw one-half mile east of the mouth of thompson canyon two raccoons were trapped although the only water was a series of small, disconnected seepage pools beneath the valley oaks. a raccoon freed from a small steel trap in san antonio canyon concealed itself in an unusual but extremely effective manner. when released the coon splashed up the middle of the small creek nearby to a place where some dead alders had fallen over and shaded the water--here the animal squatted down in the stream. the raccoon was mostly submerged, its tail was floating, and its back and the top of its head and snout were above water. with most of its body under water, and with the maze of alder logs above casting a broken pattern of light and shade, it was well hidden. when closely pressed the raccoon hid in the same manner several times before it disappeared up a rocky draw into the scrub oak brush. in the autumn of 1951, raccoons fed on grapes at the sycamore valley ranch one mile south of devore. the one specimen (p. c.) saved, an old male from 1/2 mi. w palmer canyon, had remains of beetles in its stomach and weighed slightly more than 13 pounds. family mustelidae =mustela frenata latirostra= hall long-tailed weasel several weasels were found dead on roads in the coastal sage belt near san antonio and lytle canyons. =taxidea taxus neglecta= mearns badger i found no sign of badgers on the pacific slope of the range, but james wolfort, employed by the state fish and game commission to trap coyotes, reported that in 1948 he trapped also several badgers at the coastal foot of the range in the san fernando valley area which is west of the study area. =taxidea taxus berlandieri= baird badger many old badger diggings were found in the joshua tree woodland and pinyon-juniper associations of the desert slope, but none of the animals was observed nor were specimens secured. mr. e. a. eberle who has trapped for many winters in the vicinity of mescal canyon stated that he caught badgers occasionally. i examined the skin of a badger taken at llano which showed the characteristic paleness of the desert subspecies _berlandieri_. =mephitis mephitis holzneri= mearns striped skunk the populations of striped skunks in the san gabriels center around cultivated land at the pacific foot of the range. citrus groves, grape vineyards, and areas once cleared by man are preferred to coastal sagebrush flats. the cultivated areas now probably support many more skunks than were there under original conditions. i have many sight records of striped skunks which i obtained while driving through the citrus groves at night. only once was the striped skunk noted in the chaparral; all the other records were from the coastal sagebrush belt. in addition to insects and small mammals, grapes are eaten regularly by skunks in vineyards, and the fruit of the prickly-pear cactus is often eaten. near the mouth of thompson canyon feces examined in october 1948, contained almost exclusively the remains of prickly-pear fruit. a male taken one-half mile south of devore weighed five pounds and four ounces. _specimens examined_, 2: san bernardino county: 1/2 mi. s devore, 2200 ft., 1. los angeles county: 3 mi. n claremont, 1500 ft., 1 (pc). =spilogale gracilis microrhina= hall spotted skunk spotted skunks are common locally in the coastal sage scrub association and lower chaparral association on the coastal face of the mountains, mainly between 1000 and 4000 feet elevation; but they have been reported from icehouse canyon at 5000 feet, and i took one above the mouth of this canyon at 5500 feet elevation. a few spotted skunks may inhabit the lower desert slope of the mountains; here feces thought to be those of spotted skunks have been found, and a bobcat trapped near the head of grandview canyon smelled strongly of skunk. the spotted skunk usually was in rocky habitats. in the sage flats, sign (mostly feces and tracks) usually was near rock piles and around human developments such as rock walls, old outbuildings and houses. specimens taken in the chaparral were trapped near granite outcroppings. in the autumn of 1950, at my house near the mouth of palmer canyon, a family of spotted skunks lived under the floors. night after night they scratched under the floor and chattered in high-pitched rasping notes, and on several evenings one walked complacently into the living room. it finally became necessary to trap and deport most of these skunks. in all, nine skunks were trapped; these probably represented more than the original residents. one male was descented and allowed to remain. it spent most of the daylight hours asleep in an old shower room where the many gaps between the rock work and the boards allowed him entrance. through no special efforts on our part he became tame enough to climb over us in order to get food left on the kitchen sink, and he would eat calmly while we sat only inches away from him. feces from sage areas contained mostly remains of insects and small rodents whereas many samples of feces from chaparral areas contained, in addition, shells of snails. feces examined represent all months of the year. _specimens examined._--los angeles county: mouth of san antonio canyon, 2 (pc). family canidae =canis latrans ochropus= eschscholtz coyote coyotes inhabit the sagebrush flats and foothills up to at least 4000 feet all along the pacific base of the san gabriels. this species seems most common at the foot of the range where large dry washes prevent man from occupying the land immediately adjacent to the foothills, and are the dominant carnivores of the coastal sage belt. repeated observations have indicated that although many individuals range into the higher foothills they seldom are found deep in the major canyons or chaparral slopes. coyotes rarely occur at 3000 or 4000 feet in san antonio canyon where it cuts into the realm of heavy chaparral; yet on steep foothill slopes and ridges, which are adjacent to the flat land, these animals range up to at least 4000 feet. being hunters primarily of rather open land many coyotes go into the foothills only to find daytime refuge, traveling down dirt roads, ridges, and firebreaks, to forage at night in the sage flats. coyote feces from the foothills, at about 3500 feet, contained predominantly the remains of such food items as cottontails, chickens, and jack rabbits. these animals could have been found only in the flats. this is additional evidence that coyotes do the major part of their hunting at the base of the range. observations of coyote tracks and trapping records have shown that these animals hunt mostly in the more open parts of the sage flats. coyotes frequent areas of scattered brush, sandy areas, wash channels, and old roads, and seemingly shun dense brush. many coyotes actually hunt for rabbits in the citrus groves near the foothills. on several evenings i traced their howling to orange groves, and mr. kenneth hill of upland told me of often seeing coyotes in his orange groves at night. the forage beats of several coyotes were discovered in connection with trapping specimens of these animals. in january, 1952, two coyotes, probably a mated pair, traveled nightly from the slopes immediately west of evey canyon, at about 3100 feet, down into the sagebrush adjacent to the west side of san antonio wash, at about 1700 feet elevation. the route led down open ridges, then for about one half mile across a level, cultivated plateau, and then swung over the eroded banks near the lowermost point of the plateau onto the level sage flats. the distance covered by this route from the foothills down to the flats was somewhat more than a mile, with about a 1400 foot difference in elevation between the daytime retreat and the nocturnal forage area. another route, seemingly used by only one coyote, was somewhat longer. this animal followed fire breaks and ridges from above thompson canyon down onto a fire road, and then into the lower end of palmer canyon where it entered the flats. this route covered about three miles in coming from the foothills to the flats. feces of this coyote often contained the remains of white leghorn chickens which had been found at a refuse pile near several chicken ranches one-half mile from the base of palmer canyon. although no definite idea could be gained of the population density of coyotes in the area, it was clear that in certain localities they were, as carnivores go, abundant. after one large male was obtained in the flats at the base of cobal canyon, at least two other individuals were heard howling in this immediate area, and their tracks were noted repeatedly on dirt roads. one night early in january, 1952, immediately west of the head of san antonio wash, the voices of six coyotes could be picked out separately from a chorus of coyote howls which came from several different directions in the wash. many field examinations of coyote feces left the impression that chickens and lagomorphs made up the bulk of the coyote's food on the coastal slope. to check this a study of 39 sets of scats collected at various localities on the coastal slope was made in the laboratory, the results being shown in table 10. remains of one of the three species of rabbits, cottontails, jack rabbits, or brush rabbits, occurred in 72 per cent of the feces examined. cottontails, it will be noted, were preyed upon more heavily than any other wild species, remains of this form being found in 33 per cent of the feces. the prevalence of chicken remains in coyote feces does not imply that these animals were killed by the coyotes. all of the chickens could have been found dead in the refuse piles of the many chicken ranches. in addition, the chickens were raised in wire cages above the ground where they were nearly invulnerable to predation. that coyotes may at times kill deer in this area was suggested by the finding of tracks in the sand in san antonio wash which clearly indicated that a deer had been closely pursued by a coyote. the tracks were lost in a stretch of brush so the outcome of the chase could not be determined. near the mouth of lytle creek canyon, in november, 1951, coyote feces contained mostly remains of grapes from nearby vineyards. also, above cucamonga, coyotes were found to be feeding heavily on grapes. this must be a rather unsuitable form of nourishment for coyotes, for many of the grapes in the feces appeared nearly unaltered despite their trip through the alimentary canal. table 10.--results of examinations of thirty-nine sets of coyote feces from the pacific slope of the san gabriel mountains. feces were deposited in autumn and winter (september to february). =================================================================== | number of | | sets of feces | percentages food item | which contained | of occurrence[a] | food item | ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------chicken | 18 | 46.2 ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------sylvilagus audubonii | 13 | 33.3 ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------lepus californicus | 10 | 25.6 ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------sylvilagus bachmani | 5 | 12.8 ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------odocoileus hemionus | 5 | 12.8 ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------rodents (unidentified) | 5 | 12.8 ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------dipodomys agilis | 4 | 10.3 ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------neotoma species | 3 | 7.7 ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------mephitis mephitis | 3 | 7.7 ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------carrion beetle | 2 | 5.1 ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------passerine bird | 1 | 2.67 ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------bot fly larva | 1 | 2.67 ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------snail shell | 1 | 2.67 ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------scorpion | 1 | 2.67 ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------jerusalem cricket | 1 | 2.67 ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------sheep hair | 1 | 2.67 ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------lynx rufus | 1 | 2.67 ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------kitten of wildcat or housecat | 1 | 2.67 ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------lophortyx californica | 1 | 2.67 ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------grapes | 1 | 2.67 ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------grass | 1 | 2.67 ------------------------------+-----------------+-----------------[footnote a: this is an expression, in percentage, of the number of sets of feces which contained the particular food item out of the total of thirty-nine sets examined.] the six coyotes taken on the pacific slope are fairly uniform in coloration; the occurrence of white tipping on the tails of most of the specimens, instead of the usual solid black tip, is notable. three skins, those of a male and two females, have patches of white hairs at the tips of the tails; two skins, of a male and a female, show only scattered white hairs at the tips of the tails; and the skin of one female has a solidly black-tipped tail. an additional female, trapped by david leighton in thompson canyon, had a large patch of white hairs at the tip of the tail. grinnell, dixon, and linsdale (1937:501) mention that only an occasional individual (female?) has a white-tipped tail. weights are available for four specimens: two coyotes trapped in san antonio wash, a male and a female, weighed 20.5 and 23.2 pounds respectively; a female from the mouth of san antonio canyon weighed 21.6 pounds; and a large male from the mouth of thompson canyon weighed 29.3 pounds. _specimens examined._--total, 6, distributed as follows: los angeles county: live oak canyon, 3000 ft., 1; mouth of san antonio canyon, 2000 ft., 1; 4 mi. n claremont, 1600 ft., 2; 4 mi. ne claremont, 1600 ft., 1; 3 mi. ne claremont, 1600 ft., 1. table 11.--cranial measurements of canis latrans ochropus from the coastal slope of the san gabriel mountains. ====================================================================== | four females | two males | averages extremes | averages extremes ----------------------+-----------------------+----------------------condylobasal length | 180.67 174.2-183.3 | 188.35 179.2-197.5 ----------------------+-----------------------+----------------------palatal length | 91.57 88.0-95.0 | 97.15 91.6-102.7 ----------------------+-----------------------+----------------------zygomatic breadth | 90.15 88.9-92.0 | 95.60 88.8-102.5 ----------------------+-----------------------+----------------------interorbital breadth | 29.12 27.9-29.9 | 31.45 28.1-34.8 ----------------------+-----------------------+----------------------length of | | maxillary toothrow | 85.00 80.4-89.80 | 88.00 83.4-92.6 ----------------------+-----------------------+----------------------length of | | upper carnassial | 18.30 17.8-19.0 | 18.70 18.1-19.3 ----------------------+-----------------------+----------------------=canis latrans mearnsi= merriam coyote coyotes are common on the desert slope of the san gabriels below about 6000 feet elevation. they seem not, or only rarely, to penetrate the yellow pine forest belt, but tracks have been found occasionally near the lower edge of the forest, as at the head of mescal canyon. in the more open parts of the pinyon-juniper association, sign of coyotes was noted and they were the dominant carnivores in the juniper belt and joshua tree woodland. in the upper part of the pinyon-juniper association coyotes travel and forage in sage flats, along ridges, and in sandy draws, avoiding the extensive patches of scrub oak and mountain mahogany, and the steep, rocky, pinyon-covered slopes. it is apparent that the local ranges of the coyote and the gray fox in the pinyon-juniper belt are complementary, the gray fox keeping to the more thickly wooded or brushy parts of the area, and the coyote staying in the relatively open sections. probably there is little competition for food there between these two canids. as evidenced by tracks, coyotes commonly traveled and hunted along desert washes, probably because of the larger population of rodents and rabbits there. below graham canyon three fairly recently inhabited dens of coyotes were found in the cutbanks at the edge of a dry wash in december of 1951. the cutbanks were six to ten feet high, and the dens were dug into the banks about three feet above the floor of the wash. on the evening of october 20, 1948, near desert springs, steven m. jacobs and i set out a line of fifty wooden live traps for kangaroo rats. that night we slept about 300 yards from the middle of the line which was roughly three quarters of a mile long. when we tended the traps the next morning we found the tracks of a coyote over our own tracks of the previous day, and the first trap that had seemingly held a kangaroo rat was chewed and dragged for about fifty feet. each trap that had held a rodent had been turned upside down so that the door had opened. at one point in the line where we had walked for about two hundred yards without setting a trap the coyote had followed every twist and turn of our trail. the animal had followed out the entire trap line and removed approximately eight rodents from the traps, reducing our take to one _dipodomys_ and one _peromyscus_. examinations of feces showed that in the period from 1948 to 1952, while populations of jack rabbits were low in the mojave desert, the coyotes had fed extensively on smaller mammals such as kangaroo rats, and to some extent on fruit. by contrasting the present food habits of coyotes on the desert and coastal slopes of the mountains support is afforded for errington's (1937:243) statement that predation is "a by-product of population." on the desert slope, with low populations of rabbits, the coyotes have turned to lesser species of prey; while on the pacific slope, where populations of rabbits were high, the rabbits made up the major portion of the coyote's diet. on the desert slope, remains of the following food items were identified from coyote feces: kangaroo rats, mule deer, jack rabbits, passerine bird, manzanita and juniper fruit, beetles, grapes and apples. near valyermo, coyote feces were composed mostly of apples from nearby orchards. a female coyote killed below grandview canyon had its stomach and intestines stuffed with apples in large chunks. in the juniper belt, berries of juniper were often eaten by coyotes. the three specimens of coyotes from the desert slope are clearly referable to the desert race _c. l. mearnsi_, both with regard to cranial and pelage characteristics. although i collected no specimens from cajon pass or the passes at the west end of the range, it is in these places that intergradation might be expected to occur between the desert race _c. l. mearnsi_ and the coastal and valley subspecies _c. l. ochropus_, as the higher parts of the san gabriels seem to constitute a barrier to coyotes. a subadult female coyote taken in the joshua tree belt near graham canyon weighed 20.8 pounds. _specimens examined._--los angeles county: 6 mi. e and 2 mi. s llano, 3600 ft., 3 (2 pc). =vulpes macrotis arsipus= elliot kit fox the kit fox barely enters the area under consideration. in the joshua tree belt, below about 3500 feet elevation, tracks were most often noted in washes and on the adjacent sandy ground. the highest place where tracks were seen was a small sandy draw below the mouth of graham canyon at an altitude of roughly 3900 feet. in the joshua tree belt many old burrows were found but none was occupied. i believe these foxes are returning to this area where once they were common. in the winter of 1948 no sign of kit foxes was found, although intensive field work was done in the joshua tree belt in the mescal canyon area. in december of 1951, in the same locality, sign was obvious and an individual was trapped below grandview canyon at 3500 feet elevation. possibly since the use of poison for carnivores has been discontinued in this district the foxes are repopulating the area. the one specimen taken, a sub-adult female, weighed two pounds and fourteen ounces. _specimen examined._--los angeles co.: 6 mi. e & 1 mi. s llano, 3500 ft., 1. =urocyon cinereoargenteus californicus= mearns gray fox the gray fox is widely distributed in the san gabriel mountains, occurring on both slopes of the range wherever extensive tracts of chaparral are present. they reach maximum abundance in the chaparral association of the coastal slope. individuals have been observed occasionally at night in coastal sage areas at the pacific foot of the mountains; however they seem to be less common here and probably come out of the adjacent chaparral to forage in the flats at night. gray foxes occur all the way up the pacific slope into the yellow pine woodland at 7500 feet, and from 6200 feet elevation on the desert slope down to the upper limit of the joshua trees as, for example, near mescal canyon at 4700 feet. on the pacific face of the mountains the gray fox probably is the dominant carnivore in terms of its effect on prey species, first, because of its abundance, and second, because of its forage habits. some appreciation of the abundance of the gray fox may be gained from trapping records. on a fire road at the head of thompson canyon, at 2500 feet, two settings of traps about one-quarter mile apart were maintained for four nights. in this time four gray foxes were trapped. at the head of cow canyon, at 4500 feet, one trap set on a deer trail caught five gray foxes in five nights. at the end of this time fox tracks were noted about 100 yards away from the set, and another fox was trapped about one quarter mile away. in addition to their abundance, the forage habits of gray foxes are such as to bring them into most habitats present in the chaparral association. tracks and feces indicate that foxes forage under dense brush, on open rocky ridges, in riparian growth, on talus slopes, and in groves of big cone-spruce and scrub oak. trapped foxes, if uninjured by the trap, were usually released. one fox was released on a small trail through thick vegetation consisting mainly of snowbrush. when freed, the fox whirled and darted through a patch of snowbrush for about seventy-five feet, then turned and disappeared beneath some large bay trees. although the brush through which it ran was dense, the fox seemed to run at full speed. the success of gray foxes as predators in the chaparral is probably due in large measure to their agility amid dense cover. the three specimens from the desert slope are referable to the coastal subspecies, _u. c. californicus_, rather than the desert subspecies, _u. c. scottii_. in all respects they resemble foxes taken on the pacific slope; cranial measurements are near the maximum for the large _u. c. californicus_, and not small as would be expected if they were grading toward the smaller _u. c. scottii_. floors of desert valleys north of the san gabriel mountains probably isolated foxes there from _u. c. scottii_ found in the higher ranges of the mojave desert. consequently one would expect no intergradation between the coastal and desert races in the san gabriel mountains. an old female trapped on march 18,1951, in san antonio canyon, had three embryos each about 105 mm. long from rump to crown, and weighed 9.2 lbs. the average weight of four non-pregnant females was 6.8 lbs., whereas the average of six males was 7.5 lbs. _specimens examined._--total, 11, distributed as follows: los angeles county: mescal canyon, 4800 ft., 1; 4 mi. e valyermo, 5200 ft., 2; cow canyon, 4500 ft., 2; san antonio canyon, 3000 ft., 1; thompson canyon, 2500 ft., 2 (pc); 1/2 mi. w palmer canyon, 2000 ft., 3 (pc). family felidae =lynx rufus californicus= mearns wildcat wildcats range over the whole of the san gabriel range, with the possible exception of the tops of the highest peaks such as mt. san antonio and mt. baden powell. sign of these animals has been observed, or specimens have been taken, from the coastal sage belt up to about 8500 feet in the yellow pine forests on blue ridge. the subspecies _baileyi_ occurs on the desert slope of the range. wildcats are most common in the chaparral belt where they forage widely from the ridges down into the canyons. judging from trapping records bobcats are not so common here as the gray fox. bobcats occur in the sage belt, where they are most common in the broken country around washes and in brushy areas. although bobcats and coyotes occupy the same general areas here, the habitat preferences of these animals seem to be different, with coyotes occupying the more open country. an indication of the hunting habits of bobcats is furnished by the occurrence of masses of prickly-pear thorns beneath the skin of the legs, particularly the forelegs, of three specimens trapped in the sage belt. these thorns probably were acquired while the bobcats foraged for woodrats or cottontails in the patches of prickly-pear, which are locally abundant in the sage belt. on march 12, 1951, a small subadult female bobcat, trapped at 4000 feet in san antonio canyon, was found dead in the trap and had numerous deep cuts around its head and shoulders, and severe bruises on the right shoulder. the spacing of the cuts, and the tracks around the set, indicated that while held in the trap this animal had fought with a second bobcat that had inflicted the fatal wounds. it seems unlikely that the fight was caused by a male attempting to copulate with the female held in the trap, for the female was found to be carrying an embryo. in live oak canyon, in december, 1950, tracks and bits of fur indicated that a bobcat had killed and eaten a gray squirrel. remains of cottontails were found in the stomachs of two bobcats. all six bobcats from the pacific slope had nematode worms in the pyloric end of the stomach. two females obtained on march 12 and 19, 1951, each had one embryo approximately one inch long (rump to crown). the following list gives the weight of each of the specimens from the pacific slope of the san gabriels. _specimens examined._--total, 8, distributed as follows: los angeles county: san antonio canyon, 4000 ft., 1; san antonio canyon, 3200 ft., 1; 4 mi. n claremont, 1900 ft., 2; thompson canyon, 1800 ft., 1; 3 mi. ne claremont, 1700 ft., 2; little dalton canyon, 1500 ft., 1 (pc). table 12.--weights of lynx rufus californicus from the san gabriel mountains. ===================================================================== sex and age | locality | date | weight -------------+----------------------------+----------------+--------[female] ad. |3 mi. ne claremont, 1700 ft.|january 20, 1951|18.8 lbs. -------------+----------------------------+----------------+--------[female] sad.|4 mi. n claremont, 1900 ft. |march 9, 1951 |12.5 " -------------+----------------------------+----------------+--------[male] ad. |thompson canyon, 1800 ft. |january 15, 1948|13.2 " -------------+----------------------------+----------------+--------[male] sad. |4 mi. n claremont, 1900 ft. |january 26, 1951|11.3 " -------------+----------------------------+----------------+--------[male] ad. |3 mi. ne claremont, 1700 ft.|january 27, 1951|13.8 " -------------+----------------------------+----------------+--------[male] sad. |san antonio canyon, 4000 ft.|march 12, 1951 | 7.9 " -------------+----------------------------+----------------+--------[male] sad. |san antonio canyon, 3200 ft.|march 17, 1951 |11.2 " -------------+----------------------------+----------------+--------=lynx rufus baileyi= merriam wildcat this subspecies is widely distributed on the desert slope of the range, and was recorded down to the lower edge of the juniper belt. tracks were observed on many occasions in yellow pine forest, but wildcats seemed to be commonest in the brushy parts of the pinyon-juniper association. two were trapped in small draws lined with pinyons and scrub oak, and two at the base of rocky pinyon-covered slopes. only occasionally were tracks noted in the lower part of the juniper belt. bobcats are most numerous where woodrats also reach peak abundance, suggesting that woodrats are a major food. the four specimens from the desert slope, although exhibiting a wide range of variation, are all representatives of the desert race _baileyi_. a yearling male from near the head of grandview canyon, at 5200 feet elevation, has the profuse black spotting of the subspecies _californicus_, but the general pallor dorsally is characteristic of the desert subspecies. an adult female, from 4700 feet elevation in graham canyon, shows the double mid-dorsal black line and the distinct black markings around the face characteristic of _californicus_, but is otherwise pale with reduced black patterns on the backs of the ears. the other two specimens, an adult male and a yearling female, are typical examples of _baileyi_, pale, and with reduced black markings. none of the specimens of bobcats from the coastal slope of the mountains showed characters approaching those of _baileyi_. it seems, therefore, that these two subspecies intergrade on the interior slope of the range. a yearling male weighed 12 pounds, and a yearling female weighed 10.5 pounds. an old male weighed 19.6 pounds, and an adult female weighed 15.1 pounds. remains of deer were in two of the bobcat stomachs, and one of these stomachs also contained jack rabbit remains. approximately a dozen nematodes (stomach worms) were in the stomach of one of the larger male specimens. _specimens examined._--total, 4, distributed as follows: los angeles county: mescal canyon, 4800 ft., 1; graham canyon, 4700 ft., 1; grandview canyon, 5200 ft., 2. =felis concolor californica= may mountain lion several cabin owners near the mouth of icehouse canyon reported seeing a lion in that area in 1950, and others said they saw huge cat tracks in icehouse canyon. state trapper james wolfort reported that he trapped two lions on the coastal face of the range in 1947. authentic reports indicate that mountain lions occur in remote sections on both slopes of the range, and in these areas mountain lions probably are as common as they ever were. family cervidae =odocoileus hemionus californicus= (caton) mule deer mule deer are common in chaparral areas on both slopes of the san gabriel mountains. the animals or their tracks have been observed from the coastal sagebrush flats up to about 9200 feet on mount san antonio, and on the desert slope down to the lower limit of the juniper belt. deer are plentiful in the upper chaparral belt, and large bands are often noted there in spring. these bands may form in the up-mountain migration and reoccupation of areas which were covered by winter snows. a band of fourteen was observed on march 17, 1951, one mile east of the mouth of cattle canyon, and bands of about half a dozen individuals each were often noted in march, 1951, at the base of icehouse canyon. cronemiller and bartholomew (1950) gave a good account of the mule deer in the chaparral belt of the san gabriel mountains. on blue ridge in the fall of 1951, deer were plentiful, usually being observed near patches of snowbrush and sage. they were seldom found in the coniferous forests. on november 6, 1951, while tending a line of snap traps before sunup, i startled a deer from its bed at one edge of a several-acre patch of snowbrush. in synchrony with the noise made by this deer's rising five other deer in various parts of the brush patch leaped up and made off. when bedded down in these extensive brush tracts deer are probably safe from an undetected approach, for a noiseless approach through the brush is impossible. two deer skulls from the san gabriels were examined: that of an adult male from evey canyon, and that of an adult female from the mouth of palmer canyon. using as a basis for comparison the cranial measurements for the subspecies _californicus_ and _fuliginatus_ given by cowan (1933:326), these skulls were subspecies _californicus_. in none of the cranial characteristics considered did they tend toward the southern race _fuliginatus_. a young adult male, however, which was killed by a car near cajon pass on october 2, 1951, showed pelage characteristics of _fuliginatus_. its fresh winter pelage was dark, and had the distinct black mid-dorsal line and the broad dorsal line on the tail mentioned by cowan (_ibid._) as distinguishing marks of the race _fuliginatus_. its cranial measurements were not taken. judging from this limited material the deer in the central part of the range, that is to say, in the san antonio canyon region, are of the race _californicus_, while _fuliginatus_ may penetrate the extreme eastern end of the range. deer hair and bones were often found in coyote feces from the sagebrush belt. some of these records may represent deer eaten as carrion. on february 6, 1952, tracks across a sandy channel in san antonio wash demonstrated that a deer had been closely pursued by a coyote. the deer had leaped from a cutbank onto the sand, had whirled around in several sharp turns, and had run into the adjacent brush. the tracks of a running coyote followed every twist of the deer's trail. the trail was followed into the brush where it was lost. two bobcats trapped near graham canyon on the desert slope had hair and bones of deer in their stomachs. _specimens examined_, 2: los angeles county: evey canyon, 2100 ft., 1 (pc); palmer canyon, 1900 ft., 1 (pc). family bovidae =ovis canadensis nelsoni= merriam bighorn bands of bighorn sheep occur on some of the higher and more rugged peaks of the san gabriel mountains. although i never sighted the animals themselves, i have seen abundant signs of their presence on the ridge sloping west from telegraph peak at about 9000 feet elevation. several bands reportedly range in the head of san antonio canyon, and to the south on telegraph, ontario, and cucamonga peaks. the sheep usually stay in the higher sections of the range, generally above about 7000 feet elevation. according to district ranger a. lewis some bighorns summer in the lower east fork of san gabriel canyon. the subspecific status of the bighorns in the san gabriel mountains has not been definitely determined. following grinnell (1933:211) they are here referred to _nelsoni_. if the band can be preserved without introduction of "alien" stock, the united states forest service and the california fish and game commission will have registered an achievement that will be applauded by all persons who are interested in american wildlife. literature cited benson, s. b. 1930. two new pocket mice, genus _perognathus_, from the californias. univ. california publ. zool., 32:449-454. 1949. the bat name _myotis ruddi_ silliman and von bloeker, a synonym of _myotis volans longicrus_ (true). jour. mamm., 30:48-50. borell, a. e. 1937. a new method of collecting bats. jour. mamm., 18:478-480. burghduff, a. e. 1935. black bears released in southern california. california fish and game, 21:83-84. burt, w. h. 1932. the systematic status and geographic range of the san gabriel pocket gopher (_thomomys bottae neglectus_ bailey). jour. mamm., 13:369-370. cowan, i. mc. 1933. the mule deer of southern california and northern lower california as a recognizable race. jour. mamm., 14:326-327. cronemiller, f. p., and bartholomew, p. s. 1950. the california mule deer in chaparral forests. california fish and game, 36:343-365, 7 figs. in text. errington, p. l. 1937. what is the meaning of predation? smithsonian inst., ann. rept., for 1936:243-252. grinnell, h. w. 1918. a synopsis of the bats of california. univ. california publ. zool., 17:223-404, pls. 14-24, 24 figs. in text. grinnell, j. 1908. the biota of the san bernardino mountains. univ. california publ. zool., 5:1-170, 24 pls. 1933. review of the recent mammal fauna of california. univ. california publ. zool., 40:71-234. grinnell, j., dixon, j., and linsdale, j. m. 1937. fur-bearing mammals of california.... univ. california press, 2 vols., xii + 375 pp., pls. 1-7, figs. 1-138, xiv + 377-777 pp., pls. 8-13, figs. 139-345. grinnell, j., and swarth, h. s. 1913. an account of the birds and mammals of the san jacinto area of southern california with remarks upon the behavior of geographic races on the margins of their habitats. univ. california publ. zool., 10:197-406, pls. 6-10, 3 figs. in text. hall, e. r. 1926. systematic notes on the subspecies of _bassariscus astutus_ with description of one new form from california. univ. california publ. zool., 30:39-50, pls. 2 and 3. 1946. mammals of nevada. univ. california press, berkeley, xi + 710, frontispiece, colored, 11 pls., 485 figs. in text, unnumbered silhouettes. hooper, e. t. 1938. geographical variation in woodrats of the species _neotoma fuscipes_. univ. california publ. zool., 42:213-246, pls. 7-8, 2 figs. in text. jackson, h. h. t. 1928. a taxonomic review of the american long-tailed shrews. n. amer. fauna, 51:1-238, pls. 1-13, 24 figs. in text. merriam, c. h. 1898. life zones and crop zones of the united states. u. s. dept. agr. bur. biol. surv., bull. 10:1-79, 1 map. munz, p. a., and keck, d. d. 1949. california plant communities. al aliso, 2:87-105, 4 pls. oakeshott, g. b. 1937. geology and mineral deposits of the western san gabriel mountains, los angeles county. california jour. mines and geol., 33:215-249, 1 pl., 7 figs. in text. pequegnat, w. e. 1951. the biota of the santa ana mountains. jour. entomol. and zool., 42:1-84. sanborn, c. c. 1932. the bats of the genus _eumops_. jour. mamm., 13:347-357. vaughan, t. a. 1953. unusual concentration of hoary bats. jour. mamm., 34:256. von bloeker, j. c. 1932. extensions of the ranges of pocket gophers in southern california. jour. mamm., 13:76-77. willett, g. 1944. mammals of los angeles county. los angeles county mus. sci. ser., no. 9, zool. no. 4, 26 pls. _transmitted july 20, 1954._ [illustration] 25-5184 university of kansas publications, museum of natural history institutional libraries interested in publications exchange may obtain this series by addressing the exchange librarian, university of kansas library, lawrence, kansas. copies for individuals, persons working in a particular field of study, may be obtained by addressing instead the museum of natural history, university of kansas, lawrence, kansas. there is no provision for sale or this series by the university library which meets institutional requests, or by the museum of natural history which meets the requests of individuals. however, when individuals request copies from the museum, 25 cents should be included, for each separate number that is 100 pages or more in length, for the purpose of defraying the costs of wrapping and mailing. * an asterisk designates those numbers of which the museum's supply (not the library's supply) is exhausted. numbers published to date, in this series, are as follows: vol. 1. 1. the pocket gophers (genus thomomys) of utah. by stephen d. durrant. pp. 1-82, 1 figure in text. august 15, 1946. 2. the systematic status of eumeces pluvialis cope, and noteworthy records of other amphibians and reptiles from kansas and oklahoma. by hobart m. smith. pp. 85-89. august 15, 1946. 5 3. the tadpoles of bufo cognatus say. by hobart m. smith. pp. 93-96, 1 figure in text. august 15, 1946. 4. hybridization between two species of garter snakes. by hobart m. smith. pp. 97-100. august 15, 1946. 5. selected records of reptiles and amphibians from kansas. by john breukelman and hobart m. smith. pp. 101-112. august 15, 1946. 6. kyphosis and other variations in soft-shelled turtles. by hobart m. smith. pp. 117-124, 3 figures in text. july 7, 1947. *7. natural history of the prairie vole (mammalian genus microtus). by e. w. jameson, jr. pp. 125-151, 4 figures in text. october 6, 1947. 8. the postnatal development of two broods of great horned owls (bubo virginianus). by donald f. hoffmeister and henry w. setzer. pp. 157-173, 5 figures in text. october 6, 1947. 9. additions to the list of the birds of louisiana. by george h. lowery, jr. pp. 177-192. november 7, 1947. 10. a check-list of the birds of idaho. by m. dale arvey. pp. 193-216. november 29, 1947. 11. subspeciation in pocket gophers of kansas. by bernardo villa r. and e. raymond hall. pp. 217-236, 2 figures in text. november 29, 1947. 12. a new bat (genus myotis) from mexico. by walter w. dalquest and e. raymond hall. pp. 237-244, 6 figures in text. december 10, 1947. 13. tadarida femorosacca (merriam) in tamaulipas, mexico. by walter w. dalquest and e. raymond hall. pp. 245-248, 1 figure in text. december 10, 1947. 14. a new pocket gopher (thomomys) and a new spiny pocket mouse (liomys) from michoacán, mexico. by e. raymond hall and bernardo villa r. pp. 249-256, 6 figures in text. july 26, 1948. 15. a new hylid frog from eastern mexico. by edward h. taylor. pp. 257-264, 1 figure in text. august 16, 1948. 16. a new extinct emydid turtle from the lower pliocene of oklahoma. by edwin c. galbreath. pp. 265-280, 1 plate. august 16, 1948. 17. pliocene and pleistocene records of fossil turtles from western kansas and oklahoma. by edwin c. galbreath. pp. 281-284. august 16, 1948. 18. a new species of heteromyid rodent from the middle oligocene of northeastern colorado with remarks on the skull. by edwin c. galbreath. pp. 285-300, 2 plates. august 16, 1948. 19. speciation in the brazilian spiny rats (genus proechimys, family echimyidae). by joão moojen. pp. 301-406, 140 figures in text. december 10, 1948. 20. three new beavers from utah. by stephen d. durrant and harold s. crane. pp. 407-417, 7 figures in text. december 24, 1948. 21. two new meadow mice from michoacán, mexico. by e. raymond hall. pp. 423-427, 6 figures in text. december 24, 1948. 22. an annotated check list of the mammals of michoacán, mexico. by e. raymond hall and bernardo villa r. pp. 431-472, 2 plates, 1 figure in text. december 27, 1949. 23. subspeciation in the kangaroo rat, dipodomys ordii. by henry w. setzer. pp. 473-573, 27 figures in text, 7 tables. december 27, 1949. 24. geographic range of the hooded skunk, mephitis macroura, with description of a new subspecies from mexico. by e. raymond hall and walter w. dalquest. pp. 575-580, 1 figure in text. january 20, 1950. 25. pipistrellus cinnamomeus miller 1902 referred to the genus myotis. by e. raymond hall and walter w. dalquest. pp. 581-590, 5 figures in text. january 20, 1950. 26. a synopsis of the american bats of the genus pipistrellus. by e. raymond hall and walter w. dalquest. pp. 591-602, 1 figure in text. january 20, 1950. index. pp. 605-638. *vol. 2. (complete) mammals of washington. by walter w. dalquest. pp. 1-444, 140 figures in text. april 9, 1948. vol. 3. *1. the avifauna of micronesia, its origin, evolution, and distribution. by rollin h. baker. pp. 1-359, 16 figures in text. june 12, 1951. *2. a quantitative study of the nocturnal migration of birds. by george h. lowery, jr. pp. 361-472, 47 figures in text. june 29, 1951. 3. phylogeny of the waxwings and allied birds. by m. dale arvey. pp. 473-530, 49 figures in text, 13 tables. october 10, 1951. 4. birds from the state of veracruz, mexico. by george h. lowery, jr. and walter w. dalquest. pp. 531-649, 7 figures in text, 2 tables. october 10, 1951. index. pp. 651-681. *vol. 4. (complete) american weasels. by e. raymond hall. pp. 1-466, 41 plates, 31 figures in text. december 27, 1951. vol. 5. 1. preliminary survey of a paleocene faunule from the angels peak area, new mexico. by robert w. wilson. pp. 1-11, 1 figure in text. february 24, 1951. 2. two new moles (genus scalopus) from mexico and texas. by rollin h. baker. pp. 17-24. february 28, 1951. 3. two new pocket gophers from wyoming and colorado. by e. raymond hall and h. gordon montague. pp. 25-32. february 28, 1951. 4. mammals obtained by dr. curt von wedel from the barrier beach of tamaulipas, mexico. by e. raymond hall. pp. 33-47, 1 figure in text. october 1, 1951. 5. comments on the taxonomy and geographic distribution of some north american rabbits. by e. raymond hall and keith r. kelson. pp. 49-58. october 1, 1951. 6. two new subspecies of thomomys bottae from new mexico and colorado. by keith r. kelson. pp. 59-71, 1 figure in text. october 1, 1951. 7. a new subspecies of microtus montanus from montana and comments on microtus canicandus miller. by e. raymond hall and keith r. kelson. pp. 73-79. october 1, 1951. 8. a new pocket gopher (genus thomomys) from eastern colorado. by e. raymond hall. pp. 81-85. october 1, 1951. 9. mammals taken along the alaskan highway. by rollin h. baker. pp. 87-117. 1 figure in text. november 28, 1951. *10. a synopsis of the north american lagomorpha. by e. raymond hall. pp. 119-202. 68 figures in text. december 15, 1951. 11. a new pocket mouse (genus perognathus) from kansas. by e. lendell cockrum. pp. 203-206. december 15, 1951. 12. mammals from tamaulipas, mexico. by rollin h. baker. pp. 207-218. december 15, 1951. 13. a new pocket gopher (genus thomomys) from wyoming and colorado. by e. raymond hall. pp. 219-222. december 15, 1951. 14. a new name for the mexican red bat. by e. raymond hall. pp. 223-226. december 15, 1951. 15. taxonomic notes on mexican bats of the genus rhogeëssa. by e. raymond hall. pp. 227-232. april 10, 1952. 16. comments on the taxonomy and geographic distribution of some north american woodrats (genus neotoma). by keith r. kelson. pp. 233-242. april 10, 1952. 17. the subspecies of the mexican red-bellied squirrel, sciurus aureogaster. by keith r. kelson. pp. 243-250, 1 figure in text. april 10, 1952. 18. geographic range of peromyscus melanophrys, with description of new subspecies. by rollin h. baker. pp. 251-258, 1 figure in text. may 10, 1952. 19. a new chipmunk (genus eutamias) from the black hills. by john a. white. pp. 259-262. april 10, 1952. 20. a new piñon mouse (peromyscus truei) from durango, mexico. by robert b. finley, jr. pp. 263-267. may 23, 1952. 21. an annotated checklist of nebraskan bats. by olin l. webb and j. knox jones, jr. pp. 269-279. may 31, 1952. 22. geographic variation in red-backed mice (genus clethrionomys) of the southern rocky mountain region. by e. lendell cockrum and kenneth l. fitch. pp. 281-292, 1 figure in text. november 15, 1952. 23. comments on the taxonomy and geographic distribution of north american microtines. by e. raymond hall and e. lendell cockrum. pp. 293-312. november 17, 1952. 24. the subspecific status of two central american sloths. by e. raymond hall and keith r. kelson. pp. 313-317. november 21, 1952. 25. comments on the taxonomy and geographic distribution of some north american marsupials, insectivores, and carnivores. by e. raymond hall and keith r. kelson. pp. 319-341. december 5, 1952. 26. comments on the taxonomy and geographic distribution of some north american rodents. by e. raymond hall and keith r. kelson. pp. 343-371. december 15, 1952. 27. a synopsis of the north american microtine rodents. by e. raymond hall and e. lendell cockrum. pp. 373-498, 149 figures in text. january 15, 1953. 28. the pocket gophers (genus thomomys) of coahuila, mexico. by rollin h. baker. pp. 499-514, 1 figure in text. june 1, 1953. 29. geographic distribution of the pocket mouse, perognathus fasciatus. by j. knox jones, jr. pp. 515-526, 7 figures in text. august 1, 1953. 30. a new subspecies of wood rat (neotoma mexicana) from colorado. by robert b. finley, jr. pp. 527-534, 2 figures in text. august 15, 1953. 31. four new pocket gophers of the genus cratogeomys from jalisco, mexico. by robert j. russell. pp. 535-542. october 15, 1953. 32. genera and subgenera of chipmunks. by john a. white. pp. 543-561, 12 figures in text. december 1, 1953. 33. taxonomy of the chipmunks, eutamias quadrivittatus and eutamias umbrinus. by john a. white. pp. 563-582, 6 figures in text. december 1, 1953. 34. geographic distribution and taxonomy of the chipmunks of wyoming. by john a. white. pp. 584-610, 3 figures in text. december 1, 1953. 35. the baculum of the chipmunks of western north america. by john a. white. pp. 611-631, 19 figures in text. december 1, 1953. 36. pleistocene soricidae from san josecito cave, nuevo leon, mexico. by james s. findley. pp. 633-639. december 1, 1953. 37. seventeen species of bats recorded from barro colorado island, panama canal zone. by e. raymond hall and william b. jackson. pp. 641-646. december 1, 1953. index. pp. 647-676. *vol. 6. (complete) mammals of utah, _taxonomy and distribution_. by stephen d. durrant. pp. 1-549, 91 figures in text, 30 tables. august 10, 1952. vol. 7. *1. mammals of kansas. by e. lendell cockrum. pp. 1-303, 73 figures in text, 37 tables. august 25, 1952. 2. ecology of the opossum on a natural area in northeastern kansas. by henry s. fitch and lewis l. sandidge. pp. 305-338, 5 figures in text. august 24, 1953. 3. the silky pocket mice (perognathus flavus) of mexico. by rollin h. baker. pp. 339-347, 1 figure in text. february 15, 1954. 4. north american jumping mice (genus zapus). by philip h. krutzsch. pp. 349-472, 47 figures in text, 4 tables. april 21, 1954. 5. mammals from southeastern alaska. by rollin h. baker and james s. findley. pp. 473-477. april 21, 1954. 6. distribution of some nebraskan mammals. by j. knox jones, jr. pp. 479-487. april 21, 1954. 7. subspeciation in the montane meadow mouse, microtus montanus, in wyoming and colorado. by sydney anderson. pp. 489-506, 2 figures in text. july 23, 1954. 8. a new subspecies of bat (myotis velifer) from southeastern california and arizona. by terry a. vaughn. pp. 507-512. july 23, 1954. 9. mammals of the san gabriel mountains of california. by terry a. vaughn. pp. 513-582, 4 pls., 1 fig., 12 tables. november 15, 1954. more numbers will appear in volume 7. vol. 8. 1. life history and ecology of the five-lined skink, eumeces fasciatus. by henry s. fitch. pp. 1-156, 2 pls., 26 figs. in text, 17 tables. september 1, 1954. more numbers will appear in volume 8. note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see 15526-h.htm or 15526-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/5/5/2/15526/15526-h/15526-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/5/5/2/15526/15526-h.zip) john l. stoddard's lectures, volume 10 (of 10) southern california grand cañon of the colorado river yellowstone national park illustrated and embellished with views of the world's famous places and people, being the identical discourses delivered during the past eighteen years under the title of the stoddard lectures boston balch brothers co. norwood press j. s. gushing & co.--berwick & smith norwood, mass., u.s.a. macdonald & sons, bookbinders, boston mcm southern california [illustration] nature has carefully guarded southern california. ten thousand miles of ocean roll between her western boundary and the nearest continent; while eastward, her divinity is hedged by dreary deserts that forbid approach. although the arid plains of eastern arizona are frequently called deserts, it is not till the west-bound tourist has passed flagstaff that the word acquires a real and terrible significance. then, during almost an entire day he journeys through a region which, while it fascinates, inspires him with dread. occasionally a flock of goats suggests the possibility of sustaining life here, but sometimes for a distance of fifty miles he may see neither man nor beast. the villages, if such they can be called, are merely clusters of rude huts dotting an area of rocky desolation. no trees are visible. no grazing-ground relieves the dismal monochrome of sand. the mountains stand forth dreary, gaunt, and naked. in one locality the train runs through a series of gorges the sides of which are covered with disintegrated rock, heaped up in infinite confusion, as if an awful ague-fit had seized the hills, and shaken them until their ledges had been broken into a million boulders. at another point, emerging from a maze of mountains, the locomotive shoots into a plain, forty or fifty miles square, and sentineled on every side by savage peaks. once, doubtless, an enormous lake was held encompassed by these giants; but, taking advantage of some seismic agitation, it finally slipped through their fingers to the sea, and now men travel over its deserted bed. sometimes these monsters seemed to be closing in upon us, as if to thwart our exit and crush us in their stony arms; but the resistless steed that bore us onward, though quivering and panting with the effort, always contrived to find the narrow opening toward liberty. occasionally our route lay through enormous fields of cactus and yucca trees, twelve feet in height, and, usually, so hideous from their distorted shapes and prickly spikes, that i could understand the proverb, "even the devil cannot eat a cactus." [illustration: life on the desert.] [illustration: the desert's mountains.] [illustration: desert vegetation.] as the day wore on, and we were drawn from one scene of desolation to another, i almost doubted, like bunyan's pilgrim, whether we should ever reach the promised land alive; but, finally, through a last upheaval of defiant hills which were, if possible, more desolate and weird than any we had seen, we gained the boundary of california and gazed upon the colorado river. it is a stream whose history thrilled me as i remembered how in its long and tortuous course of more than a thousand miles to this point it had laboriously cut its way through countless desert cañons, and i felt glad to see it here at last, sweeping along in tranquil majesty as if aware that all its struggles were now ended, and peace and victory had been secured. it was sunset when our train, having crossed this river, ran along its western bank to our first stopping-place in california,--the needles. never shall i forget the impression made upon me as i looked back toward the wilderness from which we had emerged. what! was that it--that vision of transfiguration--that illumined zion radiant with splendor? across the river, lighted by the evening's after-glow of fire, rose a celestial city, with towers, spires, and battlements glittering as if sheathed in burnished gold. sunshine and distance had dispelled all traces of the region's barrenness, and for a few memorable moments, while we watched it breathlessly, its sparkling bastions seemed to beckon us alluringly to its magnificence; then, fading like an exquisite mirage created by the genii of the desert, it swiftly sank into the desolation from which the sun had summoned it, to crown it briefly with supernal glory. turning at last from its cold immobility to the activity around us, i saw some representatives of the fallen race of california, as indian bucks and squaws came from their squalid hovels to sell the trifling products of their industry, and stare at what to them is a perpetual miracle,--the passing train. five races met upon that railroad platform, and together illustrated the history of the country. first, in respect to time, was the poor indian, slovenly, painted and degraded, yet characterized by a kind of bovine melancholy on the faces of the men, and a trace of animal beauty in the forms of the young squaws. teasing and jesting with the latter were the negro porters of the train, who, though their ancestors were as little civilized as those of the indians, have risen to a level only to be appreciated by comparing the african and the indian side by side. there, also, was the mexican, the lord of all this region in his earlier and better days, but now a penniless degenerate of old castile. among them stood the masterful anglo-saxon, whose energy has pushed aside the spaniard, civilized the negro, developed half a continent, built this amazing path of steel through fifteen hundred miles of desert, and who is king where-ever he goes. while i surveyed these specimens of humanity and compared them, one with another, there suddenly appeared among them a fifth figure,--that of sing lee, formerly a subject of the oldest government on earth, and still a representative of the four hundred millions swarming in the flowery kingdom. strangely enough, of all these different racial types, the mongol seemed the most self-satisfied. the yankee was continually bustling about, feeding passengers, transporting trunks, or hammering car-wheels; the negroes were joking with the indians, who appeared stolidly apathetic or resigned; the mexicans stood apart in sullen gloom, as if secretly mourning their lost estate; but sing lee looked about him with a cheerful calmness which seemed indicative of absolute contentment and his face wore, continually, a complacent smile. what strange varieties of human destiny these men present, i thought as i surveyed them: the indian and the mexican stand for the hopeless past; the anglo-saxon and the negro for the active present; while sing lee is a specimen of that yellow race which is embalmed in its own conservatism, like a fly in amber. [illustration: looking back at the mountains.] [illustration: a california ranch scene.] [illustration: indian huts.] [illustration: "a fallen race."] [illustration: a mexican house and family.] [illustration: the blossoming wilderness.] [illustration: complacent mongols.] [illustration: characteristic scenery.] the unsuspecting traveler who has crossed the colorado river and entered southern california, naturally looks around him for the orange groves of which he has so often heard, and is astonished not to find himself surrounded by them; but, gradually, the truth is forced upon his mind that, in this section of our country, he must not base his calculations upon eastern distances, or eastern areas. for, even after he has passed the wilderness of arizona and the california frontier, he discovers that the eldorado of his dreams lies on the other side of a desert, two hundred miles in breadth, beyond whose desolate expanse the siren of the sunset sea still beckons him and whispers: "this is the final barrier; cross it, and i am yours." the transit is not difficult, however, in days like these; for the whole distance from chicago to the coast can be accomplished in seventy-two hours, and where the transcontinental traveler of less than half a century ago was threatened day and night with attacks from murderous apaches, and ran the risk of perishing of thirst in many a waterless "valley of death," the modern tourist sleeps securely in a pullman car, is waited on by a colored servant, and dines in railway restaurants the management of which, both in the quality and quantity of the food supplied, even in the heart of the great american desert, is justly famous for its excellence. at san bernardino, we enter what is called the garden of southern california; but even here it is possible to be disappointed, if we expect to find the entire country an unbroken paradise of orange trees and roses. thousands of oranges and lemons, it is true, suspend their miniature globes of gold against the sky; but interspersed between their groves are wastes of sand, reminding us that all the fertile portion of this region has been as truly wrested from the wilderness, as holland from the sea. accordingly, since san bernardino county alone is twice as large as massachusetts, and the county of los angeles nearly the size of connecticut, it is not difficult to understand why a continuous expanse of verdure is not seen. the truth is, southern california, with a few exceptions, is cultivated only where man has brought to it vivifying water. when that appears, life springs up from sterility, as water gushed forth from the rock in the arabian desert when the great leader of the israelites smote it in obedience to divine command. hence, there is always present here the fascination of the unattained, which yet is readily attainable, patiently waiting for the master-hand that shall unlock the sand-roofed treasure-houses of fertility with a crystal key. it can be easily imagined, therefore, that this is a land of striking contrasts. pass, for example, through the suburbs of los angeles, and you will find that, while one yard is dry and bare, the next may be embellished with a palm tree twenty feet in height, with roses clambering over the portico of the house, and lilies blooming in the garden. of the three things essential to vegetation--soil, sun, and water--man must contribute (and it is all he can contribute) water. [illustration: striking contrasts.] [illustration: wrested from the sand.] [illustration: a palm-girt avenue, los angeles.] once let the tourist here appreciate the fact that almost all the verdure which delights his eyes is the gift of water at the hand of man, and any disappointment he may have at first experienced will be changed to admiration. moreover, with the least encouragement this country bursts forth into verdure, crowns its responsive soil with fertility, and smiles with bloom. even the slightest tract of herbage, however brown it may be in the dry season, will in the springtime clothe itself with green, and decorate its emerald robe with spangled flowers. in fact, the wonderful profusion of wild flowers, which, when the winter rains have saturated the ground, transform these hillsides into floral terraces, can never be too highly praised. happy is he who visits either palestine or southern california when they are bright with blossoms and redolent of fragrance. the climax of this renaissance of nature is, usually, reached about the middle of april, but in proportion as the rain comes earlier or later, the season varies slightly. at a time when many cities of the north and east are held in the tenacious grip of winter, their gray skies thick with soot, their pavements deep in slush, and their inhabitants clad in furs, the cities of southern california celebrate their floral carnival, which is a time of great rejoicing, attended with an almost fabulous display of flowers. los angeles, for example, has expended as much as twenty-five thousand dollars on the details of one such festival. the entire city is then gay with flags and banners, and in the long procession horses, carriages, and riders are so profusely decked with flowers, that they resemble a slowly moving throng of animated bouquets. ten thousand choice roses have been at such times fastened to the wheels, body, pole, and harness of a single equipage. sometimes the individual exhibitions in these floral pageants take the form of floats, which represent all sorts of myths and allegories, portrayed elaborately by means of statues, as well as living beings, lavishly adorned with ornamental grasses, and wild and cultivated flowers. southern california is not only a locality, it is a type. it cannot be defined by merely mentioning parallels of latitude. we think of it and love it as the dreamland of the spanish missions, and as a region rescued from aridity, and made a home for the invalid and the winter tourist. los angeles is really its metropolis, but san diego, pasadena, and santa barbara are prosperous and progressive cities whose population increases only less rapidly than their ambition. [illustration: an arbor in winter.] [illustration: main street, los angeles.] one of the first things for an eastern visitor to do, on arriving at los angeles, is to take the soft sound of _g_ out of the city's name, and to remember that the spaniards and mexicans pronounce _e_ like the english _a_ in fate. this is not absolutely necessary for entrance into good society, but the pronunciation "angeelees" is tabooed. the first anglo-saxon to arrive here was brought by the mexicans, in 1822, as a prisoner. soon after, however, americans appeared in constantly increasing numbers, and, on august 13, 1846, major fremont raised at los angeles the stars and stripes, and the house that he occupied may still be seen. nevertheless, the importance of los angeles is of recent date. in 1885 it was an adobe village, dedicated to the queen of the angels; to-day, a city of brick and stone, with more than fifty thousand inhabitants, it calls itself the queen of the state. its streets are broad, many of its buildings are massive and imposing, and its fine residences beautiful. it is the capital of southern california, and the headquarters of its fruit-culture. the plains and valleys surrounding it are one mass of vineyards, orange groves and orchards, and, in 1891, the value of oranges alone exported from this city amounted to one and a quarter millions of dollars. it must be said, however, that there is less verdure here than in well-cared-for eastern towns of corresponding size, and that los angeles, and even pasadena, notwithstanding their many palm trees, have on the whole a bare appearance, compared with a city like new haven, with its majestic elms and robe of vivid green, which even in autumn seems to dream of summer bloom. nevertheless, los angeles is clean, and poverty and squalor rarely show themselves; while, in the suburbs of the city, even the humblest dwellings are frequently surrounded by palm trees, and made beautiful by flowers. [illustration: fremont's headquarters.] [illustration: palatial residences in los angeles.] [illustration: los angeles.] another charm of los angeles is the sudden contrasts it presents. thus, a ride of three minutes from his hotel will bring the tourist to the remains of the humble mexican village which was the forerunner of the present city. there he will find the inevitable plaza with its little park and fountain, without which no mexican town is complete. there, too, is the characteristic adobe church, the quaint interior of which presents a curious medley of old weather-beaten statues and modern furniture, and is always pervaded by that smell peculiar to long-inhabited adobe buildings, and which is called by steele, in his charming "old california days," the national odor of mexico. los angeles, also, has its chinatown, which in its manners and customs is, fortunately, as distinct from the american portion of the city as if it were an island in the pacific; but it gave me an odd sensation to be able to pass at once from the handsome, active settlement of the anglo-saxon into the stupidity of mexico, or the heathenism of china. [illustration: plaza and adobe church, los angeles.] [illustration: broadway, los angeles.] "how can i distinguish here a native californian from an eastern man?" i asked a resident. "there are no native californians," was the somewhat exaggerated reply; "this is not only a modern, but an eastern city. nine-tenths of our inhabitants came here from the east less than fifteen years ago, many of them less than five. we are an old people with a new home." ostrich rearing is now a profitable industry of california, and farms have been established for this purpose at half a dozen points in the southern section of the state. two of them are in the vicinity of los angeles, and well repay a visit; for, if one is unacquainted with the habits of these graceful birds, there is instruction as well as amusement in studying their appearance, character, and mode of life. my first view of the feathered bipeds was strikingly spectacular. as every one knows, the ostrich is decidedly _décolleté_ as well as utterly indifferent to the covering of its legs. accordingly a troop of them, as they came balancing and tiptoeing toward me, reminded me of a company of ballet dancers tripping down the stage. while the head of the ostrich is unusually small, its eyes are large and have an expression of mischief which gives warning of danger. during a visit to one of the farms, i saw a male bird pluck two hats from unwary men, and it looked wicked enough to have taken their heads as well, had they not been more securely fastened. it is sometimes sarcastically asserted that the ostrich digests with satisfaction to itself such articles as gimlets, nails, and penknives; but this is a slander. it needs gravel, like all creatures of its class which have to grind their food in an interior grist-mill; but though it will usually bite at any bright object, it will not always swallow it. i saw one peck at a ribbon on a lady's hat, and, also, at a pair of shears in its keeper's hands, but this was no proof that it intended to devour either. on another occasion, an ostrich snatched a purse from a lady's hand and instantly dropped it; but when a gold piece fell from it, the bird immediately swallowed that, showing how easily even animals fall under the influence of californian lust for gold. [illustration: an ostrich farm.] [illustration: orange grove avenue, pasadena.] sixteen miles from los angeles, yet owing to the clear atmosphere, apparently, rising almost at the terminus of the city's streets, stand the sierra madre mountains, whose copious reservoirs furnish this entire region with water. an excursion toward this noble range brought me one day to pasadena, the pride of all the towns which, relatively to los angeles, resemble the satellites of a central sun. pasadena seems a garden without a weed; a city without a hovel; a laughing, happy, prosperous, charming town, basking forever in the sunshine, and lying at the feet of still, white mountain peaks, whose cool breath moderates the semi-tropical heat of one of the most exquisitely beautiful valleys in the world. these mountains, although sombre and severe, are not so awful and forbidding as those of the arizona desert, but they are notched and jagged, as their name _sierra_ indicates, and scars and gashes on their surfaces give proof of the terrific battles which they have waged for ages with the elements. a striking feature of their scenery is that they rise so abruptly from the san gabriel valley, that from pasadena one can look directly to their bases, and even ride to them in a trolley car; and the peculiar situation of the city is evidenced by the fact that, in midwinter, its residents, while picking oranges and roses in their gardens, often see snow-squalls raging on the neighboring peaks of the sierra. [illustration: three miles from oranges to snow.] it would be difficult to overpraise the charm of pasadena and its environs. twenty-five years ago the site of the present city was a sheep-pasture. to-day it boasts of a population of ten thousand souls, seventy-five miles of well-paved streets, numerous handsome public buildings, and hundreds of attractive homes embellished by well-kept grounds. one of its streets is lined for a mile with specimens of the fan palm, fifteen feet in height; and i realized the prodigality of nature here when my guide pointed out a heliotrope sixteen feet in height, covering the whole porch of a house; while, in driving through a private estate, i saw, in close proximity, sago and date palms, and lemon, orange, camphor, pepper, pomegranate, fig, quince, and walnut trees. [illustration: a pasadena hotel.] [illustration: a pasadena residence.] [illustration: pasadena.] as we stood spellbound on the summit of pasadena's famous raymond hill, below us lay the charming town, wrapped in the calm repose that distance always gives even to scenes of great activity; beyond this stretched away along the valley such an enchanting vista of green fields and golden flowers, and pretty houses nestling in foliage, and orchards bending 'neath their luscious fruits, that it appeared a veritable paradise; and the effect of light and color, the combination of perfect sunshine and well-tempered heat, the view in one direction of the ocean twenty miles away, and, in the other, of the range of the sierra madre only seven miles distant, with the san gabriel valley sleeping at its base, produced a picture so divinely beautiful, that we were moved to smiles or tears with the unreasoning rapture of a child over these lavish gifts of nature. yet this same nature has imposed an inexorable condition on the recipients of her bounty; for most of this luxuriance is dependent upon irrigation. "the palm," said my informant, "will grow with little moisture here, and so will barley and the grape-vine; but everything else needs water, which must be artificially supplied." "how do you obtain it?" i asked. "we buy the requisite amount of water with our land," was the reply. "do you see that little pipe," he added, pointing to an orange grove, "and do you notice the furrows between the trees? once in so often the water must be turned on there; and, as the land is sloping, the precious liquid gradually fills the trenches and finds its way to the roots of the trees." [illustration: a raisin ranch.] dealers in california wines declare that people ought to use them in preference to the imported vintage of europe, and the warehouses they have built prove the sincerity of their conviction. one storehouse in the san gabriel valley is as large as the city hall of new york, and contains wooden receptacles for wine rivaling in size the great tun of heidelberg. we walked between its endless rows of hogsheads, filled with wine; and, finally, in the sample-room were invited to try in turn the claret, burgundy, sherry, port, and brandy. [illustration: an orange grove, pasadena.] [illustration: a california vineyard.] "how much wine do you make?" i asked the gentleman in charge. "in one year," was the reply, "we made a million gallons." i thought of the los angeles river which i had crossed that morning, and of its sandy bed one hundred feet in width, with a current in the centre hardly larger than the stream from a hose-pipe, and remarked, "surely, in some portions of this land there is more wine than water." "where do you sell it?" i presently inquired. "everywhere," was the answer, "even in france; and what goes over there you subsequently buy, at double the price, for real french wine." [illustration: at the base of the mountains.] it was the old story, and i doubt not there is truth in it; but the products of california vineyards, owing, possibly, to the very richness of the soil, do not seem to me to possess a flavor equal in delicacy to that of the best imported wines. this will, however, be remedied in time, and in the comparatively near future this may become the great wine-market of the world. certainly no state in the union has a climate better adapted to vine-growing, and there are now within its borders no less than sixty million vines, which yield grapes and raisins of the finest quality. no visit to pasadena would be complete without an excursion to the neighboring mountains, which not only furnish the inhabitants with water, but, also, contribute greatly to their happiness and recreation. for, having at last awakened to the fact that comfort and delight awaited them in the recesses and upon the summits of their giant hills, the californians have built fine roads along the mountain sides, established camping-grounds and hostelries at several attractive points, and, finally, constructed a remarkable elevated railroad, by which the people of los angeles can, in three hours, reach the crest of the sierra madre, six thousand feet above the sea. soon after leaving pasadena, a trolley takes the tourist with great rapidity straight toward the mountain wall, which, though presenting at a distance the appearance of an unbroken rampart, disintegrates as he approaches it into separate peaks; so that the crevices, which look from pasadena like mere wrinkles on the faces of these granite giants, prove upon close inspection to be cañons of considerable depth. i was surprised and charmed to see the amount of cultivation which is carried to the very bases of these cliffs. orchards and orange groves approach the monsters fearlessly, and shyly drop golden fruit, or fragrant blossoms at their feet; while lovely homes are situated where the traveler would expect to find nothing but desolate crags and savage wildness. the truth is, the inhabitants have come to trust these mountains, as gentle animals sometimes learn by experience to approach man fearlessly; and, seeing what the snow-capped peaks can do for them in tempering the summer heat and furnishing them water from unfailing reservoirs, men have discerned behind their stern severity the smile of friendship and benevolence, and have perceived that these sublime dispensers of the gifts of nature are in reality beneficent deities,--their feet upon the land which they make fertile, their hands uplifted to receive from the celestial treasure-house the blessings they in turn give freely to the grateful earth. [illustration: looking down on the san gabriel valley.] [illustration: the alpine tavern.] [illustration: the great incline.] to reach their serrated crests the trolley car, already mentioned, conveys us through a wild gorge known as rubio cañon, and leaves us at the foot of an elevated cable-road to ascend mount lowe. even those familiar with the mount washington and catskill railways, or who have ascended in a similar manner to mürren from the vale of lauterbrunnen, or to the summit of mount pilate from lucerne, look with some trepidation at this incline, the steepest part of which has a slope of sixty-two degrees, and, audaciously, stretches into the air to a point three thousand feet above our heads. once safely out of the cable car, however, at the upper terminus, we smile, and think the worst is over. it is true, we see awaiting us another innocent looking electric car by which we are to go still higher; but we are confident that nothing very terrible can be experienced in a trolley. this confidence is quickly shattered. i doubt if there is anything in the world more "hair lifting" than the road over which that car conveys its startled occupants. its very simplicity makes it the more horrifying; for, since the vehicle is light, no massive supports are deemed essential; and, as the car is open, the passengers seem to be traveling in a flying machine. i never realized what it was to be a bird, till i was lightly swung around a curve beneath which yawned a precipice twenty-five hundred feet in depth, or crossed a chasm by a bridge which looked in the distance like a thread of gossamer, or saw that i was riding on a scaffolding, built out from the mountain into space. for five appalling miles of alternating happiness and horror, ecstasy and dread, we twisted round the well-nigh perpendicular cliffs, until, at last the agony over, we walked into the mountain tavern near the summit, and, seating ourselves before an open fire blazing in the hall, requested some restorative nerve-food. yet this aërial inn is only one hundred and eighty minutes from los angeles; and it is said that men have snow-balled one another at this tavern, picked oranges at the base of the mountain, and bathed in the bay of santa monica, thirty miles distant, all in a single afternoon. it certainly is possible to do this, but it should be remembered that stories are almost the only things in california which do not need irrigation to grow luxuriantly. i was told that although this mountain railway earns its running expenses it pays no interest on its enormous cost. this can readily be believed; and one marvels, not only that it was ever built, but that it was not necessary to go to a lunatic asylum for the first passenger. nevertheless, it is a wonderfully daring experiment, and accomplishes perfectly what it was designed to do; while in proportion as one's nervousness wears away, the experience is delightful. [illustration: the circular bridge.] [illustration: imitating a bird.] [illustration: swinging round a curve.] [illustration: the innocent trolley.] living proofs of the progress made in california are the patient burros, which, previous to the construction of this railroad, formed the principal means of transportation up mount lowe. why has the donkey never found a eulogist? the horse is universally admired. the arab poet sings of the beauties of his camel. the bull, the cow, the dog, and even the cat have all been praised in prose or verse; but the poor donkey still remains an ass, the butt of ridicule, the symbol of stupidity, the object of abuse. yet if there be another and a better world for animals, and if in that sphere patience ranks as a cardinal virtue, the ass will have a better pasture-ground than many of its rivals. the donkey's small size is against it. most people are cruel toward dumb beasts, and only when animals have power to defend themselves, does caution make man kinder. he hesitates to hurt an elephant, and even respects, to some extent, the rear extremities of a mule; but the donkey corresponds to the small boy in a crowd of brutal playmates. it is difficult to see how these useful animals could be replaced in certain countries of the world. purchased cheaply, reared inexpensively, living on thistles if they get nothing better, and bearing heavy burdens till they drop from exhaustion, these little beasts are of incalculable value to the laboring classes of southern europe, egypt, mexico, and similar lands. if they have failed to win affection, it is, perhaps, because of their one infirmity,--their fearful vocal tones, which in america have won for them the sarcastic title of "rocky mountain canaries." [illustration: midwinter in california.] [illustration: a californian burro.] [illustration: romeo and juliet.] westward from los angeles stretches the famous "kite-shaped" track which takes the traveler through the most celebrated orange and lemon districts of the state. starting upon this memorable excursion, our route lay through the world-renowned san gabriel valley, a glorious expanse ten miles in width and seventy in length, steeped in sunshine, brilliant with every shade of yellow, emerald, and brown, and here and there enriched by spots of brighter color where beds of wild flowers swung their sweet bells noiselessly, or the light green of orange trees, with mounds of golden fruit heaped in profusion on the ground, relieved the sombre groves of eucalyptus whose foliage was so dark as to be nearly black. occasionally, however, our train traversed a parched area which illustrated how the cloven-foot of the adversary always shows itself in spots unhallowed by the benison of water. in winter and spring, these sterile points would not be so conspicuous, but on that summer day, in spite of the closed windows, dust sometimes filled the cars, and for a little while san gabriel valley was a paradise lost. for seventy miles contrasts of hot sand and verdant orchards, arid wastes and smiling valley, followed one another in quick succession,--and down upon it all frowned the long wall of the sierra madre. [illustration: san gabriel valley.] [illustration: gathering poppies at the base of the sierra madre.] it is a wonderful experience to ride for such a distance in a perfectly level valley, and see an uninterrupted range of mountains, eight thousand feet in height, rising abruptly from the plain like the long battle-line of an invading army. what adds to its impressiveness is the fact that these peaks are, for the entire country which they dominate, the arbiters of life and death. beyond them, on one side, the desert stretches eastward for a thousand miles; upon the other, toward the ocean, whose moisture they receive and faithfully distribute, extends this valley of delight. the height of the huge granite wall is generally uniform, save where, like towers on the mighty rampart, old san antonio and the san bernardino brothers lift their hoary heads two miles above the sea,--their silvery crowns and dazzling features standing out in the crystalline clearness of the atmosphere as if they had been carved in high relief. [illustration: an adobe house.] [illustration: a pasadena lemon tree.] we sped along, with feelings alternating between elation and dejection, as the scenery was beautiful or barren, till, suddenly, some sixty miles from los angeles, our train drew up before a city, containing asphalt pavements, buildings made of brick, and streets embowered in palms. this city which, in 1872, was a sheep-ranch, yet whose assessed valuation, in 1892, was more than four million dollars, is called riverside; but, save in the rainy season, one looks in vain for the stream from which it takes its name. the river has retired, as so many western rivers do, to wander in obscurity six feet below the sand. "a providential thing," said a wag to me, "for, in such heat as this, if the water rose to the surface it would all evaporate." the sun was, indeed, ardent as we walked through the town, and we were impressed by the fact that the dwellings most appropriate for this region are those which its first settlers seem to have instinctively adopted; for the white, one-storied adobe house, refreshing to the eye, cool in the heat, warm in the cold, caressed by clinging vines and overhung with trees, is surely the ideal residence for southern california. such buildings can, of course, be greatly varied and embellished by wealthy owners; but modern houses of red brick, fanciful "queen annes," and imitations of castles, seem less suited to this land of sun and sand, where nothing is so much to be desired as repose in form and color. i always welcomed, therefore, genuine southern dwellings and, in the place of asphalt pavements, natural roadways domed by arching trees. [illustration: a house modeled after the old mexican fashion.] [illustration: the ideal home.] the pride of riverside is its far-famed magnolia avenue, fifteen miles in length, with two broad driveways lined with pepper and eucalyptus trees. beyond these also are palm-girt sidewalks twenty feet in breadth; while, here and there, reflecting california's golden sunshine from their glistening leaves, stand groups of the magnificent magnolias which give the avenue its name. "why did you make this splendid promenade?" i asked in mingled curiosity and admiration. "it is one of our ways of booming things," was the reply; "out of the hundreds of people who come to see it, some stay, build houses, and go into business. without it they might never have come at all." "was not the cost of laying it out enormous?" i inquired. "not so great as you would naturally suppose," was the answer, "for after this country has once been irrigated, whatever is planted on watered land will grow like interest, day and night, summer and winter." [illustration: magnolia avenue, riverside.] [illustration: a magnolia blossom.] riverside's fortunes were made in orange culture, and there was a time when every one who planted orange trees was prosperous; but now, under inevitable competition, this enterprise is rivaled in value by other large industries, particularly the cultivation of lemons and olives. thousands of acres of olive orchards are now flourishing in southern california, and are considered a sure and profitable investment. another celebrated "orange city" is redlands, where the visitor ceases to wonder at nature, and devotes himself to marveling at man. how can he do otherwise when, in a place that was a wilderness ten years ago, he drives for twenty miles over well-curbed roads, sixty feet wide and as hard as asphalt, or strolls through handsome streets adorned with palms and orange trees, and frequently embellished with residences worthy of newport? no doubt it is a surprise to many tourists to find such elegant homes in these cities which were born but yesterday; for americans in the east, though far from conservative themselves, do not, as a rule, appreciate the wonderful growth of these towns which but a few years since had no existence. occasionally some neighbor goes out to the pacific coast, and tells his friends on his return what he has seen; but it makes little impression until they go themselves. they think he is exaggerating. "would you like to see a converted mountain?" inquired my guide. "what do you mean?" i asked incredulously. "you will see," he replied, "and in ten minutes we shall be there." [illustration: part of the "converted mountain," redlands.] accordingly, up we drove over magnificent, finely graded roads, till we arrived at what appeared to be a gentleman's private park. the park, however, seemed to have no limit, and we rode on through a bewildering extent of cemented stone walls, umbrageous trees, luxuriant flowers, trailing vines, and waving palms. at last we reached the summit, and what a view unrolled itself before us! directly opposite, the awful wall of the sierra swept up to meet our vision in all its majesty of granite glory, like an immense, white-crested wave, one hundred miles in length, which had by some mysterious force been instantaneously curbed and petrified, just as it was about to break and overwhelm the valley with destruction. beneath it, for seventy miles in exquisitely blended hues, stretched the wonderful san gabriel intervale, ideal in its tranquil loveliness. oh, the splendor, opulence, and sweetness of its countless flowers, whose scarlet, gold, and crimson glowed and melted into the richest sheen of velvet, and rendered miles of pure air redolent with perfume, as grapes impart their flavor to good wine! in gazing on this valley from a distance one would fain believe it to be in reality, as in appearance, an idyllic garden of arcadian innocence and happiness, and, forgetting the disillusions of maturer years, dream that all human hearts are as transparent as its atmosphere, and that all life is no less sweet and pure. [illustration: a driveway in redlands.] but, presently, i asked again, "what do you mean by a _converted_ mountain?" "eight years ago," was the reply, "this elevation on which we stand was a heap of yellow sand, like many unconverted mountains that we see about us; now it has been transformed into a dozen miles of finished roads and extensive gardens enclosing two fine residences." "pardon me," i exclaimed, "here are trees thirty feet high." "all grown in eight years," he answered. "still," i again protested, "here are stone walls, and curbed and graded roads." "all made in eight years," he reiterated. "but, in addition to this mountain, how about the twenty miles of orange groves surrounding it, the thirty thousand dollar public library of redlands, and its miles of asphalt streets?" "all in eight years," he said again, as if, like poe's raven, he had been taught one refrain. [illustration: the sierra madre and the san gabriel valley.] [illustration: a few "unconverted mountains," near redlands.] in fact, it should be said that this entire mountain was purchased by two wealthy brothers who now come every winter from the east to this incomparable hill, the whole of which has been, as if by magic, metamorphosed into an estate, where visitors are allowed to find instruction and delight upon its lofty terraces of forest and of flowers. is it strange, then, that such sudden transformations of sterile plains and mountains into bits of paradise make tourists in southern california wildly enthusiastic? they actually see fulfilled before their eyes the prophecy of isaiah, "the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose." the explanation is, however, simple. the land is really rich. the ingredients are already here. instead of being worthless, as was once supposed, this is a precious soil. the aladdin's wand that unlocks all its treasures is the irrigating ditch; its "open sesame" is water; and the divinity who, at the call of man, bestows the priceless gift, is the madre of the sierras. a roman conqueror once said that he had but to stamp upon the earth and legions would spring up to do his bidding. so capital has stamped upon this sandy wilderness, and in a single generation a civilized community has leaped into astonished life. yet do we realize the immense amount of labor necessitated by such irrigation? this mountain, for example, is covered with water pipes, as electric wires are carried through our houses. every few rods a pipe with a faucet rises from the ground; and as there are miles of roads and hundreds of cultivated acres, it can with difficulty be imagined how many of these pipes have been laid, and how innumerable are the little ditches, through which the water is made to flow. should man relax his diligence for a single year, the region would relapse into sterility; but, on the other hand, what a land is this for those who have the skill and industry to call forth all its capabilities! what powers of productiveness may still be sleeping underneath its soil, awaiting but the kiss of water and the touch of man to waken them to life! beside its hidden rivers what future cities may spring forth to joyous being; and what new, undiscovered chemistry may not this mingling of mountain, sun, and ocean yet evolve to prove a permanent blessing to mankind! [illustration: grounds of the smiley brothers on the "converted mountain."] [illustration: irrigating ditches.] one hundred and twenty-six miles southwest of los angeles, one could imagine that he had reached the limit of the civilized world: eastward, the desert stretches far away to the bases of the san jacinto mountains; westward, thousands of miles of ocean billows shoulder one another toward the setting sun; southward, extends that barren, almost unknown strip of earth, the peninsula of lower california; yet in this _cul-de-sac_, this corner between mountain, desert, and sea, rises a charming and inspiring picture,--san diego. [illustration: san diego.] the beautiful harbor of this city is almost closed, on one side, by a bold majestic promontory called point loma; and on the other, by a natural breakwater, in the form of a crescent, twelve miles long, upon the outer rim of which the ocean beats a ceaseless monody. at one extremity of this silver strand, directly opposite point loma and close to the rhythmic surf, stands the hotel coronado; its west front facing the pacific, its east side looking on the azure of the peaceful bay, beyond which rises san diego with a population of twenty thousand souls. to reach this hotel, the tourist crosses the harbor from the city by a ferry, and then in an electric car is whirled for a mile along an avenue which he might well suppose was leading him to some magnificent family estate. the pavement is delightfully smooth and hard; on either side are waving palms and beds of radiant flowers; two charming parks, with rare botanical shrubs and trees, are, also, visible and hold invitingly before him the prospect of delightful hours in their fragrant labyrinths; and, finally, out of a semi-tropical garden, the vast extent of which he does not comprehend at first, rises the far-famed hostelry which, itself, covers about four and a half acres of ground, at the extreme southwestern corner of the union, and on a spot which yesterday was a mere tongue of sand. in the tourist season this palatial place of entertainment presents a brilliant throng of joyous guests who have, apparently, subscribed to the motto: "all care abandon ye, who enter here." it is one of the few spots on this continent where the great faults of our american civilization--worry and incessant work--are not conspicuous. men of the north too frequently forget that the object of life is not work, but that the object of work is life. in lands like southern california, however, where flowers fill the air with fragrance, where fruits are so abundant that starvation is impossible, and where the nerves are not continually whipped by atmospheric changes into restless energy, men live more calmly, probably more rationally. sunshine, roses, and the throbbing tones of the guitar would seem to be the most appropriate sources of amusement here. meanwhile the northern millionaire breaks down from overwork and leaves his money to be squandered by his relatives. yet he also, till the last gasp, claims that he is happy. what is happiness? _quien sabe_? [illustration: point loma.] [illustration: hotel coronado.] [illustration: courtyard of the hotel.] the country about san diego is a miniature reproduction of the plains of arizona and new mexico, and just above the city rises a genuine _mesa_, which, though comparatively small, resembles the large table-lands of the interior, and was formed in the same way. cutting it, here and there, are little cañons, like that through which the colorado rolls, not a mile deep, but still illustrative of the erosion made here by the rivers of a distant age; for these gashes are the result of rushing water, and every stone upon this small plateau has been worn round and smooth by friction with its fellows, tossed, whirled, and beaten by the waves of centuries. strange, is it not, that though, like many other areas of our continent, this region was once fashioned and completely ruled by water, at present it has practically none; and men must often bring the precious liquid fifty miles to crown the soil with beauty and fertility. [illustration: view from the table-land.] [illustration: pachango indians at home.] [illustration: a christianized indian.] [illustration: the mission bells.] the old town of san diego, four miles north of the present city, is now almost abandoned. only a dozen adobe buildings kept in fair repair, and as many more in ruins, mark the site. the little chapel is still used for worship, and from an uncouth wooden frame outside its walls hang two of the old mission bells which formerly rang out the angelus over the sunset waves. my guide carelessly struck them with the butt of his whip, and called forth from their consecrated lips of bronze a sound which, in that scene of loneliness, at first seemed like a wail of protest at the sacrilege, and finally died away into a muffled intonation resembling a stifled sob. roused by the unexpected call, there presently appeared an indian who looked as if he might have been contemporary with methuselah. no wrinkled leaf that had been blown about the earth for centuries could have appeared more dry and withered than this centenarian, whose hair drooped from his skull like spanish moss, and whose brown hands resembled lumps of adobe. [illustration: an aged squaw.] "i am glad to have you see this man," said the guide, "for he has rung these bells for seventy years, and is said to be more than a hundred years old." i could not obtain a portrait of this decrepit bell-ringer, for many indians are superstitiously opposed to being photographed; but i procured the picture of an equally shriveled female aged one hundred and thirty who might have been his sister. [illustration: relics of an ancient race.] [illustration: "ecstatic bathers."] "this," remarked my guide with a smile, "is what the climate of san diego does for the natives." "the glorious climate of california" has been for years a theme of song and story, and a discussion of its merits forms one of the principal occupations of the dwellers on the pacific coast. it is indeed difficult to see how tourists could pass their time here without this topic of conversation, so infinite is its variety and so debatable are many of the conclusions drawn from it. it is the sphinx of california; differing, however, from the sphinx of egypt in that it offers a new problem every day. the literature that treats of the pacific coast fairly bristles with statistics on this subject, and many writers have found it impossible to resist the temptation of adorning their pages with tables of humidity, temperature, and rainfall. some hotels even print in red letters at the top of the stationery furnished to their guests: "the temperature to-day is ----." among the photographs of san diego are several which represent groups of ecstatic bathers, ranging from small boys to elderly bald-headed gentlemen, apparently ready to take a plunge into the pacific; while beneath them is displayed the legend, "january 1, 18--." candor compels me, however, to state that, as far as i was able to ascertain, these pictured bathers rarely pay a new year's call to neptune in his mighty palace, but content themselves in winter with going no further than his ante-chambers,--the sheltered, sun-warmed areas of public bath-houses. [illustration: midwinter at los angeles.] "i believe this to be the best climate in the world," said a gentleman to me in san diego, "but i confess that, when strangers are visiting me, it occasionally does something it ought not to do." the truth is, there are several climates in southern california, some of which are forced upon the resident, while others can be secured by going in search of them in a trolley car or a railway carriage. the three determining factors in the problem of temperature are the desert, the ocean, and the mountains. thus, in midsummer, although it may be fiercely hot in the inland valleys, it is invariably cool in the mountains on account of their altitude, and near the shore because the hot air rising from the desert invites a daily ocean breeze. even at a distance from the comfortable coast, humanity never passes into that abject, panting, and perspiring condition in which the inhabitants of the eastern states are usually seen when the mercury goes to ninety. the nights are always cool; although not quite as much so in july as the enthusiasts tell us who have never seen the country later in the season than the month of may, and who weary us with the threadbare tale of never sleeping without a blanket. "is it true, madam," i said to a lady of san diego, "that here one must always take a blanket to bed with him?" "hush," she replied, "never ask that question unless you are sure that there are no tourists within hearing." [illustration: pier at santa monica.] [illustration: avalon, santa catalina island.] three statements are, i think, unquestionably accurate: first, that for many months of the year the residents need not take into consideration for a moment the possibility of rain; second, that on account of this drought there must inevitably be during that period a superfluity of dust; and, third, that every day there will be felt "a cool refreshing breeze," which frequently increases to a strong wind. my memory of california will always retain a vivid impression of this wind, and the effect of it upon the trees is evident from the fact that it has compelled most of them to lean toward the east, while one of the last sights i beheld in san diego was a man chasing his hat. nevertheless, acclimated californians would no more complain of their daily breeze, however vigorous, than a man would speak disrespectfully of his mother. as in most semi-tropical countries, there is a noticeable difference in temperature between sun and shade. in the sun one feels a genial glow, or even a decided heat; but let him step into the shade, or stand on a street-corner waiting for a car, and the cool wind from the mountains or the ocean will be felt immediately. people accustomed to these changes pay little heed to them; but to new-comers the temperature of the shade, and even that of the interiors of the hotels and houses, appears decidedly cool. [illustration: not afraid of the sun.] one day, in june, i was invited to dine at a fruit-ranch a few miles from pasadena. the heat in the sun was intense, and i noticed that the mercury indicated ninety-five degrees; but, unlike the atmosphere of new york in a heated term, the air did not remind me of a turkish bath. the heat of southern california is dry, and it is absolutely true that the highest temperature of an arid region rarely entails as much physical discomfort as a temperature fifteen or twenty degrees lower in the eastern states, when accompanied by humidity. the moisture in a torrid atmosphere is what occasions most of the distress and danger, the best proof of which is the fact that while, every summer, hundreds of people are prostrated by sunstroke near the atlantic coast, such a calamity has never occurred in new mexico, arizona, or california. moreover, when the mercury in los angeles rises, as it occasionally does, to one hundred degrees, the inhabitants of that city have a choice of several places of refuge: in two or three hours they can reach the mountains; or in an hour they can enjoy themselves upon redondo beach; or they may take a trolley car and, sixty minutes later, stroll along the sands of santa monica, inhaling a refreshing breeze, blowing practically straight from japan; or, if none of these resorts is sufficiently attractive, three hours after leaving los angeles they can fish on santa catalina island, a little off the coast; or linger in the groves of santa barbara; or, perhaps, best of all can be invigorated by the saline breath of the pacific sweeping through the corridors of the coronado. santa catalina island is, in particular, a delightful pleasure-resort, whose beautiful, transparent waters, remarkable fishing-grounds, and soft, though tonic-giving air, which comes to it from every point of the compass over a semi-tropic sea, are so alluring that thousands of contented people often overflow its hotels and camp in tents along the beach. [illustration: in cottonwood cañon, santa catalina.] [illustration: liliputian and giant.] [illustration: on the beach at santa catalina.] that the winter climate of southern california, not only on the coast, but in the interior, is delightful, is beyond question. what was healthful a hundred years ago to the spanish monks who settled here, proved equally so to those adventurous "forty-niners" who entered california seeking gold, and is still more beneficial to those who now come to enjoy its luxuries and comforts. flowers and fruit are found here throughout the entire year. the rainy days are few, and frosts are as ephemeral as the dew; and to the aged, the invalids, the fugitives from frost, and the "fallen soldiers of civilization," who are no longer able to make a courageous fight with eastern storms and northern cold, san diego is a climatic paradise. accordingly, from early october until april the overland trains roll westward from a land of snow and frost to one of sun and flowers, bearing an annually increasing multitude of invalids and pleasure-seekers, some of whom have expensive permanent homes and costly ranches here--like that of mr. andrew mcnally, at altadena--while others find abundant comfort in the fine hotels. [illustration: an old californian trading post.] [illustration: a bit of nature on the coast.] perhaps the principal secret of the charm of the winter climate of southern california, as well as that of its wonderfulhealth-restoring properties, lies in the fact that its dry, pure air and even temperature make it possible for one to live continuously out of doors. yet, though not cold, it is a temperature cool enough to be free from summer languor. [illustration: californian palms.] especially attractive to the visitors from the north are the palms of southern california. many of these resemble monstrous pineapples terminating in gigantic ferns. what infinite variety the palm tree has, now dwarfed in height, yet sending out on every side a mass of thick green leaves; now rising straight as an obelisk from the desert sand, and etching its fine feathery tufts against the sky; now bearing luscious fruit of different kinds; now furnishing material for clothing, fishing-nets, and matting; or putting forth those slender fronds, frequently twenty feet in length, which are sent north by florists to decorate dwellings and churches for festivals and weddings! the palm is typical of the south, as the pine is of the north. one hints to us of brilliant skies, a tropic sun, and an easy, indolent existence; the other suggests bleak mountains and the forests of northern hills, and symbolizes the conflict there between man and nature, in which both fortitude and daring have been needful to make man the conqueror. one finds a fascination in contrasting these two children of old mother earth, and thinks of heine's lines: "a pine tree standeth lonely on a northern mountain's height; it sleeps, while around it is folded a mantle of snowy white. "it is dreaming of a palm tree in a far-off orient land, which lonely and silent waiteth in the desert's burning sand." [illustration: hermit valley near san diego.] on my last day at san diego, i walked in the morning sunshine on coronado beach. the beauty of the sea and shore was almost indescribable: on one side rose point loma, grim and gloomy as a fortress wall; before me stretched away to the horizon the ocean with its miles of breakers curling into foam; between the surf and the city, wrapped in its dark blue mantle, lay the sleeping bay; eastward, the mingled yellow, red, and white of san diego's buildings glistened in the sunlight like a bed of coleus; beyond the city heaved the rolling plains, rich in their garb of golden brown, from which rose distant mountains, tier on tier, wearing the purple veil which nature here loves oftenest to weave for them; while, in the foreground, like a jewel in a brilliant setting, stood the coronado. [illustration: the pacific.] the fascination of southern california had at last completely captured me. its combination of ocean, desert, and mountain, its pageantry of color, and its composite life of city, ranch, and beach had cast over me a magic spell. it was, however, a lonely sea that spread its net of foam before my feet. during my stay i had not seen a single steamer on its surface, and only rarely had a few swift sea-birds, fashioned by man's hand, dotted the azure for a little with their white wings, ere they dipped below the horizon's rim. hence, though the old, exhilarating, briny odor was the same, i felt that, as an ocean, this was unfamiliar. the atlantic's waves are haunted by historic memories, but few reminders of antiquity rise ghostlike from the dreary waste of the pacific. few battles have been fought, few conquests made upon these shores. on the atlantic coast one feels that he is looking off toward civilized and friendly lands, across a sea which ocean greyhounds have made narrow; but here three purple islands, floating on the limitless expanse, suggest mysterious archipelagoes scattered starlike on its area, thousands of miles away, before a continent is reached; and one vaguely imagines unknown races, coral reefs, and shores of fronded palms, where nature smiles indulgently upon a pagan paradise. nevertheless its very mystery and vastness give to the pacific a peculiar charm, which changeful orient seas, and even the turbulent atlantic, never can impart. instinctively we stand uncovered in the presence of the mightiest ocean on our planet. it is at once the symbol and the fact of majesty; and the appalling sense of trackless space which it inspires, the rhythm of unmeasured and immeasureable waves, together with the moaning of the surf upon the sand, at times completely overwhelm us with suggestions of the infinite, until no language seems appropriate, unless it shapes itself in prayer. [illustration: "a sea-bird fashioned by man's hand."] [illustration: a lonely ocean.] in helen hunt jackson's novel, "ramona," the romance of this region has found immortality. what "romola" is to mediaeval florence, "ramona" is to southern california. it has embalmed in the memory of the nation a lost cause and a vanished race. less than one hundred years ago, where the anglo-saxon has since built railroads, erected manufactories, and created cities, a life was lived, so different in its character from all that followed or preceded it, that only a story like "ramona" could make it appear real. at that time about twenty "missions"--which were in reality immense ecclesiastical farms--bordered the coast for seven hundred miles. for when the new world had been suddenly revealed to the astonished gaze of europe, it was not merely the adventurous conqueror who hastened to these shores. the priest accompanied him, and many enthusiastic soldiers of the cross embarked to bear to the benighted souls beyond the sea the tidings of salvation. missionary enterprises were not then what they are to-day. nothing was known with certainty of the strange tribes on this side of the globe, and there was often a heroism in the labors of self-sacrificing missionaries to america, which far surpassed the courage of the buccaneer. many exploring expeditions to this western land received the blessing of the church, and were conducted, not alone for obtaining territory and gold, but for the conversion of the inhabitants. in mexico and peru the priests had followed, rather than led the way; but in california, under the lead of father junipero, they took the initiative, and the salvation of souls was one of the principal purposes of the invaders. this did not, however, prevent the franciscans, who took possession of the land, from selecting with great wisdom its very best locations; but, having done so, they soon brought tens of thousands of indians under spiritual and temporal control. these natives were, for the most part, as gentle and teachable as the fathers were patient and wise; and, in 1834, a line of missions stretched from san diego to monterey, and the converted indians numbered about twenty thousand, many of whom had been trained to be carpenters, masons, blacksmiths, saddlers, tailors, millers, and farmers. three-quarters of a million cattle grazed upon the mission pastures, as well as sixty thousand horses; fruits, grain, and flowers grew in their well-cultivated valleys until the country blossomed like the garden of the lord; and in the midst of all this industry and agricultural prosperity the native converts obeyed their christian masters peacefully and happily, and came as near to a state of civilization as indians have ever come. [illustration: ramona's home.] [illustration: the chapel, ramona's home.] [illustration: palms near san fernando mission.] [illustration: corridor, san fernando mission.] presently the mexicans made their appearance here; but, though they held and managed enormous ranches, the situation was comparatively unchanged; for they maintained harmonious relations with the missions, and had no serious difficulties with the indians. thus life went on for nearly half a century, and seemed to the good fathers likely to go on forever; for who, they thought, would ever cross the awful eastern plains to interfere with their arcadian existence, or what invading force would ever approach them over the lonely sea? but history repeats itself. the missions soon became too rich not to excite cupidity; and those who coveted their lands and herds declared, as an excuse for violence, that the poor indians were held in a state of slavery, and should be made to depend upon themselves. at length, in 1833, the mexican government by a decree of secularization ruined the missions; but the indians, although not so prosperous and well treated as under the fathers, still kept, through mexican protection, most of their privileges and the lands they owned. finally came the anglo-saxon, and, under the imperious civilization that poured into california from 1840 to 1860, the pastoral age soon disappeared. the missions, which had already lost much of their property and power under the mexican government, quickly shrank after this new invasion into decrepitude. the practical anglo-saxon introduced railroads, electricity, commerce, mammoth hotels, and scientific irrigation, all of which the fathers, mexicans, and indians never would have cared for. nevertheless, with his arrival, the curtain fell upon as peaceful a life-drama as the world had seen. [illustration: santa barbara.] [illustration: san juan capistrano.] [illustration: group of franciscan friars.] to the reader, thinker, and poet the memories and associations of these missions form, next to the gifts of nature, the greatest charm of southern california; and, happily, although that semi-patriarchal life has passed away, its influence still lingers; for, scattered along the coast--some struggling in poverty, some lying in neglect--are the adobe churches, cloisters, and fertile mission-fields of san juan capistrano, san fernando rey, santa monica, santa barbara, and santa cruz, all of which still preserve the soft and gracious names, so generously given in those early days, and fill us with a genuine reverence for the sandaled monks, who by incessant toil transformed this barren region into a garden, covered these boundless plains with flocks and herds, and dealt so wisely with the indians that even their poor descendants, to-day, reverence their memory. [illustration: chief of a tribe of mission indians.] the saxon has done vastly more, it is true; but, in some ways, he has done much less. the very names which he bequeathed to places not previously christened by the spaniards, such as gold gulch, hell's bottom, and copperopolis, tell a more forcible, though not as beautiful a tale, as the melodious titles, san buenaventura, san francisco dolores, santa clara, san gabriel, and la purissima. [illustration: indian women.] it is not, therefore, the busy streets and handsome dwellings of los angeles and pasadena, but the adobe ruins, the battered statues, the cracked and voiceless bells, the poor remnants of the indian tribes, and even the old spanish names, behind which lies a century of sanctity and romance, which give to southern california an atmosphere of the old world and harmonize most perfectly with its history. [illustration: san diego mission.] most of the mission buildings are in a sad condition. earthquakes have shattered some; neglect and malice have disfigured others; but a society, composed alike of catholics and protestants, is now, in the interest of the past, endeavoring to rescue them from utter ruin. it is a worthy task. what subjects for a painter most of them present! how picturesque are their old cloisters, looming up dark, grand, and desolate against the sky! how worn and battered are they by the storms of years! how tremblingly stands the cross upon their ancient towers, as if its sacred form had become feeble like the fraternity that once flourished here! what witnesses they are of an irrevocable past! their crumbling walls, if they could speak, might grow sublimely eloquent, and thrill us with inspiring tales of heroism, patience, tact, and fortitude exhibited when these missions bloomed like flowery oases on the arid areas of the south and west, and taught a faith of which their melancholy cloisters are the sad memorials. ten miles from los angeles, the southern pacific railroad passes a long edifice, the massive walls of which might lead us to suppose it was a fortress, but for its cross and a few antiquated bells. it is the church of the san gabriel mission. all other buildings of the institution have disappeared; but this old edifice remains, and, unless purposely destroyed by man, may stand here for five centuries more, since its enormous walls are five feet thick, and the mortar used in their construction has rendered them almost as solid as if hewn from rock. as i descended, at the station a quarter of a mile away, a little barefooted mexican boy approached and shyly offered me his hand. "are you the father," he asked? "no," i said, "i am not the father, but i have come to see the church; can you show it to me?" "but padre joaquin said i was to meet a father." "well," i answered, "i am the only passenger who has come by this train, so you had better walk back with me." [illustration: san gabriel mission church.] the mexican boys seem to be the best part of what mexico has left in california. this lad, for example, was attending an american school, and appeared bright and ambitious, though so extremely courteous and respectful that he seemed almost timid. the little hut in which he lived was opposite the church, and he seemed perfectly familiar with the sacred structure. "see," he said, pointing to some mutilated wooden statues in the poor, scantily furnished sacristy, "here are some images which cannot be used, they are so broken, and here are more," he added, opening some drawers and displaying four or five smaller figures in various stages of dilapidation. thus, for some time he continued to call my attention to different curious relics with such interest and reverence that i was almost sorry when father joaquin appeared. it was sad to see the altar of the church defaced and cracked, and its statues, brought a hundred years ago from spain, scarcely less battered than those which the boy had shown me in the sacristy. yet it was plain that worshipers as well as vandals had been here. the basins for holy water, cut in the solid wall, were worn, like the steps of an ancient building, with countless fingers, long since turned to dust. there, also, were two old confessionals, one of which was so hopelessly infirm that it had been set aside at last, to listen to no more whispered tales of sin and sorrow. the doors of the church at first looked ancient, but wore a really modern air, when compared with the original portals, which, no longer able to stand upright, had been laid against the wall, to show to tourists. yet, eighty years ago, this church stood proudly at the head of all the missions, and reared its cross above the richest of their valleys. according to father joaquin's estimate, the fathers of san gabriel must have had twenty thousand acres under cultivation, and, in 1820, this mission alone possessed one hundred and sixty thousand vines, two thousand three hundred trees, twenty-five thousand head of cattle, and fifteen thousand sheep. "it was all ours," he said, with a sweep of his hand, "we had reclaimed it from the desert, and, by the treaty between the united states and mexico, we were allowed to retain all lands that we had cultivated. yet of those twenty thousand acres, one hundred and fifty are all that are left us!" the padre accompanied me to the station. "how large is your parish, father?" i asked. "it is thirteen miles long," was his reply, "and i have in it eight hundred souls, but most of them live too far away to walk to church, and are too poor to ride." "and how many indians have you?" "perhaps a hundred," he answered, "and even they are dying off." "what of their character?" i asked. "they have sadly fallen away," was the response. "true, they are christians as far as they are anything, but they are hopelessly degraded, yet they respect the church, and are obedient and reverential when under its influence." [illustration: discarded saints, san gabriel.] [illustration: mutilated statues.] [illustration: the baptismal font.] [illustration: san gabriel, from the southeast.] most of the californian missions are really dead, and near that of la purissima may still be seen the rent in the ground made by the earthquake which destroyed it. others, like san gabriel and san juan capistrano, are dragging out a moribund existence, under the care of only one or two priests, who move like melancholy phantoms through the lonely cloisters, and pray among the ruins of a noble past. the mission of santa barbara, however, is in fairly good repair, and a few franciscan fathers still reside there and carry on a feeble imitation of their former life. [illustration: a degenerate.] it is on his way to this mission that the traveler passes the reputed residence of ramona. there is, it is true, another structure near san diego which, also, claims this distinction; but the ranch on the route from los angeles to santa barbara perfectly corresponds to "h.h.'s" descriptions of her heroine's home, with its adjoining brook and willows, and hills surmounted by the cross. the house is almost hidden by the trees with which a mexican ordinarily surrounds his dwelling, and is, as usual, only one story high, with a projecting roof, forming a porch along the entire front. as we learn in "ramona," much of the family life in those old days--sewing, visiting, and siesta-taking--went on in the open air, under the shade of the porticos which were wide and low. here it was that alessandro brought felipe back to health, watching and nursing him as he slept outdoors on his rawhide bed; and we may see the arbor where the lovers met, the willows where they were surprised by señora moreno, and the hills on which the pious lady caused wooden crosses to be reared, that passers-by might know that some good catholics were still left in california. [illustration: the cross on the hill.] [illustration: santa barbara mission.] the mission of santa barbara is of solid brick and stone, with walls six feet in thickness. its cloisters look sufficiently massive to defy an earthquake, and are paved with enormous bricks each twelve inches square. the huge red tiles of the roof, also, tell of a workmanship which, although rude, was honest and enduring. the interior, however, is of little interest, for the poor relics which the fathers keep are even less attractive than those displayed at the mission of san gabriel; yet there are shown at least two enormous missals which are no less than four feet long by two feet wide, and beautifully inscribed on parchment. [illustration: santa barbara mission from the farm.] [illustration: where the fathers walked.] "what is the mission's income?" i asked the gentle monk who acted as my guide. "alas!" he answered, "we have very little. you know our lands are gone. we have barely twenty-five acres now. moreover, we are outside the village; and, as there is another church, most catholics go there. we receive, indeed, occasional offerings from travelers; but we are very poor." "who cultivates your twenty-five acres?" i inquired. "according to our ability, we are all busy," was the answer, "some till the garden; others train young men for the priesthood; one of our number is a carpenter; and another," he added, evidently laughing at his own expense, "knows just enough about machinery to make a bad break worse." "and the indians?" i said. "not one is left," was the reply. "though once the mission counted them by thousands, they are all dead and gone. there are their monuments," he added, pointing to the fragments of a mill and one or two industrial shops. [illustration: the cemetery, santa barbara.] i looked and saw the remnants of a giant wheel which formerly had been turned by water, brought from the hills to feed the fathers' lands. the water was still flowing, but the wheel lay, broken,--symbolic of the link which bound the mission to the vanished past. the first roman catholic bishop of california and some of the early fathers are buried in the chapel of the monastery, but interments are now made in a neighboring cemetery, strictly reserved for members of the mission, each of whom has there his predestined place. yet even in this humble campo santo life will not yield entirely to death. the hum of droning insects breaks the stillness of the empty cloisters; occasionally a lizard darts like a tongue of flame along the walls; grasses and trailing plants adorn impartially the ground containing human dust, and that which still awaits an occupant; while round a stately crucifix, which casts its shadow like a benediction on the sleeping dead, sweet wild flowers bloom throughout the year, and from their swinging censers offer incense to the figure of the saviour with each passing breeze. the hush of melancholy broods over the entire place. the mountains, gazing down upon it in stony silence, are haggard and forbidding; below it lies the modern town; while from a neighboring hillside the inmates of a villa look directly into the monastery garden, on which the earlier fathers little dreamed a female eye would ever rest. a little life, however, was still visible about this santa barbara mission. two brown-robed monks were hoeing in the field; occasionally, visitors came and went; and, just as i was leaving, one of the priests, in obedience to a summons, hurried away to minister to the sick; yet over all there hung an atmosphere of unreality and sadness. i felt myself the guest of an anachronism. [illustration: dreaming of other days.] a fashionable city has risen at the feet of these old monks, but they regard it not. a trolley car brings curious tourists to their doors; but the ways of the santa barbara fathers are those of long ago. like agèd pilgrims, dreaming by their firesides, they seem to be living in the past; they certainly have no present worthy of the name; and when i sought to draw forth from my priestly guide some idea of their future, he answered me by pointing to a grave. [illustration] grand cañon of the colorado river [illustration] while the old world is better able than the new to satisfy the craving of the mind for art and history, no portion of our globe can equal the north american continent in certain forms of natural scenery which reach the acme of sublimity. niagara, the yosemite, the yellowstone national park, and the grand cañon of the colorado in arizona are the four great natural wonders of america. niagara is nature in the majesty of liquid motion, where, as the outlet of vast inland seas, a mighty river leaps in wild delirium into a gorge two hundred feet below, and boils and seethes tumultuously till its heart is set at rest and its fever cooled by the embrace of lake ontario. the yosemite is nature pictured, in a frame of granite precipices, as reclining on a carpet woven with a million flowers, above which rise huge trees three centuries old, which, nevertheless, to the spectator, gazing from the towering cliffs, appear like waving ferns. the yellowstone park is the arena of an amphitheatre in which fire and water, the two great forces which have made our planet what it is, still languidly contend where formerly they struggled desperately for supremacy. but the grand cañon of arizona is nature wounded unto death, and lying stiff and ghastly with a gash, two hundred miles in length and a mile in depth, in her bared breast, from which is flowing fast a stream of life-blood called the colorado. [illustration: a petrified forest, arizona.] [illustration: pack-mules of the desert.] [illustration: evidences of erosion.] [illustration: the navajo church.] [illustration: fantastic forms.] the section of country through which one travels to behold this last-named marvel is full of mystery and fascination. it is a land where rivers frequently run underground or cut their way through gorges of such depth that the bewildered tourist, peering over their precipitous cliffs, can hardly gain a glimpse of the streams flowing half a mile below; a land of colored landscapes such as elsewhere would be deemed impossible, with "painted deserts," red and yellow rocks, petrified forests, brown grass and purple grazing grounds; a land where from a sea of tawny sand, flecked here and there with bleached bones, like whitecaps on the ocean, one gazes upon mountains glistening with snow; and where at times the intervals are so brief between aridity and flood, that one might choose, like alaric, a river-bed for his sepulchre, yet see a host like that of pharaoh drowned in it before the dawn. in almost every other portion of the world nature reveals her finished work; but here she partially discloses the secrets of her skill, and shows to us her modes of earth-building. thus, the entire country is dotted with _mesas_, or table-lands of sandstone, furrowed and fashioned in a tremendous process of erosion, caused by the draining through this area of a prehistoric ocean, whose rushing, whirling, and receding waters molded the mountains, carved the cañons, and etched innumerable grotesque figures and fantastic forms. a feeling of solemnity steals over us, as we reflect upon the lapse of geologic time which such a record covers, unnumbered ages before man's advent on this planet; and these deep cañons and eroded valleys, whose present streams are only miniature representatives of those which formerly wrought havoc here, teach lessons of patience to the restless mortals who behold them; while some of the singular formations on the cliffs present perplexing problems which nature, as it were in mocking humor, bids us solve. [illustration: a specimen of nature's handiwork.] was nature ever really sportive? in the old days, when she produced her uncouth monsters of the deep, was she in manner, as in age, a child? did she then play with her continents, and smile to see them struggle up from the sea only to sink again? was it caprice that made her wrap her vast dominions in the icy bands of glaciers, or pour upon them lava torrents, and frequently convulse them with a mighty earthquake? if so, new mexico and arizona must have been her favorite playgrounds. at many points her rock formations look like whimsical imitations of man's handicraft, or specimens of the colossal vegetation of an earlier age. some are gigantic, while others bear a ludicrous resemblance to misshapen dwarfs, suggesting, as they stand like pygmies round their mightier brethren, a group of mediaeval jesters in a court of kings. in the faint dusk of evening, as one flits by them in the moving train, their weird, uncanny forms appear to writhe in pain, and he is tempted to regard them as the material shapes of tortured souls. [illustration: a mesa.] the _mesas_ of new mexico and arizona are, usually, regular in outline, sometimes resembling in the distance cloud-banks on the edge of the horizon, but oftener suggesting mighty fortresses, or ramparts to resist invasion, like the wall of china. these are not only beautiful in form and color, but from the fact that they recall the works of man, we gaze at them with wonder, and find in them a fascinating interest. they prove that nature needs some human association to appeal strongly to us, and how man's history of smiles and tears gives pathos, mystery, and romance to scenes which otherwise would be merely coldly beautiful or terribly sublime. it is for this reason, doubtless, that we are always endeavoring to personify nature. we think of solitary trees as lonely, of storm-tossed waves as angry, and of a group of mountains as members of one family. thus some of the arizona mountains are called brothers. no doubt their birth was attended by the same throes of mother earth, and they possess certain family resemblances in their level summits, huge square shoulders, and the deep furrows in their rugged cheeks; while all of them evince the same disdain for decoration, scorning alike the soft rich robes of verdure and the rough storm-coats of the pines. [illustration: a group of mesas.] [illustration: on the old santa fé trail.] the idea of companionship in nature is not wholly fanciful. is not the fundamental law of the universe the attraction which one mass of matter has for another? even the awful distances in interstellar space form no exception to this rule; for telescopic scrutiny reveals the fact that planets, suns, and systems move in harmony, on paths which indicate that they are all associated in the stupendous drama of the skies. the human interest connected with the mountains and the _mesas_ of new mexico and arizona is not very great. no mediaeval mystery haunts these castles sculptured by the hand of nature. no famous romancer has lighted on their cliffs the torch of his poetic fancy. no poet has yet peopled them with creatures of his imagination. we can, unfortunately, conjure up from their majestic background no more romantic picture than that of some pueblo indian wooing his dusky bride. yet they are not without some reminiscences of heroism; for valiant men, a half century ago, following the westward moving star of empire, braved almost inconceivable hardships in their shadow, when, after four thousand years, american pioneers repeated the old, old story, begun upon the plains of shinar, as the "sons of the east" went westward in their quest of fortune. how few of us think of those unrecorded heroes now, as we cross this region in luxurious cars! to most of us the dead, whose bones once whitened many of these lonely plains, are nothing more than the last winter's snowdrifts melted by the sun; yet how effectively the saxon has succeeded in his conquest of the continent we have continual evidence as we glide swiftly, from the atlantic to the pacific, through glowing grain fields, prosperous cities, and states that rival empires in size. where formerly the spanish conquerors, in their fruitless search for the reputed seven cities glittering with gold, endured privations and exhibited bravery which have hardly been surpassed in the entire history of the world; and where, too, as if it were but yesterday, the american argonauts toiled painfully for months through tribes of hostile indians, across desert wastes and over cloud-encompassed mountains, we find ourselves the inmates of a rolling palace, propelled by one of nature's tireless forces, and feel at times in our swift flight as if we were the occupants of a cushioned cannon-ball of glass. even the crossing of one of the many viaducts along our route is a reminder of how science has been summoned to assist the invader in his audacious enterprise of girdling a continent with steel. [illustration: an arizona cloud-effect.] [illustration: old home of kit carson, taos, n.m.] [illustration: grave of kit carson, taos, n.m.] [illustration: the bridge of cañon diablo.] the art of bridge-building in some form or other is one of the earliest necessities of civilization. even the apes in equatorial regions will link themselves together, and swing their living line across a stream to trees on the opposite bank, thus forming a connected path of bodies along which other monkeys pass in safety. bridges of ropes or reeds are, also, made by the most primitive of men; while viaducts of stone rose gradually in perfection, from the rude blocks heaped up by savages to the magnificent structures fashioned by the romans. but with the introduction of iron and steel into their composition, bridges are now constructed quickly, with consummate skill, and in a multitude of different forms assist in making possible the safe and rapid transit of our great republic. [illustration: homes of cliff dwellers.] [illustration: skulls of cliff dwellers.] in addition to all the wonderful natural features of arizona and new mexico, the insight into ancient and modern indian life which they afford is of extraordinary interest, particularly as aboriginal civilization, evidently, reached a higher level here than was attained by any of the tribes which roamed throughout the regions now known as the middle and eastern states. the natives of the arid regions of the great southwest, though subdivided into numerous tribes, are usually known under the general title of pueblos. the name itself, bestowed upon them by the spaniards, is significant; since _pueblo_ is the spanish word for village, and this would seem to prove that the race thus designated three hundred and fifty years ago was not nomadic, but had been settled here for many years. [illustration: laguna.] [illustration: cliff palaces.] antiquity and mystery impart a charm to these pueblo indians. they are foundlings of history. we see their immemorial settlements, and know that, centuries before columbus landed on san salvador, a number of advantageously situated places in the western portion of this continent served as the homes of powerful tribes, whose towns and villages formed the scenes of warfare and barbaric splendor. but of the men who built those villages we know comparatively nothing. their origin is almost as trackless as the sand which hides so many of their relics in a tawny sepulchre. we may be certain, however, that the remnants who survive are the representatives of myriads who once made most of the american valleys palpitant with life, but over whom oblivion has swept like a huge tidal wave, leaving the scattered fragments of their history like peaks rising from a submerged world. [illustration: a two-story cliff palace.] the best conclusions of scientists in regard to the geological periods of our planet consider that the glacial epoch began about two hundred and forty thousand, and ended about eighty thousand, years ago. traces of the existence of men in north america during that glacial period have been found in abundance, and make it probable that a human population existed, toward the close of that era, all the way from the atlantic coast to the upper mississippi valley. where these men of the ice age originally came from is a matter of conjecture; but it seems probable that they migrated hither from the old world, since it is certain that during the various elevations and depressions of the two continents, it was possible, several times, for men to go from europe or from asia into america without crossing any ocean, either by the northwestern corner of alaska, which has been repeatedly joined to siberia through the elevation of the shallow bering sea, or by the great atlantic ridge which more than once has risen above the ocean between great britain and greenland. yet, though the first inhabitants of america, in all probability, came thus from the old world at a very distant period of antiquity, it is believed by the best students of the subject that, until within the last few centuries, there had been no intercourse between america and either europe or asia, for at least twenty thousand years. hence the aborigines of this continent developed in the course of ages peculiarities which distinguish them from other races, and justify their being regarded as, practically, native to the soil. [illustration: an early place of shelter.] the indians of new mexico and arizona were, probably, fugitives from more fertile lands, whence they had been expelled by the ancestors of the bloodthirsty and cruel apaches. the country to which they came, and where they made a final stand against their predatory foes, was well adapted to defense. for hundreds of square miles the land is cleft with chasms, and dotted with peculiar, isolated table-lands hundreds of feet in height, with almost perfectly level surfaces and precipitous sides. the origin and formation of these _mesas_, due to erosion through unnumbered centuries, by water draining from an inland sea, has been already referred to, and it can be readily seen that they originally formed ideal residences for the peace-loving pueblos, who either made their homes as cliff dwellers in the crevices of cañon walls, or took advantage of these lofty rocks, already shaped and fortified by nature, and built on them their dwellings. these in themselves were no mean strongholds. their thick walls, made of rock fragments cemented with adobe, constituted a natural fortress, against which weapons such as savages used before they acquired fire-arms could do little harm; and even these houses the indians constructed like the cliffs themselves, lofty and perpendicular, tier above tier, and, save for ladders, almost as inaccessible as eagles' nests. again, since these _pueblos_ stood on table-lands, the approach to which could be easily defended, they were almost impregnable; while their isolation and elevation, in the treeless regions of new mexico, enabled watchmen to discover the approach of an enemy at a considerable distance and to give warning for the women, children, and cattle roaming on the plain to be brought to a place of safety. the instinct of self-preservation and even the methods of defense are, after all, almost identical in every age and clime; and the motive which led the indians to the summits of these _mesas_ was, no doubt, the same that prompted the athenians to make a citadel of their acropolis, and mediaeval knights to build their castles on the isolated crags of italy, or on the mountain peaks along the rhine. [illustration: "crevices of cañon walls."] [illustration: the summit of a mesa.] [illustration: the mesa encantada.] as times became more peaceful, the pueblos located their villages upon the plains, and one of these, called laguna, is now a station of the santa fé railway. but a mere glance at this, in passing, was far too brief and unsatisfactory for our purpose, aside from the fact that its proximity to the railroad had, naturally, robbed the settlement of much of its distinctive character. we therefore resolved to leave our train, and go directly into the interior, to visit a most interesting and typical _pueblo,_ known as ácoma. arriving at the station nearest to it, early in the morning, we found a wagon and four horses waiting to receive us, and quickly started for our destination over a natural road across the almost level prairie. at the expiration of about two hours we saw before us, at a distance of three miles, a _mesa_ of such perfect symmetry and brilliant pinkish color, that it called forth a unanimous expression of enthusiasm. although the form of this "noblest single rock in america" changes as one beholds it from different points of view, the shape which it presented, as we approached it, was circular; and this, together with its uniform height and perpendicular walls, reminded me of the tomb of cæcilia metella on the appian way, magnified into majesty, as in a mirage. it was with added interest, therefore, that we learned that this was the enchanted mesa, about which there had been recently considerable scientific controversy. enchanting, if not enchanted, it certainly appeared that morning, and, as we drew nearer, its imposing mass continued to suggest old roman architecture, from hadrian's mausoleum by the tiber to the huge circle of the colosseum. [illustration: houses at laguna.] [illustration: the mesa from the east.] the indian name of this remarkable cliff is _katzímo_, and the title _haunted mesa_ would be a more appropriate translation of the spanish name, _mesa encantada_, than _enchanted;_ for the people of ácoma believe its summit to be haunted by the spirits of their ancestors. a sinister tradition exists among them that one day, many centuries ago, when all the men of the village were at work upon the plain, a mass of rock, detached by the slow action of the elements, or else precipitated by an earthquake shock, fell into the narrow cleft by which alone an ascent or descent of the _mesa_ was made, and rendered it impassable. the women and children, left thus on the summit of a cliff four hundred and thirty feet in height, and cut off from communication with their relatives and friends, who were unable to rejoin and rescue them, are said to have slowly perished by starvation, and their bones, pulverized in the course of centuries, are believed to have been, finally, blown or washed away. to test the truth of this tradition, at least so far as traces of a previous inhabitancy of the _mesa_ could confirm it, mr. frederick w. hodge, in 1895, made an attempt to reach the summit; but, though he climbed to within sixty feet of the top, he could on that occasion go no higher. he found, however, along the sides of the cliffs enormous masses of _débris_, washed down by the streams of water which, after a tempest, drain off from the summit in a thousand little cataracts. not only did mr. hodge discover in this rubbish several fragments of indian pottery, but he, also, observed certain holes in the cliff which seemed to him to have been cut there specially for hands and feet. these he believed to be traces of an ancient trail. stimulated by the announcement of this discovery, professor william libbey, of princeton college, in july, 1896, made the ascent of the enchanted mesa by means of a life line fired over the mound from a lyle gun. stout ropes having then been drawn over the cliffs and made secure, the adventurous aëronaut was actually hauled up to the summit in a boatswain's chair, as sailors are sometimes pulled ashore from a sinking ship. on his descent, however, he declared that he had found nothing to indicate that the crest had ever been inhabited, or even previously visited. nothing daunted by this statement, a few weeks later mr. hodge again attempted the ascent in which he had failed the year before. this time he was successful, and scaled the cliff by means of an extension ladder and several hundred feet of rope. but very different were the conclusions reached by him as to the probable authenticity of the tradition; for after having been on the _mesa_ only a short time, he found a piece of ancient pottery, and, during a search of twenty hours, not only were several more fragments of earthenware discovered, but also two stone ax-heads, an arrow-point of flint, and part of a shell bracelet. moreover, a little monument of stone, arranged with evident design, was found on the edge of the cliff. mr. hodge and his party concluded, therefore, that beyond a doubt the mesa encantada had once been inhabited, and that the legend of the destruction of its last occupants may be true. [illustration: looking through a crevice of the enchanted mesa.] [illustration: the lyle gun and ropes.] [illustration: man in boatswain's chair.] [illustration: the hodge party.] [illustration: indian relics.] the discovery of pieces of pottery here does not of itself prove great advancement in the race that made them; for, curiously enough, the manufacture of rude pottery is one of the first steps taken by man from a savage to a semi-civilized state. the various races of mankind have usually reached this art soon after their discovery of fire. in fact, such an invention is almost inevitable. thus, an early method of cooking food has always been to put it into a basket smeared with clay, which is supported over a fire. the clay served the double purpose of preventing liquids from escaping and protecting the basket from the flame. now, even the dullest savage could not have failed to notice, after a time, that the clay became hardened by the fire, and in that state was sufficient for his purpose without the basket. simple as it seems, the discovery of this fact marks an important epoch in the progress of every primitive race, and some authorities on ethnology distinguish the two great divisions of savagery and barbarism by placing in the lower grade those who have not arrived at the knowledge of making pottery. [illustration: the top of the mesa encantada.] [illustration: the approach to ácoma.] soon after passing this haunted rock, and driving further over the _mesa_-dotted plain, we came in sight of the weird city of the sky called ácoma. it occupies the summit of a table-land, the ascent to which is now a winding defile, flanked by frowning cliffs. even this path, though readily ascended on horseback, is too precipitous and sandy for a wagon. accordingly, as none of our party that day enjoyed the privilege of being an equestrian, we left our vehicle at the foot of the _mesa,_ and completed the journey on foot. some adventurous spirits, however, chose a short cut up the precipice along a natural fissure in the rocks, which, having been transformed with loose stones into a kind of ladder, was formerly, before these peaceful times, the only means of access to the summit. a steeper scramble would be hard to find. i must confess, however, that before taking either of these routes, we halted to enjoy a lunch for which the drive had given us the keenest appetite, and which we ate _al fresco_ in the shadow of a cliff, surrounded by a dozen curious natives. then, the imperious demands of hunger satisfied, we climbed three hundred and fifty feet above the surrounding plain, and stood in what is, with perhaps the exception of zuñi, the oldest inhabited town in north america. before us, on what seemed to be an island of the air, was a perfect specimen of the aboriginal civilization found here by the spanish conqueror, coronado, and his eager gold-seekers, in 1540. for now, as then, the members of the tribe reside together in one immense community building. it is rather droll to find among these natives of the desert the idea of the modern apartment house; but, in this place, as in all the settlements of the pueblo indians, communal dwellings were in existence long before the discovery of america, and the _mesa_ of ácoma was inhabited as it now is, when the pilgrims landed upon plymouth rock. [illustration: rain water basin, ácoma.] [illustration: the courtyard of ácoma.] an indian _pueblo_ is really a honeycomb of adobe cells, built up in terraces. the outer walls, being the most exposed, are the highest, and from them toward the centre of the village, projecting stories descend in such a way that the balcony of one series of rooms forms a roof for the next below it. finally, in the heart of the _pueblo_ is an open area where horses are corralled. when the space on the summit of the _mesa_ is sufficient, these apartment dwellings may be increased indefinitely by adding cells to the original mass, till it is six or seven stories high, and may contain one hundred, five hundred, or even a thousand persons, according to the size of the tribe. formerly there were no doorways in the lowest stories; but in these peaceful days they are now introduced occasionally by indian architects. where they do not exist, the only means of entering the ground-floor rooms is by climbing a ladder from the courtyard to the first terrace, and thence descending by another ladder through a hole in the roof. the upper stories, being safer from attack, are more liberally supplied with doors and windows, the latter being sometimes glazed with plates of mica. at present, panes of glass are also used, though they were pointed out to us as special luxuries. at night, and in times of danger, the ladders in these _pueblos_ used always to be drawn up after the last climbers had used them; since these industrious and sedentary indians were ever liable to raids from their nomadic enemies, who coveted their stores of food and the few treasures they had gradually accumulated. this precaution on the part of the pueblos again reminds us that human nature, in its primitive devices for self-protection, is everywhere very much the same. thus, there is no connection between the swiss lake dwellers and the indians of new mexico; yet as the latter, on retiring to their houses, draw up their ladders after them, so the old occupants of the villages built on piles in the swiss lakes pulled after them at night the bridges which connected them with the land. [illustration: house of a pueblo chief.] [illustration: a group of pueblo indians.] [illustration: a pueblo town.] one can well imagine that the people of ácoma do not spend many of their waking hours in their apartments. in this warm climate, with its superb air and almost rainless sky, every one lives as much as possible out of doors, and a true child of the sun always prefers the canopy of heaven to any other covering, and would rather eat on his doorstep and sleep on his flat roof, than to dine at a sumptuous table or recline on a comfortable bed. nature seems to be peculiarly kind and indulgent to the people of warm climates. they need not only less clothing but less food, and it is only when we travel in the tropics that we realize on how little sustenance man can exist. a few dates, a cup of coffee, and a bit of bread appear to satisfy the appetites of most aridians, whether they are indians or arabs. in the north, food, clothing, and fire are necessities of life; but to the people of the south the sun suffices for a furnace, fruits give sufficient nourishment, and clothing is a chance acquaintance. yet life is full of compensation. where nature is too indulgent, her favorites grow shiftless; and the greatest amount of indoor luxury and comfort is always found where nature seems so hostile that man is forced to fight with her for life. [illustration: characteristic pueblo houses.] [illustration: in the pueblo.] most of the cells which we examined in the many-chambered honeycomb of ácoma had very little furniture except a primitive table and a few stools, made out of blocks of wood or trunks of trees. across one corner of each room was, usually, stretched a cord on which the articles of the family wardrobe had been thrown promiscuously. the ornaments visible were usually bows and arrows, rifles, navajo blankets, and leather pouches, hung on wooden pegs. of beds i could find none; for indians sleep by preference on blankets, skins, or coarse-wool mattresses spread every night upon the floor. when we consider that the forty millions of japan, even in their comparatively high degree of civilization, still sleep in much the same way, we realize how unnecessary bedsteads are to the majority of the human race. in a few rooms i discovered wooden statuettes of saints, one or two crucifixes, and some cheap prints, which were evidently regarded with great veneration. the floors, which were not of wood, but of smooth adobe nearly as hard as asphalt, were in every instance remarkably clean. [illustration: interior of a pueblo apartment.] it is an interesting fact, in the domestic economy of the indian life led in these aërial villages, that the woman is always the complete owner of her apartment and its contents; for it is the women of the tribe who build the dwellings. accordingly, the position of a pueblo woman is extraordinary; and should her husband ill-treat her, she has the right and power to evict him, and to send him back to his original home. on the other hand, the man is sole possessor of the live stock of the family and of the property in the field; but when the crops are housed, the wife is at once invested with an equal share in their ownership. pueblo children, too, always trace their descent through the mother and take her clan name instead of the father's. i noticed that at ácoma the children seemed to be obedient to their parents and respectful to age, as i have invariably found them to be in all partially civilized countries of the world; for, paradoxical as it may seem, it is only in highly civilized communities, where individualism is cultivated at the expense of strict discipline and parental control, that children become indifferent to their fathers and mothers, and insolent to their superiors in age and wisdom. [illustration: pueblo water-carriers.] we lingered for some time upon this citadel of ácoma, profoundly interested in the life and customs of a people that asks no aid of the united states, but is, to-day, as self-supporting as it has always been. the number of pueblo indians was never very large. it is probable that there were in all about thirty thousand of them at the time of the spanish conquest, in 1540, and there are now about one-third that number scattered through more than twenty settlements. in an arid land where the greatest need is water, it is not strange that the dwellers on these rocky eyries should be called in the indian dialect "drinkers of the dew," for it would seem as if the dew must be their only beverage. but there are springs upon the neighboring plains whose precious liquid is brought up the steep trail daily on the heads of women, in three or five gallon jars, the carrying of which gives to the poise of the head and neck a native grace and elegance, as characteristic of pueblo women as of the girls of capri. moreover, on the summit of the _mesa_ there are, usually, hollows in the rock, partly natural, partly artificial, which serve as reservoirs to retain rain water and keep it fresh and cool. [illustration: an estufa.] besides the communal apartment-house, every _pueblo_ contains two characteristic edifices. one is as ancient as the tribe itself and thoroughly aboriginal, the other is comparatively modern and bears the imprint of the spaniard; they are the _estufa_ and the roman catholic church. the _estufa_ has always played a prominent part in the history of these indians. it is a semi-subterranean council hall, where matters of public business are discussed by the chiefs. the government of the pueblos is practically the same as when the spanish found them. each village seems to be completely independent of its neighbors, and no member of one tribe is allowed to sell real estate to members of another, or to marry into another clan without permission from his own. each settlement is governed by a council, the members of which, including its chief, are chosen annually. heredity counts for nothing among them, and official positions are conferred only by popular vote. even their war-chieftains are elected and are under the control of the council. all matters of public importance are discussed by this body in the _estufa_, the walls of which are usually whitewashed; but a more dismal place can hardly be imagined, not only from the dubious light which there prevails, but from the fact that it contains no furniture whatever, and no decoration. sometimes a village will have several _estufas_, each being reserved for a separate clan of the tribe. in any case, whether many or few, they are used exclusively by men, women never being allowed to enter them except to bring food to their male relatives. as we approached the ácoma _estufa_, it presented the appearance of a monstrous bean pot, from the opening of which a ladder rose to a height of twenty feet. this proved to be the only means of descending into an enclosure, to which we were politely but firmly denied admission. peering into the aperture, however, and noting the warm, close air which came from it, i understood why the spanish word _estufa_, or oven, was applied to these underground cells by their european discoverers; for neither light nor ventilation is obtainable except through the one opening, and in summer the temperature of the shallow cavern must be warm indeed. [illustration: estufa and surroundings.] [illustration: mexican ovens.] [illustration: the old church at ácoma.] the only other notable structure in ácoma is the roman catholic church, the walls of which are sixty feet in height and ten feet thick. one can realize the enormous amount of labor involved in its construction, when he reflects that every stone and every piece of timber used in building it had to be brought hither on the backs of indians, over the plains, from a considerable distance, and up the desperately difficult and narrow trail. even the graveyard, which occupies a space in front of the church, about two hundred feet square, is said to have required a labor of forty years, since the cemetery had to be enclosed with stone walls, forty feet deep at one edge and filled with earth brought in small basket-loads up the steep ascent from the plain below. the church itself is regarded by the indians with the utmost reverence, although it must be said that their religion is still almost as much pagan as christian. thus, while they respect the priests who come to minister to them, they also have a lurking reverence for the medicine man, who is known as the _cacique_. he is really the religious head of the community, a kind of augur and prophet, who consults the gods and communicates to the people the answers he claims to have received. this dignitary is exempt from all work of a manual kind, such as farming, digging irrigation-ditches, and even hunting, and receives compensation for his services in the form of a tract of land which the community cultivates for him with more care than is bestowed on any other portion of their territory, while his crops are the first harvested in the autumn. he also derives an income in the form of grain, buckskin, shells, or turquoises, from those who beg him to fast for them, and to intercede with the gods in case of sickness. on the other hand, the _cacique_ must lodge and feed all the strangers who come to the village, as long as they stay, and he is, also, the surgeon and the nurse of the community. [illustration: the altar.] [illustration: dance in the pueblo.] while, therefore, the pueblos go to church and repeat prayers in accordance with christian teaching, they also use the prayer-sticks of their ancestors, and still place great reliance on their dances, most of which are of a strictly religious character, and are not only dedicated to the sun, moon, rainbow, deer, elk, and sheep, but are usually performed for the specific purpose of obtaining rain. formerly, too, when their lives were far less peaceful than they are to-day, the pueblos indulged in war and scalp dances; but these are now falling into disuse. the most remarkable exhibition of dancing, still in vogue, is the repulsive snake dance of the moquis of arizona, which takes place every year alternately in four villages between the 10th and the 30th of august according to the phase of the moon. the origin of this extraordinary custom is not intelligible now even to the indians themselves, but the object in performing it is to obtain rain, and the dance, itself, is the culmination of a religious ceremonial which continues for nine days and nights. during that time only those who have been initiated into the sacred fraternities of the tribe may enter the _estufa_, on the floor of which weird pictures have been made with colored sand. [illustration: pueblo girls.] [illustration: three snake priests.] in the tribe of moquis there are two fraternities known as the antelopes and the snakes, each has from twenty to thirty members, some of whom are boys who serve as acolytes. when the open air ceremony of the snake dance begins, the members of these brotherhoods appear scantily clothed, with their faces painted red and white, and with tortoise-shell rattles tied to their legs. the antelope fraternity first enters the square, preceded by a venerable priest carrying two bags filled with snakes. these serpents, which have been previously washed and covered with sacred meal, are deposited by the priest in a small leaf-embowered enclosure called the _kisi_. around this the antelopes now march, stamping with the right foot violently, to notify the spirits of their ancestors (presumably in the lower world) that the ceremony has begun. after making the circuit of the enclosure four times, they halt, and stand in line with their backs turned toward it. then the snake fraternity appears, headed by its priest, and performs the same ceremony. then they too form a line, facing the antelopes, and all of them, for about five minutes, wave their wands and chant some unintelligible words. suddenly one antelope and one snake man rush to the _kisi_, and the priest who is presiding over the serpents presents them with a snake. the snake man immediately places the wriggling reptile in his mouth, and holds it by the centre of its body between his teeth, as he marches around the little plaza, taking high steps. meantime the, antelope man accompanies him, stroking the snake continually with a wand tipped with feathers. then all the members of the two fraternities follow in couples and do the same thing. finally, each snake man carries at least two snakes in his mouth and several in his hands; and even little boys, five years old, dressed like the adults, also hold snakes in their hands, fearlessly. once in a while a snake is purposely dropped, and a man whose special duty it is to prevent its escape rushes after it and catches it up. [illustration: the snake dance.] all the time that this hideous ceremony is going on, a weird chant is sung by the men and women of the tribe; and, at last, the chief priest draws on the ground a mystic circle with a line of sacred meal, and into this the men unload their snakes until the whole space becomes a writhing mass of serpents. suddenly the members rush into this throng of squirming reptiles, most of which are rattlesnakes, and each, grabbing up a handful of them, runs at full speed down the _mesa_ and sets them at liberty, to act as messengers to carry to the gods their prayers for rain. this ends the ceremony for the snakes, but not for the men; for after they have liberated the reptiles, the members of the brotherhoods return and bathe themselves in a kind of green decoction, called frog-water. then they drink a powerful emetic, and having lined up on the edge of the _mesa_, vomit in unison! this is to purge them from the evil effects of snake-handling; and lest it should not be sufficiently effectual, the dose is repeated. then they sit down, and eat bread, given them by the women as a kind of communion or religious rite. [illustration: after the emetic.] [illustration: chief snake priest.] the seventy or eighty snakes used in this dance are treated from first to last with the utmost kindness and respect, especially the rattlesnakes, a dozen of which will frequently be squirming on the ground at once. it is noticeable that the indians never pick up a rattlesnake when coiled, but always wait until it straightens itself out under the feather stroking, for it is claimed that the rattlesnake cannot strike uncoiled. at all events, when one is at its full length, the indians not only catch it up fearlessly, but carry it with impunity in their mouths and hands. as might be supposed, however, the moquis are said to possess an antidote against the poison of a rattlesnake, which, if a man is bitten, is given to him at once; and it is said that none of them ever dies from the effects of a snake-bite. [illustration: where the snakes are kept.] the religious element in all these ceremonies should not be lost sight of, for the life of the pueblo indians is permeated with religion, or superstition, to the minutest details. thus, it is an interesting fact that vicarious atonement has been a custom among them from time immemorial, and their _cacique_ is compelled to fast and do penance in many ways for the sins of his people. in some of the villages, also, certain men and women are chosen to expiate the wrongdoings of the tribe; and for more than a century there has been in new mexico an order of penitents, who torture themselves by beating their bodies with sharp cactus thorns, by carrying heavy crosses for great distances, and even by actual crucifixion. the severest of these cruel rites have, finally, been suppressed by the roman catholic church, but it encountered great difficulty in so doing, and the last crucifixion took place in 1891. [illustration: relics of cliff dwellers.] [illustration: summit of a moqui mesa.] such, then, are the pueblos of new mexico and arizona; a race uniting aboriginal pagan rites with christian ceremonies: cherishing at the same time their idols and their churches; using to-day their rifles, and to-morrow their bows and arrows; pounding occasionally with a hammer, but preferably with a stone; and handling american money for certain purchases, while trading beads, shells, and turquoises for others. sometimes we wonder that they have not made more progress during the centuries in which they have been associated with europeans; but it is hard to realize the difficulties which they have encountered in trying to comprehend our civilization, and in grasping its improvements. even the adoption of the antique spanish plow, the clumsy two-wheeled cart, the heavy ax and the rude saw, which are still found among them, caused them to pass at one stride from the stone to the iron age, which, but for the intervention of the spaniards, they would not naturally have reached without centuries of patient plodding. moreover, before the arrival of the europeans, the aborigines of america had never seen horses, cows, sheep, or dogs, and the turkey was the only domestic animal known to them. hence, in ancient american society there was no such thing as a pastoral stage of development; and the absence of domestic animals from the western hemisphere is a very important reason why the progress of mankind in this part of the world was not more rapid. still it is a remarkable fact that the most ancient race, of which we have any actual knowledge on this continent, is, also, the most peaceful, self-supporting, and industrious, subsisting principally on the sale of their curiously decorated pottery, and the products of their arid soil. we saw here a young man who had been educated in the government school at carlisle; but, like most of his race, after returning to his village he had reverted to the ways of his ancestors, disqualified by his birth and instincts of heredity from doing anything else successfully. [illustration: moqui cart and plow.] [illustration: moqui children.] it was late on the night succeeding our visit to ácoma that we arrived at flagstaff, and our entire party was asleep. suddenly we were aroused by a prolonged shout and the discharge of half a dozen revolvers. five minutes later there came a general fusillade of pistol shots, and near and distant cries were heard, in which our half-awakened faculties could distinguish only the words: "hurry up!" "call the crowd!" "down the alley!" then a gruff voice yelled just beneath my window: "let her go," and instantly our locomotive gave a whistle so piercing and continuous that all the occupants of our car sprang from their couches, and met in a demoralized group of multicolored pajamas in the corridor. what was it? had the train been held up? were we attacked? no; both the whistle and the pistol shots were merely flagstaff's mode of giving an alarm of fire. we hastily dressed and stepped out upon the platform. a block of buildings just opposite the station was on fire, and was evidently doomed; yet flagstaff's citizens, whose forms, relieved against the lurid glow, looked like comanche indians in a war dance, fought the flames with stubborn fury. the sight of a successful conflagration always thrills me, partly with horror, partly with delight. three hundred feet away, two buildings formed an ever-increasing pyramid of golden light. we could distinguish the thin streams of water thrown by two puny engines; but, in comparison with the great tongues of fire which they strove to conquer, they appeared like silver straws. nothing could check the mad carousal of the sparks and flames, which danced, leaped, whirled, reversed, and intertwined, like demons waltzing with a company of witches on walpurgis night. a few adventurous men climbed to the roofs of the adjoining structures, and thence poured buckets of water on the angry holocaust; but, for all the good they thus accomplished, they might as well have spat upon the surging, writhing fire, which flashed up in their faces like exploding bombs, whenever portions of the buildings fell. meantime huge clouds of dense smoke, scintillant with sparks, rolled heavenward from this miniature vesuvius; the neighboring windows, as they caught the light, sparkled like monster jewels; two telegraph poles caught fire, and cut their slender forms and outstretched arms against the jet black sky, like gibbets made of gold. how fire and water serve us, when subdued as slaves; but, oh, how terribly they scourge us, if ever for a moment they can gain the mastery! too interested to exchange a word, we watched the struggle and awaited the result. the fury of the fire seemed like the wild attack of indians, inflamed with frenzy and fanaticism, sure to exhaust itself at last, but for the moment riotously triumphant. gradually, however, through want of material on which to feed itself, the fiery demon drooped its shining crest, brandished its arms with lessening vigor, and seemed to writhe convulsively, as thrust after thrust from the silver spears of its assailants reached a vital spot. finally, after hurling one last shower of firebrands, it sank back into darkness, and its hereditary enemy rushed in to drown each lingering spark of its reduced vitality. [illustration: flagstaff station.] [illustration: packing wood.] [illustration: a mexican home.] [illustration: our car at flagstaff.] [illustration: the heavens from the observatory, flagstaff.] [illustration: twilight.] upon a hill near flagstaff stands an astronomical observatory from which distinguished students of the midnight skies search for the secrets of the moon and stars. few better sites on earth could have been chosen for this purpose, since arizona's atmosphere is so transparent that the extent of celestial scenery here disclosed is extraordinary. we visited the structure at the solemn hour that marks the hush between two days, when the last sound of one has died away, and before the first stir of the other thrills the morning air. then, gazing through the lenses of its noble telescope, we welcomed the swift waves of light pulsating toward us from the shoreless ocean we call space. there is a mysterious beauty about the radiance of a star that far surpasses that of the moon. the latter glitters only with reflected light; but a star (that is to say a distant sun), when seen through a telescope, frequently scintillates with different colors like a diamond, and quivers like a thing of life. moreover, the moon, forever waxing, waning, or presenting almost stupidly its great flat face, is continually changing; but the fixed star is always there. it fills the thoughtful soul with awe to look upon the starry heavens through such an instrument as that at flagstaff. space for the moment seems annihilated. we are apparently transported, as observers, from our tiny planet to the confines of our solar system, and, gazing thence still farther toward infinity, we watch with bated breath the birth, the progress, and the death of worlds. to one of the most distant objects in the depths of space, known as the ring nebula, the author addressed the following lines: to the ring nebula. o, pallid spectre of the midnight skies! whose phantom features in the dome of night elude the keenest gaze of wistful eyes till amplest lenses aid the failing sight, on heaven's blue sea the farthest isle of fire. from thee, whose glories it would fain admire, must vision, baffled, in despair retire! what art thou, ghostly visitant of flame? wouldst thou 'neath closer scrutiny dissolve in myriad suns that constellations frame, round which life-freighted satellites revolve, like those unnumbered orbs which nightly creep in dim procession o'er the azure steep, as white-wing'd caravans the desert sweep? or, art thou still an incandescent mass, acquiring form as hostile forces urge, through whose vast length a million lightnings pass as to and fro its fiery billows surge, whose glowing atoms, whirled in ceaseless strife where now chaotic anarchy is rife. shall yet become the fair abodes of life? we know not; for the faint, exhausted rays which hither on light's wingèd coursers come from fires which ages since first lit their blaze, one instant gleam, then perish, spent and dumb! how strange the thought that, whatsoe'er we learn, our tiny globe no answer can return, since with but dull, reflected beams we burn! yet this we know; yon ring of spectral light, whose distance thrills the soul with solemn awe, can ne'er escape in its majestic might the firm control of omnipresent law. this mote descending to its bounden place. those suns whose radiance we can scarcely trace, alike obey the power pervading space. [illustration: night.] [illustration: the san francisco volcanoes.] [illustration: starting for the grand cañon.] one glorious september morning, leaving our train at flagstaff, we started in stage-coaches for a drive of sixty-five miles to the grand cañon. i had looked forward to this drive with some misgiving, dreading the heat of the sun, and the dust and sand which i had supposed we should encounter; but to my astonishment and delight it was a thoroughly enjoyable experience. it was only eleven hours in duration, and not only was most of the route level, but two-thirds of it lay through a section of beautifully rolling land, diversified with open glades and thousands upon thousands of tall pines and cedars entirely free from undergrowth. it is no exaggeration to say that we drove that day for miles at a time over a road carpeted with pine needles. the truth is, arizona, though usually considered a treeless and rainless country, possesses some remarkable exceptions; and the region near flagstaff not only abounds in stately pines, but is at certain seasons visited by rainstorms which keep it fresh and beautiful. during our stay at the grand cañon we had a shower every night; the atmosphere was marvelously pure, and aromatic with the odors of a million pines; and so exhilarating was exercise in the open air, that however arduous it might be, we never felt inconvenienced by fatigue, and mere existence gave us joy. decidedly, then, it will not do to condemn the whole of arizona because of the heat of its arid, southern plains; for the northern portion of the state is a plateau, with an elevation of from five thousand to seven thousand feet. hence, as it is not latitude, so much as altitude, that gives us healthful, pleasing temperature, in parts of arizona the climate is delightful during the entire year. [illustration: the drive through the pines.] [illustration: the san francisco mountain.] a portion of this stage-coach journey led us over the flank of the great san francisco mountain. the isolated position, striking similarity, and almost uniform altitude of its four peaks, rising nearly thirteen thousand feet above the sea, have long made them famous. moreover, they are memorable for having cast a lurid light upon the development of this portion of our planet. cold, calm, and harmless though they now appear, the time has been when they contained a molten mass which needed but a throb of earth's uneasy heart to light the heavens with an angry glare, and cover the adjoining plains with floods of fire. lava has often poured from their destructive cones, and can be traced thence over a distance of thirty miles; proving that they once served as vents for the volcanic force which the thin crust of earth was vainly striving to confine. but their activity is apparently ended. the voices with which they formerly shouted to one another in the joy of devastation have been silenced. conquered at last, their fires smolder now beneath a barrier too firm to yield, and their huge forms appear like funeral monuments reared to the memory of the power buried at their base. another fascinating sight upon this drive was that of the painted desert whose variously colored streaks of sand, succeeding one another to the rim of the horizon, made the vast area seem paved with bands of onyx, agate, and carnelian. [illustration: the lunch station.] about the hour of noon we reached a lunch-station at which the stages, going to and from the cañon, meet and pass. the structure itself is rather primitive; but a good meal is served to tourists at this wayside halting-place, and since our appetites had been sharpened by the long ride and tonic-giving air, it seemed to us the most delicious of repasts. the principal object of one of the members of our party, in making the journey described in these pages, was to determine the advisability of building a railroad from flagstaff to the cañon. whether this will be done eventually is not, however, a matter of vital interest to travelers, since the country traversed can easily be made an almost ideal coaching-route; and with good stages, frequent relays of horses, and a well-appointed lunch-station, a journey thus accomplished would be preferable to a trip by rail. [illustration: hance's camp.] [illustration: our tent at hance's camp.] night had already come when we arrived at our destination, known as hance's camp, near the border of the cañon. as we drove up to it, the situation seemed enchanting in its peace and beauty; for it is located in a grove of noble pines, through which the moon that night looked down in full-orbed splendor, paving the turf with inlaid ebony and silver, and laying a mantle of white velvet on the tents in which we were to sleep. hance's log cabin serves as a kitchen and dining-room for travelers, and a few guests can even find lodging there; but, until a hotel is built, the principal dormitories must be the tents, which are provided with wooden floors and furnished with tables, chairs, and comfortable beds. this kind of accommodation, however, although excellent for travelers in robust health, is not sufficiently luxurious to attract many tourists. the evident necessity of the place is a commodious, well-kept inn, situated a few hundred feet to the rear of hance's camp, on the very edge of the cañon. if such a hotel, built on a spot commanding the incomparable view, were properly advertised and well-managed, i firmly believe that thousands of people would come here every year, on their way to or from the pacific coast--not wishing or expecting it to be a place of fashion, but seeking it as a point where, close beside a park of pines, seven thousand feet above the level of the sea, one of the greatest marvels of the world can be enjoyed, in all the different phases it presents at morning, noon, and night, in sunshine, moonlight, and in storm. [illustration: old hance.] [illustration: the first view.] early the next morning i eagerly climbed the little knoll at the foot of which our tents were located, for i well knew that from its summit i should see the cañon. many grand objects in the world are heralded by sound: the solemn music of niagara, the roar of active geysers in the yellowstone, the intermittent thunder of the sea upon a rocky coast, are all distinguishable at some distance; but over the grand cañon of the colorado broods a solemn silence. no warning voice proclaims its close proximity; no partial view prepares us for its awful presence. we walk a few steps through the pine trees from the camp and suddenly find ourselves upon the cañon's edge. just before reaching it, i halted for a moment, as has always been my wont when approaching for the first time any natural or historic object that i have longed for years to look upon. around me rose the stately pines; behind me was a simple stretch of rolling woodland; nothing betrayed the nearness of one of the greatest wonders of the world. could it be possible that i was to be disappointed? at last i hurried through the intervening space, gave a quick look, and almost reeled. the globe itself seemed to have suddenly yawned asunder, leaving me trembling on the hither brink of two dissevered hemispheres. vast as the bed of a vanished ocean, deep as mount washington, riven from its apex to its base, the grandest cañon on our planet lay glittering below me in the sunlight like a submerged continent, drowned by an ocean that had ebbed away. at my very feet, so near that i could have leaped at once into eternity, the earth was cleft to a depth of six thousand six hundred feet--not by a narrow gorge, like other cañons, but by an awful gulf within whose cavernous immensity the forests of the adirondacks would appear like jackstraws, the hudson palisades would be an insignificant stratum, niagara would be indiscernible, and cities could be tossed like pebbles. [illustration: the earth-gulf of arizona.] [illustration: a portion of the gulf.] [illustration: "a vast, incomparable void."] as brain grew steadier and vision clearer, i saw, directly opposite, the other side of the cañon thirteen miles away. it was a mountain wall, a mile in height, extending to the right and left as far as the eye could reach; and since the cliff upon which i was standing was its counterpart, it seemed to me as if these parallel banks were once the shore-lines of a vanished sea. between them lay a vast, incomparable void, two hundred miles in length, presenting an unbroken panorama to the east and west until the gaze could follow it no farther. try to conceive what these dimensions mean by realizing that a strip of the state of massachusetts, thirteen miles in width, and reaching from boston to albany, could be laid as a covering over this cañon, from one end to the other; and that if the entire range of the white mountains were flung into it, the monstrous pit would still remain comparatively empty! even now it is by no means without contents; for, as i gazed with awe and wonder into its colossal area, i seemed to be looking down upon a colored relief-map of the mountain systems of the continent. it is not strictly one cañon, but a labyrinth of cañons, in many of which the whole yosemite could be packed away and lost. thus one of them, the marble cañon, is of itself more than three thousand feet deep and sixty-six miles long. in every direction i beheld below me a tangled skein of mountain ranges, thousands of feet in height, which the grand cañon's walls enclosed, as if it were a huge sarcophagus, holding the skeleton of an infant world. it is evident, therefore, that all the other cañons of our globe are, in comparison with this, what pygmies are to a giant, and that the name grand cañon, which is often used to designate some relatively insignificant ravine, should be in truth applied only to the stupendous earth-gulf of arizona. [illustration: a section of the labyrinth.] [illustration: mount ayer.] at length, i began to try to separate and identify some of these formations. directly in the foreground, a savage looking mountain reared its splintered head from the abyss, and stood defiantly confronting me, six thousand feet above the cañon's floor. though practically inaccessible to the average tourist, this has been climbed, and is named mount ayer, after mrs. edward ayer, the first woman who ever descended into the cañon to the river's edge. beyond this, other mountains rise from the gulf, many of which resemble the step pyramid at sakhara, one of the oldest of the royal sepulchres beside the nile. but so immeasurably vaster are the pyramids of this cañon than any work of man, that had the tombs of the pharaohs been placed beside them, i could not have discovered them without a field-glass. some of these grand constructions stand alone, while others are in pairs; and many of them resemble oriental temples, buttressed with terraces a mile or two in length, and approached by steps a hundred feet in height. around these, too, are many smaller mountainous formations, crude and unfinished in appearance, like shrines commenced and then abandoned by the cañon's architect. most of us are but children of a larger growth, and love to interpret nature, as if she reared her mountains, painted her sunsets, cut her cañons, and poured forth her cataracts solely for our instruction and enjoyment. so, when we gaze on forms like these, shaped like gigantic temples, obelisks, and altars fashioned by man's hands, we try to see behind them something personal, and even name them after hindu, grecian, and egyptian gods, as if those deities made them their abodes. thus, one of these shrines was called by the artist, thomas moran, the temple of set; three others are dedicated respectively to siva, vishnu, and vulcan; while on the apex of a mighty altar, still unnamed, a twisted rock-formation, several hundred feet in height, suggests a flame, eternally preserved by unseen hands, ascending to an unknown god. [illustration: some of the cañon temples.] [illustration: siva's temple.] it is difficult to realize the magnitude of these objects, so deceptive are distances and dimensions in the transparent atmosphere of arizona. siva's temple, for example, stands upon a platform four or five miles square, from which rise domes and pinnacles a thousand feet in height. some of their summits call to mind immense sarcophagi of jasper or of porphyry, as if they were the burial-places of dead deities, and the grand cañon a necropolis for pagan gods. yet, though the greater part of the population of the world could be assembled here, one sees no worshipers, save an occasional devotee of nature, standing on the cañon's rim, lost in astonishment and hushed in awe. these temples were, however, never intended for a human priesthood. a man beside them is a pygmy. his voice here would be little more effective than the chirping of an insect. the god-appointed celebrant, in the cathedrals of this cañon, must be nature. her voice alone can rouse the echoes of these mountains into deafening peals of thunder. her metaphors are drawn from an experience of ages. her prayers are silent, rapturous communings with the infinite. her hymns of praise are the glad songs of birds; her requiems are the meanings of the pines; her symphonies the solemn roaring of the winds. "sermons in stone" abound at every turn; and if, as the poet has affirmed, "an undevout astronomer is mad," with still more truth can it be said that those are blind who in this wonderful environment look not "through nature up to nature's god." these wrecks of tempest and of time are finger-posts that point the thoughts of mortals to eternal heights; and we find cause for hope in the fact that, even in a place like this, man is superior to nature; for he interprets it, he finds in it the thoughts of god, and reads them after him. [illustration: near the temple of set.] [illustration: hance's trail, looking up.] the coloring of the grand cañon is no less extraordinary than its forms. nature has saved this chasm from being a terrific scene of desolation by glorifying all that it contains. wall after wall, turret after turret, and mountain range after mountain range belted with tinted strata, succeed one another here like billows petrified in glowing colors. these hues are not as brilliant and astonishing in their variety as are the colors of the yellowstone cañon, but their subdued and sombre tones are perfectly suited to the awe-inspiring place which they adorn. the prominent tints are yellow, red, maroon, and a dull purple, as if the glory of unnumbered sunsets, fading from these rugged cliffs, had been in part imprisoned here. yet, somehow, specimens of these colored rocks lose all their brilliancy and beauty when removed from their environment, like sea-shells from the beach; a verification of the sentiment so beautifully expressed in the lines of emerson: "i wiped away the weeds and foam, i fetched my sea-born treasures home; but the poor, unsightly, noisome things had left their beauty on the shore, with the sun and the sand and the wild uproar." [illustration: mist in the cañon.] to stand upon the edge of this stupendous gorge, as it receives its earliest greeting from the god of day, is to enjoy in a moment compensation for long years of ordinary uneventful life. when i beheld the scene, a little before daybreak, a lake of soft, white clouds was floating round the summits of the cañon mountains, hiding the huge crevasse beneath, as a light coverlet of snow conceals a chasm in an alpine glacier. i looked with awe upon this misty curtain of the morn, for it appeared to me symbolic of the grander curtain of the past which shuts out from our view the awful struggles of the elements enacted here when the grand gulf was being formed. at length, however, as the light increased, this thin, diaphanous covering was mysteriously withdrawn, and when the sun's disk rose above the horizon, the huge facades of the temples which looked eastward grew immediately rosy with the dawn; westward, projecting cliffs sketched on the opposite sides of the ravines, in dark blue silhouettes, the evanescent forms of castles, battlements, and turrets from which some shreds of white mist waved like banners of capitulation; stupendous moats beneath them were still black with shadow; while clouds filled many of the minor cañons, like vapors rising from enormous cauldrons. gradually, as the solar couriers forced a passage into the narrow gullies, and drove the remnant of night's army from its hiding-places, innumerable shades of purple, yellow, red, and brown appeared, varying according to the composition of the mountains, and the enormous void was gradually filled to the brim with a luminous haze, which one could fancy was the smoke of incense from its countless altars. a similar, and even more impressive, scene is visible here in the late afternoon, when all the western battlements in their turn grow resplendent, while the eastern walls submit to an eclipse; till, finally, a gray pall drops upon the lingering bloom of day, the pageant fades, the huge sarcophagi are mantled in their shrouds, the gorgeous colors which have blazed so sumptuously through the day grow pale and vanish, the altar fires turn to ashes, the mighty temples draw their veils and seem deserted by both gods and men, and the stupendous panorama awaits, beneath the canopy of night, the glory of another dawn. [illustration: a stupendous panorama.] [illustration: a tangled skein of cañons.] it was my memorable privilege to see, one afternoon, a thunder storm below me here. a monstrous cloud-wall, like a huge gray veil, came traveling up the cañon, and we could watch the lightning strike the buttes and domes ten or twelve miles away, while the loud peals of thunder, broken by crags and multiplied by echoes, rolled toward us through the darkening gulf at steadily decreasing intervals. sometimes two flashes at a time ran quivering through the air and launched their bolts upon the mountain shrines, as though their altars, having been erected for idolatrous worship, were doomed to be annihilated. occasionally, through an opening in the clouds, the sun would suddenly light up the summit of a mountain, or flash a path of gold through a ravine; and i shall never forget the curious sensation of seeing far beneath me bright sunshine in one cañon and a violent storm in another. at last, a rainbow cast its radiant bridge across the entire space, and we beheld the tempest disappear like a troop of cavalry in a cloud of dust beneath that iridescent arch, beyond whose curving spectrum all the temples stood forth, still intact in their sublimity. [illustration: on the brink.] at certain points along the cañon, promontories jut out into the abyss, like headlands which in former times projected into an ocean that has disappeared. hence, riding along the brink, as one may do for miles, we looked repeatedly into many lateral fissures, from fifteen hundred to three thousand feet in depth. all these, however, like gigantic fingers, pointed downward to the centre of the cañon, where, five miles away, and at a level more than six thousand feet below the brink on which we stood, extended a long, glittering trail. this, where the sunlight struck it, gleamed like an outstretched band of gold. it was the sinuous colorado, yellow as the tiber. [illustration: ripley's butte.] [illustration: a bit of the river.] [illustration: on hance's trail.] one day of our stay here was devoted to making the descent to this river. it is an undertaking compared with which the crossing of the gemmi on a mule is child's play. fortunately, however, the arduous trip is not absolutely necessary for an appreciation of the immensity and grandeur of the scenery. on the contrary, one gains a really better idea of these by riding along the brink, and looking down at various points on the sublime expanse. nevertheless, a descent into the cañon is essential for a proper estimate of its details, and one can never realize the enormity of certain cliffs and the extent of certain valleys, till he has crawled like a maimed insect at their base and looked thence upward to the narrowed sky. yet such an investigation of the cañon is, after all, merely like going down from a balloon into a great city to examine one of its myriad streets, since any gorge we may select for our descending path is but a tiny section of a labyrinth. that which is unique and incomparable here is the view from the brink; and when the promised hotel is built upon the border of the cañon, visitors will be content to remain for days at their windows or on the piazzas, feasting their souls upon a scene always sublime and sometimes terrible. [illustration: a vision of sublimity.] nevertheless, desirous of exploring a specimen of these chasms (as we often select for minute examination a single painting out of an entire picture gallery) we made the descent to the colorado by means of a crooked scratch upon a mountain side, which one might fancy had been blazed by a zigzag flash of lightning. as it requires four hours to wriggle down this path, and an equal amount of time to wriggle up, i spent the greater part of a day on what a comrade humorously styled the "quarter-deck of a mule." a square, legitimate seat in the saddle was usually impossible, so steep was the incline; and hence, when going down, i braced my feet and lay back on the haunches of the beast, and, in coming up, had to lean forward and clutch the pommel, to keep from sliding off, as a human avalanche, on the head of the next in line. in many places, however, riding was impossible, and we were compelled to scramble over the rocks on foot. the effect of hours of this exercise on muscles unaccustomed to such surprises may be imagined; yet, owing to the wonderfully restorative air of arizona, the next day after this, the severest physical exertion i had ever known, i did not feel the slightest bad result, and was as fresh as ever. that there is an element of danger in this trip cannot be doubted. at times the little trail, on which two mules could not possibly have passed each other, skirts a precipice where the least misstep would hurl the traveler to destruction; and every turn of the zigzag path is so sharp that first the head and then the tail of the mule inevitably projects above the abyss, and wig-wags to the mule below. moreover, though not a vestige of a parapet consoles the dizzy rider, in several places the animal simply puts its feet together and toboggans down the smooth face of a slanting rock, bringing up at the bottom with a jerk that makes the tourist see a large variety of constellations, and even causes his beast to belch forth an involuntary roar of disenchantment, or else to try to pulverize his immediate successor. in such a place as this nature seems pitiless and cruel; and one is impressed with the reflection that a million lives might be crushed out in any section of this maze of gorges and not a feature of it would be changed. there is, however, a fascination in gambling with danger, when a desirable prize is to be gained. the stake we risk may be our lives, yet, when the chances are in our favor, we often love to match excitement against the possibility of death; and even at the end, when we are safe, a sigh sometimes escapes us, as when the curtain falls on an absorbing play. [illustration: starting down the trail.] [illustration: a yawning chasm.] [illustration: obliged to walk.] as we descended, it grew warmer, not only from the greater elevation of the sun at noon, but from the fact that in this sudden drop of six thousand feet we had passed through several zones of temperature. snow, for example, may be covering the summits of the mountains in midwinter, while at the bottom of the cañon are summer warmth and vernal flowers. when, after two or three hours of continuous descent, we looked back at our starting-point, it seemed incredible that we had ever stood upon the pinnacles that towered so far above us, and were apparently piercing the slowly moving clouds. the effect was that of looking up from the bottom of a gigantic well. instinctively i asked myself if i should ever return to that distant upper world, and it gave me a memorable realization of my individual insignificance to stand in such a sunken solitude, and realize that the fissure i was exploring was only a single loop in a vast network of ravines, which, if extended in a straight line, would make a cañon seven hundred miles in length. it was with relief that we reached, at last, the terminus of the lateral ravine we had been following and at the very bottom of the cañon rested on the bank of the colorado. the river is a little freer here than elsewhere in its tortuous course, and for some hundred feet is less compressed by the grim granite cliffs which, usually, rise in smooth black walls hundreds of feet in almost vertical height, and for two hundred miles retain in their embrace the restless, foaming flood that has no other avenue of escape. the navigation of this river by major j.w. powell, in 1869, was one of the most daring deeds of exploration ever achieved by man, and the thrilling story of his journey down the colorado, for more than a thousand miles, and through the entire length of the grand cañon, is as exciting as the most sensational romance. despite the remonstrances of friends and the warnings of friendly indians, major powell, with a flotilla of four boats and nine men, started down the river, on may 24th, from green river city, in utah, and, on the 30th of august, had completed his stupendous task, with the loss of two boats and four men. of the latter, one had deserted at an early date and escaped; but the remaining three, unwilling to brave any longer the terrors of the unknown cañon, abandoned the expedition and tried to return through the desert, but were massacred by indians. it is only when one stands beside a portion of this lonely river, and sees it shooting stealthily and swiftly from a rift in the titanic cliffs and disappearing mysteriously between dark gates of granite, that he realizes what a heroic exploit the first navigation of this river was; for nothing had been known of its imprisoned course through this entanglement of chasms, or could be known, save by exploring it in boats, so difficult of access were, and are, the two or three points where it is possible for a human being to reach its perpendicular banks. accordingly, when the valiant navigators sailed into these mysterious waters, they knew that there was almost every chance against the possibility of a boat's living in such a seething current, which is, at intervals, punctured with a multitude of tusk-like rocks, tortured into rapids, twisted into whirlpools, or broken by falls; while in the event of shipwreck they could hope for little save naked precipices to cling to for support. moreover, after a heavy rain the colorado often rises here fifty or sixty feet under the veritable cataracts of water which, for miles, stream directly down the perpendicular walls, and make of it a maddened torrent wilder than the rapids of niagara. all honor, then, to powell and his comrades who braved not alone the actual dangers thus described, but stood continually alert for unknown perils, which any bend in the swift, snake-like river might disclose, and which would make the gloomy groove through which they slipped a black-walled _oubliette_, or gate to acheron. [illustration: a cabin on the trail.] [illustration: a halt.] [illustration: at the bottom.] [illustration: taking lunch near the river.] [illustration: beside the colorado.] if any river in the world should be regarded with superstitious reverence, it is the colorado, for it represents to us, albeit in a diminished form, the element that has produced the miracle of the arizona cañon,--water. far back in the distant eocene epoch of our planet's history, the colorado was the outlet of an inland sea which drained off toward the pacific, as the country of northwestern arizona rose; and the grand cañon illustrates, on a stupendous scale, the system of erosion which, in a lesser degree, has deeply furrowed the entire region. at first one likes to think of the excavation of this awful chasm as the result of some tremendous cataclysm of nature; but, in reality, it has all been done by water, assisted, no doubt, by the subtler action of the winds and storms in the disintegration of the monster cliffs, which, as they slowly crumbled into dust, were carried downward by the rains, and, finally, were borne off by the omnivorous river to the sea. [illustration: monster cliffs, and a notch in the cañon wall.] [illustration: miles of intra-cañons.] but though, at first, these agents do not seem as forceful and extraordinary as a single terrible catastrophe, the slow results thus gained are even more impressive. for what an appalling lapse of time must have been necessary to cut down and remove layers of sandstone, marble, and granite, thousands of feet in thickness; to carve the mighty shrines of siva and of vishnu, and to etch out these scores of interlacing cañons! to calculate it one must reckon a century for every turn of the hourglass. it is the story of a struggle maintained for ages between the solid and the fluid elements, in which at last the yielding water won a victory over adamant. it is an evidence, too, of nature's patient methods; a triumph of the delicate over the strong, the liquid over the solid, the transitory over the enduring. at present, the softer material has been exhausted, and the rapacious river, shrunken in size, must satisfy itself by gnawing only the archaic granite which still curbs its course. yet if this calculation overpowers us, what shall we say of the reflections awakened by the fact that all the limestone cliffs along the lofty edges of the cañon are composed of fossils,--the skeletons of creatures that once lived here covered by an ocean, and that ten thousand feet of strata, which formerly towered above the present summits of the cañon walls, have been eroded and swept downward to the sea! hence, were the missing strata (all of which are found in regular sequence in the high plateaus of utah) restored, this cañon would be sixteen thousand feet in depth, and from its borders one could look down upon a mountain higher than mont blanc! to calculate the æons implied in the repeated elevations and subsidences which made this region what it is would be almost to comprehend eternity. in such a retrospect centuries crumble and disappear into the gulf of time as pebbles into the cañon of the colorado. on my last evening in the pine tree camp i left my tent and walked alone to the edge of the grand cañon. the night was white with the splendor of the moon. a shimmering lake of silvery vapor rolled its noiseless tide against the mountains, and laved the terraces of the hindu shrines. the lunar radiance, falling into such profundity, was powerless to reveal the plexus of subordinate cañons, and even the temples glimmered through the upper air like wraiths of the huge forms which they reveal by day. advancing cautiously to an isolated point upon the brink, i lay upon my face, and peered down into the spectral void. no voice of man, nor cry of bird, nor roar of beast resounded through those awful corridors of silence. even thought had no existence in that sunken realm of chaos. i felt as if i were the sole survivor of the deluge. only the melancholy murmur of the wind ascended from that sepulchre of centuries. it seemed the requiem for a vanished world. [illustration] yellowstone national park [illustration] on certain portions of our globe almighty god has set a special imprint of divinity. the alps, the pyrénées, the mexican volcanoes, the solemn grandeur of norwegian fjords, the sacred mountain of japan, and the sublimity of india's himalayas--at different epochs in a life of travel--had filled my soul with awe and admiration. but, since the summer of 1896, there has been ranked with these in my remembrance the country of the yellowstone. two-thirds across this continent, hidden away in the heart of the rocky mountains, eight thousand feet above the level of the sea, there lies a marvelous section of our earth, about one-half as large as the state of connecticut. on three sides this is guarded by lofty, well-nigh inaccessible mountains, as though the infinite himself would not allow mankind to rashly enter its sublime enclosure. in this respect our government has wisely imitated the creator. it has proclaimed to all the world the sanctity of this peculiar area. it has received it as a gift from god and, as his trustee, holds it for the welfare of humanity. we, then, as citizens of the united states, are its possessors and its guardians. it is our national park. yet, although easy of access, most of us let the years go by without exploring it! how little we realize what a treasure we possess is proven by the fact that, until recently, the majority of tourists here were foreigners! i thought my previous store of memories was rich, but to have added to it the recollections of the yellowstone will give a greater happiness to life while life shall last. day after day, yes, hour after hour, within the girdle of its snow-capped peaks i looked upon a constant series of stupendous sights--a blending of the beautiful and terrible, the strange and the sublime--which were, moreover, so peculiar that they stand out distinct and different from those of every other portion of our earth. [illustration: lone star geyser.] [illustration: the grotto, geyser's cone.] [illustration: entrance to the park.] to call our national park the "switzerland of america" would be absurd. it is not switzerland; it is not iceland; it is not norway; it is unique; and the unique cannot be compared. if i were asked to describe it in a dozen lines, i should call it the arena of an enormous amphitheatre. its architect was nature; the gladiators that contended in it were volcanoes. during unnumbered ages those gladiators struggled to surpass one another in destruction by pouring forth great floods of molten lava. even now the force which animated them still shows itself in other forms, but harmlessly, much as a captive serpent hisses though its fangs are drawn. but the volcanoes give no sign of life. they are dead actors in a fearful tragedy performed here countless centuries before the advent of mankind, with this entire region for a stage, and for their only audience the sun and stars. i shall never forget our entrance into this theatre of sublime phenomena. the pullman car, in which we had taken our places at st. paul, had carried us in safety more than a thousand miles and had left us at the gateway of the park. before us was a portion of the road, eight miles in length, which leads the tourist to the mammoth springs hotel. on one side an impetuous river shouted a welcome as we rode along. above us rose gray, desolate cliffs. they are volcanic in their origin. the brand of fire is on them all. they are symbolic, therefore, of the entire park; for fire and water are the two great forces here which have, for ages, struggled for supremacy. [illustration: the watchful sentinel.] [illustration: the mammoth springs hotel.] no human being dwells upon those dreary crags, but at one point, as i looked up at them, i saw--poised statue-like above a mighty pinnacle of rock--a solitary eagle. pausing, with outstretched wings above its nest, it seemed to look disdainfully upon us human pygmies crawling far below. living at such a height, in voluntary isolation, that king of birds appeared the very embodiment of strength and majesty. call it a touch of superstition, if you will, yet i confess it thrilled me to the heart to find that here, above the very entrance to the wonderland of our republic, there should be stationed midway between earth and heaven, like a watchful sentinel, our national bird,--the bird of freedom! at length a sudden turn revealed to us our first halting-place within the park,--the mammoth springs hotel. the structure in itself looked mammoth as we approached it, for its portico exceeds four hundred feet in length. our first impressions were agreeable. porters rushed forth and helped us to alight, and on the broad piazza the manager received us cordially. everything had the air of an established summer resort. this, i confess, surprised me greatly, as i had expected primitive accommodations, and supposed that, though the days of camping-out had largely passed away, the resting-places in the park were still so crude that one would be glad to leave them. but i lingered here with pleasure long after all the wonders of the park had been beheld. the furniture, though simple, is sufficient; to satisfy our national nervousness, the halls are so well-stocked with rocking-chairs that european visitors look about them with alarm, and try to find some seats that promise a more stable equilibrium; the sleeping-rooms are scrupulously clean; soft blankets, snow-white sheets, and comfortable beds assure a good night's rest; and the staff of colored waiters in the dining-room, steam-heat, a bell-boy service, and electric lights made us forget our distance from great cities and the haunts of men. moreover, what is true of this is true, as well, of the other hotels within the park; and when i add that well-cooked food is served in all of them, it will be seen that tourists need not fear a lengthy sojourn in these hostelries. [illustration: hall of the mammoth springs hotel.] [illustration: the photographer's house.] [illustration: mammoth hot springs.] [illustration: fort yellowstone.] standing on the veranda of the mammoth hot springs hotel, i saw between me and the range of mountains opposite a broad plateau, on which were grouped a dozen neat and tasteful structures. with the exception of the photographer's house in the foreground, these constitute fort yellowstone. "a fort!" the visitor exclaims, "impossible! these buildings are of wood, not stone. where are its turrets, battlements, and guns?" nevertheless, this is a station for two companies of united states cavalry; most of the houses being residences for the officers, while in the rear are barracks for the soldiers. [illustration: a forest in the park.] no one who has visited the national park ever doubts the necessity of having soldiers there. thus, one of the most important duties of the united states troops, stationed within its area, is to save its splendid forests from destruction. to do this calls for constant vigilance. a fire started in the resinous pines, which cover many of the mountain sides, leaps forward with such fury that it would overtake a horseman fleeing for his life. to guard against so serious a calamity, soldiers patrol the park continually to see that all the camp-fires have been extinguished. thanks to their watchful care, only one notable conflagration has occurred here in the last eight years, and that the soldiers fought with energy for twenty days, till the last vestige of it was subdued. the tourist comprehends the great importance of this work when he beholds the rivers of the park threading, like avenues of silver, the sombre frame-work of the trees, and recollects that just such forests as adjoin these streams cover no less than eighty-four per cent. of its entire area. in a treeless country like wyoming these forests are of priceless value, because of their utility in holding back, in spring, the melting snow. some of the largest rivers of our continent are fed from the well-timbered area of the yellowstone; and if the trees were destroyed, the enormous snowfall in the park, unsheltered from the sun, would melt so rapidly that the swollen torrents would quickly wash away roads, bridges, and productive farms, even, far out in the adjacent country, and, subsequently, cause a serious drought for many months. [illustration: fire-hole river.] another very important labor of the united states soldiers here is to preserve the game within the park. it is the purpose of our government to make this area a place of refuge for those animals which man's insatiate greed has now almost destroyed. the remoteness of this lofty region, together with its mountain fastnesses, deep forests, and sequestered glens, makes it an almost perfect game-preserve. there are at present thirty thousand elk within the park; its deer and antelopes are steadily increasing; and bears, foxes, and small game roam unmolested here. buffaloes, however, are still few in number. they have become too valuable. a buffalo head, which formerly could be bought for a mere trifle, commands, to-day, a price of five hundred dollars. hence, daring poachers sometimes run the risk of entering the park in winter and destroying them. [illustration: mountain sheep.] it is sad to reflect how the buffaloes of this continent have been almost exterminated. as late as thirty years ago, trains often had to halt upon the prairies; and even steamboats were, occasionally, obliged to wait an hour or two in the missouri river until enormous herds of buffalo had crossed their path. now only about two hundred of these animals are in existence,--the sole survivors of the millions that once thundered over the western plains, and disputed with the indians the ownership of this great continent. [illustration: yellowstone elk.] until very recently, travelers on our prairies frequently beheld the melancholy sight of laborers gathering up the buffalo bones which lay upon the plains, like wreckage floating on the sea. hundreds of carloads of these skeletons were shipped to factories in the east. now, to protect the few remaining buffaloes, as well as other animals, our troops patrol the park even in winter. the principal stations are connected by telephone, and information given thus is promptly acted on. no traveler is allowed to carry fire-arms; and any one who attempts to destroy animal life is liable to a fine of one thousand dollars, or imprisonment for two years, or both. [illustration: buffaloes in the snow.] [illustration: gathering buffalo bones.] still another task, devolving upon the military governor of the park, is the building and repairing of its roads. no doubt the superintendent is doing all he can with the amount of money that the government allows him; but there is room for great improvement in these thoroughfares, if congress will but make a suitable appropriation for the purpose. at present, a part of the coaching-route is of necessity traveled over twice. this should be obviated by constructing one more road, by which the tourist could be brought to several interesting features of the park that are now rarely seen. every one knows how roads in europe climb the steepest grades in easy curves, and are usually as smooth as a marble table, free from obstacles, and carefully walled-in by parapets of stone. why should not we possess such roads, especially in our national park? dust is at present a great drawback to the traveler's pleasure here; but this could be prevented if the roads were thoroughly macadamized. surely, the honor of our government demands that this unique museum of marvels should be the pride and glory of the nation, with highways equal to any in the world. [illustration: a yellowstone road.] [illustration: liberty cap.] only a few hundred feet distant from the mammoth springs hotel stands a strange, naturally molded shaft of stone, fifty-two feet in height. from certain points its summit calls to mind the head-dress of the revolution, and hence its name is liberty cap. it is a fitting monument to mark the entrance into wonderland, for it is the cone of an old geyser long since dead. within it is a tube of unknown depth. through that, ages since, was hurled at intervals a stream of boiling water, precisely as it comes from active geysers in the park to-day. but now the hand of time has stilled its passionate pulsations, and laid upon its stony lips the seal of silence. at only a little distance from this eloquent reminder of the past i peered into a cavern hundreds of feet deep. it was once the reservoir of a geyser. an atmosphere of sulphur haunts it still. no doubt this whole plateau is but the cover of extinguished fires, for other similar caves pierce the locality on which the hotel stands. a feeling of solemnity stole over me as i surveyed these dead or dying agents of volcanic power. in the great battle of the elements, which has been going on here for unnumbered centuries, they doubtless took an active part. but time has given them a mortal wound; and now they are waiting patiently until their younger comrades, farther up the park, shall, one by one, like them grow cold and motionless. [illustration: a mound of the hot spring terraces.] not more than fifty feet from liberty cap rise the famous hot spring terraces. they constitute a veritable mountain, covering at least two hundred acres, the whole of which has been, for centuries, growing slowly through the agency of hot water issuing from the boiling springs. this, as it cools, leaves a mineral deposit, spread out in delicate, thin layers by the soft ripples of the heated flood. strange, is it not? everywhere else the flow of water wears away the substance that it touches; but here, by its peculiar sediment, it builds as surely as the coral insect. moreover, the coloring of these terraces is, if possible, even more marvelous than their creation; for, as the mineral water pulsates over them, it forms a great variety of brilliant hues. hot water, therefore, is to this material what blood is to the body. with it the features glow with warmth and color; without it they are cold and ghostlike. accordingly, where water ripples over these gigantic steps, towering one above another toward the sky, they look like beautiful cascades of color; and when the liquid has deserted them, they stand out like a staircase of carrara marble. hence, through the changing centuries, they pass in slow succession, from light to shade, from brilliancy to pallor, and from life to death. this mineral water is not only a mysterious architect; it is, also, an artist that no man can equal. its magic touch has intermingled the finest shades of orange, yellow, purple, red, and brown; sometimes in solid masses, at other places diversified by slender threads, like skeins of multicolored silk. yet in producing all these wonderful effects, there is no violence, no uproar. the boiling water passes over the mounds it has produced with the low murmur of a sweet cascade. its tiny wavelets touch the stone work like a sculptor's fingers, molding the yielding mass into exquisitely graceful forms. [illustration: minerva terrace.] the top of each of these colored steps is a pool of boiling water. each of these tiny lakes is radiant with lovely hues, and is bordered by a colored coping, resembling a curb of jasper or of porphyry. yet the thinnest knife-blade can be placed here on the dividing line between vitality and death. the contrast is as sudden and complete as that between the desert and the valley of the nile. where egypt's river ends its overflow the desert sands begin; and on these terraces it is the same. where the life-giving water fails, the golden colors become ashen. this terraced mountain, therefore, seemed to me like a colossal checker-board, upon whose colored squares, the two great forces, life and death, were playing their eternal game. there is a pathos in this evanescent beauty. what lies about us in one place so gray and ghostly was once as bright and beautiful as that which we perceive a hundred feet away. but nothing here retains supremacy. the glory of this century will be the gravestone of the next. around our feet are sepulchres of vanished splendor. it seems as if the architect were constantly dissatisfied. no sooner has he finished one magnificent structure than he impatiently begins another, leaving the first to crumble and decay. each new production seems to him the finest; but never reaching his ideal, he speedily abandons it to perish from neglect. [illustration: jupiter terrace.] [illustration: "vitality and death."] it cannot be said of these terraces that "distance lends enchantment to the view." the nearer you come to them the more beautiful they appear. they even bear the inspection of a magnifying glass, for they are covered with a bead-like ornamentation worthy of the goldsmith's art. in one place, for example, rise pulpits finer than those of pisa or siena. their edges seem to be of purest jasper. they are upheld by tapering shafts resembling richly decorated organ-pipes. from parapets of porphyry hang gold stalactites, side by side with icicles of silver. moreover, all its marvelous fretwork is distinctly visible, for the light film of water pulsates over it so delicately that it can no more hide the filigree beneath than a thin veil conceals a face. it is a melancholy fact that were it not for united states troops, these beautiful objects would be mutilated by relic-hunters. hence, another duty of our soldiers is to watch the formations constantly, lest tourists should break off specimens, and ruin them forever, and lest still more ignoble vandals, whose fingers itch for notoriety, should write upon these glorious works of nature their worthless names, and those of the towns unfortunate enough to have produced them. all possible measures are taken to prevent this vandalism. thus, every tourist entering the park must register his name. most travelers do so, as a matter of course, at the hotels, but even the arrivals of those who come here to camp must be duly recorded at the superintendent's office, if a soldier sees a name, or even initials, written on the stone, he telephones the fact to the military governor. at once the lists are scanned for such a name. if found, the superintendent wires an order to have the man arrested, and so careful is the search for all defacers, that the offending party is, usually, found before he leaves the park. then the superintendent, like the mikado, makes the punishment fit the crime. a scrubbing brush and laundry soap are given to the desecrator, and he is made to go back, perhaps forty miles or more, and with his own hands wash away the proofs of his disgraceful vanity. not long ago a young man was arrested at six o'clock in the morning, made to leave his bed, and march without his breakfast several miles, to prove that he could be as skillful with a brush as with a pencil. [illustration: "sepulchres of vanished splendor."] [illustration: man and nature.] [illustration: the pulpit terrace.] [illustration: a camping-party.] after spending several days at the mammoth hot springs, we started out to explore the greater marvels that awaited us in the interior. the mode of travel through the park is a succession of coaching-parties over a distance of one hundred and eighty miles. the larger vehicles are drawn by six, the smaller ones by four, strong horses, well fed, well groomed, high spirited, yet safe. this feature of our national park astonished me. i had formed no idea of its perfection or its magnitude. here, for example, are vehicles enough to accommodate seven hundred tourists for a continuous journey of five days! here, too, are five hundred horses, all of which can be harnessed at twenty-four hours' notice; and, since the park is so remote, here also are the company's blacksmith and repair shops. within the stables, also, are the beautifully varnished coaches, varying in cost from one to two thousand dollars, and made in concord, new hampshire, twenty-five hundred miles away. on one of these i read the number, "13-1/2." "why did you add the fraction?" i inquired of the manager of transportation. "because," he replied, "some travelers would not take a number thirteen coach. they feared a breakdown or a tumble into the river; so i put on the half to take ill-luck away." i dwell at length upon these practical details, because i have found that people, in general, do not know them. most americans have little idea whether the driving distance in the park is ten miles, or a hundred. especially are they ignorant of the fact that they may leave the coaches at any point, remain at a hotel as long as they desire, and then resume their journey in other vehicles, without the least additional expense for transportation, precisely as one uses a stop-over ticket on a railroad. [illustration: a coaching-party.] [illustration: no. 13-1/2.] [illustration: hotel at yellowstone lake.] the fact that it is possible to go through the park in four or five days is not a reason why it is best to do so. hundreds of tourists make the trip three times as rapidly as they would were they aware that they could remain comfortably for months. when this is better known, people will travel here more leisurely. even now, parents with little children sometimes leave them at the mammoth springs hotel in charge of nurses, and receive messages by telephone every day to inform them how they are. an important consideration, also, for invalids is the fact that two skilled surgeons, attendant on the army, are always easily accessible. moreover, the climate of the park in summer is delightful. it is true, the sun beats down at noonday fiercely, the thin air offering scant resistance to its rays, but in the shade one feels no heat at all. light overcoats are needed when the sun goes down. there is scarcely a night here, through the year, which passes without frost. to me the pure dry air of that great height was more invigorating than any i had ever breathed, save, possibly, that of norway, and it is, probably, the tonic of the atmosphere that renders even the invalid and aged able to support long journeys in the park without exhaustion. in all these years no tourist has been made ill here by fatigue. [illustration: the golden gate.] [illustration: the golden gate, looking outward.] a few miles after leaving the hot springs, we reached the entrance to a picturesque ravine, the tawny color of whose rocks has given it the name of golden gate. this is, alike, the entrance to, and exit from, the inner sanctuary of this land of marvels. accordingly a solitary boulder, detached from its companions on the cliff, seems to be stationed at this portal like a sentinel to watch all tourists who come and go. at all events it echoes to the voices of those who enter almost as eager as seekers after gold; and, a week later, sees them return, browned by the sun, invigorated by the air, and joyful in the acquisition of incomparable memories. emerging from this golden gate, i looked about me with surprise, as the narrow walls of the ravine gave place to a plateau surrounded everywhere by snow-capped mountains, from which the indians believed one could obtain a view of paradise. across this area, like a railroad traversing a prairie, stretched the driveway for our carriages. "do tourists usually seem delighted with the park?" i asked our driver. "invariably," he replied. "of course i cannot understand the words of the foreigners, but their excited exclamations show their great enthusiasm. i like the tourists," he continued, "they are so grateful for any little favor! one of them said to me the other day, 'is the water here good to drink?' 'not always,' i replied, 'you must be careful.' at once he pressed my hand, pulled out a flask, and said, 'i thank you!" [illustration: the plateau.] while crossing the plateau we enjoyed an admirable view of the loftiest of the mountains which form, around the park, a rampart of protection. its sharply pointed summit pierces the transparent air more than eleven thousand feet above the sea, and it is well named electric peak, since it appears to be a storage battery for all of the rocky mountains. such are the mineral deposits on its sides, that the best instruments of engineers are thrown into confusion, and rendered useless, while the lightning on this favorite home of electricity is said to be unparalleled. [illustration: electric peak.] [illustration: the glass mountain.] presently a turn in the road revealed to us a dark-hued mountain rising almost perpendicularly from a lake. marvelous to relate, the material of which this mountain is composed is jet-black glass, produced by volcanic fires. the very road on which we drove between this and the lake also consists of glass too hard to break beneath the wheels. the first explorers found this obsidian cliff almost impassable; but when they ascertained of what it was composed, they piled up timber at its base, and set it on fire. when the glass was hot, they dashed upon the heated mass cold water, which broke it into fragments. then with huge levers, picks, and shovels, they pushed and pried the shining pieces down into the lake, and opened thus a wagon-road a thousand feet in length. [illustration: an indian chief.] the region of the yellowstone was to most indian tribes a place of horror. they trembled at the awful sights they here beheld. but the obsidian cliff was precious to them all. its substance was as hard as flint, and hence well suited for their arrow-heads. this mountain of volcanic glass was, therefore, the great indian armory; and as such it was neutral ground. hither all hostile tribes might come for implements of war and then depart unharmed. while they were here a sacred, inter-tribal oath protected them. an hour later, those very warriors might meet in deadly combat, and turn against each other's breasts the weapons taken from that laboratory of an unknown power. [illustration: a trapper.] can we wonder that, in former times, when all this region was still unexplored, and its majestic streams rolled nameless through a trackless wilderness, the statements of the few brave men who ventured into this enclosure were disbelieved by all who heard them? one old trapper became so angry when his stories of the place were doubted, that he deliberately revenged himself by inventing tales of which münchhausen would have been proud. thus, he declared, that one day when he was hunting here he saw a bear. he fired at it, but without result. the animal did not even notice him. he fired again, yet the big bear kept on grazing. the hunter in astonishment then ran forward, but suddenly dashed against a solid mountain made of glass. through that, he said, he had been looking at the animal. unspeakably amazed, he finally walked around the mountain, and was just taking aim again, when he discovered that the glass had acted like a telescope, and that the bear was twenty-five miles away! not far from the volcanic cliff which gave the trapper inspiration for his story, we reached one of the most famous basins of the park. in briefest terms, these basins are the spots in the arena where the crust is thinnest. they are the trap-doors in a volcanic stage through which the fiery actors in the tragedy of nature, which is here enacted, come upon the scene. literally, they are the vents through which the steam and boiling water can escape. in doing so, however, the water, as at the mammoth springs, leaves a sediment of pure white lime or silica. hence, from a distance, these basins look like desolate expanses of white sand. beside them always flows a river which carries off the boiling water to the outer world. [illustration: the norris basin.] [illustration: a place of danger.] no illustration can do justice to what is called the norris basin, but it is horrible enough to test the strongest nerves. having full confidence in our guide (the park photographer) we ventured with him, outside the usual track of tourists, and went where all the money of the rothschilds would not have tempted us to go alone. the crust beneath our feet was hot, and often quivered as we walked. a single misstep to the right or left would have been followed by appalling consequences. thus, a careless soldier, only a few days before, had broken through, and was then lying in the hospital with both legs badly scalded. around us were a hundred vats of water, boiling furiously; the air was heavy with the fumes of sulphur; and the whole expanse was seamed with cracks and honeycombed with holes from which a noxious vapor crept out to pollute the air. i thought of dante's walk through hell, and called to mind the burning lake, which he describes, from which the wretched sufferers vainly sought to free themselves. [illustration: a camping-station.] leaving, at last, this roof of the infernal regions, just as we again stood apparently on solid ground, a fierce explosion close beside us caused us to start and run for twenty feet. our guide laughed heartily. "come back," he said, "don't be afraid. it is only a baby geyser, five years old." in fact, in 1891, a sudden outburst of volcanic fury made an opening here, through which, at intervals of thirty minutes, day and night, hot water now leaps forth in wild confusion. "this, then, is a geyser!" i exclaimed. "bah!" said the guide, contemptuously, "if you had seen the real geysers in the upper basin, you would not look at this." [illustration: a baby geyser.] meantime, for half an hour we had been hearing, more and more distinctly, a dull, persistent roar, like the escape of steam from a transatlantic liner. at last we reached the cause. it is a mass of steam which rushes from an opening in the ground, summer and winter, year by year, in one unbroken volume. the rock around it is as black as jet; hence it is called the black growler. think of the awful power confined beneath the surface here, when this one angry voice can be distinctly heard four miles away. choke up that aperture, and what a terrible convulsion would ensue, as the accumulated steam burst its prison walls! it is a sight which makes one long to lift the cover from this monstrous caldron, learn the cause of its stupendous heat, and trace the complicated and mysterious aqueducts through which the steam and water make their way. [illustration: the black growler.] returning from the black growler, we halted at a lunch-station, the manager of which is larry. all visitors to the park remember larry. he has a different welcome for each guest: "good-day, professor. come in, my lord. the top of the morning to you, doctor." these phrases flow as lightly from his tongue as water from a geyser. his station is a mere tent; but he will say, with most amusing seriousness: "gintlemen, walk one flight up and turn to the right, ladies, come this way and take the elevator. now thin, luncheon is ready. each guest take one seat, and as much food as he can get." "where did you come from, larry?" i asked. [illustration: larry.] "from brooklyn, sor," was his reply, "but i'll niver go back there, for all my friends have been killed by the trolley cars." larry is very democratic. the other day a guest, on sitting down to lunch, took too much room upon the bench. "plaze move along, sor," said larry. the stranger glared at him. "i am a count," he remarked at last. "well, sor," said larry, "here you only count wun!" "hush!" exclaimed a member of the gentleman's suite, "that is count schouvaloff." "i'll forgive him that," said larry, "if he won't shuffle off this seat," pointing to my companion. larry asked me: "what is that gintleman's business?" "he is a teacher of singing," i answered. [illustration: larry's lunch-station.] "faith," said larry, "i'd like to have him try my voice. there is something very strange about my vocal chords. whenever i sing, the black growler stops. one tourist told me it was a case of professional jealousy, and said the black growler was envious of my _forte_ tones. 'i have not forty tones,' i said, 'i've only one tone,' 'well,' says he, 'make a note of it!'" [illustration: the biscuit basin.] only once in his life has larry been put to silence. two years ago, a gentleman remarked to him: "well, larry, good-by; come and visit me next winter in the east. in my house you shall have a nice room, and, if you are ill, shall enjoy a doctor's services free of all expense." "thank you," said larry, "plaze give me your card." the tourist handed it to him; and larry, with astonishment and horror, read beneath the gentleman's name these words: "superintendent of the insane asylum, utica, new york." some hours after leaving larry's lunch-station, we reached another area of volcanic action. our nerves were steadier now. the close proximity to hades was less evident; yet here hot mineral water had spread broadcast innumerable little mounds of silica, which look so much like biscuits grouped in a colossal pan that this is called the biscuit basin; but they are not the kind that "mother used to make." if a tourist asked for bread here, he would receive a stone; since all these so-called biscuits are as hard as flint. we walked upon their crusts with perfect safety; yet, in so doing, our boots grew warm beneath our feet, for the water in this miniature archipelago is heated to the boiling point. [illustration: a geyser pool.] "show me a geyser!" i at last exclaimed impatiently, "i want to see a genuine geyser." accordingly our guide conducted us to what he announced as "the fountain." i looked around me with surprise. i saw no fountain, but merely a pool of boiling water, from which the light breeze bore away a thin, transparent cloud of steam. it is true, around this was a pavement as delicately fashioned as any piece of coral ever taken from the sea. nevertheless, while i admired that, i could not understand why this comparatively tranquil pool was called a geyser, and frankly said i was disappointed. but, even as i spoke, i saw to my astonishment the boiling water in this reservoir sink and disappear from view. "where has it gone?" i eagerly inquired. "stand back!" shouted the guide, "she's coming." [illustration: "a cloud-burst of jewels."] i ran back a few steps, then turned and caught my breath; for at that very instant, up from the pool which i had just beheld so beautiful and tranquil, there rose in one great outburst of sublimity such a stupendous mass of water as i had never imagined possible in a vertical form. i knew that it was boiling, and that a deluge of those scalding drops would probably mean death, but i was powerless to move. amazement and delight enchained me spellbound. talk of a fountain! this was a cloud-burst of the rarest jewels which, till that moment, had been held in solution in a subterranean cavern, but which had suddenly crystallized into a million radiant forms on thus emerging into light and air. the sun was shining through the glittering mass; and myriads of diamonds, moonstones, pearls, and opals mingled in splendid rivalry two hundred feet above our heads. [illustration: the oblong geyser.] we soon approached another of the many geysers in the basin. they are all different. around one, a number of colored blocks, exquisitely decorated by the geyser's waves, appeared to have been placed artistically in an oblong frame. when i first beheld them, they looked like huge sea-monsters which, startled by our footsteps, were about to plunge into the depths. what is there in the natural world so fascinating and mysterious as a geyser? what, for example, is the depth of its intensely-colored pool of boiling water? no one can tell. one thing, however, is certain; the surface of the pool is but the summit of a liquid column. its base is in a subterranean reservoir. into that reservoir there flows a volume of cold water, furnished by the rain or snow, or by infiltration from some lake, or river. meantime, the walls of the deep reservoir are heated by volcanic fire. accordingly the water, in contact with these walls, soon begins to boil, and a great mass of steam collects above it. there must, of course, be some escape for this, and, finally, it makes its exit, hurling the boiling water to a height of one or two hundred feet, according to the force of the explosion. imagine, then, the amount of water that even one such reservoir contains; for some of these volcanic fountains play for more than half an hour before their contents are discharged! think, also, that in this basin there are no less than thirty geysers, seventeen of which have been observed in action simultaneously. [illustration: the giant geyser.] [illustration: the castle geyser.] thus far we had seen merely geysers which arise from pools; but, presently, we approached one which in the course of ages has built up for itself a cone, or funnel, for its scalding waves. "that," said our guide, "is the castle geyser." "that rock a geyser!" i exclaimed incredulously, "it looks like an old ruin, without a single indication of activity; save, possibly, the little cloud of steam that hangs above it, as if it were the breath of some mysterious monster sleeping far below." "if you doubt it," he replied, "go nearer and examine it." [illustration: on "its flinty sides."] we did so. i scrambled up its flinty sides, and found an opening in the summit three feet wide. i touched the rock. it was still warm, and yet no water was discernible. no sound was audible within its depths. [illustration: the castle geyser's cone.] "if this be really a geyser," i remarked, "it is no doubt a lifeless one like liberty cap." my comrade smiled, looked at his watch, then at his notebook, and finally replied: "wait half an hour and see." accordingly, we lingered on the massive ledges of the castle geyser, and learned that it is the largest, probably the oldest, of all the active geyser cones within the park. once its eruptions were no doubt stupendous; but now its power is waning. the gradual closing up of its huge throat, and the increasing substitution of steam for water, prove that the monster has now entered on the final stage of its career; for here, as on the terraces, we are surrounded by specimens of life, decay, and death. the young, the middle-aged, the old, the dead,--they are all here! the fiery agitation of the pool and the impulsive spurts of water are indicative of youth. a steady, splendid outburst proves maturity. the feebler action of the castle shows the waning powers of old age. last of all comes the closed cone, like a sealed sarcophagus, and that is death. [illustration: the castle and the beehive in action.] meantime, the thirty minutes of expectancy had passed; and, suddenly, with a tremendous rush of steam, the castle proved that its resources were by no means exhausted. at the same instant, half a mile away, the beehive geyser threw into the air a shaft of dazzling spray fully two hundred feet in height. i realized then, as never before, the noble action of our government in giving this incomparable region to the people. if this had not been done, the selfishness and greed of man would have made a tour here almost unbearable. a fence would, doubtless, have been built around every geyser, and fees would have been charged to witness each wonderful phenomenon; whereas, to-day, thanks to the generosity of congress, the park itself, and everything that it contains, are absolutely free to all, rich and poor, native and foreigner,--forever consecrated to the education and delight of man. [illustration: the crater of old faithful.] but no enumeration of the geysers would be complete without a mention of the special favorite of tourists, old faithful. the opening through which this miracle of nature springs is at the summit of a beautifully ornamented mound, which is itself a page in nature's wonder-book. the lines upon its wrinkled face tell of a past whose secrets still remain a mystery. it hints of an antiquity so vast that one contemplates it with bated breath; for this entire slope has been built up, atom after atom, through unnumbered ages; during which time, no doubt, the geyser hour by hour has faithfully performed its part, without an eye to note its splendor, or a voice to tell its glory to the world. old faithful does not owe its popularity entirely to height or beauty, though it possesses both. it is beloved for its fidelity. whatever irregularities other geysers show, old faithful never fails. year in, year out, winter and summer, day and night, in cold and heat, in sunshine and in storm, old faithful every seventy minutes sends up its silvery cascade to the height of about one hundred and eighty feet. of all the geysers known to man this is the most reliable and perfect. station yourself before it watch in hand and, punctual to the moment, it will never disappoint you. few realize on how large a scale the forces of nature work here. at each eruption, old faithful pours forth about one million five hundred thousand gallons, or more than thirty-three million gallons in one day! this geyser alone, therefore, could easily supply with water a city of the size of boston. [illustration: castle and old faithful geysers.] [illustration: old faithful in action.] within this area of the active geysers is a place called hell's half acre. it is rightly named. rough, perpendicular ledges project over a monstrous gulf of unknown depth, from which great clouds of steam are constantly emerging. when the wind draws back for a moment a portion of this sulphur-laden curtain, the visitor perceives a lake below, seething and boiling from internal heat. for years no one suspected this to be a geyser; but suddenly, in 1881, the underlying force hurled the entire lake up bodily to the height of two hundred and fifty feet, and even repeated frequently. after some months the exhibition ceased, and all was calm again for seven years. in 1888, however, it once more burst forth with prodigious energy, ejecting at each explosion more boiling water than all the other geysers in the park combined. even the surrounding ledges could not withstand this terrible upheaval, and tons of rock were sometimes thrown up, with the water, more than two hundred feet. it is not strange, therefore, that this is called excelsior, the king of geysers. it is the most tremendous, awe-inspiring fountain in the world. when it will be again aroused, no one can tell. its interval would seem to be from seven to ten years. said an enthusiastic traveler to me: "if the excelsior ever plays again, i will gladly travel three thousand miles to see it." [illustration: hell's half acre.] [illustration: the excelsior, in 1888.] [illustration: evening in the upper basin.] i have a vivid remembrance of my last night at the upper basin. the hush of evening hallowed it. alone and undisturbed we looked upon a scene unequaled in the world. around us liquid columns rose and fell with ceaseless regularity. the cooler air of evening made many shafts of vapor visible which in the glare of day had vanished unperceived. so perfect were their images in the adjoining stream, that it was easy to believe the veil had been at last withdrawn, and that the hidden source of all this wonderful display had been revealed. no sound from them was audible; no breeze disturbed their steadfast flight toward heaven; and in the deepening twilight, the slender, white-robed columns seemed like the ghosts of geysers, long since dead, revisiting the scenes of their activity. [illustration: the morning-glory pool.] [illustration: prismatic lake.] but geysers do not constitute the only marvels of these volcanic basins. the beauty of their pools of boiling water is almost inconceivable to those who have not seen them. no illustration can do them justice; for no photographer can adequately reproduce their clear, transparent depths, nor can an artist's brush ever quite portray their peculiar coloring, due to the minerals held in solution, or else deposited upon their sides. i can deliberately say, however, that some of the most exquisitely beautiful objects i have ever seen in any portion of the world are the superbly tinted caldrons of the yellowstone. their hues are infinitely varied. many are blue, some green, some golden, and some wine-colored, in all gradations of tone; and could we soar aloft and take of them a bird's-eye view, the glittering basin might seem to us a silver shield, studded with rubies, emeralds, turquoises, and sapphires. moreover, these miniature lakes are lined with exquisite ornamentation. one sees in them, with absolute distinctness, a reproduction of the loveliest forms that he has ever found in floral or in vegetable life. gardens of mushrooms, banks of goldenrod, or clusters of asparagus, appear to be growing here, created by the architect and colored by the artist of these mineral springs. [illustration: the road near the golden gate.] [illustration: the emerald pool.] the most renowned of all these reservoirs of color is called the emerald pool. painters from this and other lands have tried repeatedly to depict this faithfully upon canvas, but, finally, have left it in despair. in fact, its coloring is so intense, that as the bubbles, rising to its surface, lift from this bowl their rounded forms, and pause a second in the air before they break, they are still just as richly tinted as the flood beneath. accordingly this pool appeared to me like a colossal casket, filled with emeralds, which spirit hands from time to time drew gently upward from its jeweled depths. [illustration: sunlight lake.] close by this is another boiling pool called the sunlight lake. on this i saw one of the most marvelous phenomena i have ever looked upon. the colors of this tiny sheet of water appeared not only in concentric circles, like the rings of a tree, but also in the order of the spectrum. the outer band was crimson, and then the unbroken sequence came: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and violet in the centre! moreover, the very steam arising from it (reflecting as it did the varied tints beneath) was exquisitely colored, and vanished into air like a dissolving rainbow. all these prismatic pools are clasped by beautifully decorated curbs of silica, and seem to be set in rings of gold, with mineral colors running through them like enamel. so delicate are the touches of the magic water, as the persistent heart-beats of old mother earth propel it over their ornamental rims, that every ripple leaves its tiny mark. hence it is no exaggeration, but literal truth, to say that beautiful mosaic work is being formed each time the films of boiling water are dimpled by the passing breeze. [illustration: the devil's punch-bowl.] [illustration: the mammoth paint pot.] the great variety of wonders in our national park was a continual source of pleasure and surprise to me. thus, in the midst of all the pools and geysers in the upper basin is one known as the mammoth paint pot. the earth surrounding it is cracked and blistered by heat, and from this rises a parapet five feet high, enclosing a space resembling a circus ring. within this area is a mixture of soft clay and boiling water, suggesting an enormous caldron of hot mush. this bubbling slime is almost as diversely tinted as the pools themselves. it seemed to me that i was looking into a huge vat, where unseen painters were engaged in mixing colors. the fact is easily explained. the mineral ingredients of the volcanic soil produce these different hues. in a new form, it is the same old story of the mammoth terraces. fire supplies the pigments, and hot water uses them. all other features of the park are solemn and impressive; but the mammoth paint pot provokes a smile. there is no grandeur here. it seems a burlesque on volcanic power. the steam which oozes through the plastic mass tosses its substance into curious liliputian shapes, which rise and break like bubbles. a mirthful demon seems to be engaged in molding grotesque images in clay, which turn a somersault, and then fall back to vanish in the seething depths. now it will be a flower, then a face, then, possibly, a manikin resembling toys for children. meanwhile one hears constantly a low accompaniment of groanings, hiccoughs, and expectorations, as if the aforesaid demon found this pudding difficult to digest. [illustration: the road by gibbon river.] [illustration: "grotesque images in clay."] [illustration: on the continental divide.] soon after leaving the upper geyser basin, we approached a tiny lake which has, in some respects, no equal in the world. with the exception of some isolated mountain peaks, it marks the highest portion of our country. in winter, therefore, when encircled by mounds of snow, it rests upon the summit of our continent like a crown of sapphire set with pearls. so evenly is it balanced, that when it overflows, one part of it descends to the atlantic, another part to the pacific. this little streamlet, therefore, is a silver thread connecting two great oceans three thousand miles apart. accordingly, one might easily fancy that every drop in this pure mountain reservoir possessed a separate individuality, and that a passing breeze or falling leaf might decide its destiny, propelling it with gentle force into a current which should lead it eastward to be silvered by the dawn, or westward to be gilded by the setting sun. [illustration: the "silver thread connecting two oceans."] on either side of this elevation, known as the continental divide, the view was glorious. in one direction, an ocean of dark pines rolled westward in enormous billows. the silver surfaces of several lakes gleamed here and there like whitecaps on the rolling waves. far off upon the verge of the horizon, fifty miles away, three snow-capped, sharply pointed mountains looked like a group of icebergs drifting from the polar sea. they did not move, however, nor will they move while this old earth shall last. they antedate by ages the pyramids which they resemble. they will be standing thus, in majesty, when egypt's royal sepulchres shall have returned to dust. forever anchored there, those three resplendent peaks rise fourteen thousand feet above the sea, and form the grand tiara of our continent, the loftiest summits of the rocky mountains. [illustration: the three tetons.] as we began the descent from this great elevation, another splendid vision greeted us. we gazed upon it with delight. beyond a vast expanse of dark green pines we saw, three hundred feet below us, lake yellowstone. it stirred my heart to look at last upon this famous inland sea, nearly eight thousand feet above the ocean level, and to realize that if the white mountain monarch, washington, were planted in its depths (its base line on a level with the sea), there would remain two thousand feet of space between its' summit and the surface of this lake! in this respect it has but one real rival, lake titicaca, in the andes of peru. [illustration: lake yellowstone, from a distance.] descending to the shore, however, we found that even here, so far from shipyards and the sea, a steamboat was awaiting us. imagine the labor of conveying such a vessel sixty-five miles, from the railroad to this lake, up an ascent of more than three thousand feet. of course, it was brought in several sections; but even then, in one or two mountain gorges, the cliffs had to be blasted away to make room for it to pass. it is needless to add that this steamer has no rivals. it was with the greatest interest that i sailed at such a height on this adventurous craft; and the next time that i stand upon the summit of mount washington, and see the fleecy clouds float in the empyrean, one-third of a mile above me, i shall remember that the steamer on lake yellowstone sails at precisely the same altitude as that enjoyed by those sun-tinted galleons of the sky. [illustration: rustic falls, yellowstone park.] [illustration: the solitary steamboat.] [illustration: on lake yellowstone.] to appreciate the beauty of lake yellowstone, one should behold it when its waves are radiant with the sunset glow. it is, however, not only beautiful; it is mysterious. around it, in the distance, rise silver crested peaks whose melting snow descends to it in ice-cold streams. still nearer, we behold a girdle of gigantic forests, rarely, if ever, trodden by the foot of man. oh, the loneliness of this great lake! for eight long months scarcely a human eye beholds it. the wintry storms that sweep its surface find no boats on which to vent their fury. lake yellowstone has never mirrored in itself even the frail canoes of painted savages. the only keels that ever furrow it are those of its solitary steamer and some little fishing-boats engaged by tourists. even these lead a very brief existence. like summer insects, they float here a few weeks, and disappear, leaving the winds and waves to do their will. [illustration: the sleeping giant.] in sailing on this lake, i observed a distant mountain whose summit bore a strange resemblance to an upturned human face, sculptured in bold relief against the sky. it is appropriately called the sleeping giant; for it has slept on, undisturbed, while countless centuries have dropped into the gulf of time, like leaves in the adjoining forest. how many nights have cast their shadows like a veil upon that giant's silhouette! how many dawns have flooded it with light, and found those changeless features still confronting them! we call it human in appearance, and yet that profile was the same before the first man ever trod this planet. grim, awful model of the coming race, did not its stern lips smile disdainfully at the first human pygmy fashioned in its likeness? [illustration: along the shore.] this lake has one peculiarity which, in the minds of certain tourists, eclipses all the rest. i mean its possibilities for fishing. we know that sad experience has taught mankind to invent the proverb: "once a fisherman, always a liar." i wish, then, at the start, to say i am no fisherman; but what i saw here would inevitably make me one if i should remain a month or two upon these shores. lake yellowstone is the fisherman's paradise. said one of izaak walton's followers to me: "i would rather be an angler here than an angel." nor is this strange. i saw two men catch from this lake in one hour more than a hundred splendid trout, weighing from one to three pounds apiece! they worked with incredible rapidity. scarcely did the fly touch the water when the line was drawn, the light rod dipped with graceful curve, and the revolving reel drew in the speckled beauty to the shore. each of these anglers had two hooks upon his line, and both of them once had two trout hooked at the same time, and landed them; while we poor eastern visitors at first looked on in dumb amazement, and then enthusiastically cheered. [illustration: great fishing.] can the reader bear something still more trying to his faith? emerging from the lake is a little cone containing a boiling pool, entirely distinct from the surrounding water. i saw a fisherman stand on this and catch a trout, which, without moving from his place, or even unhooking the fish, he dropped into the boiling pool, and cooked! when the first scientific explorers of this region were urging upon congress the necessity of making it a national park, their statements in regard to fishing were usually received with courteous incredulity. but when one of their number gravely declared that trout could there be caught and boiled in the same lake, within a radius of fifteen feet, the house of representatives broke forth into roars of laughter, and thought the man a monumental liar. we cannot be surprised, therefore, that enthusiastic fishermen almost go crazy here. i have seen men, after a ride of forty miles, rush off to fish without a moment's rest as if their lives depended on it. some years ago, general wade hampton visited the park and came as far as lake yellowstone. on his return, some one inquired what he thought of nature's masterpiece, the cañon of the yellowstone. [illustration: larry, as fisherman and cook.] "the cañon!" cried the general, "no matter about the cañon; but i had the most magnificent fishing i ever saw in my life." one day, while walking along the shore, my comrade suddenly pressed my arm and pointed toward the lake. "an indian!" i cried in great astonishment, "i thought no indians ever came here." our guide laughed heartily; and, as he did so, i perceived my error. what i had thought to be an indian was but a portion of a tree, which had been placed upright against a log. the only artificial thing about it was a bunch of feathers. everything else was absolutely natural. no knife had sculptured it. no hand had given a support to its uplifted arm. even the dog which followed us appeared deceived, for he barked furiously at the strange intruder. there was to me a singular fascination in this solitary freak of nature; and, surrounded though i was by immeasurably greater wonders, i turned again and again to take a farewell look at this dark, slender figure, raising its hand, as if in threatening gesture to some unseen foe. [illustration: a false alarm.] leaving the lake, we presently entered the loveliest portion of the park,--a level, sheltered area of some fifty square miles, to which has been given the appropriate name of hayden valley, in commemoration of the distinguished geologist, doctor ferdinand v. hayden, who did so much to explore this region and to impress upon the government the necessity of preserving its incomparable natural features. even this tranquil portion of the park is undermined by just such fiery forces as are elsewhere visible, but which here manifest themselves in different ways. thus, in the midst of this natural beauty is a horrible object, known as the mud geyser. we crawled up a steep bank, and shudderingly gazed over it into the crater. forty feet below us, the earth yawned open like a cavernous mouth, from which a long black throat, some six feet in diameter, extended to an unknown depth. this throat was filled with boiling mud, which rose and fell in nauseating gulps, as if some monster were strangling from a slimy paste which all its efforts could not possibly dislodge. occasionally the sickening mixture would sink from view, as if the tortured wretch had swallowed it. then we could hear, hundreds of feet below, unearthly retching; and, in a moment, it would all come up again, belched out with an explosive force that hurled a boiling spray of mud so high that we rushed down the slope. a single drop of it would have burned like molten lead. five minutes of this was enough; and even now, when i reflect that every moment, day and night, the same regurgitation of black slime is going on, i feel as i have often felt, when, on a stormy night at sea, i have tried to sit through a course-dinner on an ocean steamer. [illustration: hayden valley.] [illustration: approaching the mud geyser.] [illustration: a stranger in the yellowstone.] not far from this perpetually active object is one that has been motionless for ages,--a granite boulder enclosed by trees as by the bars of a gigantic cage. it is a proof that glaciers once plowed through this region, and it was, no doubt, brought hither in the glacial period on a flood of ice, which, melting in this heated basin, left its burden, a grim reminder of how worlds are made. think what a combination of terrific forces must have been at work here, when the volcanoes were in full activity, and when the mass of ice which then encased our northern world strove to enclose this prison-house of fire within its glacial arms! one of our party remarked that the covering of this seething, boiling area with ice must have been the nearest approach to "hell's freezing over" that our earth has ever seen. another striking feature of our national park is its petrified forest, where, scattered over a large area, are solitary columns, which once were trunks of trees, but now are solid shafts of agate. the substance of the wood, however, is still apparent, the bark, the worm-holes, and even the rings of growth being distinctly visible; but every fibre has been petrified by the mysterious substitution of a mineral deposit. no doubt these trees were once submerged in a strong mineral solution, tinted with every color of the rainbow. still, more marvelous to relate, an excavation on the hillside proves that there are eleven layers of such forests, one above another, divided by as many cushions of lava. think of the ages represented here, during which all these different forests grew, and were successively turned to stone! this, therefore, is another illustration of the conflict between life and death. each was in turn a victor, and rested on his laurels for unnumbered centuries. life is triumphant now; but who shall say that death may not again prove conqueror? if not immediately, death may well be patient. he will rule all this planet in the end. [illustration: a natural bridge.] [illustration: a petrified forest.] no one can travel through the yellowstone park without imagining how it looks in winter. the snowfall is enormous, some drifts in the ravines being hundreds of feet deep, and, owing to the increased supply of water, the geysers throw higher streams. no traveling is possible then except on snowshoes; and it is with difficulty that some of the park hotels are reached as late as the middle of may. of course, in such a frigid atmosphere, the steam arising from the geysers is almost instantly congealed; and eye-witnesses affirm that, in a temperature of forty degrees below zero, the clouds of vapor sent up by old faithful rose fully two thousand feet, and were seen ten miles away. [illustration: the park in winter.] it can be well imagined that to do much exploration here, in winter, is not alone immensely difficult, but dangerous. in 1887 an expedition was formed, headed by lieutenant frederick schwatka; but, though he was experienced as an arctic traveler, in three days he advanced only twenty miles, and finally gave out completely. most of the exploring party turned back with him; but four kept heroically on, one of whom was the photographer, mr. f.j. haynes, of st. paul. undismayed by schwatka's failure, he and his comrades bravely persisted in their undertaking. for thirty days the mercury never rose higher than ten degrees below zero. once it marked fifty-two degrees below! yet these men were obliged to camp out every night, and carry on their shoulders provisions, sleeping-bags, and photographic instruments. but, finally, they triumphed over every obstacle, having in midwinter made a tour of two hundred miles through the park. nevertheless, they almost lost their lives in the attempt. at one point, ten thousand feet above the sea, a fearful blizzard overtook them. the cold and wind seemed unendurable, even for an hour, but they endured them for three days. a sharp sleet cut their faces like a rain of needles, and made it perilous to look ahead. almost dead from sheer exhaustion, they were unable to lie down for fear of freezing; chilled to the bone, they could make no fire; and, although fainting, they had not a mouthful for seventy-two hours. what a terrific chapter for any man to add to the mysterious volume we call life! one might suppose by this time that all the marvels of our national park had been described; but, on the contrary, so far is it from being true, that i have yet to mention the most stupendous of them all,--the world-renowned cañon of the yellowstone. the introduction to this is sublime. it is a waterfall, the height of which is more than twice as great as that of niagara. to understand the reason for the presence of such a cataract, we should remember that the entire region for miles was once a geyser basin. the river was then near the surface; and has been cutting down the walls of the cañon ever since. the volcanic soil, decomposed by heat, could not resist the constant action of the water. only a granite bluff at the upper end of the cañon has held firm; and over that the baffled stream now leaps to wreak its vengeance on the weaker foe beneath. [illustration: the expedition of 1887.] [illustration: f.j. haynes.] [illustration: the cañon from a distance.] through a colossal gateway of vast height, yet only seventy feet in breadth, falls the entire volume of the yellowstone river. it seems enraged at being suddenly compressed into that narrow space; for, with a roar of anger and defiance and without an instant's hesitation, it leaps into the yawning gulf in one great flood of dazzling foam. when looked upon from a little distance, a clasp of emerald apparently surmounts it, from which descends a spotless robe of ermine, nearly four hundred feet in length. the lower portion is concealed by clouds of mist, which vainly try to climb the surrounding cliffs, like ghosts of submerged mountains striving to escape from their eternal prison. we ask ourselves instinctively: what gives this river its tremendous impetus, and causes it to fill the air with diamond-tinted spray, and send up to the cliffs a ceaseless roar which echoes and reëchoes down the cañon? how awe-inspiring seems the answer to this question, when we think upon it seriously! the subtle force which draws this torrent down is the same power that holds the planets in their courses, retains the comets in their fearful paths, and guides the movements of the stellar universe. what is this power? we call it gravitation; but why does it invariably act thus with mathematical precision? who knows? behind all such phenomena there is a mystery that none can solve. this cataract has a voice. if we could understand it, perhaps we should distinguish, after all, but one word,--_god_. [illustration: yellowstone river above the falls.] [illustration: the great falls of the yellowstone.] [illustration: upper falls of the yellowstone.] [illustration: the cañon from brink of falls.] as for the gorge through which this river flows, imagine if you can a yawning chasm ten miles long and fifteen hundred feet in depth. peer into it, and see if you can find the river. yes, there it lies, one thousand five hundred feet below, a winding path of emerald and alabaster dividing the huge cañon walls. seen from the summit, it hardly seems to move; but, in reality, it rages like a captive lion springing at its bars. scarcely a sound of its fierce fury reaches us; yet, could we stand beside it, a quarter of a mile below, its voice would drown our loudest shouts to one another. [illustration: the cañon from grand point.] attracted to this river innumerable little streams are trickling down the colored cliffs. they are cascades of boiling water, emerging from the awful reservoir of heat which underlies this laboratory of the infinite. one of them is a geyser, the liquid shaft of which is scarcely visible, yet in reality is one hundred and fifty feet in height. from all these hot additions to its waves the temperature of the river, even a mile or two beyond the cañon, is twenty degrees higher than at its entrance. "are there not other cañons in the world as large as this?" it may be asked. [illustration: down the cañon from inspiration point.] yes, but none like this. for, see, instead of sullen granite walls, these sides are radiant with color. age after age, and aeon after aeon, hot water has been spreading over these miles of masonry its variegated sediment, like pigments on an artist's palette. here, for example, is an expanse of yellow one thousand feet in height. mingled with this are areas of red, resembling jasper. beside these is a field of lavender, five hundred feet in length, and soft in hue as the down upon a pigeon's breast. no shade is wanting here except the blue, and god replaces that. it is supplied by the o'erspreading canopy of heaven. yet there is no monotony in these hues. nature, apparently, has passed along this cañon, touching the rocks capriciously; now staining an entire cliff as red as blood, now tingeing a light pinnacle with green, now spreading over the whole face of a mountain a vast persian rug. hence both sides of the cañon present successive miles of oriental tapestry. moreover, every passing cloud works here almost a miracle; for all the lights and shades that follow one another down this gorge vary its tints as if by magic, and make of it one long kaleidoscope of changing colors. [illustration: below the upper falls.] [illustration: miles of colored cliffs.] nor are these cliffs less wonderful in form than color. the substance of their tinted rocks is delicate. the rain has, therefore, plowed their faces with a million furrows. the wind has carved them like a sculptor's chisel. the lightning's bolts have splintered them, until, mile after mile, they rise in a bewildering variety of architectural forms. old castles frown above the maddened stream, a thousand times more grand than any ruins on the rhine. their towers are five hundred feet in height. turrets and battlements, portcullises and draw-bridges, rise from the deep ravine, sublime and inaccessible; yet they are still a thousand feet below us! what would be the effect could we survey them from the stream itself, within the gloomy crevice of the cañon? only their size convinces us that they are works of nature, not of art. upon their spires we see a score of eagles' nests. the splendid birds leave these at times, and swoop down toward the stream; not in one mighty plunge, but gracefully, in slow, majestic curves, lower and lower, till we can follow them only through a field-glass, as they alight on trees which look to us like shrubs. [illustration: temples sculptured by the deity.] but many of these forms are grander than any castles. in one place is an amphitheatre. within its curving arms a hundred thousand people could be seated. its foreground is the emerald river; its drop-curtain the radiant cañon wall. cathedrals, too, are here, with spires twice as high as those which soar above the minster of cologne. fantastic gargoyles stretch out from the parapets. a hundred flying buttresses connect them with the mountain side. from any one of them as many shafts shoot heavenward as statues rise from the duomo of milan; and each of these great cañon shrines, instead of stained glass windows, has walls, roof, dome, and pinnacles, one mass of variegated color. the awful grandeur of these temples, sculptured by the deity, is overpowering. we feel that we must worship here. it is a place where the finite prays, the infinite hears, and immensity looks on. [illustration: the cañon from artist point.] two visions of this world stand out within my memory which, though entirely different, i can place side by side in equal rank. they are the himalayas of india, and the grand cañon of the yellowstone. on neither of them is there any sign of human life. no voice disturbs their solemn stillness. the only sound upon earth's loftiest mountains is the thunder of the avalanche. the only voice within this cañon is the roar of its magnificent cascade. it is well that man must halt upon the borders of this awful chasm. it is no place for man. the infinite allows him to stand trembling on the brink, look down, and listen spellbound to the anthem of its mighty cataract; but beyond this he may not, cannot go. it is as if almighty god had kept for his own use one part of his creation, that man might merely gaze upon it, worship, and retire. [illustration] [illustration: the rocky mountain series] _the rocky mountain series._ frank among the rancheros. by harry castlemon, author of "the gun-boat series," "the go-ahead series," etc. the john c. winston co., philadelphia, chicago, toronto. famous castlemon books. gunboat series. by harry castlemon. 6 vols. 12mo. frank the young naturalist. frank in the woods. frank on the lower mississippi. frank on a gunboat. frank before vicksburg. frank on the prairie. rocky mountain series. by harry castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo. cloth. frank among the rancheros. frank at don carlos' ranch. frank in the mountains. sportsman's club series. by harry castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo. cloth. the sportsman's club in the saddle. the sportsman's club afloat. the sportsman's club among the trappers. frank nelson series. by harry castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo. cloth. snowed up. frank in the forecastle. the boy traders. boy trapper series. by harry castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo. cloth. the buried treasure. the boy trapper. the mail-carrier. roughing it series. by harry castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo. cloth. george in camp. george at the wheel. george at the fort. rod and gun series. by harry castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo. cloth. don gordon's shooting box. rod and gun club. the young wild fowlers. go-ahead series. by harry castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo. cloth. tom newcombe. go-ahead. no moss. forest and stream series. by harry castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo. cloth. joe wayring. snagged and sunk. steel horse. war series. by harry castlemon. 5 vols. 12mo. cloth. true to his colors. rodney the partisan. rodney the overseer. marcy the blockade-runner. marcy the refugee. other volumes in preparation. * * * * * entered according to act of congress, in the year 1868, by r.w. carroll & co., in the clerk's office of the district court of the united states, for the southern district of ohio. copyright, 1896, by charles a. fosdick. contents. page chapter i. a novel battle, 5 chapter ii. frank's new home, 16 chapter iii. twelve thousand dollars, 29 chapter iv. frank proves himself a hero, 40 chapter v. the fight in the court, 54 chapter vi. the mysteries solved, 68 chapter vii. frank meets a highwayman, 81 chapter viii. colonel arthur vane, 95 chapter ix. an old boy, 110 chapter x. arthur shows his courage, 126 chapter xi. arthur plans revenge, 137 chapter xii. off for the mountains, 154 chapter xiii. pierre and his band, 168 chapter xiv. a dinner in the mountains, 180 chapter xv. more treachery, 193 chapter xvi. the escape, 204 chapter xvii. the struggle on the cliff, 221 chapter xviii. conclusion, 237 frank among the rancheros. chapter i. a novel battle. "pull him along, carlos! pull him along!" shouted a young gentleman about sixteen years of age, as he danced about on the back porch of his uncle's house, in a state of great excitement; "why don't you pull him along?" "he'll come, after awhile," replied the person addressed; "but he is very wild and obstinate." the boy on the porch was almost beside himself--so much so, in fact, that he found it utterly impossible to stand still. he was jumping wildly about, swinging his arms around his head, and laughing and shouting at the top of his lungs. we have met this young gentleman before. we have been with him through the woods, accompanied him across the prairie, and seen him in some exciting situations; but, for all that, it is by no means certain that his most intimate friend, could he have beheld him while he was dancing about on the porch, would have recognized him. the last time we saw him he was dressed in a suit of blue jeans, rather the worse for wear, a slouch hat, and a pair of heavy horseman's boots. now, he sports a suit of clothes cut in the height of fashion--that is, mexican fashion. they are not exactly of the description that we see on the streets every day, but they are common among the farmers of southern california, for that is where this young gentleman lives. he is dressed in a short jacket of dark blue cloth, trimmed around the edges, and on the sleeves, with gold lace, and wide trousers of the same material, also gaudily ornamented. the hat, with which he fans his flushed face, is a sombrero, bound with gold cord, the ends of which are adorned with tassels, that fall jauntily over the edge of the brim. an embroidered shirt of gray cloth, and shoes and stockings, complete his attire; or, we may add, a long crimson sash, which is wound several times around his waist, and tied at the side, and a pair of small mexican spurs, whose rowels are ornamented with little silver bells, which tinkle musically as he moves his feet about. if you fail to recognize an old acquaintance in this excited, sunburnt boy, you surely can call the name of the tall, broad-shouldered, sober-looking youth, who stands at his side. three months in the saddle have not changed frank nelson a great deal, only he is a little more robust, and, perhaps, more sedate. he has lost none of his love of excitement, and he is quite as interested in what is going on before him as archie; but he stands with his hands in his pockets, looking as dignified as a judge. it would be a wonder if they were not somewhat excited, as they are witnessing a desperate battle that is going on between two of their uncle's rancheros and a wild steer, which one of them has lassoed, and is trying to pull through the gate into the cow-pen. the animal is struggling furiously for his freedom, and the issue of the contest is doubtful. at the time our story begins, frank and his cousin had lived two months in southern california, where mr. winters owned a farm--or, in the language of that country, a _rancho_--of sixteen thousand acres. besides attending to his business in the mines, and superintending his affairs in sacramento, uncle james had devoted a portion of his time to stock-raising; and, when frank and archie first saw his immense droves of horses and cattle, they thought them sufficient in numbers to supply all the markets in america. mr. winters's rancho was not managed like the farms in our part of the country. to begin with, there were but three fences on it--one inclosed two small barns and corn-cribs; another, a pasture of two or three acres, and the third formed the cow-pen. in the barns, uncle james kept his riding and farm horses; the pasture was for the use of the half dozen cows which supplied the rancho with butter and milk; and the cow-pen was nothing more nor less than a prison, into which, in the spring of the year, all the young cattle and horses were driven and branded with the initials of the owner's name. this was done so that mr. winters and his hired men might be able to recognize the stock anywhere. the cattle sometimes strayed, and became mixed up with those of the neighbors, and the marks on their flanks showed to whom they belonged. [illustration] a fence around that farm would have been useless. none of the cattle and horses had ever been handled, except when they were branded, and, consequently, they were very wild. sometimes they became frightened and stampeded; and then they behaved like a herd of buffaloes, which turn aside for nothing, and stop only when they are completely tired out. on these occasions, the strongest fences that could have been made would have been trampled down like the grass beneath their feet. of course, these cattle and horses had never seen the inside of a stable. indeed, a barn large enough to accommodate them would have been an immense building, and would have cost more money than all the stock-raisers in the country were worth. however, there was no need of shelter for them. the grass on the prairie was abundant at all seasons of the year, the winters were very mild, and the cattle were always fat and in condition to be driven to market. all this stock was managed by half a dozen men, called rancheros. four of them were mexicans; the others were our old friends, dick lewis and bob kelly. so skillful were these men in their business, that a herd of cattle, which, in the hands of any one else, would have proved utterly unmanageable, was driven about by them with perfect ease. sometimes it became necessary to secure a single member of these droves. perhaps the housekeeper wanted some fresh meat for dinner, or uncle james desired a new riding horse; in either case, the services of these men were invaluable. mr. winters would issue the necessary orders to carlos--who was the chief of the rancheros, and the man who managed the farm during the absence of his employer--and an hour or two afterward four quarters of fine beef would be carried into the cellar, or mr. winters would be requested to step to the door and see if they had captured the horse he wanted. the rancheros accomplished this with their lassos, which they carried suspended from the horns of their saddles wherever they went. a lasso is a long rope, about as large as a clothes-line, and is generally made of rawhide. one end of it is fastened to the saddle, and the other, by the aid of a strong iron ring, formed into a running noose. this contrivance these herdsmen could use with a skill that was astonishing. mounted on their fleet horses, they would ride up behind a wild steer, and catch him by the horns, around his neck, or by one of his feet, as suited their fancy. on the morning we find frank and archie on the porch, their nearest neighbor, also a stock-raiser, had ridden over to inform them that one of his fine steers, which he had intended to drive to market, had escaped from his rancheros, and joined one of mr. winters's droves; whereupon frank, who, in the absence of his uncle, acted as the head man of the ranch, sent for carlos, and commanded him to capture the runaway, and confine him in the cow-pen until his owner should send for him. carlos had obeyed the first part of the order, but just then it seemed that that was all he could do. the steer had suddenly taken it into his head that he had been driven far enough, and that he would not go through the gate that led into the cow-pen; and, although carlos pulled him by his lasso, which he had thrown over his horns, and another ranchero, named felix, vigorously applied a whip from behind, the obstinate animal refused to budge an inch. sometimes he would kick, and plunge, and try to run off; and then the horse on which carlos was mounted, which seemed to understand the business quite as well as his master, would plant his fore-feet firmly on the ground to stop him. finding that he could not effect his escape in that way, the steer would run around in a circle; and the horse would turn around also, keeping his face toward the animal all the while, and thus avoid being wrapped up in the lasso. this novel battle had been going on for nearly ten minutes, and even frank had become highly excited over it. "pull him along, carlos!" shouted archie, jumping about on the porch as if he had lost all control over his legs, and they would dance in spite of every thing he could do to prevent it. "pull him along! whip up behind, felix; hit him hard!" archie continued to shout his orders at the top of his voice; but they did not seem to help the matter any, for the steer still refused to move. he had fallen to his knees, and laid his head close to the ground, as if he had deliberately resolved that he would remain there; and for a long time, all the pulling and whipping the two rancheros could do, brought nothing from him but angry snorts and shakes of the head. "now, archie," said carlos, as he stopped to wipe the big drops of perspiration from his face, "what would you do with this fellow?" the boys, who never neglected an opportunity to pick up items of information concerning every thing that came in their way, had been taking lessons of the rancheros in horsemanship, throwing the lasso, and managing wild cattle; and carlos thought this a proper occasion to ascertain how much they remembered of what they had learned. "well," replied archie, pulling off his sombrero, and digging his fingers into his head, to stir up his ideas, "i'd keep pulling and hauling at him until i got him tired out, and then i think i could manage him." "that would take up too much time," said carlos; "i've got other work to do, and i am in a hurry." "make your lasso fast to the horn of your saddle, and start up your horse, and drag him in," suggested frank. "that's the idea, and that's just what i'm going to do," said carlos. but that was just what the ranchero did _not_ do. while he was preparing to put this plan into operation, the steer suddenly jumped to his feet, and made another desperate attempt to effect his escape, and this time he was successful. there was a loud snap, carlos's heels made a flourish in the air like the shafts of a windmill, and, in an instant, he was stretched at full length on the ground. his saddle-girth had parted, and the steer was at liberty to take himself off, which he did in short order. the boys gazed in astonishment at the fallen horseman, who righted himself with alacrity, stretched his arms and legs to satisfy himself that there were no bones broken, and then commenced shouting some orders to his companion, who put spurs to his horse and started in pursuit of the steer, which was galloping over the prairie, dragging carlos's saddle after him. he was very soon overtaken, and felix, raising himself in his stirrups, swung his lasso around his head once or twice, to make sure of an accurate aim, and launched it at the steer. the lariat whistled through the air, as true to its course as a ball from a rifle, the noose settled down over his horns, the horse stopped suddenly, and the runaway lay struggling on the ground. his last attempt at escape seemed to have exhausted his energies, for when he had regained his feet, he allowed felix to lead him back to the gate and into the cow-pen, where he was turned loose, to remain until his owner should send for him. chapter ii. frank's new home. frank and archie, as we have before remarked, had been in california about two months; and, between riding, hunting, visiting, and assisting uncle james, who was engaged in selling off his stock and closing up his business, preparatory to his return to lawrence, they had passed the time most agreeably. they were as fond as ever of excitement, were almost constantly in the saddle, and mr. winters often said that if they and their horses and dog did not travel a thousand miles every day, it was not because they did not try. when the boys first arrived in california, they thought themselves expert in all manner of frontier accomplishments. but one morning, they rode over to visit johnny harris and dick thomas--two boys, about their own age, with whom they had become acquainted--and, during the day, they witnessed some feats of skill that made them wonder. johnny and dick, to show what they could do, captured and rode a couple of wild horses, that had never been handled before; and frank and archie were compelled to admit that they had some things yet to learn. every boy in that country could throw the lasso, and the cousins found that, if they desired to keep up their reputation, they must put themselves under instructions. dick and bob readily took them in hand, and, although the boys were awkward at first, they improved rapidly. they soon learned to throw the lasso with considerable skill, and frank speedily took the lead in rifle-shooting, while archie began to brag of his horsemanship. the former could bring a squirrel out of the top of the highest oak on the farm, at every shot; and his cousin could bend down from his saddle and pick up his sombrero from the ground, while his horse was going at the top of his speed. the horses the boys rode were the same that had carried them across the prairie, and they were now hitched at the end of the porch, saddled and bridled, and awaiting the pleasure of their masters. one of them, sleepy sam, looked as sleepy as ever. he stood with his head down, and his eyes half closed, as if it made no difference to him whether archie took his morning ride or not. the other, a magnificent iron-gray, pulled impatiently at his halter, and pranced about, apparently as much excited as archie had been a few moments before. this was the "king of the drove"--the one the trappers had captured during their sojourn at the old bear's hole. he answered to the name of roderick; for frank had read sir walter scott's "lady of the lake," and, admiring the character of the rebel chieftain, had named his favorite after him. perhaps the name was appropriate, for the animal sometimes showed a disposition to rebel against lawful authority, especially when any one besides frank attempted to put a saddle or bridle on him. he was a wild-looking fellow, and he had a way of laying back his ears, and opening his mouth, when any one came near him, that would have made a stranger think twice before trying to mount him. with frank, however, he was as gentle as a dog. he would come at his call, stand on his hind legs, and carry his master's whip or sombrero. he would kick and bite at frank when the latter tickled him in the ribs, all in sport, of course; but if mr. winters, or one of the herdsmen, came about him, he would use his teeth and heels in good earnest. he was as swift as ever, and frank had yet to see the horse that could beat him. the saddles these horses wore were like every thing else about themselves and masters, of the mexican pattern. they were made of beautifully-stamped leather, with high pommels in front, the tops of which were flat, and as large around as the crown of frank's sombrero. a pair of saddle-bags was fastened across the seat of each, in which the boys carried several handy articles, such as flint, steel, and tinder for lighting a fire; ammunition for their revolvers, which were safely stowed away in bearskin holsters strapped in front of the saddles, and large clasp-knives, that were useful in skinning squirrels when the boys went hunting. behind the saddles, neatly rolled up, and held in their places by straps, were a couple of pouches, which they used in rainy weather. they were pieces of india-rubber cloth, with holes in the center for the wearers' heads. they were large enough to afford complete protection from the rain, and could also be used as tents in case the boys found it necessary to camp all night on the prairie. we have spoken of frank's dog; but were we to let the matter drop here, it would be slighting an animal which had played a somewhat important part in the history of frank's life in california. his name was marmion, and he had been presented to frank by captain porter--an old fur-trader, who lived a few miles distant from the rancho, and with whom the cousins were great favorites. archie did not like the dog, and, if the truth must be told, the dog had not the smallest particle of affection for archie. in fact, he cared for no one except his master, and that was the reason the fur-trader had given him to frank. he was as large as two ordinary dogs--very courageous, and so savage that no one cared to trouble him. he had seen some stirring times during his life, and his body was covered with wounds, some of which were not entirely healed. frank was quite as fond of him as he was of brave, and with good reason, too. marmion had received those wounds while fighting for his master, and it was through his interference that frank had been saved from a long captivity. it happened before the commencement of our story, and how it came to pass shall be told in the following chapters. the house in which frank and archie lived stood in a grove of stately oak-trees, and, externally, was in perfect keeping with its surroundings. it was built of massive logs, in the form of a hollow square, with an open court in the center, which was paved with stone. the windows, which extended down to the floor, and which were used for ingress and egress quite as often as the doors, were protected by shutters made of heavy planks, and there were four loop-holes on each side of the house, showing that it had been intended to serve as a defense as well as a shelter. indeed, it looked more like a fortification than a dwelling. the house was old, and had a history--an exciting one, too, as any one could have told after examining it closely. the walls bore numerous scars, which had been made by bullets, and the trees surrounding the dwelling were marked in the same manner. the grove had not always been as peaceful and quiet as we found it. its echoes had been awakened by the yells of infuriated men and the reports of hostile rifles, and the very sod upon which frank sometimes stretched himself after dinner, to while away an hour with some favorite author, had been wet with blood. when the house was built, there was not another human habitation within a circle of twenty miles. the country was an unbroken wilderness. mr. winters's nearest neighbors were bands of roving freebooters, who robbed all who came in their way. they did not, however, content themselves with waylaying solitary travelers. they frequently made organized attacks upon remote farm-houses, and one night they made a sudden descent upon mr. winters's rancho. but the old frontiersman had lived too long in that country, and was too well acquainted with the character of his neighbors, to be caught napping. he and his rancheros were armed to the teeth, and prepared for a fight; and, after a siege of two days, during which time the robbers poured an almost constant shower of bullets against the walls of the house, they withdrew, after shooting and dispersing the cattle, and destroying the crops. not one of mr. winters's party was injured; but the outlaws suffered so severely, that they never repeated the attempt to rob that rancho. frank and archie never grew tired of hearing uncle james tell the story of that fight, and nearly every day they examined the marks of the bullets on the logs, sometimes being foolish enough to wish that they had been there to take part in those exciting scenes, or that the robbers would return and make another attack on the house, so that they might be able to say that they had been in a real battle. then they should have a story to tell that would be worth listening to. they never imagined that, before they were many years older, they could recount adventures quite as exciting as their uncle's. the interior of the house presented a strange contrast to the outside. when one crossed the threshold, he found himself surrounded with all the comforts of civilization. there were fine carpets on the floors, oil paintings on the walls, and easy chairs, sofas, and musical instruments in abundance. the room the boys occupied was the only one in which could be found any traces of the backwoods. it was a pleasant, cheerful apartment, quite as nicely furnished as the other rooms in the house, and every thing about it bespoke the taste and character of its young masters. a stranger, having taken a single glance at the numerous articles hung upon the walls, and scattered about over the floor--some of them useful and ornamental, others apparently of no value or service to any one--could have told that its presiding geniuses were live, wide-awake, restless boys. the room contained a fine library, an extensive collection of relics of all descriptions, and its walls were adorned with pictures, only they were of a different character from those in the other parts of the house. frank and archie cared nothing for such scenes as the "soldier's dream" and "sunrise in the mountains;" their tastes ran in another channel. their favorite picture hung over their writing desk, and was entitled, "one rubbed out." in the foreground was a man mounted on a mustang that was going at full speed. the man was dressed in the garb of a hunter, with leggins, moccasins, and coonskin cap, and in one hand he carried a rifle, while the other held the reins which guided his horse. the hunter was turned half around in the saddle, looking back toward half a dozen indians, who had been pursuing him, but were now gathered about their chief, who had been struck from his horse by a ball from the hunter's rifle. the latter's face wore a broad grin, which testified to the satisfaction he felt at the result of this shot. this picture had been shown to old bob kelly, who, after regarding it attentively for a few moments, declared that it must have been painted by some one who was acquainted with the story of his last trip to the saskatchewan, the particulars of which he had related to dick on the night he made his first appearance in their camp. "i don't know how the chap that made that ar' pictur' could have found it out," said old bob, who, simple-hearted fellow that he was, really believed that the hunter in the painting was intended to represent him, "'cause i never told the story to nobody 'cept you an' my chum dick. but thar's one thing wrong about it, youngsters. when i shot a injun, i didn't hold my rifle on the horn of my saddle, an' waste time laughin' over it. i loaded up again to onct, an' got ready for another shot." at the opposite end of the room hung a picture of a hunters' camp. two or three men were stretched out on the ground before a cheerful fire, resting after the labors of the day, while others were coming in from the woods--some loaded with water-fowl, some with fish, and the two who brought up the rear were staggering under the weight of a fine deer they had shot. archie often wondered where that camp could have been located. he did not believe there was a place in the united states where game of all kinds was as abundant as the hunters in the picture found it. paintings of this character occupied prominent places on the walls of the room, and between them hung numerous relics the boys had collected during their journey across the prairie, and a few trophies of their skill as hunters. over the door were the antlers of the first and only elk they had killed, and upon them hung a string of grizzly bear's claws, which had once been worn as a necklace by an indian chief, and also a bow, a quiver full of arrows, a stone tomahawk, and a scalping-knife--all of which had been presented to them by captain porter. at the head of the bed were two pairs of deer's horns fastened to the wall, and supporting their rifles, bullet-pouches, powder-horns, and hunting-knives. these articles were all highly prized by the boys; but, upon a nail driven into the wall beside the book-case, hung something that, next to his horse and dog, held the most exalted place in frank's estimation. it was the remnant of the first lasso he had ever owned. he thought more of it than of any other article he possessed, and he would have surrendered every thing, except roderick and marmion, before he would have parted with that piece of a rawhide rope. it had once saved his uncle's life; and, more than that, frank himself had been hanged with it. yes, as improbable as it may seem, one end of that lasso had been placed around his neck, the other thrown over the hook which supported one of his large pictures, and frank had been drawn up until his toes only rested on the floor; and all because he refused to tell where he had hidden a key. where the rest of the lasso was he did not know. the last time he saw it, it was around the neck of a man who was running through the grove at the top of his speed, with marmion close at his heels. the dog came back, but the man and the piece of lasso did not; and this brings us to our story. chapter iii. twelve thousand dollars. one day, about six weeks before the commencement of our story, frank and archie were sent to san diego on business for uncle james. when they returned, they found a new face among the rancheros--that of pierre costello, a man for whom frank at once conceived a violent dislike. pierre was a full-blooded mexican, dark-browed, morose, and sinister-looking, and he had a pair of small, black eyes that were never still, but constantly roving about, as if on the lookout for something. his appearance was certainly forbidding; but that was not the reason why frank disliked him. it was because marmion regarded him with suspicion, and seemed to think he had no business on the rancho. when the ranchero came about the house, marmion would follow him wherever he went, as if he feared that the man was about to attempt some mischief; and, when pierre returned to his quarters, the dog always seemed to be immensely relieved. frank invariably made common cause with his favorites, whether they belonged to the human or brute creation, and without taking the trouble to inquire into the merits of the case; and, when he found how matters stood between pierre and marmion, he at once espoused the cause of his dog, and hated the ranchero as cordially as though the latter had done him some terrible injury, although the man had never spoken to him, except to salute him very respectfully every time they met. that pierre hated and feared the dog, quite as much as the animal disliked him, was evident. he would scowl, and say "_carrajo_," every time marmion came near him, and lay his hand on his knife, as if it would have afforded him infinite pleasure could he have found an opportunity, to draw it across the dog's throat. frank had often noticed this, and consequently, when he one day came suddenly upon the dog, which was looking wistfully at a piece of meat pierre was holding out to him, he was astonished, and not a little alarmed. the mexican scowled, as he always did when frank came near him, and walked away, hiding the meat under his coat. "give it to me, pierre," said frank; "marmion don't like to be fed by strangers." the ranchero kept on as if he were not aware that he had been spoken to; and his conduct went a long way in confirming the new suspicions that had suddenly sprung up in frank's mind. "uncle," said he, that evening, after supper, as he joined mr. winters and archie, who had seated themselves on the porch to enjoy the cool breeze of evening, "how long do you intend to keep that new ranchero?" "as long as he will stay," replied mr. winters. "he is one of the most faithful men i ever had, and he is quite as skillful in his business as either carlos or dick." "he is a mean man for all that," said frank; "he tried to poison marmion, to-day." "i don't blame him," said archie; "a meaner, uglier dog i never saw"-"now, archie," interrupted frank, "i like the dog; and even if i didn't, i would keep him because he is a present." "how do you know that pierre tried to poison him?" asked mr. winters. "why, he was holding a piece of meat out to the dog, and when i came up he walked off in a great hurry," replied frank, who, when he came to state the case, found that it was not quite so strong against the ranchero as he had at first supposed. "he may have done all that, and still be innocent of any desire to injure your favorite. marmion doesn't like him, and, no doubt, pierre is trying his best to make friends with him. i'll insure your dog's life for a quarter." frank was far from being satisfied. somehow, he did not like the scowl he had often seen on pierre's face. he was certain that the ranchero had intended to harm marmion; but why? not simply because he hated the dog, but for the reason that the animal was in his way. this was the view frank took of the case; and, believing that pierre was there for no good, he resolved to keep a close watch on all his movements. a day or two after that, mr. winters and archie set out on horseback for san diego, the former to collect the money for a drove of horses he had sold there, before his departure for the east, and archie to explore the city. frank, hourly expecting his two friends, johnny harris and dick thomas, who had promised to spend a week with him, remained at home, with the housekeeper and two of the rancheros, one of whom was pierre, for company. dick and bob, and the rest of the herdsmen, were off somewhere, attending to the stock. frank, being left to himself, tried various plans for his amusement. he read a few pages in half a dozen different books, took a short gallop over the prairie, shot a brace of quails for his dinner; all the while keeping a bright lookout for his expected visitors, who, however, did not make their appearance. about noon, he was gratified by hearing the sound of a horse's hoofs in the court. he ran out, expecting to welcome johnny and dick, but, to his disappointment, encountered a stranger, who reined up his horse at the door, and inquired: "is this mr. winters's rancho, young man?" frank replied that it was. "he is at home, i suppose?" continued the visitor. "no, sir; he started for the city early this morning." the gentleman said that was very unfortunate, and began to make inquiries concerning the road mr. winters generally traveled when he went to san diego--whether he took the upper or lower trail--and then he wondered what he should do. "my name is brown," said he; and frank knew he was the very man his uncle expected to meet in san diego. "i owe mr. winters some money for a drove of horses i bought of him before he went to the states, and i have come up to pay it. i have here twelve thousand dollars in gold," he added, laying his hand on his saddle-bags, which seemed to be heavy and well filled. "couldn't you remain until day after to-morrow?" asked frank. "uncle james will be at home then." "i can't spare the time. i am on my way to fort yuma, where i have some business to transact that may detain me three or four days. i don't like to carry this money there and back, for it is heavy, and there is no knowing what sort of travelers one may meet on the road. wouldn't it be all right if i should leave it here with you?" "yes, sir," replied frank, eager to accept the responsibility; "i can take care of it. but i thought you might want a receipt." "i am not particular about that. mr. winters has trusted me for about six months, and i think i can afford to trust him for as many days. i'll call and get the receipt when i come back." as mr. brown said this, he dismounted, and pierre, who, ever since his employer's departure, had seemed to have nothing to do but to loiter about the house, and who had stood at the opposite side of the court, listening to every word of the conversation, came up to hold his horse. the visitor shouldered his saddle-bags, and followed frank into a room which went by the name of "the office," where mr. winters transacted all his business. the room was furnished with a high desk, a three-legged stool, and a small safe, which, like those in banks, was set into the wall, so that nothing but the door could be seen. "that is just the place for it," said mr. brown; "it will be secure there." "but i haven't got the key," replied frank; "uncle always carries it in his pocket." "well, i don't suppose there would be any danger if you were to leave the money on the porch. of course, your hired people can be depended on, or your uncle wouldn't keep them." frank thought there was at least one person on the rancho who could not be trusted to any great extent; but, of course, he said nothing about it. he glanced around the room, wondering what he should do with the money, when he discovered that his uncle had left the key of the desk in the lock. for want of a better place, frank decided to put the gold in there. mr. brown took it out of his saddle-bags, and packed it away in the drawer--six bags in all, each containing two thousand dollars, in bright, new "yellow-boys." then, declining frank's invitation to stay to dinner, the gentleman bade him good-by, mounted his horse, and resumed his journey. "twelve thousand dollars!" said frank, to himself, as he locked the desk and put the key into his pocket. "why, that's a fortune! now that i think of it, i almost wish mr. brown hadn't left it here. what would uncle james say if somebody should break into the house and steal it?" as frank asked himself this question, he turned suddenly, and saw pierre standing on the porch, in front of one of the windows, watching him with eager eyes. he must have moved very quietly to have approached so near without attracting the boy's attention, and that, to frank, whose suspicions had already been thoroughly aroused, was good evidence that the ranchero was not just what he ought to be. if he was an honest man, he would not try to slip around without making any noise. finding that he was discovered, pierre removed his sombrero and said, without the least embarrassment: "is it your pleasure to ride? if so, i will saddle your horse." "you need not trouble yourself," replied frank, rather gruffly. "i shall remain at home." pierre bowed and walked away. "now, that rascal thinks he is sharp," said frank, gazing after the ranchero. "he never offered to saddle my horse before, and he wouldn't have done it then if i hadn't caught him looking in at the window. i wonder if he thinks i am foolish enough to ride for pleasure at this time of day, with the thermometer standing a hundred degrees in the shade? that fellow is a scoundrel, and he is up to something. perhaps he is after this gold. if he is, he may have the satisfaction of knowing that he won't get it." so saying, frank began to close and fasten the shutters which protected the windows, and while thus engaged, he caught a glimpse of the ranchero's dark face peering at him around the corner of the house. "if i owned this ranch," said frank, to himself, "that fellow shouldn't stay here five minutes longer. i'd pay him off, and tell him to leave as fast as his horse could carry him." having satisfied himself that the windows were so well secured that no one could effect an entrance through them, frank opened the drawer and took another good look at the money, as if he were afraid that it might have been spirited away even while he was in the room; after which he locked the desk, and hid the key under the edge of the carpet. then glancing about the office, to make sure that every thing was safe, he closed the door, and hurrying into his own room, he threw the key under his writing-desk, next to the wall. then he breathed easier. the money was as safe as it would have been in the bank at san diego. chapter iv. frank proves himself a hero. "there!" said frank, with something like a sigh of relief. "if pierre gets into that office to-night, he'll have to use an ax; and if he tries that"-frank finished the sentence by shaking his head in a threatening manner, and taking down his rifle, which he proceeded to load very carefully. he had made up his mind to fight, if it should become necessary. he was now more anxious than ever for the arrival of his two friends, for he did not like the idea of remaining alone in the house all night, with so much money under his charge, and a villainous-looking mexican hovering about. frank, as we know, was very far from being a coward; but having by some means got it into his head that pierre was a rascal, and that something unpleasant would happen before morning, he could not help feeling rather anxious. the afternoon wore slowly away, but johnny and dick did not make their appearance. darkness came on apace, and frank, being at last satisfied that he was to be left alone in his glory for that night at least, ate his supper, and visited roderick in his stable to see that he was well provided for, and then whistled for his dog, which he had not seen since the departure of mr. brown. marmion, however, did not respond to the call. frank whistled and shouted several times in vain, and then set out to hunt up his favorite. he visited the rancheros' quarters, and found felix and pierre sitting in the door of one of the cabins, smoking their cigarettes. the former had not seen the dog; but, willing to serve frank to any extent in his power, offered to go in search of the animal. pierre, however, said that would be useless, for he had seen marmion in hot pursuit of a rabbit. no doubt he had driven the game into its burrow, and was engaged in digging it out. when he caught the rabbit, he would come home of his own free will. although frank was suspicious of every thing pierre said or did, he could see no reason for disbelieving this story. marmion was quite as fond of the chase as his young master, and frequently indulged in hunting expeditions on his own responsibility; sometimes being absent all day and nearly all night. but he was not off hunting then, and pierre had told a deliberate falsehood, when he said that he had seen him in pursuit of a rabbit. the ranchero had determined upon a course of action which he knew he could not follow out so long as the dog was at liberty, and marmion was, at that very moment, lying bound and muzzled under one of the corn-cribs, almost within hearing of his master's voice. frank slowly retraced his steps toward the house, feeling more nervous and uneasy than ever. in marmion he had an ally that could be depended on in any emergency; and, if the dog had been at his side, he would have felt perfectly safe. but he was not the one to indulge long in gloomy thoughts without a cause, and in order to drive them away, he lighted his lamp, and, drawing his easy-chair upon the porch, amused himself until nine o'clock with his guitar. the music not only served to soothe his troubled feelings, but also had the effect of banishing his suspicions to a great extent, and left him in a much more cheerful frame of mind. "how foolish i have been," said he, to himself. "because pierre is ugly, like all the rest of his race, and because he always carries a knife in his belt, and hates marmion, i have been willing to believe him capable of any villainy. i don't suppose he has thought of that gold since he saw me lock it up." as frank said this, he pulled his chair into the room, and selecting cooper's "last of the mohicans" from the numerous volumes in the library, he dismissed all thoughts of the ranchero, and sat down to read until he should become sleepy. he soon grew so deeply interested in his book, that he did not hear the light step that sounded on the porch, nor did he see the dark, glittering eyes which looked steadily at him through the open window. he saw them a moment afterward, however, for, while he was absorbed in that particular part of the fight at glen's falls, where hawk-eye snapped his unloaded rifle at the indian who was making off with the canoe in which the scout had left his ammunition, a figure glided quickly but noiselessly into the room, and stopped behind the boy's chair. "now, my opinion is that hawk-eye was not much of a backwoodsman, after all," said frank, who was in the habit of commenting upon and criticising every thing he read. "why did he leave his extra powder-horn in his canoe, when he knew that the hurons were all around him? you wouldn't catch dick or old bob kelly in any such scrape, nor me either, for that matter, for i would"-frank's soliloquy was brought to a close very suddenly, and what he was about to say must forever remain a secret. his throat was seized with an iron grasp, and he was lifted bodily out of his chair, and thrown upon the floor. so quickly was it done that he had no time to resist or to cry out. before he could realize what had happened, he found himself lying flat on his back, and felt a heavy weight upon his breast holding him down. filled with surprise and indignation, he looked up into the face that was bending over him, and recognized pierre costello, whose features wore a fiendish expression, the effect of which was heightened by a murderous-looking knife which he carried between his teeth. scowling fiercely, as if he were trying to strike terror to the boy's heart by his very appearance, he loosened his grasp on frank's throat, and the latter, after coughing and swallowing to overcome the effects of the choking he had received, demanded: "what do you mean, you villain?" pierre, without making any reply, coolly proceeded to overhaul the contents of frank's pockets. like all boys of his age, our hero was supplied with a variety of articles, which, however serviceable they may be to a youngster of sixteen, no one else could possibly find use for, and the ranchero's investigations brought to light a fish-line, bait-box, a rooster's spur, of which frank intended to make a charger for his rifle, a piece of buckskin, half a dozen bullets, a brass cannon, a pocket comb, a quill pop-gun, a small compass, a silver ring, a match-box, a jack-knife, and a piece of lead. these articles he tossed upon the floor, rather contemptuously, and then turned all frank's pockets inside out, but failed to discover any thing more. "where are they?" demanded pierre, removing the knife from his mouth, and looking savagely at his prisoner, who all this time had lain perfectly still upon the floor, apparently not the least alarmed. "where are what?" inquired frank. "the keys, you young vagabond!" returned the ranchero, astonished at the result of his search, and in a great hurry to get through with his business. "the keys that open the office and the safe. speak quick!" "the safe key is where you'll never get your hands upon it," replied frank. "if you want it, you'll have to go to san diego, catch uncle james, and throw him down, as you did me, and search his pockets for it. but that is something a dozen such fellows as you couldn't do." "but the office key! where's that?" "it's in a safe place, also," said frank, who had already resolved that the would-be robber should never learn from him where he had hidden the key. "if i were a man, i should like to see you hold me down so easily. let me up, or i'll call for help!" "if you speak above your breath, i'll choke you!" said pierre, with savage emphasis. "i am not done with you yet! is the money in the safe?" "that's none of your business! let me up, i say! here, marmion! marmion!" "_carrajo!_" muttered the ranchero, again seizing his prisoner's throat in his powerful fingers. "do you want me to kill you?" frank, nothing daunted by this rough treatment, struggled manfully, and tried hard to make a defiant reply, but could not utter a sound. pierre tightened his grasp, until it seemed as if he had deliberately resolved to send him out of the world altogether, and then released his hold, and waited until frank was able to speak before he said: "you see that i am in earnest! now, answer me! is the gold in the safe?" "i am in earnest, too!" replied frank, as bravely as ever. "i shall not tell you where it is. are you going to let me up?" "i am going to make you tell where you have put that key!" said pierre, as he removed the sash his prisoner wore around his waist, and began to confine his arms behind his back. "if i once get inside the office, i'll soon find out where you have put that gold." "but you are not inside the office yet, and i don't think you will get there very soon. if you were well acquainted with me, you would know that you can not drive me one inch. you're a coward, pierre," he added, as he released one of his hands by a sudden jerk, and made a desperate but unsuccessful attempt to seize the ruffian by the hair. "you don't give a fellow a fair chance. i wish my dog was here." "you need not look for him," said the ranchero; "he'll never come." frank made no reply. he was wondering what his captor intended to do with him, and turning over in his mind numerous wild plans for escape. pierre, in his haste, was tying the sash in a very clumsy manner, and frank was certain that, with one vigorous twist, he could set himself at liberty. in spite of his unpleasant and even painful situation--for, after his attempt to catch the ranchero by the hair, the latter had turned him upon his face, and was kneeling upon him to hold him down--he could not help chuckling to himself when he thought how he would astonish pierre if he did not mind what he was about. "perhaps he will leave me, and try to force an entrance into the office," soliloquized frank. "if he does, i am all right! i'll jerk my arms out of this sash, pick up that rifle, and the first thing mr. pierre costello knows, he'll be the prisoner. i'll march him to the quarters, and tell felix to tie him, hand and foot." unfortunately for the success of these plans, the ranchero did not leave the room after he had tied frank's arms. he was too well acquainted with the old house to think of trying to force an entrance into the office. he knew that the doors and window-shutters were as strong as wood and iron could make them, and that it would be a dangerous piece of business to attempt to break them open. felix, all unconscious of what was going on in the house, snored lustily in his quarters, and the housekeeper slept in a room adjoining the kitchen; and if pierre awakened either of them, he might bid good-by to all hopes of ever securing possession of the gold. his only hope was in compelling frank to tell where he had put the office key. "now, then," said he, "i will give you one more chance. where is it?" "where's what?" asked frank. "the office key!" exclaimed the ranchero, enraged at the coolness of his prisoner. "tell me where it is, or i'll drive you through the floor!" as he said this, he raised his fist over frank's head, as if he were on the point of putting his threat into execution. "drive away!" replied frank. "then you won't tell me where it is?" yelled the ranchero. "no, i won't! and when i say no, i mean it; and all the threats you can make won't scare me into saying any thing else!" pierre hesitated a moment, and then jumped to his feet, his actions indicating that he was determined to waste no more words. he placed his knife upon the table, closed the windows, and dropped the curtains, so that any one who might happen to pass by could not see what was going on in the room. his next action was to seize frank by the collar of his jacket, and pull him roughly to his feet, preparatory to putting into operation his new plan for compelling him to tell where he had hidden the office key. "if you conclude to answer my question, let me know it," said the ranchero. "i will," was frank's reply. pierre stepped upon a chair, and removing one of the pictures from its hook, tossed it upon the bed. after that, he took frank's lasso down from the nail, beside the book-case, and holding the noose in his hand, threw the other end over the hook. frank had thus far shown himself to be possessed of a good share of courage. he had bravely endured the choking, and had made defiant replies to all pierre's threats; but when he saw this movement, he became thoroughly alarmed. he knew what was coming. "aha!" exclaimed the ranchero, who had not failed to notice the sudden pallor that overspread the boy's countenance; "aha!" "what are you going to do?" asked frank, in a trembling voice. "can't you see?" returned the ranchero, with a savage smile. "i told you that i was going to make you tell me where you had put that office key, didn't i? well, i intend to do it. i have tamed many a wild colt, and i know how to tame you!" as he spoke, he adroitly threw the noose over frank's head, and drew it tight around his neck. then, seizing him by the shoulders, he pushed him against the wall, under the hook, and pulled down on the lasso, until frank began to rise on his toes. this was intended merely to give him a foretaste of what was in store for him. "now you know how it feels," said pierre, slackening up on the rope, "and you ought to know, by this time, that i am not playing with you. i am in sober earnest, and if you don't answer my question, i'll hang you, right here in your own room, and with your own lasso. this is your last chance! where's that key?" frank hesitated. chapter v. the fight in the court. frank was certainly in a predicament. he had his choice between revealing the hiding-place of the office key, and being hanged with his own lasso--a most disagreeable alternative. on one side was a lingering death, and on the other, something of which frank stood almost as much in awe--disgrace. never before had so heavy a responsibility rested upon him; and if he lost that money, what other evidence would be needed to prove that he was not worthy of being trusted? "come, come!" exclaimed the ranchero, impatiently. "are you going to answer my question?" "i don't know whether i am or not," replied frank. "don't be in such a hurry. can't you give me time to think about it?" "you have had time enough already," growled pierre. "but i'll give you two minutes more, and while you are thinking the matter over, you can bear one thing in mind: and that is, if you don't tell me where that office key is, you'll never see daylight again." the expression on pierre's countenance told frank that the villain meant all he said. frank leaned his head against the wall, closed his eyes, and made use of those two minutes in trying to conjure up some plan to defeat the robber. he had not the slightest intention of allowing him to put his hands on that money if it were possible for him to prevent it, and he was wondering if he could not make use of a little strategy. if he could invent some excuse to get pierre out of the room for a few moments, he was sure that he could release his hands. would it not be a good plan to tell him where he had hidden the key, and while pierre was in the office searching for the gold, free himself from his bonds, and seize his rifle, and make the villain a prisoner? wouldn't it be a glorious exploit, one of which he could be justly proud, if he could save the twelve thousand dollars, and capture the ranchero besides? frank thought it would, and determined to try it. "pierre," said he, "if i tell you where that key is, what will you do?" "_if!_" exclaimed the ranchero; "there are no ifs or ands about it. you must tell me where it is." "but what i want to know is, what will you do with me?" "i promise you, upon the honor of a gentleman, that no harm shall be done you." "gentleman!" sneered frank. "the state's prison is full of such gentlemen as you are. if i were trying to rob a man of a few cents, i'd never think of calling myself a gentleman." "now, just look here," said pierre, "if you think you can fool me, you were never more mistaken in your life. a few cents, indeed! i heard all that passed between you and mr. brown, and i know that there are twelve thousand dollars somewhere in that office. i call it a fortune. it is much more than i could ever earn herding cattle, and i am bound to have it. where's that key?" "you must answer my question first," said frank. "if you had the key in your hand now, what would you do with me?" "well, as i am not fool enough to give you the least chance for escape, the first thing i should do would be to tie you hard and fast to that bed-post. then i'd take the gold, mount my horse, and be off to the mountains." "and leave me tied up here?" exclaimed the prisoner. "exactly. felix, or the housekeeper, would release you in the morning." this answer came upon frank like a bucket of cold water. his fine plan for releasing himself and capturing the robber would not work. the latter saw his look of disappointment, and laughed derisively. "i am too old," said he, "to allow a boy like you to play any tricks upon me. you won't tell me where the key is, then?" "no, i won't. if that money was mine, you might take it, and i would run the risk of catching you before you could get very far away with it. but it belongs to my uncle; you have no claim upon it, and, what's more, you sha'n't touch it." "is that your final answer?" asked the ranchero, bracing himself for a strong pull. "you had better ponder the matter well before you decide. what do you suppose your uncle will think, when he comes home and finds you hanging to this hook? he had rather lose the money a thousand times over than to part with you." frank shuddered as the ranchero said this, and, for the first time, he felt his firmness giving away. but he was possessed of no ordinary degree of fortitude, and, after a momentary thrill of terror, his courage returned, and he looked at pierre as bravely as ever. the ranchero paused for a moment or two, to give his last words time to have their full effect, and then said: "once more--yes or no." "no, i tell you," was the firm reply. scarcely were the words out of his mouth, when the ranchero began to pull down upon the lasso, and frank, in spite of his desperate struggles, was drawn up until he almost swung clear of the floor. pierre held him in this position for a few seconds--it seemed an age to frank, who retained his consciousness all the while--and then gradually slackened up on the lasso, until his prisoner's feet once more rested firmly on the floor. frank reeled a moment like a drunken man, gazed about him with a bewildered air, and attempted to raise his hands to his throat, while the ranchero stood watching him with a smile of triumph. "i have given you one more chance," said he. "have you come to your senses yet." frank tried in vain to reply. the choking he had endured had deprived him of his power of utterance, but it had not affected his courage or his determination. there was not the least sign of yielding about him. pierre had thus far conducted his operations with the most business-like coolness, and in much the same spirit that he would have exhibited had he been breaking one of mr. winters's wild horses to the saddle. he had smiled at times, as he would have smiled at the efforts of the horse to escape, and the thought that he should fail in his object had never entered his head. he had been certain that he could frighten or torture frank into revealing the hiding-place of the office key; but now he began to believe that he had reckoned without his host. he was astonished and enraged at the wonderful firmness displayed by his prisoner. he had never imagined that this sixteen-year-old boy would prove an obstacle too great to be overcome. "you are the most obstinate colt i ever tried to manage," said pierre, in a voice choked with passion; "but i'll break one of two things--your spirit or your neck; it makes no difference to me which." without waiting to give his prisoner time to recover his power of speech, the ranchero wound the lariat around his hands, and was about to pull him up again, when he was startled by the clatter of a horse's hoofs in the court. the sound worked a great change in pierre. as if by magic, the savage scowl faded from his face, and he stood for an instant the very picture of terror. all thoughts of the twelve thousand dollars, and the vengeance he had determined to wreak upon his prisoner, were banished from his mind, and gave place to the desire to escape from the house as secretly and speedily as possible. "who can that be?" he muttered, dropping the lasso, and throwing a frightened glance ever his shoulder toward the door. "i'm sure i don't know," said frank, speaking with the greatest difficulty; "and i don't care who it is, if he will only make a prisoner of you." the ranchero scowled fiercely upon his plucky captive, hesitated a moment, as if he had half a mind to be revenged upon him before he left the house, and then, catching up his knife, and extinguishing the lamp, he jerked open one of the windows, and disappeared in the darkness. frank was no less astonished than delighted at his unexpected deliverance. he tried to shout, to attract the attention of the unknown horseman, but all his efforts were unavailing. his attempts to release his hands, however, which he commenced the instant the ranchero left the room, were more successful. pierre's carelessness in tying the knots was a point in his favor then; for, in less time than it takes to record the fact, frank was free. he threw the noose off his neck, pulled the lasso down from the hook, and hastily coiling it up in one hand, he ran to the place where he had left his rifle, fully determined that the robber should not escape from the ranch without an attempt on his part to capture him. his rifle was gone. the ranchero had caught it up as he bounded through the window, thinking he might find use for it, in case he should happen to run against the visitor in the dark. frank looked upon the loss of his rifle as a great misfortune; for, not only did he believe the weapon lost to him forever, but he was powerless to effect the capture of the ranchero, even if he succeeded in finding him. however, he did not waste time in vain regrets. he sprang through the window, and, running around the house, entered the court, to look for the horseman whose timely arrival had saved his life. he went as far as the archway that led into the court, and there he suddenly paused, and the blood rushed back upon his heart, leaving his face as pale as death itself. he had told the ranchero that a dozen such men as he could not overcome his uncle; but the scene before him belied his words. flat upon his back, in the middle of the court, lay mr. winters, with pierre costello kneeling on his breast, one hand grasping his victim's throat, and the other holding aloft his murderous-looking bowie, whose bright blade glistened in the moonlight like burnished silver. frank started back, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. there could be no mistake about it, for the moon shone brightly, rendering all the objects in the court as plainly visible as if it had been broad daylight. he was not only terribly frightened, but he was utterly confounded. he had believed mr. winters to be fast asleep in his bed at the hotel in san diego; but there he was, when frank least expected him, and, more than that, he was being worsted in his struggle with pierre. the boy could not understand it. "unhand me, you scoundrel!" he heard uncle james say, in a feeble voice. "not until you have given me the key of the safe," was the robber's answer. "i have worked hard for that gold to-night, and i am not going to leave the ranch without it." then commenced a furious struggle, and frank turned away his head, lest he should see that gleaming knife buried in his uncle's body. never before had frank been so thoroughly overcome with fear. he had just passed through in ordeal that would have tried the nerves of the bravest man, and he had scarcely flinched; but to stand there a witness of his uncle's deadly peril, believing himself powerless to aid him, was indeed enough to strike terror to his heart. "o, if i only had my rifle, or one of my pistols!" cried frank, "wouldn't i tumble that villain in a hurry? or if i could find a club, or could loosen one of these stones"-frank suddenly remembered that he held in his hand a weapon quite as effective at short range, when skilfully used, as either a rifle or pistol. it was his lasso; and, until that instant, he had forgotten all about it. then the blood flew to his cheeks; his power of action returned, and his arms seemed nerved with the strength of giants. how thankful was he, then, that his desire to become as expert as his two friends, johnny harris and dick thomas, had led him to practice with that novel weapon. with a bound like an antelope he started toward the struggling men, swinging his lasso around his head as he ran. pierre, believing that he had left frank securely bound, and being too intent upon taking care of his new prisoner to look for enemies in his rear, heard not the sound of his approaching footsteps, nor did he dream of danger until the noose, which, but a few moments before, had been around frank's neck, settled down over his own. then he knew that his game was up. with a piercing cry of terror he sprang to his feet, and, with frantic haste, endeavored to throw off the lariat; but frank was too quick for him. "aha!" he exclaimed, trying to imitate the tone in which the ranchero had spoken that same word but a few moments before. "aha! now i am going to break one of two things--your spirit or your neck; i don't care which. one good turn deserves another, you know." as frank said this, he threw all his strength into his arms, and gave the lasso a vigorous jerk, which caused pierre's heels to fly up, and his head to come in violent contact with the pavement of the court. "now, then, uncle james," exclaimed frank, "we've got him. no you don't!" he added, as the ranchero made a desperate attempt to regain his feet; "come back here!" and he gave him a second jerk, which brought him to the ground again. frank was blessed with more than an ordinary share of muscle for a boy of his age; but he could not hope to compete successfully with a man of pierre's size and experience, even though he held him at great disadvantage. the ranchero, as active as a cat, thrashed about at an astonishing rate, and, before frank knew what was going on, he had cut the lasso with his knife--an action which caused our hero, who was pulling back on the lariat with all his strength, to toss up his heels, and sit down upon the rough stones of the court, very suddenly, while pierre, finding himself at liberty, jumped up, and ran for his life. mr. winters had by this time regained his feet, and, catching up frank's rifle, which lay beside him on the pavement, he took a flying shot at the robber just as he was running through the archway. pierre's escape was a very narrow one; for the bullet went through the brim of his sombrero, and cut off a lock of his hair. chapter vi. the mysteries solved. pierre, finding himself uninjured by mr. winters's shot, suddenly became very courageous, and stopped to say a parting word to that gentleman. "try it again," said he, with a taunting laugh. "you are a poor shot for an old frontiersman! i will bid you good-by, now," he added, shaking his knife at uncle james, "but you have not seen the last of me. you will have reason to remember"-the ranchero did not say what mr. winters would have reason to remember, for he happened to look toward the opposite side of the court, and saw something that brought from him an ejaculation of alarm, and caused him to turn and take to his heels. an instant afterward, a dark object bounded through the court, and, before the robber had taken half a dozen steps, marmion sprang upon his back, and threw him to the ground. "hurrah!" shouted frank. "you are not gone yet, it seems. you're caught now, easy enough; for that dog never lets go, if he once gets a good hold. hang on to him, old fellow!" but marmion seemed to be utterly unable to manage the ranchero. he had placed his fore-feet upon pierre's breast, and appeared to be holding him by the throat; but the latter, with one blow of his arm, knocked him off, and, regaining his feet, fled through the grove with the speed of the wind--the piece of the lasso, which was still around his neck, streaming straight out behind him. "take him, marmion!" yelled frank, astonished to see his dog so easily defeated. "take him! hi! hi!" the animal evidently did his best to obey; but there seemed to be something the matter with him. he ran as if he were dragging a heavy weight behind him, or as if his feet were tied together, and it was all he could do to keep up with the robber; and, when he tried to seize him, pierre would shake him off without even slackening his pace. mr. winters, in the meantime, had run to his horse--which, during the struggle, had stood perfectly still in the middle of the court--after his pistols; but, before he could get an opportunity to use them, both pierre and the dog had disappeared among the trees. a moment afterward, a horse was heard going at full speed through the grove, indicating that the robber was leaving the ranch as fast as possible. all this while, frank has been almost overwhelmed with astonishment. the ease with which the desperado had vanquished his uncle and the strange behavior of the hitherto infallible marmion, were things beyond his comprehension. he stood gazing, in stupid wonder, toward the trees among which pierre had disappeared, while the sound of the horse's hoofs grew fainter and fainter, and finally died away altogether. then he seemed to wake up, and to realize the fact that the ranchero had made good his escape, in spite of all their efforts to capture him. "let's follow him, uncle!" he exclaimed, in an excited voice. "i can soon overtake him on roderick." "i could not ride a hundred yards to save my life!" replied mr. winters, seating himself on the porch, and resting his head on his hands. "bring me some water, frank." these words alarmed the boy, who now, for the first time, saw that his uncle's face was deadly pale, and that his hair was matted with blood, which was trickling down over his collar. "o, uncle!" cried frank, in dismay. "don't be uneasy," said mr. winters, quietly. "bring me some water." without stopping to make any inquiries, frank ran into the kitchen and aroused the housekeeper, giving her a very hasty and disconnected account of what had happened, and then he hurried to the quarters to awaken felix. "go to fort yuma for the doctor, at once!" shouted frank, pounding loudly upon the door. "what's up?" inquired felix, from the inside. "no matter what's up--go for the doctor! take roderick; he's the swiftest horse on the ranch. uncle's badly wounded." "wounded!" repeated felix, jerking open the door, and appearing upon the threshold, with a revolver in each hand. "who did it? where is he?" "i can't stop to tell you who did it, or where he is. hurry up, felix, and don't stand there looking at me! we've just had the hardest kind of a fight with pierre. marmion was there, but he didn't do any good. he threw the villain down, and then wouldn't hold him. i've a good notion to shoot that dog if he ever comes back. make haste, felix! i can't stop to tell you any more." but, after all, frank did stop to tell a great deal more; and, by the time the ranchero was dressed, he had given him a complete history of all that had happened in the house since sunset. felix, astonished and enraged at the treachery of his companion, examined his pistols very carefully before he put them into his holsters, and frank knew, by the expression in his eye, that if he should happen to meet pierre, during his ride to the fort, the latter would fall into dangerous hands. as soon as frank had seen roderick saddled, he ran back to the house, and found uncle james lying on a sofa, and the housekeeper engaged in dressing a long, ragged cut on the back of his head. being weak from the loss of blood, he sank into a deep slumber before the operation was completed, and frank, finding nothing to do, and being too nervous, after the exciting events of the evening, to keep still, went out to watch for the doctor, who, seeing that the fort was sixteen miles from the ranch, could not reasonably be expected before daylight. for a long time he paced restlessly up and down the porch, his mind busy with the three questions that had so astonished and perplexed him: what had happened to bring his uncle home that night? how had he been so easily overpowered by pierre? and, what was the matter with marmion? the longer he pondered upon them, the more bewildered he became; and, finally dismissing them from his mind altogether, he went out to attend to his uncle's horse, which, all this while, had been running back and forth between the house and barn, now and then neighing shrilly, as if impatient at being so long neglected. as frank passed through the court, he picked up his rifle, which mr. winters had thrown down after taking that flying shot at pierre. the stock felt damp in his grasp, and when he looked at his hand, he saw that it was red with blood. "i understand one thing now, just as well as if i had stood here and witnessed it," said he, to himself. "when pierre went out of my room, he ran in here to see who it was visiting the ranch at this late hour, and when he found that it was uncle james, he thought he would get the safe key. he was too much of a coward to attack him openly, and so he slipped up and knocked him down with the butt of my rifle. that's what made the wound on uncle's head, and that's how it came that pierre could hold him down with one hand. didn't i know all the time that there was something up? now, if pierre had succeeded in getting the safe key, no doubt he would have renewed his attempts to make me tell where i had put the key of the office. would i have been coward enough to do it? no, sir! i would have--hallo!" this exclamation was called forth by the sudden appearance of the dog, which crept slowly toward his master, looking altogether as if he had been guilty of something very mean. "so you have got back, have you?" said frank, sternly. "what do you mean by going off to hunt rabbits when you ought to stay at home? and what excuse have you to offer for allowing that robber to get up after you had pulled him down?" marmion stopped, and, laying his head close to the pavement, wagged his tail and whined piteously. "i don't wonder that you feel ashamed of yourself," said his master. "come here, you old coward." the dog reluctantly obeyed, and, when he came nearer, another mystery was cleared up, and frank knew why his favorite had behaved so strangely. one end of a rope was twisted about his jaws so tightly that he could scarcely move them, and the other, after being wound around his head and neck to keep the muzzle from slipping off, was fastened to both his fore feet, holding them so close together that it was a wonder that he could walk at all. frank's anger vanished in an instant. he ran into his room after his knife, to release the dog from his bonds, and then he discovered that the animal had not come out of the fight unharmed. two gaping wounds in his side bore evidence to the skill with which pierre had handled his bowie. at that moment, frank felt a good deal as llewellyn must have felt when he killed the hound which he imagined had devoured his child, but which had, in reality, defended him from the attacks of a wolf. he had scolded marmion for his failure to hold the robber after he had thrown him down, and had been more than half inclined to give him a good beating; while the animal had, all the while, been doing his best, and, in spite of his wounds and bonds, had kept up the fight until pierre mounted his horse and fled from the ranch. the boy's first care, after he had removed the rope, was to bandage the wounds as well as he could, and to lead the dog to a comfortable bed on the porch, where he left him to await the arrival of the doctor; for frank resolved that, as marmion had received his injuries during the performance of his duty, he should have the very best of care. frank never closed his eyes that night. he passed the hours in pacing up and down the porch watching for the ranchero, who made his appearance shortly after daylight, accompanied by the doctor. mr. winters's wound, although very painful, was not a dangerous one, and after it had been dressed by the skillful hands of the surgeon, he felt well enough to enter into conversation with those around him. "now," said frank, who had been impatiently awaiting an opportunity to talk to his uncle, "i'd like to know what brought you back here last night?" "i came after the twelve thousand dollars," replied mr. winters. "when i arrived in the city, i learned that mr. brown had left there early in the morning to pay us a visit, taking with him the money he owed me. i wanted to use it immediately, and as i did not know what might happen if it should become known that there was so much money in the house, and no one here to take care of it, i came home; but i should have lost the money after all, if it hadn't been for you, frank, and i might have lost my life with it; for i believe the villain was in earnest." "i am quite sure he was," said frank, feeling of his neck, which still bore the marks of the lasso in the shape of a bright red streak. "if you had stayed away five minutes longer, i should have been hanged. o, it's a fact!" he added, earnestly, noticing that the doctor looked at him incredulously. "i came very near dancing on nothing, now i tell you; and if you only knew all that has happened in this house since dark, you wouldn't say that there was no one here to take care of that money. but, uncle, how came you by that wound?" "pierre gave it to me," was the reply. "he slipped up behind me when i was dismounting, and struck me with something. but what did he do to you?" "he pulled me up by the neck with my own lasso," replied frank; "that's what he did to me." "the scoundrel!" exclaimed the doctor. "tell us all about it." thus encouraged, frank began and related his story, to which his auditors listened with breathless attention. he told what he had done with the twelve thousand dollars, where he had hidden the keys, how he had detected pierre watching him through the window, and how the ranchero had told him that marmion was off hunting rabbits, when he was lying bound and muzzled in some out-of-the-way place. then he explained how the robber had overpowered him while he was reading, how he had searched his pockets for the keys, and pulled him up by the neck because he refused to tell where he had hidden them, and how he was on the very point of hanging him in earnest when the arrival of uncle james alarmed him. mr. winters was astonished, and so was the doctor, who patted frank on the head, and said: "you're a chip of the old block. and did you not tell him where you had put the key?" "no, sir;" was the answer. "he choked me pretty hard, though, and my throat feels funny yet." the boy having finished his story, mr. winters took it up where he left off, and told the doctor how frank had rescued him from the robber, and how hard he had worked to effect his capture, and all who heard it declared that he was a hero. chapter vii. frank meets a highwayman. frank passed the next day in making up for the sleep he had lost the night before. about three o'clock in the afternoon he arose refreshed, and visited his uncle, whom he found fast asleep. now that archie was gone, the old house was quiet and lonesome--too much so, indeed, to suit frank, who, after trying in vain to find some way to amuse himself until supper time, saddled roderick, and set out for a short gallop over the prairie. as he was about to mount his horse, marmion came out of the court, and frisked about his master as lively as ever, apparently none the worse for the ugly-looking wounds he had received during his encounter with the robber. "go home, sir," said frank. "don't you know that you are under the doctor's care?" if marmion did know it, he didn't bother his head about it. he had a will of his own; and having always been permitted to accompany his master wherever he went, he did not feel disposed to remain behind. instead of obeying the command to go home, he ran on before, and frank made no further attempts to drive him back. frank, having by this time become well acquainted with the country for twenty miles around his uncle's rancho, knew where he wanted to go, and about an hour after he left home, he was stretched at full length beside a spring among the mountains, where he and his friends often camped to eat their dinner during their hunting expeditions. roderick stood close by, lazily cropping the grass, but marmion was not in sight. the last time his master saw him, he was trying to gnaw his way into a hollow log where a rabbit had taken refuge. frank lay beside the spring until his increasing hunger reminded him that it was nearly supper time, and then he mounted his horse, and started for home. roderick being permitted to choose his own gait, walked slowly along a narrow bridle-path that led out of the mountains, and frank sat in his saddle with both hands in his pockets, his sombrero pulled down over his eyes, and his thoughts wandering away to the ends of the earth. he had ridden in this way about half a mile, when he was suddenly aroused from his meditations by a commotion in the bushes at his side, and the next moment a man sprang in front of the horse, and seized him by the bridle. "pierre costello!" exclaimed frank, as soon as he had somewhat recovered from his astonishment. "ay, it's pierre, and no mistake," returned the ranchero, with a triumphant smile. "you thought i had left the country, didn't you?" "i was in hopes you had; but i see you are still on hand, like a bad dollar-bill." "we are well met," continued pierre. "i have been waiting for an opportunity to thank you for the very friendly manner in which you treated me last night." "you need not have put yourself to any trouble about it. you are under no obligations to me. as i am in something of a hurry, i will now bid you good-by." "not if i know myself, and i think i do," said pierre, with a laugh. "you are just as impudent as ever. climb down off that horse." frank's actions indicated that he did not think it best to obey this order. he sat perfectly still in his saddle, looking at pierre, and wondering what he should do. he could show no weapon to intimidate the robber, for he was entirely unarmed, not having brought even his lasso or clasp-knife with him; while pierre held in his hand, ready for instant use, the bowie that had rendered him such good service during the fight in the court. at first frank entertained the bold idea of riding over the ranchero. roderick was as quick as a flash in his movements, and one touch of the spurs, if his rider could take pierre off his guard, would cause the horse to jerk the bridle from his grasp, and before the robber could recover himself, frank would be out of danger. but pierre had anticipated this movement, and he was too well acquainted with his prisoner to relax his vigilance for an instant. more than that, he held both the reins under roderick's jaw with a firm grasp, and stood in such a position that he could control the movements of both the horse and his rider. a moment's reflection having satisfied frank that his idea of running over pierre could not be carried out, he began to look around for his dog. but marmion had not yet come up, and frank was compelled to acknowledge to himself that he was as completely in the villain's power as he had been when pierre had the lasso around his neck. "get down off that horse, i say," commanded the ranchero. "so you have turned highwayman, have you?" said frank, without moving. "do you find it a more pleasant and profitable business than herding cattle?" "are you going to get off that horse?" asked the robber, impatiently. "what's the use? you will not find a red cent in my pockets." "i suppose not; but if i take you with me, i'll soon find out how many yellow boys your uncle carries in his pockets." "if you take me with you!" repeated frank. "what do you mean?" "i mean just this: i shall find it exceedingly lonesome living here in the mountains by myself, and i don't know of any one in the world i had rather have for a companion than yourself." "humph!" exclaimed frank; "that's a nice idea. i won't go." "of course," continued the ranchero, not heeding the interruption, "when you fail to make your appearance at home for three or four days, your uncle will think he has seen the last of you. he will believe that you have been clawed up by grizzlies, or that you have tumbled into some of these gullies. he will raise a hue and cry, search high and low for you, offer rewards, and all that; and, while the fuss is going on, and people are wondering what in the world could have become of you, you will be safe and sound, and living like a gentleman, with me, on the fat of the land." "but, pierre," said frank, now beginning to be really frightened, "i don't want to live with you on the fat of the land, and i won't do it. let go that bridle." the ranchero, as before, paid no attention to the interruption. he seemed to delight in tormenting his prisoner. "after you have been with me about six months," he went on, "and your friends have given up all hope of ever seeing you again, i'll send a note to mr. winters, stating that you are alive and well, and that, if he will give me twenty thousand dollars in gold, i will return you to him in good order, right side up with care. if i find that we can get along pretty well together, i may conclude to keep you a year; for the longer you remain away from your uncle, the more he will want to see you, and the bigger will be the pile he will give to have you brought back. what is your opinion of that plan? don't you think it a capital way to raise the wind?" frank listened to this speech in utter bewilderment. cruel and reckless as he knew pierre to be, he had never for a moment imagined that he could be guilty of such an enormous crime as this. he did not know what reply to make--there was nothing he could say or do. entreaties and resistance were alike useless. "well, what are you thinking about?" inquired the ranchero. "i was wondering if a greater villain than yourself ever lived," replied frank. "we will talk about that as we go along," said pierre. "get off that horse, now; i am going to send him home." frank, seeing no way of escape, was about to obey this order, when the truant, marmion, came in sight, trotting leisurely up the path, carrying in his mouth the rabbit, which he had succeeded in gnawing out of the log. he stopped short on discovering pierre, dropped his game, and gathered himself for a spring. "take him, marmion!" yelled frank, as he straightened himself up in his saddle. "if it is all the same to you, mr. pierre, i'll not go to the mountains this evening." the ranchero did not wait to receive the dog. he was an arrant coward, and, more than that, he stood as much in fear of marmion as if he had been a bear or panther. uttering a cry of terror, he dropped the bridle, and, with one bound, disappeared in the bushes. marmion followed close at his heels, encouraged by terrific yells from his master, who, now that his dog was neither bound nor muzzled, looked upon the capture of the robber as a thing beyond a doubt. there was a loud crashing and snapping in the bushes, as the pursuer and pursued sped on their way, and presently another loud yell of terror, mingled with an angry growl, told frank that the dog had come up with pierre. "he is caught at last," thought our hero; "how shall i get him home? that's the question. how desperately he fights," he added, as the commotion in the bushes increased, and the yells and growls grew louder. "but he'll find it's no use, for he can't whip that dog, if he has got a knife. now, i ought to have a rope. i'll ride up the path, and see if i can find pierre's horse; and, if i can, i'll take his lasso and tie the rascal hand and foot." frank galloped up the path a short distance, but could see nothing of the horse. the ranchero had, doubtless, left him in the bushes, and frank was about to dismount and go in search of him, when, to his utter astonishment, he saw pierre coming toward him. his face was badly scratched; his jacket and shirt had disappeared altogether; his breast and arms were covered with blood, and so was his knife, which he still held in his hand. but, where was marmion, that he was not following up his enemy? the answer was plain. the dog had been worsted in his encounter with the robber, and frank was left to fight his battles alone. he thought no more of taking pierre a prisoner to the rancho. all he cared for now was to escape. "well, now, it was good of you not to run away when you had the chance," said the ranchero, who appeared to be quite as much surprised at seeing frank as the latter had been at seeing him. "if i had thought that you could get away from that dog, i should have been a mile from here by this time," replied frank. "i was looking for your horse, and, if i had found him, i should have gone to marmion's assistance." "well, he needed you bad enough," said pierre, with a laugh. "i have fixed him this time." "you have!" cried frank, his worst suspicions confirmed. "is marmion dead?" "dead as a door-nail. now we must be off; we have wasted too much time already." if the ranchero supposed that frank would allow himself to be captured a second time, he was sadly mistaken. the boy was free, and he determined to remain so. "pierre," said he, filled with rage at the words of the robber, "i may have a chance to square accounts with you some day, and if i do i'll remember that you killed my dog." "come, now, no nonsense," said the ranchero, gruffly. "you are my prisoner, you know." "i think not. stand where you are; don't come a step nearer." while this conversation was going on, pierre had been walking slowly up the path, and, as frank ceased speaking, he made a sudden rush, intending to seize roderick by the bridle. but his rider was on the alert. gathering his reins firmly in his hands, he dashed his spurs into the flanks of his horse, which sprang forward like an arrow from a bow, and thundered down the path toward pierre, who turned pale with terror. "out of the way, you villain, or i'll ride you down," shouted frank. this was very evident to the ranchero, who, seizing upon the only chance for escape offered him, plunged head-foremost into the bushes. he barely missed being run down, for roderick flew by before he was fairly out of the path, and, by the time he had recovered his feet, frank was out of sight. when frank reached home, he shed a great many tears over marmion's untimely death; but, as it happened, it was grief wasted. one morning, about a week after his adventure with the highwayman, while frank and archie were out for their morning's ride, a sorry-looking object crawled into the court, and thence into the office, where mr. winters was busy at his desk. "mad dog!" shouted the gentleman, when he discovered the intruder; and, springing to his feet, he lifted his chair over his head, and was in the very act of extinguishing the last spark of life left in the poor brute, when the sight of a collar he wore around his neck arrested his hand. it was no wonder that uncle james had not recognized the animal, for he looked very unlike the lively, well-conditioned dog which frank was wont to regard as the apple of his eye. but, nevertheless, it was marmion, or, rather, all that was left of him. he had been severely wounded, and was nearly starved; but he received the best of care, and it was not long before he was as savage and full of fight as ever. although he had failed to capture the robber, he had rendered his master a most important service, and no one ever heard him find fault with marmion after that. frank's reputation was by this time firmly established, and he was the lion of the settlement. dick lewis was prouder than ever of him. of course, he called him a "keerless feller," and read him several long lectures, illustrating them by incidents drawn from his own experience. he related the story of frank's adventures with the robber every time he could induce any one to listen to it, and ever afterward called him "the boy that fit that ar' greaser." old bob kelly beamed benevolently upon him every time they met, and more than once told his companion that the "youngster would make an amazin' trapper;" and that, in dick's estimation, was a compliment worth all the rest. meanwhile, the country had been made exceedingly unsafe for pierre costello. the neighbors had turned out in force, every nook and corner of the mountains for miles around had been searched, and a large reward offered for the robber's apprehension; but it was all in vain. nothing more had been heard of pierre, and frank hoped that he had seen him for the last time. fate, however, had decreed that he was to have other adventures with the highwayman. chapter viii. colonel arthur vane. we left frank and archie standing on the porch, watching the wild steer which was being led toward the cow-pen. as soon as they had got over their excitement, they remembered that they had saddled their horses for the purpose of riding over to visit their nearest neighbor, johnny harris, one of the boys whose daring horsemanship, and skill with the lasso, had so excited their admiration. johnny lived four miles distant; but he and the cousins were together almost all the time. if johnny was not at their house, frank and archie were at his; and when you saw one of the three, it was a sure sign that the others were not a great way off. dick thomas, of whom mention has been made, had been one of the party; but he was now on a visit to san francisco and would not return until winter. had frank and his cousin, while at home, been compelled to ride or walk four miles in search of a playmate, they might have been disposed to grumble over what they would have considered a very hard lot in life; but they had learned to think nothing of it. there were their horses always ready and willing, and half an hour's gallop over the prairie in the cool of the morning, or evening, was not looked upon as any thing very disagreeable. on this particular morning, roderick and marmion were impatient to exhibit their mettle; and even sleepy sam lifted his head and pawed the ground when archie placed his foot in the stirrup. scarcely waiting for their riders to become firmly seated in their saddles, the horses started down the road at a rattling pace, and the dog dashed through the bushes and grass on each side, driving the rabbits from their covers, and creating great consternation among flocks of quails and prairie-chickens, which flew up at his approach. the farther the boys went, the faster they went; for roderick and sleepy sam, warming at their work, and encouraged, perhaps, by some slight touches from their riders' spurs, increased their speed until they fairly flew over the ground; and marmion, unwilling to remain behind, left the quails and rabbits to rest in security for that morning at least, and ran along beside his master, now and then looking up into his face, and uttering a little yelp, as if he were trying to tell how well he enjoyed the sport. "now, isn't this glorious?" exclaimed archie, pulling off his sombrero, and holding open his jacket, to catch every breath of the fresh morning air. "let's go faster. yip! yip!" the horses understood that yell. they had heard it before; and, knowing that it meant a race, they set off at the top of their speed. but the race was not a long one; for the old buffalo hunter, fast as he was, soon fell behind. the gray flew over the ground, as swiftly as a bird on the wing, and, after allowing him a free rein for a short distance, to show archie how badly he could beat him, frank stopped, and waited for him to come up. the four miles were quickly accomplished, and, presently, the boys drew up at the door of mr. harris's farm-house, where they found johnny waiting to receive them. "how are you, strangers?" cried johnny. "get down and make those posts fast to your horses, and come in." this was the way travelers were welcomed in that country, where every house was a hotel, and every farmer ready, at all times, to feed and shelter a stranger. "how is the rifle-shot, this morning?" continued johnny, as he shook hands with the boys; "and what news has the champion horseman to communicate?" "i didn't claim to be the champion horseman," said archie, quickly. "i am not conceited enough to believe that i can beat you riding wild horses, but i'll tell you what i can do, johnny. in a fair race from here to the mountains, i can leave you a quarter of a mile behind." "well, come in, and wait till i saddle my horse, and we'll see about that," said johnny. "until you came here, i could beat any boy in the settlement. i give in to frank, but i can show that ugly old buffalo hunter of yours a pretty pair of heels. boys!" he added, suddenly, "my day's fun is all knocked in the head. see there!" the cousins looked in the direction indicated, and saw a horseman approaching at a rapid gallop. he was mounted on a large iron-gray, which looked enough like roderick to have been his brother, sat as straight as an arrow in his saddle, and managed his fiery charger with an ease and dexterity that showed him to be an accomplished rider. "that's _colonel_ arthur vane--a neighbor with whom you are not yet acquainted," said johnny, with strong emphasis on the word colonel. "he is from kentucky. his father came to this country about six months since, and bought the rancho adjoining your uncle's. arthur remained here long enough for dick and me to become as well acquainted with him as we cared to be, and then went back to kentucky to visit his friends. he returned a few days ago, and now we may make up our minds to have him for a companion." "what sort of a fellow is he, johnny?" asked frank. "i don't admire him," replied johnny, who, like archie, never hesitated to speak his mind very freely. "from what i have seen of him, i should say that he is not a boy who is calculated to make friends. he talks and brags too much. he tries to use big words in conversation, and criticises every one around him most unmercifully. he is one of those knowing fellows; but, after you have exchanged a few words with him, you will find that he doesn't know so very much after all. he has been all over the world, if we are to believe what he says, and has been the hero of adventures that throw your encounter with pierre costello into the shade. he carries no less than seven bullets in his body." "seven bullets!" echoed archie. "why, i should think they would kill him." "so they would, most likely, if he only had them in him," replied johnny. "he is a famous hunter and trapper, owns two splendid horses, a pack of hounds, three or four fine guns, and makes himself hot and happy in a suit of buckskin. if it were not for his smooth face and dandy airs, one would take him for some old mountain man. he gave dick and me a short history of his life--which he will be sure to repeat for your benefit--and was foolish enough to believe that we were as green as two pumpkins because we had never been in the states, and that we would swallow any thing. but, if we have always lived in a wilderness, we have not neglected our books, and we are well enough posted to know that arthur makes great mistakes sometimes." "but why is your day's fun all knocked in the head?" asked archie. "because i can't enjoy myself when arthur is around. i am always afraid that i shall do or say something that he won't like. every time i look at him, i am reminded of byron's corsair, who, you know, was '--the mildest mannered man that ever scuttled ship or cut a throat.' i don't mean to say that arthur would cut any body's throat, but i do say that if he should happen to get angry at any of us, we shall wish him safe in kentucky, where he belongs. i can't very well avoid introducing him, but, after what i have said, you will understand that i do not indorse him." the conversation was brought to a close by the near approach of arthur vane, who presently dashed up to the porch, and dismounted. frank and archie made a rapid examination of the new-comer. he was dressed in a full suit of buckskin--hunting-shirt, leggins, and moccasins, the latter ornamented with bright-colored beads--which set off his tall, slender, well-knit frame to good advantage. he evidently possessed a fair share of muscle and agility, and that, according to archie's way of thinking, was a great recommendation. he little dreamed that his own pluck, strength, and endurance would one day be severely tested by that boy in buckskin. arthur's weapons were objects of no less curiosity to the cousins than his dress. instead of the short, light rifle in which the boys of that country took so much delight, and which was so handy to be used on horseback, he carried a double-barrel shot-gun as long as himself, elaborately ornamented, and the boys judged, from the way he handled it, that it must be very heavy. from his belt protruded the buckhorn handle of a sheath-knife, and the bright, polished head of an indian tomahawk. the lasso was nowhere to be seen. when the boys had noted these points, they glanced at the face of the new-comer. it was a handsome face, and might have made a favorable impression on them, had it not been for the haughty glances which its owner directed toward them as he rode up. "he looks at us as though he thought we had no business here," whispered archie, as johnny went down the steps to receive the visitor. "a second charley morgan," replied his cousin. "if he is blessed with morgan's amiable disposition," returned archie, "we'll see fun before we are done with him." "frank nelson," said johnny, leading his visitor upon the porch, "this is our new neighbor, arthur vane." "colonel of the second kentucky cavalry during the florida war, and, for a short time captain of the scouts attached to the head-quarters of the general commanding the department of the plains," said arthur, in dignified tones, drawing himself up to his full height, and looking at frank as if to ask, what do you think of me, anyhow? "how do you do?" said frank, accepting vane's proffered hand. he did not say that he was glad to see him, or happy to make his acquaintance, for he wasn't. "archie winters, colonel vane," continued johnny, "formerly commander of the second kentucky--ahem!" johnny was going on to repeat arthur's pompous speech, when he saw archie biting his lip, and knew that it was time for him to stop. "how are you, colonel?" said archie, as sober as a judge. "i can not complain of my health," replied arthur, still holding frank's hand with his right, while he extended his left to archie, in much the same manner that a monarch might have given his hand to a kneeling subject. "the musket-ball that osceola sent through my shoulder sometimes troubles me a little; but i am so accustomed to wounds that i scarcely mind it." "how do you like california," inquired frank, thinking that he ought to say something. "o, i like the country well enough; but belonging, as i do, to one of the oldest and wealthiest families of the state of kentucky, i can find no congenial society among these backwoodsmen." frank had no reply to make to this declaration. that one remark had revealed as much of the character of arthur vane as he cared to become acquainted with. the latter evidently looked upon himself as something better than the common herd of mankind, and frank wondered why he did not stay at home, if he could find no pleasure in the society of the boys of that country. "i have heard of you," continued arthur, loftily; "and i understand that you are looked upon as a hero in this settlement." "i do not claim the honor," modestly replied frank. "i have always observed," the visitor went on to say, "that the ideas which ignorant people entertain concerning heroes are ludicrous in the extreme. now, i have met with more adventures than generally fall to the lot of mortals; but, being a modest young man, i have never allowed any one to apply that name to me. i have been in battles--desperate battles. i have seen the cheek of the bravest blanched with terror; but i never flinched. twice have i been a prisoner in the hands of the indians, and once i was bound to the stake. i have whipped a grizzly bear in a fair fight, with no weapon but my knife, and i can show seven honorable scars, made by as many bullets, which i carry in my body to-day." here arthur stopped to take breath, and looked at his auditors as if waiting for applause. frank and archie had nothing to say, but johnny observed: "you have seen some rough times for one of your age." "rough!" repeated arthur, with evident disgust. "don't use such words--they are so vulgar. thrilling, or exciting, would sound much better." "i stand corrected," remarked johnny, very gravely, while archie coughed, and frank turned away his head to conceal his laughter. "i can not begin to convey to you even a slight idea of what i have endured," said arthur, as if nothing had happened. "it is true that i am young in years, but i am old in experience. i have known every variety of danger incident to a reckless and roving life. i have skirmished with arabs on the burning sands of patagonia; have hunted the ferocious polar bear amid the icebergs of india; have followed lions and tigers through the jungles and forests of europe; have risked my life in four different battles with the algerines, and, on one occasion, was captured by those murderous villains. if adventures make the hero, i can certainly lay claim to that honor as well as anybody." as the visitor ceased speaking, he looked suspiciously at the three boys before him, two of whom seemed to be strangely affected by the recital of his thrilling adventures. frank had grown very red in the face, while johnny was holding his handkerchief over his mouth, trying to restrain a violent fit of coughing with which he had suddenly been seized. archie was the only one who could keep a straight face. he stood with his hands behind his back, his feet spread out, his sombrero pushed as far back on his head as he could get it, looking intently at arthur, as if he were very much interested in what he was saying. he came to the relief of the others, however, by observing: "if i had seen all those countries you speak of, vane, i should be proud of it. no one delights more in truthful stories of adventure than i do, and, if you have no objection, we will sit down here and talk, while johnny saddles his horse. we are going over to visit old captain porter. you will go with us, of course?" "certainly. i have often heard of captain porter, and i shall be pleased to make his acquaintance. he and i can talk over our adventures, and you can listen, and you will, no doubt, learn something." johnny, knowing that frank wanted some excuse to get away where he could enjoy a hearty laugh, asked him to assist in catching his horse; and, together, they went toward the barn, leaving archie behind to listen to arthur's stories. chapter ix. an old boy. by the exercise of wonderful self-control, frank and johnny succeeded in restraining their risibilities until they reached the barn, and then one leaned against the door-post, while the other seated himself upon the floor, both holding their sides, and giving vent to peals of uproarious laughter. "o dear!" exclaimed frank, "i shall never dare look that fellow in the face again. 'icebergs of india!' 'burning sands of patagonia!' how my jaws ache!" "i wonder what part of europe he visited to find his lions and tigers?" said johnny. "and how do you suppose he escaped from the indians when they had him bound to the stake? we must ask him about that." "how old is he?" inquired frank. "he says he is sixteen." "well, he is older than that, if he risked his life in battles with the algerians; for, if my memory serves me, decatur settled our accounts with those gentlemen in the year 1815. that would make our new friend old enough to be a grandfather. he holds his age well, doesn't he?" then the two boys looked up at the rafters, and laughed louder than ever. "i remember of hearing old captain porter say," observed johnny, as soon as he could speak, "that the strongest and most active man that ever lived could not whip a grizzly in a fair fight; and that the bravest hunter would take to his heels if he found himself in close quarters with one of those animals, and would not think he was guilty of cowardice, either." "and what i have seen with my own eyes confirms it," said frank. "while we were camped at the old bear's hole, dick lewis got into a fight with a grizzly, and, although it didn't last more than half a minute, he was so badly cut up that his own mother wouldn't have recognized him. dick is a giant in strength, and as quick as a cat in his movements, and if he can't whip a grizzly, i am sure that arthur vane can't." "humph!" said johnny, "he never saw a grizzly. i never did either, and there are plenty of them in this country. arthur had better be careful how he talks in captain porter's hearing. the rough old fellow will see through him in an instant, and he may not be as careful of his feelings as we have been." johnny, having by this time saddled his horse, he and frank returned to the house, where they found archie deeply interested in one of arthur's stories. "that is high up, i should think," they heard the former say. "yes, higher than the tops of these trees," replied arthur. "i was relating some of the incidents of one of my voyages at sea," he continued, addressing himself to frank. "i was telling archie how i used to stand on the very top of the mast and look out for whales." "which mast?" asked frank. "why, the middle mast, of course. what's the matter with you?" he added, turning suddenly upon archie, who seemed to be on the point of strangling. "nothing," was the reply, "only something got stuck in my throat." arthur had taken up a dangerous subject when he began to talk about nautical matters; for they were something in which frank and his cousin had always been interested, and were well posted. archie lived in a sea-port town, and, although he had never been a sailor, he knew the names of all the ropes, and could talk as "salt" as any old tar. he knew, and so did frank, that what arthur had called the "middle mast," was known on shipboard as the mainmast. they knew that the "very top" of the mainmast was called the main truck; and that the look-outs were not generally stationed so high up in the world. "we can talk as we ride along," said johnny. "we have ten miles to go, and we ought to reach the captain's by twelve o'clock. the old fellow tells a capital story over his after-dinner pipe." the boys mounted their horses, and, led by johnny, galloped off in the direction of the old fur-trader's ranch. they rode in silence for a few minutes, and then archie said: "if you wouldn't think me too inquisitive, arthur, i'd like to know at what age you began your travels?" "at the age of eleven," was the prompt reply, "i was a midshipman in the navy, and made my first voyage under the gallant decatur. i spent four years at sea with him, and during that time i had those terrible fights with the algerines, of which i have before spoken. in the last battle, i was captured, and compelled to walk the plank." "what do you mean by that?" asked johnny, who had never devoted any of his time to yellow-covered literature. "why, you must know that the inhabitants of algiers, and the adjacent countries, were, at one time, nothing but pirates. when they captured a vessel, their first hard work, after taking care of the valuable part of the cargo, was to dispose of their prisoners. it was too much trouble to set them ashore, so they balanced a plank out of one of the gangways--one end being out over the water, and the other on board the ship. the pirates placed their feet on the end inboard, to hold it in its place, and then ordered their prisoners, one at a time, to walk out on the plank. of course, they were compelled to obey; and, when they got out to the end of the plank over the water, the pirates lifted up their feet, and down went the prisoners; and they generally found their way to the bottom in a hurry. i escaped by swimming. i was in the water twenty-four hours, and was picked up by a vessel bound to new york." "i suppose you had a life-preserver," said johnny. "no, sir. i had nothing to depend upon but my own exertions." "you must be some relation to a duck," said archie, speaking before he thought. "i suppose you mean to convey the idea that i am an excellent swimmer," said arthur, turning around in his saddle, and looking sharply at archie. "yes; that's what i intended to say," replied archie, demurely. "the vessel landed me in new york," continued arthur, "and i went home; and, having become tired of wandering about, and our troubles with algiers being settled, i led the quiet life of a student until the florida war broke out, and then i enlisted in the army." "now, then," thought archie, who had been paying strict attention to all arthur said, "i have got a basis for a calculation, and i am going to find out how old this new friend of ours is. war was declared against algeria (not algiers) in march, 1815; and on the 30th day of june, in the same year, the dey cried for quarter, and signed a treaty of peace. if arthur began his wanderings at eleven, and spent four years with decatur, he must have been fifteen years old when the war closed. after that, he led the quiet life of a student until the florida war broke out. that commenced in 1835; so arthur must have spent just twenty years at school. by the way, it's a great pity that he didn't devote a portion of his time to geography and natural history, for then he would have known that there are no icebergs and polar bears in india, or arabs and burning sands in patagonia, or wild lions and tigers in europe. if he spent twenty years at school, and was fifteen years old when he had those terrible battles with the algerians, he must have been thirty-five years old when the florida war broke out." "did you go through the war?" johnny asked. "i did." "how long did it last?" inquired frank, "and what was the cause of it?" "it continued nearly two years, and was brought about by the hatred the choctaws cherished toward the white people." "three mistakes there," thought archie. "the war lasted seven years, and cost our government forty millions of dollars. the choctaws had nothing to do with it. it was the seminoles and creeks--principally the former. the immediate cause of the trouble was the attempt on the part of the government to remove those tribes to the country west of the mississippi. they didn't want to go, and they were determined they wouldn't; and, consequently, they got themselves decently whipped. if arthur was thirty-five years of age when he went into the war, and spent two years in it, he was thirty-seven when he came out." "after the war closed," continued arthur, "i went to patagonia, and there i spent five years." "thirty-seven and five are forty-two," said archie, to himself. "i had a great many thrilling adventures in patagonia. the country is one immense desert, and being directly under the equator, it is--if you will for once allow me to use a slang expression--as hot as a frying-pan. the arabs are hostile, and are more troublesome than ever the indians were on the plains. from patagonia i went to europe, and there i spent six years in hunting lions and tigers." "forty-eight," thought archie; "and patagonia isn't under the equator, either." "that must have been exciting," said frank, while johnny looked over his shoulder, and grinned at archie. "it was indeed exciting, and dangerous, too. it takes a man with nerves of iron to stand perfectly still, and let a roaring lion walk up within ten paces of him, before he puts a bullet through his head." "could you do it?" "could i? i have done it more than once. if one of those ferocious animals were here now, i would give you a specimen of my shooting, which is an accomplishment in which i can not be beaten. i expect that you would be so badly frightened that you would desert me, and leave me to fight him alone." "wouldn't you run?" "not an inch." "would you fire that blunderbuss at him?" asked johnny. "blunderbuss?" repeated arthur. "that shot-gun, i mean." "certainly i would. you see i have the nerve to do it. from europe i went to india, and there i risked my life for six years more among the polar bears." "forty-eight and six are fifty-four," soliloquized archie. "after that i went to the plains, where i remained three years; and when the governor wrote to me that he was about to remove from kentucky, i resigned my commission as captain of scouts, and here i am. i must confess that i am sorry enough for it; for i never saw a duller country than california. there's no society here, no excitement--nothing to stir up a fellow's blood." "fifty-four and three are fifty-seven," said archie. arthur had evidently finished the history of his exploits, for he had nothing more to say just then. archie, after waiting a few minutes for him to resume his narrative, pulled his sombrero down over his eyes, and thrust his hands into his pockets--two movements he always executed when he wished to concentrate his mind upon any thing--and began to ponder upon what he had just heard. "vane," said he, suddenly, an idea striking him, "who commanded your vessel when you were captured?" arthur knitted his brows, and looked down at the horn of his saddle, as if thinking intently, and finally said: "why, it was mr.--, mr.--; i declare, i have forgotten his name." archie again relapsed into silence. "we had two wars with those pirates," thought he. "the first was with tripoli; but as that happened in 1805, arthur, of course, could not have taken part in it, for he made his first voyage at sea in 1815. we lost but one vessel, and that was captured in 1803--two years before war with tripoli was declared. it was the frigate philadelphia, and she wasn't whipped, either, but was run aground while pursuing a piratical vessel. she was commanded by captain bainbridge, who surrendered himself and crew. they were not compelled to 'walk the plank,' however, but were reduced to a horrible captivity, and treated worse than dogs. the tripolitans never got a chance to use the philadelphia against us, for decatur--who was at that time a lieutenant serving under commodore preble, who commanded our navy in those waters--boarded her one night with twenty men while she was lying in the harbor, swept the deck of more than double that number of pirates, burned the vessel under their very noses, and returned to his ship with only one man wounded. i never did care much for history, but a fellow finds a great deal of satisfaction sometimes in knowing a little about it." archie had at first been highly amused by what arthur had to say; but now, that the novelty had somewhat worn off, he began to wonder how it was possible for a boy to look another in the face and tell such improbable stories. if arthur was not ashamed of himself archie was heartily ashamed for him, and he was more than half inclined to put spurs to sleepy sam and start for home. he was not fond of such company. arthur vane is not an imaginary character. there are a great many like him in the world, boys, and men, too, who endeavor to make amends for the absence of real merit by recounting just such impossible exploits. the result, however, is always the exact reverse of what they wish it to be. instead of impressing their auditors with a sense of their great importance, they only succeed in awakening in their minds feelings of pity and contempt. after arthur had finished the history of his life, he rode along whistling snatches of the "hunter's chorus," happy in the belief that his reputation was established. well, it was established, but how? archie thought: "brag is a splendid dog, but holdfast is better. perhaps we may have a chance to test the courage of this mighty man of valor." johnny soliloquized: "does this fellow imagine that we are green enough to believe that he would stand and let a lion walk up within ten paces of him? hump! a good-sized rabbit would scare him to death." frank, who had taken but little part in the conversation, told himself that he had never become acquainted with a boy as deserving of pity as was arthur vane. he was not a desirable companion, and frank hoped that he would not often be thrown into his society. for a long time the boys rode in silence, keeping their horses in an easy gallop, and presently they entered the woods that fringed the base of the mountains, through which ran a bridle-path that led toward the old fur-trader's ranch. two young hounds belonging to johnny led the way, johnny came next, and frank and archie brought up the rear. they had ridden in this order for a short distance, when the singular movements of the hounds attracted their attention, and caused them to draw rein. the dogs stood in the path, snuffing the air, and gazing intently at the bushes in advance of them, and then, suddenly uttering a dismal howl, they ran back to the boys, and took refuge behind them. at the same instant, the horse on which johnny was mounted arose on his hind feet, turned square around, and, in spite of all the efforts of his rider to stop him, dashed by the others, and went down the path at the top of his speed. "good-by, fellows," shouted johnny; "and look out for yourselves, for there is"-what else johnny said the boys could not understand, for the clatter of his horse's hoofs drowned his voice, and in a moment he was out of sight among the trees. "there's something in those bushes," said frank, with difficulty restraining his own horse, which seemed determined to follow johnny, "and who knows but it might be a grizzly?" "i am quite sure it is," said archie. "don't you remember how badly frightened pete used to be when there was one of those varmints around?" as archie said this, the bushes were violently agitated, and the twigs cracked and snapped as if some heavy body was forcing its way through them. the hounds, waiting to hear no more, turned and fled down the path, leaving the boys to themselves. frank turned and looked at arthur. could it be possible that the pale, terror-stricken youth he saw before him was the one who but a few moments ago had boasted so loudly of his courage? that noise in the bushes had produced a great change in him. chapter x. arthur shows his courage it must not be supposed that frank and archie were entirely unmoved by what had just happened. the strange conduct of the hounds, and the desperate flight of johnny's horse, were enough to satisfy them that there was some dangerous animal in the bushes in front of them, and the uncertainty of what that animal might be, caused them no little uneasiness. grizzly bears were frequently met with among the mountains, and they sometimes extended their excursions into the plains, occasioning a general stampede among the stock of the nearest ranch. the grizzly is as much the king of beasts in his own country as the lion in africa and asia; and frank and archie, during their sojourn at the old bear's hole, had become well enough acquainted with his habits and disposition to know that, if their enemy in the bushes belonged to that species, they were in a dangerous neighborhood. the grizzly might, at any moment, assume the offensive, and in that event, if their horses became entangled in the bushes, or were rendered unmanageable by fright, their destruction was certain. this knowledge caused their hearts to beat a trifle faster than usual, and frank's hand trembled a little as he unbuckled the holsters in front of his saddle, and grasped one of his revolvers. but neither he nor archie had any intention of discontinuing their journey, or of leaving the field without having at least one shot at the animal, whatever it might be. "now, boys," said frank, in an excited whisper, "we have a splendid chance to immortalize ourselves. if that is a grizzly, and we should be fortunate enough to kill him, it would be something worth bragging about, wouldn't it? if i only had my rifle!" "we must rely upon our friend, here," said archie. "it's lucky that he is with us, for he is an old hunter, and he won't mind riding into the bushes, and driving him out--will you, arthur?" "eh!" exclaimed that young gentleman, who trembled so violently that he could scarcely hold his reins. "i say, that, as you are the most experienced in such matters, we shall be obliged to depend upon you to drive the bear out of the bushes into open ground," repeated archie, who did not appear to notice his friend's trepidation. "we can't all go in there to attack him, for he would be sure to catch some of us. what have you in that gun?" "b-u-c-k-s-h-o-t," replied arthur, in an almost inaudible voice. "let's go home." "go home!" exclaimed frank; "and without even one shot at that fellow! no, sir. you've got the only gun in the party, and, of course, you are the one to attack him. go right up the path, and when you see him, bang away." "how big is he?" asked arthur. "why, if he is a full-grown grizzly, he is as big as a cow." "will he fight much?" "i should say he would," answered archie, who was somewhat surprised at these questions. "have you forgotten the one you killed with your knife? he will be certain to follow you, if you don't disable him at the first shot, but he can't catch your horse. besides, as soon as he comes in sight, frank and i will give him a volley from our revolvers. you are not afraid?" "afraid!" repeated arthur, compressing his lips, and scowling fiercely. "o, no." "well, then, make haste," said frank, who was beginning to get impatient. "ride up within ten paces of him, and let him have it. that's the way you used to serve the lions in europe." "yes, go on," urged archie; and he gave arthur's horse a cut with his whip, to hurry him up. "o, stop that!" whined arthur, as the horse sprang forward so suddenly that his rider was nearly unseated. "i am going home." what might have happened next, it is impossible to tell, had not the boys' attention been turned from arthur by the yelping of a dog in the bushes a short distance up the mountain. "that's carlo," exclaimed archie. "now we will soon know what sort of an enemy we have to deal with." the dog was evidently following the trail of the bear, for he broke out into a continuous baying, which grew louder and fiercer as he approached. the bear heard it, and was either making efforts to escape, or preparing to defend himself; for he thrashed about among the bushes in a way that quite bewildered frank and archie, who drew their revolvers, and turned their horses' heads down the path, ready to fight or run, as they might find it necessary. an instant afterward, a large, tan-colored hound bounded across the path, and dashed into the bushes where the game was concealed. it was not one of those which had so disgracefully left the field a few moments before--it was carlo, johnny's favorite hound--an animal whose strength had been tested in many a desperate encounter, and which had never been found wanting in courage. scarcely had he disappeared when marmion came in sight, also following the trail. he ran with his nose close to the ground, the hair on his back standing straight up like the quills on a porcupine, and his whole appearance indicating great rage and excitement. "hi! hi!" yelled frank. "take hold of him, you rascal! now's your time, arthur. ride up and give him the contents of your double-barrel; only, be careful, and don't shoot the dogs." for an instant, it seemed as if arthur's courage had returned, and that he was about to yield to the entreaties of his companions. he straightened up in his saddle, and, assuming what he, no doubt, imagined to be a very determined look, was on the point of urging his horse forward, when suddenly there arose from the woods a chorus of yells, and snarls, and growls, that made the cold chills creep all over him, and caused him to forget every thing in the desire to put a safe distance between himself and the terrible animal in the bushes. acting on the impulse of the moment, he wheeled his horse, and, before frank or archie could utter a word, he shot by them, and disappeared down the path. for a moment, the two boys, forgetting that a furious battle was going on a little way from them, gazed at each other in blank amazement. the mighty hunter, who had boasted of whipping a grizzly-bear in a fair fight, with no weapon but his knife, had fled ingloriously, without having seen any thing to be frightened at. "that's one lie nailed," said frank. "more than one, i should think," returned archie, contemptuously. "i shall have nothing more to do with that fellow. this is the end of my acquaintance with him." no doubt archie was in earnest when he said this; but, had he been able to look into the future, he would have discovered that he was destined to have a great deal more to do with arthur vane. instead of being the end of his acquaintance with that young gentleman, it was only the beginning of it. meanwhile, the fight in the bushes, desperate as it was, judging by the noise it occasioned, was ended, and arthur had scarcely disappeared when marmion and carlo walked out into the path, and, after looking up at the boys, and giving their tails a few jerks, as if to say "we've done it!" seated themselves on their haunches, and awaited further orders. archie threw his reins to his cousin, and, springing out of his saddle, went forward to survey the scene of the conflict. he was gone but a moment, and when he came out of the bushes, he was dragging after him--not a grizzly bear, but a large gray wolf, which had been overpowered and killed by the dogs. one of the wolf's hind-legs was caught in a trap, to which was fastened a short piece of chain and a clog. the animal had doubtless been paying his respects to some sheep-fold during the night, and had put his foot into the trap while searching for his supper. he had retreated toward the mountains, and had dragged the trap until the clog caught, and held him fast. that was the reason he did not run off when the boys came up, and the commotion in the bushes had been caused by his efforts to free himself. while the boys were examining their prize, johnny, having succeeded in stopping his frantic horse, was returning to the place from which he had started on his involuntary ride. as he was about to enter the woods at the base of the mountains, he saw a horse emerge from the trees, and come toward him at a rapid gallop. his bridle was flying loose in the wind, and johnny at first thought he was running away; but a second glance showed him that there was somebody on his back. "stampeded," thought johnny. "if i am laughed at, it will be some consolation to know that i am not alone in my misery." the rider of the stampeded horse was bent almost double; his feet were out of the stirrups, which were being thrown wildly about; both hands were holding fast to the horn of the saddle; his face was deadly pale, and, altogether, he presented the appearance of one who had been thoroughly alarmed. although he looked very unlike the dignified arthur vane, who had ridden so gayly over that road but a few moments before, johnny recognized him at once; and the first thought that flashed through his mind was that something terrible had happened to frank and archie. "what's the matter?" asked johnny, pulling up his horse with a jerk. "grizzly bears!" shouted arthur, in reply, without attempting to check his headlong flight. "grizzly bears!" echoed johnny, in dismay. "and are you going off without trying to help those boys? stop, and go back with me." but arthur was past stopping, either by ability or inclination. digging his spurs into the sides of his horse, which was already going at the top of his speed, he went by johnny like the wind, and in a moment was so far away that it was useless to make any further attempts to stop him. for an instant, johnny was irresolute; then he turned in his saddle, and shouted one word, which the wind caught up and carried to the ears of the flying horseman, and which did much to bring about the events we have yet to describe. "_coward!_" yelled johnny, with all the strength of his lungs. having thus given utterance to his opinion of arthur vane, he put spurs to his horse and galloped into the woods, hoping to reach the scene of the conflict in time to be of service to his friends. but, as we know, the grizzly bear had proved to be a wolf, and had already been killed by the dogs. chapter xi. arthur plans revenge. meanwhile, arthur vane continued his mad flight toward the settlement. his hat was gone, his fine shot-gun had been thrown aside as a useless incumbrance, and his tomahawk and knife had dropped out of his belt; but he was too frightened to stop to pick them up. no pause he knew until he reached mr. harris's rancho, where he reined up his panting horse, and electrified the family by shouting through the open window: "grizzly bears! grizzly bears!" "where?" breathlessly inquired mr. harris, running out on the porch. before arthur could reply, johnny's mother appeared; and a single glance at the frightened hunter and his dripping steed, was enough to awaken in her mind the most terrible apprehensions. she knew, instinctively, that something dreadful had happened. "o, my son!" she screamed, sinking down on the porch, and covering her face with her hands. mr. harris did not stop to ask any questions then. he knew the route the boys had taken in the morning, and his first thought was to start for the scene of the conflict, although he had little hopes of arriving in time to be of any assistance to the young hunters. "josã©!" he shouted to one of his rancheros, who happened to pass by the house at that moment, "call all the men to saddle up at once. the boys have been attacked by a grizzly in the mountains." the gentleman carried his fainting wife into the house, and presently re-appeared with a brace of revolvers strapped to his waist, and a rifle in his hand. "did you see any of the boys hurt?" he asked this question in a firm voice; but his pale face and quivering lips showed that the news he had just received had not been without its effect upon him. "no, sir," replied arthur. "my horse ran away with me; but i heard the fight, and i know that the dogs were all cut to pieces. the bear was an awful monster--as large as an ox; and such teeth and claws as he had! i never saw the like in all my hunting." in a few moments, half a dozen herdsmen, all well armed, galloped up, one of them leading his employer's horse. "vane," said mr. harris, as he sprang into his saddle, "you will stop on your way home, and tell mr. winters, will you not?" arthur replied by putting spurs to his horse, and in a few moments he was standing in mr. winters's court, spreading consternation among the people of the rancho. dick and bob were there; but, unlike the rest of the herdsmen, they seemed to be but little affected by arthur's story. "you'll never see those boys again," said the latter, winding up his narrative with a description of the bear by which they had been attacked. "now, don't you be anyways oneasy," replied dick, hurrying off to saddle his horse. "if it war a grizzly, he's dead enough by this time, for i knowed them youngsters long afore you sot eyes on to 'em, an' i know what they can do. didn't i tell you, 'squire," he added, turning to mr. winters, who was pacing anxiously up and down the porch, "that frank would come out all right when he war stampeded with them buffaler? wal, i tell you the same now." arthur remained at the rancho until uncle james and his herdsmen set out for the mountains, and then turned his face homeward. it is a rule that seldom fails, that when one meets a braggadocio, he can put him down as a coward. we have seen that it held good in arthur's case; for, although he had not caught the smallest glimpse of the animal in the bushes, he was so terrified that he had run his horse eight miles; and, while he was plunging his spurs into the gray's sides at almost every jump, he imagined that the animal was running away with him. he was so badly frightened that he did not pause to consider that he might have occasioned a great deal of unnecessary anxiety and alarm by the stories he had circulated. he really believed that every word he had uttered was the truth; and he reached this conclusion by a process of reasoning perfectly satisfactory to himself. he had heard the growls and snarls uttered by the animal in the bushes, when attacked by the dogs, and they were so appalling, that he felt safe in believing that they came from some terrible monster. the conduct of the hounds, and of johnny's horse, confirmed this opinion. besides, frank and archie had pronounced the animal a grizzly, and arthur was quite sure it was; for nothing else, except a lion or tiger, could have uttered such growls. he had heard that grizzlies were very tenacious of life, and hard to whip, and, consequently, it followed, as a thing of course, that frank and archie, and the dogs, were utterly annihilated. "i'm safe, thank goodness!" said arthur, to himself. "if those fellows were foolish enough to stay there and be clawed to pieces, that's their lookout and not mine. johnny harris insulted me by calling me a coward. he may escape from the bear, and if he does, i shall think up a plan to punish him." when arthur reached home, he repeated his story as he had told it to mr. harris and uncle james, and he straightway found himself a hero. he had seen a grizzly bear with terrible claws, and a frightful array of teeth; his horse had run away with him, and carried him eight miles before he could stop him, and he had come home with a whole skin. it was wonderful. arthur threw on airs accordingly. he strutted about among the herdsmen, and entertained his servant, a mexican boy about his own age, named pedro, with a description of the fight, in which he had seen four fierce dogs completely demolished. pedro complimented him highly, and the rancheros called him a brave lad--although arthur himself failed to see what he had done that was deserving of praise. he went to bed in excellent spirits, and was awakened in the morning, about daylight, by pedro, who came into his room, carrying in his hand a double-barreled shot-gun, a tomahawk, and sheath-knife, and, under his arm, he held a hat, and a bundle wrapped up in a newspaper. pedro held his sombrero over his face, so that nothing could be seen but his eyes, which were brimful of laughter. "now, then," exclaimed arthur, raising himself on his elbow, and looking fiercely at the boy, "what do you want in here at this barbarous hour, and what are you grinning at?" "why, sir--the bear, you know; it wasn't a bear after all," stammered pedro, in reply. "it wasn't! i say it was. didn't i see him with my own eyes, and hear him growl with my own ears? take that hat down from your face, and stop your laughing." pedro obeyed. he placed the bundle on a chair beside the bed, leaned the gun up in one corner, deposited the other articles upon the table, and then pulled out of his pocket a note which he handed to arthur. "now take yourself off," commanded that young gentleman. pedro vanished, and arthur heard him laughing to himself as he passed through the hall. "what does the rascal mean, i wonder; and who can be writing to me so early in the morning?" arthur looked at the bundle, which lay on the chair beside him, felt of it with his fingers, and then turned his attention to the note, which ran as follows: "frank, archie, and johnny present their compliments to colonel vane, and beg leave to inform him that, after a struggle unequaled in the annals of hunting, they succeeded in dispatching the monster by which they were attacked yesterday. they are, also, happy to announce that the dogs, which were so badly cut up during the fight, have so far recovered as to be out, and to take their regular rations. they request the colonel to accept the accompanying articles, including the skin of the grizzly bear, and to preserve them as mementoes of the most exciting event of his life. they sincerely hope that the colonel sustained no injury during his ride on his runaway horse." arthur read this letter over twice, and, although he made no comments upon it, it was easy enough to see that he was highly enraged. he sat up in the bed, and, with trembling hands, tore off the covering of the bundle, and discovered the skin of the gray wolf. "by gracious!" exclaimed arthur, jumping out on the floor. "was a gentleman ever before so insulted? that little yankee, archie winters, is at the bottom of all this, and if he don't suffer for it, i'll know the reason why." he tore the note into fragments, pitched the bundle out of the window, and walked angrily about the room, shaking his fists in the air, and threatening all sorts of vengeance against archie and his two friends. if he had been in his sober senses, he would have felt heartily ashamed of himself; but the note had opened his eyes to the fact that he had sadly injured his reputation, and he was angry at his companions because he had done so--although how they could be blamed for that, it would have puzzled a sensible boy to determine. but, after all, his case was not an isolated one. it is by no means uncommon for boys, when they get angry, to revenge themselves upon some innocent thing. we remember that, on a certain rainy day, several boys were congregated in a barn, amusing themselves by turning hand-springs. one clumsy fellow, whose feet were so heavy that he could not get them over his head, became greatly enraged at his failures, and finally tried to soothe his wounded pride by whipping one of his companions. arthur was actuated by the same spirit. he walked up and down his room for a long time, trying to make up his mind what he should do, and, when he was called to breakfast, he had decided upon a plan of operations, which promised to make archie and his friends a great deal of trouble. "i'll be revenged upon the whole lot of them at once," said arthur, to himself. "upon johnny harris, for calling me a coward; upon archie winters, for writing me that note--for i know he did it, although johnny's name does come last--and upon frank nelson, for being a friend to those fellows, and for being so stuck up. he scarcely spoke to me yesterday, and i won't stand such treatment from any boy. i'll teach these backwoodsmen to insult a gentleman!" "well, arthur," said mr. vane, as the boy seated himself at the table, "you must have looked through a very badly-frightened pair of eyes, to make a grizzly bear out of a wolf." "who told you it was a wolf?" asked arthur, gruffly. "one of mr. winters's herdsmen--dick lewis, i believe, they call him. he came over this morning to bring your weapons and hat." dick despised a coward quite as much as he admired a boy of spirit and courage, and it is certain that the story, as he had heard it from frank and archie, lost nothing in passing through his hands. he first told it to mr. vane, as he handed him the articles he had brought, and then repeated it to one of the rancheros; and, by the time arthur had finished his breakfast, the occurrences of the previous day were known to every one on the rancho. pedro laughed when he brought out arthur's horse, and the herdsmen, as he rode through their quarters, exchanged winks with one another, and made a great many remarks about grizzly bears, especially concerning the one arthur had seen the day before. there was one man, however, who took no part in the joking and laughing, and that was joaquin, who was just mounting his horse to drive up some stock. "don't mind them," said he, as arthur rode beside him. "they are a set of blackguards, and don't know how to treat a gentleman." "now, that's like a true friend," replied arthur. "you're the only one i have on the ranch." joaquin was a villainous-looking mexican, and since he had been in mr. vane's employ, he had had little to do with the other herdsmen. he seemed to prefer to be alone, unless he could have arthur for company. he always took a great deal of interest in the boy's affairs, and it was from his lips that arthur had heard the story of frank's adventures with pierre costello. joaquin had gained arthur's good will by confiding to him a great many secrets, and one day he went so far as to confess that pierre was his particular friend, and that, if he felt so disposed, he could point out the cave in the mountains where the robber was concealed, and tell who it was that supplied him with food, and kept him posted in all that happened in the settlement. joaquin might have added, further, that he himself had held several long interviews with pierre of late, and had talked over with him certain plans, in which arthur vane and his three companions of the previous day bore prominent parts. but this was one secret that the ranchero kept to himself. "if you know where the robber is hidden, why don't you tell mr. winters, and claim the reward?" arthur had one day asked joaquin. "what! betray my best friend!" exclaimed that worthy, in great astonishment. "i am not base enough to abuse any man's confidence. do you suppose that if you were in pierre's place, and i knew where you were concealed, that i could be hired to play false to you? no, sir!" arthur remembered this remark, and on this particular morning, as he rode out with the ranchero, he called the latter's attention to it, and asked if he could trust him. the reply was a strong affirmative, which satisfied arthur that he might speak freely, and the result was, the revelation of his plan for taking revenge on frank, johnny, and archie. joaquin listened attentively, and arthur was delighted at the readiness, and even eagerness, with which the herdsman fell in with his ideas, and promised his assistance. he had one amendment to propose, that did not exactly suit arthur; but, after a little argument, he agreed to it. they talked the matter over for half an hour, and then arthur started for home, and the ranchero galloped off to attend to his stock. that night, after all his companions were asleep, joaquin crept quietly out of his quarters, and, after saddling his horse, rode toward the mountains. he was gone nearly all night, but returned in time to get to bed before the herdsmen awoke; and, when he arose with the others, none of them knew that he had been away from the rancho. arthur vane must have known something about it, however, for the next morning, as soon as he had eaten his breakfast, he mounted his horse, and overtook joaquin, just as he was leaving his quarters. "well!" said arthur. the ranchero looked suspiciously about him, and, finding that there was no one within sight or hearing, he detached his knife and sheath from his belt, produced a folded paper from the crown of his sombrero, and handed them both to arthur, saying, in a suppressed whisper: "it's all right." "did you see him?" asked arthur, eagerly. "i did, and he says your plan is an excellent one, and he will help you to carry it out. the black line on that paper points out the road you are to follow; the light lines, that branch off from it, are old bridle-paths. look at the paper often, and you can't get lost. he has never seen you, you know, and, when you find him, you must show him my knife to prove that you are a friend. bear one thing in mind, now, and that is, you are playing a dangerous game, and if you are found out, the country around here will be too hot to hold you. remember that i am your only friend in this matter, and say nothing to nobody except me." with this piece of advice, the ranchero galloped off, and arthur, after placing the knife in his belt, and putting the paper carefully away in his pocket, rode toward the mountains. during the next few hours, arthur consulted his paper frequently, and, about noon, he was standing at the base of a precipitous cliff, twenty miles from home, examining the natural features of the place, and comparing them with his diagram. he saw no one; but half way up the cliff was a huge bowlder, over which peered a pair of eyes that were closely watching every move he made; and, when arthur whistled twice, the eyes disappeared, and a man stepped from behind the rock, and said, in a gruff voice: "who are you, and what do you want here?" "are you pierre costello?" asked arthur. "well, now, that's no concern of yours," replied the man. "who are you?" as he spoke, he drew a revolver from his sash, and rested it on the rock beside him, the muzzle pointing straight at the boy's head. "don't!" cried arthur, turning pale, and stepping back. "i am arthur vane, and i have come here to have a talk with you. here is joaquin's knife, which will prove that i am all right." the man returned his revolver to his belt, and came down the cliff; and, presently, arthur found himself standing face to face with a live robber. "i am pierre costello," said the latter; "and i was waiting for you." chapter xii. off for the mountains. arthur looked at the robber with curiosity. yellow-covered novels had always been his favorite reading, and highwaymen, brigands, and pirates were, in his estimation, the only heroes worthy of emulation. pierre, but for one thing, would have come up to his beau ideal of a robber. he was loaded with weapons, and he was tall and broad-shouldered, sported a ferocious mustache, and his hair fell down upon his shoulders. he was dressed in the gayest mexican style, but his clothing had seen long service, and was not quite as neat as arthur would have liked to have seen it. it was plain that pierre did not waste much time upon his toilet; but, after all, he was a very good-looking villain. the robber was quite as much interested in his visitor as the latter was in him. he had often heard of arthur through joaquin; and, if the boy had known all pierre's intentions concerning him, he might not have felt quite so much at his ease. "i can't spare much time," said the robber, breaking the silence at last. "nor i either," returned arthur; "so i will begin my business at once, and get through as soon as i can. i have heard the particulars of your fights with frank nelson, and i propose to put you in the way of making five times the amount of money you would have made if you had captured him when you met him in the mountains. i want to be revenged upon frank and his crowd, for they have grossly insulted me." "of course they have," said pierre. "i know all about it." "i can't punish them by myself," continued arthur, "for they are three to my one. i am not afraid of johnny harris, or archie winters; but there's that other yankee, frank nelson. he is as strong as a lion, and if he once gets his blood up, he don't care for any thing. i am afraid of him." "i don't wonder at it. i have had some experience with him, and, if he had a few more years on his shoulders, i should be afraid of him myself." "i can't punish them unless i have help," repeated arthur; "and, if you will lend me your assistance, you can make sixty thousand dollars by it. i heard those fellows say, yesterday, that they are going on a hunting expedition, next week. i will make friends with them again, and find out when they intend to start, and i propose that you capture them, and take them to some safe place in the mountains, and demand twenty thousand dollars apiece for them. you can demand more, if you choose, and get it, too; for mr. harris is rich, and so is mr. winters. you must have some men to assist you, however." "i understand that," said pierre. "i'll find the men." "will you do it?" "certainly, i will." "give me your hand, pierre; i knew you would help me. but let me tell you one thing, and that is, when you capture them you must look out for yourself. they will have plenty of weapons, and, from what i have seen of them, i don't think they would hesitate to use them if they got a chance. there's one thing about this business i don't exactly admire. of course, i shall start with their expedition--i want to have the satisfaction of seeing them captured--and my idea was, that, when you made the attack on them, you should give me a chance to escape; but joaquin says, that won't do at all." "certainly not;" said pierre, quickly. "i shall have five men with me, and if we should let you get away, the boys would be suspicious of you at once." "that's just what joaquin said; and since i have thought the matter over, i have come to the conclusion that he was right. i don't want them to know that i had a hand in this matter, for they might make me some trouble." "very likely they would. you must allow yourself to be captured with the others." "well, i sha'n't mind that, for, i believe, i can enjoy myself among the mountains for a month or two. but, pierre, when you get them you must hold fast to them." "i am not the man to let sixty thousand dollars slip through my fingers," said the ranchero, with a laugh. "and there are three other things i want you to remember," continued arthur, earnestly. "the first is, you must not demand any ransom for me." "oh no; of course not." "the second is, i shall expect to be treated at all times like a visitor. i am a gentleman, and a gentleman's son." "i am well aware of that fact. i knew it the moment i put my eyes on you." "the third thing i want you to bear in mind, is, that i shall not be captured without a struggle; and that every chance i get i shall try to escape. i am going to show those fellows that i have some spunk. i want you to act natural, and to prevent me from getting away from you; but you must not abuse me. you can treat the others as roughly as you please. do you agree to all this?" "i do, and there's my hand on it," said pierre. "i fully understand your plans now, and know just what you want me to do; and, what's more, i'll do it. if you have got through with what you have to say, you had better be off. i have a good many enemies, and i am in danger as long as you are here. watch those boys closely, and keep joaquin posted. i can find out every thing i want to know from him." "my plans are working nicely," chuckled arthur, as he rode homeward. "i'll teach these backwoodsmen manners, before i am done with them." "eighty thousand dollars!" said pierre, gazing after the retreating horseman. "that's a nice little sum to be divided among six of us." this remark will show whether or not the robber intended to abide by the promises he had just made to arthur vane; and, while we are on this subject, it may not be amiss to say, that the scheme arthur had proposed, was one on which the robber had been meditating for many days. during the time he had lived in the mountains, he had kept his brain busy, and had been allowed ample opportunity to decide upon his future operations. he had been astonished and enraged at his failure to secure the twelve thousand dollars, and to make frank nelson a prisoner, and he had resolved to make amends for his defeat by capturing frank and all his companions, including arthur vane. pierre had plenty of friends to assist him, but there was one question that troubled him, and presented an obstacle that he could see no way to overcome; and that was, how to capture all the boys at once. that must be done, or his plan would fail. he could get his hands upon arthur vane at any time; but the others were like birds on the wing--here to-day, and miles away to-morrow--and pierre did not know where to find them. now, however, the difficulty was removed. frank and his friends were going on a hunting expedition, arthur would ascertain when they were going to start, and what road they intended to take, and when the day arrived, the robber could call in his men, who were employed on the neighboring ranchos, and capture the boys without the least trouble. pierre was very glad that arthur had got angry at frank. meanwhile frank, archie, and johnny, all unconscious of the plans that were being formed against them, enjoyed themselves to the utmost, and wasted a good deal of time every day in laughing over the incidents that had transpired during their ride to captain porter's ranch. archie, especially, had a great deal to say about it. he had an accomplishment, of which we have never before had occasion to speak: he was a first-class mimic; and he took no little pride in showing off his powers. he could imitate the brogue of an irishman the broken english of a dutchman, or the nasal twang of a yankee, to perfection; and one day, while he was in the barn saddling his horse, he carried on a lengthy conversation with bob kelly (who was on the outside of the building), about some runaway cattle, and the old trapper thought all the while that he was talking to his chum, dick lewis. now archie had a new subject to practice upon. he laid himself out to personate arthur vane; and he not only successfully imitated that young gentleman's pompous style of talking, and his dignified manner of riding and walking, but even the tone of his voice. he criticised frank and johnny continually, and made them laugh, till their jaws ached, by recounting imaginary adventures on the burning sands of patagonia, and among the icebergs and polar bears of india. the day following the one on which arthur vane visited the robber in the mountains, found the three boys on the back porch of mr. winters's rancho, making preparations for their hunting expedition. frank was cleaning his rifle, and archie and johnny were repairing an old pack-saddle, in which they intended to carry their provisions and extra ammunition. archie was seated on the floor, with an awl in one hand, and a piece of stout twine in the other; and, while he was working at the pack-saddle, his tongue was moving rapidly. "i am young in years, fellows," he was saying, "but i am aged in experience. if i had my rights, i should long ago have been gray-headed. i have seen thrilling times in my life, and have been the hero of adventures, that, were i to relate them to you, would make each particular hair of your heads stand on end, like the quills of a punched hedge-hog. i am--if you will kindly permit me to use a slang expression--an old hand at the business of hunting and trapping, and have accomplishments in which i can not be beaten. among them, stands my ability to whip a grizzly bear in a fair fight, with no weapon but my knife. i have hunted wild gorillas in the streets of new york city; have"-"good morning, fellows!" archie brought the story of his adventures to a sudden close, and, looking over his shoulder, saw arthur vane standing at the end of the porch. the boys had never expected him to call upon them again, and archie and johnny were too surprised to speak; but frank, who always kept his wits about him, returned arthur's greeting, and invited him to occupy the chair he pushed toward him. he was not at all pleased to see the visitor, but he was too much of a gentleman to show it. one would suppose, that the remembrance of what had happened, three days before, would have caused arthur some embarrassment; but such was not the case. on the contrary, he was as dignified as ever, and seemed to be perfectly at his ease. frank and his friends were considerate enough to refrain from making any allusions to the fright he had sustained, but arthur brought the subject up himself. "i received your note," said he, "and also the articles you were kind enough to send me; and i am here now to say, that i feel heartily ashamed of myself. from some cause or another, that i could not explain if i should try, i was extremely nervous that day; but i may, some time, have an opportunity to show you that i am not as much of a coward as i know you now believe me to be." arthur remained at the rancho all that day, sitting down at the same, table, and eating his dinner with the boys he was about to betray into the hands of the robbers; and, when he went home that night, he had asked, and received, permission to accompany them to the mountains. their consent had been given reluctantly, and with very bad grace; but they could see no way to get around it. arthur was a boy with whom they did not care to associate; but he had done them no injury, and they could not bring themselves to refuse his request. "they will start early monday morning," soliloquized arthur, as he rode homeward, "and will take the road that leads to captain porter's. this is friday. i shall send word by joaquin to pierre to-night, and he will have plenty of time to make all his arrangements." arthur spent the next day with the boys at mr. winters's rancho, and, when he rode over on monday morning, he brought with him a supply of provisions, which were stowed away in the pack-saddle with the rest. frank and his friends had been waiting for him, and now that they were all ready, they mounted their horses and rode off--archie leading an extra horse, which carried the pack-saddle. as they galloped through the rancheros' quarters, dick appeared at the door of his cabin, and shouted after them words, which, taken in connection with the events that were about to transpire, seemed like prophecy. "you'll be wishin' fur me an' bob, to get you out of the hands of that ar' greaser, afore you're two days older," yelled dick. "you don't suppose that we four fellows will let one man capture us, do you?" shouted archie, in reply. "if we do get into trouble, and you find it out, you'll come to our rescue, won't you?" "sartin. now, don't be keerless, like you allers are." the boys kept their horses in a rapid gallop until they reached the bridle-path in the mountains, and then archie went ahead with the pack-horse, and the others followed in single file. they rode along singing and shouting, and little dreaming of the danger that was so near, until they arrived in sight of the spring, near which frank had his last encounter with the robber. he soon found that he was to have another adventure there; for, as he and his companions rode toward the spring, they were startled by a shrill whistle, which echoed among the mountains, and was answered on all sides of them; and, before they had recovered from their surprise, pierre costello appeared in the path, as suddenly as though he had dropped from the clouds, and came toward them, holding a pistol in each hand. "halt!" shouted the robber. the boys looked about them, as if seeking some avenue of escape, and then they saw that pierre was not alone. every thicket, toward which they turned their eyes, bristled with weapons, and a dozen revolvers were leveled straight at their heads. it was useless to think of flight. chapter xiii. pierre and his band. "halt, i say!" repeated pierre, riding up beside frank, and seizing his horse by the bridle. "disarm them, men, and shoot down the first one that resists," he added, as the band closed up around the boys. frank, seeing, at a glance, that it was useless to think of escape, sat quietly in his saddle, and allowed pierre to take possession of his rifle, pistols, and lasso. johnny and archie also surrendered at discretion; but arthur, believing that the time had come to retrieve the reputation he had lost so ingloriously a few days before, determined that he would not surrender without a fight. it was a part of his contract with the robber chief, that he should be allowed to resist as desperately as he pleased, and he took advantage of it. he gazed at the rancheros for a moment with well-assumed astonishment, and then, appearing to comprehend the situation, he shouted: "stick together, fellows, and fight for your liberties! don't give up, like a pack of cowards! knock 'em down! shoot 'em! take your hand off that bridle, you villain!" as arthur spoke, he dashed his spurs into the flanks of his horse, which bounded forward so suddenly, that he jerked the bridle from the grasp of the ranchero who was holding him. "hurrah! i'm free, boys!" he shouted, clubbing his gun, and swinging it around his head. "follow me, and i'll show you how we used to clean out the indians." arthur's triumph was of short duration. the ranchero, from whom he had escaped, was at his side in an instant, and, again seizing his bridle with one hand, he leveled a pistol full at his prisoner's head with the other, while pierre caught his gun from behind, and wrested it from his grasp. at the same moment, a lasso, thrown by the ranchero who had taken charge of archie, settled down over his shoulders, and was drawn tight. pierre and his band were obeying their instructions to the very letter, indeed, they were altogether too zealous in their efforts to appear "natural," and arthur began to be suspicious that they were in sober earnest with him, as well as with the others. he looked up into pierre's face, in the hope of receiving from him some friendly token--a sly wink or a nod, which would satisfy him that he was "all right," and in no danger of receiving bodily injury; but he saw nothing of the kind. the chieftain's face wore a terrible scowl, and he even lifted arthur's gun above his head, as if he had half a mind to knock him out of his saddle. "quarter! quarter!" gasped arthur, striving, with nervous fingers, to pull the lasso from his neck, and beginning to be thoroughly alarmed. "i surrender." "well, let that be your last attempt at escape," said pierre, in a very savage tone of voice, "or you will find, to your cost, that we are not to be trifled with." in the meantime, the other rancheros, while holding fast to their prisoners, had relieved them of their weapons; and, as soon as pierre had seen arthur conquered, he seized the bridle of the pack-horse, while each of the other members of the band took charge of one of the boys, and the cavalcade started down the ravine at a rapid gallop. all this happened in much less time than we have taken to describe it. before the young hunters had fairly recovered from the astonishment caused by the sudden appearance of pierre and his band, they had been disarmed, and were being led captive into the mountains. frank and his two friends were more bewildered than alarmed. the whole thing was so unexpected, and had been accomplished so quickly and quietly! remembering the particulars of frank's previous encounter with pierre costello, they did not stand in fear of bodily harm. although they had not the slightest suspicion that their capture was the result of treachery on the part of arthur vane, they well understood the motives of the robbers, and knew, as well as if pierre had explained the matter to them, that they were to be used as a means to extort money from their relatives, and that they had nothing to fear, so long as they submitted quietly to their enemies. but this was something that one of the three boys, at least, had no intention of doing. frank's brain was already busy with plans for escape. he had twice beaten pierre at his own game, and, if the robber did not keep his wits about him, he would do it again. as for arthur, although his plans were, thus far, as successful as he could have desired, he was very much disappointed. the three boys, who had dared to hold him up to the people of the settlement in his true character, were prisoners, and he had pierre's assurance that they would remain such until the demands he intended to make upon their relatives should be complied with. but, after all, arthur did not experience the satisfaction he had hoped he would, for the robbers had treated him very roughly. the chief had raised his own gun over his head; another had choked him with his lasso, and a third had pointed a loaded pistol at him. that was a nice way to treat a visitor! arthur began to wish that he had never had any thing to do with pierre and his band. the chief, who rode in advance with the pack-horse, led the way at a break-neck pace, and the boys, being one behind the other, each in company with the ranchero who had him in charge, were allowed no opportunity to converse with one another, even had they desired it. frank, for want of something better to do, began to make an examination of the members of the band. like their leader, they were full-blooded mexicans, with enormous mustaches, and long, tangled hair, which looked as though it had never seen a comb. they were dressed in gay-colored clothes--blue jackets, buckskin pants, very wide at the knee, and covered with buttons, ribbons, and gold lace. they wore long sashes around their waists, which were thrust full of bowie-knives and revolvers. they carried short, heavy rifles, slung over their shoulders by leather bands, and behind their saddles were their ponchos, which did duty both as overcoats and beds. taken altogether, they were a hard-looking set, and seemed capable of any atrocity. the man who had charge of frank was particularly noticeable in this respect, and our hero thought that all he needed were the leggins, and high-pointed hat, to make him a first-class brigand. this man kept a sharp eye upon his prisoner, and scowled at him, as if he regarded him as his most implacable foe. "you needn't look so mad," said frank, at length. "i don't remember that i ever did you any harm, and i certainly am not foolish enough to try to escape, as long as you keep hold of my bridle." "you had better not," said the ranchero, smiling grimly, and shaking his head in a very threatening manner. "i don't know that you can frighten me," returned frank, coolly. "i wish i was a man for about five minutes." "what would you do?" asked the ranchero, who seemed to be pleased, as well as astonished, at the boy's courage and independence. "i'd make your head and your heels change places in a great hurry. in other words, i'd knock you out of your saddle. then i'd say: 'good-by, mr.--mr.'--what's your name?" "mercedes--antoine mercedes." "well, mr. mercedes, i'll never forget that benevolent-looking face of yours. as i was saying, i would bid you good-by, and leave. i'd pass those fellows," he added, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the robbers in the rear, "before they could say 'general jackson' with their mouth's open. you haven't got a horse, in this party, that can catch roderick." the ranchero smiled again, and tapped the butt of one of his revolvers with his finger. "oh, you wouldn't have a chance to fire a pistol at me," said frank, quickly. "by the time you could get on your feet again, after i had knocked you down, i would be a mile from here. did pierre ever tell you how nicely i fooled him?" he continued, noticing that the chief was turned half around in his saddle, listening to what he had to say. "well i am not surprised that he never mentioned it, for he ought to feel ashamed of himself." "ay; but i have got you fast this time," said pierre, with a laugh. "let us see how nicely you will fool me now. one at a time here, men," he added, in a louder tone, "and keep close watch of those prisoners." as pierre spoke, the cavalcade emerged from the woods, and frank found himself on the brink of a rocky chasm, which stretched away to the right as far as his eye could reach, and seemed to extend down into the very bowels of the earth. it was so deep that his head grew dizzy, as he looked into it. on his left, and directly in front of him, was a precipitous mountain, the top of which hung threateningly over the gorge below. it seemed to frank that they could go no farther in this direction, until pierre urged his horse upon a narrow ledge that ran around the base of the cliff. antoine followed after the pack-horse, and frank came next. roderick pricked up his ears, looked over into the gorge, and snorted loudly. he moved very slowly and carefully, and well he might: for a single misstep on his part would have sent both him and his rider to destruction. the path was so narrow that, although roderick walked on the extreme outer edge, frank's feet now and then brushed against the rock on the opposite side. our hero felt his sombrero rise on his head, whenever he looked into the chasm, or allowed himself to reflect how slight an accident might launch him into eternity. but there was no backing out. once on that ledge, a person must go forward; for there was no room to turn around. after frank came another of the band, and johnny followed at his heels. archie and his keeper came next, and arthur and _his_ keeper brought up the rear. they all rode fearlessly upon the ledge, until it came arthur's turn, and then was heard a cry of remonstrance. the young gentleman, who had been brave enough to fill the perilous office of scout among the indians of the plains, did not possess the courage necessary to carry him through this ordeal. he turned as pale as death, and stopped his horse. "go on," sternly commanded his keeper. "oh, it's dangerous," returned arthur, in pitiful tones. "what if my horse should slip off? that gully must be a thousand feet deep!" "more than that," said archie, who, although very far from being pleased at his own situation, could not resist the inclination to torment arthur. "it reaches clear through to india, where you used to hunt polar bears." "that's so," said johnny; "for just now, as i looked over into the gorge, i saw a lot of half naked hindoos tumbling about among the icebergs." "and i heard them yelling," chimed in frank; "and saw one of those big white bears after them." "go on!" repeated the ranchero, impatiently. "o, now, see here!" exclaimed arthur, in a trembling voice, trying to turn his horse's head away from the pass, "i believe, i'll"-he was about to say, that he believed he would not go any further, but that he would return home and leave pierre and his band to take care of his three enemies; but his keeper did not give him time to finish the sentence. seeing that arthur had no intention of following the rest of the party, the robber took his lasso from the pommel of his saddle, and with it struck his prisoner's horse a blow that caused the fiery animal to give one tremendous spring, which brought him to the very brink of the precipice. in his efforts to stop himself, a portion of the earth was detached by his hoofs and fell with a loud noise into the abyss, bounding down its rocky sides, and crashing through bushes and branches of trees in its rapid descent to the bottom. the horse, frightened by the sound, and smarting under the blow of the lasso, reared so straight upon his hind legs that he seemed in imminent danger of toppling over into the chasm; and then, for the first time in his life, arthur found himself in real peril. he screamed loudly, clung to the horn of his saddle with a death grip, and closed his eyes, expecting every instant to find himself whirling through the air toward the bottom of the gorge. but help was near: the strong hand of his keeper grasped the bridle, and brought the horse back upon firm ground. "now, then, go on!" commanded the ranchero, without giving his prisoner time to recover from his fright. arthur was powerless to obey, for so great was his terror that he could not move a muscle; but his horse, being left to himself, stepped boldly upon the ledge, and followed after the rest of the party, who had, by this time, disappeared around the base of the mountain. chapter xiv. a dinner in the mountains. pass christian--for that was the name of the gorge--was two miles long. about half that distance from the entrance, was a natural recess in the mountains, comprising perhaps half an acre, which was covered with grass and stunted oaks, and watered by a spring that gushed out from under a huge bowlder, which had fallen into the glade from the mountains above. here the robber chief had decided to remain long enough to send a message to mr. winters. the horses had been unsaddled, and were cropping the grass, and the rancheros were stretched out under the shade of the trees--all except two of their number, one of whom, having lighted a fire, was engaged in cooking the dinner, and the other was standing near the entrance to the glade, leaning on his rifle, and keeping a close watch over the prisoners. frank and his two friends were reposing on their blankets near the spring, and when arthur rode up, they greeted him with a broad grin. "well, colonel," said frank, "you come near going back to india by a short route, didn't you?" "did you ever travel on horseback in such frightful places as this, during your wanderings in europe?" asked johnny. arthur had, by this time, somewhat recovered from his fright, though his face was still very pale, and he drew a long breath every now and then, when he thought of the dangers he had passed through. "no," he replied, to johnny's question. "i never traveled much among the mountains. it always makes my head dizzy, to look down from a height." "how, then, did you stand it," said archie, with a sly wink at his companions, "when you were perched upon the 'very top of the middle mast' of your ship, looking out for whales?" "eh?" exclaimed arthur. "why--i--you know"-arthur was cornered. he did not know how to answer this question, so he kneeled down by the spring, and took a drink, in order to gain time to reflect. "i was obliged to stand it," said he, at length, looking up at his companions. "i couldn't help myself. i say, boys," he added, desiring to turn the conversation into another channel, "you've got us into a nice scrape by your cowardice. if you had followed me, those fellows would have been the prisoners now." at this moment the robber chief approached the group, holding in his hand a sheet of soiled paper and a lead pencil. "take these," said he, handing the articles to frank, "and write to your uncle, telling him how matters stand. say to him that you and your friends are prisoners, that i am going to take you where no one will ever think of looking for you, and that when i am paid eighty thousand dollars in gold, i will set you at liberty, and not before. tell him, further, that i shall send this note to him by one of my men; and that if he does not return in safety by sunrise to-morrow morning, i will make scare-crows of you." frank picked up his saddle-bags, which he used as a desk, and, after borrowing the robber's bowie-knife to sharpen his pencil, he began the letter, and wrote down what pierre had dictated, using as nearly as possible the chief's own words. "that's all right," said the latter, when his prisoner had read the letter aloud. "now," said frank, "may i not add a postscript, telling uncle james that we are well and hearty, and that we have been kindly treated, and so on." "certainly; only be careful that you do not advise him to capture my messenger." frank again picked up his pencil, and wrote as follows: "the above was written by pierre's command, and i have his permission to say a word for ourselves. you need not pay out any money for archie and me; and i know that if i was allowed an opportunity to talk to johnny, he would send the same message to his father. we are now in pass christian--a difficult place to escape from, but we intend to make the attempt this very night. detain pierre's messenger, by all means; then send dick and bob with a party of men up here by daylight, and they can capture every one of these villains." that was what frank added to the letter, but, when pierre ordered him to read it, he made up a postscript as he went along; for he knew that if the chief were made acquainted with the real contents of the note, he would not send it. the ranchero did not know one letter from another, and he was obliged to rely entirely upon frank, who read: "we're all hunky-dory thus far. pierre don't seem to be so bad a fellow, after all; in fact, he's a brick. he treats us like gentlemen; but, of course, we'd rather be at home, so please send on the money for archie and me, and see that mr. harris and mr. vane do the same for johnny and arthur." "you're sure, now," said pierre, as frank handed him the letter, after addressing it to mr. winters, "that you haven't told your uncle where we are, or advised him to try to rescue you?" "there's the note," replied the prisoner, "and if you think i have been trying to deceive you, read it yourself." "i guess it's all right," said the chief. "at any rate, i'll run the risk. i have treated you like gentlemen, and if you want me to continue to do so, you must behave yourselves, and not try to play any tricks upon me. now, mind what i say. if any of you hear the others talking of escape, and don't tell me of it, i'll pitch every one of you into that gully." having given utterance to this threat, and emphasized it by scowling savagely at his prisoners, pierre turned on his heel and walked away. by this time, dinner was ready, and the boys were invited to sit down and help themselves. the principal dish was dried meat, but there were luxuries in the shape of sandwiches, cakes, crackers, and tea and coffee, which the cook had found in the pack-saddle, and which he did not hesitate to appropriate. the table was the ground under one of the trees, and the grass did duty both as table-cloth and dishes. "now, boys," said the chief, "here's a dinner fit for a king. pitch in, and don't stand upon ceremony." "i don't think you will find us at all bashful," said archie, dryly, "seeing that the most of this grub belongs to us." as the robbers and their prisoners were hungry after their long ride, they fell to work in earnest. archie sat on his knees in the midst of the group, and, while his teeth were busy upon a sandwich, his eyes wandered from one to another of the rancheros, and finally rested upon mr. mercedes, whose actions instantly riveted his attention. it had evidently been a long time since the robbers had sat down to a respectable dinner, and they all seemed determined to make the most of it--especially antoine, who devoted his attention entirely to the eatables that had been found in the pack-saddle. he lay stretched out at full length on the ground, one hand being occupied in supporting his head, and the other in transferring the sandwiches from the table to his capacious mouth. two of the sandwiches would have made a good meal for an ordinary man, unless he was very hungry; but they did not go far toward satisfying the appetite of mr. mercedes, for, during the short time that archie sat looking at him, he put no less than half a dozen out of sight, and seemed to have room for plenty more. archie began to be alarmed. by the time he could finish one sandwich, antoine would have swallowed every one on the table, and there would be nothing left but the dried meat. "will the small gentleman from maine be kind enough to pass the plum-pudding--i mean the one that's got the most raisins in it?" said johnny, who was inclined to be facetious. "see here, fellows!" exclaimed archie, and the earnest expression of his countenance arrested the laughing at once. "this is no time for joking. the rule of this boarding-house seems to be, look out for number one. i intend to do it; and, if you want to get any thing to eat, you had better follow my example." so saying, he caught up three or four sandwiches, and half a dozen cakes, and started toward the spring, where he sat down to finish his dinner. the other boys comprehended this piece of strategy, and, in less time than it takes to tell it, the table was cleared of every thing except the dried meat. mr. mercedes uttered an angry growl, and gazed after johnny, who had snatched the last sandwich almost out of his hand, and then whipped out his knife, and turned his attention to the meat. when the robbers had finished their dinner, pierre held a whispered consultation with one of his men, who, after placing frank's letter carefully away in the crown of his sombrero, mounted his horse, and rode down the pass. the others, with the exception of a solitary sentinel, sought their blankets, and the boys were left to themselves. "now," said johnny, in a whisper, addressing himself to frank, "tell us what you wrote in that postscript. you surely did not ask your uncle to send any money for you and archie?" "of course not!" replied frank. "i, for one, am not worth twenty thousand dollars; and i would rather stay here until i am gray-headed, and live on nothing but dried meat all the while, than ask uncle james to give twenty cents for me." "that's the talk," said johnny, approvingly, while archie raised himself on his elbow, and patted his cousin on the back. frank then repeated what he had written in the postscript, as nearly as he could recollect it, and it was heartily indorsed by all the boys, even including arthur vane, who said: "i am glad to see that you are recovering your courage, frank. if you had all showed a little pluck, when pierre attacked us this morning, we should not have been in this predicament." "we'll not argue that point now," said archie. "let's talk about our plans for escape. by the way, what sort of fellows do you suppose pierre takes us for, if he imagines that he can frighten us into carrying tales about one another?" "i'd like to know, too," said arthur, sitting up on his blanket, and looking very indignant. "i wonder if he is foolish enough to believe that one of us would tell him, if he heard the others talking of escape! if i thought there was one in this party mean enough to do that, i would never speak to him again." "now, don't you be alarmed," said johnny. "we've been through too much to go back on each other. but how shall we get away? that's the question." "let us rush up and knock them down, and pitch them over into the gully," said arthur. "follow me; i'll get you out of this scrape." "we couldn't gain any thing by a fight," said frank. "four boys are no match for five grown men." "i'd give sleepy sam if i could only see dick and bob poke their noses over some of these rocks around here," said archie. "they will be after us, as soon as they find out that we are captured; and when they get their eyes on these 'greasers,' as they call them, there'll be fun." "but we don't want to wait for them," said frank. "we must escape to-night, if possible. we can find our way home from here; but, if we stay with these villains two or three days longer, they will have taken us so far into the mountains, that we never can get out. i propose that we wait until dark, and see what arrangements they intend to make for the night, before we determine upon our plans. if they allow us to remain unbound, and leave only one sentinel to guard us, we'll see what can be done. in the meantime, i move that we all take a nap." the prisoners settled themselves comfortably on their blankets, and, in a few moments, three of them were sleeping soundly, all unconscious of the fact that their wide-awake companion was impatiently awaiting an opportunity to repeat to the robber chief every word of their recent conversation. "pierre said, that if any of us heard the others talking of escape, and didn't tell him of it, he would pitch us over that precipice," muttered arthur. "he looked straight at me when he said it; so i shall take him at his word, and put him on his guard against these fellows. i'll not go back on them--o, no! johnny harris didn't call me a coward, did he? and that little spindle-shanked yankee, and his cousin, didn't insult me, by sending me my hat and gun, and the skin of that wolf, and by telling every body in the settlement that i was frightened out of my senses, without seeing any thing to be frightened at, did they? i'd like to catch that archie winters by himself. he's little, and i am sure that i could whip him. i'll pay them all for what they have done to me, and before i get through with them, they will learn, that it is always best to treat a gentleman with respect." as arthur said this, he looked contemptuously at his slumbering companions, and then turned his back to them, and went to sleep. chapter xv. more treachery. when frank awoke, it was nearly dark. the glade was lighted up by a fire, that one of the rancheros had kindled, and beside which he stood, superintending the cooking of the supper. archie and johnny were still sleeping soundly, but arthur vane's blanket was empty, and that young gentleman was nowhere to be seen. frank raised himself to a sitting posture, rubbed his eyes, and yawned; and then, seeing that the cook was rummaging in the pack-saddle after more luxuries, and judging by that that supper was nearly ready, he shook his companions, and arose to his feet. he went to the spring, and was preparing to wash his hands and face in the little brook that ran across the glade, when his attention was attracted by the sound of voices close by. he found that they came from behind the bowlder; and, after listening a moment, he recognized the voices as those of pierre costello, and arthur vane. at first, frank thought nothing of this circumstance. he bent over the brook, and plunged his hands into the water, when the thought occurred to him that this was a strange proceeding on the part of arthur vane. if the latter had any thing to say to the chief, why did he not talk to him in the camp? frank's suspicions were aroused. he stood, for a moment, undecided how to act, and then, dropping on his hands and knees, he crept cautiously around the end of the bowlder, and presently came in sight of pierre and his companion. they were sitting on the ground, facing each other--the chief calmly smoking a cigarette, while arthur was amusing himself by cutting the grass around him with the ranchero's bowie-knife. "this is very odd," thought frank. "arthur acts more like a confidential friend than a prisoner." our hero drew back, and listened to the conversation that followed, during which he gained some insight into the character of his new acquaintance. "i do not admire your way of doing business," he heard arthur say, at length. "you treat me no better than you treat them. you told me that you knew by my looks that i was a gentleman, and you promised to respect me as such. you assured me that i should be allowed to show fight whenever i pleased, and that you would not hurt me for it. how have you kept those promises? what did you do to me this morning? you jerked my gun out of my hands, and raised it over my head, as if you were going to knock me down. one of your men threw his lasso around my neck, and choked me until i could scarcely breathe, and another aimed a pistol at me. is that treating me like a gentleman or a visitor?" "what else could we do?" demanded pierre. "didn't you tell me that you wanted us to act natural, so that your three enemies would not suspect that you had a previous understanding with me in regard to their capture?" "certainly; but i didn't tell you to abuse me, did i? see how i was treated when we were coming through this pass! my keeper struck my horse with his lasso, and came near sending me over the precipice; and you laughed at it. when i look toward you, why don't you give me a wink, or a nod, to show that you have not forgotten your promises, and that you will protect me?" "because i never have had a chance to do it without being seen by the others. if you know when you are well off, you will take every precaution to keep those boys from finding out how treacherous you have been. you must not expect any signs of friendship from me. i shall stick to my promise, and see that no serious injury is done you; but, if you will insist in showing your courage by fighting us, you must make up your mind to be roughly handled. you say that frank didn't read to me what he wrote in that letter?" "no, he did not. he never said a word to his uncle about sending the money. he told him not to do it. he advised him to capture your messenger, by all means, and to send those trappers up here, with a party of men, by daylight to-morrow morning." "well, they'll not find us," said the chief, who seemed to take the matter very coolly. "by daylight we shall be miles from here. we'll start as soon as the moon rises, so that we can see to travel through the pass. after supper, i shall have those fellows bound hand and foot--that will prevent their escape, i think--and, of course, i must tie you, also." "i don't like the idea of lying all night with my hands fastened behind my back," objected arthur. "i can't help that. those boys must be confined; for i am not going to lose sixty thousand dollars, if i can help it; and, if you wish to avoid suspicion, you must be tied with the rest." "i shall resist. i want to make those fellows believe that they are a pack of cowards. don't let your men handle me too roughly." "i'll look out for that," said pierre. "now, let us go back to the camp. you have been away too long already." "o, you outrageous villain!" thought frank, who was so astonished and bewildered by what he had heard, that he scarcely knew what he was about. "won't you suffer for this day's work if we ever get back to the settlement?" the movements of the traitor, who just then arose to his feet, brought frank to himself again. he retreated precipitately, and, when arthur came out from behind the bowlder, he was sitting on his blanket, talking to archie and johnny. "fellows," said he, in an excited voice, "we're ruined! that rascal has blabbed the whole thing!" "who? what rascal? what thing?" asked both the prisoners in a breath. "what's the matter with you?" added archie, in some alarm, seeing that his cousin wore an exceedingly long face. "arthur vane has just told pierre that we had made up our minds to escape to-night," replied frank. "no!" exclaimed the boys, almost paralyzed by the information. "it's a fact. after supper, we are to be bound hand and foot; and arthur, to show how brave he is, and how cowardly we are, is going to resist, and pierre has promised that his men shall not handle him roughly. o, you'll find out!" he continued, seeing that his friends looked incredulous. "i crept up behind that bowlder, and heard all about it. i did not understand all the conversation; but i know that arthur is a traitor, and that we are indebted to him for our capture." archie and johnny were utterly confounded. they could not find words strong enough to express their feelings. they sat on their blankets, and looked at each other in blank amazement. presently, arthur came in sight, and his appearance served to restore their power of action; and then, for the first time, they seemed to realize the full enormity of the offense of which he had been guilty. archie jumped to his feet, and commenced pulling off his jacket. "fellows," said he, throwing down his sombrero, and rolling up his shirt-sleeves, "i'm going to pound some of the meanness out of him." "and i'll help you!" exclaimed johnny, excitedly. "who ever heard of such a thing?" and johnny brought his fist down into the palm of his hand, with a noise like the report of a pistol. "don't do it, boys!" interposed frank. "come here, archie! sit down, johnny. he will be punished enough, when he gets back to the settlement. let's cut him at once, and have nothing more to do with him. johnny, put on your jacket! behave yourself, archie!" frank found it hard work to turn the two boys from their purpose. their indignation had been thoroughly aroused, and, if arthur had only known it, he was in a dangerous neighborhood. although frank was quite as angry as his friends, he had more prudence. he did not believe that they were the proper ones to execute vengeance upon their enemy. his punishment would come soon enough, and it would be quite as terrible as arthur was able to bear. by dint of a good deal of coaxing, and pushing, and scolding, he finally got archie and johnny on their blankets again, and just then the traitor came up. his face wore a triumphant smile, that was exceedingly irritating to the three boys just then, and he approached them with as much assurance as though he had never in his life been guilty of a mean action. "i have been out enjoying the cool breeze," said he, not noticing the angry glances that were directed toward him. "put it all in, while you are about it," exclaimed johnny. "say that you have been holding a consultation with pierre, in regard to our escape to-night." arthur turned very red in the face, and took a step or two backward, as if johnny had aimed a blow at him; and then, somewhat recovering himself, he opened his eyes, puckered up his lips, and looked from one to the other of his companions, with an expression of intense astonishment. "how, now, innocence!" exclaimed archie. "you're a nice looking fellow. go away from here." "why, boys," stammered arthur, "i do not understand you. i have not seen pierre"-"go away!" said johnny, again rising to his feet--a movement that was instantly imitated by the pugnacious archie. "can't you tell me what's the matter?" demanded arthur, making a desperate effort to look unconcerned, and to call up some of that courage of which he had so often boasted. "have you got the impudence--the brass, to come to us, and ask what's the matter, after what you have done?" asked archie, angrily. "we'll soon let you know what's"-"hold on, boys!" interrupted frank, who saw that archie's rage was in a fair way to get the better of him. "johnny, stand back! keep still, archie! go about your business, arthur vane! we know just what passed between you and pierre, not five minutes ago, and we don't want to listen to any excuses or explanations." "explanations!" shouted archie. "excuses! for being a traitor!" "go over there among those yellow gentlemen," continued frank. "you are their friend, and there's where you belong. don't dare come near any of us again. start!" "yes, start--mizzle--clear out!" roared archie, getting angrier every moment. "begone! make yourself scarce about here!" "well, i think this is a nice way to treat a gentleman," growled arthur, as he turned on his heel, and walked slowly away. "pick up that blanket and saddle," said johnny. "take all your plunder away from here, and remember that this side of the glade belongs to us." "yes, remember it--bear it in mind!" exclaimed archie, who seemed to think it his duty to give emphasis to what the others said. "think of it continually." arthur glared savagely upon archie; but, fearing to irritate him and his friends further, by refusing to obey their commands, he shouldered his baggage, and walked sullenly toward the fire, around which the rancheros were congregated, awaiting the summons to supper. "benedict arnold!" said johnny, as soon as the traitor was out of hearing. frank and archie thought the name appropriate. it clung to arthur as long as he remained in that part of california. chapter xvi. the escape. had the huge bowlder in the middle of the glade suddenly burst into a thousand fragments, it could scarcely have created greater consternation than that which filled our three heroes, when they stretched themselves on their blankets, to discuss the treachery of their companion. of course, the first question that arose was, what object could he have in view? a dozen different opinions were advanced, but none of them were correct. the boys were all satisfied now, that no ransom was to be demanded for arthur, and they were quite willing to believe that he expected to share in the sixty thousand dollars which pierre hoped to receive for them. they never imagined that the traitor had been instigated by a desire to be revenged upon them, and that all that had happened to them during the day was the result of the incidents that had transpired during their ride to the old fur-trader's ranch. "i really believe that benedict arnold belongs to this band of outlaws," said frank. "if he does, that's all the good it will do him, as far as handling any of my uncle's money is concerned. it's lucky that we have found him out." "it's unfortunate that we didn't find him out long ago," said archie, who had by this time recovered his usual good nature. "our plans for escape are all knocked in the head for this night," continued frank; "but we will hold ourselves in readiness to seize the first opportunity that is offered. dick and bob will be on our trail in a few hours." at this moment, pierre entered the glade from the side opposite the spring, and stopped to say a few words to the sentinel, who immediately approached the prisoners, and took his stand within a few paces of them. "these villains must be afraid of us," said frank, with a laugh. "they'd better be," returned johnny. "i wouldn't like to have sixty thousand dollars wrapped up in such slippery customers as we are." "i wonder if pierre thinks we can fly?" said archie. "that's the only way i can see for getting out of here, while these robbers are all around us. i say, old fellow," he added, turning to the sentinel, "are you a good shot on the wing?" the ranchero shrugged his shoulders, and tapped his revolvers significantly. "i judge from that you are a good shot on the wing," continued archie. "let me advise you to keep both eyes open; for the first thing you know, you'll see us disappearing over the tops of these mountains. each of us has a patent, duplex, double-back-action flying-machine in his pocket." archie was going on to explain to the ranchero the principles on which his imaginary flying-machine operated, when the call to supper interrupted him. during the meal, the robbers were quite as polite as they had been at dinner. they gobbled up every thing within their reach, devouring it greedily, as though they feared that somebody might get more than his share, and the boys, having learned by experience, that, when one sojourns among romans, it is a good plan to do as romans do, snatched what they liked best, and ran back to their blankets. "look at benedict," said johnny, speaking as plainly as a mouthful of cracker would permit. "he's hot about something." arthur was sitting on the ground beside the robber chief, to whom he was talking earnestly, and even angrily, judging by the frantic manner in which he flourished his arms about his head, and struck with his fists at the empty air. pierre was listening attentively, and so were all the other members of the band, who appeared to be deeply interested in what he was saying. arthur had told the chief that his secret was discovered, and pierre had urged him to use every exertion to allay the suspicions of the boys. "you don't know them as well as i do," said the ranchero; "and, if you will take my advice, you will try to make friends with them again." "that's something i'll never do," said arthur, decidedly. "shall a gentleman's son stoop to beg the good-will of a lot of young arabs? not if he knows himself; and he thinks he does. they have found me out, somehow, and i don't care if they have. i may as well throw off the mask entirely. i'll let them see that, while they are prisoners, and bound hand and foot, i am at liberty to go and come when i please." when arthur said this, he was gazing into the fire, and consequently did not see the significant glances which the robber chief exchanged with his men. it might have astonished him to know that he was not free to go and come when he pleased; and that pierre, in spite of all his promises to the contrary, intended to demand twenty thousand dollars for him, as well as for the others. when frank and his friends had eaten their supper, they began to make preparations for the night, by collecting a pile of dried leaves and grass, over which they spread their blankets, placing the saddles at the head of the bed, to serve as pillows. when the couch was completed, it was very inviting, and, had it not been for the knowledge of the fact that they were to be bound hand and foot, they would have been sure of a good night's rest. frank could not go to bed without visiting roderick. he found the horse standing quietly by the spring, and when he saw his master approaching, he raised his head and welcomed him with a shrill neigh. "o, if we could only get half a minute's start of these robbers!" said frank, patting the animal's glossy neck, "wouldn't we show them a clean pair of heels? they'd never have us prisoners again, i _bet_." frank emphasized the last word by punching roderick in the ribs with his thumb--an action which caused the animal to lay back his ears, and kick viciously, with both feet, at some imaginary object behind him. when our hero returned to the place where he had left archie and johnny, he saw them lying on their beds securely bound. pierre stood close by, with a lasso in his hand, and, when frank came up, he greeted him with a fierce scowl, and, in a savage tone of voice, commanded him to cross his arms behind his back. frank obeyed, and the ranchero, while he was busy confining him, inquired: "do you remember what i said to you at noon?" "about what?" asked frank. "about making scare-crows of you and your friends, if my messenger does not return at daylight." "i believe i do remember something about it." "then why did you advise your uncle to detain him? you must be tired of life. you told mr. winters to send those rascally trappers up here, with a party of men, to capture us." "now, see here, pierre," exclaimed frank, angrily, "dick and bob are not rascals. they are honest men, and what they own, they have worked hard for. they will be up here--you may depend upon that--and, if dick once gets his hands on you"-"o, won't he shake him up, though!" cried archie, from his blanket. "i wouldn't be in pierre's shoes then for all the money he will ever get for us." "you may make up your minds to one thing," said the chief; "and that is, if so much as a hair of that messenger's head is harmed, you will be swinging from some of these trees at sunrise." "that is a soothing story to tell to a person who is trying to go to sleep," observed johnny. "you can't make us believe that you would throw away sixty thousand dollars," said frank. "be careful," he added, as pierre, after confining his arms with one end of the lasso, began to wind the other around his ankles; "make those knots secure, or i may get away from you again." "i'll risk that. now, good-night, and pleasant dreams to you." the robber lifted frank in his arms, and laid him upon his blanket, as if he had been a sack of flour, and then walked off, leaving his prisoners to their meditations. scarcely had he disappeared, when arthur, who had stood at a little distance, watching the operations of the chief, came up, and, after regarding the three boys a moment with a smile of triumph, inquired: "how do you feel now? i hope you will enjoy a good night's rest. you see i am at liberty." and he stretched out his arms, to show that they were not confined. "of course," said frank. "you ought to be; you are one of pierre's band. we are under obligations to you for what you have done for us." "how did you find it out?" asked arthur. "why, one of those arabs you used to know in patagonia, came up here, and told us how you acted while you were in that country, and we thought it best to keep an eye on you," answered archie. "see here, benedict," said johnny. "have you forgotten that we told you to keep your distance?" "no; but i generally go where i please," replied arthur. "you have done something worth boasting of, haven't you?" "well--yes; but i am not done with you yet. if i have any influence with pierre--and i think i have--you'll not see home for a year--perhaps longer." "pierre! pierre!" shouted archie, suddenly. "i say, pierre!" "well, what's the row?" asked that worthy, from his bed by the fire. "i'll make you a present of my horse, if you will give me my liberty for just two minutes. will you do it?" "i guess not," replied the robber. "i promise you that i will not attempt any tricks," pleaded archie. "i only want to show benedict something. come, pierre, that's a good fellow." the ranchero laughed, and turned over on his blanket, without making any answer, and archie, being satisfied that it was useless to urge the matter, laid his head upon his hard pillow, and looked indignantly at the traitor. "never mind," said he. "i'll be unbound to-morrow morning, and i'll know how to get up an appetite for breakfast." arthur understood what the prisoner meant by getting up an appetite for breakfast, and it made him angry. he was very brave, now. his three enemies were lying before him unable to defend themselves, and it was a fine opportunity to execute vengeance upon them. he suddenly took it into his head that it would be a nice thing to punish them all, beginning with the one who had first excited his animosity. "hold on, you little yankee," said he. "i'll attend to you in a minute. johnny harris, what was that name you applied to me?" "it was a new one we have given you," answered johnny. "we have called you after the meanest man that ever lived--benedict arnold. do you know him? did you ever meet him while you were hunting lions and tigers in europe?" frank and his cousin laughed loudly, which so enraged arthur that he caught up a stick, that happened to be lying near him, and struck johnny a severe blow with it. "o, you coward!" shouted archie, struggling frantically to free his arms. "what do you mean by hitting a man when he is down, and can't move hand or foot?" the traitor turned fiercely upon archie, and was about to use the stick upon him, when the gruff voice of the sentinel arrested his hand. the ranchero pointed toward the fire, and arthur, understanding the motion, threw down the stick, and walked away, shaking his head, and muttering to himself. "he had better keep close to his friends to-morrow," said johnny, his face all wrinkled up with pain. the other boys thought so too. each one of them had rather that arthur had struck him instead of johnny; for the latter, although high-spirited, and inclined to be belligerent under provocation, was a good-natured, accommodating fellow, who gained hosts of friends wherever he went, and who never hesitated to make any sacrifice for the benefit of others. frank had never before witnessed such an exhibition of cowardly vindictiveness, and he was almost sorry that he had protected arthur. the traitor, well satisfied with what he had done, and only regretting that he had been interrupted before his revenge was complete, spread his blanket beside the chief; and, after that, nothing happened for a long time to disturb the silence of the camp. the rancheros were soon in a sound sleep, even including antoine mercedes, the sentinel, who sat with his back against a tree, his head hung down upon his breast and his right hand, which rested on the ground beside him, grasping a revolver. he had been placed there by his chief to watch the prisoners; but, believing that there was little danger of their escape, and being unwilling to be deprived of his usual rest, he had gone to sleep as soon as the others. the boys, however, were wide awake. the exciting events of the day, and the pain occasioned by their bonds, effectually banished sleep from their eyes, and they passed the long hours in pondering upon what arthur had done, and trying in vain to find a comfortable position on their blankets. johnny, especially, was very restless. he lay for a long time watching the sentinel, and thinking how easily he and his companions could effect their escape, if their hands and feet were free; then he wondered if pierre was in earnest, when he said that he would make "scare-crows" of them if his messenger did not return by daylight; and, finally, he turned over, and tried, for the hundredth time, to go to sleep. the fire, which was still burning brightly, lighted up every corner of the glade, and, from the new position in which he lay, johnny could see how archie's arms were bound. they were crossed behind his back, and the lasso was wrapped twice around them, and tied in a square knot--a single glance at which drove all thoughts of sleep out of johnny's mind, and suggested to him the idea of an attempt to liberate his friend. the knot, on account of the stiffness of the lasso, had not been drawn very tight, and johnny thought he had hit upon a plan to untie it. "archie," he whispered, excitedly. "hallo!" was the response. "are you asleep?" "no; nor am i likely to be to-night," growled archie. "this lasso hurts me dreadfully. pierre drew it as tight as he could." "don't talk so loud," whispered johnny. "keep your eyes on that sentinel, and, if he moves, shake your arms." "what for?" demanded archie. "what are you going to do?" "i don't know that i can do any thing; but i am going to try." "all right; go ahead." johnny took a long look at the ranchero, to make sure that he was sound asleep, and then, rolling up close to archie, he went to work with his teeth to untie the lasso, with which the latter's arms were bound. this was not so easy a task as he had imagined it would be; but the knot yielded a little with every pull he made upon it, and, after ten minutes hard work, johnny rolled back upon his blanket with an expression of great satisfaction upon his countenance, and watched his friend as he unwound the lariat with which his feet were confined. "hurrah for you, johnny!" whispered archie, a moment afterward. "we'll out-wit these greasers yet. hold easy, now, and i'll soon give you the free use of your hands and feet." archie's fingers made quick work with johnny's bonds, and, when he had untied his arms, he left him to do the rest, and turned to release his cousin. this he soon accomplished, and then the three boys, astonished at their success, crept up closer together, to hold a consultation. "lead on frank, and we'll follow," said johnny. "i will do the best i can," replied frank. "let's stick together as long as possible; but, if we are discovered, we must separate, and let each man take of himself. remember, now, the one that reaches home must not sleep soundly until the others are rescued." as frank said this, he threw himself flat upon the ground, and crawled slowly and noiselessly through the grass, toward the ledge by which they had entered the glade in the morning. they passed the sentinel without arousing him, and approached the fire around which lay the stalwart forms of the rancheros, who snored lustily, in blissful ignorance of what was going on close by them. the boys' hearts beat high with hope as they neared the ledge, and johnny was in the very act of reaching over to give frank an approving slap on the back, when the movement was arrested by a loud yawn behind him. this was followed by an ejaculation of astonishment, and, an instant afterward, the report of a pistol rang through the glade. the sentinel had just awakened from his sleep, and discovered that the prisoners' blankets were empty. "help! help!" he shouted, in stentorian tones, discharging another barrel of his revolver, to arouse his companions. "pierre, your birds have flown!" "run now, fellows!" whispered frank, and, suiting the action to the word, he jumped up, and took to his heels. chapter xvii. the struggle on the cliff. as we have before remarked, the place in which the rancheros had made their camp was a natural recess in the mountains. it was surrounded on three sides by rocky cliffs, the tops of which seemed to pierce the clouds, and whose sides were so steep that a goat could scarcely have found footing thereon. in front of the glade was the gorge, the sight of which had so terrified arthur vane, and which was so deep that the roar of the mountain torrent, that ran through it, could be but faintly heard by one standing on the cliffs above. there were three ways to get out of the glade: one was by the narrow ledge of rocks by which the rancheros and their captives had entered it in the morning; another was by a path on the opposite side of the glade, which also ran along the very brink of the precipice; the third was by climbing up the cliffs to the dizzy heights above. these avenues of escape were all more or less dangerous, and one unaccustomed to traveling in the mountains would have been at a loss to decide which to take. indeed, a very timid boy would have preferred to remain a prisoner among the rancheros, as long as he was sure of kind treatment and plenty to eat, rather than risk any of them. if he took either of the paths that ran along the chasm, he would require the skill of a rope-dancer to cross it in safety; for they were both narrow and slippery, and a single misstep in the darkness would launch him into eternity. if he tried to scale the mountains, which, in some places, overhung the glade, he would be in equal danger; for he might, at any moment, lose his balance, and come tumbling back again. frank and his two friends had thought of all these things during the day, and they knew just what perils they were likely to encounter; but they were not formidable enough to turn them from their purpose. while they were crawling cautiously through the grass, they had been allowed ample time to make up their minds what they would do, if their flight should be discovered before they got out of the glade; and, consequently, when the yells of the sentinel, and the reports of his pistol, told them that the pursuit was about to begin, they did not hesitate, but proceeded at once to carry out the plans they had formed. archie, the moment he jumped to his feet, darted toward the cliffs, while frank and johnny ran for the ledge by which they had entered the pass in the morning; and, by the time the rancheros were fairly awake, their prisoners had disappeared as completely as though they had never been in the glade at all. archie had chosen the most difficult way of escape, and he had done so with an object. he believed that, as soon as pierre and his band became aroused, they would rush in a body for the path that led toward the settlement; and archie did not like the idea of running a race through the darkness along the brink of that precipice. he might make a misstep, and fall into the gorge, and that would be infinitely worse than remaining a prisoner. his enemies, he thought, would not be likely to follow him up the cliffs; but if they did, and he found that he could not distance them, there were plenty of excellent hiding-places among the bushes and rocks, where he could remain in perfect security, with an army searching for him. johnny and frank did not look at the matter in that way. they thought not of concealment; they took the nearest and easiest way home, and trusted entirely to their heels. "help! help!" shouted the sentinel, discharging the barrels of his revolver in quick succession. "the boys have gone!" for a moment, great confusion reigned in the camp. the rancheros sprang to their feet, and hurried hither and thither, each one asking questions, and giving orders, to which nobody paid the least attention, and the babel of english and spanish that arose awoke the echoes far and near. the chief was the only one who seemed to know what ought to be done. he examined the beds to satisfy himself that the prisoners had really gone, and then his voice was heard above the tumult, commanding silence. the first thing he did, when quiet had been restored, was to swear lustily at the sentinel, for allowing the prisoners to escape, and then he set about making preparations for pursuit. he sent two of the band on foot down the path that led toward the settlement, another he ordered to saddle the horses, and the rest he commanded to search every nook and corner of the glade. as long as the noise continued, archie worked industriously; and, being a very active fellow, he got up the mountain at an astonishing rate. but as soon as the chief had succeeded in restoring order, he sat down to recover his breath, and to wait until the rancheros left the glade: for he was fearful that the noise he necessarily made, in working his way through the thick bushes, might direct his enemies in their search. although it was pitch dark on the mountainside, archie could tell exactly what was going on below him. he knew when the two men left the glade, chuckled to himself when he heard the ranchero, who had been ordered to saddle the horses, growl at the restive animals, and noted the movements of the party who were searching the bushes. he distinctly heard their voices, and he knew that arthur vane was with them. "do you think they will get away, joaquin?" he heard the traitor ask. "that's hard to tell," was the reply. "it depends a good deal upon how long they have been gone. if they get back to the settlement, you had better keep away from there." "that's so," said archie, to himself. "they'll never reach the settlement if i can help it," declared arthur. "if i get my eyes on one of them, i bet he don't escape. i'll take him prisoner." perhaps we shall find that arthur did "get his eyes on one of them," and we shall see how he kept his promise. the party went entirely around the glade, passing directly beneath archie, who held himself in readiness to continue his flight, should they begin to ascend the cliff, and finally one of them called out: "they're not here, pierre." "mount, then, every one of you," exclaimed the chief. "when you reach the end of the pass, scatter out and search the mountains, thoroughly. antoine, we have to thank you for the loss of a fortune, you idiot." archie heard the ranchero mutter an angry reply, and then came the tramping of horses as the band rode from the glade. in a few seconds the sound died away in the pass, and the fugitive was left alone. his first impulse was to descend into the glade, mount sleepy sam, and follow the robbers. archie could ride the animal without saddle or bridle as well as he could with them; and he was sure that if he could get but a few feet the start of the rancheros, his favorite could easily distance them. but he remembered the chief's order for the band to "scatter out," and knowing that every path that led toward the settlement would be closely guarded, and fearing that he might run against some of his enemies in the dark, he decided that the safest plan was to remain upon the cliffs, where he could not be followed by mounted men. it cost him a struggle to abandon his horse, which was galloping about the glade, and neighing disconsolately, but he wisely concluded that twenty thousand dollars were worth more to his uncle than sleepy sam was to him; and drawing in a long breath, he tightened his sash about his waist, and again began the ascent. his progress was necessarily slow and laborious, for, in some places, the cliff was quite perpendicular, and the only way he could advance at all, was by drawing himself up by the grass and bushes that grew out of the crevices of the rocks. sometimes these gave way beneath his weight, and then archie would descend the mountain for a short distance much more rapidly than he had gone up. he was often badly bruised by these falls. the bushes and the sharp points of the rocks tore his clothing, and it was not long before he was as ragged as any beggar he had ever seen in the streets of his native city. "by gracious!" exclaimed archie, stopping for the hundredth time to rest, and feeling of a severe bruise on his cheek which he had received in his last fall, "i am completely tired out. and this is all the work of that benedict arnold! didn't i say that we should see trouble with that fellow? if i were out on clear ground, and had my horse and gun, i'd be willing to forgive him for what he has done to me, but i'll always remember that he struck johnny over the head, when he was tied, and could not defend himself." wiping the big drops of perspiration from his forehead, and panting loudly after his violent exertions, archie again toiled up the mountain, so weary that he could scarcely drag one foot after the other. he stumbled over logs, fell upon the rocks, and dragged himself through bushes that cut into his tattered garments like a knife. hour after hour passed in this way, and, finally, just as the sun was rising, archie, faint with thirst, aching in every joint, and bleeding from numerous wounds, stepped upon a broad, flat bowlder, which formed the summit of the cliff. on his right, between him and a huge rock that rose for fifty feet without a single break or crevice, was a narrow but deep chasm which ran down the cliff he had just ascended, and into which he had more than once been in imminent danger of falling as he stumbled about in the darkness. far below him was the glade, a thin wreath of smoke rising from the smouldering camp-fire, and on his left was the gorge, a hundred times more frightful in his eyes now than it had ever seemed before. in front of him the mountain sloped gently down to the valley below, its base clothed with a thick wood, which at that height looked like an unbroken mass of green sward, and beyond that, so far away that it could be but dimly seen, was a broad expanse of prairie, from which arose the whitewashed walls of his uncle's rancho. it was a view that would have put an artist into ecstasies, but the fugitive was in no mood to appreciate it. he had no eye for the beauties of nature then--he had other things to think of; and he regarded the picturesque mountains and rocks, and the luxuriant woods, as so many grim monsters that stood between him and his home. but archie could not remain long inactive. after all the dangers he had incurred, and the bruises and scratches he had received, he had accomplished but little. he was still thirty miles from home, hungry and thirsty, and pursued by crafty enemies, who might even then be watching him from some secret covert. "oh, if i were only there!" said he, casting a longing glance toward the rancho, whose inmates, just then sitting down to a dainty breakfast, little dreamed how much good a small portion of their bounty would have done the fugitive on the mountain-top. "but, as the rancho can't come to me, i must go to it." archie found the descent of the mountain comparatively easy. there were not so many bushes and logs to impede his progress, the slope was more gradual, and he had not gone more than half a mile when he found a cool spring bubbling out from under the rocks. he bathed his hands and face, drank a little of the water, and when he set out again he felt much refreshed. he followed the course of the stream, which ran from the spring down the mountain, keeping a bright lookout for enemies all the while, and stopping now and then to listen for sounds of pursuit, when suddenly, as he came around the base of a rock, he found himself on the brink of the gorge, and confronted by a figure in buckskin, who stood leaning on a long, double-barrel shot-gun. archie started back in dismay, and so did the boy in buckskin, who turned pale, and gazed at the fugitive as if he were hardly prepared to believe that he was a human being. he speedily recovered himself, however, and after he had let down the hammer of his gun, which he had cocked when the ragged apparition first came in sight, he dropped the butt of the weapon to the ground, exclaiming: "archie winters!" "benedict arnold!" for a moment the two boys stood looking at each other without moving or speaking. archie was wondering if it were possible for him to effect the capture of the traitor, and arthur, while he gazed in astonishment at the fugitive's tattered garments and bloody face, was chuckling to himself, and enjoying beforehand the punishment he had resolved to inflict upon archie. the opportunity he had wished for so long had arrived at last. "i have found you, have i?" said arthur, resting his elbows on the muzzle of his gun, and looking at archie with a triumphant smile. "well, suppose you have; what do you propose to do about it?" "it is my intention to teach you to respect a gentleman the next time you meet one." [illustration] "how are you going to do it?" "in the first place, by giving you a good beating." "humph!" said archie, contemptuously, looking at arthur from head to foot, as if he were taking his exact measure. "it requires a boy with considerable 'get up' about him to do that." "none of your impudence, you little yankee," exclaimed arthur, angrily. "i'm going to take some of it out of you before you are two minutes older." when the traitor selected archie as the one upon whom he could wreak his vengeance without danger to himself, he had made a great mistake. archie was smaller than most boys of his age, but, after all, he was an antagonist not to be despised. he was courageous, active, and as wiry as an eel; and his body, hardened by all sorts of violent exercise, was as tough as hickory. he trembled a little when he looked over into the gorge, and thought of the possible consequences of an encounter on that cliff, but he was not the one to save himself by taking to his heels, nor did it come natural to him to stand still and take a whipping as long as he possessed the strength to defend himself. a single glance was enough to convince him that the traitor was in earnest, and archie watched the opportunity to begin the struggle himself. "yes, sir," continued arthur, "i've got you now just where i want you. i am going to settle this little difference between us, and then i shall take you back to pierre. if you have any apologies to make, i am willing to listen to them." the effect of these words not a little astonished the traitor. he had been sure that archie would be terribly frightened, and that he would either seek safety in flight, or beg hard for mercy; consequently, he was not prepared for what really happened. scarcely had arthur ceased speaking, when the place where archie was standing became suddenly vacant, and, before the traitor could move a finger, his gun was torn from his grasp and pitched over the cliff into the gorge. as the weapon fell whirling through the air, both barrels were discharged, and the reports awoke a thousand echoes, which reverberated among the mountains like peals of thunder. "now we are on equal terms," exclaimed archie, as he clasped the traitor around the body and attempted to throw him to the ground. "you remember that you struck johnny last night, when he was bound, hand and foot, and couldn't defend himself, don't you?" "yes; and now i am going to serve you worse than that," replied arthur, who, although surprised and taken at great disadvantage by the suddenness of the attack, struggled furiously, and to such good purpose that he very soon broke archie's hold; "i am going to fling you over the cliff after that gun." the contest that followed was carried on on the very edge of the precipice, and was long and desperate. archie, bruised and battered in a hundred places, and weary with a night's travel, was scarcely a match for the fresh and vigorous arthur, who, in his blind rage, seemed determined to fulfill his threat of throwing him over the cliff after the gun. fortune favored first one and then the other; but archie's indomitable courage and long wind carried the day, and he finally succeeded in bearing his antagonist to the ground and holding him there. "you are not going to throw me over, are you?" gasped arthur, who was humble enough, now that he had been worsted. "do you take me for a savage?" panted archie, in reply. "i simply wanted to save myself from a whipping that i did not deserve, and i've done it. now you must go to the settlement with me, to"-"here you are!" exclaimed a familiar voice. "let us see if you will escape me again." archie looked up, and saw antoine mercedes advancing upon him. chapter xviii. conclusion. archie had been so fully occupied with the traitor that he had not thought of his other enemies, and for a moment he lay upon the ground beside his antagonist, gazing at antoine in speechless amazement. resistance, of course, was not to be thought of, and it also seemed useless to make any attempts at escape; for he had been so nearly exhausted by his struggle with arthur, that he scarcely possessed the power to rise from the ground. "i am caught easy enough," thought he, "and i might as well give up first as last." "i see before me twenty thousand dollars," said antoine, hastily coiling up his lasso as he approached. these words acted like a spur upon archie's flagging spirits. he no longer thought of surrender: on the contrary, almost before he knew it, he found himself on his feet and going down the mountain like the wind. "_carrajo!_" yelled the ranchero, swinging his lasso around his head. archie was afraid of that lasso, for he knew that he was in danger as long as he was within reach of it; but fortunately he had been too quick for antoine. he heard the lariat whistle through the air behind him, and snap like a whip close to his ear, and then he knew that his enemy had missed his mark. "santa maria!" shouted the robber. "stop, you young vagabond, or i'll shoot you." the fugitive was not frightened by this threat. he was not afraid of being shot, nor did he believe that he could be overtaken in a fair race; for, now that he got started, he found that he had wind enough left for a long run. he had lived among the rancheros long enough to know that they were very poor marksmen, and that they could not boast of their swiftness of foot; and, having escaped the lasso, his spirits rose again, and hope lent him wings. he heard antoine crushing through the bushes in pursuit, but the sound grew fainter and fainter as he sped on his way. he jumped over rocks and logs, and cleared ravines that at almost any other time would have effectually checked his progress, and when he reached the thick woods at the base of the mountains, the ranchero was out of sight and hearing. archie was well aware of the fact that he had now reached the most dangerous part of his route homeward. the chief had ordered the band to "scatter out" when they reached the end of the pass, and he knew that every road that led toward the settlement was closely watched. he knew, also, that his only chance for escape was to avoid these roads and keep in the thickest part of the woods. he sat down behind some bushes to rest for a few moments, and then started on again, sometimes creeping on his hands and knees, making use of every log and rock to cover his retreat, and stopping frequently to examine the woods in front of him, and to listen for sounds of pursuit. he had accomplished about a mile in this way, when he found himself in one of the numerous bridle-paths that ran through the mountains in every direction, and, what was worse, he saw the scowling visage of pierre costello arise from behind a log not ten paces from him. with the same glance he saw something else; and that was a crouching figure in buckskin, which was creeping stealthily toward the robber. "here's one caught," said pierre, stepping into the path and walking toward archie. "none of your tricks, now; you can't escape." "i don't intend to try," replied archie, with a boldness that astonished the robber. "your game is up, mr. pierre, and i advice you to surrender quietly, if you don't want to get hurt!" "what!" exclaimed the ranchero. "surrender! if you know what you are about, you will not offer any resistance. i am a desperate man." the robber spoke these words boldly enough, but he evidently did not like the looks of things. he gazed earnestly at archie, as if trying to determine what it was that had encouraged him to show so bold a front, and seeing that he held one hand behind him, pierre came to the conclusion that he must, by some means, have secured possession of a revolver. "drop that weapon, and hold your arms above your head," said the robber. archie did not move. while he appeared to be looking steadily at the chief, he was really watching the movements of the figure in buckskin, which had all this while been working its way quickly, but noiselessly, through the bushes, and had now approached within a few feet of the ranchero. "did you hear what i said?" demanded the latter, placing his hand on one of his revolvers. "you are my prisoner." "well, then, why don't you come and take me?" asked archie. at this moment a slight rustling in the leaves caught the quick ear of the robber, who turned suddenly, uttered a cry of alarm, and fled down the path, closely followed by something that to archie looked like a gray streak, so swiftly did it move. but it was not a gray streak--it was dick lewis, who, after a few of his long strides, collared the ranchero with one hand and threw him to the ground, and with the other seized the revolver he was trying to draw, and wrested it from his grasp. pierre struggled desperately, but to no purpose, for the trapper handled him as easily as though he had been a child. "now, then, you tarnal greaser," exclaimed dick, "your jig's danced, an' you must settle with the fiddler. if i only had you out on the prairie, i'd larn you a few things i reckon you never heern tell on. come here, you keerless feller, an' tell me if you 'member what i said to you yesterday! whar's frank?" before archie had time to reply, an incident happened, which, had the trapper been a less experienced man than he was, would have turned his triumph into defeat very suddenly. he had more than one enemy to contend with, and the first intimation he had of the fact, was a sound that archie had heard so often since his residence in california that it had become familiar to him--the whistling noise made by a lariat in its passage through the air. before archie could look around to discover whence this new danger came, he saw the trapper stretched at full length on the ground. for an instant his heart stood still; but it was only for an instant, for dick was on his feet again immediately, and archie drew a long breath of relief when he saw the lasso, which he feared had settled around his friend's neck, glide harmlessly over his shoulder. the trapper, from force of long habit, was always on the watch for danger, and when he heard that whistling sound in the air, he did not stop to look for his enemy, but dropped like a flash to avoid the lasso; and when he arose to his feet his long rifle was leveled at a thicket of bushes in front of him. "show yourself, greaser!" cried dick. the concealed enemy obeyed without an instant's hesitation, and when he stepped into the path, archie saw that it was antoine mercedes. "thar's nothin' like knowin' the tricks of the varmints," said dick, coolly, as he handed his rifle to archie, and proceeded to disarm antoine. "if i had been a greenhorn, i should have been well-nigh choked to death by this time; but a man who has seed prairy life, soon larns that his ears was made for use as well as his eyes. now, little un, whar's the rest of them fellers?" while the trapper was engaged in confining his prisoners' arms with their own lassos, archie gave him a rapid account of all that had happened during his captivity, dwelling with a good deal of emphasis on the treachery of arthur vane. dick opened his eyes in astonishment, and, when archie had finished his story, declared that they would be serving arthur right if they were to leave him among the robbers. "why, he doesn't want to get away from them," said archie. "he is with them now, hunting for us. he and i had a fight not half an hour ago, and, if antoine had only stayed away a few minutes longer, arthur would have been a prisoner too." at this moment, a party of rancheros galloped up, led by uncle james and mr. harris, and accompanied by the dogs, which the boys--who had intended to devote the most of their time to stalking the elks, which were abundant in the mountains--had left at home. marmion and carlo made every demonstration of joy at seeing archie once more, and mr. winters greeted him as though he had not met him for years. without any unnecessary delay, a trusty herdsman was dismounted, and sent back to the ranch with the prisoners, and archie mounted his horse. "you had better go home," said mr. winters, looking at his nephew's rags and bruises. "oh no, uncle," said archie, quickly. "i promised frank and johnny that, if i succeeded in getting away, i wouldn't sleep until they were safe among friends. i want to go with you." uncle james did not urge the matter, and dick, although he shook his head at archie, and called him a "keerless feller," was proud of his pluck. the trapper, who was the acknowledged leader of the party, set out at a rapid trot toward the pass, but had not gone far, when he stopped, and turned his head on one side to listen. "spread out, fellers," said he, waving his hand toward the bushes on each side of him. "thar's something comin'." the horsemen separated, and took up their positions on each side of the path. they could hear nothing but the chirping of the birds, and the sighing of the wind through the branches above their heads; but they had not been long in their concealments before they found that dick had not been deceived. the clatter of a horse's hoofs on the hard path, faint and far off at first, but growing louder as the animal approached, came to their ears, and presently roderick appeared in sight. the first thing archie noticed was, that he wore neither saddle nor bridle; the second, that he carried frank and johnny on his back. one of frank's hands was twisted in the horse's mane, and his body was tightly clasped in the arms of johnny, who sat behind him. archie had never seen the mustang run so swiftly before, and he made up his mind that, if any of the rancheros were pursuing him, they might as well give up the chase. he also thought that frank and johnny would enjoy a long ride before they got a chance to put their feet on the ground again; for roderick was plainly stampeded. it was fortunate that dick had sent them into the bushes; for, had the party been in the path then, some of them would have been run down, and, perhaps, trampled to death. "out of the way there, greaser!" shouted frank, when he discovered the trapper standing in the path. dick was not a greaser; but he thought it best to get out of the way; and frank would have gone by him, had not carlo and marmion recognized their masters, and set up a howl of welcome. "whoa!" shouted johnny and frank, in concert, and roderick stopped so suddenly that both his riders were thrown forward on his neck. "come here, you boy that fit that ar' greaser, an' tell me all about it, to onct," exclaimed dick. "be they follerin' you?" "not that we know of. we haven't seen any of them since daylight. lend me your lasso, carlos, and we'll go back and hunt up archie." but archie was already found, and when he rode out of the bushes, frank was relieved of a great deal of anxiety. he had not seen his cousin since he left the glade, and he feared that he had been re-captured; or, what was worse, had slipped off the ledge into the gorge. a consultation was now held, and, after uncle james and mr. harris had listened to the boys' story, they decided that it would be a waste of time to search for arthur vane. the latter's conduct had induced the belief that he was a friend of the robbers, and could go and come when he pleased. no doubt, when he got tired of life in the mountains, he would return home of his own free will. the party would keep on to the glade, however, and recover sleepy sam, and the boys' weapons. when this had been decided upon, dick's horse, which he had hidden in the bushes, was brought out for johnny, a lasso was twisted around roderick's lower jaw, to serve as a bridle, and then the trapper shouldered his long rifle, and gave another exhibition of his "travelin' qualities." he kept the horses in a steady gallop, sometimes "letting out" a little on getting far in advance of them, and, when he stopped at the entrance to the pass, he seemed as fresh as ever. the boys had expressed the hope that they would surprise some of the robbers in the glade, but were disappointed. they found their saddles, bridles, blankets, and weapons, however, and archie recovered his horse, which was standing contentedly beside the spring, half asleep, as usual. every thing was gathered up, including a few articles the robbers had left behind, and, as they rode toward the settlement, the boys told each other that the next time they went hunting, after pierre's band had all been captured, they would camp in the glade. archie was confined to the house for a day or two after that; but, if his body was stiff and bruised, his tongue was all right, and it was a long time before he got through relating the incidents of his fight with the traitor. frank and johnny had met with no adventures, not having seen any of the band after they left the glade. they crossed the ledge without accident--although they confessed that they would think twice before trying it again--and, when they reached the end of the pass, they concealed themselves in a hollow log until morning. when they were about to continue their flight, they discovered the mustang, which, unwilling to be left alone in the glade, had crossed the ledge, and was on his way home. frank easily caught him; but, knowing his favorite's disposition as well as he did, hesitated about requiring him to carry double; however, he finally decided that roderick was large enough and strong enough to carry them both, and that he must do it, or take the consequences. frank thereupon mounted the animal, johnny climbed up behind him, and roderick, after a few angry kicks, consented to the arrangement. believing the boldest course to be the safest, they put the horse to the top of his speed, trusting to his momentum to overcome any thing that might endeavor to obstruct the path. while archie was confined to the house, dick and old bob were busy, and their efforts were rewarded by the capture of three more of the band, who were sent to san diego with the others. only one was left now, and that was joaquin, who had thus far successfully eluded pursuit. the traitor was also missing; and, although mr. vane kept his herdsmen in the mountains continually, nothing had been seen of him. arthur was paying the penalty of his treachery, and was being punished in a way he had not thought of. after his unsuccessful attempt to capture archie winters, he went down the mountain to the place where he had left his horse, and there he found joaquin, who had narrowly escaped a ball from the rifle of old bob kelly. he was in ill-humor about something, but his face brightened when he discovered arthur. "we must be off at once," said he. "the mountains are full of men." "i believe i'll go home," replied arthur. "i am going to ask my father to give me money enough to take me back to kentucky; for, of course, i can't live here after what i have done. before i go, however, i want to tell you, that you and your friends are a set of blockheads. if i had known that you would be so stupid as to allow those fellows to escape, i shouldn't have had any thing to do with you. good-by, joaquin." "not quite so fast, my lad," said the ranchero, seizing arthur's horse by the bridle. "you are worth as much to us as the others." "what do you mean?" exclaimed arthur. "i mean that you are a prisoner, and that you must stay here with us. i hope you understand that?" arthur was thunderstruck. "why, joaquin," said he, "pierre promised me faithfully that i should be treated as a visitor, and that no ransom should be demanded for me." "and did you put any faith in that promise? when your father gives us twenty thousand dollars, you can go, and not before." arthur cried, begged, and threatened in vain. joaquin was firm, and the traitor was obliged to accompany him to the mountains. that night he wrote to his father, informing him of his situation, and joaquin, after tying his prisoner to a tree, and gagging him, to prevent him from shouting for assistance, rode to the settlement, and left the note on mr. vane's door-step. during the three weeks following, arthur led a most miserable life. he had nothing to eat but dried meat, and but little of that. his captor treated him very harshly, tying him to a tree every night, to prevent his escape, and moving him about in the day-time, from place to place, to avoid capture. it soon became known in the settlement, that arthur was held as a prisoner, and the search was conducted with redoubled energy. joaquin was constantly on the alert, but he was caught at last; for, one day, just as he and arthur were about to sit down to their dinner of dried meat, frank, archie, and johnny suddenly appeared in sight, accompanied by the two trappers. archie had repeatedly declared that he owed the traitor a debt, which he intended to settle the very first time he met him; but when he saw what a wretched condition arthur was in, he relented, and pitied him from the bottom of his heart. joaquin was sent to san diego to be dealt with according to law, and arthur went home. he did not remain there long; but, as soon as he was able to travel, started for kentucky, and every one was glad that he had gone. frank and archie could tell stories now that were worth listening to. they had seen exciting times since their arrival in california, had been the heroes of some thrilling adventures, and they never got weary of talking over the incidents that transpired during their captivity among the rancheros. the end. the john c. winston co.'s popular juveniles. j.t. trowbridge. neither as a writer does he stand apart from the great currents of life and select some exceptional phase or odd combination of circumstances. he stands on the common level and appeals to the universal heart, and all that he suggests or achieves is on the plane and in the line of march of the great body of humanity. the jack hazard series of stories, published in the late _our young folks_, and continued in the first volume of _st. nicholas_, under the title of "fast friends," is no doubt destined to hold a high place in this class of literature. the delight of the boys in them (and of their seniors, too) is well founded. they go to the right spot every time. trowbridge knows the heart of a boy like a book, and the heart of a man, too, and he has laid them both open in these books in a most successful manner. apart from the qualities that render the series so attractive to all young readers, they have great value on account of their portraitures of american country life and character. the drawing is wonderfully accurate, and as spirited as it is true. the constable, sellick, is an original character, and as minor figures where will we find anything better than miss wansey, and mr. p. pipkin, esq. the picture of mr. dink's school, too, is capital, and where else in fiction is there a better nick-name than that the boys gave to poor little stephen treadwell, "step hen," as he himself pronounced his name in an unfortunate moment when he saw it in print for the first time in his lesson in school. on the whole, these books are very satisfactory, and afford the critical reader the rare pleasure of the works that are just adequate, that easily fulfill themselves and accomplish all they set out to do.--_scribner's monthly_. jack hazard series. 6 vols. by j.t. trowbridge $7.25 jack hazard and his fortunes. doing his best. the young surveyor. a chance for himself. past friends. lawrence's adventures. * * * * * charles asbury stephens. this author wrote his "camping out series" at the very height of his mental and physical powers. "we do not wonder at the popularity of these books; there is a freshness and variety about them, and an enthusiasm in the description of sport and adventure, which even the older folk can hardly fail to share."--_worcester spy_. "the author of the camping out series is entitled to rank as decidedly at the head of what may be called boys' literature."--_buffalo courier_. camping out series. by c.a. stephens. all books in this series are 12mo. with eight full page illustrations. cloth, extra, 75 cents. camping out. as recorded by "kit." "this book is bright, breezy, wholesome, instructive, and stands above the ordinary boys' books of the day by a whole head and shoulders."--_the christian register_, boston. left on labrador; or, the cruise of the schooner yacht "curlew." as recorded by "wash." "the perils of the voyagers, the narrow escapes, their strange expedients, and the fun and jollity when danger had passed, will make boys even unconscious of hunger."--_new bedford mercury_. off to the geysers; or the young yachters in iceland. as recorded by "wade." "it is difficult to believe that wade and read and kit and wash were not live boys, sailing up hudson straits, and reigning temporarily over an esquimaux tribe."--_the independent_, new york. lynx hunting: from notes by the author of "camping out." "of first quality as a boys' book, and fit to take its place beside the best."--_richmond enquirer_. fox hunting. as recorded by "raed." "the most spirited and entertaining book that has as yet appeared. it overflows with incident, and is characterized by dash and brilliancy throughout."--_boston gazette_. on the amazon; or, the cruise of the "rambler." as recorded by "wash." "gives vivid pictures of brazilian adventure and scenery."--_buffalo courier_. aunt jane's nieces out west by edith van dyne 1914 contents chapter i caught by the camera ii an object lesson iii an attractive girl iv aunt jane's nieces v a thrilling rescue vi a. jones vii the invalid viii the magic of a name ix doctor patsy x still a mystery xi a damsel in distress xii pictures, girls and nonsense xiii a foolish boy xiv isidore le drieux xv a few pearls xvi trouble xvii uncle john is puzzled xviii doubts and difficulties xix maud makes a memorandum xx a girlish notion xxi the yacht "arabella" xxii masculine and feminine xxiii the advantage of a day xxiv picture number nineteen xxv judgment xxvi sunshine after rain chapter i caught by the camera "this is getting to be an amazing old world," said a young girl, still in her "teens," as she musingly leaned her chin on her hand. "it has always been an amazing old world, beth," said another girl who was sitting on the porch railing and swinging her feet in the air. "true, patsy," was the reply; "but the people are doing such peculiar things nowadays." "yes, yes!" exclaimed a little man who occupied a reclining chair within hearing distance; "that is the way with you young folks--always confounding the world with its people." "don't the people make the world, uncle john?" asked patricia doyle, looking at him quizzically. "no, indeed; the world could get along very well without its people; but the people--" "to be sure; they need the world," laughed patsy, her blue eyes twinkling so that they glorified her plain, freckled face. "nevertheless," said beth de graf, soberly, "i think the people have struck a rapid pace these days and are growing bold and impudent. the law appears to allow them too much liberty. after our experience of this morning i shall not be surprised at anything that happens--especially in this cranky state of california." "to what experience do you allude, beth?" asked uncle john, sitting up straight and glancing from one to another of his two nieces. he was a genial looking, round-faced man, quite bald and inclined to be a trifle stout; yet his fifty-odd years sat lightly upon him. "why, we had quite an adventure this morning," said patsy, laughing again at the recollection, and answering her uncle because beth hesitated to. "for my part, i think it was fun, and harmless fun, at that; but beth was scared out of a year's growth. i admit feeling a little creepy at the time, myself; but it was all a joke and really we ought not to mind it at all." "tell me all about it, my dear!" said mr. merrick, earnestly, for whatever affected his beloved nieces was of prime importance to him. "we were taking our morning stroll along the streets," began patsy, "when on turning a corner we came upon a crowd of people who seemed to be greatly excited. most of them were workmen in flannel shirts, their sleeves rolled up, their hands grimy with toil. these stood before a brick building that seemed like a factory, while from its doors other crowds of workmen and some shopgirls were rushing into the street and several policemen were shaking their clubs and running here and there in a sort of panic. at first beth and i stopped and hesitated to go on, but as the sidewalk seemed open and fairly free i pulled beth along, thinking we might discover what the row was about. just as we got opposite the building a big workman rushed at us and shouted: 'go back--go back! the wall is falling.' "well, uncle, you can imagine our dismay. we both screamed, for we thought our time had come, for sure. my legs were so weak that beth had to drag me away and her face was white as a sheet and full of terror. somehow we managed to stagger into the street, where a dozen men caught us and hurried us away. i hardly thought we were in a safe place when the big workman cried: 'there, young ladies; that will do. your expression was simply immense and if this doesn't turn out to be the best film of the year, i'll miss my guess! your terror-stricken features will make a regular hit, for the terror wasn't assumed, you know. thank you very much for happening along just then.'" patsy stopped her recital to laugh once more, with genuine merriment, but her cousin beth seemed annoyed and uncle john was frankly bewildered. "but--what--what--was it all about?" he inquired. "why, they were taking a moving picture, that was all, and the workmen and shopgirls and policemen were all actors. there must have been a hundred of them, all told, and when we recovered from our scare i could hear the machine beside me clicking away as it took the picture." "did the wall fall?" asked uncle john. "not just then. they first got the picture of the rush-out and the panic, and then they stopped the camera and moved the people to a safe distance away. we watched them set up some dummy figures of girls and workmen, closer in, and then in some way they toppled over the big brick wall. it fell into the street with a thundering crash, but only the dummies were buried under the debris." mr. merrick drew a long breath. "it's wonderful!" he exclaimed. "why, it must have cost a lot of money to ruin such a building--and all for the sake of a picture!" "that's what i said to the manager," replied patsy; "but he told us the building was going to be pulled down, anyhow, and a better one built in its place; so he invented a picture story to fit the falling walls and it didn't cost him so much as one might think. so you see, uncle, we are in that picture--big as life and scared stiff--and i'd give a lot to see how we look when we're positively terror-stricken." "it will cost you just ten cents," remarked beth, with a shrug; "that is, if the picture proves good enough to be displayed at one of those horrid little theatres." "one?" said uncle john. "one thousand little theatres, most likely, will show the picture, and perhaps millions of spectators will see you and patsy running from the falling wall." "dear me!" wailed patsy. "that's more fame than i bargained for. do millions go to see motion pictures, uncle?" "i believe so. the making of these pictures is getting to be an enormous industry. i was introduced to otis werner, the other day, and he told me a good deal about it. werner is with one of the big concerns here--the continental, i think--and he's a very nice and gentlemanly fellow. i'll introduce you to him, some time, and he'll tell you all the wonders of the motion picture business." "i haven't witnessed one of those atrocious exhibitions for months," announced beth; "nor have i any desire to see one again." "not our own special picture?" asked patsy reproachfully. "they had no right to force us into their dreadful drama," protested beth. "motion pictures are dreadfully tiresome things--comedies and tragedies alike. they are wild and weird in conception, quite unreal and wholly impossible. of course the scenic pictures, and those recording historical events, are well enough in their way, but i cannot understand how so many cheap little picture theatres thrive." "they are the poor people's solace and recreation," declared mr. merrick. "the picture theatre has become the laboring man's favorite resort. it costs him but five or ten cents and it's the sort of show he can appreciate. i'm told the motion picture is considered the saloon's worst enemy, for many a man is taking his wife and children to a picture theatre evenings instead of joining a gang of his fellows before the bar, as he formerly did." "that is the best argument in their favor i have ever heard," admitted beth, who was strong on temperance; "but i hope, uncle, you are not defending the insolent methods of those picture-makers." "not at all, my dear. i consider the trapping of innocent bystanders to be--eh--er--highly reprehensible, and perhaps worse. if i can discover what picture manager was guilty of the act, i shall--shall--" "what, uncle?" "i shall hint that he owes you an apology," he concluded, rather lamely. beth smiled scornfully. "meantime," said she, "two very respectable girls, who are not actresses, will be exhibited before the critical eyes of millions of stupid workmen, reformed drunkards, sad-faced women and wiggling children--not in dignified attitudes, mind you, but scurrying from what they supposed was an imminent danger." "i hope it will do the poor things good to see us," retorted patsy. "to be strictly honest, beth, we were not trapped at all; we were the victims of circumstances. when i remember how quick-witted and alert that manager was, to catch us unawares and so add to the value of his picture, i can quite forgive the fellow his audacity." "it wasn't audacity so much as downright impudence!" persisted beth. "i quite agree with you," said mr. merrick. "do you wish me to buy that film and prevent the picture's being shown?" "oh, no!" cried patsy in protest. "i'm dying to see how we look. i wouldn't have that picture sidetracked for anything." "and you, beth?" "really, uncle john, the thing is not worth worrying over," replied his niece. "i am naturally indignant at being drawn into such a thing against my will, but i doubt if anyone who knows us, or whose opinion we value, will ever visit a moving picture theatre or see this film. the common people will not recognize us, of course." you must not think beth de graf was snobbish or aristocratic because of this speech, which her cousin patsy promptly denounced as "snippy." beth was really a lovable and sunny-tempered girl, very democratic in her tastes in spite of the fact that she was the possessor of an unusual fortune. she was out of sorts to-day, resentful of the fright she had endured that morning and in the mood to say harsh things. even patricia doyle had been indignant, at first; but patsy's judgment was clearer than her cousin's and her nature more responsive. she quickly saw the humorous side of their adventure and could enjoy the recollection of her momentary fear. these two girls were spending the winter months in the glorious climate of southern california, chaperoned by their uncle and guardian, john merrick. they had recently established themselves at a cosy hotel in hollywood, which is a typical california village, yet a suburb of the great city of los angeles. a third niece, older and now married--louise merrick weldon--lived on a ranch between los angeles and san diego, which was one reason why uncle john and his wards had located in this pleasant neighborhood. to observe this trio--the simple, complacent little man and his two young nieces--no stranger would suspect them to be other than ordinary tourists, bent on escaping the severe eastern winter; but in new york the name of john merrick was spoken with awe in financial circles, where his many millions made him an important figure. he had practically retired from active business and his large investments were managed by his brother-in-law, major gregory doyle, who was miss patsy's father and sole surviving parent. all of mr. merrick's present interest in life centered in his three nieces, and because louise was happily married and had now an establishment of her own--including a rather new but very remarkable baby--uncle john was drawn closer to the two younger nieces and devoted himself wholly to their welfare. the girls had not been rich when their fairy godfather first found them. indeed, each of them had been energetically earning, or preparing to earn, a livelihood. now, when their uncle's generosity had made them wealthy, they almost regretted those former busy days of poverty, being obliged to discover new interests in life in order to keep themselves occupied and contented. all three were open-handed and open-hearted, sympathetic to the unfortunate and eager to assist those who needed money, as many a poor girl and worthy young fellow could testify. in all their charities they were strongly supported by mr. merrick, whose enormous income permitted him to indulge in many benevolences. none gave ostentatiously, for they were simple, kindly folk who gave for the pure joy of giving and begrudged all knowledge of their acts to anyone outside their own little circle. there is no doubt that john merrick was eccentric. it is generally conceded that a rich man may indulge in eccentricities, provided he maintains a useful position in society, and mr. merrick's peculiarities only served to render him the more interesting to those who knew him best. he did astonishing things in a most matter-of-fact way and acted more on impulse than on calm reflection; so it is not to be wondered at that the queer little man's nieces had imbibed some of his queerness. being by nature lively and aggressive young women, whose eager interest in life would not permit them to be idle, they encountered many interesting experiences. they had just come from a long visit to louise at the ranch and after conferring gravely together had decided to hide themselves in hollywood, where they might spend a quiet and happy winter in wandering over the hills, in boating or bathing in the ocean or motoring over the hundreds of miles of splendid boulevards of this section. singularly enough, their choice of a retreat was also the choice of a score or more of motion picture makers, who had discovered hollywood before them and were utilizing the brilliant sunshine and clear atmosphere in the production of their films, which were supplied to picture theatres throughout the united states and europe. appreciating the value of such a monster industry, the authorities permitted the cameras to be set up on the public streets or wherever there was an appropriate scene to serve for a background to the photo-plays. it was no unusual sight to see troops of cowboys and indians racing through the pretty village or to find the cameraman busy before the imposing residence of a millionaire or the vine-covered bungalow of a more modest citizen. no one seemed to resent such action, for californians admire the motion picture as enthusiastically as do the inhabitants of the eastern states, so the girls' "adventure" was really a common incident. chapter ii an object lesson it was the following afternoon when uncle john captured his casual acquaintance, mr. otis werner, in the office of the hotel and dragged the motion picture man away to his rooms to be introduced to his nieces. "here, my dears, is mr. werner," he began, as he threw open the door of their apartment and escorted his companion in. "he is one of those picture makers, you'll remember, and--and--" he paused abruptly, for beth was staring at mr. werner with a frown on her usually placid features, while patsy was giggling hysterically. mr. werner, a twinkle of amusement in his eye, bowed with exaggerated deference. "dear me!" said uncle john. "is--is anything wrong!" "no; it's all right, uncle," declared patsy, striving to control a fresh convulsion of laughter. "only--this is the same dreadful manager who dragged us into his picture yesterday." "i beg your pardon," said mr. werner; "i'm not a manager; i'm merely what is called in our profession a 'producer,' or a 'stage director.'" "well, you're the man, anyhow," asserted patsy. "so what have you to say for yourself, sir?" "if you were annoyed, i humbly apologize," he returned. "perhaps i was unintentionally rude to frighten you in that way, but my excuse lies in our subservience to the demands of our art. we seldom hesitate at anything which tends to give our pictures the semblance of reality." "_art_, did you say, mr. werner?" it was beth who asked this and there was a bit of a sneer in her tone. "it is really art--art of the highest character," he replied warmly. "do you question it, miss--miss--" "miss de graf. i suppose, to be fair, i must admit that the photography is art; but the subjects of your pictures, i have observed, are far from artistic. such a picture, for instance, as you made yesterday can have little value to anyone." "little value! why, miss de graf, you astonish me," he exclaimed. "i consider that picture of the falling wall one of my greatest triumphs--and i've been making pictures for years. aside from its realism, its emotional nature--'thrills,' we call it--this picture conveys a vivid lesson that ought to prove of great benefit to humanity." beth was looking at him curiously now. patsy was serious and very attentive. as uncle john asked his visitor to be seated his voice betrayed the interest he felt in the conversation. "of course we saw only a bit of the picture," said patsy doyle. "what was it all about, mr. werner?" "we try," said he, slowly and impressively, as if in love with his theme, "to give to our pictures an educational value, as well as to render them entertaining. some of them contain a high moral lesson; others, a warning; many, an incentive to live purer and nobler lives. all of our plots are conceived with far more thought than you may suppose. underlying many of our romances and tragedies are moral injunctions which are involuntarily absorbed by the observers, yet of so subtle a nature that they are not suspected. we cannot preach except by suggestion, for people go to our picture shows to be amused. if we hurled righteousness at them they would soon desert us, and we would be obliged to close up shop." "i must confess that this is, to me, a most novel presentation of the subject," said beth, more graciously. "personally, i care little for your pictures; but i can understand how travel scenes and scientific or educational subjects might be of real benefit to the people." "i can't understand anyone's being indifferent to the charm of motion pictures," he responded, somewhat reproachfully. "why, at first they struck me as wonderful," said the girl. "they were such a novel invention that i went to see them from pure curiosity. but, afterward, the subjects presented in the pictures bored me. the drama pictures were cheap and common, the comedy scenes worse; so i kept away from the picture theatres." "educational pictures," said mr. werner, musingly, "have proved a failure, as i hinted, except when liberally interspersed with scenes of action and human interest. the only financial failures among the host of motion picture theatres, so far as i have observed, are those that have attempted to run travel scenes and educational films exclusively. there are so few people with your--eh--culture and--and--elevated tastes, you see, when compared with the masses." "but tell us about _our_ picture," pleaded patsy. "what lesson can that falling wall possibly convey?" "i'll be glad to explain that," he eagerly replied, "for i am quite proud of it, i assure you. there are many buildings throughout our larger cities that were erected as cheaply as possible and without a single thought for the safety of their tenants. so many disasters have resulted from this that of late years building inspectors have been appointed in every locality to insist on proper materials and mechanical efficiency in the erection of all classes of buildings. these inspectors, however, cannot tear the old buildings down to see if they are safe, and paint and plaster cover a multitude of sins of unscrupulous builders. usually the landlord or owner knows well the condition of his property and in many cases refuses to put it into such shape as to insure the safety of his tenants. greed, false economy and heartless indifference to the welfare of others are unfortunately too prevalent among the wealthy class. no ordinary argument could induce owners to expend money in strengthening or rebuilding their income-producing properties. but i get after them in my picture with a prod that ought to rouse them to action. "the picture opens with a scene in the interior of a factory. men, girls and boys are employed. the foreman observes a warning crack in the wall and calls the proprietor's attention to it. in this case the manufacturer is the owner of the building, but he refuses to make repairs. his argument is that the wall has stood for many years and so is likely to stand for many more; it would be a waste of money to repair the old shell. next day the foreman shows him that the crack has spread and extended along the wall in an alarming manner but still the owner will not act. the workmen counsel together seriously. they dare not desert their jobs, for they must have money to live. they send a petition to the owner, who becomes angry and swears he won't be driven to a useless expense by his own employees. in the next scene the manufacturer's daughter--his only child--having heard that the building was unsafe, comes to her father's office to plead with him to change his mind and make the needed repairs. although he loves this daughter next to his money he resents her interference in a business matter, and refuses. her words, however, impress him so strongly that he calls her back from the door to kiss her and say that he will give the matter further thought, for her sake. "as she leaves the office there is a cry of terror from the factory and the working people come rushing out of the now tottering building. that was when you two young ladies came walking up the street and were dragged out of danger by the foreman of the shop--in other words, by myself. the owner's daughter, bewildered by the confusion, hesitates what to do or which way to turn, and as she stands upon the sidewalk she is crushed by the falling wall, together with several of her father's employees." "how dreadful!" exclaimed patsy. "of course no one was actually hurt," he hastened to say; "for we used dummy figures for the wall to fall upon. in the final scene the bereaved father suddenly realizes that he has been working and accumulating only for this beloved child--the child whose life he has sacrificed by his miserly refusal to protect his workmen. his grief is so intense that no one who follows the story of this picture will ever hesitate to repair a building promptly, if he learns it is unsafe. do you now understand the lesson taught, young ladies?" mr. werner's dramatic recital had strongly impressed the two girls, while uncle john was visibly affected. "i'm very glad," said the little man fervently, "that none of my money is in factories or other buildings that might prove unsafe. it would make my life miserable if i thought i was in any way responsible for such a catastrophe as you have pictured." "it seems to me," observed patsy, "that your story is unnecessarily cruel, mr. werner." "then you do not understand human nature," he retorted; "or, at least, that phase of human nature i have aimed at. those indifferent rich men are very hard to move and you must figuratively hit them squarely between the eyes to make them even wink." they were silent for a time, considering this novel aspect of the picture business. then beth asked: "can you tell us, sir, when and where we shall be able to see this picture?" "it will be released next monday." "what does that mean?" "it means that we, as manufacturers, supply certain agencies in all the large cities, who in turn rent our films to the many picture theatres. when a picture is ready, we send copies to all our agencies and set a day when they may release it, or give it to their customers to use. in this way the picture will be shown in all parts of the united states on the same day--in this case, next monday." "isn't that very quick?" "yes. the picture we took yesterday will to-night be shipped, all complete and ready to run, to forty-four different centers." "and will any picture theatre in hollywood or los angeles show it?" "certainly. it will be at the globe theatre in los angeles and at the isis theatre in hollywood, for the entire week." "we shall certainly see it," announced uncle john. when mr. werner had gone they conversed for some time on the subject of motion pictures, and the man's remarkable statement concerning them. "i had no idea," beth confessed, "that the industry of making pictures is so extensive and involves so much thought and detail." "and money," added uncle john. "it must be a great expense just to employ that army of actors." "i suppose mr. werner, being a theatrical man, has drawn the long bow in his effort to impress us," said patsy. "i've been thinking over some of the pictures i've seen recently and i can't imagine a moral, however intangible or illusive, in connection with any of them. but perhaps i wasn't observant enough. the next time i go to a picture show i shall study the plays more carefully." chapter iii an attractive girl on saturday they were treated to a genuine surprise, for when the omnibus drew up before the hotel entrance it brought arthur weldon and his girl-wife, louise, who was uncle john's eldest niece. it also brought "the cherub," a wee dimpled baby hugged closely in the arms of inez, its mexican nurse. patsy and beth shrieked in ecstasy as they rushed forward to smother "toodlums," as they irreverently called the cherub, with kisses. inez, a handsome, dark-eyed girl, relinquished her burden cheerfully to the two adoring "aunties," while uncle john kissed louise and warmly shook the hand of her youthful husband. "what in the world induced you to abandon your beloved ranch?" inquired mr. merrick. "don't ask me, sir!" replied arthur, laughing at the elder gentleman's astonishment. he was a trim young fellow, with a clean-cut, manly face and frank, winning manners. "it's sort of between hay and grass with us, you know," he explained. "walnuts all marketed and oranges not ready for the pickers. all our neighbors have migrated, this way or that, for their regular winter vacations, and after you all left, louise and i began to feel lonely. so at breakfast this morning we decided to flit. at ten o'clock we caught the express, and here we are--in time for lunch. i hope it's ready, uncle john." it was; but they must get their rooms and settle the baby in her new quarters before venturing to enter the dining room. so they were late for the midday meal and found themselves almost the only guests in the great dining hall. as they sat at table, chatting merrily together, arthur asked: "what are you staring at, patsy?" "a lovely girl," said she. "one of the loveliest girls i have ever seen. don't look around, arthur; it might attract their attention." "how many girls are there?" "two; and a lady who seems to be their mother. the other girl is pretty, too, but much younger than her sister--or friend, for they do not resemble one another much. they came in a few minutes ago and are seated at the table in the opposite corner." "new arrivals, i suppose," remarked uncle john, who from his position could observe the group. "no," said patsy; "their waitress seems to know them well. but i've never before seen them in the hotel." "we are always early at meal time," explained beth, "and to-day these people are certainly late. but they _are_ pretty girls, patsy. for once i concur in your judgment." "you arouse my curiosity," said arthur, speaking quietly, so as not to be overheard in the far corner. "if i hear more ecstatic praises of these girls i shall turn around and stare them out of countenance." "don't," said louise. "i'm glad your back is toward them, arthur, for it preserves you from the temptation to flirt." "oh, as for that, i do not need to turn around in order to see pretty girls," he replied. "thank you, arthur," said patsy, making a face at him. "look me over all you like, and flirt if you want to. i'm sure louise won't object." "really, patsy, you're not bad to look at," he retorted, eyeing her critically. "aside from your red hair, the pug nose and the freckles, you have many excellent qualities. if you didn't squint--" "squint!" "what do you call that affection of your eyes?" "that," she said, calmly eating her dessert, "was a glance of scorn--burning, bitter scorn!" "i maintain it was a squint," declared arthur. "that isn't her only expression," announced uncle john, who loved these little exchanges of good-humored banter. "on monday i will show you patsy as a terror-stricken damsel in distress." "also beth, still more distressful," added patsy; and then they told louise and arthur about the picture. "fine!" he cried. "i'm deeply gratified that my own relatives--" "by marriage." "i am gratified that my secondhand cousins have been so highly honored. i'd rather see a good moving picture than the best play ever produced." "you'll see a good one this time," asserted patsy, "for we are the stars." "i think that unscrupulous mr. werner deserves a reprimand," said louise. "oh, he apologized," explained beth. "but i'm sure he'd take the same liberty again if he had the chance." "he admits that his love of art destroys his sense of propriety," said patsy. as they rose from the table arthur deliberately turned to view the party in the other corner, and then to the amazement of his friends he coolly walked over and shook the elder lady's hand with evident pleasure. next moment he was being introduced to the two girls. the three cousins and their uncle john walked out of the dining hall and awaited arthur weldon in the lobby. "it is some old acquaintance, of course," said louise. "arthur knows a tremendous lot of people and remembers everyone he ever has met." when he rejoined them he brought the lady and the two beautiful girls with him, introducing mrs. montrose as one of his former acquaintances in new york, where she had been a near neighbor to the weldons. the girls, who proved to be her nieces instead of her daughters, were named maud and florence stanton, maud being about eighteen years of age and florence perhaps fifteen. maud's beauty was striking, as proved by patsy's admiration at first sight; florence was smaller and darker, yet very dainty and witching, like a dresden shepherdess. the sisters proved rather shy at this first meeting, being content to exchange smiles with the other girls, but their aunt was an easy conversationalist and rambled on about the delights of hollywood and southern california until they were all in a friendly mood. among other things mrs. montrose volunteered the statement that they had been at the hotel for several weeks, but aside from that remark disclosed little of their personal affairs. presently the three left the hotel and drove away in an automobile, having expressed a wish to meet their new friends again and become better acquainted with them. "i was almost startled at running across mrs. montrose out here," said arthur. "after father's death, when i gave up the old home, i lost track of the montroses; but i seem to remember that old montrose went to the happy hunting grounds and left a widow, but no children. i imagine these people are wealthy, as montrose was considered a successful banker. i'll write to duggins and inquire about them." "duggins seems to know everything," remarked louise. "he keeps pretty good track of new york people, especially of the old families," replied her husband. "i can't see what their history matters to us," observed patsy. "i like to take folks as i find them, without regard to their antecedents or finances. certainly those stanton girls are wonderfully attractive and ladylike." but now the baby claimed their attention and the rest of that day was passed in "visiting" and cuddling the wee toodlums, who seemed to know her girl aunties and greeted them with friendly coos and dimpled smiles. on sunday they took a motor trip through the mountain boulevards and on their way home passed the extensive enclosure of the continental film company. a thriving village has been built up at this place, known as film city, for many of those employed by the firm prefer to live close to their work. another large "plant" of the same concern is located in the heart of hollywood. as they passed through film city uncle john remarked: "we are invited to visit this place and witness the making of a motion picture. i believe it would prove an interesting sight." "let us go, by all means," replied arthur. "i am greatly interested in this new industry, which seems to me to be still in its infancy. the development of the moving picture is bound to lead to some remarkable things in the future, i firmly believe." "so do i," said uncle john. "they'll combine the phonograph with the pictures, for one thing, so that the players, instead of being silent, will speak as clearly as in real life. then we'll have the grand operas, by all the most famous singers, elaborately staged; and we'll be able to see and hear them for ten cents, instead of ten dollars. it will be the same with the plays of the greatest actors." "that would open up a curious complication," asserted louise. "the operas would only be given once, before the camera and the recorder. then what would happen to all the high-priced opera singers?" "they would draw royalties on all their productions, instead of salaries," replied arthur. "rather easy for the great artists!" observed patsy. "one performance--and the money rolling in for all time to come." "well, they deserve it," declared beth. "and think of what the public would gain! instead of having to suffer during the performances of incompetent actors and singers, as we do to-day, the whole world would be able to see and hear the best talent of the ages for an insignificant fee. i hope your prediction will come true, uncle john." "it's bound to," he replied, with confidence. "i've read somewhere that edison and others have been working on these lines for years, and although they haven't succeeded yet, anything possible in mechanics is bound to be produced in time." chapter iv aunt jane's nieces the picture, which was entitled "the sacrifice," proved--to use patsy's words--"a howling success." on monday afternoons the little theatres are seldom crowded, so mr. merrick's party secured choice seats where they could observe every detail of the photography. the girls could not wait for a later performance, so eager were they to see themselves in a motion picture, nor were they disappointed to find they were a mere incident in the long roll of film. the story of the photo-play was gripping in its intensity, and since mr. werner had clearly explained the lesson it conveyed, they followed the plot with rapt attention. in the last scene their entrance and exit was transitory, but they were obliged to admit that their features were really expressive of fear. the next instant the wall fell, burying its victims, and this rather bewildered them when they remembered that fully half an hour had elapsed while the dummies were being placed in position, the real people removed from danger and preparations made to topple over the wall from the inside of the building. but the camera had been inactive during that period and so cleverly had the parts of the picture been united that no pause whatever was observable to the spectators. "my! what a stuffy place," exclaimed louise, as they emerged into the light of day. "i cannot understand why it is necessary to have these moving picture theatres so gloomy and uncomfortable." "it isn't necessary," replied uncle john. "it's merely a habit the builders have acquired. there seemed to be a total lack of ventilation in that place." "no one expects much for ten cents," arthur reminded him. "if the pictures are good the public will stand for anything in the matter of discomfort." "did you notice," said patsy, slowly, "how many children there were in that theatre?" "yes, indeed," answered beth. "the pictures seem to be an ideal amusement for children. i do not suppose they can understand all the dramas and love stories, but the pictures entertain them, whatever the theme may be." "they are not allowed to go unless accompanied by a parent or guardian," arthur stated; "but i saw a group of eleven under the care of one cheery-looking old lady, so i suppose the little ones evade the law in that way." on tuesday forenoon they drove to the office of the continental film manufacturing company and inquired for mr. werner. every approach to the interior of the big stockade was closely guarded in order to prevent the curious from intruding, but werner at once hurried out to greet them and escorted them into the enclosure. "you are just in time," said he, "to witness one of the scenes in our great picture, 'samson and delilah.' they're getting it on now, so you must hurry if you want to see the work. it's really the biggest thing our firm has ever turned out." they passed a group of low but extensive frame buildings, threading their way between them until finally they emerged within a large open space where huge frames covered with canvas were propped up in broad daylight and apparently in great disorder. huddled here and there were groups of people wearing oriental costumes of the bible days, their skins stained brown, the make-up on their faces showing hideously in the strong light. a herd of meek donkeys, bearing burdens of faggots, was tethered near by. "follow me closely," cautioned their guide, "so you will not step over the 'dead line' and get yourselves in the picture." "what is the 'dead line'?" inquired uncle john. "the line that marks the limit of the camera's scope. outside of that you are quite safe. you will notice it is plainly marked in chalk." they passed around to the front and were amazed at the picture disclosed by the reverse of the gaunt, skeleton-like framework. for now was displayed solomon's temple in all its magnificence, with huge pillars supporting a roof that seemed as solid and substantial as stone and mortar could make it. the perspective was wonderful, for they could follow a line of vision through the broad temple to a passage beyond, along which was approaching a procession of priests, headed by dancing girls and musicians beating tomtoms and playing upon reeds. the entire scene was barbaric in its splendor and so impressive that they watched it spellbound, awed and silent. yet here beside them was the motion-picture camera, clicking steadily away and operated by a man in his shirt-sleeves who watched the scene with sharp eyes, now frowning and now nodding approval. beside him at times, but rushing from one point to another just outside the chalk-marks that indicated the "dead line," was the director of this production, who shouted commands in a nervous, excited manner and raged and tore his hair when anything went wrong. something went very wrong presently, for the director blew a shrill blast on his whistle and suddenly everything stopped short. the camera man threw a cloth over his lenses and calmly lighted a cigarette. the procession halted in uncertainty and became a disordered rabble; but the director sprang into the open space and shouted at his actors and actresses in evident ill temper. "there it is again!" he cried. "five hundred feet of good film, ruined by the stupidity of one person. get out of that priest's robe, higgins, and let jackson take your place. where's jackson, anyhow?" "here," answered a young man, stepping out from a group of spectators. "do you know the work? can you lead that procession into the temple so they will leave room for delilah to enter, and not crowd her off the platform?" asked the director. jackson merely nodded as he scrambled into the priest's robe which the discomfited higgins resigned to him. evidently the bungling actor was in disgrace, for he was told to go to the office and get his pay and then "clear out." so now the procession was sent back into the passage and rearranged in proper order; the signal was given to begin and in an instant the camera renewed its clicking as the operator slowly revolved the handle that carried the long strip of film past the lenses. the musicians played, the girls danced, the procession slowly emerged from the passage. this time it advanced properly and came to a halt just at the head of the staircase leading up to the entrance to the temple. "delilah!" shouted the director, and now appeared a beautiful girl who made a low obeisance to the chief priest. "why--goodness me!" cried patsy. "it's--it's maud stanton!" "nonsense!" returned arthur, sharply; and then he looked again and drew a long breath; for unless it were indeed the elder niece of mrs. montrose, there must be two girls in the world identically alike. mr. werner settled the question by quietly remarking: "of course it's maud stanton. she's our bright, particular star, you know, and the public would resent it if she didn't appear as the heroine of all our best pictures." "an actress!" exclaimed arthur. "i--i didn't know that." "she and her sister flo are engaged by us regularly," replied werner, with an air of pride. "they cost us a lot of money, as you may imagine, but we can't afford to let any competitor have them." if arthur weldon felt any chagrin at this, discovery it was not in the least shared by the others of his party. beth was admiring the young girl's grace and dignity; patsy was delighted by her loveliness in the fleecy, picturesque costume she wore; louise felt pride in the fact that she had been introduced to "a real actress," while uncle john wondered what adverse fortune had driven this beautiful, refined girl to pose before a motion picture camera. they soon discovered florence stanton in the picture, too, among the dancing girls; so there could be no mistake of identity. mrs. montrose was not visible during the performance; but afterward, when samson had pulled down the pillars of the temple and it had fallen in ruins, when the "show" was over and the actors trooping away to their dressing-rooms, then the visitors were ushered into the main office of the establishment to meet mr. goldstein, the manager, and seated by the window was the aunt of the two girls, placidly reading a book. she looked up with a smile as they entered. "did you see the play?" she asked. "and isn't it grand and impressive? i hope you liked maud's 'delilah.' the poor child has worked so hard to create the character." they assured her the girl was perfect in her part, after which mr. merrick added: "i'm astonished you did not go out to see the play yourself." she laughed at his earnestness. "it's an old story to me," she replied, "for i have watched maud rehearse her part many times. also it is probable that some--if not all--of the scenes of 'samson and delilah' will be taken over and over, half a dozen times, before the director is satisfied." "the performance seemed quite perfect to-day," said uncle john. "i suppose, mrs. montrose, you do not--er--er--act, yourself?" "oh. i have helped out, sometimes, when a matronly personation is required, but my regular duties keep me busily engaged in the office." "may we ask what those duties are?" said louise. "i'm the reader of scenarios." "dear me!" exclaimed patsy. "i'm sure we don't know any more than we did before." "a 'scenario,'" said the lady, "is a description of the plot for a photo-play. it is in manuscript form and hundreds of scenarios are submitted to us from every part of the country, and by people in all walks of life." "i shouldn't think you could use so many," said beth. "we can't, my dear," responded the lady, laughing at her simplicity. "the majority of the scenarios we receive haven't a single idea that is worth considering. in most of the others the ideas are stolen, or duplicated from some other picture-play. once in a while, however, we find a plot of real merit, and then we accept it and pay the author for it." "how much?" inquired arthur. "so little that i am ashamed to tell you. ideas are the foundation of our business, and without them we could not make successful films; but when mr. goldstein buys an idea he pays as little for it as possible, and the poor author usually accepts the pittance with gratitude." "we were a little surprised," uncle john ventured to say, "to find you connected with this--er--institution. i suppose it's all right; but those girls--your nieces--" "yes, they are motion picture actresses, and i am a play reader. it is our profession, mr. merrick, and we earn our living in this way. to be frank with you, i am very proud of the fact that my girls are popular favorites with the picture theatre audiences." "that they are, mrs. montrose!" said goldstein, the manager, a lean little man, earnestly endorsing the statement; "and that makes them the highest priced stars in all our fourteen companies of players. but they're worth every cent we pay 'em--and i hope ev'rybody's satisfied." mrs. montrose paid little deference to the manager. "he is only a detail man," she explained when goldstein had gone way, "but of course it is necessary to keep these vast and diverse interests running smoothly, and the manager has enough details on his mind to drive an ordinary mortal crazy. the successful scenario writers, who conceive our best plays, are the real heart of this business, and the next to them in importance are the directors, or producers, who exercise marvelous cleverness in staging the work of the authors." "i suppose," remarked arthur weldon, "it is very like a theatre." "not so like as you might imagine," was the reply. "we employ scenery, costumes and actors, but not in ways theatrical, for all our work is subservient to the camera's eye and the requirements of photography." while they were conversing, the two stanton girls entered the office, having exchanged their costumes for street clothes and washed the make-up from their faces, which were now fresh and animated. "oh, aunt jane!" cried flo, running to mrs. montrose, "we're dismissed for the day. mr. mcneil intends to develop the films before we do anything more, and maud and i want to spend the afternoon at the beach." the lady smiled indulgently as maud quietly supported her sister's appeal, the while greeting her acquaintances of yesterday with her sweet, girlish charm of manner. "a half-holiday is quite unusual with us," she explained, "for it is the custom to hold us in readiness from sunrise to sunset, in case our services are required. an actress in a motion picture concern is the slave of her profession, but we don't mind the work so much as we do waiting around for orders." "suppose we all drive to the beach together," suggested mr. merrick. "we will try to help you enjoy your holiday and it will be a rich treat to us to have your society." "yes, indeed!" exclaimed patsy doyle. "i'm just crazy over this motion picture business and i want to ask you girls a thousand questions about it." they graciously agreed to the proposition and at once made preparations for the drive. mrs. montrose had her own automobile, but the party divided, the four young girls being driven by mr. merrick's chauffeur in his machine, while uncle john, arthur and louise rode with mrs. montrose. it did not take the young people long to become acquainted, and the air of restraint that naturally obtained in the first moments gradually wore away. they were all in good spirits, anticipating a jolly afternoon at the ocean resorts, so when they discovered themselves to be congenial companions they lost no time in stilted phrases but were soon chattering away as if they had known one another for years. chapter v a thrilling rescue "it must be fine to be an actress," said patsy doyle, with enthusiasm. "if i had the face or the figure or the ability--all of which i sadly lack--i'd be an actress myself." "i suppose," replied maud stanton, thoughtfully, "it is as good a profession for a girl as any other. but the life is not one of play, by any means. we work very hard during the rehearsals and often i have become so weary that i feared i would drop to the ground in sheer exhaustion. flo did faint, once or twice, during our first engagement with the pictograph company; but we find our present employers more considerate, and we have gained more importance than we had in the beginning." "it is dreadfully confining, though," remarked florence, with a sigh. "our hours are worse than those of shopgirls, for the early morning sun is the best part of the day for our work. often we are obliged to reach the studio at dawn. to be sure, we have the evenings to ourselves, but we are then too tired to enjoy them." "did you choose, this profession for amusement, or from necessity?" inquired beth, wondering if the question sounded impertinent. "stern necessity," answered maud with a smile. "we had our living to earn." "could not your aunt assist you?" asked patsy. "aunt jane? why, she is as poor as we are." "arthur weldon used to know the montroses," said beth, "and be believed mr. montrose left his widow a fortune." "he didn't leave a penny," asserted florence. "uncle was a stock gambler, and when he died he was discovered to be bankrupt." "i must explain to you," said maud, "that our father and mother were both killed years ago in a dreadful automobile accident. father left a small fortune to be divided between flo and me, and appointed uncle george our guardian. we were sent to a girls' school and nicely provided for until uncle's death, when it was found he had squandered our little inheritance as well as his own money." "that was hard luck," said patsy sympathetically. "i am not so sure of that," returned the girl musingly. "perhaps we are happier now than if we had money. our poverty gave us dear aunt jane for a companion and brought us into a field of endeavor that has proved delightful." "but how in the world did you ever decide to become actresses, when so many better occupations are open to women?" inquired beth. "are other occupations so much better? a motion picture actress is quite different from the stage variety, you know. our performances are all privately conducted, and although the camera is recording our actions it is not like being stared at by a thousand critical eyes." "a million eyes stare at the pictures," asserted patsy. "but we are not there to be embarrassed by them," laughed flo. "we have but one person to please," continued maud, "and that is the director. if at first the scene is not satisfactory, we play it again and again, until it is quite correct. to us this striving for perfection is an art. we actors are mere details of an artistic conception. we have now been in hollywood for five months, yet few people who casually notice us at the hotel or on the streets have any idea that we act for the 'movies.' sometimes we appear publicly in the streets, in characteristic costume, and proceed to enact our play where all may observe us; but there are so many picture companies in this neighborhood that we are no longer looked upon as a novelty and the people passing by pay little attention to us." "were you in that picture of the falling wall?" asked beth. "no. we were rehearsing for 'samson and delilah.' but sometimes we are called upon to do curious things. one night, not long ago, a big residence burned down in the foothills back of our hotel. at the first alarm of fire one of the directors wakened us and we jumped into our clothes and were whisked in an automobile to the scene of the conflagration. the camera-man was already there and, while we had to dodge the fire-fighters and the hose men, both flo and i managed to be 'saved from the flames' by some of our actors--not once, but several times." "it must have been thrilling!" gasped patsy. "it was exciting, at the moment," confessed maud. "one of the pictures proved very dramatic, so an author wrote a story where at the climax a girl was rescued from the flames by her lover, and we took our time to act the several scenes that led up to the fire. the completed picture was a great success, i'm told." "those directors must be wonderfully enterprising fellows," said beth. "they are, indeed, constantly on the lookout for effects. every incident that occurs in real life is promptly taken advantage of. the camera-men are everywhere, waiting for their chance. often their pictures prove of no value and are destroyed, but sometimes the scenes they catch are very useful to work into a picture play. a few weeks ago i was shipwrecked on the ocean and saved by clinging to a raft. that was not pleasant and i caught a severe cold by being in the water too long; but i was chosen because i can swim. such incidents are merely a part of our game--a game where personal comfort is frequently sacrificed to art. once flo leaped over a thirty-foot precipice and was caught in a net at the bottom. the net was, of course, necessary, but when the picture was displayed her terrible leap was followed by a view of her mangled body at the bottom of the canyon." "how did they manage to do that?" asked patsy. "stopped the camera, cut off the piece of film showing her caught by the net, and substituted a strip on which was recorded flo's body lying among the jagged rocks, where it had been carefully and comfortably arranged. we do a lot of deceptive tricks of that sort, and sometimes i myself marvel at the natural effects obtained." "it must be more interesting than stage acting." "i believe it is. but we've never been on the stage," said maud. "how did you happen to get started in such a queer business?" inquired patsy. "well, after we found ourselves poor and without resources we began wondering what we could do to earn money. a friend of aunt jane's knew a motion picture maker who wanted fifty young girls for a certain picture and would pay each of them five dollars a day. flo and i applied for the job and earned thirty dollars between us; but then the manager thought he would like to employ us regularly, and with auntie to chaperon us we accepted the engagement. the first few weeks we merely appeared among the rabble--something like chorus girls, you see--but then we were given small parts and afterward more important ones. when we discovered our own value to the film makers auntie managed to get us better engagements, so we've acted for three different concerns during the past two years, while aunt jane has become noted as a clever judge of the merits of scenarios." "do both of you girls play star parts?" beth inquired. "usually. flo is considered the best 'child actress' in the business, but when there is no child part she makes herself useful in all sorts of ways. to-day, for instance, you saw her among the dancing girls. i do the ingenue, or young girl parts, which are very popular just now. i did not want to act 'delilah,' for i thought i was not old enough; but mr. mcneil wanted me in the picture and so i made myself took as mature as possible." "you were ideal!" cried patsy, admiringly. the young girl blushed at this praise, but said deprecatingly: "i doubt if i could ever be a really great actress; but then, i do not intend to act for many more years. our salary is very liberal at present, as goldstein grudgingly informed you, and we are saving money. as soon as we think we have acquired enough to live on comfortably we shall abandon acting and live as other girls do." "the fact is," added flo, "no one will employ us when we have lost our youth. so we are taking advantage of these few fleeting years to make hay while the sun shines." "do many stage actresses go into the motion picture business?" asked beth. "a few, but all are not competent," replied maud. "in the 'silent drama' facial expression and the art of conveying information by a gesture is of paramount importance. in other words, action must do the talking and explain everything. i am told that some comedians, like 'bunny' and sterling mace, were failures on the stage, yet in motion pictures they are great favorites. on the other hand, some famous stage actors can do nothing in motion pictures." on their arrival at santa monica mr. merrick invited the party to be his guests at luncheon, which was served in a cosy restaurant overlooking the ocean. and then, although at this season it was bleak winter back east, all but uncle john and aunt jane took a bath in the surf of the blue pacific, mingling with hundreds of other bathers who were enjoying the sport. mrs. montrose and uncle john sat on the sands to watch the merry scene, while the young people swam and splashed about, and they seemed--as miss patsy slyly observed--to "get on very well together." "and that is very creditable to your aunt," she observed to maud stanton, who was beside her in the water, "for uncle john is rather shy in the society of ladies and they find him hard to entertain." "he seems like a dear old gentleman," said maud. "he is, indeed, the dearest in all the world. and, if he likes your aunt jane, that is evidence that she is all right, too; for uncle john's intuition never fails him in the selection of friends. he--" "dear me!" cried maud; "there's someone in trouble, i'm sure." she was looking out across the waves, which were fairly high to-day, and patsy saw her lean forward and strike out to sea with strokes of remarkable swiftness. bathers were scattered thickly along the coast, but only a few had ventured far out beyond the life-lines, so patsy naturally sought an explanation by gazing at those farthest out. at first she was puzzled, for all the venturesome seemed to be swimming strongly and composedly; but presently a dark form showed on the crest of a wave--a struggling form that tossed up its arms despairingly and then disappeared. she looked for maud stanton and saw her swimming straight out, but still a long way from the person in distress. then patsy, always quick-witted in emergencies, made a dash for the shore where a small boat was drawn up on the beach. "come, arthur, quick!" she cried to the young man, who was calmly wading near the beach, and he caught the note of terror in her voice and hastened to help push the little craft into the water. "jump in!" she panted, "and row as hard as you ever rowed in all your life." young weldon was prompt to obey. he asked no useless questions but, realizing that someone was in danger, he pulled a strong, steady oar and let patsy steer the boat. the laughter and merry shouts of the bathers, who were all unaware that a tragedy was developing close at hand, rang in the girl's ears as she peered eagerly ahead for a sign to guide her. now she espied maud stanton, far out beyond the others, circling around and diving into this wave or that as it passed her. "whoever it was," she muttered, half aloud, "is surely done for by this time. hurry, arthur! i'm afraid maud has exhausted all her strength." but just then maud dived again and when she reappeared was holding fast to something dark and inanimate. a moment later the boat swept to her side and she said: "get him aboard, if you can. don't mind me; i'm all right." arthur reached down and drew a slight, boyish form over the gunwale, while patsy clasped maud's hand and helped the girl over the side. she was still strong, but panted from her exertions to support the boy. "who is it?" inquired patsy, as arthur headed the boat for the shore. maud shook her head, leaning forward to look at the face of the rescued one for the first time. "i've never seen him before," she said. "isn't it too bad that i reached him too late?" patsy nodded, gazing at the white, delicate profile of the young fellow as he lay lifeless at her feet. too late, undoubtedly; and he was a mere boy, with all the interests of life just unfolding for him. their adventure had now been noticed by some of the bathers, who crowded forward to meet the boat as it grounded on the beach. uncle john, always keeping an eye on his beloved nieces, had noted every detail of the rescue and as a dozen strong men pulled the boat across the sands, beyond the reach of the surf, the merrick automobile rolled up beside it. "now, then!" cried the little man energetically, and with the assistance of his chauffeur he lifted the lifeless form into the car. "the hospital?" said patsy, nodding approval. "yes," he answered. "no; you girls can't come in your wet bathing suits. i'll do all that can be done." even as he spoke the machine whirled away, and looking after it maud said, shaking her head mildly: "i fear he's right. little can be done for the poor fellow now." "oh, lots can be done," returned patsy; "but perhaps it won't bring him back to life. anyhow, it's right to make every attempt, as promptly as possible, and certainly uncle john didn't waste any time." beth and florence now joined them and louise came running up to ask eager questions. "who was it, patsy?" "we don't know. some poor fellow who got too far out and had a cramp, perhaps. or his strength may have given out. he didn't seem very rugged." "he was struggling when first i saw him," said maud. "it seemed dreadful to watch the poor boy drowning when hundreds of people were laughing and playing in the water within earshot of him." "that was the trouble," declared arthur weldon. "all those people were intent on themselves and made so much noise that his cries for help could not be heard." the tragedy, now generally known, had the effect of sobering the bathers and most of them left the water and trooped to the bathhouses to dress. mrs. montrose advised the girls to get their clothes on, as all were shivering--partly from nervousness--in their wet bathing suits. they were ready an hour before mr. merrick returned, and his long absence surprised them until they saw his smiling face as he drove up in his car. it gave them a thrill of hope as in chorus they cried: "well--uncle john?" "i think he will live," returned the little man, with an air of great satisfaction. "anyway, he's alive and breathing now, and the doctors say there's every reason to expect a rapid recovery." "who is he?" they asked, crowding around him. "a. jones." "a--what?" this from patsy, in a doubtful tone. "jones. a. jones." "why, he must have given you an assumed name!" "he didn't give us any name. as soon as he recovered consciousness he fell asleep, and i left him slumbering as peacefully as a baby. but we went through his clothes, hoping to get a trace of his friends, so they could be notified. his bathing suit is his own, not rented, and the name 'a. jones' is embroidered on tape and sewn to each piece. also the key to bathhouse number twenty-six was tied to his wrist. the superintendent sent a man for his clothing and we examined that, too. the letters 'a.j.' were stamped in gold on his pocketbook, and in his cardcase were a number of cards engraved: 'a. jones, sangoa.' but there were no letters, or any other papers." "where is sangoa?" inquired beth. "no one seems to know," confessed uncle john. "there was plenty of money in his pocket-book and he has a valuable watch, but no other jewelry. his clothes were made by a los angeles tailor, but when they called him up by telephone he knew nothing about his customer except that he had ordered his suit and paid for it in advance. he called for it three days ago, and carried it away with him, so we have no clue to the boy's dwelling place." "isn't that a little strange--perhaps a little suspicious?" asked mrs. montrose. "i think not, ma'am," answered mr. merrick. "we made these investigations at the time we still feared he would die, so as to communicate with any friends or relatives he might have. but after he passed the crisis so well and fell asleep, the hospital people stopped worrying about him. he seems like any ordinary, well-to-do young fellow, and a couple of days in the hospital ought to put him upon his feet again." "but sangoa, uncle; is that a town or a country?" "some out-of-the-way village, i suppose. people are here from every crack and corner of america, you know." "it sounds a bit spanish," commented arthur. "maybe he is from mexico." "maybe," agreed uncle john. "anyhow, maud has saved his life, and if it's worth anything to him he ought to be grateful." "never mind that," said maud, flushing prettily with embarrassment as all eyes turned upon her, "i'm glad i noticed him in time; but now that he is all right he need never know who it was that rescued him. and, for that matter, sir, patsy doyle and mr. weldon did as much for him as i. perhaps they saved us both, while your promptness in getting him to the hospital was the main factor in saving his life." "well, it's all marked down in the hospital books," remarked uncle john. "i had to tell the whole story, you see, as a matter of record, and all our names are there, so none can escape the credit due her--or him." "in truth," said mrs. montrose with a smile, "it really required four of you to save one slender boy." "yes, he needed a lot of saving," laughed flo. "but," her pretty face growing more serious, "i believe it was all fate, and nothing else. had we not come to the beach this afternoon, the boy might have drowned; so, as i suggested the trip, i'm going to take a little credit myself." "looking at it in that light," said patsy, "the moving picture man saved the boy's life by giving you a half-holiday." this caused a laugh, for their spirits were now restored to normal. to celebrate the occasion, mr. merrick proposed to take them all into los angeles to dine at a "swell restaurant" before returning to hollywood. this little event, in conjunction with the afternoon's adventure, made them all more intimate, so that when they finally reached home and separated for the night they felt like old friends rather than recent acquaintances. chapter vi a. jones there was work for the stanton girls at the "film factory," as they called it, next morning, so they had left the hotel before mr. merrick's party assembled at the breakfast table. "i must telephone the santa monica hospital and find out how our patient is," remarked uncle john, when the meal was over; but presently he returned from the telephone booth with a puzzled expression upon his face. "a. jones has disappeared!" he announced. "disappeared! what do you mean, uncle?" asked beth. "he woke early and declared he was himself again, paid his bill, said 'good morning' to the hospital superintendent and walked away. he wouldn't answer questions, but kept asking them. the nurse showed him the book with the record of how he was saved, but she couldn't induce him to say who he was, where he came from nor where he was going. seems a little queer, doesn't it?" they all confessed that it did. "however," said patsy doyle, "i'm glad he recovered, and i'm sure maud will be when she hears the news. the boy has a perfect right to keep his own counsel, but he might have had the grace to tell us what that initial 'a.' stands for, and where on earth sangoa is." "i've been inquiring about sangoa," announced arthur, just then joining the group, "and no one seems wiser than we are. there's no record of such a town or state in mexico, or in the united states--so far as i can discover. the clerk has sent for a map of alaska, and perhaps we'll find sangoa there." "what does it matter?" inquired louise. "why, we don't like to be stumped," asserted patsy, "that's all. here is a young man from sangoa, and--" "really," interrupted beth, who was gazing through the window, "i believe here _is_ the young man from sangoa!" "where?" they all cried, crowding forward to look. "coming up the walk. see! isn't that the same mysterious individual whose life maud saved?" "that's the identical mystery," declared uncle john. "i suppose he has come here to look us up and thank us." "then, for heaven's sake, girls, pump him and find out where sangoa is," said arthur hastily, and the next moment a bell boy approached their party with a card. they looked at the young fellow curiously as he came toward them. he seemed not more than eighteen years of age and his thin features wore a tired expression that was not the result of his recent experience but proved to be habitual. his manner was not languid, however, but rather composed; at the same time he held himself alert, as if constantly on his guard. his dress was simple but in good taste and he displayed no embarrassment as he greeted the party with a low bow. "ah," said uncle john, heartily shaking his hand, "i am delighted to find you so perfectly recovered." a slight smile, sad and deprecating, flickered for an instant over his lips. it gave the boyish face a patient and rather sweet expression as he slowly replied: "i am quite myself to-day, sir, and i have come to assure you of my gratitude for your rescue of me yesterday. perhaps it wasn't worth all your bother, but since you generously took the trouble to save me, the least i can do is to tender you my thanks." here he looked from one to another of the three girls and continued: "please tell me which young lady swam to my assistance." "oh, it was none of us," said patsy. "miss stanton--maud stanton--swam out to you, when she noticed you were struggling, and kept you afloat until we--until help came." "and miss stanton is not here?" "not at present, although she is staying at this hotel." he gravely considered this information for a moment. as he stood there, swaying slightly, he appeared so frail and delicate that uncle john seized his arm and made him sit down in a big easy chair. the boy sighed, took a memorandum from his pocket and glanced at it. "miss doyle and mr. weldon pulled out in a boat and rescued both miss stanton and me, just as we were about to sink," he said. "tell me, please, if either miss doyle or mr. weldon is present." "i am arthur weldon," said that young gentleman; "but i was merely the boatman, under command of miss doyle, whom i beg to present to you." a. jones looked earnestly into patsy's face. holding out his hand he said with his odd smile: "thank you." then he turned to shake arthur's hand, after which he continued: "i also am indebted to mr. merrick for carrying me to the hospital. the doctor told me that only this prompt action enabled them to resuscitate me at all. and now, i believe it would be courteous for me to tell you who i am and how i came to be in such dire peril." he paused to look around him questioningly and the interest on every face was clearly evident. arthur took this opportunity to introduce jones to louise and beth and then they all sat down again. said uncle john to the stranger, in his frank and friendly way: "tell us as much or as little as you like, my boy. we are not unduly inquisitive, i assure you." "thank you, sir. i am an american, and my name is jones. that is, i may claim american parentage, although i was born upon a scarcely known island in the pacific which my father purchased from the government of uruguay some thirty years ago." "sangoa?" asked arthur. he seemed surprised at the question but readily answered: "yes; sangoa. my father was a grandnephew of john paul jones and very proud of the connection; but instead of being a sailor he was a scientist, and he chose to pass his life in retirement from the world." "your father is no longer living, then?" said mr. merrick. "he passed away a year ago, on his beloved island. my mother died several years before him. i began to feel lonely at sangoa and i was anxious to visit america, of which my mother had so often told me. so some months ago i reached san francisco, since when i have been traveling over your country--my country, may i call it?--and studying your modern civilization. in new york i remained fully three months. it is only about ten days since i returned to this coast." he stopped abruptly, as if he considered he had told enough. the brief recital had interested his auditors, but the ensuing pause was rather embarrassing. "i suppose you have been visiting relatives of your parents," remarked uncle john, to ease the situation. "they--had no relatives that i know of," he returned. "i am quite alone in the world. you must not suppose i am unaccustomed to the water," he hastened to add, as if to retreat from an unpleasant subject. "at sangoa i have bathed in the sea ever since i can remember anything; but--i am not in good health. i suffer from indigestion, a chronic condition, which is my incubus. yesterday my strength suddenly deserted me and i became helpless." "how fortunate it was that maud noticed you!" exclaimed patsy, with generous sympathy. again the half sad smile softened his face as he looked at her. "i am not sure it was wholly fortunate for me," he said, "although i admit i have no wish to end my uninteresting life by drowning. i am not a misanthrope, in spite of my bad stomach. the world is more useful to me than i am to the world, but that is not my fault. pardon me for talking so much about myself." "oh, we are intensely interested, i assure you," replied patsy. "if some of us were indeed the instruments that saved you yesterday, it is a pleasure to us to know something of the--the man--we saved." she had almost said "boy," he was such a youthful person, and he knew it as well as she did. "i would like to meet miss stanton and thank her personally," he presently resumed. "so, if you have no objection, i think i shall register at this hotel and take a room. i--i am not very strong yet, but perhaps miss stanton will see me when i have rested a little." "she won't return before five o'clock," explained mr. merrick. "miss stanton is--er--connected with a motion picture company, you know, and is busy during the day." he seemed both surprised and perplexed, at first, but after a moment's thought he said: "she is an actress, then?" "yes; she and her sister. they have with them an aunt, mrs. montrose, for companion." "thank you. then i will try to meet them this evening." as he spoke he rose with some difficulty and bade them adieu. arthur went with him to the desk and proffered his assistance, but the young man said he needed nothing but rest. "and just think of it," said patsy, when he had gone. "we don't know yet what that 'a' stands for!" "arthur," suggested louise. "albert," said beth. "or algernon," added uncle john with a chuckle. "but we haven't seen the last of him yet," declared miss doyle. "i've a romance all plotted, of which a. jones is to be the hero. he will fall in love with maud and carry her away to his island!" "i'm not so sure of that result," observed uncle john thoughtfully. "it wouldn't astonish me to have him fall in love with maud stanton; we've all done that, you know; but could maud--could any girl--be attracted by a lean, dismal boy with a weak stomach, such as a. jones?" "even with these drawbacks he is quite interesting," asserted beth. "he is sure to win her sympathy," said louise. "but, above all," declared patsy, "he has an island, inherited from his royal daddy. that island would count for a lot, with any girl!" chapter vii the invalid the girls intercepted maud stanton when she returned to the hotel that evening, and told her all about a. jones. the tale was finished long before that dyspeptic youth had wakened from his slumbers. then they all dressed for dinner and afterward met in the lobby, where uncle john told them he had arranged to have a big round table prepared for the entire party, including a seat for a. jones, who might like to join them. however, the young man did not make his appearance, and as they trooped into the dining room patsy said resentfully: "i believe a. jones is in a trance and needs rolling on a barrel again." "he probably found himself too weak to appear in public," replied flo stanton. "i'm sure if i had been all but drowned a few hours ago, i would prefer bed to society." "i'm astonished that he summoned energy to visit us at all," declared mrs. montrose. "he may be weak and ill, but at least he is grateful." "jones seems a vary gentlemanly young fellow," said mr. merrick. "he is a bit shy and retiring, which is perhaps due to his lonely life on his island; but i think he has been well brought up." as they came out from dinner they observed the porters wheeling several big trunks up the east corridor. the end of each trunk was lettered: "a. jones." "well," said beth, with an amused smile, "he intends to stay a while, anyhow. you'll have a chance to meet him yet, maud." "i'm glad of that," answered maud, "for i am anxious to calculate the worth of the life i helped to save. your reports are ambiguous, and i am undecided whether you are taking the boy seriously or as a joke. from your description of his personal appearance, i incline to the belief that under ordinary circumstances i would not look twice at mr. jones, but having been partly instrumental in preserving him to the world, i naturally feel a proprietary interest in him." "of course," said flo. "he's worth one look, out of pure curiosity; but it would be dreadful to have him tagging you around, expressing his everlasting gratitude." "i don't imagine he'll do that," observed patsy doyle. "a. jones strikes me as having a fair intellect in a shipwrecked body, and i'll wager a hatpin against a glove-buttoner that he won't bore you. at the same time he may not interest you--or any of us--for long, unless he develops talents we have not discovered. i wonder why he doesn't use his whole name. that mystic 'a' puzzles me." "it's an english notion, i suppose," said mrs. montrose. "but he isn't english; he's american." "sangoese," corrected beth. "perhaps he doesn't like his name, or is ashamed of it," suggested uncle john. "it may be 'absalom,'" said flo. "we once knew an actor named absalom, and he always called himself 'a. judson keith.' he was a dignified chap, and when we girls one day called him 'ab,' he nearly had hysterics." "mr. werner had hysterics to-day," asserted maud, gravely; "but i didn't blame him. he sent out a party to ride down a steep hill on horseback, as part of a film story, and a bad accident resulted. one of the horses stepped in a gopher hole and fell, and a dozen others piled up on him, including their riders." "how dreadful!" was the general exclamation. "several of the horses broke their legs and had to be shot," continued maud; "but none of the riders was seriously injured except little sadie martin, who was riding a bronco. the poor thing was caught under one of the animals and the doctor says she won't be able to work again for months." "goodness me! and all for the sake of a picture?" cried patsy indignantly. "i hope you don't take such risks, maud." "no; flo and i have graduated from what is called 'the bronco bunch,' and now do platform work entirely. to be sure we assume some minor risks in that, but nothing to compare with the other lines of business." "i hope the little girl you mentioned will get well, and has enough money to tide her over this trouble," said uncle john anxiously. "the manager will look after her," returned mrs. montrose. "our people are very good about that and probably sadie martin's salary will continue regularly until she is able to work again." "well," said beth, drawing a long breath, "i suppose we shall read all about it in the morning papers." "oh, no!" exclaimed maud and added: "these accidents never get into the papers. they happen quite often, around los angeles, where ten thousand or more people make their living from motion pictures; but the public is protected from all knowledge of such disasters, which would detract from their pleasure in pictures and perhaps render all films unpopular." "i thought the dear public loved the dare-devil acts," remarked arthur weldon. "oh, it does," agreed mrs. montrose; "yet those who attend the picture theatres seem not to consider the action taking place before their eyes to be real. here are pictures only--a sort of amplified story book--and the spectators like them exciting; but if they stopped to reflect that men and women in the flesh were required to do these dangerous feats for their entertainment, many would be too horrified to enjoy the scenes. of course the makers of the pictures guard their actors in all possible ways; yet, even so, casualties are bound to occur." they had retired to a cosy corner of the public drawing room and were conversing on this interesting topic when they espied a. jones walking toward them. the youth was attired in immaculate evening dress, but his step was slow and dragging and his face pallid. arthur and uncle john drew up an easy chair for him while patsy performed the introductions to mrs. montrose and her nieces. very earnestly the boy grasped the hand of the young girl who had been chiefly responsible for his rescue, thanking her more by his manner than in his few carefully chosen words. as for maud, she smilingly belittled her effort, saying lightly: "i know i must not claim that it didn't amount to anything, for your life is valuable, mr. jones, i'm sure. but i had almost nothing to do beyond calling patsy doyle's attention to you and then swimming out to keep you afloat until help came. i'm a good swimmer, so it was not at all difficult." "moreover," he added, "you would have done the same thing for anyone in distress." "certainly." "i realize that. i am quite a stranger to you. nevertheless, my gratitude is your due and i hope you will accept it as the least tribute i can pay you. of all that throng of bathers, only you noticed my peril and came to my assistance." "fate!" whispered flo impressively. "nonsense," retorted her sister. "i happened to be the only one looking out to sea. i think, mr. jones, you owe us apologies more than gratitude, for your folly was responsible for the incident. you were altogether too venturesome. such action on this coast, where the surf rolls high and creates an undertow, is nothing less than foolhardy." "i'm sure you are right," he admitted. "i did not know this coast, and foolishly imagined the old pacific, in which i have sported and played since babyhood, was my friend wherever i found it." "i hope you are feeling better and stronger this evening," said mr. merrick. "we expected you to join us at dinner." "i--i seldom dine in public," he explained, flushing slightly. "my bill-of-fare is very limited, you know, owing to my--my condition; and so i carry my food-tablets around with me, wherever i go, and eat them in my own room." "food-tablets!" cried patsy, horrified. "yes. they are really wafers--very harmless--and i am permitted to eat nothing else." "no wonder your stomach is bad and you're a living skeleton!" asserted the girl, with scorn. "my dear," said uncle john, gently chiding her, "we must give mr. jones the credit for knowing what is best for him." "not me, sir!" protested the boy, in haste. "i'm very ignorant about--about health, and medicine and the like. but in new york i consulted a famous doctor, and he told me what to do." "that's right," nodded the old gentleman, who had never been ill in his life. "always take the advice of a doctor, listen to the advice of a lawyer, and refuse the advise of a banker. that's worldly wisdom." "were you ill when you left your home?" inquired mrs. montrose, looking at the young man with motherly sympathy. "not when i left the island," he said. "i was pretty well up to that time. but during the long ocean voyage i was terribly sick, and by the time we got to san francisco my stomach was a wreck. then i tried to eat the rich food at your restaurants and hotels--we live very plainly in sangoa, you know--and by the time i got to new york i was a confirmed dyspeptic and suffering tortures. everything i ate disagreed with me. so i went to a great specialist, who has invented these food tablets for cases just like mine, and he ordered me to eat nothing else." "and are you better?" asked maud. he hesitated. "sometimes i imagine i am. i do not suffer so much pain, but i--i seem to grow weaker all the time." "no wonder!" cried patsy. "if you starve yourself you can't grow strong." he looked at her with an expression of surprise. then he asked abruptly: "what would you advise me to do, miss doyle?" a chorus of laughter greeted this question. patsy flushed a trifle but covered her confusion by demanding: "would you follow my advice?" he made a little grimace. there was humor in the boy, despite his dyspepsia. "i understand there is a law forbidding suicide," he replied. "but i asked your advice in an attempt to discover what you thought of my absurd condition. now that you call my attention to it, i believe i _am_ starving myself. i need stronger and more nourishing food; and yet the best specialist in your progressive country has regulated my diet." "i don't believe much in specialists," asserted patsy. "if _you_ do, go ahead and kill yourself, in defiance of the law. according to common sense you ought to eat plenty of good, wholesome food, but you may be so disordered--in your interior--that even that would prove fatal. so i won't recommend it." "i'm doomed, either way," he said quietly. "i know that." "_how_ do you know it?" demanded maud in a tone of resentment. he was silent a moment. then he replied: "i cannot remember how we drifted into this very personal argument. it seems wrong for me to be talking about myself to those who are practically strangers, and you will realize how unused i am to the society of ladies by considering my rudeness in this interview." "pshaw!" exclaimed uncle john; "we are merely considering you as a friend. you must believe that we are really interested in you," he continued, laying a kindly hand on the young fellow's shoulder. "you seem in a bad way, it's true, but your condition is far from desperate. patsy's frankness--it's her one fault and her chief virtue--led you to talk about yourself, and i'm surprised to find you so despondent and--and--what do you call it, beth?" "pessimistic?" "that's it--pessimistic." "but you're wrong, sir!" said the boy with a smile; "i may not be elated over my fatal disease, but neither am i despondent. i force myself to keep going when i wonder how the miserable machine responds to my urging, and i shall keep it going, after a fashion, until the final breakdown. fate weaves the thread of our lives, i truly believe, and she didn't use very good material when she started mine. but that doesn't matter," he added quickly. "i'm trying to do a little good as i go along and not waste my opportunities. i'm obeying my doctor's orders and facing the future with all the philosophy i can summon. so now, if you--who have given me a new lease of life--think i can use it to any better advantage, i am willing to follow your counsel." his tone was more pathetic than his words. maud, as she looked at the boy and tried to realize that his days were numbered, felt her eyes fill with tears. patsy sniffed scornfully, but said nothing. it was beth who remarked with an air of unconcern that surprised those who knew her unsympathetic nature: "it would be presumptuous for us to interfere, either with fate or with nature. you're probably dead wrong about your condition, for a sick person has no judgment whatever, but i've noticed the mind has a good deal to do with one's health. if you firmly believe you're going to die, why, what can you expect?" no one cared to contradict this and a pause followed that was growing awkward when they were all aroused by the sound of hasty footsteps approaching their corner. chapter viii the magic of a name the newcomer proved to be goldstein, the manager of the continental. his face was frowning and severe as he rudely marched up to the group and, without the formality of a greeting, pointedly addressed the stanton girls. "what does it mean?" he demanded in evident excitement, for his voice shook and the accusing finger he held out trembled. "how does it happen that my people, under contract to work for the continental, are working for other firms?" maud paled and her eyes glistened with resentment as she rose and faced her manager. florence pulled her sister's sleeve and said with a forced laugh: "sit down, maud; the man has probably been drinking." he turned on the young girl fiercely, but now it was arthur weldon who seized the manager's arm and whirled him around. "sir, you are intruding," he said sternly. "if you have business with these ladies, choose the proper time and place to address them." "i have!" cried goldstein, blusteringly. "they have treated me shamefully--unprofessionally! they have played me a trick, and i've the right to demand why they are working for a rival firm while in my pay." mrs. montrose now arose and said with quiet dignity: "mr. goldstein, you are intruding, as mr. weldon says. but you have said so much to defame my nieces in the eyes of our friends, here assembled, that you must explain yourself more fully." the manager seemed astonished by his reception. he looked from one to another and said more mildly: "it is easy enough for _me_ to explain, but how can the stantons explain their conduct? they are under contract to act exclusively for the continental film company and i pay them a liberal salary. yet only yesterday, when i was kind enough to give them a holiday, they went down to the beach and posed for a picture for our rivals, the corona company!" "you are mistaken, sir!" retorted arthur. "the young ladies were in our company the entire afternoon and they did not pose for any picture whatever." "don't tell me!" cried goldstein. "i've just seen the picture down town. i was going by one of the theatres when i noticed a placard that read: 'sensational film by maud stanton, the queen of motion picture actresses, entitled "a gallant rescue!" first run to-night.' i went in and saw the picture--with my own eyes!--and i saw maud stanton in a sea scene, rescuing a man who was drowning. don't deny it, miss," he added, turning upon maud fiercely. "i saw it with my own eyes--not an hour ago!" after a moment's amazed silence his hearers broke into a chorus of laughter, led by flo, who was almost hysterical. even a. jones smiled indulgently upon the irate manager, who was now fairly bristling with indignation. "the corona people," remarked arthur weldon, "are quite enterprising. i did not know they had a camera-man at the beach yesterday, but he must have secured a very interesting picture. it was not posed, mr. goldstein, but taken from life." "it was maud stanton!" asserted, the manager. "yes; she and some others. a man was really drowning and the brave girl swam to his rescue, without a thought of posing." "i don't believe it!" cried the man rudely. here a. jones struggled to his feet. "it is true," he said. "i was the drowning man whom miss stanton saved." goldstein eyed him shrewdly. "perhaps you were," he admitted, "for the man in the picture was about your style of make-up. but how can you prove it was not a put-up job with the corona people? how do i know you are not all in the employ of the corona people?" "i give you my word." "pah! i don't know you." "i see you don't," returned the youth stiffly. "here is my card. perhaps you will recognize the name." he fumbled in his pocket, took out a card and handed it to the manager. goldstein looked at it, started, turned red and then white and began bobbing his head with absurd deference to the youth. "pardon, mr. jones--pardon!" he gasped. "i--i heard you were in our neighborhood, but i--i did not recognize you. i--i hope you will pardon me, mr. jones! i was angry at what i supposed was the treachery of an employee. you will--will--understand that, i am sure. it is my duty to protect the interests of the continental, you know, sir. but it's all right now, of course! isn't it all right now, mr. jones?" "you'd better go, goldstein," said the boy in a weary tone, and sat down again. the manager hesitated. then he bowed to maud stanton and to the others, murmuring: "all a mistake, you see; all a mistake. i--i beg everybody's pardon." with this he backed away, still bowing, and finally turned and beat a hasty retreat. but no one was noticing him especially. all eyes were regarding the boy with a new curiosity. "that goldstein is an ill-bred boor!" remarked uncle john in an annoyed tone. "i suppose," said maud, slowly, "he thought he was right in demanding an explanation. there is great rivalry between the various film manufacturers and it was rather mean of the corona to put my name on that placard." "it's wonderful!" exclaimed patsy. "how did they get the picture, do you suppose?" "they have camera-men everywhere, looking for some picture worth while." explained mrs. montrose. "if there's a fire, the chances are a camera-man is on the spot before the firemen arrive. if there's an accident, it is often caught by the camera before the victim realizes what has happened. perhaps a camera-man has been at the beach for weeks, waiting patiently for some tragedy to occur. anyway, he was on hand yesterday and quietly ran his film during the excitement of the rescue. he was in rare luck to get maud, because she is a favorite with the public; but it was not fair to connect her name with the picture, when they know she is employed by the continental." young jones rose from his chair with a gesture of weariness. "if you will excuse me," he said, "i will go to my room. our little conversation has given me much pleasure; i'm so alone in the world. perhaps you will allow me to join you again--some other time?" they hastened to assure him his presence would always be welcome. patsy even added, with her cheery smile, that they felt a certain proprietorship in him since they had dragged him from a watery grave. the boy showed, as he walked away, that he was not yet very steady on his feet, but whether the weakness was the result of his malady or his recent trying experience they could not determine. "what staggers me," said maud, looking after him, "is the effect his name had on goldstein, who has little respect or consideration for anyone. who do you suppose a. jones is?" "why, he has told us," replied louise. "he is an islander, on his first visit to this country." "he must be rather more than that," declared arthur. "do you remember what the manager said to him?" "yes," said beth. "he had heard that a. jones was in this neighborhood, but had never met him. a. jones was a person of sufficient importance to make the general manager of the continental film company tremble in his boots." "he really did tremble," asserted patsy, "and he was abject in his apologies." "showing," added flo stanton, "that goldstein is afraid of him." "i wonder why," said maud. "it is all very easy of solution," remarked arthur. "goldstein believes that jones is in the market to buy films. perhaps he's going to open a motion picture theatre on his island. so the manager didn't want to antagonize a good customer." "that's it," said uncle john, nodding approval. "there's no great mystery about young jones, i'm sure." chapter ix doctor patsy next morning uncle john and the weldons--including the precious baby--went for a ride into the mountains, while beth and patsy took their embroidery into a sunny corner of the hotel lobby. it was nearly ten o'clock when a. jones discovered the two girls and came tottering toward them. tottering is the right word; he fairly swayed as he made his way to the secluded corner. "i wish he'd use a cane," muttered beth in an undertone. "i have the feeling that he's liable to bump his nose any minute." patsy drew up a chair for him, although he endeavored to prevent her. "are you feeling better this morning?" she inquired. "i--i think so," he answered doubtfully. "i don't seem to get back my strength, you see." "were you stronger before your accident?" asked beth. "yes, indeed. i went swimming, you remember. but perhaps i was not strong enough to do that. i--i'm very careful of myself, yet i seem to grow weaker all the time." there was a brief silence, during which the girls plied their needles. "are you going to stay in this hotel?" demanded patsy, in her blunt way. "for a time, i think. it is very pleasant here," he said. "have you had breakfast?" "i took a food-tablet at daybreak." "huh!" a scornful exclamation. then she glanced at the open door of the dining-hall and laying aside her work she rose with a determined air and said: "come with me!" "where?" for answer she assisted him to rise. then she took his hand and marched him across the lobby to the dining room. he seemed astonished at this proceeding but made no resistance. seated at a small table she called a waitress and said: "bring a cup of chocolate, a soft-boiled egg and some toast." "pardon me, miss doyle," he said; "i thought you had breakfasted." "so i have," she replied. "the breakfast i've ordered is for you, and you're going to eat it if i have to ram it down your throat." "but--miss doyle!" "you've told us you are doomed. well, you're going to die with a full stomach." "but the doctor--" "bother the doctor! i'm your doctor, now, and i won't send in a bill, thank your stars." he looked at her with his sad little smile. "isn't this a rather high-handed proceeding, miss doyle?" "perhaps." "i haven't employed you as my physician, you know." "true. but you've deliberately put yourself in my power." "how?" "in the first place, you tagged us here to this hotel." "you don't mind, do you?" "not in the least. it's a public hostelry. in the second place, you confided to us your disease and your treatment of it--which was really none of our business." "i--i was wrong to do that. but you led me on and--i'm so lonely--and you all seemed so generous and sympathetic--that i--i--" "that you unwittingly posted us concerning your real trouble. do you realize what it is? you're a hypo--hypo--what do they call it?--hypochondriac!" "i am not!" "and your doctor--your famous specialist--is a fool." "oh, miss doyle!" "also you are a--a chump, to follow his fool advice. you don't need sympathy, mr. a. jones. what you need is a slapstick." "a--a--" "a slapstick. and that's what you're going to get if you don't obey orders." here the maid set down the breakfast, ranging the dishes invitingly before the invalid. his face had expressed all the emotions from amazement to terror during patsy's tirade and now he gazed from her firm, determined features to the eggs and toast, in an uncertain, helpless way that caused the girl a severe effort to curb a burst of laughter. "now, then," she said, "get busy. i'll fix your egg. do you want more sugar in your chocolate? taste it and see. and if you don't butter that toast before it gets cold it won't be fit to eat." he looked at her steadily now, again smiling. "you're not joking, miss doyle?" "i'm in dead earnest." "of course you realize this is the--the end?" "of your foolishness? i hope so. you used to eat like a sensible boy, didn't you?" "when i was well." "you're well now. your only need is sustaining, strengthening food. i came near ordering you a beefsteak, but i'll reserve that for lunch." he sipped the chocolate. "yes; it needs more sugar," he said quietly. "will you please butter my toast? it seems to me such a breakfast is worth months of suffering. how delicious this egg is! it was the fragrance of the egg and toast that conquered me. that, and--" "and one sensible, determined girl. don't look at me as if i were a murderess! i'm your best friend--a friend in need. and don't choke down your food. eat slowly. fletcherize--chew your food, you know. i know you're nearly famished, but you must gradually accustom yourself to a proper diet." he obeyed meekly. patsy's face was calm, but her heart beat fast, with a thrill of fear she could not repress. acting on impulse, as she had, the girl now began to consider that she was personally responsible for whatever result might follow this radical treatment for dyspepsia. had she been positive it _was_ dyspepsia, she would never have dared interfere with a doctor's orders; but she felt that the boy needed food and would die unless he had it. he might die from the effect of this unusual repast, in which case she would never forgive herself. meantime, the boy had cast aside all fear. he had protested, indeed, but his protests being overruled he accepted his food and its possible consequences with philosophic resignation and a growing satisfaction. patsy balked on the third slice of toast and took it away from him. she also denied him a second cup of chocolate. he leaned back in his chair with a sigh of content and said: "bless the hen that laid that egg! no dainty was ever more delicious. and now," he added, rising, "let us go and inquire the address of a good undertaker. i have made my will, and i'd like to be cremated--it's so much nicer than the old-fashioned burial, don't you think?" "i'll attend to all that, if you wish," she replied, trying to repress a shudder as she followed him from the room. "do you smoke?" "i used to, but the doctor forbade it; so i gave it up entirely." "go over to that stand and buy a cigar. then you may sit beside beth and me and smoke it." the girl did not wholly approve of smoking and had often chided uncle john and her father and arthur weldon for indulging in the habit; but this advice to young jones was given in desperation, because all the men of her family stoutly affirmed that a cigar after a meal assisted digestion. she resumed her former seat beside beth, and her cousin quickly read the anxiety on her face. "what did you do, patricia?" "i fed him." "did he really eat?" "like a starved cat." "hm-m-m," said beth. "what next, i wonder?" patsy wondered, too, the cold shivers chasing one another up and down her back. the boy was coming toward them, coolly puffing a cigar. he did not seem to totter quite so much as before, but he was glad to sink into an easy chair. "how do you feel?" asked beth, regarding him curiously. "like one of those criminals who are pampered with all the good things of life before being led to the scaffold." "any pains?" he shook his head. "not yet. i've asked the clerk, whenever i signal him, to send someone to carry me to my room. if i'm not able to say good-bye to you, please accept now my thanks for all your kindness to a stranger. you see, i'm not sure whether i'll have a sudden seizure or the pains will come on gradually." "what pains?" demanded patsy. "i can't explain them. don't you believe something is bound to happen?" he inquired, nervously removing the ash from his cigar. "to be sure. you're going to get well." he made no reply, but sat watching beth's nimble fingers. patsy was too excited to resume her embroidery. "i wonder if you are old enough to smoke?" remarked beth. "i'm over twenty-one." "indeed! we decided you were about eighteen." "i suppose i look younger than my age. at home, in sangoa, i am still regarded as a mere child. that is because i had no brothers and sisters, and my father never could realize that i was growing up. the people still call me--" he paused, in an embarrassed way, till patsy asked: "call you what?" "by my old childish name." both the girls were distinctly disappointed. but bluff patsy doyle would not be denied the satisfaction of her curiosity. within the last hour she had felt as if she had adopted this friendless boy, and some information concerning him was her due. "your name is a. jones?" she aid. "yes." "what does the 'a' stand for?" there! the question was out, at last. he hesitated, flushing read. then he replied slowly: "it stands for one of my father's peculiarities. i think i have told you how proud he was that we are direct descendants of john paul jones. 'john paul,'" he would often say, 'has ennobled the name of jones, so that to be a jones is to bear the proudest name known to mankind.' when i was born they were undecided what to name me. 'there is no hurry about it,' said my father; 'whatever we call him, he is a jones.' my mother must have been something of a humorist. she kept referring to her baby as 'a jones' until father caught the absurd idea of letting it go at that, and had me christened merely 'a. jones.'" "how delightful?" cried patsy, clapping her hands gleefully. "then 'a' doesn't stand for anything at all?" "oh, yes; it stands for _a_ jones," said the boy, making a wry face. "i think it is dreadful." "but what did they call you, afterward? what was the childish name you referred to?" "another of my mother's humorous fancies. she called me 'ajo,' and others quickly caught up the horrid nickname. it is merely a contraction of a. jones, and in sangoa i am called nothing else." "ajo," repeated beth, her sweet voice giving the title a pleasant sound. "in spanish it would be pronounced 'ah-ho.'" "but we are not spanish in sangoa." "what are your people?" "formerly all americans. the younger generation are, like myself i suppose, sangoans by birth. but there isn't a black or yellow or brown man on our island." "how many inhabitants has sangoa?" "about six hundred, all told." there was silence for a while. "any pains yet?" inquired beth. "not yet. but i'm feeling drowsy. with your permission i'll lie down and take a nap. i slept very little last night." he threw away his cigar, which he had smoked nearly to the end, and rising without assistance, bowed and walked away. "will he ever waken, i wonder?" said beth softly. "of course," declared patsy. "he has crossed the rubicon and is going to get well. i feel it in my bones!" "let us hope," responded beth, "that ajo also feels it in his bones, rather than in his stomach." chapter x still a mystery the day advanced to luncheon time and uncle john and the weldons came back from their mountain trip. hollywood is in the foothills and over the passes are superb automobile roads into the fruitful valleys of san fernando and la canada. "seen anything of the boy--a. jones?" inquired arthur. "yes; and perhaps we've seen the last of him," answered beth. "oh. has he gone?" "no one knows. patsy fed him and he went to sleep. what has happened since we cannot tell." the girls then related the experiences of the morning, at which both uncle john and arthur looked solemn and uncomfortable. but louise said calmly: "i think patsy was quite right. i wouldn't have dared such a thing myself, but i'm sure that boy needed a square meal more than anything. if he dies, that breakfast has merely hastened his end; but if he doesn't die it will do him good." "there's another possibility," remarked uncle john. "he may be suffering agonies with no one to help him." patsy's face was white as chalk. the last hour or two had brought her considerable anxiety and her uncle's horrible suggestion quite unnerved her. she stole away to the office and inquired the number of mr. jones' room. it was on the ground floor and easily reached by a passage. the girl tiptoed up to the door and putting her ear to the panel listened intently. a moment later a smile broke over her face; she chuckled delightedly and then turned and ran buck to her friends. "he's snoring like a walrus!" she cried triumphantly. "are you sure they are not groans?" asked arthur. "pah! can't i recognize a snore when i hear it? and i'll bet it's the first sound sleep he's had in a month." mr. merrick and arthur went to the door of the boy's room to satisfy themselves that patsy was not mistaken, and the regularity of the sounds quickly convinced them the girl was right. so they had a merry party at luncheon, calling patsy "doctor" with grave deference and telling her she had probably saved the life of a. jones for a second time. "and now," proposed uncle john, when the repast was over, "let us drive down to the sea and have a look at that beautiful launch that came in yesterday. everyone is talking about it and they say it belongs to some foreign prince." so they motored to santa monica and spent the afternoon on the sands, watching the bathers and admiring the graceful outlines of the big yacht lying at anchor a half mile from the shore. the boat was something of a mystery to everybody. it was named the "arabella" and had come from hawaii via san francisco; but what it was doing here and who the owner might be were questions no one seemed able to answer. rumor had it that a japanese prince had come in it to inspect the coast line, but newspaper reporters were forbidden to scale the side and no satisfaction was given their eager questioning by the bluff old captain who commanded the craft. so the girls snapped a few kodak pictures of the handsome yacht and then lost interest in it. that evening they met mrs. montrose and the stanton girls at dinner and told them about the boy, who still remained invisible. uncle john had listened at his door again, but the snores had ceased and a deathlike silence seemed to pervade the apartment. this rendered them all a trifle uneasy and when they left the dining room arthur went to the hotel clerk and asked: "have you seen mr. jones this evening?" "no," was the reply. "do you know him?" "very slightly." "well, he's the queerest guest we've ever had. the first day he ate nothing at all. this morning i hear he had a late breakfast. wasn't around to lunch, but a little while ago we sent a meal to his room that would surprise you." "indeed!" "yes. a strange order it was! broiled mushrooms, pancakes with maple syrup and ice cream. how is that for a mix-up--and at dinner time, too!" said the clerk, disgustedly. arthur went back and reported. "all right," said patsy, much relieved. "we've got him started and now he can take care of himself. come, uncle; let's all go down town and see the picture that drove mr. goldstein crazy." "he was very decent to us to-day," asserted flo stanton. "did he ask any explanation about maud's appearing in the picture of a rival company?" inquired arthur. "no, not a word." "did he mention mr. jones, who conquered him so mysteriously?" asked beth. "not at all. goldstein confined himself strictly to business; but he treated us with unusual courtesy," explained maud. they were curious to see the films of the rescue, and the entire party rode to the down-town theatre where the corona picture was being run. outside the entrance they found the audacious placard, worded just as goldstein had reported, and they all agreed it was a mean trick to claim another firm's star as their own. "i do not think the corona company is responsible for this announcement," said uncle john. "it is probably an idea of the theatre proprietor, who hoped to attract big business in that way." "he has succeeded," grumbled arthur, as he took his place at the end of a long line of ticket buyers. the picture, as it flashed on the screen, positively thrilled them. first was shown the crowd of merry bathers, with patsy and maud standing in the water a little apart from the others. then the boy--far out beyond the rest--threw up his arms, struggling desperately. maud swam swiftly toward him, patsy making for the shore. the launching of the boat, the race to rescue, maud's effort to keep the drowning one afloat, and the return to the shore, where an excited crowd surrounded them--all was clearly shown in the picture. now they had the advantage of observing the expressions on the faces of the bathers when they discovered a tragedy was being enacted in their midst. the photographs were so full of action that the participants now looked upon their adventure in a new light and regarded it far more seriously than before. the picture concluded with the scene where uncle john lifted the body into the automobile and dashed away with it to the hospital. maud stanton, used as she was to seeing herself in motion pictures, was even more impressed than the others when observing her own actions at a time when she was wholly unconscious that a camera-man had his lens focused upon her. "it's a great picture!" whispered flo, as they made their way out of the crowded theatre. "why can't all our films be as natural and absorbing as this one?" "because," said her sister, "in this case there is no acting. the picture carries conviction with a force that no carefully rehearsed scene could ever accomplish." "that is true," agreed her aunt jane. "the nature scenes are the best, after all." "the most unsatisfactory pictures i have ever seen," remarked uncle john, "were those of prominent men, and foreign kings, and the like, who stop before the camera and bow as awkwardly as a camel. they know they are posing, and in spite of their public experience they're as bashful as schoolboys or as arrogant as policemen, according to their personal characteristics." "did you notice the mob of children in that theatre?" asked patsy, as they proceeded homeward. "i wish there were more pictures made that are suitable to their understandings." "they enjoy anything in the way of a picture," said arthur. "it isn't necessary to cater to children; they'll go anyhow, whatever is shown." "that may be, to an extent, true," said beth. "children are fascinated by any sort of motion pictures, but a lot of them must be wholly incomprehensible to the child mind. i agree with patsy that the little ones ought to have their own theatres and their own pictures." "that will come, in time," prophesied aunt jane. "already the film makers are recognizing the value of the children's patronage and are trying to find subjects that especially appeal to them." they reached the hotel soon after ten o'clock and found "ajo" seated in the lobby. he appeared much brighter and stronger than the day before and rose to greet patsy with a smile that had lost much of its former sad expression. "congratulate me, dr. doyle," said he. "i'm still alive, and--thanks to your prescription--going as well as could be expected." "i'm glad i did the right thing," she replied; "but we were all a little worried for fear i'd make a mistake." "i have just thrown away about a thousand of those food-tablets," he informed her with an air of pride. "i am positive there is no substitute for real food, whatever the specialists may say. in fact," he continued more soberly, "i believe you have rescued me a second time from certain death, for now i have acquired a new hope and have made up my mind to get well." "be careful not to overdo it," cautioned uncle john. "you ordered a queer supper, we hear." "but it seemed to agree with me. i've had a delightful sleep--the first sound sleep in a month--and already i feel like a new man. i waited up to tell you this, hoping you would be interested." "we are!" exclaimed patsy, who felt both pride and pleasure. "this evening we have been to see the motion picture of your rescue from drowning." "oh. how did you like it?" "it's a splendid picture. i'm not sure it will interest others as much as ourselves, yet the people present seemed to like it." "well it was their last chance to observe my desperate peril and my heroic rescue," said the boy. "the picture will not be shown after to-night." "why not?" they asked, in surprise. "i bought the thing this afternoon. it didn't seem to me quite modest to exploit our little adventure in public." this was a new phase of the strange boy's character and the girls did not know whether to approve it or not. "it must have cost you something!" remarked flo, the irrepressible. "besides, how could you do it while you were asleep?" "why, i wakened long enough to use the telephone," he replied with a smile. "there are more wonderful inventions in the world than motion pictures, you know." "but you like motion pictures, don't you?" asked maud, wondering why he had suppressed the film in question. "very much. in fact, i am more interested in them than in anything else, not excepting the telephone--which makes aladdin's lamp look like a firefly in the sunshine." "i suppose," said flo, staring into his face with curious interest, "that you will introduce motion pictures into your island of sangoa, when you return?" "i suppose so," he answered, a little absently. "i had not considered that seriously, as yet, but my people would appreciate such a treat, i'm sure." this speech seemed to destroy, in a manner, their shrewd conjecture that he was in america to purchase large quantities of films. why, then, should goldstein have paid such abject deference to this unknown islander? in his own room, after the party had separated for the night, mr. merrick remarked to arthur weldon as they sat smoking their cigars: "young jones is evidently possessed of some means." "so it seems," replied arthur. "perhaps his father, the scientific recluse, had accumulated some money, and the boy came to america to get rid of it. he will be extravagant and wasteful for awhile, and then go back to his island with the idea that he has seen the world." uncle john nodded. "he is a rather clean-cut young fellow," said he, "and the chances are he won't become dissipated, even though he loses his money through lack of worldly knowledge or business experience. a boy brought up and educated on an island can't be expected to prove very shrewd, and whatever the extent of his fortune it is liable to melt like snow in the sunshine." "after all," returned arthur, "this experience won't hurt him. he will still have his island to return to." they smoked for a time in silence. "has it ever occurred to you, sir," said arthur, "that the story jones has related to us, meager though it is, bears somewhat the stamp of a fairy tale?" uncle john removed his cigar and looked reflectively at the ash. "you mean that the boy is not what he seems?" "scarcely that, sir. he seems like a good boy, in the main. but his story is--such as one might invent if he were loath to tell the truth." uncle john struck a match and relit his cigar. "i believe in a. jones, and i see no reason to doubt his story," he asserted. "if real life was not full of romance and surprises, the novelists would be unable to interest us in their books." chapter xi a damsel in distress the day had not started auspiciously for the stanton sisters. soon after they arrived at the continental film company's plant maud had wrenched her ankle by stumbling over some loose planks which had been carelessly left on the open-air stage, and she was now lying upon a sofa in the manager's room with her limb bandaged and soaked with liniment. flo was having troubles, too. a girl who had been selected by the producer to fall from an aeroplane in mid-air had sent word she was ill and could not work to-day, and the producer had ordered flo to prepare for the part. indignantly she sought the manager, to file a protest, and while she waited in the anteroom for an audience, mr. a. jones of sangoa came in and greeted her with a bow and a smile. "good gracious! where did _you_ come from?" she inquired. "my hotel. i've just driven over to see goldstein," he replied. "you'll have to wait, i'm afraid," she warned him. "the manager is busy just now. i've been wiggling on this bench half an hour, and haven't seen him yet--and my business is very important." "so is mine, miss flo," he rejoined, looking at her with an odd expression. then, as a stenographer came hurrying from the inner room, he stopped the girl and said: "please take my card to mr. goldstein." "oh, he won't see anybody now, for he's busy talking with one of our producers. you'll have to call again," she said flippantly. but even as she spoke she glanced at the card, started and turned red. "oh, pardon me!" she added hastily and fled back to the managerial sanctum. "that's funny!" muttered flo, half to herself. "yes," he said, laughing, "my cards are charged with electricity, and they're bound to galvanize anyone in this establishment. come in, miss flo," he added, as goldstein rushed out of his office to greet the boy effusively; "your business takes precedence to mine, you know." the manager ushered them into his office, a big room with a busy aspect. at one end were two or three girls industriously thumping typewriters; mcneil, the producer, was sorting manuscript on goldstein's own desk; a young man who served as the manager's private secretary was poring over a voluminous record-book, wherein were listed all the films ever made by the manufacturers of the world. on a sofa in a far corner reclined the injured "star" of the company, maud stanton, who--being half asleep at the moment--did not notice the entrance of her sister and young jones. "sit down, mr. jones; pray sit down!" exclaimed goldstein eagerly, pointing to his own chair. "would you like me to clear the room, so that our conversation may be private?" "not yet," replied the boy, refusing the seat of honor and taking a vacant chair. "miss stanton has precedence, and i believe she wishes to speak with you." goldstein took his seat at the desk and cast an inquiring glance at flo. "well?" he demanded, impatiently. "mr. werner has ordered me to do the airship stunt for his picture, because nance holden isn't here to-day," began the girl. "well, why annoy me with such trifles? werner knows what he wants, and you'll do as well as the holden girl." "but i don't want to tumble out of that airship," she protested. "there's no danger. life nets will be spread underneath the aeroplane," said the manager. "the camera merely catches you as you are falling, so the thing won't be more than twenty or thirty feet from the ground. now run away and don't bother. i must speak with mr. jones." "but i'm afraid, mr. goldstein!" pleaded the girl. "i don't want to go up in the aeroplane, and these stunts are not in my line, or what i was engaged to do." "you'll do what i tell you!" asserted the manager, with marked irritation. "i won't stand for any rebellion among my actors, and you'll do as werner orders or you'll forfeit your week's pay." here maud half rose from her sofa to address her employer. "please, mr. goldstein," she said, "don't make flo do that fall. there are plenty of other girls to take her place, and she--" "silence, miss stanton!" roared the manager. "you'll disrupt all discipline if you interfere. a nice time we'd have here, if we allowed our actors to choose their own parts! i insist that your sister obey my producer's orders." "quite right, goldstein," remarked young jones, in his quiet voice. "you've carried your point and maintained discipline. i like that. miss flo stanton will do exactly what you request her to do. but you're going to change your mind and think better of her protest. i'm almost sure, goldstein, from the expression of your face, that you intend to issue prompt orders that another girl must take her place." goldstein looked at him steadily a moment and the arrogant expression changed to one of meek subservience. "to be sure!" he muttered. "you have read my mind accurately, mr. jones. here, judd," to his secretary, "find werner and tell him i don't approve his choice of flo stanton as a substitute for nance holden. let's see; tell him to put that moore girl in her place." the young fellow bowed and left the room. mcneil smiled slyly to himself as he bent over his manuscript. jones had gone to maud's side to inquire anxiously after her injury. "i don't imagine it will amount to much," she said reassuringly. "mr. goldstein wants me to rest quietly until this afternoon, when our new photo-play is to be produced. i'm to do the leading part, you know, and he thinks i'll be able by that time to get through all right." goldstein overheard this and came toward them, rubbing his hands together nervously. "that seems unwise, miss maud," objected jones. "to use your foot so soon might make it much worse. let us postpone the play until some other time." goldstein's face was a study. his body twitched spasmodically. "oh, mr. jones!" he exclaimed; "that's impossible; it wouldn't do at all! we've been rehearsing this play and preparing for its production for the last two weeks, and to-day all our actors and assistants are here and ready to make the picture. i've already postponed it four hours--until this afternoon--to favor miss stanton, but, really--" "never mind the details," interrupted the boy. "i do not consider miss stanton able to do her work to-day. send her back to her hotel at once and order the play postponed until she is able to attend." goldstein was greatly disturbed by this order, issued quietly but in a tone of command that brooked no opposition. again he glanced shrewdly at the young man, and in the manager's face astonishment and fear were intermingled. "sir," he said in repressed tones, for he was really angry and had been accustomed to wield the power of an autocrat in this establishment, "you are placing me in an embarrassing position. i am expected to make every day count, so that the continental may pay a liberal profit to its owners. to follow your instructions would burden us with an enormous expense, quite useless, i assure you, and--" "very well. incur the expense, goldstein." "all right, mr. jones. excuse me a moment while i issue instructions for the postponement." mcneil rose and faced the manager. "are you really going to postpone this important play?" he demanded, in a voice of wonder. goldstein was glad to vent his chagrin on the producer. "no insolence, sir!" he roared. "come with me, and," as he dragged mcneil to the door and paused there, "if you dare lisp a word of what you've overheard, i'll fire you like a shot!" when they had left the room maud said with a puzzled air: "i can't understand your power over goldstein, mr. jones. he is a dictator--almost a tyrant--and in this place his word is law. at least, it was until you came, and--and--" "don't try to understand it, miss stanton," he answered in a careless manner. "do you think you can manage to crawl to the automobile, or shall we carry you?" "i'll bet goldstein has murdered someone, and mr. jones knows all about it!" exclaimed flo, who had been an interested witness of the scene. maud stood up, with her sister's support, and tested her lame ankle. "it still hurts a little," she said, "but i can manage to hobble on it." "get your sister's wraps," the boy said to flo, "and we'll send her straight home." "i expect goldstein will dock my salary, as well as fine flo," remarked maud musingly, as she waited for her hat and coat. "he obeyed you very meekly, mr. jones, but i could see a wicked glitter in his eye, nevertheless." "i am sure the manager will neither dock nor fine either of you," he replied reassuringly. "on the contrary, you might sue the company for damages, for leaving that lumber where you would fall over it." "oh, no," she returned, laughing at the idea. "we have signed contracts waiving any damages for injuries sustained while at work on the premises. we all have to do that, you know, because the business is hazardous at its best. on the other hand, mr. goldstein has a physician and surgeon always within call, in case of accident, and the service is quite free to all the employees." he nodded. "i know. but the fact that you signed such a contract, under compulsion, would not prevent the court from awarding damages, if you sustained them while on duty." "this hurt is nothing of importance," she said hastily. "in a day or two i shall be able to walk as well as ever." flo came running back with maud's things. aunt jane followed, saying that if maud was to go to the hotel she would accompany her and take care of her. "i've examined the ankle," she said to young jones, "and i assure you it is not a severe strain. but it is true that she will be better off in her own room, where she can rest quietly. so i will go with her." "how about miss flo?" asked the boy. "flo is very self-reliant and will get along to-day very nicely without me," replied mrs. montrose. mr. goldstein entered, frowning and still resenting the interference of this mr. a. jones of sangoa. but he ventured no further protest nor did he speak until maud, flo and aunt jane had all left the room. "you're not going, mr. jones?" he asked. "only to see miss stanton started for home. then i'll come back and have a little talk with you." "thank you, sir." chapter xii pictures, girls and nonsense "well, aunt jane," said maud stanton, when their car was rolling toward the hotel and the girl had related the remarkable interview in the office, "what do you think of ajo now?" "he is certainly an amazing young man," was the reply. "i cannot in any way figure out his connection with goldstein, or his power over the man. the continental film manufacturing company is a great corporation, with headquarters in new york, and mr. goldstein is the authorized head and manager of the concern on the pacific coast. i understand his salary is ten thousand a year. on the other hand, young jones has only been in this country for a year, coming from an insignificant island somewhere in the south seas, where he was born and reared. much of the time since he arrived in america he has been an invalid. aside from this meager information, no one seems to know anything about him." "putting the case that way makes it all the more remarkable," observed maud. "a big, experienced, important man, cowed by a mere boy. when goldstein first met this callow, sallow youth, he trembled before him. when the boy enters the office of the great film company he dictates to the manager, who meekly obeys him. remember, too, that a. jones, by his interference, has caused a direct loss to the company, which goldstein will have to explain, as best he may, in his weekly report to the new york office. a more astonishing state of affairs could not be imagined, aunt jane!" "the puzzle will solve itself presently," said the lady. "abnormal conditions seldom last long." maud passed the day in bed, quietly reading a book. her injury was really slight and with rest it mended rapidly. patsy and beth came in to see her and in the conversation that ensued the girls were told of the latest mystery surrounding a. jones. "it is surely queer!" admitted miss doyle, impressed and thoughtful. "uncle john and arthur were saying this noon, at lunch, that ajo was a helpless sort of individual and easily influenced by others--as witness his caving in to me when i opposed his doctor's treatment. arthur thinks he has come to this country to squander what little money his father left him and that his public career outside the limits of his little island will be brief. yet according to your story the boy is no weakling but has power and knows how to use it." "he surely laid down the law to goldstein," said maud. "he is very young," remarked beth, ignoring the fact that she was herself no older, "and perhaps that is why we attach so much importance to his actions. a grown-up man is seldom astonishing, however eccentric he may prove to be. in a boy we expect only boyishness, and young jones has interested us because he is unique." after a little the conversation drifted to motion pictures, for both patsy and beth were eager to learn all about the business details of film making, which maud, by reason of her months of experience, was able to explain to them in a comprehensive manner. flo came home toward evening, but had little more to tell them, as the day had passed very quietly at the "studio." jones had remained closeted with the manager for a full hour, and it was remarked that after he had gone away goldstein was somewhat subdued and performed his duties less aggressively than usual. maud's visitors now left her to dress for dinner, at which meal she was able to rejoin them, walking with a slight limp but otherwise recovered from her accident. to their surprise, young jones appeared as they were entering the dining room and begged for a seat at their table. uncle john at once ordered another place laid at the big round table, which accommodated the company of nine very nicely. ajo sat between patsy and maud and although he selected his dishes with some care he partook of all the courses from soup to dessert. the morning interview with goldstein was not mentioned. ajo inquired about maud's hurt but then changed the subject and conversed upon nearly everything but motion pictures. however, after they had repaired to the hotel lobby and were seated together in a cosy, informal group, patsy broached a project very near to her heart. "beth and i," said she, "have decided to build a children's picture theatre." "where?" asked uncle john, rather startled by the proposition. "here, or in los angeles," was the reply. "you see," explained beth, "there is a crying need for a place where children may go and see pictures that appeal especially to them and are, at the same time, quite proper for them to witness. a great educational field is to be opened by this venture, and patsy and i would enjoy the work of creating the first picture theatre, exclusively for children, ever established in america." "you may say, 'in the world,'" added arthur. "i like this idea of yours, girls, and i hope you will carry it out." "oh, they'll carry it out, all right," remarked uncle john. "i've been expecting something of this sort, ever since we came here. my girls, mr. jones," he said, turning to the young man, "are always doing some quaint thing, or indulging in some queer enterprise, for they're a restless lot. before louise married, she was usually in these skirmishes with fate, but now--" "oh, i shall join patsy and beth, of course," asserted louise. "it will make it easier for all, to divide the expense between us, and i am as much interested in pictures as they are." "perhaps," said patsy musingly, "we might build two theatres, in different parts of the city. there are so many children to be amused. and we intend to make the admission price five cents." "have you any idea what it costs to build one of these picture theatres?" asked arthur. "we're not going to build one of 'these' theatres," retorted patsy. "many of the dens i've been in cost scarcely anything, being mere shelters. the city is strewn with a lot of miserable, stuffy theatres that no one can enjoy sitting in, even to see a good picture. we have talked this over and decided to erect a new style of building, roomy and sanitary, with cushioned seats and plenty of broad aisles. there are one or two of this class already in los angeles, but we want to make our children's theatres a little better than the best." "and the expense?" "well, it will cost money, of course. but it will be a great delight to the children--bless their little hearts!" "this is really a business enterprise," added beth gravely. uncle john chuckled with amusement. "have you figured out the profits?" he inquired. "it really ought to pay, uncle," declared patsy, somewhat nettled by this flaccid reception of her pet scheme. "all the children will insist on being taken to a place like that, for we shall show just the pictures they love to see. and, allowing there is no money to be made from the venture, think of the joy we shall give to innumerable little ones!" "go ahead, my dears," said uncle john, smiling approval. "and, if you girls find you haven't enough money to carry out your plans, come to me." "oh, thank you, uncle!" exclaimed beth. "but i feel sure we can manage the cost ourselves. we will build one of the theatres first, and if that is a success we will build others." "but about those films, made especially for children," remarked arthur. "where will you get them?" "why, there are lots of firms making films," replied patsy. "we can select from all that are made the ones most suitable for our purpose." "i fear you cannot do that," said mrs. montrose, who had listened with wonder to this conversation. "there are three combinations, or 'trusts,' among the film makers, which are known as the licensed, the mutual and the independents. if you purchase from one of these trusts, you cannot get films from the others, for that is their edict. therefore you will have only about one-third of the films made to select from." "i thought money would buy anything--in the way of merchandise," said louise, half laughing and half indignant. "not from these film dictators," was the reply. "they all make a few children's pictures," announced maud stanton. "even the continental turns out one occasionally. but there are not nearly enough, taken all together, to supply an exclusive children's theatre." "then we will have some made," declared patsy. "we will order some fairy tales, such as the children like. they would be splendid in motion pictures." "some have already been made and exhibited," said mrs. montrose. "the various manufacturers have made films of the fairy tales of hans andersen, frank baum, lewis carroll and other well-known writers." "and were they successful?" "quite so, i believe; but such films are seldom put out except at holiday time." "i think, beth," said patsy to her cousin, in a businesslike tone, "that we must organize a company and make our own films. then we can get exactly what we want." "oh, yes!" replied beth, delighted with the suggestion. "and let us get maud and flo to act in our pictures. won't it be exciting?" "pardon me, young ladies," said a. jones, speaking for the first time since this subject had been broached. "would it not be wise to consider the expense of making films, before you undertake it?" patsy looked at him inquiringly. "do you know what the things cost?" she asked. "i've some idea," said he. "feature films of fairy tales, such as you propose, cost at least two thousand dollars each to produce. you would need about three for each performance, and you will have to change your programmes at least once a week. that would mean an outlay of not less than six thousand dollars a week, which is doubtless more money than your five-cent theatre could take in." this argument staggered the girls for a moment. then beth asked: "how do the ordinary theatres manage?" "the ordinary theatre simply rents its pictures, paying about three hundred dollars a week for the service. there is a 'middleman,' called the 'exchange,' whose business is to buy the films from the makers and rent them to the theatres. he pays a big price for a film, but is able to rent it to dozens of theatres, by turns, and by this method he not only gets back the money he has expended but makes a liberal profit." "well," said patsy, not to be baffled, "we could sell several copies of our films to these middlemen, and so reduce the expense of making them for our use." "the middleman won't buy them," asserted jones. "he is the thrall of one or the other of the trusts, and buys only trust pictures." "i see," said uncle john, catching the idea; "it's a scheme to destroy competition." "exactly," replied young jones. "what does the continental do, maud?" asked patsy. "i don't know," answered the girl; "but perhaps aunt jane can tell you." "i believe the continental is a sort of trust within itself," explained mrs. montrose. "since we have been connected with the company i have learned more or less of its methods. it employs a dozen or so producing companies and makes three or four pictures every week. the concern has its own exchange, or middleman, who rents only continental films to the theatres that patronize him." "well, we might do the same thing," proposed patsy, who was loath to abandon her plan. "you might, if you have the capital," assented mrs. montrose. "the continental is an immense corporation, and i am told it has more than a million dollars invested." "two millions," said a. jones. the girls were silent a while, seriously considering this startling assertion. they had, between them, considerable money, but they realized they could not enter a field that required such an enormous investment as film making. "i suppose," said beth regretfully, "we shall have to give up making films." "then where are we to get the proper pictures for our theatre?" demanded patsy. "it is quite evident we _can't_ get them," said louise. "therefore we may be obliged to abandon the theatre proposition." another silence, still more grave. uncle john was discreet enough to say nothing. the stantons and mrs. montrose felt it was not their affair. arthur weldon was slyly enjoying the chagrin visible upon the faces of mr. merrick's three pretty nieces. as for a. jones, he was industriously figuring upon the back of an envelope with a stubby bit of pencil. chapter xiii a foolish boy it was the youthful sangoan who first broke the silence. glancing at the figures he had made he said: "it is estimated that if twenty picture theatres use any one film--copies of it, of course--that film will pay for its cost of making. therefore, if you build twenty children's theatres, instead of the one or two you originally proposed, you would be able to manufacture your own films and they would be no expense to you." they gazed at him in bewilderment. "that is all simple enough!" laughed arthur. "twenty picture theatres at twenty thousand dollars each--a low estimate, my dears, for such as you require--would mean an investment of four hundred thousand dollars. a film factory, with several producing companies to keep it busy, and all the necessary paraphernalia of costumes and properties, would mean a million or so more. say a million and a half, all told. why, it's a mere bagatelle!" "arthur!" severely, from louise. "i advise you girls to economize in other ways and devote your resources to this business, which might pay you--and might not," he continued, oblivious to stony glares. "really, mr. jones," said beth, pouting, "we were not joking, but in real earnest." "have i questioned it, miss de graf?" "mr. jones was merely trying to show you how--er--er--how impractical your idea was," explained uncle john mildly. "no; i am in earnest, too," said the boy. "to prove it, i will agree to establish a plant and make the pictures, if the young ladies will build the twenty theatres to show them in." here was another suggestion of a bewildering nature. extravagant as the offer seemed, the boy was very serious. he blushed a little as he observed mr. merrick eyeing him earnestly, and continued in an embarrassed, halting way: "i--i assure you, sir, that i am able to fulfill my part of the agreement. also i would like to do it. it would serve to interest me and keep me occupied in ways that are not wholly selfish. my--my other business does not demand my personal attention, you see." to hear this weak, sickly youth speak of investing a million dollars in a doubtful enterprise, in spite of the fact that he lived on a far-away island and was a practical stranger in america, set them all to speculating anew in regard to his history and condition in life. seeing that the boy had himself made an opening for a logical query, uncle john asked: "do you mind telling us what this other business is, to which you refer?" a. jones moved uneasily in his chair. then he glanced quickly around the circle and found every eye regarding him with eager curiosity. he blushed again, a deep red this time, but an instant later straightened up and spoke in a tone of sudden resolve. "most people dislike to speak of themselves," he said, "and i am no exception. but you, who have kindly received me as a friend, after having generously saved me from an untimely death, have surely the right to know something about me--if, indeed, the subject interests you." "it is but natural that we should feel an interest in you, mr. jones," replied mr. merrick; "yet i assure you we have no desire to pry into your personal affairs. you have already volunteered a general statement of your antecedents and the object of your visit to america, and that, i assure you, will suffice us. pardon me for asking an impertinent question." the boy seemed perplexed, now. "i did not consider it impertinent, sir. i made a business proposal to your nieces," he said, "and before they could accept such a proposal they would be entitled to know something of my financial standing." for a green, inexperienced youth, he spoke with rare acumen, thought mr. merrick; but the old gentleman had now determined to shield the boy from a forced declaration of his finances, so he said: "my nieces can hardly afford to accept your proposition. they are really able to build one or two theatres without inconveniencing themselves, but twenty would be beyond their means. you, of course, understand they were not seeking an investment, but trying, with all their hearts, to benefit the children. i thoroughly approve their original idea, but if it requires twenty picture theatres to render it practical, they will abandon the notion at once." jones nodded absently, his eyes half closed in thought. after a brief pause he replied: "i hate to see this idea abandoned at the very moment of its birth. it's a good idea, and in no way impractical, in my opinion. so permit me to make another proposition. i will build the twenty theatres myself, and furnish the films for them, provided the young ladies will agree to assume the entire management of them when they are completed." dead silence followed this speech. the girls did some rapid-fire mental calculations and realized that this young man was proposing to invest something like fourteen hundred thousand dollars, in order that they might carry out their philanthropic conception. why should he do this, even if he could afford it? both mr. merrick and arthur weldon were staring stolidly at the floor. their attitudes expressed, for the first time, doubt--if not positive unbelief. as men of considerable financial experience, they regarded the young islander's proposition as an impossible one. jones noted this blank reception of his offer and glanced appealingly at patsy. it was an uncomfortable moment for the girl and to avoid meeting his eyes she looked away, across the lobby. a few paces distant stood a man who leaned against a table and held a newspaper before his face. patsy knew, however, that he was not reading. a pair of dark, glistening eyes peered over the top of the paper and were steadfastly fixed upon the unconscious features of young jones. something in the attitude of the stranger, whom she had never seen before, something in the rigid pose, the intent gaze--indicating both alertness and repression--riveted the girl's attention at once and gave her a distinct shock of uneasiness. "i wish," said the boy, in his quiet, firm way, yet with much deference in his manner and tone, "that you young ladies would consider my offer seriously, and take proper time to reach a decision. i am absolutely in earnest. i want to join you in your attempt to give pleasure to children, and i am willing and--and able--to furnish the funds required. without your cooperation, however, i could do nothing, and my health is such that i wish to leave the management of the theatres entirely in your hands, as well as all the details of their construction." "we will consider it, of course, mr. jones," answered beth gravely. "we are a little startled just now, as you see; but when we grow accustomed to the immensity of the scheme--our baby, which you have transformed into a giant--we shall be able to consider it calmly and critically, and decide if we are competent to undertake the management of so many theatres." "thank you. then, i think, i will excuse myself for this evening and return to my room. i'm improving famously, under dr. doyle's instructions, but am not yet a rugged example of health." patsy took his hand at parting, as did the others, but her attention was divided between ajo and the strange man who had never for a moment ceased watching him. not once did the dark eyes waver, but followed each motion of the boy as he sauntered to the desk, got his key from the clerk, and then proceeded to his room, turning up one of the corridors on the main floor. the stranger now laid his newspaper on the table and disclosed his entire face for the first time. a middle-aged man, he seemed to be, with iron-gray hair and a smoothly shaven, rather handsome face. from his dress he appeared to be a prosperous business man and it was evident that he was a guest of the hotel, for he wandered through the lobby--in which many other guests were grouped, some chatting and others playing "bridge"--and presently disappeared down the corridor traversed by young jones. patsy drew a deep breath, but said nothing to the others, who, when relieved of the boy's presence, began to discuss volubly his singular proposal. "the fellow is crazy," commented arthur. "twenty picture theatres, with a film factory to supply them, is a big order even for a multi-millionaire--and i can't imagine this boy coming under that head." "he seemed in earnest," said maud, musingly. "what do you think, aunt jane?" "i am greatly perplexed," admitted mrs. montrose. "had i not known of the conquest of goldstein by this boy, who issued orders which the manager of the continental meekly obeyed, i would have laughed at his proposition. as it is, i'm afraid to state that he won't carry out his plan to the letter of the agreement." "would it not be a rash investment, ma'am?" inquired uncle john. "frankly, i do not know. while all the film makers evade any attempt to discover how prosperous--financially--they are, we know that without exception they have grown very wealthy. i am wondering if this young jones is not one of the owners of the continental--a large stockholder, perhaps. if so, that not only accounts for his influence with goldstein, but it proves him able to finance this remarkable enterprise. he doubtless knows what he is undertaking, for his figures, while not accurate, were logical." "of course!" cried patsy. "that explains everything." "still," said uncle john cautiously, "this is merely surmise on our part, and before accepting it we must reconcile it with the incongruities in the case. it is possible that the elder jones owned an interest in the continental and bequeathed it to his son. but is it probable? remember, he was an islander, and a recluse." "more likely," said beth, "ajo's father left him a great fortune, which the boy invested in the continental stock." "i have been told," remarked aunt jane thoughtfully, "that continental stock cannot be bought at any price. it pays such enormous dividends that no owner will dispose of it." "the whole thing is perplexing in the extreme," declared arthur. "the boy tells a story that at first seems frank and straightforward, yet his statements do not dovetail, so to speak." "i think he is holding something back," said beth; "something that would explain all the discrepancies in his story. you were wrong, uncle john, not to let him speak when he offered to tell you all." "there was something in his manner that made me revolt from forcing his confidence," was the reply. "there was something in his manner that made me think he was about to concoct a story that would satisfy our curiosity," said louise with a shrug. uncle john looked around the circle of faces. "you are not questioning the young fellow's sincerity, i hope?" said he. "i don't, for a single second!" asserted patsy, stoutly. "he may have a queer history, and he may not have told us all of it, but ajo is honest. i'll vouch for him!" "so will i, my dear," said uncle john. "that is more than i can do, just at present," arthur frankly stated. "my opinion is that his preposterous offer is mere bluff. if you accepted it, you would find him unable to do his part." "then what is his object?" asked maud. "i can't figure it out, as yet. he might pose as a millionaire and a generous friend and philanthropist for some time, before the truth was discovered, and during that time he could carry out any secret plans he had in mind. the boy is more shrewd than he appears to be. we, by chance saved his life, and at once he attached himself to us like a barnacle, and we can't shake him off." "we don't want to," said patsy. "my explanation is that he has fallen in love with one of us girls," suggested flo, with a mischievous glance at her sister. "i wonder if it's me?" "it is more likely," said louise, "that he has discovered uncle john to be a very--prosperous--man." "nonsense, my dear!" exclaimed that gentleman, evidently irritated by the insinuation. "don't pick the boy to pieces. give him a chance. so far he has asked nothing from us, but offers everything. he's a grateful fellow and is anxious to help you girls carry out your ambitious plans. that is how i read him, and i think it is absurd to prejudge him in the way you are doing." the party broke up, the stantons and weldons going to their rooms. beth also rose. "are you coming to bed, patsy?" she inquired. "not just now," her cousin replied. "between us, we've rubbed uncle john's fur the wrong way and he won't get composed until he has smoked his good-night cigar. i'll sit with him in this corner and keep him company." so the little man and his favorite niece were left together, and he did not seem in the least ruffled as he lit his cigar and settled down in a big chair, with patsy beside him, to enjoy it. chapter xiv isidore le drieux perhaps the cigar was half gone when patsy gave a sudden start and squeezed uncle john's hand, which she had been holding in both her own. "what is it, my dear?" "the man i told you of. there he is, just across the lobby. the man with the gray clothes and gray hair." "oh, yes; the one lighting a cigar." "precisely." uncle john gazed across the lobby reflectively. the stranger's eyes roved carelessly around the big room and then he moved with deliberate steps toward their corner. he passed several vacant chairs and settees on his way and finally paused before a lounging-chair not six feet distant from the one occupied by mr. merrick. "pardon me; is this seat engaged, sir?" he asked. "no," replied uncle john, not very graciously, for it was a deliberate intrusion. the stranger sat down and for a time smoked his cigar in silence. he was so near them that patsy forbore any conversation, knowing he would overhear it. suddenly the man turned squarely in their direction and addressed them. "i hope you will pardon me, mr. merrick, if i venture to ask a question," said he. "well, sir?" "i saw you talking with mr. jones this evening--a. jones, you know, who says he came from sangoa." "didn't he?" demanded the old gentleman. the stranger smiled. "perhaps; once on a time; allowing such a place exists. but his last journey was here from austria." "indeed!" mr. merrick and patsy were both staring at the man incredulously. "i am quite sure of that statement, sir; but i cannot prove it, as yet." "ah! i thought not." patsy had just told her uncle how she had detected this man stealthily watching jones, and how he had followed the boy when he retired to his room. the present interview had, they both knew, something to do with this singular action. therefore mr. merrick restrained his indignation at the stranger's pointed questioning. he realized quite well that the man had come to their corner determined to catechise them and gain what information he could. patsy realized this, too. so, being forewarned, they hoped to learn his object without granting him the satisfaction of "pumping" them. "i suppose you are friends of this mr. a. jones," was his next remark. "we are acquaintances," said mr. merrick. "has he ever mentioned his adventures in austria to you?" "are _you_ a friend of mr. jones?" demanded uncle john. "i am not even an acquaintance," said the man, smiling. "but i am interested in him, through a friend of mine who met him abroad. permit me to introduce myself, sir." he handed them a card which read: "isadore le drieux importer of pearls and precious stones 36 maiden lane, new york city." "i have connections abroad, in nearly all countries," continued the man, "and it is through some of them that i have knowledge of this young fellow who has taken the name of a. jones. in fact, i have a portrait of the lad, taken in paris, which i will show you." he searched in his pocket and produced an envelope from which he carefully removed a photograph, which he handed to uncle john. patsy examined it, too, with a start of surprise. the thin features, the large serious eyes, even the closely set lips were indeed those of a. jones. but in the picture he wore a small mustache. "it can't be _our_ a. jones," murmured patsy. "this one is older." "that is on account of the mustache," remarked le drieux, who was closely watching their faces. "this portrait was taken more than a year ago." "oh; but he was in sangoa then," protested patsy, who was really bewildered by the striking resemblance. the stranger smiled indulgently. "as a matter of fact, there is no sangoa." said he; "so we may doubt the young man's assertion that he was ever there." "why are you interested in him?" inquired mr. merrick. "a natural question," said le drieux, after a moment of hesitation. "i know you well by reputation, mr. merrick, and believe i am justified in speaking frankly to you and your niece, provided you regard my statements as strictly confidential. a year ago i received notice from my friend in austria that the young man had gone to america and he was anxious i should meet him. at the time i was too busy with my own affairs to look him up, but i recently came to california for a rest, and noticed the strong resemblance between the boy, a. jones, and the portrait sent me. so i hunted up this picture and compared the two. in my judgment they are one and the same. what do _you_ think, sir?" "i believe there is a resemblance," answered uncle john, turning the card over. "but here is a name on the back of the photograph: 'jack andrews.'" "yes; this is jack andrews," said le drieux, nodding. "have you ever heard the name before?" "never." "well, andrews is noted throughout europe, and it is but natural he should desire to escape his notoriety by assuming another name out here. do you note the similarity of the initials? 'j.a.' stand for jack andrews. reverse them and 'a.j.' stand for a. jones. by the way, what does he claim the 'a' means? is it andrew?" "it means nothing at all," said patsy. "he told us so." "i see. you caught him unprepared. that isn't like jack. he is always on guard." both patsy and uncle john were by this time sorely perplexed. they had a feeling common to both of them, that the subject of this portrait and a. jones were two separate and distinct persons; yet the resemblance could not be denied, if they were indeed the same, young jones had deliberately lied to them, and recalling his various statements and the manner in which they had been made, they promptly acquitted the boy of the charge of falsehood. "for what was jack andrews noted throughout europe?" inquired mr. merrick, after silently considering these things. "well, he was a highflier, for one thing." answered le drieux. "he was known as a thorough 'sport' and, i am told, a clever gambler. he had a faculty of making friends, even among the nobility. the gilded youth of london, paris and vienna cultivated his acquaintance, and through them he managed to get into very good society. he was a guest at the splendid villa of countess ahmberg, near vienna, when her magnificent collection of pearls disappeared. you remember that loss, and the excitement it caused, do you not?" "no, sir; i have never before heard of the countess of ahmberg or her pearls." "well, the story filled the newspapers for a couple of weeks. the collection embraced the rarest and most valuable pearls known to exist." "and you accuse this man, andrews, of stealing them?" asked uncle john, tapping with his finger the portrait he still held. "by no means, sir; by no means!" cried le drieux hastily. "in fact, he was one of the few guests at the villa to whom no suspicion attached. from the moment the casket of pearls was last seen by the countess until their loss was discovered, every moment of andrews' time was accounted for. his alibi was perfect and he was quite prominent in the unsuccessful quest of the thief." "the pearls were not recovered, then?" "no. the whole affair is still a mystery. my friend in vienna, a pearl merchant like myself, assisted andrews in his endeavor to discover the thief and, being much impressed by the young man's personality, sent me this photograph, asking me to meet him, as i have told you, when he reached america." "is his home in this country?" "new york knows him, but knows nothing of his family or his history. he is popular there, spending money freely and bearing the reputation of an all-around good fellow. on his arrival there, a year ago, he led a gay life for a few days and then suddenly disappeared. no one knew what had become of him. when i found him here, under the name of a. jones, the disappearance was solved." "i think," said uncle john, "you are laboring under a serious, if somewhat natural, mistake. the subject of this picture is like a. jones, indeed, but he is older and his expression more--more--" "blase and sophisticated," said patsy. "thank you, my dear; i am no dictionary, and if those are real words they may convey my meaning. i feel quite sure, mr. le drieux, that the story of andrews can not be the story of young jones." le drieux took the picture and replaced it in his pocket. "to err is human," said he, "and i will admit the possibility of my being mistaken in my man. but you will admit the resemblance?" "yes. they might be brothers. but young jones has said he has no brothers, and i believe him." le drieux sat in silence for a few minutes. then he said: "i appealed to you, mr. merrick, because i was not thoroughly satisfied, in my own mind, of my conclusions. you have added to my doubts, i must confess, yet i cannot abandon the idea that the two men are one and the same. as my suspicion is only shared by you and your niece, in confidence, i shall devote myself for a few days to studying young jones and observing his actions. in that way i may get a clue that will set all doubt at rest." "we will introduce you to him," said patsy. "and then you may question him as much as you like." "oh, no; i prefer not to make his acquaintance until i am quite sure," was the reply. "if he is not jack andrews he would be likely to resent the insinuation that he is here trading under a false name. good night, mr. merrick. good night, miss doyle. i thank you for your courteous consideration." he had risen, and now bowed and walked away. "well," said patsy. "what was he after? and did he learn anything from us?" "he did most of the talking himself," replied uncle john, looking after le drieux with a puzzled expression. "of course he is not a jewel merchant." "no," said patsy, "he's a detective, and i'll bet a toothpick to a match that he's on the wrong scent." "he surely is. unfortunately, we cannot warn ajo against him." "it isn't necessary, uncle. why, the whole thing is absurd. our boy is not a gambler or roysterer, nor do i think he has ever been in europe. mr. le drieux will have to guess again!" chapter xv a few pearls the next morning patsy, beth and louise met in earnest conference over the important proposition made them by young jones, and although uncle john and arthur weldon were both present the men took no part in the discussion. "some doubt has been expressed," said beth judicially, "that ajo is really able to finance this big venture. but he says he is, and that he will carry it through to the end, so i propose we let him do it." "why not?" asked louise. "if he succeeds, it will be glorious. if he fails, we will suffer in no way except through disappointment." "well, shall we accept this offer, girls?" "first," said louise, "let us consider what we will have to do, on our part, when the twenty theatres are built and the film factory is in operation." "we are to be the general managers," returned patsy. "we must select the subjects, or plots, for the pictures, and order them made under our direction. then we must see that all of our theatres present them in a proper manner, and we must invite children to come and see the shows. i guess that's all." "that will be enough to keep us busy, i'm sure," said beth. "but we will gladly undertake it, and i am sure we shall prove good managers, as soon as we get acquainted with the details of the business." "it will give us the sort of employment we like," patsy assured them. "our first duty will be to plan these theatres for children, and make them as cosy and comfortable as possible, regardless of expense. ajo will pay the bills, and when all the buildings are ready we will set to work in earnest." so, when a. jones appeared he was told that the girls would gladly accept his proposition. the young man seemed greatly pleased by this verdict. he appeared to be much better and stronger to-day and he entered eagerly into a discussion of the plans in detail. together they made a list of a string of twenty theatres, to be built in towns reaching from santa barbara on the north to san diego in the south. the film factory was to be located in the san fernando valley, just north of hollywood. this consumed the entire forenoon, and after lunch they met a prominent real estate man whom jones had summoned to the hotel. this gentleman was given a copy of the list of locations and instructed to purchase in each town the best site that could be secured for a motion picture theatre. this big order made the real estate man open his eyes in surprise. "do you wish me to secure options, or to purchase the land outright?" he asked. "be sure of your locations and then close the deals at once," replied jones. "we do not wish to waste time in useless dickering, and a location in the heart of each town, perhaps on the main street, is more important than the price. you will, of course, protect me from robbery to the best of your ability; but buy, even if the price is exorbitant. i will this afternoon place a hundred thousand dollars to your credit in the bank, with which to make advance payments, and when you notify me how much more is required i will forward my checks at once." "that is satisfactory, sir. i will do the best i can to guard your interests," said the man. when he had gone the girls accompanied ajo in a motorcar to los angeles, to consult an architect. they visited several offices before the boy, who seemed to estimate men at a glance, found one that satisfied him. the girls explained with care to the architect their idea of a luxurious picture theatre for children, and when he had grasped their conception, which he did with enthusiasm, he suggested several improvements on their immature plans and promised to have complete drawings ready to submit to them in a few days. from the architect's office they drove to the german-american bank, where ajo gave his check for a hundred thousand dollars, to be placed to the credit of mr. wilcox, the real estate agent. the deference shown him by the cashier seemed to indicate that this big check was not the extent of a. jones' credit there, by any means. as they drove back to hollywood, patsy could not help eyeing this youthful capitalist with wonder. during this day of exciting business deals the boy had behaved admirably, and there was no longer a shadow of doubt in the minds of any of uncle john's nieces that he was both able and anxious to carry out his part of the agreement. patsy almost giggled outright as she thought of le drieux and his ridiculous suspicions. one would have to steal a good many pearls in order to acquire a fortune to match that of the sangoan. he was speaking of sangoa now, in answer to a question of beth's. "yes, indeed," said he, "sangoa is very beautiful, and the climate is even more mild than that of your southern california. the north coast is a high bluff, on which is a splendid forest of rosewood and mahogany. my father would never allow any of these magnificent trees to be cut, except a few that were used in building our house." "but how do your people live? what is the principal industry of your islanders?" asked beth. "my people are--fishermen," he said, and then the automobile drew up before the hotel entrance and the conversation ended. it was on the following afternoon, as they all met in the hotel lobby after lunch, that a messenger handed young jones a neat parcel, for which a receipt was demanded. ajo held the parcel in his hand a while, listening to the chatter of the girls, who were earnestly discussing plans for the new picture enterprise. then very quietly and unobtrusively he unwrapped the package and laid upon the table beside him several small boxes bearing the name of a prominent jeweler. "i hope," said he, taking advantage of a pause caused by the girls observing this action, and growing visibly confused by their involuntary stares of curiosity; "i--i hope that you, my new friends, will pardon a liberty i have taken. i wanted to--to present those who were instrumental in saving my life with--with a--a slight token of my gratitude--a sort of--of--memento of a brave and generous act that gave me back the life i had carelessly jeopardized. no," as he saw surprise and protest written on their faces, "don't refuse me this pleasure, i implore you! the little--eh--eh--mementos are from my own island of sangoa, with the necessary mountings by a los angeles jeweler, and--please accept them!" as he spoke he handed to each of the girls a box, afterward giving one to uncle john and another to arthur. there remained upon the table three others. he penciled a name upon the bottom of each and then handed them to patsy, saying: "will you kindly present these, with my compliments, to the misses stanton, and to their aunt, when they return this evening? thank you!" and then, before they could recover from their astonishment, he turned abruptly and fled to his room. the girls stared at one another a moment and then began laughing. arthur seemed crestfallen, while uncle john handled his small box as gingerly as if he suspected it contained an explosive. "how ridiculous!" cried patsy, her blue eyes dancing. "and did you notice how scared poor ajo was, and how he skipped as fearfully as though he had committed some crime? but i'm sure the poor boy meant well. let's open our boxes, girls, and see what foolishness ajo has been up to." slipping off the cover of her box, beth uttered a low cry of amazement and admiration. then she held up a dainty lavalliere, with a pendant containing a superb pearl. louise had the mate to this, but the one patsy found had a pearl of immense size, its color being an exquisite shade of pink, such as is rarely seen. arthur displayed a ring set with a splendid white pearl, while uncle john's box contained a stick pin set with a huge black pearl of remarkable luster. indeed, they saw at a glance that the size and beauty of all these pearls were very uncommon, and while the others expressed their enthusiastic delight, the faces of mr. merrick and patsy doyle were solemn and perplexed. they stared at the pearls with feelings of dismay, rather than joy, and chancing to meet one another's eyes they quickly dropped their gaze to avoid exchanging the ugly suspicion that had forced itself upon their minds. with a sudden thought patsy raised her head to cast a searching glance around the lobby, for although their party was seated in an alcove they were visible to all in the big room of which it formed a part. yes, mr. isidore le drieux was standing near them, as she had feared, and the slight sneer upon his lips proved that he had observed the transfer of the pearls. so the girl promptly clasped her lavalliere around her neck and openly displayed it, as a proud defiance, if not a direct challenge, to that detestable sneer. arthur, admiring his ring in spite of his chagrin at receiving such a gift from a comparative stranger, placed the token on his finger. "it is a beauty, indeed," said he, "but i don't think we ought to accept such valuable gifts from this boy." "i do not see why," returned his wife louise. "i think these pretty tributes for saving mr. jones' life are very appropriate. of course neither beth nor i had anything to do with that affair, but we are included in the distribution because it would be more embarrassing to leave us out of it." "and the pearls came from sangoa," added beth, "so all these precious gifts have cost ajo nothing, except for their settings." "if sangoa can furnish many such pearls as these," remarked arthur, reflectively, "the island ought to be famous, instead of unknown. their size and beauty render the gems priceless." "well," said patsy soberly, "we know now where a. jones got his money, which is so plentiful that he can build any number of film factories and picture theatres. sangoa must have wonderful pearl fisheries--don't you remember, girls, that he told us his people were fishermen?--for each of these specimens is worth a small fortune. mine, especially, is the largest and finest pearl i have ever seen." "i beg your pardon!" sternly exclaimed uncle john, as he whirled swiftly around. "can i do anything for you, sir?" for mr. le drieux had stealthily advanced to the alcove and was glaring at the display of pearls and making notes in a small book. he bowed, without apparent resentment, as he answered mr. merrick: "thank you, sir; you have already served me admirably. pardon my intrusion." then he closed the book, slipped it into his pocket and with another low bow walked away. "what rank impertinence!" cried arthur, staring after him. "some newspaper reporter, i suppose. do you know him, uncle john?" "he forced an introduction, a few evenings ago. it is a pearl merchant from new york, named le drieux, so i suppose his curiosity is but natural." "shall we keep our pearls, uncle?" asked beth. "i shall keep mine," replied the little man, who never wore any ornament of jewelry. "it was generous and thoughtful in young jones to present these things and we ought not offend him by refusing his 'mementos,' as he calls them." perhaps all the nieces were relieved to hear this verdict, for already they loved their beautiful gifts. that evening the stanton girls and their aunt jane received their parcels, being fully as much surprised as the others had been, and their boxes also contained pearls. flo and maud had lavallieres, the latter receiving one as large and beautiful as that of patsy doyle, while mrs. montrose found a brooch set with numerous smaller pearls. patsy urged them all to wear the ornaments to dinner that evening, which they did, and although jones was not there to observe the effect of the splendid pearls, mr. le drieux was at his place in the dining room and made more notes in his little book. that was exactly what patsy wanted. "i can't stand the suspense of this thing," she whispered to uncle john, "and if that man wants any information about these pearls i propose we give it to him. in that way he will soon discover he is wrong in suspecting the identity of jack andrews and a. jones." mr. merrick nodded absently and went to his corner for a smoke. arthur soon after joined him, while aunt jane took her bevy of girls to another part of the loge. "le drieux will be here presently," said uncle john to young weldon. "oh, the fellow with the book. why, sir?" "he's a detective, i think. anyhow, he is shadowing jones, whom he suspects is a thief." he then told arthur frankly of his former conversation with le drieux, and of the puzzling photograph. "it really resembles the boy," he admitted, with a frown of perplexity, "yet at the same time i realized the whole thing was absurd. neither patsy nor i can believe that jones is the man who robbed an austrian countess. it's preposterous! and let me say right now, arthur, that i'm going to stand by this young fellow, with all my influence, in case those hounds try to make him trouble." arthur did not reply at once. he puffed his cigar silently while he revolved the startling accusation in his mind. "both you and patsy are staunch friends," he observed, after a while, "and i have noticed that your intuition as regards character is seldom at fault. but i advise you, in this instance, not to be hasty, for--" "i know; you are going to refer to those pearls." "naturally. if i don't, le drieux will, as you have yourself prophesied. pearls--especially such pearls as these--are rare and easy to recognize. the world does not contain many black-pearls, for instance, such as that you are wearing. an expert--a man with a photograph that strongly resembles young jones--is tracing some stolen pearls of great value--a collection, i think you said. we find jones, a man seemingly unknown here, giving away a number of wonderful pearls that are worthy a place in any collection. admit it is curious, uncle john. it may be all a coincidence, of course; but how do you account for it, sir?" "jones has an island in the south seas, a locality where most of the world's famous pearls have been found." "sangoa?" "yes." "it is not on any map. this man, le drieux, positively stated that there is no such island, did he not?" uncle john rubbed his chin, a gesture that showed he was disturbed. "he was not positive. he said he thought there was no such island." "well, sir?" "if jones could lie about his island, he would be capable of the theft of those pearls," admitted mr. merrick reluctantly. "that is conclusive, sir." "but he isn't capable of the theft. le drieux states that jack andrews is a society swell, an all-around confidence man, and a gambler. jones is a diffident and retiring, but a very manly young fellow, who loves quiet and seems to have no bad habits. you can't connect the two in any possible way." again arthur took time to consider. "i have no desire to suspect jones unjustly," he said. "in fact, i have been inclined to like the fellow. and yet--his quaint stories and his foolish expenditures have made me suspicious from the first. you have scarcely done justice to his character in your description, sir. to us he appears diffident, retiring, and rather weak, in a way, while in his intercourse with goldstein he shows a mailed fist. he can be hard as nails, on occasion, as we know, and at times he displays a surprising knowledge of the world and its ways--for one who has been brought up on an out-of-the-way island. what do we know about him, anyway? he tells a tale no one can disprove, for the south seas are full of small islands, some of which are probably unrecorded on the charts. all this might possibly be explained by remembering that a man like jack andrews is undoubtedly a clever actor." "exactly!" said a jubilant voice behind them, and mr. isidore le drieux stepped forward and calmly drew up a chair, in which he seated himself. "you will pardon me, gentlemen, for eavesdropping, but i was curious to know what you thought of this remarkable young man who calls himself 'a. jones.'" arthur faced the intruder with a frown. he objected to being startled in this manner. "you are a detective?" he asked. "oh, scarcely that, sir," le drieux replied in a deprecating way. "my printed card indicates that i am a merchant, but in truth i am a special agent, employed by the largest pearl and gem dealers in the world, a firm with branches in every large european and american city. my name is le drieux, sir, at your service," and with a flourish he presented his card. the young rancher preferred to study the man's face. "i am a sort of messenger," he continued, placidly. "when valuable consignments of jewels are to be delivered, i am the carrier instead of the express companies. the method is safer. in twenty-six years of this work i have never lost a single jewel." "one firm employs you exclusively, then?" "one firm. but it has many branches." "it is a trust?" "oh, no; we have many competitors; but none very important. our closest rival, for instance, has headquarters on this very coast--in san francisco--but spreads, as we do, over the civilized world. yet jephson's--that's the firm--do not claim to equal our business. they deal mostly in pearls." "pearls, eh?" said arthur, musingly. "then it was your firm that lost the valuable collection of pearls you mentioned to mr. merrick?" "no. they were the property of countess ahmberg, of vienna. but we had sold many of the finest specimens to the countess and have records of their weight, size, shape and color. the one you are now wearing, sir," pointing to uncle john's scarf pin, "is one of the best black pearls ever discovered. it was found at tremloe in 1883 and was originally purchased by our firm. in 1887 i took it to tiffany, who sold it to prince godesky, of warsaw. i carried it to him, with other valuable purchases, and after his death it was again resold to our firm. it was in october, 1904, that i again became the bearer of the pearl, delivering it safely to countess ahmberg at her villa. it was stolen from her, together with 188 other rare pearls, valued at a half million dollars, a little over a year ago." "this pearl, sir," said uncle john stiffly, "is not the one you refer to. it was found on the shores of the island of sangoa, and you have never seen it before." le drieux smiled sweetly as he brushed the ashes from his cigar. "i am seldom mistaken in a pearl, especially one that i have handled," said he. "moreover, a good pearl becomes historic, and it is my business to know the history of each and every one in existence." "even those owned by jephson's?" asked arthur. "yes; unless they were acquired lately. i have spoken in this manner in order that you may understand the statements i am about to make, and i beg you to listen carefully: three daring pearl robberies have taken place within the past two years. the first was a collection scarcely inferior to that of the countess ahmberg. a bank messenger was carrying it through the streets of london one evening, to be delivered to lady grandison, when he was stabbed to the heart and the gems stolen. singularly enough, jack andrews was passing by and found the dying messenger. he called for the police, but when they arrived the messenger had expired. the fate of the pearls has always remained a mystery, although a large reward has been offered for their recovery." "oh; a reward." "naturally, sir. four months later princess lemoine lost her wonderful pearl necklace while sitting in a box at the grand opera in paris. this was one of the cleverest thefts that ever baffled the police, for the necklace was never recovered. we know, however, that jack andrews occupied the box next to that of the princess. a coincidence--perhaps. we now come to the robbery of the countess ahmberg, the third on the list. jack andrews was a guest at her house, as i have explained to you. no blame has ever attached to this youthful adventurer, yet my firm, always interested in the pearls they have sold, advised me to keep an eye on him when he returned to america. i did so. "now, mr. merrick, i will add to the tale i told you the other night. andrews behaved very well for a few weeks after he landed at new york; then he disposed of seven fine pearls and--disappeared. they were not notable pearls, especially, but two of them i was able to trace to the necklace of princess lemoine. i cabled my firm. they called attention to the various rewards offered and urged me to follow andrews. that was impossible; he had left no clue. but chance favored me. coming here to los angeles on business, i suddenly ran across my quarry: jack andrews. he has changed a bit. the mustache is gone, he is in poor health, and i am told he was nearly drowned in the ocean the other day. so at first i was not sure of my man. i registered at this hotel and watched him carefully. sometimes i became positive he was andrews; at other times i doubted. but when he began distributing pearls to you, his new friends, all doubt vanished. there, gentlemen, is my story in a nutshell. what do you think of it?" both mr. merrick and young weldon had listened with rapt interest, but their interpretation of the tale, which amounted to a positive accusation of a. jones, showed the difference in the two men's natures. "i think you are on the wrong trail, sir," answered mr. merrick. "doubtless you have been misled by a casual resemblance, coupled with the fact that andrews is suspected of stealing pearls and jones is known to possess pearls--the pearls being of rare worth in both cases. still, you are wrong. for instance, if you have the weight and measurement of the tremloe black pearl, you will find they do not fit the pearl i am now wearing." le drieux smiled genially. "it is unnecessary to make the test, sir," he replied. "the pearl andrews gave to miss doyle is as unmistakable as your own. but i am curious to hear your opinion, mr. weldon." "i have been suspicious of young jones from the first," said arthur; "but i have been studying this boy's character, and he is positively incapable of the crimes you accuse him of, such as robbery and murder. in other words, whatever jones may be, he is not andrews; or, if by chance he proves to be andrews, then andrews is innocent of crime. all your theories are based upon a desire to secure rewards, backed by a chain of circumstantial evidence." "a chain," said le drieux, grimly, "that will hold jack andrews fast in its coils, clever though he is." "circumstantial evidence," retorted mr. merrick, "doesn't amount to shucks! it is constantly getting good people into trouble and allowing rascals to escape. nothing but direct evidence will ever convince me that a man is guilty." le drieux shrugged his shoulders. "the pearls are evidence enough," said he. "to be sure. evidence enough to free the poor boy of suspicion. you may be a better messenger than you are a detective, mr. le drieux, but that doesn't convince me you are a judge of pearls." the agent rose with a frown of annoyance. "i am going to have jack andrews arrested in the morning," he remarked. "if you warn him, in the meantime, i shall charge you with complicity." uncle john nearly choked with anger, but he maintained his dignity. "i have no knowledge of your jack andrews," he replied, and turned his back. chapter xvi trouble uncle john and arthur decided not to mention to the girls this astounding charge of isidore le drieux, fearing the news would make them nervous and disturb their rest, so when the men joined the merry party in the alcove they did not refer to their late interview. afterward, however, when all but arthur weldon had gone to bed and he was sitting in uncle john's room, the two discussed the matter together with much seriousness. "we ought to do something, sir," said arthur. "this jones is a mere boy, and in poor health at that. he has no friends, so far as we know, other than ourselves. therefore it is our duty to see him through this trouble." mr. merrick nodded assent. "we cannot prevent the arrest," he replied, "for le drieux will not listen to reason. if we aided jones to run away he would soon be caught. absurd as the charge is, the youngster must face it and prove his innocence." arthur paced the floor in a way that indicated he was disturbed by this verdict. "he ought to have no difficulty in proving he is not jack andrews," he remarked, reflectively; "and yet--those pearls are difficult to explain. their similarity to the ones stolen in europe fooled the expert, le drieux, and they are likely to fool a judge or jury. i hope jones has some means of proving that he brought the pearls from sangoa. that would settle the matter at once." "as soon as he is arrested we will get him a lawyer--the best in this country," said mr. merrick. "more than that we cannot do, but a good lawyer will know the proper method of freeing his client." the next morning they were up early, awaiting developments; but le drieux seemed in no hurry to move. he had breakfast at about nine o'clock, read his newspaper for a half hour or so, and then deliberately left the hotel. all of mr. merrick's party had breakfasted before this and soon after le drieux had gone away young jones appeared in the lobby. he was just in time to see the stanton girls drive away in their automobile, accompanied by their aunt jane. "the motion picture stars must be late to-day," said the boy, looking after them. "they are," answered patsy, standing beside him at the window; "but maud says this happens to be one of their days of leisure. no picture is to be taken and they have only to rehearse a new play. but it's a busy life, seems to me, and it would really prove hard work if the girls didn't enjoy it so much." "yes," said he, "it's a fascinating profession. i understand, and nothing can be called _work_ that is interesting. when we are obliged to do something that we do not like to do, it becomes 'work.' otherwise, what is usually called 'work' is mere play, for it furnishes its quota of amusement." he was quite unconscious of any impending misfortune and when beth and louise joined patsy in thanking him for his pretty gifts of the pearls he flushed with pleasure. evidently their expressions of delight were very grateful to his ears. said uncle john, in a casual way: "those are remarkably fine pearls, to have come from such an island as sangoa." "but we find much better ones there, i assure you," replied the boy. "i have many in my room of much greater value, but did not dare ask you to accept them as gifts." "do many pearls come from sangoa, then?" asked arthur. "that is our one industry," answered the young man. "many years ago my father discovered the pearl fisheries. it was after he had purchased the island, but he recognized the value of the pearls and brought a colony of people from america to settle at sangoa and devote their time to pearl fishing. once or twice every year we send a ship to market with a consignment of pearls to our agent, and--to be quite frank with you--that is why i am now able to build the picture theatres i have contracted for, as well as the film factory." "i see," said uncle john. "but tell me this, please: why is sangoa so little known, or rather, so quite unknown?" "my father," jones returned, "loved quiet and seclusion. he was willing to develop the pearl fisheries, but objected to the flock of adventurers sure to descend upon his island if its wealth of pearls became generally known. his colony he selected with great care and with few exceptions they are a sturdy, wholesome lot, enjoying the peaceful life of sangoa and thoroughly satisfied with their condition there. it is only within the last two years that our american agents knew where our pearls came from, yet they could not locate the island if they tried. i do not feel the same desire my father did to keep the secret, although i would dislike to see sangoa overrun with tourists or traders." he spoke so quietly and at the same time so convincingly that both arthur and uncle john accepted his explanation unquestioningly. nevertheless, in the embarrassing dilemma in which jones would presently be involved, the story would be sure to bear the stamp of unreality to any uninterested hearer. the girls had now begun to chatter over the theatre plans, and their "financial backer"--as patsy doyle called him--joined them with eager interest. arthur sat at a near-by desk writing a letter; uncle john glanced over the morning paper; inez, the mexican nurse, brought baby to louise for a kiss before it went for a ride in its perambulator. an hour had passed when le drieux entered the lobby in company with a thin-faced, sharp-eyed man in plain clothes. they walked directly toward the group that was seated by the open alcove window, and arthur weldon, observing them and knowing what was about to happen, rose from the writing-desk and drew himself tensely together as he followed them. uncle john lowered his paper, frowned at le drieux and then turned his eyes upon the face of young jones. it was the thin-featured man who advanced and lightly touched the boy's arm. "beg pardon, sir," said he, in even, unemotional tones. "you are mr. andrews, i believe--mr. jack andrews?" the youth turned his head to look at his questioner. "no, sir," he answered with a smile. "a case of mistaken identity. my name is jones." then, continuing his speech to patsy doyle, he said: "there is no need to consider the acoustic properties of our theatres, for the architect--" "pardon me again," interrupted the man, more sternly. "i am positive this is _not_ a case of mistaken identity. we have ample proof that jack andrews is parading here, under the alias of 'a. jones.'" the boy regarded him with a puzzled expression. "what insolence!" muttered beth in an under-tone but audible enough to be distinctly heard. the man flushed slightly and glanced at le drieux, who nodded his head. then he continued firmly: "in any event, sir, i have a warrant for your arrest, and i hope you will come with me quietly and so avoid a scene." the boy grew pale and then red. his eyes narrowed as he stared fixedly at the officer. but he did not change his position, nor did he betray either fear or agitation. in a voice quite unmoved he asked: "on what charge do you arrest me?" "you are charged with stealing a valuable collection of pearls from the countess ahmberg, at vienna, about a year ago." "but i have never been in vienna." "you will have an opportunity to prove that." "and my name is not andrews." "you must prove that, also." the boy thought for a moment. then he asked: "who accuses me?" "this gentleman; mr. le drieux. he is an expert in pearls, knows intimately all those in the collection of the countess and has recognized several which you have recently presented to your friends, as among those you brought from austria." again jones smiled. "this is absurd, sir," he remarked. the officer returned the smile, but rather grimly. "it is the usual protest, mr. andrews. i don't blame you for the denial, but the evidence against you is very strong. will you come? and quietly?" "i am unable to offer physical resistance," replied the young fellow, as he slowly rose from his chair and displayed his thin figure. "moreover," he added, with a touch of humor, "i believe there's a fine for resisting an officer. i suppose you have a legal warrant. may i be permitted to see it?" the officer produced the warrant. jones perused it slowly and then handed it to mr. merrick, who read it and passed it back to the officer. "what shall i do, sir?" asked the boy. "obey the law," answered uncle john. "this officer is only the law's instrument and it is useless to argue with him. but i will go with you to the police station and furnish bail." le drieux shook his head. "quite impossible, mr. merrick," he said. "this is not a bailable offense." "are you sure?" "i am positive. this is an extradition case, of international importance. andrews, after an examination, will be taken to new york and from there to vienna, where his crime was committed." "but he has committed no crime!" le drieux shrugged his shoulders. "he is accused, and he must prove his innocence," said he. "but that is nonsense!" interposed arthur warmly. "there is no justice in such an assertion. if i know anything of the purpose of the law, and i think i do, you must first prove this man's guilt before you carry him to austria to be tried by a foreign court." "i don't care a snap for the purpose of the law," retorted le drieux. "our treaty with austria provides for extradition, and that settles it. this man is already under arrest. the judge who issued the warrant believes that jones is jack andrews and that jack andrews stole the pearls from the countess ahmberg. of course, the prisoner will have a formal examination, when he may defend himself as best he can, but we haven't made this move without being sure of our case, and it will be rather difficult for him to escape the penalty of his crimes, clever as he is." "clever?" it was jones himself who asked this, wonderingly. le drieux bowed to him with exaggerated politeness. "i consider you the cleverest rogue in existence," said he. "but even the cleverest may be trapped, in time, and your big mistake was in disposing of those pearls so openly. see here," he added, taking from his pocket a small packet. "here are the famous taprobane pearls--six of them--which were found in your room a half hour ago. they, also, were a part of the countess' collection." "oh, you have been to my room?" "under the authority of the law." "and you have seen those pearls before?" "several times. i am an expert in pearls and can recognize their value at a glance," said le drieux with much dignity. jones gave a little chuckle and then turned deprecatingly to mr. merrick. "you need not come with me to the station, sir," said he; "but, if you wish to assist me, please send me a lawyer and then go to the continental and tell mr. goldstein of my predicament." "i will do that," promptly replied uncle john. jones turned to bow to the girls. "i hope you young ladies can forgive this disgraceful scene," he remarked in a tone of regret rather then humiliation. "i do not see how any effort of mine could have avoided it. it seems to be one of the privileges of the people's guardians, in your free country, to arrest and imprison anyone on a mere suspicion of crime. here is a case in which someone has sadly blundered, and i imagine it is the pompous gentleman who claims to know pearls and does not," with a nod toward le drieux, who scowled indignantly. "it is an outrage!" cried beth. "it's worse than that," said patsy; "but of course you can easily prove your innocence." "if i have the chance," the boy agreed. "but at present i am a prisoner and must follow my captor." he turned to the officer and bowed to indicate that he was ready to go. arthur shook the young fellow's hand and promised to watch his interests in every possible way. "go with him now, arthur," proposed louise. "it's a hard thing to be taken to jail and i'm sure he needs a friend at his side at this time." "good advice," agreed uncle john. "of course they'll give him a preliminary hearing before locking him up, and if you'll stick to him i'll send on a lawyer in double-quick time." "thank you," said the boy. "the lawyer first, mr. merrick, and then goldstein." chapter xvii uncle john is puzzled uncle john was off on his errands even before jones and arthur weldon had driven away from the hotel with the officer and le drieux. there had been no "scene" and none of the guests of the hotel had any inkling of the arrest. uncle john had always detested lawyers and so he realized that he was sure to be a poor judge of the merits of any legal gentleman he might secure to defend jones. "i may as well leave it to chance," he grumbled, as he drove down the main boulevard. "the rascals are all alike!" glancing to this side and that, he encountered a sign on a building: "fred a. colby, lawyer." "all right; i mustn't waste time," he said, and stopping his driver he ascended a stairway to a gloomy upper hall. here the doors, all in a row, were alike forbidding, but one of them bore the lawyer's name, so mr. merrick turned the handle and abruptly entered. a sallow-faced young man, in his shirt-sleeves, was seated at a table littered with newspapers and magazines, engaged in the task of putting new strings on a battered guitar. as his visitor entered he looked up in surprise and laid down the instrument. "i want to see colby, the lawyer," began uncle john, regarding the disordered room with strong disapproval. "you are seeing him," retorted the young man, with a fleeting smile, "and i'll bet you two to one that if you came here on business you will presently go away and find another lawyer." "why?" questioned mr. merrick, eyeing him more closely. "i don't impress people," explained colby, picking up the guitar again. "i don't inspire confidence. as for the law, i know it as well as anyone--which is begging the question--but when i'm interviewed i have to admit i've had no experience." "no practice?" "just a few collections, that's all i sleep on that sofa yonder, eat at a cafeteria, and so manage to keep body and soul together. once in a while a stranger sees my sign and needs a lawyer, so he climbs the stairs. but when he meets me face to face he beats a hasty retreat." as he spoke, colby tightened a string and began strumming it to get it tuned. uncle john sat down on the one other chair in the room and thought a moment. "you've been admitted to the bar?" he asked. "yes, sir. graduate of the penn law school." "then you know enough to defend an innocent man from an unjust accusation?" colby laid down the guitar. "ah!" said he, "this grows interesting. i really believe you have half a mind to give me your case. sir, i know enough, i hope, to defend an innocent man; but i can't promise, offhand, to save him, even from an unjust accusation." "why not? doesn't law stand for justice?" "perhaps; in the abstract. anyhow, there's a pretty fable to that effect. but law in the abstract, and law as it is interpreted and applied, are not even second cousins. to be quite frank, i'd rather defend a guilty person than an innocent one. the chances are i'd win more easily. are you sure your man is innocent?" uncle john scowled. "perhaps i'd better find another lawyer who is more optimistic," he said. "oh, i'm full of optimism, sir. my fault is that i'm not well known in the courts and have no arrangement to divide my fees with the powers that be. but i've been observing and i know the tricks of the trade as well as any lawyer in california. my chief recommendation, however, is that i'm eager to get a case, for my rent is sadly overdue. why not try me, just to see what i'm able to do? i'd like to find that out myself." "this is a very important matter," asserted mr. merrick. "very. if i'm evicted for lack of rent-money my career is crippled." "i mean the case is a serious one." "are you willing to pay for success?" "liberally." "then i'll win it for you. don't judge my ability by my present condition, sir. tell me your story and i'll get to work at once." uncle john rose with sudden decision. "put on your coat," he said, and while colby obeyed with alacrity he gave him a brief outline of the accusation brought against jones. "i want you to take my car," he added, "and hasten to the police station, that you may be present at the preliminary examination. there will be plenty of time to talk afterward." colby nodded. his coat and hat made the young lawyer quite presentable and without another word he followed mr. merrick down the stairs and took his seat in the motorcar. next moment he was whirling down the street and uncle john looked after him with a half puzzled expression, as if he wondered whether or not he had blundered in his choice of a lawyer. a little later he secured a taxicab and drove to the office of the continental film manufacturing company. mr. goldstein was in his office but sent word that he was too busy to see visitors. nevertheless, when mr. merrick declared he had been sent by a. jones, he was promptly admitted to the manager's sanctum. "our friend, young jones," he began, "has just been arrested by a detective." goldstein's nervous jump fairly raised him off his chair; but in an instant he settled back and shot an eager, interested look at his visitor. "what for, mr. merrick?" he demanded. "for stealing valuable pearls from some foreign woman. a trumped-up charge, of course." goldstein rubbed the palms of his hands softly together. his face wore a look of supreme content. "arrested! ah, that is bad, mr. merrick. it is very bad indeed. and it involves us--the continental, you know--in an embarrassing manner." "why so?" asked uncle john. "can't you see, sir?" asked the manager, trying hard to restrain a smile. "if the papers get hold of this affair, and state that our president--our biggest owner--the man who controls the continental stock--is a common thief, the story will--eh--eh--put a bad crimp in our business, so to speak." uncle john looked at the man thoughtfully. "so jones controls the continental, eh?" he said. "how long since, mr. goldstein?" "why, since the january meeting, a year and more ago. it was an astonishing thing, and dramatic--believe _me_! at the annual meeting of stockholders in walks this stripling--a mere kid--proves that he holds the majority of stock, elects himself president and installs a new board of directors, turning the tired and true builders of the business out in the cold. then, without apology, promise or argument, president jones walks out again! in an hour he upset the old conditions, turned our business topsy-turvy and disappeared with as little regard for the continental as if it had been a turnip. that stock must have cost him millions, and how he ever got hold of it is a mystery that has kept us all guessing ever since. the only redeeming feature of the affair was that the new board of directors proved decent and jones kept away from us all and let us alone. i'd never seen him until he came here a few days ago and began to order me around. so, there, mr. merrick, you know as much about jones as i do." mr. merrick was perplexed. the more he heard of young jones the more amazing; the boy seemed to be. "has the continental lost money since jones took possession?" he inquired. "i think not," replied goldstein, cautiously. "you're a business man, mr. merrick, and can understand that our machinery--our business system--is so perfect that it runs smoothly, regardless of who grabs the dividends. what i object to is this young fellow's impertinence in interfering with my work here. he walks in, reverses my instructions to my people, orders me to do unbusinesslike things and raises hob with the whole organization." "well, it belongs to him, goldstein," said uncle john, in defense of the boy. "he is your employer and has the right to dictate. but just at present he needs your help. he asked me to come here and tell you of his arrest." goldstein shrugged his shoulders. "his arrest is none of my business," was his reply. "if jones stole the money to buy continental stock he must suffer the consequences. i'm working for the stock, not for the individual." "but surely you will go to the station and see what can be done for him?" protested uncle john. "surely i will not," retorted the manager. "what's the use? there isn't even a foot of good picture film in so common a thing as the arrest of a thief--and the censors would forbid it if there were. let jones fight his own battles." "it occurs to me," suggested mr. merrick, who was growing indignant, "that mr. jones will be able to satisfy the court that he is not a thief, and so secure his freedom without your assistance. what will happen then, mr. goldstein?" "then? why, it is still none of my business. i'm the manager of a motion picture concern--one of the biggest concerns in the world--and i've nothing to do with the troubles of my stockholders." he turned to his desk and mr. merrick was obliged to go away without farther parley. on his way out he caught a glimpse of maud stanton passing through the building. she was dressed in the costume of an indian princess and looked radiantly beautiful. uncle john received a nod and a smile and then she was gone, without as yet a hint of the misfortune that had overtaken a. jones of sangoa. returning to the hotel, rather worried and flustered by the morning's events, he found the girls quietly seated in the lobby, busy over their embroidery. "well, uncle," said patsy, cheerfully, "is ajo still in limbo?" "i suppose so," he rejoined, sinking into an easy chair beside her. "is arthur back yet?" "no," said louise, answering for her husband, "he is probably staying to do all he can for the poor boy." "did you get a lawyer?" inquired beth. "i got a fellow who claims to be a lawyer; but i'm not sure he will be of any use." then he related his interview with colby, to the amusement of his nieces, all three of whom approved the course he had taken and were already prepared to vouch for the briefless barrister's ability, on the grounds that eccentricity meant talent. "you see," explained miss patsy, "he has nothing else to do but jump heart and soul into this case, so ajo will be able to command his exclusive services, which with some big, bustling lawyer would be impossible." luncheon was over before arthur finally appeared, looking somewhat grave and perturbed. "they won't accept bail," he reported. "jones must stay in jail until his formal examination, and if they then decide that he is really jack andrews he will remain in jail until his extradition papers arrive." "when will he be examined?" asked louise. "whenever the judge feels in the humor, it seems. our lawyer demanded jones' release at once, on the ground that a mistake of identity had been made; but the stupid judge is of the opinion that the charge against our friend is valid. at any rate he refused to let him go. he wouldn't even argue the case at present. he issues a warrant on a charge of larceny, claps a man in jail whether innocent or not, and refuses to let him explain anything or prove his innocence until a formal examination is held." "there is some justice in that," remarked uncle john. "suppose jones is guilty; it would be a mistake to let him go free until a thorough examination had been made." "and if he is innocent, he will have spent several days in jail, been worried and disgraced, and there is no redress for the false imprisonment. the judge won't even apologize to him!" "it's all in the interests of law and order, i suppose," said patsy; "but the law seems dreadfully inadequate to protect the innocent. i suppose it's because the courts are run by cheap and incompetent people who couldn't earn a salary in any other way." "someone must run them, and it isn't an ambitious man's job," replied uncle john. "what do you think of the lawyer i sent you, arthur?" the young ranchman smiled. "he's a wonder, uncle. he seemed to know more about the case than jones or i did, and more about the law than the judge did. he's an irrepressible fellow, and told that rascal le drieux a lot about pearls that the expert never had heard before. where did you find him, sir?" uncle john explained. "well," said arthur, "i think jones is in good hands. colby has secured him a private room at the jail, with a bath and all the comforts of home. meals are to be sent in from a restaurant and when i left the place the jailer had gone out to buy jones a stock of books to while away his leisure hours--which are bound to be numerous. i'd no idea a prisoner could live in such luxury." "money did it, i suppose," patsy shrewdly suggested. "yes. jones wrote a lot of checks. colby got a couple of hundred for a retaining fee and gleefully informed us it was more money than he had ever owned at one time in all his previous career. i think he will earn it, however." "where is he now?" asked uncle john. "visiting all the newspaper offices, to 'buy white space,' as he put it. in other words, colby will bribe the press to silence, at least until the case develops." "i'm glad of that," exclaimed beth. "what do you think of this queer business, arthur?" "why, i've no doubt of the boy's innocence, if that is what you mean. i've watched him closely and am positive he is no more jack andrews than i am. but i fear he will have a hard task to satisfy the judge that he is falsely accused. it would be an admission of error, you see, and so the judge will prefer to find him guilty. it is this same judge--wilton, i think his name is--who will conduct the formal examination, and to-day he openly sneered at the mention of sangoa. on the other hand, he evidently believed every statement made by le drieux about the identity of the pearls found in jones' possession. le drieux has a printed list of the ahmberg pearls, and was able to check the jones' pearls off this list with a fair degree of accuracy. it astonished even me, and i could see that jones was equally amazed." "wouldn't it be queer if they convicted him!" exclaimed beth. "it would be dreadful, since he is innocent," said patsy. "there is no need to worry about that just at present," arthur assured them. "i am placing a great deal of confidence in the ability of lawyer colby." chapter xviii doubts and difficulties the stanton girls and mrs. montrose came in early that afternoon. they had heard rumors of the arrest of jones and were eager to learn what had occurred. patsy and beth followed them to their rooms to give them every known detail and canvass the situation in all its phases. "goldstein has been an angel all afternoon," said flo. "he grinned and capered about like a schoolboy and some of us guessed he'd been left a fortune." "he ought to be ashamed of himself." patsy indignantly asserted. "the man admitted to uncle john that ajo is the biggest stockholder in the continental, the president, to boot; yet goldstein wouldn't lift a finger to help him and positively refused to obey his request to go to him after he was arrested." "i know about that," said aunt jane, quietly. "goldstein talked to me about the affair this afternoon and declared his conviction that young jones is really a pearl thief. he has taken a violent dislike to the boy and is delighted to think his stock will be taken away from him." maud had silently listened to this dialogue as she dressed for dinner. but now she impetuously broke into the conversation, saying: "something definite ought to be done for the boy. he needs intelligent assistance. i'm afraid his situation is serious." "that is what arthur thinks," said beth. "he says that unless he can furnish proof that he is not jack andrews, and that he came by those pearls honestly, he will be shipped to austria for trial. no one knows what those foreigners will do to him, but he would probably fare badly in their hands." "such being the logical conclusion," said maud, "we must make our fight now, at the examination." "uncle john has engaged a lawyer," announced patsy, "and if he proves bright and intelligent he ought to be able to free ajo." "i'd like to see that lawyer, and take his measure," answered maud, musingly, and her wish was granted soon after they had finished dinner. colby entered the hotel, jaunty as ever, and arthur met him and introduced him to the girls. "you must forgive me for coming on a disagreeable mission," began the young attorney, "but i have promised the judge that i would produce all the pearls mr. jones gave you, not later than to-morrow morning. he wants them as evidence, and to compare privately with le drieux's list, although he will likely have the expert at his elbow. so i can't promise that you will ever get your jewels back again." "oh. you think, then, that mr. jones is guilty?" said maud coldly. "no, indeed; i believe he is innocent. a lawyer should never suspect his client, you know. but to win i must prove my case, and opposed to me is that terrible le drieux, who insists he is never mistaken." "arthur--mr. weldon--says you understand pearls as well as mr. le drieux does," suggested patsy. "i thank him; but he is in error. i chattered to the judge about pearls, it is true, because i found he couldn't tell a pearl from a glass bead; and i believe i even perplexed le drieux by hinting at a broad knowledge on the subject which i do not possess. it was all a bit of bluff on my part. but by to-morrow morning this knowledge will be a fact, for i've bought a lot of books on pearls and intend to sit up all night reading them." "that was a clever idea," said uncle john, nodding approval. "so my mission here this evening is to get the pearls, that i may study them as i read," continued colby. "heretofore i've only seen the things through a plate glass window, or a show case. the success of our defense depends upon our refuting le drieux's assertion that the pearls found in jones' possession are a part of the countess ahmberg's collection. he has a full description of the stolen gems and i must be prepared to show that none of the jones' pearls is on the list." "can you do that?" asked maud. she was gazing seriously into the young man's eyes and this caused him to blush and stammer a little as he replied: "i--i hope to, miss stanton." "and are you following no other line of defense?" she inquired. he sat back and regarded the girl curiously for a moment. "i would like you to suggest some other line of defense," he replied. "i've tried to find one--and failed." "can't you prove he is not jack andrews?" "not if the identity of the pearls is established," said the lawyer. "if the pearls were stolen, and if jones cannot explain how he obtained possession of them, the evidence is _prima facia_ that he _is_ jack andrews, or at least his accomplice. moreover, his likeness to the photograph is somewhat bewildering, you must admit." this gloomy view made them all silent for a time, each thoughtfully considering the matter. then maud asked: "do you know the cash value of mr. jones' stock in the continental film company?" colby shook his head, but uncle john replied: "goldstein told me it is worth millions." "ah!" exclaimed the girl. "there, then, is our proof." the lawyer reflected, with knitted brows. "i confess i don't quite see your point," said he. "how much were those stolen pearls worth?" asked the girl. "i don't know." "you know they were not worth millions. jack andrews was an adventurer, by le drieux's showing; he was a fellow who lived by his wits and generally earned his livelihood by gambling with the scions of wealthy families. even had he stolen the countess' pearls and disposed of the collection at enormous prices--which a thief is usually unable to do--he would still have been utterly unable to purchase a controlling interest in the continental stock." she spoke with quiet assurance, but her statement roused the group to sudden excitement. "hooray!" cried patsy. "there's your proof, mr. colby." "the logic of genius," commented uncle john. "why, it's proof positive!" said beth. "it is certainly a strong argument in favor of the boy's innocence," asserted arthur weldon. "maud's a wonder when she wakes up. she ought to have been a 'lady detective,'" remarked flo, regarding her sister admiringly. colby, at first startled, was now also regarding maud stanton with open admiration; but there was an odd smile on his lips, a smile of indulgent toleration. "le drieux's statement connects andrews with two other pearl robberies," he reminded her. "the necklace of the princess lemoine is said to be priceless, and the grandison collection stolen in london was scarcely less valuable than that of countess ahmberg." "allowing all that," said mr. merrick, "two or three hundred thousand dollars would doubtless cover the value of the entire lot. i am quite certain, mr. colby, that miss stanton's suggestion will afford you an excellent line of defense." "i shall not neglect it, you may be sure," replied the lawyer. "tonight i'll try to figure out, as nearly as possible, the total cash value of all the stolen pearls, and of course jones will tell us what he paid for his stock, or how much it is worth. but i am not sure this argument will have as much weight as miss stanton suggests it may. a bold gambler, such as andrews, might have obtained a huge sum at baden baden or monte carlo; and, were he indeed so clever a thief as his record indicates, he may have robbed a bank, or stolen in some way an immense sum of money. logically, the question has weight and i shall present it as effectively as i can; but, as i said, i rely more on my ability to disprove the identity of the pearls, on which the expert le drieux lays so much stress. jones will have a thorough and formal examination within a few days--perhaps to-morrow--and if the judge considers that andrews the pearl thief has been captured, he will be held here pending the arrival from washington of the extradition papers--say two or three weeks longer." "then we shall have all that time to prove his innocence?" inquired maud. "unfortunately, no. there will be no further trial of the prisoner until he gets to vienna and is delivered to the authorities there. all our work must be done previous to the formal examination." "you do not seem very hopeful," observed maud, a hint of reproach in her tone. "then appearances are against me, miss stanton," replied the lawyer with a smile. "this is my first important case, and if i win it my future is assured; so i mean to win. but in order to do that i must consider the charge of the prosecution, the effect of its arguments upon the judge, and then find the right means to combat them. when i am with you, the friends of the accused, i may consider the seamy side of the fabric; but the presiding judge will find me so sure of my position that he will instinctively agree with me." they brought him the pearls jones had presented to them and then the lawyer bade them good night and went to his office to master the history of pearls in general and those famous ones stolen from countess ahmberg in particular. when he had gone uncle john remarked: "well, what do you think of him?" they seemed in doubt. "i think he will do all he can," said patsy. "and he appears quite a clever young man," added beth, as if to encourage them. "allowing all that," said maud, gravely, "he has warned us of the possibility of failure. i cannot understand how the coils of evidence have wrapped themselves so tightly around poor ajo." "that," asserted flo, "is because you cannot understand ajo himself. nor can i; nor can any of us!" chapter xix maud makes a memorandum my mother used to say to me: "never expect to find brains in a pretty girl." perhaps she said it because i was not a pretty girl and she wished to encourage me. in any event, that absurd notion of the ancients that when the fairies bestow the gift of beauty on a baby they withhold all other qualities has so often been disproved that we may well disregard it. maud stanton was a pretty girl--indeed, a beautiful girl--but she possessed brains as well as beauty and used her intellect to advantage more often than her quiet demeanor would indicate to others than her most intimate associates. from the first she had been impressed by the notion that there was something mysterious about a. jones and that his romantic explanation of his former life and present position was intended to hide a truth that would embarrass him, were it fully known. therefore she had secretly observed the young man, at such times as they were together, and had treasured every careless remark he had made--every admission or assertion--and made a note of it. the boy's arrest had startled her because it was so unexpected, and her first impulse was to doubt his innocence. later, however, she had thoroughly reviewed the notes she had made and decided he was innocent. in the quiet of her own room, when she was supposed to be asleep, maud got out her notebook and read therein again the review of all she had learned concerning a. jones of sangoa. "for a boy, he has a good knowledge of business; for a foreigner, he has an excellent conception of modern american methods," she murmured thoughtfully. "he is simple in little things; shrewd, if not wise, in important matters. he proved this by purchasing the control of the continental, for its shares pay enormous dividends. "had he stolen those pearls, i am sure he would have been too shrewd to have given a portion of them to us, knowing we would display them openly and so attract attention to them. a thief so ingenious as andrews, for instance, would never have done so foolish a thing as that, i am positive. therefore, jones is not andrews. "now, to account for the likeness between andrews, an american adventurer, and jones, reared and educated in the mysterious island of sangoa. ajo's father must have left some near relatives in this country when he became a recluse in his far-away island. why did he become a recluse? that's a subject i must consider carefully, for he was a man of money, a man of science, a man of affairs. jones has told us he has no relatives here. he may have spoken honestly, if his father kept him in ignorance of the family history. i'm not going to jump at the conclusion that the man who calls himself jack andrews is a near relative of our ajo--a cousin, perhaps--but i'll not forget that that might explain the likeness between them. "ajo's father must have amassed a great fortune, during many years, from his pearl fisheries. that would explain why the boy has so much money at his disposal. he didn't get it from the sale of stolen pearls, that is certain. in addition to the money he invested in the continental, he has enough in reserve to expend another million or so in patsy doyle's motion picture scheme, and he says he can spare it easily and have plenty left! this, in my opinion, is a stronger proof of jones' innocence than lawyer colby seems to consider it. to me, it is conclusive. "now, then, where is sangoa? how can one get to the island? and, finally, how did jones get here from sangoa and how is he to return, if he ever wants to go back to his valuable pearl fisheries, his people and his home?" she strove earnestly to answer these questions, but could not with her present knowledge. so she tucked the notebook into a drawer of her desk, put out her light and got into bed. but sleep would not come to her. the interest she took in the fate of young jones was quite impersonal. she liked the boy in the same way she had liked dozens of boys. the fact that she had been of material assistance in saving his life aroused no especial tenderness in her. on his own account, however, jones was interesting to her because he was so unusual. the complications that now beset him added to this interest because they were so curious and difficult to explain. maud had the feeling that she had encountered a puzzle to tax her best talents, and so she wanted to solve it. suddenly she bounded out of bed and turned on the electric light. the notebook was again brought into requisition and she penciled on its pages the following words: "what was the exact date that jack andrews landed in america? what was the exact date that ajo landed from sangoa? the first question may be easily answered, for doubtless the police have the record. but--the other?" then she replaced the book, put out the light and went to sleep very easily. that last thought, now jotted down in black and white, had effectually cleared her mind of its cobwebs. chapter xx a girlish notion colby came around next morning just as mr. merrick was entering the breakfast room, and the little man took the lawyer in to have a cup of coffee. the young attorney still maintained his jaunty air, although red-eyed from his night's vigil, and when he saw the stanton girls and their aunt jane having breakfast by an open window he eagerly begged permission to join them, somewhat to uncle john's amusement. "well?" demanded maud, reading colby's face with her clear eyes. "i made a night of it, as i promised," said he. "this morning i know so much about pearls that i'm tempted to go into the business." "as jack andrews did?" inquired flo. "not exactly," he answered with a smile. "but it's an interesting subject--so interesting that i only abandoned my reading when i found i was burning my electric lamp by daylight. listen: a pearl is nothing more or less than nacre, a fluid secretion of a certain variety of oyster--not the eatable kind. a grain of sand gets between the folds of the oyster and its shell and irritates the beast. in self-defense the oyster covers the sand with a fluid which hardens and forms a pearl." "i've always known that," said flo, with a toss of her head. "yes; but i want you all to bear it in mind, for it will explain a discovery i have made. before i get to that, however, i want to say that at one time the island of ceylon supplied the world with its most famous pearls. the early egyptians discovered them there, as well as on the persian and indian coasts. the pearl which cleopatra is said to have dissolved in wine and swallowed was worth about four hundred thousand dollars in our money; but of course pearls were scarce in her day. a single pearl was cut in two and used for earrings for the statue of venus in the pantheon at rome, and the sum paid for it was equal to about a quarter of a million dollars. sir thomas gresham, in the days of queen elizabeth, had a pearl valued at about seventy-five thousand dollars which he treated in the same manner cleopatra did, dissolving it in wine and boasting he had given the most expensive dinner ever known." "all of which--" began maud, impatiently. "all of which, miss stanton, goes to show that pearls have been of great price since the beginning of history. nowadays we get just as valuable pearls from the south seas, and even from panama, st. margarita and the caromandel coast, as ever came from ceylon. but only those of rare size, shape or color are now valued at high prices. for instance, a string of matched pearls such as that owned by princess lemoine is estimated as worth only eighty thousand dollars, because it could be quite easily duplicated. the collection of countess ahmberg was noted for its variety of shapes and colors more than for its large or costly pearls; and that leads to my great discovery." "thank heaven," said flo, with a sigh. "i have discovered that our famous expert. le drieux, is an arrant humbug." "we had suspected that," remarked maud. "now we know it," declared colby. "pearls, i have learned, change their color, their degree of luster, even their weight, according to atmospheric conditions and location. a ten-penny-weight pearl in vienna might weigh eight or nine pennyweights here in california, or it is more likely to weigh twelve. the things absorb certain moistures and chemicals from the air and sun, and shed those absorptions when kept in darkness or from the fresh air. pearls die, so to speak; but are often restored to life by immersions in sea-water, their native element. as for color: the pink and blue pearls often grow white, at times, especially if kept long in darkness, but sun-baths restore their former tints. in the same way a white pearl, if placed near the fumes of ammonia, changes to a pinkish hue, while certain combinations of chemicals render them black, or 'smoked.' a clever man could steal a pink pearl, bleach it white, and sell it to its former owner without its being recognized. therefore, when our expert, le drieux, attempts to show that the pearls found in jones' possession are identical with those stolen from the austrian lady, he fails to allow for climatic or other changes and cannot be accurate enough to convince anyone who knows the versatile characteristics of these gems." "ah, but does the judge know that, mr. colby?" asked maud. "i shall post him. after that, the conviction of the prisoner will be impossible." "do you think the examination will be held to-day?" inquired mr. merrick. "i cannot tell that. it will depend upon the mood of judge wilton. if he feels grouchy or disagreeable, he is liable to postpone the case. if he is in good spirits and wants to clear his docket he may begin the examination at ten o'clock, to-day, which is the hour set for it." "is your evidence ready, mr. colby?" "such as i can command, miss stanton," he replied. "last evening i wired new york for information as to the exact amount of stock jones owns in the continental, and i got a curious reply. the stock is valued at nineteen hundred thousand dollars, but no one believes that jones owns it personally. it is generally thought that for politic reasons the young man was made the holder of stock for several different parties, who still own it, although it is in jones' name. the control of stock without ownership is not unusual. it gives the real owners an opportunity to hide behind their catspaw, who simply obeys their instructions." "i do not believe that jones is connected with anyone in that manner," said mr. merrick. "nor do i," asserted aunt jane. "his interference with goldstein's plans proves he is under no obligations to others, for he has acted arbitrarily, in accordance with his personal desires and against the financial interests of the concern." "why didn't you ask him about this, instead of wiring to new york?" demanded maud. "he might not give us exact information, under the circumstances," said colby. the girl frowned. "jones is not an ordinary client," continued the lawyer, coolly. "he won't tell me anything about himself, or give me what is known as 'inside information.' on the contrary, he contents himself with saying he is innocent and i must prove it. i'm going to save the young man, but i'm not looking to him for much assistance." maud still frowned. presently she said: "i want to see mr. jones. can you arrange an interview for me, sir?" "of course. you'd better go into town with me this morning. if the examination is held, you will see jones then. if it's postponed, you may visit him in the jail." maud reflected a moment. "very well," said she, "i'll go with you." then, turning to her aunt, she continued: "you must make my excuses to mr. goldstein, aunt jane." mrs. montrose eyed her niece critically. "who will accompany you, maud?" she asked. "why, i'll go," said patsy doyle; and so it was settled, uncle john agreeing to escort the young ladies and see them safely home again. chapter xxi the yacht "arabella" as the party drove into town colby said: "it wouldn't be a bad idea for jones to bribe that fellow le drieux. if le drieux, who holds a warrant for the arrest of jack andrews, issued by the austrian government and vised in washington, could be won to our side, the whole charge against our friend might be speedily dissolved." "disgraceful!" snapped maud indignantly. "i am positive mr. jones would not consider such a proposition." "diplomatic, not disgraceful," commented the lawyer, smiling at her. "why should jones refuse to consider bribery?" "to use money to defeat justice would be a crime as despicable as stealing pearls," she said. "dear me!" muttered colby, with a puzzled frown. "what a queer way to look at it. le drieux has already been bribed, by a liberal reward, to run down a supposed criminal. if we bribe him with a larger sum to give up the pursuit of jones, whom we believe innocent, we are merely defending ourselves from a possible injustice which may be brought about by an error of judgment." "isn't this judge both able and honest?" asked uncle john. "wilton? well, possibly. his ability consists in his knowledge of law, rather than of men and affairs. he believes himself honest, i suppose, but i'll venture to predict he will act upon prejudice and an assumption of personal dignity, rather than attempt to discover if his personal impressions correspond with justice. a judge, mr. merrick, is a mere man, with all the average man's failings; so we must expect him to be quite human." "never mind," said patsy resignedly. "perhaps we shall find him a better judge than you are lawyer." "he has had more experience, anyhow," said colby, much amused at the shot. they found, on arriving at court, that the case had already been postponed. they drove to the jail and obtained permission to see the prisoner, who was incarcerated under the name of "jack andrews, alias a. jones." maud would have liked a private audience, but the lawyer was present as well as patsy and mr. merrick, and she did not like to ask them to go away. the boy greeted them with his old frank smile and did not seem in the least oppressed by the fact that he was a prisoner accused of an ugly crime. the interview was held in a parlor of the jail, a guard standing by the door but discreetly keeping out of earshot. colby first informed the boy of the postponement of his formal examination and then submitted to his client an outline of the defense he had planned. jones listened quietly and shook his head. "is that the best you can do for me?" "with my present knowledge, yes," returned the lawyer. "and will it clear me from this suspicion?" was the next question. "i hope so." "you are not sure?" "this is an extraordinary case, mr. jones. your friends all believe you innocent, but the judge wants facts--cold, hard facts--and only these will influence him. mr. le drieux, commissioned by the austrian government, states that you are jack andrews, and have escaped to america after having stolen the pearls of a noble viennese lady. he will offer, as evidence to prove his assertion, the photograph and the pearls. you must refute this charge with counter-evidence, in order to escape extradition and a journey to the country where the crime was committed. there you will be granted a regular trial, to be sure, but even if you then secure an acquittal you will have suffered many indignities and your good name will be permanently tarnished." "well, sir?" "i shall work unceasingly to secure your release at the examination. but i wish i had some stronger evidence to offer in rebuttal." "go ahead and do your best," said the boy, nonchalantly. "i will abide by the result, whatever it may be." "may i ask a few questions?" maud timidly inquired. he turned to her with an air of relief. "most certainly you may, miss stanton." "and you will answer them?" "i pledge myself to do so, if i am able." "thank you," she said. "i am not going to interfere with mr. colby's plans, but i'd like to help you on my own account, if i may." he gave her a quick look, at once grateful, suspicious and amused. then he said: "clear out, colby. i'm sure you have a hundred things to attend to, and when you're gone i'll have a little talk with miss stanton." the lawyer hesitated. "if this conversation is likely to affect your case," he began, "then--" "then miss stanton will give you any information she may acquire," interrupted jones, and that left colby no alternative but to go away. "now, then, miss stanton, out with it!" said the boy. "there are a lot of things we don't know, but ought to know, in order to defend you properly," she observed, looking at him earnestly. "question me, then." "i want to know the exact date when you landed in this country from sangoa." "let me see. it was the twelfth day of october, of last year." "oh! so long ago as that? it is fifteen months. once you told us that you had been here about a year." "i didn't stop to count the months, you see. the twelfth of october is correct." "where did you land?" "at san francisco." "direct from sangoa?" "direct from sangoa." "and what brought you from sangoa to san francisco?" "a boat." "a sailing-ship?" "no, a large yacht. two thousand tons burden." "whose yacht was it?" "mine." "then where is it now?" he reflected a moment. "i think captain carg must be anchored at san pedro, by now. or perhaps he is at long beach, or santa monica," he said quietly. "on this coast!" exclaimed maud. "yes." patsy was all excitement by now and could no longer hold her tongue. "is the yacht _arabella_ yours?" she demanded. "it is, miss patsy." "then it is lying off santa monica bay. i've seen it!" she cried. "it was named for my mother," said the boy, his voice softening, "and built by my father. in the _arabella_ i made my first voyage; so you will realize i am very fond of the little craft." maud was busily thinking. "is captain carg a sangoan?" she asked. "of course. the entire crew are sangoans." "then where has the yacht been since it landed you here fifteen months ago?" "it returned at once to the island, and at my request has now made another voyage to america." "it has been here several days." "quite likely." "has it brought more pearls from sangoa?" "perhaps. i do not know, for i have not yet asked for the captain's report." both uncle john and patsy were amazed at the rapidity with which maud was acquiring information of a really important character. indeed, she was herself surprised and the boy's answers were already clearing away some of the mists. she stared at him thoughtfully as she considered her next question, and jones seemed to grow thoughtful, too. "i have no desire to worry my friends over my peculiar difficulties," he presently said. "frankly, i am not in the least worried myself. the charge against me is so preposterous that i am sure to be released after the judge has examined me; and, even at the worst--if i were sent to vienna for trial--the austrians would know very well that i am not the man they seek." "that trip would cause you great inconvenience, however," suggested mr. merrick. "i am told a prisoner is treated very well, if he is willing to pay for such consideration," said jones. "and your good name?" asked maud, with a touch of impatience. "my good name is precious only to me, and i know it is still untarnished. for your sake, my newly found friends, i would like the world to believe in me, but there is none save you to suffer through my disgrace, and you may easily ignore my acquaintance." "what nonsense!" cried patsy, scornfully. "tell me, sir, what's to become of our grand motion picture enterprise, if you allow yourself to be shipped to vienna as a captured thief?" he winced a trifle at the blunt epithet but quickly recovered and smiled at her. "i'm sorry, miss patsy," said he. "i know you will be disappointed if our enterprise is abandoned. so will i. since this latest complication arose i fear i have not given our project the consideration it deserves." the boy passed his hand wearily across his forehead and, rising from his seat, took a few nervous steps up and down the room. then, pausing, he asked abruptly: "are you still inclined to be my champion, miss stanton?" "if i can be of any help," she replied, simply. "then i wish you would visit the yacht, make the acquaintance of captain carg and tell him of the trouble i am in. will you?" "with pleasure. that is--i'll be glad to do your errand." "i'll give you a letter to him," he continued, and turning to the attendant he asked for writing material, which was promptly furnished him. at the table he wrote a brief note and enclosed it in an envelope which he handed to maud. "you will find the captain a splendid old fellow," said he. "will he answer any questions i may ask him?" she demanded. "that will depend upon your questions," he answered evasively. "carg is considered a bit taciturn, i believe, but he has my best interests at heart and you will find him ready to serve me in any possible way." "is there any objection to my going with maud?" asked patsy. "i'd like to visit that yacht; it looks so beautiful from a distance." "you may all go, if you wish," said he. "it might be well for mr. merrick to meet captain carg, who would prefer, i am sure, to discuss so delicate a matter as my arrest with a man. not that he is ungallant, but with a man such as mr. merrick he would be more at his ease. carg is a sailor, rather blunt and rugged, both in speech and demeanor, but wholly devoted to me because i am at present _the_ jones of sangoa." "i'll accompany the girls, of course," said uncle john; "and i think we ought not to delay in seeing your man. colby says you may be called for examination at any time." "there is one more question i want to ask," announced maud as they rose to go. "on what date did you reach new york, after landing at san francisco?" "why, it must have been some time in last january. i know it was soon after christmas, which i passed in chicago." "is that as near as you can recollect the date?" "yes, at short notice." "then perhaps you can tell me the date you took possession of the continental film company by entering the stockholders' meeting and ejecting yourself president?" he seemed surprised at her information and the question drew from him an odd laugh. "how did you learn about that incident?" he asked. "goldstein told mr. merrick. he said it was a coup d'etat." the boy laughed again. "it was really funny," said he. "old bingley, the last president, had no inkling that i controlled the stock. he was so sure of being reelected that he had a camera-man on hand to make a motion picture of the scene where all would hail him as the chief. the picture was taken, but it didn't interest bingley any, for it showed the consternation on his face, and the faces of his favored coterie, when i rose and calmly voted him out of office with the majority of the stock." "oh!" exclaimed maud. "there was a picture made of that scene, then?" "to be sure. it was never shown but once to an audience of one. i sat and chuckled to myself while the film was being run." "was it kept, or destroyed?" asked the girl, breathlessly. "i ordered it preserved amongst our archives. probably goldstein now has the negative out here, stored in our hollywood vaults." "and the date--when was it?" she demanded. "why, the annual meeting is always the last thursday in january. figure it out--it must have been the twenty-sixth. but is the exact date important, miss stanton?" "very," she announced. "i don't know yet the exact date that andrews landed in new york on his return from vienna, but if it happened to be later than the twenty-sixth of january--" "i see. in that case the picture will clear me of suspicion." "precisely. i shall now go and wire new york for the information i need." "can't you get it of le drieux?" asked the young man. "perhaps so; i'll try. but it will be better to get the date from the steamship agent direct." with this they shook the boy's hand, assuring him of their sympathy and their keen desire to aid him, and then hurried away from the jail. chapter xxii masculine and feminine uncle john and the girls, after consulting together, decided to stop at the hollywood studio and pick up flo and mrs. montrose. "it would be a shame to visit that lovely yacht without them," said patsy; "and we were all invited, you know." "yes, invited by a host who is unavoidably detained elsewhere," added uncle john. "still, that yacht is very exclusive," his niece stated, "and i'm sure we are the first americans to step foot on its decks." they were all in a brighter mood since the interview at the jail, and after a hurried lunch at the hotel, during which maud related to the others the morning's occurrences, they boarded the big merrick seven-passenger automobile and drove to santa monica bay. louise couldn't leave the baby, who was cutting teeth, but arthur and beth joined the party and on arrival at the beach uncle john had no difficulty in securing a launch to take them out to the _arabella_. "they won't let you aboard, though," declared the boatman. "a good many have tried it, an' come back disjointed. there's something queer about that craft; but the gov'ment don't seem worried, so i guess it ain't a pirate." the beauty of the yacht grew on them as they approached it. it was painted a pure white in every part and on the stern was the one word: _arabella_, but no name of the port from which she hailed. the ladder was hoisted and fastened to an upper rail, but as they drew up to the smooth sides a close-cropped bullet-head projected from the bulwarks and a gruff voice demanded: "well, what's wanted?" "we want to see captain carg," called arthur, in reply. the head wagged sidewise. "no one allowed aboard," said the man. "here's a letter to the captain, from mr. jones," said maud, exhibiting it. the word seemed magical. immediately the head disappeared and an instant later the boarding ladder began to descend. but the man, a sub-officer dressed in a neat uniform of white and gold, came quickly down the steps and held out his hand for the letter. "beg pardon," said he, touching his cap to the ladies, "but the rules are very strict aboard the _arabella_. will you please wait until i've taken this to the captain? thank you!" then he ran lightly up the steps and they remained seated in the launch until he returned. "the captain begs you to come aboard," he then said, speaking very respectfully but with a face that betrayed his wonder at the order of his superior. then he escorted them up the side to the deck, which was marvelously neat and attractive. some half a dozen sailors lounged here and there and these stared as wonderingly at the invasion of strangers as the subaltern had done. but their guide did not pause longer than to see that they had all reached the deck safely, when he led them into a spacious cabin. here they faced captain carg, whom patsy afterward declared was the tallest, thinnest, chilliest man she had ever encountered. his hair was grizzled and hung low on his neck; his chin was very long and ended in a point; his nose was broad, with sensitive nostrils that marked every breath he drew. as for his eyes, which instantly attracted attention, they were brown and gentle as a girl's but had that retrospective expression that suggests far-away thoughts or an utter lack of interest in one's surroundings. they never looked at but through one. the effect of carg's eyes was distinctly disconcerting. the commander of the _arabella_ bowed with much dignity as his guests entered and with a sweep of his long arm he muttered in distant tones: "pray be seated." they obeyed. the cabin was luxuriously furnished and there was no lack of comfortable chairs. somehow, despite the courteous words and attitude of captain carg, there was something about him that repelled confidence. already maud and patsy were wondering if such a man could be loyal and true. "my young master," he was saying, as he glanced at the letter he still held in his hand, "tells me that any questions you may ask i may answer as freely as i am permitted to." "what does that mean, sir?" maud inquired, for the speech was quite ambiguous. "that i await your queries, miss," with another perfunctory bow in her direction. she hesitated, puzzled how to proceed. "mr. jones is in a little trouble," she finally began. "he has been mistaken for some other man and--they have put him in jail until he can be examined by the federal judge of this district." the captain's face exhibited no expression whatever. even the eyes failed to express surprise at her startling news. he faced his visitors without emotion. "at the examination," maud went on, "it will be necessary for him to prove he is from sangoa." no reply. the captain sat like a statue. "he must also prove that certain pearls found in his possession came from sangoa." still no reply. maud began to falter and fidget. beth was amused. patsy was fast growing indignant. flo had a queer expression on her pretty face that denoted mischief to such an extent that it alarmed her aunt jane. "i'm afraid," said maud, "that unless you come to your master's assistance, captain carg, he will be sent to austria, a prisoner charged with a serious crime." she meant this assertion to be very impressive, but it did not seem to affect the man in the least. she sighed, and flo, with a giggle, broke an awkward pause. "well, why don't you get busy. maud?" she asked. "i--in what way, flo?" asked her sister, catching at the suggestion implied. "captain carg would make a splendid motion picture actor," declared the younger miss stanton, audaciously. "he sticks close to his cues, you see, and won't move till he gets one. he will answer your questions; yes, he has said he would; but you may prattle until doomsday without effect, so far as he is concerned, unless you finish your speech with an interrogation point." mrs. montrose gave a gasp of dismay, while maud flushed painfully. the captain, however, allowed a gleam of admiration to soften his grim features as he stared fixedly at saucy flo. patsy marked this fleeting change of expression at once and said hastily: "i think. maud, dear, the captain is waiting to be questioned." at this he cast a grateful look in miss doyle's direction and bowed to her. maud began to appreciate the peculiar situation and marshalled her questions in orderly array. "tell me, please, where _is_ sangoa?" she began. "in the south seas, miss." "will you give me the latitude and longitude?" "i cannot." "oh, you mean that you _will_ not?" "i have been commanded to forget the latitude and longitude of sangoa." "but this is folly!" she exclaimed, much annoyed. "such absurd reticence may be fatal to mr. jones' interests." he made no reply to this and after reflection she tried again. "what is the nearest land to sangoa?" "toerdal," said he. "what is that, an island?" "yes." "is it on the maps? is it charted?" "no, miss." she silenced flo's aggravating giggle with a frown. "tell me, sir," she continued, "what is the nearest land to sangoa that is known to the world?" he smiled faintly as he replied: "i cannot tell." uncle john had grown very uneasy by this time and he decided he ought to attempt to assist maud. so, addressing captain carg, he said in a positive tone: "we quite understand, sir, that it has been the policy of the owners of sangoa to guard all knowledge of the island's whereabouts from the outside world, as well as the fact that its pearl fisheries are very rich. we understand that an influx of treasure-seekers would embarrass the sangoans. but we are close friends of young mr. jones and have no desire to usurp his island kingdom or seize his pearls. our only anxiety is to free him from an unjust suspicion. a foolish man named le drieux accuses jones of stealing a choice collection of pearls from a lady in austria and fleeing with them to america. he has a photograph of the real criminal, taken abroad, which curiously resembles your young master." here the captain turned a quick look upon the speaker and for the first time his eyes lost their dull expression. but he made no remark and uncle john continued: "this man le drieux found several choice pearls in the possession of mr. jones, which he claims are a part of the stolen collection. hence he obtained your master's arrest. jones says he brought the pearls from sangoa, his home, where they were found. no one here knows anything of sangoa, so they regard his story with suspicion. now, sir, we believe that through you we can prove he has told the truth, and so secure his release. here is the important question: will you help us?" "willingly, sir," replied the captain. "are you forbidden to tell us where sangoa is, or anything about the island?" "yes, sir; i am forbidden to do that, under any circumstances," was the ready answer. "have you been to sangoa since you landed mr. jones in san francisco, some fifteen months ago?" "yes, sir." "and did you bring back with you, on this trip, any pearls?" "yes, sir." "have you already disposed of them?" "no, sir." "why not?" "i am awaiting orders from my master." "has he been aboard since you anchored here?" "no, sir." "what were your instructions?" "to anchor on this coast and await his coming." "well," said mr. merrick, reflectively, "i believe you can prove our case without telling the location of sangoa. an exhibition of the pearls you have brought ought to convince any reasonable judge. are there many of them in this lot?" "not so many as usual, sir." "are they very choice ones?" "not so choice as usual, sir." uncle john was greatly disappointed, but maud exclaimed eagerly: "let us see them, please!" that was not a question, but the captain rose at once, bowed and left the cabin. it was some ten minutes before he returned, followed by two men who bore between them a heavy bronze chest which they placed upon the cabin floor. then they left the room and the captain took a key from his pocket and unlocked a secret panel in the wainscoting of the cabin. a small compartment was disclosed, in which hung another key on an iron hook. he removed this and with it unlocked the chest, drawing-from its recesses several trays which he deposited upon the table. these trays were lined and padded with white velvet and when the covers were removed, the girls, who had crowded around the table, uttered cries of astonishment and delight. "they may not be as numerous or as choice 'as usual,'" murmured mrs. montrose, "but they are the most amazing lot of pearls i have ever beheld." "and did all these come from sangoa?" maud asked the captain. "they represent two months' fishing on the coast of our island," he replied; "but not the best two months of the year. the weather was bad; there were many storms." "why, the pearls that ajo gave us were insignificant when compared with these!" cried beth. "this collection must be worth an enormous sum. uncle john." uncle john merely nodded. he had been thinking, as he studied the pearls, and now turned to captain carg. "will you come ashore and testify before the judge in behalf of your master?" "yes, if he asks me to do so." "and will you bring these pearls with you?" "if my master orders it." "very good. we will have him send you instructions." the captain bowed, after which he turned to the table and began replacing the trays in the chest. then he locked it, again hung the key in the secret aperture and closed the panel. a whistle summoned the two seamen, who bore away the chest, accompanied by the captain in person. when they were left alone, maud said anxiously: "is there anything more we can do here?" "i think not," replied mr. merrick. "then let us get back. i want to complete my evidence at once, for no one knows when the judge will summon ajo for examination." they thanked the captain when he rejoined them, but he remained as silent and undemonstrative as ever, so they took their departure without further ceremony and returned to the shore. chapter xxiii the advantage of a day that evening le drieux appeared in the lobby of the hotel and sat himself comfortably down, as if his sole desire in life was to read the evening paper and smoke his after-dinner cigar. he cast a self-satisfied and rather supercilious glance in the direction of the merrick party, which on this occasion included the stantons and their aunt, but he made no attempt to approach the corner where they were seated. maud, however, as soon as she saw le drieux, asked arthur weldon to interview the man and endeavor to obtain from him the exact date when jack andrews landed in new york. uncle john had already wired to major doyle, patsy's father, to get the steamship lists and find which boat andrews had come on and the date of its arrival, but no answer had as yet been received. arthur made a pretext of buying a cigar at the counter and then strolled aimlessly about until he came, as if by chance, near to where le drieux was sitting. making a pretense of suddenly observing the man, he remarked casually: "ah, good evening." "good evening, mr. weldon," replied le drieux, a note of ill-suppressed triumph in his voice. "i suppose you are now content to rest on your laurels, pending the formal examination?" said arthur. "i am, sir. but the examination is a mere form, you know. i have already cabled the commissioner of police at vienna and received a reply stating that the austrian ambassador would make a prompt demand for extradition and the papers would be forwarded from washington to the austrian consul located in this city. the consul has also been instructed to render me aid in transporting the prisoner to vienna. all this will require several days' time, so you see we are in no hurry to conclude the examination." "i see." said arthur. "is it, then, your intention to accompany the prisoner to vienna?" "of course. i have not mentioned the fact to you before, but i hold a commission from the chief of police of vienna authorizing me to arrest jack andrews wherever i may find him, and deliver him up for trial. my firm procured for me this commission, as they are very anxious to recover the lost pearls." "why?" "well, to be frank, sir, the countess still owes our firm a large sum for purchases. she had almost her entire fortune tied up in that collection, and unless it is recovered--." "i can well appreciate the anxiety of your firm. but aside from that, mr. le drieux, i suppose a big reward has been offered?" "not big; just a fair amount. it will repay me, quite handsomely, for my trouble in this affair; but, of course, my firm gets half of the reward." "they are not too generous. you deserve it all." "thank you. it has been an interesting episode, mr. weldon." "it has been more than that. i consider this escapade of andrews quite a romance; or is it more of a tragedy, in your opinion?" "it will be a tragedy for andrews, before he's through with it," replied le drieux grimly. "they're pretty severe on the long-fingered gentry, over there in europe, and you must remember that if the fellow lives through the sentence they will undoubtedly impose upon him in vienna, he has still to answer for the paris robbery and the london murder. it's all up with andrews, i guess; and it's a good thing, too, for he is too clever to remain at large." "i do not consider him so clever as his captor," said arthur smoothly. "it did not take you long to discover where he had hidden. why, he has only returned to america about fifteen months ago." "eleven months ago--even less than that, i think," retorted le drieux, with much pride. "let me see," taking out a notebook, "andrews landed from the _princess irene_ on the twenty-seventh of january last." "oh, the twenty-seventh? are you sure of that?" said arthur. "of course." "i was under the impression he landed on the twenty-fifth." "no; you are wrong. why, i met the boat myself, but missed him, although he was on the passenger list. he disembarked very slyly, i afterward learned, being doubtless afraid he would be arrested. but at that time i had no positive evidence against him." arthur asked a few more questions of no importance and then bade le drieux good night and rejoined the girls. "you win, maud," he remarked as he sat down. "that clew of yours was an inspiration. andrews arrived in america on january twenty-seventh, just one day after jones had a motion picture of himself taken at the stockholders' meeting of the continental film company." "then we needn't worry over ajo any longer!" asserted patsy joyfully. "with this evidence and the testimony of captain carg and his pearls, the most stupid judge on earth would declare the boy innocent. why, beth, we shall get our theatres built, after all!" chapter xxiv picture number nineteen "well, where have you been?" demanded goldstein gruffly, as maud stanton entered his office the next morning in response to a summons from the continental manager. "what made you run away yesterday? don't you know such things make us lots of trouble and cost us money?" "i'm not worrying about that," replied maud, as she composedly sat down opposite the manager. goldstein glared at her, but he was cautious. "you're a fine actress, miss stanton, and you're popular on the films," he said, "but if you cannot attend to business we are paying you too much money." "indeed!" "no other firm could afford to give you so much, you know that; and the only reason we are so extravagant is because you are one of our features." "am i to take this as a dismissal?" she asked carelessly. "dismissal!" he cried, holding up his hands. "of course not. who is talking of dismissal? but i owe a duty to my firm. such actions as yours, in running away from rehearsals, must have a--a--reprimand. not severe; i am not so angry as grieved; but a reprimand is your due--and that fly-away sister of yours is just as bad." "we went to assist your president--mr. jones--to establish his innocence of the awful charge made against him," she explained. "bah. you can't do that. no one can save him," he replied, with triumph and satisfaction mingled in his tone. she looked at him thoughtfully. "you seem pleased with the idea that he is guilty, mr. goldstein." "i am glad he is caught. what is jones to me? an interloper! a boy who gets money, buys stock, and then interferes with a business he knows nothing about. you are a professional, miss stanton. you know how we, who are in the game, have won our knowledge of it by long experience, by careful study, by keeping the thousand threads of the rope of success twisted tightly together. any fool could buy this business, but only an expert could run it successfully. you know that. so i am glad this interfering boy is wiped off the slate forever." "but he isn't!" she protested. "you still have this boy to reckon with, goldstein. when he is examined by the judge he will be set free, for all the evidence is in his favor and there is ample proof that he is not the man they are after. and that reminds me. there is a negative here that was made at the directors' meeting in january, a year ago, which shows mr. jones taking control of the continental." "i have never seen it," he said, shaking his head. "it is here, though, and i want a positive printed at once, and mounted on a reel, so it can be exhibited before the judge. have alfred get it out of the vault." "why should i do that?" he inquired, frowning. "because, if you refuse, mr. jones is quite likely to find another manager. no other firm would pay you so much as you are getting here. you know that." he grinned with delight at the thrust, then grew solemn. "you are sure he will go free?" "positive," returned maud. "he doesn't really need that film, but it would be good policy--excellent policy--for you to produce it." "alfred!" called the manager. "bring me the stock book." he ran his finger down the pages. "january--eh--eh--" "january twenty-sixth," she said. "here it is: 'special of annual meeting, c.f.m. co.--280 feet.--no. 19,' get number nineteen out of the vault, alfred." while the young man was gone he relapsed into thought. maud waited patiently. "you see," resumed the manager abruptly, "i am making more money for the continental than i get paid for. that is because i know how. it is not good business to cut down the profits; therefore i should be paid a bigger salary. miss stanton, you're a friend of young jones, who controls this company. yon might talk to him about me." "i will," she said. "you might say i know every trick of the trade. tell jones how all the other film makers are crazy to get me. but say how i refuse more money because i believe our directors will wake up to my value and raise my salary. that sounds pretty good, eh?" "it sounds remarkable." "and it's no dream. ah, here comes alfred." the clerk laid upon the table a round box coated with paraffin to exclude the air. a tag was attached to the box, describing its contents. "number nineteen. quite right. take it to the printing room and tell mcdonald to make me a copy as quickly as possible. tell him to let me know when it's dry and ready to run." as the clerk disappeared maud said: "i needn't wait, i suppose?" "no. werner wants you at the rehearsal of 'the love of a princess.' before you go home to-night i'll call you in to see the run of number nineteen. then you may take the film to jones--with my compliments." at five o'clock, when she was dressing to go home, maud was summoned to the little "dark room" where all films are exhibited, trimmed and tested before being sent out. she took aunt jane and flo with her and they found goldstein already waiting and the operator standing by his machine. the scene was short and not very exciting, although of interest in the present crisis. it showed the interior of the hall where the stock-holders' meeting was held, and began with the assembling of the members. two or three pompous individuals then seated themselves facing the others, and the proceedings began. a slim boy on a back bench arose and said something. panic was at once written on the faces of the former officers. they gesticulated; their lips moved rapidly. the boy, easily recognized as a. jones, advanced and displayed a lot of papers, which were carefully examined. he then took the president's chair, the former officers fled in disgust and the throng of stockholders wildly applauded. then the light went out, the machine stopped, and goldstein opened the door to let in light and air. "it was the same kid, all right," he remarked. "i had never seen this film run before, but it shows how jones called the turn on the old officers in great shape. i wonder where he got all the money?" maud secured his promise to send an operator to town, to exhibit the film before the judge, whenever he might be required. then she went to her hotel fully satisfied that she had done all in her power to assist a. jones of sangoa. chapter xxv judgment a telegram from major doyle corroborated le drieux's assertion that jack andrews had arrived at the port of new york via the _princess irene_ on january twenty-seventh. a report from lawyer colby stated that he was now so thoroughly posted on everything pertaining to pearls that he could easily confound the expert, mr. isidore le drieux. there the matter rested for three days, during which the stanton girls continued their work at the studio and uncle john's nieces busied themselves enjoying the charms of the ideal hollywood climate. then came the news that the judge would call jones for examination at nine o'clock on friday morning, the thirteenth. "friday, the thirteenth!" said patsy with a grimace. "i hope ajo isn't superstitious." "that combination proves lucky for some people," replied arthur, laughing. "let us hope that jones is one of them." "of course we shall all go to see what happens," said beth, and to this there was no dissenting voice. maud obtained a letter from jones to captain carg, asking him to be on hand, and this she dispatched by a safe messenger to the yacht _arabella_. she also told goldstein to have his operator in attendance with the film. finally, a conference was called that evening with mr. colby, at which the complete program of defense was carefully rehearsed. "really," said the lawyer, "there's nothing to this case. it's a regular walkaway, believe me! i'm almost ashamed to take mr. jones' money for conducting a case that miss stanton has all cut and dried for me. i'll not receive one half the credit i should had the thing been complicated, or difficult. however, i've learned so much about pearls that i'm almost tempted to go into the jewelry business." friday morning was bright and cool--one of those perfect days for which southern california is famous. judge wilton appeared in court with a tranquil expression upon his face that proved he was in a contented mood. all conditions augured well for the prisoner. the prosecution was represented by two well known attorneys who had brought a dozen witnesses to support their charge, among them being the austrian consul. the case opened with the statement that the prisoner, jackson dowd andrews, alias a. jones, while a guest at the villa of the countess ahmberg, near vienna, had stolen from his hostess a valuable collection of pearls, which he had secretly brought to america. some of the stolen booty the prisoner had disposed of, it was asserted; a part had been found in his possession at the time of his arrest; some of the pearls had been mounted by brock & co., the los angeles jewelers, at his request, and by him presented to several acquaintances he had recently made but who were innocent of any knowledge of his past history or his misdeeds. therefore the prosecution demanded that the prisoner be kept in custody until the arrival of extradition papers, which were already on the way, and that on the arrival of these papers andrews should be turned over to le drieux, a representative of the vienna police, and by him taken to austria, the scene of his crime, for trial and punishment. the judge followed the charge of the prosecution rather indifferently, being already familiar with it. then he asked if there was any defense. colby took the floor. he denied that the prisoner was jackson dowd andrews, or that he had ever been in vienna. it was a case of mistaken identity. his client's liberty had been outraged by the stupid blunders of the prosecution. he demanded the immediate release of the prisoner. "have you evidence to support this plea?" inquired judge wilton. "we have, your honor. but the prosecution must first prove its charge." the prosecution promptly responded to the challenge. the photograph of andrews, taken abroad, was shown. two recognized experts in physiognomy declared, after comparison, that it was undoubtedly the photograph of the prisoner. then le drieux took the stand. he read a newspaper account of the robbery. he produced a list of the pearls, attested by the countess herself. each individual pearl was described and its color, weight and value given. then le drieux exhibited the pearls taken from jones and, except for the small ones in the brooch which had been presented to mrs. montrose, he checked off every pearl against his list, weighing them before the judge and describing their color. during this, judge wilton continually nodded approval. such evidence was concise and indisputable, it seemed. moreover, the defense readily admitted that the pearls exhibited had all been in jones' possession. then colby got up to refute the evidence. "mr. jones," he began, "has--" "give the prisoner's full name," said the judge. "his full name is a. jones." "what does the 'a' stand for?" "it is only an initial, your honor. mr. jones has no other name." "puh! he ought to have taken some other name. names are cheap," sneered the judge. colby ignored the point. "mr. jones is a resident of sangoa, where he was born. until he landed at san francisco, fifteen months ago, he had never set foot on any land but that of his native island." "where is sangoa?" demanded the judge. "it is an island of the south seas." "what nationality?" "it is independent. it was purchased from uruguay by mr. jones' father many years ago, and now belongs exclusively to his son." "your information is indefinite," snapped the judge. "i realize that, your honor; but my client deems it wise to keep the location of his island a secret, because he has valuable pearl fisheries on its shores. the pearls exhibited by the prosecution were all found at sangoa." "how do you account, then, for their checking so accurately against the list of stolen pearls?" "i can make almost any pearls check with that list, which represents a huge collection of almost every size, weight and color," replied colby. "to prove this, i will introduce in evidence captain carg of sangoa, who recently arrived at santa monica bay with the last proceeds of the pearl fisheries of the island." captain carg was on hand, with his two sailors guarding the chest. he now produced the trays of pearls and spread them on the desk before the amazed eyes of the judge. le drieux was astounded, and showed it plainly on his face. colby now borrowed the list, and picking up a pearl from the tray weighed it on le drieux's scales and then found a parallel to it on the list. this he did with several of the pearls, chosen at random, until one of le drieux's attorneys took the expert aside and whispered to him. then le drieux's expression changed from chagrin to joy and coming forward he exclaimed: "your honor, this is the collection--the balance of it--which was stolen from the countess ahmberg!" the judge looked at him a moment, leaned back in his chair and nodded his head impressively. "what nonsense!" protested colby. "these trays contain twice the number of pearls included in that entire list, as your honor may plainly see." "of course," retorted le drieux eagerly; "here are also the pearls from the necklace of princess lemoine, and the london collection of lady grandison. your honor, in his audacity the defense has furnished us proof positive that this prisoner can be none other than the adventurer and clever thief, jack andrews." it was in vain that colby declared these pearls had just come from sangoa, where they were found. the judge cut him short and asked if he had any other evidence to advance. "these pearls," he added, indicating the trays, "i shall take possession of. they must remain in my custody until their owners claim them, or captain carg can prove they are the lawful property of the prisoner." consternation now pervaded the ranks of the defense. the girls were absolutely dismayed, while uncle john and arthur weldon wore bewildered looks. only jones remained composed, an amused smile curling the corners of his delicate mouth as he eyed the judge who was to decide his fate. on the side of the prosecution were looks of triumph. le drieux already regarded his case as won. colby now played his trump card, which maud stanton's logic and energy had supplied the defense. "the prosecution," said he, "has stated that the alleged robbery was committed at vienna on the evening of september fifteenth, and that jack andrews arrived in america on the steamship _princess irene_ on the afternoon of the january twenty-seventh following. am i correct in those dates?" the judge consulted his stenographer. "the dates mentioned are correct," he said pompously. "here are the papers issued by the commander of the port of san francisco, proving that the yacht _arabella_ of sangoa anchored in that harbor on october twelfth, and disembarked one passenger, namely: a. jones of sangoa." "that might, or might not, have been the prisoner," declared the prosecuting attorney. "true," said the judge. "the name 'a. jones' is neither distinguished nor distinguishing." "on the evening of january twenty-sixth, twenty-four hours before jack andrews landed in america," continued colby, "the prisoner, mr. a. jones, appeared at the annual meeting of the stockholders of the continental film manufacturing company, in new york, and was formally elected president of that organization." "what is your proof?" inquired the judge, stifling a yawn. "i beg to submit the minutes of the meeting, attested by its secretary." the judge glanced at the minutes. "we object to this evidence," said the opposing attorney. "there is no proof that the a. jones referred to is the prisoner." "the minutes," said colby, "state that a motion picture was taken of the meeting. i have the film here, in this room, and beg permission to exhibit it before your honor as evidence." the judge was a bit startled at so novel a suggestion but assented with a nod. in a twinkling the operator had suspended a roller-screen from the chandelier dependent from the ceiling, pulled down the window shades and attached his projecting machine to an electric-light socket. then the picture flashed upon the screen. it was not entirely distinct, because the room could not be fully darkened and the current was not strong, yet every face in the gathering of stockholders could be plainly recognized. jones, especially, as the central figure, could not be mistaken and no one who looked upon the picture could doubt his identity. when the exhibition was concluded and the room again lightened, le drieux's face was visibly perturbed and anxious, while his attorneys sat glum and disconcerted. colby now put goldstein on the stand, who testified that he recognized jones as president of his company and the owner of the majority of stock. the young man had come to him with unimpeachable credentials to that effect. the girls were now smiling and cheerful. to them the defense was absolutely convincing. but le drieux's attorneys were skillful fighters and did not relish defeat. they advanced the theory that the motion picture, just shown, had been made at a later dale and substituted for the one mentioned in the minutes of the meeting. they questioned goldstein, who admitted that he had never seen jones until a few days previous. the manager denied, however, any substitution of the picture. he was not a very satisfactory witness for the defense and colby was sorry he had summoned him. as for the judge, he seemed to accept the idea of the substitution with alacrity. he had practically decided against jones in the matter of the pearls. now he listened carefully to the arguments of the prosecution and cut colby short when he raised objections to their sophistry. finally judge wilton rose to state his decision. "the evidence submitted in proof of the alleged fact that the prisoner is jack andrews, and that jack andrews may have robbed the countess ahmberg, of vienna, of her valuable collection of pearls, is in the judgment of this court clear and convincing," he said. "the lawyer for the defense has further succeeded in entangling his client by exhibiting an additional assortment of pearls, which may likewise be stolen property. the attempt to impose upon this court a mythical island called sangoa is--eh--distinctly reprehensible. this court is not so easily hoodwinked. therefore, in consideration of the evidence advanced, i declare that the prisoner is jack andrews, otherwise jackson dowd andrews, otherwise parading under the alias of 'a. jones,' and i recognize the claim of the austrian police to his person, that he may be legally tried for his alleged crimes in the territory where it is alleged he committed them. therefore i order that the prisoner be held for requisition and turned over to the proper authorities when the papers arrive. the court is adjourned." chapter xxvi sunshine after rain of course not one of our friends agreed with the judge. indignation and resentment were written on every face--except that of goldstein. the manager rubbed his hands softly together and, approaching maud, he whispered: "you needn't speak to jones about me. it's all right. i guess he won't be interfering with me any more, eh? and come _early_ to-morrow morning. we've got a lot of rehearsing to do. to-day i will call a holiday for you. and, believe me, miss stanton, this is nothing to worry any of us. the judge settles it, right or wrong, for the law defies us all." as the manager hurried away uncle john looked after him and said: "i wonder if he realizes how true his words are? 'the law defies us all.' how helpless we are to oppose injustice and oppression when one man, with a man's limitations and prejudices, is clothed with authority to condemn us!" colby stood silent. the poor fellow's eyes were full of unshed tears. "this is my first case, and my last," said he. "i won it honestly. it was the judge, not the evidence, that defeated me. i'm going to rent my office and apply for a job as a chauffeur." jones was the least affected of the group. "never mind, friends," he said to them, "it will all come right in the end. if you will stand by me, colby, i'll retain you to plead my case in the austrian court, or at least advise my austrian lawyers. i've an idea they will treat me fairly, over there in vienna." "it's outrageous!" quoth indignant patsy doyle. "i'd like to give that judge a piece of my mind." "if you did," replied arthur, "he'd fine you for contempt." "it would be a just line, in that case," said patsy; "so i'm sure he wouldn't do it." the jailer had come to take the prisoner back to his cell. he smiled whimsically at miss doyle's speech and remarked: "there's always one side to kick, miss, whichever way the judge decides. it was only solomon who could satisfy everybody." "clear the room!" shouted the bailiff. captain carg's men took the empty chest back to the launch. the captain followed them, after pressing the hand of his young master, who said: "wait for orders, captain." uncle john took his flock back to the hotel, where they gathered in his room and held an indignation meeting. here it was safe to give full vent to their chagrin and disappointment. "every bit of honest evidence was on our side," declared maud. "i shall never be able to understand why we lost." "bribery and corruption," said flo. "i'll bet a cookie le drieux divided the reward with the judge." "i suppose it's all up with ajo now," sighed beth, regretfully. "yes," replied colby, who had accompanied them; "there is nothing more to be done for him at present. from the judge's order there is no appeal, in such a case. mr. jones must go to vienna for trial; but there he may secure an acquittal." "he is very brave, i think," said patsy. "this affair must have hurt his pride, but he smiles through it all. in his condition of health, the confinement and humiliation may well shorten his life, yet he has made no murmur." "he's good stuff, that boy," commented uncle john. "perhaps it is due to that john paul blood his father was so proud of." when arthur went into the lobby a little later he found le drieux seated comfortably and smoking a long cigar. the pearl expert nodded to the young ranchman with so much evident satisfaction that arthur could not resist engaging him in conversation. "well, you won," he remarked, taking a vacant chair beside le drieux. "yes, of course," was the reply; "but i'll admit that fellow andrews is a smooth one. why, at one time he had even me puzzled with his alibis and his evidence. that flash of the pearls was the cleverest trick i ever heard of; but it didn't go, i'd warned the judge to look out for a scoop. he knew he was dealing with one of the most slippery rogues in captivity." "see here, le drieux," said arthur; "let us be honest with one another, now that the thing is settled and diplomacy is uncalled for. do you really believe that jones is jack andrews?" "me? i know it, mr. weldon. i don't pose as a detective, but i'm considered to have a shrewd insight into human character, and from the first moment i set eyes on him i was positive that jones was the famous jack andrews. i can understand how you people, generous and trusting, have been deceived in the fellow; i admire the grit you've all shown in standing by him to the last. i haven't a particle of malice toward any one of you, i assure you--not even toward andrews himself." "then why have you bounded him so persistently?" "for two reasons." said le drieux. "as a noted pearl expert, i wanted to prove my ability to run down the thief; and, as a man in modest circumstances, i wanted the reward." "how much will you get?" "all together, the rewards aggregate twenty thousand dollars. i'll get half, and my firm will get half." "i think," said arthur, to test the man, "that jones would have paid you double that amount to let him alone." le drieux shook his head; then he smiled. "i don't mind telling you, mr. weldon--in strict confidence, of course--that i approached jones on that very subject, the day he was placed in jail. he must have been sure his tricks would clear him, for he refused to give me a single penny. i imagine he is very sorry, right now; don't you, sir?" "no," said arthur, "i don't. i still believe in his innocence." le drieux stared at him incredulously. "what, after that examination of to-day?" he demanded. "before and after. there was no justice in the decision of judge wilton; he was unduly prejudiced." "be careful, sir!" "we are talking confidentially." "to be sure. but you astonish me. i understand the character of andrews so thoroughly that i fail to comprehend how any sensible person can believe in him. talk about prejudice!" "i suppose you are to remain at this hotel?" said arthur, evading further argument. "yes, until the papers arrive. they ought to be here by monday. then i shall take andrews to new york and we will board the first steamer for europe." arthur left him. le drieux puzzled him more than he puzzled le drieux. the expert seemed sincere in the belief that he had trapped, in jones, a noted criminal. weldon could not help wondering, as he walked away, if possibly he and his friends had been deceived in a. jones of sangoa. the doubt was but momentary, yet it had forced itself into his mind. on saturday afternoon they all made a visit to the prisoner and tried to cheer him. again on sunday they called--the stantons and merricks and weldons and all. young jones received them with composure and begged them not to worry on his account. "i am quite comfortable in this jail, i assure you," said he. "on my journey to vienna i shall be able to bribe le drieux to let me have such comforts as i desire. there is but one experience i shrink from: the passage across the atlantic. if it brings a return of my former malady i shall suffer terribly." "it may not be so bad as you fear," patsy assured him, although in her heart she realized it might be the death of the boy. "often those who are distressed by a voyage on the pacific endure the atlantic very well." "that is encouraging," said he. "it is my dread of the water that has prevented me from returning to sangoa, or even visiting my yacht. and this reminds me of a favor i wish to ask." "you may rely upon our friendship," said maud. "i believe that. here is a letter to captain carg, putting the _arabella_ at your disposal until my return from vienna. i have named mr. merrick as the commander of the yacht, in my absence, and if you feel inclined to make the trip and can spare the time i would like you all to make a voyage to sangoa." "to sangoa!" they cried in chorus. "yes. i am ambitious to prove to you, who have been my staunch friends, that the island is indeed there. incidentally you will become acquainted with the prettiest place in all the world. my house will be at your disposal while you remain and i am sure you will find it fairly comfortable." they were so amazed at this proposition that at first no one found words to answer the boy. it was flo, naturally, who first collected her thoughts. "it will be awfully jolly!" she cried, clapping her hands with delight. "i'm sure maud and i need a vacation. let's stick up our noses at goldstein and sail away to the mysterious isle. what do you say, girls? and you, mr. merrick?" "i believe, my boy," said uncle john, laying a kindly hand on the youth's shoulder, "that all of us are inclined to take advantage of your offer. that is, if you are sure we can be of no further use to you in your difficulties." "i am taking colby abroad with me and he can do all that may be done until after my trial. then i hope to rejoin you here and am looking forward to a jolly reunion." uncle john took the letters which ajo had written to captain carg, to his superintendent in sangoa and to his housekeeper. then they all pressed the boy's hand and went away. * * * * * monday morning the extradition papers arrived. le drieux exhibited them proudly to young weldon, to mr. merrick, and even to the girls, who regarded the documents with shuddering awe. "we'll take the night train," said the man. "that will get us to new york on friday, in time to catch the saturday steamer for calais." as he spoke a boy approached and handed le drieux a telegram. "excuse me," said he, and opened it with an important flourish. the next moment his face fell. he staggered and sank half fainting into a chair which mr. merrick pushed toward him. patsy ran for some water. maud stanton fanned the man with a folded newspaper. arthur weldon picked up the telegram which had _fluttered_ from le drieux's grasp and deliberately read it. then he, too, sank gasping into a chair. "listen, girls!" he cried, his voice shrill with emotion. "what do you think of this? "'jack andrews arrested here in new york to-day by burns detectives. countess ahmberg's collection of pearls was found in his possession, intact. return here first train.' "signed: 'eckstrom & co.'" there was a moment of tense silence. flo clapped her hands. "come on," she shouted in glee, "let's go and tell ajo!" [illustration: santa barbara.] our italy by charles dudley warner _author of their pilgrimage, studies in the south and west, a little journey in the world ... with many illustrations_ [illustration] _new york_ _harper & brothers, franklin square_ copyright, 1891, by harper & brothers. _all rights reserved._ contents. chap. page i. how our italy is made 1 ii. our climatic and commercial mediterranean 10 iii. early vicissitudes.--productions.--sanitary climate 24 iv. the winter of our content 42 v. health and longevity 52 vi. is residence here agreeable? 65 vii. the winter on the coast 72 viii. the general outlook.--land and prices 90 ix. the advantages of irrigation 99 x. the chance for laborers and small farmers 107 xi. some details of the wonderful development 114 xii. how the fruit perils were met.--further details of localities 128 xiii. the advance of cultivation southward 140 xiv. a land of agreeable homes 146 xv. some wonders by the way.--yosemite.--mariposa trees.--monterey 148 xvi. fascinations of the desert.--the laguna pueblo 163 xvii. the heart of the desert 177 xviii. on the brink of the grand cañon.--the unique marvel of nature 189 appendix 201 index 219 illustrations. santa barbara _frontispiece_ page mojave desert 3 mojave indian 4 mojave indian 5 bird's-eye view of riverside 7 scene in san bernardino 11 scenes in montecito and los angeles 13 fan-palm, los angeles 16 yucca-palm, santa barbara 17 magnolia avenue, riverside 21 avenue los angeles 27 in the garden at santa barbara mission 31 scene at pasadena 35 live-oak near los angeles 39 midwinter, pasadena 53 a typical garden, near santa ana 57 old adobe house, pomona 61 fan-palm, fernando st. los angeles 63 scarlet passion-vine 68 rose-bush, santa barbara 73 at avalon, santa catalina island 77 hotel del coronado 83 ostrich yard, coronado beach 86 yucca-palm 92 date-palm 93 raisin-curing 101 irrigation by artesian-well system 104 irrigation by pipe system 105 garden scene, santa ana 110 a grape-vine, montecito valley, santa barbara 116 irrigating an orchard 120 orange culture 121 in a field of golden pumpkins 126 packing cherries, pomona 131 olive-trees six years old 136 sexton nurseries, near santa barbara 141 sweetwater dam 144 the yosemite dome 151 coast of monterey 155 cypress point 156 near seal rock 157 laguna--from the south-east 159 church at laguna 164 terraced houses, pueblo of laguna 167 grand cañon on the colorado--view from point sublime 171 interior of the church at laguna 174 grand cañon of the colorado--view opposite point sublime 179 tourists in the colorado cañon 183 grand cañon of the colorado--view from the hanse trail 191 our italy. chapter i. how our italy is made. the traveller who descends into italy by an alpine pass never forgets the surprise and delight of the transition. in an hour he is whirled down the slopes from the region of eternal snow to the verdure of spring or the ripeness of summer. suddenly--it may be at a turn in the road--winter is left behind; the plains of lombardy are in view; the lake of como or maggiore gleams below; there is a tree; there is an orchard; there is a garden; there is a villa overrun with vines; the singing of birds is heard; the air is gracious; the slopes are terraced, and covered with vineyards; great sheets of silver sheen in the landscape mark the growth of the olive; the dark green orchards of oranges and lemons are starred with gold; the lusty fig, always a temptation as of old, leans invitingly over the stone wall; everywhere are bloom and color under the blue sky; there are shrines by the way-side, chapels on the hill; one hears the melodious bells, the call of the vine-dressers, the laughter of girls. the contrast is as great from the indians of the mojave desert, two types of which are here given, to the vine-dressers of the santa ana valley. italy is the land of the imagination, but the sensation on first beholding it from the northern heights, aside from its associations of romance and poetry, can be repeated in our own land by whoever will cross the burning desert of colorado, or the savage wastes of the mojave wilderness of stone and sage-brush, and come suddenly, as he must come by train, into the bloom of southern california. let us study a little the physical conditions. the bay of san diego is about three hundred miles east of san francisco. the coast line runs south-east, but at point conception it turns sharply east, and then curves south-easterly about two hundred and fifty miles to the mexican coast boundary, the extreme south-west limits of the united states, a few miles below san diego. this coast, defined by these two limits, has a southern exposure on the sunniest of oceans. off this coast, south of point conception, lies a chain of islands, curving in position in conformity with the shore, at a distance of twenty to seventy miles from the main-land. these islands are san miguel, santa rosa, santa cruz, anacapa, santa barbara, san nicolas, santa catalina, san clemente, and los coronados, which lie in mexican waters. between this chain of islands and the main-land is santa barbara channel, flowing northward. the great ocean current from the north flows past point conception like a mill-race, and makes a suction, or a sort of eddy. it approaches nearer the coast in lower california, where the return current, which is much warmer, flows northward and westward along the curving shore. the santa barbara channel, which may be called an arm of the pacific, flows by many a bold point and lovely bay, like those of san pedro, redondo, and santa monica; but it has no secure harbor, except the magnificent and unique bay of san diego. [illustration: mojave desert.] the southern and western boundary of southern california is this mild pacific sea, studded with rocky and picturesque islands. the northern boundary of this region is ranges of lofty mountains, from five thousand to eleven thousand feet in height, some of them always snow-clad, which run eastward from point conception nearly to the colorado desert. they are parts of the sierra nevada range, but they take various names, santa ynes, san gabriel, san bernardino, and they are spoken of all together as the sierra madre. in the san gabriel group, "old baldy" lifts its snow-peak over nine thousand feet, while the san bernardino "grayback" rises over eleven thousand feet above the sea. southward of this, running down into san diego county, is the san jacinto range, also snow-clad; and eastward the land falls rapidly away into the salt desert of the colorado, in which is a depression about three hundred feet below the pacific. [illustration] the point arguilles, which is above point conception, by the aid of the outlying islands, deflects the cold current from the north off the coast of southern california, and the mountain ranges from point conception east divide the state of california into two climatic regions, the southern having more warmth, less rain and fog, milder winds, and less variation of daily temperature than the climate of central california to the north.[a] other striking climatic conditions are produced by the daily interaction of the pacific ocean and the colorado desert, infinitely diversified in minor particulars by the exceedingly broken character of the region--a jumble of bare mountains, fruitful foot-hills, and rich valleys. it would be only from a balloon that one could get an adequate idea of this strange land. [footnote a: for these and other observations upon physical and climatic conditions i am wholly indebted to dr. p. c. remondino and mr. t. s. van dyke, of san diego, both scientific and competent authorities.] the united states has here, then, a unique corner of the earth, without its like in its own vast territory, and unparalleled, so far as i know, in the world. shut off from sympathy with external conditions by the giant mountain ranges and the desert wastes, it has its own climate unaffected by cosmic changes. except a tidal wave from japan, nothing would seem to be able to affect or disturb it. the whole of italy feels more or less the climatic variations of the rest of europe. all our atlantic coast, all our interior basin from texas to manitoba, is in climatic sympathy. here is a region larger than new england which manufactures its own weather and refuses to import any other. [illustration] with considerable varieties of temperature according to elevation or protection from the ocean breeze, its climate is nearly, on the whole, as agreeable as that of the hawaiian islands, though pitched in a lower key, and with greater variations between day and night. the key to its peculiarity, aside from its southern exposure, is the colorado desert. that desert, waterless and treeless, is cool at night and intolerably hot in the daytime, sending up a vast column of hot air, which cannot escape eastward, for arizona manufactures a like column. it flows high above the mountains westward till it strikes the pacific and parts with its heat, creating an immense vacuum which is filled by the air from the coast flowing up the slope and over the range, and plunging down 6000 feet into the desert. "it is easy to understand," says mr. van dyke, making his observations from the summit of the cuyamaca, in san diego county, 6500 feet above the sea-level, "how land thus rising a mile or more in fifty or sixty miles, rising away from the coast, and falling off abruptly a mile deep into the driest and hottest of american deserts, could have a great variety of climates.... only ten miles away on the east the summers are the hottest, and only sixty miles on the west the coolest known in the united states (except on this coast), and between them is every combination that mountains and valleys can produce. and it is easy to see whence comes the sea-breeze, the glory of the california summer. it is passing us here, a gentle breeze of six or eight miles an hour. it is flowing over this great ridge directly into the basin of the colorado desert, 6000 feet deep, where the temperature is probably 120°, and perhaps higher. for many leagues each side of us this current is thus flowing at the same speed, and is probably half a mile or more in depth. about sundown, when the air on the desert cools and descends, the current will change and come the other way, and flood these western slopes with an air as pure as that of the sahara and nearly as dry. [illustration: bird's-eye view of riverside.] "the air, heated on the western slopes by the sea, would by rising produce considerable suction, which could be filled only from the sea, but that alone would not make the sea-breeze as dry as it is. the principal suction is caused by the rising of heated air from the great desert.... on the top of old grayback (in san bernardino) one can feel it [this breeze] setting westward, while in the cañons, 6000 feet below, it is blowing eastward.... all over southern california the conditions of this breeze are about the same, the great mojave desert and the valley of the san joaquin above operating in the same way, assisted by interior plains and slopes. hence these deserts, that at first seem to be a disadvantage to the land, are the great conditions of its climate, and are of far more value than if they were like the prairies of illinois. fortunately they will remain deserts forever. some parts will in time be reclaimed by the waters of the colorado river, but wet spots of a few hundred thousand acres would be too trifling to affect general results, for millions of acres of burning desert would forever defy all attempts at irrigation or settlement." this desert-born breeze explains a seeming anomaly in regard to the humidity of this coast. i have noticed on the sea-shore that salt does not become damp on the table, that the portuguese fishermen on point loma are drying their fish on the shore, and that while the hydrometer gives a humidity as high as seventy-four, and higher at times, and fog may prevail for three or four days continuously, the fog is rather "dry," and the general impression is that of a dry instead of the damp and chilling atmosphere such as exists in foggy times on the atlantic coast. "from the study of the origin of this breeze we see," says mr. van dyke, "why it is that a wind coming from the broad pacific should be drier than the dry land-breezes of the atlantic states, causing no damp walls, swelling doors, or rusting guns, and even on the coast drying up, without salt or soda, meat cut in strips an inch thick and fish much thicker." at times on the coast the air contains plenty of moisture, but with the rising of this breeze the moisture decreases instead of increases. it should be said also that this constantly returning current of air is always pure, coming in contact nowhere with marshy or malarious influences nor any agency injurious to health. its character causes the whole coast from santa barbara to san diego to be an agreeable place of residence or resort summer and winter, while its daily inflowing tempers the heat of the far inland valleys to a delightful atmosphere in the shade even in midsummer, while cool nights are everywhere the rule. the greatest surprise of the traveller is that a region which is in perpetual bloom and fruitage, where semi-tropical fruits mature in perfection, and the most delicate flowers dazzle the eye with color the winter through, should have on the whole a low temperature, a climate never enervating, and one requiring a dress of woollen in every month. chapter ii. our climatic and commercial mediterranean. winter as we understand it east of the rockies does not exist. i scarcely know how to divide the seasons. there are at most but three. spring may be said to begin with december and end in april; summer, with may (whose days, however, are often cooler than those of january), and end with september; while october and november are a mild autumn, when nature takes a partial rest, and the leaves of the deciduous trees are gone. but how shall we classify a climate in which the strawberry (none yet in my experience equal to the eastern berry) may be eaten in every month of the year, and ripe figs may be picked from july to march? what shall i say of a frost (an affair of only an hour just before sunrise) which is hardly anywhere severe enough to disturb the delicate heliotrope, and even in the deepest valleys where it may chill the orange, will respect the bloom of that fruit on contiguous ground fifty or a hundred feet higher? we boast about many things in the united states, about our blizzards and our cyclones, our inundations and our areas of low pressure, our hottest and our coldest places in the world, but what can we say for this little corner which is practically frostless, and yet never had a sunstroke, knows nothing of thunder-storms and lightning, never experienced a cyclone, which is so warm that the year round one is tempted to live out-of-doors, and so cold that woollen garments are never uncomfortable? nature here, in this protected and petted area, has the knack of being genial without being enervating, of being stimulating without "bracing" a person into the tomb. i think it conducive to equanimity of spirit and to longevity to sit in an orange grove and eat the fruit and inhale the fragrance of it while gazing upon a snow-mountain. [illustration: scene in san bernardino.] this southward-facing portion of california is irrigated by many streams of pure water rapidly falling from the mountains to the sea. the more important are the santa clara, the los angeles and san gabriel, the santa ana, the santa margarita, the san luis rey, the san bernardo, the san diego, and, on the mexican border, the tia juana. many of them go dry or flow underground in the summer months (or, as the californians say, the bed of the river gets on top), but most of them can be used for artificial irrigation. in the lowlands water is sufficiently near the surface to moisten the soil, which is broken and cultivated; in most regions good wells are reached at a small depth, in others artesian-wells spout up abundance of water, and considerable portions of the regions best known for fruit are watered by irrigating ditches and pipes supplied by ample reservoirs in the mountains. from natural rainfall and the sea moisture the mesas and hills, which look arid before ploughing, produce large crops of grain when cultivated after the annual rains, without artificial watering. southern california has been slowly understood even by its occupants, who have wearied the world with boasting of its productiveness. originally it was a vast cattle and sheep ranch. it was supposed that the land was worthless except for grazing. held in princely ranches of twenty, fifty, one hundred thousand acres, in some cases areas larger than german principalities, tens of thousands of cattle roamed along the watercourses and over the mesas, vast flocks of sheep cropped close the grass and trod the soil into hard-pan. the owners exchanged cattle and sheep for corn, grain, and garden vegetables; they had no faith that they could grow cereals, and it was too much trouble to procure water for a garden or a fruit orchard. it was the firm belief that most of the rolling mesa land was unfit for cultivation, and that neither forest nor fruit trees would grow without irrigation. between los angeles and redondo beach is a ranch of 35,000 acres. seventeen years ago it was owned by a scotchman, who used the whole of it as a sheep ranch. in selling it to the present owner he warned him not to waste time by attempting to farm it; he himself raised no fruit or vegetables, planted no trees, and bought all his corn, wheat, and barley. the purchaser, however, began to experiment. he planted trees and set out orchards which grew, and in a couple of years he wrote to the former owner that he had 8000 acres in fine wheat. to say it in a word, there is scarcely an acre of the tract which is not highly productive in barley, wheat, corn, potatoes, while considerable parts of it are especially adapted to the english walnut and to the citrus fruits. [illustration: scenes in montecito and los angeles.] on this route to the sea the road is lined with gardens. nothing could be more unpromising in appearance than this soil before it is ploughed and pulverized by the cultivator. it looks like a barren waste. we passed a tract that was offered three years ago for twelve dollars an acre. some of it now is rented to chinamen at thirty dollars an acre; and i saw one field of two acres off which a chinaman has sold in one season $750 worth of cabbages. the truth is that almost all the land is wonderfully productive if intelligently handled. the low ground has water so near the surface that the pulverized soil will draw up sufficient moisture for the crops; the mesa, if sown and cultivated after the annual rains, matures grain and corn, and sustains vines and fruit-trees. it is singular that the first settlers should never have discovered this productiveness. when it became apparent--that is, productiveness without artificial watering--there spread abroad a notion that irrigation generally was not needed. we shall have occasion to speak of this more in detail, and i will now only say, on good authority, that while cultivation, not to keep down the weeds only, but to keep the soil stirred and prevent its baking, is the prime necessity for almost all land in southern california, there are portions where irrigation is always necessary, and there is no spot where the yield of fruit or grain will not be quadrupled by judicious irrigation. there are places where irrigation is excessive and harmful both to the quality and quantity of oranges and grapes. the history of the extension of cultivation in the last twenty and especially in the past ten years from the foot-hills of the sierra madre in los angeles and san bernardino counties southward to san diego is very curious. experiments were timidly tried. every acre of sand and sage-bush reclaimed southward was supposed to be the last capable of profitable farming or fruit-growing. it is unsafe now to say of any land that has not been tried that it is not good. in every valley and on every hill-side, on the mesas and in the sunny nooks in the mountains, nearly anything will grow, and the application of water produces marvellous results. from san bernardino and redlands, riverside, pomona, ontario, santa anita, san gabriel, pasadena, all the way to los angeles, is almost a continuous fruit garden, the green areas only emphasized by wastes yet unreclaimed; a land of charming cottages, thriving towns, hospitable to the fruit of every clime; a land of perpetual sun and ever-flowing breeze, looked down on by purple mountain ranges tipped here and there with enduring snow. and what is in progress here will be seen before long in almost every part of this wonderful land, for conditions of soil and climate are essentially everywhere the same, and capital is finding out how to store in and bring from the fastnesses of the mountains rivers of clear water taken at such elevations that the whole arable surface can be irrigated. the development of the country has only just begun. [illustration: fan-palm, los angeles.] [illustration: yucca-palm, santa barbara.] if the reader will look upon the map of california he will see that the eight counties that form southern california--san luis obispo, santa barbara, ventura, kern, los angeles, san bernardino, orange, and san diego--appear very mountainous. he will also notice that the eastern slopes of san bernardino and san diego are deserts. but this is an immense area. san diego county alone is as large as massachusetts, connecticut, and rhode island combined, and the amount of arable land in the valleys, on the foot-hills, on the rolling mesas, is enormous, and capable of sustaining a dense population, for its fertility and its yield to the acre under cultivation are incomparable. the reader will also notice another thing. with the railroads now built and certain to be built through all this diversified region, round from the santa barbara mountains to the san bernardino, the san jacinto, and down to cuyamaca, a ride of an hour or two hours brings one to some point on the 250 miles of sea-coast--a sea-coast genial, inviting in winter and summer, never harsh, and rarely tempestuous like the atlantic shore. here is our mediterranean! here is our italy! it is a mediterranean without marshes and without malaria, and it does not at all resemble the mexican gulf, which we have sometimes tried to fancy was like the classic sea that laves africa and europe. nor is this region italian in appearance, though now and then some bay with its purple hills running to the blue sea, its surrounding mesas and cañons blooming in semi-tropical luxuriance, some conjunction of shore and mountain, some golden color, some white light and sharply defined shadows, some refinement of lines, some poetic tints in violet and ashy ranges, some ultramarine in the sea, or delicate blue in the sky, will remind the traveller of more than one place of beauty in southern italy and sicily. it is a mediterranean with a more equable climate, warmer winters and cooler summers, than the north mediterranean shore can offer; it is an italy whose mountains and valleys give almost every variety of elevation and temperature. but it is our commercial mediterranean. the time is not distant when this corner of the united states will produce in abundance, and year after year without failure, all the fruits and nuts which for a thousand years the civilized world of europe has looked to the mediterranean to supply. we shall not need any more to send over the atlantic for raisins, english walnuts, almonds, figs, olives, prunes, oranges, lemons, limes, and a variety of other things which we know commercially as mediterranean products. we have all this luxury and wealth at our doors, within our limits. the orange and the lemon we shall still bring from many places; the date and the pineapple and the banana will never grow here except as illustrations of the climate, but it is difficult to name any fruit of the temperate and semi-tropic zones that southern california cannot be relied on to produce, from the guava to the peach. it will need further experiment to determine what are the more profitable products of this soil, and it will take longer experience to cultivate them and send them to market in perfection. the pomegranate and the apple thrive side by side, but the apple is not good here unless it is grown at an elevation where frost is certain and occasional snow may be expected. there is no longer any doubt about the peach, the nectarine, the pear, the grape, the orange, the lemon, the apricot, and so on; but i believe that the greatest profit will be in the products that cannot be grown elsewhere in the united states--the products to which we have long given the name of mediterranean--the olive, the fig, the raisin, the hard and soft shell almond, and the walnut. the orange will of course be a staple, and constantly improve its reputation as better varieties are raised, and the right amount of irrigation to produce the finest and sweetest is ascertained. it is still a wonder that a land in which there was no indigenous product of value, or to which cultivation could give value, should be so hospitable to every sort of tree, shrub, root, grain, and flower that can be brought here from any zone and temperature, and that many of these foreigners to the soil grow here with a vigor and productiveness surpassing those in their native land. this bewildering adaptability has misled many into unprofitable experiments, and the very rapidity of growth has been a disadvantage. the land has been advertised by its monstrous vegetable productions, which are not fit to eat, and but testify to the fertility of the soil; and the reputation of its fruits, both deciduous and citrus, has suffered by specimens sent to eastern markets whose sole recommendation was size. even in the vineyards and orange orchards quality has been sacrificed to quantity. nature here responds generously to every encouragement, but it cannot be forced without taking its revenge in the return of inferior quality. it is just as true of southern california as of any other land, that hard work and sagacity and experience are necessary to successful horticulture and agriculture, but it is undeniably true that the same amount of well-directed industry upon a much smaller area of land will produce more return than in almost any other section of the united states. sensible people do not any longer pay much attention to those tempting little arithmetical sums by which it is demonstrated that paying so much for ten acres of barren land, and so much for planting it with vines or oranges, the income in three years will be a competence to the investor and his family. people do not spend much time now in gaping over abnormal vegetables, or trying to convince themselves that wines of every known variety and flavor can be produced within the limits of one flat and well-watered field. few now expect to make a fortune by cutting arid land up into twenty-feet lots, but notwithstanding the extravagance of recent speculation, the value of arable land has steadily appreciated, and is not likely to recede, for the return from it, either in fruits, vegetables, or grain, is demonstrated to be beyond the experience of farming elsewhere. [illustration: magnolia avenue, riverside.] land cannot be called dear at one hundred or one thousand dollars an acre if the annual return from it is fifty or five hundred dollars. the climate is most agreeable the year through. there are no unpleasant months, and few unpleasant days. the eucalyptus grows so fast that the trimmings from the trees of a small grove or highway avenue will in four or five years furnish a family with its firewood. the strong, fattening alfalfa gives three, four, five, and even six harvests a year. nature needs little rest, and, with the encouragement of water and fertilizers, apparently none. but all this prodigality and easiness of life detracts a little from ambition. the lesson has been slowly learned, but it is now pretty well conned, that hard work is as necessary here as elsewhere to thrift and independence. the difference between this and many other parts of our land is that nature seems to work with a man, and not against him. chapter iii. early vicissitudes.--productions.--sanitary climate. southern california has rapidly passed through varied experiences, and has not yet had a fair chance to show the world what it is. it had its period of romance, of pastoral life, of lawless adventure, of crazy speculation, all within a hundred years, and it is just now entering upon its period of solid, civilized development. a certain light of romance is cast upon this coast by the spanish voyagers of the sixteenth century, but its history begins with the establishment of the chain of franciscan missions, the first of which was founded by the great father junipero serra at san diego in 1769. the fathers brought with them the vine and the olive, reduced the savage indians to industrial pursuits, and opened the way for that ranchero and adobe civilization which, down to the coming of the american, in about 1840, made in this region the most picturesque life that our continent has ever seen. following this is a period of desperado adventure and revolution, of pioneer state-building; and then the advent of the restless, the cranky, the invalid, the fanatic, from every other state in the union. the first experimenters in making homes seem to have fancied that they had come to a ready-made elysium--the idle man's heaven. they seem to have brought with them little knowledge of agriculture or horticulture, were ignorant of the conditions of success in this soil and climate, and left behind the good industrial maxims of the east. the result was a period of chance experiment, one in which extravagant expectation and boasting to some extent took the place of industry. the imagination was heated by the novelty of such varied and rapid productiveness. men's minds were inflamed by the apparently limitless possibilities. the invalid and the speculator thronged the transcontinental roads leading thither. in this condition the frenzy of 1886-87 was inevitable. i saw something of it in the winter of 1887. the scenes then daily and commonplace now read like the wildest freaks of the imagination. the bubble collapsed as suddenly as it expanded. many were ruined, and left the country. more were merely ruined in their great expectations. the speculation was in town lots. when it subsided it left the climate as it was, the fertility as it was, and the value of arable land not reduced. marvellous as the boom was, i think the present recuperation is still more wonderful. in 1890, to be sure, i miss the bustle of the cities, and the creation of towns in a week under the hammer of the auctioneer. but in all the cities, and most of the villages, there has been growth in substantial buildings, and in the necessities of civic life--good sewerage, water supply, and general organization; while the country, as the acreage of vines and oranges, wheat and barley, grain and corn, and the shipments by rail testify, has improved more than at any other period, and commerce is beginning to feel the impulse of a genuine prosperity, based upon the intelligent cultivation of the ground. school-houses have multiplied; libraries have been founded; many "boom" hotels, built in order to sell city lots in the sage-brush, have been turned into schools and colleges. there is immense rivalry between different sections. every californian thinks that the spot where his house stands enjoys the best climate and is the most fertile in the world; and while you are with him you think he is justified in his opinion; for this rivalry is generally a wholesome one, backed by industry. i do not mean to say that the habit of tall talk is altogether lost. whatever one sees he is asked to believe is the largest and best in the world. the gentleman of the whip who showed us some of the finest places in los angeles--places that in their wealth of flowers and semi-tropical gardens would rouse the enthusiasm of the most jaded traveller--was asked whether there were any finer in the city. "finer? hundreds of them;" and then, meditatively and regretfully, "i should not dare to show you the best." the semi-ecclesiastical custodian of the old adobe mission of san gabriel explained to us the twenty portraits of apostles on the walls, all done by murillo. as they had got out of repair, he had them all repainted by the best artist. "that one," he said, simply, "cost ten dollars. it often costs more to repaint a picture than to buy an original." the temporary evils in the train of the "boom" are fast disappearing. i was told that i should find the country stagnant. trade, it is true, is only slowly coming in, real-estate deals are sleeping, but in all avenues of solid prosperity and productiveness the country is the reverse of stagnant. another misapprehension this visit is correcting. i was told not to visit southern california at this season on account of the heat. but i have no experience of a more delightful summer climate than this, especially on or near the coast. [illustration: avenue los angeles.] in secluded valleys in the interior the thermometer rises in the daytime to 85°, 90°, and occasionally 100°, but i have found no place in them where there was not daily a refreshing breeze from the ocean, where the dryness of the air did not make the heat seem much less than it was, and where the nights were not agreeably cool. my belief is that the summer climate of southern california is as desirable for pleasure-seekers, for invalids, for workmen, as its winter climate. it seems to me that a coast temperature 60° to 75°, stimulating, without harshness or dampness, is about the perfection of summer weather. it should be said, however, that there are secluded valleys which become very hot in the daytime in midsummer, and intolerably dusty. the dust is the great annoyance everywhere. it gives the whole landscape an ashy tint, like some of our eastern fields and way-sides in a dry august. the verdure and the wild flowers of the rainy season disappear entirely. there is, however, some picturesque compensation for this dust and lack of green. the mountains and hills and great plains take on wonderful hues of brown, yellow, and red. i write this paragraph in a high chamber in the hotel del coronado, on the great and fertile beach in front of san diego. it is the 2d of june. looking southward, i see the great expanse of the pacific ocean, sparkling in the sun as blue as the waters at amalfi. a low surf beats along the miles and miles of white sand continually, with the impetus of far-off seas and trade-winds, as it has beaten for thousands of years, with one unending roar and swish, and occasional shocks of sound as if of distant thunder on the shore. yonder, to the right, point loma stretches its sharp and rocky promontory into the ocean, purple in the sun, bearing a light-house on its highest elevation. from this signal, bending in a perfect crescent, with a silver rim, the shore sweeps around twenty-five miles to another promontory running down beyond tia juana to the point of rocks, in mexican territory. directly in front--they say eighteen miles away, i think five sometimes, and sometimes a hundred--lie the islands of coronado, named, i suppose, from the old spanish adventurer vasques de coronado, huge bulks of beautiful red sandstone, uninhabited and barren, becalmed there in the changing blue of sky and sea, like enormous mastless galleons, like degraded icebergs, like capri and ischia. they say that they are stationary. i only know that when i walk along the shore towards point loma they seem to follow, until they lie opposite the harbor entrance, which is close by the promontory; and that when i return, they recede and go away towards mexico, to which they belong. sometimes, as seen from the beach, owing to the difference in the humidity of the strata of air over the ocean, they seem smaller at the bottom than at the top. occasionally they come quite near, as do the sea-lions and the gulls, and again they almost fade out of the horizon in a violet light. this morning they stand away, and the fleet of white-sailed fishing-boats from the portuguese hamlet of la playa, within the harbor entrance, which is dancing off point loma, will have a long sail if they pursue the barracuda to those shadowy rocks. [illustration: in the garden at santa barbara mission.] we crossed the bay the other day, and drove up a wild road to the height of the promontory, and along its narrow ridge to the light-house. this site commands one of the most remarkable views in the accessible civilized world, one of the three or four really great prospects which the traveller can recall, astonishing in its immensity, interesting in its peculiar details. the general features are the great ocean, blue, flecked with sparkling, breaking wavelets, and the wide, curving coast-line, rising into mesas, foot-hills, ranges on ranges of mountains, the faintly seen snow-peaks of san bernardino and san jacinto to the cuyamaca and the flat top of table mountain in mexico. directly under us on one side are the fields of kelp, where the whales come to feed in winter; and on the other is a point of sand on coronado beach, where a flock of pelicans have assembled after their day's fishing, in which occupation they are the rivals of the portuguese. the perfect crescent of the ocean beach is seen, the singular formation of north and south coronado beach, the entrance to the harbor along point loma, and the spacious inner bay, on which lie san diego and national city, with lowlands and heights outside sprinkled with houses, gardens, orchards, and vineyards. the near hills about this harbor are varied in form and poetic in color, one of them, the conical san miguel, constantly recalling vesuvius. indeed, the near view, in color, vegetation, and forms of hills and extent of arable land, suggests that of naples, though on analysis it does not resemble it. if san diego had half a million of people it would be more like it; but the naples view is limited, while this stretches away to the great mountains that overlook the colorado desert. it is certainly one of the loveliest prospects in the world, and worth long travel to see. standing upon this point of view, i am reminded again of the striking contrasts and contiguous different climates on the coast. in the north, of course not visible from here, is mount whitney, on the borders of inyo county and of the state of nevada, 15,086 feet above the sea, the highest peak in the united states, excluding alaska. south of it is grayback, in the san bernardino range, 11,000 feet in altitude, the highest point above its base in the united states. while south of that is the depression in the colorado desert in san diego county, about three hundred feet below the level of the pacific ocean, the lowest land in the united states. these three exceptional points can be said to be almost in sight of each other. [illustration: scene at pasadena.] i have insisted so much upon the mediterranean character of this region that it is necessary to emphasize the contrasts also. reserving details and comments on different localities as to the commercial value of products and climatic conditions, i will make some general observations. i am convinced that the fig can not only be grown here in sufficient quantity to supply our markets, but of the best quality. the same may be said of the english walnut. this clean and handsome tree thrives wonderfully in large areas, and has no enemies. the olive culture is in its infancy, but i have never tasted better oil than that produced at santa barbara and on san diego bay. specimens of the pickled olive are delicious, and when the best varieties are generally grown, and the best method of curing is adopted, it will be in great demand, not as a mere relish, but as food. the raisin is produced in all the valleys of southern california, and in great quantities in the hot valley of san joaquin, beyond the sierra madre range. the best malaga raisins, which have the reputation of being the best in the world, may never come to our market, but i have never eaten a better raisin for size, flavor, and thinness of skin than those raised in the el cajon valley, which is watered by the great flume which taps a reservoir in the cuyamaca mountains, and supplies san diego. but the quality of the raisin in california will be improved by experience in cultivation and handling. the contrast with the mediterranean region--i refer to the western basin--is in climate. there is hardly any point along the french and italian coast that is not subject to great and sudden changes, caused by the north wind, which has many names, or in the extreme southern peninsula and islands by the sirocco. there are few points that are not reached by malaria, and in many resorts--and some of them most sunny and agreeable to the invalid--the deadliest fevers always lie in wait. there is great contrast between summer and winter, and exceeding variability in the same month. this variability is the parent of many diseases of the lungs, the bowels, and the liver. it is demonstrated now by long-continued observations that dampness and cold are not so inimical to health as variability. the southern california climate is an anomaly. it has been the subject of a good deal of wonder and a good deal of boasting, but it is worthy of more scientific study than it has yet received. its distinguishing feature i take to be its equability. the temperature the year through is lower than i had supposed, and the contrast is not great between the summer and the winter months. the same clothing is appropriate, speaking generally, for the whole year. in all seasons, including the rainy days of the winter months, sunshine is the rule. the variation of temperature between day and night is considerable, but if the new-comer exercises a little care, he will not be unpleasantly affected by it. there are coast fogs, but these are not chilling and raw. why it is that with the hydrometer showing a considerable humidity in the air the general effect of the climate is that of dryness, scientists must explain. the constant exchange of desert airs with the ocean air may account for the anomaly, and the actual dryness of the soil, even on the coast, is put forward as another explanation. those who come from heated rooms on the atlantic may find the winters cooler than they expect, and those used to the heated terms of the mississippi valley and the east will be surprised at the cool and salubrious summers. a land without high winds or thunder-storms may fairly be said to have a unique climate. [illustration: live-oak near los angeles.] i suppose it is the equability and not conditions of dampness or dryness that renders this region so remarkably exempt from epidemics and endemic diseases. the diseases of children prevalent elsewhere are unknown here; they cut their teeth without risk, and _cholera infantum_ never visits them. diseases of the bowels are practically unknown. there is no malaria, whatever that may be, and consequently an absence of those various fevers and other disorders which are attributed to malarial conditions. renal diseases are also wanting; disorders of the liver and kidneys, and bright's disease, gout, and rheumatism, are not native. the climate in its effect is stimulating, but at the same time soothing to the nerves, so that if "nervous prostration" is wanted, it must be brought here, and cannot be relied on to continue long. these facts are derived from medical practice with the native indian and mexican population. dr. remondino, to whom i have before referred, has made the subject a study for eighteen years, and later i shall offer some of the results of his observations upon longevity. it is beyond my province to venture any suggestion upon the effect of the climate upon deep-seated diseases, especially of the respiratory organs, of invalids who come here for health. i only know that we meet daily and constantly so many persons in fair health who say that it is impossible for them to live elsewhere that the impression is produced that a considerable proportion of the immigrant population was invalid. there are, however, two suggestions that should be made. care is needed in acclimation to a climate that differs from any previous experience; and the locality that will suit any invalid can only be determined by personal experience. if the coast does not suit him, he may be benefited in a protected valley, or he may be improved on the foot-hills, or on an elevated mesa, or on a high mountain elevation. one thing may be regarded as settled. whatever the sensibility or the peculiarity of invalidism, the equable climate is exceedingly favorable to the smooth working of the great organic functions of respiration, digestion, and circulation. it is a pity to give this chapter a medical tone. one need not be an invalid to come here and appreciate the graciousness of the air; the color of the landscape, which is wanting in our northern clime; the constant procession of flowers the year through; the purple hills stretching into the sea; the hundreds of hamlets, with picturesque homes overgrown with roses and geranium and heliotrope, in the midst of orange orchards and of palms and magnolias, in sight of the snow-peaks of the giant mountain ranges which shut in this land of marvellous beauty. chapter iv. the winter of our content. california is the land of the pine and the palm. the tree of the sierras, native, vigorous, gigantic, and the tree of the desert, exotic, supple, poetic, both flourish within the nine degrees of latitude. these two, the widely separated lovers of heine's song, symbolize the capacities of the state, and although the sugar-pine is indigenous, and the date-palm, which will never be more than an ornament in this hospitable soil, was planted by the franciscan fathers, who established a chain of missions from san diego to monterey over a century ago, they should both be the distinction of one commonwealth, which, in its seven hundred miles of indented sea-coast, can boast the climates of all countries and the products of all zones. if this state of mountains and valleys were divided by an east and west line, following the general course of the sierra madre range, and cutting off the eight lower counties, i suppose there would be conceit enough in either section to maintain that it only is the paradise of the earth, but both are necessary to make the unique and contradictory california which fascinates and bewilders the traveller. he is told that the inhabitants of san francisco go away from the draught of the golden gate in the summer to get warm, and yet the earliest luscious cherries and apricots which he finds in the far south market of san diego come from the northern santa clara valley. the truth would seem to be that in an hour's ride in any part of the state one can change his climate totally at any time of the year, and this not merely by changing his elevation, but by getting in or out of the range of the sea or the desert currents of air which follow the valleys. to recommend to any one a winter climate is far from the writer's thought. no two persons agree on what is desirable for a winter residence, and the inclination of the same person varies with his state of health. i can only attempt to give some idea of what is called the winter months in southern california, to which my observations mainly apply. the individual who comes here under the mistaken notion that climate ever does anything more than give nature a better chance, may speedily or more tardily need the service of an undertaker; and the invalid whose powers are responsive to kindly influences may live so long, being unable to get away, that life will be a burden to him. the person in ordinary health will find very little that is hostile to the orderly organic processes. in order to appreciate the winter climate of southern california one should stay here the year through, and select the days that suit his idea of winter from any of the months. from the fact that the greatest humidity is in the summer and the least in the winter months, he may wear an overcoat in july in a temperature, according to the thermometer, which in january would render the overcoat unnecessary. it is dampness that causes both cold and heat to be most felt. the lowest temperatures, in southern california generally, are caused only by the extreme dryness of the air; in the long nights of december and january there is a more rapid and longer continued radiation of heat. it must be a dry and clear night that will send the temperature down to thirty-four degrees. but the effect of the sun upon this air is instantaneous, and the cold morning is followed at once by a warm forenoon; the difference between the average heat of july and the average cold of january, measured by the thermometer, is not great in the valleys, foot-hills, and on the coast. five points give this result of average for january and july respectively: santa barbara, 52°, 66°; san bernardino, 51°, 70°; pomona, 52°, 68°; los angeles, 52°, 67°; san diego, 53°, 66°. the day in the winter months is warmer in the interior and the nights are cooler than on the coast, as shown by the following figures for january: 7 a.m., los angeles, 46.5°; san diego, 47.5°; 3 p.m., los angeles, 65.2°; san diego, 60.9°. in the summer the difference is greater. in june i saw the thermometer reach 103° in los angeles when it was only 79° in san diego. but i have seen the weather unendurable in new york with a temperature of 85°, while this dry heat of 103° was not oppressive. the extraordinary equanimity of the coast climate (certainly the driest marine climate in my experience) will be evident from the average mean for each month, from records of sixteen years, ending in 1877, taken at san diego, giving each month in order, beginning with january: 53.5°, 54.7°, 56.0°, 58.2°, 60.2°, 64.6°, 67.1°, 69.0°, 66.7°, 62.9°, 58.1°, 56.0°. in the year 1877 the mean temperature at 3 p.m. at san diego was as follows, beginning with january: 60.9°, 57.7°, 62.4°, 63.3°, 66.3°, 68.5°, 69.6°, 69.6°, 69.5°, 69.6°, 64.4°, 60.5°. for the four months of july, august, september, and october there was hardly a shade of difference at 3 p.m. the striking fact in all the records i have seen is that the difference of temperature in the daytime between summer and winter is very small, the great difference being from midnight to just before sunrise, and this latter difference is greater inland than on the coast. there are, of course, frost and ice in the mountains, but the frost that comes occasionally in the low inland valleys is of very brief duration in the morning hour, and rarely continues long enough to have a serious effect upon vegetation. in considering the matter of temperature, the rule for vegetation and for invalids will not be the same. a spot in which delicate flowers in southern california bloom the year round may be too cool for many invalids. it must not be forgotten that the general temperature here is lower than that to which most eastern people are accustomed. they are used to living all winter in overheated houses, and to protracted heated terms rendered worse by humidity in the summer. the dry, low temperature of the california winter, notwithstanding its perpetual sunshine, may seem, therefore, wanting to them in direct warmth. it may take a year or two to acclimate them to this more equable and more refreshing temperature. neither on the coast nor in the foot-hills will the invalid find the climate of the riviera or of tangier--not the tramontane wind of the former, nor the absolutely genial but somewhat enervating climate of the latter. but it must be borne in mind that in this, our mediterranean, the seeker for health or pleasure can find almost any climate (except the very cold or the very hot), down to the minutest subdivision. he may try the dry marine climate of the coast, or the temperature of the fruit lands and gardens from san bernardino to los angeles, or he may climb to any altitude that suits him in the sierra madre or the san jacinto ranges. the difference may be all-important to him between a valley and a mesa which is not a hundred feet higher; nay, between a valley and the slope of a foot-hill, with a shifting of not more than fifty feet elevation, the change may be as marked for him as it is for the most sensitive young fruit-tree. it is undeniable, notwithstanding these encouraging "averages," that cold snaps, though rare, do come occasionally, just as in summer there will occur one or two or three continued days of intense heat. and in the summer in some localities--it happened in june, 1890, in the santiago hills in orange county--the desert sirocco, blowing over the colorado furnace, makes life just about unendurable for days at a time. yet with this dry heat sunstroke is never experienced, and the diseases of the bowels usually accompanying hot weather elsewhere are unknown. the experienced traveller who encounters unpleasant weather, heat that he does not expect, cold that he did not provide for, or dust that deprives him of his last atom of good-humor, and is told that it is "exceptional," knows exactly what that word means. he is familiar with the "exceptional" the world over, and he feels a sort of compassion for the inhabitants who have not yet learned the adage, "good wine needs no bush." even those who have bought more land than they can pay for can afford to tell the truth. the rainy season in southern california, which may open with a shower or two in october, but does not set in till late in november, or till december, and is over in april, is not at all a period of cloudy weather or continuous rainfall. on the contrary, bright warm days and brilliant sunshine are the rule. the rain is most likely to fall in the night. there may be a day of rain, or several days that are overcast with distributed rain, but the showers are soon over, and the sky clears. yet winters vary greatly in this respect, the rainfall being much greater in some than in others. in 1890 there was rain beyond the average, and even on the equable beach of coronada there were some weeks of weather that from the california point of view were very unpleasant. it was unpleasant by local comparison, but it was not damp and chilly, like a protracted period of falling weather on the atlantic. the rain comes with a southerly wind, caused by a disturbance far north, and with the resumption of the prevailing westerly winds it suddenly ceases, the air clears, and neither before nor after it is the atmosphere "steamy" or enervating. the average annual rainfall of the pacific coast diminishes by regular gradation from point to point all the way from puget sound to the mexican boundary. at neah bay it is 111 inches, and it steadily lessens down to santa cruz, 25.24; monterey, 11.42; point conception, 12.21; san diego, 11.01. there is fog on the coast in every month, but this diminishes, like the rainfall, from north to south. i have encountered it in both february and june. in the south it is apt to be most persistent in april and may, when for three or four days together there will be a fine mist, which any one but a scotchman would call rain. usually, however, the fog-bank will roll in during the night, and disappear by ten o'clock in the morning. there is no wet season properly so called, and consequently few days in the winter months when it is not agreeable to be out-of-doors, perhaps no day when one may not walk or drive during some part of it. yet as to precipitation or temperature it is impossible to strike any general average for southern california. in 1883-84 san diego had 25.77 inches of rain, and los angeles (fifteen miles inland) had 38.22. the annual average at los angeles is 17.64; but in 1876-77 the total at san diego was only 3.75, and at los angeles only 5.28. yet elevation and distance from the coast do not always determine the rainfall. the yearly mean rainfall at julian, in the san jacinto range, at an elevation of 4500 feet, is 37.74; observations at riverside, 1050 feet above the sea, give an average of 9.37. it is probably impossible to give an eastern man a just idea of the winter of southern california. accustomed to extremes, he may expect too much. he wants a violent change. if he quits the snow, the slush, the leaden skies, the alternate sleet and cold rain of new england, he would like the tropical heat, the languor, the color of martinique. he will not find them here. he comes instead into a strictly temperate region; and even when he arrives, his eyes deceive him. he sees the orange ripening in its dark foliage, the long lines of the eucalyptus, the feathery pepper-tree, the magnolia, the english walnut, the black live-oak, the fan-palm, in all the vigor of june; everywhere beds of flowers of every hue and of every country blazing in the bright sunlight--the heliotrope, the geranium, the rare hot-house roses overrunning the hedges of cypress, and the scarlet passion-vine climbing to the roof-tree of the cottages; in the vineyard or the orchard the horticulturist is following the cultivator in his shirt-sleeves; he hears running water, the song of birds, the scent of flowers is in the air, and he cannot understand why he needs winter clothing, why he is always seeking the sun, why he wants a fire at night. it is a fraud, he says, all this visible display of summer, and of an almost tropical summer at that; it is really a cold country. it is incongruous that he should be looking at a date-palm in his overcoat, and he is puzzled that a thermometrical heat that should enervate him elsewhere, stimulates him here. the green, brilliant, vigorous vegetation, the perpetual sunshine, deceive him; he is careless about the difference of shade and sun, he gets into a draught, and takes cold. accustomed to extremes of temperature and artificial heat, i think for most people the first winter here is a disappointment. i was told by a physician who had eighteen years' experience of the climate that in his first winter he thought he had never seen a people so insensitive to cold as the san diegans, who seemed not to require warmth. and all this time the trees are growing like asparagus, the most delicate flowers are in perpetual bloom, the annual crops are most lusty. i fancy that the soil is always warm. the temperature is truly moderate. the records for a number of years show that the mid-day temperature of clear days in winter is from 60° to 70° on the coast, from 65° to 80° in the interior, while that of rainy days is about 60° by the sea and inland. mr. van dyke says that the lowest mid-day temperature recorded at the united states signal station at san diego during eight years is 51°. this occurred but once. in those eight years there were but twenty-one days when the mid-day temperature was not above 55°. in all that time there were but six days when the mercury fell below 36° at any time in the night; and but two when it fell to 32°, the lowest point ever reached there. on one of these two last-named days it went to 51° at noon, and on the other to 56°. this was the great "cold snap" of december, 1879. it goes without saying that this sort of climate would suit any one in ordinary health, inviting and stimulating to constant out-of-door exercise, and that it would be equally favorable to that general breakdown of the system which has the name of nervous prostration. the effect upon diseases of the respiratory organs can only be determined by individual experience. the government has lately been sending soldiers who have consumption from various stations in the united states to san diego for treatment. this experiment will furnish interesting data. within a period covering a little over two years, dr. huntington, the post surgeon, has had fifteen cases sent to him. three of these patients had tubercular consumption; twelve had consumption induced by attacks of pneumonia. one of the tubercular patients died within a month after his arrival; the second lived eight months; the third was discharged cured, left the army, and contracted malaria elsewhere, of which he died. the remaining twelve were discharged practically cured of consumption, but two of them subsequently died. it is exceedingly common to meet persons of all ages and both sexes in southern california who came invalided by disease of the lungs or throat, who have every promise of fair health here, but who dare not leave this climate. the testimony is convincing of the good effect of the climate upon all children, upon women generally, and of its rejuvenating effect upon men and women of advanced years. chapter v. health and longevity. in regard to the effect of climate upon health and longevity, dr. remondino quotes old hufeland that "uniformity in the state of the atmosphere, particularly in regard to heat, cold, gravity, and lightness, contributes in a very considerable degree to the duration of life. countries, therefore, where great and sudden varieties in the barometer and the thermometer are usual cannot be favorable to longevity. such countries may be healthy, and many men may become old in them, but they will not attain to a great age, for all rapid variations are so many internal mutations, and these occasion an astonishing consumption both of the forces and the organs." hufeland thought a marine climate most favorable to longevity. he describes, and perhaps we may say prophesied, a region he had never known, where the conditions and combinations were most favorable to old age, which is epitomized by dr. remondino: "where the latitude gives warmth and the sea or ocean tempering winds, where the soil is warm and dry and the sun is also bright and warm, where uninterrupted bright clear weather and a moderate temperature are the rule, where extremes neither of heat nor cold are to be found, where nothing may interfere with the exercise of the aged, and where the actual results and cases of longevity will bear testimony as to the efficacy of all its climatic conditions being favorable to a long and comfortable existence." [illustration: midwinter, pasadena.] in an unpublished paper dr. remondino comments on the extraordinary endurance of animals and men in the california climate, and cites many cases of uncommon longevity in natives. in reading the accounts of early days in california i am struck with the endurance of hardship, exposure, and wounds by the natives and the adventurers, the rancheros, horsemen, herdsmen, the descendants of soldiers and the indians, their insensibility to fatigue, and their agility and strength. this is ascribed to the climate; and what is true of man is true of the native horse. his only rival in strength, endurance, speed, and intelligence is the arabian. it was long supposed that this was racial, and that but for the smallness of the size of the native horse, crossing with it would improve the breed of the eastern and kentucky racers. but there was reluctance to cross the finely proportioned eastern horse with his diminutive western brother. the importation and breeding of thoroughbreds on this coast has led to the discovery that the desirable qualities of the california horse were not racial but climatic. the eastern horse has been found to improve in size, compactness of muscle, in strength of limb, in wind, with a marked increase in power of endurance. the traveller here notices the fine horses and their excellent condition, and the power and endurance of those that have considerable age. the records made on eastern race-courses by horses from california breeding farms have already attracted attention. it is also remarked that the eastern horse is usually improved greatly by a sojourn of a season or two on this coast, and the plan of bringing eastern race-horses here for the winter is already adopted. man, it is asserted by our authority, is as much benefited as the horse by a change to this climate. the new-comer may have certain unpleasant sensations in coming here from different altitudes and conditions, but he will soon be conscious of better being, of increased power in all the functions of life, more natural and recuperative sleep, and an accession of vitality and endurance. dr. remondino also testifies that it occasionally happens in this rejuvenation that families which have seemed to have reached their limit at the east are increased after residence here. the early inhabitants of southern california, according to the statement of mr. h. h. bancroft and other reports, were found to be living in spartan conditions as to temperance and training, and in a highly moral condition, in consequence of which they had uncommon physical endurance and contempt for luxury. this training in abstinence and hardship, with temperance in diet, combined with the climate to produce the astonishing longevity to be found here. contrary to the customs of most other tribes of indians, their aged were the care of the community. dr. w. a. winder, of san diego, is quoted as saying that in a visit to el cajon valley some thirty years ago he was taken to a house in which the aged persons were cared for. there were half a dozen who had reached an extreme age. some were unable to move, their bony frame being seemingly anchylosed. they were old, wrinkled, and blear-eyed; their skin was hanging in leathery folds about their withered limbs; some had hair as white as snow, and had seen some seven-score of years; others, still able to crawl, but so aged as to be unable to stand, went slowly about on their hands and knees, their limbs being attenuated and withered. the organs of special sense had in many nearly lost all activity some generations back. some had lost the use of their limbs for more than a decade or a generation; but the organs of life and the "great sympathetic" still kept up their automatic functions, not recognizing the fact, and surprisingly indifferent to it, that the rest of the body had ceased to be of any use a generation or more in the past. and it is remarked that "these thoracic and abdominal organs and their physiological action being kept alive and active, as it were, against time, and the silent and unconscious functional activity of the great sympathetic and its ganglia, show a tenacity of the animal tissues to hold on to life that is phenomenal." [illustration: a typical garden, near santa ana.] i have no space to enter upon the nature of the testimony upon which the age of certain indians hereafter referred to is based. it is such as to satisfy dr. remondino, dr. edward palmer, long connected with the agricultural department of the smithsonian institution, and father a. d. ubach, who has religious charge of the indians in this region. these indians were not migratory; they lived within certain limits, and were known to each other. the missions established by the franciscan friars were built with the assistance of the indians. the friars have handed down by word of mouth many details in regard to their early missions; others are found in the mission records, such as carefully kept records of family events--births, marriages, and deaths. and there is the testimony of the indians regarding each other. father ubach has known a number who were employed at the building of the mission of san diego (1769-71), a century before he took charge of this mission. these men had been engaged in carrying timber from the mountains or in making brick, and many of them were living within the last twenty years. there are persons still living at the indian village of capitan grande whose ages he estimates at over one hundred and thirty years. since the advent of civilization the abstemious habits and spartan virtues of these indians have been impaired, and their care for the aged has relaxed. dr. palmer has a photograph (which i have seen) of a squaw whom he estimates to be 126 years old. when he visited her he saw her put six watermelons in a blanket, tie it up, and carry it on her back for two miles. he is familiar with indian customs and history, and a careful cross-examination convinced him that her information of old customs was not obtained by tradition. she was conversant with tribal habits she had seen practised, such as the cremation of the dead, which the mission fathers had compelled the indians to relinquish. she had seen the indians punished by the fathers with floggings for persisting in the practice of cremation. at the mission of san tomas, in lower california, is still living an indian (a photograph of whom dr. remondino shows), bent and wrinkled, whose age is computed at 140 years. although blind and naked, he is still active, and daily goes down the beach and along the beds of the creeks in search of drift-wood, making it his daily task to gather and carry to camp a fagot of wood. [illustration: old adobe house, pomona.] another instance i give in dr. remondino's words: "philip crossthwaite, who has lived here since 1843, has an old man on his ranch who mounts his horse and rides about daily, who was a grown man breaking horses for the mission fathers when don antonio serrano was an infant. don antonio i know quite well, having attended him through a serious illness some sixteen years ago. although now at the advanced age of ninety-three, he is as erect as a pine, and he rides his horse with his usual vigor and grace. he is thin and spare and very tall, and those who knew him fifty years or more remember him as the most skilful horseman in the neighborhood of san diego. and yet, as fabulous as it may seem, the man who danced this don antonio on his knee when he was an infant is not only still alive, but is active enough to mount his horse and canter about the country. some years ago i attended an elderly gentleman, since dead, who knew this man as a full-grown man when he and don serrano were play-children together. from a conversation with father ubach i learned that the man's age is perfectly authenticated to be beyond one hundred and eighteen years." in the many instances given of extreme old age in this region the habits of these indians have been those of strict temperance and abstemiousness, and their long life in an equable climate is due to extreme simplicity of diet. in many cases of extreme age the diet has consisted simply of acorns, flour, and water. it is asserted that the climate itself induces temperance in drink and abstemiousness in diet. in his estimate of the climate as a factor of longevity, dr. remondino says that it is only necessary to look at the causes of death, and the ages most subject to attack, to understand that the less of these causes that are present the greater are the chances of man to reach great age. "add to these reflections that you run no gantlet of diseases to undermine or deteriorate the organism; that in this climate childhood finds an escape from those diseases which are the terror of mothers, and against which physicians are helpless, as we have here none of those affections of the first three years of life so prevalent during the summer months in the east and the rest of the united states. then, again, the chance of gastric or intestinal disease is almost incredibly small. this immunity extends through every age of life. hepatic and kindred diseases are unknown; of lung affections there is no land that can boast of like exemption. be it the equability of the temperature or the aseptic condition of the atmosphere, the free sweep of winds or the absence of disease germs, or what else it may be ascribed to, one thing is certain, that there is no pneumonia, bronchitis, or pleurisy lying in wait for either the infant or the aged." [illustration: fan-palm, fernando st. los angeles.] the importance of this subject must excuse the space i have given to it. it is evident from this testimony that here are climatic conditions novel and worthy of the most patient scientific investigation. their effect upon hereditary tendencies and upon persons coming here with hereditary diseases will be studied. three years ago there was in some localities a visitation of small-pox imported from mexico. at that time there were cases of pneumonia. whether these were incident to carelessness in vaccination, or were caused by local unsanitary conditions, i do not know. it is not to be expected that unsanitary conditions will not produce disease here as elsewhere. it cannot be too strongly insisted that this is a climate that the new-comer must get used to, and that he cannot safely neglect the ordinary precautions. the difference between shade and sun is strikingly marked, and he must not be deceived into imprudence by the prevailing sunshine or the general equability. chapter vi. is residence here agreeable? after all these averages and statistics, and not considering now the chances of the speculator, the farmer, the fruit-raiser, or the invalid, is southern california a particularly agreeable winter residence? the question deserves a candid answer, for it is of the last importance to the people of the united states to know the truth--to know whether they have accessible by rail a region free from winter rigor and vicissitudes, and yet with few of the disadvantages of most winter resorts. one would have more pleasure in answering the question if he were not irritated by the perpetual note of brag and exaggeration in every locality that each is the paradise of the earth, and absolutely free from any physical discomfort. i hope that this note of exaggeration is not the effect of the climate, for if it is, the region will never be socially agreeable. there are no sudden changes of season here. spring comes gradually day by day, a perceptible hourly waking to life and color; and this glides into a summer which never ceases, but only becomes tired and fades into the repose of a short autumn, when the sere and brown and red and yellow hills and the purple mountains are waiting for the rain clouds. this is according to the process of nature; but wherever irrigation brings moisture to the fertile soil, the green and bloom are perpetual the year round, only the green is powdered with dust, and the cultivated flowers have their periods of exhaustion. i should think it well worth while to watch the procession of nature here from late november or december to april. it is a land of delicate and brilliant wild flowers, of blooming shrubs, strange in form and wonderful in color. before the annual rains the land lies in a sort of swoon in a golden haze; the slopes and plains are bare, the hills yellow with ripe wild-oats or ashy gray with sage, the sea-breeze is weak, the air grows drier, the sun hot, the shade cool. then one day light clouds stream up from the south-west, and there is a gentle rain. when the sun comes out again its rays are milder, the land is refreshed and brightened, and almost immediately a greenish tinge appears on plain and hill-side. at intervals the rain continues, daily the landscape is greener in infinite variety of shades, which seem to sweep over the hills in waves of color. upon this carpet of green by february nature begins to weave an embroidery of wild flowers, white, lavender, golden, pink, indigo, scarlet, changing day by day and every day more brilliant, and spreading from patches into great fields until dale and hill and table-land are overspread with a refinement and glory of color that would be the despair of the carpet-weavers of daghestan. this, with the scent of orange groves and tea-roses, with cool nights, snow in sight on the high mountains, an occasional day of rain, days of bright sunshine, when an overcoat is needed in driving, must suffice the sojourner for winter. he will be humiliated that he is more sensitive to cold than the heliotrope or the violet, but he must bear it. if he is looking for malaria, he must go to some other winter resort. if he wants a "norther" continuing for days, he must move on. if he is accustomed to various insect pests, he will miss them here. if there comes a day warmer than usual, it will not be damp or soggy. so far as nature is concerned there is very little to grumble at, and one resource of the traveller is therefore taken away. but is it interesting? what is there to do? it must be confessed that there is a sort of monotony in the scenery as there is in the climate. there is, to be sure, great variety in a way between coast and mountain, as, for instance, between santa barbara and pasadena, and if the tourist will make a business of exploring the valleys and uplands and cañons little visited, he will not complain of monotony; but the artist and the photographer find the same elements repeated in little varying combinations. there is undeniable repetition in the succession of flower-gardens, fruit orchards, alleys of palms and peppers, vineyards, and the cultivation about the villas is repeated in all directions. the americans have not the art of making houses or a land picturesque. the traveller is enthusiastic about the exquisite drives through these groves of fruit, with the ashy or the snow-covered hills for background and contrast, and he exclaims at the pretty cottages, vine and rose clad, in their semi-tropical setting, but if by chance he comes upon an old adobe or a mexican ranch house in the country, he has emotions of a different sort. [illustration: scarlet passion-vine.] there is little left of the old spanish occupation, but the remains of it make the romance of the country, and appeal to our sense of fitness and beauty. it is to be hoped that all such historical associations will be preserved, for they give to the traveller that which our country generally lacks, and which is so largely the attraction of italy and spain. instead of adapting and modifying the houses and homes that the climate suggests, the new american comers have brought here from the east the smartness and prettiness of our modern nondescript architecture. the low house, with recesses and galleries, built round an inner court, or _patio_, which, however small, would fill the whole interior with sunshine and the scent of flowers, is the sort of dwelling that would suit the climate and the habit of life here. but the present occupiers have taken no hints from the natives. in village and country they have done all they can, in spite of the maguey and the cactus and the palm and the umbrella-tree and the live-oak and the riotous flowers and the thousand novel forms of vegetation, to give everything a prosaic look. but why should the tourist find fault with this? the american likes it, and he would not like the picturesqueness of the spanish or the latin races. so far as climate and natural beauty go to make one contented in a winter resort, southern california has unsurpassed attractions, and both seem to me to fit very well the american temperament; but the associations of art and history are wanting, and the tourist knows how largely his enjoyment of a vacation in southern italy or sicily or northern africa depends upon these--upon these and upon the aspects of human nature foreign to his experience. it goes without saying that this is not europe, either in its human interest or in a certain refinement of landscape that comes only by long cultivation and the occupancy of ages. one advantage of foreign travel to the restless american is that he carries with him no responsibility for the government or the progress of the country he is in, and that he leaves business behind him; whereas in this new country, which is his own, the development of which is so interesting, and in which the opportunities of fortune seem so inviting, he is constantly tempted "to take a hand in." if, however, he is superior to this fever, and is willing simply to rest, to drift along with the equable days, i know of no other place where he can be more truly contented. year by year the country becomes more agreeable for the traveller, in the first place, through the improvement in the hotels, and in the second, by better roads. in the large villages and cities there are miles of excellent drives, well sprinkled, through delightful avenues, in a park-like country, where the eye is enchanted with color and luxurious vegetation, and captivated by the remarkable beauty of the hills, the wildness and picturesqueness of which enhance the charming cultivation of the orchards and gardens. and no country is more agreeable for riding and driving, for even at mid-day, in the direct sun rays, there is almost everywhere a refreshing breeze, and one rides or drives or walks with little sense of fatigue. the horses are uniformly excellent, either in the carriage or under the saddle. i am sure they are remarkable in speed, endurance, and ease of motion. if the visiting season had no other attraction, the horses would make it distinguished. a great many people like to spend months in a comfortable hotel, lounging on the piazzas, playing lawn-tennis, taking a morning ride or afternoon drive, making an occasional picnic excursion up some mountain cañon, getting up charades, playing at private theatricals, dancing, flirting, floating along with more or less sentiment and only the weariness that comes when there are no duties. there are plenty of places where all these things can be done, and with no sort of anxiety about the weather from week to week, and with the added advantage that the women and children can take care of themselves. but for those who find such a life monotonous there are other resources. there is very good fishing in the clear streams in the foot-hills, hunting in the mountains for large game still worthy of the steadiest nerves, and good bird-shooting everywhere. there are mountains to climb, cañons to explore, lovely valleys in the recesses of the hills to be discovered--in short, one disposed to activity and not afraid of roughing it could occupy himself most agreeably and healthfully in the wild parts of san bernardino and san diego counties; he may even still start a grizzly in the sierra madre range in los angeles county. hunting and exploring in the mountains, riding over the mesas, which are green from the winter rains and gay with a thousand delicate grasses and flowering plants, is manly occupation to suit the most robust and adventurous. those who saunter in the trim gardens, or fly from one hotel parlor to the other, do not see the best of southern california in the winter. chapter vii. the winter on the coast. but the distinction of this coast, and that which will forever make it attractive at the season when the north atlantic is forbidding, is that the ocean-side is as equable, as delightful, in winter as in summer. its sea-side places are truly all-the-year-round resorts. in subsequent chapters i shall speak in detail of different places as to climate and development and peculiarities of production. i will now only give a general idea of southern california as a wintering place. even as far north as monterey, in the central part of the state, the famous hotel del monte, with its magnificent park of pines and live-oaks, and exquisite flower-gardens underneath the trees, is remarkable for its steadiness of temperature. i could see little difference between the temperature of june and of february. the difference is of course greatest at night. the maximum the year through ranges from about 65° to about 80°, and the minimum from about 35° to about 58°, though there are days when the thermometer goes above 90°, and nights when it falls below 30°. [illustration: rose-bush, santa barbara.] to those who prefer the immediate ocean air to that air as modified by such valleys as the san gabriel and the santa ana, the coast offers a variety of choice in different combinations of sea and mountain climate all along the southern sunny exposure from santa barbara to san diego. in santa barbara county the santa inez range of mountains runs westward to meet the pacific at point conception. south of this noble range are a number of little valleys opening to the sea, and in one of these, with a harbor and sloping upland and cañon of its own, lies santa barbara, looking southward towards the sunny islands of santa rosa and santa cruz. above it is the mission cañon, at the entrance of which is the best-preserved of the old franciscan missions. there is a superb drive eastward along the long and curving sea-beach of four miles to the cañon of monticito, which is rather a series of nooks and terraces, of lovely places and gardens, of plantations of oranges and figs, rising up to the base of the gray mountains. the long line of the santa inez suggests the promontory of sorrento, and a view from the opposite rocky point, which encloses the harbor on the west, by the help of cypresses which look like stone-pines, recalls many an italian coast scene, and in situation the bay of naples. the whole aspect is foreign, enchanting, and the semi-tropical fruits and vines and flowers, with a golden atmosphere poured over all, irresistibly take the mind to scenes of italian romance. there is still a little spanish flavor left in the town, in a few old houses, in names and families historic, and in the life without hurry or apprehension. there is a delightful commingling here of sea and mountain air, and in a hundred fertile nooks in the hills one in the most delicate health may be sheltered from every harsh wind. i think no one ever leaves santa barbara without a desire to return to it. farther down the coast, only eighteen miles from los angeles, and a sort of coney island resort of that thriving city, is santa monica. its hotel stands on a high bluff in a lovely bend of the coast. it is popular in summer as well as winter, as the number of cottages attest, and it was chosen by the directors of the national soldiers' home as the site of the home on the pacific coast. there the veterans, in a commodious building, dream away their lives most contentedly, and can fancy that they hear the distant thunder of guns in the pounding of the surf. at about the same distance from los angeles, southward, above point vincent, is redondo beach, a new resort, which, from its natural beauty and extensive improvements, promises to be a delightful place of sojourn at any time of the year. the mountainous, embracing arms of the bay are exquisite in contour and color, and the beach is very fine. the hotel is perfectly comfortable--indeed, uncommonly attractive--and the extensive planting of trees, palms, and shrubs, and the cultivation of flowers, will change the place in a year or two into a scene of green and floral loveliness; in this region two years, such is the rapid growth, suffices to transform a desert into a park or garden. on the hills, at a little distance from the beach and pier, are the buildings of the chautauqua, which holds a local summer session here. the chautauqua people, the country over, seem to have, in selecting sightly and agreeable sites for their temples of education and amusement, as good judgment as the old monks had in planting their monasteries and missions. [illustration: at avalon, santa catalina island.] if one desires a thoroughly insular climate, he may cross to the picturesque island of santa catalina. all along the coast flowers bloom in the winter months, and the ornamental semi-tropical plants thrive; and there are many striking headlands and pretty bays and gentle seaward slopes which are already occupied by villages, and attract visitors who would practise economy. the hills frequently come close to the shore, forming those valleys in which the californians of the pastoral period placed their ranch houses. at san juan capristrano the fathers had one of their most flourishing missions, the ruins of which are the most picturesque the traveller will find. it is altogether a genial, attractive coast, and if the tourist does not prefer an inland situation, like the hotel raymond (which scarcely has a rival anywhere in its lovely surroundings), he will keep on down the coast to san diego. the transition from the well-planted counties of los angeles and orange is not altogether agreeable to the eye. one misses the trees. the general aspect of the coast about san diego is bare in comparison. this simply means that the southern county is behind the others in development. nestled among the hills there are live-oaks and sycamores; and of course at national city and below, in el cajon and the valley of the sweetwater, there are extensive plantations of oranges, lemons, olives, and vines, but the san diego region generally lies in the sun shadeless. i have a personal theory that much vegetation is inconsistent with the best atmosphere for the human being. the air is nowhere else so agreeable to me as it is in a barren new mexican or arizona desert at the proper elevation. i do not know whether the san diego climate would be injured if the hills were covered with forest and the valleys were all in the highest and most luxuriant vegetation. the theory is that the interaction of the desert and ocean winds will always keep it as it is, whatever man may do. i can only say that, as it is, i doubt if it has its equal the year round for agreeableness and healthfulness in our union; and it is the testimony of those whose experience of the best mediterranean climate is more extended and much longer continued than mine, that it is superior to any on that enclosed sea. about this great harbor, whose outer beach has an extent of twenty-five miles, whose inland circuit of mountains must be over fifty miles, there are great varieties of temperature, of shelter and exposure, minute subdivisions of climate, whose personal fitness can only be attested by experience. there is a great difference, for instance, between the quality of the climate at the elevation of the florence hotel, san diego, and the university heights on the mesa above the town, and that on the long coronado beach which protects the inner harbor from the ocean surf. the latter, practically surrounded by water, has a true marine climate, but a peculiar and dry marine climate, as tonic in its effect as that of capri, and, i believe, with fewer harsh days in the winter season. i wish to speak with entire frankness about this situation, for i am sure that what so much pleases me will suit a great number of people, who will thank me for not being reserved. doubtless it will not suit hundreds of people as well as some other localities in southern california, but i found no other place where i had the feeling of absolute content and willingness to stay on indefinitely. there is a geniality about it for which the thermometer does not account, a charm which it is difficult to explain. much of the agreeability is due to artificial conditions, but the climate man has not made nor marred. the coronado beach is about twelve miles long. a narrow sand promontory, running northward from the main-land, rises to the heights, then broadens into a table-land, which seems to be an island, and measures about a mile and a half each way; this is called south beach, and is connected by another spit of sand with a like area called north beach, which forms, with point loma, the entrance to the harbor. the north beach, covered partly with chaparral and broad fields of barley, is alive with quail, and is a favorite coursing-ground for rabbits. the soil, which appears uninviting, is with water uncommonly fertile, being a mixture of loam, disintegrated granite, and decomposed shells, and especially adapted to flowers, rare tropical trees, fruits, and flowering shrubs of all countries. the development is on the south beach, which was in january, 1887, nothing but a waste of sand and chaparral. i doubt if the world can show a like transformation in so short a time. i saw it in february of that year, when all the beauty, except that of ocean, sky, and atmosphere, was still to be imagined. it is now as if the wand of the magician had touched it. in the first place, abundance of water was brought over by a submarine conduit, and later from the extraordinary coronado springs (excellent soft water for drinking and bathing, and with a recognized medicinal value), and with these streams the beach began to bloom like a tropical garden. tens of thousands of trees have attained a remarkable growth in three years. the nursery is one of the most interesting botanical and flower gardens in the country; palms and hedges of monterey cypress and marguerites line the avenues. there are parks and gardens of rarest flowers and shrubs, whose brilliant color produces the same excitement in the mind as strains of martial music. a railway traverses the beach for a mile from the ferry to the hotel. there are hundreds of cottages with their gardens scattered over the surface; there is a race-track, a museum, an ostrich farm, a labyrinth, good roads for driving, and a dozen other attractions for the idle or the inquisitive. [illustration: hotel del coronado.] the hotel stands upon the south front of the beach and near the sea, above which it is sufficiently elevated to give a fine prospect. the sound of the beating surf is perpetual there. at low tide there is a splendid driving beach miles in extent, and though the slope is abrupt, the opportunity for bathing is good, with a little care in regard to the undertow. but there is a safe natatorium on the harbor side close to the hotel. the stranger, when he first comes upon this novel hotel and this marvellous scene of natural and created beauty, is apt to exhaust his superlatives. i hesitate to attempt to describe this hotel--this airy and picturesque and half-bizarre wooden creation of the architect. taking it and its situation together, i know nothing else in the world with which to compare it, and i have never seen any other which so surprised at first, that so improved on a two weeks' acquaintance, and that has left in the mind an impression so entirely agreeable. it covers about four and a half acres of ground, including an inner court of about an acre, the rich made soil of which is raised to the level of the main floor. the house surrounds this, in the spanish mode of building, with a series of galleries, so that most of the suites of rooms have a double outlook--one upon this lovely garden, the other upon the ocean or the harbor. the effect of this interior court or _patio_ is to give gayety and an air of friendliness to the place, brilliant as it is with flowers and climbing vines; and when the royal and date palms that are vigorously thriving in it attain their growth it will be magnificent. big hotels and caravansaries are usually tiresome, unfriendly places; and if i should lay too much stress upon the vast dining-room (which has a floor area of ten thousand feet without post or pillar), or the beautiful breakfast-room, or the circular ballroom (which has an area of eleven thousand feet, with its timber roof open to the lofty observatory), or the music-room, billiard-rooms for ladies, the reading-rooms and parlors, the pretty gallery overlooking the spacious office rotunda, and then say that the whole is illuminated with electric lights, and capable of being heated to any temperature desired--i might convey a false impression as to the actual comfort and home-likeness of this charming place. on the sea side the broad galleries of each story are shut in by glass, which can be opened to admit or shut to exclude the fresh ocean breeze. whatever the temperature outside, those great galleries are always agreeable for lounging or promenading. for me, i never tire of the sea and its changing color and movement. if this great house were filled with guests, so spacious are its lounging places i should think it would never appear to be crowded; and if it were nearly empty, so admirably are the rooms contrived for family life it will not seem lonesome. i shall add that the management is of the sort that makes the guest feel at home and at ease. flowers, brought in from the gardens and nurseries, are every where in profusion--on the dining-tables, in the rooms, all about the house. so abundantly are they produced that no amount of culling seems to make an impression upon their mass. [illustration: ostrich yard, coronado beach.] but any description would fail to give the secret of the charm of existence here. restlessness disappears, for one thing, but there is no languor or depression. i cannot tell why, when the thermometer is at 60° or 63°, the air seems genial and has no sense of chilliness, or why it is not oppressive at 80° or 85°. i am sure the place will not suit those whose highest idea of winter enjoyment is tobogganing and an ice palace, nor those who revel in the steam and languor of a tropical island; but for a person whose desires are moderate, whose tastes are temperate, who is willing for once to be good-humored and content in equable conditions, i should commend coronado beach and the hotel del coronado, if i had not long ago learned that it is unsafe to commend to any human being a climate or a doctor. but you can take your choice. it lies there, our mediterranean region, on a blue ocean, protected by barriers of granite from the northern influences, an infinite variety of plain, cañon, hills, valleys, sea-coast; our new italy without malaria, and with every sort of fruit which we desire (except the tropical), which will be grown in perfection when our knowledge equals our ambition; and if you cannot find a winter home there or pass some contented weeks in the months of northern inclemency, you are weighing social advantages against those of the least objectionable climate within the union. it is not yet proved that this equability and the daily out-door life possible there will change character, but they are likely to improve the disposition and soften the asperities of common life. at any rate, there is a land where from november to april one has not to make a continual fight with the elements to keep alive. it has been said that this land of the sun and of the equable climate will have the effect that other lands of a southern aspect have upon temperament and habits. it is feared that northern-bred people, who are guided by the necessity of making hay while the sun shines, will not make hay at all in a land where the sun always shines. it is thought that unless people are spurred on incessantly by the exigencies of the changing seasons they will lose energy, and fall into an idle floating along with gracious nature. will not one sink into a comfortable and easy procrastination if he has a whole year in which to perform the labor of three months? will southern california be an exception to those lands of equable climate and extraordinary fertility where every effort is postponed till "to-morrow?" i wish there might be something solid in this expectation; that this may be a region where the restless american will lose something of his hurry and petty, feverish ambition. partially it may be so. he will take, he is already taking, something of the tone of the climate and of the old spanish occupation. but the race instinct of thrift and of "getting on" will not wear out in many generations. besides, the condition of living at all in southern california in comfort, and with the social life indispensable to our people, demands labor, not exhausting and killing, but still incessant--demands industry. a land that will not yield satisfactorily without irrigation, and whose best paying produce requires intelligent as well as careful husbandry, will never be an idle land. egypt, with all its _dolce far niente_, was never an idle land for the laborer. it may be expected, however, that no more energy will be developed or encouraged than is needed for the daily tasks, and these tasks being lighter than elsewhere, and capable of being postponed, that there will be less stress and strain in the daily life. although the climate of southern california is not enervating, in fact is stimulating to the new-comer, it is doubtless true that the monotony of good weather, of the sight of perpetual bloom and color in orchards and gardens, will take away nervousness and produce a certain placidity, which might be taken for laziness by a northern observer. it may be that engagements will not be kept with desired punctuality, under the impression that the enjoyment of life does not depend upon exact response to the second-hand of a watch; and it is not unpleasant to think that there is a corner of the union where there will be a little more leisure, a little more of serene waiting on providence, an abatement of the restless rush and haste of our usual life. the waves of population have been rolling westward for a long time, and now, breaking over the mountains, they flow over pacific slopes and along the warm and inviting seas. is it altogether an unpleasing thought that the conditions of life will be somewhat easier there, that there will be some physical repose, the race having reached the sunset of the continent, comparable to the desirable placidity of life called the sunset of old age? this may be altogether fanciful, but i have sometimes felt, in the sunny moderation of nature there, that this land might offer for thousands at least a winter of content. chapter viii. the general outlook.--land and prices. from the northern limit of california to the southern is about the same distance as from portsmouth, new hampshire, to charleston, south carolina. of these two coast lines, covering nearly ten degrees of latitude, or over seven hundred miles, the atlantic has greater extremes of climate and greater monthly variations, and the pacific greater variety of productions. the state of california is, however, so mountainous, cut by longitudinal and transverse ranges, that any reasonable person can find in it a temperature to suit him the year through. but it does not need to be explained that it would be difficult to hit upon any general characteristic that would apply to the stretch of the atlantic coast named, as a guide to a settler looking for a home; the description of massachusetts would be wholly misleading for south carolina. it is almost as difficult to make any comprehensive statement about the long line of the california coast. it is possible, however, limiting the inquiry to the southern third of the state--an area of about fifty-eight thousand square miles, as large as maine, new hampshire, massachusetts, connecticut, and rhode island--to answer fairly some of the questions oftenest asked about it. these relate to the price of land, its productiveness, the kind of products most profitable, the sort of labor required, and its desirability as a place of residence for the laborer, for the farmer or horticulturist of small means, and for the man with considerable capital. questions on these subjects cannot be answered categorically, but i hope to be able, by setting down my own observations and using trustworthy reports, to give others the material on which to exercise their judgment. in the first place, i think it demonstrable that a person would profitably exchange 160 acres of farming land east of the one hundredth parallel for ten acres, with a water right, in southern california. [illustration: yucca-palm.] in making this estimate i do not consider the question of health or merely the agreeability of the climate, but the conditions of labor, the ease with which one could support a family, and the profits over and above a fair living. it has been customary in reckoning the value of land there to look merely to the profit of it beyond its support of a family, forgetting that agriculture and horticulture the world over, like almost all other kinds of business, usually do little more than procure a good comfortable living, with incidental education, to those who engage in them. that the majority of the inhabitants of southern california will become rich by the culture of the orange and the vine is an illusion; but it is not an illusion that twenty times its present population can live there in comfort, in what might be called luxury elsewhere, by the cultivation of the soil, all far removed from poverty and much above the condition of the majority of the inhabitants of the foreign wine and fruit-producing countries. this result is assured by the extraordinary productiveness of the land, uninterrupted the year through, and by the amazing extension of the market in the united states for products that can be nowhere else produced with such certainty and profusion as in california. that state is only just learning how to supply a demand which is daily increasing, but it already begins to command the market in certain fruits. this command of the market in the future will depend upon itself, that is, whether it will send east and north only sound wine, instead of crude, ill-cured juice of the grape, only the best and most carefully canned apricots, nectarines, peaches, and plums, only the raisins and prunes perfectly prepared, only such oranges, lemons, and grapes and pears as the californians are willing to eat themselves. california has yet much to learn about fruit-raising and fruit-curing, but it already knows that to compete with the rest of the world in our markets it must beat the rest of the world in quality. it will take some time yet to remove the unfavorable opinion of california wines produced in the east by the first products of the vineyards sent here. [illustration: date-palm.] the difficulty for the settler is that he cannot "take up" ten acres with water in california as he can 160 acres elsewhere. there is left little available government land. there is plenty of government land not taken up and which may never be occupied, that is, inaccessible mountain and irreclaimable desert. there are also little nooks and fertile spots here and there to be discovered which may be pre-empted, and which will some day have value. but practically all the arable land, or that is likely to become so, is owned now in large tracts, under grants or by wholesale purchase. the circumstances of the case compelled associate effort. such a desert as that now blooming region known as pasadena, pomona, riverside, and so on, could not be subdued by individual exertion. consequently land and water companies were organized. they bought large tracts of unimproved land, built dams in the mountain cañons, sunk wells, drew water from the rivers, made reservoirs, laid pipes, carried ditches and conduits across the country, and then sold the land with the inseparable water right in small parcels. thus the region became subdivided among small holders, each independent, but all mutually dependent as to water, which is the _sine qua non_ of existence. it is only a few years since there was a forlorn and struggling colony a few miles east of los angeles known as the indiana settlement. it had scant water, no railway communication, and everything to learn about horticulture. that spot is now the famous pasadena. what has been done in the santa ana and san gabriel valleys will be done elsewhere in the state. there are places in kern county, north of the sierra madre, where the land produces grain and alfalfa without irrigation, where farms can be bought at from five to ten dollars an acre--land that will undoubtedly increase in value with settlement and also by irrigation. the great county of san diego is practically undeveloped, and contains an immense area, in scattered mesas and valleys, of land which will produce apples, grain, and grass without irrigation, and which the settler can get at moderate prices. nay, more, any one with a little ready money, who goes to southern california expecting to establish himself and willing to work, will be welcomed and aided, and be pretty certain to find some place where he can steadily improve his condition. but the regions about which one hears most, which are already fruit gardens and well sprinkled with rose-clad homes, command prices per acre which seem extravagant. land, however, like a mine, gets its value from what it will produce; and it is to be noted that while the subsidence of the "boom" knocked the value out of twenty-feet city lots staked out in the wilderness, and out of insanely inflated city property, the land upon which crops are raised has steadily appreciated in value. so many conditions enter into the price of land that it is impossible to name an average price for the arable land of the southern counties, but i have heard good judges place it at $100 an acre. the lands, with water, are very much alike in their producing power, but some, for climatic reasons, are better adapted to citrus fruits, others to the raisin grape, and others to deciduous fruits. the value is also affected by railway facilities, contiguity to the local commercial centre, and also by the character of the settlement--that is, by its morality, public spirit, and facilities for education. every town and settlement thinks it has special advantages as to improved irrigation, equability of temperature, adaptation to this or that product, attractions for invalids, tempered ocean breezes, protection from "northers," schools, and varied industries. these things are so much matter of personal choice that each settler will do well to examine widely for himself, and not buy until he is suited. some figures, which may be depended on, of actual sales and of annual yields, may be of service. they are of the district east of pasadena and pomona, but fairly represent the whole region down to los angeles. the selling price of raisin grape land unimproved, but with water, at riverside is $250 to $300 per acre; at south riverside, $150 to $200; in the highland district of san bernardino, and at redlands (which is a new settlement east of the city of san bernardino), $200 to $250 per acre. at banning and at hesperia, which lie north of the san bernardino range, $125 to $150 per acre are the prices asked. distance from the commercial centre accounts for the difference in price in the towns named. the crop varies with the care and skill of the cultivator, but a fair average from the vines at two years is two tons per acre; three years, three tons; four years, five tons; five years, seven tons. the price varies with the season, and also whether its sale is upon the vines, or after picking, drying, and sweating, or the packed product. on the vines $20 per ton is a fair average price. in exceptional cases vineyards at riverside have produced four tons per acre in twenty months from the setting of the cuttings, and six-year-old vines have produced thirteen and a half tons per acre. if the grower has a crop of, say, 2000 packed boxes of raisins of twenty pounds each box, it will pay him to pack his own crop and establish a "brand" for it. in 1889 three adjoining vineyards in riverside, producing about the same average crops, were sold as follows: the first vineyard, at $17 50 per ton on the vines, yielded $150 per acre; the second, at six cents a pound, in the sweat boxes, yielded $276 per acre; the third, at $1 80 per box, packed, yielded $414 per acre. land adapted to the deciduous fruits, such as apricots and peaches, is worth as much as raisin land, and some years pays better. the pear and the apple need greater elevation, and are of better quality when grown on high ground than in the valleys. i have reason to believe that the mountain regions of san diego county are specially adapted to the apple. good orange land unimproved, but with water, is worth from $300 to $500 an acre. if we add to this price the cost of budded trees, the care of them for four years, and interest at eight per cent. per annum for four years, the cost of a good grove will be about $1000 an acre. it must be understood that the profit of an orange grove depends upon care, skill, and business ability. the kind of orange grown with reference to the demand, the judgment about more or less irrigation as affecting the quality, the cultivation of the soil, and the arrangements for marketing, are all elements in the problem. there are young groves at riverside, five years old, that are paying ten per cent. net upon from $3000 to $5000 an acre; while there are older groves, which, at the prices for fruit in the spring of 1890--$1 60 per box for seedlings and $3 per box for navels delivered at the packing-houses--paid at the rate of ten per cent. net on $7500 per acre. in all these estimates water must be reckoned as a prime factor. what, then, is water worth per inch, generally, in all this fruit region from redlands to los angeles? it is worth just the amount it will add to the commercial value of land irrigated by it, and that may be roughly estimated at from $500 to $1000 an inch of continuous flow. take an illustration. a piece of land at riverside below the flow of water was worth $300 an acre. contiguous to it was another piece not irrigated which would not sell for $50 an acre. by bringing water to it, it would quickly sell for $300, thus adding $250 to its value. as the estimate at riverside is that one inch of water will irrigate five acres of fruit land, five times $250 would be $1250 per inch, at which price water for irrigation has actually been sold at riverside. the standard of measurement of water in southern california is the miner's inch under four inches' pressure, or the amount that will flow through an inch-square opening under a pressure of four inches measured from the surface of the water in the conduit to the centre of the opening through which it flows. this is nine gallons a minute, or, as it is figured, 1728 cubic feet or 12,960 gallons in twenty-four hours, and 1.50 of a cubic foot a second. this flow would cover ten acres about eighteen inches deep in a year; that is, it would give the land the equivalent of eighteen inches of rain, distributed exactly when and where it was needed, none being wasted, and more serviceable than fifty inches of rainfall as it generally comes. this, with the natural rainfall, is sufficient for citrus fruits and for corn and alfalfa, in soil not too sandy, and it is too much for grapes and all deciduous fruits. chapter ix. the advantages of irrigation. it is necessary to understand this problem of irrigation in order to comprehend southern california, the exceptional value of its arable land, the certainty and great variety of its products, and the part it is to play in our markets. there are three factors in the expectation of a crop--soil, sunshine, and water. in a region where we can assume the first two to be constant, the only uncertainty is water. southern california is practically without rain from may to december. upon this fact rests the immense value of its soil, and the certainty that it can supply the rest of the union with a great variety of products. this certainty must be purchased by a previous investment of money. water is everywhere to be had for money, in some localities by surface wells, in others by artesian-wells, in others from such streams as the los angeles and the santa ana, and from reservoirs secured by dams in the heart of the high mountains. it is possible to compute the cost of any one of the systems of irrigation, to determine whether it will pay by calculating the amount of land it will irrigate. the cost of procuring water varies greatly with the situation, and it is conceivable that money can be lost in such an investment, but i have yet to hear of any irrigation that has not been more or less successful. farming and fruit-raising are usually games of hazard. good crops and poor crops depend upon enough rain and not too much at just the right times. a wheat field which has a good start with moderate rain may later wither in a drought, or be ruined by too much water at the time of maturity. and, avoiding all serious reverses from either dryness or wet, every farmer knows that the quality and quantity of the product would be immensely improved if the growing stalks and roots could have water when and only when they need it. the difference would be between, say, twenty and forty bushels of grain or roots to the acre, and that means the difference between profit and loss. there is probably not a crop of any kind grown in the great west that would not be immensely benefited if it could be irrigated once or twice a year; and probably anywhere that water is attainable the cost of irrigation would be abundantly paid in the yield from year to year. farming in the west with even a little irrigation would not be the game of hazard that it is. and it may further be assumed that there is not a vegetable patch or a fruit orchard east or west that would not yield better quality and more abundantly with irrigation. [illustration: raisin-curing.] but this is not all. any farmer who attempts to raise grass and potatoes and strawberries on contiguous fields, subject to the same chance of drought or rainfall, has a vivid sense of his difficulties. the potatoes are spoiled by the water that helps the grass, and the coquettish strawberry will not thrive on the regimen that suits the grosser crops. in california, which by its climate and soil gives a greater variety of products than any other region in the union, the supply of water is adjusted to the needs of each crop, even on contiguous fields. no two products need the same amount of water, or need it at the same time. the orange needs more than the grape, the alfalfa more than the orange, the peach and apricot less than the orange; the olive, the fig, the almond, the english walnut, demand each a different supply. depending entirely on irrigation six months of the year, the farmer in southern california is practically certain of his crop year after year; and if all his plants and trees are in a healthful condition, as they will be if he is not too idle to cultivate as well as irrigate, his yield will be about double what it would be without systematic irrigation. it is this practical control of the water the year round, in a climate where sunshine is the rule, that makes the productiveness of california so large as to be incomprehensible to eastern people. even the trees are not dormant more than three or four months in the year. but irrigation, in order to be successful, must be intelligently applied. in unskilful hands it may work more damage than benefit. mr. theodore s. van dyke, who may always be quoted with confidence, says that the ground should never be flooded; that water must not touch the plant or tree, or come near enough to make the soil bake around it; and that it should be let in in small streams for two or three days, and not in large streams for a few hours. it is of the first importance that the ground shall be stirred as soon as dry enough, the cultivation to be continued, and water never to be substituted for the cultivator to prevent baking. the methods of irrigation in use may be reduced to three. first, the old mexican way--running a small ditch from tree to tree, without any basin round the tree. second, the basin system, where a large basin is made round the tree, and filled several times. this should only be used where water is scarce, for it trains the roots like a brush, instead of sending them out laterally into the soil. third, the riverside method, which is the best in the world, and produces the largest results with the least water and the least work. it is the closest imitation of the natural process of wetting by gentle rain. "a small flume, eight or ten inches square, of common red-wood is laid along the upper side of a ten-acre tract. at intervals of one to three feet, according to the nature of the ground and the stuff to be irrigated, are bored one-inch holes, with a small wooden button over them to regulate the flow. this flume costs a trifle, is left in position, lasts for years, and is always ready. into this flume is turned from the ditch an irrigating head of 20, 25, or 30 inches of water, generally about 20 inches. this is divided by the holes and the buttons into streams of from one-sixth to one-tenth of an inch each, making from 120 to 200 small streams. from five to seven furrows are made between two rows of trees, two between rows of grapes, one furrow between rows of corn, potatoes, etc. it may take from fifteen to twenty hours for one of the streams to get across the tract. they are allowed to run from forty-eight to seventy-two hours. the ground is then thoroughly wet in all directions, and three or four feet deep. as soon as the ground is dry enough cultivation is begun, and kept up from six to eight weeks before water is used again." only when the ground is very sandy is the basin system necessary. long experiment has taught that this system is by far the best; and, says mr. van dyke, "those whose ideas are taken from the wasteful systems of flooding or soaking from big ditches have something to learn in southern california." as to the quantity of water needed in the kind of soil most common in southern california i will again quote mr. van dyke: "they will tell you at riverside that they use an inch of water to five acres, and some say an inch to three acres. but this is because they charge to the land all the waste on the main ditch, and because they use thirty per cent. of the water in july and august, when it is the lowest. but this is no test of the duty of water; the amount actually delivered on the land should be taken. what they actually use for ten acres at riverside, redlands, etc., is a twenty-inch stream of three days' run five times a year, equal to 300 inches for one day, or one inch steady run for 300 days. as an inch is the equivalent of 365 inches for one day, or one inch for 365 days, 300 inches for one day equals an inch to twelve acres. many use even less than this, running the water only two or two and a half days at a time. others use more head; but it rarely exceeds 24 inches for three days and five times a year, which would be 72 multiplied by 5, or 360 inches--a little less than a full inch for a year for ten acres." [illustration: irrigation by artesian-well system.] [illustration: irrigation by pipe system.] i have given room to these details because the riverside experiment, which results in such large returns of excellent fruit, is worthy of the attention of cultivators everywhere. the constant stirring of the soil, to keep it loose as well as to keep down useless growths, is second in importance only to irrigation. some years ago, when it was ascertained that tracts of land which had been regarded as only fit for herding cattle and sheep would by good ploughing and constant cultivation produce fair crops without any artificial watering, there spread abroad a notion that irrigation could be dispensed with. there are large areas, dry and cracked on the surface, where the soil is moist three and four feet below the surface in the dry season. by keeping the surface broken and well pulverized the moisture rises sufficiently to insure a crop. many western farmers have found out this secret of cultivation, and more will learn in time the good sense of not spreading themselves over too large an area; that forty acres planted and cultivated will give a better return than eighty acres planted and neglected. crops of various sorts are raised in southern california by careful cultivation with little or no irrigation, but the idea that cultivation alone will bring sufficiently good production is now practically abandoned, and the almost universal experience is that judicious irrigation always improves the crop in quality and in quantity, and that irrigation and cultivation are both essential to profitable farming or fruit-raising. chapter x. the chance for laborers and small farmers. it would seem, then, that capital is necessary for successful agriculture or horticulture in southern california. but where is it not needed? in new england? in kansas, where land which was given to actual settlers is covered with mortgages for money absolutely necessary to develop it? but passing this by, what is the chance in southern california for laborers and for mechanics? let us understand the situation. in california there is no exception to the rule that continual labor, thrift, and foresight are essential to the getting of a good living or the gaining of a competence. no doubt speculation will spring up again. it is inevitable with the present enormous and yearly increasing yield of fruits, the better intelligence in vine culture, wine-making, and raisin-curing, the growth of marketable oranges, lemons, etc., and the consequent rise in the value of land. doubtless fortunes will be made by enterprising companies who secure large areas of unimproved land at low prices, bring water on them, and then sell in small lots. but this will come to an end. the tendency is to subdivide the land into small holdings--into farms and gardens of ten and twenty acres. the great ranches are sure to be broken up. with the resulting settlement by industrious people the cities will again experience "booms;" but these are not peculiar to california. in my mind i see the time when this region (because it will pay better proportionally to cultivate a small area) will be one of small farms, of neat cottages, of industrious homes. the owner is pretty certain to prosper--that is, to get a good living (which is independence), and lay aside a little yearly--if the work is done by himself and his family. and the peculiarity of the situation is that the farm or garden, whichever it is called, will give agreeable and most healthful occupation to all the boys and girls in the family all the days in the year that can be spared from the school. aside from the ploughing, the labor is light. pruning, grafting, budding, the picking of the grapes, the gathering of the fruit from the trees, the sorting, packing, and canning, are labor for light and deft hands, and labor distributed through the year. the harvest, of one sort and another, is almost continuous, so that young girls and boys can have, in well-settled districts, pretty steady employment--a long season in establishments packing oranges; at another time, in canning fruits; at another, in packing raisins. it goes without saying that in the industries now developed, and in others as important which are in their infancy (for instance, the culture of the olive for oil and as an article of food; the growth and curing of figs; the gathering of almonds, english walnuts, etc.), the labor of the owners of the land and their families will not suffice. there must be as large a proportion of day-laborers as there are in other regions where such products are grown. chinese labor at certain seasons has been a necessity. under the present policy of california this must diminish, and its place be taken by some other. the pay for this labor has always been good. it is certain to be more and more in demand. whether the pay will ever approach near to the european standard is a question, but it is a fair presumption that the exceptional profit of the land, owing to its productiveness, will for a long time keep wages up. during the "boom" period all wages were high, those of skilled mechanics especially, owing to the great amount of building on speculation. the ordinary laborer on a ranch had $30 a month and board and lodging; laborers of a higher grade, $2 to $2 50 a day; skilled masons, $6; carpenters, from $3 50 to $5; plasterers, $4 to $5; house-servants, from $23 to $33 a month. since the "boom," wages of skilled mechanics have declined at least 25 per cent., and there has been less demand for labor generally, except in connection with fruit raising and harvesting. it would be unwise for laborers to go to california on an uncertainty, but it can be said of that country with more confidence than of any other section that its peculiar industries, now daily increasing, will absorb an increasing amount of day labor, and later on it will remunerate skilled artisan labor. in deciding whether southern california would be an agreeable place of residence there are other things to be considered besides the productiveness of the soil, the variety of products, the ease of out-door labor distributed through the year, the certainty of returns for intelligent investment with labor, the equability of summer and winter, and the adaptation to personal health. there are always disadvantages attending the development of a new country and the evolution of a new society. it is not a small thing, and may be one of daily discontent, the change from a landscape clad with verdure, the riotous and irrepressible growth of a rainy region, to a land that the greater part of the year is green only where it is artificially watered, where all the hills and unwatered plains are brown and sere, where the foliage is coated with dust, and where driving anywhere outside the sprinkled avenues of a town is to be enveloped in a cloud of powdered earth. this discomfort must be weighed against the commercial advantages of a land of irrigation. [illustration: garden scene, santa ana.] what are the chances for a family of very moderate means to obtain a foothold and thrive by farming in southern california? i cannot answer this better than by giving substantially the experience of one family, and by saying that this has been paralleled, with change of details, by many others. of course, in a highly developed settlement, where the land is mostly cultivated, and its actual yearly produce makes its price very high, it is not easy to get a foothold. but there are many regions--say in orange county, and certainly in san diego--where land can be had at a moderate price and on easy terms of payment. indeed, there are few places, as i have said, where an industrious family would not find welcome and cordial help in establishing itself. and it must be remembered that there are many communities where life is very simple, and the great expense of keeping up an appearance attending life elsewhere need not be reckoned. a few years ago a professional man in a new england city, who was in delicate health, with his wife and five boys, all under sixteen, and one too young to be of any service, moved to san diego. he had in money a small sum, less than a thousand dollars. he had no experience in farming or horticulture, and his health would not have permitted him to do much field work in our climate. fortunately he found in the fertile el cajon valley, fifteen miles from san diego, a farmer and fruit-grower, who had upon his place a small unoccupied house. into that house he moved, furnishing it very simply with furniture bought in san diego, and hired his services to the landlord. the work required was comparatively easy, in the orchard and vineyards, and consisted largely in superintending other laborers. the pay was about enough to support his family without encroaching on his little capital. very soon, however, he made an arrangement to buy the small house and tract of some twenty acres on which he lived, on time, perhaps making a partial payment. he began at once to put out an orange orchard and plant a vineyard; this he accomplished with the assistance of his boys, who did practically most of the work after the first planting, leaving him a chance to give most of his days to his employer. the orchard and vineyard work is so light that a smart, intelligent boy is almost as valuable a worker in the field as a man. the wife, meantime, kept the house and did its work. house-keeping was comparatively easy; little fuel was required except for cooking; the question of clothes was a minor one. in that climate wants for a fairly comfortable existence are fewer than with us. from the first, almost, vegetables, raised upon the ground while the vines and oranges were growing, contributed largely to the support of the family. the out-door life and freedom from worry insured better health, and the diet of fruit and vegetables, suitable to the climate, reduced the cost of living to a minimum. as soon as the orchard and the vineyard began to produce fruit, the owner was enabled to quit working for his neighbor, and give all his time to the development of his own place. he increased his planting; he added to his house; he bought a piece of land adjoining which had a grove of eucalyptus, which would supply him with fuel. at first the society circle was small, and there was no school; but the incoming of families had increased the number of children, so that an excellent public school was established. when i saw him he was living in conditions of comfortable industry; his land had trebled in value; the pair of horses which he drove he had bought cheap, for they were eastern horses; but the climate had brought them up, so that the team was a serviceable one in good condition. the story is not one of brilliant success, but to me it is much more hopeful for the country than the other tales i heard of sudden wealth or lucky speculation. it is the founding in an unambitious way of a comfortable home. the boys of the family will branch out, get fields, orchards, vineyards of their own, and add to the solid producing industry of the country. this orderly, contented industry, increasing its gains day by day, little by little, is the life and hope of any state. chapter xi. some details of the wonderful development. it is not the purpose of this volume to describe southern california. that has been thoroughly done; and details, with figures and pictures in regard to every town and settlement, will be forthcoming on application, which will be helpful guides to persons who can see for themselves, or make sufficient allowance for local enthusiasm. but before speaking further of certain industries south of the great mountain ranges, the region north of the sierra madre, which is allied to southern california by its productions, should be mentioned. the beautiful antelope plains and the kern valley (where land is still cheap and very productive) should not be overlooked. the splendid san joaquin valley is already speaking loudly and clearly for itself. the region north of the mountains of kern county, shut in by the sierra nevada range on the east and the coast range on the west, substantially one valley, fifty to sixty miles in breadth, watered by the king and the san joaquin, and gently sloping to the north, say for two hundred miles, is a land of marvellous capacity, capable of sustaining a dense population. it is cooler in winter than southern california, and the summers average much warmer. owing to the greater heat, the fruits mature sooner. it is just now becoming celebrated for its raisins, which in quality are unexcelled; and its area, which can be well irrigated from the rivers and from the mountains on either side, seems capable of producing raisins enough to supply the world. it is a wonderfully rich valley in a great variety of products. fresno county, which occupies the centre of this valley, has 1,200,000 acres of agricultural and 4,400,000 of mountain and pasture land. the city of fresno, which occupies land that in 1870 was a sheep ranch, is the commercial centre of a beautiful agricultural and fruit region, and has a population estimated at 12,000. from this centre were shipped in the season of 1890, 1500 car-loads of raisins. in 1865 the only exports of fresno county were a few bales of wool. the report of 1889 gave a shipment of 700,000 boxes of raisins, and the whole export of 1890, of all products, was estimated at $10,000,000. whether these figures are exact or not, there is no doubt of the extraordinary success of the raisin industry, nor that this is a region of great activity and promise. the traveller has constantly to remind himself that this is a new country, and to be judged as a new country. it is out of his experience that trees can grow so fast, and plantations in so short a time put on an appearance of maturity. when he sees a roomy, pretty cottage overrun with vines and flowering plants, set in the midst of trees and lawns and gardens of tropical appearance and luxuriance, he can hardly believe that three years before this spot was desert land. when he looks over miles of vineyards, of groves of oranges, olives, walnuts, prunes, the trees all in vigorous bearing, he cannot believe that five or ten years before the whole region was a waste. when he enters a handsome village, with substantial buildings of brick, and perhaps of stone, with fine school-houses, banks, hotels, an opera-house, large packing-houses, and warehouses and shops of all sorts, with tasteful dwellings and lovely ornamented lawns, it is hard to understand that all this is the creation of two or three years. yet these surprises meet the traveller at every turn, and the wonder is that there is not visible more crudeness, eccentric taste, and evidence of hasty beginnings. [illustration: a grape-vine, montecito valley, santa barbara.] san bernardino is comparatively an old town. it was settled in 1853 by a colony of mormons from salt lake. the remains of this colony, less than a hundred, still live here, and have a church like the other sects, but they call themselves josephites, and do not practise polygamy. there is probably not a sect or schism in the united states that has not its representative in california. until 1865 san bernardino was merely a straggling settlement, and a point of distribution for arizona. the discovery that a large part of the county was adapted to the orange and the vine, and the advent of the santa fé railway, changed all that. land that then might have been bought for $4 an acre is now sold at from $200 to $300, and the city has become the busy commercial centre of a large number of growing villages, and of one of the most remarkable orange and vine districts in the world. it has many fine buildings, a population of about 6000, and a decided air of vigorous business. the great plain about it is mainly devoted to agricultural products, which are grown without irrigation, while in the near foot-hills the orange and the vine flourish by the aid of irrigation. artesian-wells abound in the san bernardino plain, but the mountains are the great and unfailing source of water supply. the bear valley dam is a most daring and gigantic construction. a solid wall of masonry, 300 feet long and 60 feet high, curving towards the reservoir, creates an inland lake in the mountains holding water enough to irrigate 20,000 acres of land. this is conveyed to distributing reservoirs in the east end of the valley. on a terrace in the foot-hills a few miles to the north, 2000 feet above the sea, are the arrow-head hot springs (named from the figure of a gigantic "arrow-head" on the mountain above), already a favorite resort for health and pleasure. the views from the plain of the picturesque foot-hills and the snow-peaks of the san bernardino range are exceedingly fine. the marvellous beauty of the purple and deep violet of the giant hills at sunset, with spotless snow, lingers in the memory. perhaps the settlement of redlands, ten miles by rail east of san bernardino, is as good an illustration as any of rapid development and great promise. it is devoted to the orange and the grape. as late as 1875 much of it was government land, considered valueless. it had a few settlers, but the town, which counts now about 2000 people, was only begun in 1887. it has many solid brick edifices and many pretty cottages on its gentle slopes and rounded hills, overlooked by the great mountains. the view from any point of vantage of orchards and vineyards and semi-tropical gardens, with the wide sky-line of noble and snow-clad hills, is exceedingly attractive. the region is watered by the santa ana river and mill creek, but the main irrigating streams, which make every hill-top to bloom with vegetation, come from the bear valley reservoir. on a hill to the south of the town the smiley brothers, of catskill fame, are building fine residences, and planting their 125 acres with fruit-trees and vines, evergreens, flowers, and semi-tropic shrubbery in a style of landscape-gardening that in three years at the furthest will make this spot one of the few great showplaces of the country. behind their ridge is the san mateo cañon, through which the southern pacific railway runs, while in front are the splendid sloping plains, valleys, and orange groves, and the great sweep of mountains from san jacinto round to the sierra madre range. it is almost a matchless prospect. the climate is most agreeable, the plantations increase month by month, and thus far the orange-trees have not been visited by the scale, nor the vines by any sickness. although the groves are still young, there were shipped from redlands in the season of 1889-90 80 car-loads of oranges, of 286 boxes to the car, at a price averaging nearly $1000 a car. that season's planting of oranges was over 1200 acres. it had over 5000 acres in fruits, of which nearly 3000 were in peaches, apricots, grapes, and other sorts called deciduous. riverside may without prejudice be regarded as the centre of the orange growth and trade. the railway shipments of oranges from southern california in the season of 1890 aggregated about 2400 car-loads, or about 800,000 boxes, of oranges (in which estimate the lemons are included), valued at about $1,500,000. of this shipment more than half was from riverside. this has been, of course, greatly stimulated by the improved railroad facilities, among them the shortening of the time to chicago by the santa fé route, and the running of special fruit trains. southern california responds like magic to this chance to send her fruits to the east, and the area planted month by month is something enormous. it is estimated that the crop of oranges alone in 1891 will be over 4500 car-loads. we are accustomed to discount all california estimates, but i think that no one yet has comprehended the amount to which the shipments to eastern markets of vegetables and fresh and canned fruits will reach within five years. i base my prediction upon some observation of the eastern demand and the reports of fruit-dealers, upon what i saw of the new planting all over the state in 1890, and upon the statistics of increase. take riverside as an example. in 1872 it was a poor sheep ranch. in 1880-81 it shipped 15 car-loads, or 4290 boxes, of oranges; the amount yearly increased, until in 1888-89 it was 925 car-loads, or 263,879 boxes. in 1890 it rose to 1253 car-loads, or 358,341 boxes; and an important fact is that the largest shipment was in april (455 car-loads, or 130,226 boxes), at the time when the supply from other orange regions for the markets east had nearly ceased. [illustration: irrigating an orchard.] it should be said, also, that the quality of the oranges has vastly improved. this is owing to better cultivation, knowledge of proper irrigation, and the adoption of the best varieties for the soil. as different sorts of oranges mature at different seasons, a variety is needed to give edible fruit in each month from december to may inclusive. in february, 1887, i could not find an orange of the first class compared with the best fruit in other regions. it may have been too early for the varieties i tried; but i believe there has been a marked improvement in quality. in may, 1890, we found delicious oranges almost everywhere. the seedless washington and australian navels are favorites, especially for the market, on account of their great size and fine color. when in perfection they are very fine, but the skin is thick and the texture coarser than that of some others. the best orange i happened to taste was a tahiti seedling at montecito (santa barbara). it is a small orange, with a thin skin and a compact, sweet pulp that leaves little fibre. it resembles the famous orange of malta. but there are many excellent varieties--the mediterranean sweet, the paper rind st. michael, the maltese blood, etc. the experiments with seedlings are profitable, and will give ever new varieties. i noted that the "grape fruit," which is becoming so much liked in the east, is not appreciated in california. [illustration: orange culture. packing oranges--navel orange-tree six years old--irrigating an orange grove.] the city of riverside occupies an area of some five miles by three, and claims to have 6000 inhabitants; the centre is a substantial town with fine school and other public buildings, but the region is one succession of orange groves and vineyards, of comfortable houses and broad avenues. one avenue through which we drove is 125 feet wide and 12 miles long, planted in three rows with palms, magnolias, the _grevillea robusta_ (australian fern), the pepper, and the eucalyptus, and lined all the way by splendid orange groves, in the midst of which are houses and grounds with semi-tropical attractions. nothing could be lovelier than such a scene of fruits and flowers, with the background of purple hills and snowy peaks. the mountain views are superb. frost is a rare visitor. not in fifteen years has there been enough to affect the orange. there is little rain after march, but there are fogs and dew-falls, and the ocean breeze is felt daily. the grape grown for raisins is the muscat, and this has had no "sickness." vigilance and a quarantine have also kept from the orange the scale which has been so annoying in some other localities. the orange, when cared for, is a generous bearer; some trees produce twenty boxes each, and there are areas of twenty acres in good bearing which have brought to the owner as much as $10,000 a year. the whole region of the santa ana and san gabriel valleys, from the desert on the east to los angeles, the city of gardens, is a surprise, and year by year an increasing wonder. in production it exhausts the catalogue of fruits and flowers; its scenery is varied by ever new combinations of the picturesque and the luxuriant; every town boasts some special advantage in climate, soil, water, or society; but these differences, many of them visible to the eye, cannot appear in any written description. the traveller may prefer the scenery of pasadena, or that of pomona, or of riverside, but the same words in regard to color, fertility, combinations of orchards, avenues, hills, must appear in the description of each. ontario, pomona, puente, alhambra--wherever one goes there is the same wonder of color and production. pomona is a pleasant city in the midst of fine orange groves, watered abundantly by artesian-wells and irrigating ditches from a mountain reservoir. a specimen of the ancient adobe residence is on the meserve plantation, a lovely old place, with its gardens of cherries, strawberries, olives, and oranges. from the top of san josé hill we had a view of a plain twenty-five miles by fifty in extent, dotted with cultivation, surrounded by mountains--a wonderful prospect. pomona, like its sister cities in this region, has a regard for the intellectual side of life, exhibited in good school-houses and public libraries. in the library of pomona is what may be regarded as the tutelary deity of the place--the goddess pomona, a good copy in marble of the famous statue in the uffizi gallery, presented to the city by the rev. c. f. loop. this enterprising citizen is making valuable experiments in olive culture, raising a dozen varieties in order to ascertain which is best adapted to this soil, and which will make the best return in oil and in a marketable product of cured fruit for the table. the growth of the olive is to be, it seems to me, one of the leading and most permanent industries of southern california. it will give us, what it is nearly impossible to buy now, pure olive oil, in place of the cotton-seed and lard mixture in general use. it is a most wholesome and palatable article of food. those whose chief experience of the olive is the large, coarse, and not agreeable spanish variety, used only as an appetizer, know little of the value of the best varieties as food, nutritious as meat, and always delicious. good bread and a dish of pickled olives make an excellent meal. the sort known as the mission olive, planted by the franciscans a century ago, is generally grown now, and the best fruit is from the older trees. the most successful attempts in cultivating the olive and putting it on the market have been made by mr. f. a. kimball, of national city, and mr. ellwood cooper, of santa barbara. the experiments have gone far enough to show that the industry is very remunerative. the best olive oil i have ever tasted anywhere is that produced from the cooper and the kimball orchards; but not enough is produced to supply the local demand. mr. cooper has written a careful treatise on olive culture, which will be of great service to all growers. the art of pickling is not yet mastered, and perhaps some other variety will be preferred to the old mission for the table. a mature olive grove in good bearing is a fortune. i feel sure that within twenty-five years this will be one of the most profitable industries of california, and that the demand for pure oil and edible fruit in the united states will drive out the adulterated and inferior present commercial products. but california can easily ruin its reputation by adopting the european systems of adulteration. [illustration: in a field of golden pumpkins.] we drove one day from arcadia station through the region occupied by the baldwin plantations, an area of over fifty thousand acres--a happy illustration of what industry and capital can do in the way of variety of productions, especially in what are called the san anita vineyards and orchards, extending southward from the foot-hills. about the home place and in many sections where the irrigating streams flow one might fancy he was in the tropics, so abundant and brilliant are the flowers and exotic plants. there are splendid orchards of oranges, almonds, english walnuts, lemons, peaches, apricots, figs, apples, and olives, with grain and corn--in short, everything that grows in garden or field. the ranch is famous for its brandies and wines as well as fruits. we lunched at the east san gabriel hotel, a charming place with a peaceful view from the wide veranda of live-oaks, orchards, vineyards, and the noble sierra madre range. the californians may be excused for using the term paradisiacal about such scenes. flowers, flowers everywhere, color on color, and the song of the mocking-bird! chapter xii. how the fruit perils were met.--further details of localities. in the san gabriel valley and elsewhere i saw evidence of the perils that attend the culture of the vine and the fruit-tree in all other countries, and from which california in the early days thought it was exempt. within the past three or four years there has prevailed a sickness of the vine, the cause of which is unknown, and for which no remedy has been discovered. no blight was apparent, but the vine sickened and failed. the disease was called consumption of the vine. i saw many vineyards subject to it, and hundreds of acres of old vines had been rooted up as useless. i was told by a fruit-buyer in los angeles that he thought the raisin industry below fresno was ended unless new planting recovered the vines, and that the great wine fields were about "played out." the truth i believe to be that the disease is confined to the vineyards of old mission grapes. whether these had attained the limit of their active life, and sickened, i do not know. the trouble for a time was alarming; but new plantings of other varieties of grapes have been successful, the vineyards look healthful, and the growers expect no further difficulty. the planting, which was for a time suspended, has been more vigorously renewed. the insect pests attacking the orange were even more serious, and in 1887-88, though little was published about it, there was something like a panic, in the fear that the orange and lemon culture in southern california would be a failure. the enemies were the black, the red, and the white scale. the latter, the _icerya purchasi_, or cottony cushion scale, was especially loathsome and destructive; whole orchards were enfeebled, and no way was discovered of staying its progress, which threatened also the olive and every other tree, shrub, and flower. science was called on to discover its parasite. this was found to be the australian lady-bug (_vedolia cardinalis_), and in 1888-89 quantities of this insect were imported and spread throughout los angeles county, and sent to santa barbara and other afflicted districts. the effect was magical. the _vedolia_ attacked the cottony scale with intense vigor, and everywhere killed it. the orchards revived as if they had been recreated, and the danger was over. the enemies of the black and the red scale have not yet been discovered, but they probably will be. meantime the growers have recovered courage, and are fertilizing and fumigating. in santa ana i found that the red scale was fought successfully by fumigating the trees. the operation is performed at night under a movable tent, which covers the tree. the cost is about twenty cents a tree. one lesson of all this is that trees must be fed in order to be kept vigorous to resist such attacks, and that fruit-raising, considering the number of enemies that all fruits have in all climates, is not an idle occupation. the clean, handsome english walnut is about the only tree in the state that thus far has no enemy. one cannot take anywhere else a more exhilarating, delightful drive than about the rolling, highly cultivated, many-villaed pasadena, and out to the foot-hills and the sierra madre villa. he is constantly exclaiming at the varied loveliness of the scene--oranges, palms, formal gardens, hedges of monterey cypress. it is very italy-like. the sierra madre furnishes abundant water for all the valley, and the swift irrigating stream from eaton cañon waters the sierra madre villa. among the peaks above it rises mt. wilson, a thousand feet above the plain, the site selected for the harvard observatory with its 40-inch glass. the clearness of the air at this elevation, and the absence of clouds night and day the greater portion of the year, make this a most advantageous position, it is said, to use the glass in dissolving nebulæ. the sierra madre villa, once the most favorite resort in this region, was closed. in its sheltered situation, its luxuriant and half-neglected gardens, its wide plantations and irrigating streams, it reminds one of some secularized monastery on the promontory of sorrento. it only needs good management to make the hotel very attractive and especially agreeable in the months of winter. [illustration: packing cherries, pomona.] pasadena, which exhibits everywhere evidences of wealth and culture, and claims a permanent population of 12,000, has the air of a winter resort; the great hotel raymond is closed in may, the boarding-houses want occupants, the shops and livery-stables customers, and the streets lack movement. this is easily explained. it is not because pasadena is not an agreeable summer residence, but because the visitors are drawn there in the winter principally to escape the inclement climate of the north and east, and because special efforts have been made for their entertainment in the winter. we found the atmosphere delightful in the middle of may. the mean summer heat is 67°, and the nights are always cool. the hills near by may be resorted to with the certainty of finding as decided a change as one desires in the summer season. i must repeat that the southern california summer is not at all understood in the east. the statement of the general equability of the temperature the year through must be insisted on. we lunched one day in a typical california house, in the midst of a garden of fruits, flowers, and tropical shrubs; in a house that might be described as half roses and half tent, for added to the wooden structure were rooms of canvas, which are used as sleeping apartments winter and summer. this attractive region, so lovely in its cultivation, with so many charming drives, offering good shooting on the plains and in the hills, and centrally placed for excursions, is only eight miles from the busy city of los angeles. an excellent point of view of the country is from the graded hill on which stands the raymond hotel, a hill isolated but easy of access, which is in itself a mountain of bloom, color, and fragrance. from all the broad verandas and from every window the prospect is charming, whether the eye rests upon cultivated orchards and gardens and pretty villas, or upon the purple foot-hills and the snowy ranges. it enjoys a daily ocean breeze, and the air is always exhilarating. this noble hill is a study in landscape-gardening. it is a mass of brilliant color, and the hospitality of the region generally to foreign growths may be estimated by the trees acclimated on these slopes. they are the pepper, eucalyptus, pine, cypress, sycamore, red-wood, olive, date and fan palms, banana, pomegranate, guava, japanese persimmon, umbrella, maple, elm, locust, english walnut, birch, ailantus, poplar, willow, and more ornamental shrubs than one can well name. i can indulge in few locality details except those which are illustrative of the general character of the country. in passing into orange county, which was recently set off from los angeles, we come into a region of less "fashion," but one that for many reasons is attractive to people of moderate means who are content with independent simplicity. the country about the thriving village of santa ana is very rich, being abundantly watered by the santa ana river and by artesian-wells. the town is nine miles from the ocean. on the ocean side the land is mainly agricultural; on the inland side it is specially adapted to fruit. we drove about it, and in tustin city, which has many pleasant residences and a vacant "boom" hotel, through endless plantations of oranges. on the road towards los angeles we passed large herds of cattle and sheep, and fine groves of the english walnut, which thrives especially well in this soil and the neighborhood of the sea. there is comparatively little waste land in this valley district, as one may see by driving through the country about santa ana, orange, anaheim, tustin city, etc. anaheim is a prosperous german colony. it was here that madame modjeska and her husband, count bozenta, first settled in california. they own and occupy now a picturesque ranch in the santiago cañon of the santa ana range, twenty-two miles from santa ana. this is one of the richest regions in the state, and with its fair quota of working population, it will be one of the most productive. from newport, on the coast, or from san pedro, one may visit the island of santa catalina. want of time prevented our going there. sportsmen enjoy there the exciting pastime of hunting the wild goat. from the photographs i saw, and from all i heard of it, it must be as picturesque a resort in natural beauty as the british channel islands. los angeles is the metropolitan centre of all this region. a handsome, solid, thriving city, environed by gardens, gay everywhere with flowers, it is too well known to require any description from me. to the traveller from the east it will always be a surprise. its growth has been phenomenal, and although it may not equal the expectations of the crazy excitement of 1886-87, 50,000 people is a great assemblage for a new city which numbered only about 11,000 in 1880. it of course felt the subsidence of the "boom," but while i missed the feverish crowds of 1887, i was struck with its substantial progress in fine, solid buildings, pavements, sewerage, railways, educational facilities, and ornamental grounds. it has a secure hold on the commerce of the region. the assessment roll of the city increased from $7,627,632 in 1881 to $44,871,073 in 1889. its bank business, public buildings, school-houses, and street improvements are in accord with this increase, and show solid, vigorous growth. it is altogether an attractive city, whether seen on a drive through its well-planted and bright avenues, or looked down on from the hills which are climbed by the cable roads. a curious social note was the effect of the "boom" excitement upon the birth rate. the report of children under the age of one year was in 1887, 271 boy babies and 264 girl babies; from 1887 to 1888 there were only 176 boy babies and 162 girl babies. the return at the end of 1889 was 465 boy babies, and 500 girl babies. [illustration: olive-trees six years old.] although los angeles county still produces a considerable quantity of wine and brandy, i have an impression that the raising of raisins will supplant wine-making largely in southern california, and that the principal wine producing will be in the northern portions of the state. it is certain that the best quality is grown in the foot-hills. the reputation of "california wines" has been much injured by placing upon the market crude juice that was in no sense wine. great improvement has been made in the past three to five years, not only in the vine and knowledge of the soil adapted to it, but in the handling and the curing of the wine. one can now find without much difficulty excellent table wines--sound claret, good white reisling, and sauterne. none of these wines are exactly like the foreign wines, and it may be some time before the taste accustomed to foreign wines is educated to like them. but in eastern markets some of the best brands are already much called for, and i think it only a question of time and a little more experience when the best california wines will be popular. i found in the san francisco market excellent red wines at $3.50 the case, and what was still more remarkable, at some of the best hotels sound, agreeable claret at from fifteen to twenty cents the pint bottle. it is quite unnecessary to emphasize the attractions of santa barbara, or the productiveness of the valleys in the counties of santa barbara and ventura. there is no more poetic region on the continent than the bay south of point conception, and the pen and the camera have made the world tolerably familiar with it. there is a graciousness, a softness, a color in the sea, the cañons, the mountains there that dwell in the memory. it is capable of inspiring the same love that the greek colonists felt for the region between the bays of salerno and naples. it is as fruitful as the italian shores, and can support as dense a population. the figures that have been given as to productiveness and variety of productions apply to it. having more winter rainfall than the counties south of it, agriculture is profitable in most years. since the railway was made down the valley of the santa clara river and along the coast to santa barbara, a great impulse has been given to farming. orange and other fruit orchards have increased. near buenaventura i saw hundreds of acres of lima beans. the yield is about one ton to the acre. with good farming the valleys yield crops of corn, barley, and wheat much above the average. still it is a fruit region, and no variety has yet been tried that does not produce very well there. the rapid growth of all trees has enabled the region to demonstrate in a short time that there is scarcely any that it cannot naturalize. the curious growths of tropical lands, the trees of aromatic and medicinal gums, the trees of exquisite foliage and wealth of fragrant blossoms, the sturdy forest natives, and the bearers of edible nuts are all to be found in the gardens and by the road-side, from new england, from the southern states, from europe, from north and south africa, southern asia, china, japan, from australia and new zealand and south america. the region is an arboreal and botanical garden on an immense scale, and full of surprises. the floriculture is even more astonishing. every land is represented. the profusion and vigor are as wonderful as the variety. at a flower show in santa barbara were exhibited 160 varieties of roses all cut from one garden the same morning. the open garden rivals the eastern conservatory. the country is new and many of the conditions of life may be primitive and rude, but it is impossible that any region shall not be beautiful, clothed with such a profusion of bloom and color. i have spoken of the rapid growth. the practical advantage of this as to fruit-trees is that one begins to have an income from them here sooner than in the east. no one need be under the delusion that he can live in california without work, or thrive without incessant and intelligent industry, but the distinction of the country for the fruit-grower is the rapidity with which trees and vines mature to the extent of being profitable. but nothing thrives without care, and kindly as the climate is to the weak, it cannot be too much insisted on that this is no place for confirmed invalids who have not money enough to live without work. chapter xiii. the advance of cultivation southward. the immense county of san diego is on the threshold of its development. it has comparatively only spots of cultivation here and there, in an area on the western slope of the county only, that mr. van dyke estimates to contain about one million acres of good arable land for farming and fruit-raising. this mountainous region is full of charming valleys, and hidden among the hills are fruitful nooks capable of sustaining thriving communities. there is no doubt about the salubrity of the climate, and one can literally suit himself as to temperature by choosing his elevation. the traveller by rail down the wild temecula cañon will have some idea of the picturesqueness of the country, and, as he descends in the broadening valley, of the beautiful mountain parks of live-oak and clear running water, and of the richness both for grazing and grain of the ranches of the santa margarita, las flores, and santa rosa. or if he will see what a few years of vigorous cultivation will do, he may visit escondido, on the river of that name, which is at an elevation of less than a thousand feet, and fourteen miles from the ocean. this is only one of many settlements that have great natural beauty and thrifty industrial life. in that region are numerous attractive villages. i have a report from a little cañon, a few miles north of escondido, where a woman with an invalid husband settled in 1883. the ground was thickly covered with brush, and its only product was rabbits and quails. in 1888 they had 100 acres cleared and fenced, mostly devoted to orchard fruits and berries. they had in good bearing over 1200 fruit-trees among them 200 oranges and 283 figs, which yielded one and a half tons of figs a week during the bearing season, from august to november. the sprouts of the peach-trees grew twelve feet in 1889. of course such a little fruit farm as this is the result of self-denial and hard work, but i am sure that the experiment in this region need not be exceptional. [illustration: sexton nurseries, near santa barbara.] san diego will be to the southern part of the state what san francisco is to the northern. nature seems to have arranged for this, by providing a magnificent harbor, when it shut off the southern part by a mountain range. during the town-lot lunacy it was said that san diego could not grow because it had no back country, and the retort was that it needed no back country, its harbor would command commerce. the fallacy of this assumption lay in the forgetfulness of the fact that the profitable and peculiar exports of southern california must go east by rail, and reach a market in the shortest possible time, and that the inhabitants look to the pacific for comparatively little of the imports they need. if the isthmus route were opened by a ship-canal, san diego would doubtless have a great share of the pacific trade, and when the population of that part of the state is large enough to demand great importations from the islands and lands of the pacific, this harbor will not go begging. but in its present development the entire pacific trade of japan, china, and the islands, gives only a small dividend each to the competing ports. for these developments this fine harbor must wait, but meantime the wealth and prosperity of san diego lie at its doors. a country as large as the three richest new england states, with enormous wealth of mineral and stone in its mountains, with one of the finest climates in the world, with a million acres of arable land, is certainly capable of building up one great seaport town. these million of acres on the western slope of the mountain ranges of the country are geographically tributary to san diego, and almost every acre by its products is certain to attain a high value. the end of the ridiculous speculation in lots of 1887-88 was not so disastrous in the loss of money invested, or even in the ruin of great expectations by the collapse of fictitious values, as in the stoppage of immigration. the country has been ever since adjusting itself to a normal growth, and the recovery is just in proportion to the arrival of settlers who come to work and not to speculate. i had heard that the "boom" had left san diego and vicinity the "deadest" region to be found anywhere. a speculator would probably so regard it. but the people have had a great accession of common-sense. the expectation of attracting settlers by a fictitious show has subsided, and attention is directed to the development of the natural riches of the country. since the boom san diego has perfected a splendid system of drainage, paved its streets, extended its railways, built up the business part of the town solidly and handsomely, and greatly improved the mesa above the town. in all essentials of permanent growth it is much better in appearance than in 1887. business is better organized, and, best of all, there is an intelligent appreciation of the agricultural resources of the country. it is discovered that san diego has a "back country" capable of producing great wealth. the chamber of commerce has organized a permanent exhibition of products. it is assisted in this work of stimulation by competition by a "ladies' annex," a society numbering some five hundred ladies, who devote themselves not to æsthetic pursuits, but to the quickening of all the industries of the farm and the garden, and all public improvements. [illustration: sweetwater dam.] to the mere traveller who devotes only a couple of weeks to an examination of this region it is evident that the spirit of industry is in the ascendant, and the result is a most gratifying increase in orchards and vineyards, and the storage and distribution of water for irrigation. the region is unsurpassed for the production of the orange, the lemon, the raisin-grape, the fig, and the olive. the great reservoir of the cuyamaca, which supplies san diego, sends its flume around the fertile valley of el cajon (which has already a great reputation for its raisins), and this has become a garden, the land rising in value every year. the region of national city and chula vista is supplied by the reservoir made by the great sweetwater dam--a marvel of engineering skill--and is not only most productive in fruit, but is attractive by pretty villas and most sightly and agreeable homes. it is an unanswerable reply to the inquiry if this region was not killed by the boom that all the arable land, except that staked out for fancy city prices, has steadily risen in value. this is true of all the bay region down through otay (where a promising watch factory is established) to the border at tia juana. the rate of settlement in the county outside of the cities and towns has been greater since the boom than before--a most healthful indication for the future. according to the school census of 1889, mr. van dyke estimates a permanent growth of nearly 50,000 people in the county in four years. half of these are well distributed in small settlements which have the advantages of roads, mails, and school-houses, and which offer to settlers who wish to work adjacent unimproved land at prices which experience shows are still moderate. chapter xiv. a land of agreeable homes. in this imperfect conspectus of a vast territory i should be sorry to say anything that can raise false expectations. our country is very big; and though scarcely any part of it has not some advantages, and notwithstanding the census figures of our population, it will be a long time before our vast territory will fill up. california must wait with the rest; but it seems to me to have a great future. its position in the union with regard to its peculiar productions is unique. it can and will supply us with much that we now import, and labor and capital sooner or later will find their profit in meeting the growing demand for california products. there are many people in the united states who could prolong life by moving to southern california; there are many who would find life easier there by reason of the climate, and because out-door labor is more agreeable there the year through; many who have to fight the weather and a niggardly soil for existence could there have pretty little homes with less expense of money and labor. it is well that people for whom this is true should know it. it need not influence those who are already well placed to try the fortune of a distant country and new associations. i need not emphasize the disadvantage in regard to beauty of a land that can for half the year only keep a vernal appearance by irrigation; but to eyes accustomed to it there is something pleasing in the contrast of the green valleys with the brown and gold and red of the hills. the picture in my mind for the future of the land of the sun, of the mountains, of the sea--which is only an enlargement of the picture of the present--is one of great beauty. the rapid growth of fruit and ornamental trees and the profusion of flowers render easy the making of a lovely home, however humble it may be. the nature of the industries--requiring careful attention to a small piece of ground--points to small holdings as a rule. the picture i see is of a land of small farms and gardens, highly cultivated, in all the valleys and on the foot-hills; a land, therefore, of luxuriance and great productiveness and agreeable homes. i see everywhere the gardens, the vineyards, the orchards, with the various greens of the olive, the fig, and the orange. it is always picturesque, because the country is broken and even rugged; it is always interesting, because of the contrast with the mountains and the desert; it has the color that makes southern italy so poetic. it is the fairest field for the experiment of a contented community, without any poverty and without excessive wealth. chapter xv. some wonders by the way.--yosemite.--mariposa trees.--monterey. i went to it with reluctance. i shrink from attempting to say anything about it. if you knew that there was one spot on the earth where nature kept her secret of secrets, the key to the action of her most gigantic and patient forces through the long eras, the marvel of constructive and destructive energy, in features of sublimity made possible to mental endurance by the most exquisite devices of painting and sculpture, the wonder which is without parallel or comparison, would you not hesitate to approach it? would you not wander and delay with this and that wonder, and this and that beauty and nobility of scenery, putting off the day when the imagination, which is our highest gift, must be extinguished by the reality? the mind has this judicious timidity. do we not loiter in the avenue of the temple, dallying with the vista of giant plane-trees and statues, and noting the carving and the color, mentally shrinking from the moment when the full glory shall burst upon us? we turn and look when we are near a summit, we pick a flower, we note the shape of the clouds, the passing breeze, before we take the last step that shall reveal to us the vast panorama of mountains and valleys. i cannot bring myself to any description of the grand cañon of the colorado by any other route, mental or physical, than that by which we reached it, by the way of such beauty as monterey, such a wonder as the yosemite, and the infinite and picturesque deserts of new mexico and arizona. i think the mind needs the training in the desert scenery to enable it to grasp the unique sublimity of the grand cañon. the road to the yosemite, after leaving the branch of the southern pacific at raymond, is an unnecessarily fatiguing one. the journey by stage--sixty-five miles--is accomplished in less than two days--thirty-nine miles the first day, and twenty-six the second. the driving is necessarily slow, because two mountain ridges have to be surmounted, at an elevation each of about 6500 feet. the road is not a "road" at all as the term is understood in switzerland, spain, or in any highly civilized region--that is, a graded, smooth, hard, and sufficiently broad track. it is a makeshift highway, generally narrow (often too narrow for two teams to pass), cast up with loose material, or excavated on the slopes with frequent short curves and double curves. like all mountain roads which skirt precipices, it may seem "pokerish," but it is safe enough if the drivers are skilful and careful (all the drivers on this route are not only excellent, but exceedingly civil as well), and there is no break in wagon or harness. at the season this trip is made the weather is apt to be warm, but this would not matter so much if the road were not intolerably dusty. over a great part of the way the dust rises in clouds and is stifling. on a well-engineered road, with a good road-bed, the time of passage might not be shortened, but the journey would be made with positive comfort and enjoyment, for though there is a certain monotony in the scenery, there is the wild freshness of nature, now and then an extensive prospect, a sight of the snow-clad nevadas, and vast stretches of woodland; and a part of the way the forests are magnificent, especially the stupendous growth of the sugar-pine. these noble forests are now protected by their inaccessibility. from 1855 to 1864, nine years, the yosemite had 653 visitors; in 1864 there were 147. the number increased steadily till 1869, the year the overland railroad was completed, when it jumped to 1122. between 4000 and 5000 persons visit it now each year. the number would be enormously increased if it could be reached by rail, and doubtless a road will be built to the valley in the near future, perhaps up the merced river. i believe that the pilgrims who used to go to the yosemite on foot or on horseback regret the building of the stage road, the enjoyment of the wonderful valley being somehow cheapened by the comparative ease of reaching it. it is feared that a railway would still further cheapen, if it did not vulgarize it, and that passengers by train would miss the mountain scenery, the splendid forests, the surprises of the way (like the first view of the valley from inspiration point), and that the mariposa big trees would be farther off the route than they are now. the traveller sees them now by driving eight miles from wawona, the end of the first day's staging. but the romance for the few there is in staging will have to give way to the greater comfort of the many by rail. [illustration: the yosemite dome.] the railway will do no more injury to the yosemite than it has done to niagara, and, in fact, will be the means of immensely increasing the comfort of the visitor's stay there, besides enabling tens of thousands of people to see it who cannot stand the fatigue of the stage ride over the present road. the yosemite will remain as it is. the simplicity of its grand features is unassailable so long as the government protects the forests that surround it and the streams that pour into it. the visitor who goes there by rail will find plenty of adventure for days and weeks in following the mountain trails, ascending to the great points of view, exploring the cañons, or climbing so as to command the vast stretch of the snowy sierras. or, if he is not inclined to adventure, the valley itself will satisfy his highest imaginative flights of the sublime in rock masses and perpendicular ledges, and his sense of beauty in the graceful water-falls, rainbow colors, and exquisite lines of domes and pinnacles. it is in the grouping of objects of sublimity and beauty that the yosemite excels. the narrow valley, with its gigantic walls, which vary in every change of the point of view, lends itself to the most astonishing scenic effects, and these the photograph has reproduced, so that the world is familiar with the striking features of the valley, and has a tolerably correct idea of the sublimity of some of these features. what the photograph cannot do is to give an impression of the unique grouping, of the majesty, and at times crushing weight upon the mind of the forms and masses, of the atmospheric splendor and illusion, and of the total value of such an assemblage of wonders. the level surface of the peaceful, park-like valley has much to do with the impression. the effect of el capitan, seen across a meadow and rising from a beautiful park, is much greater than if it were encountered in a savage mountain gorge. the traveller may have seen elsewhere greater water-falls, and domes and spires of rock as surprising, but he has nowhere else seen such a combination as this. he may be fortified against surprise by the photographs he has seen and the reports of word painters, but he will not escape (say, at inspiration point, or artist point, or other lookouts), a quickening of the pulse and an elation which is physical as well as mental, in the sight of such unexpected sublimity and beauty. and familiarity will scarcely take off the edge of his delight, so varied are the effects in the passing hours and changing lights. the rainbow fall, when water is abundant, is exceedingly impressive as well as beautiful. seen from the carriage road, pouring out of the sky overhead, it gives a sense of power, and at the proper hour before sunset, when the vast mass of leaping, foaming water is shot through with the colors of the spectrum, it is one of the most exquisite sights the world can offer; the elemental forces are overwhelming, but the loveliness is engaging. one turns from this to the noble mass of el capitan with a shock of surprise, however often it may have been seen. this is the hour also, in the time of high-water, to see the reflection of the yosemite falls. as a spectacle it is infinitely finer than anything at mirror lake, and is unique in its way. to behold this beautiful series of falls, flowing down out of the blue sky above, and flowing up out of an equally blue sky in the depths of the earth, is a sight not to be forgotten. and when the observer passes from these displays to the sight of the aerial domes in the upper end of the valley, new wonders opening at every turn of the forest road, his excitement has little chance of subsiding: he may be even a little oppressed. the valley, so verdant and friendly with grass and trees and flowers, is so narrow compared with the height of its perpendicular guardian walls, and this little secluded spot is so imprisoned in the gigantic mountains, that man has a feeling of helplessness in it. this powerlessness in the presence of elemental forces was heightened by the deluge of water. there had been an immense fall of snow the winter before, the merced was a raging torrent, overflowing its banks, and from every ledge poured a miniature cataract. [illustration: coast of monterey.] noble simplicity is the key-note to the scenery of the yosemite, and this is enhanced by the park-like appearance of the floor of the valley. the stems of the fine trees are in harmony with the perpendicular lines, and their foliage adds the necessary contrast to the gray rock masses. in order to preserve these forest-trees, the underbrush, which is liable to make a conflagration in a dry season, should be removed generally, and the view of the great features be left unimpeded. the minor cañons and the trails are, of course, left as much as possible to the riot of vegetation. the state commission, which labors under the disadvantages of getting its supplies from a legislature that does not appreciate the value of the yosemite to california, has developed the trails judiciously, and established a model trail service. the yosemite, it need not be said, is a great attraction to tourists from all parts of the world; it is the interest of the state, therefore, to increase their number by improving the facilities for reaching it, and by resolutely preserving all the surrounding region from ravage. [illustration: cypress point.] [illustration: near seal rock.] this is as true of the mariposa big tree region as of the valley. indeed, more care is needed for the trees than for the great chasm, for man cannot permanently injure the distinctive features of the latter, while the destruction of the sequoias will be an irreparable loss to the state and to the world. the _sequoia gigantea_ differs in leaf, and size and shape of cone, from the great _sequoia semper virens_ on the coast near santa cruz; neither can be spared. the mariposa trees, scattered along on a mountain ridge 6500 feet above the sea, do not easily obtain their victory, for they are a part of a magnificent forest of other growths, among which the noble sugar-pine is conspicuous for its enormous size and graceful vigor. the sequoias dominate among splendid rivals only by a magnitude that has no comparison elsewhere in the world. i think no one can anticipate the effect that one of these monarchs will have upon him. he has read that a coach and six can drive through one of the trees that is standing; that another is thirty-three feet in diameter, and that its vast stem, 350 feet high, is crowned with a mass of foliage that seems to brush against the sky. he might be prepared for a tower 100 feet in circumference, and even 400 feet high, standing upon a level plain; but this living growth is quite another affair. each tree is an individual, and has a personal character. no man can stand in the presence of one of these giants without a new sense of the age of the world and the insignificant span of one human life; but he is also overpowered by a sense of some gigantic personality. it does not relieve him to think of this as the methuselah of trees, or to call it by the name of some great poet or captain. the awe the tree inspires is of itself. as one lies and looks up at the enormous bulk, it seems not so much the bulk, so lightly is it carried, as the spirit of the tree--the elastic vigor, the patience, the endurance of storm and change, the confident might, and the soaring, almost contemptuous pride, that overwhelm the puny spectator. it is just because man can measure himself, his littleness, his brevity of existence, with this growth out of the earth, that he is more personally impressed by it than he might be by the mere variation in the contour of the globe which is called a mountain. the imagination makes a plausible effort to comprehend it, and is foiled. no; clearly it is not mere size that impresses one; it is the dignity, the character in the tree, the authority and power of antiquity. side by side of these venerable forms are young sequoias, great trees themselves, that have only just begun their millennial career--trees that will, if spared, perpetuate to remote ages this race of giants, and in two to four thousand years from now take the place of their great-grandfathers, who are sinking under the weight of years, and one by one measuring their length on the earth. [illustration: laguna, from the south-east.] the transition from the sublime to the exquisitely lovely in nature can nowhere else be made with more celerity than from the sierras to the coast at monterey; california abounds in such contrasts and surprises. after the great stirring of the emotions by the yosemite and the mariposa, the hotel del monte park and vicinity offer repose, and make an appeal to the sense of beauty and refinement. yet even here something unique is again encountered. i do not refer to the extraordinary beauty of the giant live-oaks and the landscape-gardening about the hotel, which have made monterey famous the world over, but to the sea-beach drive of sixteen miles, which can scarcely be rivalled elsewhere either for marine loveliness or variety of coast scenery. it has points like the ocean drive at newport, but is altogether on a grander scale, and shows a more poetic union of shore and sea; besides, it offers the curious and fascinating spectacles of the rocks inhabited by the sea-lions, and the cypress point. these huge, uncouth creatures can be seen elsewhere, but probably nowhere else on this coast are they massed in greater numbers. the trees of cypress point are unique, this species of cypress having been found nowhere else. the long, never-ceasing swell of the pacific incessantly flows up the many crescent sand beaches, casting up shells of brilliant hues, sea-weed, and kelp, which seems instinct with animal life, and flotsam from the far-off islands. but the rocks that lie off the shore, and the jagged points that project in fanciful forms, break the even great swell, and send the waters, churned into spray and foam, into the air with a thousand hues in the sun. the shock of these sharp collisions mingles with the heavy ocean boom. cypress point is one of the most conspicuous of these projections, and its strange trees creep out upon the ragged ledges almost to the water's edge. these cypresses are quite as instinct with individual life and quite as fantastic as any that doré drew for his "inferno." they are as gnarled and twisted as olive-trees two centuries old, but their attitudes seem not only to show struggle with the elements, but agony in that struggle. the agony may be that of torture in the tempest, or of some fabled creatures fleeing and pursued, stretching out their long arms in terror, and fixed in that writhing fear. they are creatures of the sea quite as much as of the land, and they give to this lovely coast a strange charm and fascination. chapter, xvi. fascinations of the desert.--the laguna pueblo. the traveller to california by the santa fé route comes into the arid regions gradually, and finds each day a variety of objects of interest that upsets his conception of a monotonous desert land. if he chooses to break the continental journey midway, he can turn aside at las vegas to the hot springs. here, at the head of a picturesque valley, is the montezuma hotel, a luxurious and handsome house, 6767 feet above sea-level, a great surprise in the midst of the broken and somewhat savage new mexican scenery. the low hills covered with pines and piñons, the romantic glens, and the wide views from the elevations about the hotel, make it an attractive place; and a great deal has been done, in the erection of bath-houses, ornamental gardening, and the grading of roads and walks, to make it a comfortable place. the latitude and the dryness of the atmosphere insure for the traveller from the north in our winter an agreeable reception, and the elevation makes the spot in the summer a desirable resort from southern heat. it is a sanitarium as well as a pleasure resort. the hot springs have much the same character as the töplitz waters in bohemia, and the saturated earth--the _mütterlager_--furnishes the curative "mud baths" which are enjoyed at marienbad and carlsbad. the union of the climate, which is so favorable in diseases of the respiratory organs, with the waters, which do so much for rheumatic sufferers, gives a distinction to las vegas hot springs. this new mexican air--there is none purer on the globe--is an enemy to hay-fever and malarial diseases. it was a wise enterprise to provide that those who wish to try its efficacy can do so at the montezuma without giving up any of the comforts of civilized life. [illustration: church at laguna.] it is difficult to explain to one who has not seen it, or will not put himself in the leisurely frame of mind to enjoy it, the charms of the desert of the high plateaus of new mexico and arizona. its arid character is not so impressive as its ancientness; and the part which interests us is not only the procession of the long geologic eras, visible in the extinct volcanoes, the _barrancas_, the painted buttes, the petrified forests, but as well in the evidences of civilizations gone by, or the remains of them surviving in our day--the cliff dwellings, the ruins of cities that were thriving when coronado sent his lieutenants through the region three centuries ago, and the present residences of the pueblo indians, either villages perched upon an almost inaccessible rock like acamo, or clusters of adobe dwellings like isleta and laguna. the pueblo indians, of whom the zuñis are a tribe, have been dwellers in villages and cultivators of the soil and of the arts of peace immemorially, a gentle, amiable race. it is indeed such a race as one would expect to find in the land of the sun and the cactus. their manners and their arts attest their antiquity and a long refinement in fixed dwellings and occupations. the whole region is a most interesting field for the antiquarian. we stopped one day at laguna, which is on the santa fé line west of isleta, another indian pueblo at the atlantic and pacific junction, where the road crosses the rio grande del norte west of albuquerque. near laguna a little stream called the rio puerco flows southward and joins the rio grande. there is verdure along these streams, and gardens and fruit orchards repay the rude irrigation. in spite of these watercourses the aspect of the landscape is wild and desert-like--low barren hills and ragged ledges, wide sweeps of sand and dry gray bushes, with mountains and long lines of horizontal ledges in the distance. laguna is built upon a rounded elevation of rock. its appearance is exactly that of a syrian village, the same cluster of little, square, flat-roofed houses in terraces, the same brown color, and under the same pale blue sky. and the resemblance was completed by the figures of the women on the roofs, or moving down the slope, erect and supple, carrying on the head a water jar, and holding together by one hand the mantle worn like a spanish _rebozo_. the village is irregularly built, without much regard to streets or alleys, and it has no special side of entrance or approach. every side presents a blank wall of adobe, and the entrance seems quite by chance. yet the way we went over, the smooth slope was worn here and there in channels three or four inches deep, as if by the passing feet of many generations. the only semblance of architectural regularity is in the plaza, not perfectly square, upon which some of the houses look, and where the annual dances take place. the houses have the effect of being built in terraces rising one above the other, but it is hard to say exactly what a house is--whether it is anything more than one room. you can reach some of the houses only by aid of a ladder. you enter others from the street. if you will go farther you must climb a ladder which brings you to the roof that is used as the sitting-room or door-yard of the next room. from this room you may still ascend to others, or you may pass through low and small door-ways to other apartments. it is all haphazard, but exceedingly picturesque. you may find some of the family in every room, or they may be gathered, women and babies, on a roof which is protected by a parapet. at the time of our visit the men were all away at work in their fields. notwithstanding the houses are only sun-dried bricks, and the village is without water or street commissioners, i was struck by the universal cleanliness. there was no refuse in the corners or alleys, no odors, and many of the rooms were patterns of neatness. to be sure, an old woman here and there kept her hens in an adjoining apartment above her own, and there was the litter of children and of rather careless house-keeping. but, taken altogether, the town is an example for some more civilized, whose inhabitants wash oftener and dress better than these indians. [illustration: terraced houses, pueblo of laguna.] we were put on friendly terms with the whole settlement through three or four young maidens who had been at the carlisle school, and spoke english very prettily. they were of the ages of fifteen and sixteen, and some of them had been five years away. they came back, so far as i could learn, gladly to their own people and to the old ways. they had resumed the indian dress, which is much more becoming to them, as i think they know, than that which had been imposed upon them. i saw no books. they do not read any now, and they appear to be perfectly content with the idle drudgery of their semi-savage condition. in time they will marry in their tribe, and the school episode will be a thing of the past. but not altogether. the pretty josephine, who was our best cicerone about the place, a girl of lovely eyes and modest mien, showed us with pride her own room, or "house," as she called it, neat as could be, simply furnished with an iron bedstead and snow-white cot, a mirror, chair, and table, and a trunk, and some "advertising" prints on the walls. she said that she was needed at home to cook for her aged mother, and her present ambition was to make money enough by the sale of pottery and curios to buy a cooking stove, so that she could cook more as the whites do. the house-work of the family had mainly fallen upon her; but it was not burdensome, i fancied, and she and the other girls of her age had leisure to go to the station on the arrival of every train, in hope of selling something to the passengers, and to sit on the rocks in the sun and dream as maidens do. i fancy it would be better for josephine and for all the rest if there were no station and no passing trains. the elder women were uniformly ugly, but not repulsive like the mojaves; the place swarmed with children, and the babies, aged women, and pleasing young girls grouped most effectively on the roofs. the whole community were very complaisant and friendly when we came to know them well, which we did in the course of an hour, and they enjoyed as much as we did the bargaining for pottery. they have for sale a great quantity of small pieces, fantastic in form and brilliantly colored--toys, in fact; but we found in their houses many beautiful jars of large size and excellent shape, decorated most effectively. the ordinary utensils for cooking and for cooling water are generally pretty in design and painted artistically. like the ancient peruvians, they make many vessels in the forms of beasts and birds. some of the designs of the decoration are highly conventionalized, and others are just in the proper artistic line of the natural--a spray with a bird, or a sunflower on its stalk. the ware is all unglazed, exceedingly light and thin, and baked so hard that it has a metallic sound when struck. some of the large jars are classic in shape, and recall in form and decoration the ancient cypriote ware, but the colors are commonly brilliant and barbaric. the designs seem to be indigenous, and to betray little spanish influence. the art displayed in this pottery is indeed wonderful, and, to my eye, much more effective and lastingly pleasing than much of our cultivated decoration. a couple of handsome jars that i bought of an old woman, she assured me she made and decorated herself; but i saw no ovens there, nor any signs of manufacture, and suppose that most of the ware is made at acoma. it did not seem to be a very religious community, although the town has a catholic church, and i understand that protestant services are sometimes held in the place. the church is not much frequented, and the only evidence of devotion i encountered was in a woman who wore a large and handsome silver cross, made by the navajos. when i asked its price, she clasped it to her bosom, with an upward look full of faith and of refusal to part with her religion at any price. the church, which is adobe, and at least two centuries old, is one of the most interesting i have seen anywhere. it is a simple parallelogram, 104 feet long and 21 feet broad, the gable having an opening in which the bells hang. the interior is exceedingly curious, and its decorations are worth reproduction. the floor is of earth, and many of the tribe who were distinguished and died long ago are said to repose under its smooth surface, with nothing to mark their place of sepulture. it has an open timber roof, the beams supported upon carved corbels. the ceiling is made of wooden sticks, about two inches in diameter and some four feet long, painted in alternated colors--red, blue, orange, and black--and so twisted or woven together as to produce the effect of plaited straw, a most novel and agreeable decoration. over the entrance is a small gallery, the under roof of which is composed of sticks laid in straw pattern and colored. all around the wall runs a most striking dado, an odd, angular pattern, with conventionalized birds at intervals, painted in strong yet _fade_ colors--red, yellow, black, and white. the north wall is without windows; all the light, when the door is closed, comes from two irregular windows, without glass, high up in the south wall. [illustration: grand cañon on the colorado--view from point sublime.] the chancel walls are covered with frescos, and there are several quaint paintings, some of them not very bad in color and drawing. the altar, which is supported at the sides by twisted wooden pillars, carved with a knife, is hung with ancient sheepskins brightly painted. back of the altar are some archaic wooden images, colored; and over the altar, on the ceiling, are the stars of heaven, and the sun and the moon, each with a face in it. the interior was scrupulously clean and sweet and restful to one coming in from the glare of the sun on the desert. it was evidently little used, and the indians who accompanied us seemed under no strong impression of its sanctity; but we liked to linger in it, it was so _bizarre_, so picturesque, and exhibited in its rude decoration so much taste. two or three small birds flitting about seemed to enjoy the coolness and the subdued light, and were undisturbed by our presence. these are children of the desert, kin in their condition and the influences that formed them to the sedentary tribes of upper egypt and arabia, who pitch their villages upon the rocky eminences, and depend for subsistence upon irrigation and scant pasturage. their habits are those of the dwellers in an arid land which has little in common with the wilderness--the inhospitable northern wilderness of rain and frost and snow. rain, to be sure, insures some sort of vegetation in the most forbidding and intractable country, but that does not save the harsh landscape from being unattractive. the high plateaus of new mexico and arizona have everything that the rainy wilderness lacks--sunshine, heaven's own air, immense breadth of horizon, color and infinite beauty of outline, and a warm soil with unlimited possibilities when moistened. all that these deserts need is water. a fatal want? no. that is simply saying that science can do for this region what it cannot do for the high wilderness of frost--by the transportation of water transform it into gardens of bloom and fields of fruitfulness. the wilderness shall be made to feed the desert. [illustration: interior of the church at laguna.] i confess that these deserts in the warm latitudes fascinate me. perhaps it is because i perceive in them such a chance for the triumph of the skill of man, seeing how, here and there, his energy has pushed the desert out of his path across the continent. but i fear that i am not so practical. to many the desert in its stony sterility, its desolateness, its unbroken solitude, its fantastic savageness, is either appalling or repulsive. to them it is tiresome and monotonous. the vast plains of kansas and nebraska are monotonous even in the agricultural green of summer. not so to me the desert. it is as changeable in its lights and colors as the ocean. it is even in its general features of sameness never long the same. if you traverse it on foot or on horseback, there is ever some minor novelty. and on the swift train, if you draw down the curtain against the glare, or turn to your book, you are sure to miss something of interest--a deep cañon rift in the plain, a turn that gives a wide view glowing in a hundred hues in the sun, a savage gorge with beetling rocks, a solitary butte or red truncated pyramid thrust up into the blue sky, a horizontal ledge cutting the horizon line as straight as a ruler for miles, a pointed cliff uplifted sheer from the plain and laid in regular courses of cyclopean masonry, the battlements of a fort, a terraced castle with towers and esplanade, a great trough of a valley, gray and parched, enclosed by far purple mountains. and then the unlimited freedom of it, its infinite expansion, its air like wine to the senses, the floods of sunshine, the waves of color, the translucent atmosphere that aids the imagination to create in the distance all architectural splendors and realms of peace. it is all like a mirage and a dream. we pass swiftly, and make a moving panorama of beauty in hues, of strangeness in forms, of sublimity in extent, of overawing and savage antiquity. i would miss none of it. and when we pass to the accustomed again, to the fields of verdure and the forests and the hills of green, and are limited in view and shut in by that which we love, after all, better than the arid land, i have a great longing to see again the desert, to be a part of its vastness, and to feel once more the freedom and inspiration of its illimitable horizons. chapter xvii. the heart of the desert. there is an arid region lying in northern arizona and southern utah which has been called the district of the grand cañon of the colorado. the area, roughly estimated, contains from 13,000 to 16,000 square miles--about the size of the state of maryland. this region, fully described by the explorers and studied by the geologists in the united states service, but little known to even the travelling public, is probably the most interesting territory of its size on the globe. at least it is unique. in attempting to convey an idea of it the writer can be assisted by no comparison, nor can he appeal in the minds of his readers to any experience of scenery that can apply here. the so-called grand cañon differs not in degree from all other scenes; it differs in kind. the colorado river flows southward through utah, and crosses the arizona line below the junction with the san juan. it continues southward, flowing deep in what is called the marble cañon, till it is joined by the little colorado, coming up from the south-east; it then turns westward in a devious line until it drops straight south, and forms the western boundary of arizona. the centre of the district mentioned is the westwardly flowing part of the colorado. south of the river is the colorado plateau, at a general elevation of about 7000 feet. north of it the land is higher, and ascends in a series of plateaus, and then terraces, a succession of cliffs like a great stair-way, rising to the high plateaus of utah. the plateaus, adjoining the river on the north and well marked by north and south dividing lines, or faults, are, naming them from east to west, the paria, the kaibab, the kanab, the uinkaret, and the sheavwitz, terminating in a great wall on the west, the great wash fault, where the surface of the country drops at once from a general elevation of 6000 feet to from 1300 to 3000 feet above the sea-level--into a desolate and formidable desert. if the grand cañon itself did not dwarf everything else, the scenery of these plateaus would be superlative in interest. it is not all desert, nor are the gorges, cañons, cliffs, and terraces, which gradually prepare the mind for the comprehension of the grand cañon, the only wonders of this land of enchantment. these are contrasted with the sylvan scenery of the kaibab plateau, its giant forests and parks, and broad meadows decked in the summer with wild flowers in dense masses of scarlet, white, purple, and yellow. the vermilion cliffs, the pink cliffs, the white cliffs, surpass in fantastic form and brilliant color anything that the imagination conceives possible in nature, and there are dreamy landscapes quite beyond the most exquisite fancies of claude and of turner. the region is full of wonders, of beauties, and sublimities that shelley's imaginings do not match in the "prometheus unbound," and when it becomes accessible to the tourist it will offer an endless field for the delight of those whose minds can rise to the heights of the sublime and the beautiful. in all imaginative writing or painting the material used is that of human experience, otherwise it could not be understood; even heaven must be described in the terms of an earthly paradise. human experience has no prototype of this region, and the imagination has never conceived of its forms and colors. it is impossible to convey an adequate idea of it by pen or pencil or brush. the reader who is familiar with the glowing descriptions in the official reports of major j. w. powell, captain c. e. dutton, lieutenant ives, and others, will not save himself from a shock of surprise when the reality is before him. this paper deals only with a single view in this marvellous region. [illustration: grand cañon of the colorado--view opposite point sublime.] the point where we struck the grand cañon, approaching it from the south, is opposite the promontory in the kaibab plateau named point sublime by major powell, just north of the 36th parallel, and 112° 15' west longitude. this is only a few miles west of the junction with the little colorado. about three or four miles west of this junction the river enters the east slope of the east kaibab monocline, and here the grand cañon begins. rapidly the chasm deepens to about 6000 feet, or rather it penetrates a higher country, the slope of the river remaining about the same. through this lofty plateau--an elevation of 7000 to 9000 feet--the chasm extends for sixty miles, gradually changing its course to the north-west, and entering the kanab plateau. the kaibab division of the grand cañon is by far the sublimest of all, being 1000 feet deeper than any other. it is not grander only on account of its greater depth, but it is broader and more diversified with magnificent architectural features. the kanab division, only less magnificent than the kaibab, receives the kanab cañon from the north and the cataract cañon from the south, and ends at the toroweap valley. the section of the grand cañon seen by those who take the route from peach springs is between 113° and 114° west longitude, and, though wonderful, presents few of the great features of either the kaibab or the kanab divisions. the grand cañon ends, west longitude 114°, at the great wash, west of the hurricane ledge or fault. its whole length from little colorado to the great wash, measured by the meanderings of the surface of the river, is 220 miles; by a median line between the crests of the summits of the walls with two-mile cords, about 195 miles; the distance in a straight line is 125 miles. in our journey to the grand cañon we left the santa fé line at flagstaff, a new town with a lively lumber industry, in the midst of a spruce-pine forest which occupies the broken country through which the road passes for over fifty miles. the forest is open, the trees of moderate size are too thickly set with low-growing limbs to make clean lumber, and the foliage furnishes the minimum of shade; but the change to these woods is a welcome one from the treeless reaches of the desert on either side. the cañon is also reached from williams, the next station west, the distance being a little shorter, and the point on the cañon visited being usually a little farther west. but the flagstaff route is for many reasons usually preferred. flagstaff lies just south-east of the san francisco mountain, and on the great colorado plateau, which has a pretty uniform elevation of about 7000 feet above the sea. the whole region is full of interest. some of the most remarkable cliff dwellings are within ten miles of flagstaff, on the walnut creek cañon. at holbrook, 100 miles east, the traveller finds a road some forty miles long, that leads to the great petrified forest, or chalcedony park. still farther east are the villages of the pueblo indians, near the line, while to the northward is the great reservation of the navajos, a nomadic tribe celebrated for its fine blankets and pretty work in silver--a tribe that preserves much of its manly independence by shunning the charity of the united states. no indians have come into intimate or dependent relations with the whites without being deteriorated. [illustration: tourists in the colorado cañon.] flagstaff is the best present point of departure, because it has a small hotel, good supply stores, and a large livery-stable, made necessary by the business of the place and the objects of interest in the neighborhood, and because one reaches from there by the easiest road the finest scenery incomparably on the colorado. the distance is seventy-six miles through a practically uninhabited country, much of it a desert, and with water very infrequent. no work has been done on the road; it is made simply by driving over it. there are a few miles here and there of fair wheeling, but a good deal of it is intolerably dusty or exceedingly stony, and progress is slow. in the daytime (it was the last of june) the heat is apt to be excessive; but this could be borne, the air is so absolutely dry and delicious, and breezes occasionally spring up, if it were not for the dust. it is, notwithstanding the novelty of the adventure and of the scenery by the way, a tiresome journey of two days. a day of rest is absolutely required at the cañon, so that five days must be allowed for the trip. this will cost the traveller, according to the size of the party made up, from forty to fifty dollars. but a much longer sojourn at the cañon is desirable. our party of seven was stowed in and on an old concord coach drawn by six horses, and piled with camp equipage, bedding, and provisions. a four-horse team followed, loaded with other supplies and cooking utensils. the road lies on the east side of the san francisco mountain. returning, we passed around its west side, gaining thus a complete view of this shapely peak. the compact range is a group of extinct volcanoes, the craters of which are distinctly visible. the cup-like summit of the highest is 13,000 feet above the sea, and snow always lies on the north escarpment. rising about 6000 feet above the point of view of the great plateau, it is from all sides a noble object, the dark rock, snow-sprinkled, rising out of the dense growth of pine and cedar. we drove at first through open pine forests, through park-like intervals, over the foot-hills of the mountain, through growths of scrub cedar, and out into the ever-varying rolling country to widely-extended prospects. two considerable hills on our right attracted us by their unique beauty. upon the summit and side of each was a red glow exactly like the tint of sunset. we thought surely that it was the effect of reflected light, but the sky was cloudless and the color remained constant. the color came from the soil. the first was called sunset mountain. one of our party named the other, and the more beautiful, peachblow mountain, a poetic and perfectly descriptive name. we lunched at noon beside a swift, clouded, cold stream of snow-water from the san francisco, along which grew a few gnarled cedars and some brilliant wild flowers. the scene was more than picturesque; in the clear hot air of the desert the distant landscape made a hundred pictures of beauty. behind us the dark form of san francisco rose up 6000 feet to its black crater and fields of spotless snow. away off to the north-east, beyond the brown and gray pastures, across a far line distinct in dull color, lay the painted desert, like a mirage, like a really painted landscape, glowing in red and orange and pink, an immense city rather than a landscape, with towers and terraces and façades, melting into indistinctness as in a rosy mist, spectral but constant, weltering in a tropic glow and heat, walls and columns and shafts, the wreck of an oriental capital on a wide violet plain, suffused with brilliant color softened into exquisite shades. all over this region nature has such surprises, that laugh at our inadequate conception of her resources. our camp for the night was at the next place where water could be obtained, a station of the arizona cattle company. abundant water is piped down to it from mountain springs. the log-house and stable of the cow-boys were unoccupied, and we pitched our tent on a knoll by the corral. the night was absolutely dry, and sparkling with the starlight. a part of the company spread their blankets on the ground under the sky. it is apt to be cold in this region towards morning, but lodging in the open air is no hardship in this delicious climate. the next day the way part of the distance, with only a road marked by wagon wheels, was through extensive and barren-looking cattle ranges, through pretty vales of grass surrounded by stunted cedars, and over stormy ridges and plains of sand and small bowlders. the water having failed at red horse, the only place where it is usually found in the day's march, our horses went without, and we had resource to our canteens. the whole country is essentially arid, but snow falls in the winter-time, and its melting, with occasional showers in the summer, create what are called surface wells, made by drainage. many of them go dry by june. there had been no rain in the region since the last of march, but clouds were gathering daily, and showers are always expected in july. the phenomenon of rain on this baked surface, in this hot air, and with this immense horizon, is very interesting. showers in this tentative time are local. in our journey we saw showers far off, we experienced a dash for ten minutes, but it was local, covering not more than a mile or two square. we have in sight a vast canopy of blue sky, of forming and dispersing clouds. it is difficult for them to drop their moisture in the rising columns of hot air. the result at times was a very curious spectacle--rain in the sky that did not reach the earth. perhaps some cold current high above us would condense the moisture, which would begin to fall in long trailing sweeps, blown like fine folds of muslin, or like sheets of dissolving sugar, and then the hot air of the earth would dissipate it, and the showers would be absorbed in the upper regions. the heat was sometimes intense, but at intervals a refreshing wind would blow, the air being as fickle as the rain; and now and then we would see a slender column of dust, a thousand or two feet high, marching across the desert, apparently not more than two feet in diameter, and wavering like the threads of moisture that tried in vain to reach the earth as rain. of life there was not much to be seen in our desert route. in the first day we encountered no habitation except the ranch-house mentioned, and saw no human being; and the second day none except the solitary occupant of the dried well at red horse, and two or three indians on the hunt. a few squirrels were seen, and a rabbit now and then, and occasionally a bird. the general impression was that of a deserted land. but antelope abound in the timber regions, and we saw several of these graceful creatures quite near us. excellent antelope steaks, bought of the wandering indian hunters, added something to our "canned" supplies. one day as we lunched, without water, on the cedar slope of a lovely grass interval, we saw coming towards us over the swells of the prairie a figure of a man on a horse. it rode to us straight as the crow flies. the indian pony stopped not two feet from where our group sat, and the rider, who was an oualapai chief, clad in sacking, with the print of the brand of flour or salt on his back, dismounted with his winchester rifle, and stood silently looking at us without a word of salutation. he stood there, impassive, until we offered him something to eat. having eaten all we gave him, he opened his mouth and said, "smoke 'em?" having procured from the other wagon a pipe of tobacco and a pull at the driver's canteen, he returned to us all smiles. his only baggage was the skull of an antelope, with the horns, hung at his saddle. into this he put the bread and meat which we gave him, mounted the wretched pony, and without a word rode straight away. at a little distance he halted, dismounted, and motioned towards the edge of the timber, where he had spied an antelope. but the game eluded him, and he mounted again and rode off across the desert--a strange figure. his tribe lives in the cañon some fifty miles west, and was at present encamped, for the purpose of hunting, in the pine woods not far from the point we were aiming at. chapter xviii. on the brink of the grand cañon.--the unique marvel of nature. the way seemed long. with the heat and dust and slow progress, it was exceedingly wearisome. our modern nerves are not attuned to the slow crawling of a prairie-wagon. there had been growing for some time in the coach a feeling that the journey did not pay; that, in fact, no mere scenery could compensate for the fatigue of the trip. the imagination did not rise to it. "it will have to be a very big cañon," said the duchess. late in the afternoon we entered an open pine forest, passed through a meadow where the indians had set their camp by a shallow pond, and drove along a ridge, in the cool shades, for three or four miles. suddenly, on the edge of a descent, we who were on the box saw through the tree-tops a vision that stopped the pulse for a second, and filled us with excitement. it was only a glimpse, far off and apparently lifted up--red towers, purple cliffs, wide-spread apart, hints of color and splendor; on the right distance, mansions, gold and white and carmine (so the light made them), architectural habitations in the sky it must be, and suggestions of others far off in the middle distance--a substantial aerial city, or the ruins of one, such as the prophet saw in a vision. it was only a glimpse. our hearts were in our mouths. we had a vague impression of something wonderful, fearful--some incomparable splendor that was not earthly. were we drawing near the "city?" and should we have yet a more perfect view thereof? was it jerusalem or some hindoo temples there in the sky? "it was builded of pearls and precious stones, also the streets were paved with gold; so that by reason of the natural glory of the city, and the reflection of the sunbeams upon it, christian with desire fell sick." it was a momentary vision of a vast amphitheatre of splendor, mostly hidden by the trees and the edge of the plateau. we descended into a hollow. there was the well, a log-cabin, a tent or two under the pine-trees. we dismounted with impatient haste. the sun was low in the horizon, and had long withdrawn from this grassy dell. tired as we were, we could not wait. it was only to ascend the little steep, stony slope--300 yards--and we should see! our party were straggling up the hill: two or three had reached the edge. i looked up. the duchess threw up her arms and screamed. we were not fifteen paces behind, but we saw nothing. we took the few steps, and the whole magnificence broke upon us. no one could be prepared for it. the scene is one to strike dumb with awe, or to unstring the nerves; one might stand in silent astonishment, another would burst into tears. there are some experiences that cannot be repeated--one's first view of rome, one's first view of jerusalem. but these emotions are produced by association, by the sudden standing face to face with the scenes most wrought into our whole life and education by tradition and religion. this was without association, as it was without parallel. it was a shock so novel that the mind, dazed, quite failed to comprehend it. all that we could grasp was a vast confusion of amphitheatres and strange architectural forms resplendent with color. the vastness of the view amazed us quite as much as its transcendent beauty. [illustration: grand cañon of the colorado--view from the hanse trail.] we had expected a cañon--two lines of perpendicular walls 6000 feet high, with the ribbon of a river at the bottom; but the reader may dismiss all his notions of a cañon, indeed of any sort of mountain or gorge scenery with which he is familiar. we had come into a new world. what we saw was not a cañon, or a chasm, or a gorge, but a vast area which is a break in the plateau. from where we stood it was twelve miles across to the opposite walls--a level line of mesa on the utah side. we looked up and down for twenty to thirty miles. this great space is filled with gigantic architectural constructions, with amphitheatres, gorges, precipices, walls of masonry, fortresses terraced up to the level of the eye, temples mountain size, all brilliant with horizontal lines of color--streaks of solid hues a few feet in width, streaks a thousand feet in width--yellows, mingled white and gray, orange, dull red, brown, blue, carmine, green, all blending in the sunlight into one transcendent suffusion of splendor. afar off we saw the river in two places, a mere thread, as motionless and smooth as a strip of mirror, only we knew it was a turbid, boiling torrent, 6000 feet below us. directly opposite the overhanging ledge on which we stood was a mountain, the sloping base of which was ashy gray and bluish; it rose in a series of terraces to a thousand-feet wall of dark red sandstone, receding upward, with ranges of columns and many fantastic sculptures, to a finial row of gigantic opera-glasses 6000 feet above the river. the great san francisco mountain, with its snowy crater, which we had passed on the way, might have been set down in the place of this one, and it would have been only one in a multitude of such forms that met the eye whichever way we looked. indeed, all the vast mountains in this region might be hidden in this cañon. wandering a little away from the group and out of sight, and turning suddenly to the scene from another point of view, i experienced for a moment an indescribable terror of nature, a confusion of mind, a fear to be alone in such a presence. with all this grotesqueness and majesty of form and radiance of color, creation seemed in a whirl. with our education in scenery of a totally different kind, i suppose it would need long acquaintance with this to familiarize one with it to the extent of perfect mental comprehension. the vast abyss has an atmosphere of its own, one always changing and producing new effects, an atmosphere and shadows and tones of its own--golden, rosy, gray, brilliant, and sombre, and playing a thousand fantastic tricks to the vision. the rich and wonderful color effects, says captain dutton, "are due to the inherent colors of the rocks, modified by the atmosphere. like any other great series of strata in the plateau province, the carboniferous has its own range of colors, which might serve to distinguish it, even if we had no other criterion. the summit strata are pale gray, with a faint yellowish cast. beneath them the cross-bedded sandstone appears, showing a mottled surface of pale pinkish hue. underneath this member are nearly 1000 feet of the lower aubrey sandstones, displaying an intensely brilliant red, which is somewhat marked by the talus shot down from the gray cherty limestone at the summit. beneath the lower aubrey is the face of the red wall limestone, from 2000 to 3000 feet high. it has a strong red tone, but a very peculiar one. most of the red strata of the west have the brownish or vermilion tones, but these are rather purplish red, as if the pigment had been treated to a dash of blue. it is not quite certain that this may not arise in part from the intervention of the blue haze, and probably it is rendered more conspicuous by this cause; but, on the whole, the purplish cast seems to be inherent. this is the dominant color of the cañon, for the expanse of the rock surface displayed is more than half in the red wall group." i was continually likening this to a vast city rather than a landscape, but it was a city of no man's creation nor of any man's conception. in the visions which inspired or crazy painters have had of the new jerusalem, of babylon the great, of a heaven in the atmosphere, with endless perspective of towers and steeps that hang in the twilight sky, the imagination has tried to reach this reality. but here are effects beyond the artist, forms the architect has not hinted at; and yet everything reminds us of man's work. and the explorers have tried by the use of oriental nomenclature to bring it within our comprehension, the east being the land of the imagination. there is the hindoo amphitheatre, the bright angel amphitheatre, the ottoman amphitheatre, shiva's temple, vishnu's temple, vulcan's throne. and here, indeed, is the idea of the pagoda architecture, of the terrace architecture, of the bizarre constructions which rise with projecting buttresses, rows of pillars, recesses, battlements, esplanades, and low walls, hanging gardens, and truncated pinnacles. it is a city, but a city of the imagination. in many pages i could tell what i saw in one day's lounging for a mile or so along the edge of the precipice. the view changed at every step, and was never half an hour the same in one place. nor did it need much fancy to create illusions or pictures of unearthly beauty. there was a castle, terraced up with columns, plain enough, and below it a parade-ground; at any moment the knights in armor and with banners might emerge from the red gates and deploy there, while the ladies looked down from the balconies. but there were many castles and fortresses and barracks and noble mansions. and the rich sculpture in this brilliant color! in time i began to see queer details: a richardson house, with low portals and round arches, surmounted by a nuremberg gable; perfect panels, 600 feet high, for the setting of pictures; a train of cars partly derailed at the door of a long, low warehouse, with a garden in front of it. there was no end to such devices. it was long before i could comprehend the vastness of the view, see the enormous chasms and rents and seams, and the many architectural ranges separated by great gulfs, between me and the wall of the mesa twelve miles distant. away to the north-east was the blue navajo mountain, the lone peak in the horizon; but on the southern side of it lay a desert level, which in the afternoon light took on the exact appearance of a blue lake; its edge this side was a wall thousands of feet high, many miles in length, and straightly horizontal; over this seemed to fall water. i could see the foam of it at the foot of the cliff; and below that was a lake of shimmering silver, in which the giant precipice and the fall and their color were mirrored. of course there was no silver lake, and the reflection that simulated it was only the sun on the lower part of the immense wall. some one said that all that was needed to perfect this scene was a niagara falls. i thought what figure a fall 150 feet high and 3000 long would make in this arena. it would need a spy-glass to discover it. an adequate niagara here should be at least three miles in breadth, and fall 2000 feet over one of these walls. and the yosemite--ah! the lovely yosemite! dumped down into this wilderness of gorges and mountains, it would take a guide who knew of its existence a long time to find it. the process of creation is here laid bare through the geologic periods. the strata of rock, deposited or upheaved, preserve their horizontal and parallel courses. if we imagine a river flowing on a plain, it would wear for itself a deeper and deeper channel. the walls of this channel would recede irregularly by weathering and by the coming in of other streams. the channel would go on deepening, and the outer walls would again recede. if the rocks were of different material and degrees of hardness, the forms would be carved in the fantastic and architectural manner we find them here. the colorado flows through the tortuous inner chasm, and where we see it, it is 6000 feet below the surface where we stand, and below the towers of the terraced forms nearer it. the splendid views of the cañon at this point given in captain dutton's report are from point sublime, on the north side. there seems to have been no way of reaching the river from that point. from the south side the descent, though wearisome, is feasible. it reverses mountaineering to descend 6000 feet for a view, and there is a certain pleasure in standing on a mountain summit without the trouble of climbing it. hance, the guide, who has charge of the well, has made a path to the bottom. the route is seven miles long. half-way down he has a house by a spring. at the bottom, somewhere in those depths, is a sort of farm, grass capable of sustaining horses and cattle, and ground where fruit-trees can grow. horses are actually living there, and parties descend there with tents, and camp for days at a time. it is a world of its own. some of the photographic views presented here, all inadequate, are taken from points on hance's trail. but no camera or pen can convey an adequate conception of what captain dutton happily calls a great innovation in the modern ideas of scenery. to the eye educated to any other, it may be shocking, grotesque, incomprehensible; but "those who have long and carefully studied the grand cañon of the colorado do not hesitate for a moment to pronounce it by far the most sublime of all earthly spectacles." i have space only to refer to the geologic history in captain dutton's report of 1882, of which there should be a popular edition. the waters of the atlantic once overflowed this region, and were separated from the pacific, if at all, only by a ridge. the story is of long eras of deposits, of removal, of upheaval, and of volcanic action. it is estimated that in one period the thickness of strata removed and transported away was 10,000 feet. long after the colorado began its work of corrosion there was a mighty upheaval. the reader will find the story of the making of the grand cañon more fascinating than any romance. without knowing this story the impression that one has in looking on this scene is that of immense antiquity, hardly anywhere else on earth so overwhelming as here. it has been here in all its lonely grandeur and transcendent beauty, exactly as it is, for what to us is an eternity, unknown, unseen by human eye. to the recent indian, who roved along its brink or descended to its recesses, it was not strange, because he had known no other than the plateau scenery. it is only within a quarter of a century that the grand cañon has been known to the civilized world. it is scarcely known now. it is a world largely unexplored. those who best know it are most sensitive to its awe and splendor. it is never twice the same, for, as i said, it has an atmosphere of its own. i was told by hance that he once saw a thunder-storm in it. he described the chaos of clouds in the pit, the roar of the tempest, the reverberations of thunder, the inconceivable splendor of the rainbows mingled with the colors of the towers and terraces. it was as if the world were breaking up. he fled away to his hut in terror. the day is near when this scenery must be made accessible. a railway can easily be built from flagstaff. the projected road from utah, crossing the colorado at lee's ferry, would come within twenty miles of the grand cañon, and a branch to it could be built. the region is arid, and in the "sight-seeing" part of the year the few surface wells and springs are likely to go dry. the greatest difficulty would be in procuring water for railway service or for such houses of entertainment as are necessary. it could, no doubt, be piped from the san francisco mountain. at any rate, ingenuity will overcome the difficulties, and travellers from the wide world will flock thither, for there is revealed the long-kept secret, the unique achievement of nature. appendix. a climate for invalids. the following notes on the climate of southern california, written by dr. h. a. johnson, of chicago, at the solicitation of the writer of this volume and for his information, i print with his permission, because the testimony of a physician who has made a special study of climatology in europe and america, and is a recognized authority, belongs of right to the public: the choice of a climate for invalids or semi-invalids involves the consideration of: first, the invalid, his physical condition (that is, disease), his peculiarities (mental and emotional), his social habits, and his natural and artificial needs. second, the elements of climate, such as temperature, moisture, direction and force of winds, the averages of the elements, the extremes of variation, and the rapidity of change. the climates of the western and south-western portions of the united states are well suited to a variety of morbid conditions, especially those pertaining to the pulmonary organs and the nervous system. very few localities, however, are equally well adapted to diseases of innervation of circulation and respiration. for the first and second, as a rule, high altitudes are not advisable; for the third, altitudes of from two thousand to six thousand feet are not only admissible but by many thought to be desirable. it seems, however, probable that it is to the dryness of the air and the general antagonisms to vegetable growths, rather than to altitude alone, that the benefits derived in these regions by persons suffering from consumption and kindred diseases should be credited. proximity to large bodies of water, river valleys, and damp plateaus are undesirable as places of residence for invalids with lung troubles. there are exceptions to this rule. localities near the sea with a climate subject to slight variations in temperature, a dry atmosphere, little rainfall, much sunshine, not so cold in winter as to prevent much out-door life and not so hot in summer as to make out-door exercise exhausting, are well adapted not only to troubles of the nervous and circulatory systems, but also to those of the respiratory organs. such a climate is found in the extreme southern portions of california. at san diego the rainfall is much less, the air is drier, and the number of sunshiny days very much larger than on our atlantic seaboard, or in central and northern california. the winters are not cold; flowers bloom in the open air all the year round; the summers are not hot. the mountains and sea combine to give to this region a climate with few sudden changes, and with a comfortable range of all essential elements. a residence during a part of the winter of 1889-90 at coronado beach, and a somewhat careful study of the comparative climatology of the south-western portions of the united states, leads me to think that we have few localities where the comforts of life can be secured, and which at the same time are so well adapted to the needs of a variety of invalids, as san diego and its surroundings. in saying this i do not wish to be understood as preferring it to all others for some one condition or disease, but only that for weak hearts, disabled lungs, and worn-out nerves it seems to me to be unsurpassed. chicago, _july 12, 1890_. the coming of winter in southern california. from mr. theodore s. van dyke's altogether admirable book on _southern california_ i have permission to quote the following exquisite description of the floral procession from december to march, when the land of the sun is awakened by the first winter rain: sometimes this season commences with a fair rain in november, after a light shower or two in october, but some of the very best seasons begin about the time that all begin to lose hope. november adds its full tribute to the stream of sunshine that for months has poured along the land; and, perhaps, december closes the long file of cloudless days with banners of blue and gold. the plains and slopes lie bare and brown; the low hills that break away from them are yellow with dead foxtail or wild oats, gray with mustard-stalks, or ashy green with chemisal or sage. even the chaparral, that robes the higher hills in living green, has a tired air, and the long timber-line that marks the cañon winding up the mountain-slopes is decidedly paler. the sea-breeze has fallen off to a faint breath of air; the land lies silent and dreamy with golden haze; the air grows drier, the sun hotter, and the shade cooler; the smoke of brush-fires hangs at times along the sky; the water has risen in the springs and sloughs as if to meet the coming rain, but it has never looked less like rain than it now does. suddenly a new wind arises from the vast watery plains upon the south-west; long, fleecy streams of cloud reach out along the sky; the distant mountain-tops seem swimming in a film of haze, and the great california weather prophet--a creature upon whom the storms of adverse experience have beaten for years without making even a weather crack in the smooth cheek of his conceit--lavishes his wisdom as confidently as if he had never made a false prediction. after a large amount of fuss, and enough preliminary skirmishing over the sky for a dozen storms in any eastern state, the clouds at last get ready, and a soft pattering is heard upon the roof--the sweetest music that ever cheers a californian ear, and one which the author of "the rain upon the roof" should have heard before writing his poem. when the sun again appears it is with a softer, milder beam than before. the land looks bright and refreshed, like a tired and dirty boy who has had a good bath and a nap, and already the lately bare plains and hill-sides show a greenish tinge. fine little leaves of various kinds are springing from the ground, but nearly all are lost in a general profusion of dark green ones, of such shape and delicacy of texture that a careless eye might readily take them for ferns. this is the alfileria, the prevailing flower of the land. the rain may continue at intervals. daily the land grows greener, while the shades of green, varied by the play of sunlight on the slopes and rolling hills, increase in number and intensity. here the color is soft, and there bright; yonder it rolls in wavy alternations, and yonder it reaches in an unbroken shade where the plain sweeps broad and free. for many weeks green is the only color, though cold nights may perhaps tinge it with a rusty red. about the first of february a little starlike flower of bluish pink begins to shine along the ground. this is the bloom of the alfileria, and swiftly it spreads from the southern slopes, where it begins, and runs from meadow to hill-top. soon after a cream-colored bell-flower begins to nod from a tall, slender stalk; another of sky-blue soon opens beside it; beneath these a little five-petaled flower of deep pink tries to outshine the blossoms of the alfileria; and above them soon stands the radiant shooting-star, with reflexed petals of white, yellow, and pink shining behind its purplish ovaries. on every side violets, here of the purest golden hue and overpowering fragrance, appear in numbers beyond all conception. and soon six or seven varieties of clover, all with fine, delicate leaves, unfold flowers of yellow, red, and pink. delicate little crucifers of white and yellow shine modestly below all these; little cream-colored flowers on slender scapes look skyward on every side; while others of purer white, with every variety of petal, crowd up among them. standing now upon some hill-side that commands miles of landscape, one is dazzled with a blaze of color, from acres and acres of pink, great fields of violets, vast reaches of blue, endless sweeps of white. upon this--merely the warp of the carpet about to cover the land--the sun fast weaves a woof of splendor. along the southern slopes of the lower hills soon beams the orange light of the poppy, which swiftly kindles the adjacent slopes, then flames along the meadow, and blazes upon the northern hill-sides. spires of green, mounting on every side, soon open upon the top into lilies of deep lavender, and the scarlet bracts of the painted-cup glow side by side with the crimson of the cardinal-flower. and soon comes the iris, with its broad golden eye fringed with rays of lavender blue; and five varieties of phacelia overwhelm some places with waves of purple, blue, indigo, and whitish pink. the evening primrose covers the lower slopes with long sheets of brightest yellow, and from the hills above the rock-rose adds its golden bloom to that of the sorrel and the wild alfalfa, until the hills almost outshine the bright light from the slopes and plains. and through all this nods a tulip of most delicate lavender; vetches, lupins, and all the members of the wild-pea family are pushing and winding their way everywhere in every shade of crimson, purple, and white; along the ground crowfoot weaves a mantle of white, through which, amid a thousand comrades, the orthocarpus rears its tufted head of pink. among all these are mixed a thousand other flowers, plenty enough as plenty would be accounted in other countries, but here mere pin-points on a great map of colors. as the stranger gazes upon this carpet that now covers hill and dale, undulates over the table-lands, and robes even the mountain with a brilliancy and breadth of color that strikes the eye from miles away, he exhausts his vocabulary of superlatives, and goes away imagining he has seen it all. yet he has seen only the background of an embroidery more varied, more curious and splendid, than the carpet upon which it is wrought. asters bright with centre of gold and lavender rays soon shine high above the iris, and a new and larger tulip of deepest yellow nods where its lavender cousin is drooping its lately proud head. new bell-flowers of white and blue and indigo rise above the first, which served merely as ushers to the display, and whole acres ablaze with the orange of the poppy are fast turning with the indigo of the larkspur. where the ground was lately aglow with the marigold and the four-o'clock the tall penstemon now reaches out a hundred arms full-hung with trumpets of purple and pink. here the silene rears high its head with fringed corolla of scarlet; and there the wild gooseberry dazzles the eye with a perfect shower of tubular flowers of the same bright color. the mimulus alone is almost enough to color the hills. half a dozen varieties, some with long, narrow, trumpet-shaped flowers, others with broad flaring mouths; some of them tall herbs, and others large shrubs, with varying shades of dark red, light red, orange, cream-color, and yellow, spangle hill-side, rock-pile, and ravine. among them the morning-glory twines with flowers of purest white, new lupins climb over the old ones, and the trailing vetch festoons rock and shrub and tree with long garlands of crimson, purple, and pink. over the scarlet of the gooseberry or the gold of the high-bush mimulus along the hills, the honeysuckle hangs its tubes of richest cream-color, and the wild cucumber pours a shower of white over the green leaves of the sumach or sage. snap-dragons of blue and white, dandelions that you must look at three or four times to be certain what they are, thistles that are soft and tender with flowers too pretty for the thistle family, orchids that you may try in vain to classify, and sages and mints of which you can barely recognize the genera, with cruciferæ, compositæ, and what-not, add to the glare and confusion. meanwhile, the chaparral, which during the long dry season has robed the hills in sombre green, begins to brighten with new life; new leaves adorn the ragged red arms of the manzanita, and among them blow thousands of little urn-shaped flowers of rose-color and white. the bright green of one lilac is almost lost in a luxuriance of sky-blue blossoms, and the white lilac looks at a distance as if drifted over with snow. the cercocarpus almost rivals the lilac in its display of white and blue, and the dark, forbidding adenostoma now showers forth dense panicles of little white flowers. here, too, a new mimulus pours floods of yellow light, and high above them all the yucca rears its great plume of purple and white. thus marches on for weeks the floral procession, new turns bringing new banners into view, or casting on old ones a brighter light, but ever showing a riotous profusion of splendor until member after member drops gradually out of the ranks, and only a band of stragglers is left marching away into the summer. but myriads of ferns, twenty-one varieties of which are quite common, and of a fineness and delicacy rarely seen elsewhere, still stand green in the shade of the rocks and trees along the hills, and many a flower lingers in the timber or cañons long after its friends on the open hills or plains have faded away. in the cañons and timber are also many flowers that are not found in the open ground, and as late as the middle of september, only twenty miles from the sea, and at an elevation of but fifteen hundred feet, i have gathered bouquets that would attract immediate attention anywhere. the whole land abounds with flowers both curious and lovely; but those only have been mentioned which force themselves upon one's attention. where the sheep have not ruined all beauty, and the rains have been sufficient, they take as full possession of the land as the daisy and wild carrot do of some eastern meadows. there are thousands of others, which it would be a hopeless task to enumerate, which are even more numerous than most of the favorite wild flowers are in the east, yet they are not abundant enough to give character to the country. for instance, there is a great larkspur, six feet high, with a score of branching arms, all studded with spurred flowers of such brilliant red that it looks like a fountain of strontium fire; but you will not see it every time you turn around. a tall lily grows in the same way, with a hundred golden flowers shining on its many arms, but it must be sought in certain places. so the tiger-lily and the columbine must be sought in the mountains, the rose and sweetbrier on low ground, the night-shades and the helianthus in the timbered cañons and gulches. delicacy and brilliancy characterize nearly all the california flowers, and nearly all are so strange, so different from the other members of their families, that they would be an ornament to any greenhouse. the alfileria, for instance, is the richest and strongest fodder in the world. it is the main-stay of the stock-grower, and when raked up after drying makes excellent hay; yet it is a geranium, delicate and pretty, when not too rank. but suddenly the full blaze of color is gone, and the summer is at hand. brown tints begin to creep over the plains; the wild oats no longer ripple in silvery waves beneath the sun and wind; and the foxtail, that shone so brightly green along the hill-side, takes on a golden hue. the light lavender tint of the chorizanthe now spreads along the hills where the poppy so lately flamed, and over the dead morning-glory the dodder weaves its orange floss. a vast army of cruciferæ and compositæ soon overruns the land with bright yellow, and numerous varieties of mint tinge it with blue or purple; but the greater portion of the annual vegetation is dead or dying. the distant peaks of granite now begin to glow at evening with a soft purple hue; the light poured into the deep ravines towards sundown floods them with a crimson mist; on the shady hill-sides the chaparral looks bluer, and on the sunny hill-sides is a brighter green than before. comparative temperature around the world. the following table, published by the pasadena board of trade, shows the comparative temperature of well-known places in various parts of the world, arranged according to the difference between their average winter and average summer: ----------------------------------------------------------------------place. | winter.| spring.| summer.| autumn.| difference | | | | | summer, | | | | | winter. ----------------------------------------------------------------------funchal, madeira | 62.88 | 64.55 | 70.89 | 70.19 | 8.01 st. michael, azores | 57.83 | 61.17 | 68.33 | 62.33 | 10.50 pasadena | 56.00 | 61.07 | 67.61 | 62.31 | 11.61 santa cruz, canaries | 64.65 | 68.87 | 76.68 | 74.17 | 12.03 santa barbara | 54.29 | 59.45 | 67.71 | 63.11 | 13.42 nassau, bahama islands | 70.67 | 77.67 | 86.00 | 80.33 | 15.33 san diego, california | 54.09 | 60.14 | 69.67 | 64.63 | 15.58 cadiz, spain | 52.90 | 59.93 | 70.43 | 65.35 | 17.53 lisbon, portugal | 53.00 | 60.00 | 71.00 | 62.00 | 18.00 malta | 57.46 | 62.76 | 78.20 | 71.03 | 20.74 algiers | 55.00 | 66.00 | 77.00 | 60.00 | 22.00 st augustine, florida | 58.25 | 68.69 | 80.36 | 71.90 | 22.11 rome, italy | 48.90 | 57.65 | 72.16 | 63.96 | 23.26 sacramento, california | 47.92 | 59.17 | 71.19 | 61.72 | 23.27 mentone | 49.50 | 60.00 | 73.00 | 56.60 | 23.50 nice, italy | 47.88 | 56.23 | 72.26 | 61.63 | 24.44 new orleans, louisiana | 56.00 | 69.37 | 81.08 | 69.80 | 25.08 cairo, egypt | 58.52 | 73.58 | 85.10 | 71.48 | 26.58 jacksonville, florida | 55.02 | 68.88 | 81.93 | 62.54 | 96.91 pau, france | 41.86 | 54.06 | 70.72 | 57.39 | 28.86 florence, italy | 44.30 | 56.00 | 74.00 | 60.70 | 29.70 san antonio, texas | 52.74 | 70.48 | 83.73 | 71.56 | 30.99 aiken, south carolina | 45.82 | 61.32 | 77.36 | 61.96 | 31.54 fort yuma, california | 57.96 | 73.40 | 92.07 | 75.66 | 34.11 visalia, california | 45.38 | 59.40 | 80.78 | 60.34 | 35.40 santa fé, new mexico | 30.28 | 50.06 | 70.50 | 51.34 | 40.22 boston, mass | 28.08 | 45.61 | 68.68 | 51.04 | 40.60 new york, n. y. | 31.93 | 48.26 | 72.62 | 48.50 | 40.69 albuquerque, new mexico| 34.78 | 56.36 | 76.27 | 56.33 | 41.40 denver, colorado, | 27.66 | 46.33 | 71.66 | 47.16 | 44.00 st. paul, minnesota | 15.09 | 41.29 | 68.03 | 44.98 | 52.94 minneapolis, minnesota | 12.87 | 40.12 | 68.34 | 45.33 | 55.47 ----------------------------------------------------------------------california and italy. the los angeles chamber of commerce, in its pamphlet describing that city and county, gives a letter from the signal service observer at sacramento, comparing the temperature of places in california and italy. he writes: to prove to your many and intelligent readers the equability and uniformity of the climate of santa barbara, san diego, and los angeles, as compared with mentone and san remo, of the riviera of italy and of corfu, i append the monthly temperature for each place. please notice a much warmer temperature in winter at the california stations, and also a much cooler summer temperature at the same places than at any of the foreign places, except corfu. the table speaks with more emphasis and certainty than i can, and is as follows: +-----------+---------+-----------+----------+----------+---------+---------+ | | san | santa | los | | san | | | month. | diego's | barbara's | angeles' | mentone's| remo's | corfu's | | | mean temperature. | +-----------+---------+-----------+----------+----------+---------+---------+ |january | 53.7 | 54.4 | 52.8 | 48.2 | 47.2 | 53.6 | |february | 54.2 | 55.6 | 54.2 | 48.5 | 50.2 | 51.8 | |march | 55.6 | 56.4 | 56.0 | 52.0 | 52.0 | 53.6 | |april | 57.8 | 58.8 | 57.9 | 57.2 | 57.0 | 58.3 | |may | 61.1 | 60.2 | 61.0 | 63.0 | 62.9 | 66.7 | |june | 64.4 | 62.6 | 65.5 | 70.0 | 69.2 | 72.3 | |july | 67.3 | 65.7 | 68.3 | 75.0 | 74.3 | 67.7 | |august | 68.7 | 67.0 | 69.5 | 75.0 | 73.8 | 81.3 | |september | 66.6 | 65.6 | 67.5 | 69.0 | 70.6 | 78.8 | |october | 62.5 | 62.1 | 62.7 | 74.4 | 61.8 | 70.8 | |november | 58.2 | 58.0 | 58.8 | 54.0 | 58.3 | 63.8 | |december | 55.5 | 55.3 | 54.8 | 49.0 | 49.3 | 68.4 | | | | | | | | | | averages | 60.6 | 60.2 | 60.4 | 60.4 | 60.1 | 65.6 | +-----------+---------+-----------+----------+----------+---------+---------+ the table on pages 210 and 211, "extremes of heat and cold," is published by the san diego land and farm company, whose pamphlet says: the united states records at san diego signal station show that in ten years there were but 120 days on which the mercury passed 80°. of these 120 there were but 41 on which it passed 85°, but 22 when it passed 90°, but four over 95°, and only one over 100°; to wit, 101°, the highest ever recorded here. during all this time there was not a day on which the mercury did not fall to at least 70° during the night, and there were but five days on which it did not fall even lower. during the same ten years there were but six days on which the mercury fell below 35°. this low temperature comes only in extremely dry weather in winter, and lasts but a few minutes, happening just before sunrise. on two of these six days it fell to 32° at daylight, the lowest point ever registered here. the lowest mid-day temperature is 52°, occurring only four times in these ten years. from 65° to 70° is the average temperature of noonday throughout the greater part of the year. five years in santa barbara. [transcriber's note: table has been turned from original to fit, along with using abbreviations for the months and a legend.] the following table, from the self-registering thermometer in the observatory of mr. hugh d. vail, shows the mean temperature of each month in the years 1885 to 1889 at santa barbara, and also the mean temperature of the warmest and coldest days in each month: a = mean temperature of each month. b = mean temperature of warmest day. c = mean temperature of coldest day. d = monthly rainfall, inches. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- month. jan.| feb.| mar. | apr.| may | june| july| aug.| sep.| oct.| nov.| dec. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------1885. a|53.2 | 56.7 |59.1 |60.9 |60.0 |62.0 | 66.1| 68.0| 66.9| 63.0|58.9 | 57.2 b|57.0 | 65.5 |62,5 |70.5 |64.6 |68.0 | 73.0| 78.8| 78.8| 72.0|64.8 | 65.7 c|49.5 | 51,5 |56.0 |54.0 |54.0 |58.5 | 62.2| 62.5| 72.0| 58.5|50.0 | 52.0 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------1886. a|55.0 | 59.6 |53.1 |55.7 |60.5 |62.0 | 66.3| 68.2| 63.8| 58.3|56.3 | 55.8 b|73.5 | 70.0 |59.5 |61.5 |65.5 |67.5 | 72.0| 72.0| 68.3| 62.5|66.2 | 65.8 c|47.5 | 45.0 |46.2 |50.5 |54.0 |58.5 | 63.3| 63.2| 57.0| 51.7|49.8 | 49.5 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------1887. a|54.67| 50.4 |57.0 |58.43|60.0 |63.7 | 64.6| 64.8| 66.0| 65.0|58.9 | 52.8 b|63.5 | 61.1 |64.8 |66.8 |67.0 |79.0 | 71.3| 69.7| 70.5| 74.0|65.3 | 59.6 c|49.0 | 45.3 |52.0 |51.0 |53.3 |59.0 | 60.9| 62.0| 61.5| 59.3|47.5 | 49.0 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------1888. a|49.0 | 53.8 |53.0 |59.9 |57.6 |64.4 | 67.0| 66.3| 67.9| 63.5|59 8 |.56.5 b|58.7 | 57.5 |60.5 |75.0 |64.5 |69.0 | 72.0| 72.0| 76.2| 76.9|61.3 | 63.0 c|41.0 | 49.0 |46.0 |53.0 |51.7 |59.5 | 63.0| 63.5| 63.2| 59.0|54.5 | 52.0 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------1889. a|53.0 | 55.4 |58.0 |59.9 |60.0 |62.5 | 64.2| 67.3| 68.8| 63.9|59.6 | 54.4 b|58.0 | 65.0 |67.0 |72.7 |68.5 |65.7 | 84.0| 77.0| 78.0| 70.3|65.7 | 60.7 c|48.8 | 45.5 |52.5 |52.7 |54.5 |58.5 | 61.0| 63.0| 62.0| 60.0|54.5 | 50.0 d| 0.29| 1.29| 7.31| 0.49| 0.76| 0.13| ...| ... | ... | 8.69| 3.21| 10.64 observations made at san diego city, compiled from report of the chief signal officer of the u. s. army. [transcriber's note: table has been modified from original to fit, using abbreviations for the months and a legend.] column headers: a = average number of cloudy days for each month and year. b = average number of fair days for each month and year. c = average number of clear days for each month and year. d = average cloudiness, scale 0 to 10, for each month and year. e = average hourly velocity of wind for each month and year. f = average precipitation for each month and year. g = minimum temperature for each month and year. h = maximum temperature for each month and year. i = mean temperature for each month and year. j = mean normal barometer of san diego for each month and year for four years. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- | observations extending over a period of twelve years. month. | a | b | c | d | e f | g | h | i | j ---------+------------------------------------------------------------+------january | 8.5 | 11.2 | 11.3 | 4.1 | 5.1 | 1.85 | 32.0 | 78.0 | 53.6 | 30.027 february | 7.9 | 11.3 | 9.0 | 4.4 | 6.0 | 2.07 | 35.0 | 82.6 | 54.3 | 30.058 march | 9.6.| 12.7 | 8.7 | 4.8 | 6.4 | 0.97 | 38.0 | 99.0 | 55.7 | 30.004 april | 7.9 | 11.9 | 10.2 | 4.4 | 6.6 | 0.68 | 39.0 | 87.0 | 57.7 | 29.965 may |10.9 | 12.1 | 8.0 | 5.2 | 6.7 | 0.26 | 45.4 | 94.0 | 61.0 | 29.893 june | 8.1.| 15.2 | 6.7 | 5.0 | 6.3 | 0.05 | 51.0 | 94.0 | 64.4 | 29.864 july | 6.7 | 16.1 | 8.2 | 4.7 | 6.3 | 0.02 | 54.0 | 86.0 | 67.1 | 29.849 august | 4.7 | 16.9 | 9.4 | 4.1 | 6.0 | 0.23 | 54.0 | 86.0 | 68.7 | 29.894 september| 4.4 | 13.9 | 11.7 | 3.7 | 5.9 | 0.05 | 49.5 |101.0 | 66.8 | 29.840 october | 5.6 | 12.6 | 12.8 | 3.9 | 5.4 | 0.49 | 44.0 | 92.0 | 62.9 | 29.905 november | 6.5 | 10.0 | 13.5 | 3.6 | 5.1 | 0.70 | 38.0 | 85.0 | 58.3 | 29.991 december | 6.6 | 11.2 | 13.2 | 3.7 | 5.1 | 2.12 | 32.0 | 82.0 | 55.6 | 30.009 mean | | | | | | | | | | annual |87.4 |155.1 |122.7 | 4.3 | 5.9.| 9.49 | 42.6 | 88.8 | 60.5 | 29.942 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------extremes of heat and cold. the following table, taken from the report of the chief signal officer, shows the highest and lowest temperatures recorded since the opening of stations of the signal service at the points named, for the number of years indicated. an asterisk (*) denotes below zero: a = maximum b = minimum c = number of years of observation. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ | | jan. | feb. | march.| april.| may. | june.| ------------------------------------------------------------------------locality of station | c | a | b | a | b | a | b | a | b | a | b | a | b | ------------------------------------------------------------------------charleston, s. c. | 12| 80| 23| 78| 26| 85| 28| 87| 32| 94| 47| 94| 65| denver, col. | 12| 67|*29| 72|*22| 81|*10| 83| 4| 92| 27| 89| 50| jacksonville, fla. | 12| 80| 24| 83| 32| 88| 31| 91| 37| 99| 48|101| 62| l's ang'les, cal. | 6| 82| 30| 86| 28| 99| 34| 94| 39|100| 40|104| 47| new orleans, la. | 13| 78| 20| 80| 33| 84| 37| 86| 38| 92| 56| 97| 65| newport, r. i. | 2| 48| 2| 50| 4| 60| 4| 62| 26| 75| 33| 91| 41| new york | 13| 64| *6| 69| *4| 72| *3| 81| 20| 94| 34| 95| 47| pensacola, fla. | 4| 74| 29| 78| 31| 79| 36| 87| 34| 93| 47| 97| 64| san diego, cal. | 12| 78| 32| 83| 35| 99| 38| 87| 39| 94| 45| 94| 51| san francisco, cal. | 12| 69| 36| 71| 35| 77| 39| 81| 40| 86| 45| 95| 48| ------------------------------------------------------------------------extremes of heat and cold.--_continued._ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ | | july.| aug. | sept. | oct. | nov. | dec. | ------------------------------------------------------------------------locality of station | c | a | b | a | b | a | b | a | b | a | b | a | b | ------------------------------------------------------------------------charleston, s. c. | 12| 94| 69| 96| 69| 94| 64| 89| 49| 81| 33| 78| 22| denver, col. | 12| 91| 59| 93| 60| 93| 51| 84| 38| 73| 23| 69| 1| jacksonville, fla. | 12|104| 68|100| 66| 98| 56| 92| 40| 84| 30| 81| 19| l's ang'les, cal. | 6| 98| 51|100| 50|104| 44| 97| 43| 86| 34| 88| 30| new orleans, la. | 13| 96| 70| 97| 69| 92| 58| 89| 40| 82| 32| 78| 20| newport, r. i. | 9| 87| 56| 85| 45| 77| 39| 75| 29| 62| 17| 56| *9| new york | 13| 99| 57| 96| 53|100| 36| 83| 31| 74| 7| 66| *6| pensacola, fla. | 4| 97| 64| 93| 69| 93| 57| 89| 45| 81| 28| 76| 17| san diego, cal. | 12| 86| 54| 86| 54|101| 50| 92| 44| 85| 38| 82| 32| san francisco, cal. | 12| 83| 49| 89| 50| 92| 50| 84| 45| 78| 41| 68| 34| ------------------------------------------------------------------------statements of small crops. the following statements of crops on small pieces of ground, mostly in los angeles county, in 1890, were furnished to the chamber of commerce in los angeles, and are entirely trustworthy. nearly all of them bear date august 1st. this is a fair sample from all southern california: peaches. ernest dewey, pomona--golden cling peaches, 10 acres, 7 years old, produced 47 tons green; sold dried for $4800; cost of production, $243.70; net profit, $4556.30. soil, sandy loam; not irrigated. amount of rain, 28 inches, winter of 1889-90. h. h. rose, santa anita township (3/4 of a mile from lamanda park)--2-6/7 acres; produced 47,543 pounds; sold for $863.46; cost of production, $104; net profit, $759.46. soil, light sandy loam; not irrigated. produced in 1889 12,000 pounds, which sold at $1.70 per 100 pounds. e. r. thompson, azusa (2 miles south of depot)--2-1/6 acres, 233 trees, produced 57,655 pounds; sold for $864.82-1/2; cost of production, $140; net profit, $724.82-1/2. soil, sandy loam; irrigated three times in summer, 1 inch to 7 acres. trees 7 years old, not more than two-thirds grown. p. o'connor, downey--20 trees produced 4000 pounds; sold for $60; cost of production $5; net profit, $55. soil, sandy loam; not irrigated. crop sold on the ground. h. hood, downey city (1/4 of a mile from depot)--1/4 of an acre produced 7-1/2 tons; sold for $150; cost of production, $10; net profit, $140. damp sandy soil; not irrigated. f. d. smith (between azusa and glendora, 1-1/4 miles from depot)--1 acre produced 14,361 pounds; sold for $252.51; cost of production, $20; net profit, $232.51. dark sandy loam; irrigated once. trees 5 and 6 years old. p. o. johnson, ranchito--17 trees, 10 years old, produced 4-3/4 tons; sold 4-1/4 tons for $120; cost of production, $10; net profit, $110; very little irrigation. sales were 1/2c. per pound under market rate. prunes. e. p. naylor (3 miles from pomona)--15 acres produced 149 tons; sold for $7450; cost of production, $527; net profit, $6923. soil, loam, with some sand; irrigated, 1 inch per 10 acres. w. h. baker, downey (1/2 a mile from depot)--1-1/2 acres produced 12,529 pounds; sold for $551.90; cost of production, $50; net profit, $501.90. soil, sandy loam; not irrigated. howe bros. (2 miles from lordsburg)--800 trees, which had received no care for 2 years, produced 28 tons; sold for $1400; cost of production, $200; net profit, $1200. soil, gravelly loam, red; partially irrigated. messrs. howe state that they came into possession of this place in march, 1890. the weeds were as high as the trees and the ground was very hard. only about 500 of the trees had a fair crop on them. w. a. spalding, azusa--1/3 of an acre produced 10,404 pounds; sold for $156.06; cost of production, $10; net profit, $146.06. soil, sandy loam. e. a. hubbard, pomona (1-1/2 miles from depot)--4-1/2 acres produced 24 tons; sold green for $1080; cost of production, $280; net profit, $800. soil, dark sandy loam; irrigated. this entire ranch of 9 acres was bought in 1884 for $1575. f. m. smith (1-1/4 miles east of azusa)--3/5 of an acre produced 17,174 pounds; sold for $315.84; cost of production, $25; net profit, $290. soil, deep, dark sandy loam; irrigated once in the spring. trees 5 years old. george rhorer (1/2 of a mile east of north pomona)--13 acres produced 88 tons; sold for $4400 on the trees; cost of production, $260; net profit, $4140. soil, gravelly loam; irrigated, 1 inch to 8 acres. trees planted 5 years ago last spring. j. s. flory (between the big and little tejunga rivers)--1-1/3 acres or 135 trees 20 feet apart each way; 100 of the trees 4 years old, the balance of the trees 5 years old; produced 5230 pounds dried; sold for $523; cost of production, $18; net profit, $505. soil, light loam, with some sand; not irrigated. w. caruthers (2 miles north of downey)--3/4 of an acre produced 5 tons; sold for $222; cost of production, $7.50; net profit, $215. soil, sandy loam; not irrigated. trees 4 years old. james loney, pomona--2 acres; product sold for $1150; cost of production, $50; net profit, $1100. soil, sandy loam. i. w. lord, eswena--5 acres produced 40 tons; sold for $2000; cost of production, $300; net profit, $1700. soil, sandy loam. m. b. moulton, pomona--3 acres; sold for $1873; cost of production, $215; net profit, $1658. soil, deep sandy loam. trees 9 years old. ernest dewey, pomona--6 acres produced 38 tons green; dried, at 10 cents a pound, $3147; cost of production, $403; profit, $2734. soil, sandy loam; irrigated one inch to 10 acres. sixty per cent. increase over former year. c. s. ambrose, pomona--12 acres produced 77 tons; $50 per ton gross, $3850; labor of one hand one year, $150; profit, $3700. soil, gravelly; very little irrigation. prunes sold on trees. oranges. joachim f. jarchow, san gabriel--2-1/2 acres; 10-year trees; product sold for $1650; cost of production $100, including cultivation of 7-1/2 acres, not bearing; net profit, $1550. f. d. smith, azusa--6-1/2 acres produced 600 boxes; sold for $1200; cost of production, $130; net profit, $1070. soil, dark sandy loam; irrigated three times. trees 4 years old. george lightfoot, south pasadena--5-1/2 acres produced 700 boxes; sold for $1100; cost of production, $50; net profit, $1050. soil, rich, sandy loam; irrigated once a year. h. hood, downey--1/2 of an acre produced 275 boxes; sold for $275; cost of production, $25; net profit, $250. soil, damp, sandy; not irrigated. w. g. earle, azusa--1 acre produced 210 boxes; sold for $262; cost of production, $15; net profit, $247. soil, sandy loam; irrigated four times. nathaniel hayden, vernon--4 acres; 986 boxes at $1.20 per box; sales, $1182; cost of production, $50; net profit, $1132. loam; irrigated. other products on the 4 acres. h. o. fosdick, santa ana--1 acre; 6 years old; 350 boxes; sales, $700; cost of production and packing, $50; net profit, $650. loam; irrigated. j. h. isbell, rivera--1 acre, 82 trees; 16 years old; sales, $600; cost of production, $25; profit, $575. irrigated. $1.10 per box for early delivery, $1.65 for later. grapes. william bernhard, monte vista--10 acres produced 25 tons; sold for $750; cost of production, $70; net profit, $680. soil, heavy loam; not irrigated. vines 5 years old. dillon, kennealy & mcclure, burbank (1 mile from roscoe station)--200 acres produced 90,000 gallons of wine; cost of production, $5000; net profit, about $30,000. soil, sandy loam; not irrigated; vineyard in very healthy condition. p. o'connor (2-1/2 miles south of downey)--12 acres produced 100 tons; sold for $1500; cost of production, $360; net profit, $1140. soil, sandy loam; not irrigated. vines planted in 1884, when the land would not sell for $100 per acre. j. k. banks (1-3/4 miles from downey)--40 acres produced 250 tons; sold for $3900; cost of production, $1300; net profit, $2600. soil, sandy loam. berries. w. y. earle (2-1/2 miles from azusa)--strawberries, 2-1/2 acres produced 15,000 boxes; sold for $750; cost of production, $225; net profit, $525. soil, sandy loam; irrigated. shipped 3000 boxes to ogden, utah, and 6000 boxes to albuquerque and el paso. benjamin norris, pomona--blackberries, 1/4 of an acre produced 2500 pounds; sold for $100; cost of production, $5; net profit, $95. soil, light sandy; irrigated. s. h. eye, covina--raspberries, 5/9 of an acre produced 1800 pounds; sold for $195; cost of production, $85; net profit, $110. soil, sandy loam; irrigated. j. o. houser, covina--blackberries, 1/4 of an acre produced 648 pounds; sold for $71.28; cost of production, $18; net profit, $53.28. soil, sandy loam; irrigated. first year's crop. apricots. t. d. leslie (1 mile from pomona)--1 acre produced 10 tons; sold for $250; cost of production, $60; net profit, $190. soil, loose, gravelly; irrigated; 1 inch to 10 acres. first crop. george lightfoot, south pasadena--2 acres produced 11 tons; sold for $260; cost of production, $20; net profit, $240. soil, sandy loam; not irrigated. t. d. smith, azusa--1 acre produced 13,555 pounds; sold for $169.44; cost of production, $25; net profit, $144.44. soil, sandy loam; irrigated once. trees 5 years old. w. y. earle (2-1/2 miles from azusa)--6 acres produced 6 tons; sold for $350; cost of production, $25; net profit, $325. soil, sandy loam; not irrigated. trees 3 years old. w. a. spalding, azusa--335 trees produced 15,478 pounds; sold for $647.43; cost of production, $50; net profit, $597.43. soil, sandy loam. mrs. winkler, pomona--3/4 of an acre, 90 trees; product sold for $381; cost of production, $28.40; net profit, $352.60. soil, sandy loam; not irrigated. only help, small boys and girls. miscellaneous fruits. e. a. bonine, lamanda park--apricots, nectarines, prunes, peaches, and lemons, 30 acres produced 160 tons; sold for $8000; cost of production, $1500; net profit, $6500. no irrigation. j. p. fleming (1-1/2 miles from rivera)--walnuts, 40 acres produced 12-1/2 tons; sold for $2120; cost of production, $120; net profit, $2000. soil, sandy loam; not irrigated. george lightfoot, south pasadena--lemons, 2 acres produced 500 boxes; sold for $720; cost of production, $20; net profit, $700. soil, rich sandy loam; not irrigated. trees 10 years old. w. a. spalding, azusa--nectarines, 96 trees produced 19,378 pounds; sold for $242.22; cost of production, $35; net profit, $207.22. soil, sandy loam. f. d. smith, azusa--nectarines, 1-2/5 acres produced 36,350 pounds; sold for $363.50; cost of production, $35; net profit, $318.50. soil, deep dark sandy loam; irrigated once in spring. trees 5 and 6 years old. c. d. ambrose (4 miles north of pomona)--pears, 3 acres produced 33,422 pounds; sold green for $1092.66; cost of production, $57; net profit, $1035.66. soil, foot-hill loam; partly irrigated. n. hayden--statement of amount of fruit taken from 4 acres for one season at vernon district: 985 boxes oranges, 15 boxes lemons, 8000 pounds apricots, 2200 pounds peaches, 200 pounds loquats, 2500 pounds nectarines, 4000 pounds apples, 1000 pounds plums, 1000 pounds prunes, 1000 pounds figs, 150 pounds walnuts, 500 pounds pears. proceeds, $1650. a family of five were supplied with all the fruit they wanted besides the above. potatoes. o. bullis, compton--28-3/4 acres produced 3000 sacks; sold for $3000; cost of production, $500; net profit, $2500. soil, peat; not irrigated. this land has been in potatoes 3 years, and will be sown to cabbages, thus producing two crops this year. p. f. cogswell, el monte--25 acres produced 150 tons; sold for $3400; cost of production, $450; net profit, $2950. soil, sediment; not irrigated. m. metcalf, el monte--8 acres produced 64 tons; sold for $900; cost of production, $50; net profit, $850. soil, sandy loam; not irrigated. jacob vernon (1-1/2 miles from covina)--3 acres produced 400 sacks; sold for $405.88; cost of production, $5; net profit, $400.88. soil, sandy loam; irrigated one acre. two-thirds of crop was volunteer. h. hood, downey--sweet potatoes, 1 acre produced 300 sacks; sold for $300; cost of production, $30; net profit, $270. soil, sandy loam; not irrigated. c. c. stub, savannah (1 mile from depot)--10 acres produced 1000 sacks; sold for $2000; cost of production, $100; net profit, $1900. soil, sandy loam; not irrigated. a grain crop was raised on the same land this year. onions. f. a. atwater and c. p. eldridge, clearwater--1 acre produced 211 sacks; sold for $211; cost of production, $100; net profit, $111. soil, sandy loam; no irrigation. at present prices the onions would have brought $633. charles lauber, downey--1 acre produced 113 sacks; sold for $642; cost of production, $50; net profit, $592. no attention was paid to the cultivation of this crop. soil, sandy loam; not irrigated. at present prices the same onions would have brought $803. miscellaneous vegetables. eugene lassene, university--pumpkins, 5 acres produced 150 loads; sold for $4 per load; cost of production, $3 per acre; net profit, $585. soil, sandy loam. a crop of barley was raised from the same land this year. p. k. wood, clearwater--pea-nuts, 3 acres produced 5000 pounds; sold for $250; cost of production, $40; net profit, $210. soil, light sandy; not irrigated. planted too deep, and got about one-third crop. oliver e. roberts (terrace farm, cahuenga valley)--3 acres tomatoes; sold product for $461.75. soil, foot-hill; not irrigated; second crop, watermelons. one-half acre green peppers; sold product for $54.30. 1-1/2 acres of green peas; sold product for $220. 17 fig-trees; first crop sold for $40. total product of 54 acres, $776.05. jacob miller, cahuenga--green peas, 10 acres; 43,615 pounds; sales, $3052; cost of production and marketing, $500; profit, $2552. soil, foot-hill; not irrigated. second crop, melons. w. w. bliss, duarte--honey, 215 stands; 15,000 pounds; sales, $785. mountain district. bees worth $1 to $3 per stand. james stewart, downey--figs, 3 acres; 20 tons, at $50, $1000. not irrigated; 26 inches rain; 1 acre of trees 16 years old, 2 acres 5 years. figs sold on trees. the mineral wealth of southern california is not yet appreciated. among the rare minerals which promise much is a very large deposit of tin in the temescal cañon, below south riverside. it is in the hands of an english company. it is estimated that there are 23 square miles rich in tin ore, and it is said that the average yield of tin is 20-1/4 per cent. index. acamo, 165, 170. adenostoma, 205. africa, 18. aiken, south carolina, temperature of, 207. ailantus, 134. alaska, 34. albuquerque, new mexico, 165. ---temperature of, 207. alfalfa, 23, 98, 101, 204. alfileria, 203, 206. algiers, temperature of, 207. alhambra, 124. almond, 18, 19, 101. alpine pass, 1. amalfi, 30. ambrose, c. d., 215. ambrose, ernest, 213. anacapa, 2. anaheim, 134. antelope, 114, 188. apples, 19, 96, 97, 127. ---prices and profits, 215. ---san diego, 97. apricots, 18, 19, 43, 92. ---prices and profits, 214, 215. arcadian station, 126. arizona, 5, 149, 164, 173, 177. ---cattle company, 186. ---desert, 79. arrow-head hot springs, 117. artist point, 154. atlantic, 5, 18, 47, 165, 198. atwater, f. a., 216. aubrey sandstones, 195. australian lady-bug, 129. ---navels, 120. azusa, 211-215. baker, w. h., 212. baldwin plantation, 127. banana, 19, 134. bancroft, h. h., 56. banks, j. k., 214. banning, 96. barley, 8, 14, 25, 138. ---prices and profits, 216. beans, 138. bear valley dam, 117, 118. bees, 217. bell-flower, 204. bernhard, william, 214. berries, 141. big tejunga river, 212. big trees (mariposa), 150, 156-161. birch, 134. blackberries--prices and profits, 214. bliss, w. w., 217. bohemia töplitz waters, 163. bonine, e. a., 215. boston, massachusetts, temperature of, 207. bozenta (count), 134. brandy, 136. breezes, 70, 123, 184, 203. (see winds.) bright angel amphitheatre, 195. buenaventura, 138. bullis, o., 215 burbank, 214. cactus, 69, 165. cadiz, spain. temperature of, 207. cahuenga valley, 216. cairo, egypt, temperature of, 207. capri, 30, 80. carlisle school, 168. carlsbad, 163. carrot (wild), 206. caruthers, w., 213. cataract cañon, 182. cedars, 185, 186. cereals, 12. (see grains.) chalcedony park, 183. chamber of commerce, los angeles, 211. ------san diego, 143. chaparral, 81, 202, 205, 206. charleston, south carolina, temperature of, 210, 211. chautauqua, the, 76. chemisal, 202. cherries, 43. chief signal officer, u. s. a., report of, 210. china trade, 142. chorizanthe, 206. chula vista, 144. clearwater, 216. climate, 4-6, 9, 29, 43, 45, 48, 130, 140, 142, 146. ---adapted to health, 29, 37, 38, 45, 46. ---adapted to recreation, 70. ---compared to european, 5; to italian, 18; to mediterranean, 18; to tangierian, 46. ---discussed and described, 10, 38, 44, 45. ---affected by ocean and deserts, 4, 8, 29, 45. ---effect on character, 88. ---effect on disease, 50. ---effect on fruits, 10. ---effect on horses, 55. ---effect on longevity, 56, 59, 62. ---effect on seasons, 10, 43, 65, 66. ---hufeland on, 52. ---insular, 76. ---in various altitudes, 46. ---johnson (dr.) on, 201. ---of coronado beach, 47, 81, 87. ---of new mexico, 164. ---of pasadena, 130. ---of san diego, 49. ---of winter, 43, 48. ---van dyke on, 6, 78. climatic regions, 4. clover, 204. cogswell, p. f., 216. colorado desert, 2-5, 6, 33, 34, 46. ---grand cañon, 149. (see grand cañon.) ---plateau, 182. ------description of, 177. ---river, 8, 197, 199. ------course described, 177. columbine, 206. como, 1. compton, 215. concord coach, 184. cooper, ellwood, 125. corfu, temperature of, 208. corn, 9, 12, 14, 25, 98. coronado beach, 29, 33, 47, 87, 202. ------climate, 47, 81, 87. ------description of, 80-87. ---islands, 30. ---vasques de, 32, 165. covina, 214, 216. cremation among indians, 60. crossthwaite, philip, longevity of, 61. crowfoot, 204. crucifers, 204. cucumbers, 205. cuyamaca (mountain) 6, 18, 33, 37. ----(reservoir), 144. cypress (monterey), 49, 82, 130. ---point (tree), 161. ------description of, 162. cypriote ware, 169. cyprus, 82, 134. daisy, 206. dandelion, 205. date (palms), 19, 42, 49, 85, 134. denver, colorado, temperature of, 207, 210, 211. deserts, 2-7, 84, 79. ---affecting climate, 4, 8, 29, 45. ---describing beauty of, 175. dewey, ernest, 211, 213. dew-falls, 123. dillon, kennealy & mcclure, 214. district of the grand cañon--area described, 177. downey, 211-214, 216, 217. ---city, 211. duarte, 217. dutton, captain c. e., 181, 194, 198. earle, w. g., 213. earle, w. y., 214, 215. east san gabriel hotel, 127. eaton cañon, 130. egypt, 178. el cajon, 37, 56, 79, 111, 144. el capitan, 154. eldridge, c. p., 216. elm, 134. el monte, 216. english walnut, 18, 19, 34, 48, 101, 129, 134. escondido, 140, 141. eswena, 213. eucalyptus, 23, 48, 112, 123, 134. eye, s. h., 214. fan-palm, 49, 134. fern (australian), 123, 205. fig, 18, 19, 34, 101, 141, 144, 147. ---cultivation discussed, 34. ---prices and profits, 215-217. flagstaff, 182, 183, 199. fleming, j. p., 215. florence hotel, 80. florence, italy, temperature of, 207. flory, j. s., 212. fogs, 4, 8, 38, 47, 123. fort yuma, california, temperature of, 207. fosdick, h. o., 213. foxtail, 206. franciscan fathers, 42. franciscan missions, 24. fresno, 115, 128. frosts, 10, 19, 123. fruits, 9, 12, 13, 15, 18, 20, 37, 43, 46, 47, 96, 141, 144, 198. fruits compared to european, 18. ---cultivation and speculation discussed, 20, 93, 107, 140. ---great region for, 97. ---grouped, 18, 19, 92, 94-96, 101, 115, 127, 211-217. ---lands adapted to, 37, 46, 96. ---orchards, 67, 165. ---rapid growth of, 115. ---riverside method for, 104. ---winter, 48. fumigation, cost of, 124, 129. funchal, madeira, temperature of, 207. gardens, 46, 67, 147, 165. geraniums, 49. glendora, 212. golden gate, 42. gooseberry, 205. government land, 93. grain, 12, 14, 15, 19, 23, 25, 140. grand cañon, 149, 178, 181. ------area of district of, 177. ------description of, 181, 182, 190-200. ------journey to the, 182-190. grapes, 15, 18, 19, 92, 93, 98, 101. ---diseases of, 128. ---old mission, 128. ---prices and profits of, 96. ---raisin. (see raisins.) grape-vines, 79, 91, 123. ------on small farms, 107. ------prices and profits of, 96. ------santa anita, 127. grayback (mountain), 34, 46. great wash fault, 178, 182. _grevillea robusta_, 123. guava, 19, 134. gums, 138. hance (guide), 198, 199. harvard observatory, 130. hawaii islands, 5. hayden, nathaniel, 213, 215. helianthus, 206. heliotrope, 10, 41, 49. hesperia, 96. hindoo amphitheatre, 195. holbrook, 183. honey--prices and profits of, 217. honeysuckle, 205. hood, h., 211, 213, 216. horses, 55, 70. hotel del coronado, 29, 87. ---del monte park, 161. ---raymond, 79, 130, 133. hot springs (las vegas), 163, 164. houser, j. o., 214. houses, suggestions on, 68. howe bros., 212. hubbard, e. a., 212. hufeland, on climate and health, 52. humidity, 38, 43. huntington, dr., 50. hurricane ledge or fault, 182. _icerya purchasi_, 129. indiana settlement, 94. indians, 55, 187, 188 ---affected by climate, 55. ---converted by missionaries, 24. ---longevity of, 59. ---mojave, 2, 169. ---navajos, 170, 183. ---oualapai, 188. ---pueblo, 165. ------at acamo, 165. ------at isleta, 165. ------at laguna, 165-173. ingo county, 34. inspiration point, 150, 154. iris, 204. irrigation, 97, 117, 147, 165. ---at pasadena, 130. ---at pomona, 15, 94, 124, 211, 215. ---at redlands, 102, 104, 118. ---at san diego, 144. ---at santa ana, 134. ---by companies, 94. ---by natural means, 11, 14, 37. ---cost of, 98. ---for apricots, berries, grapes, onions, oranges, peaches, potatoes, prunes, vegetables, 211-217. ---for orchards, 120. ---for wheat, 100. ---in relation to fruits and crops, 19, 99, 100, 101. ---necessity of, 15, 19, 88. ---results of, discussed, 12, 14, 15. ---riverside method of, 102, 104. ---three methods of, 102. ---van dyke on, 102, 103. isbell, j. h., 213. ischia, 30. isleta, 165. isthmus route, 142. italy, 1, 2, 4, 18, 68, 69, 75, 87. (see our italy.) ives, lieutenant, 181. jacksonville, florida, temperature of, 207, 210, 211. japanese persimmon, 134. japan trade, 142. jarchom, joachim f., 213. johnson, dr. h. a., on climate, 201. johnson, p. o., 212. josephites, 117. julian (rainfall), 48. kaibab plateau, 178, 181, 182. kanab cañon, 178, 182. kanab plateau, 178, 181, 182. kelp, 38, 161. kentucky racers, 55. kern county, 16, 94, 114. kimball, f. a., 125. king river, 114. labor, "boom" prices of, 109. ---necessity of, 108. ladies' annex, 143. laguna--climate of, 174. ---description of, 165-168. ---indians at, 165-173. lamanda park, 215. land, 12, 14, 23, 147. ---adapted to apricots, berries, grapes, onions, oranges, peaches, potatoes, prunes, vegetables, 211-217. ---adapted to fruits, 97, 141. ---arable, 93, 140, 142, 145. ---capabilities of, 17, 91-95, 114. ---converted from deserts, 94. ---crops adapted to, 108. ---elements constituting value of, 95. ---experiments of settlers on, 111. ---for farms and gardens, 107. ---government, 93. ---of the sun, 147, 202. ---profits and prices of, 20, 23, 95-98, 117. ---raisin, 114. ---speculations in, 24, 107, 143. la playa, 33. larkspur, 205, 206. las flores, 140. lassene, eugene, 216. las vegas hot springs, 163, 164. lauber, charles, 216. lee's ferry, 199. lemons, 1, 18, 19, 79, 93, 107, 129, 137, 144. leslie, t. d., 214. lightfoot, george, 213, 214. lilac, 205. lilies, 204, 206. limes, 18. lisbon, portugal, temperature of, 207. little colorado river, 177, 181, 182. little tejunga river, 212. live-oaks, 49, 69, 72, 79, 127, 134, 140, 161. locust, 134. lombardy, 1. loney, james, 213. longevity at el cajon, 56. ---at san diego, 59, 60. ---climatic influence on, 56, 59, 62. ---dr. bancroft on, 56. ---dr. palmer on, 59, 60. ---dr. remondino on, 52. ---dr. winder on, 56. ---father ubach on, 59, 62. ---hufeland on, 52. longevity, philip crossthwaite, story of, 61. loquats, 21. ---prices and profits of, 215. lord, i. w., 213. lordsburg, 212. los angeles, 12, 15, 16, 26, 46, 71, 76, 79, 94, 95, 97, 124, 128, 129, 133-135. ------assessment roll and birth rate of, 136. ------climate of, 12, 15, 26, 76, 79, 95, 124, 129, 133. ------county, 211. ------description of, 135, 136. ------report of chamber of commerce of, 207, 211. ------river, 11, 99. ------temperature of, 44, 207, 210, 211. ------wines, 136. los coronados, 2. lupins, 205. maggiore, 1. magnolia, 41, 48, 123. maguey, 69. malta, temperature of, 207. manitoba, 5. manzanita, 205. maple, 134. marble cañon, 177. marguerites, 82. marienbad, 163. marigold, 205. mariposa (big trees), 150, 156-161. martinique, 48. mediterranean--climate of the, 37, 46, 80. ---fruits and products of the, 18. ---our, 18, 46. mentone, 6. ---temperature of, 207, 208. merced river, 150, 155. meserve plantation, 124. metcalf, m., 216. methusaleh of trees, 158. mexican gulf, 18. ---ranch house, 67. mexico, 2, 11, 30, 33, 40, 47. ---small-pox from, 64. miller, jacob, 216. mimulus, 205. minerals, 142. minneapolis, minnesota, temperature of, 207. mint, 205, 206. mirror lake, 154. mission cañon, 75. ---of san diego, 60. ---of san tomas, 60. mississippi valley, 38. modjeska, madame, 134. moisture in relation to health, 201. mojave desert, 2, 7. ---indians, 7, 169. montecito (santa barbara), 123. monterey, 42, 47, 49, 72, 149. ---cypress, 82, 130. ---description of, 161, 162. monte vista, 214. montezuma, 164. ---hotel, 163. monticello, 75. mormons, 117. morning-glory, 205. moulton, m. b., 213. mount whitney, 34. ---wilson, 130. murillo--pictures by, 26. mustard stalks, 202. mütterlager, 163. naples, 34. nassau, bahama islands, temperature of, 207. national city, 33, 79, 125, 144. ---soldiers' home, 76. navajo indians, 170, 183. ---mountains, 196. naylor, e. p., 212. neah bay, 47, 76. nebraska, 175. nectarines, 19, 92. ---prices and profits of, 215. nevadas, 34, 150. new mexico, 79, 164, 173. ------climate of, 164. ------desert of, 149. ------scenery of, 163-165. new orleans, louisiana, temperature of, 207, 210, 211. newport, rhode island, temperature of, 210, 211. new york, n. y., temperature of, 207, 210, 211. niagara falls, 153, 197. nice, 207. nightshade, 206. norris, benjamin, 214. northern africa, 69. ---arizona, 177. ---pomona, 212. nuts, 18, 138. oats, 206. o'connor, p., 211, 214. old baldy mountain, 4. olives, 1, 18, 19, 24, 37, 115, 129, 134, 147, 162. ---at pomona, 125. ---at santa barbara, 37. ---cooper on, 125. ---cultivation of, discussed, 19, 37, 125. ---future of, 125, 126. ---mission, 125, 126. ---prices and profits of, 126. onions--prices and profits of, 216. ontario, 15, 124. orange city, 46. ------description of, 134. ---county, 16, 46, 79, 111, 134. oranges, 10, 11, 15, 16, 18, 19, 25, 66, 79, 93, 101, 107, 108, 115, 123, 129, 138, 144. ---as resource, 91. ---at redlands, 119. ---cost of land for, 97. ---diseases and care of, 101, 129, 137. ---groves, 20, 118, 123, 127. ---irrigation for, 213. ---prices and profits of, 97, 107, 119, 120, 124, 213, 215. ---riverside as centre, 119. ---varieties of, 120, 123. orchards, 20, 24, 41, 144, 147. orchids, 205. orthocarpus, 204. otay, 145. ottoman amphitheatre, 195. oualapai indians, 188. our italy, description of, 18. pacific, 2-5, 8, 16, 29, 58, 75, 142, 165, 198. ---trade, 142. painted desert, 185, 186. palmer, dr. edward, 59, 60. palms, 41, 42, 67, 69, 85, 123, 130, 134. ---date, 42, 49, 69, 85. ---fan, 49. ---royal, 55, 85. paria plateau, 178. pasadena, 15, 67, 94, 95, 124, 130. ---board of trade, 207. ---climate, 130. ---description of, 130-134. ---temperature of, 133, 207. ---trees of, 134. passion-vine, 49. pau, france, temperature of, 207. peach, 92, 101, 182, 211. ---prices and profits of, 211, 212, 215. peachblow mountain, 185. pea-nuts--prices and profits of, 216. pears--prices and profits of, 215. pensacola, florida, temperature of, 210, 211. penstemon, 205. pepper, 48, 67, 123, 134. ---prices and profits of, 216. peruvians, 169. pineapple, 19. pines, 42, 72, 134, 185, 188-190. ---spruce, 182. ---sugar, 42, 150, 157. pink cliffs, 178. plums, 92. ---prices and profits of, 215. point arguilles, 1. ---conception, 2-4, 47, 72, 137. point loma, 8, 30, 33, 81. ---sublime, 181, 198. ---vincent, 76. pomegranate, 19, 134. pomona, 15, 94, 95, 124, 211-215. ---description of, 124. ---irrigation at, 15, 94, 95, 124, 211-215. ---land at, 94. ---olives at, 125. ---temperature of, 7, 44. poplar, 134. poppy, 204-206. portuguese hamlet, 33. potatoes, 14. ---prices and profits of, 215. powell, major j. w., 181. profitable products discussed, 19. prometheus unbound, 178. prunes, 18, 93, 96, 115. ---prices and profits of, 212, 213, 215. pueblo indians, 165-183. puenta, 124. puget sound, 47. pumpkins--prices and profits of, 216. quail, 8, 140. rabbits, 140. rain, 12, 38, 47, 48, 49, 123, 138, 202, 203, 206. ---at julian, los angeles, monterey, neah bay, point conception, riverside, santa cruz, san diego, san jacinto, 47, 202. ---in relation to health, 202. ---on deserts described, 187. ---season for, 47. rainbow fall, 154. raisin grape, 144. raisins, 18, 19, 93, 108, 136. ---at los angeles, 136. ---at redlands, 119. ---curing, 107. ---malaga, 37. ---prices and profits of, 96, 114, 115. ranchito, 212. raspberries--prices and profits of, 214. raymond hotel, 133, 149. red horse well, 186, 187. redlands, 15, 95-97, 124. ---centre for oranges, 119. ---description of, 118, 121-123. ---history of growth of, 118. ---irrigation of, 102-104, 118. ---resources of, 120. ---return on fruits, 97, 98, 124. redondo, 3. ---beach, 12. ---description of, 76. red wall limestone, 195. redwood, 134. remondino, dr., 40, 52, 56, 59, 60. remondino, dr., on health, 62. ---on horses, 55, 61. ---on longevity, 40, 61. rhorer, george, 212. rio grande del norte, 165. rio puerco, 165. rivera, 213, 215. riverside, 15, 95, 124. ---centre of orange growth, 119. ---description of, 123-127. ---growth in resources, 120. ---irrigation at, 102-104. ---price of land, 95-98. ---return on fruits, 97, 98, 124. riviera, italy, temperature of, 7, 45, 208. roberts, oliver e., 216. rock-rose, 204. rome, italy, temperature of, 207. roscoe station, 214. rose, h. h., 211. roses, 41, 49, 66, 138, 206. royal palms, 85. sacramento, california, temperature of, 207. sages, 202, 205. sahara, 6. san antonio, texas, temperature of, 207. san bernardino, 4, 15-17, 33, 34, 118. ------description of, 116, 117. ------land, prices of, 96, 117. ------mountain, 4, 7. ------river, 11. ------temperature at, 6, 33, 44, 46, 210, 211. san diego, 2, 9, 15, 24, 26, 34, 42, 43, 47, 62, 72, 79, 80, 94. ------as a health resort, 50. ------chamber of commerce, 143. ------climate of, 49, 50. ------commercial possibilities of, 142. ------converted lands, 94. ------description of, 29-34, 79-81, 142-145. ------fruits, 37, 97. ------land and farm company, 208. ------longevity at, 60. ------markets, 43. ------mission, 24, 60. ------rainfall at, 47, 202. ------recreations at, 41, 71. ------temperature of, 30, 44, 49, 50, 207, 210, 211. ------bay, 2, 3. ------county, 4, 6, 16, 34. ---------description of, 140-145. ------river, 4, 6, 11, 16, 34. san francisco, 2, 42, 142. ------mountain, 182, 185, 194, 200. ------river, 185. ------temperature at, 210, 211. san gabriel, 4, 15, 26, 72, 94, 213. san gabriel, description of, 124-128. ------mission, 26. ------mountain, 4, 5. ------river, 11. ------valley, 72, 94. san jacinto range, 4, 17, 33, 46, 118. ------rain at, 48. san joaquin, 7, 37, 114. san juan, 177. ------capristrano, 79. ------san josé, 124. san luis obispo, 16. ------river, 11. san mateo cañon, 118. san miguel, 33. san nicolas, 2. san pedro, 3, 135. san remo, temperature of, 208. santa ana, 2, 13, 72, 94, 99, 118. ------description of, 124. ------mountain, 134. ------river, 11, 79, 134. ------township, 15, 127, 211. ------valley, 2, 72, 213. santa barbara, 2, 3, 9, 37, 67. ------at montecito, 123. ------channel, 2, 3. ------county, 16. ------description of, 72, 137, 138. ------fruits, 37, 129. ------island, 2, 3. ------mountain, 17. ------olives, 37, 125. ------temperature of, 29, 44, 207. santa catalina, 2, 134. santa clara, 43, 138. ------river, 11. santa clemente, 2. santa cruz, 2, 47, 157. ------canaries, temperature of, 207. santa fé line, 117, 119, 163, 165, 182. ------new mexico, temperature of, 207. santa margarita river, 11. santa miguel, 2. santa monica, 3. ------description of, 76. ------irrigation at, 134. santa rosa, 2, 140. santa ynes, 4, 72. santiago, 46. ------cañon, 134. san tomas mission, 60. savannah, 216. sea-lions, 30, 161. seasons, 6, 10, 37, 38, 43, 65, 66, 81. ---description of the, 65, 66. ---van dyke on the, 202-206. _sequoia semper virens_, 157. _sequoias gigantea_, 157, 158. serra, father junipero, 24. serrano, don antonio, 61, 62. sheavwitz plateau, 178. sheep, 12, 206. shiva's temple, 195. shooting-star, 203. sicily, 18, 69. sierra madre, 4, 15, 37, 42, 46, 71, 94, 114, 118. ------villa, 130. sierra nevada, 2, 3. sierras, 153, 161. signal service observer, 207. silene, 204. smith, f. d., 212-215. ---f. m., 212. ---t. d., 214. smithsonian institution, 59. snap-dragon, 205. sorrel, 204. sorrento, 132. southern california, 2-4, 16. ------climate of, 29, 38, 45, 55, 56, 59, 62, 130. ------commerce of, 18. ------compared to italy, 46. ------counties of, 16. ------history of, 24, 25. ------"our italy," 18, 46. ------pride of nations, the, 26. ------rainy seasons in. (see rain.) ------rapid growth of fruits in, 115. ------recreations of, 69-71. ------temperature of, 43, 133. (see temperature.) ---italy, 69, 147. ---pacific railroad, 149. ---utah, 177. south pasadena, 213, 214. ---riverside, 217. spain, 149. spalding, w. a., 212, 215. spanish adventurers, 24, 30. spruce-pine, 182. st. augustine, florida, temperature of, 207. st. michael, azores, temperature of, 207. st. paul, minnesota, temperature of, 207. state commission, 156. stewart, james, 217. stone, 142. strawberries, 10. ---prices and profits of, 214. stub, c. c., 216. sugar-pine, 150, 157. sumach, 205. sunset mountain, 185. sweetbrier, 206. sweetwater dam, 144. switzerland, 149. sycamore, 79, 134. table mountain, 33. tangier, 45. temperature, 4, 5, 29, 37, 38. temperature compared to european, 45. ---discussed, 43, 45. ---of coronado beach, 87. ---of los angeles, 44, 207, 210, 211. ---of monterey, 72. ---of pasadena, 13, 207. ---of pomona, 44. ---of san bernardino, 6, 33, 44, 46, 210, 211. ---of san diego, 30, 44, 49, 50, 210, 211. ---of santa barbara, 29, 44, 207. ---relation of, to health, 201. ---statistics, 44, 45, 72. ---statistics compared, 207, 208, 210, 211. ---van dyke on, 50. temecula cañon, 140. temescal cañon, 217. the rockies, 10. thistle, 205. thompson, e. r., 211. tia juana river, 11, 30, 145. tiger-lily, 206. tin, 217. tomatoes--prices and profits of, 216. töplitz waters, 163. toroweap valley, 182. trees, 48, 69, 130, 134, 138, 147, 156, 198. ---description of, 150, 156-161. ---region of mariposa big, 156. tulip, 204. tustin city, 134. ubach, father a. d., 59, 60, 62. uinkaret plateau, 178. umbrella-tree, 69, 184. university heights, 80, 81. utah, 177, 178, 199. vail, hugh d., 209. van dyke, theodore s., 4, 140, 202. ---on climate, 6, 78. ---on floral procession and seasons, 202-206. ---on growth in population, 145. ---on irrigation, 102, 103. ---on temperature, 50. van dyke, theodore s., on winds, 8, 203. vedolia cardinalis (australian lady-bug), 129. vegetables, 112, 216. ventura, 16, 137. vermilion cliffs, 178. vernon, 213, 215. ---jacob, 216. vesuvius, 33. vetch, 203. vines, 20, 23-25, 67, 79, 91, 107, 123, 128, 144, 147. violets, 203. visalia, california, temperature of, 207. vishnu's temple, 196. vulcan's throne, 196. wages, "boom," 109. walnut creek cañon, 183. walnuts, 14, 19, 115. ---prices and profits of, 215. water, 186. ---how measured, 98. ---price of, 97, 98. watermelons--prices and profits of, 216. wawona, 150. wells, 186. wheat, 2, 5, 14, 25, 138. ---affected by irrigation, 100. white cliffs, 178. wild oats, 202. williams, 182. willow, 134. winder, dr. w. a., on longevity, 56. winds, 4, 6, 8, 29, 30, 38, 47, 70, 78, 123, 184, 203. ---relation of, to health, 201. ---van dyke on, 8, 203. wine, 20, 92, 93, 107, 136, 137. winkler, mrs., 215. wood, p. k., 216. yosemite, 150, 153, 154, 161, 197. ---description of, 149-156. yucca, 205. zuñis, 165. the end. by charles dudley warner. as we were saying. with portrait, and illustrated by h. w. macvickar and others. 16mo, cloth, ornamental, $1 00. mr. warner is both wise and witty, and in his charming style he follows a model of his own.--_boston traveller._ mr. warner has such a fine fancy, such a clever way of looking at the things that interest everybody, such a genial humor, that one never tires of him or the children of his pen.--_cincinnati commercial-gazette._ our italy. an exposition of the climate and resources of southern california. illustrated. 8vo, cloth, ornamental, $2 50. in this book are a little history, a little prophecy, a few fascinating statistics, many interesting facts, much practical suggestion, and abundant humor and charm.--_evangelist_, n. y. it is a book of solid value, such as a clear-headed business man will appreciate, yet it is such a book as only an accomplished man of letters could write. we commend it to all who wish further knowledge of a region too little known by americans.--_examiner_, n. y. a little journey in the world. a novel. post 8vo, half leather, uncut edges and gilt top, $1 50. a powerful picture of modern life in which unscrupulously acquired capital is the chief agent.... mr. warner has depicted this phase of society with real power, and there are passages in his work which are a nearer approach to thackeray than we have had from any american author.--_boston post._ the vigor and vividness of the tale and its sustained interest are not its only or its chief merits. it is a study of american life of to-day, possessed with shrewd insight and fidelity.--george william curtis. studies in the south and west. with comments on canada. post 8vo, half leather, uncut edges and gilt top, $1 75. a witty, instructive book, as brilliant in its pictures as it is warm in its kindness; and we feel sure that it is with a patriotic impulse that we say that we shall be glad to learn that the number of its readers bears some proportion to its merits and its power for good.--_n. y. commercial advertiser._ a book most charming--a book that no american can fail to enjoy, appreciate, and highly prize.--_boston traveller._ their pilgrimage. richly illustrated by c. s. reinhart. post 8vo, half leather, uncut edges and gilt top, $2 00. mr. warner's pen-pictures of the characters typical of each resort, of the manner of life followed at each, of the humor and absurdities peculiar to saratoga, or newport, or bar harbor, as the case may be, are as good-natured as they are clever. the satire, when there is any, is of the mildest, and the general tone is that of one glad to look on the brightest side of the cheerful, pleasure-seeking world.--_christian union_, n. y. published by harper & brothers, new york. _any of the above works sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the united states, canada, or mexico, on receipt of the price._ nordhoff's california. peninsular california. some account of the climate, soil, productions, and present condition chiefly of the northern half of lower california. by charles nordhoff. maps and illustrations. square 8vo, cloth, $1 00; paper, 75 cents. mr. nordhoff has known the region he describes for many years, and is a skilful writer as well as careful observer.--_hartford courant._ the author frankly writes as an advocate, but, so far as our knowledge goes, with scrupulous fairness.--_n. y. evening post._ mr. nordhoff supplies copious appendices, giving tables of temperature, rainfall and other meteorological facts of much interest. his book is interesting, valuable, and timely.--_epoch_, n. y. the reading of this volume has been of special personal pleasure to us, and we doubt not that others will enjoy it too.--_michigan christian advocate._ the book is one that those who read merely for information will find interesting and instructive, while there are doubtless many by whom its economical representations will be accepted in the way that mr. nordhoff evidently hopes that they will be.--_philadelphia telegraph._ this opportune little volume will do much to enlighten us as to its real character, an enlightenment of a most practical kind.--_geographical news._ mr. charles nordhoff has added considerably to our knowledge of a country singularly neglected.--_n. y. sun._ mr. nordhoff's book is as good as a trip to the place.--_philadelphia american._ his book is historical, descriptive, and practical, containing information about land-titles and other matters such as settlers and investors will find most useful.--_cincinnati times._ there is hardly a question that one contemplating purchase or residence there would wish to ask that is not answered in this book, while to all it furnishes interesting and no doubt authentic information concerning a remarkable region, of which not much has been generally known heretofore.--_christian intelligencer_, n. y. mr. nordhoff has personally explored and studied the region and become an owner of property in it, and he may be regarded as fully qualified to speak of what it is and promises to be. much interesting and valuable information is contained in mr. nordhoff's work.--_brooklyn union._ those who remember what a good prophet mr. nordhoff proved himself to be by his book on "california," issued some sixteen years ago, will read this volume with especial attention.--_louisville courier-journal._ mr. nordhoff's book is not a traveller's sketch, but an exhaustive study of the country, its rulers, its products, and its inhabitants.--_boston commercial bulletin._ a valuable contribution to the fund of general information concerning the "golden state."--_washington post._ the information which he gives respecting the resources of the country and its progress in late years is not only interesting, but also of practical value to tourists, as well as for those who contemplate settlement.--_lutheran observer_, philadelphia. we commend the work to all persons who would like to have information about this beautiful and fruitful land.--_christian observer_, louisville. mr. nordhoff has for many years been familiar with the country, and the information he furnishes concerning its climate and the advantages it offers to settlers is unquestionably trustworthy.--_saturday evening gazette_, boston. published by harper & brothers, new york. _the above work will be sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the united states, canada, or mexico, on receipt of price._ valuable works of travel and adventure. the capitals of spanish america. the capitals of spanish america. by william eleroy curtis, late commissioner from the united states to the governments of central and south america. with a colored map and 358 illustrations. 8vo, cloth, extra, $3 50. charnay's ancient cities of the new world. the ancient cities of the new world: being voyages and explorations in mexico and central america, from 1857 to 1882. by désiré charnay. translated from the french by j. gonino and helen s. conant. introduction by allen thorndike rice. 209 illustrations and a map. royal 8vo, ornamental cloth, uncut edges, gilt top, $6 00. hearn's west indies. two years in the french west indies. by lafcadio hearn. copiously illustrated. post 8vo, cloth, ornamental, $2 00. warner's south and west. studies in the south and west, with comments on canada. by charles dudley warner, author of "their pilgrimage," &c. post 8vo, half leather, $1 75. cesnola's cyprus. cyprus: its ancient cities, tombs, and temples. a narrative of researches and excavations during ten years' residence in that island. by general louis palma di cesnola, member of the royal academy of sciences, turin; hon. member of the royal society of literature, london, &c. with maps and illustrations. 8vo, cloth, gilt tops and uncut edges, $7 50; half calf, $10 00. bishop's mexico, california, and arizona. being a new and revised edition of "old mexico and her lost provinces." by william henry bishop. with numerous illustrations. 12mo, cloth, $2 00. wallace's malay archipelago. the malay archipelago: the land of the orang-utan and the bird of paradise. a narrative of travel, 1854-62. with studies of man and nature. by alfred russel wallace. with maps and numerous illustrations. new edition. crown 8vo, cloth, $2 50. wallace's geographical distribution of animals. the geographical distribution of animals. with a study of the relations of living and extinct faunas, as elucidating the past changes of the earth's surface. by alfred russel wallace. with colored maps and numerous illustrations by zwecker. 2 vols., 8vo, cloth, $1 00. stanley's congo, and the founding of its free state. a story of work and exploration. by henry m. stanley. dedicated by special permission to h. m. the king of the belgians. in 2 vols., 8vo, cloth, with over one hundred full-page and smaller illustrations, two large maps, and several smaller ones. cloth, $7 50; sheep, $9 50; half morocco, $12 00. stanley's through the dark continent. through the dark continent; or, the sources of the nile, around the great lakes of equatorial africa, and down the livingstone river to the atlantic ocean. by henry m. stanley. with 149 illustrations and 10 maps. 2 vols., 8vo, cloth, $7 50; sheep, $9 50, half morocco, $12 00. stanley's coomassie and magdala. coomassie and magdala: a story of two british campaigns in africa. by henry m. stanley. with maps and illustrations. 8vo, cloth, $3 50. livingstone's last journals. the last journals of david livingstone, in central africa, from 1865 to his death. continued by a narrative of his last moments and sufferings, obtained from his faithful servants chuma and susi. by horace waller, f.r.g.s. with maps and illustrations. 8vo, cloth, $5 00; sheep, $6 00; half calf, $7 25. livingstone's expedition to the zambesi. narrative of an expedition to the zambesi and its tributaries; and of the discovery of the lakes shirwa and nyassa. 1858-1864. by david and charles livingstone. with maps and illustrations. 8vo, cloth, $5 00; sheep, $5 50. long's central africa. central africa: naked truths of naked people. an account of expeditions to the lake victoria nyanza and the makraka niam-niam, west of the bahr-el-abiad (white nile). by col. c. chaillé long of the egyptian staff. illustrated from col. long's own sketches. with map. 8vo, cloth, $2 50. du chaillu's equatorial africa. adventures in the great forest of equatorial africa, and the country of the dwarfs. by paul b. du chaillu. _abridged and popular edition._ with map and illustrations. post 8vo, cloth, $1 75. du chaillu's ashango-land. a journey to ashango-land, and further penetration into equatorial africa. by paul b. du chaillu. illustrated. 8vo, cloth, $5 00; sheep, $5 50; half calf, $7 25. du chaillu's land of the midnight sun. the land of the midnight sun. summer and winter journeys through sweden, norway, lapland, and northern finland. by paul b. du chaillu. with map and 235 illustrations. in two volumes. 8vo, cloth, $7 50; half calf, $12 00. thomson's voyage of the "challenger." the voyage of the "challenger." _the atlantic_: an account of the general results of the voyage during the year 1873 and the early part of the year 1876. by sir c. wyville thomson, f.r.s. with a portrait of the author, many colored maps, and illustrations. 2 vols., 8vo, cloth, $12 00. thomson's southern palestine and jerusalem. the land and the book: southern palestine and jerusalem. by william m. thomson, d.d., forty-five years a missionary in syria and palestine. 140 illustrations and maps. square 8vo, cloth, $6 00; sheep, $7 00; half morocco, $8 50; full morocco, gilt edges, $10 00. thomson's central palestine and phoenicia. the land and the book: central palestine and phoenicia. by william m. thomson, d.d. 180 illustrations and maps. square 8vo, cloth, $6 00; sheep, $7 00; half morocco, $8 50; full morocco, gilt edges, $10 00. thomson's lebanon, damascus, and beyond jordan. the land and the book: lebanon, damascus, and beyond jordan. by william m. thomson, d.d. 147 illustrations and maps. square 8vo, cloth, $6 00; sheep, $7 00; half morocco, $8 50; full morocco, gilt edges, $10 00. the land and the book. (_popular edition._) comprising the above three volumes. square 8vo, cloth, $9 00. (_sold in sets only._) bridgman's algeria. winters in algeria. written and illustrated by frederick arthur bridgman. square 8vo, cloth, ornamental, $2 50. pennells' hebrides. our journey to the hebrides. by joseph pennell and elizabeth robins pennell. illustrated. post 8vo, cloth, ornamental. $1 75. shoshone, and other western wonders. by edwards roberts. with a preface by charles francis adams. illustrated. pp. xvi., 276. post 8vo, cloth, $1 00; paper, 75 cents. schweinfurth's heart of africa. the heart of africa; or, three years' travels and adventures in the unexplored regions of the centre of africa. from 1868 to 1871. by dr. georg schweinfurth. translated by ellen e. frewer. with an introduction by winwood reade. illustrated by about 130 wood-cuts from drawings made by the author, and with two maps. 2 vols., 8vo, cloth, $8 00. speke's africa. journal of the discovery of the source of the nile. by john hanning speke, captain h. m. indian army, fellow and gold medalist of the royal geographical society, hon. corresponding member and gold medalist of the french geographical society, &c. with maps and portraits and numerous illustrations, chiefly from drawings by captain grant. 8vo, cloth, $4 00; sheep, $4 50. baker's ismailïa. ismailïa: a narrative of the expedition to central africa for the suppression of the slave-trade, organized by ismail, khedive of egypt. by sir samuel white baker, pasha, m.a., f.r.s., f.r.g.s., major-general of the ottoman empire, late governor-general of the equatorial nile basin, &c., &c. with maps, portraits, and upwards of fifty full-page illustrations by zwecker and durand. 8vo, cloth, $5 00; half calf, $7 25. [illustration: "may i come aboard your vessel?"] el diablo _by_ brayton norton illustrated by dan sayre groesbeck indianapolis the bobbs-merrill company publishers copyright 1921 sunset magazine, inc. copyright 1921 the bobbs-merrill company _printed in the united states of america_ press of braunworth & co. book manufacturers brooklyn, n.y. _to_ my wife "sterling" contents chapter page i forbidden waters 1 ii jetsam of the sea 10 iii tangled threads 18 iv the work of their fathers 30 v the way of the gull 48 vi the law of the fishermen 63 vii you'll have to show me 72 viii a declaration of independence 77 ix diablo luck 83 x salvage 93 xi refusing to be bluffed 105 xii a warning 118 xiii the strike 133 xiv the mother of invention 145 xv business and pleasure 160 xvi the baited pawn 169 xvii the fangs of mascola 180 xviii the cost of defeat 186 xix rock follows up 196 xx plans for a show-down 211 xxi the gray ghost 222 xxii strictly on the defensive 237 xxiii battle of northwest harbor 245 xxiv a fighting chance 253 xxv the banker at the helm 264 xxvi the value of publicity 280 xxvii to solve the mystery 291 xxviii the island's prisoner 304 xxix under orders 315 xxx the fight in the cave 325 xxxi beneath the waters 340 xxxii for all the world to know 352 el diablo chapter i forbidden waters richard gregory stirred restlessly in his sleep vaguely aware of an unfamiliar sound, a faint tapping, insistent, disturbing. he wakened sharply and sat bolt upright, conscious of the fact that he was fully dressed. then he remembered. "all right, bill," he called softly. "coming." it took but a minute to shove his automatic into his pocket and secure his rifle from the corner. groping his way to the door he stood shivering on the threshold, staring into the thick gray fog which enveloped him. a hand touched his shoulder. strong fingers tightened on his arm. "this way," a low voice directed. "careful, don't scuff." gregory started to speak but a warning pressure of the big fingers restrained him. his companion led the way. he followed in silence. through the winding streets of the little fishing village they went, the familiar landmarks about them looming grotesque and mystical in the low-hanging fog. at length the acrid air of the sea assailed their nostrils and the silence of the night was broken by the noisy splashing of a marsh-loon. bill lang stopped suddenly. faintly through the gray void came the muffled gulping of an under-water exhaust. huddled together they stood listening. to richard gregory the sound indicated only the slow approach of a motor-boat. to the trained ear of the fisherman it meant that mexican joe was on time with the _sea gull_. lang led on down the loosely boarded wharf piled high with ill-smelling fish-boxes and paused at the head of a narrow gangway, looking back, listening. close by the dock gregory discerned the outline of a fishing-boat, magnified by the fog into whimsical proportions. descending cautiously, he followed lang aboard and groped his way into the protecting shelter of the engine-house. the cold mist clung to his flesh and he drew his coat closer about him. the soft breathing of the heavy-duty motor became more pronounced, more labored. the clutch was in. they were backing out into the stream. he glanced above him at the stay where the starboard side-lamp hung. but the grayness was unbroken by a single ray of green. lang was running dark. it was taking a long chance on such a night as this, gregory reflected. but then the whole business was a long chance. and lang knew his business. imbued with a fisherman's sixth sense of feeling his way along familiar channels rendered unfamiliar by fog, bill lang piloted his craft skilfully down the silent bay in the direction of the open sea. crouching in the bow, mexican joe sought with cat-like eyes to pierce the gray veil of blinding fog. narrowly averting collision with unlighted harbor-boats, bumping at times over sandy shoals, plowing through grass-grown mud-flats and skirting dangerous reefs with only the smallest margin of safety, they came at last to the jettied outlet of crescent bay. the roar of the breakers sounded ominously close through the gray canopy of fog. the little craft rocked briskly in the trough of the swell as lang threw the wheel over and headed out to sea. flashing a small light over the compass, which served as an improvised binnacle, he peered intently at the instrument. then he spoke softly to the man forward. "take the wheel, joe." when the mexican had relieved him lang bent low over the compass and examined his watch. then he joined gregory. "twelve o'clock," he announced. "we've got to make diablo before daybreak. sixty-five miles in less than four hours. that means hurry in weather like this." he turned to the man at the wheel. "crowd her, joe," he called. "we're taking chances to-night. if we hit anybody we might as well hit hard." "do you think we got out without being seen?" lang shook his head sagely in the darkness. "not much of a chance," he answered after a moment. "couldn't have had a better night, though. but it's mighty hard to slip anything over on the dago. if the fog would lift up it would be even shootin' you'd see one of mascola's outfit trailin' us astern. we've got him nervous, i tell you." "it's high time they were getting nervous," gregory rejoined. "when they try to browbeat american fishermen off the high seas and coastal waters it's time somebody was getting nervous." he was silent for a moment and lang as usual only grunted his assent. then gregory went on: "but there's something else that's making them nervous, lang. something they are doing around that devil-island. what kinds of laws they're breaking out there nobody knows. they may be doing anything from shooting fish to catching chicken-halibut or baby barracuda. we don't know what. but we do know they're mighty touchy on who cruises round el diablo. when our boats get around that infernal island something always happens. you know that." lang's grunt was emphatic and gregory concluded: "that's why it's up to us to find out what it is. it's hard enough to get the fish as it is without mascola staking out the water like he owned it and telling us to keep out." for some time the two men leaned together against the engine-house, each keeping his own counsel, each busied with his own thoughts. then gregory spoke: "if anything happens to me to-night, lang, keep all this business to yourself until my son comes home. tell him. no one else. we want to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves without any one else butting in to bungle the job. do you understand?" when lang had gone to relieve the mexican at the wheel richard gregory's thoughts turned to his son overseas. should he have waited until his return? he wondered. it was a young man's work, such a job as this,--and yet,--no, it was better to get to the bottom of the thing to-night. his head sank lower on his breast. perhaps he could snatch a few winks of sleep. he might need it. the muffled rattle of the anchor-chain caused him to waken sharply, stiff with cold. the motor was silent. the launch rocked lazily. through a rift in the fog he saw a rocky beach only a stone's throw away. they were anchored close by the shore. "hell-hole," announced lang in a whisper. gregory picked up his rifle. for a moment the big fisherman by his side hesitated. then he said: "why not stay on the _gull_, mr. gregory? let joe go ashore with me." "no." the answer was decisive. there were no explanations. lang knew it was final. assisted by the mexican, he swung the dory free and lowered it quietly into the water. helping gregory into the small boat he turned to the mexican and spoke rapidly in spanish. gregory could catch only the substance of a few sentences. lang was telling joe to stand by for a quick get-away. to watch the beach and start the anchor when he saw them coming. and above all he was to keep quiet. the bow of the dory grated on the beach. the two men stepped out and without a backward glance slowly disappeared into the fog. huddled in the bow, mexican joe waited by the anchor-chain, his eyes searching the little cove. for a long time he sat thus, not even daring to light a cigarette. once his straining ears caught the muffled exhaust of a motor-launch. it came very close but the fog guarded him well and he heard it pass on. what the two men were doing upon the island concerned mexican joe not at all. the devil-isle was filled with secrets. why should he try to fathom them? he was paid to obey and señor lang had twice saved his life. a sound from the shore caused joe to struggle to his feet and begin hauling on the chain. then he looked again, stopped and straightened up. there were three men coming along the beach, four,--five. joe dropped behind the rail and watched them climb over the rocks and halt by the empty dory. then he heard the sound of low voices in a foreign tongue, and shivered. the voices of the men on the beach grew fainter. they were minutely examining the dory. one lifted his arm and pointed seaward in the direction of the _sea gull_. the mexican crept to his sawed-off shotgun loaded with buck-shot. securing the weapon he made his way again to the bow and waited. the rock-bound cove was silent. the dory was still on the beach. but the men were gone. at length came the rattle of loose stones mingled with the sound of low-pitched voices. _gracious a dios_. it was señor lang and señor gregory. joe's hand leaped to the anchor-chain. there would be need to hurry. he tugged hard at the heavy cable, then he stopped, straightened and screamed a warning. gregory and lang whirled about only a few feet from the dory. from the shadowed crevices in the rocks, men leaped forward and hurled themselves to the beach. about the skiff bright jets of flame cut the fog. came the sharp report of an automatic, twice,--three times. mexican joe watched the unequal struggle, huddled against the rail. his eyes brightened with fear. twice he raised his gun, but his hand shook. at the distance the shot would scatter. there would be no use. he saw the two men fight their way to the dory. saw lang reach it, shove it into the water. the señor was safe. _gracious a dios_. but no, he was going back for señor gregory. _sangre de christo_, they would all be killed. the fog thickened. the struggling forms merged, grotesquely intermingled and became indistinct. from behind the gray curtain came the sound of heavy blows, muttered imprecations, groans. joe waited for the veil to lift, staring with straining eyes, cursing softly. _los señores_ were being murdered before his eyes and he could do nothing. through a rift in the fog he saw gregory with his back to the cliff fighting back the savage horde which were pressing hard upon him. he was using his rifle as a club. the men were falling away from him. lang had cleared the way to the skiff; was almost at his companion's side. from the overhanging ledge above, two dark figures leaped suddenly upon the man beneath, wrenching his gun from his hand, crushing him to the sand. lang fell upon the group of struggling figures, fighting like a madman. then he staggered, dropped to his knees and went down before the onslaught. again the gray pall drifted down from the tall crags above and blotted out the scene. joe staggered to his feet, grasping the wire-stays for support. then he stiffened and stood listening. the muffled purr of a high-powered motor disturbed the silence. from out the gloom to starboard he saw the bow of a big motor-boat cut the fog. the mexican shrieked a warning and tightened his clutch on the stays. the strange craft veered, the sharp bow swung over. with wide-open engines, she struck the _sea gull_ amidships, full on the beam. hurled to the deck by the impact the mexican heard the snapping and grinding of timbers. he was conscious of falling and the cool rush of waters about his head. then he remembered no more. wrapped in a clinging mantle of filmy fog, rock-bound, grim and mysterious, the island of el diablo frowned at the sea from behind the veil of silence. brave men had sought to fathom her secret but she had guarded it well. chapter ii jetsam of the sea john blair was worried. every line of his face, every movement of his nervous body showed it. he turned quickly to the bare-footed fisherman who blocked the doorway. "you combed the beach, you say? how far?" "san lucas to port angeles." "no signs of wreckage; nothing?" the fisherman shook his head. blair was silent for a moment. then he asked: "how far out to sea did you go?" "about three miles, 'dog-face' jones's workin' out san anselmo way. big jack left last night for diablo." blair started. "diablo," he repeated. "they surely wouldn't have gone out there." before the fisherman could reply there came an interruption. the door opened quickly and a young man strode into the room. "mr. gregory? is he in?" blair looked up quickly at the sound of the voice and ran his eyes over the clean-cut figure in the serge uniform. the impression, hastily formed, of having met the man before, was strengthened by the roving black eyes which were expectantly traveling about the room. "this is the legonia fish cannery, isn't it?" blair nodded. "yes," he said. "but mr. gregory is not here at present." "when will he be in?" the words came eagerly with the brusk assurance of an immediate answer. the crisp insistence had a decidedly familiar sound. blair regarded the clean-cut face of the young officer intently as he answered: "i don't know. will you call again or leave your name?" "i am mr. gregory's son." blair came to meet him with outstretched hands. "i might have known it," he said. "i am mr. blair, your father's manager. i'm glad to meet you. your father did not expect you so soon, did he?" the young man shook his head and smiled. "no," he answered. "dad thinks i'm still on the other side. i wanted to surprise him. i wrote a letter saying i would be home as soon as possible. i mailed the letter on the ship which brought me over." a boyish look crept into his eyes. "don't let on when dad comes back that you've seen me, will you, mr. blair? i have to go back to camp to-night and arrange about my discharge. it may be a week before i can be back." the black eyes grew suddenly wistful. "say, mr. blair, don't you think there's a chance of my seeing dad before i leave? i have until five o'clock to get my train." blair was unable to meet the steady gaze of his employer's son. should he tell the boy of his father's strange absence? voice his own fears and suspicions for the safety of gregory, sr.? by the time the young man returned the mystery might be solved. at least they would know something. "what is wrong, mr. blair?" the question was volleyed with quiet insistence. it demanded an answer. the boy would not be put off. he was his father's son. blair sought to put the matter in as favorable a light as possible under the circumstances. in a few words he told of the disappearance of richard gregory. kenneth gregory listened quietly, at times interrupting with rapid-fire questions. "when was he last seen?" "three days ago." "you knew nothing of his plans?" "nothing definite," blair evaded. "he might have gone out with the fishermen scouting for albacore. one of lang's boats turned up missing the next morning. lang himself is missing, too." "who is lang?" "your father's fishing captain. he recently bought him a number of new boats. they might have gone to try one of them out." "nothing has been heard of them since?" "not yet. you see it has been very foggy lately all along the coast. that has handicapped our search." "where can i get a boat?" blair shook his head. then he came closer and put his hand on kenneth gregory's arm. "all of the lang boats are out now, captain. everything is being done, i can assure you. it would be no use." "are there no other boats here than lang's?" "only the alien fleet." the man in uniform whirled about decisively. "then i'll get one of them. will you show me where they are?" "it would be no use. they wouldn't go. you see----" "let's try." with some reluctance blair consented. "we haven't been getting along any too well with mascola's outfit lately," he explained as they walked along. "i'll stop at lang's wharf first. maybe some of the boats are back." turning on to a small wharf they walked in silence over the loose boards down the lane of ill-smelling fish-boxes. at the end of the dock a narrow gangway led downward to a small float which rocked lazily in the capping swells thrown up by a passing fishing-boat. close by, another wharf jutted out into the bay. upon it were a number of swarthy fishermen, piling nets. blair stopped abruptly at the head of the gangway, his eyes searching the water. the fishing-boat was swinging up into the tide and edging closer. "is that one of the lang boats?" he heard gregory ask. a paroxysm of coughing prevented blair's immediate reply. the young officer looked eagerly at the approaching craft, upon the bow of which a dark-skinned man leaned carelessly against the wire-stays. he noticed that the man was tall and straight. upon his head a gaudy red cap rested with a rakish air. his eyes were upon the lang dock as he stood with folded arms and waited for the boat to nose up to the near-by wharf. gregory admitted to himself that there was something masterful about the red-capped stranger, at the same time, repellent. the crowd of aliens moreover, he noticed, fell away respectfully. the newcomer was evidently a personage in the community. gregory, watching him as he stepped from the launch, instinctively disliked him. "that's mascola." blair bit the words savagely. gregory surveyed the newcomer with interest. "he has a boat," he said. "let's go over and get it." blair put out a restraining hand. "there would be no use," he said. "mascola wouldn't let us have that boat to save our lives." gregory was already on his way to the italian dock. blair started to overtake him. then he glanced down the bay and his face brightened. "wait," he called. "here comes one of lang's boats now. perhaps they will know something." with the approach of the second fishing-boat came a crowd of curious fishing folk of all nationalities. men, women and children clustered about the dock, imbued with a lust for excitement and a morbid desire to learn the worst from the latest mystery of the sea. all eyes were held by the fishing-boat as it swung about and drew near the float. blair shoved his way through the crowd and led gregory down the gangway. upon the covered hatch of the launch blair's eye caught sight of two rolls of canvas, fashioned bundle-like. nets most likely. he looked eagerly at the fishermen aboard the incoming craft. their faces caused him to look again at the canvas bundles. then he turned quickly to the man by his side. "why not wait on the wharf until they come up?" he asked in a low voice in which he strove to conceal his agitation. kenneth gregory shook his head. he too had noticed the bundles on the hatch. in silence the launch tied up to the fleet. in silence two bare-footed fishermen lifted one of the bundles and carrying it carefully between them, stepped out upon the gently rocking float. the salt-stiffened canvas unrolled as the men laid their burden down, exposing the body of a huge fisherman. his face was battered and bruised and gregory noticed that his hair was red. blair's hand on gregory's arm tightened. "good god!" he exclaimed. "it's lang." kenneth gregory looked down into the face of the big fisherman. then he remembered the other bundle. blair sought to deter him. but he was too late to check the onward rush of the young man across the float. already he was boarding the boat. blair watched him raise the flap of canvas. saw his eyes searching the folds beneath. at length came voices. a man was speaking. "found them off diablo. went on the rocks at hell-hole in the fog. boat was smashed. bu'sted clean in two." gregory scarcely heard them as he knelt on the hatch looking down into the face of the one he had traveled seven thousand miles to see. blair led him away. as the little procession moved silently down the dock the crowd parted respectfully. eyes that were hard, softened. fishermen took off their hats, holding them awkwardly in their red hands. fisherwomen looked down at the rough boards and crossed themselves devoutly. the cortège passed on. turning from the dock they threaded their way down the narrow street leading to the town. as they neared the alien docks, the dusky fishermen uncovered and drew together, awed by the presence of the great shadow. gregory's arm brushed against a man leaning carelessly against the wharf-rail. raising his eyes from the ground, he beheld the one man of all the villagers who had remained unmoved, unsoftened by the spectacle. with his red cap shoved back upon his shining black hair the insolent stranger stood looking on with folded arms. gregory noticed that mascola had not even taken the trouble to remove the cigarette which hung damply from his lips. for an instant the two men looked deep into each other's eyes. then the procession passed on. chapter iii tangled threads the death of his father hurled kenneth gregory into a new world--a world of unfamiliar faces, of strange standards of value, of vastly different problems--the world of business. kenneth gregory had taken this world as he found it. there had been no time to moralize upon the situation into which the spinning of the wheel had plunged him. there was work to do. securing his discharge from the army he had turned to the task of settling up his father's estate. the fact that he was the sole heir and legal executor simplified matters. but there were complications. these he had unraveled with the aid of farnsworth, the attorney for the estate. then he had come to legonia and found plenty to do. blair, the former manager of the legonia fish cannery, had suffered an attack of pneumonia and was ill at a neighboring sanitarium. from him he could therefore learn nothing. the books of the company told him but little more. now he was going over the private papers in his father's office. "are you the boss?" kenneth gregory turned from his perusal of a file of letters and faced a young man standing in the doorway. gregory nodded. "i'm the owner," he replied pleasantly, noting the well-worn, much-patched service uniform of the stranger. "and for the time being, boss. my manager is sick. is there anything i can do for you?" "yes. you can give me a job." gregory smiled at the frankness of the answer. "i might at that," he said. "can you speak russian or italian?" the ex-soldier shook his head as gregory went on: "what i need more than anything else just now is an interpreter. i have a lot of foreigners working outside cleaning up. i've been having to make signs to them all morning." the soldier's brow wrinkled. "that's what they told me of this place in centerville," he said. "they said i was only wasting shoe-leather to come down here. that it was no place for an american." "maybe they're right," gregory cut in. then he added: "however, we may be able to change things. what can you do?" the youth's face assumed a more cheerful expression. "i'm a mechanic by trade," he answered. "i'll do anything right now." "know anything about marine motors?" "two or four cycle?" gregory pondered. 'twas best to be on the safe side. "both," he answered. the soldier shook his head. "you'll have to count me out on the two cycles," he said. "those little peanut-roasters and coffee-grinders are new to me. never had any experience with anything much but unions and standards. that's what most of the fishermen have in their boats." gregory's face cleared. "i may be able to take you on. i have a lot of motors which will need looking after before long. in the meantime if you want to go to work cleaning up the house, you can start any time you're ready. what do you say?" "i'll say you've hired a man. my name's barnes." gregory extended his hand. "and mine is gregory. when do you want to go to work?" "right away." together the two men went out into the fish-laden atmosphere of the cannery. walking down the aisles, flanked on both sides by huge vats and silent conveyers, they came upon a number of dark-skinned laborers whiling away the time with a scant pretense of work. stung into a semblance of action by the sudden appearance of the boss, the men abruptly postponed their conversation and tardily plied their scrubbing brooms, meanwhile eying the newcomer with frank disapproval. leaving barnes with the injunction to keep an eye on the men and, if possible, induce them to speed up, gregory returned to his work. passing through the outer office where he had met mr. blair upon the day of his arrival from overseas, he entered the little room which richard gregory had used for a private office. opening a small safe which stood in a corner, he resumed his examination of his father's papers. in a vague sort of way he regarded his legacy of the legonia fish cannery as a trust. in the atmosphere of this room this feeling was always enhanced, the trust more sacred. here richard gregory had worked, planned, worried. every detail of the room spoke eloquently from father to son. here was begun an unfinished work. richard gregory had believed in it; had given his life to it. farnsworth had said that the business had never paid. that his client had purchased it directly against his advice and had continued to throw good money after bad ever since. the lawyer advised selling at the first good opportunity. kenneth gregory absolutely refused to believe that his father had failed. the business had not prospered. that was true. but doubtless there were good and sufficient reasons. he continued his examination of the contents of the safe, methodically going through the various compartments and making notes concerning the papers found therein. at length he came to a memorandum which held his attention. it was the agreement his father had made with lang to purchase ten fully-equipped fishing-boats for the fisherman. gregory studied the penciled notes. his father had reposed untold confidence in lang's integrity. so much was shown by the loose phraseology of the document and the extreme latitude given the fisherman in compliance with its terms. that this confidence had evidently not been misplaced, was evidenced by the promptness with which lang met the payments as they fell due. farnsworth, gregory remembered, had regarded the chattel mortgage on lang's boats and equipment as a most doubtful asset. if lang had left a son the old lawyer had maintained, who would be competent to go on with his father's work, the situation would have appeared in a more favorable light. but lang had left no son. only a daughter. and, to quote the reputable farnsworth, what chance would any man stand of getting anything out of a woman on a loosely drawn contract like that? figure it profit and loss, my boy, he had concluded bruskly. like farnsworth, gregory too wished that lang had left a son. it would be easier dealing with a man, competent or incompetent, than a woman. well, he would say nothing to the girl for the time being at least. she had had enough to bear in the loss of her father. that much he could swear to. when she had defaulted the next payment he would make her a proposition to buy her boats. fishing was no business for a girl anyway. he glanced at the schedule of dates arranged by lang and his father for making the payments and turned to the calendar. one of them was already past due. five hundred dollars should have been paid the week before. so intent was gregory upon his study of the contract that he failed to hear the opening of the outer office door. his first intimation of the presence of a visitor came with a sharp knock upon his half-open door. "come in," he called. a wind-bronzed fisherman stood upon the threshold, dangling a red cap in his hand. he bowed gracefully and smiled. "you are mr. gregory?" gregory nodded, trying to remember where he had seen the man before. suddenly he remembered. it was on the day his father's body had been brought in. near the alien wharf a man had jostled against him. a man with a bright red cap, smoking a cigarette. "i am mascola." the visitor spoke the words slowly as if anxious that none of the importance of the introduction might be lost or passed over lightly. gregory looked mascola over carefully. the man's carelessness and seeming irreverence on that never-to-be-forgotten day might not have been intentional. he must not allow his prejudice to interfere with his judgment. that was not business. he resolved to hear what the man had to say. "what do you want?" he asked bluntly. mascola walked unbidden to a chair and seated himself before replying: "you will want fish before long, mr. gregory. i would like to contract for my men to get them for you." gregory was nettled by mascola's calm assurance. he had a mind to send him packing. blair, he remembered, had evidently had but little use for the italian. but blair too might have been prejudiced. it was business perhaps to hear the man's proposal. "what is your proposition?" he asked, hoping mascola would be brief. in this he was not disappointed. mascola plunged his hand into the pocket of his vest and drew forth a paper which he placed in gregory's hand. gregory ran his eye hastily over the typewritten sheet which contained the memorandum of four numbered clauses. they were briefly worded and to the point: 1. the fishermen to furnish albacore, tuna and sardines at the same price paid by the golden rule cannery. 2. the cannery to assume complete liability for all boats and equipment used by the fishermen in providing fish for it. 3. the cannery to agree to pay all fines, state and federal, for any violation of fishing or navigation laws. 4. the cannery to agree, under bonds, to hire no men who are not members of the fishermen's union. gregory looked up to meet mascola's dark eyes regarding him intently. "that is all," said the italian boss. "it's enough," commented gregory tersely, striving to hold his temper in check at the impudence of mascola's proposal. any one of the four clauses he realized would be amply sufficient to throw him into bankruptcy. the first would place him in the hands of his local competitor, a slavonian. the last would deliver all that was left to the fisherman's union, also foreigners. by the second clause his property would be placed in jeopardy to protect the carelessness or incompetence of others, aliens all. and the third, gregory did not clearly understand. to satisfy his curiosity he asked: "what do you mean by the cannery agreeing to pay the fines?" mascola smiled pityingly, exposing a fine set of even teeth. "you are a stranger here. i forgot. so you do not know that it is necessary for fishermen to break the law sometimes to get fish. the canneries must have them. they ask no questions. if we can get them without breaking the laws it is so much the better. but sometimes when you have steam up you want fish very bad. then you say, mascola, i must have fish. well, i get them for you. there are always fish to be caught in some way or other. they are worth a good deal to you at such a time. why should you not pay for the extra risk we run in getting them?" it was gregory's turn to smile. "rather ingenious," he commented. "do you find it necessary to go to such extremes often?" mascola sensed the sarcasm. a faint flush crept to his dark cheeks. he began to suspect that the young man was not taking either him or his proposition seriously. perhaps he had said too much. he answered the question with one word. "no." gregory studied mascola's face and his smile faded. his irritation at the italian's entrance had at first given place to amusement at the absurdity of the man's proposal. now came again the feeling of dislike which had assailed him on the occasion of his first meeting with mascola. "mascola," he said, "i'll keep your proposition in mind. that is just about all i ever will do with it, i guess, though i'll talk it over with blair." the italian frowned at the mention of blair. he had supposed blair to be gone. had not rossi reported the departure of the former manager more than a month ago? blair would be a stumbling-block to his scheme. blair knew too much. mascola realized that he had been too confident. he felt, moreover, that he had made a fool of himself. had not the young man smiled? his anger mounted at the recollection. he rose quickly, fighting it down. "all right, mr. gregory," he said smoothly. "i make my proposition. i come to you this time. you do not accept. it is all right. next time you come to me." bowing slightly and smiling to hide his anger, he went out. gregory turned again to his work, but found it hard to keep his mind from the italian's veiled threat. it angered him. mascola had appeared so sure of his ground. his irritation grew as his eye fell again on the lang contract. if he only had some one with whom he could talk. some one who knew something about fishing or running a cannery. some one who would understand what he was up against. his father evidently had few if any confidants. if he had only left some written word. from the cannery came the sound of excited voices, a jargon of unintelligible words. gregory sprang to his feet and hurried out. he met mascola coming to meet him. behind him trooped the alien laborers. the italian stopped abruptly and threw out his arm with a dramatic gesture. pointing in the direction of the solitary soldier who stood staring with open mouth, he said: "my men, they do not work with scabs, mr. gregory. you let that man go, or they quit." "let them quit." gregory spoke quickly and tried to smile. losing his temper would not help matters. that wasn't business. mascola spoke rapidly to the men in their own tongue, waving his arms and rolling his eyes. gregory noticed that every one seemed to be getting excited. with scowling faces, the alien laborers grouped themselves about their leader and glared at the offending soldier and his boss. gregory checked a quick impulse forcibly to show mascola the door. it was the right of every man to refuse to work if the job was not to his liking. there was, however, nothing to get excited over. he turned to mascola. "tell your men to come into the office and get their money," he said. his quiet manner disappointed the italian boss. he had hoped for a scene. an argument at least. his men expected more of him than this. gregory had calmly turned his back upon him and was walking away. mascola could stand no more. "all right, gregory," he called. "you go ahead and hire a scab crew. then you'll find out you're the same damn fool as your father." gregory whirled. mascola's hand leaped to his side, burying itself in the folds of his shirt. before he could bring it out, kenneth gregory was upon him. his fist caught mascola full on the chin. the italian's head snapped backward. his feet shot forward. he clutched at the air for support and strove to regain his balance. then he fell to the floor, rolled over like a cat, and rebounded to his feet, snarling. gregory heard a warning cry from barnes: "look out! he's got a knife." barnes looked vainly about for a weapon as he ran to his employer's assistance. the laborers pressed closer, their brown hands fingering their belts, their faces dark with passion. hemmed in on every side by the scowling aliens, gregory took a step forward and stood waiting. mascola advanced warily with peculiar sideling steps. his face was a mottled gray save in one place where his chin was flecked with blood. his left arm was extended guard-wise. his right was crooked loosely to his side, fingers covered. he crouched low and gathered. gregory measured the distance which separated him from the advancing italian. faintly to his ears came the sound of creaking boards behind him. perhaps mascola's men were pressing in from the rear. he dared not look to see. his eyes were held by mascola's crooked arm. that was what he must grab and break. mascola's dark eyes, shining with anger, flashed over gregory's shoulder to the door beyond. then they widened with surprise. he stopped suddenly. his extended arm drooped. for an instant he stood hesitating, wavering. he took a step backward. his crooked arm unbent, dropped slowly to his side. his eyes were held by the open door. chapter iv the work of their fathers "drop it, mascola." the sharp command drew the eyes of the laborers to the door and they stopped fingering their knives. shuffling closer together they looked to their leader for guidance. mascola's eyes darted about the floor, coming to rest upon a big vat only a few feet away. for an instant he hesitated. a faint metallic click from the doorway caused him to make up his mind. his body straightened as his hands traveled upward to the level of his shoulders. the palm of his right hand opened and a thin two-edged blade rattled to the floor. gregory took a step forward and shoved the knife away with his foot. keeping one eye fixed warily upon mascola, he shot a glance over his shoulder to determine the author of the interruption. he turned to see a trim little figure in loosely-fitting outing clothes striding across the floor. facing the light which streamed in from the open door, he could not distinguish the newcomer's face. he only noted the ease of the stranger's movements, the poise of the uptilted head and the nervous manner with which the italians fell away before the advancing figure. "what's the trouble?" gregory stared. it was a girl. she had turned into the light and was facing him. as he formed an answer to her question he saw that her sun-bronzed cheeks were flushed with red and her clear brown eyes were looking into his inquiringly. in her hand she held an automatic revolver. gregory strove to make his explanation brief. "these men refused to work. i told them to go. mascola and i had some trouble. he drew his knife. then you came." the girl nodded, dislodging a lock of red-gold hair from under her knitted cap. turning quickly to mascola, she commanded: "get out." mascola made no sign that he intended to comply with the order. with folded arms he looked insolently at the speaker. "when my men are paid, i will go. but first, i must have my knife." his eyes roved longingly in the direction of the dagger. the girl took a quick step backward and covered mascola's waist-line with the automatic. "you'll go now," she said. turning to gregory she added: "tell him you'll pay him down-town." gregory picked up the italian's knife before replying: "i'll be at the bank at two," he said, making no move to comply with mascola's request for his weapon. mascola clenched his hands. his face grew red with passion. for an instant he glared from gregory to the girl. then the color faded. turning to his men he spoke rapidly to them in their own tongue. the workmen retired sullenly and picking up their coats followed their leader to the door. mascola hesitated for a moment on the threshold. then, checking the angry threat which rose to his lips, he went out. gregory watched him go in silence. then he turned to the girl. "my name is gregory," he said. "you happened along just about right for me." the tense lines about the girl's mouth disappeared slowly as she passed a small brown hand across her forehead and replaced a truant lock. "i am dickie lang," she announced simply. shoving the automatic into her coat pocket, she extended her hand. "i knew your father well. i am glad to meet you." the frankness of the words was strengthened by the look of sincerity in the brown eyes as she stood calmly looking him over. gregory curbed his surprise with an effort which left him staring at the girl in awkward silence. when he had thought of lang's daughter at all, it had been only in the most abstract way. he had regarded her only a possible and very probable source of trouble, scarcely as a flesh and blood woman at all. never a girl like this. he wakened to the fact that he was a very stupid host. barnes, after staring at dickie lang for a moment, had retired to his work, leaving gregory alone with his guest in the middle of the receiving floor. "won't you come into the office?" the words came hesitatingly. he nodded in the direction of the screen-door. "yes. i would like to talk with you." again the direct straightforward manner of speaking. dickie lang started at once for the office, walking across the floor with quick impatient steps. gregory held the door open and as the girl brushed by him, he saw her flash a glance to the door of his father's office beyond. he led the way in silence to the room where he had been working and waited for his visitor to be seated. dickie lang's eyes roved swiftly about the room, taking in the familiar details. nothing had been changed. she could see her father leaning against the desk, his great shoulders hunched forward, his big hands nervously toying with the glass paper-weight, his blue eyes fixed upon the silent figure in the swivel-chair. again she could hear the voice of richard gregory: "all right, bill. i'll see you through. go ahead and get the boats." dickie realized with a start that the square-jawed, black-eyed young man before her was richard gregory's son. the past faded away. with simple directness she plunged into the object of her visit. "i've brought the money due on the boats. got into a squabble with the markets and they tied me up for a few days. otherwise i would have been here sooner." thrusting her hand into her pocket, she drew out a roll of bills and began to count them. gregory watched her as she thumbed the bank-notes. the dark brown corduroy was simply, if mannishly cut, and in a way it became her. her small feet and rounded ankles would have appeared to better advantage in high-heeled shoes and silk stockings than those blunt-nosed boots and canvas leggings. and why in the name of common sense would any woman with hair like that want to keep it tucked away under a close-fitting cap? she would have been beautiful in---he roused himself from his examination of the girl's attire and strove to fix his mind on the object of her visit. he reached for the receipt-book as she finished counting the money. "tenth payment," she exclaimed. "five hundred. makes twelve thousand even. that right?" gregory ran over the money, consulting his notebook to verify the figures. "right," he answered. while he wrote the receipt she studied him. so this was the man whom richard gregory had designated as a red-blooded american. the father's praise of his absent son, she was forced to admit, had slightly prejudiced her against the young man. no single individual could possess all the sterling traits of character attributed to him by the late cannery owner. that was impossible. he would fall down somewhere. gregory handed the girl her receipt. "and now," he began, somewhat uncertain as to just how to proceed, "what do you intend to do about the boats?" dickie lang paused in the act of folding the paper and looked up quickly. for some reason she felt herself irritated by the question. her irritation crept into her voice as she answered: "i'm going to run them, of course." gregory straightened in his chair and faced about. "you're going to run them?" he repeated. "you don't mean yourself?" "sure. what else would i do with them?" she asked coldly. the man was caught for the moment unawares by the suddenness of the question. "i thought perhaps you would want to sell them," he answered bluntly. "why?" her voice had a belligerent ring and he noticed that her eyes were snapping. as he did not immediately reply, she flashed: "i know why. it's because i'm a woman. you think i can't make good. isn't that it?" gregory felt his cheeks burn at the feeling she threw into her words. he hadn't meant to make it quite so plain but if she insisted on the truth, why not? perhaps it was the best way. "you've guessed it," he answered slowly. "you may call it prejudice if you like, but that is just the way i feel." tapping the floor angrily with her foot, she interrupted: "it's worse than prejudice. it's just plain damn-foolishness. honestly, after all i've heard of you, i gave you credit for having more sense. your father wouldn't have said that. he believed there wasn't a thing in the world a man or woman couldn't do, if they tried hard enough. and he gave them the chance to make good. but i'll tell you right now, you've got a lot to learn before you'll be able to wear his hat." gregory sank deeper into his chair as dickie lang proceeded with his arraignment. nothing could be said until she was through. his silence gave the girl a free rein to express her feelings. "you think i don't know my game because i'm a woman. why, i've been on the sea since i was a kid. if my father hadn't made me go to school, i would have lived with him on the water. and don't you suppose in fishing with a man like bill lang, a person learns something? doesn't that more than make up for the handicap of being a woman?" the young man waited for a chance to put in a word but none came. becoming angrier each minute, she hurried on: "there isn't a man in legonia but you who would have said that. not even mascola. he hates me only because i do know my business. and you, a stranger, come down here and tell me----" "i didn't say you didn't know your business," gregory interjected as she drew a long breath. "no, but you thought it just the same. and what right have you to think things like that? what do you know about things here? you never saw the place until just a few weeks ago. and you've been gone ever since. i'll bet you were never in a fish cannery before in your life. i'll bet right now you don't know what you're going to do next. you're waiting for blair to get well and tell you. suppose he doesn't. he's a mighty sick man and it's a cinch if he does come back it won't be for a long time. what are you going to do in the meantime besides tell me i don't----" gregory held up his hand to check a further outburst. "listen," he said. "there is no use going on like this. our fathers were the best of friends. why can't we be the same? i'm willing to admit there is a lot of truth in what you say about my not knowing just what i'm going to do right now. i didn't select the position i'm in, but i'm going to make the best of things as they are and finish up the work which was begun by my father. and i want to say right now that i'm going to finish it. "in a way," he went on slowly, "our positions are somewhat similar. we each have a job to finish. i didn't think yours meant as much to you as mine does to me, though of course i might have, if i hadn't been thinking so much of myself. our fathers worked together and got along fine. it may be that we can do the same thing." the fire died slowly from the girl's eyes. in its place there came an expression, more wistful perhaps than anything else. when she spoke again the irritation was gone from her voice. "no," she answered. "there isn't any reason why we can't be friends. and there are a lot of reasons why we should be. i'm willing to do my part and i'll show you, mr. gregory, that i do know my business. it always makes me mad when any one thinks i don't know the sea. when dad wanted to tease me he always called me a 'land-lubber.' and even when a kid i would always fight at that." she paused a moment. then went on: "i'd like to do what i can for you for two reasons. your father did a lot for mine. he was one of my few friends. i'd like to give his son a hand if it would help. in the second place, it is to my interest in a business way to see your cannery succeed. it is a market for my fish. i won't sell to the golden rule and the dealers won't pay the express on canning fish. the sooner you start up the better it will be for me. i can tell you right now you have a lot to do." again she paused and looked down at her feet. when she spoke again it was with some hesitation. "if i were you i'd get hold of jack mccoy. he can do more for you than any one else. i wouldn't count too much on blair. i heard from him this morning and they didn't hold out much hope. he's completely run down and that's the kind pneumonia hits hard." gregory nodded. "i know," he said. then he asked: "mccoy was the foreman, wasn't he?" "yes. he's still in town. blair gave him a letter of recommendation but jack won't look for another job until he knows what blair is going to do. he says blair taught him all he knows and he's going to stick to him because he always treated him white." gregory wrote mccoy's address which the girl supplied and she continued: "one of the first things to be done, of course, will be to go all over the machinery. that won't take long. then the supplies and material will have to be checked over and the new stuff ordered. that will take a week for two men." gregory looked at the girl with more respect. apparently she knew something of his business as well as her own. doubtless her association with her father had brought her into close touch with the cannery. as she went on, dickie lang divulged the source of her information. "jack and i have talked you over a lot," she said soberly. "we are both anxious to see you get going." while she talked on concerning the re-opening of the cannery, gregory wondered to what extent her opinion of mccoy's ability was based by personal prejudice. of course it was nothing to him what dickie lang thought of mccoy or of himself either, for that matter. he decided to look mccoy up at once. "then you have to get your labor," she went on. "and that isn't as easy, i have found, as it seems. you see mascola has the bulge on the labor situation around here. he has the riff-raff of the world on his pay-roll. they speak in a dozen different languages. everything almost--but english. they are practically all aliens and there is nothing they won't do to keep a decent man out. blair had hard work to get a crew, i know, and harder work to keep it. he was always hiring and firing. things would go all right for a while. then there would come a row with mascola's outfit and a lot of the boys would get disgusted and leave." gregory interrupted: "i understand from my father's attorney, that one of the biggest things he had to contend with was the matter of getting fish." "i'm coming to that in a minute. let's finish up the labor question while we're on it. you've got to get a certain number of skilled men who can handle the machines. with a few others who have worked in a fish cannery you can go ahead, for the biggest percentage of your labor is unskilled anyway and has to be broken in. men like that are the hardest to get," she concluded, "they are mostly tramps. here to-day and gone to-morrow. you can't depend on them. if you can get a bunch to stick, you're mighty lucky." she paused and moved her chair nearer. then she broached the important subject. "about the fish, you can do one of three things. or rather two things," she corrected, "for i hardly think you'll tie up with mascola. you can fix up your own boats, try to man them and get your own fish. you have twenty-five boats. that's not enough even if they were all in good shape, which they're not." "what do you mean by trying to man my boats?" the girl smiled. "just what i say," she answered. "fishermen are scarce. my father was in business here for twenty years and most of the time he was running short-handed. you can get plenty of men to ride on your boats but they are not fishermen." noting the direction in which the conversation was drifting, gregory resolved to hasten the climax. "do you think you could furnish me with enough fish?" he asked bluntly. "i don't think anything about it. i know i could." "how do you know it?" she hesitated as she cast about in her active brain for a tangible argument to convince the obstinate, square-jawed man before her. of course she could get him the fish. but how could she make him believe it? "my fishermen know the coast for one thing," she began. "that's a whole lot around here. it's a treacherous shore-line and a man who doesn't know it can lose a boat mighty easy. then, i have ten new boats, just the kind you have to have for albacore and tuna. as a general rule you've got to go way out to sea to get them. sometimes as far as diablo. and that means trouble. if you've ever been out to that god-forsaken island you'll understand that it takes real men and boats. i have both." gregory said nothing, but waited for the girl to finish: "i know my game," she concluded, with no spirit of bravado, but merely as if it was only a plain statement of fact. "my men are used to holding their own against mascola. and i can tell you that is worth a lot." gregory nodded. then he said quietly: "your father was never able to supply mine with enough fish to keep this cannery going. isn't that right?" dickie lang was forced to admit the truth of the statement. then she qualified: "he hadn't had the big boats but a few months and they had a run of bad luck from the start." gregory considered her words carefully. "would you be willing to enter into a contract with me to keep the cannery supplied with fish?" he asked, watching her closely. for the first time he saw her show signs of receding from her original position. dickie lang hesitated. her fear of legal entanglements was hereditary. bill lang had settled his differences out of court and had warned his daughter on more than one occasion of the dangers which lurked in a contract. she shook her head. what did she know of this man, save the fact that he bore his father's name? "no," she answered, feeling, however, that she had weakened her previous statement by refusing to make it legally binding. "why not?" the girl realized that their positions were becoming reversed. it was she now who was on the defensive. "because," she answered slowly, "i wouldn't." ashamed that she had given the proverbial reason for feminine change of mind, she added quickly: "you see you may be all right. and then again you may not. i'd like a chance to size you up first." gregory smiled. "that was what i thought about you at the beginning of our talk," he said. his face became instantly serious. "we'll just have to size each other up before we can actually get down to cases. isn't that the truth?" she nodded. "yes. you think i can't make good." "and you just don't know about me," gregory finished for her. then he added: "how are we going to find out about each other?" dickie regarded him gravely. "the ocean is the best test for a man or a woman that i know. it doesn't play any favorites. when a girl goes out there all 'dolled-up' it washes off the paint and powder and shows her up for just what she is. and it shows a man up too. it's always waiting for him to make some mistake. when he does, he has to think and act at the same time. he can't hedge or make excuses. he's got to pay or play. a quitter has no chance with the sea." observing him closely, she concluded: "i could tell more about you on the sea in a minute than i could find out in here in a month." "and i could find out whether or not i thought you knew your business." they laughed together. "i'll be ready any time." dickie was on her feet at his words. "to-morrow morning then, at four o'clock. meet me at our dock and i'll show you i know what i'm talking about." gregory promised and the girl hurried out. for some time the young cannery owner scratched busily at the pad of paper before him, jotting down the substance of his interview with dickie lang. passing through the cannery he came upon the solitary remnant of his floor force whom he had forgotten for the time being. "i'm going down-town for a few minutes, barnes. if anybody asks for me, tell them i'll be back in half an hour." the ex-soldier's eyes brightened at the sight of his employer. "say, mr. gregory, you took me on quick and stayed by me, and i don't want you to think i don't appreciate it, for i do. now that you've canned the other gang, i wonder if there'd be any chance for a couple of my pals. we've been drifting around together and their shoes is worn out same as mine." "what can they do?" "one of them's a chauffeur. he ain't afraid of nothin'. and he can drive anything on wheels. the other one's a steam-fitter by trade, but he'll be glad to nurse a broom or anything else right now." gregory was on the point of telling barnes to wait until he had conferred with mccoy when he noticed the peculiar manner with which his employee held his broom. "what's the matter with your arm?" he asked quietly. barnes tapped the member in question and regarded him somewhat doubtfully. "nothin'," he said. gregory stepped nearer and examined the shoulder carefully. "why didn't you tell me your arm had been hurt?" he asked in a low voice. barnes met his eyes squarely. "because i was afraid it would queer me for a job," he said. "you see, gregory, when a man hires a fellow he figures he's all there. he kind of rents him all over and when he's shy on somethin', he kind of figures the fellow's holding back on him. i didn't want to slip anything over on you. because you were white to me from the start. but i was afraid when you saw my pin was faked you might change your mind." gregory's eyes were fixed intently on the soldier as he went on: "you see i got my insurance. but that ain't enough. my old man died while i was away. and my mother ain't any too well. so i just lets her have the money. but that ain't all there is to it. you see when a fellow's worked and hit the ball, he don't want to lay round and loaf." still gregory said nothing, and barnes, misconstruing his silence, continued: "it's wonderful what a fellow can do with what the doctors leave him when they get through cuttin'. you ought to go up to port angeles and see what the bureau's teaching the poor blind devils. it kind of seems like their eyes goes into their arms and legs, for they can do more with them now than they ever thought of doing before they lost their lamps." he extended his good arm and flexed the muscles until they stood out like lumps of whip-cord. "look at that," he exclaimed. "they's twice the pep in that one since they hacked up the other one. you don't need to be afraid of me not doing a day's work. i----" "are there many of the boys out of work?" gregory found his voice at last. barnes nodded. "scads of 'em. some of them went back to their old jobs. some of them found 'em gone and they was others that couldn't cut it like they used to. the government's tryin' to land 'em all jobs. but it's slow." gregory turned slowly about and retraced his steps in the direction of the office. then he remembered barnes's request. "you can tell your friends to come along," he said. barnes ran after him. "say," he exclaimed, "i forgot to tell you. one of 'em's leg's a little stiff and the other one's shy an eye." gregory whirled about. "they've got brains and hearts left, haven't they?" he challenged. "tell them to come along." walking rapidly to the office he entered and closed the door. when barnes came in at quitting time the room was thick with smoke. in the center of the smoke-screen gregory sat at a small table, hammering away at a typewriter. on a near-by chair, the ex-soldier caught a glimpse of a colored poster, glaringly captioned: jobs for soldiers shutting the door softly behind him he withdrew, smiling to himself. chapter v the way of the gull br-r-r-r-r-r-r-r. the alarm-clock announced the hour imperiously, triumphantly, the importance of the day being manifest in its resonant warning. kenneth gregory leaped from his bed and hastily donned a brand-new suit of overalls. a young man's first business engagement was not lightly to be passed over. particularly when it promised a chance for excitement and new adventure. he dressed quickly and hurried out into the street. with difficulty he stumbled through the dark streets and groped his way along the water-front to the lang wharf. all about him was darkness, opaque and impenetrable. "you're early." gregory found himself blinking into the white light of an electric torch. by his side stood dickie lang. "yes," he answered. "wasn't sure whether my clock was right so i set it half an hour ahead." still holding him in the rays of the light, the girl examined him critically. "all right but your shoes," she announced. "you'll break your neck in those leather soles. i'll see if i can rustle a pair of tennis-shoes." she vanished suddenly and a moment later he saw her light fall upon the burly figures of three bare-footed fishermen shuffling along the dock. she greeted the men familiarly. "got that coil for you, tom. cache it this time where those thieving devils won't beat you to it. coils are hard to get right now. bill, you'd better run down lucas way and scout around for barracuda. they were beginning to hit in there strong this time last year. how's the baby? i phoned to town last night for that medicine i told you about. they said they'd shoot it out on the first mail." as she spoke gregory saw other shadows draw near and hover for a moment in the circle of light. from the hillside above the town lights gleamed from the windows of the fishing colony, the intervening spaces of darkness narrowing second by second until the village stood out like a great checker-board of lights and shadows. against the background of lights he could see the slender figure of the girl passing among the huge fishermen who towered like giants above her. radiating energy wherever she went, criticizing some, commending others and joking away the early-morning grouch, she directed the movements of the constantly increasing stream of men who thronged the dock and despatched the boats one by one into the darkness. when she returned to gregory's side for a moment she held in her hand a tattered pair of rubber-soled shoes. "they're better than nothing," she explained. "when you are a full-fledged fisherman you won't need shoes. you'll get so you can use your toes like fingers and----" the rays of her flash-light, which swept the wharf as she spoke, suddenly brought into view the figure of a man lunging unsteadily along the dock. leaving her sentence unfinished, she was by his side in an instant. "nothing doing, jack. go home and go to bed. i know all about your wife's sick aunt. no time to listen now. if you're sober by afternoon you can go out with the boys drifting." the fisherman started to expostulate but she had already left him. mumbling that she didn't know what sickness was, he stumbled obediently away in the direction of the shore. "he's been drunk since tuesday," she announced as she rejoined gregory. "too bad, too. best man i've got in shallow water. you ought to see him handle a dory in the surf." again the light picked out a newcomer who stood hesitating a few feet away. "what's the trouble, pete? why aren't you on the job?" "i've got to have more money." the words were spoken boldly and in a tone which drew the attention of all about. a number of fishermen shuffled nearer the speaker and ranged themselves beyond the circle of light within easy hearing distance. "you want more money," dickie lang repeated slowly. "well about the only reason i could ever think of for paying you any more would be for your nerve in asking for it. why, i've lost more through your carelessness since you've been on the job than i could make on you in six months. the first shot out of the box you let a piece of barracuda-webbing go adrift and mascola's gang picked it up right before your eyes and you never cheeped. then you put one of my motors on the blink because you were too lazy to watch the oil-feed. where do you think i get off? how long could i run this outfit if all my men were like you? take a brace and come alive, pete. that's the way to get more money out of me or any one else. the harder you hit the ball the more you'll get. i don't want to hog it all. the boys will tell you i shoot square." the fisherman slunk sullenly away and joined his companions. dickie lang turned again to gregory. "that's one of the things i'm up against," she exclaimed in a low voice. "that fellow is a regular agitator. talking is his long suit. why, he didn't even know how to throw a bowline when he hit in here, flat broke and down on his uppers. i've taught him all he knows. and now he's trying to start something. if men weren't so scarce i'd can him in a minute." gregory watched the fleet embark, marveling at the manner in which the burly fishermen took orders from a mere slip of a girl. how it must go against their grain, he thought, to be bossed about by a woman. the last of the boats had cleared before the youthful commodore prepared to follow. "let's go," she exclaimed impatiently. "we're late now. mascola's outfit cleared two hours ago." leading the way she took gregory aboard a small fishing vessel which waited at the float below. the motor started the instant their feet touched the deck and a gruff voice growled: "we've got to go some to make the point by daybreak." the girl nodded to the dark form at the wheel. "you said it, tom. mascola's gang are mighty near down there by now." she cast off the lines and jumped again to the boat as the little craft backed from the slip and headed down the bay. while the boat gained headway under the rapid pulse of the powerful motor, she explained: "got a string of nets off long point. just put them out yesterday. but i've a pretty good idea we'll load up. that is unless mascola tries to sew us up. one of his fishing captains was cruising round last night when i left the set." "but if you had your nets out first," gregory began. a low laugh from the girl interrupted him. "you don't know how mascola does business," she said. "listen, i'll tell you. did you ever notice them throw garbage overboard from the deck of a steamer and see one lone gull flying in her wake? the minute he squawks and swoops down to pick it up there's a hundred of them come from all points of the compass to fight it out with him for the spoils. well, mascola's men are just like that. we may spot the fish first. we generally do. but that doesn't make the slightest bit of difference to mascola. it only saves him the trouble. when our nets are out and he sees we're getting a good haul, he lays around us and cuts us off. do you get the idea?" gregory nodded vaguely. "but can't you do something?" he asked. "i should think----" again the girl laughed. "you bet i can do something," she snapped. "you just watch me. that's what i brought you out here for this morning. if those devils try to lay around me, i'll show them a thing or two. i wish we had an earlier start though," she concluded. "they've got the best of it by a couple of hours." through the darkness they raced to the open sea. the cool morning breeze blew briskly in their faces and gregory noticed they were overhauling a few of the stragglers. "it oughtn't to take you long to catch up with them at this clip," he said admiringly. "are all of your boats as fast as this one?" "if they were it would break me up," the girl answered. "the _petrel's_ my flag ship. she's a gas-hog, but she can travel. she has fifty horse, and built on the lines she is, there aren't many of them around here that can make her run in their wake. only two in fact," she added. "mascola's speed-boat and rossi's fleet-tender." "who is rossi?" "mascola's fishing captain. next to his boss and old rock, one of the biggest crooks in town. he knows his business though," she supplemented half-admiringly, "and is a good man for mascola." "who's rock?" asked gregory. the girl faced about suddenly. "rock's the big man of a little town. he's in everything. the further you go without meeting with him the better off you'll be. he's president of the bank, the rock commercial company and several other concerns. he owns the controlling interest in the golden rule cannery besides. he has a finger in everything. he's a mighty busy man. but he's never too busy to meddle with other people's business. at least he tried to in mine." her teeth snapped in a vicious click. a number of questions crowded to gregory's mind, as they crossed the jettied inlet and headed down the coast. he asked them in rapid-fire order. "how many boats have you?" "twenty-five. using sixteen to-day." "why don't you run them all?" "can't get the men. that is, good ones. i'm hiring and firing all the time. paying thirty-eight now and that leaves me short-handed even with the boats i'm working." "how many boats has mascola?" the girl was silent for a moment. then she answered: "can't say. somewhere about fifty, maybe more. it's hard to check him up. his boats cruise a long way out and some of them don't put in to legonia at all." "what kind of fish are you catching now?" "halibut mostly, some barracuda. haven't tried for sardines or albacore since your cannery shut down." the _petrel_ rolled lazily in the trough of the swell as she sped down the coast. suddenly the darkness ahead was blurred by an indistinct shape and the man at the wheel put the vessel over sharply. as he did so he narrowly escaped a collision with an unlighted boat which loomed directly across their bow. "trawler fishing within the three-mile limit without lights," the girl explained to her passenger. gregory remembered dickie lang's words concerning alien interference. he knew that running without lights was illegal. why was the law not enforced? in answer to his question, the girl burst out: "you just wait. i couldn't take the time now to tell you of all the laws mascola breaks and if i did you wouldn't believe me." "how can he get by with it?" gregory asked. dickie lang walked to the rail and searched the dark water in the direction of the shore before she replied: "there are three different kinds of laws out here. the navigation laws are made by the government, the fishing laws by the state, and the law of the sea is made by the fishermen. if you break the pilot-rules they'll haul you up before the local inspector at port angeles and fine you, take away your license or put you in jail. but they've got to have the proof and that is hard to get. if you break the state's laws you run up against the fish commissioner. his deputies do their best to protect the fish and see that the fishermen use the right kind of gear. if they catch an outfit with the goods, they put them over. but it's hard to do." she stared away into the faintly graying darkness. "cut through the kelp, tom. it will save us a little and we're going to need it." "and the fisherman's law you spoke about. what is that?" gregory queried. she faced him suddenly. "i don't know how to explain it," she said. "every one has to learn it for himself. it's the law of the biggest and fastest boat. the law of the longest and strongest arm. the law of sand and a quick trigger." gregory felt his pulse quicken as she went on: "you see we have to depend on ourselves out here to settle our troubles. whatever happens, happens quick. generally there are not many witnesses. if you knew trouble was coming, you might get a deputy to come out, but the chances are ten to one they wouldn't. they would say it was only a fisherman's row and tell you to swear out a warrant. and if you go to law, mascola will bring five witnesses for each of yours and they'll outswear you every time for they can lie faster than a man can write it down." again she paused and searched the gray border of the receding curtain of night. far away gregory could hear the roar of the breakers. from out the gray dusk ahead appeared the shadowy outline of a rugged promontory jutting far out into the sea. "keep close in, tom. our last string's dead ahead, off peeble beach. when you get around the point swing on the outside of coward rocks and give her all she'll stand." she walked slowly about the deck with her eyes fixed on the wave-washed shore-line. "so you see each outfit makes its own laws and it's up to them to enforce them. our law is to mind our own business and get the fish. the only law we break is mascola's. he tries to tell us where to fish. he bullies the ones he can and fights the ones he can't in any way that is easiest and safest. he's a thief and a crook and he'd commit murder in a minute if he thought he could get by with it." the idea lodged in her brain. she leaned closer and exclaimed in a low voice: "and how do we know he doesn't get by with murder the way he does with everything else? there's many a man picked up along the coast as a 'floater' that nobody knows how he drowned." daybreak was upon them as they hugged the shore-line and slipped into the protecting shadow of long point. dickie lang's words sank deep into gregory's consciousness. a half-formed question found its way at last to his lips. "do you think," he began, but was interrupted by the man at the wheel. "can't make the inside channel. have to go round." he altered the helm as he spoke. dickie lang jumped to his side. "we've got to run the short-cut, tom. no use going round. they'd spot us a mile away in this light. if they're laying round my nets i want to surprise them. i'll take the boat." the fisherman surrendered the wheel and sidled out of the way. "she's your boat," he said with blunt emphasis. "but don't forget it's my license. i wouldn't take the chance." the girl nodded. "my license is hanging up in the engine-room," she retorted. "if anything happens, it's me that is responsible. i won't forget." she spun the wheel over as she spoke and the _petrel_ swerved like a gull and headed straight for the rugged cliff which towered high above the foaming water, bold and defiant of the angry waves which dashed relentlessly at its base. off the port bow gregory saw a narrow pathway of quiet water fringed on one side by white-toothed swells, on the other by the barnacled feet of the point itself. he leaned over the rail and followed the course of the ribbon-like path which wound like a snake among the curling waves and jagged rocks. could that be the channel the girl meant to take? dickie lang's eyes were fixed with his upon the devious waterway. the hand which held the wheel was steady and the _petrel_ plunged boldly on as if bent upon flinging its fragile shell upon the time-defying rocks of long point. gregory measured the distance to the overhanging ledge. what was the use of taking such a chance as this? it looked like one in a million. in another minute they would pile up. they were almost abreast of the thread-like channel when he saw the fingers on the wheel tighten. the steering gear whirred and the _petrel_ leaped forward to answer the master-hand at the helm. then came the miracle. the slim bow of the little craft swung about. for a second she wallowed in the trough of the ground-swell, rose high on its foaming crest and nestled slowly down in the quiet water of the rock-bound channel. and the distance to safety had been gained by the scant margin of only a few inches. a sharper or blunter turn would have ripped the vessel from bow to stern. was it luck? he shook his head slowly. then he began to understand why the fishermen took orders from dickie lang. he was recalled to himself by a laughing voice and he saw that the girl's eyes were sparkling, as she said without turning her head: "did you think you were going to have to swim ashore?" gregory laughed. "i could feel the water about my ears," he said. then he added: "do you do stunts like that often?" she shook her head. "sometimes it is necessary to take a chance," she answered. "you've got to catch mascola's bunch red-handed. when we round the 'bull-nose' we'll be right on top of our nets." her lips were firmly compressed and the little lines which suddenly appeared about her mouth were hard. with her eyes still held by the barnacled rocks, she snapped: "then you may see something." they were nearing the end of long point. throttling the throbbing motor until its soft breathing could be heard only a few boat-lengths, she nodded to the fisherman: "all right, tom. she's yours. plenty of water from here on. when you round 'bull-nose' head for the cove with all you've got." relieved from the wheel she dodged into the engine-room and returned with two rifles. flashing a glance shoreward to determine the _petrel's_ position she rejoined gregory and handed him one of the guns. gregory reached eagerly for the weapon. for the past hour he had been forced to sit by a spectator. now was a chance to do something. to play a game he knew. his fingers caressed the stock of the winchester as the girl exclaimed: "don't suppose there is any use telling you how to shoot. only at sea things are a little different. you have to count on the roll. sight full until you get on the range. distances are deceiving on the water. pull on the slow rise if you can. that's when she's steadiest." he noted her quiet manner of speaking and the businesslike way with which she handled her gun. what she meant for him to do he did not clearly understand. whatever it was, she would find him ready. he slipped a shell into the barrel from the magazine, and waited. he noticed that the girl was watching him closely as they came to the end of the winding channel. then she gave him brief instructions. "when we pass that big rock ahead we'll head in. then you will see a string of nets. you may see two strings, one laid around the other. if any of mascola's gang are hanging around i'm going to try to persuade them to give me sea-way." she set her lips grimly and tapped the rifle. drawing a pair of binocular-glasses from her pocket she focused them carefully. "don't shoot until i do. if they are trying to lay around i'll open up on them and start them moving. aim at the water-line and pump away as fast as you like. all right, tom. give her the gun." the _petrel_ leaped under the advancing throttle and raced for the curiously fashioned nub at the cliff's end. gregory crowded forward, striving to catch a glimpse of the water beyond. as they flashed by the "bull-nose" she saw silhouetted against the brightening light which streamed across the water from the beach, the sharp outline of a fishing-boat. then he heard a low exclamation from the girl. "he's laid around my string," she gritted, and again the glasses flashed to her eyes. she whirled on the fisherman. "look at that, tom! he's stripping my nets. i've got him with the goods this time and, so help me god, i'm going to make him pay. don't shoot," she cautioned gregory. "wait till we get closer. i want to get him with the deadwood. wide open, tom, we'll run him off his legs. i'll----" a puff of white smoke drifted upward from the deck of the launch ahead and floated lazily above the rigging. some fifty feet beyond the port bow of the _petrel_ the water leaped upward in a tiny spout. dickie's rifle sounded in gregory's ear and the report of his own prolonged the echoes. as he pumped in another cartridge he noted that the girl's eyes were shining and her red lips were parted in a smile. between shots he heard her mutter: "can you beat that? the dirty robbers are going to stay and fight?" chapter vi the law of the fishermen her decks spouting flame, the _petrel_ raced on to meet the enemy. gregory crowded close to the rail and dropped to his knee. the girl was right about the roll. he shoved the rifle through a cross-stay, sighted carefully and pulled the trigger. "i have the system now," he called. she nodded. "that's the stuff. aim for the engine-house. they're shooting from the ports." [illustration: "aim for the engine-house!"] the bullets from the alien craft were flying wide. the fusillade from the _petrel_ was evidently interfering with the enemy's marksmanship. "no expert riflemen there," gregory commented. dickie shook her head. "a knife's their long suit," she answered. "i never saw them shoot much before. don't believe they----" a jingle of breaking glass interrupted her and the starboard side-lamp toppled from the bracket and crashed to the deck. "get down," gregory commanded. "they're getting the range." the girl smiled and wiped away the blood which spurted from a small cut in her cheek. "just fool luck," she answered, leaning coolly against the stays and reloading her rifle. "that was only an accident." gregory was by her side in an instant. grasping her roughly by the arm he said harshly: "get down, i tell you." she jerked away her arm and started to speak. then she dropped to the deck. "maybe you're right at that," she admitted, a smile playing about her lips. the firing became brisker as the distance lessened between the two boats, while the enemy bullets became wilder and more desultory. dickie ceased firing and turned to the man at the wheel. "it's rossi with the _roma_. he's getting under way." she flung out an arm pointing in the direction of the stubby-nosed point which lay across the little bay. "head for the arch, tom. we'll cut him off." pointing to the fleeing boat she explained to gregory: "he's almost in shoal water right now. to get out he's got to follow the channel. it's dead low tide and he'll have to make a big bend to get out. we'll cut across and head him off. he has the speed of us and a quarter of a mile lead. but he has farther to go. if he opens up he's liable to pile up on the rocks. it's about an even bet he'll make it for he's clever. but if he does we'll be right on top of him when he comes out. then i'll teach him a lesson he won't forget in a hurry." the _petrel_ altered her course while she was speaking and sped off at a tangent. the _roma_, dashing shoreward, turned and angled sharply, running parallel to her pursuer. "he's sure pounding her," the girl observed as she noted the increasing distance which separated the two boats. "if he holds that clip when he comes to that figure s channel, he'll never make the turns." she shut her jaw tighter. "cut in a little closer, tom," she ordered. "we'll make him take all the chances there are." gregory climbed to the top of the engine-house and watched the _roma_ dodging among the rocks like a frightened rabbit. dickie lang was poised in the bow like a figurehead, one foot resting on the rail. her hair, jerked from her cap by the fingers of the dawn-wind, streamed out behind her in a shower of dull red gold. her eyes were shining with the joy of the chase. "he's almost at the turn," she called back. "he'll never make it on an outgoing tide. he's got to slow up. if he does, we've got him. if he doesn't----" she was interrupted by a muffled exclamation from the man at the wheel. the _roma's_ bow was rising from the water. for an instant she planed like a high-powered racing-boat. then, as if exhausted by the chase, she settled slowly to rest in the white water, her masts angling sharply toward the beach. "high and dry on mussel rocks," dickie lang announced. "it's a flood tide to-day and with the big ground swell she hasn't a chance." as they neared the wreck they saw the crew of the stranded vessel huddled together on the sloping deck. "don't go in any closer, tom," cautioned the girl. "the tide's turning. they can wade ashore and watch her break up." as they circled closer to make the turn, gregory noticed a red-shirted giant leap from the wreck of the fishing-boat into the shallow water, waving his arms wildly about his head. but the noise of the _petrel's_ motor drowned the voice of the infuriated fishing captain and his threats and curses were heard only by his own crew. "it isn't rossi, after all," dickie observed as she caught sight of the red-shirted figure. "it's boris, the crazy russian. i never knew mascola to trust him with a boat like the _roma_ before." the _petrel_ turned about and, burying her nose in the big swells, made haste to leave the dangerous water. "head for the nets," the girl ordered. "i'm not through with mascola yet. he has my fish on the _roma_. if i had a dory i'd go in there and get them. but it isn't good enough to risk the _petrel_." as they came nearer the two strings of nets, dickie explained: "i'm going to work the same game on mascola that the fish commissioner does when he catches them trawling within the three-mile limit. i'm going to salvage his nets and make him pay for his crooked work to get his property. lay to, tom, and we'll pull them aboard with mine." the fisherman drew alongside the row of bobbing corks with a grim smile playing about his lips. "have to rustle," he observed. "you know how mascola's boats follow up." the girl tossed her head. "i don't care if his whole fleet comes along. and him with them. i'm going to make him pay me for those fish boris stole from my nets. i can't take it into court but----" she paused in the middle of her sentence as her eyes swept the sea. focusing the binoculars on a small speck on the horizon, she announced: "here comes mascola now in his speed-boat. we'll haul them aboard, boys. then i'll talk business with the dago. get his nets first." falling to eagerly, gregory received his first lesson in pulling the nets. with straining back and smarting fingers he worked by the fisherman's side hauling the heavy webbing to the deck. as they reached the middle of the string the weight of the sagging nets increased and a number of glistening barracuda floundered from the water, gilled by the strong mesh. the girl observed the fish with darkening brow. "the dirty robbers," she exclaimed wrathfully. "look what they have already. i'll bet i'd have had a good haul if they had let me alone." gregory noticed as he straightened up that the distant speck on the water was fast assuming the proportions of a motor-launch. he noticed too that the approaching craft was coming at a high rate of speed and was swerving shoreward. tugging harder at the nets, he worked doggedly on, listening to the staccato bark of the speed-craft as mascola drew close. they were hauling at the last string when he came within hailing distance. "what's the matter?" he called. "you're pulling my nets." "don't pay any attention to him," admonished dickie lang. "i'm not going to hollow my head off. keep working and wait until he comes alongside." with his motor purring like an angry cat, mascola whirled his craft about in a wave-washed circle and drew abreast of the _petrel_. at the same instant gregory and the fisherman lifted the last piece of the italian's nets to the deck. gregory straightened his aching back and looked toward the early morning visitor, but his eyes did not get as far as mascola. they remained riveted on the launch. never had he seen such a boat. she poised on the waves like a gull, quivering with potential energy, ready for instant flight. from her sharply v-ed bow to her delicately molded stern, every line of the trim craft spoke eloquently of the plan of a master-designer who fashioned her with a single purpose--speed. "what's the matter i say? you're pulling my nets." gregory freed his eyes with an effort from the launch to survey its owner. mascola turned angrily on the leather cushion and glared at the _petrel's_ deck. dickie lang walked coolly to the rail. "sure i'm pulling your nets," she said. "i've got them all aboard. and that's where they're going to stay until you pay me for the fish your outfit took from my nets." "i never take your fish. i don't know----" "oh, yes you do, mascola. boris laid around me and robbed my nets. there's my webbing lying right where i put it out. i caught that crazy russian of yours with the goods and he lost his head and your boat. he's piled up over there on the beach." mascola rose hastily and followed the direction of her arm. in his anger at beholding dickie taking his nets from the water he had not noticed the wreck of the _roma_. a torrent of italian words burst from his lips. his cheeks purpled and his eyes grew hot with passion. when he controlled himself to speak in english he cried: "i'll have you arrested for stealing my nets. i'll get a warrant and search your wharf and your house." "but you won't find your nets." dickie lang supplied the words and went on: "listen, you crook, if you and i don't settle this thing up right now you won't find a piece of your nets big enough to swear what it is. i'm not trying to rob you like you robbed me. i just want what's coming to me. not a cent more. if you give me that i'll throw your webbing over. if you don't i'll trail them every inch of the way to legonia and cut them into ribbons with the propeller. it's up to you, mascola." the italian flashed a glance to the cove where the _roma's_ angling mast appeared against the beach. then he looked out to sea and his eyes brightened as the mast of a fishing-boat rounded the point and turned shoreward. it was ankovitch with the _lura_. his launch rode high on a capping swell and a puff of wind caused him to look anxiously at the beach. the tide was beginning to set in strong and the breeze was freshening. he snapped out his watch and scowled. whatever was done for the _roma_ must be done at once. "what do you want?" he flashed. "pay for the fish you stole from my nets. from what i saw in your nets i figure i had all of a ton." she glanced at the fish lying on the deck. "you've got about five hundred here. i'll allow you for that. you pay me the difference at three cents. that will be forty-five dollars." mascola glared. his hand crept slowly to his pocket. "none of that." the girl's words cut like a knife. the hand which lay in her pocket turned and the coat bulged outward. "i was getting my money," mascola growled. "all right. face about the other way when you get it." as the italian turned, dickie lang caught up a rifle and threw it loosely over her shoulder. mascola turned to look straight into the muzzle and drew back sharply. then he flourished a roll of bills. "quick," he said. "you have me at a disadvantage this time. i will pay. here is the money." he tossed the bills to the deck. "all right, mascola. that squares us for to-day. i'll dump your nets over right where they are as soon as i check up the money. and the next time you try to lay around me i'm going to run through your nets and cut them to pieces." mascola dropped to the cushioned seat and whirled half about. "i will not forget," he said. "to-day you win. next time----" his words were lost in the roar of his motor. the speed-boat shot forward like a horse at the touch of a spur. in a whirl of white water mascola sped away for the beach. chapter vii you'll have to show me the sky was reddening in the east when the last of the nets were pulled aboard. rounding long point, the _petrel_ took up the homeward track as the sun peeped over the low brown hills and caressed the sea. dickie lang looked back at the wreck of the _roma_ and the light of victory died slowly from her eyes. "i'm not sorry for mascola," she exclaimed. "he got only what was coming to him. but i am sorry for the little boat. she was a good little scout and she was game to the end. you'll find that boats are a good deal like people," she went on, "when you know them as well as i do. some of them are cranky and have to be coaxed along. others are just plain lazy and must be pounded on the back. and there are some that are treacherous and the minute they get you in a tight place, they will lay down cold." her last words gave her the cue to continue: "and the ocean is full of tight places. mascola found himself in one this morning. he had the sense to realize it and act before it was too late. it went against his grain to be beaten by a girl. but by cashing in when he did, he saved a boat perhaps. so he put his pride in his pocket. sometimes you've got to do that," she concluded seriously. "it hurts. but it's business." gregory's face showed his surprise at her annunciation of the business principle and, sensing that her admission might become embarrassing at some future time, the girl changed the subject abruptly. "did you see mccoy yesterday?" she asked. "yes. we had a long talk last night. he's coming to work for me as house-foreman." "that's fine," dickie commended. "you'll like him. he'll be just the man for you." gregory nodded. "yes," he answered. "i think we'll get on fine when we understand each other better." "what do you mean? you haven't had a row with jack already, have you?" "not exactly. just a difference of opinion. i had an idea i worked out yesterday. mccoy couldn't see it." "what was the idea?" "it was a plan i had for getting labor. i wanted to hire a certain class of men. mccoy didn't." "how did it come out?" "i'm going to hire them, of course. i told mccoy if he didn't like it, he could take the job or leave it. he decided to take it." "it's the foreman's job to hire the help," the girl observed. "what was your plan?" gregory looked the girl full in the eyes for a moment. then he began: "i'm going to organize my business on a cooperative basis, make my employees partners, pay them a graduated minimum wage and a share in the profits which will be held back as a bonus to make it worth their while to stick with me during the season." "and mccoy thought it wouldn't work?" "yes." "neither do i." "why not?" dickie knew the question was coming and was already prepared to give her reasons. "when a man works for you," she explained, "he wants his money every saturday night. he's earned it and he should have it. he may leave the minute it's in his fingers and hit the grit again. but he's worked a week at least and that's something. if he thinks you're holding out on him to get him to stick, he wouldn't even start." "that is what mccoy said. but you are both wrong. the men i am figuring on hiring will stick. that is why i am hiring them." "don't think much of a bunch like that," dickie commented. "a man that can't get a job to-day is a bum. and the fellow doesn't live that ever gets through knocking around. that is if he's a real man." "you're wrong again," gregory contradicted. "they are eighteen-carat men. i've tried them out already. i know." "where?" "in france." "you mean soldiers?" "yes. i called up a friend of mine last night in port angeles. he used to be first lieutenant in my company. he's a reporter on _the times_ now. hawkins told me a lot of the boys were out of work and he promised to look up a number of addresses of men in my old outfit. to-morrow i'm going to the city to round them up. they've stood by me before in many a tight place. it cost them a lot sometimes. but they stuck just the same. now i've got a chance to stick by them. and i'm going to do it because i know they'll come up to the scratch." the girl was impressed by the earnestness of his words. he meant well of course. it was a splendid idea but---she voiced her objections. "you'll find business is a different game from war." "perhaps. but in both there is hard fighting. and when you are going into a scrap with all you've got, you want men behind you you can bank on." "i wouldn't bank on them too strong. a lot of the ones i've seen think they're too good to work at an ordinary job. they have an idea the war has made them worth a lot more money than they really are. they like to tell what great things they've done. but when it comes to----" "i've seen that kind, too. on both sides of the water. over there no one depended on them. they were shunted from pillar to post until they hit a place where they couldn't even hear the guns. when the war was over they came back. they were whole. and they talked." he paused for a moment and looked down at the deck. then he went on in a low voice: "the kind i'm figuring on are not whole. and they don't talk." dickie lang said no more. when a man spoke with such depth of feeling, what was the use of trying to talk him out of it. of course he was wrong. but he'd just have to find it out for himself. in silence they neared the entrance to the bay and threaded their way among the fishing-boats as they drew up to the lang wharf. gregory roused himself at the sight of the lang dock and turned to the girl. "you took me out this morning," he said, "to show me you knew your business. now it's up to me to show you i know mine. i'm going right to work. i expect a hard fight, but i'll tell you right now this idea of mine is going to win out." dickie smiled as they drew alongside the dock. "go to it," she said. "i won't say you're wrong. but you'll certainly have to show me." chapter viii a declaration of independence "what do you expect me to do with a bunch of cripples like that?" jack mccoy burst into the office of the legonia fish cannery and hurled the question angrily at his young employer. gregory looked hard at mccoy's flushed face and snapping gray eyes. then he said quietly: "i expect you to train them." "my god!" mccoy came a step closer. then he burst out: "don't you know it's hard enough to run a cannery with real men without----" gregory was on his feet in an instant. "don't say it," he gritted. "unless you want to hook up with me right now." mccoy sought to explain. "i'm not saying anything against them," he said. "but you don't understand. i wonder if you have any idea what it means to break in a bunch like that." "yes. that is why i hired you. i believed you could do it. if you can't, i'll find some one else who will." gregory leaned against the desk. "listen, mccoy," he said. "you and i have to get down to cases right now. there's no use flying off the handle. if you have anything to say, i'll hear it. anything except a word against those men out there. they've had enough already. you told me the other day," he went on, "you could break in anybody who'd stick. you showed me just the kind of work there is to do. these men i'll guarantee will stick and i think you'll get quite a jolt when you see what they've been taught to do. they're not all cripples. i've got some huskies for the strong-arm stuff. and there is a lot the other fellows can do. i want you to show them how. you are not taking much of a chance that i can see. you'll get your money the same as you always have, more if you stick through. and every dollar we make, you'll have a few cents of it at least. can you see anything wrong with that?" "i don't see where you're going to get off. you seem to think there is a fortune in this business. i'll tell you there isn't. it's hard sledding to make both ends meet as it is." "i know it. last night i sat up half the night going over the books. i found my father lost more money on account of labor trouble than from any other cause." "except not being able to get fish," corrected mccoy. "exactly. that's labor just the same. since this idea came to me it's getting bigger all the time. i'm going to extend it to the boats as well as the inside. i've got a plan to have miss lang take charge of the fishing end, train my men and run her boats for me on a flat rental and salary." mccoy began to show more interest. "is she in on the deal?" he asked. "i haven't had a chance to talk with her yet. i'm going to see her to-day." mccoy smiled. "i'd like to see dick's face when you spring the proposition of having her work for you," he said. "suppose she turns me down. has that anything to do with your working for me?" mccoy's face flushed. "don't know that it has," he admitted, "but----" the telephone interrupted further conversation and gregory turned to the instrument. "yes--mr. gregory at the phone. all right." mccoy watched the silent figure as he listened to the message; saw his jaws set tighter as he replaced the receiver and faced about. "i'd kind of like to talk this thing over with blair," mccoy began. "you see----" "i just received a telegram from the sanitarium. mr. blair died this morning at nine o'clock." mccoy crumpled in his chair and rested his head in his hands. "poor old john," he muttered brokenly, "i ought to have gone up last night when they phoned me he was so much worse." he raised his head and there were tears shining in his eyes. "they didn't make them any whiter than john blair," he said. gregory agreed. "i knew him only slightly," he said. "but i surely counted on him. his loss means a lot to me. i'll go up there right away and see if there is anything i can do. would you like to go with me?" mccoy could only nod and the two men left the building together. the hearts of men are tested in various crucibles. in a smoothly-moving world human paths diverge and the grooves are often widened by indifference. in times of stress, the diverse threads of commonplace existence may merge into a single strand. then it is that casual acquaintances become friends, when man rubs elbow with man and hearts beat together in mutual sympathy and understanding. jack mccoy returned to legonia saddened by the loss of an old friend; gladdened by the belief that he had found a new one. it was not what gregory had done that made the difference to mccoy; simply the way he had done it. any man with money could have defrayed the expenses of blair's sickness and funeral. but it took a real man to make the gratuity appear as a favor to the donor. when he met gregory at the cannery the morning after their return to legonia, mccoy was not slow in admitting that he was strong for the boss. "if we had time, jack," gregory was saying, "there is nothing i'd rather do right now than give you a week off on full pay. but you know what that would mean to us at this time. before we start in i want to make you another proposition." as the foreman said nothing, he asked bluntly: "how would you like the job as house manager?" "fine," mccoy answered. "do you think i could cut it?" "do you?" "yes," mccoy answered with no hesitation. "all right then," gregory answered in the same manner. "so do i. you've got a real job ahead of you. minutes are going to count in the next few days. the next batch of my service men are due to-morrow." mccoy jumped up. "that means a day's work for me," he exclaimed, and hurried out. gregory glanced at his watch. the next thing to be done was to see dickie lang. the matter of securing fish was of cardinal importance. the girl would be at the dock about this time. it would afford him a good chance to make his proposal while she was getting the fish ready for shipment. some time after gregory had left the cannery, barnes reported he was out of carborundum and mccoy set out at once for legonia. "they'd be all day sending it up," he said. "i've got to go down anyway and check over some stuff for us at the freight-house so it might as well be now." on nearing the lang dock he heard dickie's voice issuing from a pile of fish-boxes at the shore end. mccoy checked his steps involuntarily at the girl's words, and without meaning to--listened. "so you want to pay me a flat rate for my boats and hire me to train your men with my fishermen?" "yes. with a share in the profits." it was gregory's voice. mccoy noted the quiet tone used by the girl. he felt ashamed to eavesdrop. but he was torn with curiosity to hear dick's answer. "well, you've got your nerve, i'd say. and then some. do you think you can run my business better than i can myself?" "if i did, i'd try to buy you out. i'm asking you to run my boats as well as your own and----" "be your hired girl." dickie supplied the words and went on angrily: "say, the lang boats were here a long time before you came. and they'll be here as long after you go. they have gone on their own hook ever since they went into the water. and that's the way they are going to stay. my dad never took orders from anybody. he ran his boats the way he pleased. he was independent. i'm the same way. and i want to tell you right now, i wouldn't sell out my independence to you or any other man." mccoy crept back into the shadow of the fishing-boxes and making a wide detour went on into town. he was sorry he had listened. it wasn't a white thing to do. he liked gregory. he was his friend. then why, he asked himself, was he kind of glad that dick had turned down his proposition? chapter ix diablo luck busy days followed for kenneth gregory, and with the loyal support of jack mccoy, much was accomplished. the legonia fish cannery wakened from its long sleep and took on new life. from the receiving floor to the warehouse everything had been carefully overhauled and put into first-class shape. necessary repairs and alterations had been made. supplies and material were on hand. a nucleus of skilled labor had been carefully selected by mccoy and brought to train the service men who came to legonia on every incoming train. the sleepy little fishing village viewed the vanguard of the ex-soldiers with sullen indifference. silvanus rock had told them not to worry their heads over the "efforts of an impractical dreamer to turn the town upside down." and who knew, if rock didn't? as the days went by, however, and the invasion became more noticeable, the alien element of the fishing colony began to experience a feeling of sharp resentment against the new owner of the legonia cannery and his wild scheme. but again the foremost citizen had come to the fore and quieted their fears, turning them into open contempt and ridicule by his words: "what can he do with a bunch of crippled rag-a-muffins? look at them for yourselves. there's hardly a whole man among them. i give him a month to go to the wall. it's the old saying of a 'fool and his money.'" the opening of the new cannery presented every appearance of proving the truth of rock's prophecy and caused the aliens to laugh openly. "how can they run without fish?" sneered mascola as he checked the catch of the incoming boats. "they haven't had enough in a week to pay them to keep up steam." ten days after the opening gregory was asking jack mccoy the same question. "i tell you, mac, something has to be done. the lang boats are falling down on the job. you'll admit we haven't had a paying run since we started and expenses are climbing." mccoy nodded. "i know it," he agreed. "but dick has had hard luck. none of the boats have brought in much lately. the fish have taken out to sea. then mascola's men have been causing a lot of trouble." "that's just it," gregory interrupted. "the girl's tackled too big a job. i was afraid of it all the time. she's all right, jack. i'm not saying a word against her. but she was foolish to get on her 'high-horse' and turn down my proposition. it's a man's job to get all the fish we're going to need. not a woman's. of course i know she's doing her best," he went on. "but we can't go on this way. if she can't make good on her contract we'll have to take it out of her hands. i'm only going to give her a few more days." "then what?" mccoy questioned. "then we'll run things ourselves. i've been figuring on it for three or four days. that's why i'm having all our boats put in shape." "how will you man them?" asked mccoy quickly. "i've arranged for that too. the last time i was in the city i lined up a bunch of ex-navy men. they are fair sailors and have had some experience in handling launches and small boats. i'm going to bring them down here the same as i figured at first. if the girl wants to help me with her men, all right. if not, we'll go it alone. it's a ground-hog case. we've got to get the fish." "i wish dick wasn't so darned independent," observed mccoy. "if it was anybody else, they'd jump at your offer." "that's the trouble," gregory admitted. "she's a woman and she's mighty hard to talk out of an idea she sets her mind on. if i was dealing with a man i'd have come to a show-down long before this. as it is, i'm going to see her this afternoon and try to get down to brass tacks." a screech of the steam whistle interrupted further speech and the two men jumped to their feet and hurried out on the floor of the cannery at the signal to resume work. "only have enough to run about an hour," mccoy answered in response to gregory's question concerning the supply of fish on hand. and as he noticed the frown on his employer's face, he supplemented: "we've had enough the last few days to break the crew in anyway." "that's something, but it isn't good enough," gregory answered. "you're fixed right now to handle three times what we're getting. and i'm paying for it. i'm not worrying about things in here, mac. everything is going fine." he paused suddenly and his face glowed with enthusiasm as he walked nearer the cutting-bench. "look at the way those poor blind fellows are taking to their job, mac," he whispered. "they can't tell black from white but watch them work. they'll be doing as much in a week as a man with two good eyes. how are you coming, dorgan?" he addressed a cutter working at the nearest bench. the blind man turned quickly. "fine, capt. it's getting easier all the time. 'twon't be long before i'll be making real wages at this job." they passed from the blind cutters and came to the capping machine where a man with an artificial leg was being instructed in soldering the cans. again gregory's eyes expressed his satisfaction. "that's fine, carlson," he commended. "you're getting on fine." the man at the machine nodded. "nothing much to it," he answered cheerfully. "got kind of tired standing at first. but i don't notice it much now." kenneth gregory strove to express his appreciation of mccoy's work as they came to one of the empty warehouses, but the manager refused to take the credit. "it was your idea," he said, "you paid me to carry it out. at first i didn't think much of it. but now i believe it's going to work. the men are tickled to death. i never had a crew that tried so hard to learn or picked it up so quickly. i can handle an average run with them right now and they've only been working broken hours for a week." gregory turned quickly to mccoy and said earnestly: "it's a big idea, mac. it will work. it's got to work. it's getting bigger all the time. and i'll be damned if i'm going to have a girl hang me up by falling down on her job." he shut his lips tight as he drew a blue-print from his pocket and spread it out on an empty case. "now i want to go over these plans for making a bunk-house out of this building. the boys can't get a decent place to stay in the town. the contractor will be here in half an hour. after i've closed with him i'm going down to the lang dock and see the girl." * * * * * dickie lang paced the docks in nervous expectancy while she checked in her returning fleet and conferred with one of her fishing captains. "i'll tell you, tom, we've got to get them. i'm under contract to supply mr. gregory with fish and i can't fall down like this. look here." shoving a tally-sheet before his eyes, she pointed to the totals. "not enough there to last him half a day. he's beginning to eat them up. we've got to get more." "but if they ain't runnin', what you going to do?" "go after them," she snapped. "mascola's getting fish. he's going out to sea for them. he brought in a good haul yesterday from diablo. that's why i sent the big boats over there with the _petrel_ scouting ahead." the fisherman shook his head dubiously. "you're takin' a tall chance," he said slowly. "things happen out diablo way. your dad never could make it stick out there. he lost a heap around that devil-island. that's why he give up fishin' out there." "he didn't give it up," the girl flashed, "any more than i'm going to give it up. diablo's got your goats, and you know it. there's always fish around the island and i'll bet you two to one when the fleet comes back they'll have them to burn." turning with disgust, dickie walked to the end of the dock and sought to pierce the shifting curtain of mist which hung about the inlet. it came to her suddenly that in her anger at gregory's proposal, she had made a big promise. moreover she had entered into a contract which she was finding more difficult to fulfill than she had imagined. perhaps she was a fool not to have taken up the cannery-owner's proposition. at least it was worth considering. by accepting his terms all the worry would have been shifted to him and she would have been able to play safe. in a year she would have been out of debt. with her boats paid for, she could afford to be independent. now, she was going further behind each day. worse than that, she was falling down on her contract. * * * * * finishing his business with the contractor a half-hour before closing time, gregory hurried down to the lang wharf. he found the girl busied with her tally-sheets and stepped behind a row of fish-boxes and waited. from his position he could see the neighboring dock where a number of alien fishermen were at work mending nets. apart from the others was the huge figure of a red-shirted man standing motionless, scowling in the direction of the lang wharf. as he looked closer, he became conscious of the fact that he had seen the red-shirted giant before. boisterous laughter floated across the intervening strip of water and a scarlet sleeve flashed as the big man shook his fist threateningly at the rival dock. "they are kidding the russian about losing the _roma_ and getting canned by the boss," explained a fisherman who was passing by. "boris is sorer than a boiled owl at being run on the rocks by a girl." gregory watched the excited foreigner in silence. a man like that could cause a lot of trouble. suddenly he heard the sound of low voices on the other side of the lane of fish-boxes. "what's that got to do with it? we've got to live as well as she has. we ain't gettin' enough i tell you, and you know it. what's the use of bein' a damn fool?" the words died away in a low mumble as the men passed on. gregory emerged from his cover and looked after the two fishermen. then he noticed the girl had finished her calculations and hurried toward her. "i suppose you want to know what i have," she anticipated. "well, i haven't much yet. if you stay round a little while though i'll show you a real haul. i'm expecting my boats back at any minute from el diablo." gregory scarcely knew how to begin the interview. the girl was clearly unreasonable and flared up at the slightest intimation that she was unable to manage her own business. and yet it was perfectly clear that she could not. "fish is what we're needing right now," he said with blunt emphasis. "we're ready to go. mccoy has a good crew and he can handle them fast. a whole lot faster than we've been getting them," he added. she interrupted as he knew she would. "well, i'm doing my level darnedest," she retorted. "if i wasn't i guess i wouldn't have risked my best boats at diablo in a fog." as gregory said nothing in the way of argument, she challenged: "do you think you could do any better?" "yes," he answered without any hesitation, "i think i could. that is if you would help me. i think if we would pull together on this proposition we could do a whole lot. right now you are threatened with labor trouble." "you don't know what you're talking about. my men are loyal to me and always have been. they'll stick from start to finish." gregory related the conversation he had overheard a few minutes before. as he finished, he noted that a worried expression crept to the girl's eyes, though she said: "what's that amount to? there are always some who are dissatisfied and try to cause trouble. i'm well rid of a bunch like that anyway. there are not many of them." it was on gregory's tongue to broach his proposal when he saw the girl looking eagerly past him into the wall of fog. through the veil he caught the dim outline of an approaching fishing-boat. "here comes the _curlew_ back from diablo. before you say anything more wait until you see what luck they've had. if i don't miss my guess we'll have fish enough for you now all right." together they walked down the steep gangway to the swaying float. "if i can't get them at diablo, i can't get them anywhere," exclaimed dickie lang. then she shouted to the captain of the _curlew_: "what luck, jones?" from the gray void of fog a deep voice floated back: "diablo luck. never got nothin' and the _petrel_ was smashed to hell." chapter x salvage dickie lang was nonplussed. her best bet was thrown into the discard. her pride and independence had been at stake. for her most valued possessions, she had risked her all, and "stood pat" on the turn-up at the devil-island. her cards were all on the table. now she had lost. leaning against the sagging rail she watched the _curlew_ draw alongside the float. her slender fingers gripped the hand-rail and the sharp splinters bit into her hands. but what was that to the pain which gnawed at her heart? she hadn't made good. the taste of failure was a new and strange sensation. she had made her fight, done her best. but it wasn't good enough. but why was it necessary to take the little _petrel_? was diablo to beat her as it had beaten others? no, she must buck up. she was bill lang's daughter. "it's all in the game," she exclaimed to gregory. "as i told you, the sea plays no favorites." before the young man could answer, she had turned from him to meet the men who were climbing from the incoming vessel. "hello, boys. tough luck. but we can't help it. tell me what happened. make it short. i've got a lot to do." the fishermen grouped themselves about her as the quivering figure of a little mexican lunged through the circle and began to speak: "_dios, señorita_, it was very bad," he quavered. "we were lying close to shore. the fog was everywhere. we could not see. and the anchor, it would not hold. i was at the chain as you say i must when i hear a boat coming. _jesus de mi alma_, but she is coming fast. i can not leave as we are drifting and i say to pedro that he make a noise with the whistle. but he does not get a chance. as he jumped for the engine-house a big boat she come right out of the fog and before we can move, she smash us all to hell. i fall into the water with pedro and loose the dory. for a time we drift. then we are picked up by _señor_ jones." "did the _petrel_ sink right away?" dickie interrupted. another man crowded forward and answered the question. "she didn't sink at all, miss. she wasn't far from the shore and she drifted in with the tide that was settin' in strong. then she piled up on the rocks. she's layin' there now, high and dry on the beach." "didn't the boat that smashed them, lay to?" volleyed the girl. again the mexican began to speak excitedly: "_sangre de christo_, no," he chattered, "the boat, she was very big, _señorita_, and she did not stop." "nonsense, manuel. you were crazy with fright. don't talk like a fool. go home and go to bed. when you've had a good sleep, i'll talk with you again." stung into action by jones's statement that the hull of the _petrel_ was still on the beach, she turned suddenly to the wharf. "tom howard," she called sharply. when a voice answered, she ordered: "fill up the _pelican_ with oil and stock her with grub. you can get it from swanson. throw in a couple of deep-sea hooks and a lot of good hauser. mind it's new. be ready to pull out in an hour." she turned again to the men before her. "jones, i want you to get the _curlew_ ready. we may need two boats to pull her off. you know where they went ashore. take johnson and rasmussen with you. we've got to move lively. a boat won't hang together long out there." "rasmussen's sick. how about pete carlin? he was with me coming over." "don't want him, jones. got to have men who know the game round diablo in a fog. take sorenson." the fisherman nodded and lumbered up the gangway followed by others. dickie lang jammed her hands deep down into her pockets and shrugged her shoulders as she turned to gregory. "if it isn't one thing, it's another," she said quietly. "can you beat it? manuel saying he was run down? he was scared to death. i don't believe a thing touched him. he just went to sleep and drifted in on the rocks and made up that story to save his job. well, we'll know when i see the hull." gregory listened, scarcely hearing the girl's words. at her announcement of going to the island he began to make tentative plans to accompany her. there might be a lot he could do. and she sure needed help. he wondered if he could offer his assistance without again antagonizing her. "i'd like to go with you," he said bluntly. "i don't know much about the sea yet, but maybe i can do some of the strong-arm stuff and learn something. besides, i want to have a look at diablo." dickie regarded him approvingly. "how about the cannery?" she asked. "my boats will go on fishing just the same." "mccoy can take care of things all right until i get back. i'll learn a lot more over there than sticking around here." "you're the boss of that," she replied. then she added as an afterthought. "i'd be glad to have you." as they walked to the wharf gregory encountered mccoy and explained the situation. "so i'm going out there," he concluded. "while i'm away it's up to you." mccoy, he noticed, did not enthuse over the idea. "diablo's a dangerous place to be fooling around at this time of the year," he said. "if she can take the risk, i surely can," gregory answered promptly. "you're needed here," objected mccoy. "everything's new and there's liable to be something come up i don't know about." "then do the best you can. i'll back you up. you know a lot more about it anyway than i do." mccoy lapsed into silence while gregory hurried away to make ready for the trip. when they were ready to shove off, mccoy watched the two boats slide out into the fog with conflicting emotions. dick knew how to take care of herself all right. she could handle a boat in bad weather with the best of them. but, was that good enough? he reflected suddenly that bill lang _had_ been the best of them. and it was on just such a day as this that bill lang had met his death on diablo with gregory's father. leaning against the dripping rail, he cursed the circumstances which prevented his being at the girl's side if anything went wrong. he liked the boss or he would have told him to look for another man. and gregory's banking on him, tied him up. his inability to join the expedition gave to another the chance which should have been his. torn by anxiety for the girl's welfare and another emotion he was slower in analyzing, he listened to the faint gulping of the _pelican's_ exhaust until it was no longer audible. * * * * * the sun rose sullenly from a fog-spotted sea and glared wrathfully at the wreaths of low-lying mist which obscured his vision of the saw-toothed peaks of el diablo. under the warmth of his gaze, the white-fleeced clouds wavered, shifting about uncertainly. as if loath to leave the devil-island they had guarded throughout the long night, they contracted slowly, niggardly exposing a line of rugged cliffs which shone bleak and gray in the strengthening light of early morning. "it's breaking up at last. look!" dickie lang pointed to the dark blot on the horizon. "can't. if i take my eyes from this needle for a second the boat'll run all over the ocean." gregory continued to stare at the compass while the girl smiled at his earnestness. "tom will take her now," she said, nodding to howard to relieve him at the wheel. then she added: "you've done fine. we've been going all night on dead reckoning and we're not far off." gregory surrendered the wheel with a sigh of relief and followed the direction of the girl's extended arm. "that's diablo," she announced. "i'm mighty glad the fog is shifting. wouldn't have needed to have started so early if we had known. but that's the fun of the sea. you never know. there is no use trying to make it in there in a fog," she added. "it is bad enough when you can see." while she talked with johnson concerning the location of the wreck, gregory found time to note the towering cliffs which rose precipitously from the blue-green sea. somewhere along that rock-crusted coast, he reflected bitterly, diablo had claimed another of the lang boats only a few months ago. somewhere among the white-crested rocks his father and bill lang had met their death. he wondered where, but did not ask. perhaps the girl would speak of it. for some time he watched the mist-clouds flee before the brightening rays of the rising sun. then he noticed that dickie was standing by his side. her eyes too were held by the rugged coast. "the devil dumped it there," he heard her say in a low voice. "and when he saw what a hellish coast it was, he named it for himself. that's what dad used to say." she flung out her arm in the direction of a towering peak. "at the base of that highest cliff was where the _gull_ went on the rocks. they call it 'hell-hole.'" staring in silence at the saddle-backed mountain, their minds traveled into the past. then gregory asked: "does any one live on the island?" "it's a sheep-ranch. a man by the name of bandrist has it leased on long time from the government. he's swiss, i think. he farms a little of the land that isn't too rocky and runs his sheep over the rest. the island is about twenty miles long and over ten in the widest place." "is fishing good out here?" "fine," the girl answered. "only it's dangerous. fogs in spring and summer, and storms the rest of the time. lots of albacore and tuna. but it costs boats and sometimes men to get them. dad used to fish out here, but something was always sure to happen about the time he got well started. just like yesterday. diablo's a place," she said slowly, "where a man just can't make a mistake. if he does, he never lives to tell what happened." she pointed to the frowning cliffs which guarded the shore and extended far out into the water in a series of white-capped reefs. "no anchorage," she explained. "and a strong inshore current. when you get weather out here, it's nasty, and it hits you all in a bunch." as they neared the island the _pelican_ slowed down to wait for the _curlew_ which had been lagging astern. "jones must be having engine-trouble," commented dickie lang. "or else diablo's got him buffaloed too." "what do you mean?" gregory asked. lowering her voice so that it would not reach the two fishermen on the _pelican_, she said: "they all give diablo a wide berth. the fishermen are scared to death of the island. if you want to hear a lot of wild tales, just talk to some of my men at legonia. look at manuel. went clean out of his head and the funny part of it is the others all believed him. what's the matter, jones? having trouble?" she addressed the skipper of the _curlew_ as he brought his craft alongside. "been havin' it all the way over," the man replied. "compression's gettin' worse all the time." he drew a grimy hand across his blackened forehead and squinted in the direction of the island. "no place to be foolin' round with a cripple either, i can tell you," he growled. "reckon i'd better lay to until i can get patched up." the girl's brow wrinkled. "all right, jones. i'll go on. follow when you can. we'll be around that next point. can you beat that?" she exclaimed in a low voice to gregory. "his feet are getting cold too, and he's one of the best men i have." keeping well off the headland they rounded the point and turned shoreward. "in there." johnson jerked his head in the direction of a small cove which lay almost hidden beneath the brow of an overhanging cliff. "she lays just beyond that arch." dickie ordered a halt. "can't chance it in there with the big boat. throw out the hook and keep your motor warm, johnson. we may have to get out of here in a hurry. keep a good eye on the chain for if she starts to drift you'll be on the rocks before you can snub her up. put the dory over, tom, and we'll go ashore and take a look." under the powerful sweep of tom howard's oars, the small boat darted from the shadow of the launch and sped away toward the cove. rounding the natural arch by which the point projected itself into the sea, they entered the little cove which nestled at the base of the overhanging cliff. bisecting the cove, a rugged ledge of rock jutted out into the sea. dickie shaded her eyes with her hand and half rose from her seat. cradled between two jagged rocks at the extreme end of the ledge, her bow angling sharply, her stern washed by the lapping waves, bruised and broken, lay all that was left of her favorite vessel. only the girl's eyes mirrored her emotion as she stared at the wreck. "looks as if they made a clean job of it," she observed quietly. "land right in here, tom. we'll climb up on the ledge and walk over." pulling the dory up on the rocks they stumbled over the slippery eel-grass and approached the ill-fated craft. dickie lang examined the hull. "looks like manuel wasn't dreaming, at that," she ejaculated, pointing to the jagged hole in the _petrel's_ side. "somebody bumped him all right and it must have been almost in the cove or he would never have drifted in here." the further examination of the wreck went on in silence. the engine was half-submerged, gregory noticed, and the water poured from the splintered hull and splashed to the rocks in a series of tiny cataracts. "not much of a chance to save anything but the motor and the shaft," dickie observed. "and we'll have to work lively to do that on this ebb. she'll break up on the flood if there's any sea." as howard jerked his head in acquiescence with the girl's diagnosis, a shower of loose rocks rattled from the overhanging cliff. dickie walked around the _petrel's_ bow and scrambled to the ledge. "looks as if we were going to have company," she announced, pointing in the direction of the bluff, where three men were descending the trail to the beach. reaching the ledge the strangers walked steadily toward the wreck and halted within a few feet of the salvage party. as they jabbered in a french dialect, gregory listened intently. dickie's hand stole to the pocket of her coat. the men seemed bent on making trouble. it was best to take no chances. her fingers sought the handle of the colt in vain. cursing her negligence in leaving the automatic aboard the _pelican_, she stepped forward for a parley with the strangers. gregory and howard placed themselves about her as the men moved closer. "no sabe," exclaimed dickie lang. "what kind of lingo are they talking anyway." gregory was dividing his attention between the man with the red beard and the weasel-faced stranger who was gesticulating so wildly with his long arms. "red-beard says nobody's allowed here, or words to that effect," he interpreted. "weasel-face backs him up in it and says for us to beat it." "tell them what we're here for. and that when we get the boat stripped we'll go, and not before." the red-bearded man shook his heavy head with slow comprehension. weasel-face shuffled closer, his small eyes blinking malevolently. the third member of the party, a thick-set man with a face pitted by scars, motioned threateningly in the direction of the dory. dickie brushed forward. "i'll try them in dago," she said. gregory watched the strangers move closer to their leader as the girl began to speak; heard his low-voiced words, uttered in a harsh guttural; saw his arm flash out and grasp the girl roughly by the shoulder. leaping forward, gregory found his way blocked by weasel-face. the islander's hand was fumbling at his belt. gregory's fist snapped his head backward. the man's hands flew up, but not in time to block the vicious blow which caught him full on the chin. weasel-face's legs collapsed. without a sound he fell in a heap upon the rocks. holding dickie lang in his great arms, the red-bearded man saw his companion fall by his side. with a snarl he released the struggling girl and shoved her from him. before he could draw his knife kenneth gregory was upon him. chapter xi refusing to be bluffed dickie lang reeled backward as the red-bearded man shoved her from him. she felt the eel-grass slipping beneath her feet. striving vainly to regain her balance, she turned cat-like in the air and broke the fall with her hands. as she rebounded to her feet she could see gregory wrestling with the man who had precipitated the attack. close by his side, tom howard grappled with the scar-faced islander. the third man lay huddled on the rocks where he had fallen. dickie decided at once upon her course of action. gregory and howard were holding their own against the two men. it was up to her to see that the third of the islanders did not come to the rescue of his companions. the man might regain consciousness at any moment. then there would be three against two. she remembered suddenly that there was rope on the _petrel_. better than that there was a rifle. it was but a few steps to the launch. she covered it quickly, caught the main-stay and pulled herself aboard. * * * * * kenneth gregory realized at the outset that he was up against a hard fight. in his hurry to close with the red-bearded man, his foot had slipped on the slimy grass and he had been forced to clinch to save himself from falling. this placed him at a marked disadvantage. his opponent had the best of him in weight by at least twenty pounds and was heavily muscled. moreover he possessed a certain agility on the grass-covered rocks which rendered any attempt on gregory's part to force the battle, as extremely hazardous. the islander, at home on the slippery footing, from the start, became the aggressor. for a time gregory was content merely to hold his feet against red-beard's rushes and retain his hold on the islander's knife-arm, should he be possessed of a weapon. men of that type, he reasoned, were usually short-winded. in time the heavier man would exhaust himself. then his turn would come. ahead he noticed a clear space, free from grass. the solid rock would afford good footing. there he would have a better chance. if the islander was determined to crowd, he might as well crowd in the right direction. gregory changed front slowly, working his body around the heavier man, giving way before his bull-like rushes. when he reached the position he desired, he checked his circling movement and began to retreat steadily. keeping his feet wide apart, his body carefully balanced, he backed slowly in the direction of the spot where the grass would no longer slip beneath his feet. on the other side of the ledge, tom howard battled with the scar-faced man. of equal weight and strength, the struggle resolved itself into a question of endurance, as the two men rolled over each other on the barnacled rocks in an effort to break the other's grip and strengthen his own. unconscious of their surroundings, their heads locked close to their straining bodies, they grappled blindly, working closer to a deep crevice which lay across their path. for a brief instant they ceased struggling. their bodies stiffened. with each man seeking to pin the other beneath him they rolled to the crevice and dropped from view. * * * * * dickie, aboard the boat, flashed a glance at the gun-rack. the rifle was gone. the patent-clasp which held the weapon in place had been wrenched free. her eyes traveled to the empty provision-locker, which stood open. close by it lay a small monkey-wrench with which some one had battered the padlock. a wrench would be better than nothing. she caught it up and ran to the deck. securing a small coil of rope, she jumped to the rocks and raced in the direction of the spot where the weasel-faced man had fallen. as she ran she caught a glimpse of gregory giving way before the red-bearded man toward the table-like surface of the ledge which jutted out over the cove. of howard she could see nothing. she stopped suddenly as she came in view of the spot where the weasel-faced islander had sprawled upon the rocks. the man was gone. * * * * * solid rock beneath his feet at last--red-beard had forced him to the exact spot he desired to reach--gregory's muscles contracted with a jerk. he stopped retreating and began to slide around the islander. if he was successful in carrying out his plan it was best to have red-beard on the outside of the ledge. divining his purpose, the big man stiffened as he caught a glimpse of the sea over his shoulder. straining closer to each other's throbbing bodies, the two men redoubled their efforts to twist the other to the outside. red-beard's breath began to come in gasps. he opened his mouth and sucked in the air feverishly. his corded muscles were beginning to relax. gregory's feet shot under the islander's legs and the big man narrowly escaped falling. when he regained his balance he could not see the water. the cool air from the sea which had been blowing in his face now stirred the thick hair which covered his neck. he was on the outside of the ledge overlooking the cove. before he could recover from his surprise, red-beard felt the fingers on his arm relax. his opponent wriggled in his arms, stiffened and crushed against him. as the big man fought to regain his balance, gregory freed an arm and his fist flashed to the islander's ear. red-beard grunted for breath. again the rigidly flexed forearm cut under his guard and landed on his hairy chin. as he raised his big arms to protect his head, his antagonist twisted free. ducking under the clumsy fist which beat the air above his head, gregory swung again for the islander's chin. with a snarl of rage, the big man lowered his head. then his angry growl changed quickly to a grunt of pain as he took the blow full in the forehead. reeling dizzily, his hand sought his girdle. his fingers closed on the hilt of his knife and jerked it free. gregory hurled himself forward at the sight of the steel. grasping the uplifted arm he wrenched it inward, twisting the man half around. surprised at the suddenness of the move, the islander gave way in a series of staggering steps which carried him to the edge of the rock ledge overlooking the water. retaining his hold on the red-bearded man's wrist, gregory struck with all his force at the bulging chest. as the blow landed he felt the body crumple in his arms and the knife clattered to the rocks. the islander staggered backward with his assailant pressing close against him. in their struggle both men had for the moment forgotten the overhanging ledge. [illustration: both men had forgotten the overhanging ledge] gregory remembered it too late. red-beard's arms were still about him. suddenly he felt the dead weight of the islander's body. as he strove to break the man's hold he tottered on the brink of the ledge. he felt himself being dragged downward. before his eyes flashed the rock-dappled waters of the cove. his only chance lay in clearing the rocks below. his knees straightened with a jerk. shoving his body outward, he plunged over the ledge with the islander clinging to him. the warning scream died on dickie lang's lips as she ran toward them. checking her steps on the edge of the rocks overlooking the water, she stared at the ever-widening circles which rippled the water and the jagged rocks which shone ominously dark beneath the surface. she followed the center of the ripples mechanically. thank god, they had hit in a clear spot. but what chance would a man have throttled like that by another? the cool rush of air on his throbbing face gave place to a cooler one as the waters closed over kenneth gregory's head. he felt his body sinking like a stone. the arms about his body tightened. the blood pounded to his brain. to his mind flashed stories of swimmers who had been drowned by women with the fatal strangle-hold. he realized sharply that he was held by no woman, but a red-bearded giant, insane through fear, incapable of reason. whatever he did must be done at once. with an effort which left his lungs pressing hard against his ribs he freed an arm and worked it upward until he felt the matted hair of the islander's beard. from there it was only a span to the throat. that was what he must reach. the throat. the words raced through his brain. the throat. he must shut down on that and hang. his groping fingers searched for the elusive organ. perhaps red-beard had no throat. the grotesqueness of the idea caused him to want to laugh. it didn't matter much after all. not when.... there it was. he had found it at last. his fingers stiffened and slid on the slippery flesh. then they fastened, tightened and hung. * * * * * good god, would they never come up? dickie searched the faintly dimpled waters from her commanding elevation, but her closest scrutiny revealed no sign of the men beneath the surface. kenneth gregory was drowned as his father had been drowned at diablo. so intent was the girl upon her examination of the water that she failed to see a limping figure emerge cautiously from behind a pile of rocks and drop into a near-by crevice. * * * * * under the steady pressure of his fingers, gregory felt the body of the islander relax. then he became conscious in a vague sort of way, of movement. they were rising to the surface or sinking lower to the bottom. why couldn't he tell which? he freed his legs from the inert form which twined itself about him, and kicked weakly. the red-bearded man slipped from him at the effort and he narrowly escaped losing his hold upon his throat. he kicked again. if he could only get one gulp of air he could make it. in spite of the ever-increasing pressure on his lungs he found himself getting sleepy. he was tired, worn out. if he could only fill his lungs with something to stop that dull pain, he could go to sleep and rest. * * * * * dickie lang saw the dark blot of the two figures as they neared the surface. then she thought of the rope in her hand. she could weigh it with the wrench and throw it from where she stood. uncoiling it hastily, she measured the distance. too far, she realized bitterly. she looked to the water's edge. the distance would be shorter from there. shoving the wrench into her pocket and throwing the rope loosely about her neck, she crawled over the ledge and climbed downward. the ledge dipped sharply under the overhanging surface and extended shoreward in a narrow shelf, carpeted by kelp and washed by the sea. around that big boulder would be the best place. from there she could throw the rope to good advantage. she was about to shout encouragement when she heard the sharp splash of a stone falling into the water from the cliff. shrinking closer to the rocks, she listened. then crept silently on. * * * * * air to breathe at last! gregory lay passive on the surface, content to gulp it in in huge mouthfuls. nothing else mattered now. his head throbbed painfully and his eyeballs burned in their sockets. but he had air. and that was enough. as the pressure of blood on his brain lessened, he became conscious of the fact that he was still gripping the islander's throat. he released his fingers and the big head tilted forward until it rested face down on the water. with a start gregory realized that the air had come too late for red-beard. he must get the man ashore at once. he turned his head slowly and saw the rock ledge only a few feet away. by that big overhanging boulder would be the place to land. there he could crawl up on the soft kelp and rest. rolling the unconscious man to his back, he swam slowly for the ledge. * * * * * dickie reached the base of the projecting rock and wedging her slender body into a small fissure, peered cautiously through the cleft. so close that she could almost touch him, alert and motionless, stood the weasel-faced man. his small eyes were fixed upon the water. the hand which was nearest her held a knife. wriggling from the crevice she hastily retraced her steps. no use trying to squeeze through there. she would be in full view before she would have a chance. flashing a glance at the rugged surface of the boulder, she began to climb. * * * * * it was farther to the ledge than he thought. something was the matter with his legs. his arms had no strength. they had almost ceased to function. a sharp pain gripped his side and tore downward through his body. still gregory swam on. in another moment he could reach out and grip the kelp with his hand. he closed his eyes and swam mechanically. at length his extended fingers touched the sea-grass which fringed the ledge. twining them eagerly about it, he pulled his aching body closer and rested, clinging to the rocks. * * * * * hand over hand dickie lang crawled upward and outward until she could see the water lapping at the ledge beneath. from her vantage point she could see gregory swimming on with closed eyes in the direction of the rocks. his limbs were moving slowly and his face was drawn with pain. still he floundered on. straight for the kelp-covered ledge--and weasel-face. a sharp turn in the rocky pathway put the man in full view, only a few feet below. sheltered from sight of the struggling figure in the water, he waited in silence. if she called out to warn gregory to seek a new landing-place it was doubtful if he could make the beach in his exhausted condition. such a course, too, would make her presence known to the hatchet-faced man who as yet had not observed her. no, it was better to take the man unawares. she thought of the rope. perhaps she could loop it over his head. she gave up the idea at once. it could only fail. jamming her hands into her pockets, her fingers closed on the wrench. she jerked it out and balanced it in her hand. a feeling of confidence surged over her. she couldn't miss him from where she stood. her pastime of flinging stones at the gulls when a child would stand her in good stead now. if the man looked up, she would throw before he could recover from his surprise. * * * * * dragging his tired body wearily from the water, gregory pulled his unconscious companion after him. as he stretched the islander at full length on the soft kelp and knelt over him, he caught sight of a man's foot protruding from behind a rock. gregory stumbled to his feet. at the same instant he heard the sound of a muffled blow. a small wrench clattered to the rocks and fell with a splash into a pool of water. "i knew i could get him," a girlish voice called from above. dickie lang jumped down with shining eyes and made her way toward him. "buck up," he heard her say. but the voice trailed away into silence. when he regained consciousness, the girl was bending over him, rubbing his numbed limbs and slapping his cold flesh violently. "you'll be all right in a minute," she said. "don't try to talk now. lie still and rest. feel better?" he nodded. as he moved his head he noticed the two figures lying close beside him. noting the questioning look in his eyes, dickie explained: "they're all right or will be in a little while. i'm looking after them. when they come to, i'm going to tie them up." she flourished a small coil of rope. as his strength returned gregory began to pick up the loose threads. "howard?" he asked. she shook her head. "don't know where he is. couldn't see him. don't worry. chances are he's all right. he's hard as nails. when you can walk we'll go and look for him." they found the fisherman huddled against the rocks at the bottom of the small crevice. close by his side lay the scar-faced islander. both men were unconscious. gregory examined howard carefully. "his leg is broken," he announced. "and he's pretty well bruised up. he must have got an awful jolt when he fell on these rocks." jumping up, he exclaimed: "i'll go and get something for splints," he said. "make him as comfortable as you can." when he returned dickie noticed he carried a heavy oar which he had fashioned into a rude crutch, a number of small strips of wood and a piece of an old blanket. "found them on the _petrel_," he said as he set to work. dickie assisted gregory in caring for the wounded man. her respect for the young man increased as she noted the skilful manner with which he worked. soon howard's leg was set and after a time he opened his eyes and slowly regained consciousness. the sun was high overhead when they were able to move the injured men. while howard rested for a moment on the ledge, gregory carried the unconscious form of the other man to the soft sea-grass and stretched him at full length. then he thought of the two men they had left on the narrow shelf by the sea. "i'd better have a look at red-beard and the other fellow," he said suddenly. "the water might come in there and wash them off." dickie nodded. "i'll stay here," she said, and gregory hurried off. when he came back he shook his head. "gone," he announced. "washed off?" "don't think so. the water hadn't quite got to where we left them. i guess they sneaked." dickie's eyes searched the sea while he spoke. "i can't understand what is keeping the boys from the _curlew_," she said. "we'd better get tom aboard the _petrel_ where we can make him more comfortable. better bring the other fellow too. there's some whisky on the boat unless those devils have stolen it too. hello, what's that?" the quiet was broken by the sharp clatter of horses' hoofs. looking in the direction of the sound, gregory saw a number of horsemen riding over the crest of the bluff overlooking the cove. the fisherman glanced toward the dory which lay on the rocks at the extreme end of the ledge. "better beat it," he suggested. dickie lang shook her head stubbornly. "no," she said. "we'll leave that man here and the rest of us will get aboard. the _petrel's_ on tide land and i'll be damned if any one's going to bluff me out." chapter xii a warning from the _petrel's_ sloping deck they saw the horsemen appear in bold silhouette against the sky-line. swinging from their saddles they walked to meet a white-shirted rider who galloped over the ridge and drew rein among them. the newcomer remained astride his horse. resting an arm on the horn of his saddle, he stared into the little cove through his binoculars. satisfied apparently by what he saw, he dismounted and walked rapidly toward the trail leading to the beach, the men following after him. as they took their way down the cliff gregory noticed that some of the men carried rifles. when they reached the beach the white-shirted man walked on alone, and without a backward glance, traversed the rocks in the direction of the wreck. "he walks like a king," commented dickie lang. "i wonder if that is bandrist." gregory noted the clean-cut figure of the stranger carefully. the man was about his own height though of slighter build, the spareness of his figure being emphasized by the close-fitting riding-trousers and the thin silk shirt which fluttered about him as he strode along. the fair-haired stranger stopped abruptly when he reached the _petrel's_ side. flinging an arm upward with a careless gesture, and looking straight at the girl, he said quietly: "i am unarmed. may i come aboard your vessel?" only the slightest trace of the foreigner was discernible in his speech. dickie lang nodded. "come ahead," she said. "whoever you are, you can speak english at least." the visitor smiled as he caught the mast-stay and drew himself gracefully over the rail. "i am leo bandrist," he introduced. "i fear my men have caused you some annoyance. i am sorry." dickie rehearsed the incidents leading up to the trouble with the natives and when she had concluded, bandrist's forehead wrinkled in a frown. "i am very sorry," he repeated. "my men, you see, are very stupid. very ignorant. they understand but little english. then, too, i have been annoyed by others. you see, i have many sheep and wild goats upon the island. hunters come to shoot the goats, but they often mistake my sheep for them. fishermen also have caused me great trouble. i have fenced my lands to keep them out; put up the signs the law tells me i must to protect myself. but no, they disregard my rights. so i give my men instructions to keep them out. when my rangers are opposed they grow ugly. one of them tells me that one of your number began the attack. that angered them, you see, and they fought back. it was but natural. however, i am sorry. i trust that none of your party has been seriously injured." "small thanks to you," dickie snapped. "your men tried hard enough to commit murder." nodding in the direction of the unconscious islander, she added: "there's one of your outfit stretched out over there. another was half-drowned. the third tried to knife mr. gregory. i hit him in the head with a monkey-wrench. they both got away or were washed off the ledge." bandrist shot a quick glance at gregory as the girl mentioned the cannery owner's name. at the girl's reference to her part in the affair his eyes lighted with interest. then the frown came again to his face. "that is the trouble," he said quickly. "my men do not understand. they know only one way to fight. that is to win. if you will permit me, i shall summon the others to care for their companion." he waited for the girl's consent. then he waved his hand to the men on the beach. when they were within ear-shot, bandrist addressed them rapidly, nodding toward the spot indicated by dickie lang. as the men hurried away, he explained: "they come to me from many countries. some of them are bad and cause me much trouble. it is so lonesome out here that i can not keep good men. i tell my fence-riders only to keep people away so that they will not kill my sheep. some of them i arm as you see, because those who hunt also carry guns and are sometimes ugly." he spread out his slender fingers apologetically. "again i am sorry," he said. "if you desire to work now i will see that you are undisturbed, if you will promise to leave the island when you are through. you see i do not want any more trouble," he concluded with frank emphasis. "my men will be very angry when they find their wounded comrade. sometimes it is difficult for me to restrain them." the excited jargon of the islanders as they came upon their disabled fellow confirmed the truth of his words. jabbering to themselves, and casting sullen glances in the direction of the _petrel_, they carried the man over the ledge to the beach. "mr. bandrist," said dickie clearly. "i've as much right to be here as you have. you can't legally keep me from taking the engine out of this boat. she's on tide and you haven't any more claim to that than i have. you know that as well as i do. i'm going to take my time. when i get through, i'll go. and not before. if you are on the square you'll stay here until i do. we don't want trouble any more than you do. but we're not going to be bluffed out on this deal or any other." bandrist's eyes shone with unconcealed admiration. he inclined his head in response to her suggestion and exclaimed: "i shall be only too glad to remain here until you are ready to leave." dickie lang turned quickly to howard. "you keep off your feet, tom," she said. "i might as well start in. the boys from the _curlew_ ought to have been here long before this." gregory pressed forward. "tell me what to do," he said. the girl regarded him approvingly. "you can loosen the stud-bolts on the motor first. come on," she said. "i'll show you." bandrist followed after them. "may i help?" he asked. she shook her head with decision. "two's as many as can conveniently work around the engine," she answered. the work of tearing down the motor began at once. gregory wore the skin from his knuckles in loosening the stud-bolts while howard instructed him from the doorway how to take off the carburetor and rip up the feed-line. as they worked the girl made a rapid survey of the parts she desired to salvage. "some more of your friends?" bandrist pointed seaward where a dory was rounding the point and heading shoreward. the girl acknowledged his words with a curt nod. "here come the boys from the _curlew_," she announced. when the landing party reached the _petrel's_ side, jones and sorenson stared in silence at the white-shirted man leaning against the rail. "got things fixed up, jones? you were a long time coming." the skipper of the _curlew_ climbed aboard before replying. drawing the girl to one side, he said quietly: "thing's pretty well shot, miss. took her down and found this." he extended a blackened handkerchief covered with fine dust. dickie lang examined it carefully, rubbing the particles of black grit between her fingers. "emery dust?" jones nodded. "she's full of it," he answered. "don't dare and start her up. she'd cut herself to pieces." silently regarding the blackened particles, the girl asked: "carlin was with you yesterday you said, didn't you?" "yes. him and jacobs." "carlin's enough. i knew he was a dub. but i didn't think he had brains enough to be a crook. i know now. well, we've got enough trouble right here for a while without bothering about your boat. you rip up the motor and sorenson and mr. gregory can strip the deck. we've got to hustle. it will begin to rough up soon. then we'll have to run with what we have. she'll break up on the flood by the looks of things." pausing for a moment to partake of a meager lunch which dickie discovered had been overlooked by the robber of the _petrel_, all hands turned again to the work of salvaging the motor. through the long afternoon they worked in silence. as gregory stripped the iron chaulks from the deck and removed the stays, he noticed that bandrist leaned idly against the rail with his blue eyes following the movements of dickie lang with great interest. once, before gregory could surmise his purpose, he sprang to the girl's side and assisted her with a piece of shaft and the ease with which he handled the heavy brass caused the young man to marvel. a queer specimen of man was bandrist, he reflected, to be marooned in such a spot as this. gregory's work gave him a chance to study the islander without being observed. he was a figure who merited more than a passing glance. he would challenge attention in any environment. while he twisted the galvanized turn-buckles, rusted by the salt-air, gregory appraised the man carefully. trained to the minute and hard as nails, he catalogued the slender figure. the long smooth-lying muscles were those of an athlete. he could see them rippling at the open-throat and on the islander's wrist when he raised his arm. the features too were worthy of notice. line by line he studied them. from the high forehead which bulged over the clear blue eyes, to the delicately ovaled chin. the face was emotionless. only the curve of the thin lips showed the man beneath the mask. the lips were cruel as death. the tall crags cast their irregular shadows athwart the cove and a sudden puff of wind, which had freshened as the day wore on, ruffled the quiet waters and caused them to slap angrily at the base of the ledge. dickie lang cast a weather-eye to seaward and shook her head. "time we were getting in the clear, boys," she said. "the tide's beginning to set in strong and the breeze is freshening. we've got about all we dare fool with. i want to get clear of the diablo coast before the fog drifts any closer." the fishermen issued from the engine-house at her words and began to gather up the parts of the dissembled motor and carry them to the waiting skiffs. then they assisted howard to the dory. in a few moments they were ready to shove off. dickie stepped into the dory of the _pelican_ which jones shoved into the water. "i want to get tom to the launch and have her ready to get under way," she explained to gregory. "will you stay and help sorenson load the rest of the motor?" gregory nodded and set to work. bandrist's eyes followed the departing skiff until it disappeared around the point. then he motioned gregory to one side and began to speak: "do not let her come out here again," he said in a low voice. "diablo is not a safe place for fishermen, much less a woman. my men will not forget you. i was able to control them to-day. the next time i might not be so fortunate." however well meant the warning might have been, it rankled in gregory's breast. he felt his instinctive dislike of bandrist grow with the man's words. meeting the islander's eyes squarely, he said in a voice which only bandrist could hear: "if it is necessary for us to come to diablo again, mr. bandrist, we will come. if you are unable to handle your men, that will be up to you." for a moment the two men appraised each other in silence. then gregory turned and walked to the waiting dory. in the purpling dusk they embarked from diablo and sped across the rippling water to the launch which lay in the offing. looking back from the stern-seat, gregory saw the man on the ledge gazing after them with folded arms. on the deck of the _pelican_ the girl was issuing hasty orders for the return to the mainland. "kick her over, jones. johnson, stand by the hook. here comes the other skiff. get your stuff aboard, sorenson, as quick as you can," she called to the approaching dory, "and swing the boat on deck. we'll beat it out of here and take the _curlew_ in tow. make it lively, boys. we've got to be under way." swinging wide of the headland the _pelican_ plunged into the trough of the swell and skirting the coast raced on to pick up the disabled _curlew_. dickie lang looked back at the dim outline of the cliffs as they shadowed the sea. "poor little _pete_," she exclaimed softly. "it's tough. but it can't be helped." gregory alone heard her words. "it sure is," he said, feeling that the words were wholly inadequate. "and i'm mighty sorry," he added. the girl started. "i guess i was thinking aloud," she said. "i didn't know you heard." she set her lips together. "it's all in the game, i know," she went on, "but no one but me knows how i hate to lose the little _petrel_." when they picked up the _curlew_ the fitful wind died suddenly and the air grew heavy with moisture. the white clouds which scurried across the face of the heavens dropped lower and massing themselves together obscured the stars. piloting the _pelican_ and her tow safely to the high seas, the girl relinquished the wheel to johnson with a sigh of relief. "i'll rustle something to eat, bill," she said. "we'll stand two-hour watches. i'll take her next. i want to see if there is anything i can do for tom. i'll be in the cabin. call me if you sight anything or it gets thicker." turning to gregory, she exclaimed: "the next thing is to eat. i'm starved myself, and i'll bet you're worse." repairing to the cabin where the big fisherman was already asleep on the bunk, they ate their first real meal of the day in silence. there was much that they could have talked about, but one does not follow the sea long without learning that opportunities to eat are sometimes golden, and not lightly to be passed over or interfered with by conversation. it was not until the last morsel of food had been consumed, therefore, that gregory made an effort to voice his thoughts. "what do you think of bandrist?" he asked suddenly. the girl started, surprised that they should both be thinking of the same man. her forehead wrinkled slowly as she answered: "i think he's a crook. i don't know why exactly, but i just do. he's too smooth. too well educated for a sheep-man. he's up to something at diablo. don't know what. don't know that it is any of my business at that. but i don't like him." "neither do i," gregory admitted. "i sized him up as a mighty clever man. he has a hard outfit out there and he pretends he can't control them. that's the bunk. did you notice how they took orders from him without even talking back?" "yes. and he had most of them armed. with orders to keep people off of the island. why?" she asked suddenly. "i don't believe it's on account of the sheep." gregory shook his head emphatically. "that was bunk too," he said. "they knew we were not trying to hunt. i suppose they did get pretty sore when we roughed it with them, but that didn't give them any license to pull their knives and try to carve us up. that crazy fool would have had me in another minute if it hadn't been for you." dickie sought to minimize her part in the affair. "i didn't do much," she said. "i was just lucky. you did all of the hard work. i thought you were never coming up." "you were dead game," gregory cut in. "you saved me from that fellow's knife and you know it." dickie lang made no reply but sat with her arms resting on the cabin-table, looking off into space. again she saw herself huddled against the rocks, looking down into the sunlit water of the cove, waiting for the men to come to the surface. what a fight gregory must have had to have freed himself from that strangle-hold and save the life of the other man as well as his own. how skilfully he had worked over howard. he seemed to know just what to do. she raised her head sharply. not given to living in the past, she wondered why her mind had gone wool-gathering. perhaps it was because she was beginning to realize that this man was a man among men. and real men were scarce. he was speaking again. "there's something wrong at diablo. i'd give a lot to find out what it is." "it would cost a lot," she answered soberly. "and what business is it of ours? dad used to say that monkeying with other people's affairs was a luxury he never could afford." "but if they interfere with fishing, it is some of our business." "yes, but do they?" "i don't know. that is, not yet," he was forced to admit. "neither do i. until i do, i'm not looking for any more trouble than i can see ahead right now." silence for several moments. then, from the girl: "besides, you couldn't find out anything. the fishermen are scared stiff of diablo as it is. when this gets around, they'll be even worse. they're not looking for more excitement. they have enough." to gregory's mind recurred his plan of manning the girl's boats. here was an opportunity to justify it. "the bunch i'm figuring on wouldn't be afraid of it," he said. "in fact i think they would kind of enjoy finding out." dickie smiled. "aren't you speaking two words for yourself?" she asked. he smiled too. "i'll admit i have some curiosity," he answered. the girl laughed. "you've got into the habit of fighting," she retorted. "but the war is over now." "maybe you're right. but at legonia i've an idea it has just begun." it was just what she would have had him say. what she would have said herself if she had spoken her mind. she liked a man who wasn't afraid. they were the kind one could tie to. gregory's proposal again assailed her. it had its advantages. she would think it over while she was at the wheel. "boat off starboard quarter," a gruff voice announced from the doorway. dickie lang sprang to her feet and hurried on deck with gregory following close behind. from the gray gloom came the sharp exhaust of a high-powered motor, running at top speed. as they looked in the direction of the sound, which was fast changing to an angry roar, the shifting wall of filmy fog was pierced by a flash of green. "mascola!" gregory was barely able to catch the girl's words above the uproar of the gatlin-like exhaust. the next instant the green light flashed by and was swallowed up in the gloom. "i wonder what he's doing out here running like that?" dickie mused. "how do you know who it was?" she laughed. "there's only one boat anywhere around here with an exhaust like that," she answered. "that's the _fuor d'italia_. she's the fastest craft in southern waters of her kind. and no one ever runs her but mascola." gregory continued to listen to the rapid-fire exhaust as it died away in the distance. then he pictured himself driving the trim craft, plunging through the waves and hurling the spray into his face as he raced on. recalled to himself by the slow-moving _pelican_ burdened by her tow, he reflected that speed sometimes was everything. if he was going to oppose mascola he would have to get there first. dickie was speaking again. "joe barrows built her up at port angeles. mascola hasn't had her very long and he won't have her much longer if he pounds her like that. i wonder what he's going out to diablo for in such a hurry." gregory could not answer. but he made up his mind if he was ever going to find out, he would have to have a faster boat than the _fuor d'italia_. perhaps joe barrows could help him out. through the long night the _pelican_ crept into the thickening fog with the disabled _curlew_. daybreak found them at the entrance to crescent bay. when they reached the lang docks the masts of the fishing-fleet could be dimly discerned through the shifting mist like a forest of bare-trunked trees. dickie frowned. "the boys are late getting out," she observed. "i wonder what's the matter." as they drew alongside the wharf it was evident that something unusual was in the air. the pier was thronged with fishermen, gathered together in little groups, leaning idly against the empty fish-boxes. at the landing party's approach the low hum of conversation died away into a faint murmur. a solitary figure, standing apart from the others, hurried forward to meet the girl as she walked up the gangway. "hello, jack. what's the trouble?" mccoy nodded in the direction of the silent fishermen. "trouble enough," he whispered. "i'm mighty glad you've come, dick. there's a strike on. carlin's got them all riled up and there's hell to pay." chapter xiii the strike a strike at this of all times! and pete carlin at the bottom of it! with her nerves frayed raw by two nights of sleepless vigil and the memory of the _curlew's_ disabled motor rankling within her, dickie lang brushed by a group of men and confronted a bullet-headed man in a loose gray sweater. "carlin," she said clearly in a voice which all could hear, "you're fired. you're a crook. if you'd work the clock around i wouldn't have you on the job." turning to the fishermen she rapidly related the incident of the finding of the emery-dust in the _curlew's_ motor. "it's a lie," carlin interrupted, "i don't----" "it's the truth, pete carlin, and you know it." dickie moved closer to carlin and her eyes met his. "you can't look me in the eye and deny it," she challenged. as the man said nothing, she flashed: "get off my dock while you're still able to walk. if i was a man i'd knock you down." the man grinned but did not move. "but you ain't," he retorted. "i reckon i ain't goin' to have no fool girl tell me where to head in at. i reckon i----" a heavy hand fell on his shoulder and his sentence remained unfinished. gregory's eyes were snapping close to carlin's. "beat it," he said, "while the trail's open." carlin flashed a glance over his shoulder at the fishermen who stood looking on in stoical silence. then he decided to go. mumbling to himself, he turned sullenly from the men about him and walked slowly down the dock. dickie lang faced the silent fishermen. "now, boys, what is it? i'll hear what you've got to say. but i won't have any dealings with a crook." the men about her shuffled their feet and drew closer. then a man in a faded plaid jumper detached himself from the others and began to speak. "we ain't got nothin' against you, miss lang," he began uncertainly. "but we've all got to look out for ourselves. we got families and folks dependin' on us. livin' 's out of sight. so is clothes and everything. we----" "what's your proposition, blagg?" the fisherman hesitated at the directness of the question. then he recited: "straight time. eight-hour day for six dollars. double money for overtime and sundays." dickie started at the demand. carlin had done his work well to set such a limit as that. she wondered how far the seeds of discontent had spread among the others. as her eye traveled over the silent groups, blagg went on: "you see, miss, as i say we got families and the women-folks----" "don't blame the women, joe," interrupted the girl. "if they got half of what the saloons leave they'd have no kick coming. i'll bet they're not back of this. you've been listening to a half-baked fool who couldn't make a living if dollars grew on trees. all pete carlin can do is talk. you boys know he isn't a fisherman." she stepped closer and her voice dropped to a conversational tone. "it just isn't in the business, boys. if i promised to pay those wages i couldn't do it. i'd be broke with the first run of bad luck and you know it as well as i do, if you'd stop to think. the man doesn't live who can pay that around here and get out." blagg smiled knowingly at the fishermen. "you're wrong, miss," he said. "we've already got the offer for a job at them terms." "not here?" he nodded. "right here in town. we won't have to move nor nothin'." watching the effect of his words upon the girl, he went on, carried away by the importance of his announcement. "that's why we're puttin' it up to you. you've always shot pretty square with us. but money talks, and we all got to look out for number one. i reckon none of the boys is honein' to go to work for a furrinor, but we all knows his money's good as yours and that's what counts." "you mean you're going to ditch me for mascola?" blagg dropped his eyes to the planks of the wharf before the girl's steady gaze. "we don't aim to ditch nobody," he said awkwardly. "but we got to live. the dago's offered us six day straight with double for overtime and sundays. we ain't decided yet. we waited to give you a chance." dickie lang listened quietly, her eyes roaming among the knots of silent fishermen. some she noticed stood close and as their spokesman went on, shuffled closer. others held aloof. when blagg had concluded, she began to speak in a voice which carried to the detached groups of men standing in the back row. "i'm not going to say much. but what i do say i want it to sink in. come up closer all of you where we can see one another." when the fishermen ranged themselves about her, she looked hard into their weather-beaten faces and went on earnestly: "boys, you've known me since i was a kid. most of you knew my dad. if you did, you knew a man. he had to fight hard for a living. but he shot square every foot of the way. some of you were here when he came." she singled out a few of the older men and spoke directly to them: "do you think you'd be here now if it hadn't been for bill lang? what were the russians and austrians doing to you when he came? you were all down on your uppers and didn't know where your next meal was coming from. who was it that took up your fight? who backed you with boats and gear and taught you how to fish so you could hold your own against the outsiders? you know without my telling you." some of the older fishermen dropped their eyes to the rough board planks at the girl's words. there was no doubt that lang had been square. but as blagg had pointed out, a man had to look out for himself. "you think that hasn't anything to do with your quitting me to get more money? all right. i'll show you that it has. let me ask you some questions. what is mascola paying his own fishermen? why should he pay you fellows twice that much? does he think you'll rob more traps, lay round more nets and run more men off the beach with his seine? why should he pay you six dollars when he can load up with a gang that'll do what he says for three? is that business?" she paused and her lips compressed in a straight line as she went on: "you can answer those questions just as well as i can. you know what mascola's game is. he thinks he's going to put me out of business. he's trying to crowd me off the sea. what do you suppose will become of you if he makes good? how long will you get that six dollars a day with the lang fleet out of commission? you've been fighting his men for a square deal ever since you came here. and now you're figuring on helping them run you out of your own town." blagg noticed that several of the men were falling back and whispering among themselves. scenting signs of a break among his ranks, he felt it was up to him to say something. well, he had his trump card yet to play. "we ain't such fools as you think," he said. "we ain't gone at this thing without considering pretty careful and gettin' good advice. last night some of us had a meetin' and talked things over. mr. rock was there and he give us some mighty good advice. he says to the boys that it was every feller for himself and----" "rock's got a mortgage on your house, hasn't he, joe?" blagg flushed beneath his tan. "i reckon that ain't got nothing to do with it if he has," he challenged. "and you understand i ain't even sayin' he has. but he's a business man." "and a hypocrite," supplemented dickie lang. "nobody knows that any better than i. he lied to me and tried to flim-flam me out of my boats before my dad was buried a week. if i'd fallen for it he would have had me right where he's got you, joe. but i didn't. and when he found out i was going to stick to you boys, he called me a fool and said no white man could compete against mascola's men." as she paused for breath, gregory saw tom howard hobbling through the crowd, speaking in low tones with the fishermen. "one minute more and i'm through," the girl concluded. "we're up against a hard fight here at legonia. a fight for americans to fish their own waters. sounds foolish, but you know it's the truth. when my father and mr. gregory were drowned off diablo, mascola thought he had us beaten. rock thought so, too. but i'm telling you we're going to fool them both. there's something wrong around here, boys, when we can't get a fifty-fifty break on our own coast. and we're going to find out what it is." seeing that she had the ear of the men at last, she walked closer. "listen, boys, i've got a big proposition to offer you. one that will beat mascola's like an ace beats a deuce. because this one is on the square." the fishermen crowded closer while she went on: "you know what we've been up against here for years to get good help. you boys have been working short-handed most of the time. doing more work than it was up to you to do. i've got a plan now to get all the men you want. good men too. fellows who have been tried out, red-blooded men. fighters! i want you men to train them. show them how to fish. in a little while they'll be doing all the work and i'll pay you four dollars a day straight time with a dollar a day more if you stick through the season. but better than that i'll give you a share in the profits of not only my own business, but the legonia fish cannery as well." gregory gulped. it was dickie's voice all right. but the words were his own. there was some mistake somewhere. he strove to regain control of his scattered senses as blagg burst out: "you're figurin' to start somethin' you can't finish, ain't you? you ain't bought the cannery already, have you?" "don't you worry about that, blagg. i know what i'm talking about. mr. gregory and i are partners on this deal." blagg was taken back by the girl's announcement. almost as much so as gregory himself. "suppose there ain't no profits?" put in another fisherman. "that's your lookout as well as mine." again the girl took gregory's words and went on: "but there will be. i'm going to get a bunch of ex-navy men down here that mean business. they won't let mascola, rock or anybody else bluff them off the sea. all they want is a chance to learn the game. you boys can teach it to them right." blagg stepped back and began to whisper to the men about him. the other fishermen looked at one another and listened for bill lang's girl to go on: "you fellows all know the advantage it gives you to have enough boats and men. if you break down and get into any trouble, it's pretty good to have somebody standing by to give you a hand. and you know that mascola knows how to make trouble." turning to the older men, some of whom had already begun to feel their joints stiffening with rheumatism, she said: "fishing's a hard game, boys, for the best of us. and it doesn't get any easier as we get older. there's a lot of you who will have to go into dry-dock before long and get patched up. and there's some that can't afford to lay up. you've been working with your hands too long. you've got to ease up and use your brains. that's what i want to hire now. these young fellows are eager to help you. it will be up to you to show them what to do." could this be the girl who had angrily announced that she intended to run her business in her own way? gregory could only stare at dickie lang. so far, she had not even included him as being a partner to the idea, save by her pledge of the profits of his cannery. surely she would explain her sudden change of heart. listening intently, he heard her conclude: "think it over, boys. it's a chance that may never come again. if there are any questions you'd like to ask, shoot." blagg noted that her words were having a marked effect upon the silent fishermen. seeking to stem the tide of the reaction which he felt was setting in against him, he began to make objections. dickie lang met his arguments with painstaking explanations and the objections gradually became fewer, simmering down into more or less intelligent questions. gregory noticed that the fishermen began to retire and clustered together in little groups while they talked earnestly among themselves. still there came no explanation from the girl. she was championing his ideas as if they had been her own cherished plans. at length the various knots of men drew further apart and faced each other in two well-marked divisions. to the left stood joe blagg, about him clustering the younger and more radical element of the fishing colony. on the right the property-owners and heads of families for the most part, drew closer to big jack stuss, their acknowledged leader. dickie lang regarded the two factions carefully, striving to count their ranks. each was about evenly divided, she figured, with big jack's constituency slightly in the lead. blagg stepped forward and began to speak: "it's six straight for me and mine," he said. "them's our terms. the boys can't see your new-fangled proposition at all." "it's up to you," the girl replied coolly. "if that's the way you feel, you can get your money. but before you do, i'd advise you to talk it over at home. don't forget that i'm fighting for you--not against you. it might be pretty nice to remember some time that you tried to help yourselves. think it over before you get your checks." as she finished speaking, big jack got slowly under way. elbowing a path through the crowd he shuffled closer, hitching at the straining suspender to which was entrusted the task of holding in place his two pairs of baggy canvas trousers. shifting from one bowed knee to the other, he contemplated his great bare toes in silence while he drew in a deep breath which filled his huge lungs to the bursting point and caused the muscles of his neck to stand out in purpled knots. dickie waited, knowing full well that it was big jack's invariable preface for speech. when the big fisherman had secured enough compression to proceed, he boomed forth in a fog-horn voice: "me and my fellers has decided to stick. youse fellers can count on us if you shoot square. we's willin' to take a chanct." [illustration: "me and my fellers has decided to stick"] his sentences were interpolated with great gusts of surplus breath. as he finished speaking he lumbered away to rejoin his companions. "that's the stuff, boys. it's the way i like to hear men talk. it shows you've got the sand. take it from me, you'll never be sorry you stuck." she walked forward and passed familiarly among them while the blagg faction melted slowly away and straggled down the dock in the direction of the town. gregory stood with mccoy while the excitement quieted down and dickie despatched the fishing-boats on their accustomed morning cruise. "well, i'll say you've done wonders," mccoy was saying. "who would ever have thought that dick would have given in?" gregory nodded weakly. "i was rather surprised myself," he admitted. mccoy looked at his watch. "i must go," he said. "it's almost time to blow the whistle. coming up soon?" gregory promised to be on hand as soon as he got his breakfast and mccoy hurried off. when the last of her remaining men had left the dock, gregory noticed the girl coming toward him. now he would learn the reason for her sudden change of mind. he listened eagerly for the explanation. dickie lang passed a slim brown hand slowly over her forehead and replaced a tousled lock of red-brown hair. "now," she said calmly, "when can you get me my men?" chapter xiv the mother of invention everything was coming his way. kenneth gregory glanced again at his first balance-sheet. the cannery had been in operation but a single month and already the business was exceeding his fondest expectations. he glanced at the chart which hung by his side. forty-two completely equipped fishing-boats in the water and every one fully manned. he smiled as he thought of dickie lang's astonishment at the manner in which the ex-navy men had taken hold of the work. his smile broadened too as he noted the receipts from the fresh fish and the canned product. fishing had sure been good. and there had been little or no interference from mascola. since the day when dickie had accepted his proposition all had gone smoothly. gregory attributed his success to the carrying out of an idea. it had worked. it had to work. and it was _his_ idea. on the floor of the cannery, dickie lang was also analyzing the phenomenal success of the legonia fish cannery while she waited for the owner to accompany her on their daily cruise to the fishing grounds. "i'll tell you, jack, it gets my goat how things began to pick up the very minute i threw up my contract. he's had nothing but luck ever since." "i wouldn't say that, dick," mccoy objected. "the boss's idea was worth something. of course i----" "oh, rats! i'm sick of hearing everybody talking about an idea. all these fellows in here think that kenneth gregory can't make a mistake. they think that nobody else could have done what he did." "that's what you want fellows to think who are working for you, isn't it?" ventured mccoy. dickie gasped. had mccoy too fallen a victim to hero-worship? mccoy, who had been her loyal friend, and servant? she determined to find out to what extent he had transferred his allegiance. "do you think mr. gregory did any more than i could have done?" she flashed. mccoy endeavored to temporize. "well, in a way he didn't," he said, "and then again he did. you see----" but dickie refused to see. whirling angrily, she walked rapidly toward the office. anything to get away from hearing gregory's praises chanted from every lip. better be with the idol himself than his devout followers. she flung open the door and entered the office. gregory faced her with a smile. a self-satisfied smile, the girl thought. in his hand was a paper. "look at that," he exclaimed. "my idea has worked out a lot better than i anticipated." dickie glanced coldly at the sheet but made no effort to take it from his hand. looking him full in the eye, she observed: "i'm about caught up with that idea of yours. i don't see that there is anything in it to cause any one to get the swelled-head." "who's getting the swelled-head?" demanded gregory, the smile passing from his face. "well, i'm not," retorted the girl, laying special stress on the pronoun. "i've seen too much of this game to have my head turned by a little luck." gregory overlooked the implication and admitted soberly: "yes, we sure have had luck. there's no denying that. i never had any idea the boys would take to the game the way they have." "they wouldn't if it hadn't been for my fishermen taking all the trouble they did with them. why, a lot of those fellows were seasick when they first came down here. they were 'rocking-chair sailors.' my men made them what they are. i don't see any luck in that." gregory smiled provokingly. "no, i don't suppose there was," he said. "what i meant was i was lucky in getting hold of men who really wanted to learn. you've admitted several times that they got along faster than you had any idea they would." "anybody could catch fish the way they've been running the last few weeks," evaded dickie. "i never saw anything like it before. nearly every boat comes in with a good haul. and when the local market was glutted at port angeles, you shot them up north and just tumbled on to a good market as frisco was out of fish. that was nothing but luck," she challenged. "and now we have orders for all canned stuff we can turn out," gregory put in. "sure you have. from the western outfit. i wouldn't trust them out of sight with a case of fish. they'll eat the stuff up as long as you can throw it to them in big lots. that gives them a chance to beat you down on the price. the first bad run of luck you have, they'll drop you cold. i know. they did the same thing with your father the very first time he began to fall down on his output." "yes, but----" "you're not going to fall down." she took the words from his mouth and hurried on: "that is just what i was afraid of. your luck has gone to your head. you have an idea things are always going to be like this. i know better. and you'll know before you get through. the fish are liable to head out to sea any day." "you guessed wrong about what i was going to say," gregory announced. "i was going to tell you i had an order from winfield & camby for a shipment of albacore if we can get them out right away. suppose the fish do run to sea," he went on. "i'll back you to find them if any one can. and we're well equipped now to follow them up." dickie was somewhat mollified but she took care not to show it. "you're not figuring on mascola either," she began. "mascola," gregory repeated. "why, he's been decent enough the last two or three weeks." "i know it," she interrupted. "that's what has me guessing. it isn't like mascola to be that way. he's been checking up on us right along, but he hasn't bothered any of our boats since he lost the _roma_. it's about time he showed his hand." "we have nearly as many boats as he has now," gregory observed. "maybe he thinks----" again the girl anticipated his words. "get that out of your head," she snapped. "if you think mascola's quit, you're wrong. the more boats dad got, the harder mascola fought him. it's only when an outfit gets big enough to make a showing that he begins to get busy." "we'll have the rest of the cannery boats out the last of the week," gregory announced. "i'll have the boys rush them. we won't start anything, but just get good and ready. it's mascola's move. i've made it perfectly clear to all the men that we are not looking for trouble." dickie was silent for a moment. then she said: "i have an idea that rock gave mascola a 'bum steer' and that both of them are just beginning to find out their mistake." "what do you mean?" "i mean that rock guessed wrong. he told a lot of people around town when you opened up that you'd be broke in thirty days. he and mascola are pretty thick and the chances are he told mascola the same thing and the dago believed him. now they're beginning to find out they slipped up in not trying to cripple you before you got your men broken in. i've just got a hunch it won't be long before we hear from mascola. he's bringing more boats in here every day from down the coast and the islands." seeing they were getting nowhere by their talk, gregory tossed the balance sheet to the desk and got to his feet. "we'd better be on our way," he said. with dickie following, he lead the way out into the cannery where he stopped for a moment to speak to mccoy. "i'm going outside for a while, mac. if the western people call up, tell them we're shipping the last of those sardines to-day. sound them out on albacore prices in job lots." dickie turned away at the mention of the jobbers. gregory evidently thought very little of her advice. biting her lips, she walked to the door to wait on the receiving platform. mccoy watched his employer follow after her. dick was sore at him. he'd have to go up to the house this evening and try to square himself. she was evidently sore at gregory, too. and in that thought, mccoy derived some consolation. with the crisp sea air fanning their faces as they headed out to sea, dickie's irritability vanished. desirous of starting conversation after a protracted silence, she began: "who do you think i saw down-town the other day?" gregory could not guess. "i was in the bank," she began after a moment, hoping gregory would not notice that at times she did frequent rock's institution. "and that crazy fool, boris, was in there trying to borrow some money. he's been hanging round town ever since mascola fired him. when i've seen him he's been drunk on japanese _sake_. he has it in for me because all the fishermen kid him about being run on the rocks by a girl. when i stepped back from the teller's window, boris lunged against me and started to mumble something. but before he had hardly opened his mouth, a well-dressed man came from somewhere and threw him half across the room. and who do you think it was?" again gregory shook his head. "bandrist." as gregory voiced his surprise, the girl went on: "you wouldn't have known him. he was all dolled-up and looked like a different man. he knew me all right and he had the nerve to ask me if he could come to see me," she concluded. gregory's dislike of bandrist increased. "what did you tell him?" he asked. dickie laughed. "i told him i wasn't any more anxious to receive callers at my home than he was at his." gregory wondered if the caustic answer to bandrist might have been retailed for his own benefit. he reflected suddenly that dickie lang had never so much as intimated that he would be a welcome guest at her home. well, there was no use dwelling on it now. he had never bothered the girl, and never would. "bandrist is no ordinary sheep-man," she went on. "and i know it. he's working some kind of a game over there that he doesn't want people to butt in on." she paused abruptly and her eyes narrowed. "i wonder," she began, but left her sentence unfinished as she noticed that gregory was regarding her curiously. "what?" he prompted. "nothing," she said. "maybe some day i'll tell you. but not now." gregory knew her well enough to know that nothing could be gained by urging. during the silence that fell upon them the minds of both were working in parallel grooves, groping for a way of light to lighten the darkness of an unsolved mystery. when they reached the albacore banks and sighted the vanguard of the fishing fleet, both came back sharply, back from the maze of doubt and intangible suspicions which clouded their brains as the fog had clouded the island that held their thoughts. making the rounds of the albacore fishermen the truth of the girl's pessimistic prophecy became strikingly apparent. the fish had undoubtedly taken to sea. laying-to to check one of the last of the few remaining boats which rode at anchor, dickie consulted her tally-sheet and shook her head. "not much in this," she averred. "it's a losing game so far. and there's only big jack with the _albatross_ yet to hear from. we ought to find him cruising off the seal rocks. he's generally the first out and the last to come in. he never gives up while there's a chance left. i've seen him 'chumming' for albacore all day and then bring in a bunch hours after everybody else had given up." as they drew near the _albatross_ she hailed the fisherman: "how are the fish, jack?" big jack continued throwing the live bait from the tanks into the water. then he straightened up and hitched at his suspender. "they're beginnin' to come in like hell," he bellowed. the fisherman was right. gregory looked over the rail and gasped with wonderment. the sea about them was literally alive with fish. the lines which flashed over the side of the _albatross_ scarcely touched the water before the fish struck. dickie's eyes snapped at the sight. "put her about," she cried to gregory. "and beat it as fast as you can for home. we'll make a killing if we can just overhaul enough of the boys to get in on the run. load up, jack," she called as the vessel swung about. "cruise up and down and keep 'chumming' so we won't lose them. we're going after the fleet. pound her for all she'll stand," she instructed gregory. "every minute means money." they had been running only a few minutes when they sighted mascola's speed-boat astern. the girl frowned as the _fuor d'italia_ roared by in a swirl of white water. "this is where speed counts," she exclaimed. "if mascola tumbles on to big jack he'll have his gang around the _albatross_ before we can get within hailing distance of our nearest boat." gregory watched the rapidly disappearing speed-boat anxiously. it was on his tongue to tell the girl of the launch joe barrows was building for him at port angeles, a craft which the boat-builder guaranteed in the contract would beat the boat he had built for the italian. "keeping in close touch is everything in this business," dickie observed. "fish come in bunches. the ocean's spotted like a checker-board. you may have one boat loading up and another right around the next point doing nothing. that's where mascola wins out," she exclaimed. "he scouts round and tips his fleet off if you've anything good. then they're down on you like a flock of gulls." before they caught up with the stragglers of the cannery fleet they sighted the alien fishing-boats coming in their direction. dickie's brow was overcast. "just what i was afraid of," she cried. "he's tipped them off. we're going to lose a lot to-day on account of not being able to keep closer together and being shy on a fast boat. you might as well get the idea of filling that albacore order out of your head right now." as they overhauled the cannery boats and headed them back to the seal rocks, gregory considered the girl's words about keeping in closer touch. if he was going to beat mascola, he'd have to get there first. the speed-launch which barrows was building for him would serve as a signal boat, but even that would not serve to keep the other boats in constant touch with one another. before they reached the last of the available boats they met mascola coming back. while the girl stormed at their helplessness to cope with the situation, gregory spoke in monosyllables and wrestled with his problem. he considered the methods of communication employed by the army in connecting the various units. one by one he discarded them. the semaphore would serve only for short distances and then only when the boats were within sight of each other. the same argument would apply against the wig-wag. the heliograph would be useless in stormy weather or in fog. a fast launch would help out, but even that would not completely solve the difficulty. how did boats keep in touch with one another? the answer came at once. why hadn't he thought of it before? when they came in sight of the seal rocks they saw the masts of the two fleets clustered thickly about the _albatross_. "look at that," snapped the girl. "now, maybe you'll believe i know what i'm talking about. we were asleep and mascola's beat us to it. it won't take him long to fish them out with an outfit like that. he's got our boats on the outside now, taking what's left." gregory saw that she was right. mascola's boats were crowded closely about the _albatross_ and his own fleet was completely fenced off. "what did i tell you? he's got them already. look! he's ready to move. while we've been crawling along in this old tub, he's cleaned up." the alien fleet began to get under way as she spoke and headed about. darting past his boats came mascola. noting the tardy arrival of the oncoming launch, he made straight for them. slowing down, he drifted by with his white teeth flashing in an insolent smile. then he opened the throttle and the _fuor d'italia_ leaped forward and raced away with an angry roar. when they reached the _albatross_, big jack was apoplectic with rage. it was some minutes before he could master his speech sufficiently to explain the situation. mascola had arrived when they were hardly out of sight, had watched them pulling in the fish and had gone at once to summon his boats. the aliens had come upon him from around the point in ever-increasing numbers. had hedged him and taken his school. when the cannery boats arrived the albacore quit biting and took to other waters. dickie lang issued orders for the return of the fleet to legonia. then she vented her wrath on kenneth gregory. "so you thought you had mascola beaten, did you? what did i tell you? didn't i say he'd come back at the first chance? albacore fishing is where he's always been strong. and that's about all there is from now on. we've got to come alive and forget these ideas and get down to brass tacks. mascola beat us hands down and we couldn't lift a finger to stop him. what are you going to do about it? that's what i want to know." gregory curbed his rising anger and answered quietly: "before i tell you what i'm going to do, i'd like to ask you a question. what could we have done legally to break through mascola's fence?" "nothing. that's where he had us. he got there first. to get in to the fish we'd have had to ram his boats and he'd have you up before the local inspectors in no time if you had done that. if he had laid his nets around ours it would have been different. you could demand sea-way and run through them if he didn't move. but this way he had us over a barrel. and he knew it. it's a trick no white man would do. but i guess even you will admit now that there isn't a drop of white blood in that dago's body." "then about the only way we could have beaten him," pursued gregory, "would have been to have got there first and covered our own boats. is that right?" "yes. but that is not so easy as it sounds." "it is not so hard either," gregory went on. "i have an idea that i think will work out all right." dickie's eyes flashed. "forget your ideas!" she snapped. "you've got to have a whole lot more than ideas when you start out to beat mascola." gregory felt his patience oozing from him at her words. it was bad enough to lose an order from a firm he hoped to get in strong with, without the girl rubbing it in. "you haven't done anything yet but find fault," he said. "you have been at this game a lot longer than i have. maybe you have something to suggest." something in his voice caused dickie to quiet down. she began to cast about in her mind for an answer. "you've got to keep your boats in closer touch," she began. "so mascola can't work this same deal on us again." "that is exactly what i am going to do." "you'll have to show me." "i will. i'm going to show you and mascola both. by wireless." before she could interrupt, he hurried on: "listen. half of these navy men know the international code. the others can learn easy enough with some one to teach them who has worked at a radio key. i have several who have done that and can rig the sets." "you must think you're a millionaire. you aren't running a line of steamships. come down to----" "the sets won't cost much," gregory went on calmly. "if they did all these kids along the shore wouldn't have them. a fifty or one-hundred-mile radius would be enough for us. and it wouldn't take them long to pay for themselves. if we had had the boats equipped with radio outfits to-day we could have beaten mascola at his own game. when big jack 'chummed' up the albacore the rest of our boats would have known it before mascola got there. the fish he caught to-day would pay for quite a few sets." "it would pay for itself in another way if it would work," supplemented dickie, much to gregory's surprise. "lots of times a boat breaks down and drifts on to a reef. if she could get word to some one close by they could take her in tow or even pull her off before she was hurt much." discussing the pros and cons of the new idea, they took their way toward legonia. when they arrived at the lang wharf the girl grudgingly admitted that the plan might work. at least it might justify a trial. leaving dickie at her own dock gregory was about to proceed up the bay to the cannery wharf when she came over to the rail and exclaimed in a low voice: "oh, yes. another thing. i didn't have a chance to look at that statement you had this morning. if you're not too busy to-night, you might bring it up to the house." chapter xv business and pleasure alone in his little room in the fish cannery kenneth gregory found himself confronted by a new and unexpected problem. a hurried glance at his watch only served to aggravate the tense lines which creased his forehead. it was seven-thirty already. he was due at the lang residence at eight. and what was he going to wear? the seriousness of the situation became painfully apparent as he pawed over his wardrobe. his pre-war clothes had served nicely to wear about the cannery. but they were hopelessly out of style. why hadn't he taken the time to have had something decent made in port angeles instead of taking the first thing in 'hand-me-downs' which the salesman had offered? he surveyed the suit ruefully. then he reflected that his errand was purely one of business and hastily donned the garments. a nasty fit, he admitted to himself, as he looked into the mirror. he'd like to get his hands on the man who talked him into it. he looked at his shoes. they too caused him a commensurate amount of worry. built on lines of comfort they displayed a total disregard of fashion. the longer he examined his attire the more conscious he became of its defects. turning from the glass he walked with disgust from the room. the moon was shining bright when gregory reached the lang cottage. pausing on the graveled walk to reef in his vest, he walked up the steps and fumbled about for the bell. dickie welcomed him at the door. "i hardly knew you in those clothes," she began. "they do make a difference, don't they?" gregory pulled his coat closer about him and agreed that they did. then he noticed that the girl had discarded her man's attire and was clothed in a plain white dress. in the light of the little hallway her hair gleamed like dull gold. she led the way into a small living-room upon the floor of which a number of vari-colored rag rugs were scattered about. by a big sewing table sat a little woman in black. a light shawl draped her shoulders and a white cap covered her gray-threaded hair. at their entrance she laid aside her knitting and smiled. "this is mr. gregory, aunt mary," dickie announced in a loud voice. to gregory she added: "miss lang, my father's sister. she is very hard of hearing." gregory bowed as he took the hand miss lang extended. "i'm glad to know you," she said. "real glad. your father was one of my few friends. we enjoyed many pleasant games of checkers together." her keen gray eyes appraised him while she spoke and under the frankness of her stare, gregory felt his coat collar slowly pulling away from his neck. passing a hand nervously to the lapel he jerked the garment into place while he responded to her greeting. "richard all over again," announced miss lang when she had finished her inspection. "the same eyes, the square chin. even the same nervous manner of hitching at your clothes." "aunt mary!" dickie expostulated. "you're too personal. you----" but miss lang went on with a smile which put her guest wholly at his ease: "you won't mind what an old lady like me says, i'm sure. i always told your father just what i thought. and i'm going to do the same with you." gregory listened attentively while she told him of her first meeting with his father. while she spoke his eyes traveled curiously to the high-backed organ and the what-not beyond. richard gregory had described the lang home as a model of neatness and old-fashioned charm. his son went further. the room possessed a personality. it was not only livable but lovable as well. the very atmosphere breathed a benediction. "do you play checkers?" miss lang's voice recalled gregory to himself. he shook his head. "i'm sorry," he began. "no you're not," put in dickie quietly. "you're lucky. don't ever learn. aunt mary never gave your father a chance to say a word. she had her board out when she heard him in the hall." a knock on the front door interrupted miss lang's request for her checker-board and dickie hurried out. "i can teach you in no time," aunt mary was saying. but gregory was listening to the sound of a man's voice in the hallway. then came the girl's laugh. "i wasn't angry at all, jack. just cranky. but i'm glad you came up just the same and thanks for the candy." she reentered the room followed by mccoy. mccoy stopped with surprise as he caught sight of gregory. nodding casually, he went over to greet miss lang. aunt mary welcomed mccoy warmly. then she addressed her niece. "bring us the board, josephine. kenneth can watch and i'll explain the game as we go along." mccoy sank into a chair and passed a hand wearily over his eyes. "i have a headache," he shouted. "don't think i'd better play to-night." "you've been working too hard," aunt mary retorted. "nothing like a good game of checkers for relaxation." dickie was already on her way for the board. as she passed gregory he saw that her eyes were sparkling. "that's right, jack," she called back. "leave it to aunt mary to prescribe for your headache. she knows." as mccoy drew up to the board gregory noticed that he was attired in close-fitting clothes of ultra-fashionable cut. as he saw mccoy look him over he became ill at ease and moved his chair farther from the light. dickie sensed his embarrassment and noting that neither man appeared to enjoy himself, strove to make her guests feel more at home. both men she knew were vitally interested in the operation of the cannery. and gregory, at her request, had brought up the balance-sheet. a discussion of business affairs would relieve the situation and at the same time rescue mccoy from aunt mary's checker-board. the rapid termination of the first game gave her a chance to interrupt. "i asked mr. gregory to bring up a business statement to-night, aunt mary; you'd like to see it, wouldn't you? i know jack would." miss lang nodded and promptly laid aside the board. "very much," she answered. "i've always been interested in that business and i understand this young man is making it pay." mccoy heaved a sigh of relief to learn it was merely business which had brought gregory to see dickie lang. at the girl's reference to the object of his errand, gregory unbuttoned his coat and delved into his pocket for the paper. he must have put it in his vest. again his fingers failed to find the missing document. he became conscious of a prickly sensation creeping slowly over his flesh. where had he left that darned paper anyway? suddenly he remembered. in his mortification over his attire he had left the statement lying on his dresser. he looked up to meet all eyes fixed expectantly upon him. then he leaned back in his chair and tried to smile. "i guess the joke's on me," he said. "i came away in such a hurry i forgot it." dickie laughed at his discomfiture until the tears shone in her eyes, while mccoy regarded his employer with suspicion. aunt mary finished polishing her spectacles and settled back to listen. "i'm all ready to hear it," she announced. "perhaps you had better come nearer so you will not have to speak so loud." dickie came to gregory's rescue and explained the situation to her aunt. then she added in a low voice: "you must have been stung by another of those ideas of yours." during the remainder of his visit kenneth gregory was content to remain in the background. mccoy made a few efforts at conversation as he noted aunt mary's eyes roving longingly in the direction of the checker-board. then miss lang, much to every one's relief, began to monopolize the conversation. beckoning gregory closer, she said: "i want to give you just one bit of advice though i don't suppose you'll heed it coming from an old lady like me." as gregory encouraged her to go on, she exclaimed: "stay away from diablo island." seeing that she had aroused his interest, she went on: "you're going to ask me why, and i'll have to answer that i don't know except that it is a dangerous place and has been the cause of a number of strange accidents during the past few years. i used to warn my brother to stay away from there. he only laughed at my fears--at first. when he lost the _kingfisher_ at el diablo he called it bad luck. any boat was liable to be run down, he said. then came the wreck of the _crane_ off the south coast of the island and not a body ever recovered." "aunt mary thinks there's ghosts and everything else at diablo," dickie whispered. "if you give her any encouragement, she's as bad as my fishermen." gregory noticed that although the girl's words were intended to ridicule the idea, the expression of her face showed that her aunt's words were not regarded by her in the light of idle gossip. "for a time after that," miss lang continued, "my brother stayed away from diablo. when fish were scarce he went back. he hadn't had his nets out a week before he lost them all. no one ever knew what became of them. will was getting worried though he tried not to show it. he was about ready to give it up when your father bought the cannery and came to legonia. for a while after that fishing was good everywhere. as long as they stayed away from that accursed island things went well. but they were not satisfied. so they sent the _eagle_ over there. the last they heard of her she was anchored in northwest harbor." the room grew very still as the old lady continued: "that worried them. because they could not find out what became of her. the fishermen began to refuse to go there and i thanked god it was all over. then one night will and your father went out to diablo in the _gull_. why they went, heaven only will ever know." she rose slowly and walked to the door. "she won't sleep a wink to-night," exclaimed dickie as the door closed on her aunt. "i must look after her." when the girl returned a few minutes later she found gregory and mccoy discussing business. gregory remained on his feet at her entrance. "i must be going," he said. "i have a lot of work to do." bidding mccoy good night, he followed dickie to the hall. "i'm glad you came up even if you did forget the balance-sheet. come up again any time you're not too busy." with the girl's words in his ears, gregory walked into the moonlight. the evening had not been a complete failure after all. as he turned his steps in the direction of the town his mind was wholly engrossed with the events of the past two hours. how aunt mary did hate diablo. had the girl noticed how badly his clothes fit him in comparison with mccoy's? why had jack appeared so grouchy? he stopped short in his descent of the hill road as he saw a man walking unsteadily toward him. moving to one side he watched the drunken fisherman stumble on, heard the low mumbling of his voice. then the moonlight fell full upon the man's face. it was boris, the crazy russian. chapter xvi the baited pawn of all the many saloons that made up legonia's water-front the "red paint" was the favorite resort among the alien fishermen. the universal popularity of the establishment was due mainly to three causes. the boss owned the place and paid off there between moons. credit was freely given to all fishermen in good standing, and thirdly, mascola's emporium enjoyed full police protection. during the evening when gregory made his first call at the lang hill the tide of revelry at the "red paint" was at the flood. it was pay-day and the boss was in high good humor. either occurrence was always good for a number of rounds of free drinks. but when mascola was happy on pay-day, the liberality of the "red paint" was indeed prodigal. and mascola was happy. within the frosted glass enclosure that marked off his saloon-office from the bar, the italian sat at his desk in a genial glow of good humor. the glow was purely physical, superinduced by the rapidly disappearing contents of the slim-nosed bottle which stood at his elbow. the good humor was due to other causes. as he re-filled his glass, mascola smiled. it hadn't been such a bad day at that. he'd showed somebody something about albacore fishing. and he'd show them a lot more before he got through. things were coming his way too from other sources. he took out his leather wallet and ran over a number of bills of high denomination. then he took another drink and smiled at the ceiling. it had been such easy money. much easier than fishing. a knock sounded at the street-door. mascola shoved the wallet again into his pocket and hastily removed his bottle of amontillado. "come in," he called. boris entered, clumsily filling the doorway with his great bulk and bringing with him a strong odor of garlic and jap _sake_. for a moment he stood on the threshold, blinking stupidly. then he pulled the door closed with a bang. mascola's eyes grew hard as he dropped his hand into a drawer of his desk which stood open. "stay where you are," he commanded. "what do you want?" "job," muttered the russian thickly. mascola shook his head and an annoyed frown darkened his brow. "go home," he said. "you're drunk. you're no good. i fired you. don't want to talk." boris made no move to comply with his order. his small eyes roved restlessly about the room for a moment, then came to rest on the italian. "boys making fool with me all time," he said. "say i can no lick woman. i get damn mad. you give me job. i show you." mascola shook his head. leaning closer to the swaying figure, he said in a low voice: "show me first." boris's face became purple with rage as the import of mascola's answer filtered into his thick skull. he clenched his huge hands and raised them above his head, mumbling all the while in his own tongue. then his arms fell to his sides and his pig-like eyes gleamed with belated comprehension. licking his dry lips, he said: "give me drink. i show you to-night." the italian slipped a hand into his pocket and tossed him a two-dollar bill. stumbling to the door the russian found mascola close by his side. "wait," he commanded. "sit down. there." he pointed to a chair screened from the street entrance by a large steel safe. when boris had deposited his great bulk therein, mascola walked to the door and looked up and down the street. then he returned and grasped the russian by the arm. "go," he said. as boris reached the door he shoved him out with the whisper: "don't forget. you've got to show me." joe blagg was among the last of mascola's men to come for his money. and though he said nothing when he signed the pay-roll, blagg nursed a grouch against his employer. mascola had cursed him out that morning and no livin' dago could do that. he'd get square, or his name wasn't joe blagg. the bartender shoved a black bottle toward him as he pocketed his money. "boss's treat," he announced. blagg's animosity thawed sufficiently to permit him to accept the proffered drink, then flared again under the influence of the fiery liquor. he called for another and gulped it down. then mascola's whisky began to talk. he'd make the dago eat his words. that's what he'd do. two more drinks and he decided to have it out with mascola at once. "where's boss?" he inquired thickly. the bartender jerked his shorn head in the direction of the frosted glass enclosure. blagg drew back, his ardor somewhat chilled to find his quarry so near. perhaps it was better to figure out just what he was going to say before he tackled the boss. deciding that he could plan better in the open air, he walked unsteadily to the swinging doors and staggered across the street. there he leaned against the bulkhead and looked back at the red paint. a flash of light illumined the side-walk in front of the saloon office and blagg saw mascola's figure silhouetted in the open doorway. he was looking up and down the street. as the fisherman drew back into the shadow the italian disappeared to return a moment later shoving a burly figure before him. blagg became even more discreet as he recognized mascola's guest. boris was a bigger man by far than himself. and yet mascola was putting him out with no trouble at all. the observation had a sobering effect upon the fisherman. his militant air changed quickly to one of craft. he'd quit the boss and pull a lot of the boys along with him. he could hit the dago better that way. they were all pretty sore at being bossed around by a "furrinor" anyway. and work was plenty up around frisco. he'd round up a bunch of the boys right away. with that idea in view he walked along the water-front and turned again to the row of saloons. then he noticed that boris was lurching along ahead of him. he saw the russian push open the door of the "buffalo" and heard the derisive roar from within which greeted his entrance. scenting amusement at boris's expense, blagg followed. when he elbowed his way through the press of fishermen who thronged the "buffalo" bar, he saw the russian surrounded by a jeering crowd. "got a job yet, boris?" some one called. "he's workin' for the lang girl now," put in another. boris snarled and, flinging his tormentors away from him, made his way to the bar, jabbering excitedly in russian to pete ankovitch. blagg moved nearer. "what's he sayin', pete?" he asked. ankovitch laughed. "he say everybody go to hell," he interpreted. "he say he show mascola he ain't 'fraid of no woman." blagg strove to focus his mind on the russian's words. boris was sore as a boiled oil, crazy as a coot. and he had it in for the lang girl for causing him to get the can. the russian's reference to mascola caused the furrows in blagg's brow to deepen. both of them were sore at the girl. were they framing up? if they were he'd block the boss's game. he'd wise her. she'd always shot straight enough with him anyway, and he was a fool to have ever quit her. if mascola was baiting the russian to pull off some dirty work he'd---blagg paused in his tentative plans for outwitting mascola as his eye fell on neilson. there was the man he wanted to see. swan could swing the swedes into quitting the dago. all thought of boris vanished from blagg's mind as he drew neilson aside and conferred confidentially with the big swede in a drunken whisper. when he looked about for the russian some time later, boris was gone. blagg drained the contents of his last glass with a wry face, and walked unsteadily to the door. colliding with a man on the sidewalk, he regained his poise by leaning heavily against a sandwich sign-board. "hello, blagg. seen any of my men inside?" blagg shoved back his cap and eyed the speaker with drunken suspicion. when he recognized the cannery owner, a furtive light crept into his eyes and he beckoned gregory closer. gregory noted the mysterious mien and promptly credited it to the man's state of intoxication. he was on the point of hurrying on when blagg's words stayed him. "tell lang girl t' look out for 'self." "what do you mean?" gregory grasped him by the arm and whirled him about. "was in s'loon," blagg muttered, striving to focus his bleary eyes upon his auditor. "damn russian there, too. boys's kiddin' him an' boris tol' 'em he was't 'fraid no woman. said he'd show 'em." "does he live over there?" gregory asked quickly, pointing toward the lang hill. blagg shook his head and nodded in the opposite direction. "down there," he corrected. "think he----" but gregory did not wait to hear what blagg thought. blagg looked after him stupidly. he had had no time to speak of his hatred or suspicion of mascola. but he'd show the dago yet. a crowd of fishermen lumbered along the sidewalk toward him, talking excitedly. leaning against the sign-board, blagg was able to gather from their conversation that a fight had just occurred at the red paint. some one had tried to get square with the boss and mascola had knifed him. cold sweat broke out on joe blagg's forehead. to his whirling brain came other instances he had heard of how mascola always got square with those who opposed him. blagg's whiskyfied courage began to ooze. perhaps he had gone too far. suppose neilson, with a desire to get in strong with the boss, should tell mascola that he, joe blagg, was trying to start a strike among the alien fishermen? and a swede liked to talk too. why not get out of town for a while till the thing blew over? he wasn't afraid of the dago and his whole crowd. but what was the use of starting a row? besides he was ready to move anyway. he reflected suddenly that the midnight train for frisco stopped at legonia on signal. that would give him time to throw his stuff together. he had already drawn his money. why not hit the grit? * * * * * as jack mccoy took his way down the hillside he was acutely conscious of the fact that the evening had been a distinct disappointment. why was gregory there anyway? that talk about his forgetting his papers sounded mighty thin. how many times had the boss been there before? what was the matter with dick to-night? she acted kind of funny, didn't seem to care whether he stayed any longer or not. mccoy stopped by the roadside as he caught sight of a man running hastily along one of the streets leading from the town. whoever the fellow was he was sure in a hurry the way he was cutting 'cross lots. as the runner came under the rays of the corner arc-light, mccoy started and peered intently after the departing figure. it sure looked like gregory. and he was angling in the direction of the lang hill. the idea clung tenaciously. when he reached his rooming-house it became an obsession. he decided to find out if the runner could have been his employer. calling up the cannery it was some time before a sleepy voice answered his summons. "boss ain't here. went out at eight and ain't been back since. want to leave message?" mccoy snapped up the receiver and walked slowly into his room. so it was gregory. where had he been going at this time of night? and on the run, too. the forgetting of the paper was only a frame-up. dick had acted funny. now he knew it was because she wanted to get rid of him. he sat on the bed, making no effort to remove his clothes. you're a poor fish, something whispered. why don't you go and find out if they're double-crossing you? mccoy tried not to listen. for a long time he stared moodily at the floor. then he rose and threw off his coat. hastily replaced it and hurried to the door. he was ashamed of his suspicions. but he simply had to find out. * * * * * there was a light still burning in the lang cottage when gregory turned into the walk. perhaps he was foolish to have returned. still it would do no harm to warn the girl. as he went up the steps he saw miss lang walking up and down the little hall. tapping loudly, he summoned her to the door. "could i speak to miss dickie a moment?" he shouted. "it is something important." aunt mary came out on the porch. "if you wait a moment," she said, "my niece will be back. she left some time ago to take some medicine over to one of our neighbor's sick babies." gregory's fears multiplied. "where did she go?" "to the swanson place just over the hill. it's the first place you'll come to before you reach the russian valley." "i'll go meet her." he turned quickly and hurried down the path. reaching the brow of the hill, he saw the lights of the swanson cottage and slowed down to a walk. his fears for the girl's safety were apparently groundless. the valley lay before him, steeped in moonlight. no sound disturbed the stillness save the far-off cry of the screaming gulls and the monotonous murmur of the distant sea. walking slowly down the road, grown high on both sides with sage and cactus, he caught a glimpse of a bulky figure in the path ahead. looking again to the cottage only a few hundred yards down the road, gregory saw the light flash out from an open door. for a moment it shone brightly, then disappeared. as the man in the roadway heard the sound of footsteps behind him, he stepped quickly to the brush and faced about. keeping well in the center of the path, gregory went steadily on with his eyes fixed upon the clump of sage which sheltered the disappearing figure. it was boris, without a doubt. no other man about legonia possessed the giant proportions of the big russian. boris glared sullenly from the brush as he saw the advancing figure hesitate and turn toward him. then he recognized the young cannery owner. what chance would he have to show mascola now? the intruder threatened the defeat of his cherished plans. the girl he sought was coming up the hill. a few minutes more and---"what do you want, boris?" the russian's answer to gregory's question came in a guttural snarl as he staggered from the sage and flung himself upon the speaker. chapter xvii the fangs of mascola gregory leaped nimbly beyond reach of the russian's waving arms and placed his back to the moonlight. meeting the fisherman's blind rush with a quick blow to his heavy jaw, he sidestepped and struck again. boris blocked the fist with a sweep of his long arm and clinched. for an instant the bodies of the two men rocked in the gripping power of the embrace. then they fell to the roadway. * * * * * dickie lang stopped suddenly as she saw the struggling figures in the path. a fight between two drunken fishermen was the commonest thing in legonia. she'd better not get mixed up in it. they were not her men. she knew that. none of her fisherman lived up here but swanson, and the swede she knew was at home. making a wide detour through the brush which carried her beyond sight of the scuffle, she hurried on. * * * * * "where's dick, aunt mary?" there was a note in jack mccoy's voice which made miss lang regard him sharply before replying: "she's gone down to swanson's, john. one of the babies was sick." "has mr. gregory been back since i left? i'm looking for him." mccoy was ashamed of the question. still it was better to find out from aunt mary than to try to explain to her niece. "yes. he left only a few minutes ago. he inquired for josephine and when i told him where she had gone, he said he would go to meet her." shaking his head weakly at aunt mary's question if anything was wrong, mccoy turned slowly and walked down the path. everything was wrong. dick had ditched him for gregory. they'd framed it to get him out of the way. well, it was a cinch he wouldn't butt in. his reflections were cut short by the sight of a white figure walking toward him. "hello, jack. what's the matter?" mccoy stared. dickie lang was alone. "i'm looking for mr. gregory," he faltered. "haven't seen him since he left the house." the girl was by his side, looking anxiously into his face. "anything wrong, jack?" she asked quickly. mccoy shook his head. "no," he said. "i just wanted to talk to him about changing the pack in the morning. your aunt told me he came back and went to meet you." dickie's surprise entered into her voice as she said: "that's funny. i walked all the way from swanson's and i didn't meet him." as she ceased speaking came a sharp remembrance of the two figures battling in the roadway. could one of them have been kenneth gregory? she expressed her fears to mccoy. mccoy started at once for the hill. "go back to the house, dick," he called back. "i'll go down there and see what's the trouble." dickie followed after him. "i'm going too," she said. "i should have gone back and told swanson or----" her words were interrupted by the sharp report of a gun from over the hill. mccoy broke into a run. "go back," he cried. "hurry. get your gun. i'm going on." * * * * * boris looked stupidly into the white face of kenneth gregory as he knelt over him. then he staggered to his feet and looked up and down the road. as the possible consequences of his act began to filter through his consciousness, he jumped to cover in the brush and ran down the ravine in the direction of russian valley. when dickie lang reached the spot where she had seen the men fighting in the roadway, she found jack mccoy bending over the sprawling figure of kenneth gregory. "is he dead?" mccoy shook his head. "the bullet went into his side," he said. "he's losing a lot of blood but he's still conscious. run down to swanson's and phone for the doctor. then have bill come and help me move him." while mccoy worked to staunch the flow of blood, the girl ran to carry out his orders. remorse gripped her heart as she raced down the hill. she should have gone to gregory's aid. she might have done something. at least she could have discovered the identity of his assailant. if she had gone at once for swanson, he might have arrived in time to prevent the shot. when she reached the house she roused the swede and rushed to the telephone, giving hasty instructions to the fisherman to take a couple of oars and a blanket and go at once to mccoy's assistance. after an interminable period of waiting she was able to get in communication with doctor kent. instructing the physician to come at once to the lang cottage, she hurried away. on her way up the hill she met mccoy and swanson carrying gregory on the improvised stretcher. "where are you going?" she cried. the swede started to explain. his house was closest and they were quite welcome to bring the injured man there. the girl objected with decisive emphasis. "i've already told the doctor to come to our house. aunt mary is the best nurse in the country. besides, bill, you have your hands full to-night with hulda." * * * * * mascola paused on the threshold of his office at the red paint with his key grating in the lock. then he placed his back to the brick wall and drew his knife as he saw a bulky figure coming toward him. "stop where you are," he exclaimed sharply. "what do you want?" boris lunged forward and mascola caught him roughly by the arm. "get out, damn you," he cried. "i told you to beat it." "tried to get girl," boris panted. "gregory man there too. i kill him." mascola looked hastily about. when boris had ceased mumbling, the italian ordered after a moment's consideration: "shut up. go down to my dock the back way. get on the _lura_. wait there for me." as the russian slouched down the street, mascola reopened his door and went into his office. then he got ankovitch on the phone. "come down to the boat right away," he ordered. "i want you to get right out." * * * * * day was breaking when mccoy stood with dickie lang on the steps of the lang cottage. the bullet had been found and removed. kenneth gregory was resting as well as could be expected. there was danger only through blood-poisoning. the patient was young and strong and should recover. the doctor from centerville had just left after agreeing with the local physician's diagnosis. "and now," mccoy was saying, "as there is nothing more i can do here i'll go back to town. it will sure be up to me from now on." dickie put a hand on his arm and looked earnestly into his eyes. "it will be up to both of us, jack. we've simply got to keep things going for him. i might have saved him. now it's up to me to make good." as mccoy walked homeward through the brightening light, he strove to consider the events of the night in their proper sequence, but his brain rioted in a jumble of confused impressions. he owed kenneth gregory an apology. now that the boss was down and out it was up to every one to do their level-darnedest. he'd see that they did, too. he was sorry it had all happened. sorry that he had doubted. sorry too for other things which he would not admit, even to himself. and down in the bottom of his heart, loyal though it was, jack mccoy was sorry that kenneth gregory had not been taken to swanson's. chapter xviii the cost of defeat there are periods in every one's life when the standard measurements of time are hopelessly inadequate fittingly to express its passing. minutes may creep, or they may fly. an hour stretches into a day or a day contracts into an hour directly at the will of circumstance. kenneth gregory found this to be true during his period of convalescence at the lang cottage. as the days went by he found himself devising a simpler method for keeping track of time. there were hours when dickie lang was with him, and hours when she was not. his moments with the girl were always too short. and he was surprised to find that they never appeared to lengthen. his interest in dickie, he told himself, was purely impersonal. she told him of just the things he desired to hear most about. kept him in touch with his world. brought him news each day from the cannery; the business for which he hungered and fretted during each minute of his idle hours. it was dickie lang who had told him of the search which had been made for boris, a search which had ended in failure. the russian had fled, leaving no trace of his whereabouts. blagg also was missing, so nothing further could be learned from that source. gossip had been rife in the fishing village over the sudden disappearance of the two men. then the matter was apparently forgotten, giving place to the excitement caused by the installation of the first radio-set on one of the cannery fishing fleet. gregory, who had given orders for a trial equipment before the accident, was elated to learn from the girl that the innovation was proving a distinct success. other sets were installed and the practicability of the new idea was demonstrated beyond the shadow of a doubt. to quote the girl, all she had to do was to "spot the fish, click out the signal and the cannery boats would be round her like a flock of gulls." mascola, she told gregory, had regarded the new departure, at the outset, as something of a joke. rock too had ridiculed the idea openly. but when the cannery fleet got fish while the italian's boats came in but scantily-laden, mascola's laugh changed to a scowl and rock's flabby forehead was creased with worried lines. with the aid of the radio the "patchy" schools along the coast had been fished to good advantage while mascola's fleet were forced to cruise as far as diablo and san anselmo in order to obtain fish enough to supply the rival cannery. from mccoy's occasional visits gregory had learned that the plant was running to its full capacity. upon the subject, however, of sales and orders, the house-manager was extremely reticent. so it was that gregory passed the long days of his confinement, rejoicing with dickie lang over the growing success of the outside end and worrying over mccoy's evasion when he was questioned concerning the disposition of the finished product. and all the while longing for the time to come when he would be permitted to get back into the harness. "there's no use letting you go with instructions to take it easy," doctor kent had said. "i know your kind. when i turn you out i want you to be going strong." in that opinion, aunt mary concurred. but the time came at last when gregory was permitted to leave the lang cottage and return to the cannery. fearing a reversal of the verdict rendered in his favor, he set out at once. at some distance from the cannery he stopped and inhaled the fish-laden atmosphere with a singing heart. once, he remembered, the odor had sickened him. now it came like a breath from heaven. it stirred his soul, quickened his pulse. he sucked in the tinctured air greedily. it was life itself. a life that was full and free, teeming with opportunity, filled with work and fight. "long on fish, but short on sales." gregory expressed the state of his business with blunt accuracy as he stood with mccoy in the crowded warehouse. mccoy admitted the truth of the owner's statement. "we didn't want to worry you while you were sick," he explained, "but you can see just where we stand. something has sure gone wrong with the selling end. dick's getting the fish. i'm canning them. but we can't sell them." "what's the matter with the western people?" gregory asked quickly. "i thought they were strong for us." mccoy shrugged. "so did i," he answered. "but a few days after you got hurt they quit us cold with no explanation. when we fell down on that first big order of albacore, winfield & camby lost interest and i haven't been able to get a flutter out of them since. the other dealers seem to be afraid of us for some reason. they come down and look us over, but that is all." mccoy scowled at the huge stacks of shining tins and shook his head. "it's got me," he admitted. "we're putting out a first-class article but we can't unload it. i've got a hunch somebody's plugging against us." noting the worried lines which were finding their way to gregory's face at his words, he went on hastily: "i'm sorry to have you come back into such a tangle as this. i did my best but you see i didn't have a minute to get out and take care of the sales." "don't say a word, jack," gregory interrupted. "you've done more than your part. every man of you and every woman too," he added quickly. "i'll never forget it. this part of the game is up to me. i'm feeling fit now. keen to get going. i want to look things over for a few minutes in the office. then i'll talk with you again and let you know what i'm going to do first." a careful examination of his finances convinced gregory of the seriousness of the situation. there was only one thing to be done. he must visit the jobbers at once. he paused abruptly in his calculations at the staccato bark of a high-powered motor. mascola, he thought, as he rose and walked to the window. what he saw through the glass caused him to stand staring. speeding through the dancing waters of the sunlit bay came a speed-launch, heading in the direction of the cannery wharf. but it was not the _fuor d'italia_. his eyes followed the course of the oncoming stranger and a worried frown leaped to his brow. it couldn't be that joe barrows had completed the _richard_ already. he glanced at the calendar and his frown deepened. in all probability it was his boat. and if so, where was he going to get the money to pay for it? he walked to the wharf and with narrowing eyes watched the stranger's approach. something wrong somewhere, he reasoned. he had ordered a speed-boat. one that would beat mascola's. a craft with real lines and bird-like grace like the _fuor d'italia_. the oncoming launch, he observed bitterly, was the direct antithesis of his expectations. surely there could be no speed in that squatty packet with her sagging bow and queer looking box-affair for a stern. the strange craft drew abreast of the wharf and whirled about in a wave-washed circle. the motor hummed with contentment and the hull sank sullenly into the water as the man at the wheel guided the boat in the direction of the float. then gregory caught sight of the letters painted on the side: richard "can you tell me where i can find mr. gregory?" the man in the boat looked up questioningly. gregory walked slowly to the float. "i'm mr. gregory," he answered lifelessly. "i was almost wishing i wasn't if that's the launch i ordered." the driver of the craft rested his arms on the big steering wheel and laughed outright. "don't like her, eh?" he grinned. "can't say that i do," gregory answered. "it looks to me like mr. barrows misunderstood my orders." the stranger's face grew instantly serious. "you wanted a sea-going craft which could stand rough water and beat the _fuor d'italia_ we built for mascola," he said slowly. "and you left the lines and everything else entirely up to us. is that right?" gregory nodded. then a gleam of hope lighted his eye. "you think this one will fill the bill?" he questioned. "if she doesn't, it's up to us," the man answered. noting the skeptical look in gregory's face, he went on: "don't make the mistake of trying to judge a boat from the dock, mr. gregory. 'you can't tell by the looks of a frog how far he can jump,' or how fast either. barrows has been at the game long enough to quit guessing. when he tackles a proposition like yours, he wants your money, not your boat. i came down this morning to take you out for a trial. then if there's anything you want changed we can fix it up before we turn her over to you to beat mascola. if you can spare the time i'll take you back with me to port angeles. that will give you a good chance to see her perform in rough water as it's blowing up nasty off the breakwater." gregory's face cleared. the suggestion had two-fold value. by acting upon it at once he could combine business with pleasure. visit the jobbers in the city and at the same time test out the launch. "i'll be ready in half an hour," he answered. the boatman nodded. "i'll run down-town," he said, "and get a bite to eat. don't forget to bring a rain-coat with you. you're liable to get wet." gregory promised and hurried away. in the cannery he found mccoy and outlined his plans. mccoy objected. "better take it easy for a day or two," he counseled. "no use trying to hit the ball too hard at the start." gregory smiled brightly. "i'm feeling like a king, mac," he said. "i'll find out what the trouble is with the jobbers and be back sometime to-morrow." seeing that his advice was futile, mccoy left to put up a few samples while his employer hurried into the office. gregory turned at once to his desk. as he prepared the quotations for submission to the jobbers, a cheery voice interrupted him in his work. "welcome home." in the doorway stood dickie lang. he jumped hastily to his feet and put out his hands. "oh, if you only knew how good it was to be back," he began. then, as he noticed the girl's rapid change of expression at his words, he hastened to amend: "i don't mean i was glad to leave your house. i wasn't. it's the only home i've known for a long time. i was only trying to say how glad i am to be able to get back to work." dickie smiled at his enthusiasm. "i know," she said. "it's wonderful you were able to get back so soon." soon the talk turned to business and gregory explained his plans for visiting port angeles. like mccoy, dickie voiced her objections, but with more vehemence. seeing at last, however, that the young man could not be talked out of it, she exclaimed: "never let on to aunt mary that i knew you were going or she never would forgive me. she's kind of adopted you and she told me to look out for you." soon they were discussing the new speed-boat and its practicability at the present time should it be proved a success. "mascola ran across our trammels this morning with a dragnet," the girl explained. "if you had had that boat, you might have stopped them. he's getting pretty ugly lately and last night his men tried to crowd ours off the beach with their seine. if they try it again, there'll be trouble." remembering gregory's object in going to the city, dickie suggested: "while you're in port angeles you might look in at the fresh fish markets and find out what's the matter with them, too. they are bad enough at best, but they've been getting worse for a long time. now they are hardly yielding us enough to pay to ship." gregory promised and looking at his watch, saw he would have to leave at once. "i wish you could go up there with me," he exclaimed. "why couldn't you? i'll wait." a smile flashed to the girl's lips, then disappeared on the instant. "it wouldn't be proper," she said gravely. "port angeles is a city and people look at things differently in cities. aunt mary would have nervous prostration if i even suggested it." mccoy walked with dickie lang to the dock to bid gregory _bon voyage_ and wish him luck on his mission. then they caught sight of the launch nearing the float and their disappointment registered in their faces. gregory drew the girl aside. "you have the same idea about her that i had," he said. "but don't worry. barrows' man, i guess, knows what he's talking about and if she doesn't make good i don't take her." lowering his voice so that only dickie could hear, he met her eyes. "you'll notice," he said, "that i named her richard. but as boats are always called 'she,' you will understand that means 'dickie.'" before the girl could recover from her surprise he hurried away and dropped into the seat beside the driver. as the boatman threw in the clutch and the launch shot out into the stream, gregory looked back at the wharf and noted that dickie lang's cheeks were red beneath her tan. and jack mccoy, though he said nothing as he walked with the girl along the dock, wondered what the boss could have said to make dick blush like that. chapter xix rock follows up his first ride in a speed-boat. kenneth gregory leaned back on the cushions and watched the _richard_ drag her heavy hull through the quiet water of crescent bay. a feeling of disgust assailed him. the craft was utterly worthless for his purposes. she had no pick-up at all and was barely able to maintain her lead as she lumbered along ahead of one of the fastest of mascola's fishing-boats. the driver, who called himself bronson, appeared to be perfectly satisfied with the vessel's behavior and made no effort to crowd her by the fishing fleet. at length they reached the outlet and the _richard_ settled comfortably into the trough of the swell. then bronson turned to his passenger. "better put on your rain-coat," he suggested. "we'll be bucking the wind and it picks up the spray and throws it right back at us." as he spoke he slipped into his slicker and waited for gregory to don his mackintosh. "i'm ready when you are," gregory announced. "let her go." bronson looked cautiously over his shoulder. "want to keep an eye out for mascola," he said. "don't want him to see this one in action until we're good and ready. i won't open her up to-day. motor's too stiff yet and we're liable to burn out something." as he spoke he advanced the throttle and the _richard_ protested at his action in a series of spasmodic coughs. then the hood began to incline slowly and gregory felt the hull rising. perhaps the craft was not dead after all, but only sleeping. watching bronson's fingers on the spark and throttle, he noticed that the man was advancing them cautiously. "watch out for your hat," bronson admonished. gregory moved his hand carelessly to his head and caught his hat just in time. with an angry roar the _richard_ shot forward, raising her great hood higher and higher in air while the hull seemed scarcely to be in the water at all. the wind blew in their faces like a hurricane carrying with it great clouds of spray which drenched their skins and blinded gregory's eyes. gasping for breath, he noticed that the _richard_ was climbing higher. then bronson opened the cut-out and the craft sped away like an angry sea-bird. the roar of the exhaust was deafening and gregory was obliged to shout to the man beside him before he was able to make himself heard. "is she wide open?" he shrieked. bronson directed his gaze to the position of the throttle device and gregory saw with a gasp of astonishment that the throttle was only half open. on they sped, the hull rising from the water and hurling itself along the crest of the waves, tossing them to the sides in great clouds of whirling, blinding spray. could it be possible that the propeller was still in the water? suddenly he felt the _richard_ collapse and drop sullenly into the sea. the "machine-guns" had ceased firing and bronson was regarding him with a smile. the boatman's face was crusted with salt and his eyes were twinkling. "how about it?" he asked. "do you think barrows made any mistake?" when gregory recovered his breath, he observed: "yes. i wanted a motor-boat. not an aeroplane." bronson laughed. "easier to go through the air than the water," he said. "that's why we made your boat plane. it takes a lot of power to put her on her 'high horse.' but once she's there, she makes her speed on a minimum of horse-power. that's why we bank on the _richard_ to beat the _fuor d'italia_. your boat is heavier than mascola's, closer ribbed, but you have more power. we're backing this one against his in any weather and the rougher it is the better it will suit us." gregory glowed with satisfaction. the _richard_ was all boat. he noticed that she did not tremble like mascola's boat, but did her work in a businesslike way with no ostentation. he admired people like that, and as dickie lang had said and he was beginning to find out, boats were very much like people. for some time bronson instructed him in the proper operation of the craft. then he slowed down and threw up the hood, disclosing two complete multi-cylindered motors. "everything's double," he explained. "you can cut it all in or halve it as you please. and if anything goes wrong with one motor you're never hung up. you can always limp in at least." as they settled down to a good running speed, the talk gradually drifted to mascola. "the way things are going now," bronson observed, "it won't be long before we're building a new boat for mascola." "what do you mean by that? has he seen this one?" the boatman shook his head. "you needn't be afraid of that," he answered. "what i meant was that mascola is hammering the _fuor d'italia_ to pieces with his trips to diablo in that rough water." "does mascola go often to diablo?" gregory questioned quickly. bronson shrugged his shoulders non-committally. "can't say," he answered. "don't know how often he goes out there. but i do know that he brags that his boat can make it in two hours and a half. diablo's a bad place for the _fuor d'italia_. she's built too light to stand the gaff." the ride to port angeles proved all too short. bronson was communicative in the extreme and regaled him of many evidences of mascola's prosperity, chief among which was the italian's recent order to a firm of norwegian boat-builders at port angeles of twenty large fishing launches of the most improved pattern. these boats, according to bronson, were of sufficient tonnage and fuel capacity to enable them to cruise far down into mexican waters. as they rounded the light-house point and made for the breakwater, the wind increased, driving a choppy sea before it. then it was that the _richard_ rose to the occasion and demonstrated her natural ability to cope with a head-on sea. arriving at the municipal docks, gregory promised to call for the boat on the day following and hurried away to attend to his business. he had a real boat all right. just what he wanted. now all that remained to be done was to see the jobbers and get a few orders which he could convert into cash to pay for the _richard_. with elastic step he set out for the wholesale district imbued with a spirit of rosy optimism. the western was first on his list. the chances were he would have to go no farther. a short talk with mr. eby, the resident manager, convinced him otherwise. "can't quite see your quotations, gregory," that gentleman had crisply maintained. "we have been offered a similar line of goods at fully ten per cent. less." gregory was greatly surprised. mccoy, he knew, had figured a bed-rock, cash price and the extreme lowness of the quotation offered the western was influenced solely by the possibility of a quick sale in straight car lots. and still the man claimed he could beat it. "do you mind telling me who is offering you stuff at a lower figure?" he asked. mr. eby hesitated. it was to his interest to stimulate price cutting. the fact that the figure quoted was below cost was nothing to him. a cutthroat war between two rival canneries might result in still lower quotations which would give him a greater profit. "certainly not," he answered. "the figure quoted me was from the golden rule cannery." gregory felt his face growing hot under the influence of mr. eby's exasperating smile. "that figure is below cost and you know it," he said bluntly. the manager continued to smile. "possibly," he affirmed. "from your view-point. your cost and theirs may be two different things. your wage scale is much higher than theirs for one thing, and your system, in my mind, does not make in any way for low costs." gregory's anger mounted at the man's tone. "what do you know about my business?" he asked quickly. mr. eby shrugged. "it is our business to keep in close touch with our customers," he evaded. "i'm just giving you a friendly tip to do away with some of your more or less impractical ideas, and put your business on a plane with others. you can take it for what it's worth." gregory curbed his anger and started for the door. "my idea is working out all right, mr. eby," he said in parting. "and you are going to live to see you've overlooked a good bet." eby laughed. "go to it, young man," he said. "you'll just have to live and learn like the rest of us. when you get down to earth again, come in and see us." somewhat taken back by his interview, gregory sought the other jobbers. but at every place of business he was met by evasions and superficial excuses. brown & brown had heard he had gone out of business on account of ill-health. possibly they would send a man down when they got straightened out. the eureka people were overstocked and, on account of shortage of cars, were not buying any more for the present. davis incorporated were reorganizing and would do nothing until their plans were completed. others intimated they would submit bids if he cared to sell at auction and some broached the question of taking his output on consignment. but from no firm did he receive even a conditional order. the various interviews had a depressing effect upon gregory's spirits. weakened by his illness, he decided to call it a day and tackle the few remaining jobbers on the following morning. as he sought the hotel he remembered his friend hawkins, who was working on the _daily times_. bill had been his lieutenant overseas. he was a fighting fool and had always been an optimistic chap. in his present frame of mind, optimism was what he needed. accordingly he called hawkins up and invited him to dinner. some hours later the two men were conversing in gregory's room. the great war had been fought over again, mutual acquaintances checked up and the past thoroughly covered. "and so now you are a full-fledged business man," hawkins was saying, as the talk turned to the present, surveying gregory through the haze of his cigarette. "yes. and from the way it looks now i'm about due to be plucked by these thieving jobbers." hawkins smiled brightly. "nothing to it," he said. "you've overlooked two big things, that's all. when we get them straightened out, everything will be lovely." knowing that hawkins expected no reply, gregory waited for him to go on. "your idea is bully. i can't see any reason why it won't work out all right. but in order to make that possible you've got to stir up the animals. when you get an idea like that, the thing to be done is to capitalize it. why withhold it from the public? they would be interested. let them in on it." "you mean advertise?" gregory prompted. a slight frown passed over hawkins' face. "nothing so crude as that," he answered. "i mean publicity." the newspaperman's face glowed with the importance of his subject and he continued rapidly: "this is an age of publicity. with proper handling you can do most anything. even adverse publicity, so-called, has its value. lots of shows around here for instance are crowded to the doors every night by a mere suggestion that they are not all that they should be. the quickest way to kill a man or an idea in this country is by a 'campaign of silence.'" seeing that gregory did not quite get his drift, he went on: "your idea is o.k. it will write up well if it is handled right. moreover it is a little out of the ordinary, and all-american. that is a popular theme at present." he paused and puffed the air full of smoke-wreaths. in the smoke he could see a big story. why couldn't hard-headed business men realize the value of the thing he was trying to get at? why, kenneth gregory's idea would be a winner at the present time. he, bill hawkins, could make it so. "listen," he said quietly. "i have to be getting back to the office so i can't say much now. i put over a big story for the boss yesterday. shot myself to pieces over it. so he's giving me a week off on full pay to take it easy. i want a vacation. i'm a fan for fishing and if you'll give me an invitation to go back with you and will let me muss around on your boats, i'll see if i can't drop on to something that will look good in print. i have an idea i can have a few of the jobbers around here yelping at your heels for fish before i get back. in the morning i'll be off. then i'll go down to winfield & camby's with you. i know the boss there and think maybe i can get him to talk 'turkey.'" gregory jumped eagerly at hawkins' suggestion and immediately extended the desired invitation. the following morning saw the two men closeted at an early hour with mr. dupont, of winfield & camby. and under the warmth of hawkins' introduction, the manager's manner thawed perceptibly toward the young cannery owner. noting the change, gregory hastened to take advantage of it, and straightway put up his proposition. when he had concluded, mr. dupont took the floor. "in our dealings with our patrons, mr. gregory," he began, "we are nothing, if not frank. our firm is one of unimpeachable standing which follows as a natural result from years of square-dealing. we are, however, extremely conservative. we play, as the saying goes, no 'long-shots.' once convinced of the dependability of our producers, we give them every chance and stick by them to the limit." the manager removed his nose-glasses and polished them carefully before going on: "i had the pleasure of meeting your father, mr. gregory. from my observation of him, he was everything that one could expect in a man. but he was constantly hampered with labor troubles of one sort or another. consequently, he was unable to operate his plant in the way we like to see them operate. when we work up a trade for a particular brand, we like to be able to supply the demand which we create. if we were assured that you were able to make good in this respect, we would have no hesitation in sending a buyer down at once to inspect your pack." "but you do not?" gregory met the man's eyes squarely and the manager looked him over critically. "yes," he answered after a moment. "for some reason or other i believe i do. i think you are working along the right lines. that is," he amended with a smile, "if you do not carry your ideas of cooperation far enough to deal direct with the consumer and cut us out of it." as gregory shook his head, mr. dupont concluded: "i'll tell you what i'll do. i'll send mr. dalton down at once to look over your pack. how does that suit you?" gregory's face clearly expressed his satisfaction and a few moments later he hurried out into the street, leaving hawkins with the manager. "i'll meet you here at any time," hawkins called after him. promising to meet his friend at four o'clock, gregory started again on his rounds. passing a butcher-shop he stopped and surveyed the array of fish which were on display in the window. he noted the prices and hastily compared them with the figures he was getting from the markets in port angeles for his fresh fish. there was surely money going to waste somewhere. remembering that he had promised dickie to visit the wholesalers, he directed his steps to the water-front. the dealers he visited were scarcely civil and among them was none who spoke english without the accent of the foreigner. their observations in response to his questions concerning the prices they were offering, were short and to the point. if he did not like it, he need not ship to them. they were dumping fish every day as it was. the market was glutted. what was he going to do about it? gregory wondered himself. then a plan began to form in his brain, suggested no doubt by mr. dupont's jest about him carrying the cooperative idea far enough to include the consumer. why not? fish were being retailed at almost prohibitive figures. and the markets claimed they were dumping them. somebody was profiteering. who was it? certainly not himself. he was barely able to get enough from the dealers to pay express. the idea grew as he walked along the street. he decided to take up, with dickie lang, the matter of establishing a cooperative service-market and selling direct to the consumer. in mid-afternoon he found himself again among the jobbers. but the few he had not called upon the day previous, appeared even less interested in his proposition. as he came out of the pacific's establishment, he brushed against a heavy-set man with gray hair, who was just going in. excusing himself for his awkwardness, he glanced at the stranger's face. it was silvanus rock, of legonia. gregory passed on. rock apparently had not recognized him. yet surely he was not mistaken in the man's identity. the flabby face with its sagging folds of pink skin, the snake-like eyes and the long roman nose could not have been the inheritance of any other than the magnate of legonia. and yet, what business could rock have with the jobbers? gregory wondered as he walked up-town to get a box of candy for aunt mary and dickie lang. while he made his purchase, his mind was filled with his meeting with rock. in some vague way he began to associate rock's presence in the jobbing district with the failure of the dealers to become interested in his solicitation. when he reached the office of winfield & camby at four o'clock, the matter still filled his mind. "mr. hawkins just stepped out," mr. dupont informed him. then the manager cleared his throat and beckoned gregory to his private office. "it sometimes happens," he began, when the door closed, "that we are forced to change our plans, owing to an unexpected event. since you were here this morning, i feel that what has happened in the interim, warrants us in our decision. in view of that, i wish to say that for the present at least, we will not send mr. dalton to visit your cannery." "why not?" mr. dupont shoved an evening _times_ across his desk and pointed to a marked item that appeared therein. "that will explain for itself," he said. gregory read: riot among the fishermen at legonia this afternoon when the foreign fishermen were peaceably engaged with their seine, they were brutally attacked by a number of ex-soldiers and sailors employed by the legonia fish cannery, and driven from the beach. gregory read no further. "it's a lie, mr. dupont," he said hotly. "my men do not pick fights. a few nights ago the alien fishermen endeavored to crowd them off the beach and they----" mr. dupont interrupted with a peremptory wave of his hand. "you may be right," he said. "but i'm not interested. whatever the merits of the case are, the fact remains that you are mixed up in a labor brawl with foreigners. as i stated to you this morning, we are conservative and until you get matters adjusted amicably with your competitors, we do not care to go into your proposition further." he rose at once, showing the interview was at an end. gregory followed him to the door. in the outside office he found his friend waiting. hawkins, clad in outing clothes, was smiling broadly. the smile, however, quickly disappeared as he caught sight of his friend's face. "anything the matter?" he asked. gregory walked with him to the street before replying. then he bought a copy of _the times_ and the two men read the account of the fight with the aliens. "what of that?" hawkins queried. "your men licked them, didn't they?" "yes. but it cost me my chance with winfield & camby. mr. dupont called the whole thing off." "the devil he did!" hawkins' smile returned. "why, the old fool," he ejaculated. "can't he see that this will only be publicity for your brands. why, darn his crinkled old hide, i'll show him. and i'll bet i'll have him eating out of your hand in less than a week." he glanced curiously at the paper. "regular correspondence," he muttered, as he noticed the date-line of the news-item. "that means it comes from the little paper down there. what did you ever do to tommy black?" gregory shook his head blankly. "i don't even know who he is," he answered. hawkins laughed. "he seems to know you all right," he answered. then he explained: "black is the editor of _the legonia star_. a man by the name of rock owns it." chapter xx plans for a show-down shall the control of our fisheries pass into foreign hands? riot among legonia fishermen raises interesting question. ex-service men contest forcibly with aliens for freedom of the seas. show-down expected in the near future. "how does that strike you?" hawkins grinned and shoved the copy of _the times_ forward as "exhibit a" for publicity. "notice the date line," he exclaimed. "from our own correspondent." kenneth gregory read the news item carefully before replying. first came a true account of the fight with mascola's men on the beach which had ended in the decisive victory for the service men. followed, in chronological order, a review of past interferences suffered by the american fishermen at the hands of the foreigners. and lastly, glowingly outlined, came his plans for meeting the opposition by a cooperative organization of one hundred per cent. bona-fide americans. the article concluded: the public will watch with a great deal of interest the outcome of mr. gregory's fight to regain control of a lost industry in local waters. should the young cannery owner succeed, it will mean much to the people of port angeles in reducing the high cost of living. for mr. gregory has already under way, comprehensive plans for supplying the public with fresh fish at a greatly reduced price, through his system of establishing cooperative markets and dealing direct with the consumer. gregory's face was radiant with satisfaction. "you're there on that kind of stuff, bill," he exclaimed, gripping hawkins by the hand. "you surely put it over in great shape." hawkins frowned. "fell down on one thing," he observed. "the city editor blue-penciled my direct reference to your brands of canned stuff. claimed it was slapping the ad man right in the face. say, i'll tell you what to do," he went on. "let me write you up some good ads for your stuff and shoot them in right away to the advertising department. that will put you in strong with the paper and i can 'dead-head' a lot more dope through." gregory gave hawkins _carte blanche_. as hawkins set to work, dickie lang entered. "light haul all around," she announced. "the albacore are heading out. looks as if we were going to have a little weather." gregory's expression changed quickly at her news. "that means we've got to follow them up," he said. "we've got to have the fish. we've been putting it over on mascola for the past few weeks and we can't fall down now. the jobbers are watching us and we've got to show them we can deliver the goods. in addition to that i am going to enter into quite an extensive advertising campaign and when it begins to bear its fruit, we've got to have the stuff on hand to come across. there are a lot of people looking this way right now and we've got to make good." "that's the way to talk," encouraged hawkins. then he smiled at the girl and nodded toward his friend. "notice how i'm bringing him alive," he exclaimed. "he's quit 'shooting nickels' now. he's raised his sights already." they all smiled at hawkins' enthusiasm. then the girl's face became serious. "you know what going out to sea means," she said quietly. "it just about means diablo. that's where mascola's boats went this morning and i shouldn't wonder if they struck it out there. when they get back we'll know." "we've got to know before that," gregory averred. "why not send a bunch of the boys over right away?" dickie shook her head with great emphasis. "haven't the gear," she objected. "it's liable to be nasty around the island at this time of the year. we're shy on deep-sea hooks and heavy line." "we'll get it." gregory turned to the telephone. "i'll order it by express," he announced, as he put in his call for the ship-chandlers at port angeles. while he waited for the call, he addressed dickie lang. "we can send some over right away, can't we?" she considered. then nodded acquiescence. "the _pelican_ and the _curlew_ are outfitted for that kind of work," she stated. "we could get them moving in half an hour. they could go over and do the scouting. they both have the wireless, you know." gregory made up his mind at once. "will you give me a list of the stuff you need?" he asked. "as soon as i get this call through i'll come out and we'll get them started. we ought to get the stuff we need to-night, or early to-morrow. then the rest can clear." his face brightened. "i'll have the _richard_ to-morrow," he said. "bronson's going to bring her back and stay two or three days to put me on to the ropes. we'll get him to take us to diablo." "count me in on that too," exclaimed hawkins. "i've got it coming. haven't had a breath of salt air since i've been here." the girl completed her list of the required gear as the telephone rang. gregory turned to the instrument and gave the order. "what's that?" he concluded. "you'll have to have the cash? thirty days is customary on that kind of stuff, isn't it? well, i've got to have it.--all right, go ahead and draw on me if that's the way you feel about it.--but send the stuff." he turned wrathfully to the girl. "the robbers," he said. "they have me in a hole and they know it. we have to have that gear right away though heaven only knows where i'm going to raise the money to pay for it." the problem of raising approximately three thousand in cash before ten o'clock the following morning presented its difficulties. gregory decided to tackle the matter without delay. "i'll try the local bank," he declared. "and give old rock a chance to make good on his promise." dickie strove to dissuade him. "keep in the clear of that old hypocrite," she cautioned. "if he lets you have it at all it will be only with strings which will tangle you up later on." gregory was on his way to the door. "a man needing money like i do at present has to get it where he can," he answered. "will you see to getting the _pelican_ and _curlew_ started as soon as possible?" she promised and he hurried out. gregory found rock in his private office at the bank and was welcomed warmly by the financier. "growing more like your father every day you live," was the president's greeting. "how happy we would all be if he could have been spared to this community." gregory lost no time in preliminaries. "you told me if i ever got into a tight place, you'd see me through," he began. rock nodded and the corners of his thick lips turned downward. "i sincerely trust you have met with no business reverses, my young friend," he purred. "however, if such is the case, feel perfectly free to make me your confidant." briefly gregory stated his case, to which the old man listened attentively. when he had concluded, rock's eyes were on the ceiling, and his soft white hands caressed the desk noiselessly. "if you will accept a word of advice from a man old enough to be your father, and one who is entirely disinterested in you, save in a personal way as the son of my old friend, you will----" "what?" gregory cut short his rambling. "stay away from diablo island." rock's advice carried a mandatory note which was not lost upon his auditor. "why?" gregory asked quickly. rock searched the far corners of the room for the answer to the question. at length he replied: "it is an extremely dangerous place, particularly at this season of the year. storms are prevalent about diablo and by making the venture at this time, you place not only your capital in jeopardy, but the lives of your men as well." gregory realized he had little time for argument. "i've asked for a loan of three thousand for ten days, mr. rock. it's up to you. what will you do for me?" a slight frown passed over the bank president's forehead at the young man's insistence. for a moment he gave his entire attention to the blotter on the desk. then he said: "i will let you have the money you desire on one condition. that you confine your operations to coastal waters. your security will then be comparatively safe and----" "you forget, mr. rock, that i am not taking my cannery with me to el diablo," gregory broke in. "don't you regard the plant and the canned product on the floor as sufficient security for a temporary loan of three thousand dollars?" rock nodded. after a moment's silence he said: "then there is another thing. this is a time to speak plainly. otherwise i would make no mention of it. but as you are seeking a favor at the hands of this bank, it is my duty to inform you that we do not wish to countenance or encourage, in any way, your policy of stirring up trouble with our alien population." gregory rose angrily. "there is no use of my taking up your time or mine any further," he said. "my business is my own. and while we're on the subject i'll say that i intend to run it as i please. neither myself nor my men are seeking trouble with mascola's foreigners. but i'll tell you here and now that we are prepared to fight, if need be, for what the law says we can have. we want only a square deal, mr. rock, and you can take it from me we are going to get it." walking out of the bank president's office gregory observed a familiar figure leaning idly against one of the grated wickets. and though the man was dressed in the extreme of fashion, he had no difficulty in recognizing him. it was leo bandrist, the lord of el diablo. gregory returned the islander's nod and hurried to the street. as he walked to the cannery he found it hard to concentrate his thoughts on the problem of raising the desired funds. rock was a royal old hypocrite. of that he was sure now. the financier had used his influence among the jobbers to some purpose. he had knocked him through his local paper. and now he was telling him, almost threatening him, to stay away from el diablo. his mind flashed again to bandrist. what brought the man to rock's bank? business, no doubt. but what kind? was rock backing bandrist? were the two men in cahoots with mascola's gang? if so, for what purpose? the questions multiplied with astonishing rapidity. when gregory arrived at the cannery he had decided upon a definite course of action. he would wire farnsworth, the estate's attorney, to sell his bonds at a sacrifice if need be. they should bring enough, added to his own personal account, to pay for the equipment he desired. after that, he'd go to diablo and call rock's bluff, whatever it was. it was late that evening before he received an answer from the lawyer. farnsworth had regarded the instructions of his client as sheer idiocy and had taken no pains to conceal the fact. but he had sold the bonds and was forwarding the money. close upon the message from the attorney came one from the ship-chandlers at port angeles. they were shipping the gear in the early morning. gregory heaved two great sighs of relief which adequately expressed his feelings at the contents of the two respective messages. the day had ended better than he anticipated. the _pelican_ and the _curlew_ were at diablo by now. he should hear from them any minute. while he was waiting there was much that he could do. he took up his personal bank-book and began to balance it. a low rap at the office-door interrupted him. dickie lang entered with mccoy and hawkins. "we've been out for a walk," she announced. "thought we'd stop in and see if you'd heard anything from the boys yet." "not yet," gregory answered. "i'm going to keep a man at the key all night. we should have heard before this. they got a fairly early start and with good weather should have hit the island in time to get a good line on things before dark. i just got a wire from the ship-chandlers and they are shipping the stuff the first thing in the morning." as the talk turned to diablo, hawkins listened attentively though he said but little. at length the party rose to go. as gregory was bidding them good night one of the radio men entered with a message. gregory glanced at the meaningless jumble of words and shook his head. "too much for me," he announced. "i haven't savvied the code out well enough yet to read this one." the operator again took the message. "haven't been using it long," he answered. "but one of the boys dropped on to a little rig on one of the cliffs a little way from here, so we thought it was just as well to be careful." gregory nodded and the company drew closer to the operator as he bent over his work. when the message was decoded it read: off northwest harbor el diablo from: launch _pelican_. albacore tuna running close shore this end. slipped round mascola's boats by running round south shore. his fleet off hell-hole isthmus. spotted them hour ago. don't think he's wise we're here. can load up fleet if they get here quick and can dodge by mascola. what shall we do? the message was signed by tom howard. dickie beamed at the news. "i know right where he is," she said. "when you get them that close in at this time of the year it means they are running in bunches and there's pretty apt to be some weather." she glanced at her watch. "not much sleep for me to-night," she announced. "i've got a lot to do before morning. guess i'll be on my way. it will mean work to clear by to-morrow noon and every minute is going to count." "it will mean a scrap with mascola too, unless i miss my guess," put in mccoy. "when he finds we are hitting into his territory there's liable to be trouble." hawkins' eye brightened at the possibility. "that will mean a story for me," he contributed. "it will mean more than all that," gregory said slowly. "it means the thing we need most--money. fish in car-load lots. a chance to show the jobbers we know our business. it may mean a show-down with mascola. and if it does, we've got to be ready when it comes." chapter xxi the gray ghost ready to clear for diablo at last! gregory's lieutenants had done their work well. the gear from the ship-chandlers had arrived on the morning train. also the remittance from farnsworth. dickie lang had outfitted the fishing-boats in record time. crews of experienced men were selected and supplies taken aboard. one by one the launches were carefully examined by the girl and despatched singly on a course mapped out by herself, a course which would bring them to northwest harbor without skirting the shore of the island. the auxiliary supply boat, the last of the fleet to go, had cleared but an hour before. for the time being dickie lang was content to rest upon her oars. bronson was ready. in response to a night letter from gregory he had arrived on time with the _richard_, bringing with him a full equipment of heavy gear. tuned to the minute, the speed-craft waited impatiently at the cannery float for the signal to be under way. jack mccoy was ready. everything within the cannery was shipshape to handle a big run. depleted supplies had been hastily ordered. necessary additions to the floor force had been made and the house-manager was in possession of detailed instructions for the running of the plant during the owner's absence. even hawkins was ready. the advertisements had been written and checked over before being despatched to _the times_ to "farm out" among the other city dailies. in addition to that, the newspaperman had arranged to communicate with his paper _via_ the cannery wireless should he be fortunate enough to secure a big story. gregory himself was ready. the details of the embarkation had been covered to the minutest detail. a plan had been formulated in the early morning hours for the outwitting of mascola at el diablo, a plan to which dickie lang had given her hearty approbation before it was sent to howard over the radio. gregory turned for a last word with mccoy before giving the order which would send the _richard_ to sea. "we'll keep in close touch, jack," he said. "we'll expect you to do the same. this is friday. if we send in a lot of fish to-morrow it will mean a straight run over sunday. keep a man at the key day and night. and don't forget that we are low on cash. if you get any orders that look at all good, grab them until we can get 'out of the woods.' we're going up against a mighty stiff proposition. it's make or break, and the sooner we get down to cases with mascola the better it will be." he put out his hand and mccoy's fingers tightened over his. then mccoy watched him go down the gangway and take his place beside dickie lang in the _richard_. * * * * * "you don't mean to tell me that's diablo?" hawkins wiped his dripping face and stared at the misty blot on the purpling horizon. gregory and dickie lang looked up from their scrutiny of the small clock on the _richard's_ dash and smiled: "two hours and ten minutes to here," gregory announced. "we can make it easy in two hours and a half, and we've been bucking a head wind and sea all the way over. if the _fuor d'italia_ can do this well, mascola will certainly have to show me." bronson smiled but made no comment. as the island loomed across their track, dickie directed a change of course. "cut in close to that big cliff on the northeast corner and we'll work our way along close in to the shore." bronson complied. then the girl turned to gregory. "get my idea?" she asked. "you want to see if mascola has fallen for our scheme," gregory replied. "exactly. we'll cruise by his fleet and lay to by the _pelican_. then we'll find out if he's spotted the _curlew_ yet. if he hasn't, the boys can get in in the dark and 'chum' the fish. by that time we won't care what mascola does." the passing of a few minutes brought them in sight of the alien fleet grouped closely together off black point. "they've shifted," announced the girl. "tom's message said they were off the hell-hole." gregory said nothing but as they drew nearer he exclaimed: "look! they've got the _pelican_ sewed up tighter than a drum. looks like mascola hasn't tumbled on to the other boat yet." "can't tell." dickie searched the darkening water intently. then she observed: "i don't see mascola's boat anywhere. maybe he's cruising the island." throttling to the speed of an ordinary fishing craft they approached the fleet and dodged skilfully among the boats in the direction of the _pelican_. tom howard had but little news. he had put to sea from northwest harbor according to orders. had circled the island and appeared off the east coast at daybreak as if en route from the mainland. had stumbled on to a small school of albacore off black point and started fishing. mascola's fleet had moved down from hell-hole in the early morning. had "fenced" him. the italian's men had been drinking freely all day and had refused to give him sea-way to get out. of mascola himself he had seen but little. the italian boss had been down in the morning but had paid little attention to his men. after boarding but one of his boats he had returned with the _fuor d'italia_ in the direction of the hell-hole isthmus. he had not been back since. "is the _curlew_ still off northwest harbor?" inquired gregory. "don't know. haven't tried to reach them. didn't want to wise these fellows we had anybody else over here. 'sparks' says they've got a rig round here somewhere and have been trying to hail somebody all day. we've been getting a few messages from the boys. most of them are off the other side of the island now, waitin' for dark to pass the harbor." gregory and dickie were elated to find the fleet so near. at the same time both looked worried at the mention of another wireless equipment in the immediate vicinity. "i'll bet they're trying to reach that shore-set the boys spotted the other day," hazarded the girl. she looked at her watch and glanced toward the towering peaks which cast their shadows far out into the water. "well, if they are, we can't stop them," she observed. "what do you say we start along the north shore with an eye out for fish and mascola? maybe he's already nosing around northwest harbor." gregory agreed to the girl's suggestion. "running slowly will bring us up with the _curlew_ about dark," he said. "let's go." climbing again into the _richard_, bronson threw in the clutch and the speed-craft zigzagged her way through the fishing fleet and headed away from black point. at the same time one of the faster of the alien boats detached itself from the others and trailed along in their wake. "better slip that fellow," advised the girl. "we don't want him tagging. if we keep well in he won't be able to see us long." gregory gave bronson the necessary orders, and the _richard_ bounded away from her pursuer and raced into the shadows of the cliff. when they arrived at the point near the hell-hole isthmus, the speed-craft motor began to miss and bronson guided the _richard_ in the lea of the promontory and threw out an anchor. "good place to fix that right now," he said. "you see everything's new and i've been feeding too much oil. the plugs are all gummed up. 'twon't take but a minute to clean them." while he worked over the motor gregory's eyes roamed shoreward to the cliffs. it was quite dark now and only the sound of the lapping waves betokened the presence of the jagged rocks which projected above the surface of the water near the shore. it was almost here he remembered suddenly that the _sea gull_ had been wrecked. as he looked out into the darkness, he felt dickie's fingers tighten on his arm. "look!" she cried. "what's that behind us?" gregory turned about to see the black waters to the sternward were rippled with sparkling threads of silver-white. from out the darkness came a swiftly moving gray shadow. one glance astern caused bronson to slash the anchor-rope which held the _richard_. then he started the auxiliary motor and threw the speed-craft forward with a jerk. the same instant a long gray hull brushed by them and disappeared into the gloom as silently as she had come. bronson whirled the _richard_ about, gazing intently after the departing stranger. "a miss is as good as a mile," he observed. "if it hadn't been for the dual motor we'd have been out of luck." "i wouldn't say so," hawkins snapped. "a miss of a mile wouldn't give a man heart-failure. lord, i'm weak as a cat." kenneth gregory leaned closer and spoke in a voice which only the boatman could hear. bronson put about at his words and muffling down, followed silently after the gray boat. "cut out your lights." bronson threw the switch at gregory's command. "it's against the law," he muttered, "but i reckon it's safer with a bird like that." soon the strange craft was again dimly visible, appearing like a gray blot in the darkness ahead. off the hell-hole she turned shoreward and was lost to view. "tell him to stop the motor for a moment," whispered dickie lang. when bronson complied, the silence for the space of a few minutes was unbroken. then from the little cove came the muffled cough of a high-speed motor. "all right. head out." the _richard_ sped on her way at gregory's command. then he asked: "what did that sound like to you, bronson?" the boatman answered promptly: "that was the bird you're looking for. i've heard the _fuor d'italia's_ exhaust too many times to guess wrong." dickie lang nodded sagely in the darkness, while bronson volunteered: "i think i know the one that nearly run us down too. running dark's her long suit." for a moment he hesitated, then he added: "she looked a whole lot like the _gray ghost_." "interesting, if true," muttered hawkins, sliding nearer to the operator. then he asked aloud: "who's the _gray ghost_?" bronson noted the suppressed eagerness of the man's tone. then he remembered that hawkins was a newspaperman. reporters were a nosey class as a rule. perhaps it would be as well to keep still. after all, what did he, bronson, know about the _gray ghost_? what did anybody really know about her, for that matter? "the _gray ghost_ is a fishing-boat," he said quietly, "that was built by al stevenson. she's bigger and quieter than the average. she's supposed to be about as fast for her size as any of them. i heard the other day she was owned by a fellow by the name of----" he stopped abruptly. "i can't remember the man's name," he concluded. hawkins knew bronson was lying. straightway he decided to find out what he could about the ownership of the _gray ghost_. of the vessel herself, he had some knowledge though he gave no intimation that he had ever heard the name before. "mascola must own the _gray ghost_ himself, the way he's sticking around her," observed dickie lang. "he must have been waiting in there for her or he'd have been scouting around before this." gregory agreed. "tom said they were pretty well fished out down below," he contributed, "and mascola hadn't given them a new location. he's evidently got something on his mind that's more important to him than fishing." bronson said nothing but smiled grimly in the darkness. perhaps that wasn't such a wild guess, at that. but it was none of his business. his firm was building boats for the italian, so why should he say anything? the sky was dark overhead and a freshening breeze sprang up when they reached the tip of the island and headed shoreward. rounding devil's point they came in full view of the glimmering lights of the fishing fleet. "looks like home," commented dickie. "wonder how long the boys have been there." she checked up the lights rapidly, then announced: "they're all there but one. probably the supply-boat. she isn't due yet. that's pretty quick work i'd say." hailing the first of his fishing-boats, they learned that the voyage from the mainland had been without incident. the albacore were thick about the island. they were keeping the fish around with live bait. all of the fishermen predicted a record haul. proceeding to the _curlew_, bronson tied the _richard_ alongside and the party from the speed-launch climbed aboard. then the girl conferred with gregory and plans for the night were formulated. the fleet would lay at anchor with every motor in instant readiness to get the respective vessels under way at a given signal. the men would alternate on an anchor watch and keep the fish "chummed" up during the night. those who were off duty would get their needed rest and make no unnecessary noise. no vessel was to move from her anchorage without permission from the _curlew_. fishing would begin at daybreak. with preparations completed for the night, gregory's party made themselves comfortable aboard the _curlew_. a message was despatched to the _pelican_ instructing howard to join the fleet shortly after midnight. and the cannery was notified of the safe arrival of the boats at the island. after supper hawkins clung tenaciously to bronson and the two men retired to the bow and conversed in low tones. gregory sat with dickie lang in the stern and for some time puffed at his pipe in silence. the yellow rays which issued from the fresneled glass light on the mast-head fell full upon the girl's figure and gregory saw that her eyes were fixed on the dark outlines of the coast. "what do you make of mascola?" dickie shook her head. "i don't know," she answered. "he has me guessing right now. i can't understand why he's been hanging round hell-hole all day and hasn't tumbled on to the _curlew_. he seems to have forgotten his boats entirely." "i have an idea he has," gregory answered. "sometimes i think that perhaps fishing is only a small part of mascola's business. we both know he hasn't made much with his boats in the last few months, yet bronson says he's having twenty new launches built at port angeles. that will run into a big bunch of money at present prices." "you're not the only one who has ideas to-night," dickie said softly. "being around diablo always makes me think--and wonder." "what?" gregory encouraged. the girl moved closer to his side. "i'm wondering about the same things our fathers wondered about," she said. as gregory said nothing, she went on hurriedly: "did you ever stop to think that if mascola and that gray boat lay in at hell-hole that they are doing it with bandrist's permission? that means that whatever they are doing there, bandrist is in on it." she paused abruptly and her eyes rested full on gregory's face. "i have an idea that old rock is in on it, too," she said. "he and bandrist are pretty thick evidently, and rock always did stick up for mascola. and all three of them are doing all they can against us." "and you think it is something else than fishing?" gregory prompted. "yes, i'm sure of it. i think our fathers had the same idea. i believe they came over here alone that night to find out." "do you think----" gregory began. but the girl answered his unfinished question. "yes," she said slowly, "i think they found out. that is why they never got out alive." "but they were wrecked and drowned." dickie shook her head slowly. "i have never thought so," she answered in a half-whisper. "listen," she went on, "boats like the _sea gull_ don't wreck themselves and a better man with a launch than my dad never lived. men like him don't drown easily. he was a regular fish in the water and had got out of many a smash-up before." "but they were drowned. the coroner himself told me----" "you're right," she interrupted. "any man can be drowned. how long do you suppose you and tom howard would have lasted on the island if you had insisted on staying the night we were over here?" gregory considered her words carefully. in the light of past events, they held some truth. but if bill lang and his father had met with foul play, why were the bodies ever recovered? why would it not have been simpler to have made way with them entirely? he put the question and dickie answered promptly: "that would have caused a search of the island. just what they do not want, if they are up to anything crooked over here. with the bodies recovered and the boat smashed, it had all the appearance of a natural wreck." "why have you never said anything like this before?" dickie hesitated. then she answered simply. "because i never felt as if i knew you well enough. i have no proof. it's only a girl's idea, and one i'm afraid you would have taken but little stock in." "you're mistaken," gregory replied. "i would have. and perhaps by now we could have had the proof." "no. we've done just right. if we had pretended we suspected anything they would have gone to cover. there's only one way to get to the bottom of this thing and that is to beat mascola at his own game. make him think that fish are the only thing in the world we care for around diablo. and while we're fishing over here, keep our eyes open and learn what we can." before gregory could reply the silence of the night was broken by the sharp exhaust of a high-speed motor. looking in the direction of the sound, he saw a flash of red pierce the darkness and heard the girl's voice close to his ear. "i guess we're due to find out something now. here comes mascola." together they watched the red light brighten. then came a flash of green as the oncoming launch swerved and sped toward them. in a few moments mascola had located the flag-ship and the _fuor d'italia_ lay snorting angrily by the _richard's_ side. "i want to see the boss," demanded the italian. gregory leaned over the rail and focused his flash-light on mascola. "what do you want?" he called. mascola blinked under the bright rays. seated beside him was another man who leaned closer into the shadow of the fishing-boat. "i want you to move," mascola said thickly. "my men were here first. plenty of fish at san anselmo. many as here. if you go to the other island there will be no trouble." "and if we stay?" mascola's passenger looked up quickly at gregory's words, and the light fell full upon his face. it was bandrist. "i hope you will not decide to stay," he said slowly. "as i have told you before, i'm not seeking trouble on this island. mascola's men have been drinking too much and are ugly. a supply-boat arrived to-day from the mainland with too much liquor. i am having some difficulty with my own men. i hope you will help us avoid trouble." gregory answered them at once. "if there is any trouble, it will be of your making. the ocean is free to all. we are interfering with no one's rights. we're here. the fish are here. and here we're going to stay." "i'll show you, you----" bandrist checked the italian's angry outburst by placing a hand firmly upon his arm. "i'm sorry," he began. but mascola's open muffler drowned his words and the _fuor d'italia_ leaped away into the darkness. "mascola's drunk," commented dickie, looking after them. "otherwise, he would never have talked like that. it's a wonder bandrist ever mixed up with him." she turned about and confronted gregory. behind him were hawkins, bronson and the crew of the _curlew_. "this means we've got to move," she exclaimed. "we'd better round up the bunch, give them their positions and start fishing." gregory and the girl climbed into the _richard_, calling to bronson to follow. "tell 'sparks' to send word to howard to beat it out with the _pelican_ right away," gregory instructed hawkins. then he exclaimed to dickie as she took her seat beside him: "it looks like mascola was spoiling for a fight. and if he is i'll say he's due for the surprise of his life." chapter xxii strictly on the defensive the _richard_ was in motion before the echoes of the _fuor d'italia's_ gatlin-like exhaust had died away. directing bronson to take them alongside each of the vessels which composed the fleet, gregory and dickie lang boarded the fishing vessels and conferred with the respective captains. gregory's instructions were phrased with military directness. every launch was assigned a definite position which it was to assume at once and hold at all cost. the fleet was divided into three divisions. the main unit, comprising the vessels equipped with the live-bait tanks, were to begin "chumming" at once within a given area. as soon as practicable, fishing was to commence. the second division, made up for the most part of the heavier, diesel-motored vessels, was to lay to in v formation about the fishermen to protect them from interference in the direction from which the fish were running. the remainder of the fleet were to stand by as a rearguard, cover the extreme flanks and maintain a reserve. before taking leave of each craft as it left to go to its new position, gregory briefly addressed the crew: "get this, fellows. we're here to fish. not to fight. if trouble comes, let mascola start it. if he does, i expect you to hold your positions. keep in the clear and use no firearms. remember, what you do to-night, binds me. play safe. keep cool. but get the fish." to a man, the ex-sailors understood the seriousness of the situation, though there were some who argued against the poor fighting policy of letting the other fellow hit the first blow. the radical element, however, were soon quieted by the older and more conservative men, and all agreed to stay in the clear so "nobody could hang anything on the boss." tom howard had arrived with the _pelican_ when gregory and dickie lang returned to the _curlew_. the fisherman brought the news that the men of the alien fleet were in a high state of intoxication. moreover, they appeared to be completely out of live bait. dickie smiled grimly. "that means that if mascola does send them down here, he'll just be looking for trouble. if they haven't the bait, all they can do will be to try to steal our school like they did before, and i guess this time they'll find they're out of luck." "met mascola on my way down," howard announced. "he was running wide-open, heading straight for black point." gregory frowned. "it's hard to tell what mascola will do to-night," he said. the _pelican_ was despatched at once to take her position as the leader of the front rank. as the _curlew_ made ready to get under way, hawkins appeared at the rail. "don't forget the press," he called. "if i'm going to do this affair justice i've got to be at the ringside." gregory moved nearer to bronson and allowed the newspaperman to accompany the party on the speed-craft. then the _richard_ sped away to see that all the boats were in their proper places. arriving in the center of the fishing area, dickie lang watched the men "chumming" the fish and suggested they throw out their lines at once. "i don't like the looks of the weather," she confided to gregory. "it feels like a blow. i'm going to have a look at the glass on the _snipe_." gregory noticed that the girl appeared worried when she returned to the _richard_. "dropping fast," she announced. "it may be just a squall or it may be a real blow. this is no place for us in either case. we must rush the fishing all we can." gregory agreed and gave the necessary orders. from the sides of the _snipe_ the lines flashed over the rail. on the instant the albacore began to strike. as the _richard_ bounded away to notify the other boats of the order to hurry operations, the girl observed: "the fish are heading close in all right. they're running from something. now is the time to hit it hard. oughtn't to take long the way they're starting. i must see that the boys have all the barbs off the hooks. we have to work fast. and when the blow comes, we'll have to get clear of the diablo coast." the second tour of the fishing fleet was only partly completed when dickie directed gregory's gaze in the direction of the point off northwest harbor. "here they come," she cried. "mascola's looking for trouble just as i told you." gregory surveyed the bobbing lights in silence as they moved nearer; saw the red-lights blur and fade into green as the vessels changed direction and headed shoreward; noted one twinkling light running far in advance of its fellows; saw it swerve and double again into red and green. that meant that the _fuor d'italia_ was bearing down upon them. directing bronson to intercept the italian, gregory explained: "i want to give mascola another chance. we're not looking for trouble. he can lay to the seaward but he's got to give us sea-way to get out if it roughens up." the _richard_ swung wide and came abreast the _fuor d'italia_. then it came to mascola that the strange craft on his left had some speed. above the roar of his own exhaust he heard his name called in a peremptory hail. the hot blood surged to his face and he stepped on the throttle. he had no time to talk. he must spot the position of the cannery boats and give his men instructions how to break through. the _fuor d'italia_ bounded away with a sullen roar. but before mascola could circle in the direction of the lights of the fleet, the _richard_ was again on his rail. cursing to himself, the italian advanced his spark and pressed hard on the throttle. but though he gained a few feet on his pursuer, he knew that he dared not try to make the turn. his boat would "turn turtle" or be cut in two by the craft behind. on the two boats sped through the darkness. the lights of the fishing fleet flashed by them like the gleam of switch-lights, seen from an express train. mascola's anger mounted. his men were waiting for orders and he had seen nothing of the enemy's formation. a plan formed quickly in his brain. it was dangerous of course. but the liquor gave him courage. removing one hand from the wheel, he extended it toward the switch-board. "he doesn't dare make the turn at this speed," dickie shouted in gregory's ear. "tell bronson to watch him close when he doubles to come back. he'll head into the swell, to the starboard." gregory was giving the boatman the message when he felt dickie grasp his arm. "he's switched off his lights," she cried. "he's going to try to dodge us, running dark." bronson had already slackened speed at sight of the disappearing lights ahead. then he put the _richard_ hard over, and the speed-craft swerved with a jerk which left her passengers crowding close against one another. "give her the gun," shouted gregory. "head back. don't let him slip us." as the boatman complied and the _richard_ began to lift her hull from the sea, the dark waters ahead were brightened by a phosphorescent flash. directly across their course lay the _fuor d'italia_. twisting the steering wheel with only the slightest pressure of his fingers to avoid turning the _richard_ over, bronson opened the cut-out and stepped hard on the throttle. the speed-craft dipped, then raised and bumped the _fuor d'italia_ beam to beam as she raced by. the shock of the collision threw mascola half from his seat and had a decidedly sobering effect upon his senses. he had noted his boat tremble at the impact and crowd away from the stranger; had felt the straining of her timbers. now he noticed that his motor was missing badly. a loose wire probably. he made haste to repair the trouble and switched on his running lights. the _fuor d'italia_ was too light to take chances of roughing it in the dark. as he worked, he heard a voice hail him. "what do you want?" he demanded angrily. "damn you, you hit my boat." the lights of the returning motor-boat drew alongside before gregory answered: "listen, mascola. if you're looking for trouble, this is the place to find it. if you're not, you can move out to sea and get as many fish as we are. we'll not bother you. there's plenty of albacore over here to-night for everybody. if you try to break through us, it will be up to you." mascola's anger came in a torrent of italian words. then he composed himself sufficiently to speak in broken english: "this mr. bandrist's island. he tell me i fish here. he say you go. you stay, you like trouble. my men like fight any time." "go to it, then," gregory answered quietly. "and when you see your friend bandrist, tell him for me that he hasn't bought diablo. he's only leasing the land. if he has any more claim to the water than we have, he'll have to show us." mascola completed his repairs, started his motor and raced away in the direction of his fleet with the _richard_ running close at his side. but when he came abreast of the cannery fishing-boats, he made no effort to head in. "he don't want to rough it any more with this one," bronson commented. "i reckon when he looks over his boat it'll mean a job for the shop putting in a few ribs." mascola returned to his fleet, his cheeks burning with rage. in the first preliminary skirmish with the enemy, he realized he had been beaten. he had found out nothing of value. had damaged his boat too, no doubt. well, he'd make somebody pay for it before morning. circling his boats, he gave orders for an immediate advance in the direction of the cannery fleet. kenneth gregory looked after the departing lights of the _fuor d'italia_. "score one for the invaders of bandrist's island," he said grimly. "mascola didn't learn much on his reconnoitering expedition, except that we had a better boat than his." then he turned to bronson. "take us up to the other end," he instructed. "i want to tell the boys to keep as close in as they can so mascola's boats will have to skirt the reef to get by." when they arrived at the indicated spot and the v broadened according to orders, the lights of the alien fleet could be discerned moving toward them. "here they come," announced dickie lang. "looks as if they were going to try to crowd in from the north side." gregory smiled. "that's just what i want them to do," he answered. "one of the benefits of reconnoitering is to get an idea of just what you're going into. if mascola had taken a good look, he wouldn't have come that way." chapter xxiii battle of northwest harbor convoyed by his fishing fleet, mascola came steadily on. cruising to the seaward of the cannery boats he circled, laid to and critically surveyed the bobbing lights in the narrow channel which was flanked on both sides by saw-toothed reefs. the fish were coming from the north and west. doubtless the american fisherman already had them well "chummed up" with their live bait. he would force an entrance among the cannery boats if they did not give way and take their school. he had done it before. it was simple enough. directing his boats to follow, he led them on. kenneth gregory stood in the bow of the _pelican_ with a megaphone and directed the position of the boats which made up his first line of defense. his plan of keeping mascola away from his fishing fleet was nothing more or less than just straight football formation, with an augmented line to withstand the opposing pressure. the _pelican_ formed the center of the wedge. to her right and left followed the heavy diesel-motored vessels with the _curlew_ and _snipe_ guarding the extreme ends. behind the first line came the reserve which closely covered the fishing-boats cruising the center area. every boat was at its proper station, awaiting the signal from the _pelican_. it came with gregory's word to howard: "all right, tom. let's go." he stood at howard's side as the fisherman whistled for sea-way and moved his vessel forward with the fleet flanking him astern in v formation. mascola's boats gave no heed to the signal save to draw closer together and slacken speed as they entered the narrow channel. again the cannery boats shrieked a warning and the wedge narrowed with the waterway until only the bare width of a boat separated the beams of the defending vessels. dead ahead, and only a few boat-lengths away, twinkled the lights of the alien fleet. gregory grasped the rail of the engine-house and braced himself for the shock. the next instant the foremost of mascola's boats struck the _pelican_ a glancing blow on the bow. the heavy fishing-boat quivered from stem to stern from the impact. then the powerful diesel engine came into play. the drunken skipper of the _lura_ felt his craft being shunted to the side. before he could gather his wits together, another american boat brushed his outside rail and crowded him forcibly against the craft he had endeavored to ram. caught between the heavy hulls of the _pelican_ and _albatross_, the _lura_ grated, beam to beam, her timbers creaking and twisting from the strain, her propeller churning the water in a vain effort to break through the tong-like grip of the two boats which disputed her passage. the drunken crew of the _lura_ surged to the rail with wild cries of rage. the air was filled with flying missiles. came the sharp snap of breaking glass and the dull thud of heavy objects hurled from the alien craft to the deck of the _pelican_. "stay under cover," gregory commanded the crew. "stand by if they try to board." a flying bit of scrap-iron gashed his forehead and caused the blood to trickle over his eyes. he wiped it away with his hand and turned to observe the progress of the other vessels. the engagement was now general. mascola's boats were trying to smash their way through. but the v was as yet unbroken. that, he could tell by the solid formation of the boats in reserve. they had not found it necessary to separate. the night was enlivened with the shrill cries of the aliens. gregory noticed that there was congestion of lights on his left wing. he reflected suddenly that that was where the _curlew_ was stationed. and dickie lang was on the _curlew_. why had the girl persisted in her determination to take an active part in the conflict? perhaps she might be already wounded. hit by a piece of flying iron or a wine-bottle. "how about it?" howard's voice recalled him to his plan of battle. gregory looked hastily along his front line. "all right," he exclaimed. "go to it." the _pelican's_ whistle shrieked two shrill blasts in reply, the signal for every man at the wheel to go full ahead and put his respective craft hard over. mascola cursed volubly at the increasing jumble of his boats. they had already lost their way and were only tending to raise a further barrier to his entrance to the fleet. if he rammed, he must ram his own boats as well as those of the enemy. it flashed over his heated brain that the american had chosen a difficult position for him to break through. the narrowness of the sea-way prevented him from engaging them in mass formation. then he became conscious of another fact as two sharp whistles sounded above the uproar. his lead boats were being crowded back against their fellows with a twisting movement which was carrying them in the direction of the reef. the channel had been too narrow to break through the solid wall of diesels. a puff of wind from the southeast helped mascola to make up his mind. directing a summary withdrawal, he sped away toward the reef to pilot his boats again to safety from the dangerous shore. gregory directed the pivot movement of the cannery wedge until the last of the alien fleet had fled from the channel. in the first preliminary engagement, the enemy had been beaten back. at what cost he must find out at once. as he turned about to signal the _richard_, a voice which he recognized as hawkins', came to him from the darkness astern. "bronson's knocked out." leaving howard to supervise the return of the advance line to their original positions, gregory instructed the sailors to launch a dory over the rail of the _pelican_ and was rowed away in the direction of the _richard_. hawkins had but little to tell. the _richard_ had been plying about according to orders, to report any break in the wedge. as she skirted the right end close to the _snipe_, some one had thrown a bottle from the nearest enemy craft. it had struck bronson in the head. the _richard_ had drifted backward. hawkins had thrown out an anchor. that was all. gregory examined bronson while hawkins was speaking. the man was not badly injured. but his loss would be a serious one. without the speed-boat, gregory would be greatly handicapped. he set his jaw grimly in the darkness. he could not afford to tie up the _richard_. he would run her himself. directing hawkins to pull the anchor, he slid into bronson's seat and focused the rays of his flash-light on the speed-boat's starting mechanism. "are you going to try to run her?" hawkins inquired as he tugged at the hook. "i am going to run her. bronson showed me how. it's taking some chance of course. but not so much as tying her up. we've got to have the _richard_, bill. that's all there is to it." gregory started the motor and, proceeding at quarter-speed, set off to take bronson to the _curlew_. by so doing, he realized, he could accomplish a dual purpose, find out about the safety of dickie lang and leave the boatman in her care. that, he reflected, would give her a safer though more inactive rôle. the girl greeted him from the rail of the _curlew_. not a man had been scratched aboard her vessel. her craft had held the pivot and twisted two of the alien boats until they bumped the reef. a man had been reported injured on the _falcon_. placing bronson in the dory, gregory directed the skiff to be pulled aboard the _curlew_. then he climbed over the rail with hawkins. "bronson was hurt by a flying bottle," he explained. "will you look after him? i've got to round up the boys and see what's doing." "you're hurt yourself," dickie observed as the rays of the cabin lamp fell upon gregory's face. "just a scratch," he said quickly. "if you'll look out for bronson i'll be off." dickie lang whirled about. "look out for this man, jack. see you later, jones. i'm going with mr. gregory." reluctantly gregory consented to allow the girl to accompany him in the _richard_. an instant later they were on their way to round up the fleet. injuries were few among the crews of the defending vessels. bruises and cuts summed up the physical damage done by mascola's men. one of the boats was leaking, but sorenson was holding the water easily with the pumps. the _falcon's_ shaft was sprung but the propeller was still turning. to a man, the various captains reported that their men had obeyed instructions to the letter. no acts of violence had as yet been committed by any of the american crews. the ex-sailors, though chafing at their inaction, had assumed the defensive throughout. the next thing was to arrange to oppose mascola's next move. "whatever he does, he's got to do mighty quick," observed dickie as the _richard_ nosed her way among the albacore fishermen. "it's roughing up in the last five minutes and the glass is falling all the time." "there's only one thing he can do, as near as i can figure," gregory answered. "and that's to come down the harbor channel and hit us from the stern. if he does that," he added quickly, "we'll have to be careful not to block the sea-way leading into the harbor. my idea is to move farther up. then if the blow does come, we can go out with the wind and sea through the north channel." "that's our best bet, unless it's a nor'wester," she agreed. "we've got to keep a way out clear or mascola will crowd us on the rocks." the captains of the fishing-boats reported their craft to be better than half laden when the _richard_ arrived alongside. the fish were still running strong. in another hour, without interference, they might be loaded. at gregory's direction the albacore fishermen began cruising toward the north channel. the next thing to do was to marshal the fleet to withstand mascola's attack from the rear. owing to the extreme wideness of the waterway, the italian's boats would now have a better chance. the v must be broadened by the boats hitherto held in reserve. they must be brought up at once. the rising wind and the roughening sea, added to gregory's inexperience in handling the speed-boat, rendered the mobilization of the cannery fleet not only slow, but extremely hazardous as well. before his left end defense was complete, mascola was bearing down upon his center. chapter xxiv a fighting chance mascola's boats advanced warily, spreading out and covering off the defending fleet as they came. it would be a boat to boat, man to man fight in the darkness. head-on, the opposing fleets collided with a crash which twisted their keels and racked their timbers. lights merged together and became stationary as hull locked with hull in a grinding embrace. the alien crews swarmed to the decks and leaped across the rail upon the american sailors who surged forward to meet them. fists flashed in the darkness. men met hand to hand. the night was filled with wild cries, the trampling of heavy feet, the thud of contact of wood meeting wood and flesh meeting flesh. from the center of the struggling mass of men and boats came a sudden flare of light which dispelled the dark shadows cast athwart the vessels and brought into bold relief the struggling figures of the men who battled on the decks. "fire!" the cry was taken up by every throat and echoed down the line. it came to kenneth gregory on the extreme end of the left wing where he had been directing the defense of his weakened quarter, by a counter-flanking movement. a boat afire! and right in the center of his fleet! when the tank exploded hundreds of gallons of burning distillate would flood the waters. but he dared not think that far. whirling the _richard_ about, and circling behind his line of boats he dashed away to face the new peril. the crew of the _florence_ abandoned the attack at the first cry and surged to the hold to fight the conflagration. a gasoline stove, carelessly left burning by one of that vessel's drunken crew, had been overturned by the shock of collision, and had fired the bilge. fanned by the rising winds, the flames were licking at the oil-soaked timbers and spreading rapidly toward the tanks in the bow. the alien crew of the _florence_ fled in a panic of fear. leaping to the rail they flung themselves to the deck of a neighboring craft which was already backing away from the ill-fated vessel. from all sides, friend and foe alike drew away from the blazing fishing craft. for the time being the sound of conflict gave place to the rasp of reverse levers, hoarse cries of warning and the labored chug of heavy-duty motors going full astern. in the ever-widening cleared space about the ill-fated derelict the lurid waters were churned into a roseate foam by the frenzied lashing of the heavy propellers of the fishing craft as their masters sought to clear the dangerous area. as the _richard_ sped on in the direction of the ever-brightening glare, gregory's mind kept pace with the rapid pulsing of the high-speed motor. he must tow the blazing vessel clear of the fleet before the tanks exploded. dodging among the retreating fishermen he grazed the _curlew's_ hull and plunged into the open space. warning cries sounded above the roar of the flames but he did not hear them. his plan, formed on the instant, must be put into execution at once. if it failed, the speed of the _richard_ would carry dickie to a place of safety. it was a fighting chance. that was all. swinging the _richard_ about, he drove straight for the _florence_. "take the wheel, and stand by," he cried to the girl. "if the tank goes, run." he leaped from his seat as the _richard_ breasted the blazing hull and dickie found herself gripping the big steering wheel before she could utter a protest. gregory was already in the stern of the _richard_. grasping the stern-anchor chain of the speed-launch, he caught the wire-stays of the _florence_ and pulled himself aboard, dragging the chain after him. for an instant he clung to the rail, shielding his face with his arms. then he scrambled on deck. holding the _richard's_ stern close to the _florence's_ bow, dickie lang saw gregory running across the deck. saw his reeling figure silhouetted against the white glare of the blazing cabin-house. heard the rattle of the heavy anchor chain of the alien fishing-boat. keeping the _richard_ in place with an effort against the wind and chop, she waited. he expected her to stand by. his hair singed by the heat, with blistering face and burning lungs, gregory dropped by the snubbing-post in the bow and tugged at the heavy chain and knotted it about the block. then he made the free end fast to the chain of the _richard_. running to the rail he threw his body over and hung by his hands, searching the air with his feet. then he felt the deck of the _richard_ beneath him. dickie lang had stood by. the next instant he was again at the wheel and the _richard_ lunged forward. "steady," cautioned the girl. "don't take the slack so fast. hard a port. now kick your stern over. that's the stuff. pay out. now you've got her." for an instant the _richard_ quivered with anger to find herself in leash by the fiery incubus at her stern. then she settled doggedly to work and the two vessels began to gather way. to the right and left the fishing-boats scattered before them. the tanks of the blazing tow might explode at any minute. it was best to be in the clear. in the common fear of the new danger the contending factions drew apart, friend and foe uniting in the universal effort to gain a place of safety. the wind caught the blaze and fanned it upward in a solid sheet of flame which blistered the varnish of the _richard's_ stern-deck. "get down," gregory shouted above the roar of the speed-boat's exhaust. dickie started to protest when she felt herself jerked roughly from the seat. "there's nothing you can do now. lie still. keep your head covered." the tone was gruff, the words commanding, spoken by a man. a man who thought of the safety of others and placed it before his own. a man who was not afraid to take chances. dickie's heart glowed with pride as she huddled in the _richard's_ cockpit. it was worth while to know a man like that. mascola watched the progress of the burning _florence_ from the deck of the _lura_. his blood-shot eyes gleamed red in the glow from the burning vessel and the lust of destruction surged into his heart. he was losing one of his best boats. somebody must pay. in the light of the fire he saw the vessels of the defense scattered. now would be his chance to crowd through to the fishing fleet. with the wind and sea at his back he would pile them up on the rocks. jumping to the _fuor d'italia_ he sped away to direct the attack upon the heavily laden fishing-boats. clear the fishing fleet and shunt the _florence_ to the rocks with the wind and current. for the space of a few seconds it was gregory's only thought. the rising wind at his back was hot with the fevered breath of the burning tow. what did it matter if the heat was scorching his neck? only a few boats remained ahead. then he would be in the clear. if the tanks of the _florence_ exploded he must crawl to the stern and cut the tow-line. the crested waves began to slap angrily at the speed-boat's hull. then the _richard's_ motor began to miss. "she's all right. keep down. i can----" a muffled roar interrupted his words. the hull of the _florence_ bulged. a jet of flame mounted upward from the deck. the engine-house tottered and collapsed in a shower of glowing sparks which filled the air and rained down into the _richard's_ cockpit. a stream of burning oil surged up from the hull of the derelict and tumbled into the sea, blazing fiercely on the crest of the waves. "take the boat." before the girl could gain the wheel gregory was fighting his way to the stern. as dickie's fingers closed on the steering-wheel he was slashing at the rope spliced to the chain. with blistered hands and burning lungs he hacked at the tough strands of hemp with his pocket-knife. the threads of the line snapped and crinkled from the heat. the water about the speed-craft's stern was on fire. tottering drunkenly, he bent low and held his breath. the rope was more than half severed. the threads were already parting from the strain. then the knife slipped from his blistered fingers and fell into the water. mascola witnessed the explosion of the _florence's_ first oil tank with a grim smile. the vessel was already clear of the fleet. she could do no damage now save to the _richard_ and her crew. with his eyes fixed on the fire, mascola prayed to his saints that the second and larger tank might explode before gregory could sever the tow-line. fascinated by the sight, he moved farther to windward and watched. kenneth gregory's bleeding fingers tore at the straining fiber of the quivering line which bound the _richard_ to destruction. one by one the threads snapped and curled in the heat radiated from the burning vessel. dickie lang huddled in the driver's seat and jerked the hull of the speed-craft frantically against the strain of the tow-line. for an instant death held them by a single strand. then the line parted and the _richard_ leaped to safety. the cool rush of air revived gregory's senses and he found himself leaning weakly against the coaming of the speed-boat. then he heard the girl calling from the wheel. "mascola's broken through." he gulped in the moist sea air and groped his way forward. far astern the wreck burned fiercely, bringing into bold relief the frowning peaks which fringed the shore-line of el diablo. as he caught at the rail for support he saw the flames leap skyward, blackened by smoke and bits of timber. the waves burned brightly about the settling hull. then came the sound of the explosion of the _florence's_ second tank. "mascola's broken through. can't you hear me? are you hurt?" gregory staggered to the seat and dropped beside the girl. "i'll be all right in a minute," he said. "keep going. i can't see very well yet. you say he got through?" "yes. he's trying to crowd the fishing fleet to the rocks. look!" in the light that the burning vessel astern cast upon the waters ahead, gregory saw a confused jumble of boats crowded close against the saw-toothed reef. "damn him!" he grated. "we'll beat him yet. slow down. give me the wheel." dickie relinquished the steering-wheel with reluctance. "we ought to be putting to sea," she observed as a sudden gust of wind and rain assailed them. "this is a bad place to be caught napping." gregory's eyes glowed with the lust of battle. "no," he gritted. "we're going to stay and fight. mascola's not going to win on a fluke if it costs me every boat i have." in a frenzy of activity he threw the _richard_ wide open and sped away to gather his scattered boats for a flank attack upon the alien fleet. mascola was in high good humor. his boats were crowding the fishermen backward in the direction of the reef. forced to the rocks they would have no chance in the face of the approaching storm. what was the loss of the _florence_ in comparison to the destruction of a dozen or more fully equipped fishing vessels, laden to the water-line with their valuable cargoes? repairing to the cabin of the _lura_, the italian refreshed himself with a drink. a shout from without brought him hurrying to the deck. bearing down upon him at full speed came the cannery fleet. his vessels were broadside. they would strike him full on the beam. cut his boats in two. mascola shrieked out an order to put about and face the enemy. his captains sprang to their respective wheels and battled desperately among themselves for steerage way. then came the crash. skirting the mass of snapping grinding hulls, gregory shot through with the _richard_ and came among the fishing-boats. some were already grazing the reef. a line from the speed-craft pulled them again to safety and launched them around mascola's rear. fighting their way through the press of the alien craft they circled and renewed the attack from the opposite flank. mascola's fleet was caught broadside between the americans. the din of the battle mingled with the roar of the wind. again men met over the rail. knives flashed in the sullen glare from the burning _florence_. pistol shots echoed above the tumult and the air was filled with flying splinters. slowly and inexorably mascola's fleet was ground back. an alien craft, reaching the clear space to the rear of the battle line, turned hastily about and fled down the narrow channel leading to the sea. another followed. still another. mascola strove vainly with shouts and curses to stem the tide of his retreating vessels, but the boats brushed by him and continued on their way. soon the exodus became a rout with hull scraping hull in the effort of the alien boats to gain sea-way in the channel. in a few minutes the last of mascola's fleet, leaking badly and settling low in the water, lumbered by with rapidly pulsing motor in the direction of northwest harbor. "we beat him at his own game." kenneth gregory repeated the words again and again. blood flowed from a jagged cut in his cheek. his face and hands were raw and blistered, but his eyes were shining with the light of victory. in the shadow of the _pelican_ his arms closed about dickie lang and he drew her to him. "we beat him," he cried. "you, and the boys, and i." the girl struggled for a moment, then lay passive in his arms. he was delirious from the fire and the battle. he did not know what he was doing. freeing herself with an effort from his clinging arms she drew away. "we must put to sea," she cried. "before the storm breaks." gregory roused at her words and turned quickly away. "yes," he answered. "you're right. i forgot." within a few minutes the cannery fleet was heading down the main harbor channel in the direction of the open sea. then the storm broke. battling desperately into the teeth of the gale, the fishing-boats plunged head-on into the curling waves. lashing the sea into white-caps, the wind picked up the water and hurled it to the decks in great clouds of choking, blinding spray. in a last dying flare the flames leaped upward from the charred hull of the _florence_ as she lay pillowed on the rocks. and in the feeble glow, only hawkins, who was looking astern, saw the shadowy outline of a long gray boat nosing her way about the island. the _gray ghost_ was running before the storm. chapter xxv the banker at the helm foot by foot down the storm-lashed, wind-swept channel the victorious cannery fleet doggedly fought its way from the diablo coast and headed to sea. "we've got to lay in at san anselmo," dickie lang shouted to gregory as she guided the _richard_ skilfully through the buffeting waves. "some of the boats are pretty badly stove up. they're riding too low to try to make the mainland. we'd have to buck the storm all the way over. best run before it as long as we can. then we can gain the lea of the other island and head in at cavalan and leave some of the boats there. may have to run a few of them on the beach. we ought to make the little harbor on the south shore of san anselmo in a couple of hours." gregory agreed with some reluctance. when it came to seamanship he was perfectly willing to leave the management of his craft to dickie lang. the girl was familiar with the coast of the two islands and had fully demonstrated her ability to handle the _richard_ in a storm. still the idea of running from diablo rankled in his heart. it looked like quitting. the girl's next words, however, made him feel a little better. "there would be no use lying in at northwest harbor at diablo," she was saying. "the anchorage is too small and mascola's boats will overcrowd it. if you tried to beach anything there, you'd wreck it. at cavalan we can check things up, transfer the fish if we have to and get them right out. we've beaten mascola, hands down, so why should we care?" it was well toward morning before the last of the cannery fleet staggered into the little harbor of cavalan. then came the first opportunity to reckon the cost of mascola's defeat at diablo. gregory's first thought was for the personnel of his fleet. in the fight with the alien fishermen several of his men had been injured, but as near as could be ascertained, none fatally. a number of men had been slashed by knives, but the injuries for the most part were only flesh wounds. there were many aching heads and bruised bodies. two sailors and a fisherman had been grazed by bullets. one man's arm had been broken. to a man the various crews made light of their injuries and proudly maintained that they had left their mark on many a dark-skinned member of mascola's aliens. bronson had partly recovered and was anxiously inquiring concerning the behavior of the speed-craft in the storm. while gregory directed the transferring of the injured men to the better equipped launches, dickie checked up the material damage inflicted upon the tonnage. on the _curlew_ gregory encountered hawkins. the newspaper man was jubilant. the victory over the aliens was just what he needed. he had anticipated the outcome and had already sent out a full account of the struggle with the aliens over the radio. the people of port angeles would be reading it in a couple of hours. as hawkins assisted gregory in caring for the needs of the men, the reporter hinted that he was on the trail of a bigger story which would make all his former journalistic efforts pale into insignificance. but when questioned concerning the specific nature of his scoop, hawkins became extremely reticent. dickie lang's report upon the condition of the fishing-boats added materially to the cost of the victory. four of the craft had been jammed in the mêlée and were leaking badly. how they ever made port at all was a thing she could not understand. three of the other vessels had sustained bent shafts and broken propeller blades. all the fleet were more or less battle-scarred but their defects could be remedied in the water. she had set the men to work already. there was a machine shop at anacapa on the opposite side of the island and a marine railway large enough to take on the disabled craft. when the blow subsided, they could put in there for temporary repairs. the girl's eyes glowed with happiness as she totaled the catch of the fishermen. every boat was laden almost to its full capacity. with a storm coming on and in the face of a probable shortage of fish, the success of the night's work would reach a substantial figure. "it's worth more than you know," put in hawkins. "wait until my yarn gets into print and i'll show you." he smiled broadly and put out his hand. "then i want my rake-off, cap. gregory," he concluded. "i won't forget you, bill," gregory was quick to answer. "nor any one else. i knew the boys would stand by to a finish. they sure came across to-night." he turned quickly to dickie lang. "when can we start out with the fish?" he asked. "figuring to go at daybreak," the girl answered. "better send jack a message right away so he can be ready for them. they'll have to buck the blow so it will be afternoon by the time they get over." she looked out across the faintly graying waters where brightening lights began to appear from the shadowy hulls of the fishing-boats. then she inhaled the air hungrily. "look," she exclaimed. "the boys are getting breakfast. let's go over to the _snipe_ and tie in with them. they've got a man there from the regular navy who can surely cook." gregory and hawkins welcomed the suggestion and a moment later they were speeding away to answer to the first call for breakfast. in the lea of san anselmo, sheltered from the storm in the land-locked little harbor of cavalan, the american fleet rested from its labors. the sailors gathered on the decks and greeted the new day over plates piled high with crisp slices of bacon and fried eggs. the night had been long, fraught with danger and fatiguing toil; but work and worry had endured only for the night and joy came with the morning. * * * * * silvanus rock was nervous and ill-tempered. consuming his third cup of strong black coffee, he rose from the breakfast table and walked to the french windows and glared out at the curling waves as they flung themselves upon the beach. his devoted spouse gazed after him with a sigh. "something is preying on father's mind," she whispered to de lancy, the only son and heir to the rock fortune. "he didn't sleep a wink last night." de lancy scowled. "that doesn't give him any license to take it out on me," he growled, as he pushed back his chair and lit a cigarette. "when i tried to interest him in that new racing car, he landed on me all in a heap and----" his words were interrupted by the entrance of the maid. "some one to see mr. rock," she announced. rock whirled and hurried toward her. then he caught a glimpse of the roughly garbed man who was standing by the desk in his den. peters had arrived at last. the anxious lines deepened on silvanus rock's forehead and he made haste to join his visitor. mrs. rock pursed her lips as she noticed the stranger. "i can not understand why your father persists in having such disreputable-looking men visit him in his home," she confided to her son. de lancy sluffed the cigarette ashes into his coffee cup, before replying. "well, whoever the 'low-brow' is, here's hoping he'll put the old man in a better humor." in his wish de lancy was not disappointed. for a short time the visitor remained closeted with rock in the capitalist's den. then rock escorted his guest to the door and de lancy noticed that the old man had opened up some of his best cigars. it was a good sign. silvanus rock entered the sun-room, all smiles. "i believe i'll try some of those waffles, mother, if they are still handy," he exclaimed. "my headache's passed off and i'm feeling quite myself again." he beamed on his son. "and now, de lancy, you were telling me about that new car. it seems to me like a pretty stiff price but i guess you might as well go ahead and order it." when the bank president reached his office some time later after a visit to the golden rule fish cannery, he greeted his employees with effusive good-humor. leaving orders that he was not to be disturbed by any one except mr. peters, he passed into his private office, dropped heavily into a chair and began to figure. his pudgy fingers trembled about the pen as he scratched on the pad before him. then he tore the paper containing his calculations into little bits, tossed them into the waste-basket and smiled benignly. his latest business venture had succeeded far beyond his fondest expectations. a tap came on his door and mr. peters again made his appearance. rock surveyed him anxiously. "no mistake i hope, peters, in the good news," he quavered. "everything's all right i trust." peters nodded and drew up a chair close to rock's side. "this one's about the fishing-boats," he said in a low voice. "they got into a scrap with the american boats off northwest harbor. bandrist says that gregory's fleet won out. mascola's lay in at the harbor. the _florence_ burned up and a lot of his other boats are pretty well shot. he couldn't stop the other fellows at all and they loaded up." rock frowned at the news. "well, well," he ejaculated. "that is bad. though not of course as bad as it might be. no answer to that one, peters." a few moments later when the financier was again alone in his office, the cashier entered. "the credit man from the canners' supply company is here," he announced. "he's asking for information about the legonia fish cannery. thought i'd better refer him to you." rock's thick lips closed grimly. "show him in," he ordered, and bit savagely at his cigar. mr. booker made his appearance at once. "we have a little account with the legonia fish cannery," he began. "as it is some time past due we were beginning to get a little anxious. a word from you will put us straight." "what's the amount of your claim?" "twelve hundred and thirty-five dollars." the hopeful expression which had leaped to rock's face gave place to one of gloom. then he asked: "what is the nature of your claim?" "machinery and the labor of installing," supplied booker. a gleam of hope entered rock's beady eyes. "between you and me, mr. booker," he said. "the legonia fish cannery is pretty much involved at the present time. their organization is one which might cause you some difficulty in securing the amount of your claim. if you care to assign it to me for collection i think i can handle the matter satisfactorily." booker did not notice the suppressed eagerness of the bank president's tone. he was new at the job, replacing the regular credit man who was away on his vacation. perhaps it would be well to accept mr. rock's offer. "what fee would you charge for your services?" he inquired warily. rock spread out his fat hands with a depreciatory gesture. "just between friends, mr. booker," he said warmly. "your firm is too well-known by me to make even a nominal charge for so trifling a favor. whatever i am able to do for you in this regard, is yours for the asking." seeing that the credit man was wavering, rock continued: "i am so sure that i can adjust the claim satisfactorily that if you desire i will give you my own personal check for the amount right away. then you can forget the entire matter. mr. gregory is a personal friend of mine and though, as i say, his affairs are somewhat involved, i know that he will attend to the matter at once if approached in the right way." booker hesitated. "i'd better call on mr. gregory first," he said. "that will be a hard matter," rock interrupted. "unless you care to go to the expense of making a trip to diablo island. mr. gregory left yesterday for a protracted stay in the deep-sea fishing grounds." booker considered. his firm was very desirous of having him return with the cash which was sore needed at the present time. collecting the claim would be quite a feather in his cap. rock's statements concerning the fish cannery, he noticed, were somewhat contradictory. but that was up to rock. an account like this, the chances were, would not be worth much anyway. he could explain the whole matter to dunham when he got back. "all right, mr. rock," he said at length. "if you want to buy the claim outright, you can have it. i won't assign." rock reached for his check-book. a few moments later saw the deal closed. when booker had left, rock turned to the telephone. when he was in communication with the local judge, he said: "i'd like to see you as soon as possible, tom.--yes, it's important.--all right. i'll be right down." * * * * * somewhat in advance of silvanus rock's breakfast hour, mr. dupont entered the white front restaurant at port angeles and made his way toward his accustomed table in the sunlit alcove. his favorite waitress pulled out his chair and handed him his morning paper with a smile. "i have a special for you this morning," she announced, "which will make your mouth water." mr. dupont smacked his lips with boyish enthusiasm. "what is it?" he inquired. "corn-fed mackerel from the new service market which opened yesterday." mr. dupont raised his eyebrows inquiringly, and the girl explained: "a lot of service men have started a fish stall in a corner of the old california market around the block from here. they just put in a few yesterday but from the way they sold out, i'd say they'd need the whole building before long. our manager got around just in time to pick up the last of yesterday's catch. i saved one of them for you." while the girl attended to his order, the resident manager of winfield & camby turned his attention to his paper. when the waitress returned with the crisply browned fish, she was obliged to speak twice before she was able to gain mr. dupont's attention. hovering about his chair, she watched her patron nibble at the carefully-prepared delicacy with his eyes fixed intently upon his newspaper. the dimples disappeared quickly from the girl's face as she noted that the mackerel were growing cold. then she turned from the table with a sigh. men did not care what they ate as long as they had their paper. mr. dupont finished his perusal of the news and shoved back his chair, leaving the special scarcely tasted. "that was fine," he ejaculated. "wish i had time to finish it. but i have a number of things to 'tend to before going to the office. by the way, where did you say that new market was located?" he rose as he spoke and as the waitress again gave him the location of the building he sought, he pressed a substantial tip into her hand and hurried to the street. at the entrance to the california market, he mingled with the throng and elbowed his way through the crowd which packed a corner of the big building. then he adjusted his nose-glasses and peered over their heads. behind a rudely constructed counter of rough boards three smiling young men were endeavoring to satisfy the demands made upon them for the rapidly disappearing contents of a number of fish-boxes behind the counter. all about them were hastily scrawled signs which the public read with interest. we have declared war on the high cost of living.--fresh fish at fifty per cent. off.--we are dealing direct with the people.--shoot square with us and we will shoot square with you. while mr. dupont read, another sign made its appearance. "sold out. come again." winfield & camby's office force were surprised to find the manager on the job when they reached the salesrooms. "send me mr. black." mr. dupont's orders were crisp and the publicity man hurried to obey his bidding. "bring me those clippings on that legonia fish cannery stuff, black. also the ads in to-day's papers. have you read that story of the mix-up between the americans and the alien fishermen at diablo island?" black admitted he had not. "get _the times_ and read it," snapped the manager. "come alive, black, and as soon as dalton comes in, tell him i want to see him right away." * * * * * it was high noon at cavalan when the _pelican_ reentered the harbor after cruising in the open sea to pick up any words that might come from mccoy over the radio. gregory watched the progress of the _pelican_ from the deck of the albatross. "looks as if they'd picked up something at last," he observed. "hope it's from the fleet, saying they arrived at the cannery all right." "they've hardly had time to make it yet," objected dickie lang. "i wouldn't expect to hear from them at legonia for at least two hours." the wireless operator appeared on deck as the _pelican_ drew abreast of the _albatross_. "message for mr. gregory," he shouted. gregory took the paper and glanced eagerly at the message. it was from mccoy and it read: rock here with attachment papers to tie us up pending payment of claim bought by him from canners' supply company. we have until four o'clock to answer. wire what to do. gregory glanced at his watch as he handed the message to dickie lang. jumping to the deck of the _pelican_ he found tom howard. "tom," he said, "i want you to put to sea at once. travel a straight course for legonia and keep the radio going all the time. we'll be alongside in the _richard_. give us the answer you get over the radio by megaphone. perhaps then it won't be necessary for us to go all the way over. but if it should be, we've got to get there before four o'clock." turning to the radio man, he dictated a message to farnsworth setting forth the situation and instructing the attorney to take whatever steps were advisable to stay the attachment. the message was to be forwarded to farnsworth from the cannery. it would give the lawyer time to act if he got busy at once. returning to the _albatross_, gregory went over his plans with dickie lang. "i'm going, too," the girl announced. "you are all in. it will be no fun driving the _richard_ to-day. if you do have to go across, you haven't much chance of making it on time in weather like this. especially if we have to lag along with the _pelican_." "i know it," gregory answered. "but i'm not figuring we'll have to go very far. but if we do have to go all the way we've got to be at legonia before four o'clock. we've beaten mascola but we'll lose all we've gained if we don't beat rock." hawkins sensed that something important was taking place and straightway determined to accompany the party. a few minutes later the _richard_ and the _pelican_ rounded the tip of san anselmo and headed into the storm. then hawkins' professional curiosity got the better of him. "what's the big idea?" he asked. gregory explained, concluding optimistically: "i'm not worrying much. farnsworth can fix things up all right. then we'll go back to cavalan." "if he doesn't you can put up a bond for double the amount of the claim," hawkins advised. "that will stay the attachment until you can raise the cash. you'd have to get it in person though--and before four o'clock." he looked at his watch. "you'll have to go some to do that," he said. "if you could cut loose from the _pelican_ it would be a cinch, but of course you've got to wait until you get an answer to your message." for some time the two boats fought their way through the rising waves. then the fishing-boat signaled the _richard_ to draw closer. gregory listened intently for the words of the man with the megaphone as he appeared on the _pelican's_ deck. the operator's message came faintly to them above the roar of the wind. mr. farnsworth left his office at noon to-day on motor trip to country. not expected to return until monday. little hope of reaching him to-night but will keep trying. mccoy. hawkins swore softly at the intelligence. it was one-thirty already. not much chance of reaching legonia in time to accomplish much to-day. "tell mccoy i'll be at the cannery before four o'clock." dickie flashed a glance at the clock on the _richard's_ dash at gregory's words. every minute was going to count. it was up to the speed-boat to show what she could do. opening the cut-out, the girl began to get the speed-craft under way. with a roar which drowned out the wind, the _richard_ mounted to the white-capped swells and raced for the mainland. there was only one chance in a hundred of making it on time. she set her lips grimly and gripped the wheel. if it was only one in a thousand, she'd take it--for kenneth gregory. chapter xxvi the value of publicity "what time is it?" gregory huddled to the floor of the cockpit and drew out his watch. "two-thirty," he shouted above the frenzied snapping of the open exhaust. dickie hurled the _richard_ into a mounting wall of green water which tottered above them. then she cried through set lips: "just about half-way. we're over the worst of it though. the nearer we get to shore the better time we'll make. we're sure going to need it too." gregory nodded absent-mindedly. his mind was filled with the problem of what he was going to do if he did arrive at legonia on time. dickie had made a wonderful run thus far, had handled the _richard_ masterfully against wind and wave, had more than done her part. soon her work would be done. then his would begin. and what was he going to do? the sum to be raised would have once seemed trifling. what would twelve hundred dollars have amounted to three months ago? now, it looked like a million. there was no chance of raising it to-day. he must secure a bond. rock had played his hand well. the bank president had hit in some way upon a plan of injuring him while he was away. and rock could injure him. a tie-up at such a time would rob him of all he had gained by beating mascola at el diablo. the fishing fleet were loaded to the gunwales with albacore. the fish must be worked up at once. a loss of even twenty-four hours would render them worthless. gregory reflected bitterly that he had other creditors. had rock obtained other due and unpaid accounts? even if such were not the case, the shutting down of his plant might be the signal for other wholesalers to launch a similar attack upon his credit. he realized sharply that he was accomplishing nothing. merely thinking in circles. hawkins had suggested putting up a bond. the newspaperman was doubtless familiar with the procedure. perhaps it could be effected if they arrived early enough to arrange the matter. he turned to his friend for enlightenment. "how long would it take for me to get a bond?" he asked. hawkins' usually cheery countenance clouded, as he replied: "not long, if you could find a surety company agent in his office. but the trouble is this is saturday. i didn't think of it until you got that wire from your attorney. it's a legal holiday for the courts and it's hard to find anybody around you want." hawkins' frown grew blacker as he continued: "then there's another thing. you've got to have the judge approve the bond, granting you're lucky enough to get it. and looking for a judge on saturday afternoon is like looking for the proverbial needle." hawkins placed a hand wearily over his eyes and lapsed into silence. * * * * * jack mccoy was at his wit's end. the fishing fleet from diablo had just arrived, loaded with albacore. the captains reported a rough trip all the way over. they had seen or heard nothing from gregory since leaving cavalan. mccoy paced up and down the dock while he superintended the unloading of the fish. what a haul they had made! but what good would it do them? the whole plant would be tied up in less than an hour. he jerked out his watch and looked at it again. it was seven minutes after three. walking to the bay-side, he shaded his eyes with his hand and gazed anxiously in the direction of the inlet. granting that gregory arrived within the next half-hour, what could he possibly accomplish in so short a time? all mccoy's efforts to confer with rock had been fruitless. the bank president could not be located and had left but one word. he would be at the cannery at four o'clock. * * * * * the low-lying clouds which hung about the entrance to crescent bay rifted sullenly and exposed the ragged line of rocks which made up the jetty. "right on the dot," dickie lang exclaimed. "i was afraid maybe i was too far down. what time is it now?" "three-thirty," gregory answered. "we ought to dock in ten minutes." "we'll be there in five unless i run into something going down the harbor." "stop at the municipal dock first," gregory instructed her. "i'm going to run ashore and try to get a bond. then we'll go on to the cannery." hawkins roused himself from his lethargy as they sped down the bay. "i can help you some," he announced. "i can go on your bond. i own at least three times the amount of the claim in real estate in this county. that will save us some time. we can get a blank form from a notary and have him fill it out. then all we've got to do is to find the judge." "doesn't rock have to put up a bond, too?" gregory asked. "he's trying his best to damage me. haven't i any come-back?" "don't bank on rock's bond," hawkins answered. "he has to put one up, but it's pretty liable to be 'straw.' fellows like him generally have a strangle-hold on a little place like this and they are pretty sure of their ground before they shoot. the chances are rock's in the clear with a 'dummy' or else his property is all under cover. i'm going to make it my business to look the old fellow up and see how he's fixed. men like him don't do anything without a motive. i'm going to try to find out what rock is up to." at the municipal docks gregory and hawkins debarked hastily and ran down the main street of the town. contrary to the newspaperman's fears they were successful in finding a young notary in his office. stimulated by the promise of an extra fee, the man made out the papers in record time. "where can we find the local judge?" gregory asked quickly. the notary shook his head. "hard telling," he answered. "he went out a while ago with mr. rock and one of the real estate men in this office to look at a piece of property. haven't seen joe back since so i suppose they're still out." when gregory arrived at the cannery it lacked ten minutes of being four o'clock. hurrying to the office the party from the _richard_ encountered mccoy talking with a well-dressed stranger. "here's mr. gregory now," exclaimed the house-manager running over to meet his employer. "what luck?" he whispered. a glance at gregory's face, however, was all mccoy needed to answer his question. the boss had failed to stay the attachment. the plant would be shut down and all the fish from diablo would rot on the docks. the visitor stepped forward with a smile and introduced himself. "i'm mr. dalton, of winfield & camby," he said pleasantly. "i kind of stole a march on you people to-day. came down to inspect at the firm's request and found you all so busy that i just sneaked into your warehouse and went to work without saying anything to anybody." he smiled, as he added: "we kind of like to do that. with a new firm especially. it prevents them 'stacking' on us." "have you finished your inspection?" gregory put the question with suppressed eagerness. dalton nodded. "yes," he answered. "i'm well enough satisfied. your stuff is fully up to par. perhaps a little better than some standards. if you are willing to hold to your schedule of prices which you gave mr. dupont i'm ready to tie up with you right now." a gleam of hope flashed to gregory's eye. "isn't it customary to make a part payment when the contract is signed?" he asked. dalton smiled and shook his head. "ten dollars is enough," he answered. gregory's eyes were fixed earnestly on the representative from winfield & camby. "listen, mr. dalton," he said. "i've got to have twelve hundred and thirty-five dollars by four o'clock or i'll lose thousands. i've got fifteen boats outside loaded to the water-line with albacore besides all the canned stuff on the floor. i own the building, machinery and twenty-five fishing-boats. there's not a dollar against any part of it. i guess you've looked me up already and you know i'm telling the truth. if you give me an advance of twelve hundred and thirty-five dollars i'll close right now and pay you any interest you want. but i've got to have the money right now." dalton jerked out his watch. "hardly time," he answered. "even if dupont would o.k. it, which i doubt." gregory was already at the telephone. "i'll get him for you. can you let me have the money if he says it's all right?" as dalton nodded in affirmation, gregory's eye fell upon the open watch upon the desk. it lacked five minutes of four o'clock. * * * * * mr. dupont was seated in his private office puffing contentedly at a long panatella when the door opened and the publicity man entered. "what's new, black? anything?" black smiled and dropped into a chair. "nothing new," he said. "it's getting to be an old story. every evening paper in the city copied that fellow hawkins' yarn in _the times_ about the sea fight at diablo island. why, that man gregory has enough free publicity to elect him to congress. and he's advertising on the strength of it, like a department store. i was around to his service market a few minutes ago and people were fighting to get within shouting distance of the counter. i'd say he was a mighty good bet right now, dupont. that stuff has the town all lit up. if his output is anywhere near up to standard i'd say it would be good business to tie him up and beat the others to it." as mr. dupont was about to speak, the telephone bell interrupted. "yes," he answered. "on the phone. hello, dalton.--what's that?--yes, i get you.--how's the stuff?--it is, eh? how's that?--i see.--what do you think?--you would?--all right, dalton. sure, go ahead. drop in at the apartments when you get back. i want to have a look at that contract." mr. dalton hung up the instrument and faced about. "you win," he exclaimed. "caught the old man just right. he'd have given me a month's vacation on full pay if i'd have had the nerve to have asked for it." he wrote the check hurriedly as he spoke and passed it over to gregory with the words: "and now, don't forget that you still have the contract to sign." gregory took the check with shaking fingers, at a loss for words to express fittingly his appreciation of the favor. a moment later the door opened and silvanus rock entered with two strangers. the financier was on time. in another few seconds the hands of the watch would be pointing to four o'clock. rock's beady eyes opened wider as he took in the occupants of the room. "i regret that circumstances have forced upon me a very unpleasant duty," he began, but gregory cut him short. "they haven't," he said. "you guessed wrong this time, mr. rock. you've come for your money. here it is." endorsing the check, he passed it over. silvanus rock's fat fingers closed about the check and his small eyes glinted. for a moment his heavy jaw sagged and the flabby flesh gathered in rolls and pressed tightly against his white collar. at length he found his voice. "this check is not certified," he exclaimed hotly. "i refuse to take it." dalton smiled. "i guess that check isn't worrying you much, mr. rock," he said easily. "we're both pretty well acquainted with winfield & camby's reputation and between you and me, i hardly think they would relish any inference like that coming from a man in your position here." rock gulped, as he recognized the representative of the big jobbers. still he hesitated, rolling the check nervously in his fingers. then hawkins pressed forward. "don't urge him to take that check, cap, if he doesn't want to," he drawled. "in fact i think it would make a much better story if he turned it down in the presence of all these witnesses." rock confronted hawkins angrily. "who are you?" he demanded. hawkins introduced himself with a happy smile. "i've been wanting to meet you for some time, mr. rock," he said. "i'm with the port angeles _daily times_. since coming to legonia i have become much interested in the local fishing situation. as yet there are several things i'm not quite clear on. i believe you could enlighten me. what about an interview?" rock's face purpled, then grew white. his beady eyes shifted nervously from one person to another, and focused at last on kenneth gregory. "i'll take the check," he said thickly in a voice that shook with emotion. * * * * * it was some time later when the business of the day came to a satisfactory close. winfield & camby's representative had departed with his signed contract which mccoy had designated as a "gilt-edge proposition." the fish were all unloaded and the night-shift had already started to work on them. the events of the past two days were beginning to bear fruit. mascola had been beaten. rock had been beaten. the sea itself had been beaten by dickie lang and the _richard_. all of these things had been gone over again and again. weak from the reaction of the continued strain under which they had labored, the quartette of principals in the cannery drama slouched deep in their chairs and conversation began to lag. then dickie lang broke the silence. "we've all forgotten to eat," she exclaimed. "if you'll all come up to the house i know aunt mary will do her best for you." gregory, hawkins and mccoy accepted the invitation in unison. as they followed the girl out, gregory observed to mccoy: "i can't understand why winfield & camby faced about so suddenly. why, they saved our lives. who would have thought it?" "i would," hawkins cut in. "anybody would who stopped to think." he slapped gregory affectionately on the shoulder. "didn't i tell you, cap, that i'd have old dupont eating out of your hand in less than a week?" he challenged. "old leather-face has an ear to the ground. he's heard the rumble of my thunder and he wants to get to cover." his face lighted with enthusiasm as he went on: "just wait until the lightning begins to play around some of these birds. then you'll see them scamper. i'm going to the city to-morrow to have a talk with the c.e. and i've just got a sneaking hunch that i'm going to start something." chapter xxvii to solve the mystery the days that followed the return of the victorious cannery fleet from el diablo were filled with sunshine for kenneth gregory. the effect of mascola's defeat was far-reaching, and, magnified by hawkins' publicity, gave to the legonia fish cannery a place of prominence in the public eye. taking immediate advantage of the growing popular interest, winfield & camby entered into an extensive advertising campaign on behalf of gregory's product. the brands of the local firm were flaunted on the bill-boards of a dozen western agencies. whole states were placarded. newspapers featured the cooperative enterprise of the service men and commented upon it in glowing terms. a current-news company took several hundred feet of film illustrative of the industry and the signal victory achieved by the americans over the alien fishermen. basking in the reflected lime-light, the service market caught on like "wild-fire" and taxed the fishermen to their utmost to supply the ever-increasing demand for the fresh product. gregory's bank balance began to mount. the financial sky was unclouded. success loomed bright upon the horizon. in the hey-day of prosperity, no one noticed the faint clouds which crept upward from the sky-line. storm-signals fluttered feebly and were passed by unheeded. then mr. dupont, of winfield & camby, sounded the warning. "you're not getting enough fish," he exclaimed on one of his periodical visits to legonia. "i'm building up a demand for your product which is fast becoming national. the way things are going now, you will not be able to supply it. then i'll be out of pocket for my advertising. i'm cutting into your surplus every day. in two weeks you'll be down to bed-rock. what are you going to do about it?" as gregory considered the question, mr. dupont answered for him: "you've got to have more boats. if you haven't the money to tie up in them right now, i'll back you and take a mortgage on your plant. i'm willing to stick by you and back you to the limit. but you've got to furnish the goods." gregory made up his mind quickly. dupont was right. things were coming his way with a rush. what was the use of losing all he had gained by pursuing a policy of playing safe and "shooting nickels"? men who made fortunes on the sea had to take chances. it grayed their hair and seamed their faces with premature lines. but that was part of the game,--the toll which the sea demanded. "all right," he said. "let's get down to business. i'll go back to the city with you and we'll fix things up. i know of some boats i can lease while barrows is building the others. let's go." from the arrival of the new craft which went to make up the greater cannery fleet, misfortune stalked grimly in its wake. fishing was universally poor. the boats were forced to cruise wide areas in order to supply fish enough for the cannery and service market. areas which placed them beyond reach of the radio and gave mascola his chance. the italian struck without warning. angered by the loss of his prestige, strengthened by his augmented fleet, he began to hector the extreme outposts beyond reach of the wireless. then ensued a long period of stormy weather. owing to new and inexperienced crews and the increasing interference of mascola's men, a number of gregory's vessels were wrecked on the island shores and salvaged with great difficulty and expense. with the extended radius of his operations, overhead expenses mounted perceptibly, cutting down profits and adding to the multiplying worries of the young cannery-owner in countless ways. at the close of one particularly trying day he sat alone in the cannery office and stared moodily at a wireless despatch which lay on the desk before him. it came from diablo and reported the arrival of a portion of his fleet off the hell-hole. the message was phrased in the most optimistic terms. fish appeared to be plentiful. the weather was fine, the sea smooth. there was no sign of interference from any quarter. yet the worried lines which creased gregory's forehead deepened. it had been that way often of late at devil island. no matter how clear the sky appeared, the shadow of el diablo bulked dark and sinister across the sunlit horizon. something would happen out there to-night. he felt sure of it. he should have gone with the fleet. but how could he? he was far down the coast with the new boats when they left. diablo, he realized sharply, was getting on his nerves. were the obstacles which he had encountered about the island due to something more than a mere defense of good fishing grounds? it was not the first time he had asked himself the question. there was something wrong at el diablo. he could not shake off the feeling. as he sat down to wait for the evil tidings he felt sure would come, he took up an unopened letter from hawkins which had been on his desk two days. a part of the letter caused him to read it the second time. "so i got to nosing around and incidentally tumbled on to something which i think may be of interest to you. would it surprise you to know that mascola does not own a single fishing-boat? it did me, though i might have known it if i had remembered the federal statute which prohibits any but american-owned fishing vessels from operating in american waters. "rock and bandrist own the alien fleet. mascola, you see, is an alien. bandrist apparently is not. i wish by the way you'd tell me all you can of that bird. i'm looking up silvanus myself. i'm on the trail of a pretty good story, cap, if it works out all right. shouldn't be surprised if i might not drop in on you any time. if i do, i'll want a boat to go over to diablo. keep this all under your hat. it isn't censored." for some time gregory stared at hawkins' letter. the information gleaned from its contents shed a new light upon el diablo. bandrist and rock were in cahoots. both were interested in keeping him away from diablo. something was wrong on the island. it was mascola's job to keep strange craft from going there to find out. with the words strange craft, his mind flashed to a new tangent. to his half-closed eyes came a vision of a long gray hull, running dark, gliding through the water toward them like a destructive shadow. bronson had said it looked like the _gray ghost_. what was the _gray ghost_? where did she clear from? and what was her purpose in putting in in the dark to hell-hole? the questions multiplied with the smoke-wreaths and in the blue haze which enveloped him, kenneth gregory beheld his vague and intangible suspicions gradually crystallizing into three fundamental hypotheses: something crooked was being pulled off at diablo. rock and bandrist were back of it. the isolation of the island was threatened by the increasing activities of the american fleet in that vicinity. mascola's opportunity was only a means to an end. gregory's frown deepened. what rock and bandrist were doing at diablo concerned him in itself, not at all. in so far as it related to mascola's interference, however, it was all-important. mascola was the one man who stood between him and his cherished dreams. if rock and bandrist were behind mascola, as he imagined, would it not be pursuing a "cart before horse" policy to continue his expensive militant opposition to the italian? why not fathom the motive which lay behind mascola's action? if diablo held a secret, the guarding of which threatened his business existence, why should he not as an american citizen take the initiative and---his meditations were disturbed by a soft tap on the office door. dickie lang entered. "i knew i'd find you here," she said. "smoking yourself to death and worrying gray. i've come to take you outside for a while. you'll be sick if you go on like this. forget for a while and come with me. the boys are having a mussel-bake on the beach and they've sent for you. if you have ever eaten kelp-baked mussels you'll not wait to be urged. the grunion should run to-night too, and i want you to see them." gregory drew his fingers through his tousled hair and shook his head. "i'm sorry," he said. "but i can't go. i'm waiting for a radio from diablo." "bosh!" the girl interrupted. "it won't take one of the boys five minutes to bring you the message if it comes while you're gone." she came closer and placed a hand on his arm. "please come," she said. "just to please me." gregory had no alternative. leaving word with one of the night men to send him any radio despatch at once, he followed dickie to the beach, where the service men sat cross-legged about a blazing fire of drift-wood. gregory sank to the sand beside the dark mound of dampened kelp and watched the operations of the chef as he busied himself in removing the heavy pieces of canvas which covered the sea-grass. "it's nature's fireless-cooker," explained the girl as she took her place beside him. "you can cook most anything in an oven like that if you know how. it's simple enough too. all you have to do is to scoop out a hole in the sand and line it with rocks to hold in the heat. then build your fire and let it burn for a couple of hours to get a good bed of coals. cover them with a thin layer of damp kelp and put in the potatoes. another layer of sea-weed, then the roasting-ears. after that come the fish, wrapped in paper. then the mussels, clams or anything else you want. when you get them all in, cover the whole thing with a lot of heavy kelp and batten it down with a big piece of canvas. the whole trick is knowing just when to open the oven. nothing can burn so it's better to leave it too long than to try to hurry things." gregory took the tin-plate, piled high with its smoking delicacies, and leisurely freed a succulent mussel from its shell. as he placed it in his mouth his eyes lit up with genuine pleasure and the anxious lines slowly disappeared from his face. "what do you think of them?" he could only gasp his appreciation. dickie smiled at the rapidly disappearing contents of his plate. he looked like a new man already. nothing like a mussel-bake in the open air to make people forget their troubles. about the dying drift-wood fire, the service men drew closer together and began to sing. "there's a long, long trail a-winding into the land of my dreams." as their voices rose above the dull boom of the surf, gregory's thoughts turned to the words of the song. the trail had been long. how long and how devious, he had never quite before realized. perhaps it was because he was tired and the firelight made him think. the "land of his dreams" was still far ahead. blocked from his vision for the time being by an intangible something which lay like a dark shadow across the path. "_over there. over there._" he started and looked involuntarily toward the phosphorescent line of breakers. over there? once it had meant france. now it came to him with a new meaning. beyond the gleaming waves he fancied he could see the jagged shore-line of el diablo. "and we won't come back, till it's over, over there." gregory's eyes narrowed. when "it was over, over there," perhaps it would be over everywhere. then, and only then, would he reach "the land of his dreams." he looked guiltily at dickie lang and was glad that she could not read his thoughts concerning the end of the long trail. "what were you thinking of, just then? i never saw you look like that before." it was the eternal feminine speaking. gregory shook his head. "i never did look like that before," he said. "because i never thought quite that far. some day perhaps i'll tell you what i was thinking." the moon, which had shyly appeared over the low brown hills, grew bolder and mingled its rays with those of the fire in crowding back the shadows. then a shout came from the water. "grunion." the singing ceased abruptly and the service men scrambled to their feet and raced down the beach. dickie made haste to follow. "come on," she cried to gregory. "and i'll show you the sight of your life." following the girl to the wet sands, gregory was amazed at the spectacle. the silver waves were alive with glistening fish. borne high on the crest of the tumbling breakers, they surged to the beach by thousands and lay quivering like quick-silver, stranded in the sand by the back-wash. with a deafening shout men scrambled to the water's edge and scooped them up in their hands. dickie rushed to the water and returned with a small fish, somewhat resembling a sardine. "grunion," she announced. "they come up at certain seasons of the year to spawn. there are only three places on the coast south of the golden gate where they run. for three or four nights now while the tide is high and the moon full they'll be swept up on this beach and left to lay their eggs in the wet sand. if you get closer you can see them standing on their tails. you'll never believe it unless you do see it. you've got to work fast to get them for they hop along the beach only for a second. then the next breaker takes them out." handing him one of the little fish, she continued: "take him up to the fire and look at him. against a good light you can see clear though them. if you had a skillet hot on the coals and threw in a handful of grunion you could never have a finer dish. but they won't hardly keep over night. for that reason they are good for nothing, commercially." she paused abruptly and listened. "i thought i heard some one calling," she said. turning about they saw three men standing by the fire. "maybe it's some word from the boys," gregory exclaimed. "let's go and see." at the fireside they came upon hawkins with two strangers, whom he introduced as brothers of his craft. drawing gregory aside while dickie conversed with slade and billings, he said: "listen, cap. i want a boat and a man to run it who knows diablo from the water-line up. i'm on the trail of the biggest kind of a scoop. i can't give you all the dope but i can tell you a few things that will open your eyes." the two men drew farther into the shadows and conferred in low-pitched voices, broken now and then by gregory's muttered exclamations. while they talked one of the night men from the cannery hurried on to the scene. "message for mr. gregory," he called. gregory took the message and drew nearer the coals. in the red glow of the fire, he read: from: launch _snipe_ at sea. five miles off hell-hole. got into fight with mascola about an hour ago. his boats drove ours from island. his men drunk and armed with shotguns. some of boys pretty well filled up. _curlew_ lagged with engine trouble and was cut in two off hell-hole isthmus. sunk in five minutes by some big boat, running dark. _albatross_ picked up crew. all saved. wire what to do. twelve boats here. others at cavalan for repairs. jones. dickie's eyes shone angrily at the message. "damn them!" she cried. "they got my _curlew_." grasping gregory's arm, she exclaimed: "there's a bunch of the fleet off san anselmo on the mainland side. there's some more a few miles down the coast from cavalan. they can all make diablo in two hours if you wire them right away. we can go over in the _richard_ and round them up and smash mascola's whole fleet. what if they have shotguns? we have rifles. come on. what are you waiting for?" dickie lang was breathless. her cheeks glowed. her eyes were shining. gregory shook his head slowly and looked at hawkins. "the _gray ghost_ ran the _curlew_ down about an hour ago off the hell-hole isthmus," he said. the two strangers drew closer and listened intently to the news while dickie chafed at gregory's failure to get under way. "that means we've got to be off," exclaimed one of the men. "how about going over in that speed-boat of yours?" gregory nodded. "that's what i was figuring on," he said. "i'm going to send a radio to all my boats within a thirty-mile radius of the island to reinforce the fleet and mix it with mascola off the hell-hole isthmus on the north side. while they're busy on that side, it will leave us a clear field on the other." dickie's eyes opened wide at his words. as they moved away together in the direction of the cannery, she cried: "i don't understand at all. aren't you going to help the boys out?" gregory shook his head and the grim lines tightened about his mouth. "no," he answered. "not this time. that is what rock, bandrist and mascola think i am going to do. but i'm going to fool them. there's something back of all this that we can only guess at now. diablo has a secret our fathers died to learn. i'm sure of it now. to-night i'm going to find out what it is." chapter xxviii the island's prisoner diablo was steeped in moonlight. for miles about the sea gleamed like a mirror. the grim mountains which guarded the shore were robed in saffron and checkered with black by the dark shadows of the towering peaks as they fell athwart the hillsides and mingled with the darkness which hugged the canyons. from a small cave high up on a rocky canyon wall the figure of a man emerged and crept silently into the shadows. picking his way with great caution along a winding sheep-trail, he reached the summit of the hill and looked about. the damp sea air fanned his long hair and caused him to look in the direction of the fleecy white clouds which were creeping upward from the horizon. soon there would be fog. then he could continue on his way to the brackish spring on the bluff-side overlooking the south shore. from there it was only a stone's throw to the beach where the mussels and abalones clung so thickly to the rocks. the thought of the raw shellfish sickened him. for days he had had nothing else to eat. shrinking closer into the shadows of the sage and cactus, he waited for the fog. then he could go on on his nightly journey. how many months had he been a prisoner on el diablo? he had lost all track of time. but what did it matter? soon he would be dead. for warm food and a drink of pure water he would almost give himself up now. borne on the fog-wind came cries and shouts from the other side of the island. perhaps help was coming at last. but no, it was only the fishermen fighting among themselves off the hell-hole. he had heard them many times before across the narrow isthmus. they would only go away as they had always done and leave him to starve. the faint pulsing of a motor launch directed his attention to the sea. in the paling moonlight, a gray blot clouded the water, moved slowly among the rocks and merged with the shadows. it was the same boat he had seen so often in the past. always it came to the island at night, running dark. once in the bright moonlight he had seen men land on the rocks and walk up the beach to a large cave which extended far into the cliff. as he had huddled closer into the scant shadows of the rock-mottled ledge, other men had come down the trail from the island and he had been forced to slide into the chilling waters of a grass-grown pool to escape detection. mother of god, it had been a narrow escape. the fog thickened and he continued on his way to the spring. creeping noiselessly through the brush he reached the trail which led downward to the beach. then he stopped and listened. the soft grating of a muted chain caused him to drop lower in the grass and draw back. silently he retraced his steps until he reached the cover of the heavier brush which fringed the hillside. the strange vessel was dropping anchor again in the little cove. he dared not run the risk of going farther down the trail. there were mussels and abalones around the next point. he would get them. by that time perhaps the men would be gone and he could return by the spring. the fog settled close about him, blinding his eyes and clinging to his shivering body. for a moment he stopped and sucked thirstily at the wet grass. then he crawled on. * * * * * planing high on the glistening waves, the _richard_ sped onward across the moonlit sea in the direction of el diablo. at the wheel, kenneth gregory strove to concentrate his mind upon the quest which lay before him. but another thought obtruded with ever recurring frequency. why had he permitted dickie lang to accompany the party to the island? there would be danger. there was always danger at el diablo. landing upon the island would be an added risk if hawkins' suspicions had any grounds for fact. the girl's threat that she would withdraw her support from the cannery if not permitted to go with the expedition, was only a bluff: why had he not remained firm? he knew the answer. there was a look in the girl's eyes which he could not withstand. something in her voice which left him powerless to refuse as she had said: "our fathers were not afraid. they died in one boat to learn diablo's secret. we've fought together from the start. don't leave me at the finish." she might have added: "if they get you, they might as well get me too." but her eyes told him that. well, it was too late now to change his mind. the girl was here and it was up to him to leave her in a place of safety if such could be found upon the island. while hawkins conferred with his two friends, gregory laid his plans. he would leave dickie with the _richard_. she had her automatic and a rifle. they would lay in close to shore on the south shore, opposite the hell-hole. the island was narrowest there and it was generally in that vicinity that things had happened oftenest in the past. that was where the _gray ghost_ put in, the place too where his father and bill lang had met their death. with the fishing fleet fighting mascola's boats on the north side the opposite shore of the island might not be held in such rigid surveillance. his thoughts turned again to the girl by his side. the rock-shadowed coves would afford a fair anchorage for the _richard_, even on such a night as this. there dickie could see without being seen. should danger threaten while the landing party were ashore, she must put to sea. he must make that perfectly clear to her at once. as he expected, he encountered stubborn resistance from dickie lang. if there was anything to be found out, she wanted to be there to see it. she was not afraid. she could shoot as well as a bunch of newspapermen. what was the idea of leaving her clear out of it? gregory smiled at her slurring reference to hawkins' two friends. then he reflected that what the girl did not know concerning the real object of the mission to diablo would cause her no worry. until the party landed at least, he was in command of the expedition. and orders must be obeyed. "you'll have to do as i say," he concluded. "whether you like it or not." dickie's lip curled and she turned her head away to hide her face. "all right," she answered. "i'll stay on the _richard_." to herself, she added: "but i'll use my own judgment when it comes to running away." * * * * * in the silence of the fog the prisoner of el diablo crept warily on. deep ravines laced his path and yawned close about the trail. a misstep would hurl him to the bottom of the rock-lined gorge which was swallowed up in the mists at his feet. suddenly he stopped and threw himself to full length on the ground. far above him the solid whiteness of the fog wall was broken by irregular flashes of blue. to his ears came the sound of snapping spluttering flames. covering his head with his arms, he crossed himself. the devil was speaking from the hilltop. on two other occasions he had heard the crackling of the flames near the old sheep-herder's shack on the crest of the hill. he had taken the wrong trail. had gone too far. worming his way down the path he fled from the flashes of blue light. for some time he retraced his steps in silence, thanking his saints that the devil had spoken to warn him from the spot. then the soft breathing of a motor-launch caused him to stop and listen. he was again at the bluff-side. soon he would reach the rocks. the echoes of the motor-boat died suddenly away and he groped his way to the edge of the cliff and scrambled down the trail. * * * * * "you'd better take her now. the fog's getting pretty thick and i don't know the shore-line along here." dickie lang took the wheel. "i don't know it any too well myself," she admitted. "we'll have to go mighty slow and feel our way along." throttling to quarter-speed they skirted the south shore of the island and nosed their way along the coast. at length the girl suggested a halt. "we ought to be nearly up to the hell-hole isthmus by now," she whispered. "on the beach along here there should be a lot of tide-water caves if we're where i think. around the next point is the goose-neck. we'd better go ashore and have a look. we may be too far down already." gregory agreed. "i'll take hawkins and slade and row ashore," he said. "billings can stay with you on the launch." dickie's objections were quickly overruled and the canvas-wrapped anchor chain was lowered into the water while the dory was pulled alongside. "look along the base of the cliff for the caves," cautioned the girl in a low voice. "and watch out for your oars. keep them in the water and be sure the wrappings fit tight in the locks." gregory nodded and took his place in the skiff. "we'll be back in five minutes," he said. then he shoved the dory out into the fog. * * * * * from the ledge of rock which bordered the cove, the half-starved man pulled the razor-backed mussels from the sea-grass and broke them open with his pocket-knife. for some time he ate rapidly. then he ceased pulling at the shellfish and listened. a boat was coming to anchor in the cove. he could hear the soft slip of the chain through the chaulks. perhaps they would land on the beach. then he would be trapped on the ledge until they had gone. picking his way over the barnacled rocks he started for the beach. as he climbed from the ledge, he stopped suddenly and clung to the rocks. on the beach at his feet, and only a few feet away, he heard the pebbles grate beneath the bow of a boat. the men were already landing. staring into the opaque wall of white, he saw it clouded by three dark blots. followed the rattle of stones, the soft crunch of the sand dying slowly away into silence. the men had gone on up the beach. the man who clung to the rocks climbed noiselessly to the sand, his brain burning with one great idea. while the visitors were gone from the place he would steal their boat. in the fog no one could find him. he could row about the island and be picked up at sea in the morning by some fishing-boat. the great chance had come to him at last. perhaps the men had left another to guard the boat. the thought caused him to draw his pocket-knife. grasping it tightly in his shaking fingers, he crawled silently over the wet sand, feeling for the sides of the dory with his extended arm. hope danced brightly before his eyes as he touched the boat. weakened by hunger, he rubbed his shriveled limbs and tottered to his feet, waving his knife. then he chuckled aloud. there was no one in the boat. throwing the knife upon one of the seats, he leaped again to the sand and began to shove. mother of god, he had no strength. the bottom grated noisily on the pebbles. then the dory slid into the water. laughing to himself, he threw his body over the rail and felt about for the oars. men were running down the beach. he had not a second to lose. his hand closed upon the oars. he was saved. tugging feebly at the heavy sweeps, he drew them through the water with all his might and the dory moved slowly forward. again his weakened muscles responded to the fevered call of his brain. suddenly he felt the dory strike a heavy object ahead. thrown half from his seat by the impact he dropped an oar, regained it on the instant and pushed the skiff away from the launch as hands reached out to grasp it. then he heard the low murmur of voices from the motor-boat. as he headed close in to the rocks he felt the stern of the dory dip sharply. * * * * * gregory whirled at the sharp rattle of oars and raced down the beach in the direction of the dory. some one was meddling with their boat. when he reached the place where they had left the skiff, he found it gone. from the waters of the little cove came the creak of oar-locks. plunging into the water, gregory swam rapidly in the direction of the launch. whoever had taken the boat was heading straight for the _richard_. a sharp bump sounded close ahead and gregory redoubled his efforts to reach the side of the launch. then he narrowly escaped being run down by the small boat which had turned and was heading in for the rocks. grasping the stern of the dory as it moved by him, he hung for a moment while he regained his wind, striving vainly to ascertain how many passengers the skiff carried. suddenly he noticed that the oars no longer disturbed the water and the skiff had lost its way. then he heard the sound of shuffling footsteps coming toward the stern. releasing his hold, he swam along the side and caught the bow, dragged his body from the water and tumbled into the boat. the same instant a heavy oar crashed against the seat close to his head and a dark figure flung itself upon him. it was but the work of a moment for gregory to overpower the thief of the small boat and bind him with the dory's painter. the man had fought desperately only for a moment, then collapsed, and gibbering with fear had allowed himself to be bound without a struggle. turning the skiff about, gregory started for the launch. had the man landed others on the _richard_? surely he had reached the speed-boat and had put about. was he bent only upon stealing the boat or was he only one of many who would be down upon them any minute? arriving alongside the _richard_ dickie hailed him softly. "some fellow tried to steal our boat," he explained to the girl. "if you'll get billings to help me get him aboard i'll go back and pick up the boys." dickie's companion in the launch assisted him in lifting the prisoner to the _richard's_ darkened cockpit where he lay huddled in a heap. as gregory rowed away in the direction of the shore, billings veiled an electric torch and allowed its tiny ray to fall full upon the face of the quivering prisoner. "a greaser," he whispered to the girl. "look. he's scared to death." dickie looked quickly at the crumpled little figure. then she fell on her knees close beside the man and peered intently into his shriveled face. for an instant she remained motionless staring into the face of the trembling captive. "my god!" she whispered. "it's mexican joe." chapter xxix under orders "you have seen nothing of the speed-boat from legonia?" mascola shook his head in answer to the question and reached for the bottle which stood on the table in bandrist's ranch-house. bandrist jerked it away. "cut that out," he said sternly. "you've had enough. to-night you have work to do. you must keep sober." mascola scowled, glaring angrily at the islander as he went on: "mr. gregory left legonia at ten-thirty with his speed-boat. there were five in the launch. four men and miss lang." mascola drew in his breath sharply. "that damned lang girl," he began. "she is a----" bandrist slid from his chair with a quick movement which carried him wriggling about the table. "keep your tongue still," he gritted as he towered over the italian. "you talk too much." mascola started from his chair, but there was a look in bandrist's eyes which made him drop back. a sneering smile played about the italian's lips but he said nothing. if bandrist was a fool about a woman, what was that to him? he could not afford to quarrel with the islander. not yet. "how did peters know they were coming here?" he asked after a moment. "he didn't," bandrist answered shortly. "but it is only natural that they should come here. their boats have been fishing along the north shore of the island. your men failed to drive them off." mascola flushed. "my men did drive them off," he contradicted hotly. "only a few minutes ago they returned with other boats. i will drive those off too." bandrist smiled insultingly. "why don't you do it?" he challenged. "to-night is a time i must have something more than talk. i want you to go down and join your fleet at once, keep a close watch and if the speed-boat does not arrive within a half-hour, let me know immediately." mascola made no move to obey. "gonzolez is laying in at the goose-neck," he said. "i sent rossi round to join him. the _fuor d'italia_ lies in the little cove beyond." bandrist's blue eyes flashed. "i can tend to that," he exclaimed. "you do what you're told and quit meddling with my business." "it's my business too," mascola retorted doggedly. "gonzolez is becoming angry at the delay. he will wait no longer." bandrist walked slowly to the window and stared out into the fog. when he faced about an automatic shone dully in his hand. "do as i tell you," he ordered quietly. "and do it quick." mascola's face purpled. still he made no move to do bandrist's bidding. "don't forget," he said thickly, "that there are others who know besides you and me. if anything happens to me at diablo there is one who will tell what he knows. i have seen to that." bandrist's fingers tightened on the revolver. then he slowly replaced it in his pocket. the italian might only be bluffing, but it was best to take no unnecessary chances. mastering his anger at mascola's insubordination, bandrist walked again to the table. "perhaps you are right," he said pleasantly. "let us go on to the goose-neck." * * * * * when gregory returned to the _richard_ with slade and hawkins he found dickie lang huddled close beside the crumpled figure of his captive. the girl was sobbing softly as she listened to the whispered words of the little mexican. feeling his way to her side, he placed an arm about her, and drawing her away from the other man, waited for her to speak. then she explained in a voice shaken by tears. "it's mexican joe. he was with our fathers on the _gull_. no one knew it at legonia. he went out with them at midnight and reached diablo a little before daybreak. they left him on the launch while they went ashore. he saw them murdered on the beach. the launch was run down a few minutes later. joe was thrown overboard. he struck his head on the rocks. when he came to, he heard them searching for him but he hid in the sea-grass and escaped to the other side of the island. he's been living there ever since in a cave in the hills. it was he who stole the gun and provisions from the _petrel_." gregory held the girl close as she told the mexican's story. for an instant tears dimmed his eyes, then melted away before the white-hot heat of the blood-lust which surged into his heart. his father had been murdered at el diablo. by whom? he put the question. the girl's fingers tightened on his arm and she placed her lips close to his ear. "a number of men overpowered them on the beach and drowned them. mascola was with them." gregory's jaws locked and the muscles of his body grew tense. mascola had murdered his father and bill lang. releasing the girl, he hurried over to the three men who were talking to the mexican and grasped hawkins by the arm. "what are we waiting for?" he cried. "while you're talking the man may get away." "just a minute, cap," hawkins remonstrated. "things are coming along fine. billings and slade are learning a lot from the mex. as soon as they get him filled up with those sandwiches he's going to show us the wireless tower and the cove where the _gray ghost_ put in to-night. he says there's a cave close by where he saw----" gregory shook off his restraining arm. "what is all that to me?" he flashed. "don't you know that mascola murdered my father? let the men go where they will. i'm going after mascola." hawkins started at gregory's words. "i didn't know, cap," he muttered blankly. for a brief instant he strove to express his sympathy for his friend. then he gave it up. "brace up, old man," he said at last. "take a grip on yourself. you can't do anything over here alone. before morning we'll have the whole gang rounded up and mascola with them. i guess the boys are ready to go now." gregory shivered in his wet clothes and hawkins pressed his slicker upon him. while the men took their places in the skiff gregory found dickie lang. the girl came into his outstretched arms and clung close to him in the darkness. "take me with you," she pleaded. "don't leave me here. i can't stand it." he released her gently and shook his head. "no, dearest," he said softly. "if you were with us i might be afraid. and i can't afford to be afraid to-night. stay close and keep under cover. if the fog lifts, pull the anchor and drift in to the shadow of the rocks." "why don't you tell me what you are going to do?" the girl asked. "you know that----" gregory drew her closer. "i'm going to get mascola," he answered in a whisper. then his voice changed suddenly. "and if i don't come back," he went on. "you'll know now that i love you." for an instant his lips met hers. then he climbed over the coaming and joined the men in the dory. dickie listened to the soft creak of the oar-locks until the sound was no longer audible. mascola had killed her father and richard gregory. his son had gone to bring the italian to justice. but what could five men do on the island against the hordes of bandrist and mascola? who were the mysterious strangers who had accompanied them from legonia? the questions crowded close upon one another as they raced through her brain. then her mind surrendered to a single thought,--a thought which warmed her heart and took possession of her being. "you'll know now that i love you." she whispered the words softly through lips which were still warm with the memory of gregory's kiss. hope surged into her heart. god was good. breathing a prayer for the safety of the man she loved, she caught up her rifle and sat down to wait. * * * * * the men from the launch landed silently on the beach and hid the skiff among the rocks. then they followed the mexican up the trail. crawling through the brush, they halted at length at their guide's direction. "from the top of the hill," he whispered, "the devil speaks." billings caught the mexican by the arm. "come," he said. "lead the way and the devil will speak no longer." when the sheep-herder's shack loomed across their path, slade commanded a halt. then he gave orders to surround the building. as the men drew near the cabin the door opened suddenly and a man stepped out. before he could close the door, slade and hawkins were upon him. gregory and billings darted for the open doorway as the light disappeared from within. from the fog-shrouded cabin came the sound of muffled blows, the quick breathing of men, the rasp of feet upon the creaking floor. a choking cry died away into silence. silence broken after a moment by a sharp click. then another. slade relighted the lamp and turned to examine the two white-faced men who lay handcuffed on the floor. "look like 'snowbirds,'" he said. "the two of them haven't the strength of one healthy cat." passing the men over to billings with instructions to search them, he walked to the radio switch-board and examined it carefully. "they've got a regular set just the same," he said half-admiringly. "they could reach encinitas with this one all right." seating himself on a stool by the board he placed his hand on the key. "i'm going to try to get the _bennington_," he said. billings nodded. "she ought to be close along shore by now," he answered. "if they left when they said they would." while the search went on the radio spluttered spasmodically. finding nothing of value on the persons of his captives, billings bared the arms of the two men and scrutinized the flesh intently in the yellow lamplight. "snowbirds," he announced. "one of them's punctured up one side and down the other. other's not so bad. good business i'd say for them to get hold of a couple of fellows like these. they're about the only ones they could get to stick in a god-forsaken hole like this and keep their mouths shut." he rose as he spoke and began to move slowly about the room. "tell the mexican to keep a good lookout outside," he instructed hawkins. "then you and your friend can help me go through the shack." gregory assisted mechanically in the search but with little interest. the sooner they were through the sooner they would go down to the cove where the _gray ghost_ lay at anchor. then he would find mascola. a muttered exclamation from hawkins caused him to look up quickly. the newspaperman was handing billings a cigar-shaped capsule half filled with a coarse white powder. "what's this, jack?" he asked. "looks like sugar. found it in the grub-locker." billings poured the contents of the capsule into the palm of his hand. for a moment he scrutinized it intently. "that's the stuff we're looking for," he said quietly. "though i never saw it in a package like that before." slade held up a hand for silence and pulled his head-set closer about his ears. for a moment his attention was held by the instrument. then his hand again sought the key. when the sputtering of the radio had died away he announced: "got the _bennington_. she's about a mile off the goose-neck. they're going to land in the next cove. the _gray ghost's_ at anchor now off the isthmus cove. mascola's speed-boat passed them in the fog about an hour ago. he's lying in somewhere farther down." he rose as he spoke and began to wreck the radio set. "tie those fellows up good, jack," he instructed billings. "we don't want to be bothered with them down below. we've got to be on our way. the boys will be there by the time we get down the hill. what's that you've got there?" billings extended the capsule and slade examined it curiously. "queer package," he said. "but it's the straight dope." hawkins' eyes shone with excitement as he crowded closer to slade. "what is it, tom?" he asked. "heroin," answered slade quickly. "a refined product of opium. never saw it put up like this before though. when we hit the beach maybe we'll learn the idea." beckoning gregory to his side, slade took from his pocket a deputy shield of the united states customs and pinned it on the young man's vest. "for your own protection," he explained. then he added: "you must act entirely under my orders from now on, mr. gregory. do only what i tell you. nothing more. you have been in the service of the government before. you know what it means." a few moments later the four men followed the mexican down the trail leading to the goose-neck. under orders. do only what i tell you. nothing more. the words echoed in gregory's mind. slade did not understand. mascola was to the revenue man only one of many. a man to be arrested and tried. perhaps acquitted on a mere technicality of law or a perjured alibi. slade did not know the italian. had dickie lang not said that mascola laughed at the courts? gregory's jaw set tighter as he descended the trail. to-night, orders or no orders, he would bring mascola to justice by the law of the sea. chapter xxx the fight in the cave with the sands of the sea-beach gritting beneath their feet, slade ordered a halt and conferred with the mexican. then he whispered to billings: "this is the isthmus bay where i told the men to land. i know where i am now all right. around the next point is the goose-neck. the cave joe speaks of is at the far end of the cove. it has two entrances, one from the bluff and one from the beach. jack smith's been in it. i'm going to send him ahead. take a look for the landing boats down by the water." billings disappeared on the instant and a moment later rejoined his chief. "everything's o.k.," he announced. "the men have landed and are standing by for instructions." "tell them to carry the dingeys clear of the tide and join me here," slade directed. "send one boat back to the _bennington_ and have the skipper move her around to the goose-neck in ten minutes. tell him to nail anything that's at anchor in the cove." billings returned in a few minutes accompanied by the men from the revenue cutter. silently they grouped themselves about their chief and waited for instructions. gregory crowded closer and listened while slade gave the men their orders. the deputies were to be divided. a few of the best trained men, familiar with the local topography, were to scout on in advance, entering the cave from the bluff-side. the others were to move along the beach, surround the main entrance and cut off escape to the water. all were to challenge once. then shoot to kill. slade selected his men carefully. when he came to gregory he said: "stay with the main body on the beach." it was in gregory's mind to argue. slade was throwing him into the discard. what chance would he have of finding mascola at the main entrance to the cave? the leader of the advance was already marshaling his men about him. gregory found hawkins and the two men walked away from the others, whispering together. hawkins returned alone. when the advance party had left slade checked up the men who remained. "i'm a man short," he announced. "what became of mr. gregory? i told him to stay here." hawkins shook his head blankly when questioned concerning the sudden disappearance of his friend. gregory might have misunderstood. it was not like him to disobey orders. in any case slade need not worry. his ex-captain was used to scouting and had received many citations during the war for crossing the enemy's lines. gregory would be a help to the advance if he had gone with them, hawkins stoutly maintained. then he lied earnestly: "he knows that cave like a book." joining the men detailed to enter the cave in advance, when they reached the top of the bluff, gregory reported to the officer in charge. "mr. slade sent me to join you," he said. "i brought him over from legonia in my launch." jack smith hesitated. "all right," he muttered after a moment. "slade's the boss. take off that slicker. it'll catch on the brush. follow after the others and stay close. don't do anything until i tell you." his manner was curt and plainly showed that he was not pleased with the latest addition to the party. but kenneth gregory cared little for that. if the _gray ghost_ was at the goose-neck, the chances were that mascola would be in the cave. and mascola must be given no chance to escape. as he followed after the others down the winding sheep-trail, before gregory's eyes flashed a vision of his father's battered face staring up at him from the canvas bundle on the hatch. then came the memory of mascola's insolent look of triumph when he had first beheld richard gregory's son on the wharf at legonia. why had he not seen and understood before this? but then, he had had no proof. he reflected bitterly that he had no proof now. only a mexican's unsupported word that mascola had stood by while his father and bill lang were murdered by his men. that was not enough. mascola might be convicted of smuggling but he would go clear on the charge of murder. gregory shook his head slowly in the darkness. no, mascola would not go clear. he would choke a confession from the italian with his own hands. somewhere below him in the fog, a girl waited for him to bring back her father's murderer. the girl he loved, had always loved, but had never known it before to-night. if he failed, he could never face dickie lang again. but he would not fail. his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of sharp scuffling ahead. rushing down the trail he came upon the deputies struggling with two men in the bottom of a small ravine. as he assisted the revenue men in securing their captives, he heard smith whisper: "down the gulch, men. take it easy. it's steep. stay with these fellows, joe." the air which sucked through the ravine grew colder as they descended. then the dank atmosphere became strongly permeated with the odor of fish. gregory felt a hand upon his arm. "go last," smith ordered. "watch the others. do what they do. no more." foot by foot, the men wormed their way over the dry sticks which choked the entrance to the cave. then smith ordered a halt. leaving a half dozen men at the entrance he instructed them: "watch this outlet. when you hear a shot inside, light the signal flares and throw them inside. then you can see anybody that tries to get by you. they're going to do the same thing at the main entrance." beckoning gregory and the two remaining deputies to his side, he said: "we'll go on into the cave. keep close behind me. when i give the signal by calling on them to give themselves up, each one of you pick a man and hang to him. they haven't a chance of getting out with both entrances lit up and guarded. come on." the carpet of dried sea-grass thrown up by the high tides, deadened their footsteps as they crawled into the cave. for an instant they crept on through the darkness. then a twist in the pathway brought a faint gleam of light ahead. smith flattened to the kelp and wriggled nearer with the two men behind him following close. gregory was the last to reach the surface of a table-like ledge of rock which ribbed their path and projected outward over the cavern. crawling abreast of the deputies, he raised slowly to his elbow and looked down. the floor of the cave lay only a few feet below, faintly discernible in the yellow light which issued from a hooded lantern. gregory's eyes searched the grotesque shadows which fell athwart the rocky floor. were there no men in the cave? for an instant no sound broke the stillness. then, from the darkness beyond the lantern, came the shuffling of footsteps and three fishermen stepped out into the circle of light and dropped to their knees on the rocky floor. gregory's eyes opened wider. the cavern floor was literally covered with fish. as he sought to fathom the strange actions of the fishermen as they passed silently up and down the long rows of albacore, the silence was broken by an angry snarl and the figure of another man leaped out from the shadow. rushing upon one of the fishermen, he shook him roughly by the arm. then the rays of the lantern fell upon his face. gregory's automatic was in his hand as he caught sight of mascola. holding the weapon close against his coat to muffle the click of the hammer, he cocked the revolver and shoved it forward over the ledge. for an instant the muzzle wavered, then drew steadily upward until the sights were in line with mascola's waistband. what an easy shot it was. he couldn't miss. what was the matter with his trigger finger? his arm slowly relaxed. he couldn't shoot the man from the dark. he'd shoot you quick enough. i know he would, but---he murdered your father. he didn't give him a chance, did he? there was logic in that. the arm which held the automatic stiffened. the eyes which glinted over the sights, grew hard, then closed to blot out the hated visage. when they opened again, the temptation had passed and mascola was walking again to the shadow. from the ledge above the cave a bright ray of light followed the figure of the italian. mascola leaped to cover behind a huge rock. the same instant the roar of a pistol shot deafened gregory's ear. as smith fired into the air to give the signal to the men without, he cried: "hands up, men. you're prisoners of the united states." the flash-light fell from the deputy's hand as an answering shot echoed from the darkness across the cave. smith rolled to his side. "nail 'em," he gasped, and tumbled from the ledge. gregory slid from the rocks and stumbled to the fish-covered floor of the cavern. the light from the lantern was suddenly extinguished. dropping to his knee, he shot at the flash of a gun ahead. dimly to his ears came the shouts of the posse fighting their way into the cave. soon the vaulted walls reverberated with the rattle of firearms and the darkness was faintly illumined by the light of the signal flares burning at the entrances. brought into bold relief by the weird glow from the sputtering candles, a number of darting figures could be seen leaping to cover behind the rocks. from the shadows came bright jets of flame. bullets whined through the cavern, clipping the walls and rattling the pebbles to the stone floor. flattening his body against the slimy fish, gregory wriggled foot by foot in the direction of the big rock which sheltered mascola. * * * * * the game was up. bandrist emptied his revolver in the direction of the advancing deputies and drew cautiously away from mascola. the _fuor d'italia_ lay at anchor in the cove beyond the goose-neck. the tunnel-like passage, which only himself knew, would lead him to the beach. while the italian delayed the attacking party would be his chance to take to the boat. in the fog he could make his escape. by daybreak he could make the mexican coast. then he would be safe. of mascola he thought but little, save as a means to an end. it would serve the italian right. mascola faced about a few minutes later to find himself fighting alone. then he heard the rattle of loose stones dropping from the cavern wall. bandrist was leaving him. the italian's blood warmed at the islander's treachery. did bandrist think he was the only one who knew the way out? his anger mounted as he climbed the wall and wormed his way through the narrow opening. so bandrist thought to give him the slip, did he? well, he'd show him. when bandrist reached the end of the tunnel he crawled out into the fog and listened intently. some one was following from the cave. jamming a fresh clip into his automatic he waited. then he silently replaced his revolver. a shot would only draw pursuit. perhaps there were men already guarding the secret exit. huddling close to the cavern tunnel he waited for the figure of the man behind him to emerge. when mascola reached the end of the tunnel he felt himself grasped roughly by the arm and twisted to the rocks. bandrist recovered his wits quickly when he recognized the italian. "quiet," he whispered. "you were a long time coming. there may be men on the beach already. where is your boat?" mascola nodded his head in the direction of the beach. "my skiff lies close to rocks by the point," he said. "the launch is close by." bandrist fingered his automatic nervously. "we can wait no longer," he said. as he spoke he began to crawl forward toward the water. * * * * * the blue light from the signal flares flickered about the rock behind which mascola had gone into hiding. gregory reached the shadow, revolver in hand. raising his body to his elbow, he leaned forward and looked up. the space which lay between the rock and the cavern wall was empty. he was on his feet in an instant. mascola had escaped. that much was clear. but how? surely not through the main entrance to the beach. he would have no chance that way. the sound of the tumult at the mouth of the cavern told him that. neither could the italian have taken the other passage. he would have seen him as he passed. he searched the floor carefully for a possible hiding-place which would shelter the man he sought. then he raised his eyes to the cave wall. it was lined with irregular niches, some of which might be large enough to hide the body of a man. in the faint glow from the signal flares, he climbed slowly upward until he felt a cool rush of air fan his cheek. the air was heavy with fog; laden with the breath of the sea. the cavern held still another entrance. forcing his body through a cleft in the rocks from whence the breeze came, he found himself in a tunnel-like passage. the dry sticks snapped beneath his feet as he felt his way through the impenetrable darkness, stopping at intervals to listen. that mascola had preceded him only a few minutes before, he felt reasonably certain. by the time he reached the end of the passage the italian might have gained a place of safety. why had he not jumped from the ledge at first sight of his father's murderer? by now it would all be over. his thoughts turned quickly to dickie lang. perhaps the _gray ghost_ might have come upon the _richard's_ anchorage in the cove adjoining the goose-neck. perhaps the speed-boat had been run down. would the girl do as she was told and stay on the launch? his mind a prey to conflicting thoughts and emotions, gregory crawled on through the darkness. * * * * * when bandrist and mascola reached the _fuor d'italia_, the italian kicked the dory adrift as the two men climbed aboard. "pull the hook," he cried, "while i start the motor." "no," bandrist whispered. "you'd be a fool to do that. the cave was filled with revenue men. that means there's a cutter lying in around here somewhere. perhaps at the goose-neck. she would spot you in a minute with her search. we must row the launch around the next point at least." mascola growled his resentment at bandrist's air of authority. nevertheless he saw the wisdom of the suggestion and hastily brought out the long ash oars and fastened them in the brass locks. bandrist pulled the anchor and took his place at one of the sweeps. for some moments the two men rowed silently into the fog. then the islander ceased his labor at the oar abruptly. "head out," he whispered. "there's a launch ahead." mascola's eyes sought to pierce the fog where the dim outline of a motor-boat loomed dark across their course. then he swung the _fuor d'italia_ about and skirting the point rowed doggedly away from the darkened stranger. the italian's ugly temper was not bettered by the physical exercise. there was no need to row the launch as far as this. if bandrist was going with him, he must learn he was to be only a passenger. the _fuor d'italia_ did not belong to rock and the islander. she was his own property. he would run her where he pleased and as he pleased. as he labored, he formulated his plans. he would head straight for the mexican line, keeping well out to escape the patrol off san juan. daybreak would put him in the little lagoon beyond encinitas. there he would be among friends. he reflected suddenly that he had but little money. american gold in lower california would buy much. without it, even his friends would give him but scant comfort. bandrist, he remembered, never trusted his money to banks, but paid his bills in yellow gold which he carried in the coin belt about his waist. the observation gave mascola comfort. bandrist had enough for them both. he would see that he received his share. he ceased rowing. "far enough," he muttered. "no." bandrist's reply was sharp and decisive. "your exhaust can be heard for miles," he said. "the wind is blowing in our faces. we must keep at the oars. then they will think us still on the island. if you start the motor now you'll bring pursuit." mascola's hatred of bandrist increased with the quiet tone of command with which the islander spoke. "there is no boat that can catch mine with this lead," he bragged. "mr. gregory's boat is faster than yours for one," bandrist disputed quietly. "the new revenue cutters are faster for others. why are you a fool?" a hot argument began on the instant between the two men. an argument which ended by bandrist's knocking mascola to the cockpit. mascola lay where he fell for a moment, dazed by the blow. bandrist was not rowing he noticed. without doubt he had him covered with his revolver. fuming with impotent rage, the italian growled: "well, you're the boss. it's up to you." as he struggled to his feet he made up his mind to get square with the islander. again resuming his oars, he rowed steadily until bandrist gave the order to start the motor. the _fuor d'italia_ leaped forward and the cool sea air fanned mascola's flaming face. settling quietly into his seat he turned his attention to the wheel. he could afford to wait, but only a little longer. * * * * * dickie lang grasped her rifle tighter and leaned over the rail as she heard the soft dip of oars. then her hold on the gun relaxed. perhaps it was gregory returning to the launch. a glance into the gloom to starboard caused her to drop silently into the cockpit. resting the rifle on the coaming she covered the approaching boat and waited in silence. to her ears came the low murmur of men's voices. then the oncoming craft veered sharply and faded from view. for some time the girl crouched upon the floor of the launch. at length the silence of the night was broken by the far-off pulsing of a high-speed motor. she jumped to her feet, her eyes glowing with excitement. even at the distance she could not be deceived. there was only one other craft about with an exhaust like that. mascola was fleeing from diablo in the _fuor d'italia_. she sprang to the hood and began pulling on the anchor-chain. then she stopped suddenly. the man she loved was still on the island. perhaps he had been wounded. maybe killed. and in the meantime, mascola was escaping. for an instant love and hate fought for possession of the heart of dickie lang. then the chain slipped through her fingers and the anchor dropped again to the bottom. silently she returned to the wheel and sat down to wait. it was the hardest part of all to play. and it always fell to a woman. * * * * * when gregory reached the end of the tunnel he could hear the shouts of men and the rapid discharge of firearms from around the point. he must be in the cove adjoining the goose-neck. crawling rapidly through the brush he gained the beach. then he stopped and listened. mascola had evidently taken to the water. a sudden fear gripped his heart at the thought and sent him racing down the beach in the direction of the _richard's_ dory. his fears for the girl's safety abated as he found the dory undisturbed among the rocks. shoving it into the water he rowed hastily for the launch. as the skiff scraped the _richard's_ side, he sprang aboard and caught the girl in his arms. for an instant love alone dominated his heart. "mascola escaped in the _fuor d'italia_." dickie's words recalled gregory to his purpose. the next instant he was pulling at the chain. "i'll take you around the point to the cutter," he called to her as he worked. "you'll be safe there until----" "no." the girl's answer was spoken with a determination there was no gainsaying. "i'm going with you," she said in a low voice. "there were two men in the launch." chapter xxxi beneath the waters as the _richard_ cleared the point and plunged into trough of the swell, a thin column of light filtered through the fog astern and traveled slowly over the gray water. gregory put the wheel over and began to zigzag as he remembered that the _bennington_ was lying in at the goose-neck. at the distance the revenue cutter would be unable to distinguish friend from foe and would take no chances. "stay down," he called to dickie. "it's the search from the _bennington_. they may shoot." the light moved shoreward as he spoke, carefully searching the rocks which fringed the coast. gregory threw the wheel in the opposite direction and struck out at a tangent toward the sea. his speed would soon carry him beyond rifle range. kicking open the cut-out, he advanced the throttle. the _richard_ shook with the sudden burst of power, then began to plane. gregory kept his eyes on the moving rays as he held the launch on her seaward tack. the light was moving nearer, but its beams were paling. the cutter evidently had not moved from her anchorage. doubtless she would be kept fully occupied at the goose-neck. the next instant the fog-wall ahead dripped in the rays of the searchlight. gregory's hand flashed to the spark as his foot released the throttle. the angry roar of the speed-boat died away on the instant and the hull dropped sullenly. putting about, he started shoreward at right angles to his former course. the whine of machine-gun bullets sounded over his head to the starboard. then the leaden hail was drowned by the bark of the open exhaust. he had done the right thing that time. to have tried to dodge at speed would have turned the _richard_ over. now he was safe for a few seconds at least he reflected, as he watched the light traveling over his former course. as the rays again bent shoreward he saw a long point projecting out into the sea. beyond the jutting promontory he would be safe. running a course which would carry him clear of the point by a narrow margin he settled low in his seat and dashed forward. the fog-dimmed light hovered about the point as the _richard_ plunged boldly into the focus of its dripping beams. as the launch veered to make the turn, the waters astern were splashed by the steel pellets from the _bennington's_ machine-gun. then the gunner of the revenue cutter began to raise his sights. splinters flew from the _richard's_ stern. the coaming was riddled as the deadly hail moved toward the bow. the gunner on the _bennington_ ceased grinding as the launch disappeared behind the point. "i could have got that bird in one more second," he muttered ruefully. "if the old man would let us move, we can get him yet." gregory threw off the power and hurdled the seat. "are you hurt?" he called to dickie as he hurried toward the stern. dickie lang was not hurt. only cut by a flying splinter. it was nothing. the girl made her way forward. "let me take her until we clear the coast," she said. "you gave me the shivers the way you grazed that reef off china point." as they inclined their ears into the gray mist which enveloped them, they caught the murmur of the _fuor d'italia's_ exhaust. gregory surrendered the wheel. the girl listened to the rapid-fire pulsations of the boat ahead. "he's headed out to sea," she said. "and we're going to have to drive to catch him with this lead." her words were drowned in the thunder of the _richard's_ motor and the speed-launch bounded away to overtake her hated rival. * * * * * "the fog is lifting. soon it will be clear. we must watch closely for pursuit." mascola grunted a reply to bandrist's observations. weather conditions meant very little to him at the present moment. his mind was occupied with matters of far more importance. it would be well to know just where bandrist stood concerning a division of his money before they went farther. now would be a good time to find out. he made the suggestion at once that the islander grant him an advance of funds until such time as he could obtain his money from legonia and port angeles. "i have no money to spare," bandrist answered curtly. "you are foolish not to have been better prepared. our business is one which should have taught you that. you will have a hard time now to get your money from the states." an angry retort welled to mascola's lips but he choked it back. bandrist was speaking again. "here is one hundred dollars. you are welcome to that. but no more." mascola's eyes flashed at the smallness of the sum. a hundred dollars would be next to nothing, even in mexico. bandrist, he felt sure, possessed money in plenty. if there was not enough for two, there would be plenty for one. mascola made up his mind quickly. he would be the one. he had given bandrist his chance. the islander had tried twice to-night to give him the double-cross. would do it again if he got the chance. but bandrist would have no more chances. reaching out his hand, mascola took the gold with muttered words of thanks. then his fingers sought the switch and the noise of the motor died suddenly into silence. "listen." mascola turned quickly in his seat and looked over the stern. at the same time his right hand sought his dagger. bandrist twisted about, his eyes searching the gray waters astern. "i don't," he began. but his words ended in a choking gasp. mascola's knife had found its mark and the italian's fingers were tearing at bandrist's throat. the islander struggled to reach his gun, but he felt his strength leaving him. the moonlight shimmered before his eyes, mingled with gray splashes of fog. a sharp pain laced his side. his mouth opened and he fought hard for air. heavy darkness began to settle about him. from the far-off spaces he heard the sound of rapid breathing. or was it the faint pulsing of a motor-launch? then the murmur grew fainter until it trailed away into silence. mascola pulled the islander roughly from the seat and dragged him along the floor of the cockpit. then he sprang to the wheel and started the motor. there was no time now to get the money. the fog was lifting. and there was a boat following. * * * * * clear of the diablo reefs, gregory took the wheel and plunged the _richard_ into the shifting wall of fog. mile after mile he traversed in silence, stopping at intervals to listen to the faint pulsing of the boat ahead. at length the gray canopy lifted slowly from the water and he caught the outline of the _richard's_ broad hood rising staunchly above him in the gloom. he smiled grimly at the sight. the motor had not missed a shot since leaving the island. and they were overhauling the _fuor d'italia_. he threw the switch again as his eye caught the gleam of the moonlight ahead. for some moments he listened intently. but only the soft slap of the waves against the hull of the launch disturbed the stillness. mascola had escaped him; had noted the clearing and heard the sound of pursuit; had doubled back into the fog bank. anguish took possession of his heart at the thought as he reached for the switch. but neither gregory nor dickie lang heard the rasp of the starting mechanism. the sound was swallowed up in a deafening roar which came from the moonlit waters ahead. "straight ahead," the girl shouted. "i see him." gregory had already thrown in the clutch. in a swirl of white water the _richard_ raised her head proudly, and snorting angry defiance, raced across the intervening waves which separated her from her primordial enemy. gregory saw the _fuor d'italia_ leap forward in the moonlight, noted that the craft had already changed direction and was heading off at a tangent, a course which would bring mascola under cover of the fog bank. veering as sharply as her speed would permit, the _richard_ dipped like a gull and sped on to intercept the _fuor d'italia_. the shifting bank of blinding mist hung uncertainly above the shimmering waters less than half a mile ahead, dead ahead for mascola, off gregory's starboard quarter. for the italian it meant safety. to his pursuer it spelled defeat. the _richard_ was gaining. gregory measured the distance with a calculating eye. he was going to head the italian off. "swing her to port. catch him on the beam." acting at once upon dickie's advice, gregory saw the wisdom of it at once. his angling course would have put him into the fog before the _fuor d'italia_ reached it. now he would catch mascola broadside, full on the beam. or at least at an angle which would drive the heavier hull through the lighter one. with seaman's instinct, mascola sensed rather than saw the _richard's_ change of course. if he tried to make the fog he would be cut in two. if he deviated a hair's breadth at that speed he'd turn turtle. there was only one thing he could do. he reached his decision in a whirl of the propeller. dickie lang knew his answer. "hard a port. throw your switch." the words tumbled from her lips in a piercing shriek. gregory obeyed on the second, thinking the girl had lost her reason. the _richard_ dipped with a swerve which threw him violently against the coaming. as he felt the heavy hull sinking down into the water he saw that the _fuor d'italia_ had ceased to plane and was settling sluggishly. a snarl of disappointment burst from mascola's lips as he saw the _richard_ did not flash across his bow. a snarl, which changed quickly to a cry of rage as he noted that the two hulls were drifting sullenly toward each other. robbed of his way, he could not escape. the _richard_ was already brushing the _fuor d'italia's_ rail. in a frenzy of mingled fear and rage, mascola whipped out his dagger and leaped to the cockpit to battle with the hurtling figure that sprang from the other boat as the two hulls scraped. gregory caught mascola's knife arm and twisted it backward, crowding the italian to the rail. for an instant the two men were locked in a swaying, bone-racking embrace. then mascola felt the oak coaming pressing hard against his knees. he was being shoved over the rail by the fury of the heavier man. struggling in desperation, there came a gleam of hope. in the water gregory's superior weight would not count. strength would not count so much, without the weight. but a knife would count. jerking his body backward, he lunged downward into the sea, dragging his antagonist with him. as gregory and mascola fell to the water, dickie lang drew her automatic and covering the cockpit of the _fuor d'italia_ with her flash-light, peered cautiously over the rail. upon the floor of the launch sprawled the figure of a man. his face was turned away from her. the gray linoleum was dyed red with his blood. as she watched him, his extended fingers twitched convulsively. he was still breathing. but that was all. seizing the rail of the _fuor d'italia_ she began to work the _richard_ around the hull of the other craft. she dared not start the motor. the propeller might cut the men in the water to shreds. reaching the stern of mascola's launch she directed the rays of her light into the rippling waves. gregory tightened his hold on mascola's wrist as the waters closed over his head. the italian struggled fiercely to free his right arm as he felt his body sinking deeper into the water. then he noticed that his antagonist had freed his legs and was moving them slowly upward to his stomach. locking his knees about mascola's waist-line in a scissors-grip, gregory began to squeeze. lashing the water with his feet the italian jerked his head backward and forced it against gregory's chin. then he freed his left arm and the fingers slid upward to his enemy's throat. under the steady pressure of the sturdy legs about his waist mascola felt his strength going from him. with bursting lungs he tore at the corded muscles of gregory's throat. but his fingers had but little power. sharp pains seared his eyeballs. a deadly numbness was creeping over his entire body. then he felt the hand which held his knife arm twist the wrist and forced it inward to his body. mascola writhed in terror. by a powerful effort he squirmed sidewise and checked the onward course of the knife as it came nearer to his side. the exertion sent the blood pounding to his temples, left him weak with nausea. for an instant his hold on gregory's throat relaxed. then his fingers dug viciously into the flesh as he felt his wrist being crowded closer to his body. the point of the dagger was scratching at his shirt. in another second it would be piercing his side. mascola knew that the blade was sharp. the italian released his grip on gregory's throat. with a convulsive shudder he dropped his knife. he was beaten. at the mercy of his enemy. better take chances with the courts than sure death at the hand of kenneth gregory. gregory felt the muscles of the italian relax in a token of submission. for an instant his heart rebelled at the turn of the battle in his favor. why not strangle mascola beneath the surface? who would ever know? the italian had shown his father no mercy. why didn't mascola fight like a man? gregory's fingers reached the italian's throat. the law of the sea knew no mercy. * * * * * a feeling of utter helplessness seized dickie lang as she stared into the moonlit waters. the man she loved was battling for his life beneath the surface of the shimmering waves. and she could do nothing. "god bring him up safe." she repeated the words again and again. then a new fear assailed her. kenneth gregory would never give up. if he came up at all there would be blood upon his hands. justifiable blood. an eye for an eye. and yet, as the seconds trailed endlessly by, the girl was surprised to find herself amending her prayer. "bring him up safe--and clean." she uttered a choking cry as the bright rays of her light fell upon kenneth gregory's head. he was swimming slowly toward the launch, dragging mascola after him. [illustration: the bright rays of her light fell upon kenneth gregory's head] "hold his wrists." she noted the lifeless tone of gregory's voice as she made haste to comply with the order. saw the fingers of the two men clutch the rail while they waited for strength to pull their bodies from the water. kenneth gregory pulled himself weakly over the coaming. in silence he assisted the girl in dragging mascola from the water. huddling on the driver's seat of the _richard_, the italian leaned against the dash, fighting for breath. gregory stumbled backward and sank to the floor of the cockpit, covering his face with his hands. "i--failed," he gasped. "i had a chance.--but i passed it up.--i couldn't do it." dickie fell to her knees beside him and threw her arms about his neck. "you're a man," she whispered, "one in a million." then her lips found his. mascola watched the two shadows blend into one. silhouetted in the bright moonlight, he leaned against the coaming, his lips curved in a sneering smile. from the darkened cockpit of the _fuor d'italia_ came a bright jet of flame. then another. before the echoes of the two shots had died away mascola's body slid from the seat and fell in a heap upon the floor. dickie drew her revolver and sprang to the rail. sweeping the darkness of the _fuor d'italia's_ cockpit with the rays of her light, she drew back. "bandrist," she whispered to gregory through whitening lips. chapter xxxii for all the world to know silvanus rock was at the golden rule fish cannery at an early hour on the morning following the raid upon el diablo. when blankovitch entered the office, he noted at a glance that the face of the capitalist looked drawn and worried. "any news, blankovitch?" the words tumbled eagerly from rock's thick lips as he caught sight of the ruddy countenance of the manager. blankovitch shook his head. "only the broken message a little before midnight," he answered. "you got that. gonzolez landed. that's all we know." rock fidgeted while his eyes roved about the room. "you don't suppose anything went wrong?" he hazarded after a moment. blankovitch did not think so. the wireless had failed for some reason or other. but it had done that before. he was expecting rossi in at any moment. there was no occasion for worry. would mr. rock care for a drink so early in the morning? the bank president gulped down the brandy, and under the stimulus of the fiery liquor his wavering courage rallied perceptibly. "had a bad night," he explained. "didn't sleep a wink. neuralgia." the slavonian nodded sympathetically and the two men lapsed into silence. after some time had passed a fisherman entered. "rossi's coming in," he announced. rock leaped to his feet with the youthful exuberance of a schoolboy. "i feel like a new man," he confided to blankovitch, when the messenger had gone out. "the brandy was just what i needed. lack of sleep surely pulls a man down." the manager agreed and together the two men went out to the receiving platform to await the arrival of the boat from el diablo. when rossi drew alongside, rock greeted him effusively. "how is everything at the island?" he asked. "have you plenty of fish?" the fishing captain answered the bank president's greeting with his usual shrug. "_bonne,_" he said shortly. "everything's fine. i got some good fish." rock was jubilant. his fears had been groundless. everything was quite all right. for had not rossi given the accustomed signal to that effect? blankovitch had already taken the cue. "if his fish are first-class, we might put them up special for those a-1 orders," he suggested. rock nodded as he noted the stolid faces of the fishermen peering over the rail. rossi had his regular crew. still, one could never be too careful. for a moment he appeared to deliberate. then he said: "good idea, blankovitch, we're short on high-grade stuff." the manager moved at once to the receiving-vat and pulled the grating over the traveling conveyer which carried the fish into the cannery. then he opened a valve at the bottom of the tank. "all right, rossi," he said. "dump them in." rock stood by for a moment watching the fish slide into the vat. then he walked away in the direction of the cannery office. passing through the room where he had conferred with the slavonian, he entered the manager's private sanctuary which lay beyond and closed the door. in the far corner of the room was a small clothes-closet. to this rock made his way hastily, and, fitting a key in the lock, passed within, slamming the door after him. in the darkness of the stuffy cubby-hole, his fingers found a small flash-light in the pocket of an old vest which hung from one of the hooks. directing the rays of the light about him, he worked his way through the hanging garments and reached the end of the closet. for an instant his fingers slid along the inside wall. then a cool draught of air fanned his face, strongly tinctured with the smell of the mud-flats. swinging the panel shut behind him, silvanus rock descended the narrow stairway. when he reached the bottom he paused and drew his coat collar closer about his neck. the air was damp and cold and the waters of the bay were lapping softly against the pilings which supported the building. grasping the wooden rail of the gangway which led away from the bottom of the stairs, the capitalist crept on through the darkness until he reached the base of a big concrete storage-vat. groping for the lock which secured the outlet-cleaning-door of the big tank, he unlocked it and passed within. with the water-tight door closed behind him, he switched on the electric light. the cement floor of the vat was already partly covered with the fish which slid downward from the receiving tanks on the platform above. rock listened intently. but only the soft slip of the fish through the chute and the drip of the water from the draining-table, disturbed the silence. then he heard the murmur of men's voices from the platform. the valve was still open. when blankovitch closed that, no sound would penetrate the vat from the outside world. he turned his attention at once to the fish. drawing one of the albacore to one side, his fat fingers delved carefully into the fish's belly. then they brought forth a large aluminum capsule and laid it carefully on a tin-topped table which stood conveniently near a small capping-machine. for some moments he repeated the operation until all the fish had been emptied of their contents and a double row of capsules covered the table. the albacore, he noticed suddenly, had ceased to slip through the chute. he frowned at the observance. surely rossi had brought a larger cargo than this. walking again to the intake from the tank above, he listened. the valve was still open. there would be more or blankovitch would close the chute and assist him below. wiping his hands carefully on his handkerchief, he walked nervously about the tank. there was nothing he could do but wait. there would be no use to fill the cans at present or start the conveyer to carry the empty-bellied fish to the cannery floor. both would necessitate the use of machinery, and even electric-driven power made some noise. if the slavonian was through, why didn't he close the valve and come down? the door of the storage-vat opened suddenly and blankovitch's bulky figure staggered within. rock drew back at the expression on the slavonian's face. all color had fled from the manager's ruddy cheeks. his eyes were staring and his heavy jaw sagged. then rock noted that the door was still open. as he made haste to close it before questioning the frightened slavonian, he found the way blocked by three shadowy figures who sprang upon him. "you are under arrest, mr. rock." silvanus rock wriggled vainly in the arms of the men who forced him back into the tank. in the struggle the light fell full upon the open vest of one of the strangers. then rock collapsed. for years he had suffered this nightmare. in his troubled dreams he had seen the glittering shield of the revenue men winking at him from the darkness. now it was a tangible reality. he was caught with the goods through the slavonian's treachery. glaring in sullen anger at his trembling manager, he opened his mouth to speak but no word came. then one of the deputies who had made a cursory examination of the vat, began to speak: "well, mr. rock," he said, "it kind of looks like we had the man higher up. at the point of a gun, mr. blankovitch showed us the way to your little office down here. and signor rossi brought us all the way over from diablo hidden away among his fish so we could have the pleasure of finding out where he sold his cargo. the little ride was worth as much to him as it was to us." turning to the man who was standing by the slavonian, he ordered: "better put the steels on him, jack. i'll take this one while joe stays down here with the stuff." * * * * * when the _bennington_ entered crescent bay followed by the _richard_ towing the _fuor d'italia_, excitement was rife at legonia. and as the boats came to anchor off the golden rule cannery a large crowd of curious village-folk collected on the dock. the consensus of opinion, in silvanus rock's absence, was expressed by the local postmaster. there had been another fight at el diablo and "uncle sam had stepped in and 'pinched' the whole darned bunch." to that opinion, the crowd for the most part concurred though there were some who thought otherwise. it remained for silvanus rock himself to upset the truth of the postmaster's statement. scarcely able to credit their sight, the villagers saw the magnate of legonia led forth from the golden rule cannery in the custody of strangers. strangers who spoke and acted with an air of authority and displayed shining badges to part the crowd as they walked with their prisoner to meet the small boat from the cutter. then came blankovitch wearing hand-cuffs. it was some time before the truth leaked out through the lips of a newspaperman who was aboard the _bennington_. even then there were some who doubted. mascola killed by bandrist? impossible. bill lang and richard gregory murdered at el diablo and mexican joe who had been with them, found on the island? silvanus rock a smuggler? why the very thought was absurd. but the postmaster was gifted with more sagacity. with an ear trained to catch the slightest drift of public opinion, he declaimed after hearing all the evidence: "i ain't much surprised. kind o' had my suspicions of old rock all along though i never said nothin'. but i allays did say that young gregory was a comin' citizen." * * * * * purple dusk settled closely about legonia at the close of the most memorable day in the history of the village. for a time the streets were deserted as the fishermen sought their homes at supper-time to retail the latest bits of gossip which were current in the saloons. kenneth gregory's name was upon every lip. no story was complete unless he figured in it. the golden rule cannery had been closed until further notice. gregory had bought all the fish brought in by the alien fleet. his wharves were piled high with fish-boxes. his vats were full of albacore. he was going to give everybody a chance if they "shot square" and became american citizens. rock and blankovitch had been taken with the men from diablo island to the jail at the county-seat. the body of mascola was still in the custody of the local undertaker and bandrist had been removed to a hospital. but of the men themselves little was said. an era of universal friendliness prevailed throughout the village. at the lang cottage aunt mary was striving vainly to assemble her guests about the table for the evening meal. "the biscuits will be ruined," she pleaded. "leave the talk go. you've all talked yourselves half-sick now." jack mccoy protested as miss lang led him to the table. "remember, i wasn't there," he said. "and i've got a lot to find out before i get caught up." hawkins slid into a chair by mccoy. "well that's about all there is to it, mac," he said. "except that the _gray ghost_ made a clean get-away in the fog. you see the custom house has been wise to her for a long time but they never could catch her with the goods. for some time there has been a lot of dope floating around in tuna cans so they kind of laid it to some fish cannery. in talking it over with cap. i began to look this fellow, rock, up. and i found among other things, that he didn't have a dollar until a few years ago. he made his money quick, and as far as we knew, right here in town. then, this diablo stuff gave me a hunch." gregory looked up quickly at the mention of the island. "easy on the diablo stuff, bill," he cautioned. "aunt mary doesn't know much about that." when supper was over, jack mccoy rose hastily. "i must be getting back," he said. "we have a big night-shift and fish to burn. and they will burn unless i'm on the job." gregory followed him to the door. "i'll be down pretty quick, jack," he said. "i want to see miss lang a minute before i go." a crooked little smile twisted the corners of mccoy's mouth and for a moment he looked deep into gregory's eyes. "i suppose congratulations are in order," he began somewhat uncertainly, and seeing that gregory made no denial, he put out his hand. "i hope you'll both be happy," he said slowly. then he turned quickly and hurried out the door. hawkins hurried after him. "i guess i'll go down with mccoy," he explained. "i want to keep near a phone." then he turned to aunt mary. "in to-morrow's _times_ you'll get the latest details of the secret of el diablo," he said as he bade her good night. when hawkins had gone out and aunt mary had retired to the kitchen, gregory exclaimed to dickie lang in a low voice: "there's one secret she won't get in _the times_. she won't have to wait that long. for i'm going to tell her now." "you'd better not," answered the girl. "you would have to shout. she's unusually deaf to-night. all the neighbors would hear." "that's what i want," gregory cried as he walked to the kitchen with dickie following close behind. in the semi-darkness of the little pantry-closet he took the girl in his arms. "it's the only secret i'd never be able to keep," he confessed. "and i want the whole world to hear it." pushing aside the swinging-door, he went into the kitchen to tell aunt mary. [illustration: in the semi-darkness of the little pantry-closet] the end [transcriber's notes: punctuation errors have been corrected and hyphen usage made consistent. illustrations (excepting frontispiece) have been moved from their original page locations to the paragraph which they illustrate. printer's errors have been corrected as follows: page 7: dois amended to dios (gracious a dios) page 49: bare-booted amended to bare-footed (bare-footed fishermen) page 67: speak amended to speck (speck on the horizon) page 81: do amended to go (to go down anyway) page 82: run amended to ran (he ran his boats) page 148: be amended to he (he began to fall down) page 171: slippel amended to slipped (slipped a hand into his pocket) page 173: furinor amended to furrinor (bossed around by a "furrinor") page 182: rememberance amended to remembrance (a sharp remembrance) page 205: unimpeachible amended to unimpeachable (unimpeachable standing) page 225: back amended to black (together off black point) page 278: lose amended to loose (cut loose from the _pelican_) page 279: she's amended to she'd (she'd take it) page 293: preceptibly amended to perceptibly (expenses mounted perceptibly) page 313: jibbering amended to gibbering (gibbering with fear) page 328: order amended to ordered (smith ordered.) page 331: extra "the" removed (darkness across the cave) page 347: died amended to dyed (dyed red with his blood) page 357: steals amended to steels (put the steels on him) errors in foreign language spelling (_gracious a dios_ and _sangre de christo_) have been retained.] transcriber's note: inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have been preserved. obvious typographical errors have been corrected. italic text is denoted by _underscores_. the book uses both phillippi and phillipi. an upside-down t symbol is represented as [symbol: upside-down t]. [illustration: harris newmark] sixty years in southern california 1853-1913 containing the reminiscences of harris newmark edited by maurice h. newmark marco r. newmark every generation enjoys the use of a vast hoard bequeathed to it by antiquity, and transmits that hoard, augmented by fresh acquisitions, to future ages. in these pursuits, therefore, the first speculators lie under great disadvantages, and, even when they fail, are entitled to praise.--macaulay. _with 150 illustrations_ new york the knickerbocker press 1916 copyright, 1916 by m. h. and m. r. newmark to the memory of my wife in memoriam at the hour of high twelve on april the fourth, 1916, the sun shone into a room where lay the temporal abode, for eighty-one years and more, of the spirit of harris newmark. on his face still lingered that look of peace which betokens a life worthily used and gently relinquished. many were the duties allotted him in his pilgrimage; splendidly did he accomplish them! providence permitted him the completion of his final task--a labor of love--but denied him the privilege of seeing it given to the community of his adoption. to him and to her, by whose side he sleeps, may it be both monument and epitaph. _thy will be done!_ m. h. n. m. r. n. introduction several times during his latter years my friend, charles dwight willard, urged me to write out my recollections of the five or six decades i had already passed in los angeles, expressing his regret that many pioneers had carried from this world so much that might have been of interest to both the angeleño of the present and the future historian of southern california; but as i had always led an active life of business or travel, and had neither fitted myself for any sort of literary undertaking nor attempted one, i gave scant attention to the proposal. mr. willard's persistency, however, together with the prospect of coöperation offered me by my sons, finally overcame my reluctance and i determined to commence the work. accordingly in june, 1913, at my santa monica home, i began to devote a few hours each day to a more or less fragmentary enumeration of the incidents of my boyhood; of my voyage over the great wastes of sea and land between my ancestral and adopted homes; of the pueblo and its surroundings that i found on this western shore; of its people and their customs; and, finally, of the men and women who, from then until now, have contributed to the greatness of the southland, and of the things they have done or said to entitle their names to be recorded. this task i finished in the early fall. during its progress i entered more and more into the distant past, until memory conjured before me many long-forgotten faces and happenings. in the end, i found that i had jotted down a mass of notes much greater than i had expected. thereupon the editors began their duties, which were to arrange the materials at hand, to supply names and dates that had escaped me, and to interview many who had been principals in events and, accordingly, were presumed to know the details; and much progress was made, to the enlarging and enrichment of the book. but it was not long before they found that the work involved an amount of investigation which their limited time would not permit; and that if carried out on even the modest plan originally contemplated, some additional assistance would be required. fortunately, just then they met perry worden, a post-graduate of columbia and a doctor of philosophy of the university of halle, germany; a scholar and an author of attainments. his aid, as investigator and adviser, has been indispensable to the completion of the work in its present form. dr. worden spent many months searching the newspapers, magazines and books--some of whose titles find special mention in the text--which deal with southern california and its past; and he also interviewed many pioneers, to each of whom i owe acknowledgment for ready and friendly coöperation. in short, no pains was spared to confirm and amplify all the facts and narratives. whether to arrange the matter chronologically or not, was a problem impossible of solution to the complete satisfaction of the editors; this, as well as other methods, having its advantages and disadvantages. after mature consideration, the chronological plan was adopted, and the events of each year have been recorded more or less in the order of their happening. whatever confusion, if any, may arise through this treatment of local history as a chronicle for ready reference will be easily overcome, it is believed, through the dating of the chapters and the provision of a comprehensive index; while the brief chapter-heading, generally a reference to some marked occurrence in that period, will further assist the reader to get his bearings. preference has been given to the first thirty years of my residence in los angeles, both on account of my affectionate remembrance of that time and because of the peculiarity of memory in advanced life which enables us to recall remote events when more recent ones are forgotten; and inasmuch as so little has been handed down from the days of the adobe, this partiality will probably find favor. in collecting this mass of data, many discrepancies were met with, calling for the acceptance or rejection of much long current here as fact; and in all such cases i selected the version most closely corresponding with my own recollection, or that seemed to me, in the light of other facts, to be correct. for this reason, no less than because in my narrative of hitherto unrecorded events and personalities it would be miraculous if errors have not found their way into the story, i shall be grateful if those who discover inaccuracies will report them to me. in these sixty years, also, i have met many men and women worthy of recollection, and it is certain that there are some whose names i have not mentioned; if so, i wish to disclaim any intentional neglect. indeed, precisely as i have introduced the names of a number for whom i have had no personal liking, but whose services to the community i remember with respect, so there are doubtless others whose activities, past or present, it would afford me keen pleasure to note, but whom unhappily i have overlooked. with this brief introduction, i give the manuscript to the printer, not with the ambitious hope of enriching literature in any respect, but not without confidence that i have provided some new material for the local historian--perhaps of the future--and that there may be a goodly number of people sufficiently interested to read and enjoy the story, yet indulgent enough to overlook the many faults in its narration. h. n. los angeles, _december 31, 1915_. foreword the historian no longer writes history by warming over the pancakes of his predecessors. he must surely know what they have done, and how--and whereby they succeeded and wherein they failed. but his own labor is to find the sidelights they did not have. macaulay saves him from doing again all the research that macaulay had to do; but if he could find a twin boswell or a second pepys he would rather have either than a dozen new macaulays. since history is becoming really a science, and is no more a closet exploration of half-digested arm-chair books, we are beginning to learn the overwhelming value of the contemporary witness. even a justice's court will not admit hearsay evidence; and science has been shamed into adopting the same sane rule. nowadays it demands the eye-witness. we look less for the "authorities" now, and more for the documents. there are too many histories already, such as they are--self-satisfied and oracular, but not one conclusive. every history is put out of date, almost daily, by the discovery of some scrap of paper or some clay tablet from under the ashes of babylon. mere humans no longer read history--except in school where they have to, or in study clubs where it is also required. but a plain personal narrative is interesting now as it has been for five thousand years. the world's greatest book is of course compulsory; but what is the _interesting_ part of it? why, the stories--adam and eve; abraham, isaac and jacob; saul and david and samson and delilah; solomon, job, and jesus the christ! and if anyone thinks moses worked-in a little too much of the family tree--he doesn't know what biblical archæology is doing. for it is thanks to these same "petty" details that modern science, in its excavations and decipherings, has verified the bible and resolved many of its riddles! greece had one herodotus. america had _four_, antedating the year 1600. all these truly great historians built from all the "sources" they could find. but none of them quite give us the homely, vital picture of life and feeling that one untaught and untamed soldier, bernal diaz, wrote for us three hundred years ago when he was past ninety, and toothless--and angry "because the historians didn't get it straight." the student of spanish america has often to wish there had been a bernal diaz for every decade and every province from 1492 to 1800. his unstudied gossip about the conquest of mexico is less balanced and less authoritative, but far more illuminative, than the classics of his leader, cortez--a university man, as well as a great conqueror. for more than a quarter of a century it was one of my duties to study and review (for the _nation_ and other critical journals) all sorts of local chronicles all over spanish and english america--particularly of frontier times. in this work i have read searchingly many hundreds of volumes; and have been brought into close contact with our greatest students and editors of "history-material," and with their standards. i have read no other such book with so unflagging interest and content as these memoirs of harris newmark. my personal acquaintance with southern california for more than thirty years may color my interest in names and incidents; but i am appraising this book (whose proofs i have been permitted to read thoroughly) from the standpoint of the student of history anywhere. parkman and fiske and coues and hodge and thwaites would join me in the wish that every american community might have so competent a memorandum of its life and customs and growth, for its most formative half-century. this is _not_ a history. it is two other much more necessary things--for there is no such thing as a real history of los angeles, and cannot be for years. these are the frank, naïve, conversational memoirs of a man who for more than sixty years could say of southern california almost as truly as æneas of his own time--"all of which i saw, much of which i was." the keen observation, the dry humor, the fireside intimacy of the talk, the equity and accuracy of memory and judgment--all these make it a book which will be much more valued by future generations of readers and students. we are rather too near to it now. but it is more than the "confessions" of one ripe and noble experience. it is, beyond any reasonable comparison, the most characteristic and accurate composite picture we have ever had of an old, brave, human, free, and distinctive life that has changed incredibly to the veneers of modern society. it is the very mirror of who and what the people were that laid the real foundations for a community which is now the wonder of the historian. the very details which are "not big enough" for the casual reader (mentally over-tuned to newspaper headlines and moving pictures) are the vital and enduring merits of this unpretentious volume. no one else has ever set down so many of the very things that the final historian of los angeles will search for, a hundred years after all our oratories and "literary efforts" have been well forgotten. it is a chronicle indispensable for every public library, every reference library, the shelf of every individual concerned with the story of california. it is the _pepys's diary_ of los angeles and its tributary domain. charles f. lummis. preface the editors wish to acknowledge the coöperation given, from time to time, by many whose names, already mentioned in the text, are not repeated here, and in particular to drs. leo newmark and charles f. lummis, and joseph p. and edwin j. loeb, for having read the proofs. they also wish to acknowledge dr. lummis's self-imposed task of preparing the generous foreword with which this volume has been favored. gratitude is also due to various friends who have so kindly permitted the use of photographs--not a few of which, never before published, are rare and difficult to obtain. just as in the case, however, of those who deserve mention in these memoirs, but have been overlooked, so it is feared that there are some who have supplied information and yet have been forgotten. to all such, as well as to several librarians and the following, thanks are hereby expressed: frederick baker, horace baker, mrs. j. a. barrows, prospero barrows, mrs. r. c. bartow, miss anna mcconnell beckley, sigmund beel, samuel behrendt, arthur s. bent, mrs. dora bilderback, c. v. boquist, mrs. mary bowman, allan bromley, professor valentin buehner, dr. rose bullard, j. o. burns, malcolm campbell, gabe carroll, j. w. carson, walter m. castle, r. b. chapman, j. h. clancy, herman cohn, miss gertrude darlow, ernest dawson and dawson's bookshop, louise deen, george e. dimitry, robert dominguez, durell draper, miss marjorie driscoll, s. d. dunann, gottlieb eckbahl, richard egan, professor alfred ewington, david p. fleming, james g. fowler, miss effie josephine fussell, a. p. gibson, j. sherman glasscock, gilbert h. grosvenor, edgar j. hartung, chauncey hayes, george h. higbee, joseph hopper, adelbert hornung, walter hotz, f. a. howe, dr. clarence edward ide, luther ingersoll, c. w. jones, mrs. eleanor brodie jones, reverend henderson judd, d. p. kellogg, c. g. keyes, willis t. knowlton, bradner lee, jr., h. j. lelande, isaac levy, miss ella housefield lowe, mrs. celeste manning, mrs. morris meyberg, miss louisa meyer, william meying, charles e. mitchell, r. c. neuendorffer, s. b. norton, b. h. prentice, burr price, edward h. quimby, b. b. rich, edward i. robinson, w. j. rouse, paul p. royere, louis sainsevain, ludwig schiff, r. d. sepúlveda, calvin luther severy, miss emily r. smith, miss harriet steele, george f. strobridge, father eugene sugranes, mrs. carrie switzer, walter p. temple, w. i. turck, judge and mrs. e. p. unangst, william m. van dyke, august wackerbarth, mrs. j. t. ward, mrs. olive e. weston, professor a. c. wheat and charles l. wilde. contents page in memoriam v introduction vii foreword xi preface xv chapter i.--childhood and youth, 1834-1853 1 ii.--westward, ho! 1853 6 iii.--new york--nicaragua--the golden gate, 1853 14 iv.--first adventures in los angeles, 1853 27 v.--lawyers and courts, 1853 45 vi.--merchants and shops, 1853 60 vii.--in and near the old pueblo, 1853 80 viii.--round about the plaza, 1853-1854 97 ix.--familiar home-scenes, 1854 112 x.--early social life, 1854 128 xi.--the rush for gold, 1855 146 xii.--the great horse race, 1855 157 xiii.--princely _rancho_ domains, 1855 166 xiv.--orchards and vineyards, 1856 189 xv.--sheriff barton and the _bandidos_, 1857 204 xvi.--marriage--the butterfield stages, 1858 220 xvii.--admission to citizenship, 1859 240 xviii.--first experience with the telegraph, 1860 260 xix.--steam-wagon--odd characters, 1860 274 xx.--the rumblings of war, 1861 289 xxi.--hancock--lady franklin--the deluge, 1861 299 xxii.--droughts--the _ada hancock_ disaster, 1862-1863 310 xxiii.--assassination of lincoln, 1864-1865 328 xxiv.--h. newmark & company--carlisle-king duel, 1865-1866 342 xxv.--removal to new york, and return, 1867-1868 359 xxvi.--the cerro gordo mines, 1869 379 xxvii.--coming of the iron horse, 1869 393 xxviii.--the last of the vigilantes, 1870 408 xxix.--the chinese massacre, 1871 421 xxx.--the wool craze, 1872-1873 437 xxxi.--the end of vasquez, 1874 452 xxxii.--the santa anita _rancho_, 1875 472 xxxiii.--los angeles & independence railroad, 1876 485 xxxiv.--the southern pacific, 1876 496 xxxv.--the revival of the southland, 1877-1880 509 xxxvi.--centenary of the city--electric light, 1881-1884 525 xxxvii.--repetto and the lawyers, 1885-1887 546 xxxviii.--the great boom, 1887 564 xxxix.--proposed state division, 1888-1891 588 xl.--the first _fiestas_, 1892-1897 602 xli.--the southwest archæological society, 1898-1905 616 xlii.--the san francisco earthquake, 1906-1910 633 xliii.--retrospection, 1910-1913 641 index 653 illustrations facing page harris newmark. in his seventy-ninth year engraved from a photograph _frontispiece_ facsimile of a part of the ms 2 reproduction of swedish advertisement 3 philipp neumark 10 from a daguerreotype esther neumark 10 from a daguerreotype j. p. newmark 10 from a daguerreotype mr. and mrs. joseph newmark 10 los angeles in the early fifties 11 from a drawing of the pacific railway expedition bella union as it appeared in 1858 26 from a lithograph john goller's blacksmith shop 27 from a lithograph of 1858 henry mellus 50 from a daguerreotype francis mellus 50 from a daguerreotype john g. downey 50 charles l. ducommun 50 the plaza church 51 from a photograph, probably taken in the middle eighties pio pico 68 from an oil portrait juan bandini 68 abel stearns 68 isaac williams 68 store of felipe rheim 69 john jones 102 captain f. morton 102 captain and mrs. j. s. garcia 102 captain salisbury haley 102 _el palacio_, home of abel and arcadia stearns 103 from a photograph of the seventies the lugo ranch-house, in the nineties 103 j. p. newmark 112 from a vignette of the sixties jacob rich 112 o. w. childs 112 john o. wheeler 112 benjamin d. wilson 113 george hansen 113 dr. obed macy 113 samuel c. foy 113 myer j. and harris newmark 128 from a daguerreotype george carson 128 john g. nichols 128 david w. alexander 129 thomas e. rowan 129 matthew keller 129 samuel meyer 129 louis sainsevain 154 manuel dominguez 154 _el aliso_, the sainsevain winery 154 from an old lithograph jacob elias 155 john t. lanfranco 155 j. frank burns 155 henry d. barrows 155 maurice kremer 168 solomon lazard 168 mellus's, or bell's row 168 from a lithograph of 1858 william h. workman and john king 169 prudent beaudry 169 james s. mallard 169 john behn 169 louis robidoux 174 julius g. weyse 174 john behn 174 louis breer 174 william j. brodrick 175 isaac r. dunkelberger 175 frank j. carpenter 175 augustus ulyard 175 los angeles in the late fifties 188 from a contemporary sketch myer j. newmark 189 edward j. c. kewen 189 dr. john s. griffin 189 william c. warren 189 harris newmark, when (about) thirty-four years old 224 sarah newmark, when (about) twenty-four years of age 224 facsimile of harris and sarah newmark's wedding invitation 225 san pedro street, near second, in the early seventies 254 commercial street, looking east from main, about 1870 254 view of plaza, showing the reservoir 255 old lanfranco block 255 winfield scott hancock 290 albert sidney johnston 290 los angeles county in 1854 291 from a contemporary map the morris adobe, once frémont's headquarters 291 eugene meyer 310 jacob a. moerenhout 310 frank lecouvreur 310 thomas d. mott 310 leonard j. rose 311 h. k. s. o'melveny 311 remi nadeau 311 john m. griffith 311 kaspare cohn 342 m. a. newmark 342 h. newmark & co.'s store, arcadia block, about 1875, including (left) john jones's former premises 343 h. newmark & co.'s building, amestoy block, about 1884 343 dr. truman h. rose 370 andrew glassell 370 dr. vincent gelcich 370 charles e. miles, in uniform of 38's 370 facsimile of stock certificate, pioneer oil co. 371 american bakery, jake kuhrts's building, about 1880 371 loebau market place, near the house in which harris newmark was born 384 street in loebau, showing (right) remnant of ancient city wall 384 robert m. widney 385 dr. joseph kurtz 385 isaac n. van nuys 385 abraham haas 385 phineas banning, about 1869 400 henri penelon, in his studio 400 _carreta_, earliest mode of transportation 401 alameda street depot and train, los angeles & san pedro railroad 401 henry c. g. schaeffer 428 lorenzo leck 428 henry hammel 428 louis mesmer 428 john schumacher 428 william nordholt 428 turnverein-germania building, spring street 429 vasquez and his captors 452 (_top_) d. k. smith, william r. rowland, walter e. rodgers. (_middle_) albert johnson, greek george's home, g. a. beers. (_bottom_) emil harris, tibúrcio vasquez, j. s. bryant. greek george 453 nicolás martinez 453 benjamin s. eaton 464 henry t. hazard 464 fort street home, harris newmark, site of blanchard hall; joseph newmark at the door 464 calle de los negros (nigger alley), about 1870 465 second street, looking east from hill street, early seventies 465 round house, with main street entrance 476 spring street entrance to garden of paradise 476 temple street, looking west from broadway, about 1870 477 pico house, soon after completion 477 william pridham 500 benjamin hayes 500 isaac lankershim 500 rabbi a. w. edelman 500 fort street, from the chaparral on fort hill 501 antonio franco and mariana coronel 520 from an oil painting in the coronel collection fourth street, looking west from main 520 timms landing 521 from a print of the late fifties santa catalina, in the middle eighties 521 main street looking north from sixth, probably in the late seventies 530 high school, on pound cake hill, about 1873 530 temple court house, after abandonment by the county 531 first street, looking east from hill 531 spring street, looking north from first, about 1885 566 cable car, running north on broadway (previously fort street), near second 567 early electric car, with conductor james gallagher (still in service) 567 george w. burton 594 ben c. truman 594 charles f. lummis 594 charles dwight willard 594 grand avenue residence, harris newmark, 1889 595 isaias w. hellman 616 herman w. hellman 616 cameron e. thom 616 ygnácio sepúlveda 616 first santa fé locomotive to enter los angeles 617 main street, looking north, showing first federal building, middle nineties 617 harris and sarah newmark, at time of golden wedding 636 summer home of harris newmark, santa monica 637 harris newmark, at the dedication of m. a. newmark & co.'s establishment, 1912 644 j. p. newmark, about 1890 644 harris newmark breaking ground for the jewish orphans' home, november 28th, 1911 645 sixty years in southern california sixty years in southern california chapter i childhood and youth 1834-1853 i was born in loebau, west prussia, on the 5th of july, 1834, the son of philipp and esther, _née_ meyer, neumark; and i have reason to believe that i was not a very welcome guest. my parents, who were poor, already had five children, and the prospects of properly supporting the sixth child were not bright. as i had put in an appearance, however, and there was no alternative, i was admitted with good grace into the family circle and, being the baby, soon became the pet. my father was born in the ancient town of neumark; and in his youth he was apprenticed to a dealer in boots and shoes in a russian village through which napoleon bonaparte marched on his way to moscow. the conqueror sent to the shop for a pair of fur boots, and i have often heard my father tell, with modest satisfaction, how, shortly before he visited the great fair at nijni novgorod, he was selected to deliver them; how more than one ambitious and inquisitive friend tried to purchase the privilege of approaching the great man, and what were his impressions of the warrior. when ushered into the august presence, he found bonaparte in one of his characteristic postures, standing erect, in a meditative mood, braced against the wall, with one hand to his forehead and the other behind his back, apparently absorbed in deep and anxious thought. when i was but three weeks old, my father's business affairs called him away from home, and compelled the sacrifice of a more or less continued absence of eight and one half years. during this period my mother's health was very poor. unfortunately, also, my father was too liberal and extravagantly-inclined for his narrow circumstances; and not being equipped to meet the conditions of the district in which we lived and our economical necessities, we were continually, so to speak, in financial hot water. while he was absent, my father traveled in sweden and denmark, remitting regularly to his family as much as his means would permit, yet earning for them but a precarious living. in 1842 he again joined his family in loebau, making visits to sweden and denmark during the summer seasons from 1843 until the middle fifties and spending the long winters at home. loebau was then, as now, of little commercial importance, and until 1849, when i was fifteen years of age and had my first introduction to the world, my life was very commonplace and marked by little worthy of special record, unless it was the commotion centering in the cobble-paved market-place, as a result of the revolution of 1848. with the winter of 1837 had come a change in my father's plans and enterprises. undergoing unusually severe weather in scandinavia, he listened to the lure of the new world and embarked for new york, arriving there in the very hot summer of 1838. the contrast in climatic conditions proved most disastrous; for, although life in the new republic seemed both pleasing and acceptable to one of his temperament and liberal views, illness finally compelled him to bid america adieu. [illustration: facsimile of a part of the ms.] [illustration: "note.--the 'f' in the above announcement is the abbreviation for fabian, one of philipp neumark's given names, at one time used in business, but seldom employed in social correspondence, and finally abandoned altogether."] my father was engaged in the making of ink and blacking, neither of which commodities was, at that time, in such universal demand as it is now; and my brother, joseph philipp, later known as j. p. newmark, having some time before left sweden, where he had been assisting him, for england, it was agreed, in 1849, after a family council, that i was old enough to accompany my father on his business trips, gradually become acquainted with his affairs, and thus prepare to succeed him. accordingly, in april of that year, i left the family hearth, endeared to me, unpretentious though it was, and wandered with my father out into the world. open confession, it is said, is good for the soul; hence i must admit that the prospect of making such a trip attracted me, notwithstanding the tender associations of home; and the sorrow of parting from my mother was rather evenly balanced, in my youthful mind, by the pleasurable anticipation of visiting new and strange lands. any attempt to compare methods of travel in 1849, even in the countries i then traversed, with those now in vogue, would be somewhat ridiculous. country roads were generally poor--in fact, very bad; and vehicles were worse, so that the entire first day's run brought us only to lessen, a small village but twelve miles from home! here we spent the night, because of the lack of better accommodations, in blankets, on the floor of the wayside inn; and this experience was such a disappointment, failing to realize, as it did, my youthful anticipations, that i was desperately homesick and ready, at the first opportunity, to return to my sorrowing mother. the fates, however, were against any such change in our plans; and the next morning we proceeded on our way, arriving that evening at the much larger town of bromberg. here, for the first time, the roads and other conditions were better, and my spirits revived. next day we left for stettin, where we took passage for ystad, a small seaport in southern sweden. now our real troubles began; part of the trip was arduous, and the low state of our finances permitted us nothing better than exposed deck-quarters. this was particularly trying, since the sea was rough, the weather tempestuous, and i both seasick and longing for home; moreover, on arriving at ystad, after a voyage of twelve hours or more, the health officer came on board our boat and notified us that, as cholera was epidemic in prussia, we were prohibited from landing! this filled me with mortal fear lest we should be returned to stettin under the same miserable conditions through which we had just passed; but this state of mind had its compensating influence, for my tears at the discouraging announcement worked upon the charity of the uniformed officials, and, in a short time, to my inexpressible delight, we were permitted to land. with a natural alertness to observe anything new in my experience, i shall never forget my first impressions of the ocean. there seemed no limit to the expanse of stormy waters over which we were traveling; and this fact alone added a touch of solemnity to my first venture from home. from ystad we proceeded to copenhagen, where my father had intimate friends, especially in the lachmann, eichel and ruben families, to whose splendid hospitality and unvarying kindness, displayed whenever i visited their neighborhood, i wish to testify. we remained at copenhagen a couple of months, and then proceeded to gothenburg. it was not at this time my father's intention to burden me with serious responsibility; and, having in mind my age, he gave me but little of the work to do, while he never failed to afford me, when he could, an hour of recreation or pleasure. the trip as a whole, therefore, was rather an educational experiment. in the fall of 1849, we returned to loebau for the winter. from this time until 1851 we made two trips together, very similar to the one already described; and in 1851, when i was seventeen years of age, i commenced helping in real earnest. by degrees, i was taught the process of manufacturing; and when at intervals a stock had been prepared, i made short trips to dispose of it. the blacking was a paste, put up in small wooden boxes, to be applied with a brush, such a thing as waterproof blacking then not being thought of, at least by us. during the summer of 1851, business carried me to haparanda, about the most northerly port in sweden; and from there i took passage, stopping at luleå, piteå, umeå, hernösand, sundsvall, söderhamn and gefle, all small places along the route. i transacted no business, however, on the trip up the coast because it was my intention to return by land, when i should have more time for trade; accordingly, on my way back to stockholm, i revisited all of these points and succeeded beyond my expectations. on my trip north, i sailed over the gulf of bothnia which, the reader will recollect, separates sweden from finland, a province most unhappily under russia's bigoted, despotic sway; and while at haparanda, i was seized with a desire to visit torneå, in finland. i was well aware that if i attempted to do so by the regular routes on land, it would be necessary to pass the russian customhouse, where officers would be sure to examine my passport; and knowing, as the whole liberal world now more than ever knows, that a person of jewish faith finds the merest sally beyond the russian border beset with unreasonable obstacles, i decided to walk across the wide marsh in the northern part of the gulf, and thus circumvent these exponents of intolerance. besides, i was curious to learn whether, in such a benighted country, blacking and ink were used at all. i set out, therefore, through the great moist waste, making my way without much difficulty, and in due time arrived at torneå, when i proceeded immediately to the first store in the neighborhood; but there i was destined to experience a rude, unexpected setback. an old man, evidently the proprietor, met me and straightway asked, "are you a jew?" and seeing, or imagining that i saw, a delay (perhaps not altogether temporary!) in a russian jail, i withdrew from the store without ceremony, and returned to the place whence i had come. notwithstanding this adventure, i reached stockholm in due season, the trip back consuming about three weeks; and during part of that period i subsisted almost entirely on salmon, bear's meat, milk, and _knäckebröd_, the last a bread usually made of rye flour in which the bran had been preserved. all in all, i was well pleased with this maiden-trip; and as it was then september, i returned to loebau to spend one more winter at home. chapter ii westward, ho! 1853 in april, 1853, when i had reached the age of nineteen, and was expected to take a still more important part in our business--an arrangement perfectly agreeable to me--my father and i resumed our selling and again left for sweden. for the sake of economy, as well as to be closer to our field of operations, we had established two insignificant manufacturing plants, the one at copenhagen, where we packed for two months, the other at gothenburg, where we also prepared stock; and from these two points, we operated until the middle of may, 1853. then a most important event occurred, completely changing the course of my life. in the spring, a letter was received from my brother, j. p. newmark, who, in 1848, had gone to the united states, and had later settled in los angeles. he had previously, about 1846, resided in england, as i have said; had then sailed to new york and tarried for a while in the east; when, attracted by the discovery of gold, he had proceeded to san francisco, arriving there on may 6th, 1851, being the first of our family to come to the coast. in this letter my brother invited me to join him in california; and from the first i was inclined to make the change, though i realized that much depended on my father. he looked over my shoulder while i read the momentous message; and when i came to the suggestion that i should leave for america, i examined my father's face to anticipate, if possible, his decision. after some reflection, he said he had no doubt that my future would be benefited by such a change; and while reluctant enough to let me go, he decided that as soon as practicable i ought to start. we calculated the amount of blacking likely to be required for our trade to the season's end, and then devoted the necessary time to its manufacture. my mother, when informed of my proposed departure, was beside herself with grief and forthwith insisted on my return to loebau; but being convinced that she intended to thwart my desire, and having in mind the very optimistic spirit of my brother's letter, i yielded to the influence of ambitious and unreflecting youth, and sorrowfully but firmly insisted on the execution of my plans. i feared that, should i return home to defend my intended course, the mutual pain of parting would still be great. i also had in mind my sisters and brothers (two of whom, johanna, still alive, and nathan, deceased, subsequently came to los angeles), and knew that each would appeal strongly to my affection and regret. this resolution to leave without a formal adieu caused me no end of distress; and my regret was the greater when, on friday, july 1st, 1853, i stood face to face with the actual realization, among absolute strangers on the deck of the vessel that was to carry me from gothenburg to hull and far away from home and kindred. with deep emotion, my father bade me good-bye on the gothenburg pier, nor was i less affected at the parting; indeed, i have never doubted that my father made a great sacrifice when he permitted me to leave him, since i must have been of much assistance and considerable comfort, especially during his otherwise solitary travels in foreign lands. i remember distinctly remaining on deck as long as there was the least vision of him; but when distance obliterated all view of the shore, i went below to regain my composure. i soon installed my belongings in the stateroom, or cabin as it was then called, and began to accustom myself to my new and strange environment. there was but one other passenger--a young man--and he was to have a curious part in my immediate future. as he also was bound for hull, we entered into conversation; and following the usual tendency of people aboard ship, we soon became acquaintances. i had learned the swedish language, and could speak it with comparative ease; so that we conversed without difficulty. he gave gothenburg as his place of residence, although there was no one at his departure to wish him god-speed; and while this impressed me strangely at the time, i saw in it no particular reason to be suspicious. he stated also that he was bound for new york; and as it developed that we intended to take passage on the same boat, we were pleased with the prospect of having each other's company throughout the entire voyage. soon our relations became more confidential and he finally told me that he was carrying a sum of money, and asked me to take charge of a part of it. unsophisticated though i was, i remembered my father's warning to be careful in transactions with strangers; furthermore, the idea of burdening myself with another's responsibility seeming injudicious, i politely refused his request, although even then my suspicions were not aroused. it was peculiar, to be sure, that when we steamed away from land, the young man was in his cabin; but it was only in the light of later developments that i understood why he so concealed himself. we had now entered the open sea, which was very rough, and i retired, remaining in my bunk for two days, or until we approached hull, suffering from the most terrible seasickness i have ever experienced; and not until we sailed into port did i recover my sea legs at all. having dressed, i again met my traveling companion; and we became still more intimate. on sunday morning we reached hull, then boasting of no such harbor facilities as the great humber docks now in course of construction; and having transferred our baggage to the train as best we could, we proceeded almost immediately on our way to liverpool. while now the fast english express crosses the country in about three hours, the trip then consumed the better part of the night and, being made in the darkness, afforded but little opportunity for observation. hardly had we arrived in liverpool, when i was surprised in a way that i shall never forget. while attempting to find our bundles as they came from the luggage van--a precaution necessitated by the poor baggage system then in vogue, which did not provide for checking--my companion and i were taken in hand by officers of the law, told that we were under arrest, and at once conducted to an examining magistrate! as my conscience was clear, i had no misgivings on account of the detention, although i did fear that i might lose my personal effects; nor was i at ease again until they were brought in for special inspection. our trunks were opened in the presence of the swedish consul who had come, in the meantime, upon the scene; and mine having been emptied, it was immediately repacked and closed. what was my amazement, however, when my fellow-traveler's trunk was found to contain a very large amount of money with which he had absconded from gothenburg! he was at once hurried away to police headquarters; and i then learned that, after our departure, messages had been sent to both hull and liverpool to stop the thief, but that through confusion in the description, doubtless due to the crude and incomplete information transmitted by telegraph (then by no means as thoroughly developed as now), the liverpool authorities had arrested the only two passengers arriving there who were known to have embarked at gothenburg, and i, unfortunately, happened to be one of them. at the period whereof i write, there was a semimonthly steamer service between liverpool and new york; and as bad luck would have it, the boat in which i was to travel paddled away while i was in the midst of the predicament just described, leaving me with the unpleasant outlook of having to delay my departure for america two full weeks. the one thing that consoled me was that, not having been fastidious as to my berth, i had not engaged passage in advance, and so was not further embarrassed by the forfeiture of hard-earned and much-needed money. as it was, having stopped at a moderately priced hotel for the night, i set out the next morning to investigate the situation. speaking no english, i was fortunate, a few days later, in meeting a swedish emigration agent who informed me that the _star king_, a three-masted sailing vessel in command of captain burland--both ship and captain hailing from baltimore--was booked to leave the following morning; and finding the office of the company, i engaged one of the six first-class berths in the saloon. there was no second-cabin, or i might have traveled in that class; and of steerage passengers the _star king_ carried more than eight hundred crowded and seasick souls, most of whom were irish. even in the first-class saloon, there were few, if any, of the ordinary comforts, as i soon discovered, while of luxuries there were none; and if one had the misfortune to lose even trifling delicacies such as i had, including half a dozen bottles of assorted syrups--put up by good mrs. lipman, on my leaving gothenburg, and dropped by a bungling porter--the inconvenience of the situation was intensified. we left liverpool--which, unlike hull, i have since seen on one of my several visits to europe--on the evening of the 10th of july. on my way to the cabin, i passed the dining table already arranged for supper; and as i had eaten very sparingly since my seasickness on the way to hull, i was fully prepared for a square meal. the absence not only of smoke, but of any smell as from an engine, was also favorable to my appetite; and when the proper time arrived, i did full justice to what was set before me. steamers then were infrequent on the atlantic, but there were many sailing vessels; and these we often passed, so close, in fact, as to enable the respective captains to converse with each other. in the beginning, we had an ample supply of fresh meat, eggs and butter, as well as some poultry, and the first week's travel was like a delightful pleasure excursion. after that, however, the meat commenced to deteriorate, the eggs turned stale, and the butter became rancid; and as the days passed, everything grew worse, excepting a good supply of cheese which possessed, as usual, the faculty of improving, rather than spoiling, as it aged. mountain water might justly have shown indignation if the contents of the barrels then on board had claimed relationship; while coffee and tea, of which we partook in the usual manner at the commencement of our voyage, we were compelled to drink, after a short time, without milk--the one black and the other green. notwithstanding these annoyances, i enjoyed the experience immensely, once i had recovered from my depression at leaving europe; for youth could laugh at such drawbacks, none of which, after all, seriously affected my naturally buoyant spirits. not until i narrowly escaped being shot, through the captain's careless handling of a derringer, was i roused from a monotonous, half-dreamy existence. [illustration: philipp neumark from a daguerreotype] [illustration: esther neumark from a daguerreotype] [illustration: j. p. newmark from a daguerreotype] [illustration: mr. and mrs. joseph newmark] [illustration: los angeles in the early fifties from a drawing of the pacific railway expedition] following this escape, matters progressed without special incident until we were off the coast of newfoundland, when we had every reason to expect an early arrival in new york. late one afternoon, while the vessel was proceeding with all sail set, a furious squall struck her, squarely amidships; and in almost as short a time as it takes to relate the catastrophe, our three masts were snapped asunder, falling over the side of the boat and all but capsizing her. the utmost excitement prevailed; and from the captain down to the ordinary seaman, all hands were terror-stricken. the captain believed, in fact, that there was no hope of saving his ship; and forgetful of all need of self-control and discipline, he loudly called to us, "every man for himself!" at the same time actually tearing at and plucking his bushy hair--a performance that in no wise relieved the crisis. in less than half an hour, the fury of the elements had subsided, and we found ourselves becalmed; and the crew, assisted by the passengers, were enabled, by cutting away chains, ropes and torn sails, to steady the ship and keep her afloat. after this was accomplished, the captain engaged a number of competent steerage passengers to help put up emergency masts, and to prepare new sails, for which we carried material. for twelve weary days we drifted with the current, apparently not advancing a mile; and during all this time the atlantic, but recently so stormy and raging, was as smooth as a mill-pond, and the wreckage kept close to our ship. it was about the middle of august when this disaster occurred, and not until we had been busy many days rigging up again did a stiff breeze spring up, enabling us to complete our voyage. on august 28th, 1853, exactly forty-nine days after our departure from liverpool, we arrived at new york, reaching sandy hook in a fog so dense that it was impossible to see any distance ahead; and only when the fog lifted, revealing the great harbor and showing how miraculously we had escaped collision with the numerous craft all about us, was our joy and relief at reaching port complete. i cannot recollect whether we took a pilot aboard or not; but i do know that the peculiar circumstances under which we arrived having prevented a health officer from immediately visiting us, we were obliged to cast anchor and await his inspection the next morning. during the evening, the captain bought fresh meat, vegetables, butter and eggs, offered for sale by venders in boats coming alongside; and with sharpened appetites we made short work of a fine supper, notwithstanding that various features of shore life, or some passing craft, every minute or two challenged our attention, and quite as amply we did justice, on the following morning, to our last breakfast aboard ship. as i obtained my first glimpse of new york, i thought of the hardships of my father there, a few years before, and of his compulsory return to europe; and i wondered what might have been my position among americans had he succeeded in new york. at last, on august 29th, 1853, under a blue and inspiriting sky and with both curiosity and hope tuned to the highest pitch, i first set foot on american soil, in the country where i was to live and labor the remainder of my life, whose flag and institutions i have more and more learned to honor and love. before leaving europe, i had been provided with the new york addresses of friends from loebau, and my first duty was to look them up. one of these, named lindauer, kept a boarding-house on bayard street near the five points, now, i believe, in the neighborhood of chinatown; and as i had no desire to frequent high-priced hotels, i made my temporary abode with him. i also located the house of rich brothers, associated with the san francisco concern of the same name and through whom i was to obtain funds from my brother with which to continue my journey; but as i had to remain in new york three weeks until their receipt, i could do little more in furthering my departure than to engage second-cabin passage _via_ nicaragua by a line running in opposition to the panamá route, and offering cheapness as its principal attraction. having attended to that, i spent the balance of the time visiting and seeing the city, and in making my first commercial venture in the new world. in my impatience to be doing something, i foolishly relieved samuel, a brother of kaspare cohn, and a nephew of mine, of a portion of his merchandise; but in a single day i decided to abandon peddling--a difficult business for which, evidently, i was never intended. after that, a painful experience with mosquitoes was my only unpleasant adventure. i did not know until later that an excited crowd of men were just then assembled in the neighborhood, in what was styled the universal ice-water convention, and that not far away a crowd of women, quite as demonstrative, excluded from the councils of men and led by no less a personality than p. t. barnum, the showman, were clamoring for both prohibition and equal suffrage! chapter iii new york--nicaragua--the golden gate 1853 on september 20th, during some excitement due to the fear lest passengers from new orleans afflicted with yellow-fever were being smuggled into the city despite the vigilance of the health authorities, i left new york for nicaragua, then popularly spoken of as the isthmus, sailing on the steamer _illinois_ as one of some eleven or twelve hundred travelers recently arrived from europe who were hurrying to california on that ship and the _star of the west_. the occasion afforded my numerous acquaintances a magnificent opportunity to give me all kinds of advice, in the sifting of which the bad was discarded, while some attention was paid to the good. one of the important matters mentioned was the danger from drinking such water as was generally found in the tropics unless it were first mixed with brandy; and this led me, before departing, to buy a gallon demijohn--a bulging bottle destined to figure in a ludicrous episode on my trip from sea to sea. i can recall little of the voyage to the eastern coast of nicaragua. we kept well out at sea until we reached the bahama islands, when we passed near mariguana, felt our way through the windward passage, and steered east of the island of jamaica; but i recollect that it became warmer and warmer as we proceeded farther south to about opposite mosquito gulf, where we shifted our position in relation to the sun, and that we consumed nine days in covering the two thousand miles or more between new york and san juan del norte, or grey town. from san juan del norte--in normal times, a hamlet of four or five hundred people clustered near one narrow, dirty street--we proceeded up the san juan river, nine hundred passengers huddled together on three flat-bottomed boats, until, after three or four days, our progress was interfered with, at castillo rapids, by a fall in the stream. there we had to disembark and climb the rough grade, while our baggage was carried up on a tramway; after which we continued our journey on larger boats, though still miserably packed together, until we had almost reached the mouth of lake nicaragua, when the water became so shallow that we had to trust ourselves to the uncertain _bongos_, or easily-overturned native canoes, or get out again and walk. it would be impossible to describe the hardships experienced on these crowded little steamboats, which were by no means one quarter as large as the _hermosa_, at present plying between los angeles harbor and catalina. the only drinking water that we could get came from the river, and it was then that my brandy served its purpose: with the addition of the liquor, i made the drink both palatable and safe. men, women and children, we were parched and packed like so many herring, and at night there was not only practically no space between passengers sleeping on deck, but the extremities of one were sure to interfere with the body of another. the heat was indeed intense; the mosquitoes seemed omnivorous; to add to which, the native officers in charge of our expedition pestered us with their mercenary proceedings. for a small cup of black coffee, a charge of fifty cents was made, which leaves the impression that food was scarce, else no one would have consented to pay so much for so little. this part of the trip was replete with misery to many, but fortunately for me, although the transportation company provided absolutely no conveniences, the hardships could not interfere with my enjoyment of the delightful and even sublime scenery surrounding us on all sides in this tropical country. as the river had no great width, we were at close range to the changing panorama on both banks; while the neighboring land was covered with gorgeous jungles and vegetation. here i first saw orange, lemon and cocoanut trees. monkeys of many kinds and sizes were to be seen; and birds of variegated colors were plentiful, almost innumerable varieties of parrots being visible. all these things were novel to me; and notwithstanding the great discomforts under which we traveled, i repeat that i enjoyed myself. a walk of a mile or two along the river bank, affording beneficial exercise, brought us to port san carlos, from which point a larger boat crossed the lake to virgin bay, where we took mules to convey us to san juan del sur. this journey was as full of hardship as it was of congeniality, and proved as interesting as it was amusing. imagine, if you please, nine hundred men, women and children from northern climes, long accustomed to the ways of civilization, suddenly precipitated, under an intensely hot tropical sun, into a small, central american landing, consisting of a few huts and some cheap, improvised tents (used for saloons and restaurants), every one in search of a mule or a horse, the only modes of transportation. the confusion necessarily following the preparation for this part of the trip can hardly be imagined: the steamship company furnished the army of animals, and the nervous tourists furnished the jumble! each one of the nine hundred travelers feared that there would not be enough animals for all, and the anxiety to secure a beast caused a stampede. in the scramble, i managed to get hold of a fine mule, and presently we were all mounted and ready to start. this conglomeration of humanity presented, indeed, a ludicrous sight; and i really believe that i must have been the most grotesque figure of them all. i have mentioned the demijohn of brandy, which a friend advised me to buy; but i have not mentioned another friend who told me that i should be in danger of sunstroke in this climate, and who induced me to carry an umbrella to protect myself from the fierce rays of the enervating sun. picture me, then, none too short and very lank, astride a mule, a big demijohn in one hand, and a spreading, green umbrella in the other, riding through this southern village, and practically incapable of contributing anything to the course of the mule. had the animal been left to his own resources, he might have followed the caravan; but in my ignorance, i attempted to indicate to him which direction he should take. my method was evidently not in accordance with the tradition of guiding in just that part of the world; and to make a long story short, the mule, with his three-fold burden, deftly walked into a restaurant, in the most innocent manner and to the very great amusement of the diners, but to the terrible embarrassment and consternation of the rider. after some difficulty (for the restaurant was hardly intended for such maneuvers as were required), we were led out of the tent. this experience showed me the necessity of abandoning either the umbrella or the brandy; and learning that lemonade could be had at points along the route, i bade good-bye to the demijohn and its exhilarating contents. from this time on, although i still displayed inexpertness in control, his muleship and i gradually learned to understand each other, and matters progressed very well, notwithstanding the intense heat, and the fatigue natural to riding so long in such an unaccustomed manner. the lemonade, though warm and, therefore, dear at ten cents a glass, helped to quench my thirst; and as the scenery was wonderful, i derived all the benefit and pleasure possible from the short journey. all in all, we traversed about twelve miles on mule or horseback, and finally arrived, about four o'clock in the afternoon of the day we had started, at san juan del sur, thus putting behind us the most disagreeable part of this uncomfortable trip. here it may be interesting to add that on our way across the isthmus, we met a crowd of disappointed travelers returning from the golden gate, on their way toward new york. they were a discouraged lot and loudly declared that california was nothing short of a _fiasco_; but, fortunately, there prevailed that weakness of human nature which impels every man to earn his own experience, else, following the advice of these discomfited people, some of us might have retraced our steps and thus completely altered our destinies. not until the publication, years later, of the _personal memoirs of general w. t. sherman_, did i learn, with peculiar interest, that the then rising soldier, returning to california with his young wife, infant child and nurse, had actually embarked from new york on the same day that i had, arriving in san francisco the same day that i arrived, and that therefore the shermans, whose experience with the mules was none the less trying and ridiculous than my own, must have been members of the same party with me in crossing the mosquito-infested isthmus. there was no appreciable variation in temperature while i was in nicaragua, and at san juan del sur (whose older portion, much like san juan del norte, was a village of the spanish-american type with one main street, up and down which, killing time, i wandered) the heat was just as oppressive as it had been before. people often bunked in the open, a hotel-keeper named green renting hammocks, at one dollar each, when all his beds had been taken. one of these hammocks i engaged; but being unaccustomed to such an aërial lodging, i was most unceremoniously spilled out, during a deep sleep in the night, falling only a few feet, but seeming, to my stirred-up imagination, to be sliding down through limitless space. here i may mention that this nicaragua route was the boom creation of a competitive service generally understood to have been initiated by those who intended, at the first opportunity, to sell out; and that since everybody expected to pack and move on at short notice, san juan del sur, suddenly enlarged by the coming and going of adventurers, was for the moment in part a community of tents, presenting a most unstable appearance. a picturesque little creek flowed by the town and into the pacific; and there a fellow-traveler, l. harris, and i decided to refresh ourselves. this was no sooner agreed upon than done; but a passer-by having excitedly informed us that the creek was infested with alligators, we were not many seconds in following his advice to scramble out, thereby escaping perhaps a fate similar to that which overtook, only a few years later, a near relative of mrs. henry hancock. at sundown, on the day after we arrived at san juan del sur, the pacific terminal, we were carried by natives through the surf to small boats, and so transferred to the steamer _cortez_; and then we started, amidst great rejoicing, on the last lap of our journey. we steamed away in a northerly direction, upon a calm sea and under the most favorable circumstances, albeit the intense heat was most unpleasant. in the course of about a week the temperature fell, for we were steadily approaching a less tropical zone. finally, on the 16th of october, 1853, we entered the golden gate. notwithstanding the lapse of many years, this first visit to san francisco has never been forgotten. the beauty of the harbor, the surrounding elevations, the magnificence of the day, and the joy of being at my journey's end, left an impression of delight which is still fresh and agreeable in my memory. all san francisco, so to speak, was drawn to the wharf, and enthusiasm ran wild. jacob rich, partner of my brother, was there to meet me and, without ceremony, escorted me to his home; and under his hospitable roof i remained until the morning when i was to depart for the still sunnier south. san francisco, in 1853, was much like a frontier town, devoid of either style or other evidences of permanent progress; yet it was wide-awake and lively in the extreme. what little had been built, bad and good, after the first rush of gold-seekers, had been destroyed in the five or six fires that swept the city just before i came, so that the best buildings i saw were of hasty and, for the most part, of frame construction. tents also, of all sizes, shapes and colors, abounded. i was amazed, i remember, at the lack of civilization as i understood it, at the comparative absence of women, and at the spectacle of people riding around the streets on horseback like mad. all sorts of excitement seemed to fill the air; everywhere there was a noticeable lack of repose; and nothing perhaps better fits the scene i would describe than some lines from a popular song of that time entitled, _san francisco in 1853_: city full of people, in a business flurry; everybody's motto, hurry! hurry! hurry! every nook and corner full to overflowing: like a locomotive, everybody going! one thing in particular struck me, and that was the unsettled state of the surface on which the new town was being built. i recall for example, the great quantity of sand that was continually being blown into the streets from sand-dunes uninterruptedly forming in the endless vacant lots, and how people, after a hard wind at night, would find small sand-heaps in front of their stores and residences; so that, in the absence of any municipal effort to keep the thoroughfares in order, the owners were repeatedly engaged in sweeping away the accumulation of sand, lest they might be overwhelmed. the streets were ungraded, although some were covered with planks for pavement, and presented altogether such an aspect of uncertainty that one might well believe general sherman's testimony that, in winter time, he had seen mules fall, unable to rise, and had even witnessed one drown in a pool of mud! sidewalks, properly speaking, there were none. planks and boxes--some filled with produce not yet unpacked--were strung along in irregular lines, requiring the poise of an acrobat to walk upon, especially at night. as i waded through the sand-heaps or fell over the obstructions designed as pavements, my thoughts reverted, very naturally, to my brother who had preceded me to san francisco two years before; but it was not until some years later that i learned that my distinguished fellow-countryman, heinrich schliemann, destined to wander farther to greece and asia minor, and there to search for ancient troy, had not only knocked about the sand-lots in the same manner in which i was doing, but, stirred by the discovery of gold and the admission of california to the union, had even taken on american citizenship. schliemann visited california in 1850 and became naturalized; nor did he ever, i believe, repudiate the act which makes the greatest explorer of ancient greece a burgher of the united states! during my short stay in san francisco, before leaving for los angeles, i made the usual rounds under the guidance of jacob rich. having just arrived from the tropics, i was not provided with an overcoat; and since the air was chilly at night, my host, who wore a talma or large cape, lent me a shawl, shawls then being more used than they are now. rich took me to a concert that was held in a one-story wooden shack, whereat i was much amazed; and afterward we visited a number of places of louder revelry. just as i found it to be a few days later in los angeles, so san francisco was filled with saloons and gambling-houses; and these institutions were in such contrast to the features of european life to which i had been accustomed, that they made a strong impression upon me. there were no restrictions of any sort, not even including a legal limit to their number, and people engaged in these enterprises because, in all probability, they were the most profitable. such resorts attracted criminals, or developed in certain persons latent propensities to wrong-doing, and perhaps it is no wonder that walker, but the summer previous, should have selected san francisco as headquarters for his filibustering expedition to lower california. by far the most talked-of man of that day was harry meiggs--popularly known as "honest harry"--who was engaged in various enterprises, and was a good patron of civic and church endeavor. he was evidently the advance guard of the boomer organization, and built the long wharf at north beach, on a spot now at commercial and montgomery streets, where later the australian convict, trying to steal a safe, was captured by the first vigilance committee; and so much was meiggs the envy of the less pyrotechnical though more substantial people, that i repeatedly had my attention called, during my brief stay in san francisco, to what was looked upon as his prodigious prosperity. but meiggs, useful as he was to the society of his day, finally ended his career by forging a lot of city scrip (a great deal of which he sold to w. t. sherman and his banking associates), and by absconding to peru, where he became prominent as a banker and a developer of mines. situated at the plaza--where, but three years before, on the admission of california as a state, the meeting of gold-seeking pioneers and lassoing natives had been symbolized with streaming banners, and the thirty-one stars were nailed to a rude pole--was the el dorado, the most luxurious gambling-place and saloon in the west, despite the existence near by of the bella union, the parker house and the empire. music, particularly native spanish or mexican airs, played its part there, as well as other attractions; and much of the life of the throbbing town centered in that locality. it is my impression that the water front was then sansome street; and if this be correct, it will afford some idea of the large territory in san francisco that is made ground. as there was then no stage line between san francisco and the south, i was compelled to continue my journey by sea; and on the morning of october 18th, i boarded the steamer _goliah_--whose captain was salisbury haley, formerly a surveyor from santa bárbara--bound for los angeles, and advertised to stop at monterey, san luis obispo, santa bárbara and one or two other landings formerly of importance but now more or less forgotten. there were no wharves at any of those places; passengers and freight were taken ashore in small boats; and when they approached shallow water, everything was carried to dry land by the sailors. this performance gave rise, at times, to most annoying situations; boats would capsize and empty their passengers into the water, creating a merriment enjoyed more by those who were secure than by the victims themselves. on october 21st we arrived a mile or so off san pedro, and were disembarked in the manner above described, having luckily suffered no such mishap as that which befell passengers on the steamship _winfield scott_ who, journeying from panamá but a month or so later, at midnight struck one of the anacapa islands, now belonging to ventura county, running dead on to the rocks. the vessel in time was smashed to pieces, and the passengers, several hundred in number, were forced to camp on the island for a week or more. almost from the time of the first visit of a steamer to san pedro, the _gold hunter_ (a side-wheeler which made the voyage from san francisco to mazatlán in 1849), and certainly from the day in january of that same year when temple & alexander put on their four-wheeled vehicle, costing one thousand dollars and the second in the county, there was competition in transporting passengers to los angeles. phineas banning, augustus w. timms, j. j. tomlinson, john goller, david w. alexander, josé rúbio and b. a. townsend were among the most enterprising commission men; and their keen rivalry brought about two landings--one controlled by banning, who had come to los angeles in 1851, and the other by timms, after whom one of the terminals was named. before i left san francisco, rich provided me with a letter of introduction to banning--who was then known, if i remember aright, as captain, though later he was called successively major and general--at the same time stating that this gentleman was a forwarding merchant. now, in european cities where i had heretofore lived, commission and forwarding merchants were a dignified and, to my way of thinking, an aristocratic class, which centuries of business experience had brought to a genteel perfection; and they would have found themselves entirely out of their element had their operations demanded their sudden translation, in the fifties, to the west coast of america. at any rate, upon arriving at san pedro i had expected to find a man dressed either in a uniform or a prince albert, with a high hat and other appropriate appurtenances, and it is impossible to describe my astonishment when banning was pointed out to me; for i knew absolutely nothing of the rough methods in vogue on the pacific coast. there stood before me a very large, powerful man, coatless and vestless, without necktie or collar, and wearing pantaloons at least six inches too short, a pair of brogans and socks with large holes; while bright-colored suspenders added to the picturesque effect of his costume. it is not my desire to ridicule a gentleman who, during his lifetime, was to be a good, constant friend of mine, but rather to give my readers some idea of life in the west, as well as to present my first impressions of southern california. the fact of the matter is that banning, in his own way, was even then such a man of affairs that he had bought, but a few months before, some fifteen wagons and nearly five times as many mules, and had paid almost thirty thousand dollars for them. i at once delivered the letter in which rich had stated that i had but a smattering of english and that it would be a favor to him if banning would help me safely on my way to los angeles; and banning, having digested the contents of the communication, looked me over from head to foot, shook hands and, in a stentorian voice--loud enough, i thought, to be heard beyond the hills--good-naturedly called out, "_wie geht's?_" after which, leading the way, and shaking hands again, he provided me with a good place on the stage. not a minute was lost between the arrival of passengers and the departure of coaches for los angeles in the early fifties. the competition referred to developed a racing tendency that was the talk of the pueblo. the company that made the trip in the shortest time usually obtained, through lively betting, the best of advertising and the largest patronage; so that, from the moment of leaving san pedro until the final arrival in los angeles two and a half hours later, we tore along at breakneck speed, over roads slowly traveled, but a few years before, by stockton's cannon. these roads never having been cared for, and still less inspected, were abominably bad; and i have often wondered that during such contests there were not more accidents. the stages were of the common western variety, and four to six broncos were always a feature of the equipment. no particular attention had been given to the harness, and everything was more or less primitive. the stage was provided with four rows of seats and each row, as a rule, was occupied by four passengers, the front row including the oft-bibulous driver; and the fare was five dollars. soon after leaving san pedro, we passed thousands of ground squirrels, and never having seen anything of the kind before, i took them for ordinary rats. this was not an attractive discovery; and when later we drove by a number of ranch houses and i saw beef cut into strings and hung up over fences to dry, it looked as though i had landed on another planet. i soon learned that dried beef or, as the natives here called it, _carne seca_ (more generally known, perhaps, at least among frontiersmen, as "jerked" beef or _jerky_) was an important article of food in southern california; but from the reminiscences of various pioneers i have known, it evidently astonished others as much as it did me. having reached the half-way house, we changed horses; then we continued and approached los angeles by san pedro street, which was a narrow lane, possibly not more than ten feet wide, with growing vineyards bordered by willow trees on each side of the road. it was on a sunday and in the midst of the grape season that i first beheld the city of the angels; and to these facts in particular i owe another odd and unfavorable first impression of the neighborhood. much of the work connected with the grape industry was done by indians and native mexicans, or californians, as they were called, and every saturday evening they received their pay. during saturday night and all day sunday, they drank themselves into hilarity and intoxication, and this dissipation lasted until sunday night. then they slept off their sprees and were ready to work monday morning. during each period of excitement, from one to three or four of these revelers were murdered. never having seen indians before, i supposed them to represent the citizenship of los angeles--an amusing error for which i might be pardoned when one reflects that nine out of forty-four of the founders of los angeles were indians, and that, according to an official census made the year before, los angeles county in 1852 had about thirty-seven hundred domesticated indians among a population of a little over four thousand whites; and this mistake as to the typical burgher, together with my previous experiences, added to my amazement. at last, with shouts and yells from the competing drivers, almost as deafening as the horn-blowing of a somewhat later date, and hailed apparently by every inhabitant and dog along the route, we arrived at the only real hotel in town, the bella union, where stages stopped and every city function took place. this hotel was a one-story, adobe house enlarged in 1858 to two stories, and located on main street above commercial; and dr. obed macy, who had bought it the previous spring from winston & hodges, was the proprietor. [illustration: bella union as it appeared in 1858 from a lithograph] [illustration: john goller's blacksmith shop from a lithograph of 1858] my friend, sam meyer (now deceased, but for fifty years or more treasurer of forty-two, the oldest masonic lodge in los angeles), who had come here a few months in advance of me, awaited the arrival of the stage and at once recognized me by my costume, which was anything but in harmony with southern california fashions of that time. my brother, j. p. newmark, not having seen me for several years, thought that our meeting ought to be private, and so requested sam to show me to his store. i was immediately taken to my brother's place of business where he received me with great affection; and there and then we renewed that sympathetic association which continued many years, until his death in 1895. chapter iv first adventures in los angeles 1853 once fairly well settled here, i began to clerk for my brother, who in 1852 had bought out a merchant named howard. for this service i received my lodging, the cost of my board, and thirty dollars each month. the charges for board at the bella union--then enjoying a certain prestige, through having been the official residence of pio pico when stockton took the city--were too heavy, and arrangements were made with a frenchman named john la rue, who had a restaurant on the east side of los angeles street, about two hundred feet south of bell's row. i paid him nine dollars a week for three more or less hearty meals a day, not including eggs, unless i provided them; in this case he agreed to prepare them for me. eggs were by no means scarce; but steaks and mutton and pork chops were the popular choice, and potatoes and vegetables a customary accompaniment. this la rue, or leroux, as he was sometimes called, was an interesting personality with an interesting history. born in france, he sailed for the united states about the time of the discovery of gold in california, and made his way to san francisco and the mines, where luck encouraged him to venture farther and migrate to mazatlán, mexico. while prospecting there, however, he was twice set upon and robbed; and barely escaping with his life, he once more turned northward, this time stopping at san pedro and los angeles. here, meeting miss bridget johnson, a native of ireland, who had just come from new york by way of san diego, la rue married her, notwithstanding their inability to speak each other's language, and then opened a restaurant, which he continued to conduct until 1858 when he died, as the result of exposure at a fire on main street. although la rue was in no sense an eminent citizen, it is certain that he was esteemed and mourned. prior to his death, he had bought thirty or thirty-five acres of land, on which he planted a vineyard and an orange-orchard; and these his wife inherited. in 1862, madame la rue married john wilson, also a native of ireland, who had come to los angeles during the year that the _restaurateur_ died. he was a blacksmith and worked for john goller, continuing in business for over twenty years, and adding greatly, by industry and wise management, to the dowry brought him by the thrifty widow. i distinctly recall la rue's restaurant, and quite as clearly do i remember one or two humorous experiences there. nothing in los angeles, perhaps, has ever been cruder than this popular eating-place. the room, which faced the street, had a mud-floor and led to the kitchen through a narrow opening. half a dozen cheap wooden tables, each provided with two chairs, stood against the walls. the tablecloths were generally dirty, and the knives and forks, as well as the furniture, were of the homeliest kind. the food made up in portions what it lacked in quality, and the diner rarely had occasion to leave the place hungry. what went most against my grain was the slovenliness of the proprietor himself. flies were very thick in the summer months; and one day i found a big fellow splurging in my bowl of soup. this did not, however, faze john la rue. seeing the struggling insect, he calmly dipped his coffee-colored fingers into the hot liquid and, quite as serenely, drew out the fly; and although one could not then be as fastidious as nowadays, i nevertheless found it impossible to eat the soup. on another occasion, however, mine host's equanimity was disturbed. i had given him two eggs one morning, to prepare for me, when councilman a. jacobi, a merchant and also a customer of la rue's, came in for breakfast, bringing one more egg than mine. presently my meal, unusually generous, was served, and without loss of time i disposed of it and was about to leave; when just then jacobi discovered that the small portion set before him could not possibly contain the three eggs he had supplied. now, jacobi was not only possessed of a considerable appetite, but had as well a definite unwillingness to accept less than his due, while la rue, on the other hand, was very easily aroused to a high pitch of gallic excitement; so that in less time than is required to relate the story, the two men were embroiled in a genuine franco-prussian dispute, all on account of poor la rue's unintentional interchange of the two breakfasts. soon after this encounter, jacobi, who was an amateur violinist of no mean order, and had fiddled himself into the affections of his neighbors, left for berlin with a snug fortune, and there after some years he died. having arranged for my meals, my brother's next provision was for a sleeping-place. a small, unventilated room adjoining the store was selected; and there i rested on an ordinary cot furnished with a mattress, a pillow, and a pair of _frazadas_, or blankets. according to custom, whatever of these covers i required were taken each evening from stock, and the next morning they were returned to the shelves. stores as well as houses were then almost without stoves or fireplaces; and as it grew colder, i found that the blankets gave little or no warmth. indeed they were nothing more or less, notwithstanding their slight mixture of wool, than ordinary horse-blankets, on which account in winter i had to use five or six of them to enjoy any comfort whatever; and since i experienced difficulty in keeping them on the cot, i resorted at last to the device of tacking them down on one side. in 1853, free-and-easy customs were in vogue in los angeles, permitting people in the ordinary affairs of life to do practically as they pleased. there were few if any restrictions; and if circumscribing city ordinances existed--except, perhaps, those of 1850 which, while licensing gaming places, forbade the playing of cards on the street--i do not remember what they were. as was the case in san francisco, neither saloons nor gambling places were limited by law, and there were no regulations for their management. as many persons as could make a living in this manner kept such establishments, which were conspicuous amid the sights of the town. indeed, chief among the surprises greeting me during my first few weeks upon the coast, the many and flourishing gambling dens caused me the greatest astonishment. through the most popular of these districts, a newly-found friend escorted me on the evening of my arrival in los angeles. the quarter was known by the euphonious title of calle de los negros--nigger alley; and this alley was a thoroughfare not over forty feet wide which led from aliso street to the plaza, an extent of just one unbroken block. at this period, there was a long adobe facing los angeles street, having a covered platform or kind of veranda, about four feet from the ground, running its entire length. the building commenced at what was later sanchez street, and reached, in an easterly direction, to within forty feet, more or less, of the east side of nigger alley, then continuing north to the plaza. this formed the westerly boundary, while a line of adobes on the other side of the street formed the easterly line. the structure first described, and which was demolished many years ago, later became the scene of the beginning of an awful massacre to which i shall refer in due season. each side of the alley was occupied by saloons and gambling houses. men and women alike were to be found there, and both sexes looked after the gaming tables, dealing monte and faro, and managing other contrivances that parted the good-natured and easy-going people from their money. those in charge of the banks were always provided with pistols, and were ready, if an emergency arose, to settle disputes on the spot; and only rarely did a case come up for adjustment before the properly-constituted authorities, such as that in 1848, which remained a subject of discussion for some time, when counterfeiters, charged with playing at monte with false money, were tried before a special court made up of abel stearns and stephen c. foster. time was considered a very important element during the play; and sanguinary verdicts in financial disputes were generally rendered at once. human life at this period was about the cheapest thing in los angeles, and killings were frequent. nigger alley was as tough a neighborhood, in fact, as could be found anywhere, and a large proportion of the twenty or thirty murders a month was committed there. about as plentiful a thing, also, as there was in the pueblo was liquor. this was served generously in these resorts, not only with respect to quantity, but as well regarding variety. in addition to the prodigality of feasting, there was no lack of music of the native sort--the harp and the guitar predominating. these scenes were picturesque and highly interesting. nigger alley, for a while the headquarters for gamblers, enjoyed through that circumstance a certain questionable status; but in the course of years it came to be more and more occupied by the chinese, and given over to their opium-dens, shops and laundries. there, also, their peculiar religious rites were celebrated in just as peculiar a joss house, the hideously-painted gods not in the least becoming a deterrent factor. juan apablasa was among those who owned considerable property in chinatown, and a street in that quarter perpetuates his name. having crossed the plaza, we entered sonora town, where my friend told me that every evening there was much indulgence in drinking, smoking and gambling, and quite as much participation in dancing. some of this life, which continued in full swing until the late seventies, i witnessed on my first evening in los angeles. returning to main street, formerly calle principal, we entered the montgomery, one of the well-known gambling houses--a one-story adobe about a hundred feet in width, in front of which was a shaded veranda--situated nearly opposite the stearns home, and rather aristocratic, not only in its furnishings but also in its management. this resort was managed by the fearless william c., or billy getman, afterward sheriff of los angeles county, whom i saw killed while trying to arrest a lunatic. the montgomery was conducted in an orderly manner, and catered to the most fastidious people of los angeles, supplying liquors of a correspondingly high grade; the charge for a drink there being invariably twenty-five cents. it was provided with a billiard parlor, where matches were often arranged for a stake of hundreds of dollars. games of chance there were for every requirement, the long and the short purse being equally well accommodated. the ranch owner could bet his hundreds, while he of lowlier estate might tempt the fickle goddess according to his narrower means. a fraternity of gamblers almost indigenous to california, and which has been celebrated and even, to an extent, glorified by such writers as mark twain, bret harte and others, was everywhere then in evidence in los angeles; and while it is true that their vocation was illegitimate, many of them represented nevertheless a splendid type of man: generous, honest in methods, courageous in operations and respected by everybody. it would be impossible, perhaps, to describe this class as i knew them and at the same time to satisfy the modern ideal; but pioneers will confirm my tribute to these early gamesters (among whom they may recall brand phillips) and their redeeming characteristics. as i have said, my brother, j. p. newmark, was in partnership with jacob rich, the gentleman who met me when i reached san francisco; their business being dry-goods and clothing. they were established in j. n. padilla's adobe on the southeast corner of main and requena streets, a site so far "out of town" that success was possible only because of their catering to a wholesale clientele rather than to the retail trade; and almost opposite them, ex-mayor john g. nichols conducted a small grocery in a store that he built on the main street side of the property now occupied by temple block. there was an old adobe wall running north and south along the east line of the lot, out of which nichols cut about fifteen feet, using this property to a depth of some thirty feet, thus forming a rectangular space which he enclosed. here he carried on a modest trade which, even in addition to his other cares, scarcely demanded his whole time; so that he would frequently visit his neighbors, among whom newmark & rich were his nearest friends. often have i seen him therefore, long and lank, seated in my brother's store tilted back in a chair against the wall or merchandise, a cigar, which he never lighted, in his mouth, exhorting his hearers to be patriotic and to purchase city land at a dollar an acre, thereby furnishing some of the taxes necessary to lubricate the municipal machinery. little did any of us realize, as we listened to this man, that in the course of another generation or so there would spring into life a prosperous metropolis whose very heart would be situated near where old mayor nichols was vainly endeavoring to dispose of thirty-five-acre bargains at thirty-five dollars each--a feature of municipal coöperation with prospective settlers which was inaugurated august 13th, 1852, and repealed through dissatisfaction in 1854. nichols, who, with j. s. mallard and lewis granger, brought one of the first three american families to settle here permanently, and who married a sister of mrs. mallard, was the father of john gregg nichols, always claimed to be the first boy born (april 24th, 1851), of american parents, in los angeles. nichols when mayor was never neglectful of his official duties, as may be seen from his record in providing hancock's survey, his construction of the bath street school, his encouragement of better irrigation facilities, his introduction of the first fruit grafts--brought, by the way, from far-off new york--and his reëlection as mayor in 1856, 1857, and 1858. in 1869, another son, daniel b. nichols, of whom i shall speak, was a participant in a fatal shooting affray here. a still earlier survey than that of hancock was made by lieutenant edward o. c. ord--later distinguished in the union army where, singularly enough, he was fighting with rosecrans, in time a resident of los angeles--who, in an effort to bring order out of the pueblo chaos, left still greater confusion. to clear up the difficulty of adobes isolated or stranded in the middle of the streets, the common council in 1854 permitted owners to claim a right of way to the thoroughfares nearest their houses. this brings to mind the fact that the _vara_, a spanish unit equal to about thirty-three inches, was a standard in real estate measurements even after the advent of ord, hancock and hansen, who were followed by such surveyors as p. j. virgen (recalled by virgen street) and his partner hardy; and also that the _reata_ was often used as a yardstick--its uncertain length having contributed, without doubt, to the chaotic condition confronting ord. graded streets and sidewalks were unknown; hence, after heavy winter rains mud was from six inches to two feet deep, while during the summer dust piled up to about the same extent. few city ordinances were obeyed; for notwithstanding that a regulation of the city council called on every citizen to sweep in front of his house to a certain point on saturday evenings, not the slightest attention was paid to it. into the roadway was thrown all the rubbish: if a man bought a new suit of clothes, a pair of boots, a hat or a shirt, to replace a corresponding part of his apparel that had outlived its usefulness, he would think nothing, on attiring himself in the new purchase, of tossing the discarded article into the street where it would remain until some passing indian, or other vagabond, took possession of it. so wretched indeed were the conditions, that i have seen dead animals left on the highways for days at a time, and can recall one instance of a horse dying on alameda street and lying there until a party of indians cut up the carcass for food. what made these street conditions more trying was the fact that on hot days roads and sidewalks were devoid of shade, except for that furnished by a few scattered trees or an occasional projecting veranda; while at night (if i except the illumination from the few lanterns suspended in front of barrooms and stores) thoroughfares were altogether unlighted. in those nights of dark streets and still darker tragedies, people rarely went out unless equipped with candle-burning lanterns, at least until camphine was imported by my brother, after which this was brought into general use. stores were lighted in the same manner: first with candles, then with camphine and finally with coal-oil, during which period of advancement lamps replaced the cruder contrivances. southern california from the first took an active part in state affairs. edward hunter and charles e. carr were the assemblymen from this district in 1853; and the following year they were succeeded by francis mellus and dr. wilson w. jones. carr was a lawyer who had come in 1852; hunter afterward succeeded pablo de la guerra as marshal. jones was the doctor who just about the time i came, while returning from a professional call at the lugos at about sunset, nearly rode over the bleeding and still warm body of a cattle-buyer named porter, on alameda street. the latter had been out to the dominguez _rancho_, to purchase stock, and had taken along with him a mexican named manuel vergara who introduced himself as an experienced interpreter and guide, but who was, in reality, a cutthroat with a record of one or two assassinations. vergara observed that porter possessed considerable money; and on their way back to los angeles shot the american from behind. jones quickly gave the alarm; and banning, stanley and others of the volunteer mounted police pursued the murderer for eighty-five or ninety miles when, the ammunition of all parties being exhausted, vergara turned on the one vigilante who had caught up with him and, with an adroit thrust of his knife, cut the latter's bridle and escaped. in the end, however, some of major heintzelman's cavalry at yuma (who had been informed by a fleet indian hired to carry the news of the fugitive's flight) overtook vergara and shot him dead. these volunteer police or rangers, as they were called, were a company of one hundred or more men under command of dr. a. w. hope, and included such well-known early settlers as nichols, j. g. downey, s. c. foster, agustin olvera, juan sepúlveda, horace bell, m. keller, banning, benjamin hayes, f. l. guirado, david alexander, j. l. brent and i. s. k. ogier. under the new order of things, too, following the adoption in 1849 of a state constitution, county organization in los angeles was effected; and by the time i declared myself for american citizenship, several elections had been held. benjamin hayes was district judge in 1853; agustin olvera was finishing his term as county judge; dr. wilson w. jones was county clerk and recorder--two offices not separated for twenty years or until 1873; lewis granger was county attorney; henry hancock was surveyor; francis mellus (who succeeded don manuel garfias, once the princely owner but bad manager of the san pasqual _rancho_), was treasurer; a. f. coronel was assessor; james r. barton was sheriff and also collector of taxes; and j. s. mallard, whose name was given to mallard street, was coroner. russell sackett was a justice of the peace here when i arrived; and after a while mallard had a court as justice, near my store on commercial street. all in all, a group of rather strong men! the administrative officials of both the city and the county had their headquarters in the one-story adobe building at the northwest corner of franklin alley (later called jail street[1]) and spring street. in addition to those mentioned, there was a justice of the peace, a _zanjero_, and a jailer. antónio franco coronel had but recently succeeded nichols as mayor; a. s. beard was marshal and tax collector; judge william g. dryden was clerk; c. e. carr was attorney; ygnácio coronel was assessor; and s. arbuckle was treasurer. antónio franco coronel, after whom coronel street is named, had just entered upon the duties of mayor, and was busy enough with the disposal of donation lots when i first commenced to observe los angeles' government. he came from mexico to california with his father, don ygnácio f. coronel; and by 1850 he was the first county assessor. he lived at what is now alameda and seventh streets, and had a brother, manuel, who was city assessor in 1858. major henry hancock, a new hampshire lawyer and surveyor, came to los angeles in 1852, and at the time of my arrival had just made the second survey of the city, defining the boundaries of the thirty-five-acre city lots. i met him frequently, and by 1859 i was well acquainted with him. he then owed newmark, kremer & company some money and offered, toward liquidation of the debt, one hundred and ten acres of land lying along washington and extending as far as the present pico street. it also reached from main street to what is now grand avenue. newmark, kremer & company did not wish the land, and so arranged with hancock to take firewood instead. from time to time, therefore, he brought great logs into town, to be cut up; he also bought a circular saw, which he installed, with horse-power and tread-mill, in a vacant lot on spring street, back of joseph newmark's second residence. the latter was on main street, between first and the northern junction of main and spring; and between this junction and first street, it may be interesting to note, there was in 1853 no thoroughfare from main to spring. as i was living there, i acted as his agent for the sale of the wood that was left after our settlement. the fact is that hancock was always land poor, and never out of debt; and when he was particularly hard up, he parted with his possessions at whatever price they would bring. the major (earlier known as captain hancock, who enjoyed his titles through his association with the militia) retained, however, the celebrated la brea _rancho_--bought at a very early date from a. j. rocha, and lying between the city and the sea--which he long thought would furnish oil, but little dreamt would also contain some of the most important prehistoric finds; and this ranch, once managed by his wife, a daughter of colonel augustin haraszthy, the san francisco pioneer, is now owned by his son, george allan hancock. george hansen, to whose far-reaching foresight we owe the elysian park of to-day, was another professional man who was here before i reached los angeles, having come to california in 1850, by way of cape horn and peru. when he arrived at los angeles, in 1853, as he was fond of recounting, he was too poor to possess even surveying instruments; but he found a friend in john temple, who let him have one hundred dollars at two per cent interest per month, then a very low rate. thereupon hansen sent to san francisco for the outfit that enabled him to establish himself. i met hansen for the first time in the last few weeks of 1853, when he came to my brother's store to buy a suit of clothes, his own being in rags. he had been out, very probably, on an expedition such as subjected a surveyor, particularly in the early days, to much hard work and fatigue. hansen, a good student and fine linguist, was prominent for many years and made more land measurements hereabouts than did any one else; he had the real management, in fact, of hancock's second survey. among others who were here, i might mention the wheeler brothers. colonel john ozias wheeler, at various times an office-holder, came to california from florida, and having endured many hardships on the trip along the mississippi, arkansas and gila rivers, arrived at the chino _rancho_ on august 12th, 1849, afterward assisting isaac williams in conveying a train of supplies back to the colorado river. the next year he was joined by his brother, horace z. wheeler, who came by way of the isthmus, and later rose to be appraiser-general of the imperial customs at yokohama; and the two young men were soon conducting a general merchandise business in los angeles--if i recollect aright, in a one-story adobe at the northeast corner of main and commercial streets. extravagant stories have been printed as to wheeler's mercantile operations, one narrative crediting him with sales to the extent of five thousand dollars or more a day. in those times, however, no store was large enough to contain such a stock; and two successive days of heavy sales would have been impossible. in 1851 colonel wheeler, who had been on general andrés pico's staff, served as a ranger; and in 1853 he organized the first military company in los angeles. manuel requena, from yucatan, was another man of influence. he lived on the east side of los angeles street, north of the thoroughfare opened through his vineyard and named after him--later extended east of los angeles street. as early as june, 1836, requena, then _alcalde_, made a census of this district. he was a member of the first, as well as the second, third, fifth and seventh common councils, and with david w. alexander was the only member of the first body to serve out the entire term. in 1852, requena was elected a supervisor. mrs. requena was a sister of mrs. alexander bell and mrs. james, or santiago johnson, and an aunt of henry and francis mellus and mrs. j. h. lander. requena died on june 27th, 1876, aged seventy-four years. henry n. alexander appeared in los angeles at about the same time that i did--possibly afterward--and was very active as a ranger. he too occupied positions of trust, in business as well as public life, being both city and county treasurer--in the latter case, preceding maurice kremer. it is not surprising, therefore, that he became wells fargo & company's agent when much uphill work had to be done to establish their interests here. he married a daughter of don pedro dominguez. alexander moved to arizona, after which i lost track of him. john w. shore, who was here in 1853, was county clerk from 1854 to 1857, and again from 1860 to 1863. he always canvassed for votes on horseback until, one day, he fell off and broke his leg, necessitating amputation. this terminated his active campaigns; but through sympathy he was reëlected, and by a larger majority. shore was a democrat. mention of public officials leads me to speak of an interesting personality long associated with them. on the west side of spring street near first, where the schumacher building now stands, john schumacher conducted, in a single room, as was then common, a grocery store and bar. a good-hearted, honest german of the old school, and a first-class citizen, he had come from würtemberg to america, and then, with stevenson's regiment, to california, arriving in los angeles in 1847 or 1848. from here he went to sutter's creek, where he found a nugget of gold worth eight hundred dollars, for which he was offered land in san francisco later worth millions--a tender which the würtemberger declined; and the same year that i arrived, he returned to los angeles, whose activity had increased considerably since he had last seen it. in 1855, schumacher married fräulein mary uhrie, from which union six children including two sons, john and frank g. schumacher, were born. the eldest daughter became mrs. edward a. preuss. schumacher established his store, having bought nearly the whole block bounded by spring and first streets and franklin alley for the value of his famous gold nugget; and there he remained until the early seventies, the schumacher block being built, as i have said, on a part of the property. mrs. schumacher in 1880 met with a tragic death: while at the railway station in merced, she was jolted from the platform of a car and was instantly killed. for something else, however, schumacher was especially known. when he returned in 1853, he put on sale the first lager beer introduced into los angeles, importing the same from san francisco, of which enterprise the genial german was proud; but schumacher acquired even more fame for a drink that he may be said to have invented, and which was known to the early settlers as _peach and honey_. it contained a good mixture with peach brandy, and was a great favorite, especially with politicians and frequenters of the neighboring courthouse, including well-known members of the bar, all of whom crowded john's place, "between times," to enjoy his much-praised concoction. whenever in fact anyone had a cold, or fancied that he was going to be so afflicted, he hastened to john for his reputedly-certain cure. schumacher, who served as councilman in 1855, 1856 and 1857, was proficient in languages and, as an interpreter, often gave his time and services freely in assisting his less-gifted neighbors, particularly the poor and unfortunate, to straighten out their affairs. in the fall of 1860, he had a narrow escape through the carelessness of a customer who threw a lighted match into a can of powder. schumacher owned some acreage in what was known as the green meadows, a section located near what is now south figueroa street; and this land he held with jacob bell, who was assassinated, as i shall relate, by a frenchman named lachenais--hanged, in turn, by an exasperated mob. most political meetings of that period took place at the plaza home of don ygnácio del valle, first county recorder. from 1841, don ygnácio lived for some time on the san francisco _rancho_ granted by the king of spain to his father and confirmed by patent in 1875. he also owned the more famous camulos _rancho_ on the santa clara river, consisting of several thousand acres north and west of newhall, afterward selected by helen hunt jackson as the setting for some of the scenes in her novel, _ramona_; and these possessions made him a man of great importance. during his later life, when he had abandoned his town residence, del valle dwelt in genteel leisure at the _rancho_, dying there in 1880; and i will not miss this opportunity to attest his patrician bearing and genial qualities. at the time of my arrival, there was but one voting precinct and the polling place was located at the old municipal and county adobe already spoken of; although later a second polls was established at the round house. inside the room sat the election judges and clerks; outside a window stood the jam of voters. the window-sill corresponded to the thickness of the adobe wall, and was therefore about three feet deep. this sill served as a table, upon it being placed a soapor candle-box, into which a hole had been cut for the deposit of the votes. there was also no register, either great or small, and anyone could vote. each party printed its own tickets; and so could any candidate. this resulted in great confusion, since there were always many tickets in the field--as many, in fact, as there were candidates; yet the entire proceeding had become legalized by custom. the candidate of one party could thus use the ticket of the other, substituting his own name for his opponent's, and leaving all of the remainder of the ticket unchanged; in addition to which there was such a lack of uniformity in the size and color of the ballots as greatly to add to the confusion in counting. to make matters worse, the ballot-box was not easily reached because of the crowd which was made up largely of the candidates and their friends. challenging was the order of the day; yet, after crimination and recrimination, the votes were generally permitted to be cast. although it is true, of course, that many votes were legitimate, yet aliens such as mexicans, who had not even considered the question of taking out citizenship papers, were permitted to vote while indians and half-breeds, who were not eligible to citizenship at all, were irregularly given the franchise. the story is told of an election not far from los angeles at which a whole tribe of indians was voted; while on another occasion the names on a steamer's passenger-list were utilized by persons who had already voted, that very day, once or twice! cutting off the hair, shaving one's beard or mustache, reclothing or otherwise transforming the appearance of the voter--these were some of the tricks then practiced, which the new registry law of 1866 only partially did away with. sonorans, who had recently arrived from mexico, as well as the aliens i have mentioned, were easy subjects for the political manipulator. the various candidates, for example, would round-up these prospective voters like so many cattle, confine them in corrals (usually in the neighborhood of boyle heights), keep them in a truly magnificent state of intoxication until the eventful morning, and then put them in stages hired from either banning or tomlinson for the purpose; and from the time the temporary prisoners left the corral until their votes had been securely deposited, they were closely watched by guards. on reaching the voting place, the captives were unloaded from the stage like so much inanimate baggage, and turned over to friends of the candidate to whom, so to speak, for the time being they belonged. one at a time, these creatures were led to vote; and as each staggered to the ballot-box, a ticket was held up and he was made to deposit it. once having served the purpose, he was turned loose and remained free until another election unless, as i have intimated, he and his fellows were again corralled and made to vote a second or even a third time the same day. nearly all influential mexicans were democrats, so that this party easily controlled the political situation; from which circumstance a certain brief campaign ended in a most amusing manner. it happened that thomas h. workman, brother of william h., once ran for county clerk, although he was not a democrat. billy was naturally much interested in his brother's candidacy, and did what he could to help him. on the evening before election, he rented a corral--located near what is now macy street and mission road, on property later used by charles f., father of alfred stern, and for years in partnership with l. j. rose; and there, with the assistance of some friends, he herded together about one hundred docile though illegal voters, most of whom were indians, kept them all night and, by supplying fire-water liberally, at length led them into the state of bewilderment necessary for such an occasion. the democratic leaders, however, having learned of this magnificent _coup_, put their heads together and soon resolved to thwart billy's plan. in company with some prominent mexican politicians led by tomás sanchez, they loaded themselves into a stage and visited the corral; and once arrived there, those that could made such flowery stump speeches in the native language of the horde that, in fifteen or twenty minutes, they had stampeded the whole band! billy entered a vigorous protest, saying that the votes were _his_ and that it was a questionable and even a damnable trick; but all his protests were of no avail: the bunch of corralled voters had been captured in a body by the opposition, deciding the contest. these were the methods then in vogue in accordance with which it was considered a perfectly legitimate transaction to buy votes, and there was no secret made of the _modus operandi_ by either party. during these times of agitated politics, newspapers (such as they were) played an important part. in them were published letters written by ambitious candidates to themselves and signed, "the people," "a disinterested citizen," or some equally anonymous phrase. as an exception to the usual maneuver, however, the following witty announcement was once printed by an office-seeker: george n. whitman, not having been requested by "many friends," or solicited by "many voters," to become a candidate for the office of township constable, at the end of the ensuing september election, offers himself. here i am reminded of an anecdote at the expense of john quincy adams stanley, who in 1856 ran for sheriff against david w. alexander, and was county assessor in the middle seventies. stanley was a very decent but somewhat over-trusting individual; and ignoring suggestions as to expenditures for votes, too readily believed promises of support by the voters of the county, almost every one of whom gave him a favorable pledge in the course of the campaign. when the ballots were counted, however, and stanley learned that he had received just about fifty votes, he remarked, rather dryly: "i didn't know that there were so many _damned liars_ in the county!" another interesting factor in early elections was the vote of teháchepi, then in los angeles county. about thirty votes were cast there; but as communication with los angeles was irregular, it was sometimes necessary to wait a week or more to know what bearing the decision of teháchepi had on the general result. footnote: [1] in april, 1872, officially named franklin street. chapter v lawyers and courts 1853 in the primitive fifties there were but comparatively few reputable lawyers in this neighborhood; nor was there, perhaps, sufficient call for their services to insure much of a living to many more. to a greater extent even than now, attorneys were called "judge;" and at the time whereof i write, the most important among them were jonathan r. scott, benjamin hayes, j. lancaster brent, myron norton, general ezra drown, benjamin s. eaton, cameron e. thom, james h. lander, lewis granger, isaac stockton, keith ogier, edward j. c. kewen and joseph r. gitchell. in addition to these, there was a lawyer named william g. dryden, of whom i shall presently speak, and one kimball h. dimmick, who was largely devoted to criminal practice. scott, who had been a prominent lawyer in missouri, stood very high, both as to physique and reputation. in addition to his great stature, he had a splendid constitution and wonderful vitality and was identified with nearly every important case. about march, 1850, he came here an overland emigrant, and was made one of the two justices of the peace who formed, with the county judge, on june 24th, the first court of sessions. he then entered into partnership with benjamin hayes, continuing in joint practice with him until april, 1852, after which he was a member successively of the law firms of scott & granger, scott & lander, and scott, drown & lander. practicing law in those days was not without its difficulties, partly because of the lack of law-books; and scott used to tell in his own vehement style how, on one occasion, when he was defending a french sea captain against charges preferred by a rich peruvian passenger, he was unable to make much headway because there was but one volume (kent's _commentaries_) in the whole pueblo that threw any light, so to speak, on the question; which lack of information induced _alcalde_ stearns to decide against scott's client. although the captain lost, he nevertheless counted out to scott, in shining gold-pieces, the full sum of one thousand dollars as a fee. in 1859, a daughter of scott married alfred beck chapman, a graduate of west point, who came to los angeles and fort tejón, as an officer, about 1854. chapman later studied law with scott, and for twenty years practiced with andrew glassell. in 1863, chapman succeeded m. j. newmark as city attorney; and in 1868, he was elected district attorney. if i recollect rightly, scott died in the sixties, survived by mrs. scott--a sister of both mrs. j. s. mallard and mrs. j. g. nichols--and a son, j. r. scott, admitted in 1880 to practice in the supreme court. hayes was district judge when i came, and continued as such for ten or twelve years. his jurisdiction embraced los angeles, san diego, san luis obispo and santa bárbara counties; and the latter section then included ventura county. the judge had regular terms in these districts and was compelled to hold court at all of the county seats. a native of baltimore, hayes came to los angeles on february 3d, 1850--followed on st. valentine's day, 1852, by his wife whose journey from st. louis, _via_ new orleans, havana and panamá, consumed forty-three days on the steamers. he was at once elected the first county attorney, and tried the famous case against the irving party. about the same time hayes formed his partnership with scott. in january, 1855, and while district judge, hayes sentenced the murderer brown; and in 1858 he presided at pancho daniel's trial. hayes continued to practice for many years, and was known as a jurist of high standing, though on account of his love for strong drink, court on more than one occasion had to be adjourned. during his residence here, he was known as an assiduous collector of historical data. he was a brother of both miss louisa hayes, the first woman public-school teacher in los angeles, later the wife of dr. j. s. griffin, and miss helena hayes, who married benjamin s. eaton. judge hayes died on august 4th, 1877. brent, a native of the south, was also a man of attainment, arriving here in 1850 with a fairly representative, though inadequate library, and becoming in 1855 and 1856 a member of the state assembly. he had such wonderful influence, as one of the democratic leaders, that he could nominate at will any candidate; and being especially popular with the mexican element, could also tell a good story or two about fees. when trouble arose in 1851 between several members of the lugo family and the indians, resulting finally in an attempted assassination and the narrow escape from death of judge hayes (who was associated with the prosecution of the case), several of the lugos were tried for murder; and brent, whose defense led to their acquittal, received something like twenty thousand dollars for his services. he was of a studious turn of mind and acquired most of hugo reid's indian library. when the civil war broke out, brent went south again and became a confederate brigadier-general. brent street bears his name. norton, a vermonter, who had first practiced law in new york, then migrated west, and had later been a prime mover for, and a member of, the first california constitutional convention, and who was afterward superior court judge at san francisco, was an excellent lawyer, when sober, and a good fellow. he came to the coast in the summer of 1848, was made first lieutenant and chief-of-staff of the california volunteers, and drifted in 1852 from monterey to los angeles. he joined bean's volunteers, and in 1857 delivered here a flowery fourth of july oration. norton was the second county judge, succeeding agustin olvera and living with the latter's family at the plaza; and it was from norton's court of sessions, in may, 1855, that the dark-skinned juan flores was sent to the state prison, although few persons suspected him to be guilty of such criminal tendencies as he later developed. norton died in los angeles in 1887; and norton avenue recalls his life and work. judge hayes' successor, don pablo de la guerra, was born in the _presidio_ of santa bárbara in 1819, a member of one of the most popular families of that locality. although a spaniard of the spaniards, he had been educated in an eastern college, and spoke english fluently. four times he was elected state senator from santa bárbara and san luis obispo, and was besides a member of the constitutional convention of 1849. late in 1863, he was a candidate for district judge when a singular opposition developed that might easily have led, in later years at least, to his defeat. a large part of the population of santa bárbara was related to him by blood or marriage; and it was argued that, if elected, de la guerra in many cases would be disqualified from sitting as judge. on january 1st, 1864, however, don pablo took up the work as district judge where hayes surrendered it. just as de la guerra in 1854 had resigned in favor of hunter, before completing his term as united states marshal, so now toward the end of 1873, de la guerra withdrew on account of ill-health from the district judgeship, and on february 5th, 1874, he died. drown was a lawyer who came here a few months before i did, having just passed through one of those trying ordeals which might easily prove sufficient to destroy the courage and ambition of any man. he hailed from iowa, where he had served as brigadier-general of militia, and was bound up the coast from the isthmus on the steamer _independence_ when it took fire, off lower california, and burned to the water's edge. general drown, being a good swimmer and a plucky fellow, set his wife adrift on a hencoop and then put off for shore with his two children on his back. having deposited them safely on the beach, he swam back to get his wife; but a brutal fellow-passenger pushed the fainting woman off when her agonized husband was within a few feet of her; she sank beneath the waves, and he saw his companion go to her doom at the moment she was about to be rescued. though broken in spirit, drown on landing at san pedro came to los angeles with his two boys, and put his best foot forward. he established himself as a lawyer and in 1858 became district attorney, succeeding cameron e. thom; and it was during his term that pancho daniel was lynched. in 1855, too, drown instituted the first los angeles lodge of odd fellows. drown was an able lawyer, eloquent and humorous, and fairly popular; but his generosity affected his material prosperity, and he died, at san juan capistrano, on august 17th, 1863, none too blessed with this world's goods. dimmick, who at one time occupied an office in the old temple block on main street, had rather an eventful career. born in connecticut, he learned the printer's trade; then he studied law and was soon admitted to practice in new york; and in 1846 he sailed with colonel j. d. stevenson, in command of company k, landing, six months later, at the picturesquely-named yerba buena, on whose slopes the bustling town of san francisco was so soon to be founded. when peace with mexico was established, dimmick moved to san josé; after which with foster he went to the convention whose mission was to frame a state constitution, and was later chosen judge of the supreme court. in 1852, after having revisited the east and been defrauded of practically all he possessed by those to whom he had entrusted his california affairs, dimmick came to los angeles and served as justice of the peace, notary public and county judge. he was also elected district attorney, and at another time was appointed by the court to defend the outlaw, pancho daniel. dimmick's practice was really largely criminal, which frequently made him a defender of horse-thieves, gamblers and desperadoes; and in such cases one could always anticipate his stereotyped plea: gentlemen of the jury: the district attorney prosecuting my client is paid by the county to convict this prisoner, whether he be guilty or innocent; and i plead with you, gentlemen, in the name of impartial justice, to bring in a verdict of "not guilty!" through the help of his old-time friend, secretary william h. seward, dimmick toward the end of his life was appointed attorney for the southern district of the united states in california; but on september 11th, 1861, he suddenly died of heart disease. eaton, another prominent representative of the bar, came from new england as early as 1850, while california government was in its infancy and life anything but secure; and he had not been here more than a few months when the maneuvers of antónio garra, agua caliente's chief, threatened an insurrection extending from tulare to san diego and made necessary the organization, under general j. h. bean, of volunteers to allay the terror-stricken community's fears. happily, the company's chief activity was the quieting of feminine nerves. on october 3d, 1853, eaton was elected district attorney and in 1857, county assessor. later, after living for a while at san gabriel, eaton became a founder of the pasadena colony, acting as its president for several years; and in 1876 he was one of the committee to arrange for the local centennial celebration. frederick eaton, several times city engineer and once--in 1899-1900--mayor of los angeles, is a son of benjamin eaton and his first wife, helena hayes, who died a few years after she came here, and the brother of mrs. hancock johnston. he reflects no little credit on his father by reason of a very early, effective advocacy of the owens river aqueduct. under his administration, the city began this colossal undertaking, which was brought to a happy consummation in the year 1913 through the engineering skill of william mulholland, eaton's friend. in 1861, judge eaton married miss alice taylor clark, of providence, r. i., who is still living. [illustration: henry mellus from a daguerrotype] [illustration: francis mellus from a daguerrotype] [illustration: john g. downey] [illustration: charles l. ducommun] [illustration: the plaza church from a photograph, probably taken in the middle eighties] while i am upon this subject of lawyers and officialdom, a few words regarding early jurists and court decorum may be in order. in 1853, judge dryden, who had arrived in 1850, was but a police justice, not yet having succeeded dimmick as county judge; and at no time was his knowledge of the law and things pertaining thereto other than extremely limited. his audacity, however, frequently sustained him in positions that otherwise might have been embarrassing; and this audacity was especially apparent in dryden's strong opposition to the criminal element. he talked with the volubility of a gatling gun, expressing himself in a quick, nervous manner and was, besides, very profane. one day he was trying a case, when captain cameron e. thom (who had first come to los angeles in 1854, as the representative of the national government, to take testimony before commissioner burrill) was one of the attorneys. during the progress of the case, thom had occasion to read a lengthy passage from some statute book. interrupting him, the judge asked to see the weighty volume; when, having searched in vain for the citation, he said in his characteristic, jerky way: "i'll be ---_damned_, mr. thom, if i can find that law!" all of which recalls to me a report, once printed in the _los angeles star_, concerning this same jurist and an inquest held by him over a dead indian: justice dryden and the jury sat on the body. the verdict was: "death from intoxication, _or_ by the visitation of god!" dryden, who was possessed of a genial personality, was long remembered with pleasure for participation in fourth of july celebrations and processions. he was married, i believe, in 1851, only one year after he arrived here, to señorita dolores nieto; and she having died, he took as his second wife, in september, 1868, another spanish lady, señorita anita dominguez, daughter of don manuel dominguez. less than a year afterward, on september 10th, 1869, judge dryden himself died at the age of seventy years. thom, by the way, came from virginia in 1849 and advanced rapidly in his profession. it was far from his expectation to remain in los angeles longer than was necessary; and he has frequently repeated to me the story of his immediate infatuation with this beautiful section and its cheering climate, and how he fell in love with the quaint little pueblo at first sight. soon after he decided to remain here, he was assigned as associate counsel to defend pancho daniel, after the retirement of columbus sims. in 1856, thom was appointed both city and district attorney, and occupied the two positions at the same time--an odd situation which actually brought it about, during his tenure of offices, that a land dispute between the city and the county obliged thom to defend both interests! in 1863, he was a partner with a. b. chapman; and twenty years later, having previously served as state senator, he was elected mayor of the city. captain thom married two sisters--first choosing miss susan henrietta hathwell, and then, sometime after her death, leading to the altar miss belle cameron hathwell whom he had named and for whom, when she was baptized, he had stood godfather. a man ultimately affluent, he owned, among other properties, a large ranch at glendale.[2] another good story concerning judge dryden comes to mind, recalling a certain sheriff. as the yarn goes, the latter presented himself as a candidate for the office of sheriff; and in order to capture the vote of the native element, he also offered to marry the daughter of an influential mexican. a bargain was concluded and, as the result, he forthwith assumed the responsibilities and dangers of both shrieval and matrimonial life. before the sheriff had possessed this double dignity very long, however, a gang of horse-thieves began depredations around los angeles. a _posse_ was immediately organized to pursue the desperadoes, and after a short chase they located the band and brought them into los angeles. imagine the sheriff's dismay, when he found that the leader was none other than his own brother-in-law whom he had never before seen! to make the story short, the case was tried and the prisoner was found guilty; but owing to influence (to which most juries in those days were very susceptible) there was an appeal for judicial leniency. judge dryden, therefore, in announcing the verdict, said to the sheriff's brother-in-law, "the jury finds you guilty as charged," and then proceeded to read the prisoner a long and severe lecture, to which he added: "but the jury recommends clemency. accordingly, i declare you a free man, and you may go about your business." thereupon someone in the room asked: "what _is_ his business?" to which the judge, never flinching, shouted: "_horse-stealing_, sir! _horse-stealing!_" lander was here in 1853, having come from the east the year previous. he was a harvard college graduate--there were not many on the coast in those days--and was known as a good office-practitioner; he was for some time, in fact, the bar's choice for court commissioner. i think that, for quite a while, he was the only examiner of real estate titles; he was certainly the only one i knew. on october 15th, 1852, lander had married señorita margarita, a daughter of don santiago johnson, who was said to have been one of the best known business men prior to 1846. afterward lander lived in a cottage on the northeast corner of fourth and spring streets. this cottage he sold to i. w. hellman in the early seventies, for four thousand dollars; and hellman, in turn, sold it at cost to his brother. on that lot, worth to-day probably a million dollars, the h. w. hellman building now stands. lander died on june 10th, 1873. granger was still another lawyer who was here when i arrived, he having come with his family--one of the first american households to be permanently established here--in 1850. by 1852, he had formed a partnership with jonathan r. scott, and in that year attained popularity through his fourth of july oration. granger was, in fact, a fluent and attractive speaker, which accounted, perhaps, for his election as city attorney in 1855, after he had served the city as a member of the common council in 1854. if i recollect aright, he was a candidate for the district judgeship in the seventies, but was defeated. ogier, a lawyer from charleston, s. c., came to california in 1849, and to los angeles in 1851, forming a partnership on may 31st of that year with don manuel clemente rojo, a clever, genial native of peru. on september 29th, ogier succeeded william c. ferrell, the first district attorney; in 1853, he joined the voluntary police; and later served, for some years, as united states district judge. he died at holcombe valley in may, 1861. ogier street, formerly ogier lane, was named for him. rojo, after dividing his time between the law and the spanish editorial work on the _star_, wandered off to lower california and there became a "sub-political chief." kewen, a native of mississippi and a veteran of the mexican war, came to los angeles in 1858 with the title of colonel, after _fiasco_ followed his efforts, in the southern states, to raise relief for the filibuster walker, on whose expedition a. l. kewen, a brother, had been killed in the battle at rivas, nicaragua, in june, 1855. once a practitioner at law in st. louis, kewen was elected california's first attorney-general, and even prior to the delivery of his oration before the society of pioneers at san francisco, in 1854, he was distinguished for his eloquence. in 1858, he was superintendent of los angeles city schools. in the sixties, kewen and norton formed a partnership. settling on an undulating tract of some four hundred and fifty acres near san gabriel, including the ruins of the old mission mill and now embracing the grounds of the huntington hotel, kewen repaired the house and converted it into a cosy and even luxurious residence, calling the estate ornamented with gardens and fountains, _el molino_--a title perpetuated in the name of the present suburb. kewen was also a member of the state assembly and, later, district attorney. he died in november, 1879. gitchell, united states district attorney in the late fifties, practiced here for many years. he was a jolly old bachelor and was popular, although he did not attain eminence. isaac hartman, an attorney, and his wife, who were among the particularly agreeable people here in 1853, soon left for the east. volney e. howard came with his family in the late fifties. he left san francisco, where he had been practicing law, rather suddenly, and at a time when social conditions in the city were demoralized, and the citizens, as in the case of the people of los angeles, were obliged to organize a vigilance committee. william t. coleman, one of the foremost citizens of his city, led the northern movement, and m. j. newmark, then a resident of san francisco, was among those who participated. howard, who succeeded william t., afterward general sherman in leading the law and order contingent, opposed the idea of mob rule; but the people of san francisco, fully alive to the necessity of wiping out the vicious elements, and knowing how hard it was to get a speedy trial and an honest jury, had little sympathy with his views. he was accordingly ordered out of town, and made his way, first to sacramento, then to the south. here, with kewen as their neighbor, howard and his talented wife, a lady of decidedly blue-stocking tendencies, took up their residence near the san gabriel mission; and he became one of the most reliable attorneys in los angeles, serving once or twice as county judge and on the supreme court bench, as well as in the state constitutional convention of 1878-1879. speaking of the informality of courts in the earlier days, i should record that jurymen and others would come in coatless and, especially in warm weather, without vests and collars; and that it was the fashion for each juryman to provide himself with a jack-knife and a piece of wood, in order that he might whittle the time away. this was a recognized privilege, and i am not exaggerating when i say that if he forgot his piece of wood, it was considered his further prerogative to whittle the chair on which he sat! in other respects, also, court solemnity was lacking. judge and attorneys would frequently lock horns; and sometimes their disputes ended violently. on one occasion, for example, while i was in court, columbus sims, an attorney who came here in 1852, threw an inkstand at his opponent, during an altercation; but this contempt of court did not call forth his disbarment, for he was later found acting as attorney for pancho daniel, one of sheriff barton's murderers, until sickness compelled his retirement from the case. as to panel-service, i recollect that while serving as juror in those early days, we were once locked up for the night; and in order that time might not hang too heavily on our hands, we engaged in a sociable little game of poker. sims is dead. more than inkstands were sometimes hurled in the early courts. on one occasion, for instance, after the angry disputants had arrived at a state of agitation which made the further use of canes, chairs, and similar objects tame and uninteresting, revolvers were drawn, notwithstanding the marshal's repeated attempts to restore order. judge dryden, in the midst of the _mêlée_, hid behind the platform upon which his judgeship's bench rested; and being well out of the range of the threatening irons, yelled at the rioters: "_shoot away_, damn you! and to _hell_ with all of you!" after making due allowance for primitive conditions, it must be admitted that many and needless were the evils incidental to court administration. there was, for instance, the law's delay, which necessitated additional fees to witnesses and jurors and thus materially added to the expenses of the county. juries were always a mixture of incoming pioneers and natives; the settlers understood very little spanish, and the native californians knew still less english; while few or none of the attorneys could speak spanish at all. in translating testimony, if the interpreter happened to be a friend of the criminal (which he generally was), he would present the evidence in a favorable light, and much time was wasted in sifting biased translations. of course, there were interpreters who doubtless endeavored to perform their duties conscientiously. george thompson burrill, the first sheriff, received fifty dollars a month as court interpreter, and manuel clemente rojo translated testimony as well; officials i believe to have been honest and conscientious. while alluding to court interpreters and the general use of spanish during at least the first decade after i came to california, i am reminded of the case of joaquín carrillo, who was elected district judge, in the early fifties, to succeed judge henry a. tefft of santa bárbara, who had been drowned near san luis obispo while attempting to land from a steamer in order to hold court. during the fourteen years when carrillo held office, he was constantly handicapped by his little knowledge of the english language and the consequent necessity of carrying on all court proceedings in spanish, to say nothing of the fact that he was really not a lawyer. yet i am told that carrillo possessed common sense to such a degree that his decisions were seldom set aside by the higher courts. sheriff burrill had a brother, s. thompson burrill, who was a lawyer and a justice of the peace. he held court in the padilla building on main street, opposite the present site of the bullard block and adjoining my brother's store; and as a result of this proximity we became friendly. he was one of the best-dressed men in town, although, when i first met him, he could not have been less than sixty years of age. he presented me with my first dog, which i lost on account of stray poison: evil-disposed or thoughtless persons, with no respect for the owner, whether a neighbor or not, and without the slightest consideration for pedigree, were in the habit of throwing poison on the streets to kill off canines, of which there was certainly a superabundance. ygnácio sepúlveda, the jurist and a son of josé andrés sepúlveda, was living here when i arrived, though but a boy. born in los angeles in 1842, he was educated in the east and in 1863 admitted to the bar; he served in the state legislature of the following winter, was county judge from 1870 to 1873, and district judge in 1874. five years later he was elected superior judge, but resigned his position in 1884 to become wells fargo & company's representative in the city of mexico, at which capital for two years he was also american _chargé d'affaires_. there to my great pleasure i met him, bearing his honors modestly, in january, 1885, during my tour of the southern republic.[3] sepúlveda avenue is named for the family. horace bell was a nephew of captain alexander bell, of bell's row; and as an early comer to los angeles, he joined the volunteer mounted police. although for years an attorney and journalist, in which capacity he edited the _porcupine_, he is best known for his _reminiscences of a ranger_, a volume written in rather a breezy and entertaining style, but certainly containing exaggerations. this reference to the rangers reminds me that i was not long in los angeles when i heard of the adventures of joaquín murieta, who had been killed but a few months before i came. according to the stories current, murieta, a nephew of josé maría valdez, was a decent-enough sort of fellow, who had been subjected to more or less injustice from certain american settlers, and who was finally bound to a tree and horsewhipped, after seeing his brother hung, on a trumped-up charge. in revenge, murieta had organized a company of bandits, and for two or three years had terrorized a good part of the entire state. finally, in august, 1853, while the outlaw and several of his companions were off their guard near the tejón paso, they were encountered by captain harry love and his volunteer mounted police organized to get him, "dead or alive;" the latter killed murieta and another desperado known as three-fingered jack. immediately the outlaws were despatched, their heads and the deformed hand of three-fingered jack were removed from the bodies and sent by john sylvester and harry bloodsworth to dr. william francis edgar, then a surgeon at fort miller; but a flood interfering, sylvester swam the river with his barley sack and its gruesome contents. edgar put the trophies into whiskey and arsenic, when they were transmitted to the civil authorities, as vouchers for a reward. bloodsworth died lately. daredevils of a less malicious type were also resident among us. on the evening of december 31st, 1853, for example, i was in our store at eight o'clock when felipe rheim--often called reihm and even riehm--gloriously intoxicated and out for a good time, appeared on the scene, flourishing the ubiquitous weapon. his celebration of the new year had apparently commenced, and he was already six sheets in the wind. like many another man, felipe, a very worthy german, was good-natured when sober, but a terror when drunk; and as soon as he spied my solitary figure, he pointed his gun at me, saying, at the same time, in his vigorous native tongue, "treat, or _i shoot_!" i treated. after this pleasing transaction amid the smoky obscurity of ramón alexander's saloon, felipe fired his gun into the air and disappeared. startling as a demand like that might appear to-day, no thought of arrest then resulted from such an incident. the first new year's eve that i spent in los angeles was ushered in with the indiscriminate discharging of pistols and guns. this method of celebrating was, i may say, a novelty to me, and no less a surprise; for of course i was unaware of the fact that, when the city was organized, three years before, a proposition to prohibit the carrying of firearms of any sort, or the shooting off of the same, except in defense of self, home or property, had been stricken from the first constitution by the committee on police, who reported that such an ordinance could not at that time be enforced. promiscuous firing continued for years to be indulged in by early angeleños, though frequently condemned in the daily press, and such was its effect upon even me that i soon found myself peppering away at a convenient adobe wall on commercial street, seeking to perfect my aim! footnotes: [2] thom died on february 2d, 1915. [3] after an absence of thirty years, judge sepúlveda returned to los angeles, in 1914, and was heartily welcomed back by his many friends and admirers. chapter vi merchants and shops 1853 trivial events in a man's life sometimes become indelibly impressed on his memory; and one such experience of my own is perhaps worth mentioning as another illustration of the rough character of the times. one sunday, a few days after my arrival, my brother called upon a tonsorial celebrity, peter biggs, of whom i shall speak later, leaving me in charge of the store. there were two entrances, one on main street, the other on requena. i was standing at the main street door, unconscious of impending excitement, when a stranger rode up on horseback and, without the least hesitation or warning, pointed a pistol at me. i was not sufficiently amused to delay my going, but promptly retreated to the other door where the practical joker, astride his horse, had easily anticipated my arrival and again greeted me with the muzzle of his weapon. these maneuvers were executed a number of times, and my ill-concealed trepidation only seemed to augment the diversion of a rapidly-increasing audience. my brother returned in the midst of the fun and asked the jolly joker what in hell he meant by such behavior; to which he replied: "oh, i just wanted to frighten the boy!" soon after this incident, my brother left for san francisco; and his partner, jacob rich, accompanied by his wife, came south and rented rooms in what was then known as mellus's row, an adobe building for the most part one-story, standing alone with a garden in the rear, and occupying about three hundred feet on the east side of los angeles street, between aliso and first. in this row, said by some to have been built by barton & nordholt, in 1850, for captain alexander bell, a merchant here since 1842, after whom bell street is named, and by others claimed to have been the headquarters of frémont, in 1846, there was a second-story at the corner of aliso, provided with a large veranda; and there the bell and mellus families lived. francis mellus, who arrived in california in 1839, had married the niece of mrs. bell, and bell having sold the building to mellus, bell's row became known as mellus's row. finally, bell repurchased the property, retaining it during the remainder of his life; and the name was again changed. this famous stretch of adobe, familiarly known as the row, housed many early shopkeepers, such as ferner & kraushaar, general merchants, kalisher & wartenberg, and bachman & bauman. the coming to los angeles of mr. and mrs. rich enabled me to abandon la rue's restaurant, as i was permitted to board with them. none the less, i missed my brother very much. everything at that time indicating that i was in for a commercial career, it was natural that i should become acquainted with the merchants then in los angeles. some of the tradesmen, i dare say, i have forgotten; but a more or less distinct recollection remains of many, and to a few of them i shall allude. temple street had not then been opened by beaudry and potts, although there was a little _cul-de-sac_ extending west from spring street; and at the junction of what is now spring and temple streets, there was a two-story adobe building in which d. w. alexander and francis mellus conducted a general merchandise business, and at one time acted as agents for mellus & howard of san francisco. mellus, who was born in salem, massachusetts, february 3d, 1824, came to the coast in 1839, first landing at santa bárbara; and when i first met him he had married adelaida, daughter of don santiago johnson, and our fellow-townsman, james j. mellus--familiarly known as plain jim--was a baby. alexander & mellus had rather an extensive business in the early days, bringing goods by sailing vessel around cape horn, and exchanging them for hides and tallow which were carried back east by the returning merchantmen. they had operated more or less extensively even some years before california was ceded to the united states; but competition from a new source forced these well-established merchants to retire. with the advent of more frequent, although still irregular service between san francisco and the south, and the influx of more white people, a number of new stores started here bringing merchandise from the northern market, while san francisco buyers began to outbid alexander & mellus for the local supply of hides and tallow. this so revolutionized the methods under which this tradition-bound old concern operated that, by 1858, it had succumbed to the inevitable, and the business passed into the hands of johnson & allanson, a firm made up of charles r. johnson, soon to be elected county clerk, and horace s. allanson. most of the commercial activity in this period was carried on north of first street. the native population inhabited sonora town, for the most part a collection of adobes, named after the mexican state whence came many of our people; there was a contingent from other parts of mexico; and a small sprinkling of south americans from chile and peru. among this spanish-speaking people quite a business was done by latin-american storekeepers. it followed, naturally enough, that they dealt in all kinds of mexican goods. one of the very few white men in this district was josé mascarel (a powerfully-built french sea-captain and master of the ship that brought don luis vignes to the southland), who settled in los angeles in 1844, marrying an indian woman. he had come with prudhomme and others; and under captain henseley had taken part in the military events at san bartolo and the mesa. by 1865, when he was mayor of the city, he had already accumulated a number of important real estate holdings and owned, with another frenchman, juan barri, a baker, the block extending east on the south side of commercial street, from main to los angeles, which had been built in 1861 to take the place of several old adobes. this the owners later divided, mascarel taking the southeast corner of commercial and main streets, and barri the southwest corner of commercial and los angeles streets. in the seventies, i. w. hellman bought the mascarel corner, and in 1883, the farmers & merchants bank moved to that location, where it remained until the institution purchased the southwest corner of fourth and main streets, for the erection of its own building. andrés ramirez was another sonora town merchant. he had come from mexico in 1844, and sold general merchandise in what, for a while, was dubbed the street of the maids. later, this was better known as upper main street; and still later it was called san fernando street. louis abarca was a tradesman and a neighbor of ramirez. prosperous until the advent of the pioneer, he little by little became poorer, and finally withdrew from business. juan bernard, a native of french switzerland, whose daughter married d. botiller, now an important landowner, came to california by way of the horn, in search of the precious metal, preceding me to this land of sunshine. for awhile, he had a brickyard on buena vista street; but in the late seventies, soon after marrying señorita susana machado, daughter of don agustin machado, he bought a vineyard on alameda street, picturesquely enclosed by a high adobe or brick wall much after the fashion of a european _château_. he also came to own the site of the natick house. a clever linguist and a man of attractive personality, he passed away in 1889. an american by the name of george walters lived on upper main street, among the denizens of which locality he was an influential person. born at new orleans as early as 1809, walters had trapped and traded in the rocky mountains, then teamed for awhile between santa fé and neighboring points. near the end of 1844, he left new mexico in company with james waters, jim beckwith and other travelers, finally reaching los angeles. walters, who settled in san bernardino, was at the chino ranch, with b. d. wilson and louis robidoux, when so many americans were made prisoners. julian chavez, after whom chavez street is named, was here in 1853. if he was not native-born, he came here at a very early day. he owned a stretch of many acres, about a mile northeast of los angeles. he was a good, honest citizen, and is worthy of recollection. ramón alexander, a frenchman often confused with david alexander, came to los angeles before 1850, while it was still a mere mexican village. pioneers remember him especially as the builder of the long-famous round house, on main street, and as one who also for some time kept a saloon near requena street. alexander's wife was a señorita valdez. he died in 1870. antoine laborie was another frenchman here before the beginning of the fifties. he continued to live in los angeles till at least the late seventies. a fellow-countryman, b. dubordieu, had a bakery in sonora town. philip rheim, the good-natured german to whom i have referred, had a little store and saloon, before i came, called _los dos amigos_, as the proprietor of which he was known as don felipe. nor was this title amiss; for felipe married a native woman and, german though he had been, he gradually became, like so many others who had mated in the same way, more and more californian in manners and customs. a month after i arrived here, john behn, who had a grocery business at the northeast corner of first and los angeles streets, retired. he had come to los angeles from baden in 1848, and, after forming one or two partnerships, had sold out to lorenzo leck, a german dane, who reached here in november, 1849, and whose son, henry von der leck, married a daughter of tom mott and is living at san juan capistrano. leck opened his own store in 1854, and despite the trials to which he was to be subjected, he was able, in 1868, to pay john schumacher three thousand dollars for a lot on main street. leck had a liking for the spectacular; and in the november previous to my arrival was active, as i have been told, with goller and nordholt, in organizing the first political procession seen in los angeles. the election of pierce was the incentive, and there were gorgeous transparencies provided for the event. it was on this occasion that a popular local character, george the baker, burned himself badly while trying to fire off the diminutive cannon borrowed from the spanish _padre_ for the event. in the one-story adobe of mascarel and barri, on the corner of commercial and main streets, now the site of the united states national bank, an irishman named samuel g. arbuckle, who had come here in 1850 and was associated for a short time with s. lazard, conducted a dry goods store. from 1852 to 1856, arbuckle was city treasurer. in the same building, and adjoining arbuckle's, john jones, father of mrs. j. b. lankershim and m. g. jones, carried on a wholesale grocery business. jones had left england for australia, when forty-seven years old, and a year later touched the coast of california at monterey and came to los angeles. twice a year, jones went north in a schooner, for the purpose of replenishing his stock; and after making his purchases and having the boat loaded, he would return to los angeles. sometimes he traveled with the round-bellied, short and jolly captain morton who recalled his illustrious prototype, wouter van twiller, so humorously described by washington irving as "exactly five feet six inches in height, and six feet five inches in circumference;" sometimes he sailed with captain j. s. garcia, a good-natured seaman. during his absence, the store remained closed; and as this trip always required at least six weeks, some idea may be obtained of the sleepy hollow methods then prevailing in this part of the west. in 1854 or 1855, jones, who was reputed to be worth some fifty thousand dollars, went to san francisco and married miss doria deighton, and it was generally understood that he expected to settle there; but having been away for a couple of years, he returned to the city of the angels, this being one of the first instances within my observation of the irresistible attraction of los angeles for those who have once lived here. it is my recollection that jones bought from john g. downey the cristóbal aguilar home then occupied by w. h. and mrs. perry; a building the more interesting since it was understood to have served, long in the past and before the american occupation, as a _calabozo_ or jail, and to have had a whipping-post supposed to have done much service in keeping the turbulently-inclined natives quiet. how many of the old adobes may at times have been used as jails, i am unable to say, but it is also related that there stood on the hill west of the plaza another _cuartel_, afterward the home of b. s. eaton, where fred, later mayor of los angeles, was born. like felix bachman and others, jones entered actively into trade with salt lake city; and although he met with many reverses--notably in the loss of captain morton's _laura bevan_, which sank, carrying down a shipload of uninsured goods--he retired well-to-do. john, sometimes called juan temple--or jonathan, as he used to sign himself in earlier years--who paid the debt of nature in 1866, and after whom temple street is named, was another merchant, having a store upon the piece of land (later the site of the downey block, and now occupied by the post office) which, from 1849 to 1866, was in charge of my friend, don ygnácio garcia, his confidential business agent. garcia imported from mexico both _serapes_ and _rebozos_; and as every mexican man and woman required one of these garments, temple had a large and very lucrative trade in them alone. following the death of temple, garcia continued under hinchman, the executor of the estate, until everything had been settled. it was really far back in 1827 when temple came to los angeles, started the first general merchandise store in town, and soon took such a lead in local affairs that the first vigilance committee in the city was organized in his store, in 1836. toward the fifties, he drifted south to mexico and there acquired a vast stretch of land on the coast; but he returned here, and was soon known as one of the wealthiest, yet one of the stingiest men in all california. his real estate holdings in or near los angeles were enormous; but the bad judgment of his executor cost him dear, and valuable properties were sacrificed. after his death, temple's wife--who once accompanied her husband to paris, and had thus formed a liking for the livelier french capital--returned to france with her daughter, later doña ajuria, to live; and a. f. hinchman, temple's brother-in-law, who had been superintendent of santa bárbara county schools, was appointed administrator. hinchman then resided in san diego, and was intensely partial to that place. this may have prejudiced him against los angeles; but whatever the cause, he offered temple's properties at ridiculous prices, and some of the items of sale may now be interesting. the present site of the government building, embracing as it then did the forty-foot street north of it, was at that time improved with an adobe building covering the entire front and running back to new high street; and this adobe, known after temple's death as the old temple block, hinchman sold for fifteen thousand dollars. he also disposed of the new temple block, including the improvement at the south end which i shall describe, for but sixteen thousand dollars. i remember quite well that ygnácio garcia was the purchaser, and that, tiring of his bargain in a couple of weeks, he resold the property to john temple's brother, francisco, at cost. hinchman, for fourteen thousand dollars, also disposed of the site of the present bullard block, whereon temple had erected a large brick building, the lower part of which was used as a market while the upper part was a theater. the terms in each of these three transactions were a thousand dollars per annum, with interest at ten per cent. he sold to the bixbys the cerritos _rancho_, containing twenty-six thousand acres, for twenty thousand dollars. besides these, there were eighteen lots, each one hundred and twenty by three hundred and thirty feet, located on fort street (now broadway), some of which ran through to spring and others to hill, which were bought by j. f. burns and william buffum for one thousand and fifty dollars, or fifty dollars each for the twelve inside and seventy-five dollars each for the six corner lots. returning to the fort street lots, it may be interesting to know that the property would be worth to-day--at an average price of four thousand dollars per foot--about nine million dollars. eugene meyer purchased one of the lots (on the west side of fort street, running through to hill, one hundred and twenty by three hundred and thirty feet in size), for the sum of one thousand dollars; and i paid him a thousand dollars for sixty feet and the same depth. in 1874 i built on this site the home occupied by me for about twelve years, after which i improved both fronts for f. l. blanchard. these two blocks are still in my possession; the broadway building is known as blanchard hall. blanchard, by the way, a comer of 1886, started his los angeles career in a. g. bartlett's music store, and has since always been closely identified with art movements. he organized the system of cluster street-lights in use here and was an early promoter of good roads. [illustration: pio pico from an oil portrait] [illustration: juan bandini] [illustration: abel stearns] [illustration: isaac williams] [illustration: store of felipe rheim] charles l. ducommun was here in business in 1853, he and john g. downey having arrived together, three years before. according to the story still current, ducommun, with his kit and stock as a watchmaker, and downey, with his outfit as a druggist, hired a _carreta_ together, to transport their belongings from san pedro to los angeles; but the _carreta_ broke down, and the two pilgrims to the city of the angels had to finish their journey afoot. ducommun's first store, located on commercial street between main and los angeles, was about sixteen by thirty feet in size, but it contained an astonishing assortment of merchandise, such as hardware, stationery and jewelry. perhaps the fact that ducommun came from switzerland, then even more than now the chief home of watchmaking, explains his early venture in the making and selling of watches; however that may be, it was to charlie ducommun's that the bankrupt merchant moreno--later sentenced to fourteen or fifteen years in the penitentiary for robbing a frenchman--came to sell the frenchman's gold watch. moreno confessed that he had organized a gang of robbers, after his failure in business, and had murdered even his own lieutenants. ducommun, pretending to go into a rear room for the money, slipped out of the back door and gave the alarm. ducommun's store was a sort of curiosity-shop containing many articles not obtainable elsewhere; and he was clever enough, when asked for any rarity, to charge all that the traffic would bear. i wonder what charlie ducommun would say if he could return to life and see his sons conducting a large, modern wholesale hardware establishment on an avenue never thought of in his day and where once stretched acres of fruit and vine lands! ducommun street commemorates this pioneer. ozro w. childs, who came to los angeles in november, 1850, was for awhile in partnership with j. d. hicks, the firm being known as childs & hicks. they conducted a tin-shop on commercial street, in a building about twenty by forty feet. in 1861, h. d. barrows joined them, and hardware was added to the business. somewhat later the firm was known as j. d. hicks & company. in 1871, barrows bought out the childs and hicks interests, and soon formed a partnership with w. c. furrey, although the latter arrived in los angeles only in 1872. when barrows retired, furrey continued alone for several years. the w. c. furrey company was next organized, with james w. hellman as the active partner of furrey, and with simon maier, the meat-packer and brother of the brewer, and j. a. graves as stockholders. hellman, in time, succeeded this company and continued for himself. when childs withdrew, he went in for importing and selling exotic trees and plants, and made his home place, in more modern days known as the huntington purchase and running from main to hill and eleventh to twelfth streets, wonderfully attractive to such tourists as then chanced this way; he also claimed to be the pioneer floriculturist of los angeles county. toward the end of his life, childs erected on main street, south of first, a theater styled an opera house and later known as the grand, which was popular in its time. childs avenue bears the family name. labatt brothers had one of the leading dry goods houses, which, strange as it may seem, they conducted in a part of the abel stearns home, corner of main and arcadia streets, now occupied by the baker block. their establishment, while the most pretentious and certainly the most specialized of its day in town, and therefore patronized by our well-to-do people, would nevertheless make but a sorry appearance in comparison with even a single department in any of the mammoth stores of to-day. jacob elias was not only here in 1853, in partnership with his brother under the firm name of elias brothers, but he also induced some of his friends in augusta, georgia, to migrate to california. among those who came in 1854 were pollock, whose given name i forget, and l. c., better known as clem goodwin. the latter clerked for awhile for elias brothers, after which he associated himself with pollock under the title of pollock & goodwin. they occupied premises at what was then the corner of aliso street and nigger alley, and the site, some years later, of p. beaudry's business when we had our interesting contest, the story of which i shall relate in due time. pollock & goodwin continued in the general merchandise business for a few years, after which they returned to augusta. goodwin, however, came back to california in 1864 a benedick, and while in san francisco accidentally met louis polaski who was then looking for an opening. goodwin induced polaski to enter into partnership with him, and the well-known early clothing house of polaski & goodwin was thus established in the downey block. in 1867, they bought out i. w. hellman and moved over to the southeast corner of commercial and main streets. goodwin sold out to polaski in 1881, when the firm became polaski & sons; in 1883 sam, isidor and myer l. polaski bought out their father, and in time polaski brothers also withdrew. goodwin became vice-president of the farmers & merchants bank. polaski died in 1900, goodwin having preceded him a short time before. goodwin left his wife some valuable property, and as they were without issue, she so richly endowed the children's hospital, at her death, that the present building was made possible. the lanfranco brothers--juan t. and mateo--came from genoa, italy, by way of lima, peru and new york, whence they crossed the plains with james lick the carpenter later so celebrated, and they were both here in business in 1853; juan, a small capitalist or _petit rentier_, living where the lanfranco building now stands, opposite the federal building, while mateo kept a grocery store on main street, not far from commercial. in 1854, juan added to his independence by marrying señorita petra pilar, one of fourteen children of don josé loreto sepúlveda, owner of the palos verdes _rancho_; the celebration of the nuptials, in dancing and feasting, lasting five days. it was at that ranch that a great stampede of cattle occurred, due to fright when the pioneer sulky, imported by juan lanfranco from san francisco, and then a strange object, was driven into their midst. about 1861, the first lanfranco building was erected. mateo died on october 4th, 1873, while juan passed away on may 20th, 1875. his wife died in 1877. a daughter married walter maxwell; a second daughter became the wife of walter s. moore, for years chief of the fire department; and still another daughter married arthur brentano, one of the well-known paris and new york booksellers. solomon lazard and maurice kremer, cousins of about the same age, and natives of lorraine, were associated in 1853 under the title of lazard & kremer, being located in a storeroom in mellus's row, and i may add that since nearly all of the country development had taken place in districts adjacent to san gabriel, el monte and san bernardino, travel through aliso street was important enough to make their situation one of the best in town. lazard had arrived in san francisco in 1851, and having remained there about a year, departed for san diego, where it was his intention to engage in the dry goods business. finding that there were not enough people there to maintain such an establishment of even moderate proportions, lazard decided upon the advice of a seafaring man whom he met to remove his stock, which he had brought from the northern town, to los angeles. he told me that he paid fifty-six dollars' steamer fare from san francisco to san diego, and that the freight on his merchandise cost him twenty dollars a ton. among his native friends, lazard was always known as don solomon, and being popular, he frequently acted as floor-manager at balls and fandangos. lazard is still living at the good old age of eighty-seven years. kremer also reached here in 1852. in time, timoteo wolfskill, a son of william wolfskill, bought kremer's interest, and the firm name became lazard & wolfskill. each of these worthy pioneers in his day rendered signal service to the community--lazard serving as councilman in 1862; and i shall have occasion, therefore, to refer to them again. abe lazard, a brother of solomon, who had spent some years in south america, came in the late fifties. dr. e. m. lazard is a son of s. lazard. while speaking of san diego, i may remark that it was quite fifteen years before the interesting old spanish settlement to the south, with which i had no business relations, attracted me; and as i was no exception, the reader may see how seldom the early settlers were inclined to roam about merely for sight-seeing. in 1853, m. norton and e. greenbaum sold merchandise at the southwest corner of los angeles and commercial streets (when jacob, j. l., an early supervisor and city treasurer, 1863-64 and moritz morris, councilman in 1869-70, were competitors). in time, jacob returned to germany, where he died. herman morris, a brother, was a local newspaper reporter. jacob letter was another rival, who removed to oakland. still another dealer in general merchandise was m. michaels, almost a dwarf in size, who emigrated to south america. casper behrendt--father-in-law of john kahn, a man prominent in many movements--who arrived in 1851, was another commercial street merchant. still other early merchants whom i somewhat distinctly recall were israel fleishman and julius sichel, who had a glassware, crockery and hardware business; and l. lasky, on commercial street. thomas d. mott, father of john mott, the attorney, who was lured to california by the gold-fever of 1849, and to los angeles, three years later, by the climate, i met on the day of my arrival. his room adjoined my brother's store, so that we soon formed an acquaintanceship which ripened, in the course of time, into a friendship that endured until the day of his death. in the early sixties, he was the proprietor of a livery stable on main street, opposite the stearns home. he was very fond of hunting, being an expert at dropping a bird on the wing; and frequently went dove-shooting with his friends. all of which, insignificant as it may at first appear, i mention for the purpose of indicating the neighborhood of these operations. the hunting-ground covered none other than that now lying between main and olive streets from about sixth street to pico, and teeming to-day, as the reader knows, with activity and life. there sportsmen hunted, while more matter-of-fact burghers frequently went with scythes to cut grass for their horses. prudent beaudry, a native of quebec destined to make and lose several fortunes, was here when i came, having previously been a merchant in san francisco when staple articles--such as common tacks, selling at sixteen dollars a package!--commanded enormous prices. two or three times, however, fire obliterated all his savings, and when he reached los angeles, beaudry had only about a thousand dollars' worth of goods and two or three hundred dollars in cash. with these assets he opened a small store on main street, opposite the abel stearns home; and again favored by the economic conditions of the times, he added to his capital very rapidly. from main street beaudry moved to commercial, forming partnerships successively with a man named brown and with one le maître. as early as 1854, beaudry had purchased the property at the northeast corner of aliso street and nigger alley for eleven thousand dollars, and this he so improved with the additional investment of twenty-five thousand dollars that he made his now elongated adobe bring him in an income of a thousand a month. as stated elsewhere, beaudry went to europe in 1855, returning later to montreal; and it was not until 1861 or later that he came back to los angeles and reëngaged in business, this time in his own building where until 1865 he thrived, withdrawing, as i shall soon show, in the beginning of 1866. beaudry avenue recalls this early and important man of affairs. david w. alexander, phineas banning's enterprising partner in establishing wagon-trains, was here when i came and was rather an influential person. an irishman by birth, he had come to california from mexico by way of salt lake, in the early forties, and lived for awhile in the san bernardino country. from 1844 to 1849, john temple and he had a store at san pedro, and still later he was associated in business with banning, selling out his interest in 1855. in 1850, alexander was president of the first common council of los angeles, being one of the two members who completed their term; in 1852, he visited europe; and in september, 1855, he was elected sheriff of the county, bringing to his aid the practical experience of a ranger. before keeping store, alexander had farmed for awhile on the rincon _rancho_; he continued to hold a large extent of acreage and in 1872 was granted a patent to over four thousand acres in the providencia, and in 1874 to nearly seventeen thousand acres in the tejunga _rancho_. george c. alexander, david's brother, was postmaster at san pedro in 1857. the hazards arrived in 1853 with a large family of children, captain a. m. hazard having made his way with ox-teams from the east, via salt lake, on a journey which consumed nearly two years. at first they took up a claim about four miles from los angeles, which was later declared government land. the eldest son, daniel, was employed by banning as a teamster, traveling between los angeles and yuma; but later he set up in the teaming business for himself. george w. hazard became a dealer in saddlery in requena street; and taking an active interest in the early history of los angeles, he collected, at personal sacrifice, souvenirs of the past, and this collection has become one of the few original sources available for research.[4] in 1889, henry t. hazard, after having served the city as its attorney, was elected mayor, his administration being marked by no little progress in the town's growth and expansion. henry, who married a daughter of dr. william geller, and after whom hazard street is named, is the only one of the brothers who survives. sam meyer, who met me, as related, when i alighted from the stage, was another resident of los angeles prior to my coming. he had journeyed from germany to america in 1849, had spent four years in new orleans, macon, and other southern cities, and early in 1853 had come to california. on main street, south of requena, i found him, with hilliard loewenstein, in the dry goods business, an undertaking they continued until 1856, when loewenstein returned to germany, to marry a sister of meyer. emanuel loewenstein, one of the issue of this marriage, and a jolly, charitable fellow, is well known about town. on december 15th, 1861, meyer married miss johanna,[5] daughter of s. c. and rosalia davis, and the same year formed a partnership with davis in the crockery business. after two and a half years of residence in germany, loewenstein returned to los angeles. meyer, so long identified with local freemasonry, died in 1903. a daughter married max loewenthal, the attorney. baruch marks, one of the very few people yet living who were here when i arrived, is now about ninety-one years of age, and still[6] a resident of los angeles. he was with louis schlesinger (who lost his life when the _ada hancock_ was destroyed) and hyman tischler in the general merchandise business in 1853 at mellus's row, the firm being known as b. marks & company; and having prospered, he went to berlin. there, after the franco-prussian war, when much disaster befell speculators, he lost most of his means; and greatly reduced in resources, he returned to los angeles. since then, however, he has never been able to retrieve his fortune. luckily he enjoys good health, even being able at his advanced age, as he told me recently, to shave himself. in 1851, herman schlesinger reached los angeles and engaged in the dry goods business with tobias sherwinsky. in 1855, moritz schlesinger, herman's brother, came here and clerked for the firm. in 1857, schlesinger & sherwinsky, having made, approximately, fourteen thousand dollars, which they divided, sold out to moritz schlesinger and returned to germany. a few years later sherwinsky lost his money and, coming back to california, located in san diego where he died. schlesinger remained in germany and died there, about 1900. collins wadhams had a general store on the northeast corner of main and commercial streets--a piece of property afterward bought by charlie ducommun. at another time, wadhams & foster were general merchants who, succeeding to the business of foster & mcdougal, were soon followed by douglass, foster & wadhams. clerking for this firm when i came was william w. jenkins, who left for arizona, years afterward, where he led an adventurous life. henry g. yarrow, often called _cuatro ojos_ or four eyes, from the fact that he wore a pair of big spectacles on a large hooked nose, was an eccentric character of the fifties and later. he once conducted a store at the southwest corner of los angeles and requena streets, and was the jevne of his day in so far as he dealt in superior and exceptional commodities generally not found in any other store. in other respects, however, the comparison fails; for he kept the untidiest place in town, and his stock was fearfully jumbled together, necessitating an indefinite search for every article demanded. the store was a little low room in an adobe building about twenty feet long and ten feet wide, with another room in the rear where yarrow cooked and slept. he was also a mysterious person, and nobody ever saw the inside of this room. his clothes were of the commonest material; he was polite and apparently well-bred; yet he never went anywhere for social intercourse, nor did he wish anyone to call upon him except for trade. aside from the barest necessities, he was never known to spend any money, and so he came to be regarded as a miser. one morning he was found dead in his store, and for some time thereafter people dug in his backyard searching for the earnings believed to have been secreted there; but not a cent of his horde was ever found. there were all kinds of rumors, however, respecting yarrow. one was to the effect that he was the scion of a noted english family, and that disappointment in love had soured and driven him from the world; while another report was that his past had been somewhat shady. nobody, apparently, knew the truth; but i personally believe that yarrow was honest, and know that when at one time, despite his efforts, he failed in business, he endeavored to settle his debts upon the most honorable basis. charles hale, later associated with m. w. childs, had a tin-shop just where stearns's arcadia block now stands. this shop stood on elevated ground, making his place of business rather difficult of access; from which the reader will gain some idea of the irregular appearance of the landscape in early days. hale in time went to mexico, where he was reported to have made a fortune. august ulyard arrived with his wife on the last day of december, 1852, and rented a house near the plaza. in competition with joseph lelong, who had established his jenny lind bakery a couple of years previous, ulyard opened a bake-shop, making his first bread from yeast which mrs. ulyard had brought with her across the plains. there had been nothing but french bread in los angeles up to that time, but ulyard began to introduce both german and american bread and cake, which soon found favor with many; later he added freshly-baked crackers. after a while, he moved to the site of the natick house, at the southwest corner of main and first streets; and once he owned the southwest corner of fifth and spring streets, on which the alexandria hotel now stands. having no children of their own, ulyard and his wife adopted first one and then another, until eventually they had a family of seven! picturing these unpretentious stores, i recall a custom long prevalent here among the native population. just as in mexico a little lump of sugar called a _pilon_, or something equally insignificant, was given with even the smallest purchase, so here some trifle, called a _pilon_, was thrown in to please the buyer. and if a merchant neglected to offer such a gratuity, the customer was almost certain to ask for it. among the meat-handlers, there were several sentous brothers, but those with whom i was more intimately acquainted were jean and louis, father of louis sentous the present french consul, both of whom, if i mistake not, came about the middle of the fifties. they engaged in the sheep business; and later louis had a packing-house of considerable importance located between los angeles and santa monica, where he also owned over a thousand acres of valuable land which he sold some time before his death. they were very successful; and sentous street bears their name. jean died in 1903, and louis a few years later. refúgio botello was another wholesale cattleand meat-dealer. arthur mckenzie dodson, who came here in 1850 and later married miss reyes, daughter of nasário dominguez, conducted a butcher shop and one of the first grocery stores. he was also the first to make soap here. for a while dodson was in partnership with john benner who, during a quarter of a century when in business for himself, in the old temple adobe on main street, built up an important trade in the handling of meat. james h. dodson is arthur's son. santiago bollo also kept a small grocery. "hog" bennett was here in the middle fifties. he raised and killed hogs, and cured the ham and bacon which he sold to neighboring dealers. possessed as he was of an unusual sense of rectitude, i esteemed francisco solano, father of alfredo solano, for his many good qualities. he was in the butcher business in sonora town, and was prosperous in the early fifties. an odd little store was that of madame salandie, who came to california in 1849, on the same vessel that brought lorenzo leck. she had a butcher shop; but, rather curiously, she was also a money-lender. i believe that jack yates was here in 1853. he owned the first general laundry, located on los angeles street between first and requena, and conducted it with success and profit for many years, until he succumbed to the competition of the chinese. yates's daughter, miss mary d., married h. j. woollacott, at one time a prominent financier. more than once, in recording these fragmentary recollections, i have had occasion to refer to persons who, at one time or another, were employed in a very different manner than in a later period of their lives. the truth is that in the early days one's occupation did not weigh much in the balance, provided only that he was honorable and a good citizen; and pursuits lowly to-day were then engaged in by excellent men. many of the vocations of standing were unknown, in fact, fifty or sixty years ago; and refined and educated gentlemen often turned their attention to what are now considered humble occupations. footnotes: [4] george hazard died on february 8th, 1914. [5] mrs. meyer died on september 4th, 1914. [6] marks died on july 9th, 1914. chapter vii in and near the old pueblo 1853 about the time when i arrived, assessor antónio f. coronel reported an increase in the city and county assessment of over eight hundred and five thousand dollars, but the number of stores was really limited, and the amount of business involved was in proportion. the community was like a village; and such was the provincial character of the town that, instead of indicating the location of a store or office by a number, the advertiser more frequently used such a phrase as "opposite the bella union," "near the express office," or "_vis-à-vis_ to mr. temple's." nor was this of great importance: change of names and addresses were frequent in business establishments in those days--an indication, perhaps, of the restless spirit of the times. possibly because of this uncertainty as to headquarters, merchants were indifferent toward many advertising aids considered to-day rather essential. when i began business in los angeles, most of the storekeepers contented themselves with signs rudely lettered or painted on unbleached cloth, and nailed on the outside of the adobe walls of their shops. later, their signs were on bleached cloth and secured in frames without glass. in 1865, we had a painted wooden sign; and still later, many establishments boasted of letters in gold on the glass doors and windows. so too, when i first came here, merchants wrote their own billheads and often did not take the trouble to do that; but within two or three years afterward, they began to have them printed. people were also not as particular about keeping their places of business open all day. proprietors would sometimes close their stores and go out for an hour or two for their meals, or to meet in a friendly game of billiards. during the monotonous days when but little business was being transacted, it was not uncommon for merchants to visit back and forth and to spend hours at a time in playing cards. to provide a substitute for a table, the window sill of the thick adobe was used, the visitor seating himself on a box or barrel on the outside, while the host within at the window would make himself equally comfortable. without particularizing, it is safe to state that the majority of early traders indulged in such methods of killing time. during this period of miserably lighted thoroughfares, and before the arrival of many american families, those who did not play cards and billiards in the saloons met at night at each other's stores where, on an improvised table, they indulged in a little game of draw. artisans, too, were among the pioneers. william h. perry, a carpenter by trade, came to los angeles on february 1st, 1853, bringing with him, and setting up here, the first stationary steam engine. in may, 1855, seeing an opportunity to expand, he persuaded ira gilchrist to form a partnership with him under the name of w. h. perry & company. a brief month later, however--so quickly did enterprises evolve in early los angeles--perry gave up carpentering and joined james d. brady in the furniture business. their location was on main street between arcadia and the plaza. they continued together several years, until wallace woodworth--one of tom mott's horsemen who went out to avenge the death of sheriff barton--bought out brady's interest, when the firm became perry & woodworth. they prospered and grew in importance, their speciality being inside cabinet-work; and on september 6th, 1861, they established a lumber yard in town, with the first regular sawand planing-mills seen here. they then manufactured beehives, furniture and upholstery, and contracted for building and house-furnishing. in 1863, stephen h., brother of tom mott, joined the firm. perry & woodworth were both active in politics, one being a councilman, the other a supervisor--the latter, a democratic leader, going as a delegate to the convention that nominated general winfield s. hancock for the presidency. their political affiliations indeed gave them an influence which, in the awarding of contracts, was sufficient to keep them supplied with large orders. woodworth's demise occurred in 1883. perry died on october 30th, 1906. nels williamson, a native of maine and a clever fellow, was another carpenter who was here when i arrived. he had come across the plains from new orleans in 1852 as one of a party of twenty. in the neighborhood of el paso de águila they were all ambushed by indians, and eighteen members of the party were killed; williamson, and dick johnson, afterward a resident of los angeles, being the two that escaped. on a visit to kern county, nels was shot by a hunter who mistook him for a bear; the result of which was that he was badly crippled for life. so long as he lived--and he approached ninety years--nels, like many old-timers, was horribly profane. henri penelon, a fresco-painter, was here in 1853, and was recognized as a decorator of some merit. when the old plaza church was renovated, he added some ornamental touches to it. at a later period, he was a photographer as well as a painter. among the blacksmiths then in los angeles was a well-known german, john goller, who conducted his trade in his own shop, occupying about one hundred feet on los angeles street where the los angeles saddlery company is now located. goller was an emigrant who came by way of the salt lake route, and who, when he set up as the pioneer blacksmith and wagon-maker, was supplied by louis wilhart, who had a tannery on the west side of the river, with both tools and customers. when goller arrived, ironworkers were scarce, and he was able to command pretty much his own prices. he charged sixteen dollars for shoeing a horse and used to laugh as he told how he received nearly five hundred dollars for his part in rigging up the awning in front of a neighboring house. when, in 1851, the court of sessions ordered the sheriff to see that fifty lances were made for the volunteer rangers, goller secured the contract. another commission which he filled was the making for the county of a three-inch branding-iron with the letters, _l. a._ there being little iron in stock, goller bought up old wagon-tires cast away on the plains, and converted them into various utensils, including even horseshoes. as an early wagon-maker he had rather a discouraging experience, his first wagon remaining on his hands a good while: the natives looked upon it with inquisitive distrust and still clung to their heavy _carretas_. he had introduced, however, more modern methods, and gradually he established a good sale. afterward he extended his field of operations, the late sixties finding him shipping wagons all over the state. his prosperity increased, and mullaly, porter & ayers constructed for him one of the first brick buildings in los angeles. a few years later, goller met with heavy financial reverses, losing practically all that he had. i have stated that no care was given to either the streets or sidewalks, and a daily evidence of this was the confusion in the neighborhood of john's shop, which, together with his yard, was one of the sights of the little town because the blacksmith had strewn the footway, and even part of the road, with all kinds of piled-up material; to say nothing of a lot of horses invariably waiting there to be shod. the result was that passers-by were obliged to make a detour into the often muddy street to get around and past goller's premises. john ward was an angeleño who knew something of the transition from heavy to lighter vehicles. he was born in virginia and took part in the battle of new orleans. in the thirties he went to santa fé, in one of the earliest prairie schooners to that point; thence he came to los angeles for a temporary stay, making the trip in the first carriage ever brought to the coast from a yankee workshop. in 1849, he returned for permanent residence; and here he died in 1859. d. anderson, whose daughter married jerry newell, a pioneer of 1856, was a carriage-maker, having previously been in partnership with a man named burke in the making of pack-saddles. after a while, when anderson had a shop on main street, he commenced making a vehicle somewhat lighter than a road wagon and less elaborate than a carriage. with materials generally purchased from me he covered the vehicle, making it look like a hearse. a newspaper clipping evidences anderson's activity in the middle seventies--"a little shaky on his pins, but cordial as ever." carriages were very scarce in california at the time of my arrival, although there were a few, don abel stearns possessing the only private vehicle in los angeles; and transportation was almost entirely by means of saddle-horses, or the native, capacious _carretas_. these consisted of a heavy platform, four or five by eight or ten feet in size, mounted on two large, solid wheels, sawed out of logs, and were exceedingly primitive in appearance, although the owners sometimes decorated them elaborately; while the wheels moved on coarse, wooden axles, affording the traveler more jounce than restful ride. the _carretas_ served, indeed, for nearly all the carrying business that was done between the _ranchos_ and los angeles; and when in operation, the squeaking could be heard at a great distance, owing especially to the fact that the air being undisturbed by factories or noisy traffic, quiet generally prevailed. so solid were these vehicles that, in early wars, they were used for barricades and the making of temporary corrals, and also for transporting cannon. this sharp squeaking of the _carreta_, however, while penetrating and disagreeable in the extreme, served a purpose, after all, as the signal that a buyer was approaching town; for the vehicle was likely to have on board one or even two good-sized families of women and children, and the keenest expectation of our little business world was consequently aroused, bringing merchants and clerks to the front of their stores. a couple of oxen, by means of ropes attached to their horns, pulled the _carretas_, while the men accompanied their families on horseback; and as the roving oxen were inclined to leave the road, one of the riders (wielding a long, pointed stick) was kept busy moving from side to side, prodding the wandering animals and thus holding them to the highway. following these _carretas_, there were always from twenty-five to fifty dogs, barking and howling as if mad. some of the _carretas_ had awnings and other tasteful trimmings, and those who could afford it spent a great deal of money on saddles and bridles. each _caballero_ was supplied with a _reata_ (sometimes locally misspelled _riata_) or leathern rope, one end of which was tied around the neck of the horse while the other--coiled and tied to the saddle when not in use--was held by the horseman when he went into a house or store; for hitching posts were unknown, with the natural result that there were many runaways. when necessary, the _reata_ was lowered to the level of the ground, to accommodate passers-by. riders were always provided with one or two pistols, to say nothing of the knife which was frequently a part of the armament; and i have seen even sabers suspended from the saddles. as i have remarked, don abel stearns owned the first carriage in town; it was a strong, but rather light and graceful vehicle, with a closed top, which he had imported from boston in 1853, to please doña arcadia, it was said. however that may be, it was pronounced by don abel's neighbors the same dismal failure, considering the work it would be called upon to perform under california conditions, as these wiseacres later estimated the product of john goller's carriage shop to be. speaking of goller, reminds me that john schumacher gave him an order to build a spring wagon with a cover, in which he might take his family riding. it was only a one-horse affair, but probably because of the springs and the top which afforded protection from both the sun and the rain, it was looked upon as a curiosity. it is interesting to note, in passing, that john h. jones, who was brought from boston as a coachman by henry mellus--while mrs. jones came as a seamstress for mrs. mellus--and who for years drove for abel stearns, left a very large estate when he died, including such properties as the northeast corner of fifth and spring streets, the northwest corner of main and fifth streets (where, for several years, he resided,) and other sites of great value; and it is my recollection that his wage as coachman was the sole basis of this huge accumulation. stearns, as i mention elsewhere, suffered for years from financial troubles; and i have always understood that during that crisis jones rendered his former employer assistance. mrs. frémont, the general's wife, also owned one of the first carriages in california. it was built to order in the east and sent around the horn; and was constructed so that it could be fitted up as a bed, thus enabling the distinguished lady and her daughter to camp wherever night might overtake them. shoemakers had a hard time establishing themselves in los angeles in the fifties. a german shoemaker--perhaps i should say a _schuhmachermeister_! --was said to have come and gone by the beginning of 1852; and less than a year later, andrew lehman, a fellow-countryman of john behn, arrived from baden and began to solicit trade. so much, however, did the general stores control the sale of boots and shoes at that time, that lehman used to say it was three years before he began to make more than his expenses. two other shoemakers, morris and weber, came later. slaney brothers, in the late sixties, opened the first shoe store here. in connection with shoemakers and their lack of patronage, i am reminded of the different foot gear worn by nearly every man and boy in the first quarter of a century after my arrival, and the way they were handled. then shoes were seldom used, although clumsy brogans were occasionally in demand. boots were almost exclusively worn by the male population, those designed for boys usually being tipped with copper at the toes. a dozen pair, of different sizes, came in a case, and often a careful search was required through several boxes to find just the size needed. at such times, the dealer would fish out one pair after another, tossing them carelessly onto the floor; and as each case contained odd sizes that had proven unsalable, the none too patient and sometimes irascible merchant had to handle and rehandle the slow-moving stock. some of the boots were highly ornamented at the top, and made a fine exhibit when displayed (by means of strings passing through the boot straps) in front of the store. boot-jacks, now as obsolete as the boots themselves, are also an institution of that past. well out in the country, where the capitol milling company's plant now stands, and perhaps as successor to a still earlier mill built there by an englishman, joseph chapman (who married into the ortega family--since become famous through émile c. ortega who, in 1898, successfully began preserving california chilis),--was a small mill, run by water, known as the eagle mills. this was owned at different times by abel stearns, francis mellus and j. r. scott, and conducted, from 1855 to 1868, by john turner, who came here for that purpose, and whose son, william, with fred lambourn later managed the grocery store of lambourn & turner on aliso street. the miller made poor flour indeed; though probably it was quite equal to that produced by henry dalton at the azusa, john rowland at the puente, michael white at san gabriel, and the theodore brothers at their old mill in los angeles. the quantity of wheat raised in southern california was exceedingly small, and whenever the raw material became exhausted, turner's supply of flour gave out, and this indispensable commodity was then procured from san francisco. turner, who was a large-hearted man and helpful to his fellows, died in 1878. in the seventies, the mill was sold to j. d. deming, and by him to j. loew, who still controls the corporation, the activity of which has grown with the city. half a year before my coming to los angeles, or in april, 1853, nearly twenty-five thousand square miles had been lopped off from los angeles county, to create the county of san bernardino; and yet in that short time the mormons, who had established themselves there in 1851 as a colony on a tract of land purchased from diego sepúlveda and the three lugos--josé del carmen, josé maría and vicente--and consisting of about thirty-five thousand acres, had quite succeeded in their agricultural and other ventures. copying somewhat the plan of salt lake city, they laid out a town a mile square, with right-angled blocks of eight acres and irrigating _zanjas_ parallel with the streets. in a short time, they were raising corn, wheat (some of it commanding five dollars a bushel), barley and vegetables; and along their route of travel, by way of the mormon metropolis, were coming to the southland many substantial pioneers. from san bernardino, los angeles drew her supply of butter, eggs and poultry; and as three days were ordinarily required for their transportation across what was then known as the desert, these products arrived in poor condition, particularly during the summer heat. the butter would melt, and the eggs would become stale. this disadvantage, however, was in part compensated for by the economical advantage of the industry and thrift of the mormons, and their favorable situation in an open, fertile country; for they could afford to sell us their produce very reasonably--fifteen cents a dozen for eggs, and three dollars a dozen for chickens well satisfying them! san bernardino also supplied all of our wants in the lumber line. a lumber yard was then a prospect--seven or eight years elapsing before the first yard and planing-mill were established; and this necessary building material was peddled around town by the mormon teamsters who, after disposing of all they could in this manner, bartered the balance to storekeepers to be later put on sale somewhere near their stores. but two towns broke the monotony of a trip between los angeles and san bernardino, and they were san gabriel mission and el monte. i need not remind my readers that the former place, the oldest and quaintest settlement in the county, was founded by father junípero serra and his associates in 1771, and that thence radiated all of their operations in this neighborhood; nor that, in spite of all the sacrifice and human effort, matters with this beautifully-situated mission were in a precarious condition for several decades. it may be less known, however, that the mission fathers excelled in the cultivation of citrus fruits, and that their chief competitors, in 1853, were william wolfskill and louis vignes, who were also raising seedling oranges of a very good quality. the population of san gabriel was then principally indian and mexican, although there were a few whites dwelling some distance away. among these, j. s. mallard, afterward justice of the peace and father of the present city assessor, walter mallard, carried on a small business; and mrs. laura cecelia evertsen--mother-in-law of an old pioneer, andrew j. king, whose wife is the talented daughter, mrs. laura evertsen king--also had a store there. still another early storekeeper at the quaint settlement was max lazard, nephew of solomon lazard, who later went back to france. another pioneer to settle near the san gabriel river was louis phillips, a native of germany who reached california in 1850, by way of louisiana, and for a while did business in a little store on the long wharf at san francisco. then he came to los angeles, where he engaged in trade; in 1853, he bought land on which, for ten years or until he removed to spadra (where mrs. phillips still survives him), he tilled the soil and raised stock. the previous year, hugo reid, of whom i often heard my neighbors speak in a complimentary way, had died at san gabriel where he had lived and worked. reid was a cultured scotchman who, though born in the british isles, had a part, as a member of the convention, in making the first constitution for california. he married an indian woman and, in his leisure hours, studied the indians on the mainland and catalina, contributing to the los angeles _star_ a series of articles on the aborigines still regarded as the valuable testimony of an eyewitness. this indian wife of the scholarly reid reminds me of nathan tuch, who came here in 1853, having formerly lived in cleveland where he lost his first wife. he was thoroughly honest, very quiet and genteel, and of an affectionate disposition. coming to california and san gabriel, he opened a little store; and there he soon married a full-blooded squaw. notwithstanding, however, the difference in their stations and the fact that she was uneducated, tuch always remained faithful to her, and treated her with every mark of respect. when i last visited tuch and his shop, i saw there a home-made sign, reading about as follows: this store belongs to nathan tuch, now 73 years old. when he died, his wife permitted his burial in the jewish cemetery. michael white was another pioneer, who divided his time between san gabriel and the neighborhood that came to be known as san bernardino, near which he had the rancho muscupiabe. although drifting hither as long ago as 1828, he died, in the late eighties, without farm, home or friends. cyrus burdick was still another settler who, after leaving iowa with his father and other relatives in december, 1853, stopped for a while at san gabriel. soon young burdick went to oregon; but, being dissatisfied, he returned to the mission and engaged in farming. in 1855, he was elected constable; a year later, he opened a store at san gabriel, which he conducted for eight or nine years. subsequently, the burdicks lived in los angeles, at the corner of first and fort streets on the site of the present tajo building. they also owned the northeast corner of second and spring streets. this property became the possession of fred eaton, through his marriage to miss helen l. burdick. fielding w. gibson came early in the fifties. he had bought at sonora, mexico, some five hundred and fifty head of cattle, but his _vaqueros_ kept up such a regular system of side-tracking and thieving that, by the time he reached the san gabriel valley, he had only about one-seventh of his animals left. fancying that neighborhood, he purchased two hundred and fifty acres of land from henry dalton and located west of el monte, where he raised stock and broom corn. el monte--a name by some thought to refer to the adjacent mountains, but actually alluding to the dense willow forests then surrounding the hamlet--the oldest american settlement in the county, was inhabited by a party of mixed emigrants, largely texans and including ira w. thompson who opened the first tavern there and was the postmaster when its post office was officially designated monte. others were dr. obed macy and his son oscar, of whom i speak elsewhere, samuel m. heath and charlotte gray, who became john rowland's second wife; the party having taken possession, in the summer of 1851, of the rich farming tract along the san gabriel river some eleven or twelve miles east of los angeles. the summer before i came, forty or fifty more families arrived there, and among them were a. j. king, afterward a citizen of los angeles; dr. t. a. hayes, william and ezekiel rubottom, samuel king--a. j. king's father--j. a. johnson, jacob weil, a. madox, a. j. horn, thomas a. garey, who acquired quite a reputation as a horticulturist, and jonathan tibbets, spoken of in another chapter. while tilling the soil, these farmer folks made it their particular business to keep whigs and, later, republicans out of office; and slim were the chances of those parties in el monte and vicinity, but correspondingly enthusiastic were the receptions given democratic candidates and their followers visiting there. another important function that engaged these worthy people was their part in the lynchings which were necessary in los angeles. as soon as they received the cue, the monte boys galloped into town; and being by temperament and training, through frontier life, used to dealing with the rougher side of human nature, they were recognized disciplinarians. the fact is that such was the peculiar public spirit animating these early settlers that no one could live and prosper at the monte who was not extremely virile and ready for any dare-devil emergency. david lewis, a supervisor of 1855, crossed the continent to the san gabriel valley in 1851, marrying there, in the following year, a daughter of the innkeeper ira thompson, just referred to. thompson was a typical vermonter and a good, popular fellow, who long kept the overland stage station. sometime in the late fifties, lewis was a pioneer in the growing of hops. jonathan tibbets, who settled at el monte the year that i came to los angeles, had so prospered by 1871 that he left for the mines in mohave county, arizona, to inaugurate a new enterprise, and took with him some twenty thousand pounds of cured pork and a large quantity of lard, which had been prepared at el monte. samuel m. heath was another el monte pioneer of 1851; he died in 1876, kindly remembered by many poor immigrants. h. l., j. s. and s. d. thurman were farmers at el monte, who came here in 1852. e. c. parish, who arrived in 1854 and became a supervisor, was also a ranchman there. other el monte folks, afterward favorably spoken of, were the hoyts, who were identified with early local education. dr. obed macy, father of mrs. sam foy, came to los angeles from the island of nantucket, where he was born, by way of indiana, in which state he had practiced medicine, arriving in southern california about 1850 and settling in el monte. he moved to los angeles, a year later, and bought the bella union from winston & hodges; where were opened the alameda baths, on the site of the building later erected by his son oscar. there dr. macy died on july 9th, 1857. oscar, a printer on the _southern californian_, had set type in san francisco, swung a miner's pick and afterward returned to el monte where he took up a claim which, in time, he sold to samuel king. macy street recalls this pioneer family. the san fernando and san juan capistrano missions, and agua caliente, were the only other settlements in los angeles county then; the former, famous by 1854 for its olives, passing into history both through the activity of the mission fathers and also the renowned set-to between micheltorena and castro when, after hours of cannonading and grotesque swinging of the would-be terrifying _reata_, the total of the dead was--_a single mule!_ then, or somewhat subsequently, general andrés pico began to occupy what was the most pretentious adobe in the state, formerly the abode of the _padres_--a building three hundred feet long, eighty feet wide and with walls four feet thick. in 1853, there was but one newspaper in the city--a weekly known as _la estrella de los angeles_ or _the los angeles star_, printed half in spanish, half in english. it was founded on may 17th, 1851, by john a. lewis and john mcelroy, who had their printing office in the lower room of a small wooden house on los angeles street, near the corral of the bella union hotel. this firm later became lewis, mcelroy & rand. there was then no telegraphic communication with the outside world, and the news ordinarily conveyed by the sheet was anything but important. indeed, all such information was known, each week, by the handful of citizens in the little town long before the paper was published, and delays in getting mail from a distance--in one case the post from san francisco to los angeles being under way no less than fifty-two days!--led to lewis giving up the editorship in disgust. when a steamer arrived, some little news found its way into the paper; but even then matters of national and international moment became known in los angeles only after the lapse of a month or so. the admission of california to the union in 1850, for example, was first reported on the coast six weeks after congress had voted in california's favor; while in 1852, the deaths of clay and webster were not known in the west until more than a month after they had occurred. this was a slight improvement, however, over the conditions in 1841 when (it used to be said) no one west of the rockies knew of president harrison's demise until over three months and a half after he was buried! our first los angeles newspaper was really more of an advertising medium than anything else, and the printing outfit was decidedly primitive, though the printers may not have been as badly off as were the typos of the _californian_. the latter, using type picked up in a mexican cloister, found no _w_'s among the spanish letters and had to set double _v_'s until more type was brought from the cannibal or sandwich islands! which reminds me of josé de la rosa, born in los angeles about 1790, and the first journeyman to set type in california, who died over one hundred years old. but if the _estrella_ made a poor showing as a newspaper, i have no doubt that, to add to the editor's misfortunes, the advertising rates were so low that his entire income was but small. in 1854, the _star_ and its _imprenta_, as it was then styled, were sold to a company organized by james s. waite, who, a year later, was appointed postmaster of the city. speaking of the _star_, i should add that one of its first printers was charles meyrs jenkins, later city _zanjero_, who had come to california, a mere stripling, with his stepfather, george dalton, sr. the post office, too, at this time, was far from being an important institution. it was located in an adobe building on los angeles, between commercial and arcadia streets, and dr. william b. osburn, sometimes known as osbourn--who came to california from new york in 1847, in colonel stevenson's regiment, and who had established a drug store, such as it was, in 1850--had just been appointed postmaster. a man who in his time played many parts, osburn had half a dozen other irons in the fire besides politics (including the interests of a floral nursery and an auction room), and as the postmaster was generally away from his office, citizens desiring their mail would help themselves out of a soap box--subdivided like a pigeon house, each compartment being marked with a letter; and in this way the city's mail was distributed! indifferent as dr. osburn was to the postmastership (which, of course, could not have paid enough to command anyone's exclusive services), he was rather a clever fellow and, somewhat naturally perhaps for a student of chemistry, is said to have made as early as august 9th, 1851, (and in connection with one moses searles, a pioneer house and sign painter) the first daguerreotype photographs produced in los angeles. for two years or more, dr. osburn remained postmaster, resigning his office on november 1st, 1855. while he was a notary public, he had an office in keller's building on los angeles street. j. h. blond was another notary; he had an office opposite the bella union on main street. osburn died in los angeles on july 31st, 1867. no sooner had i arrived in san francisco, than i became aware of the excitement incidental to the search for gold, and on reaching los angeles, i found symptoms of the same fever. that year, as a matter of fact, recorded the highest output of gold, something like sixty-five million dollars' worth being mined; and it was not many months before all was bustle in and about our little city, many people coming and going, and comparatively few wishing to settle, at least until they had first tried their luck with the pick and pan. not even the discovery of gold in the san feliciano cañon, near newhall, in the early forties--for i believe the claim is made that southern californians, while searching for wild onions, had the honor of digging out, in the despised "cow-counties," the first lump of the coveted metal--had set the natives so agog; so that while the rush to the mines claimed many who might otherwise have become permanent residents, it added but little to the prosperity of the town, and it is no wonder that, for a while, the local newspapers refused to give events the notice which they deserved. to be sure, certain merchants--among them dealers in tinware, hardware and groceries, and those who catered especially to miners, carrying such articles as gold-washers, canteens and camp-outfits--increased their trade; but many prospective gold-seekers, on their way to distant diggings, waited until they got nearer the scene of their adventures before buying tools and supplies, when they often exhausted their purses in paying the exorbitant prices which were asked. barring the success of francisco garcia who used gangs of indians and secured in the one year 1855 over sixty thousand dollars' worth of gold--one nugget being nearly two thousand dollars in value--the placer gold-mining carried on in the san gabriel and san francisquito _cañons_ was on the whole unimportant, and what gold-dust was produced at these points came to los angeles without much profit to the toiling miners; so that it may be safely stated that cattleand horse-raising, of which i shall speak in more detail, were southern california's principal sources of income. as for the gold dust secured, san francisco was the clearing-house for the coast, and all of the dust ultimately found its way there until sometime later sacramento developed and became a competitor. coming, as i did, from a part of the world where gold dust was never seen, at least by the layman, this sudden introduction to sacks and bottles full of the fascinating yellow metal produced upon me, as the reader may imagine, another one of those strange impressions fixing so indelibly my first experiences in the new, raw and yet altogether romantic world. chapter viii round about the plaza 1853-1854 at the time of my arrival, the plaza, long the nucleus of the original settlement, was the center of life in the little community, and around it clustered the homes of many of those who were uppermost in the social scale, although some of the descendants of the finest spanish families were living in other parts of the city. this was particularly so in the case of josé andrés sepúlveda, who had a beautiful old adobe on some acreage that he owned northwest of sonora town, near the place where he constructed a stone reservoir to supply his house with water. opposite the old plaza church dwelt a number of families of position and, for the most part, of wealth--in many cases the patrons of less fortunate or dependent ones, who lived nearby. the environment was not beautiful, a solitary pepper, somewhat north of the plaza, being the only shade-tree there; yet the general character of the homes was somewhat aristocratic, the landscape not yet having been seriously disturbed by any utilitarian project such as that of the city fathers who, by later granting a part of the old square for a prosaic water tank, created a greater rumpus than had the combative soldiers some years before. the plaza was shaped much as it is at present, having been reduced considerably, but five or six years earlier, by the mexican authorities: they had planned to improve its shape, but had finished their labors by contracting the object before them. there was no sign of a park; on the contrary, parts of the plaza itself, which had suffered the same fate as the plaza in san francisco, were used as a dumping-ground for refuse. from time to time many church and other festivals were held at this square--a custom no doubt traceable to the old world and to earlier centuries; but before any such affair could take place--requiring the erecting of booths and banks of vegetation in front of the neighboring houses--all rubbish had to be removed, even at the cost of several days' work. among the distinguished citizens of los angeles whose residences added to the social prestige of the neighborhood was don ygnácio del valle, father of r. f. del valle. until 1861, he resided on the east side of the square, in a house between calle de los negros and olvera street, receiving there his intimate friends as well as those who wished to pay him their respects when he was _alcalde_, councilman and member of the state legislature. in 1861, del valle moved to his ranch, camulos. ygnácio coronel was another eminent burgher residing on the east side of the plaza, while cristóbal aguilar's home faced the south. not far from del valle's--that is, back of the later site of the pico house, between the future sanchez street and calle de los negros--lived don pio pico, then and long after a striking figure, not merely on account of his fame as the last of the mexican governors, but as well because of his physique and personality. i may add that as long as he lived, or at least until the tide of his fortune turned and he was forced to sell his most treasured personal effects, he invariably adorned himself with massive jewelry of much value; and as a further conceit, he frequently wore on his bosom mexican decorations that had been bestowed upon him for past official services. don pio really preferred country life at the _ranchito_, as his place was called; but official duties and, later, illness and the need of medical care, kept him in town for months at a time. he had three sisters, two of whom married in succession josé antónio carrillo, another resident at the plaza and the then owner of the site of the future pico house; while the third was the wife of don juan forster, in whose comfortable home don pio found a retreat when distressing poverty overtook him in old age. sanchez street recalls still another don of the neighborhood, vicente sanchez, grandfather of tomás a. sanchez, who was domiciled in a two-story and rather elaborate dwelling near carrillo, on the south side of the plaza. sanchez hall stood there until the late seventies. the beau brummel of los angeles in the early fifties was don vicente lugo, whose wardrobe was made up exclusively of the fanciest patterns of mexican type; his home, one of the few two-story houses in the pueblo, was close to ygnácio del valle's. lugo, a brother of don josé maría, was one of the heavy taxpayers of his time; as late as 1860, he had herds of twenty-five hundred head of cattle, or half a thousand more than pio and andrés pico together owned. maría ballestero, lugo's mother-in-law, lived near him. don agustin olvera dwelt almost opposite don vicente lugo's, on the north side of the plaza, at the corner of the street perpetuating his name. don agustin arrived from mexico, where he had been _juez de paz_, in 1834, or about the same time that don ygnácio coronel came, and served as captain in the campaign of flores against frémont, even negotiating peace with the americans; then he joined dr. hope's volunteer police, and was finally chosen, at the first election in los angeles, judge of the first instance, becoming the presiding officer of the court of sessions. five or six years later, he was school commissioner. he had married doña concepción, one of not less than twenty-two children of don santiago arguello, son of a governor of both californias, and his residence was at the northeast end of the plaza, in an adobe which is still standing. there, while fraternizing with the newly-arrived americans, he used to tell how, in 1850, when the movement for the admission of california as a state was under way, he acted as secretary to a meeting called in this city to protest against the proposal, fearing lest the closer association with northern california would lead to an undue burden of taxes upon the south. olvera street is often written by mistake, olivera. francisco o'campo was another man of means whose home was on the east side of the plaza. although he was also a member of the new _ayuntamiento_, inaugurated in 1849, and although he had occupied other offices, he was very improvident, like so many natives of the time, and died, in consequence, a poor man. in his later years, he used to sit on the curbstone near the plaza, a character quite forlorn, utterly dejected in appearance, and despondently recalling the by-gone days of his prosperity. don cristóbal aguilar, several times in his career an _alcalde_, several times a city councilman beginning with the first organization of los angeles, and even twice or thrice mayor, was another resident near the plaza. his adobe on upper main street was fairly spacious; and partly, perhaps, for that reason, was used by the sisters of charity when they instituted the first hospital in los angeles. a short distance from the plaza, on olvera street, had long stood the home of don josé maría ábila, who was killed in battle in the early thirties. it was there that commodore stockton made his headquarters, and the story of how this was brought about is one of the entertaining incidents of this warlike period. the widow ábila, who had scant love for the americans, had fled with her daughters to the home of don luis[7] vignes, but not before she placed a native boy on guard, cautioning him against opening either doors or windows. when the young custodian, however, heard the flourishes of stockton's brass band, he could not resist the temptation to learn what the excitement meant; so he first poked his head out of a window, and finally made off to the plaza. some of stockton's staff, passing by, and seeing the tasteful furniture within, were encouraged to investigate, with the result that they selected the widow ábila's house for stockton's abode. another ábila--francisco--had an adobe at the present southeast corner of san fernando and alpine streets. francisca gallardo, daughter of one of the sepúlvedas, lived in the vicinity of the plaza. the only church in los angeles at this time was that of _nuestra señora la reyna de los angeles_, known as our lady, the queen of the angels, at the plaza; and since but few changes were made for years in its exterior, i looked upon the edifice as the original adobe built here in the eighties of the preceding century. when i came to inquire into the matter, however, i was astonished to learn that the church dated back no farther than the year 1822, although the first attempt at laying a corner-stone was made in 1815, probably somewhat to the east of the old plaza and a year or two after rising waters frustrated the attempt to build a chapel near the river and the present aliso street. those temporary foundations seem to have marked the spot where later the so-called woman's gun--once buried by mexicans, and afterward dug up by women and used at the battle of dominguez ranch--was long exposed to view, propped up on wooden blocks. the venerable building i then saw, in which all communicants for want of pews knelt on the floor or stood while worshiping, is still admired by those to whom age and sacred tradition, and the sacrifices of the early spanish fathers, make appeal. in the first years of my residence here, the bells of this honored old pile, ringing at six in the morning and at eight in the evening, served as a curfew to regulate the daily activities of the town. had edgar allan poe lived in early los angeles, he might well have added to his poem one more stanza about these old church bells, whose sweet chimes, penetrating the peace and quiet of the sleepy village, not alone summoned the devout to early mass or announced the time of vespers, but as well called many a merchant to his day's labor and dismissed him to his home or the evening's rendezvous. that was a time of sentiment and romance, and the memory of it lingers pleasantly in contrast with the rush and bustle of to-day, when cold and chronometrical exactitude, instead of a careless but, in its time, sufficient measure of the hours, arranged the order of our comings and our goings. incidental to the ceremonial activity of the old church on the plaza, the _corpus christi_ festival was one of the events of the year when not the least imposing feature was the opening procession around the plaza. for all these occasions, the square was thoroughly cleaned, and notable families, such as the del valles, the olveras, the lugos and the picos erected before their residences temporary altars, decorated with silks, satins, laces and even costly jewelry. the procession would start from the church after the four o'clock service and proceed around the plaza from altar to altar. there the boys and girls, carrying banners and flowers, and robed or dressed in white, paused for formal worship, the progress through the square, small as the plaza was, thus taking a couple of hours. each succeeding year the procession became more resplendent and inclusive, and i have a distinct recollection of a feature incidental to one of them when twelve men, with twelve great burning candles, represented the apostles. these midwinter festivities remind me that, on christmas eve, the young people here performed pastoral plays. it was the custom, much as it still is in upper bavaria, to call at the homes of various friends and acquaintances and, after giving little performances such as _los pastores_, to pass on to the next house. a number of the apostles and other characters associated with the life of jesus were portrayed, and the devil, who scared half to death the little children of the hamlet, was never overlooked. the _buñuelo_, or native doughnut, also added its delight to these celebrations. [illustration: john jones] [illustration: captain f. morton] [illustration: captain and mrs. j. s. garcia] [illustration: captain salisbury haley] [illustration: el palacio, home of abel and arcadia stearns from a photograph of the seventies] [illustration: the lugo ranch-house, in the nineties] and now a word about the old spanish missions in this vicinity. it was no new experience for me to see religious edifices that had attained great age, and this feature, therefore, made no special impression. i dare say that i visited the mission of san gabriel very soon after i arrived in los angeles; but it was then less than a century old, and so was important only because it was the place of worship of many natives. the protestant denominations were not as numerous then as now, and nearly all of the population was catholic. with the passing of the years, sentimental reverence for the spanish fathers has grown greater and their old mission homes have acquired more and more the dignity of age. helen hunt jackson's _ramona_, john s. mcgroarty's _mission play_ (in which, by the by, señorita lucretia, daughter of r. f. and granddaughter of don ygnácio del valle, so ably portrays the character of _doña josefa yorba_) and various other literary efforts have increased the interest in these institutions of the past. the missions and their chapels recall an old mexican woman who had her home, when i came to los angeles, at what is now the southeast corner of san pedro and first streets. she dwelt in a typical adobe, and in the rear of her house was a vineyard of attractive aspect. adjoining one of the rooms of her dwelling was a chapel, large enough, perhaps, to hold ten or twelve people and somewhat like those on the dominguez and coronel estates; and this chapel, like all the other rooms, had an earthen floor. in it was a gaudily-decorated altar and crucifix. the old lady was very religious and frequently repaired to her sanctuary. from the sale of grapes, she derived, in part, her income; and many a time have i bought from her the privilege of wandering through her vineyard and eating all i could of this refreshing berry. if the grape-season was not on, neighbors were none the less always welcome there; and it was in this quiet and delightful retreat that, in 1856, i proposed marriage to miss sarah newmark, my future wife, such a mere girl that a few evenings later i found her at home playing jackstones--then a popular game--with mrs. j. g. downey, herself a child. but while catholics predominated, the protestant churches had made a beginning. rev. adam bland, presiding elder of the methodists in los angeles in 1854, had come here a couple of years before, to begin his work in the good, old-fashioned way; and, having bought the barroom, el dorado, and torn down hughes's sign, he had transformed the place into a chapel. but, alas for human foresight, or the lack of it: on at least a part of the new church lot, the merced theater later stood! two cemeteries were in existence at the time whereof i write: the roman catholic--abandoned a few years ago--which occupied a site on buena vista street, and one, now long deserted, for other denominations. this cemetery, which we shall see was sadly neglected, thereby occasioning bitter criticism in the press, was on fort hill. later, another burial-ground was established in the neighborhood of what is now flower and figueroa streets, near ninth, many years before there was any thought of rosedale or evergreen. as for my co-religionists and their provision of a cemetery, when i first came to los angeles they were without a definite place for the interment of their dead; but in 1854 the first steps were taken to establish a jewish cemetery here, and it was not very long before the first jewish child to die in los angeles, named mahler, was buried there. this cemetery, on land once owned and occupied by josé andrés sepúlveda's reservoir, was beautifully located in a recess or little pocket, as it were, among the hills in the northwest section of the city, where the environment of nature was in perfect harmony with the jewish ideal--"home of peace." mrs. jacob rich, by the way, had the distinction of being the first jewess to settle in los angeles; and i am under the impression that mrs. e. greenbaum became the mother of the first jewish child born here. sam prager arrived in 1854, and after clerking a while, associated himself with the morrises, who were just getting nicely established. for a time, they met with much success and were among the most important merchants of their day. finally they dissolved, and the morris brothers bought the large tract of land which i have elsewhere described as having been refused by newmark, kremer & company in liquidation of major henry hancock's account. here, for several years, in a fine old adobe lived the morris family, dispensing a bountiful hospitality quite in keeping with the open-handed manner of the times. in the seventies, the morris brothers sold this property--later known as morris vineyard--after they had planted it to vines, for the insignificant sum of about twenty thousand dollars. following sam prager, came his brother charles. for a short time they were associated, but afterward they operated independently, charles prager starting on commercial street, on may 19th, 1869. sam prager, long known as "uncle sam," was a good-natured and benevolent man, taking a deep interest in masonic matters, becoming master of 42, and a regular attendant at the annual meetings of the grand lodge of california. he was also chairman of the masonic board of relief until the time of his death. charles prager and the morrises have all gone to that undiscovered country, from whose bourn no traveler returns. in the summer of 1853, a movement was inaugurated, through the combined efforts of mayors nichols and coronel, aided by john t. jones, to provide public schools; and three citizens, j. lancaster brent, lewis granger and stephen c. foster, were appointed school commissioners. as early as 1838, ygnácio coronel, assisted by his wife and daughter, had accepted some fifteen dollars a month from the authorities--to permit the exercise of official supervision--and opened a school which, as late as 1854, he conducted in his own home; thereby doubtless inspiring his son antónio to take marked interest in the education of the indians. from time to time, private schools, partly subsidized from public funds, were commenced. in may, 1854, mayor foster pointed out that, while there were fully five hundred children of school age and the pueblo had three thousand dollars surplus, there was still no school building which the city could call its own. new trustees--manuel requena, francis mellus and w. t. b. sanford--were elected; and then happened what, perhaps, has not occurred here since, or ever in any other california town: foster, still mayor, was also chosen school superintendent. the new energy put into the movement now led the board to build, late in 1854 or early in 1855, a two-story brick schoolhouse, known as school no. 1, on the northwest corner of spring and second streets, on the lot later occupied, first by the old city hall and secondly by the bryson block. this structure cost six thousand dollars. strange as it now seems, the location was then rather "out in the country;" and i dare say the selection was made, in part, to get the youngsters away from the residential district around the plaza. there school was opened on march 19th, 1855; william a. wallace, a botanist who had been sent here to study the flora, having charge of the boys' department and miss louisa hayes directing the division for girls. among her pupils were sarah newmark and her sisters; mary wheeler, who married william pridham; and lucinda macy, afterward mrs. foy, who recalls participating in the first public school examination, in june, 1856. dr. john s. griffin, on june 7th, 1856, was elected superintendent. having thus established a public school, the city council voted to discontinue all subsidies to private schools. one of the early school-teachers was the pioneer, james f. burns. coming with an emigrant train in 1853, burns arrived in los angeles, after some adventures with the indians near what was later the scene of the mountain meadow massacre, in november of the same year. having been trained in kalamazoo, michigan, as a teacher, burns settled, in 1854, in san gabriel; and there with cæsar c. twitchell, he conducted a cross-roads school in a tent. later, while still living at san gabriel, burns was elected county school superintendent. before reaching here--that is, at provo, utah, on september 25th--the young schoolmaster had married miss lucretia burdick, aunt of fred eaton's first wife. burns, though of small stature, became one of the fighting sheriffs of the county. among others who conducted schools in los angeles or vicinity, in the early days, were mrs. adam bland, wife of the missionary; h. d. barrows and the hoyts. mrs. bland taught ten or twelve poor girls, in 1853, for which the common council allowed her about thirty-five dollars. barrows was one of several teachers employed by william wolfskill at various times, and at wolfskill's school not merely were his own children instructed but those of the neighboring families of carpenter, rowland and pleasants as well. mrs. gertrude lawrence hoyt was an episcopal clergyman's wife from new york who, being made a widow, followed her son, albert h. hoyt, to los angeles in 1853. young hoyt, a graduate of rutgers college and a teacher excited by the gold fever, joined a hundred and twenty men who chartered the bark _clarissa perkins_ to come around the horn, in 1849; but failing as a miner, he began farming near sacramento. when mrs. hoyt came to los angeles, she conducted a private school in a rented building north of the plaza, beginning in 1854 and continuing until 1856; while her son moved south and took up seventy or eighty acres of land in the san gabriel valley, near el monte. in 1855, young hoyt came into town to assist his mother in the school; and the following year mrs. hoyt's daughter, mary, journeyed west and also became a teacher here. later, miss hoyt kept a school on alameda street near the site of the los angeles & san pedro railroad depot. mrs. hoyt died in los angeles in 1863. other early teachers were william mckee, mrs. thomas foster and miss anna mcarthur. as undeveloped as the pueblo was, los angeles boasted, in her very infancy, a number of physicians, although there were few, if any, spanish or mexican practitioners. in 1850, drs. william b. osburn, w. w. jones, a. w. hope, a. p. hodges and a dr. overstreet were here; while in 1851, drs. thomas foster, john brinckerhoff and james p. mcfarland followed, to be reënforced, in 1852, by dr. james b. winston and, soon after, by drs. r. t. hayes, t. j. white and a. b. hayward. dr. john strother griffin (general albert sidney johnston's brother-in-law and the accepted suitor of miss louisa hayes) came to los angeles in 1848, or rather to san gabriel--where, according to hugo reid, no physician had settled, though the population took drugs by the barrel; being the ranking surgeon under kearney and stockton when, on january 8th, they drove back the mexican forces. he was also one of the hosts to young w. t. sherman. not until 1854, however, after griffin had returned to washington and had resigned his commission, did he actually settle in los angeles. thereafter, his participation in local affairs was such that, very properly, one of our avenues is named after him. dr. richard s. den antedated all of these gentlemen, having resided and practiced medicine in los angeles in 1843, 1844 and again in the early fifties, though he did not dwell in this city permanently until january, 1866. den i knew fairly well, and griffin was my esteemed physician and friend. foster and griffin were practitioners whom i best recall as being here during my first years, one or two others, as dr. osburn and dr. winston, having already begun to devote their time to other enterprises. dr. richard s. den, an irishman of culture and refinement, having been for awhile with his brother, nicholas den, in santa bárbara, returned to los angeles in 1851. i say, "returned," because den had looked in on the little pueblo before i had even heard its name. while in the former place, in the winter of 1843-44, den received a call from los angeles to perform one or two surgical operations, and here he practiced until drawn to the mines by the gold excitement. he served, in 1846-47, as chief physician and surgeon of the mexican forces during the mexican war, and treated, among others, the famous american consul larkin, whose surety he became when larkin was removed to better quarters in the home of louis vignes. den had only indifferent luck as a miner, but was soon in such demand to relieve the sufferers from malaria that it is said he received as much as a thousand dollars in a day for his practice. in 1854, he returned to santa bárbara county, remaining there for several years and suffering great loss, on account of the drought and its effects on his cattle. nicholas den, who was also known in los angeles, and was esteemed for both his integrity and his hospitality, died at santa bárbara in 1862. old dr. den will be remembered, not only with esteem, but with affection. he was seldom seen except on horseback, in which fashion he visited his patients, and was, all in all, somewhat a man of mystery. he rode a magnificent coal-black charger, and was himself always dressed in black. he wore, too, a black felt hat; and beneath the hat there clustered a mass of wavy hair as white as snow. in addition to all this, his standing collar was so high that he was compelled to hold his head erect; and as if to offset the immaculate linen, he tied around the collar a large black-silk scarf. thus attired and seated on his richly-caparisoned horse, dr. den appeared always dignified, and even imposing. one may therefore easily picture him a friendly rival with don juan bandini at the early spanish balls, as he was on intimate terms with don and doña abel stearns, acknowledged social leaders. dr. den was fond of horse-racing and had his own favorite racehorses sent here from santa bárbara, where they were bred. dr. osburn, the postmaster of 1853, had two years before installed a small variety of drugs on a few shelves, referred to by the complimentary term of drug store. dr. winston also kept a stock of drugs. about the same time, and before dr. a. w. hope opened the third drug store in september, 1854, john gately downey, an irishman by birth, who had been apprenticed to the drug trade in maryland and ohio, formed a partnership with james p. mcfarland, a native of tennessee, buying some of winston's stock. their store was a long, one-story adobe on the northwest corner of los angeles and commercial streets, and was known as mcfarland & downey's. the former had been a gold-miner; and this experience intensified the impression of an already rugged physique as a frontier type. entering politics, as osburn and practically every other professional man then did--doubtless as much as anything else for the assurance of some definite income--mcfarland secured a seat in the assembly in 1852, and in the senate in 1853-54. about 1858, he returned to tennessee and in december, 1860, revisited california; after which he settled permanently in the east. downey, in 1859, having been elected lieutenant-governor, was later made governor, through the election of latham to the united states senate; but his suddenly-revealed sympathies with the secessionists, together with his advocacy of a bill for the apprenticing of indians, contributed toward killing him politically and he retired to private life. dr. h. r. myles, destined to meet with a tragic death in a steamboat disaster which i shall narrate, was another druggist, with a partner, dr. j. c. welch, a south carolinian dentist who came here in the early fifties and died in august, 1869. their drug store on main street, nearly opposite the bella union, filled the prescriptions of the city's seven or eight doctors. considerably later, but still among the pioneer druggists, was dr. v. gelcich, who came here as surgeon to the fourth california infantry. speaking of druggists, it may be interesting to add that medicines were administered in earlier days to a much greater extent than now. for every little ailment there was a pill, a powder or some other nostrum. the early _botica_, or drug store, kept only drugs and things incidental to the drug business. there was also more of home treatment than now. every mother did more or less doctoring on her own account, and had her well-stocked medicine-chest. castor oil, ipecac, black draught and calomel were generally among the domestic supply. the practice of surgery was also very primitive; and he was unfortunate, indeed, who required such service. operations had to be performed at home; there were few or none of the modern scientific appliances or devices for either rendering the patient immune or contending with active disease. preceded by a brother, colonel james c. foy--who visited california in 1850 and was killed in 1864, while in sherman's army, by the bursting of a shell--samuel c. foy started for san francisco, by way of new orleans and the isthmus, when he was but twenty-two years old and, allured by the gold-fever, wasted a year or two in the mines. in january, 1854, he made his way south to los angeles; and seeing the prospect for trade in harness, on february 19th of that year opened an american saddlery, in which business he was joined by his brother, john m. foy. their store was on main street, between commercial and requena. the location was one of the best; and the foy brothers offering, besides saddlery, such necessities of the times as tents, enjoyed one of the first chances to sell to passing emigrants and neighboring _rancheros_, as they came into town. some spurs, exhibited in the county museum, are a souvenir of foy's enterprise in those pioneer days. in may, 1856, sam foy began operating in cattle and continued in that business until 1865, periodically taking herds north and leaving his brother in charge of the store. in the course of time, the foys moved to los angeles street, becoming my neighbors; and while there, in 1882, s. c. foy, in a quaint advertisement embellished with a blanketed horse, announced his establishment as the "oldest business house in los angeles, still at the old stand, 17 los angeles street, next to h. newmark & company's." john foy, who later removed to san bernardino, died many years ago, and sam foy also has long since joined the silent majority; but one of the old signs of the saddlery is still to be seen on los angeles street, where the son, james calvert foy, conducts the business. the foys first lived on los angeles street, and then on main. some years later, they moved to the corner of seventh and pearl streets, now called figueroa, and came to control much valuable land there, still in possession of the family. a daughter of samuel c. foy is miss mary foy, formerly a teacher and later public librarian. another daughter married thomas lee woolwine, the attorney. wells fargo & company--formerly always styled wells, fargo & company--were early in the field here. on march 28th, 1854, they were advertising, through h. r. myles, their agent, that they were a joint stock company with a capital of five hundred thousand dollars! footnote: [7] often spoken of as don louis. chapter ix familiar home-scenes 1854 many of the houses, as i have related, were clustered around and north of the plaza church, while the hills surrounding the pueblo to the west were almost bare. these same hills have since been subdivided and graded to accommodate the westlake, the wilshire, the west temple and other sections. main and spring streets were laid out beyond first, but they were very sparsely settled; while to the east of main and extending up to that street, there were many large vineyards without a single break as far south as the ninth street of to-day, unless we except a narrow and short lane there. to enable the reader to form an accurate impression of the time spent in getting to a nearby point, i will add that, to reach william wolfskin's home, which was in the neighborhood of the present arcade depot, one was obliged to travel down to aliso street, thence to alameda, and then south on alameda to wolfskin's orchard. from spring street, west and as far as the coast, there was one huge field, practically unimproved and undeveloped, the swamp lands of which were covered with tules. all of this land, from the heart of the present retail district to the city limits, belonged to the municipality. i incline to the opinion that both ord and hancock had already surveyed in this southwestern district; but through there, nevertheless, no single street had as yet been cut. [illustration: j. p. newmark from a vignette of the sixties] [illustration: o. w. childs] [illustration: jacob rich] [illustration: john o. wheeler] [illustration: benjamin d. wilson] [illustration: dr. obed macy] [illustration: george hansen] [illustration: samuel c. foy] not merely at the plaza, but throughout los angeles, most of the houses were built of adobe, or mud mixed with straw and dried for months in the sun; and several fine dwellings of this kind were constructed after i came. the composition was of such a nature that, unless protected by roofs and verandas,[8] the mud would slowly wash away. the walls, however, also requiring months in which to dry, were generally three or four feet thick; and to this as well as to the nature of the material may be attributed the fact that the houses in the summer season were cool and comfortable, while in winter they were warm and cheerful. they were usually rectangular in shape, and were invariably provided with _patios_ and corridors. there was no such thing as a basement under a house, and floors were frequently earthen. conventionality prescribed no limit as to the number of rooms, an adobe frequently having a sitting-room, a dining-room, a kitchen and as many bedrooms as were required; but there were few, if any, "frills" for the mere sake of style. most adobes were but one story in height, although there were a few two-story houses; and it is my recollection that, in such cases, the second story was reached from the outside. everything about an adobe was emblematic of hospitality: the doors, heavy and often apparently home-made, were wide, and the windows were deep. in private houses, the doors were locked with a key; but in some of the stores, they were fastened with a bolt fitted into iron receptacles on either side. the windows, swinging on hinges, opened inward and were locked in the center. there were few curtains or blinds; wooden shutters, an inch thick, also fastening in the center, being generally used instead. if there were such conveniences as hearths and fireplaces, i cannot recollect them, although i think that here and there the _brasero_, or pan and hot coals, was still employed. there were no chimneys, and the smoke, as from the kitchen stove, escaped through the regular stacks leading out through a pane in the window or a hole in the wall. the porches, also spoken of as verandas and rather wide, were supported by equidistant perpendicular posts; and when an adobe had two stories, the veranda was also double-storied. few if any vines grew around these verandas in early days, largely because of the high cost of water. for the same reason, there were almost no gardens. the roofs which, as i have intimated, proved as necessary to preserve the adobe as to afford protection from the semi-tropical sun, were generally covered with asphalt and were usually flat in order to keep the tar from running off. as well as i can recollect, vicente salsido--or salcito, as his name was also written--who lived in or somewhere near nigger alley, was the only man then engaged in the business of mending pitch-roofs. when winter approached and the first rainfall produced leaks, there was a general demand for salsido's services and a great scramble among owners of buildings to obtain them. such was the need, in fact, that more than one family, drowned out while waiting, was compelled to move to the drier quarters of relatives or friends, there to stay until the roofer could attend to their own houses. under a huge kettle, put up in the public street, salsido set fire to some wood, threw in his pitch and melted it. then, after he or a helper had climbed onto the roof, the molten pitch was hauled up in buckets and poured over the troublesome leaks. much of this tar was imported from the north, but some was obtained in this locality, particularly from so-called springs on the hancock ranch, which for a long time have furnished great quantities of the useful, if unattractive, substance. this asphalt was later used for sidewalks, and even into the eighties was employed as fuel. to return to salsido, i might add that in summer the pitch-roofer had no work at all. besides the adobes with their asphalt roofs, some houses, erected within the first quarter of the nineteenth century, were covered with tiles. the most notable tiled building was the old church, whose roof was unfortunately removed when the edifice was so extensively renovated. the carrillo home was topped with these ancient tiles, as were also josé maría ábila's residence; vicente sanchez's two-story adobe south of the plaza, and the alvarado house on first street, between main and los angeles streets. it was my impression that there were no bricks in los angeles when i first came, although about 1854 or 1855 jacob weixel had the first regular brickyard. in conversation with old-timers, however, many years ago, i was assured that captain jesse hunter, whom i recall, had built a kiln not far from the later site of the potomac block, on fort street, between second and third; and that, as early as 1853, he had put up a brick building on the west side of main street, about one hundred and fifty feet south of the present site of the bullard block. this was for mayor nichols, who paid hunter thirty dollars a thousand for the new and more attractive kind of building material. this pioneer brick building has long since disappeared. hunter seems to have come to los angeles alone, and to have been followed across the plains by his wife, two sons and three daughters, taking up his permanent residence here in 1856. one of the daughters married a man named burke, who conducted a blacksmith and wagon shop in hunter's building on main street. hunter died in 1874. dr. william a. hammel, father of sheriff william hammel, who came to california during the gold excitement of '49, had one of the first red brick houses in los angeles, on san pedro street, between second and third. sometime in 1853, or perhaps in 1854, the first building erected by the public in los angeles county was put together here of brick baked in the second kiln ever fired in the city. it was the town jail on the site of the present phillips block,[9] at the northwest corner of spring and franklin streets. this building took the place of the first county jail, a rude adobe that stood on the hill back of the present national government building. in that jail, i have understood, there were no cells, and prisoners were fastened by chains to logs outside. _zanja_ water was being used for irrigation when i arrived. a system of seven or eight _zanjas_, or open ditches--originated, i have no doubt, by the catholic fathers--was then in operation, although it was not placed under the supervision of a _zanjero_, or water commissioner, until 1854. these small surface canals connected at the source with the _zanja madre_, or mother ditch, on the north side of the town, from which they received their supply; the _zanja madre_ itself being fed from the river, at a point a long way from town. the _zanjero_ issued permits, for which application had to be made some days in advance, authorizing the use of the water for irrigation purposes. a certain amount was paid for the use of this water during a period of twelve hours, without any limit as to the quantity consumed, and the purchaser was permitted to draw his supply both day and night. water for domestic uses was a still more expensive luxury. inhabitants living in the immediate neighborhood of _zanjas_, or near the river, helped themselves; but their less-fortunate brethren were served by a carrier, who charged fifty cents a week for one bucket a day, while he did not deliver on sunday at all. extra requirements were met on the same basis; and in order to avoid an interruption in the supply, prompt settlement of the charge had to be made every saturday evening. this character was known as bill the waterman. he was a tall american, about thirty or thirty-five years old; he had a mustache, wore long, rubber boots coming nearly to his waist, and presented the general appearance of a laboring man; and his somewhat rickety vehicle, drawn by two superannuated horses, slowly conveyed the man and his barrel of about sixty gallons capacity from house to house. he was a wise dispenser, and quite alert to each household's needs. bill obtained his supply from the los angeles river, where at best it was none too clean, in part owing to the frequent passage of the river by man and beast. animals of all kinds, including cattle, horses, sheep, pigs, mules and donkeys, crossed and recrossed the stream continually, so that the mud was incessantly stirred up, and the polluted product proved unpalatable and even, undoubtedly, unhealthful. to make matters worse, the river and the _zanjas_ were the favorite bathing-places, all the urchins of the hamlet disporting themselves there daily, while most of the adults, also, frequently immersed themselves. both the yet unbridged stream and the _zanjas_, therefore, were repeatedly contaminated, although common sense should have protected the former to a greater or less extent; while as to the latter there were ordinances drawn up by the common council of 1850 which prohibited the throwing of filth into fresh water designed for common use, and also forbade the washing of clothes on the _zanja_ banks. this latter regulation was disobeyed by the native women, who continued to gather there, dip their soiled garments in the water, place them on stones and beat them with sticks, a method then popular for the extraction of dirt. besides bill the waterman, dan schieck was a water-vender, but at a somewhat later date. proceeding to the _zanja_ in a curious old cart, he would draw the water he needed, fresh every morning, and make daily deliveries at customers' houses for a couple of dollars a month. schieck forsook this business, however, and went into draying, making a specialty of meeting banning's coaches and transferring the passengers to their several destinations. he was a frugal man, and accumulated enough to buy the southwest corner of franklin and spring streets. as a result, he left property of considerable value. he died about twenty-five years ago; mrs. schieck, who was a sister of john fröhling, died in 1874. just one more reference to the drinking-water of that period. when delivered to the customer, it was emptied into _ollas_, or urn-shaped vessels, made from burned clay or terra cotta. every family and every store was provided with at least one of these containers which, being slightly porous, possessed the virtue (of particular value at a time when there was no ice) of keeping the water cool and refreshing. the _olla_ commonly in use had a capacity of four or five gallons, and was usually suspended from the ceiling of a porch or other convenient place; while attached to this domestic reservoir, as a rule, was a long-handled dipper generally made from a gourd. filters were not in use, in consequence of which fastidious people washed out their _ollas_ very frequently. these wide-mouthed pots recall to me an appetizing spanish dish, known as _olla-podrida_, a stew consisting of various spiced meats, chopped fine, and an equally varied assortment of vegetables, partaken of separately; all bringing to mind, perhaps, thackeray's sentimental _ballad of bouillabaisse_. considering these inconveniences, how surprising it is that the common council, in 1853, should have frowned upon judge william g. dryden's proposition to distribute, in pipes, all the water needed for domestic use. on may 16th, 1854, the first masonic lodge--then and now known as 42--received its charter, having worked under special dispensation since the preceding december. the first officers chosen were: h. p. dorsey, master; j. elias, senior warden; thomas foster, junior warden; james r. barton, treasurer; timothy foster, secretary; jacob rich, senior deacon; and w. a. smith, tyler. for about three decades after my arrival, smallpox epidemics visited us somewhat regularly every other year, and the effect on the town was exceedingly bad. the whole population was on such a friendly footing that every death made a very great impression. the native element was always averse to vaccination and other sanitary measures; everybody objected to isolation, and disinfecting was unknown. in more than one familiar case, the surviving members of a stricken family went into the homes of their kinsmen, notwithstanding the danger of contagion. is it any wonder, therefore, when such ignorance was universal, that the pest spread alarmingly and that the death-rate was high? the smallpox wagon, dubbed the _black maria_, was a frequent sight on the streets of los angeles during these sieges. there was an isolated pesthouse near the chavez ravine, but the patients of the better class were always treated at home, where the sanitation was never good; and at best the community was seriously exposed. consternation seized the public mind, communication with the outside world was disturbed, and these epidemics were the invariable signal for business disorder and crises. this matter of primitive sanitation reminds me of an experience. to accommodate an old iron bath-tub that i wished to set up in my main street home in the late sixties, i was obliged to select one of the bedrooms; since, when my adobe was built, the idea of having a separate bathroom in a house had never occurred to any owner. i connected it with the _zanja_ at the rear of my lot by means of a wooden conduit; which, although it did not join very closely, answered all purposes for the discharge of waste water. one of my children for several years slept in this combination bathand bedroom; and although the plumbing was as old-fashioned as it well could be, yet during all that time there was no sickness in our family. it was fortunate indeed that the adobe construction of the fifties rendered houses practically fireproof since, in the absence of a water-system, a bucket-brigade was all there was to fight a fire with, and this rendered but poor service. i remember such a brigade at work, some years after i came, in the vicinity of the bell block, when a chain of helpers formed a relay from the nearest _zanja_ to the blazing structure. buckets were passed briskly along, from person to person, as in the animated scene described by schiller in the well-known lines of _das lied von der glocke_: _durch der hände lange kette um die wette fliegt der eimer_;[10] a process which was continued until the fire had exhausted itself. francis mellus had a little hand-cart, but for lack of water it was generally useless. instead of fire-bells announcing to the people that a conflagration was in progress, the discharging of pistols in rapid succession gave the alarm and was the signal for a general fusillade throughout the neighboring streets. indeed, this method of sounding a fire-alarm was used as late as the eighties. on the breaking out of fires, neighbors and friends rushed to assist the victim in saving what they could of his property. on account of the inadequate facilities for extinguishing anything like a conflagration, it transpired that insurance companies would not for some time accept risks in los angeles. if i am not mistaken, s. lazard obtained the first protection late in the fifties and paid a premium of four per cent. the policy was issued by the hamburg-bremen company, through adelsdorfer brothers of san francisco, who also imported foreign merchandise; and lazard, thereafter, as the los angeles agent for the hamburg-bremen company, was the first insurance underwriter here of whom i have any knowledge. adelsdorfer brothers, it is also interesting to note, imported the first swedish matches brought into california, perhaps having in mind cause and effect with profit at both ends; they put them on the retail market in los angeles at twenty-five cents a package. this matter of fires calls to mind an interesting feature of the city when i first saw it. when henry, or enrique dalton sailed from england, he shipped a couple of corrugated iron buildings, taking them to south america where he used them for several years. on coming to los angeles, he brought the buildings with him, and they were set up at the site of the present corner of spring and court streets. in a sense, therefore, these much-transported iron structures (one of which, in 1858, i rented as a storeroom for wool) came to be among the earliest "fire-proof" buildings here. as early as 1854, the need of better communication between los angeles and the outside world was beginning to be felt; and in the summer of that year the supervisors--d. w. alexander, s. c. foster, j. sepúlveda, c. aguilar and s. s. thompson--voted to spend one thousand dollars to open a wagon road over the mountains between the san fernando mission and the san francisco _rancho_. a rather broad trail already existed there; but such was its grade that many a pioneer, compelled to use a windlass or other contrivance to let down his wagon in safety, will never forget the real perils of the descent. for years it was a familiar experience with stages, on which i sometimes traveled, to attach chains or boards to retard their downward movement; nor were passengers even then without anxiety until the hillor mountain-side had been passed. during 1854, mr. and mrs. joseph newmark and family, whom i had met, the year before, for a few hours in san francisco, arrived here and located in the one-story adobe owned by john goller and adjoining his blacksmith shop. there were six children--matilda, myer j., sarah, edward, caroline and harriet--all of whom had been born in new york city. with their advent, my personal environment immediately changed: they provided me with a congenial home; and as they at once began to take part in local social activities, i soon became well acquainted. my aunt took charge of my english education, and taught me to spell, read and write in that language; and i have always held her efforts in my behalf in grateful appreciation. as a matter of fact, having so early been thrown into contact with spanish-speaking neighbors and patrons, i learned spanish before i acquired english. the newmarks had left new york on december 15th, 1852, on the ship _carrington_, t. b. french commanding, to make the trip around the horn, san francisco being their destination. after a voyage for the most part pleasant, although not altogether free from disagreeable features and marked by much rough weather, they reached the golden gate, having been four months and five days on the ocean. one of the enjoyable incidents _en route_ was an old-fashioned celebration in which _neptune_ took part when they crossed the equator. in a diary of that voyage kept by myer j. newmark, mention is made that "our democratic president, franklin pierce, and vice-president, william r. king, were inaugurated march 4th, 1853;" which reminds me that some forty years later judge h. a. pierce, the president's cousin, and his wife who was of literary proclivities, came to be my neighbors in los angeles. mr. and mrs. newmark and their family remained in san francisco until 1854. joseph newmark, formerly neumark, born june 15th, 1799, was, i assume, the first to adopt the english form of the name. he was genuinely religious and exalted in character. his wife, rosa, whom he married in new york in 1835, was born in london on march 17th, 1808. he came to america in 1824, spent a few years in new york, and resided for a while in somerset, connecticut, where, on january 21st, 1831, he joined the masonic fraternity. during his first residence in new york, he started the elm street synagogue, one of the earliest in america. in 1840, we find him in st. louis, a pioneer indeed. five years later he was in dubuque, iowa, then a frontier village. in 1846, he once more pitched his tent in new york; and during this sojourn he organized the wooster street congregation. immediately after reaching los angeles, he brought into existence the los angeles hebrew benevolent society, which met for some time at his home on sunday evenings, and which, i think, was the first charitable institution in this city. its principal objects were to care for the sick, to pay proper respect, according to jewish ritual, to the dead, and to look after the jewish cemetery which was laid out about that time; so that the society at once became a real spiritual force and continued so for several years. the first president was jacob elias. although mr. newmark had never served as a salaried rabbi, he had been ordained and was permitted to officiate; and one of the immediate results of his influence was the establishment of worship on jewish holidays, under the auspices of the society named. the first service was held in the rear room of an adobe owned by john temple. joseph newmark also inspired the purchase of land for the jewish cemetery. after rabbi edelman came, my uncle continued on various occasions to assist him. when, in course of time, the population of los angeles increased, the responsibilities of the hebrew benevolent society were extended. although a jewish organization, and none but jews could become members of it or receive burial in the jewish cemetery, its aim was to give relief, as long as its financial condition would permit, to every worthy person that appeared, whoever he was or whatever his creed. recalling this efficient organization, i may say that i believe myself to be one of but two survivors among the charter members--s. lazard being the other. kiln messer was another pioneer who came around the horn about that time, although he arrived here from germany a year later than i did; and during his voyage, he had a trying experience in a shipwreck off cape verde where, with his comrades, he had to wait a couple of months before another vessel could be signaled. even then he could get no farther toward his destination--the golden gate--than rio de janeiro, where he was delayed five or six months more. finally reaching san francisco, he took to mining; but, weakened by fever (an experience common among the gold-seekers), he made his way to los angeles. after brewing beer for a while at the corner of third and main streets, messer bought a twenty-acre vineyard which, in 1857, he increased by another purchase to forty-five or fifty acres; and it was his good fortune that this property was so located as to be needed by the santa fé railroad, in 1888, as a terminal. toward the end of the seventies, messer, moderately well-to-do, was a grocer at the corner of rose and first streets; and about 1885, he retired. joseph newmark brought with him to los angeles a chinese servant, to whom he paid one hundred dollars a month; and, as far as i know, this mongolian was the first to come to our city. this domestic item has additional interest, perhaps, because it was but five or six years before that the first chinese to emigrate from the celestial kingdom to california--two men and a lone woman--had come to san francisco in the ship _eagle_ from hong kong. a year later, there were half a hundred chinamen in the territory, while at the end of still another year, during the gold excitement, nearly a thousand chinese entered the golden gate. the housekeeping experiences of mr. and mrs. joseph newmark remind me that it was not easy in the early days to get satisfactory domestic service. indians, negroes and sometimes mexicans were employed, until the arrival of more chinese and the coming of white girls. joseph newmark, when i lived with his family, employed, in addition to the chinaman, an indian named pedro who had come with his wife from temécula and whose remuneration was fifty cents a day; and these servants attended to most of the household duties. the annual _fiesta_ at temécula used to attract pedro and his better-half; and while they were absent, the newmark girls did the work. my new home was very congenial, not the least of its attractions being the family associations at meal-time. the opportunities for obtaining a variety of food were not as good perhaps as they are to-day, and yet some delicacies were more in evidence. among these i might mention wild game and chickens. turkeys, of all poultry, were the scarcest and most-prized. all in all, our ordinary fare has not changed so much except in the use of mutton, certain vegetables, ice and a few dainties. there was no extravagance in the furnishing of pioneer homes. few people coming to los angeles expected to locate permanently; they usually planned to accumulate a small competency and then return to their native heaths. in consequence, little attention was paid to quality or styles, and it is hard to convey a comprehensive idea of the prevailing lack of ordinary comforts. for many years the inner walls of adobes were whitewashed--a method of mural finish not the most agreeable, since the coating so easily "came off;" and only in the later periods of frame houses, did we have kalsomined and hard-finished wall surfaces. just when papered and tinted walls came in, i do not remember; but they were long delayed. furniture was plain and none too plentiful; and glassware and tableware were of an inferior grade. certain vegetables were abundant, truck-gardening having been introduced here in the early fifties by andrew briswalter, an alsatian by birth and an original character. he first operated on san pedro street, where he rented a tract of land and peddled his vegetables in a wheelbarrow, charging big prices. so quickly did he prosper that he was soon able to buy a piece of land, as well as a horse and wagon. when he died, in the eighties, he bequeathed a large estate, consisting of city and county acreage and lots, in the disposition of which he unrighteously cut off his only niece. playa del rey was later built on some of this land. acres of fruit trees, fronting on main, in the neighborhood of the present ninth and tenth streets, and extending far in an easterly direction, formed another part of his holding. it was on this land that briswalter lived until his last illness. he bought this tract from o. w. childs, it having originally belonged to h. c. cardwell, a son-in-law of william wolfskill--the same cardwell who introduced here, on january 7th, 1856, the heretofore unknown seedling strawberries. one mumus was in the field nearly as soon as briswalter. a few years later, chinese vegetable men came to monopolize this trade. most of their gardens neighbored on what is now figueroa street, north of pico; and then, as now, they peddled their wares from wagons. wild celery grew in quantities around the _zanjas_, but was not much liked. cultivated celery, on the other hand, was in demand and was brought from the north, whence we also imported most of our cabbage, cauliflower and asparagus. but after a while, the chinese also cultivated celery; and when, in the nineties, e. a. curtis, d. e. smeltzer and others failed in an effort to grow celery, curtis fell back on the chinese gardeners. the orientals, though pestered by envious workmen, finally made a success of the industry, helping to establish what is now a most important local agricultural activity. these chinese vegetable gardeners, by the way, came to practice a trick[11] designed to reduce their expenses, and at which they were sometimes caught. having bargained with the authorities for a small quantity of water, they would cut the _zanjas_, while the _zanjero_ or his assistants slept, steal the additional water needed, and, before the arrival of the _zanjero_ at daybreak, close the openings! j. wesley potts was an early arrival, having tramped across the plains all the way from texas, in 1852, reaching los angeles in september. at first, he could obtain nothing to do but haul dirt in a hand-cart for the spasmodic patching-up of the streets; but when he had earned five or six dollars in that way, he took to peddling fruit, first carrying it around in a basket. then he had a fruit stand. getting the gold-fever, however, potts went to the mines; but despairing at last of realizing anything there, he returned to los angeles and raised vegetables, introducing, among other things, the first locally-grown sweet potatoes put on the market--a stroke of enterprise recalling j. e. pleasants's early venture in cultivating garden pease. later he was widely known as a "weather prophet"--with predictions quite as likely to be worthless as to come true. the prickly pear, the fruit of the cactus, was common in early los angeles. it grew in profusion all over this southern country, but particularly so around san gabriel at which place it was found in almost obstructing quantities; and prickly pears bordered the gardens of the round house where they were plucked by visitors. ugly enough things to handle, they were, nevertheless, full of juice, and proved refreshing and palatable when properly peeled. pomegranates and quinces were also numerous, but they were not cultivated for the trade. sycamore and oak trees were seen here and there, while the willow was evident in almost jungle profuseness, especially around river banks and along the borders of lanes. wild mustard charmingly variegated the landscape and _chaparral_ obscured many of the hills and rising ground. in winter, the ground was thickly covered with burr-clover and the poetically-named _alfilaria_. writing of vegetables and fruit, i naturally think of one of california's most popular products, the _sandía_ or watermelon, and of its plenteousness in those more monotonous days when many and many a _carreta_ load was brought to the indulging town. the melons were sold direct from the vehicles, as well as in stores, and the street seemed to be the principal place for the consumption of the luscious fruit. it was a very common sight to see indians and others sitting along the roads, their faces buried in the green-pink depths. some old-timers troubled with diseases of the kidney, believing that there was virtue in watermelon seeds, boiled them and used the tea medicinally. fish, caught at san pedro and peddled around town, was a favorite item of food during the cooler months of the year. the _pescadero_, or vender, used a loud fish horn, whose deep but not melodious tones announced to the expectant housewife that he was at hand with a load of sea-food. owing to the poorer facilities for catching them, only a few varieties of deep-water fish, such as barracuda, yellowtail and rockfish were sold. somewhere i have seen it stated that, in 1854, o. w. childs brought the first hive of bees from san francisco at a cost of one hundred and fifty dollars; but as nearly as i can recollect, a man named logan owned the first beehives and was, therefore, the pioneer honey-producer. i remember paying him three dollars for a three-pound box of comb-honey, but i have forgotten the date of the transaction. in 1860, cyrus burdick purchased several swarms of bees and had no difficulty in selling the honey at one dollar a pound. by the fall of 1861, the bee industry had so expanded that perry & woodworth, as i have stated, devoted part of their time to the making of beehives. j. e. pleasants, of santiago cañon, known also for his cashmere goats, was another pioneer bee-man and received a gold medal for his exhibit at the new orleans exposition. footnotes: [8] verandas, spoken of locally as _corridors_; from which fact i may use both terms interchangeably. [9] recently razed. [10] translated by perry worden for the centenary of _the song of the bell_: through each hand close-joined and waiting, emulating, flies the pail. [11] history repeats itself: in 1915, ranchers at zelzah were accused of appropriating water from the new aqueduct, under cover of the night, without paying for it. chapter x early social life 1854 in june, 1854, my brother sold out, and i determined to establish myself in business and thus become my own master. my lack of knowledge of english was somewhat of a handicap; but youth and energy were in my favor, and an eager desire to succeed overcame all obstacles. upon computing my worldly possessions, i found that i had saved nearly two hundred and forty dollars, the sum total of my eight months' wages; and this sum i invested in my first venture. my brother, j. p. newmark, opened a credit for me, which contributed materially to my success; and i rented the store on the north side of commercial street, about one hundred feet west of los angeles, owned by mateo keller and just vacated by prudent beaudry. little did i think, in so doing, that, twelve years later, some nemesis would cause beaudry to sell out to me. i fully realized the importance of succeeding in my initial effort, and this requited me for seven months of sacrifices, until january 1st, 1855, when i took an inventory and found a net profit of fifteen hundred dollars. to give some idea of what was then required to attain such success, i may say that, having no assistance at all, i was absolutely a prisoner from early morning until late in the evening--the usual hour of closing, as i have elsewhere explained, being eight o'clock. from sweeping out to keeping books, i attended to all my own work; and since i neither wished to go out and lock up nor leave my stock long unprotected, i remained on guard all day, giving the closest possible attention to my little store. [illustration: myer j. and harris newmark from a daguerreotype] [illustration: george carson] [illustration: john g. nichols] [illustration: david w. alexander] [illustration: thomas e. rowan] [illustration: matthew keller] [illustration: samuel meyer] business conditions in the fifties were necessarily very different from what they are to-day. there was no bank in los angeles for some years, although downey and one or two others may have had some kind of a safe. people generally hoarded their cash in deep, narrow buckskin bags, hiding it behind merchandise on the shelves until the departure of a steamer for san francisco, or turning it into such vouchers as were negotiable and could be obtained here. john temple, who had a ranch or two in the north (from which he sent cattle to his agent in san francisco), generally had a large reserve of cash to his credit with butchers or bankers in the northern city, and he was thus able to issue drafts against his balances there; being glad enough to make the exchange, free of cost. when, however, temple had exhausted his cash, the would-be remitter was compelled to send the coin itself by express. he would then take the specie to the company's agent; and the latter, in his presence, would do it up in a sealed package and charge one dollar a hundred for safe transmission. no wonder, therefore, that people found expressing coin somewhat expensive, and were more partial to the other method. in the beginning of the fifties, too, silver was irregular in supply. nevada's treasures still lay undiscovered within the bowels of the earth, and much foreign coin was in use here, leading the shrewdest operators to import silver money from france, spain, mexico and other countries. the size of coins, rather than their intrinsic value, was then the standard. for example, a five-franc piece, a mexican dollar or a coin of similar size from any other country passed for a dollar here; while a mexican twenty-five-cent piece, worth but fourteen cents, was accepted for an american quarter, so that these importers did a "land-office" business. half-dollars and their equivalents were very scarce; and these coins being in great demand among gamblers, it often happened that they would absorb the supply. this forced such a premium that eighteen dollars in silver would commonly bring twenty dollars in gold. most of the output of the mines of southern california--then rated as the best dust--went to san francisco assayers, who minted it into octagonal and round pieces known as slugs. among those issuing privately-stamped coins were j. s. ormsby (whose mark, _j. s. o._, became familiar) and augustus humbert, both of whom circulated eight-cornered ingots; and wass molitor & co., whose slugs were always round. pieces of the value of from one to twenty-five dollars, and even miniature coins for fractional parts of a dollar, were also minted; while f. d. kohler, the state assayer, made an oblong ingot worth about fifty dollars. some of the other important assaying concerns were moffatt & co., kellogg & co. and templeton reid. baldwin & co. was another firm which issued coins of smaller denomination; and to this firm belonged david colbert broderick, who was killed by terry. usurers were here from the beginning, and their tax was often ruinously exorbitant. so much did they charge for money, in fact, that from two to twelve and a half per cent. _a week_ was paid; this brought about the loss of many early estates. i recollect, for example, that the owner of several thousand acres of land borrowed two hundred dollars, at an interest charge of twelve and a half per cent. for each week, from a resident of los angeles whose family is still prominent in california; and that when principal and interest amounted to twenty-two thousand dollars, the lender foreclosed and thus ingloriously came into possession of a magnificent property. for at least twenty years after i arrived in los angeles, the credit system was so irregular as to be no system at all. land and other values were exceedingly low, there was not much ready money, and while the credit of a large rancher was small compared with what his rating would be today because of the tremendous advances in land and stock, much longer time was then given on running accounts than would be allowed now. bills were generally settled after the harvest. the wine-grower would pay his score when the grape crop was sold; and the cattleman would liquidate what he could when he sold his cattle. in other words, there was no credit foundation whatever; indeed, i have known accounts to be carried through three and four dry seasons. it is true, also, that many a fine property was lost through the mania of the californian for gambling, and it might be just as well to add that the loose credit system ruined many. i believe, in fact, it is generally recognized in certain lines of business that the too flexible local fiscal practice of to-day is the descendant of the careless methods of the past. my early experiences as a merchant afforded me a good opportunity to observe the character and peculiarities of the people with whom i had to deal. in those days a disposition to steal was a common weakness on the part of many, especially indians, and merchants generally suffered so much from the evil that a sharp lookout had to be kept. on one occasion, i saw a native woman deftly abstract a pair of shoes and cleverly secrete them on her person; and at the conclusion of her purchases, as she was about to leave the store, i stepped up to her, and with a "_¡dispense me vd.!_" quietly recovered the _zapatos_. the woman smiled, each of us bowed, the pilfering patron departed, and nothing further was ever said of the affair. this proneness to steal was frequently utilized by early and astute traders, who kept on hand a stock of very cheap but gaudy jewelry which was placed on the counter within easy reach--a device which prevented the filching of more valuable articles, while it attracted, at the same time, this class of customers; and as soon as the esteemed customers ceased to buy, the trays of tempting trinkets were removed. shyness of the truth was another characteristic of many a native that often had to be reckoned with by merchants wishing to accommodate, as far as possible, while avoiding loss. one day in 1854, a middle-aged indian related to me that his mother (who was living half a block north on main street, and was between eighty and ninety years of age) had suddenly died, and that he would like some candles, for which he was unable to pay, to place around the bed holding the remains of the departed. i could not refuse this filial request, and straightway gave him the wax tapers which were to be used for so holy a purpose. the following day, however, i met the old woman on the street and she was as lively a corpse as one might ever expect to see; leaving me to conclude that she was lighted to her room, the previous night, by one of the very candles supposed to be then lighting her to eternity. the fact that i used to order straw hats which came telescoped in dozens and were of the same pattern (in the crown of one of which, at the top, i found one morning a litter of kittens tenderly deposited there by the store cat), recalls an amusing incident showing the modesty of the times, at least in the style of ladies' bonnets. s. lazard & company once made an importation of leghorn hats which, when they arrived, were found to be all trimmed alike--a bit of ribbon and a little bunch of artificial flowers in front being their only ornamentation! practically, all the fair damsels and matrons of the town were limited, for the season, to this supply--a fact that was patent enough, a few days later, at a picnic held at sainsevain's favorite vineyard and well patronized by the feminine leaders in our little world. but to return to one or two pioneers. david workman died soon after he came here, in 1854, with his wife whose maiden name was nancy hook. he was a brother of william workman and followed him to los angeles, bringing his three sons, thomas h.--killed in the explosion of the _ada hancock_--elijah h. and william h., who was for a while a printer and later in partnership with his brother in the saddlery business. elijah once owned a tract of land stretching from what is now main to hill streets and around twelfth. workman street is named after this family. henry mellus, brother of francis mellus, to whom i elsewhere more fully refer, who had returned to new england, was among us again in 1854. whether this was the occasion of mellus's unfortunate investment, or not, i cannot say; but on one of his trips to the east, he lost a quarter of a million through an unlucky investment in iron. jean b. trudell (a nephew of damien marchessault and a cousin of p. beaudry), for a short time in partnership with s. lazard, was an old-timer who married anita, the widow of henry mellus; and through this union a large family resulted. he conducted salt works, from which he supplied the town with all grades of cheap salt; and he stood well in the community. mrs. trudell took care of her aunt, mrs. bell, during her later years. with the growth of our little town, newspapers increased, even though they did not exactly prosper. on the 20th of july, 1854, c. n. richards & company started the _southern californian_, a name no doubt suggested by that of the san francisco journal, with william butts as editor; and on november 2d, colonel john o. wheeler joined butts and bought out richards & company. their paper was printed in one of dalton's corrugated iron houses. the _southern californian_ was a four-page weekly, on one side of which news, editorials and advertisements, often mere translations of matter in the other columns, were published in spanish. one result of the appearance of this paper was that waite & company, a month or so later, reduced the subscription price of the _star_--their new rate being nine dollars a year, or six dollars in advance. in 1853, a number of spanish-american restaurant keepers plied their vocation, so that mexican and spanish cooking were always obtainable. then came the _cafetería_, but the term was used with a different significance from that now in vogue. it was rather a place for drinking than for eating, and in this respect the name had little of the meaning current in parts of mexico to-day, where a _cafetería_ is a small restaurant serving ordinary alcoholic drinks and plain meals. nor was the institution the same as that familiarly known in pacific coast towns, and particularly in los angeles--one of the first american cities to experiment with this departure; where a considerable variety of food (mostly cooked and warm) is displayed to view, and the prospective diner, having secured his tray and napkin, knife, fork and spoons, indicates his choice as he passes by the steam-heated tables and is helped to whatever he selects, and then carries both service and viands to a small table. the native population followed their own _cuisine_, and the visitor to spanish-american homes naturally partook of native food. all the mexican dishes that are common now, such as _tamales_, _enchiladas_ and _frijoles_, were favorite dishes then. there were many saloons in sonora town and elsewhere, and _mescal_ and _aguardiente_, popular drinks with the mexicans, were also indulged in by the first white settlers. although there were imported wines, the wine-drinkers generally patronized the local product. this was a very cheap article, costing about fifteen cents a gallon, and was usually supplied with meals, without extra charge. _tamales_ in particular were very popular with the californians, but it took some time for the incoming epicure to appreciate all that was claimed for them and other masterpieces of mexican cooking. the _tortilla_ was another favorite, being a generous-sized maize cake, round and rather thin, in the early preparation of which the grain was softened, cleaned and parboiled, after which it was rolled and crushed between two pieces of flat stone. deft hands then worked the product into a pancake, which was placed, sometimes on a piece of stoneware, sometimes on a plate of iron, and baked, first on one side and then on the other. a part of the trick in _tortilla_-baking consisted in its delicate toasting; and when just the right degree of parching had been reached, the crisp, tasty _tortilla_ was ready to maintain its position even against more pretentious members of the pancake family. _pan de huevos_, or bread of eggs, was peddled around town on little trays by mexican women and, when well-prepared, was very palatable. _panocha_, a dark mexican sugar made into cakes, was also vended by native women. _pinole_ was brought in by indians; and as far as i can remember, it could not have had a very exact meaning, since i have heard the term applied both to ground pinenuts and ground corn, and it may also have been used to mean other food prepared in the same manner. be this as it may, the value to the indian came from the fact that, when mixed with water, _pinole_ proved a cheap, but nutritious article of diet. i have told of the old-fashioned, comfortable adobes, broad and liberal, whose halls, rooms, verandas and _patios_ bespoke at least comfort if not elaborateness. among the old california families dwelling within these houses, there was much visiting and entertainment, and i often partook of this proverbial and princely hospitality. there was also much merry-making, the firing of crackers, bell-ringing and dancing the _fandango_, _jota_ and _cachucha_ marking their jolly and whole-souled _fiestas_. only for the first few years after i came was the real _fandango_--so popular when dana visited los angeles and first saw don juan bandini execute the dance--witnessed here; little by little it went out of fashion, perhaps in part because of the skill required for its performance. balls and hops, however, for a long time were carelessly called by that name. when the _fandango_ really was in vogue, bandini, antónio coronel, andrés pico, the lugos and other native californians were among its most noted exponents; they often hired a hall, gave a _fandango_ in which they did not hesitate to take the leading parts, and turned the whole proceeds over to some church or charity. on such occasions not merely the plain people (always so responsive to music and its accompanying pleasures) were the _fandangueros_, but the flower of our local society turned out _en masse_, adding to the affair a high degree of _éclat_. there was no end, too, of good things to eat and drink, which people managed somehow to pass around; and the enjoyment was not lessened by the fact that every such dance hall was crowded to the walls, and that the atmosphere, relieved by but a narrow door and window or two, was literally thick with both dust and smoke. still living are some who have memories of these old _fandango_ days and the journeys taken from suburb to town in order to participate in them. doña petra pilar lanfranco used to tell me how, as a young girl, she came up from the old palos verdes ranch house in a _carreta_ and was always chaperoned by a lady relative. on such occasions, the _carreta_ would be provided with mattresses, pillows and covers, while at the end, well strapped, was the trunk containing the finery to be worn at the ball. to reach town even from a point that would now be regarded as near, a start was generally made by four o'clock in the morning; and it often took until late the same evening to arrive at the bella union, where final preparations were made. one of the pleasant features of a _fandango_ or hop was the use of _cascarones_, or egg-shells, filled with one thing or another, agreeable when scattered, and for the time being sealed up. these shells were generally painted; and most often they contained many-colored pieces of paper, or the tinsel, _oropel_, cut up very fine. not infrequently the shell of the egg was filled with perfume; and in the days when californians were flush, gold leaf or even gold dust was sometimes thus inclosed, with a wafer, and kept for the _casamiento_, when it would be showered upon the fortunate bride. the greatest compliment that a gentleman could pay a lady was to break one of these _cascarones_ over her head, and often the compliment would be returned; the floor, at the termination of such festivities, being literally covered with the bits of paper and egg-shell. when the _fandango_ was on in all its mad delight, a gentleman would approach a lady to salute her, upon which she would bow her head slightly and permit him, while he gently squeezed the egg-shell, to let its contents fall gracefully over her head, neck and shoulders; and very often she would cleverly choose the right moment--perhaps when he was not looking--to politely reciprocate the courtesy, under which circumstances he was in duty bound to detect, if he could, among the smiling, blushing ladies, the one who had ventured so agreeably to offend. such was the courtliness, in fact, among the native population that even at _fandangos_, in which the public participated and the compliment of the _cascarón_ was almost universally observed, there was seldom a violation of regard for another's feelings. when such rowdyism did occur, however (prompted perhaps by jealousy), and bad eggs or that which was even less aromatic, were substituted, serious trouble ensued; and one or two fatalities are on record as growing out of such senseless acts. speaking of _fandangos_, it may be added that in january, 1861, the common council of los angeles passed an ordinance requiring the payment in advance of ten dollars for a one-night license to hold any public dance within the city limits. the pueblo was so small in the fifties, and the number of white people so limited that, whenever a newcomer arrived, it caused considerable general excitement; and when it infrequently happened that persons of note came for even a single night, a deputation of prominent citizens made their short stay both noisy with cannonading and tiresome with spread-eagle oratory. a very important individual in early days was peter biggs, or nigger pete, a pioneer barber who came here in 1852, having previously been sold as a slave to an officer at fort leavenworth and freed, in california, at the close of the mexican war. he was a black-haired, good-natured man, then about forty years of age, and had a shop on main street, near the bella union. he was, indeed, the only barber in town who catered to americans, and while by no means of the highest tonsorial capacity, was sufficiently appreciative of his monopoly to charge fifty cents for shaving and seventy-five cents for hair-cutting. when, however, a frenchman named felix signoret (whose daughter married ed. mcginnis, the high-toned saloon keeper) appeared, some years later--a barber by trade, of whom we shall hear more later--it was not long before pete was seriously embarrassed, being compelled, first to reduce his prices and then to look for more humble work. in the early sixties, pete was advertising as follows: new orleans shaving saloon opposite mellus' store on main street. prices reduced! to keep pace with the times shaving 12½c. hair-cutting 25c. shampoo_n_ing 25c. peter biggs will always be on hand and ready to attend to all business in his line, such as cleaning and polishing the "understanding" together with an intelligence office and city express. also washing and ironing done with all neatness and despatch, at reasonable rates. recalling biggs and his barber shop, i may say that, in fitting up his place, he made little or no pretension. he had an old-fashioned, high-backed chair, but otherwise operated much as barbers do to-day. people sat around waiting their turn; and as biggs called "next!" he sprinkled the last victim with florida water, applying to the hair at the same time his _bear oil_ (sure to leave its mark on walls and pillows), after which, with a soiled towel he put on the finishing touch--for one towel in those days served many customers. but few patrons had their private cups. biggs served only men and boys, as ladies dressed their own hair. to some extent, biggs was a maker or, at least, a purveyor of wigs. besides peter biggs, a number of colored people lived in los angeles at an early date--five of whom belonged to the mexican veterans--bob owens and his wife being among the most prominent. owens--who came here from texas in december, 1853--was known to his friends as uncle bob, while mrs. owens was called aunt winnie. the former at first did all kinds of odd jobs, later profiting through dealings with the government; while his good wife washed clothes, in which capacity she worked from time to time for my family. they lived in san pedro street, and invested their savings in a lot extending from spring to fort streets, between third and fourth. owens died in 1865. their heirs are wealthy as a result of this investment; in fact, i should not be surprised if they are among the most prosperous negroes in america. another colored man of the sixties was named berry, though he was popularly known as uncle george. he was indeed a local character, a kind of popinjay; and when not busy with janitor or other all-around scrubwork, sported among the negroes as an ultra-fashionable. elsewhere i have spoken of the versatility of dr. william b. osburn, who showed no little commendable enterprise. in october, 1854, he shipped to an agricultural convention in albany, new york, the first los angeles grapes ever sent to the east; and the next year he imported roses, shrubbery and fruit trees from rochester. on october 13th, 1854, a good-for-nothing gambler, dave brown--who had planned to rob john temple on one of his business trips, but was thwarted because temple changed his route--murdered a companion, pinckney clifford, in a livery stable at what was later to become the corner of main and court streets; and next day the lawless act created such general indignation that vengeance on brown would undoubtedly then and there have been wreaked had not stephen c. foster, who was mayor, met the crowd of citizens and persuaded them quietly to disperse. in order to mollify the would-be vigilantes, foster promised that, if the case miscarried in the courts and brown was not given his due, he would resign his office and would himself lead those who favored taking the law into their own hands; and as foster had been a lieutenant in the rangers under dr. hope, showing himself to be a man of nerve, the crowd had confidence in him and went its way. on november 30th, brown was tried in the district court, and judge benjamin hayes sentenced him to hang on january 12th, 1855--the same date on which felipe alvitre, a half-breed indian, was to pay the penalty for killing james ellington at el monte. brown's counsel were j. r. scott, cameron e. thom and j. a. watson; and these attorneys worked so hard and so effectively for their client that on january 10th, or two days before the date set for the execution, judge murray of the supreme court granted brown a stay, although apparently no relief was provided for alvitre. the latter was hanged in the calaboose or jail yard, in the presence of a vast number of people, at the time appointed. alvitre having been strung up by sheriff barton and his assistants, the rope broke, letting the wretch fall to the ground, more dead than alive. this bungling so infuriated the crowd that cries of "_arriba! arriba!_" (up with him! up with him!) rent the air. the executioners sprang forward, lifted the body, knotted the rope together and once more drew aloft the writhing form. then the gallows was dismantled and the guards dismissed. the news that one execution had taken place, while the court, in the other case, had interfered, was speedily known by the crowds in the streets and proved too much for the patience of the populace; and only a leader or two were required to focus the indignation of the masses. that leader appeared in foster who, true to his word, resigned from the office of mayor and put himself at the head of the mob. appeals, evoking loud applause, were made by one speaker after another, each in turn being lifted to the top of a barrel; and then the crowd began to surge toward the jail. poles and crowbars were brought, and a blacksmith called for; and the prison doors, which had been locked, bolted and barred, were broken in, very soon convincing the sheriff and his assistants--if any such conviction were needed--that it was useless to resist. in a few minutes, brown was reached, dragged out and across spring street, and there hanged to the crossbeam of a corral gateway opposite the old jail, the noose being drawn tight while he was still attempting to address the crowd. when brown was about to be disposed of, he was asked if he had anything to say; to which he replied that he had no objection to paying the penalty of his crime, but that he did take exception to a "lot of _greasers_" shuffling him off! brown referred to the fact that mexicans especially were conspicuous among those who had hold of the rope; and his coarsely-expressed objection striking a humorous vein among the auditors, the order was given to indulge his fancy and accommodate him--whereupon, americans strung him up! one of those who had previously volunteered to act as hangman for brown was juan gonzales; but within four months, that is, in may, 1855, gonzales himself was sent to the penitentiary by judge myron norton, convicted of horse-stealing. a rather amusing feature of this hanging was the manner in which the report of it was served up to the public. the lynching-bee seemed likely to come off about three o'clock in the afternoon, while the steamer for san francisco was to leave at ten o'clock on the same morning; so that the schedules did not agree. a closer connection was undoubtedly possible--at least so thought billy workman, then a typo on the _southern californian_, who planned to print a full account of the execution in time to reach the steamer. so billy sat down and wrote out every detail, even to the confession of the murderer on the improvised gallows; and several hours before the tragic event actually took place, the wet news-sheet was aboard the vessel and on its way north. a few surplus copies gave the lynchers the unique opportunity, while watching the stringing-up, of comparing the written story with the affair as it actually occurred. while upon the subject of lynching, i wish to observe that i have witnessed many such distressing affairs in los angeles; and that, though the penalty of hanging was sometimes too severe for the crime (and i have always deplored, as much as any of us ever did, the administration of mob-justice) yet the safety of the better classes in those troublous times often demanded quick and determined action, and stern necessity knew no law. and what is more, others besides myself who have also repeatedly faced dangers no longer common, agree with me in declaring, after half a century of observation and reflection, that milder courses than those of the vigilance committees of our young community could hardly have been followed with wisdom and safety. wood was the only regular fuel for many years, and people were accustomed to buy it in quantities and to pile it carefully in their yards. when it was more or less of a drug on the market, i paid as little as three dollars and a half a cord; in winter i had to pay more, but the price was never high. no tree was spared, and i have known magnificent oaks to be wantonly felled and used for fuel. valuable timber was often destroyed by squatters guilty of a form of trespassing that gave much trouble, as i can testify from my own experience. henry dwight barrows, who had been educated as a yankee schoolmaster, arrived in los angeles in december, 1854, as private tutor to william wolfskill. other parts of barrows's career were common to many pioneers: he was in business for a while in new york, caught the gold-fever, gave up everything to make the journey across the isthmus of panamá, on which trip he was herded as one of seventeen hundred passengers on a rickety coast vessel; and finally, after some unsuccessful experiences as a miner in northern california, he made his way to the southland to accept the proffered tutorship, hoping to be cured of the malarial fever which he had contracted during his adventures. barrows taught here three years, returned east by steamer for a brief trip in 1857, and in 1859-60 tried his hand at cultivating grapes, in a vineyard owned by prudent beaudry. on november 14th, 1860, barrows was married to wolfskill's daughter, señorita juana; and later he was county school superintendent. in 1861, president lincoln appointed barrows united states marshal, the duties of which office he performed for four years. in 1864, having lost his wife he married the widow (formerly miss alice woodworth) of thomas workman. the same year he formed a partnership with j. d. hicks, under the firm name of j. d. hicks & company, and sold tin and hardware for twelve or fifteen years. in 1868, bereaved of his second wife, barrows married miss bessie ann greene, a native of new york. that year, too, he was joined by his brother, james arnold barrows,[12] who came by way of panamá and bought thirty-five acres of land afterward obtained by the university of southern california. about 1874, barrows was manufacturing pipe. for years he dwelt with his daughter, mrs. r. g. weyse, contributing now and then to the activities of the historical society, and taking a keen interest[13] in los angeles affairs. about 1854 or 1855, i. m., samuel and herman (who must not be confused with h. w.) hellman, arrived here, i. m. preceding his brothers by a short period. in time, i. m. hellman, in san francisco, married miss caroline adler; and in 1862 her sister, miss adelaide, came south on a visit and married samuel hellman. one of the children of this union is maurice s. hellman, who, for many years associated with joseph f. sartori, has occupied an important position in banking and financial circles. in 1854 or 1855, bishop & beale, a firm consisting of samuel a. bishop and e. f. beale, became owners of an immense tract of kern county land consisting of between two and three-hundred thousand acres. this vast territory was given to them in payment for the work which they had done in surveying the butterfield route, later incorporated in the stage road connecting san francisco with st. louis. recently i read an account of beale's having been an indian agent at the reservation; but if he was, i have forgotten it. i remember colonel james f. vineyard, an indian agent and later senator from los angeles; one of whose daughters was married, in 1862, to congressman charles de long, of nevada city, afterward united states minister to japan, and another daughter to dr. hayes, of los angeles. bishop, after a while, sold out his interest in the land and moved to san josé, where he engaged in street-car operations. he was married near san gabriel to miss frances young, and i officiated as one of the groomsmen at the wedding. after bishop disposed of his share, colonel r. s. baker became interested, but whether or not he bought bishop's interest at once, is not clear in my memory. it is worth noting that bakersfield, which was part of this great ranch, took its name from colonel baker. some time later, baker sold out to beale and then came south and purchased the san vicente ranch. this _rancho_ comprised the whole santa monica district and consisted of thirty thousand acres, which baker stocked with sheep. on a part of this land, the soldiers' home now stands. hilliard p. dorsey, another typical western character, was register of the land office and a leading mason of early days. he lived in los angeles in 1853, and i met him on the _goliah_ in october of that year, on the way south, after a brief visit to san francisco, and while i was bound for my new home. we saw each other frequently after my arrival here; and i was soon on good terms with him. when i embarked in business on my own account, therefore, i solicited dorsey's patronage. one day, dorsey bought a suit of clothes from me on credit. a couple of months passed by, however, without any indication on his part that he intended to pay; and as the sum involved meant much to me at that time, i was on the lookout for my somewhat careless debtor. in due season, catching sight of him on the other side of the street, i approached, in genuine american fashion, and unceremoniously asked him to liquidate his account. i had not then heard of the notches in friend dorsey's pistol, and was so unconscious of danger that my temerity seemed to impress him. i believe, in fact, that he must have found the experience novel. however that may be, the next day he called and paid his bill. in relating this circumstance to friends, i was enlightened as to dorsey's peculiar propensities and convinced that youth and ignorance alone had saved me from disaster. in other words, he let me go, as it were, on probation. dorsey himself was killed sometime later by his father-in-law, william rubottom, who had come to el monte with ezekiel rubottom, in 1852 or 1853. after quarreling with rubottom, dorsey, who was not a bad fellow, but of a fiery temper, had entered the yard with a knife in his hand; and rubottom had threatened to shoot him if he came any nearer. the son-in-law continued to advance; and rubottom shot him dead. m. j. newmark, rubottom's attorney, who had been summoned to el monte for consultation as to dorsey's treatment of rubottom's daughter, was present at the fatal moment and witnessed the shooting affray. uncle billy rubottom, as he was familiarly called, came to los angeles county after losing heavily through the bursting of yuba dam and was one of the founders of spadra. he named the settlement, laid out on a part of the san josé _rancho_, after his home town, spadra bluffs in arkansas, and opened a hotel which he made locally famous, during a decade and a half, for barbecues and similar events, giving personal attention (usually while in shirt-sleeves) to his many guests. in his declining years, uncle billy lived with kewen h. dorsey, his grandson, who was also prominent in masonic circles. footnotes: [12] died, june 9th, 1914. [13] died, august 7th, 1914. chapter xi the rush for gold 1855 as i have already related, i made fifteen hundred dollars in a few months, and in january, 1855, my brother advised me to form a partnership with men of maturer years. in this i acquiesced. he thereupon helped to organize the firm of rich, newmark & company, consisting of elias laventhal (who reached here in 1854 and died on january 20th, 1902), jacob rich and myself. rich was to be the san francisco resident partner, while laventhal and i undertook the management of the business in los angeles. we prospered from the beginning, deriving much benefit from our san francisco representation which resulted in our building up something of a wholesale business. in the early fifties, los angeles was the meeting-place of a board of land commissioners appointed by the national government to settle land-claims and to prepare the way for that granting of patents to owners of southern california ranches which later awakened from time to time such interest here. this interest was largely due to the fact that the mexican authorities, in numerous instances, had made the same grant to different persons, often confusing matters badly. cameron e. thom, then deputy land agent, took testimony for the commissioners. in 1855, this board completed its labors. the members were hiland hall (later governor of vermont,) harry i. thornton and thompson campbell; and during the season they were here, these land commissioners formed no unimportant part of the los angeles legal world. thomas a. delano, whose name is perpetuated in our local geography, was a sailor who came to los angeles on january 4th, 1855, after which, for fifteen or sixteen years, he engaged in freighting. he married señorita soledad, daughter of john c. vejar, the well-known spanish californian. slowness and uncertainty of mail delivery in our first decades affected often vital interests, as is shown in the case of the half-breed alvitre who, as i have said, was sentenced to be executed. one reason why the vigilantes, headed by mayor foster, despatched brown was the expectation that both he and alvitre would get a stay from higher authority; and sure enough, a stay was granted alvitre, but the document was delayed in transit until the murderer, on january 12th, 1855, had forfeited his life! curiously enough, another alvitre--an aged californian named josé claudio--also of el monte, but six years later atrociously murdered his aged wife; and on april 28th, 1861, he was hanged. the lynchers placed him on a horse under a tree, and then drove the animal away, leaving him suspended from a limb. washington's birthday, in 1855, was made merrier by festivities conducted under the auspices of the city guards, of which w. w. twist--a grocer and commission merchant at beaudry's block, aliso street, and afterward in partnership with casildo aguilar--was captain. the same organization gave its first anniversary ball in may. twist was a ranger, or member of the volunteer mounted police; and it was he who, in march, 1857, formed the first rifle company. in the early sixties, he was identified with the sheriff's office, after which, venturing into mexico, he was killed. henry c. g. schaeffer came to los angeles on march 16th, 1855, and opened the first gunsmith shop in a little adobe on the east side of los angeles street near commercial, which he soon surrounded with an attractive flower garden. a year after schaeffer came, he was followed by another gunsmith, august stoermer. schaeffer continued, however, to sell and mend guns and to cultivate flowers; and twenty years later found him on wilmington street, near new commercial, still encircled by one of the choicest collections of flowers in the city, and the first to have brought here the night-blooming cereus. with more than regret, therefore, i must record that, in the middle seventies, this warm-hearted friend of children, so deserving of the good will of everyone, committed suicide. gold was discovered at havilah, kern county, in 1854; and by the early spring of 1855 exaggerated accounts of the find had spread broadcast over the entire state. yarn after yarn passed from mouth to mouth, one of the most extravagant of the reports being that a mexican doctor and alchemist suddenly rode into mariposa from the hills, where he had found a gulch paved with gold, his horse and himself being fairly covered with bags of nuggets. the rush by gold-seekers on their way from the north to los angeles (the southern gateway to the fields) began in january, 1855, and continued a couple of years, every steamer being loaded far beyond the safety limit; and soon miles of the rough highways leading to the mines were covered with every conceivable form of vehicle and struggling animals, as well as with thousands of footsore prospectors, unable to command transportation at any price. for awhile, ten, twelve and even fifteen per cent. interest a month was offered for small amounts of money by those of the prospectors who needed assistance, a rate based on the calculation that a wide-awake digger would be sure of eight to ten dollars a day, and that with such returns one should certainly be satisfied. this time the excitement was a little too much for the los angeles editors to ignore; and in march the publisher of the _southern californian_, himself losing his balance, issued an "extra" with these startling announcements: stop the press! glorious news from kern river! bring out the big gun! there are a thousand gulches rich with gold, and room for ten thousand miners! miners average $50.00 a day. one man with his own hands took out $160.00 in a day. five men in ten days took out $4,500.00. the affair proved, however, a ridiculous failure; and william marsh, an old los angeles settler and a very decent chap, who conducted a store at havilah, was among those who suffered heavy loss. although some low-grade ore was found, it was generally not in paying quantities. the dispersion of this adventurous mass of humanity brought to los angeles many undesirable people, among them gamblers and desperadoes, who flocked in the wake of the gold-diggers, making another increase in the rough element. before long, four men were fatally shot and half a dozen wounded near the plaza, one sunday night. when the excitement about the gold-finds along the kern river was at its height, frank lecouvreur arrived here, march 6th, on the steamship _america_, lured by reports then current in san francisco. to save the fare of five dollars, he trudged for ten hours all the way from san pedro, carrying on his shoulders forty pounds of baggage; but on putting up at the united states hotel, then recently started, he was dissuaded by some experienced miners from venturing farther up the country. soon after, he met a fellow-countryman from königsberg, named arnold, who induced him, on account of his needy condition, to take work in his saloon; but disliking his duties and the rather frequent demands upon his nervous system through being shot at, several times, by patrons not exactly satisfied with lecouvreur's locomotion and his method of serving, the young german quit the job and went to work as a carriage-painter for john goller. in october, captain henry hancock, then county surveyor, engaged lecouvreur as flagman, at a salary of sixty dollars; which was increased twenty-five per cent. on the trip of the surveyors to the mojave. march 29th, 1855, witnessed the organization of the first odd fellows' lodge--no. 35--instituted here. general ezra drown was the leading spirit; and others associated with him were e. wilson high, alexander crabb, l. c. goodwin, william c. ardinger, morris l. goodman and m. m. davis. during the fifties, the bella union passed under several successive managements. on july 22d, 1854, dr. macy sold it to w. g. ross and a partner named crockett. they were succeeded, on april 7th, 1855, by robert s. hereford. ross was killed, some years afterward, by c. p. duane in san francisco. in pursuit of business, in 1855, i made a number of trips to san bernardino, some of which had their amusing incidents, and most of which afforded pleasure or an agreeable change. meeting sam meyer on one of these occasions, just as i was mounted and ready to start, i invited him to accompany me; and as sam assured me that he knew where to secure a horse, we started down the street together and soon passed a shop in which there was a mexican customer holding on to a _reata_ leading out through the door to his saddled nag. sam walked in; and having a casual acquaintance with the man, asked him if he would lend him the animal for a while? people were generous in those days; and the good-hearted mexican, thinking perhaps that sam was "just going around the corner," carelessly answered, "_sí, señor_," and proceeded with his bartering. sam, on the other hand, came out of the shop and led the horse away! after some days of minor adventures, when we lost our path near the old mission and had to put back to el monte for the night, we arrived at san bernardino; and on our return, after watering the horses, sam found in his unhaltered steed such a veritable tartar that, in sheer desperation, he was about to shoot the borrowed beast! on another one of these trips i was entertained by simon jackson, a merchant of that town, who took me to a restaurant kept by a captain weiner. this, the best eating-place in town, was about ten feet square and had a mud floor. it was a miserably hot day--so hot, in fact, that i distinctly remember the place being filled with flies, and that the butter had run to oil. nature had not intended weiner to cater to sensitive stomachs, at least not on the day of which i speak, and to make matters worse, weiner was then his own waiter. he was wallowing around in his bare feet, and was otherwise unkempt and unclean; and the whole scene is therefore indelibly impressed on my memory. when the slovenly captain bawled out: "which will you have--chops or steak?" jackson straightened up, threw out his chest, and in evidence of the vigor of his appetite, just as vociferously answered: "i want a steak _as big as a mule's foot_!" living in san bernardino was a customer of ours, a celebrity by the name of lewis jacobs. he had joined the mormon church and was a merchant of worth and consequence. jacobs was an authority on all matters of finance connected with his town, and anyone wishing to know the condition of business men in that neighborhood had only to apply to him. once when i was in san bernardino, i asked him for information regarding a prospective patron who was rather a gay sort of individual; and this was jacobs's characteristic reply: "a very fine fellow: he plays a little poker, and drinks a little whiskey!" jacobs became a banker and in 1900 died on shipboard while returning from europe, leaving a comfortable fortune and the more valuable asset of a good name. in referring to alexander & mellus and their retirement from business, i have said that merchandise required by southern californians in the early days, and before the absorption of the los angeles market by san francisco, was largely transported by sailing vessels from the east. when a ship arrived, it was an event worthy of special notice, and this was particularly the case when such sailing craft came less and less often into port. sometimes the arrival of the vessel was heralded in advance; and when it was unloaded, the shrewd merchants used decidedly modern methods for the marketing of their wares. in 1855, for example, johnson & allanson advertised as follows: new goods! new goods! direct from the atlantic states, 112 days' passage. samples of the cargo at our store in the stearns building; and the entire cargo will be disposed of cheap, for cash. goods delivered at san pedro or los angeles. from the above announcement, it must not be inferred that these los angeles tradesmen brought to this port the whole shipload of merchandise. such ships left but a small part of their cargo here, the major portion being generally consigned to the north. the dependence on san francisco continued until the completion of our first transcontinental railway. in the meantime, los angeles had to rely on the northern city for nearly everything, live stock being about the only exception; and this relation was shown in 1855 by the publication of no less than four columns of san francisco advertisements in the regular issue of a los angeles newspaper. much of this commerce with the southland for years was conducted by means of schooners which ran irregularly and only when there was cargo. they plied between san francisco and san pedro, and by agreement put in at santa bárbara and other coast places such as port san luis, when the shipments warranted such stops. n. pierce & company were the owners. one of these vessels in 1855 was the clipper schooner _laura bevan_, captained by f. morton and later wrecked at sea when frank lecouvreur just escaped taking passage on her; and another was the _sea serpent_, whose captain bore the name of fish. i have said that in 1849 the old side-wheeler _gold hunter_ had commenced paddling the waters around here; but so far as i can remember, she was not operating in 1853. the _goliah_, on the other hand, was making two round trips a month, carrying passengers, mail and freight from san francisco to san diego, and stopping at various coast points including san pedro. in a vague way, i also remember the mail steamer _ohio_ under one of the haleys, the _sea bird_, at one time commanded by salisbury haley, and the _southerner_; and if i am uncertain about others, the difficulty may be due to the fact that, because of unseaworthiness and miserable service, owners changed the names of ships from time to time in order to allay the popular prejudice and distrust, so that during some years, several names were successively applied to the same vessel. it must have been about 1855 or 1856 that the _senator_ (brought to the coast by captain coffin, january 28th, 1853) was put on the southern run, and with her advent began a considerably improved service. as the schooners were even more irregular than the steamers, i generally divided my shipments, giving to the latter what i needed immediately, and consigning by the schooners, whose freight rates were much lower, what could stand delay. one more word about the _goliah_: one day in the eighties i heard that she was still doing valiant service, having been sold to a puget sound company. recalling these old-time side-wheelers whose paddles churned the water into a frothing foam out of all proportion to the speed with which they drove the boat along her course, i recall, with a feeling almost akin to sentiment, the roar of the signal-gun fired just before landing, making the welcome announcement, as well to the traveler as to his friends awaiting him on shore, that the voyage had been safely consummated. shortly after my arrival in los angeles, the transportation service was enlarged by the addition of a stage line from san francisco which ran along the coast from the northern city to the old town of san diego, making stops all along the road, including san josé, san luis obispo, santa bárbara and san buenaventura, and particularly at los angeles, where not only horses, but stages and supplies were kept. the stage to san diego followed, for the most part, the route selected later by the santa fé railroad. these old-time stages remind me again of the few varieties of vehicles then in use. john goller had met with much skepticism and ridicule, as i have said, when he was planning an improvement on the old and clumsy _carreta_; and when his new ideas did begin to prevail, he suffered from competition. e. l. scott & company came as blacksmiths and carriage-makers in 1855; and george boorham was another who arrived about the same time. ben mcloughlin was also an early wheelwright. among goller's assistants who afterward opened shops for themselves, were the three louis's--roeder, lichtenberger and breer; roeder and lichtenberger[14] having a place on the west side of spring street just south of first. thomas w. seeley, captain of the _senator_, was very fond of los angeles diversions, as will appear from the following anecdote of the late fifties. after bringing his ship to anchor off the coast, he would hasten to los angeles, leaving his vessel in command of first mate butters to complete the voyage to san diego and return, which consumed forty-eight hours; and during this interval, the old captain regularly made his headquarters at the bella union. there he would spend practically all of his time playing poker, then considered the gentleman's game of chance, and which, since the mania for chemical purity had not yet possessed los angeles, was looked upon without criticism. when the steamer returned from san diego, captain seeley, if neither his own interest in the game nor his fellow-players' interest in his pocketbook had ebbed, would postpone the departure of his ship, frequently for even as much as twenty-four hours, thus adding to the irregularity of sailings which i have already mentioned. many, in fact, were the inconveniences to which early travelers were subjected from this infrequency of trips and failure to sail at the stated hour; and to aggravate the trouble, the vessels were all too small, especially when a sudden excitement--due, perhaps, to some new report of the discovery of gold--increased the number of intending travelers. it even happened, sometimes, that persons were compelled to postpone their trip until the departure of another boat. speaking of anchoring vessels off the coast, i may add that high seas frequently made it impossible to reach the steamers announced to leave at a certain time; in which case the officers used to advertise in the newspapers that the time of departure had been changed. [illustration: louis sainsevain] [illustration: manuel dominguez] [illustration: el aliso, the sainsevain winery] [illustration: jacob elias] [illustration: john t. lanfranco] [illustration: j. frank burns] [illustration: henry d. barrows from an old lithograph] when captain seeley was killed in the _ada hancock_ disaster, in 1863, first mate butters was made captain and continued for some time in command. just what his real fitness was, i cannot say; but it seemed to me that he did not know the coast any too well. this impression also existed in the minds of others; and once, when we were supposed to be making our way to san francisco, the heavy fog lifted and revealed the shore thirty miles north of our destination; whereupon a fellow-passenger exclaimed: "why, captain, this isn't at all the part of the coast where we should be!" the remark stung the sensitive butters, who probably was conscious enough of his shortcomings; and straightway he threatened to put the offending passenger in irons! george f. lamson was an auctioneer who arrived in los angeles in 1855. aside from the sale of live stock, there was not much business in his line; although, as i have said, dr. osburn, the postmaster, also had an auction room. sales of household effects were held on a tuesday or a wednesday; while horses were offered for sale on saturdays. lamson had the typical auctioneer's personality; and many good stories were long related, illustrating his humor, wit and amusing impudence by which he often disposed, even to his friends, of almost worthless objects at high prices. a daughter gertrude, widely known as lillian nance o'neill, never married; another daughter, lillian, is the wife of william desmond, the actor. in 1854, congress made an appropriation of fifty thousand dollars which went far toward opening up the trade that later flourished between los angeles and salt lake city. this money was for the survey and location of a wagon-road between san bernardino and the utah capital; and on the first of may, 1855, gilbert & company established their great salt lake express over that government route. it was at first a pony express, making monthly trips, carrying letters and stopping at such stations as coal creek, fillmore city, summit creek and american fork, and finally reaching great salt lake; and early having good los angeles connections, it prospered sufficiently to substitute a wagon-service for the pony express. although this was at first intended only as a means of connecting the mormon capital with the more recently-founded mormon settlement at san bernardino, the extension of the service to los angeles eventually made this city the terminus. considerable excitement was caused by the landing at san pedro, in 1855, of a shipload of mormons from honolulu. though i do not recall that any more recruits came subsequently from that quarter, the arrival of these adherents of brigham young added color to his explanation that he had established a mormon colony in california, as a base of operations and supplies for converts from the sandwich islands. thomas foster, a kentuckian, was the sixth mayor of los angeles, taking office in may, 1855. he lived opposite masonic hall on main street, with his family, among whom were some charming daughters, and was in partnership with dr. r. t. hayes, in apothecaries' hall near the post office. he was one of the first masons here and was highly esteemed; and he early declared himself in favor of better school and water facilities. about the second week of june, 1855, appeared the first spanish newspaper in los angeles under the american _régime_. it was called _el clamor público_, and made its appeal, socially, to the better class of native californians. politically, it was edited for republicans, especially for the supporters, in 1856, of frémont for president. its editor was francisco p. ramirez; but though he was an able journalist and a good typo--becoming, between 1860 and 1862, state printer in sonora and, in 1865, spanish translator for the state of california--the _clamor_, on december 31st, 1859, went the way of so many other local journals. footnote: [14] lichtenberger died some years ago; roeder died february 20th, 1915. chapter xii the great horse race 1855 from all accounts, fourth of july was celebrated in los angeles with more or less enthusiasm from the time of the city's reorganization, although afterward, as we shall see, the day was often neglected; but certainly in 1855 the festivities were worthy of remembrance. there was less formality, perhaps, and more cannonading than in later years; music was furnished by a brass band from fort tejón; and phineas banning was the stentorian "orator of the day." two years previously, banning had provided a three days' celebration and barbecue for the fourth, attended by my brother; and i once enjoyed a barbecue at san juan capistrano where the merriment, continuing for half a week, marked both the hospitality and the leisurely habits of the people. in those days (when men were not afraid of noise) boys, in celebrating american independence, made all the hullabaloo possible, untrammeled by the nonsense of "a sane fourth." on the fourth of july and other holidays, as well as on sundays, men from the country came to town, arrayed in their fanciest clothes; and, mounted upon their most spirited and gaily-caparisoned _caballos de silla_, or saddle-horses, they paraded the streets, as many as ten abreast, jingling the metallic parts of their paraphernalia, admired and applauded by the populace, and keenly alive to the splendid appearance they and their outfits made, and to the effect sure to be produced on the fair _señoritas_. the most popular thoroughfare for this purpose was main street. on such occasions, the men wore short, very tight-fitting jackets of bright-colored material--blue, green and yellow being the favorite colors--and trimmed with gold and silver lace or fringe. these jackets were so tight that often the wearers put them on only with great difficulty. the _calzoneras_, or pantaloons, were of the same material as the jackets, open on the side and flanked with brass buttons. the openings exposed the _calzoncillos_, or drawers. a fashionable adjunct was the mexican garter, often costing ten to fifteen dollars, and another was the high-heeled boot, so small that ten minutes or more were required to draw it on. this boot was a great conceit; but though experiencing much discomfort, the victim could not be induced to increase the size. the _serape_, worn by men, was the native substitute for the overcoat. it was a narrow, mexican blanket of finest wool, multicolored and provided with a hole near the center large enough to let the wearer's head through; and when not in actual use, it was thrown over the saddle. the head-gear consisted in winter of a broad-rimmed, high-crowned, woolen _sombrero_, usually brown, which was kept in place during fast travel or a race by a ribbon or band fastened under the chin; often, as in the familiar case of ygnácio lugo, the hat was ornamented with beads. in summer, the rider substituted a shirt for the _serape_ and a panamá for the _sombrero_. the _caballero's_ outfit, in the case of some wealthy dons, exceeded a thousand dollars in value; and it was not uncommon for fancy costumes to be handed down as heirlooms. the women, on the other hand, wore skirts of silk, wool or cotton, according to their wealth or the season. many of the female conceits had not appeared in 1853; the grandmothers of the future suffragettes wore, instead of bonnets and hats, a _rebozo_, or sort of scarf or muffler, which covered their heads and shoulders and looked delightfully picturesque. to don this gracefully was, in fact, quite an art. many of the native california ladies also braided their hair, and wore circular combs around the back of their heads; at least this was so until, with the advent of a greater number of american women, their more modern, though less romantic, styles commenced to prevail, when even the picturesque _mantilla_ was discarded. noting these differences of dress in early days, i should not forget to state that there were both american and mexican tailors here; among the former being one mccoy and his son, merry companions whose copartnership carousals were proverbial. the mexican tailor had the advantage of knowing just what the native requirements were, although in the course of time his _gringo_ rival came to understand the tastes and prejudices of the _paisano_, and to obtain the better share of the patronage. the cloth from which the _caballero's_ outfit was made could be found in most of the stores. as with clothes and tailors, so it was with other articles of apparel and those who manufactured them; the natives had their own shoeand hat-makers, and their styles were unvarying. the genuine panamá hat was highly prized and often copied; and francisco velardes--who used a grindstone bought of john temple in 1852, now in the county museum--was one who sold and imitated panamás of the fifties. a product of the bootmakers' skill were leathern leggings, worn to protect the trousers when riding on horseback. the _gringos_ were then given to copying the fashions of the natives; but as the pioneer population increased, the mexican came more and more to adopt american styles. growing out of these exhibitions of horsemanship and of the natives' fondness for display, was the rather important industry of making mexican saddles, in which quite a number of skilled _paisanos_ were employed. among the most expert was francisco moreno, who had a little shop on the south side of aliso street, not far from los angeles. one of these hand-worked saddles often cost two hundred dollars or more, in addition to which expensive bridles, bits and spurs were deemed necessary accessories. antónio maría lugo had a silver-mounted saddle, bridle and spurs that cost fifteen hundred dollars. on holidays and even sundays, upper main street--formerly called the calle de las virgenes, or street of the maids, later san fernando street--was the scene of horse races and their attendant festivities, just as it used to be when money or gold was especially plentiful, if one may judge from the stories of those who were here in the prosperous year, 1850. people from all over the county visited los angeles to take part in the sport, some coming from mere curiosity, but the majority anxious to bet. some money, and often a good deal of stock changed hands, according to the success or failure of the different favorites. it cannot be claimed, perhaps, that the mexican, like the _gringo_, made a specialty of developing horseflesh to perfection; yet mexicans owned many of the fast horses, such as don josé sepúlveda's _sydney ware_ and _black swan_, and the californian _sarco_ belonging to don pio pico. the most celebrated of all these horse races of early days was that between josé andrés sepúlveda's _black swan_ and pio pico's _sarco_, the details of which i learned, soon after i came here, from tom mott. sepúlveda had imported the _black swan_ from australia, in 1852, the year of the race, while pico chose a california steed to defend the honors of the day. sepúlveda himself went to san francisco to receive the consignment in person, after which he committed the thoroughbred into the keeping of bill brady, the trainer, who rode him down to los angeles, and gave him as much care as might have been bestowed upon a favorite child. they were to race nine miles, the _carrera_ commencing on san pedro street near the city limits, and running south a league and a half and return; and the reports of the preparation having spread throughout california, the event came to be looked upon as of such great importance, that, from san francisco to san diego, whoever had the money hurried to los angeles to witness the contest and bet on the result. twenty-five thousand dollars, in addition to five hundred horses, five hundred mares, five hundred heifers, five hundred calves and five hundred sheep were among the princely stakes put up; and the wife of josé andrés was driven to the scene of the memorable contest with a veritable fortune in gold slugs wrapped in a large handkerchief. upon arriving there, she opened her improvised purse and distributed the shining fifty-dollar pieces to all of her attendants and servants, of whom there were not a few, with the injunction that they should wager the money on the race; and her example was followed by others, so that, in addition to the cattle, land and merchandise hazarded, a considerable sum of money was bet by the contending parties and their friends. the _black swan_ won easily. the peculiar character of some of the wagers recalls to me an instance of a later date when a native customer of louis phillips tried to borrow a wagon, in order to bet the same on a horse race. if the customer won, he was to return the wagon at once; but if he lost, he was to pay phillips a certain price for the vehicle. many kinds of amusements marked these festal occasions, and bull-fights were among the diversions patronized by some angeleños, the christmas and new year holidays of 1854-55 being celebrated in that manner. i dare say that in earlier days los angeles may have had its plaza de toros, as did the ancient metropolis of the great country to the south; but in the later stages of the sport here, the _toreador_ and his colleagues conducted their contests in a gaudily-painted corral, in close proximity to the plaza. they were usually proclaimed as professionals from mexico or spain, but were often engaged for a livelihood, under another name, in a less dangerous and romantic occupation near by. admission was charged, and some pretense to a grandstand was made; but through the apertures in the fence of the corral those who did not pay might, by dint of hard squinting, still get a peep at the show. in this corral, in the fifties, i saw a fight between a bear and a bull. i can still recollect the crowd, but i cannot say which of the infuriated animals survived. toward the end of 1858, a bull-fight took place in the calle de toros, and there was great excitement when a horse was instantly killed. cock-fights were also a very common form of popular entertainment, and sports were frequently seen going around the streets with fighting cocks under each arm. the fights generally took place in sonora town, though now and then they were held in san gabriel. mexicans carried on quite a trade in game roosters among the patrons of this pastime, of whom m. g. santa cruz was one of the best known. sometimes, too, roosters contributed to still another brutal diversion known as _correr el gallo_: their necks having been well greased, they would be partially buried in the earth alongside a public highway, when riders on fleet horses dashed by at full speed, and tried to seize the fowls and pull them out! this reminds me of another game in which horsemen, speeding madly by a succession of suspended, small rings, would try, by the skillful handling of a long spear, to collect as many of the rings as they could--a sport illustrated in one of the features of the modern merry-go-round. the easy-going temperament of the native gave rise to many an amusing incident. i once asked a woman, as we were discussing the coming marriage of her daughter, whom the dark-eyed _señorita_ was to marry; whereupon she replied, "i forget;" and turning to her daughter, she asked: "_¿como se llama?_" (what did you say was his name?) george dalton bought a tract of land on washington, east of san pedro street, in 1855, and set out a vineyard and orchard which he continued to cultivate until 1887, when he moved to walnut avenue. dalton was a londoner who sailed from liverpool on the day of queen victoria's coronation, to spend some years wandering through pennsylvania and ohio. about 1851, he followed to the azusa district his brother, henry dalton, who had previously been a merchant in peru; but, preferring the embryo city to the country, he returned to los angeles to live. two sons, e. h. dalton, city water overseer, in 1886-87, and winnall travelly dalton, the vineyardist, were offspring of dalton's first marriage. elizabeth m., a daughter, married william h. perry. dalton avenue is named after the dalton family. in another place i have spoken of the dearth of trees in the town when i came, though the editor of the _star_ and others had advocated tree-planting. this was not due to mere neglect; there was prejudice against such street improvement. the school trustees had bought a dozen or more black locust-trees, "at eight bits each," and planted them on the school lot at second and spring streets. drought and squirrels in 1855 attacked the trees, and while the pedagogue went after the "varmints" with a shot-gun, he watered the trees from the school barrel. the carrier, however, complained that drinking-water was being wasted; and only after several rhetorical bouts was the schoolmaster allowed to save what was already invested. the locust-trees flourished until 1884, when they were hewn down to make way for the city hall. two partially-successful attempts were made, in 1855, to introduce the chestnut-tree here. jean louis sainsevain, coming to los angeles in that year, brought with him some seed; and this doubtless led solomon lazard to send back to bordeaux for some of the italian variety. william wolfskill, who first brought here the persimmon-tree, took a few of the seeds imported by lazard and planted them near his homestead; and a dozen of the trees later adorned the beautiful garden of o. w. childs who, in the following year, started some black walnut seed obtained in new york. h. p. dorsey was also a pioneer walnut grower. my brother's plans at this time included a european visit, commencing in 1855 and lasting until 1856, during which trip, in germany, on november 11th, 1855, he was married. after his continental tour, he returned to san francisco and was back in los angeles some time before 1857. on this european voyage, my brother was entrusted with the care and delivery of american government documents. from london he carried certain papers to the american minister in denmark; and in furtherance of his mission, he was given the following introduction and passport from james buchanan, then minister plenipotentiary to the court of st. james and later president of the united states: no. 282 bearer of despatches legation of the united states of america at london. to all to whom these presents shall come, greeting; know ye, that the bearer hereof, joseph p. newmark, esq., is proceeding to hamburgh and denmark, bearing despatches from this legation, to the united states' legation at copenhagen. these are therefore to request all whom it may concern, to permit him to pass freely without let or molestation, and to extend to him such friendly aid and protection, as would be extended to citizens and subjects of foreign countries, resorting to the united states, bearing despatches. in testimony whereof, i, james buchanan, envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary, of the united states of america, at london, have hereunto set my hand, and caused the seal of this legation to be affixed this tenth day of july a.d. 1855 and of the independence of the united states the eightieth. (signed,) james buchanan. (seal of the legation of the u. s. of america to great britain.) i have always accepted the fact of my brother's selection to convey these documents as evidence that, in the few years since his arrival in america, he had attained a position of some responsibility. aside from this, i am inclined to relate the experience because it shows the then limited resources of our federal authorities abroad, especially as compared with their comprehensive facilities to-day, including their own despatch agents, messengers and treasury representatives scattered throughout europe. a trip of prudent beaudry abroad about this time reminds me that specialization in medical science was as unknown in early los angeles as was specialization in business, and that persons suffering from grave physical disorders frequently visited even remoter points than san francisco in search of relief. in 1855, beaudry's health having become seriously impaired, he went to paris to consult the famous oculist, sichel; but he received little or no benefit. while in europe, beaudry visited the exposition of that year, and was one of the first angeleños, i suppose, to see a world's fair. these early tours to europe by temple, beaudry and my brother, and some of my own experiences, recall the changes in the manner of bidding los angeles travelers _bon-voyage_. friends generally accompanied the tourist to the outlying steamer, reached by a tug or lighter; and when the leave-taking came, there were cheers, repetitions of _adiós_ and the waving of hats and handkerchiefs, which continued until the steamer had disappeared from view. the first earthquake felt throughout california, of which i have any recollection, occurred on july 11th, 1855, somewhat after eight o'clock in the evening, and was a most serious local disturbance. almost every structure in los angeles was damaged, and some of the walls were left with large cracks. near san gabriel, the adobe in which hugo reid's indian wife dwelt was wrecked, notwithstanding that it had walls four feet thick, with great beams of lumber drawn from the mountains of san bernardino. in certain spots, the ground rose; in others, it fell; and with the rising and falling, down came chimneys, shelves full of salable stock or household necessities, pictures and even parts of roofs, while water in barrels, and also in several of the _zanjas_, bubbled and splashed and overflowed. again, on the 14th of april, the 2d of may and the 20th of september of the following year, we were alarmed by recurring and more or less continuous shocks which, however, did little or no damage. chapter xiii princely _rancho_ domains 1855 of the wonderful domains granted to the spanish dons some were still in the possession of their descendants; some had passed into the hands of the argonauts; but nothing in the way of subdividing had been attempted. the private ownership of los angeles county in the early fifties, therefore, was distinguished by few holders and large tracts, one of the most notable being that of don abel stearns, who came here in 1829, and who, in his early adventures, narrowly escaped exile or being shot by an irate spanish governor. eventually, stearns became the proud possessor of tens of thousands of acres between san pedro and san bernardino, now covered with cities, towns and hamlets. the site of the long beach of to-day was but a small part of his alamitos _rancho_, a portion of the town also including some of the cerritos acres of john temple. los coyotes, la habra and san juan cajón de santa ana were among the stearns ranches advertised for sale in 1869. later, i shall relate how this alamitos land came to be held by jotham bixby and his associates. juan temple owned the los cerritos _rancho_, consisting of some twenty-seven thousand acres, patented on december 27th, 1867, but which, i have heard, he bought of the nieto heirs in the late thirties, building there the typical ranch-house, later the home of the bixbys and still a feature of the neighborhood. across the cerritos stockton's weary soldiers dragged their way; and there, or near by, carrillo, by driving wild horses back and forth in confusion, and so creating a great noise and dust, tricked stockton into thinking that there were many more of the mounted enemy than he had at first supposed. by 1853, temple was estimated to be worth, in addition to his ranches, some twenty thousand dollars. in 1860, los cerritos supported perhaps four thousand cattle and great flocks of sheep; on a portion of the same ranch to-day, as i have remarked, long beach stands. another citizen of los angeles who owned much property when i came, and who lived upon his ranch, was francis phinney fisk temple, one of the first los angeles supervisors, a man exceptionally modest and known among his spanish-speaking friends as templito, because of his five feet four stature. he came here, by way of the horn, in 1841, when he was but nineteen years of age, and for a while was in business with his brother john. marrying señorita antónia margarita workman, however, on september 30th, 1845, francis made his home at la merced ranch, twelve miles east of los angeles, in the san gabriel valley, where he had a spacious and hospitable adobe after the old spanish style, shaped something like a _u_, and about seventy by one hundred and ten feet in size. around this house, later destroyed by fire, temple planted twenty acres of fruit trees and fifty thousand or more vines, arranging the whole in a garden partly enclosed by a fence--the exception rather than the rule for even a country nabob of that time. templito also owned other ranches many miles in extent; but misfortune overtook him, and by the nineties his estate possessed scarcely a single acre of land in either the city or the county of los angeles; and he breathed his last in a rude sheep herder's camp in a corner of one of his famous properties. colonel julian isaac williams, who died some three years after i arrived, owned the celebrated cucamonga and chino ranches. as early as 1842, after a nine or ten years' residence in los angeles, williams moved to the rancho del chino, which included not merely the santa ana del chino grant--some twenty-two thousand acres originally given to don antónio maría lugo, in 1841--but the addition of twelve to thirteen thousand acres, granted in 1843 to williams (who became lugo's son-in-law) making a total of almost thirty-five thousand acres. on that ranch williams built a house famed far and wide for its spaciousness and hospitality; and it was at his _hacienda_ that the celebrated capture of b. d. wilson and others was effected when they ran out of ammunition. williams was liberal in assisting the needy, even despatching messengers to los angeles, on the arrival at his ranch of worn-out and ragged immigrants, to secure clothing and other supplies for them; and it is related that, on other occasions, he was known to have advanced to young men capital amounting in the aggregate to thousands of dollars, with which they established themselves in business. by 1851, williams had amassed personal property estimated to be worth not less than thirty-five thousand dollars. in the end, he gave his _ranchos_ to his daughters as marriage-portions: the chino to francisca, or mrs. robert carlisle, who became the wife of dr. f. a. mcdougall, mayor in 1877-78, and, after his death, mrs. jesurun; and the cucamonga to maría merced, or mrs. john rains, mother-in-law of ex-governor henry t. gage, who was later mrs. carrillo. benjamin davis wilson, or benito wilson, as he was usually called, who owned a good part of the most beautiful land in the san gabriel valley and who laid out the trail up the sierra madre to wilson's peak, was one of our earliest settlers, having come from tennessee _via_ new mexico, in 1841. in june, 1846, wilson joined the riflemen organized against castro, and in 1848, having been put in charge of some twenty men to protect the san bernardino frontier, he responded to a call from isaac williams to hasten to the chino _rancho_ where, with his compatriots, he was taken prisoner. somewhat earlier--i have understood about 1844--wilson and albert packard formed a partnership, but this was dissolved near the end of 1851. in 1850, wilson was elected county clerk; and the following year, he volunteered to patrol the hills and assist in watching for garra, the outlaw, the report of whose coming was terrorizing the town. in 1853, he was indian agent for southern california. it must have been about 1849 that wilson secured control, for a while, of the bella union. his first wife was ramona yorba, a daughter of bernardo yorba, whom he married in february, 1844, and who died in 1849. on february 1st, 1853, wilson married again, this time mrs. margaret s. hereford, a sister-in-law of thomas s. hereford; they spent many years together at lake vineyard, where he became one of the leading producers of good wine, and west of which he planted some twenty-five or thirty thousand raisin grape cuttings, and ten or twelve hundred orange trees, thus founding oak knoll. i shall have occasion to speak of this gentleman somewhat later. by the time that i came to know him, wilson had accumulated much real estate, part of his property being a residence on alameda street, corner of macy; but after a while he moved to one of his larger estates, where stands the present shorb station named for his son-in-law and associate j. de barth shorb, who also had a place known as mountain vineyard. don benito died in march, 1878. [illustration: maurice kremer] [illustration: solomon lazard] [illustration: mellus's, or bell's row from a lithograph of 1858] [illustration: william h. workman and john king] [illustration: prudent beaudry] [illustration: james s. mallard] [illustration: john behn] colonel jonathan trumbull warner, master of warner's ranch, later the property of john g. downey, and known--from his superb stature of over six feet--both as juan josé warner and as juan largo, "long john," returned to los angeles in 1857. warner had arrived in southern california, on december 5th, 1831, at the age of twenty-eight, having come west, from connecticut, _via_ missouri and salt lake, partly for his health, and partly to secure mules for the louisiana market. like many others whom i have known, warner did not intend to remain; but illness decided for him, and in 1843 he settled in san diego county, near the california border, on what (later known as warner's ranch) was to become, with its trail from old sonora, historic ground. there, during the fourteen years of his occupancy, some of the most stirring episodes of the mexican war occurred; during one of which--ensign espinosa's attack--don juan having objected to the forcible searching of his house, he had his arm broken. there, also, antónio garra and his lawless band made their assault, and were repulsed by long john, who escaped on horseback, leaving in his wake four or five dead indians. for this, and not for military service, warner was dubbed colonel; nor was there anyone who cared to dispute his right to the title. in 1837, juan married miss anita gale, an adopted daughter of don pio pico, and came to los angeles; but the following year, mrs. warner died. warner once ran against e. j. c. kewen for the legislature but, after an exceedingly bitter campaign, was beaten. in 1874 warner was a notary public and spanish-english interpreter. for many years his home was in an orchard occupying the site of the burbank theater on main street. warner was a man of character and lived to a venerable age; and after a decidedly arduous life he had more than his share of responsibility and affliction, even losing his sight in his declining years. william wolfskill, who died on october 3d, 1866, was another pioneer well-established long before i had even thought of california. born in kentucky at the end of the eighteenth century--of a family originally of teutonic stock (if we may credit a high german authority) traced back to a favorite soldier of frederick the great--wolfskill in 1830 came to los angeles, for a short time, with ewing young, the noted beaver-trapper. then he acquired several leagues of land in yolo and solano counties, sharing what he had with his brothers, john and mateo. later he sold out, returned to los angeles, and bought and stocked the _rancho_ lomas de santiago, which he afterward disposed of to flint, bixby & company. he also bought of corbitt, dibblee & barker the santa anita _rancho_ (comprising between nine and ten thousand acres), and some twelve thousand besides; the santa anita he gave to his son, louis, who later sold it for eighty-five thousand dollars. besides this, wolfskill acquired title to a part of the _rancho_ san francisquito, on which newhall stands, disposing of that, however, during the first oil excitement, to the philadelphia oil company, at seventy-five cents an acre--a good price at that time. before making these successful realty experiments, this hero of desert hardships had assisted to build, soon after his arrival here, one of the first vessels ever constructed and launched in california--a schooner fitted out at san pedro to hunt for sea otter. in january, 1841, wolfskill married doña magdalena lugo, daughter of don josé ygnácio lugo, of santa bárbara. a daughter, señorita magdalena, in 1865 married frank sabichi, a native of los angeles, who first saw the light of day in 1842. sabichi, by the way, always a man of importance in this community, is the son of mateo and josefa franco sabichi (the mother, a sister of antónio franco coronel), buried at san gabriel mission. j. e. pleasants, to whom i elsewhere refer, first made a good start when he formed a partnership with wolfskill in a cattle deal. concerning mateo, i recall an interesting illustration of early fiscal operations. he deposited thirty thousand dollars with s. lazard & company and left it there so long that they began to think he would never come back for it. he did return, however, after many years, when he presented a certificate of deposit and withdrew the money. this transaction bore no interest, as was often the case in former days. people deposited money with friends in whom they had confidence, not for the purpose of profit but simply for safety. elijah t. moulton, a canadian, was one of the few pioneers who preceded the forty-niners and was permitted to see los angeles well on its way toward metropolitan standing. in 1844 he had joined an expedition to california organized by jim bridger; and having reached the western country, he volunteered to serve under frémont in the mexican campaign. there the hardships which moulton endured were far severer than those which tested the grit of the average emigrant; and moulton in better days often told how, when nearly driven to starvation, he and a comrade had actually used a remnant of the stars and stripes as a seine with which to fish, and so saved their lives. about 1850, moulton was deputy sheriff under george t. burrill; then he went to work for don louis vignes. soon afterward, he bought some land near william wolfskill's, and in 1855 took charge of wolfskill's property. this resulted in his marriage to one of wolfskill's daughters, who died in 1861. in the meantime, he had acquired a hundred and fifty acres or more in what is now east los angeles, and was thus one of the first to settle in that section. he had a dairy, for a while, and peddled milk from a can or two carried in a wagon. afterward, moulton became a member of the city council. william workman and john rowland, father of william or billy rowland, resided in 1853 on la puente _rancho_, which was granted them july 22d, 1845, some four years after they had arrived in california. they were leaders of a party from new mexico, of which b. d. wilson, lemuel carpenter and others were members; and the year following they operated with pico against micheltorena and sutter, workman serving as captain, and rowland as lieutenant, of a company of volunteers they had organized. the ranch, situated about twenty miles east of los angeles, consisted of nearly forty-nine thousand acres, and had one of the first brick residences erected in this neighborhood. full title to this splendid estate was confirmed by the united states government in april, 1867, a couple of years before workman and rowland, with the assistance of cameron e. thom, divided their property. rowland, who in 1851 was supposed to own some twenty-nine thousand acres and about seventy thousand dollars' worth of personal property, further partitioned his estate, three or four years before his death in 1873, among his nearest of kin, giving to each heir about three thousand acres of land and a thousand head of cattle. one of these heirs, the wife of general charles forman, is the half-sister of billy rowland by a second marriage. john reed, rowland's son-in-law, was also a large land-proprietor. reed had fallen in with rowland in new mexico, and while there married rowland's daughter, nieves; and when rowland started for california, reed came with him and together they entered into ranching at la puente, finding artesian water there, in 1859. thirteen years before, reed was in the american army and took part in the battles fought on the march from san diego to los angeles. after his death on the ranch in 1874, his old homestead came into possession of john rowland's son, william, who often resided there; and rowland, later discovering oil on his land, organized the puente oil company. juan forster, an englishman, possessed the santa margarita _rancho_, which he had taken up in 1864, some years after he married doña ysidora pico. she was a sister of pio and andrés pico, and there, as a result of that alliance, general pico found a safe retreat while fleeing from frémont into lower california. forster for a while was a seaman out of san pedro. when he went to san juan capistrano, where he became a sort of local _alcalde_ and was often called don san juan or even san juan capistrano, he experimented with raising stock and became so successful as a _ranchero_ that he remained there twenty years, during which time he acquired a couple of other ranches, in san diego and los angeles counties, comprising quite sixty thousand acres. forster, however, was comparatively land-poor, as may be inferred from the fact that even though the owner of such a princely territory, he was assessed in 1851 on but thirteen thousand dollars in personal property. later don juan lorded it over twice as much land in the ranches of santa margarita and las flores. his fourth son, a namesake, married señorita josefa del valle, daughter of don ygnácio del valle. manuel, pedro, nasário and victoria dominguez owned in the neighborhood of forty-eight thousand acres of the choicest land in the south. more than a century ago, juan josé dominguez received from the king of spain ten or eleven leagues of land, known as the rancho de san pedro; and this was given by governor de sola, after juan josé's death in 1822, to his brother, don cristóbal dominguez, a spanish officer. don cristóbal married a mexican commissioner's daughter, and one of their ten children was manuel, who, educated by wide reading and fortunate in a genial temperament and high standard of honor, became an esteemed and popular officer under the mexican _régime_, displaying no little chivalry in the battle of dominguez fought on his own property. on the death of his father, don manuel took charge of the rancho de san pedro (buying out his sister victoria's interest of twelve thousand acres, at fifty cents an acre) until in 1855 it was partitioned between himself, his brother, don pedro and two nephews, josé antónio aguirre and jacinto rocha. one daughter, victoria, married george carson in 1857. at his death, in 1882, dominguez bequeathed to his heirs twenty odd thousand acres, including rattlesnake island in san pedro bay. james a. watson, an early-comer, married a second daughter; john f. francis married a third, and dr. del amo married a fourth. henry dalton, who came here sometime before 1845, having been a merchant in peru, owned the azusa ranch of over four thousand acres, the patent to which was finally issued in 1876, and also part of the san francisquito ranch of eight thousand acres, allowed him somewhat later. besides these, he had an interest, with ygnácio palomares and ricardo vejar, in the san josé _rancho_ of nearly twenty-seven thousand acres. as early as the twenty-first of may, 1851, dalton, with keen foresight, seems to have published a plan for the subdivision of nine or ten thousand acres into lots to suit limited ranchers; but it was some time before duarte and other places, now on the above-mentioned estates, arose from his dream. on a part of his property, azusa, a town of the boom period, was founded some twenty-two miles from los angeles, and seven or eight hundred feet up the azusa slope; and now other towns also flourish near these attractive foothills. one of dalton's daughters was given in marriage to louis, a son of william wolfskill. dalton's brother, george, i have already mentioned as having likewise settled here. of all these worthy dons, possessing vast landed estates, don antónio maría lugo, brother of ygnácio lugo, was one of the most affluent and venerable. he owned the san antónio _rancho_, named i presume after him; and in 1856, when he celebrated his seventy-fifth birthday, was reputed to be the owner of fully twenty-nine thousand acres and personal property to the extent of seventy-two thousand dollars. three sons, josé maría, josé del carmen and vicente lugo, as early as 1842 also acquired in their own names about thirty-seven thousand acres. [illustration: louis robidoux] [illustration: julius g. weyse] [illustration: john behn] [illustration: louis breer] [illustration: william j. broderick] [illustration: isaac r. dunkelberger] [illustration: frank j. carpenter] [illustration: augustus ulyard] louis robidoux, a french-american of superior ability who, like many others, had gone through much that was exciting and unpleasant to establish himself in this wild, open country, eventually had an immense estate known as the jurupa _rancho_, from which on september 26th, 1846, during the mexican war, b. d. wilson and others rode forth to be neatly trapped and captured at the chino; and where the outlaw irving later encamped. riverside occupies a site on this land; and the famous robidoux hill, usually spoken of as the robidoux mountain, once a part of louis's ranch and to-day a mecca for thousands of tourists, was named after him. many of the _rancheros_ kept little ranch stores, from which they sold to their employees. this was rather for convenience than for profit. when their help came to los angeles, they generally got drunk and stayed away from work longer than the allotted time; and it was to prevent this, as far as possible, that these outlying stores were conducted. louis robidoux maintained such a store for the accommodation of his hands, and often came to town, sometimes for several days, on which occasions he would buy very liberally anything that happened to take his fancy. in this respect he occasionally acted without good judgment, and if opposed would become all the more determined. not infrequently he called for so large a supply of some article that i was constrained to remark that he could not possibly need so much; whereupon he would repeat the order with angry emphasis. i sometimes visited his ranch and recall, in particular, one stay of two or three days there in 1857 when, after an unusually large purchase, robidoux asked me to assist him in checking up the invoices. the cases were unpacked in his ranchhouse; and i have never forgotten the amusing picture of the numerous little robidoux, digging and delving among the assorted goods for all the prizes they could find, and thus rendering the process of listing the goods much more difficult. when the delivery had been found correct, robidoux turned to his mexican wife and asked her to bring the money. she went to the side of the room, opened a chinese trunk such as every well-to-do mexican family had (and sometimes as many as half a dozen), and drew therefrom the customary buckskin, from which she extracted the required and rather large amount. these trunks were made of cedar, were gaudily painted, and had the quality of keeping out moths. they were, therefore, displayed with pride by the owners. recently on turning the pages of some ledgers in which newmark, kremer & company carried the account of this famous _ranchero_, i was interested to find there full confirmation of what i have elsewhere claimed--that the now renowned frenchman spelled the first syllable of his name _ro-_, and not _ru-_, nor yet _rou-_, as it is generally recorded in books and newspapers. i should refrain from mentioning a circumstance or two in robidoux's life with which i am familiar but for the fact that i believe posterity is ever curious to know the little failings as well as the pronounced virtues of men who, through exceptional personality or association, have become historic characters; and that some knowledge of their foibles should not tarnish their reputation. robidoux, as i have remarked, came to town very frequently, and when again he found himself amid livelier scenes and congenial fellows, as in the late fifties, he always celebrated the occasion with a few intimates, winding up his befuddling bouts in the arms of chris fluhr, who winked at his weakness and good-naturedly tucked him away in one of the old-fashioned beds of the lafayette hotel, there to remain until he was able to transact business. after all, such celebrating was then not at all uncommon among the best of southern california people, nor, if gossip may be credited, is it entirely unknown to-day. robert hornbeck, of redlands, by the way, has sought to perpetuate this pioneer's fame in an illustrated volume, _roubidoux's ranch in the 70's_, published as i am closing my story. robidoux's name leads me to recur to early judges and to his identification with the first court of sessions here, when there was such a sparseness even of _rancherías_. robidoux then lived on his jurupa domain, and not having been at the meeting of township justices which selected himself and judge scott to sit on the bench, and enjoying but infrequent communication with the more peopled districts of southern california, he knew nothing of the outcome of the election until sometime after it had been called. more than this, judge robidoux never actually participated in a sitting of the court of sessions until four or five weeks after it had been almost daily transacting business! speaking of ranches, and of the jurupa in particular, i may here reprint an advertisement--a miniature tree and a house heading the following announcement in the _southern californian_ of june 20th, 1855: the subscriber, being anxious to get away from swindlers, offers for sale one of the very finest _ranchos_, or tracts of land, that is to be found in california, known as the rancho de jurupa, santa ana river, in the county of san bernardino. bernardo yorba was another great landowner; and i am sure that, in the day of his glory, he might have traveled fifty to sixty miles in a straight line, touching none but his own possessions. his ranches, on one of which pio pico hid from santiago arguello, were delightfully located where now stand such places as anaheim, orange, santa ana, westminster, garden grove and other towns in orange county--then a part of los angeles county. this leads me to describe a shrewd trick. schlesinger & sherwinsky, traders in general merchandise in 1853, when they bought a wagon in san francisco, brought it here by steamer, loaded it with various attractive wares, took it out to good-natured and easy-going bernardo yorba, and wheedled the well-known _ranchero_ into purchasing not only the contents, but the wagon, horses and harness as well. indeed, their ingenuity was so well rewarded, that soon after this first lucky hit, they repeated their success, to the discomfiture of their competitors; and if i am not mistaken, they performed the same operation on the old don several times. the verdugo family had an extensive acreage where such towns as glendale now enjoy the benefit of recent suburban development, governor pedro fages having granted, as early as 1784, some thirty-six thousand acres to don josé maría verdugo, which grant was reaffirmed in 1798, thereby affording the basis of a patent issued in 1882, to julio verdugo _et al_, although verdugo died in 1858. to this verdugo _rancho_, frémont sent jesus pico--the mexican guide whose life he had spared, as he was about to be executed at san luis obispo--to talk with the californians and to persuade them to deal with frémont instead of stockton; and there on february 21st, 1845, micheltorena and castro met. near there also, still later, the celebrated casa verdugo entertained for many years the epicures of southern california, becoming one of the best-known restaurants for spanish dishes in the state. little by little, the verdugo family lost all their property, partly through their refusal or inability to pay taxes; so that by the second decade of the twentieth century the surviving representatives, including victoriano and guillermo verdugo, were reduced to poverty.[15] recalling verdugo and his san rafael ranch let me add that he had thirteen sons, all of whom frequently accompanied their father to town, especially on election day. on those occasions, j. lancaster brent, whose political influence with the old man was supreme, took the verdugo party in hand and distributed, through the father, fourteen election tickets, on which were impressed the names of brent's candidates. manuel garfias, county treasurer a couple of years before i came, was another land-baron, owning in his own name some thirteen or fourteen thousand acres of the san pasqual ranch. there, among the picturesque hills and valleys where both pico and flores had military camps, now flourish the cities of pasadena and south pasadena, which include the land where stood the first house erected on the ranch. it is my impression that beautiful altadena is also on this land. ricardo vejar, another magnate, had an interest in a wide area of rich territory known as the san josé ranch. not less than twenty-two thousand acres made up this _rancho_ which, as early as 1837, had been granted by governor alvarado to vejar and ygnácio palomares who died on november 25th, 1864. two or three years later, luis arenas joined the two, and alvarado renewed his grant, tacking on a league or two of san josé land lying to the west and nearer the san gabriel mountains. arenas, in time, disposed of his interest to henry dalton; and dalton joined vejar in applying to the courts for a partitioning of the estate. this division was ordered by the spanish _alcalde_ six or seven years before my arrival; but palomares still objected to the decision, and the matter dragged along in the tribunals many years, the decree finally being set aside by the court. vejar, who had been assessed in 1851 for thirty-four thousand dollars' worth of personal property, sold his share of the estate for twenty-nine thousand dollars, in the spring of 1874. it is a curious fact that not until the san josé _rancho_ had been so cut up that it was not easy to trace it back to the original grantees, did the authorities at washington finally issue a patent to dalton, palomares and vejar for the twenty-two thousand acres which originally made up the ranch. the machados, of whom there were several brothers--don agustin, who died on may 17th, 1865, being the head of the family--had title to nearly fourteen thousand acres. their ranch, originally granted to don ygnácio machado in 1839 and patented in 1873, was known as la ballona and extended from the city limits to the ocean; and there, among other stock, in 1860, were more than two thousand head of cattle. the picos acquired much territory. there were two brothers--pio, who as mexican governor had had wide supervision over land, and andrés, who had fought throughout the san pasqual campaigns until the capitulation at cahuenga, and still later had dashed with spirit across country in pursuit of the murderers of sheriff barton. pio pico alone, in 1851, was assessed for twenty-two thousand acres as well as twenty-one thousand dollars in personal property. besides controlling various san fernando ranches (once under b. h. lancaro's management), andrés pico possessed la habra, a ranch of over six thousand acres, for which a patent was granted in 1872, and the ranch los coyotes, including over forty-eight thousand acres, patented three years later; while pio pico at one time owned the santa margarita and las flores _ranchos_, and had, in addition, some nine thousand acres known as paso de bartolo. in his old age the governor--who, as long as i knew him, had been strangely loose in his business methods, and had borrowed from everybody--found himself under the necessity of obtaining some thirty or forty thousand dollars, even at the expense of giving to b. cohn, w. j. brodrick and charles prager, a blanket mortgage covering all of his properties. these included the pico house, the pico ranch on the other side of the san gabriel river--the homestead on which has for some time been preserved by the ladies of whittier--and property on main street, north of commercial, besides some other holdings. when his note fell due pico was unable to meet it; and the mortgage was foreclosed. the old man was then left practically penniless, a suit at law concerning the interpretation of the loan-agreement being decided against him. henry c. wiley must have arrived very early, as he had been in los angeles some years before i came. he married a daughter of andrés pico and for a while had charge of his san fernando ranch. wiley served, at one time, as sheriff of the county. he died in 1898. the _rancho_ los nietos or, more properly speaking, perhaps, the santa gertrudis, than whose soil (watered, as it is, by the san gabriel river) none more fertile can be found in the world, included indeed a wide area extending between the santa ana and san gabriel rivers, and embracing the ford known as pico crossing. it was then in possession of the carpenter family, lemuel carpenter having bought it from the heirs of manuel nieto, to whom it had been granted in 1784. carpenter came from missouri to this vicinity as early as 1833, when he was but twenty-two years old. for a while, he had a small soap-factory on the right bank of the san gabriel river, after which he settled on the ranch; and there he remained until november 6th, 1859, when he committed suicide. within the borders of this ranch to-day lie such places as downey and rivera. francisco sanchez was another early _ranchero_--probably the same who figured so prominently in early san francisco; and it is possible that j. m. sanchez, to whom, in 1859, was re-granted the forty-four hundred acres of the potrero grande, was his heir. there were two large and important landowners, second cousins, known as josé sepúlveda; the one, don josé andrés, and the other, don josé loreto. the father of josé andrés was don francisco sepúlveda, a spanish officer to whom the san vicente ranch had been granted; and josé andrés, born in san diego in 1804, was the oldest of eleven children. his brothers were fernando, josé del carmen, dolores and juan maría; and he also had six sisters. to josé andrés, or josé as he was called, the san joaquín ranch was given, an enormous tract of land lying between the present tustin, earlier known as tustin city, and san juan capistrano, and running from the hills to the sea; while, on the death of don francisco, the san vicente ranch, later bought by jones and baker, was left to josé del carmen, dolores and juan maría. josé, in addition, bought eighteen hundred acres from josé antónio yorba, and on this newly-acquired property he built his ranchhouse, although he and his family may be said to have been more or less permanent residents of los angeles. fernando sepúlveda married a verdugo, and through her became proprietor of much of the verdugo _rancho_. the fact that josé was so well provided for, and that fernando had come into control of the verdugo acres, made it mutually satisfactory that the san vicente ranch should have been willed to the other sons. the children of josé andrés included miguel, maurício, bernabé, joaquín, andrónico and ygnácio, and francisca, wife of james thompson, tomása, wife of frank rico, ramona, wife of captain salisbury haley of the _sea bird_, ascención, wife of tom mott, and tranquilina. the latter, with mrs. mott and judge ygnácio, are still living here. don josé loreto, brother of juan and diego sepúlveda, father of mrs. john t. lanfranco, and a well-known resident of los angeles county in early days, presided over the destinies of thirty-one thousand acres in the palos verdes _rancho_, where flores had stationed his soldiers to watch the american ship _savannah_. full patent to this land was granted in 1880. there being no fences to separate the great ranches, cattle roamed at will; nor were the owners seriously concerned, for every man had his distinct, registered brand and in proper season the various herds were segregated by means of _rodeos_, or round-ups of strayed or mixed cattle. on such occasions, all of the _rancheros_ within a certain radius drove their herds little by little into a corral designated for the purpose, and each selected his own cattle according to brand. after segregation had thus been effected, they were driven from the corral, followed by the calves, which were also branded, in anticipation of the next _rodeo_. such round-ups were great events, for they brought all the _rancheros_ and _vaqueros_ together. they became the _raison d'être_ of elaborate celebrations, sometimes including horse-races, bull-fights and other amusements; and this was the case particularly in 1861, because of the rains and consequent excellent season. the enormous herds of cattle gathered at _rodeos_ remind me, in fact, of a danger that the _rancheros_ were obliged to contend with, especially when driving their stock from place to place: indians stampeded the cattle, whenever possible, so that in the confusion those escaping the _vaqueros_ and straggling behind might the more easily be driven to the indian camps; and sometimes covetous ranchmen caused a similar commotion among the stock in order to make thieving easier. while writing of ranches, one bordering on the other, unfenced and open, and the enormous number of horses and cattle, as well as men required to take care of such an amount of stock, i must not forget to mention an institution that had flourished, as a branch of the judiciary, in palmier mexican days, though it was on the wane when i arrived here. this was the judgeship of the plains, an office charged directly with the interests of the ranchman. judges of the plains were officials delegated to arrange for the _rodeos_, and to hold informal court, in the saddle or on the open hillside, in order to settle disputes among, and dispense justice to, those living and working beyond the pales of the towns. under mexican rule, a judge of the plains, who was more or less a law unto himself, served for glory and dignity (much as does an english justice of the peace); and the latter factor was an important part of the stipulation, as we may gather from a story told by early angeleños of the impeachment of don antónio maría lugo. don antónio was then a judge of the plains, and as such was charged with having, while on horseback, nearly trampled upon pedro sanchez, for no other reason than that poor pedro had refused to "uncover" while the judge rode by, and to keep his hat off until his honor was unmistakably out of sight! when, at length, americans took possession of southern california, judges of the plains were given less power, and provision was made, for the first time, for a modest _honorarium_ in return for their travel and work. for nearly a couple of decades after the organization of los angeles under the incoming white pioneers, not very much was known of the vast districts inland and adjacent to southern california; and one can well understand the interest felt by our citizens on july 17th, 1855, when colonel washington, of the united states surveying expedition to the rio colorado, put up at the bella union on his way to san francisco. he was bombarded with questions about the region lying between the san bernardino mountain range and the colorado, hitherto unexplored; and being a good talker, readily responded with much entertaining information. in july, 1855, i attained my majority and, having by this time a fair command of english, i took a more active part in social affairs. before he married margarita, daughter of juan bandini, dr. j. b. winston, then interested in the bella union, organized most of the dances, and i was one of his committee of arrangements. we would collect from the young men of our acquaintance money enough to pay for candles and music; for each musician--playing either a harp, a guitar or a flute--charged from a dollar to a dollar and a half for his services. formal social events occurred in the evening of almost any day of the week. whenever dr. winston or the young gallants of that period thought it was time to have a dance, they just passed around the hat for the necessary funds, and announced the affair. ladies were escorted to functions, although we did not take them in carriages or other vehicles but tramped through the dust or mud. young ladies, however, did not go out with gentlemen unless they were accompanied by a chaperon, generally some antiquated female member of the family. these hops usually took place at the residence of widow blair, opposite the bella union and north of the present post office. there we could have a sitting-room, possibly eighteen by thirty feet square; and while this was larger than any other room in a private house in town, it will be realized that, after all, the space for dancing was very limited. we made the best, however, of what we had; the refreshments, at these improvised affairs, were rarely more than lemonade and _olla_ water. many times such dances followed as a natural termination to another social observance, transmitted to us, i have no doubt, by the romantic spanish settlers here, and very popular for some time after i came. this good old custom was serenading. we would collect money, as if for dancing; and in the evening a company of young men and chaperoned young ladies would proceed in a body to some popular girl's home where, with innocent gallantry, the little band would serenade her. after that, of course, we were always glad to accept an invitation to come into the house, when the ladies of the household sometimes regaled us with a bit of cake and wine. speaking of the social life of those early days, when warm, stimulating friendships and the lack of all foolish caste distinctions rendered the occasions delightfully pleasant, may it not be well to ask whether the contrast between those simple, inexpensive pleasures, and the elaborate and extravagant demands of modern society, is not worth sober thought? to be sure, los angeles then was exceedingly small, and pioneers here were much like a large family in plain, unpretentious circumstances. there were no such ceremonies as now; there were no four hundred, no three hundred, nor even one hundred. there was, for example, no flunky at the door to receive the visitor's card; and for the very good reason that visiting cards were unknown. in those pastoral, pueblo days it was no indiscretion for a friend to walk into another friend's house without knocking. society of the early days could be divided, i suppose, into two classes: the respectable and the evil element; and people who were honorable came together because they esteemed each other and liked one another's company. the "gold fish" of the present age had not yet developed. we enjoyed ourselves together, and without distinction were ready to fight to the last ditch for the protection of our families and the preservation of our homes. in the fall of 1855, dr. thomas j. white, a native of st. louis and speaker of the assembly in the first california legislature convened at san josé, in december, 1849, arrived from san francisco with his wife and two daughters, and bought a vineyard next to dr. hoover's ten-acre place where, in three or four years, he became one of the leading wine-producers. their advent created quite a stir, and the house, which was a fine and rather commodious one for the times, soon became the scene of extensive entertainments. the addition of this highly-accomplished family was indeed quite an accession to our social ranks. their hospitality compared favorably even with california's open-handed and open-hearted spirit, and soon became notable. their evening parties and other receptions were both frequent and lavish, so that the whites quickly took rank as leaders in los angeles. while yet in sacramento, one of the daughters, who had fallen in love with e. j. c. kewen when the latter was a member of the white party in crossing the great plains, married the colonel; and in 1862, another daughter, miss jennie, married judge murray morrison. a son was t. jeff white, who named his place _casalinda_. in the late fifties, dr. white had a drug-store in the temple building on main street. it was long before los angeles had anything like a regular theater, or even enjoyed such shows as were provided by itinerant companies, some of which, when they did begin to come, stayed here for weeks; although i remember having heard of one ambitious group of players styling themselves _the rough and ready theater_, who appeared here very early and gave sufficient satisfaction to elicit the testimony from a local scribe, that "when richmond was conquered and laid off for dead, the enthusiastic auditors gave the king a smile of decided approval!" minstrels and circuses were occasionally presented, a minstrel performance taking place sometime in the fifties, in an empty store on aliso street, near los angeles. about the only feature of this event that is now clear in my memory is that bob carsley played the bones; he remained in los angeles and married, later taking charge of the foundry which stearns established when he built his arcadia block on los angeles street. an albino also was once brought to los angeles and publicly exhibited; and since anything out of the ordinary challenged attention, everybody went to see a curiosity that to-day would attract but little notice. speaking of theatrical performances and the applause bestowed upon favorites, i must not forget to mention the reckless use of money and the custom, at first quite astounding to me, of throwing coins--often large, shining slugs--upon the stage or floor, if an actor or actress particularly pleased the spendthrift patron. in october, 1855, william abbott, who was one of the many to come to los angeles in 1853, and who had brought with him a small stock of furniture, started a store in a little wooden house he had acquired on a lot next to that which later became the site of the pico house. abbott married doña merced garcia; and good fortune favoring him, he not only gradually enlarged his stock of goods, but built a more commodious building, in the upper story of which was the merced theater, named after abbott's wife, and opened in the late sixties. the vanity of things mundane is well illustrated in the degeneration of this center of early histrionic effort, which entered a period of decay in the beginning of the eighties and, as the scene of disreputable dances, before 1890 had been pronounced a nuisance. during the first decade under the american _régime_, los angeles gradually learned the value of reaching toward the outside world and welcoming all who responded. in 1855, as i have said, a brisk trade was begun with salt lake, through the opening up of a route--leading along the old spanish trail to santa fé. banning & alexander, with their usual enterprise, together with w. t. b. sanford, made the first shipment in a heavily-freighted train of fifteen wagons drawn by one hundred and fifty mules. the train, which carried thirty tons, was gone four months; having left los angeles in may, it returned in september. in every respect the experiment was a success, and naturally the new route had a beneficial effect on southern california trade. it also contributed to the development of san bernardino, through which town it passed. before the year was out, one or two express companies were placarding the stores here with announcements of rates "to great salt lake city." banning, by the way, then purchased in salt lake the best wagons he had, and brought here some of the first vehicles with spokes to be seen in los angeles. the school authorities of the past sometimes sailed on waters as troubled as those rocking the educational boards to-day. i recall an amusing incident of the middle fifties, when a new set of trustees, having succeeded to the control of affairs, were scandalized, or at least pretended to be, by an action of their predecessors, and immediately adopted the following resolution: _resolved_, that page seven of the school commissioners' record be pasted down on page eight, so that the indecorous language written therein by the school commissioners of 1855, can never again be read or seen, said language being couched in such terms that the present school commissioners are not willing to read such record. richard laughlin died at his vineyard, on the east side of alameda street, in or soon after 1855. like william wolfskill, ewing young--who fitted out the wolfskill party--and moses carson, brother of the better-known kit and at one time a trader at san pedro, laughlin was a trapper who made his way to los angeles along the gila river. this was a waterway of the savage apache country traversed even in 1854--according to the lone ferryman's statistics--by nearly ten thousand persons. in middle life, laughlin supported himself by carpentry and hunting. with the increase in the number and activity of the chinese in california, the prejudice of the masses was stirred up violently. this feeling found expression particularly in 1855, when a law was passed by the legislature, imposing a fine of fifty dollars on each owner or master of a vessel bringing to california anyone incapable of becoming a citizen; but when suit was instituted, to test the act's validity, it was declared unconstitutional. at that time, most of the opposition to the chinese came from san franciscans, there being but few coolies here. certain members of the same legislature led a movement to form a new state, to be called colorado and to include all the territory south of san luis obispo; and the matter was repeatedly discussed in several subsequent sessions. nothing came of it, however; but kern county was formed, in 1866, partly from los angeles county and partly from tulare. about five thousand square miles, formerly under our county banner, were thus legislated away; and because the mountainous and desert area seemed of little prospective value, we submitted willingly. in this manner, unenlightened by modern science and ignorant of future possibilities, southern california, guided by no clear and certain vision, drifted and stumbled along to its destiny. [illustration: los angeles in the late fifties from a contemporary sketch] [illustration: myer j. newmark] [illustration: dr. john s. griffin] [illustration: edward j. c. kewen] [illustration: william c. warren] footnote: [15] julio chrisostino verdugo died early in march, 1915, supposed to be about one hundred and twelve years old. chapter xiv orchards and vineyards 1856 during 1856, i dissolved with my partners, rich and laventhal, and went into business with my uncle, joseph newmark, j. p. newmark and maurice kremer, under the title of newmark, kremer & company. instead of a quasi wholesale business, we now had a larger assortment and did more of a retail business. we occupied a room, about forty by eighty feet in size, in the mascarel and barri block on the south side of commercial street (then known as commercial row), between main and los angeles streets, our modest establishment being almost directly opposite the contracted quarters of my first store and having the largest single storeroom then in the city; and there we continued with moderate success, until 1858. to make this new partnership possible, kremer had sold out his interest in the firm of lazard & kremer, dry goods merchants, the readjustment providing an amusing illustration of the manner in which business, with its almost entire lack of specialization, was then conducted. when the stock was taken, a large part of it consisted, not of dry goods, as one might well suppose, but of--cigars and tobacco! about the beginning of 1856, sisters of charity made their first appearance in los angeles, following a meeting called by bishop amat during the preceding month, to provide for their coming, when abel stearns presided and john g. downey acted as secretary. benjamin hayes, thomas foster, ezra drown, louis vignes, ygnácio del valle and antónio coronel coöperated, while manuel requena collected the necessary funds. on january 5th, sisters maría scholastica, maría corzina, ana, clara, francisca and angela arrived--three of them coming almost directly from spain; and immediately they formed an important adjunct to the church in matters pertaining to religion, charity and education. it was to them that b. d. wilson sold his los angeles home, including ten acres of fine orchard, at the corner of alameda and macy streets, for eight thousand dollars; and there for many years they conducted their school, the institute and orphan asylum, until they sold the property to j. m. griffith, who used the site for a lumber-yard. griffith, in turn, disposed of it to the southern pacific railroad company. sister scholastica, who celebrated in 1889 her fiftieth anniversary as a sister, was long the mother superior. the so-called first public school having met with popular approval, the board of education in 1856 opened another school on bath street. the building, two stories in height, was of brick and had two rooms. on january 9th, john p. brodie assumed charge of the _southern californian_. andrés pico was then proprietor; and before the newspaper died, in 1857, pico lost, it is said, ten thousand dollars in the venture. the first regular course of public lectures here was given in 1856 under the auspices of a society known as the mechanics' institute, and in one of henry dalton's corrugated iron buildings. george t. burrill, first county sheriff, died on february 2d, his demise bringing to mind an interesting story. he was sheriff, in the summer of 1850, when certain members of the infamous irving party were arraigned for murder, and during that time received private word that many of the prisoners' friends would pack the little court room and attempt a rescue. burrill, however, who used to wear a sword and had a rather soldierly bearing, was equal to the emergency. he quickly sent to major e. h. fitzgerald and had the latter come post-haste to town and court with a detachment of soldiers; and with this superior, disciplined force he overawed the bandits' _compañeros_ who, sure enough, were there and fully armed to make a demonstration. thomas e. rowan arrived here with his father, james rowan, in 1856, and together they opened a bakery. tom delivered the bread for a short time, but soon abandoned that pursuit for politics, being frequently elected to office, serving in turn as supervisor, city and county treasurer and even, from 1893 to 1894, as mayor of los angeles. shortly before tom married miss josephine mayerhofer in san francisco in 1862--and a handsome couple they made--the rowans bought from louis mesmer the american bakery, located at the southwest corner of main and first streets and originally established by august ulyard. when james rowan died about forty years ago, tom fell heir to the bakery; but as he was otherwise engaged, he employed maurice maurício as manager, and p. galta, afterward a prosperous business man of bakersfield, as driver. tom, who died in 1899, was also associated as cashier with i. w. hellman and f. p. f. temple in their bank. rowan avenue and rowan street were both named after this early comer. the time for the return of my brother and his european bride now approached, and i felt a natural desire to meet them. almost coincident, therefore, with their arrival in san francisco, i was again in that growing city in 1856, although i had been there but the year previous. on april 9th, occurred the marriage of matilda, daughter of joseph newmark, to maurice kremer. the ceremony was performed by the bride's father. for the subsequent festivities, ice, from which ice cream was made, was brought from san bernardino; both luxuries on this occasion being used in los angeles, as far as i can remember, for the first time. to return to the los angeles _star_. when j. s. waite became postmaster, in 1855, he found it no sinecure to continue even such an unpretentious and, in all likelihood, unprofitable news-sheet and at the same time attend to uncle sam's mail-bags; and early in 1856 he offered "the entire establishment at one thousand dollars less than cost." business was so slow at that time, in fact, that waite--after, perhaps, ruefully looking over his unpaid subscriptions--announced that he would "take wood, butter, eggs, flour, wheat or corn" in payment of bills due. he soon found a ready customer in william a. wallace, the principal of the boys' school who, on the twelfth of april, bought the paper; but waite's disgust was nothing to that of the schoolteacher who, after two short months' trial with the editorial quill, scribbled a last doleful _adiós_. "the flush times of the pueblo, the day of large prices and pocket-books, are past," wallace declared; and before him the editor saw "only picayunes, bad liquor, rags and universal dullness, when neither pistol-shots nor dying groans" could have any effect, and "when earthquakes would hardly turn men in their beds!" nothing was left for such a destitute and discouraged quillman "but to wait for a _carreta_ and get out of town." wallace sold the paper, therefore, in june, 1856, to henry hamilton, a native of ireland who had come to california in 1848 an apprenticed printer, and was for some years in newspaper work in san francisco; and hamilton soon put new life into the journal. in 1856, the many-sided dr. william b. osburn organized a company to bore an artesian well west of the city; but when it reached a depth of over seven hundred feet, the prospectors went into bankruptcy. george lehman, early known as george the baker (whose shop at one time was on the site of the hayward hotel), was a somewhat original and very popular character who, in 1856, took over the round house on main street, between third and fourth, and there opened a pleasure-resort extending to spring street and known as the garden of paradise. the grounds really occupied on the one hand what are now the sites of the pridham, the pinney and the turnverein, and on the other the henne, the breed and the lankershim blocks. there was an entrance on main street and one, with two picket gates, on spring. from the general shape and appearance of the building, it was always one of the first objects in town to attract attention; and lehman (who, when he appeared on the street, had a crooked cane hanging on his arm and a lemon in his hand), came to be known as "round house george." the house had been erected in the late forties by raimundo, generally called ramón, or raymond alexander, a sailor, who asserted that the design was a copy of a structure he had once seen on the coast of africa; and there ramón and his native california wife had lived for many years. partly because he wished to cover the exterior with vines and flowers, lehman nailed boards over the outer adobe walls and thus changed the cylinder form into that of an octagon. an ingenious arrangement of the _parterre_ and a peculiar distribution of some trees, together with a profusion of plants and flowers--affording cool and shady bowers, somewhat similar to those of a typical beer or wine garden of the fatherland--gave the place great popularity; while two heroic statues--one of _adam_ and the other of _eve_--with a conglomeration of other curiosities, including the _apple tree_ and the _serpent_--all illustrating the world-old story of eden--and a moving panorama made the garden unique and rather famous. the balcony of the house provided accommodation for the playing of such music, perhaps discordant, as los angeles could then produce, and nearby was a framework containing a kind of swing then popular and known as "flying horses." the bar was in the garden, near a well-sweep; and at the main street entrance stood a majestic and noted cactus tree which was cut down in 1886. the garden of paradise was opened toward the end of september, 1858, and so large were the grounds that when they were used, in 1876, for the fourth of july celebration, twenty-six hundred people were seated there. this leads me to say that arthur mckenzie dodson, who established a coaland wood-yard at what was later the corner of spring and sixth streets, started there a little community which he called georgetown--as a compliment, it was said, to the famous round house george whose bakery, i have remarked, was located on that corner. on june 7th, dr. john s. griffin, who had an old fashioned, classical education, and was a graduate, in medicine, of the university of pennsylvania, succeeded dr. william b. osburn as superintendent of the los angeles city schools. in these times of modern irrigation and scientific methods, it is hard to realize how disastrous were climatic extremes in an earlier day: in 1856, a single electric disturbance, accompanied by intense heat and sandstorms, left tens of thousands of dead cattle to tell the story of drought and destruction. during the summer, i had occasion to go to fort tejón to see george c. alexander, a customer, and i again asked sam meyer if he would accompany me. such a proposition was always agreeable to sam; and, having procured horses, we started, the distance being about one hundred and fifteen miles. we left los angeles early one afternoon, and made our first stop at lyons's station, where we put up for the night. one of the brothers, after whom the place was named, prepared supper. having to draw some thick blackstrap from a keg, he used a pitcher to catch the treacle; and as the liquid ran very slowly, our sociable host sat down to talk a bit, and soon forgot all about what he had started to do. the molasses, however, although it ran pretty slowly, ran steadily, and finally, like the mush in the fairy-tale of the enchanted bowl, overflowed the top of the receptacle and spread itself over the dirt floor. when lyons had finished his chat, he saw, to his intense chagrin, a new job upon his hands, and one likely to busy him for some time. departing next morning at five o'clock we met cy lyons, who had come to los angeles in 1849 and was then engaged with his brother sanford in raising sheep in that neighborhood. cy was on horseback and had two pack animals, loaded with provisions. "hello, boys! where are you bound?" he asked; and when we told him that we were on our way to fort tejón, he said that he was also going there, and volunteered to save us forty miles by guiding us over the trail. such a shortening of our journey appealed to us as a good prospect, and we fell in behind the mounted guide. it was one of those red-hot summer days characteristic of that region and season, and in a couple of hours we began to get very thirsty. noticing this, cy told us that no water would be found until we got to the rancho de la liebre, and that we could not possibly reach there until evening. having no _bota de agua_ handy, i took an onion from lyons's pack and ate it, and that afforded me some relief; but sam, whose decisions were always as lasting as the fragrance of that aromatic bulb, would not try the experiment. to make a long story short, when we at last reached the ranch, sam, completely fagged out, and unable to alight from his horse, toppled off into our arms. the chewing of the onion had refreshed me to some extent, but just the same the day's journey proved one of the most miserable experiences through which i have ever passed. the night was so hot at the ranch that we decided to sleep outdoors in one of the wagons; and being worn out with the day's exposure and fatigue, we soon fell asleep. the soundness of our slumbers did not prevent us from hearing, in the middle of the night, a snarling bear, scratching in the immediate neighborhood. a bear generally means business; and you may depend upon it that neither sam, myself nor even cy were very long in bundling out of the wagon and making a dash for the more protecting house. early next morning, we recommenced our journey toward fort tejón, and reached there without any further adventures worth relating. coming back, we stopped for the night at gordon's station, and the next day rode fully seventy miles--not so inconsiderable an accomplishment, perhaps, for those not accustomed to regular saddle exercise. a few months later, i met cy on the street. "harris," said he, "do you know that once, on that hot day going to fort tejón, we were within three hundred feet of a fine, cool spring?" "then why in the devil," i retorted, "didn't you take us to it?" to which cy, with a chuckle, answered: "well, i just wanted to see what would happen to you!" my first experience with camp meetings was in the year 1856, when i attended one in company with miss sarah newmark, to whom i was then engaged, and miss harriet, her sister--later mrs. eugene meyer. i engaged a buggy from george carson's livery stable on main street; and we rode to ira thompson's grove at el monte, in which the meeting was held. these camp meetings supplied a certain amount of social attraction to residents, in that good-hearted period when creeds formed a bond rather than a hindrance. it was in 1856 that, in connection with our regular business, we began buying hides. one day a mexican customer came into the store and, looking around, said: "_¿compra cueros?_" (do you buy hides?) "_sí, señor_," i replied, to which he then said: "_tengo muchos en mi rancho_" (i have many at my ranch). "where do you live?" i asked. "between cahuenga and san fernando mission," he answered. he had come to town in his _carreta_, and added that he would conduct me to his place, if i wished to go there. i obtained a wagon and, accompanied by samuel cohn, went with the mexican. the native jogged on, _carreta_-fashion, the oxen lazily plodding along, while the driver with his ubiquitous pole kept them in the road by means of continual and effective prods, delivered first on one side, then on the other. it was dark when we reached the ranch; and the night being balmy, we wrapped ourselves up in blankets, and slept under the adobe veranda. early in the morning, i awoke and took a survey of the premises. to my amazement, i saw but one little kipskin hanging up to dry! when at length my mexican friend appeared on the scene, i asked him where he kept his hides? (_¿donde tiene usted los cueros?_) at which he pointed to the lone kip and, with a characteristic and perfectly indifferent shrug of the shoulders, said: "_¡no tengo más!_" (i have no more!) i then deliberated with sam as to what we should do; and having proceeded to san fernando mission to collect there, if possible, a load of hides, we were soon fortunate in obtaining enough to compensate us for our previous trouble and disappointment. on the way home, we came to a rather deep ditch preventing further progress. being obliged, however, to get to the other side, we decided to throw the hides into the ditch, placing one on top of the other, until the obstructing gap was filled to a level with the road; and then we drove across, if not on dry land, at least on dry hides, which we reloaded onto the wagon. finally, we reached town at a late hour. in this connection, i may remind the reader of dana's statement, in his celebrated _two years before the mast_, that san pedro once furnished more hides than any other port on the coast; and may add that from the same port, more than forty years afterward, consignments of this valuable commodity were still being made, i myself being engaged more and more extensively in the hide trade. colonel isaac williams died on september 13th, having been a resident of los angeles and vicinity nearly a quarter of a century. a pennsylvanian by birth, he had with him in the west a brother, hiram, later of san bernardino county. happy as was most of colonel williams' life, tragedy entered his family circle, as i shall show, when both of his sons-in-law, john rains and robert carlisle, met violent deaths at the hands of others. jean louis vignes came to los angeles in 1829, and set out the aliso vineyard of one hundred and four acres which derived its name, as did the street, from a previous and incorrect application of the castilian _aliso_, meaning alder, to the sycamore tree, a big specimen of which stood on the place. this tree, possibly a couple of hundred years old, long shaded vignes' wine-cellars, and was finally cut down a few years ago to make room for the philadelphia brew house. from a spot about fifty feet away from the vignes adobe extended a grape arbor perhaps ten feet in width and fully a quarter of a mile long, thus reaching to the river; and this arbor was associated with many of the early celebrations in los angeles. the northern boundary of the property was aliso street; its western boundary was alameda; and part of it was surrounded by a high adobe wall, inside of which, during the troubles of the mexican war, don louis enjoyed a far safer seclusion than many others. on june 7th, 1851, vignes advertised el aliso for sale, but it was not subdivided until much later, when eugene meyer and his associates bought it for this purpose. vignes street recalls the veteran viticulturist. while upon the subject of this substantial old pioneer family, i may give a rather interesting reminiscence as to the state of aliso street at this time. i have said that this street was the main road from los angeles to the san bernardino country; and so it was. but in the fifties, aliso street stopped very abruptly at the sainsevain vineyard, where it narrowed down to one of the willow-bordered, picturesque little lanes so frequently found here, and paralleled the noted grape-arbor as far as the river-bank. at this point, andrew boyle and other residents of the heights and beyond were wont to cross the stream on their way to and from town. the more important travel was by means of another lane known as the aliso road, turning at a corner occupied by the old aliso mill and winding along the hoover vineyard to the river. along this route the san bernardino stage rolled noisily, traversing in summer or during a poor season what was an almost dry wash, but encountering in wet winter raging torrents so impassable that all intercourse with the settlements to the east was disturbed. for a whole week, on several occasions, the san bernardino stage was tied up, and once at least andrew boyle, before he had become conversant with the vagaries of the los angeles river, found it impossible for the better part of a fortnight to come to town for the replenishment of a badly-depleted larder. lovers' lane, willowed and deep with dust, was a narrow road now variously located in the minds of pioneers; my impression being that it followed the line of the present date street, although some insist that it was macy. pierre sainsevain, a nephew of vignes, came in 1839 and for a while worked for his uncle. jean louis sainsevain, another nephew, arrived in los angeles in 1849 or soon after, and on april 14th, 1855, purchased for forty-two thousand dollars the vineyard, cellars and other property of his uncle. this was the same year in which he returned to france for his son michel and remarried, leaving another son, paul, in school there. pierre joined his brother; and in 1857 sainsevain brothers made the first california champagne, first shipping their wine to san francisco. paul, now a resident of san diego, came to los angeles in 1861. the name endures in sainsevain street. the activity of these frenchmen reminds me that much usually characteristic of country life was present in what was called the city of los angeles, when i first saw it, as may be gathered from the fact that, in 1853, there were a hundred or more vineyards hereabouts, seventy-five or eighty of which were within the city precincts. these did not include the once famous "mother vineyard" of san gabriel mission, which the _padres_ used to claim had about fifty thousand vines, but which had fallen into somewhat picturesque decay. near san gabriel, however, in 1855, william m. stockton had a large vineyard nursery. william wolfskill was one of the leading vineyardists, having set out his first vine, so it was said, in 1838, when he affirmed his belief that the plant, if well cared for, would flourish a hundred years! don josé serrano, from whom dr. leonce hoover bought many of the grapes he needed, did have vines, it was declared, that were nearly a century old. when i first passed through san francisco, _en route_ to los angeles, i saw grapes from this section in the markets of that city bringing twenty cents a pound; and to such an extent for a while did san francisco continue to draw on los angeles for grapes, that banning shipped thither from san pedro, in 1857, no less than twenty-one thousand crates, averaging forty-five pounds each. it was not long, however, before ranches nearer san francisco began to interfere with this monopoly of the south, and, as, a consequence, the shipment of grapes from los angeles fell off. this reminds me that william wolfskill sent to san francisco some of the first northern grapes sold there; they were grown in a napa valley vineyard that he owned in the middle of the fifties, and when unloaded on the long wharf, three or four weeks in advance of los angeles grapes, brought at wholesale twenty-five dollars per hundred weight! with the decline in the fresh fruit trade, however, the making and exportation of wine increased, and several who had not ventured into vineyarding before, now did so, acquiring their own land or an interest in the establishments of others. by 1857, jean louis vignes boasted of possessing some white wine twenty years old--possibly of the same vintage about which dr. griffin often talked, in his reminiscences of the days when he had been an army surgeon; and louis wilhart occasionally sold wine which was little inferior to that of jean louis. dr. hoover was one of the first to make wine for the general market, having, for a while, a pretty and well-situated place called the clayton vineyard; and old joseph huber, who had come to california from kentucky for his health, began in 1855 to make wine with considerable success. he owned the foster vineyard, where he died in july, 1866. b. d. wilson was also soon shipping wine to san francisco. l. j. rose, who first entered the field in january, 1861, at sunny slope, not far from san gabriel mission, was another producer, and had a vineyard famous for brandy and wine. he made a departure in going to the foothills, and introduced many varieties of foreign grapes. by the same year, or somewhat previously, matthew keller, stearns & bell, dr. thomas j. white, dr. parrott, kiln messer, henry dalton, h. d. barrows, juan bernard and ricardo vejar had wineries, and john schumacher had a vineyard opposite the site of the city gardens in the late seventies. l. h. titus, in time, had a vineyard, known as the dewdrop, near that of rose. still another wine producer was antónio maría lugo, who set out his vines on san pedro street, near the present second, and often dwelt in the long adobe house where both steve foster, lugo's son-in-law, and mrs. wallace woodworth lived, and where i have been many times pleasantly entertained. dr. leonce hoover, who died on october 8th, 1862, was a native of switzerland and formerly a surgeon in the army of napoleon, when his name--later changed at the time of naturalization--had been huber. dr. hoover in 1849 came to los angeles with his wife, his son, vincent a. hoover, then a young man, and two daughters, the whole family traveling by ox-team and prairie schooner. they soon discovered rich _placer_ gold-beds, but were driven away by hostile indians. a daughter, mary a., became the wife of samuel briggs, a new hampshire yankee, who was for years wells fargo's agent here. for a while the hoovers lived on the wolfskill ranch, after which they had a vineyard in the neighborhood of what is now the property of the cudahy packing company. vincent hoover was a man of prominence in his time; he died in 1883. mrs. briggs, whose daughter married the well-known physician, dr. granville macgowan, sold her home, on broadway between third and fourth streets, to homer laughlin when he erected the laughlin building. hoover street is named for this family. accompanied by his son william, joseph huber, sr., in 1855 came to los angeles from kentucky, hoping to improve his health; and when the other members of his family, consisting of his wife and children, caroline, emeline, edward and joseph, followed him here, in 1859, by way of new york and the isthmus, they found him settled as a vineyardist, occupying the foster property running from alameda street to the river, in a section between second and sixth streets. the advent of a group of young people, so well qualified to add to what has truthfully been described by old-time angeleños as our family circle, was hailed with a great deal of interest and satisfaction. in time, miss emeline huber was married to o. w. childs, and miss caroline was wedded to dr. frederick preston howard, a druggist who, more than forty years ago, bought out theodore wollweber, selling the business back to the latter a few years later. the prominence of this family made it comparatively easy for joseph huber, jr., in 1865, to secure the nomination and be elected county treasurer, succeeding m. kremer, who had served six years. huber, sr., died about the middle sixties. mrs. huber lived to be eighty-three years old. josé de rúbio had at least two vineyards when i came--one on alameda street, south of wolfskill's and not far from coronel's, and one on the east side of the river. rúbio came here very early in the century, after having married juana, a daughter of juan maría miron, a well-known sea captain, and built three adobe houses. the first of these was on the site of the present home of william h. workman, on boyle heights; the second was near what was later the corner of alameda and eighth streets, and the third was on alameda street near the present vernon avenue. one of his ranches was known as "rúbio's," and there many a barbecue was celebrated. in 1859, rúbio leased the sepúlveda landing, at san pedro, and commenced to haul freight, to and fro. señor and señora rúbio[16] had twenty-five children, of whom five are now living. another los angeles vineyardist who lived near the river when i came was a frenchman named clemente. julius weyse also had a vineyard, living on what is now eighth street near san pedro. a son, h. g. weyse, has distinguished himself as an attorney and has served in the legislature; another, otto g., married the widow of edward naud, while a third son, rudolf g., married a daughter of h. d. barrows. the reyes family was prominent here; a daughter married william nordholt. ysidro had a vineyard on washington street; and during one of the epidemics, he died of smallpox. his brother, pablo, was a rancher. while on the subject of vineyards, i may describe the method by which wine was made here in the early days and the part taken in the industry by the indians, who always interested and astounded me. stripped to the skin, and wearing only loin-cloths, they tramped with ceaseless tread from morn till night, pressing from the luscious fruit of the vineyard the juice so soon to ferment into wine. the grapes were placed in elevated vats from which the liquid ran into other connecting vessels; and the process exhaled a stale acidity, scenting the surrounding air. these indians were employed in the early fall, the season of the year when wine is made and when the thermometer as a rule, in southern california, reaches its highest point; and this temperature coupled with incessant toil caused the perspiration to drip from their swarthy bodies into the wine product, the sight of which in no wise increased my appetite for california wine. a staple article of food for the indians in 1856, by the way, was the acorn. the crop that year, however, was very short; and streams having also failed, in many instances, to yield the food usually taken from them, the tribes were in a distressed condition. such were the aborigines' straits, in fact, that _rancheros_ were warned of the danger, then greater than ever, from indian depredations on stock. in telling of the sisters of charity, i have forgotten to add that, after settling here, they sent to new york for a portable house, which they shipped to los angeles by way of cape horn. in due time, the house arrived; but imagine their vexation on discovering that, although the parts were supposed to have been marked so that they might easily be joined together, no one here could do the work. in the end, the sisters were compelled to send east for a carpenter who, after a long interval, arrived and finished the house. soon after the organization of a masonic lodge here, in 1854, many of my friends joined, and among them my brother, j. p. newmark, who was admitted on february 26th, 1855, on which occasion j. h. stuart was the secretary; and through their participation in the celebration of st. john's day (the twenty-fourth of june,) i was seized with a desire to join the order. this i did at the end of 1856, becoming a member of los angeles lodge no. 42, whose meetings were held over potter's store on main street. worshipful master thomas foster initiated me, and on january 22d, 1857, worshipful master jacob elias officiating, i took the third degree. i am, therefore, in all probability, the oldest living member of this now venerable masonic organization. footnote: [16] señora de rúbio survived her husband many years, dying on october 27th, 1914, at the age of one hundred and seven, after residing in los angeles ninety-four years. chapter xv sheriff barton and the _bandidos_ 1857 in the beginning of 1857, we had a more serious earthquake than any in recent years. at half-past eight o'clock on the morning of january 9th, a tremor shook the earth from north to south; the first shocks being light, the quake grew in power until houses were deserted, men, women and children sought refuge in the streets, and horses and cattle broke loose in wild alarm. for perhaps two, or two and a half minutes, the _temblor_ continued and much damage was done. los angeles felt the disturbance far less than many other places, although five to six shocks were noted and twenty times during the week people were frightened from their homes; at temple's _rancho_ and at fort tejón great rents were opened in the earth and then closed again, piling up a heap or dune of finely-powdered stone and dirt. large trees were uprooted and hurled down the hillsides; and tumbling after them went the cattle. many officers, including colonel b. l. beall--well known in los angeles social circles--barely escaped from the barracks with their lives; and until the cracked adobes could be repaired, officers and soldiers lived in tents. it was at this time, too, that a so-called tidal wave almost engulfed the _sea bird_, plying between san pedro and san francisco, as she was entering the golden gate. under the splendid seamanship of captain salisbury haley, however, his little ship weathered the wave, and he was able later to report her awful experience to the scientific world. this year also proved a dry season; and, consequently, times became very bad. with two periods of adversity, even the richest of the cattle-kings felt the pinch, and many began to part with their lands in order to secure the relief needed to tide them over. the effects of drought continued until 1858, although some good influences improved business conditions. due to glowing accounts of the prospects for conquest and fortune given out by henry a. crabb, a stockton lawyer who married a spanish woman with relatives in sonora, a hundred or more filibusters gathered in los angeles, in january, to meet crabb at san pedro, when he arrived from the north on the steamer _sea bird_. they strutted about the streets here, displaying rifles and revolvers; and this would seem to have been enough to prevent their departure for sonita, a little town a hundred miles beyond yuma, to which they finally tramped. the filibusters were permitted to leave, however, and they invaded the foreign soil; but crabb made a mess of the undertaking, even failing in blowing up a little church he attacked; and those not killed in the skirmish were soon surrounded and taken prisoners. the next morning, crabb and some others who had paraded so ostentatiously while here, were tied to trees or posts, and summarily executed. crabb's body was riddled with a hundred bullets and his head cut off and sent back in _mescal_; only one of the party was spared--charley evans, a lad of fifteen years, who worked his way to los angeles and was connected with a somewhat similar invasion a while later. in january, also, when threats were made against the white population of southern california, mrs. griffin, the wife of dr. j. s. griffin, came running, in all excitement, to the home of joseph newmark, and told the members of the family to lock all their doors and bolt their windows, as it was reported that some of the outlaws were on their way to los angeles, to murder the white people. as soon as possible, the ladies of the griffin, nichols, foy, mallard, workman, newmark and other families were brought together for greater safety in armory hall, on spring street near second, while the men took their places in line with the other citizens to patrol the hills and streets. a still vivid impression of this startling episode recalls an englishman, a dr. carter, who arrived here some three years before. he lived on the east side of main street near first, where the mcdonald block now stands; and while not prominent in his profession, he associated with some estimable families. when others were volunteering for sentry-work or to fight, the doctor very gallantly offered his services as a committee of one to care for the ladies--far from the firing line! on hearing of these threats by native _bandidos_, james r. barton, formerly a volunteer under general s. w. kearny and then sheriff, at once investigated the rumors; and the truth of the reports being verified, our small and exposed community was seized with terror. a large band of mexican outlaws, led by pancho daniel, a convict who had escaped from san quentin prison, and including luciano tapía and juan flores, on january 22d had killed a german storekeeper named george w. pflugardt, in san juan capistrano, while he was preparing his evening meal; and after having placed his body on the table, they sat around and ate what the poor victim had provided for himself. on the same occasion, these outlaws plundered the stores of manuel garcia, henry charles and miguel kragevsky or kraszewski; the last named escaping by hiding under a lot of wash in a large clothes-basket. when the news of this murder reached los angeles, excitement rose to fever-heat and we prepared for something more than defense. jim barton, accompanied by william h. little and charles k. baker, both constables, charles f. daley, an early blacksmith here, alfred hardy and frank alexander--all volunteers--left that evening for san juan capistrano, to capture the murderers, and soon arrived at the san joaquín ranch, about eighteen miles from san juan. there don josé andrés sepúlveda told barton of a trap set for him, and that the robbers outnumbered his _posse_, two to one; and urged him to send back to los angeles for more volunteers. brave but reckless barton, however, persisted in pushing on the next day, and so encountered some of the marauders in santiago canyon. barton, baker, little and daley were killed; while hardy and alexander escaped. when los angeles was apprised of this second tragedy, the frenzy was indescribable, and steps were taken toward the formation of both a committee of safety and a vigilance committee--the latter to avenge the foul deed and to bring in the culprits. in meeting this emergency, the el monte boys, as usual, took an active part. the city was placed under martial law, and dr. john s. griffin was put in charge of the local defenses. suspicious houses, thought to be headquarters for robbers and thieves, were searched; and forty or fifty persons were arrested. the state legislature was appealed to and at once voted financial aid. although the committee of safety had the assistance of special foot police in guarding the city, the citizens made a requisition on fort tejón, and fifty soldiers were sent from that post to help pursue the band. troops from san diego, with good horses and plenty of provisions, were also placed at the disposition of the los angeles authorities. companies of mounted rangers were made up to scour the country, american, german and french citizens vying with one another for the honor of risking their lives; one such company being formed at el monte, and another at san bernardino. there were also two detachments of native californians; but many sonorans and mexicans from other states, either from sympathy or fear, aided the murdering robbers and so made their pursuit doubly difficult. however, the outlaws were pursued far into the mountains; and although the first party sent out returned without effecting anything (reporting that the desperadoes were not far from san juan and that the horses of the pursuers had given out) practically all of the band, as will be seen, were eventually captured. not only were vigorous measures taken to apprehend and punish the murderers, but provision was made to rescue the bodies of the slain, and to give them decent and honorable burial. the next morning, after nearly one hundred mounted and armed men had set out to track the fugitives, another party, also on horseback, left to escort several wagons filled with coffins, in which they hoped to bring back the bodies of sheriff barton and his comrades. in this effort, the posse succeeded; and when the remains were received in los angeles on sunday about noon, the city at once went into mourning. all business was suspended, and the impressive burial ceremonies, conducted on monday, were attended by the citizens _en masse_. oddly enough, there was not a protestant clergyman in town at the time; but the masonic order took the matter in hand and performed their rites over those who were masons, and even paid their respects, with a portion of the ritual, to the non-masonic dead. general andrés pico, with a company of native mounted californians, who left immediately after the funeral, was especially prominent in running down the outlaws, thus again displaying his natural gift of leadership; and others fitted themselves out and followed as soon as they could. general pico knew both land and people; and on capturing silvas and ardillero, two of the worst of the _bandidos_, after a hard resistance, he straightway hung them to trees, at the very spot where they had tried to assassinate him and his companions. in the pursuit of the murderers, james thompson (successor, in the following january, to the murdered sheriff getman) led a company of horsemen toward the tejunga; and at the simi pass, high upon the rocks, he stationed united states soldiers as a lookout. little san gabriel, in which j. f. burns, as deputy sheriff, was on the watch, also made its contribution to the restoration of order and peace; for some of its people captured and executed three or four of daniels's and flores's band. flores was caught on the top of a peak in the santiago range; all in all, some fifty-two culprits were brought to los angeles and lodged in jail; and of that number eleven were lynched or legally hung. when the vigilance committee had jailed a suspected murderer, the people were called to sit in judgment. we met near the veranda of the montgomery, and judge jonathan r. scott having been made chairman, a regular order of procedure, extra-legal though it was, was followed; after announcing the capture, and naming the criminal, the judge called upon the crowd to determine the prisoner's fate. thereupon some one would shout: "_hang him!_" scott would then put the question somewhat after the following formula: "gentlemen, you have heard the motion; all those in favor of hanging so-and-so, will signify by saying, aye!" and the citizens present unanimously answered, _aye!_ having thus expressed their will, the assemblage proceeded to the jail, a low, adobe building behind the little municipal and county structure, and easily subdued the jailer, frank j. carpenter, whose daughter, josephine, became frank burns's second wife. the prisoner was then secured, taken from his cell, escorted to fort hill--a rise of ground behind the jail--where a temporary gallows had been constructed, and promptly despatched; and after each of the first batch of culprits had there successively paid the penalty for his crime, the avengers quietly dispersed to their homes to await the capture and dragging in of more cutthroats. among those condemned by vote at a public meeting in the way i have described, was juan flores, who was hanged on february 14th, 1857, well up on fort hill, in sight of such a throng that it is hardly too much to say that practically every man, woman and child in the pueblo was present, not to mention many people drawn by curiosity from various parts of the state who had flocked into town. flores was but twenty-one years of age; yet, the year previous he had been sent to prison for horse-stealing. at the same time that flores was executed, miguel blanco, who had stabbed the militiaman, captain w. w. twist, in order to rob him of a thousand dollars, was also hanged. espinosa and lopez, two members of the robber band, for a while eluded their pursuers. at san buenaventura, however, they were caught, and on the following morning, espinosa was hung. lopez again escaped; and it was not until february 16th that he was finally recaptured and despatched to other realms. two days after juan flores was sent to a warmer clime, luciano tapía and thomas king were executed. tapía's case was rather regrettable, for he had been a respectable laborer at san luis obispo until flores, meeting him, persuaded him to abandon honest work. tapía came to los angeles, joined the robber band and was one of those who helped to kill sheriff barton. in 1857, the sisters of charity founded the los angeles infirmary, the first regular hospital in the city, with sister ana, for years well known here, as sister superior. for a while, temporary quarters were taken in the house long occupied by don josé maría aguilar and family, which property the sisters soon purchased; but the next year they bought some land from don luis arenas, adjoining don josé andrés sepúlveda's, and were thus enabled to enlarge the hospital. their service being the best, in time they were enabled to acquire a good-sized, two-story building of brick, in the upper part of the city; and there their patients enjoyed the refreshing and health-restoring environment of garden and orchard. it was not until this year that, on the corner of alameda and bath streets, oscar macy, city treasurer in 1887-88, opened the first public bath house, having built a water-wheel with small cans attached to the paddles, to dip water up from the alameda _zanja_, as a medium for supplying his tank. he provided hot water as well as cold. oscar charged fifty cents a bath, and furnished soap and towels. in 1857, the steamship _senator_ left san francisco on the fifth and twentieth of each month and so continued until the people wanted a steamer at least once every ten days. despite the inconvenience and expense of obtaining water for the home, it was not until february 24th that judge w. g. dryden--who, with a man named mcfadden, had established the nucleus of a system--was granted a franchise to distribute water from his land, and to build a water-wheel in the _zanja madre_. the dryden, formerly known as the ábila springs and later the source of the beaudry supply, were near the site selected for the san fernando street railway station; and from these springs water was conveyed by a _zanja_ to the plaza. there, in the center, a brick tank, perhaps ten feet square and fifteen feet high, was constructed; and this was filled by means of pumps, while from the tank wooden pipes distributed water to the consumer. so infrequently did we receive intelligence from the remoter parts of the world throughout the fifties that sometimes a report, especially if apparently authentic, when finally it reached here, created real excitement. i recall, more or less vividly, the arrival of the stages from the _senator_, late in march, and the stir made when the news was passed from mouth to mouth that livingstone, the explorer, had at last been heard from in far-off and unknown africa. los angeles schools were then open only part of the year, the school board being compelled, in the spring, to close them for want of money. william wolfskill, however, rough pioneer though he was, came to the board's rescue. he was widely known as an advocate of popular education, having, as i have said, his own private teachers; and to his lasting honor, he gave the board sufficient funds to make possible the reopening of one of the schools. in 1857, i again revisited san francisco. during the four years since my first visit a complete metamorphosis had taken place. tents and small frame structures were being largely replaced with fine buildings of brick and stone; many of the sand dunes had succumbed to the march of improvement; gardens were much more numerous, and the uneven character of streets and sidewalks had been wonderfully improved. in a word, the spirit of western progress was asserting itself, and the city by the golden gate was taking on a decidedly metropolitan appearance. notwithstanding various attempts at citrus culture in southern california, some time elapsed before there was much of an orange or lemon industry in this vicinity. in 1854, a dr. halsey started an orange and lime nursery, on the rowland place, which he soon sold to william wolfskill, for four thousand dollars; and in april, 1857, when there were not many more than a hundred orange trees bearing fruit in the whole county, wolfskill planted several thousand and so established what was to be, for that time, the largest orange orchard in the united states. he had thrown away a good many of the lemon trees received from halsey, because they were frost-bitten; but he still had some lemon, orange and olive trees left. later, under the more scientific care of his son, joseph wolfskill, who extended the original wolfskill grove, this orchard was made to yield very large crops. in 1857, a group of germans living in san francisco bought twelve hundred acres of waste, sandy land, at two dollars an acre, from don pacífico onteveras, and on it started the town of anaheim--a name composed of the spanish _ana_, from santa ana, and the german _heim_, for home; and this was the first settlement in the county founded after my arrival. this land formed a block about one and a quarter miles square, some three miles from the santa ana river, and five miles from the residence of don bernardo yorba, from whom the company received special privileges. a. langenberger, a german, who married yorba's daughter, was probably one of the originators of the anaheim plan; at any rate, his influence with his father-in-law was of value to his friends in completing the deal. there were fifty shareholders, who paid seven hundred and fifty dollars each, with an executive council composed of otmar caler, president; g. charles kohler, vice-president; cyrus beythien, treasurer; and john fischer, secretary; while john fröhling, r. emerson, felix bachman, who was a kind of sub-treasurer, and louis jazyinsky, made up the los angeles auditing committee. george hansen, afterward the colony's superintendent, surveyed the tract and laid it out in fifty twenty-acre lots, with streets and a public park; around it a live fence of some forty to fifty thousand willow cuttings, placed at intervals of a couple of feet, was planted. a main canal, six to seven miles long, with a fall of fifteen to twenty feet, brought abundant water from the santa ana river, while some three hundred and fifty miles of lateral ditches distributed the water to the lots. on each lot, some eight or ten thousand grape vines were set out, the first as early as january, 1858. on december 15th, 1859, the stockholders came south to settle on their partially-cultivated land; and although but one among the entire number knew anything about wine-making, the dream of the projectors--to establish there the largest vineyard in the world--bade fair to come true. the colonists were quite a curious mixture--two or three carpenters, four blacksmiths, three watchmakers, a brewer, an engraver, a shoemaker, a poet, a miller, a bookbinder, two or three merchants, a hatter and a musician; but being mostly of sturdy, industrious german stock, they soon formed such a prosperous and important little community that, by 1876, the settlement had grown to nearly two thousand people. a peculiar plan was adopted for investment, sale and compensation: each stockholder paid the same price at the beginning, and later all drew for the lots, the apportionment being left to chance; but since the pieces of land were conceded to have dissimilar values, those securing the better lots equalized in cash with their less lucky associates. soon after 1860, when langenberger had erected the first hotel there, anaheim took a leading place in the production of grapes and wine; and this position of honor it kept until, in 1888, a strange disease suddenly attacked and, within a single year, killed all the vines, after which the cultivation of oranges and walnuts was undertaken. kohler and fröhling had wineries in both san francisco and los angeles, the latter being adjacent to the present corner of central avenue and seventh street; and this firm purchased most of anaheim's grape crop, although some vineyard owners made their own wine. morris l. goodman, by the way, was here at an early period, and was one of the first settlers of anaheim. hermann heinsch, a native of prussia, arrived in los angeles in 1857 and soon after engaged in the harness and saddlery business. on march 8th, 1863, he was married to mary haap. having become proficient at german schools in both music and languages, heinsch lent his time and efforts to the organization and drill of germans here, and contributed much to the success of both the teutonia and the turnverein. in 1869, the heinsch building was erected at the corner of commercial and los angeles streets; and as late as 1876 this was a shopping district, a mrs. t. j. baker having a dressmaking establishment there. after a prosperous career, heinsch died on january 13th, 1883; his wife followed him on april 14th, 1906. r. c. heinsch, a son, survives them. major walter harris harvey, a native of georgia once a cadet at west point, but dismissed for his pranks (who about the middle of the fifties married eleanor, eldest full sister of john g. downey, and became the father of j. downey harvey, now living in san francisco), settled in california shortly after the mexican war. during the first week in may, 1857, or some four years before he died, major harvey arrived from washington with an appointment as register of the land office, in place of h. p. dorsey. at the same time, don agustin olvera was appointed receiver, in lieu of general andrés pico. these and other rotations in office were due, of course, to national administration changes, president buchanan having recently been inaugurated. one of the interesting legal inquiries of the fifties was conducted in 1857 when, in the district court here, antónio maría lugo, crowned with the white of seventy-six winters, testified, at a hearing to establish certain claims to land, as to what he knew of old _ranchos_ hereabouts, recalling many details of the pueblo and incidents as far back as 1785. he had seen the san rafael ranch, for example, in 1790, and he had also roamed, as a young man, over the still older dominguez and nietos hills. charles henry forbes, who was born at the mission san josé, came to los angeles county in 1857 and, though but twenty-two years old, was engaged by don abel stearns to superintend his various _ranchos_, becoming stearns's business manager in 1866, with a small office on the ground-floor of the arcadia block. in 1864, forbes married doña luisa olvera, daughter of judge agustin olvera, and a graduate of the sisters' school. on the death of don abel, in 1871, forbes settled up stearns's large estate, retaining his professional association with doña arcadia, after her marriage to colonel baker, and even until he died in may, 1894. as i have intimated, the principal industry throughout los angeles county, and indeed throughout southern california, up to the sixties, was the raising of cattle and horses--an undertaking favored by a people particularly fond of leisure and knowing little of the latent possibilities in the land; so that this entire area of magnificent soil supported herds which provided the whole population in turn, directly or indirectly, with a livelihood. the live stock subsisted upon the grass growing wild all over the county, and the prosperity of southern california therefore depended entirely upon the season's rainfall. this was true to a far greater extent than one might suppose, for water-development had received no attention outside of los angeles. if the rainfall was sufficient to produce feed, dealers came from the north and purchased our stock, and everybody thrived; if, on the other hand, the season was dry, cattle and horses died and the public's pocket-book shrank to very unpretentious dimensions. as an incident in even a much later period than that which i here have in mind, i can distinctly remember that i would rise three or four times during a single meal to see if the overhanging clouds had yet begun to give that rain which they had seemed to promise, and which was so vital to our prosperity. as for rain, i am reminded that every newspaper in those days devoted much space to weather reports or, rather, to gossip about the weather at other points along the coast, as well as to the consequent prospects here. the weather was the one determining factor in the problem of a successful or a disastrous season, and became a very important theme when ranchers and others congregated at our store. and here i may mention, _à propos_ of this matter of rainfall and its general effects, that there were millions of ground-squirrels all over this country that shared with other animals the ups and downs of the season. when there was plenty of rain, these squirrels fattened and multiplied; but when evil days came, they sickened, starved and perished. on the other hand, great overflows, due to heavy rainfalls, drowned many of these troublesome little rodents. the raising of sheep had not yet developed any importance at the time of my arrival; most of the mutton then consumed in los angeles coming from santa cruz island, in the santa bárbara channel, though some was brought from san clemente and santa catalina islands. on the latter, there was a herd of from eight to ten thousand sheep in which oscar macy later acquired an interest; and l. harris, father-in-law of h. w. frank, the welland favorably-known president and member of the board of education, also had extensive herds there. they ran wild and needed very little care, and only semi-yearly visits were made to look after the shearing, packing and shipping of the wool. santa cruz island had much larger herds, and steamers running to and from san francisco often stopped there to take on sheep and sheep-products. santa catalina island, for years the property of don josé maría covarrúbias--and later of the eccentric san francisco pioneer james lick, who crossed the plains in the same party with the lanfranco brothers and tried to induce them to settle in the north--was not far from san clemente; and there, throughout the extent of her hills and vales, roamed herd after herd of wild goats. early seafarers, i believe it has been suggested, accustomed to carry goats on their sailing vessels, for a supply of milk, probably deposited some of the animals on catalina; but however that may be, hunting parties to this day explore the mountains in search of them. considering, therefore, the small number of sheep here about 1853, it is not uninteresting to note that, according to old records of san gabriel for the winter of 1828-29, there were then at the mission no less than fifteen thousand sheep; while in 1858, on the other hand, according to fairly accurate reports, there were fully twenty thousand sheep in los angeles county. two years later, the number had doubled. george carson, a new yorker who came here in 1852, and after whom carson station is named, was one of the first to engage in the sheep industry. soon after he arrived, he went into the livery business, to which he gave attention even when in partnership successively with sanford, dean and hicks in the hardware business, on commercial street. on july 30th, 1857, carson married doña victoria, a daughter of manuel dominguez; but it was not until 1864 that, having sold out his two business interests (the livery to george butler and the hardware to his partner), he moved to the ranch of his father-in-law, where he continued to live, assisting dominguez with the management of his great property. some years later, carson bought four or five hundred acres of land adjoining the dominguez acres and turned his attention to sheep. later still, he became interested in the development of thoroughbred cattle and horses, but continued to help his father-in-law in the directing of his ranch. when rain favored the land, carson, in common with his neighbors, amassed wealth; but during dry years he suffered disappointment and loss, and on one occasion was forced to take his flocks, then consisting of ten thousand sheep, to the mountains, where he lost all but a thousand head. it cost him ten thousand dollars to save the latter, which amount far exceeded their value. in this movement of stock, he took with him, as his lieutenant, a young mexican named martin cruz whom he had brought up on the _rancho_. carson was one of my cronies, while i was still young and single; and we remained warm friends until he died. almost indescribable excitement followed the substantiated reports, received in the fall of 1857, that a train of emigrants from missouri and arkansas, on their way to california, had been set upon by indians, near mountain meadow, utah, on september 7th, and that thirty-six members of the party had been brutally killed. particularly were the gentiles of the southwest stirred up when it was learned that the assault had been planned and carried through by one lee, a mormon, whose act sprang rather from the frenzy of a madman than from the deliberation of a well-balanced mind. the attitude of brigham young toward the united states government, at that time, and his alleged threat to "turn the indians loose" upon the whites, added color to the assertion that young's followers were guilty of the massacre; but fuller investigation has absolved the mormons, i believe, as a society, from any complicity in the awful affair. some years later the two oatman girls were rescued from the indians (by whom they had been tattooed), and for a while they stayed at ira thompson's, where i saw them. in 1857, j. g. nichols was reëlected mayor of los angeles, and began several improvements he had previously advocated, especially the irrigating of the plain below the city. by august 2d, _zanja_ no. 2 was completed; and this brought about the building of the aliso mill and the further cultivation of much excellent land. one of the passengers that left san francisco with me for san pedro on october 18th, 1853, who later became a successful citizen of southern california, was edward n. mcdonald, a native of new york state. we had sailed from new york together, and together had finished the long journey to the pacific coast, after which i lost track of him. mcdonald had intended proceeding farther south, and i was surprised at meeting him on the street, some weeks after my arrival, in los angeles. reaching san pedro, he contracted to enter the service of alexander & banning, and remained with banning for several years, until he formed a partnership with john o. wheeler's brother, who later went to japan. mcdonald, subsequently raised sheep on a large scale and acquired much ranch property; and in 1876, he built the block on main street bearing his name. sixteen years later, he erected another structure, opposite the first one. when mcdonald died at wilmington, on june 10th, 1899, he left his wife an estate valued at about one hundred and sixty thousand dollars which must have increased in value, since then, many fold. n. a. potter, a rhode islander, came to los angeles in 1855, bringing with him a stock of yankee goods and opening a store; and two years later he bought a two-story brick building on main street, opposite the bella union. louis jazynsky was a partner with potter, for a while, under the firm name of potter & company; but later jazynsky left los angeles for san francisco. potter died here in 1868. possibly the first instance of an angeleño proffering a gift to the president of the united states--and that, too, of something characteristic of this productive soil and climate--was when henry d. barrows, in september, called on president buchanan, in washington and, on behalf of william wolfskill, don manuel requena and himself, gave the chief executive some california fruit and wine. i have before me a ledger of the year 1857; it is a medium-sized volume bound in leather, and on the outside cover is inscribed, in the bold, old-fashioned handwriting of fifty-odd years ago, the simple legend, newmark, kremer & company each page is headed with the name of some still-remembered worthy of that distant day who was a customer of the old firm; and in 1857, a customer was always a friend. according to the method of that period the accounts are closed, not with balancing entries and red lines but, in the blackest of black ink, with the good, straightforward and positive inscription, _settled_. the perusal of this old book carries me back over the vanished years. as the skull in the hand of the ancient monk, so does this antiquated volume recall to me how transitory is this life and all its affairs. a few remain to tell a younger generation the story of the early days; but the majority, even as in 1857 they carefully balanced their scores in this old ledger, have now closed their accounts in the great book of life. they have settled with their heaviest creditor; they have gone before him to render their last account. with few or no exceptions, they were a manly, sterling race, and i have no doubt that he found their assets far greater than their liabilities. chapter xvi marriage--the butterfield stages 1858 in january, 1858, i engaged, in the sheep business. after some investigation, i selected and purchased for an insignificant sum, just west of the present hollenbeck home on boyle avenue, a convenient site, which consisted of twenty acres of land, through which a ditch conducted water to don felipe lugo's san antónio _rancho_--a flow quite sufficient, at the time, for my herd. these sheep i pastured on adjacent lands belonging to the city; and as others often did the same, no one said me nay. everything progressed beautifully until the first of may, when the ditch ran dry. upon making inquiry, i learned that the city had permitted lugo to dig a private ditch across this twenty-acre tract to his ranch, and to use what water he needed during the rainy season; but that in may, when the authorities resumed their irrigation service, the privilege was withdrawn. i was thus deprived of water for the sheep. despite the fact that there was an adobe on the land, i could not dispose of the property at any price. one day a half-breed known as the chicken thief called on me and offered a dozen chickens for the adobe, but--not a chicken for the land! stealing chickens was this man's profession; and i suppose that he offered me the medium of exchange he was most accustomed to have about him. sheriff william c. getman had been warned, in the tragic days of 1858, to look out for a maniac named reed; but almost courting such an emergency, getman (once a dashing lieutenant of the rangers and bearing grapeshot wounds from his participation in the siege of mexico) went, on the seventh of january, with francis baker to a pawnbroker, whose establishment, near los angeles and aliso streets, was popularly known as the monte pio. there the officers found reed locked and barricaded in a room; and while the sheriff was endeavoring to force an entrance, reed suddenly threw open the door, ran out and, to the dismay of myself and many others gathered to witness the arrest, pulled a pistol from his pocket, discharged the weapon, and getman dropped on the spot. the maniac then retreated into the pawnbroker's from which he fired at the crowd. deputy baker--later assistant to marshal warren, who was shot by dye--finally killed the desperado, but not before reed had fired twenty to thirty shots, four or five of which passed through baker's clothing. when the excited crowd broke into the shop, it was found that the madman had been armed with two derringers, two revolvers and a bowie knife--a convenient little arsenal which he had taken from the money-lender's stock. the news of the affray spread rapidly through the town and everywhere created great regret. baker, who had sailed around the horn a couple of years before i arrived, died on may 17th, 1899, after having been city marshal and tax collector. such trouble with men inclined to use firearms too freely was not confined to maniacs or those bent on revenge or robbery. on one occasion, for example, about 1858, while passing along the street i observed gabriel allen, known among his intimates as gabe allen, a veteran of the war with mexico--and some years later a supervisor--on one of his jollifications, with sheriff getman following close at his heels. having arrived in front of a building, gabe suddenly raised his gun and aimed at a carpenter who was at work on the roof. getman promptly knocked allen down; whereupon the latter said, "you've got me, billy!" allen's only purpose, it appeared, was to take a shot at the innocent stranger and thus test his marksmanship. this gabe allen was really a notorious character, though not altogether bad. when sober, he was a peaceable man; but when on a spree, he was decidedly warlike and on such occasions always "shot up the town." while on one of these jamborees, for example, he was heard to say, "i'll shoot, if i only kill six of them!" in later life, however, allen married a mexican lady who seems to have had a mollifying influence; and thereafter he lived at peace with the world. during the changing half-century or more of which i write, los angeles has witnessed many exciting street scenes, but it is doubtful if any exhibition here ever called to doors, windows and the dusty streets a greater percentage of the entire population than that of the government camels driven through the town on january 8th, 1858, under the martial and spectacular command of ned, otherwise lieutenant, and later general and ambassador e. f. beale, and the forbear of the so-called hundred million dollar mclean baby; the same lieutenant beale who opened up beale's route from the rio grande to fort tejón. the camels had just come in from the fort, having traveled forty or more miles a day across the desert, to be loaded with military stores and provisions. as early as the beginning of the fifties, jefferson davis, then in congress, had advocated, but without success, the appropriation of thirty thousand dollars for the purchase of such animals, believing that they could be used on the overland routes and would prove especially serviceable in desert regions; and when davis, in 1854, as secretary of war, secured the appropriation for which he had so long contended, he despatched american army officers to egypt and arabia to make the purchase. some seventy or seventy-five camels were obtained and transported to texas by the storeship _supply_; and in the lone star state the herd was divided into two parts, half being sent to the gadsden purchase, afterward arizona, and half to albuquerque. in a short time, the second division was put in charge of lieutenant beale who was assisted by native camel-drivers brought from abroad. among these was philip tedro, or hi jolly--who had been picked up by commodore dave porter--and greek george, years afterward host to bandit vasquez; and camels and drivers made several trips back and forth across the southwest country. once headquartered at fort tejón, they came to los angeles every few weeks for provisions; each time creating no little excitement among the adult population and affording much amusement, as they passed along the streets, to the small boy. to return to pancho daniel, the escaped leader of the barton murderers. he was heard from occasionally, as foraging north toward san luis obispo, and was finally captured, after repeated efforts to entrap and round him up, by sheriff murphy, on january 19th, 1858, while hiding in a haystack near san josé. when he was brought to los angeles, he was jailed, and then released on bail. finally, daniel's lawyers secured for him a change of venue to santa bárbara; and this was the last abuse that led the public again to administer a little law of its own. early on the morning of november 30th, pancho's body was found hanging by the neck at the gateway to the county jail yard, a handful of men having overpowered the keeper, secured the key and the prisoner, and sent him on a journey with a different destination from santa bárbara. on february 25th, fire started in childs & hicks's store, on los angeles street, and threatened both the bella union and _el palacio_, then the residence of don abel stearns. the brick in the building of felix bachman & company and the volunteer bucket-brigade prevented a general conflagration. property worth thousands of dollars was destroyed, bachman & company alone carrying insurance. the conflagration demonstrated the need of a fire engine, and a subscription was started to get one. weeks later workmen, rummaging among the _débris_, found five thousand dollars in gold, which discovery produced no little excitement. childs claimed the money as his, saying that it had been stolen from him by a thieving clerk; but the workmen, undisturbed by law, kept the treasure. a new four-page weekly newspaper appeared on march 24th, bearing the suggestive title, the _southern vineyard_, and the name of colonel j. j. warner, as editor. by december, it had become a semi-weekly. originally democratic, it now favored the union party; it was edited with ability, but died on june 8th, 1860. on march 24th, i married sarah, second daughter of joseph newmark, to whom i had been engaged since 1856. she was born on january 9th, 1841, and had come to live in los angeles in 1854. the ceremony, performed by the bride's father, took place at the family home, at what is now 501 north main street, almost a block from the plaza, on the site of the brunswig drug company; and there we continued to live until about 1860. at four o'clock, a small circle of intimates was welcomed at dinner; and in the evening there was a house-party and dance, for which invitations printed on lace-paper, in the typography characteristic of that day, had been sent out. among the friends who attended, were the military officers stationed at fort tejón, including major bell, the commanding officer, and lieutenant john b. magruder, formerly colonel at san diego and later a major general in the civil war, commanding confederate forces in the peninsula and in texas, and eventually serving under maximilian in mexico. other friends still living in los angeles who were present are mr. and mrs. s. lazard, mrs. s. c. foy, william h. workman, c. e. thom and h. d. barrows. men rarely went out unarmed at night, and most of our male visitors doffed their weapons--both pistols and knives--as they came in, spreading them around in the bedrooms. the ladies brought their babies with them for safe-keeping, and the same rooms were placed at their disposal. imagine, if you can, the appearance of this nursery-arsenal! [illustration: harris newmark, when (about) thirty-four years old] [illustration: sarah newmark, when (about) twenty-four years of age] [illustration: facsimile of harris and sarah newmark's wedding invitation] it was soon after we were married that my wife said to me one day, rather playfully, but with a touch of sadness, that our meeting might easily have never taken place; and when i inquired what she meant, she described an awful calamity that had befallen the greenwich avenue school in new york city, which she attended as a little girl, and where several hundred pupils were distributed in different classrooms. the building was four stories in height; the ground floor paved with stones, was used as a playroom; the primary department was on the second floor; the more advanced pupils occupied the third; while the top floor served as a lecture-room. on the afternoon of november 20th, 1851, miss harrison, the principal of the young ladies' department, suddenly fell in a faint, and the resulting screams for water, being misunderstood, led to the awful cry of _fire!_ it was known that the pupils made a dash for the various doors and were soon massed around the stairway, yet a difference of opinion existed as to the cause of the tragedy. my wife always said that the staircase, which led from the upper to the first floor, _en caracole_, gave way, letting the pupils fall; while others contended that the bannister snapped asunder, hurling the crowded unfortunates over the edge to the pavement beneath. a frightful fatality resulted. hundreds of pupils of all ages were precipitated in heaps on to the stone floor, with a loss of forty-seven lives and a hundred or more seriously crippled. my wife, who was a child of but eleven years, was just about to jump with the rest when a providential hand restrained and saved her. news of the disaster quickly spread, and in a short time the crowd of anxious parents, kinsfolk and friends who had hastened to the scene in every variety of vehicle and on foot, was so dense that the police had the utmost difficulty in removing the wounded, dying and dead. from geneva, switzerland, in 1854, a highly educated french lady, mlle. theresa bry, whose oil portrait hangs in the county museum, reached los angeles, and four years later married françois henriot, a gardener by profession, who had come from _la belle france_ in 1851. together, on first street near los angeles, they conducted a private school which enjoyed considerable patronage; removing the institution, in the early eighties, to the arroyo seco district. this matrimonial transaction, on account of the unequal social stations of the respective parties, caused some little flurry: in contrast to her own beauty and ladylike accomplishments, françois's manners were unrefined, his stature short and squatty, while his full beard (although it inspired respect, if not a certain feeling of awe, when he came to exercise authority in the school) was scraggy and unkempt. mme. henriot died in 1888, aged eighty-seven years, and was followed to the grave by her husband five years later. in 1858, the outlook for business brightened in los angeles; and don abel stearns, who had acquired riches as a _ranchero_, built the arcadia block, on the corner of los angeles and arcadia streets, naming it after his wife, doña arcadia, who, since these memoirs were commenced, has joined the silent majority. the structure cost about eighty thousand dollars, and was talked of for some time as the most notable business block south of san francisco. the newspapers hailed it as an ornament to the city and a great step toward providing what the small and undeveloped community then regarded as a fire-proof structure for business purposes. because, however, of the dangerous overflow of the los angeles river in rainy seasons, stearns elevated the building above the grade of the street and to such an extent that, for several years, his store-rooms remained empty. but the enterprise at once bore some good fruit; to make the iron doors and shutters of the block, he started a foundry on new high street and soon created some local iron-casting trade. on april 24th, señora guadalupe romero died at the age, it is said, of one hundred and fifteen years. she came to los angeles, i was told, as far back as 1781, the wife of one of the earliest soldiers sent here, and had thus lived in the pueblo about seventy-seven years. some chapters in the life of henry mellus are of more than passing interest. born in boston, he came to california in 1835, with richard henry dana, in captain thompson's brig _pilgrim_ made famous in the story of _two years before the mast_; clerked for colonel isaac williams when that chino worthy had a little store where later the bella union stood; returned to the east in 1837 and came back to the coast the second time as supercargo. settling in san francisco, he formed with howard the well-known firm of howard & mellus, which was wiped out, by the great fire, in 1851. again mellus returned to massachusetts, and in 1858 for a third time came to california, at length casting his fortune with us in growing los angeles. on dana's return to san pedro and the pacific coast in 1859, mellus--who had married a sister of francis mellus's wife and had become a representative citizen--entertained the distinguished advocate and author, and drove him around los angeles to view the once familiar and but little-altered scenes. dana bore all his honors modestly, apparently quite oblivious of the curiosity displayed toward him and quite as unconscious that he was making one of the memorable visits in the early annals of the town. dana street serves as a memorial to one who contributed in no small degree to render the vicinity of los angeles famous. just what hotel life in los angeles was in the late fifties, or about the time when dana visited here, may be gathered from an anecdote often told by dr. w. f. edgar, who came to the city of the angels for the first time in 1858. dr. edgar had been ordered to join an expedition against the mojave indians which was to start from los angeles for the colorado river, and he put up at the old bella union, expecting at least one good night's rest before taking to the saddle again and making for the desert. dr. edgar found, however, to his intense disgust, that the entire second story was overcrowded with lodgers. singing and loud talking were silenced, in turn, by the protests of those who wanted to sleep; but finally a guest, too full for expression but not so drunk that he was unable to breathe hoarsely, staggered in from a sonora town ball, tumbled into bed with his boots on, and commenced to snort, much like a pig. under ordinary circumstances, this infliction would have been grievous enough; but the inner walls of the bella union were never overthick, and the rhythmic snoring of the late-comer made itself emphatically audible and proportionately obnoxious. quite as emphatic, however, were the objections soon raised by the fellow-guests, who not only raised them but threw them, one after another--boots, bootjacks and sticks striking, with heavy thud, the snorer's portal; but finding that even these did not avail, the remonstrants, in various forms of deshabille, rushed out and began to kick at the door of the objectionable bedroom. just at that moment the offender turned over with a grunt; and the excited army of lodgers, baffled by the unresisting apathy of the sleeper, retreated, each to his nest. the next day, breathing a sigh of relief, edgar forsook the heavenly regions of the bella union and made for cajón pass, eventually reaching the colorado and the place where the expedition found the charred remains of emigrants' wagons, the mournful evidence of indian treachery and atrocity. edgar's nocturnal experience reminds me of another in the good old bella union. when cameron e. thom arrived here in the spring of 1854, he engaged a room at the hotel which he continued to occupy for several months, or until the rains of 1855 caused both roof and ceiling to cave in during the middle of the night, not altogether pleasantly arousing him from his slumbers. it was then that he moved to joseph newmark's, where he lived for some time, through which circumstance we became warm friends. big, husky, hearty jacob kuhrts, by birth a german and now living here at eighty-one years of age, left home, as a mere boy, for the sea, visiting california on a vessel from china as early as 1848, and rushing off to placer county on the outbreak of the gold-fever. roughing it for several years and narrowly escaping death from indians, jake made his first appearance in los angeles in 1858, soon after which i met him, when he was eking out a livelihood doing odd jobs about town, a fact leading me to conclude that his success at the mines was hardly commensurate with the privations endured. it was just about that time, when he was running a dray, that, attracted by a dance among germans, jake dropped in as he was; but how sorry an appearance he made may perhaps be fancied when i say that the door-keeper, eyeing him suspiciously, refused him admission and advised him to go home and put on his sunday go-to-meetings. jake went and, what is more important, fortunately returned; for while spinning around on the knotty floor, he met, fell in love with and ogled fräulein susan buhn, whom somewhat later he married. in 1864, kuhrts had a little store on spring street near the adobe city hall; and there he prospered so well that by 1866 he had bought the northwest corner of main and first streets, and put up the building he still owns. for twelve years he conducted a grocery in a part of that structure, living with his family in the second story, after which he was sufficiently prosperous to retire. active as his business life has been, jake has proved his patriotism time and again, devoting his efforts as a city father, and serving, sometimes without salary, as superintendent of streets, chief of the fire department and fire commissioner. in 1858, john temple built what is now the south wing of the temple block standing directly opposite the bullard building; but the main street stores being, like stearns's arcadia block, above the level of the sidewalk and, therefore, reached only by several steps, proved unpopular and did not rent, although tischler & schlesinger, heading a party of grain-buyers, stored some wheat in them for a while or until the grain, through its weight, broke the flooring, and was precipitated into the cellar; and even as late as 1859, after telegraph connection with san francisco had been completed, only one little space on the spring street side, in size not more than eight by ten feet, was rented, the telegraph company being the tenants. one day william wolfskill, pointing to the structure, exclaimed to his friends: "what a pity that temple put all his money there! had he not gone into building so extravagantly, he might now be a rich man." wolfskill himself, however, later commenced the construction of a small block on main street, opposite the bella union, to be occupied by s. lazard & company, but which he did not live to see completed. later on, the little town grew and, as this property became more central, temple removed the steps and built the stores flush with the sidewalk, after which wide-awake merchants began to move into them. one of temple's first important tenants on main street was daniel desmond, the hatter. his store was about eighteen by forty feet. henry slotterbeck, the well-known gunsmith, was another occupant. he always carried a large stock of gunpowder, which circumstance did not add very much to the security of the neighborhood. on the court street side, jake philippi was one of the first to locate, and there he conducted a sort of _kneipe_. his was a large room, with a bar along the west side. the floor was generously sprinkled with sawdust, and in comfortable armchairs, around the good, old-fashioned redwood tables, frequently sat many of his german friends and patrons, gathered together to indulge in a game of _pedro_, _skat_ or whist, and to pass the time pleasantly away. some of those who thus met together at jake phillippi's, at different periods of his occupancy, were dr. joseph kurtz, h. heinsch, conrad jacoby, abe haas, c. f. heinzeman, p. lazarus, edward pollitz, a. elsaesser and b. f. drackenfeld, who was a brother-in-law of judge erskine m. ross and claimed descent from some dwellers on the rhine. he succeeded frank lecouvreur as bookkeeper for h. newmark & company, and was in turn succeeded, on removing to new york, by pollitz; while the latter was followed by john s. stower, an englishman now residing in london, whose immediate predecessor was richard altschul. drackenfeld attained prominence in new york, and both altschul and pollitz in san francisco. of these, drackenfeld and pollitz are dead. most of these convivial frequenters at phillipi's belonged to a sort of _deutscher klub_ which met, at another period, in a little room in the rear of the corner of main and requena streets, just over the cool cellar then conducted by bayer & sattler. a stairway connected the two floors, and by means of that communication the _klub_ obtained its supply of lager beer. this fact recalls an amusing incident. when philip lauth and louis schwarz succeeded christian henne in the management of the brewery at the corner of main and third streets, the _klub_ was much dissatisfied with the new brew and forthwith had bayer & sattler send to milwaukee for beer made by philip best. getting wind of the matter, lauth met the competition by at once putting on the market a brand more wittily than appropriately known as "philip's best." sattler left los angeles in the early seventies and established a coffee-plantation in south america where, one day, he was killed by a native wielding a _machete_. the place, which was then known as joe bayer's, came to belong to bob eckert, a german of ruddy complexion and auburn hair, whose good-nature brought him so much patronage that in course of time he opened a large establishment at santa monica. john d. woodworth, a cousin, so it was said, of samuel woodworth, the author of _the old oaken bucket_, and father of wallace woodworth who died in 1883, was among the citizens active here in 1858, being appointed postmaster, on may 19th of that year, by president buchanan. then the post office, for a twelvemonth in the old lanfranco block, was transferred north on main street until, a year or two later, it was located near temple and spring streets. in june, the surveyor-general of california made an unexpected demand on the authorities of los angeles county for all the public documents relating to the county history under spanish and mexican rule. the request was at first refused; but finally, despite the indignant protests of the press, the invaluable records were shipped to san francisco. i believe it was late in the fifties that o. w. childs contracted with the city of los angeles to dig a water-ditch, perhaps sixteen hundred feet long, eighteen inches wide and about eighteen inches deep. as i recollect the transaction, the city allowed him one dollar per running foot, and he took land in payment. while i cannot remember the exact location of this land, it comprised in part the wonderfully important square beginning at sixth street and running to twelfth, and taking in everything from main street as far as and including the present figueroa. when childs put this property on the market, his wife named several of the streets. because of some grasshoppers in the vicinity, she called the extension of pearl street (now figueroa) grasshopper or calle de los chapules[17]; her faith street has been changed to flower; for the next street to the east, she selected the name of hope; while as if to complete the trio of the graces, she christened the adjoining roadway--since become grand--charity. the old childs home place sold to henry e. huntington some years ago, and which has been subdivided, was a part of this land. none of the old settlers ever placed much value on real estate, and childs had no sooner closed this transaction than he proceeded to distribute some of the land among his own and his wife's relatives. he also gave to the catholic church the block later bounded by sixth and seventh streets, between broadway and hill; where, until a few years ago, stood st. vincent's college, opened in 1855 on the plaza, on the site now occupied by the pekin curio store. in the boom year of 1887, the church authorities sold this block for one hundred thousand dollars and moved the school to the corner of charity and washington streets. andrew a. boyle, for whom the eastern suburb of los angeles, boyle heights, was named by william h. workman, arrived here in 1858. as early as 1848, boyle had set out from mexico, where he had been in business, to return to the united states, taking with him some twenty thousand mexican dollars, at that time his entire fortune, safely packed in a fortified claret box. while attempting to board a steamer from a frail skiff at the mouth of the rio grande, the churning by the paddle-wheels capsized the skiff, and boyle and his treasure were thrown into the water. boyle narrowly escaped with his life; but his treasure went to the bottom, never to be recovered. it was then said that boyle had perished; and his wife, on hearing the false report, was killed by the shock. quite as serious, perhaps, was the fact that an infant daughter was left on his hands--the same daughter who later became the wife of my friend, william h. workman. confiding this child to an aunt, boyle went to the isthmus where he opened a shoe store; and later coming north, after a san francisco experience in the wholesale boot and shoe business, he settled on the bluff which was to be thereafter associated with his family name. he also planted a small vineyard, and in the early seventies commenced to make wine, digging a cellar out of the hill to store his product. the brick house, built by boyle on the heights in 1858 and always a center of hospitality, is still standing, although recently remodeled by william h. workman, jr. (brother of boyle workman, the banker), who added a third story and made a cosy dwelling; and it is probably, therefore, the oldest brick structure in that part of the town. mendel was a younger brother of sam meyer, and it is my impression that he arrived here in the late fifties. he originally clerked for his brother, and for a short time was in partnership with him and hilliard loewenstein. in time, meyer engaged in business for himself. during a number of his best years, mendel was well thought of socially, with his fiddle often affording much amusement to his friends. all in all, he was a good-hearted, jovial sort of a chap, who too readily gave to others of his slender means. about 1875, he made a visit to europe and spent more than he could afford. at any rate, in later life he did not prosper. he died in los angeles a number of years ago. thomas copley came here in 1858, having met with many hardships while driving an ox-team from fort leavenworth to salt lake and tramped the entire eight hundred miles between the mormon capital and san bernardino. on arriving, he became a waiter and worked for a while for the sisters' hospital; subsequently he married a lady of about twice his stature, retiring to private life with a competence. another arrival of the late fifties was manuel ravenna, an italian. he started a grocery store and continued the venture for some time; then he entered the saloon business on main street. ravenna commissioned wells fargo & company to bring by express the first ice shipped to los angeles for a commercial purpose, paying for it an initial price of twelve and a half cents per pound. the ice came packed in blankets; but the loss by melting, plus the expense of getting it here, made the real cost about twenty-four cents a pound. nevertheless, it was a clever and profitable move, and brought ravenna nearly all of the best trade in town. john butterfield was originally a new york stage-driver and later the organizer of the american express company, as well as projector of the morse telegraph line between new york and buffalo. as the head of john butterfield & company, he was one of my customers in 1857. he contracted with the united states, in 1858, as president of the overland mail company, to carry mail between san francisco and the missouri river. to make this possible, sections of the road, afterward popularly referred to as the butterfield route, were built; and the surveyors, bishop and beale, were awarded the contract for part of the work. it is my recollection that they used for this purpose some of the camels imported by the united states government, and that these animals were in charge of greek george to whom i have already referred. butterfield chose a route from san francisco coming down the coast to gilroy, san josé and through the mountain passes; on to visalia and fort tejón, and then to los angeles, in all some four hundred and sixty-two miles. from los angeles it ran eastward through el monte, san bernardino, temécula and warner's ranch to fort yuma, and then by way of el paso to st. louis. in this manner, butterfield arranged for what was undoubtedly the longest continuous stage-line ever established, the entire length being about two thousand, eight hundred and eighty miles. the butterfield stages began running in september, 1858; and when the first one from the east reached los angeles on october 7th, just twenty days after it started, there was a great demonstration, accompanied by bon-fires and the firing of cannon. on this initial trip, just one passenger made the through journey--w. l. ormsby, a reporter for the new york _herald_. this stage reached san francisco on october 10th, and there the accomplishment was the occasion, as we soon heard, of almost riotous enthusiasm. stages were manned by a driver and a conductor or messenger, both heavily armed. provender and relief stations were established along the route, as a rule not more than twenty miles apart, and sometimes half that distance. the schedule first called for two stages a week, then one stage in each direction, every other day; and after a while this plan was altered to provide for a stage every day. there was little regularity, however, in the hours of departure, and still less in the time of arrival, and i recollect once leaving for san francisco at the unearthly hour of two o'clock in the morning. so uncertain, indeed, were the arrival and departure of stages, that not only were passengers often left behind, but mails were actually undelivered because no authorized person was on hand, in the lone hours of the night, to receive and distribute them. such a ridiculous incident occurred in the fall of 1858, when bags of mail destined for los angeles were carried on to san francisco, and were returned by the stage making its way south and east, fully six days later! local newspapers were then more or less dependent for their exchanges from the great eastern centers on the courtesy of drivers or agents; and editors were frequently acknowledging the receipt of such bundles, from which, with scissors and paste, they obtained the so-called news items furnished to their subscribers. george lechler, here in 1853, who married henry hazard's sister, drove a butterfield stage and picked up orders for me from customers along the route. b. w. pyle, a virginian by birth, arrived in los angeles in 1858, and became, as far as i can recall, the first exclusive jeweler and watchmaker, although charley ducommun, as i have said, had handled jewelry and watches some years before in connection with other things. pyle's store adjoined that of newmark, kremer & company on commercial street, and i soon became familiar with his methods. he commissioned many of the stage-drivers to work up business for him on the butterfield route; and as his charges were enormous, he was enabled, within three or four years, to establish himself in new york. he was an exceedingly clever and original man and a good student of human affairs, and i well remember his prediction that, if lincoln should be elected president, there would be civil war. when the united states government first had under consideration the building of a trans-isthmian canal, pyle bought large tracts of land in nicaragua, believing that the nicaraguan route would eventually be chosen. shortly after the selection of the panamá survey, however, i read one day in a local newspaper that b. w. pyle had shot himself, at the age of seventy years. in 1857, phineas banning purchased from one of the dominguez brothers an extensive tract some miles to the north of san pedro, along the arm of the sea, and established a new landing which, in a little while, was to monopolize the harbor business and temporarily affect all operations at the old place. here, on september 25th, 1858, he started a community called at first both san pedro new town and new san pedro, and later wilmington--the latter name suggested by the capital of banning's native state of delaware. banning next cultivated a tract of six hundred acres, planted with grain and fruit where, among other evidences of his singular enterprise, there was soon to be seen a large well, connected with a steam pump of sufficient force to supply the commercial and irrigation wants of both wilmington and san pedro. banning's founding of the former town was due, in part, to heavy losses sustained through a storm that seriously damaged his wharf, and in part to his desire to outdo j. j. tomlinson, his chief business rival. the inauguration of the new shipping point, on october 1st, 1858, was celebrated by a procession on the water, when a line of barges loaded with visitors from los angeles and vicinity, and with freight, was towed to the decorated landing. a feature of the dedication was the assistance rendered by the ladies, who even tugged at the hawser, following which host and guests liberally partook of the sparkling beverages contributing to enliven the festive occasion. in a short time, the shipping there gave evidence of banning's wonderful go-ahead spirit. he had had built, in san francisco, a small steamer and some lighters, for the purpose of carrying passengers and baggage to the large steamships lying outside the harbor. the enterprise was a shrewd move, for it shortened the stage-trip about six miles and so gave the new route a considerable advantage over that of all competitors. banning, sometimes dubbed "the admiral," about the same time presented town lots to all of his friends (including eugene meyer and myself), and with timms landing, the place became a favorite beach resort; but for want of foresight, most of these same lots were sold for taxes in the days of long ago. i kept mine for many years and finally sold it for twelve hundred dollars; while meyer still owns his. as for banning himself, he built a house on canal street which he occupied many years, until he moved to a more commodious home situated half a mile north of the original location. at about this period, three packets plied between san francisco and san diego every ten days, leaving the commercial street wharf of the northern city and stopping at various intermediate points including wilmington. these packets were the clipper-brig _pride of the sea_, captain joseph s. garcia; the clipper-brig _boston_, commander w. h. martin; and the clipper-schooner _lewis perry_, then new and in charge of captain hughes. in the fall of 1858, finding that our business was not sufficiently remunerative to support four families, newmark, kremer & company dissolved. in the dissolution, i took the clothing part of the business, newmark & kremer retaining the dry goods. in november or december, dr. john s. griffin acquired san pasqual _rancho_, the fine property which had once been the pride of don manuel garfias. the latter had borrowed three thousand dollars, at four per cent. per month, to complete his manorial residence, which cost some six thousand dollars to build; but the ranch proving unfavorable for cattle, and don manuel being a poor manager, the debt of three thousand dollars soon grew into almost treble the original amount. when griffin purchased the place, he gave garfias an additional two thousand dollars to cover the stock, horses and ranch-tools; but even at that the doctor drove a decided bargain. as early as 1852, garfias had applied to the land commission for a patent; but this was not issued until april 3d, 1863, and the document, especially interesting because it bore the signature of abraham lincoln, brought little consolation to garfias or his proud wife, _née_ ábila, who had then signed away all claim to the splendid property which was in time to play such a _rôle_ in the development of los angeles, pasadena and their environs. on november 20th, don bernardo yorba died, bequeathing to numerous children and grandchildren an inheritance of one hundred and ten thousand dollars' worth of personal property, in addition to thirty-seven thousand acres of land. sometime in december, 1858, juan domingo--or, as he was often called, juan cojo or "lame john," because of a peculiar limp--died at his vineyard on the south side of aliso street, having for years enjoyed the esteem of the community as a good, substantial citizen. domingo, who successfully conducted a wine and brandy business, was a hollander by birth, and in his youth had borne the name of johann groningen; but after coming to california and settling among the latin element, he had changed it, for what reason will never be known, to juan domingo, the spanish for john sunday. the coming of domingo, in 1827, was not without romance; he was a ship's carpenter and one of a crew of twenty-five on the brig _danube_ which sailed from new york and was totally wrecked off san pedro, only two or three souls (among them domingo) being saved and hospitably welcomed by the citizens. on february 12th, 1839, he married a spanish woman, reymunda feliz, by whom he had a large family of children. a son, j. a. domingo, was living until at least recently. a souvenir of domingo's lameness, in the county museum, is a cane with which the doughty sailor often defended himself. samuel prentiss, a rhode islander, was another of the _danube's_ shipwrecked sailors who was saved. he hunted and fished for a living and, about 1864 or 1865, died on catalina island; and there, in a secluded spot, not far from the seat of his labors, he was buried. as the result of a complicated lumber deal, captain joseph s. garcia, of the _pride of the sea_, obtained an interest in a small vineyard owned by juan domingo and sainsevain; and through this relation garcia became a minor partner of sainsevain in the cucamonga winery. mrs. garcia is living in pomona; the captain died some ten years ago at ontario. _a propos_ of the three louis, referred to--breer, lichtenberger and roeder--all of that sturdy german stock which makes for good american citizenship, i do not suppose that there is any record of the exact date of breer's arrival, although i imagine that it was in the early sixties. lichtenberger, who served both as a city father and city treasurer, arrived in 1864, while roeder used to boast that the ship on which he sailed to san francisco, just prior to his coming to los angeles, in 1856 brought the first news of buchanan's election to the presidency. of the three, breer--who was known as iron louis, on account of his magnificent physique, suggesting the poet's smith, "with large and sinewy hands," and muscles as "strong as iron bands,"--was the least successful; and truly, till the end of his days, he earned his living by the sweat of his brow. in 1865, lichtenberger and roeder formed a partnership which, in a few years, was dissolved, each of them then conducting business independently until, in comfortable circumstances, he retired. roeder, an early and enthusiastic member of the pioneers, is never so proud as when paying his last respects to a departed comrade: his unfeigned sorrow at the loss apparently being compensated for, if one may so express it, by the recognition he enjoyed as one of the society's official committee. two of the three louis are dead.[18] other early wheelwrights and blacksmiths were richard maloney, on aliso street, near lambourn & turner's grocery, and page & gravel, who took john goller's shop when he joined f. foster at his aliso street forge. footnotes: [17] mexican corruption of the aztec _chapollin_, grasshopper. _cf._ chapultepec, grasshopper hill.--charles f. lummis. [18] louis roeder died on february 20, 1915 chapter xvii admission to citizenship 1859 in 1858, my brother, to whom the greater opportunities of san francisco had long appealed, decided upon a step that was to affect considerably my own modest affairs. this was to remove permanently to the north, with my sister-in-law; and in the los angeles _star_ of january 22d, 1859, there appeared the following: mr. joseph p. newmark has established a commission-house in san francisco, with a branch in this city. from his experience in business, mr. newmark will be a most desirable agent for the sale of our domestic produce in the san francisco market, and we have no doubt will obtain the confidence of our merchants and shippers. this move of my brother's was made, as a matter of fact, at a time when los angeles, in one or two respects at least, seemed promising. on september 30th, the building commenced by john temple in the preceding february, on the site of the present bullard block, was finished. most of the upper floor was devoted to a theater, and i am inclined to think that the balance of the building was leased to the city, the court room being next to the theater, and the ground floor being used as a market. to the latter move there was considerable opposition, affecting, as the expenditures did, taxes and the public treasury; and one newspaper, after a spirited attack on the "black republicans," concluded its editorial with this patriotic appeal: citizens! attend to your interests; guard your pocketbooks! this building is one of the properties to which i refer as sold by hinchman, having been bought by dr. j. s. griffin and b. d. wilson who resold it in time to the county. a striking feature of this market building was the town clock, whose bell was pronounced "fine-toned and sonorous." the clock and bell, however, were destined to share the fate of the rest of the structure which, all in all, was not very well constructed. at last, the heavy rains of the early sixties played havoc with the tower, and toward the end of 1861 the clock had set such a pace for itself regardless of the rest of the universe that the newspapers were full of facetious jibes concerning the once serviceable timepiece, and many were the queries as to whether something could not be done to roof the mechanism? the clock, however, remained uncovered until bullard demolished the building to make room for the present structure. elsewhere i have referred to the attempt, shortly after i arrived here, or during the session of the legislature of 1854-55, to divide california into two states--the proposition, be it added of a san bernardino county representative. a committee of thirteen, from different sections of the commonwealth, later substituted a bill providing for three states: shasta, in the north; california, at the middle; colorado, in the south; but nothing evolving as a result of the effort, our assemblyman, andrés pico, in 1859 fathered a measure for the segregation of the southern counties under the name of colorado, when this bill passed both houses and was signed by the governor. it had to be submitted to the people, however, at the election in september, 1859; and although nearly twenty-five hundred ballots were cast in favor of the division, as against eight hundred in the negative, the movement was afterward stifled in washington. damien marchessault and victor beaudry having enthusiastically organized the santa anita mining company in 1858, h. n. alexander, agent at los angeles for wells fargo & company, in 1859 announced that the latter had provided scales for weighing gold-dust and were prepared to transact a general exchange business. this was the same firm that had come through the crisis with unimpaired credit when adams & company and many others went to the wall in the great financial crash of 1855. i have mentioned the mormon colony at san bernardino and its connection, as an offshoot, with the great mormon city, salt lake; now i may add that each winter, for fifteen or twenty years, or until railroad connection was established, a lively and growing trade was carried on between los angeles and utah. this was because the mormons had no open road toward the outside world, except in the direction of southern california; for snow covered both the rockies and the sierra nevadas, and closed every other highway and trail. a number of mormon wagon-trains, therefore, went back and forth every winter over the seven hundred miles or more of fairly level, open roadways, between salt lake and los angeles, taking back not only goods bought here but much that was shipped from san francisco to salt lake via san pedro. i remember that in february, 1859, these mormon wagons arrived by the overland route almost daily. the third week in february witnessed one of the most interesting gatherings of _rancheros_ characteristic of southern california life i have ever seen. it was a typical _rodeo_, lasting two or three days, for the separating and re-grouping of cattle and horses, and took place at the residence of william workman at la puente _rancho_. strictly speaking, the _rodeo_ continued but two days, or less; for, inasmuch as the cattle to be sorted and branded had to be deprived for the time being of their customary nourishment, the work was necessarily one of despatch. under the direction of a judge of the plains--on this occasion, the polished cavalier, don felipe lugo--they were examined, parted and branded, or re-branded, with hot irons impressing a mark (generally a letter or odd monogram) duly registered at the court house and protected by the county recorder's certificate. never have i seen finer horsemanship than was there displayed by those whose task it was to pursue the animal and throw the lasso around the head or leg; and as often as most of those present had probably seen the feat performed, great was their enthusiasm when each _vaquero_ brought down his victim. among the guests were most of the _rancheros_ of wealth and note, together with their attendants, all of whom made up a company ready to enjoy the unlimited hospitality for which the workmans were so renowned. aside from the business in hand of disposing of such an enormous number of mixed-up cattle in so short a time, what made the occasion one of keen delight was the remarkable, almost astounding ability of the horseman in controlling his animal; for lassoing cattle was not his only forte. the _vaquero_ of early days was a clever rider and handler of horses, particularly the bronco--so often erroneously spelled broncho--sometimes a mustang, sometimes an indian pony. out of a drove that had never been saddled, he would lasso one, attach a halter to his neck and blindfold him by means of a strap some two or three inches in width fastened to the halter; after which he would suddenly mount the bronco and remove the blind, when the horse, unaccustomed to discipline or restraint, would buck and kick for over a quarter of a mile, and then stop only because of exhaustion. with seldom a mishap, however, the _vaquero_ almost invariably broke the mustang to the saddle within three or four days. this little mexican horse, while perhaps not so graceful as his american brother, was noted for endurance; and he could lope from morning till night, if necessary, without evidence of serious fatigue. speaking of this dexterity, i may add that now and then the early californian _vaquero_ gave a good exhibition of his prowess in the town itself. runaways, due in part to the absence of hitching posts but frequently to carelessness, occurred daily; and sometimes a clever horseman who happened to be near would pursue, overtake and lasso the frightened steed before serious harm had been done. among the professional classes, j. lancaster brent was always popular, but never more welcomed than on his return from washington on february 26th, 1859, when he brought the united states patent to the dominguez _rancho_, dated december 18th, 1858, and the first document of land conveyance from the american government to reach california. in mercantile circles, adolph portugal became somewhat prominent, conducting a flourishing business here for a number of years after opening in 1854, and accumulating, before 1865, about seventy-five thousand dollars. with this money he then left los angeles and went to europe, where he made an extremely unprofitable investment. he returned to los angeles and again engaged in mercantile pursuits; but he was never able to recover, and died a pauper. corbitt, who at one time controlled, with dibblee, great ranch areas near santa bárbara, and in 1859 was in partnership with barker, owned the santa anita _rancho_, which he later sold to william wolfskill. from los angeles, corbitt went to oregon, where he became, i think, a leading banker. louis mesmer arrived here in 1858, then went to fraser river and there, in eight months, he made twenty thousand dollars by baking for the hudson bay company's troops. a year later he was back in los angeles; and on main street, somewhere near requena, he started a bakery. in time he controlled the local bread trade, supplying among others the government troops here. in 1864, mesmer bought out the united states hotel, previously run by webber & haas, and finally purchased from don juan n. padilla the land on which the building stood. this property, costing three thousand dollars, extended one hundred and forty feet on main street and ran through to los angeles, on which street it had a frontage of about sixty feet. mesmer's son joseph is still living and is active in civic affairs. william nordholt, a forty-niner, was also a resident of los angeles for some time. he was a carpenter and worked in partnership with jim barton; and when barton was elected sheriff, nordholt continued in business for himself. at length, in 1859, he opened a grocery store on the northwest corner of los angeles and first streets, which he conducted for many years. even in 1853, when i first knew him, nordholt had made a good start; and he soon accumulated considerable real estate on first street, extending from los angeles to main. he shared his possessions with his spanish wife, who attended to his grocery; but after his death, in perhaps the late seventies, his children wasted their patrimony. notwithstanding the opening of other hotels, the bella union continued throughout the fifties to be the representative headquarters of its kind in los angeles and for a wide area around. on april 19th, 1856, flashner & hammell took hold of the establishment; and a couple of years after that, dr. j. b. winston, who had had local hotel experience, joined flashner and together they made improvements, adding the second story, which took five or six months to complete. this step forward in the hostelry was duly celebrated, on april 14th, 1859, at a dinner, the new dining-room being advertised, far and wide, as "one of the finest in all california." shortly after this, however, marcus flashner (who owned some thirty-five acres at the corner of main and washington streets, where he managed either a vineyard or an orange orchard), met a violent death. he used to travel to and from this property in a buggy; and one day--june 29th, 1859--his horse ran away, throwing him out and killing him. in 1860, john king, flashner's brother-in-law, entered the management of the bella union; and by 1861, dr. winston had sole control. strolling again, in imagination, into the old bella union of this time, i am reminded of a novel method then employed to call the guests to their meals. when i first came to los angeles the hotel waiter rang a large bell to announce that all was ready; but about the spring of 1859 the fact that another meal had been concocted was signalized by the blowing of a shrill steam-whistle placed on the hotel's roof. this brought together both the "regulars" and transients, everyone scurrying to be first at the dining-room door. about the middle of april, wells fargo & company's rider made a fast run between san pedro and los angeles, bringing all the mail matter from the vessels, and covering the more than twenty-seven miles of the old roundabout route in less than an hour. the protestant church has been represented in los angeles since the first service in mayor nichols' home and the missionary work of adam bland; but it was not until may 4th, 1859, that any attempt was made to erect an edifice for the protestants in the community. then a committee, including isaac s. k. ogier, a. j. king, columbus sims, thomas foster, william h. shore, n. a. potter, j. r. gitchell and henry d. barrows began to collect funds. reverend william e. boardman, an episcopalian, was invited to take charge; but subscriptions coming in slowly, he conducted services, first in one of the school buildings and then in the court house, until 1862 when he left. despite its growing communication with san francisco, los angeles for years was largely dependent upon sail and steamboat service, and each year the need of a better highway to the north, for stages, became more and more apparent. finally, in may, 1859, general ezra drown was sent as a commissioner to santa bárbara, to discuss the construction of a road to that city; and on his return he declared the project quite practicable. the supervisors had agreed to devote a certain sum of money, and the santa barbareños, on their part, were to vote on the proposition of appropriating fifteen thousand dollars for the work. evidently the citizens voted favorably; for in july of the following year james thompson, of los angeles, contracted for making the new road through santa bárbara county, from the los angeles to the san luis obispo lines, passing through ventura--or san buenaventura, as it was then more poetically called--santa bárbara and out by the gaviota pass; in all, a distance of about one hundred and twenty-five miles. some five or six months were required to finish the rough work, and over thirty thousand dollars was expended for that alone. winfield scott hancock, whom i came to know well and who had been here before, arrived in los angeles in may, 1859, to establish a depot for the quartermaster's department which he finally located at wilmington, naming it drum barracks, after adjutant-general richard coulter drum, for several years at the head of the department of the west. hancock himself was quartermaster and had an office in a brick building on main street near third; and he was in charge of all government property here and at yuma, arizona territory, then a military post. he thus both bought and sold; advertising at one time, for example, a call for three or four hundred thousand pounds of barley, and again offering for sale, on behalf of poor uncle sam, the important item of a lone, braying mule! hancock invested liberally in california projects, and became interested, with others, in the bear valley mines; and at length had the good luck to strike a rich and paying vein of gold quartz. beaudry & marchessault were among the first handlers of ice in los angeles, having an ice-house in 1859, where, in the springtime, they stored the frozen product taken from the mountain lakes fifty miles away. the ice was cut into cubes of about one hundred pounds each, packed down the _cañons_ by a train of thirty to forty mules, and then brought in wagons to los angeles. by september, 1860, wagon-loads of san bernardino ice--or perhaps one would better say compact snow--were hawked about town and bought up by saloon-keepers and others, having been transported in the way i have just described, a good seventy-five miles. later, ice was shipped here from san francisco; and soon after it reached town, the saloons displayed signs soliciting orders. considering the present popularity of the silver dollar along the entire western coast, it may be interesting to recall the stamping of these coins, for the first time in california, at the san francisco mint. this was in the spring of 1859, soon after which they began to appear in los angeles. a few years later, in 1863, and for ten or fifteen years thereafter, silver half-dimes, coined in san francisco, were to be seen here occasionally; but they were never popular. the larger silver piece, the dime, was more common, although for a while it also had little purchasing power. as late as the early seventies it was not welcome, and many a time i have seen dimes thrown into the street as if they were worthless. this prejudice against the smaller silver coins was much the same as the feeling which even to-day obtains with many people on the coast against the copper cent. when the nickel, in the eighties, came into use, the old californian tradition as to coinage began to disappear; and this opened the way for the introduction of the one-cent piece, which is more and more coming into popular favor. in the year 1859, the hellman brothers, isaias w. and herman w., arrived here in a sailing-vessel with captain morton. i. w. hellman took a clerkship with his cousin, i. m. hellman, who had arrived in 1854 and was established in the stationery line in mellus's row, while h. w. hellman went to work in june, 1859, for phineas banning, at wilmington. i. w. hellman immediately showed much ability and greatly improved his cousin's business. by 1865, he was in trade for himself, selling dry-goods at the corner of main and commercial streets as the successor to a. portugal; while h. w. hellman, father of marco h. hellman, the banker, and father-in-law of the public-spirited citizen, louis m. cole, became my competitor, as will be shown later, in the wholesale grocery business. john philbin, an irishman, arrived here penniless late in the fifties, but with my assistance started a small store at fort tejón, then a military post necessary for the preservation of order on the indian reservation; and there, during the short space of eighteen months, he accumulated twenty thousand dollars. illness compelled him to leave, and i bought his business and property. after completing this purchase, i engaged a clerk in san francisco to manage the new branch. as john philbin had been very popular, the new clerk also called himself "john" and soon enjoyed equal favor. it was only when bob wilson came into town one day from the fort and told me, "that chap john is gambling your whole damned business away; he plays seven-up at twenty dollars a game, and when out of cash, puts up blocks of merchandise," that i investigated and discharged him, sending kaspare cohn, who had recently arrived from europe, to take his place. it was in 1859, or a year before abraham lincoln was elected president, that i bought out philbin, and at the breaking out of the war, the troops were withdrawn from fort tejón, thus ending my activity there as a merchant. we disposed of the stock as best we could; but the building, which had cost three thousand dollars, brought at forced sale just fifty. fort tejón, established about 1854, i may add, after it attained some fame as the only military post in southern california where snow ever fell, and also as the scene of the earthquake phenomena i have described, was abandoned altogether as a military station on september 11th, 1864. philbin removed to los angeles, where he invested in some fifty acres of vineyard along san pedro street, extending as far south as the present pico; and i still have a clear impression of the typical old adobe there, so badly damaged by the rains of 1890. kaspare remained in my employ until he set up in business at red bluff, tehama county, where he continued until january, 1866. in more recent years, he has come to occupy an enviable position as a successful financier. somewhat less than six years after my arrival (or, to be accurate, on the fifteenth day of august, 1859, about the time of my mother's death at loebau), and satisfying one of my most ardent ambitions, i entered the family of uncle sam, carrying from the district court here a red-sealed document, to me of great importance; my newly-acquired citizenship being attested by ch. r. johnson, clerk, and john o. wheeler, deputy. on september 3d, the los angeles _star_ made the following announcement and salutation: called to the bar--at the present term of the district court for the first judicial district, mr. m. j. newmark was called to the bar. we congratulate mr. newmark on his success, and wish him a brilliant career in his profession. this kindly reference was to my brother-in-law, who had read law in the office of e. j. c. kewen, then on main street, opposite the bella union, and had there, in the preceding january, when already eleven attorneys were practicing here, hung out his shingle as notary public and conveyancer--an office to which he was reappointed by the governor in 1860, soon after he had been made commissioner for the state of missouri to reside in los angeles. about that same time he began to take a lively interest in politics; being elected, on october 13th, 1860, a delegate to the democratic county convention. a. j. king was also admitted to the bar toward the end of that year. we who have such praise for the rapid growth of the population in los angeles must not forget the faithful midwives of early days, when there was not the least indication that there would ever be a lying-in hospital here. first, one naturally recalls old mrs. simmons, the _sarah gamp_ of the fifties; while her professional sister of the sixties was lydia rebbick, whose name also will be pleasantly spoken by old-timers. a brother of mrs. rebbick was james h. whitworth, a rancher, who came to los angeles county in 1857. residents of los angeles to-day have but a faint idea, i suppose, of what exertion we cheerfully submitted to, forty or fifty years ago, in order to participate in a little pleasure. this was shown at an outing in 1859, on and by the sea, made possible through the courtesy of my hospitable friend, phineas banning, details of which illustrate the social conditions then prevailing here. banning had invited fifty or sixty ladies and gentlemen to accompany him to catalina; and at about half-past five o'clock on a june morning the guests arrived at banning's residence where they partook of refreshments. then they started in decorated stages for new san pedro, where the host (who, by the way, was a man of most genial temperament, fond of a joke and sure to infuse others with his good-heartedness) regaled his friends with a hearty breakfast, not forgetting anything likely to both warm and cheer. after ample justice had been done to this feature, the picknickers boarded banning's little steamer _comet_ and made for the outer harbor. there they were transferred to the united states coast survey ship _active_, which steamed away so spiritedly that in two hours the passengers were off catalina; nothing meanwhile having been left undone to promote the comfort of everyone aboard the vessel. during this time captain alder and his officers, resplendent in their naval uniforms, held a reception; and unwilling that the merrymakers should be exposed without provisions to the wilds of the less-trodden island, they set before them a substantial ship's dinner. once ashore, the visitors strolled along the beach and across that part of the island then most familiar; and at four o'clock the members of the party were again walking the decks of the government vessel. steaming back slowly, san pedro was reached after sundown; and, having again been bundled into the stages, the excursionists were back in los angeles about ten o'clock. i have said that most of the early political meetings took place at the residence of don ygnácio del valle. i recall, however, a mass meeting and barbecue, in august, 1859, in a grove at el monte owned by inn-keeper thompson. benches were provided for the ladies, prompting the editor of the _star_ to observe, with characteristic gallantry, that the seats "were fully occupied by an array of beauty such as no other portion of the state ever witnessed." on september 11th, eberhard & koll opened the lafayette hotel on main street, on the site opposite the bella union where once had stood the residence of don eulógio de celis. particular inducements to families desiring quiet and the attraction of a table "supplied with the choicest viands and delicacies of the season" were duly advertised; but the proprietors met with only a moderate response. on january 1st, 1862, eberhard withdrew and frederick w. koll took into partnership henry dockweiler--father of two of our very prominent young men, j. h. dockweiler, the civil engineer and, in 1889, city surveyor, and isidore b. dockweiler, the attorney--and chris fluhr. in two years, dockweiler had withdrawn, leaving fluhr as sole proprietor; and he continued as such until, in the seventies, he took charles gerson into partnership with him. it is my recollection, in fact, that fluhr was associated with this hotel in one capacity or another until its name was changed, first to the cosmopolitan and then to the st. elmo. various influences contributed to causing radical social changes, particularly throughout the county. when dr. john s. griffin and other pioneers came here, they were astonished at the hospitality of the ranch-owners, who provided for them, however numerous, shelter, food and even fresh saddle-horses; and this bounteous provision for the wayfarer continued until the migrating population had so increased as to become something of a burden and economic conditions put a brake on unlimited entertainment. then a slight reaction set in, and by the sixties a movement to demand some compensation for such service began to make itself felt. in 1859, don vicente de la osa advertised that he would afford accommodation for travelers by way of his ranch, _el encino_; but that to protect himself, he must consider it "an essential part of the arrangement that visitors should act on the good old rule and--pay as one goes!" in 1859, c. h. classen, a native of germany, opened a cigar factory in the signoret building on main street, north of arcadia; and believing that tobacco could be successfully grown in los angeles county, he sent to cuba for some seed and was soon making cigars from the local product. i fancy that the plants degenerated because, although others experimented with los angeles tobacco, the growing of the leaf here was abandoned after a few years. h. newmark & company handled much tobacco for sheep-wash, and so came to buy the last southern california crop. when i speak of sheep-wash, i refer to a solution made by steeping tobacco in water and used to cure a skin disease known as scab. it was always applied after shearing, for then the wool could not be affected and the process was easier. talking of tobacco, i may say that the commercial cigarette now for sale everywhere was not then to be seen. people rolled their own cigarettes, generally using brown paper, but sometimes the white, which came in reams of sheets about six by ten inches in size. kentucky leaf was most in vogue; and the first brand of granulated tobacco that i remember was known as _sultana_. clay pipes, then packed in barrels, were used a good deal more than now, and brier pipes much less. there was no duty on imported cigars, and their consequent cheapness brought them into general consumption. practically all of the native female population smoked cigarettes, for it was a custom of the country; but the american ladies did not indulge. while spending an enjoyable hour at the county museum recently, i noticed a cigarette-case of finely-woven matting that once belonged to antónio maría lugo, and a bundle of cigarettes, rolled up, like so many matches, by andrés pico; and both the little _cigarillos_ and the holder will give a fair understanding of these customs of the past. besides the use of tobacco in cigar and cigarette form, and for pipes, there was much consumption of the weed by chewers. _peachbrand_, a black plug saturated with molasses and packed in caddies--a term more commonly applied to little boxes for tea--was the favorite chewing tobacco fifty years or more ago. it would hardly be an exaggeration to say that nine out of ten americans in los angeles indulged in this habit, some of whom certainly exposed us to the criticism of charles dickens and others, who found so much fault with our manners. the pernicious activity of rough or troublesome characters brings to recollection an aged indian named polonia, whom pioneers will easily recollect as having been bereft of his sight, by his own people, because of his unnatural ferocity. he was six feet four inches in height, and had once been endowed with great physical strength; he was clad, for the most part, in a tattered blanket, so that his mere appearance was sufficient to impress, if not to intimidate, the observer. only recently, in fact, mrs. solomon lazard told me that to her and her girl playmates polonia and his fierce countenance were the terror of their lives. he may thus have deserved to forfeit his life for many crimes; but the idea of cutting a man's eyes out for any offense whatever, no matter how great, is revolting in the extreme. the year i arrived, and for some time thereafter, polonia slept by night in the corridor of don manuel requena's house. with the aid of only a very long stick, this blind indian was able to find his way all over the town. sometime in 1859, daniel sexton, a veteran of the battles of san bartolo and the mesa, became possessed of the idea that gold was secreted in large sacks near the ruins of san juan capistrano; and getting permission, he burrowed so far beneath the house of a citizen that the latter, fearing his whole home was likely to cave in, frantically begged the gold-digger to desist. sexton, in fact, came near digging his own grave instead of another's, and was for a while the good-natured butt of many a pun. jacob a. moerenhout, a native of antwerp, belgium, who had been french consul for a couple of years at monterey, in the latter days of the mexican _régime_, removed to los angeles on october 29th, 1859, on which occasion the consular flag of france was raised at his residence in this city. as early as january 13th, 1835, president andrew jackson had appointed moerenhout "u. s. consul to otaheite and the rest of the society islands," the original consular document, with its quaint spelling and signed by the vigorous pen of that president, existing to-day in a collection owned by dr. e. m. clinton of los angeles; and the belgian had thus so profited by experience in promoting trade and amicable relations between foreign nations that he was prepared to make himself _persona grata_ here. salvos of cannon were fired, while the french citizens, accompanied by a band, formed in procession and marched to the plaza. in the afternoon, don louis sainsevain in honor of the event set a groaning and luxurious table for a goodly company at his hospitable residence. there patriotic toasts were gracefully proposed and as gracefully responded to. the festivities continued until the small hours of the morning, after which consul moerenhout was declared a duly-initiated angeleño. [illustration: san pedro street, near second, in the early seventies] [illustration: commercial street, looking east from main, about 1870] [illustration: view of plaza, showing the reservoir] [illustration: old lanfranco block] surrounded by most of his family, don juan bandini, a distinguished southern californian and a worthy member of one of the finest spanish families here, after a long and painful illness, died at the home of his daughter and son-in-law, doña arcadia and don abel stearns, in los angeles, on november 4th, 1859. don juan had come to california far back in the early twenties, and to los angeles so soon thereafter that he was a familiar and welcome figure here many years before i arrived. it is natural that i should look back with pleasure and satisfaction to my association with a gentleman so typically californian, warm-hearted, genial and social in the extreme; and one who dispensed so large and generous a hospitality. he came with his father--who eventually died here and was buried at the old san gabriel mission--and at one time possessed the jurupa _rancho_, where he lived. don juan was a lawyer by profession, and had written the best part of a history of early california, the manuscript of which went to the state university. the passing glimpse of bandini, in sunlight and in shadow, recorded by dana in his classic _two years before the mast_, adds to the fame already enjoyed by this native californian. himself of a good-sized family, don juan married twice. his first wife, courted in 1823, was dolores, daughter of captain josé estudillo, a _comandante_ at monterey; and of that union were born doña arcadia, first the wife of abel stearns and later of colonel r. s. baker; doña ysidora, who married lieutenant cave j. coutts, a cousin of general grant; doña josefa, later the wife of pedro c. carrillo (father of j. j. carrillo, formerly marshal here and now justice of the peace at santa monica), and the sons, josé maría bandini and juanito bandini. don juan's second wife was refúgio, a daughter of santiago arguello and a granddaughter of the governor who made the first grants of land to _rancheros_ of los angeles. she it was who nursed the wounded kearny and who became a friend of lieutenant william t. sherman, once a guest at her home; and she was also the mother of doña dolores, later the wife of charles r. johnson, and of doña margarita whom dr. james b. winston married after his rollicking bachelor days. by bandini's second marriage there were three sons: juan de la cruz bandini, alfredo bandini and arturo bandini. the financial depression of 1859 affected the temperament of citizens so much that little or no attention was paid to holidays, with the one exception, perhaps, of the bella union's poorly-patronized christmas dinner; and during 1860 many small concerns closed their doors altogether. i have spoken of the fact that brick was not much used when i first came to los angeles, and have shown how it soon after became more popular as a building material. this was emphasized during 1859, when thirty-one brick buildings, such as they were, were put up. in december, benjamin hayes, then district judge and holding court in the dingy old adobe at the corner of spring and franklin streets, ordered the sheriff to secure and furnish another place; and despite the fact that there was only a depleted treasury to meet the new outlay of five or six thousand dollars, few persons attempted to deny the necessity. the fact of the matter was that, when it rained, water actually poured through the ceiling and ran down the court-room walls, spattering over the judge's desk to such an extent that umbrellas might very conveniently have been brought into use; all of which led to the limit of human patience if not of human endurance. in 1859, one of the first efforts toward the formation of a public library was made when felix bachman, myer j. newmark, william h. workman, sam foy, h. s. allanson and others organized a library association, with john temple as president; j. j. warner, vice-president; francis mellus, treasurer; and israel fleishman, secretary. the association established a reading-room in don abel stearns's arcadia block. an immediate and important acquisition was the collection of books that had been assembled by henry mellus for his own home; other citizens contributed books, periodicals and money; and the messengers of the overland mail undertook to get such eastern newspapers as they could for the perusal of the library members. five dollars was charged as an initiation fee, and a dollar for monthly dues; but insignificant as was the expense, the undertaking was not well patronized by the public, and the project, to the regret of many, had to be abandoned. this effort to establish a library recalls an angeleño of the fifties, ralph emerson, a cousin, i believe, though somewhat distantly removed, of the famous concord philosopher. he lived on the west side of alameda street, in an adobe known as emerson's row, between first and aliso streets, where miss mary e. hoyt, assisted by her mother, had a school; and where at one time emerson, a strong competitor of mine in the hide business, had his office. fire destroyed part of their home late in 1859, and again in the following september. emerson served as a director on the library board, both he and his wife being among the most refined and attractive people of the neighborhood. it must have been late in november that miss hoyt announced the opening of her school at no. 2 emerson row, in doing which she followed a custom in vogue with private schools at that time and published the endorsements of leading citizens, or patrons. again in 1861, miss hoyt advertised to give "instruction in the higher branches of english education, with french, drawing, and ornamental needlework," for five dollars a month; while three dollars was asked for the teaching of the common branches and needlework, and only two dollars for teaching the elementary courses. miss hoyt's move was probably due to the inability of the board of education to secure an appropriation with which to pay the public school teachers. this lack of means led not only to a general discussion of the problem, but to the recommendation that los angeles schools be graded and a high school started. following a dry year, and especially a fearful heat wave in october which suddenly ran the mercury up to one hundred and ten degrees, december witnessed heavy rains in the mountains inundating both valleys and towns. on the fourth of december the most disastrous rain known in the history of the southland set in, precipitating, within a single day and night, twelve inches of water; and causing the rise of the san gabriel and other rivers to a height never before recorded and such a cataclysm that sand and _débris_ were scattered far and wide. lean and weakened from the ravaging drought through which they had just passed, the poor cattle, now exposed to the elements of cold rain and wind, fell in vast numbers in their tracks. the bed of the los angeles river was shifted for, perhaps, a quarter of a mile. many houses in town were cracked and otherwise damaged, and some caved in altogether. the front of the old church, attacked through a leaking roof, disintegrated, swayed and finally gave way, filling the neighboring street with impassable heaps. i have spoken of the market house built by john temple for the city. on december 29th, there was a sale of the stalls by mayor d. marchessault; and all except six booths were disposed of, each for the term of three months. one hundred and seventy-three dollars was the rental agreed upon; and dodson & company bid successfully for nine out of thirteen of the stalls. by the following month, however, complaints were made in the press that, though the city fathers had "condescended to let the suffering public" have another market, they still prevented the free competition desired; and by the end of august, it was openly charged that the manner in which the city market was conducted showed "a gross piece of favoritism," and that the city treasury on this account would suffer a monthly loss of one hundred dollars in rents alone. about 1859, john murat, following in the wake of henry kuhn, proprietor of the new york brewery, established the gambrinus in the block bounded by los angeles, san pedro and first and what has become second streets. the brewery, notwithstanding its spacious yard, was anything but an extensive institution, and the quality of the product dispensed to the public left much to be desired; but it was beer, and murat has the distinction of having been one of the first los angeles brewers. the new york's spigot, a suggestive souvenir of those convivial days picked up by george w. hazard, now enriches a local museum. these reminiscences recall still another brewer--christian henne--at whose popular resort on main street, on the last evening of 1859, following some conferences in the old round house, thirty-eight los angeles germans met and formed an association which they called the teutonia-concordia. the object was to promote social intercourse, especially among germans, and to further the study of german song. c. h. classen was chosen first president; h. hammel, vice-president; h. heinsch, secretary; and lorenzo leck, treasurer. how great were the problems confronting the national government in the development of our continent may be gathered from the strenuous efforts--and their results--to encourage an overland mail route. six hundred thousand dollars a year was the subsidy granted the butterfield company for running two mail coaches each way a week; yet the postal revenue for the first year was but twenty-seven thousand dollars, leaving a deficit of more than half a million! but this was not all that was discouraging: politicians attacked the stage route administration, and then the newspapers had to come to the rescue and point out the advantages as compared with the ocean routes. indians, also, were an obstacle; and with the arrival of every stage, one expected to hear the sensational story of ambushing and murder rather than the yarn of a monotonous trip. when new reports of such outrages were brought in, new outcries were raised and new petitions, calling on the government for protection, were hurriedly circulated. chapter xviii first experience with the telegraph 1860 in 1860, maurice kremer was elected county treasurer, succeeding h. n. alexander who had entered the service of wells fargo & company; and he attended to this new function at his store on commercial street, where he kept the county funds. i had my office in the same place; and the salary of the treasurer at the time being but one hundred and twenty-five dollars a month, with no allowance for an assistant, i agreed to act as deputy treasurer without pay. as a matter of fact, i was a sort of emergency deputy only, and accepted the responsibility as an accommodation to kremer, in order that when he was out of town there might be someone to take charge of his affairs. it is very evident, however, that i did not appreciate the danger connected with this little courtesy, since it often happened that there were from forty to fifty thousand dollars in the money-chest. an expert burglar could have opened the safe without special effort, and might have gone scot-free, for the only protector at night was my nephew, kaspare cohn, a mere youth, who clerked for me and slept on the premises. inasmuch as no bank had as yet been established in los angeles, kremer carried the money to sacramento twice a year; nor was this transportation of the funds, first by steamer to san francisco, thence by boat inland, without danger. the state was full of desperate characters who would cut a throat or scuttle a ship for a great deal less than the amount involved. at the end of five or six years, kremer was succeeded as county treasurer by j. huber, jr. i may add, incidentally, that the funds in question could have been transported north by wells fargo & company, but their charges were exorbitant. at a later period, when they were better equipped and rates had been reduced, they carried the state money. on january 2d, joseph paulding, a marylander, died. twenty-seven years before, he came by way of the gila, and boasted having made the first two mahogany billiard tables constructed in california. the same month, attention was directed to a new industry, the polishing and mounting of _abalone_ shells, then as now found on the coast of southern california. a year or so later, g. fischer was displaying a shell brooch, colored much like an opal and mounted in gold. by 1866, the demand for _abalone_ shells had so increased that over fourteen thousand dollars' worth was exported from san francisco, while a year later consignments valued at not less than thirty-six thousand dollars were sent out through the golden gate. even though the taste of to-day considers this shell as hardly deserving of such a costly setting, it is nevertheless true that these early ornaments, much handsomer than many specimens of quartz jewelry, soon became quite a fad in los angeles. natives and indians, especially, took a fancy to the _abalone_ shell, and even much later earrings of that material were worn by the crow scout curley, a survivor of the custer massacre. in 1874, r. w. jackson, a shell-jeweler on montgomery street, san francisco, was advertising here for the rarities, offering as much as forty and fifty dollars for a single sound red, black or silver shell, and from fifty to one hundred dollars for a good green or blue one. incidentally, it is interesting to note that the chinese consumed the _abalone_ meat in large quantities. broom-making was a promising industry in the early sixties, the carpenters of los nietos and f. w. gibson of el monte being among the pioneers in this handiwork. several thousand brooms were made in that year; and since they brought three dollars a dozen, and cost but eleven cents each for the handles and labor, exclusive of the corn, a good profit was realized. major edward harold fitzgerald, well known for campaigns against both indians and bandits, died on january 9th and was buried with military honors. on january 10th, bartholomew's rocky mountain circus held forth on the plaza, people coming in from miles around to see the show. it was then that the circus proprietor sought to quiet the nerves of the anxious by the large-lettered announcement, "a strict police is engaged for the occasion!" the printing of news, editorials and advertisements in both english and spanish recalls again not only some amusing incidents in court activities resulting from the inability of jurists and others to understand the two languages, but also the fact that in the early sixties sermons were preached in the catholic church at los angeles in english and spanish, the former being spoken at one mass, the latter at another. english proper names such as john and benjamin were spanished into juan and benito, and common spanish terms persisted in english advertisements, as when don juan ávila and fernando sepúlveda, in january, announced that they would run the horse _coyote_ one thousand _varas_, for three thousand dollars. in 1862, also, when syriaco arza was executed for the murder of frank riley, the peddler, and the prisoner had made a speech to the crowd, the sheriff read the warrant for the execution in both english and spanish. still another illustration of the use of spanish here, side by side with english, is found in the fact that in 1858 the los angeles assessment rolls were written in spanish, although by 1860 the entries were made in english only. a letter to the editor of the _star_, published on january 28th, 1860, will confirm my comments on the primitive school conditions in los angeles in the first decade or two after i came. the writer complained of the filthy condition of the boys' department, school no. 1, in which, to judge by the mud, "the floor did not seem to have been swept for months!" the editor then took up the cudgel, saying that the board formerly paid a man for keeping the schoolroom clean, but that the common council had refused any longer to pass the janitor's bills; adding that, in his opinion, the council had acted wisely! if the teacher had really wished the schoolroom floor to be clean, contended the economical editor, he should have appointed a pupil to swing a broom each day or, at least, _each week_, and otherwise perform the necessary duties on behalf of the health of the school. the year 1860 witnessed the death of don antónio maría lugo--brother of don josé ygnácio lugo, grandfather of the wolfskills--uncle of general vallejo and the father-in-law of colonel isaac williams, who preceded lugo to the grave by four years. for a long time, lugo lived in a spacious adobe built in 1819 near the present corner of east second and san pedro streets, and there the sons, for whom he obtained the san bernardino _rancho_, were born. in earlier days, or from 1813, don antónio lived on the san antónio ranch near what is now compton; and so well did he prosper there that eleven leagues were not enough for the support of his cattle and flocks. it was a daughter of lugo who, having married a perez and being made a widow, became the wife of stephen c. foster, her daughter in turn marrying wallace woodworth and becoming maría antónia perez de woodworth; and lugo, who used to visit them and the business establishments of the town, was a familiar figure as a sturdy _caballero_ in the streets of los angeles, his ornamental sword strapped in spanish-soldier fashion to his equally-ornamental saddle. don antónio died about the first of february, aged eighty-seven years. about the middle of february, john temple fitted up the large hall over the city market as a theater, providing for it a stage some forty-five by twenty feet in size--in those days considered an abundance of platform space--and a "private box" on each side, whose possession became at once the ambition of every los angeles gallant. temple brought an artist from san francisco to paint the scenery, los angeles then boasting of no one clever enough for the work; and the same genius supervised the general decoration of the house. what was considered a record-breaking effort at making the public comfortable was undertaken in furnishing the parquet with armchairs and in filling the gallery with two tiers of raised benches, guaranteeing some chance of looking over any broad _sombreros_ in front; and to cap the enterprise, temple brought down a company of players especially to dedicate his new house. about february 20th, the actors arrived on the old _senator_; and while i do not recall who they were or what they produced, i believe that they first held forth on washington's birthday when it was said: "the scenery is magnificent, surpassing anything before exhibited in this city." the spring of 1860 was notable for the introduction of the pony express as a potent factor in the despatch of transcontinental mail; and although this new service never included los angeles as one of its terminals, it greatly shortened the time required and, naturally if indirectly, benefited the southland. speed was, indeed, an ambition of the new management, and some rather extraordinary results were attained. about april 20th, soon after the pony express was started, messages were rushed through from st. louis to san francisco in eight and a half days; and it was noised about that the butterfields planned a rival pony express, over a route three hundred miles shorter, that would reach the coast in seven days. about the end of april, mail from london and liverpool reached los angeles in twenty or twenty-one days; and i believe that the fastest time that the pony express ever made was in march, 1861, when president lincoln's message was brought here in seven days and seventeen hours. this was somewhat quicker than the passage of the report about fort sumter, a month afterward, which required twelve days, and considerably faster than the transmission, by the earlier methods of 1850, of the intelligence that california had been admitted to the union--a bit of news of the greatest possible importance yet not at all known here, i have been told, until six weeks after congress enacted the law! which reminds me that the death of elizabeth barrett browning, the poet, although occurring in italy on june 29th, 1861, was first announced in los angeles on the seventeenth of the following august! in february or march, the sewer crossing los angeles street and connecting the bella union with the _zanja_ (which passed through the premises of francis mellus) burst, probably as the result of the recent rains, discharging its contents into the common yard; and in short order mellus found himself minus two very desirable tenants. for a while, he thought of suing the city; and then he decided to stop the sewer effectually. as soon as it was plugged up, however, the bella union found itself cut off from its accustomed outlet, and there was soon a great uproar in that busy hostelry. the upshot of the matter was that the bella union proprietors commenced suit against mellus. this was the first sewer--really a small, square wooden pipe--whose construction inaugurated an early chapter in the annals of sewer-building and control in los angeles. competition for government trade was keen in the sixties, and energetic efforts were made by merchants to secure their share of the crumbs, as well as the loaves, that might fall from uncle sam's table. for that reason, captain winfield scott hancock easily added to his popularity as quartermaster, early in 1860, by preparing a map in order to show the war department the relative positions of the various military posts in this district, and to emphasize the proximity of los angeles. one day in the spring a stranger called upon me with the interesting information that he was an inventor, which led me to observe that someone ought to devise a contrivance with which to pluck oranges--an operation then performed by climbing into the trees and pulling the fruit from the branches. shortly after the interview, many of us went to the grove of jean louis sainsevain to see a simple, but ingenious appliance for picking the golden fruit. a pair of pincers on a light pole were operated from below by a wire; and when the wire was pulled, the fruit, quite unharmed by scratch or pressure, fell safely into a little basket fastened close to the pincers. in the same year, pierre sainsevain established the first california wine house in new york and bought the cucamonga vineyard, where he introduced new and better varieties of grapes. but bad luck overtook him. in 1870, grasshoppers ate the leaves and destroyed the crop. small as was the population of los angeles county at about this time, there was nevertheless for a while an exodus to texas, due chiefly to the difficulty experienced by white immigrants in competing with indian ranch and vineyard laborers. toward the middle of march, much interest was manifested in the welfare of a native californian named serbo--sometimes erroneously given as serbulo and even cervelo--varela who, under the influence of bad whiskey, had assaulted and nearly killed a companion, and who seemed certain of a long term in the state prison. it was recalled, however, that when in the fall of 1846, the fiendish flores, resisting the invasion of the united states forces, had captured a number of americans and condemned them to be dragged out and shot, varela, then a soldier under flores, and a very brave fellow, broke from the ranks, denounced the act as murder, declared that the order should never be carried out except over his dead body, and said and did such a number of things more or less melodramatic that he finally saved the lives of the american prisoners. great sympathy was expressed, therefore, when it was discovered that this half-forgotten hero was in the toils; and few persons, if any, were sorry when varela was induced to plead guilty to assault and battery, enabling the court to deal leniently with him. varela became more and more addicted to strong drink; and some years later he was the victim of foul play, his body being found in an unfrequented part of the town. a scrap-book souvenir of the sixties gives us an idyllic view of contemporaneous pueblo life, furnishing, at the same time, an idea of the newspaper english of that day. it reads as follows: with the exception of a little legitimate shooting affair last saturday night, by which some fellow had well-nigh the top of his head knocked off, and one or two knock-downs and drag-outs, we have had a very peaceful week indeed. nothing has occurred to disturb the even tenor of our way, and our good people seem to be given up to the quiet enjoyment of delicious fruits and our unequalled climate,--each one literally under his own vine and fig tree, revelling in fancy's flights, or luxuriating among the good things which he finds temptingly at hand. the demand for better lighting facilities led the common council to make a contract, toward the end of march, with tiffany & wethered, who were given a franchise to lay pipes through the streets and to establish gas-works here; but the attempt proved abortive. in this same year, the trip east by the overland stage route, which had formerly required nearly a month, was accomplished in eighteen or nineteen days; and toward the end of march, the overland company replaced the "mud-wagons" they had been using between los angeles and san francisco with brightly-painted and better-upholstered concord coaches. then the los angeles office was on spring street, between first and second--on the lot later bought by louis roeder for a wagon-shop, and now the site of the roeder block; and there, for the price of two hundred dollars, tickets could be obtained for the entire journey to st. louis. foreign coin circulated in los angeles, as i have said, for many years, and even up to the early sixties mexican money was accepted at par with our own. improved facilities for intercourse with the outside world, however, affected the markets here, and in the spring of that year several merchants refused to receive the specie of our southern neighbor at more than its actual value as silver. as a result, these dealers, though perhaps but following the trend elsewhere, were charged openly with a combination to obtain an illegitimate profit. in 1860, while dr. t. j. white was postmaster, a regulation was made ordering all mail not called for to be sent to the dead letter office in washington, within a week after such mail had been advertised; but it was not until the fall of 1871 that this order was really put into operation in our neighborhood. for some time this worked great hardship on many people living in the suburbs who found it impossible to call promptly for their mail, and who learned too late that letters intended for them had been returned to the sender or destroyed. political enthusiasm was keen in early days, as is usual in small towns, and victorious candidates, at least, knew how to celebrate. on monday, may 7th, 1860, henry mellus was elected mayor; and next day, he and the other city officers paraded our streets in a four-horse stagecoach with a brass band. the mayor-elect and his _confrères_ were stuffed inside the hot, decorated vehicle, while the puffing musicians bounced up and down on the swaying top outside, like pop-corn in a frying-pan. more than a ripple of excitement was produced in los angeles about the middle of may, when jack martin, billy holcomb and jim ware, in from bear valley, ordered provisions and paid for the same in shining gold dust. it was previously known that they had gone out to hunt for bear, and their sudden return with this precious metal, together with their desire to pick up a few appliances such as are not ordinarily used in trapping, made some of the hangers-on about the store suspicious. the hunters were secretly followed, and were found to return to what is now holcomb valley; and then it was learned that gold had been discovered there about the first of the month. for a year or two, many mining camps were formed in holcomb and upper holcomb valleys, and in that district the town of belleville was founded; but the gold, at first apparently so plentiful, soon gave out, and the excitement incidental to the discovery subsided. while some men were thus digging for treasure, others sought fortune in the deep. spearing sharks, as well as whales, was an exciting industry at this period; sharks running in large numbers along the coast, and in the waters of san pedro bay. in may, orin smith of los angeles, with the aid of his son, in one day caught one hundred and three sharks, from which he took only the livers; these, when boiled, yielding oil which, burned fairly well, even in its crude state. during the next year, shark-hunting near rattlesnake island continued moderately remunerative. sometime in the spring, another effort was made to establish a tannery here and hopes were entertained that an important trade might thus be founded. but the experiment came to naught, and even to-day los angeles can boast of no tannery such as exists in several other california cities. with the approach of summer, elijah and william h. workman built a brick dwelling on main street, next to tom rowan's bakery, and set around it trees of several varieties. the residence, then one of the prettiest in town, was built for the boys' mother; and there, with her, they dwelt. that sectarian activity regarding public schools is nothing new in los angeles may be shown from an incident, not without its humorous side, of the year 1860. t. j. harvey appeared with a broadside in the press, protesting against the reading of the bible in schoolrooms, and saying that he, for one, would "never stand it, come what may." some may still remember his invective and his pyrotechnical conclusion: "_revolution! war!! blood!!!_" during downey's incumbency as governor, the legislature passed a law, popularly known as the bulkhead bill, authorizing the san francisco dock and wharf company to build a stone bulkhead around the water-front of the northern city, in return for which the company was to have the exclusive privilege of collecting tolls and wharfage for the long period of fifty years, a franchise the stupendous value of which even the projectors of that date could scarcely have anticipated. downey, when the measure came before him for final action, vetoed the bill and thus performed a judicious act--perhaps the most meritorious of his administration. whether downey, who on january 9th had become governor, was really popular for any length of time, even in the vicinity of his home, may be a question; but his high office and the fact that he was the first governor from the southland assured him a hearty welcome whenever he came down here from the capital. in june downey returned to los angeles, accompanied by his wife, and took rooms at the bella union hotel, and besides the usual committee visits, receptions and speeches from the balcony, arranged in honor of the distinguished guests, there was a salute of thirteen guns, fired with all ceremony, which echoed and re-echoed from the hillsides. in 1860, a number of delegates, including casper behrendt and myself, were sent to san francisco to attend the laying of the corner-stone, on the twenty-fifth of june, of the masonic temple at the corner of post and montgomery streets. we made the trip when the weather was not only excessively hot, but the sand was a foot deep and headway very slow; so that, although we were young men and enjoyed the excursion, we could not laugh down all of the disagreeable features of the journey. it was no wonder, therefore, that when we arrived at visalia, where we were to change horses, behrendt wanted a shave. while he was in the midst of this tonsorial refreshment, the stage started on its way to san francisco; and as behrendt heard it passing the shop, he ran out--with one side of his face smooth and clean, while the other side was whiskered and grimy--and tried to stop the disappearing vehicle. despite all of his yelling and running, however, the stage did not stop; and finally, behrendt fired his pistol several times into the air. this attracted the attention of the sleepy driver, who took the puffing passenger on board; whereupon the rest of us chaffed him about his singular appearance. behrendt[19] did not have much peace of mind until we reached the plaza hotel at san juan bautista ("a relic," as someone has said, "of the distant past, where men and women played billiards on horseback, and trees bore human fruit"), situated in a sweet little valley, mountain-girdled and well watered; where he was able to complete his shave and thus restore his countenance to its normal condition. in connection with this anecdote of the trip to san francisco, i may add another story. on board the stage was frederick j. mccrellish, editor of the _alta california_--the principal coast paper, bought by mccrellish & company in 1858--and also secretary of the telegraph company at that time building its line between san francisco and los angeles. when we reached a point between gilroy and visalia, which was the temporary terminus of the telegraph from san francisco, mccrellish spoke with some enthusiasm of the morse invention and invited everybody on the stage to send telegrams, at his expense, to his friends. i wrote out a message to my brother in san francisco, telling him about the trip as far as i had completed it, and passed the copy to the operator at the clicking instrument. it may be hard for the reader to conceive that this would be an exciting episode in a man's life; but since my first arrival in the southland there had been no telegraphic communication between los angeles and the outside world, and the remembrance of this experience at the little wayside station was never to be blotted from my mind. i may also add that of that committee sent to the masonic festivities in san francisco, behrendt and i are now the only surviving members. it has been stated that the population of los angeles in 1850 was but sixteen hundred and ten. how true that is i cannot tell. when i came to the city in 1853, there were some twenty-six hundred people. in the summer of 1860 a fairly accurate census was made, and it was found that our little town had four thousand three hundred and ninety-nine inhabitants. two distinguished military men visited los angeles in the midsummer of 1860. the first was general james shields who, in search of health, arrived by the overland route on the twenty-fourth of july, having just finished his term in the senate. the effect of wounds received at the battle of cerro gordo, years before, and reports as to the climate of california started the general westward; and quietly he alighted from the stage at the door of the bella union. after a while, general shields undertook the superintending of a mexican mine; but at the outbreak of the civil war, although not entirely recovered, he hastened back to washington and was at once appointed a brigadier-general of volunteers. the rest of his career is known. a week later, general, or as he was then entitled, colonel john c. frémont drew up at the plaza. his coming to this locality in connection with the temescal tin mine and mariposa forestry interests had been heralded from godey's ranch some days before; and when he arrived on tuesday, july 31st, in company with leonidas haskell and joseph c. palmer, the republicans were out in full force and fired a salute of twenty-five guns. in the evening, colonel frémont was waited upon in the parlors of the bella union by a goodly company, under the leadership of the republican committee, although all classes, irrespective of politics, united to pay the celebrated california pioneer the honors due him. alexander godey, to whose _rancho_ i have just referred, was a man of importance, with a very extensive cattle-range in kern county not far from bakersfield, where he later lived. he occasionally came to town, and was an invariable visitor at my store, purchasing many supplies from me. these and other provisions, which godey and his neighbors sent for, were transported by burroor mule-train to the ranches in care of miguel ortiz, who had his headquarters in los angeles. loading these so-called pack-trains was an art: by means of ropes and slats of wood, merchandise was strapped to the animal's sides and back in such a fashion that it could not slip, and thus a heavy, well-balanced load was conveyed over the plain and the mountain trails. by 1860, the germans were well-organized and active here in many ways, a german benevolent society, called the eintracht, which met tuesday and friday evenings in the arcadia block for music drill under director heinsch, affording stimulating entertainment and accomplishing much good. the turnverein, on the other hand, took an interest in the success of the round house, and on march 12th put up a liberty pole on top of the oddly-shaped building. lager beer and other things deemed by the teutonic brethren essential to a garden of paradise and to such an occasion were freely dispensed; and on that day lehman was in all his glory. a particular feature of this garden of paradise was a cabbage, about which have grown up some traditions of the brobdingnagian sort that the reader may accept _in toto_ or with a grain of salt. it was planted when the place was opened, and is said to have attained, by december, 1859, a height of twelve feet, "with a circumference" (so averred an ambiguous chronicler of the period, referring doubtless to crinolines) "equal to that of any fashionably-attired city belle measuring eight or ten feet." by july, 1860, the cabbage attained a growth, so the story goes, of fourteen feet four inches although, george always claimed, it had been cropped twenty or more times and its leaves used for _kohlslau_, _sauerkraut_ and goodness knows what. i can afford the modern reader no better idea of lehman's personality and resort than by quoting the following contemporaneous, if not very scholarly, account: the garden of paradise. our friend george of the round house, who there keeps a garden with the above captivating name, was one of the few who done honor to the fourth. he kept the national ensign at the fore, showed his fifteen-foot cabbage, and dealt _lager_ to admiring crowds all day. among the popular pleasure-resorts of 1860 was the tivoli garden on the wolfskill road, conducted by charles kaiser, who called his friends together by placarding the legend, "hurrah for the tivoli!" music and other amusements were provided every sunday, from two o'clock, and dancing could be enjoyed until late in the night; and as there was no charge for admission, the place was well patronized. when the fourth of july, 1859, approached and no preparation had been made to observe the holiday, some children who were being instructed in calisthenics by a. f. tilden began to solicit money, their childish enthusiasm resulting in the appointing of a committee, the collecting of four hundred dollars, and a picnic in don luis sainsevain's enclosed garden. a year later, tilden announced that he would open a place for gymnastic exercises in "temple's new block;" charging men three dollars for the use of the apparatus and the privilege of a shower-bath, and training boys at half rates. this was the origin of systematic physical culture in los angeles. footnote: [19] died november 19th, 1913. chapter xix steam-wagon--odd characters 1860 early in 1860, phineas banning and j. j. tomlinson, the energetic rivals in lighterage and freighting at san pedro, embarked as lumber merchants, thereby anticipating the enormous trade that has flowed for years past from the north through los angeles to southern california and arizona. having many teams, they hauled lumber, when traffic was not sufficient to keep their wagon-trains busy, from the harbor to the city or even, when there was need, to the _ranchos_. it must have been in the same year that f. p. f. temple, at a cost of about forty thousand dollars for lumber alone, fenced in a wide acreage, at the same time building large and substantial barns for his stock. by the summer of that year, banning was advertising lumber, delivered in los angeles; and from october 1st, banning & hinchman had an office near the northern junction of main and spring streets. a couple of years before, banning in person had directed the driving of seventeen mule teams, from san pedro to fort yuma, covering, in twelve or thirteen days, the two hundred and thirty miles of barely passable road. the following march, banning and tomlinson, who had so often opposed each other even in the courts, came to an understanding and buried the hatchet for good. at this time, joseph everhardt, who, with frederick w. koll, had conducted the lafayette hotel, sold out and moved to san francisco, marrying miss r. mayer, now john lang's widow, sister-in-law of kiln messer. later, everhardt went to sonoma and then to victoria, b. c., in each place making his mark; and in the latter city he died. like both messer and lang, everhardt had passed through varied and trying experiences. the owner of the russ garden restaurant in 1849, in lively san francisco, he came to los angeles and took hold of the hotel lafayette. with him was a partner named fucht; but a free fight and display of shooting irons, such as often enlivened a california hotel, having sent the guests and hangers-on scurrying to quarters, induced fucht to sell out his interests in very short order, whereupon everhardt took in with him frederick w. koll, who lived on a site now the southeast corner of seventh and spring streets where he had an orange-grove. pursuing indians was dangerous in the extreme, as robert wilburn found when he went after some twenty head of cattle stolen from felix bachman by pi-ute or paiute indians in january, 1860, during one of their marauding expeditions into california. wilburn chased the red men but he never came back; and when his body was found, it was pierced with three or four arrows, probably shot at him simultaneously by as many of the cattle-thieves. don tomás a. sanchez, sheriff from 1860 to 1867, had a record for physical courage and prowess, having previously been an officer under pico in the mexican war days, and having later aided pico in his efforts to punish barton's murderers. sanchez had property; and in 1887 a patent was granted his estate for four thousand or more acres in the ranch known as _ciénega ó paso de la tijera_. destructive fires in the open country, if not as common as now, still occasionally stirred our citizens. such a fire broke out in the san fernando valley in the middle of july, and spread so rapidly that a square mile and a half of territory was denuded and charred. not only were there no organized means to fight such fires, but men were compelled to sound the alarm through couriers on horseback; and if the wind happened to be blowing across the plains, even the fleetest horseman had all he could do to avoid the flames and reach in time the widely-separated _rancheros_. here i may add that as late as the sixties all of the uninhabited parts of los angeles, especially to the of main street, were known as plains, and "crossing the plains" was an expression commonly used with a peculiarly local significance. so wretched were the roads in the early decades after my arrival, and so many were the plans proposed for increasing the rapidity of travel, that great curiosity was excited in 1860 when it was announced that phineas banning had bought a "steam-wagon" and would soon introduce a kind of vehicle such as los angeles, at least, had never before seen. this steam-wagon was a traction engine built by j. whitman & sons, at leeds, england, and was already on its way across the ocean. it had been ordered by richard a. ogden, of san francisco, for the patagonia copper mining company, a trial before shipping having proved that, with a load of thirty-eight tons, the engine could attain a speed of five miles an hour; and banning paid handsomely for the option of purchasing the vehicle, on condition that it would ultimately prove a success. the announcement was made in april, and by early june the engine had reached san francisco where it made the run to mission dolores in three-quarters of an hour. all the san francisco papers told of "the truly wonderful machine," one reporter averring that "the engineer had so perfect control that a visit was made to various parts of the city, to the astonishment and gratification of the multitude;" and since these accounts were immediately copied by the los angeles papers (which added the official announcement that captain hughes had loaded the engine on board his schooner, the _lewis perry_, and was bringing it south as fast as he could), popular excitement rose like the mercury in summer, and but one more report was needed to make it the absorbing talk of the hour. that came on the twenty-eighth of july, when the _star_ announced: "the steam-wagon has arrived at san pedro;" and it was not long before many persons went down to the port to get a sight of the wonderful object. and wait they did. although the _star_ said that "all our citizens were anxiously, hourly, expecting to see major banning heave in sight at the foot of main street," no banning hove! instead, on the fourth of august, the same _star_ broke forth with this lament: "the steam-wagon is at san pedro, and we regret to learn that it is likely to remain there. so far, all attempts to reach this city with freight have failed." and that was the end of the steam-wagon experiment here. in every community there are characters who, for one reason or another, develop among their fellows a reputation for oddity. we have all seen the good-natured, rather stout old gentleman, whose claim to dignity is his old-fashioned prince albert and rather battered-looking silk hat, but who, although he boasts many friends, is never successful in the acquisition of this world's goods. we have seen, too, the vender of ice-cream, _tamales_ or similar commodity, who in his youth had been an opera singer or actor, but whose too intensive thirst rendered him impossible in his profession and brought him far down in the world. some were dangerous criminals; some were harmless, but obnoxious; others still were harmless and amusing. many such characters i have met during my sixty years in los angeles; and each filled a certain niche, even those whose only mission was to furnish their fellows with humor or amusement having thus contributed to the charm of life. viejo cholo, or old half-breed, a mexican over sixty years of age who was never known by any other name, was such an eccentric character. he was half blind; wore a pair of white linen pantaloons, and for a mantle used an old sheet. this he threw over his shoulders; and thus accoutered, he strutted about the streets like a spanish cavalier. his cane was a broom-handle; his lunch-counter, the swill-bucket; and when times were particularly bad, viejo begged. the youngsters of the pueblo were the bane of cholo's existence and the torment of his infirmity and old age. cholo was succeeded by pinikahti, who was half indian and half mexican. he was not over four feet in height and had a flat nose, a stubby beard and a face badly pockmarked; and he presented, altogether, as unkempt and obnoxious an appearance as one might imagine. pinikahti was generally attired in a well-worn straw hat, the top of which was missing, and his long, hair stuck out in clumps and snarls. a woolen undershirt and a pair of overalls completed his costume, while his toes, as a rule, protruded from his enormous boots. unlike viejo cholo, pinikahti was permitted to go unmolested by the juvenile portion of the population, inasmuch as, though half-witted, he was somewhat of an entertainer; for it was natural for him to play the flute and--what was really interesting--he made his own instruments out of the reed that grew along the river banks. pinikahti cut just the holes, i suppose, that produced what seemed to him proper harmony, and on these home-made flutes performed such airs as his wandering fancy suggested. he always played weird tunes and danced strange indian dances; and through these crude gifts he became, as i have said, sufficiently popular to enjoy some immunity. nevertheless, he was a professional beggar; and whatever he did to afford amusement, was done, after all, for money. this was easily explained, for money alone would buy _aguardiente_, and pinikahti had little use for anything else. _aguardiente_, as the word was commonly used in southern california, was a native brandy, full of hell fire; and so the poor half-breed was always drunk. one day pinikahti drank a glass too much, and this brought about such a severance of his ties with beautiful los angeles that his absorption of one spirit released, at last, the other. sometime in the eventful sixties, a tall, angular, muscular-looking woman was here, who went by the singular _sobriquet_ of captain jinks, a title which she received from a song then very popular, the first couplet of which ran something like this: i'm captain jinks of the horse marines, i feed my horse on pork and beans! she half strode, half jerked her way along the street, as though scanning the lines of that ditty with her feet. she was strong for woman's rights, she said; and she certainly looked it. chinamen were not only more numerous by 1860, but they had begun to vary their occupations, many working as servants, laundrymen or farm hands. in march, a chinese company was also organized to compete for local fish trade. in 1860, émile bordenave & company opened the louisiana coffee saloon as a french restaurant. roast duck and oysters were their specialty, and they charged fifty cents a meal. but they also served "a plate at one bit."[20] some years later, there was a two-bit restaurant known as brown's on main street, near the united states hotel, where a good, substantial meal was served. james, often called santiago johnson, who, for a short time prior to his death about 1860 or 1861, was a forwarder of freight at san pedro, came to los angeles in 1833 with a cargo of mexican and chinese goods, and after that owned considerable ranch property. in addition to ranching, he also engaged extensively in cattle-raising. peter, popularly known as pete or bully wilson, a native of sweden, came to los angeles about 1860. he ran a one horse dray; and as soon as he had accumulated sufficient money, he bought, for twelve hundred dollars, the southeast corner of spring and first streets, where he had his stable. he continued to prosper; and his family still enjoy the fruits of his industry. the same year, george smith started to haul freight and baggage. he had four horses hitched to a sombre-looking vehicle nicknamed the _black swan_. j. d. yates was a grocer and provision-dealer of 1860, with a store on the plaza. i have referred to bishop amat as presiding over the diocese of monterey and los angeles; but los angeles was linked with monterey, for a while, even in judicial matters. beginning with 1860 or 1861 (when fletcher m. haight, father of governor h. h. haight, was the first judge to preside), the united states court for the southern district of california was held alternately in the two towns mentioned, colonel j. o. wheeler serving as clerk and the court for the southern term occupying seven rooms of the second story of john temple's block. these alternate sessions continued to be held until about 1866 when the tribunal for the southern district ceased to exist and angeleños were compelled to apply to the court in san francisco. for years, such was the neglect of the protestant burial ground that in 1860 caustic criticism was made by each newspaper discussing the condition of the cemetery: there was no fence, headstones were disfigured or demolished, and there was little or no protection to the graves. as a matter of fact, when the cemetery on fort hill was abandoned, but few of the bodies were removed. by 1860, the new england fire insurance company, of hartford, connecticut, was advertising here through its local agent, h. hamilton--our friend of the los angeles _star_. hamilton used to survey the applicants' premises, forward the data to william faulkner, the san francisco representative, who executed the policy and mailed the document back to los angeles. after a while, samuel briggs, with wells fargo & co., represented the phoenix insurance company. h. newmark & company also sold insurance somewhat later, representing the commercial union insurance company. about 1880, however, they disposed of their insurance interests to maurice kremer, whose main competitor was w. j. brodrick; and from this transaction developed the firm of kremer, campbell & company, still in that business. not only in this connection but elsewhere in these memoirs it may be noted how little specialization there was in earlier days in los angeles; in fact it was not until about 1880 that this process, distinctive of economic progress, began to appear in los angeles. i myself have handled practically every staple that makes up the very great proportion of merchandising activity, whereas my successors of to-day, as well as their competitors, deal only in groceries and kindred lines. two brothers, émile and théophile vaché, in the fall of 1860, started what has become the oldest firm--vaché frères--in the local wine business, at first utilizing the bernard residence at alameda and third streets, in time used by the government as a bonded warehouse. later, they removed to the building on aliso street once occupied by the medical college, where the cellars proved serviceable for a winery. there they attempted the manufacture of cream of tartar from wine-crystals, but the venture was not remunerative. in 1881, the vachés, joined by their brother adolphe, began to grow grapes in the barton vineyard in san bernardino county, and some time afterward they bought near-by land and started the famous brookside vineyard. émile is now dead; while théophile, who retired and returned to europe in 1892, retaining an interest in the firm of t. vaché & company, passes his hours pleasantly on the picturesque island of st. george d'oléron, in the charente inférieure, in his native france. on september 21st, captain w. s. hancock, who first came to los angeles in connection with the expedition against the mojave indians in 1858, sought to establish a new kind of express between los angeles and fort mojave, and sent out a camel in charge of greek george to make the trial trip. when they had been gone two and a half days, the regular express messenger bound for los angeles met them at lane's crossing, apparently in none too promising a condition; which later gave rise to a report that the camel had died on the desert. this occasioned numerous newspaper squibs _à propos_ of both the speed and the staying powers of the camel as contrasted with those of the burro; and finally, in october, the following announcement appeared placarded throughout the town: by poulterer, de ro &. eldridge ----office and salesroom, corner california & front streets, san francisco. peremptory sale of bactrian camels imported from the amoor river ex caroline e. foote. on wednesday, oct. 10, 1860, we will sell at public auction in lots to suit purchasers, for cash, 13 bactrian camels, from a cold and mountainous country, comprising 6 males and 7 females, (5 being with young,) all in fine health and condition. * * * for further particulars, inquire of the auctioneers. in 1858, richard garvey came to los angeles and entered the government service as a messenger, between this city and new mexico, for captain w. s. hancock. later, he went to the holcomb valley mines, where he first met lucky baldwin; and by 1872 he had disposed of some san bernardino mine properties at a figure which seemed to permit his retirement and ease for the rest of his life. for the next twenty years, he was variously employed, at times operating for baldwin. garvey is at present living in los angeles. what was one of the last bullfights here, toward the end of september, when a little child was trodden upon in the ring, reminds me not only of the succeeding sports, including horse-racing, but as well that francis temple should be credited with encouraging the importation and breeding of good horses. in 1860 he paid seven thousand dollars, then considered an enormous sum, for _black warrior_; and not long afterward he bought _billy blossom_ at a fancy figure. a political gathering or two enlivened the year 1860. in july, when the local sentiment was, to all appearances, strongly in favor of breckenridge and lane, the democratic candidates for president and vice-president, one hundred guns were fired in their honor; and great was the jubilation of the democratic hosts. a later meeting, under the auspices of the breckenridge club, was held in front of the montgomery saloon on main street. judge dryden presided, and senator milton s. latham was the chief speaker. a number of ladies graced the occasion, some seated in chairs near by and others remaining in their vehicles drawn up in a semicircle before the speaker's stand. as a result of all this effort, the candidates in question did lead in the race here, but only by four votes. on counting the ballots the day after election, it was found that breckenridge had two hundred and sixty-seven votes, while douglas, the independent democratic nominee, had polled two hundred and sixty-three. of permanent interest, perhaps, as showing the local sentiment on other questions of the time, is that lincoln received in los angeles only one hundred and seventy-nine votes. generally, a candidate persuaded his friends to nominate and endorse him, but now and then one came forward and addressed the public directly. in the fall of 1860, the following announcement appeared in the _southern news_: to the voters of los angeles township: i am a candidate for the office of justice of the peace, and i desire to say to you, frankly, that i want you all to vote for me on the 6th of november next. i aspire to the office for two reasons,--first, because i am vain enough to believe that i am capable of performing the duties required, with credit to myself and to the satisfaction of all good citizens; second, because i am poor, and am desiring of making an honest living thereby. william g. still. during my first visit to san francisco, in the fall of 1853, and while _en route_ to los angeles, my attention was called to a line of electric telegraph, then just installed between the golden gate and the town, for use in reporting the arrival of vessels. about a month later a line was built from san francisco to sacramento, stockton and around to san josé. nothing further, however, was done toward reaching southern california with the electric wire until the end of may or the beginning of june, 1860, when president r. e. raimond and secretary fred. j. mccrellish (promoters of the pacific & atlantic telegraph company, organized in 1858 to reach san antónio, texas, and memphis, tennessee) came to los angeles to lay the matter before our citizens. stock was soon subscribed for a line through the city and as far as fort yuma, and in a few days banning had fifty teams ready to haul the telegraph poles, which were deposited in time along the proposed route. in the beginning, interest was stimulated by the promise that the telegraph would be in operation by the fourth of july; but independence day came and went, and the best that the telegraph company could do was to make the ambiguous report that there were so and so many "holes in the ground." worse than that, it was announced, toward the end of july, that the stock of wire had given out; and still worse, that no more could be had this side of the atlantic states! that news was indeed discouraging; but by the middle of august, twenty tons of wire were known to be on a clipper bound for san francisco, around the horn, and five tons were being hurried here by steamer. the wire arrived, in due season, and the most energetic efforts were made to establish telegraphic communication between los angeles and san francisco. it was while mccrellish was slowly returning to the north, in june, that i met him as narrated in a previous chapter. finally, at eight o'clock on october 8th, 1860, a few magic words from the north were ticked out in the los angeles office of the telegraph company. two hours later, as those familiar with our local history know, mayor henry mellus sent the following memorable message to h. f. teschemacher, president of the san francisco board of supervisors: allow me, on behalf of the citizens of los angeles, to send you greeting of fellowship and good-feeling on the completion of the line of telegraph which now binds the two cities together. whereupon, the next day, president teschemacher (who, by the way, was a well-known importer, having brought the first almond seed from the mediterranean in the early fifties) replied to mayor mellus: your despatch has just been received. on behalf of the citizens of san francisco, i congratulate los angeles, trusting that the benefit may be mutual. a ball in los angeles fittingly celebrated the event, as will be seen from the following despatch, penned by henry d. barrows, who was then southern california correspondent of the _bulletin_: los angeles, october 9, 1860, 10.45 a. m. here is the maiden salutation of los angeles to san francisco by lightning! this despatch--the first to the press from this point--the correspondent of the _bulletin_ takes pleasure in communicating in behalf of his fellow-citizens. the first intelligible communication by the electric wire was received here last night at about eight o'clock, and a few hours later, at a grand and brilliant ball, given in honor of the occasion, despatches were received from san francisco announcing the complete working of the entire line. speeches were made in the crowded ball-room by e. j. c. kewen and j. mccrellish. news of colonel baker's election in oregon to the united states senate electrified the republicans, but the breckenridges doubted it at first. just before leaving yesterday, senator latham planted the first telegraph pole from this point east, assisted by a concourse of citizens. barrows' telegram concluded with the statement, highly suggestive of the future commercial possibilities of the telegraph, that the steamer _senator_ would leave san pedro that evening with three thousand or more boxes of grapes. on october 16th, the steamer _j. t. wright_, named after the boat-owner and widely advertised as "new, elegant, and fast," arrived at san pedro, in charge of captain robert haley; and many persons professed to see in her appearance on the scene new hope for beneficial coastwise competition. after three or four trips, however, the steamer was withdrawn. leonard john rose, a german by birth, and brother-in-law of h. k. s. o'melveny, arrived with his family by the butterfield stage route in november, having fought and conquered, so to speak, every step of his way from illinois, from which state, two years before, he had set out. rose and other pioneers tried to reach california along the thirty-fifth parallel, a route surveyed by lieutenant beale but presenting terrific hardships; on the sides of mountains, at times, they had to let down their wagons by ropes, and again they almost died of thirst. the mojave indians, too, set upon them and did not desist until seventeen indians had been killed and nine whites were slain or wounded, rose himself not escaping injury. with the help of other emigrants, rose and his family managed to reach albuquerque, where within two years in the hotel business he acquired fourteen thousand dollars. then, coming to los angeles, he bought from william wolfskill one hundred and sixty acres near the old mission of san gabriel, and so prospered that he was soon able to enlarge his domain to over two thousand acres. he laid out a splendid vineyard and orange grove, and being full of ambition, enterprise and taste, it was not long before he had the show-place of the county. apparently, temple really inaugurated his new theater with the coming to los angeles in november of that year of "the great star company of stark & ryer," as well as with the announcement made at the time by their management: "this is the first advent of a theatrical company here." stark & ryer were in los angeles for a week or two; and though i should not vouch for them as stars, the little hall was crowded each night, and almost to suffocation. there were no fire ordinances then as to filling even the aisles and the window-sills, nor am i sure that the conventional fire-pail, more often empty than filled with water, stood anywhere about; but just as many tickets were sold, regardless of the seating capacity. tragedy gave way, alternately, to comedy, one of the evenings being devoted to _the honeymoon_; and as this was not quite long enough to satisfy the onlookers, who had neither trains nor boats to catch, there was an after-piece. in those days, when los angeles was entirely dependent on the north for theatrical and similar talent, it sometimes happened that the steamer was delayed or that the "star" failed to catch the ship and so could not arrive when expected; as a result of which patrons, who had journeyed in from the ranches, had to journey home again with their curiosity and appetite for the histrionic unsatisfied. prisoners, especially indians, were employed on public works. as late as november, 1860, the water overseer was empowered to take out any indians who might be in the calaboose, and to use them for repairing the highways and bridges. about 1860, nathan jacoby came to los angeles, on my invitation, as i had known him in europe; and he was with me about a year. when i sold out, he entered the employ of m. kremer and later went into business for himself. as the senior partner of jacoby brothers, he died suddenly in 1911. associated with nathan at different periods were his brothers, herman, abraham, morris, charles and lesser jacoby, all of them early arrivals. of this group, charles and lesser, both active in business circles in their day, are also dead. toward the end of 1860, solomon lazard returned to france, to visit his mother; but no sooner had he arrived at his old home and registered, according to law, with the police, than he was arrested, charged with having left his fatherland at the age of seventeen, without having performed military duty. in spite of his american citizenship, he was tried by court-martial and sentenced to a short imprisonment; but through the intervention of the united states minister, charles j. faulkner--the author of the fugitive slave law of 1850--and the clemency of the emperor napoleon iii., he was finally released. he had to furnish a substitute, however, or pay a fine of fifteen hundred francs; and he paid the fine. at length, notwithstanding his unpleasant experience, lazard arrived in los angeles about the middle of march, 1861. tired of the wretched sidewalks, john temple, in december, 1860, set to work to introduce an improvement in front of his main street block, an experiment that was watched with interest. bricks were covered with a thick coating of asphalt brought from la brea ranch, which was smoothed while still warm and then sprinkled with sand; the combination promising great durability. in the summer season, however, the coating became soft and gluey, and was not comfortable to walk upon. i have already spoken of the effect of heat and age on foodstuffs such as eggs and butter, when brought over the hot desert between san bernardino and los angeles. this disadvantage continued for years; nor was the succeeding plan of bringing provisions from san francisco and the north by way of the ocean without its obstacles. a. ulyard, the baker, realized the situation, and in december advertised "fresh crackers, baked in los angeles, and superior to those half spoiled by the sea voyage." previous to the days of warehouses, and much before the advent of railroads, the public hay-scale was an institution, having been constructed by francis mellus in the dim past. exposed to the elements, it stood alone out in the center of los angeles street, somewhat south of aliso; and in the lawless times of the young town was a silent witness to the numerous crimes perpetrated in the adjacent calle de los negros. onto its rough platform the neighboring farmers drove their heavy loads, often waiting an hour or two for the arrival of the owner, who alone had the key to its mysterious mechanism. speaking of this lack of a warehouse brings to my mind the pioneer of 1850, edouard naud, who first attracted attention as a clever pastryman with a little shop on commercial street where he made a specialty of lady-fingers--selling them at fifty cents a dozen. engaging in the wool industry, he later become interested in wool and this led him in 1878 to erect naud's warehouse on alameda street, at present known as the union warehouse.[21] naud died in 1881. his son, edward, born in los angeles, is famous as an amateur _chef_ who can prepare a french dinner that even a professional might be proud of. in may, as elsewhere stated, henry mellus was elected mayor of los angeles; and on the twenty-sixth of december he died--the first to yield that office to the inexorable demands of death. the news of his demise called forth unfeigned expressions of regret; for mellus was not only a man of marked ability, but he was of genial temperament and the soul of honor. footnotes: [20] twelve and one-half cents. [21] destroyed by fire on september 22d, 1915. chapter xx the rumblings of war 1861 the year 1861 dawned dark and foreboding. on the twentieth of the preceding december, south carolina had seceded, and along the pacific, as elsewhere, men were anxiously wondering what would happen next. threats and counter-threats clearly indicated the disturbed state of the public mind; and when, near charleston harbor, a hostile shot was fired at the _star of the west_, the certainty of further trouble, particularly with the coming inauguration of lincoln, was everywhere felt. aside, however, from these disturbing events so much affecting commercial life, the year, sandwiched between two wet seasons, was in general a prosperous one. there were evil effects of the heavy rains, and business in the spring was rather dull; but cattlemen, upon whose success so many other people depended, took advantage of the favoring conditions and profited accordingly. during the period of the flood in 1859-60, the river, as we have seen, was impassable, and for months there was so much water in the bed, ordinarily dry, that foot-passage was interrupted. in january, 1861, therefore, the common council, under the influence of one of its members, e. moulton, whose dairy was in east los angeles, provided a flimsy foot-bridge in his neighborhood. if my memory serves me, construction was delayed, and so the bridge escaped the next winter's flood, though it went down years later. on january 9th, the schooner _lewis perry_ arrived at anchorage, to be towed across the bar and to the wharf by the little steamer[22] _comet_. this was the first sea-going vessel that had ever visited new san pedro with a full cargo, and demonstrated, it was thought by many, that the port was easily navigable by vessels drawing eleven feet of water or less! comments of all kinds were made upon this event, one scribe writing: we expect to see coasting steamers make their regular trips to new town, discharging freight and loading passengers on the wharf, safe from the dangers of rough weather, instead of lying off at sea, subjecting life and property to the perils of southeast gales and the breakers. the _senator_ even, in the opinion of experienced persons, might easily enter the channel on the easterly side of dead man's island, and thence find a safe passage in the creek. _it will yet happen!_ john m. griffith came to los angeles in 1861, having four years previously married a sister of john j. tomlinson. with the latter he formed a partnership in the passenger and freight-carrying business, their firm competing with banning & company until 1868, when tomlinson died. this same year, at the age of about eighteen, eugene meyer arrived. he first clerked for solomon lazard, in the retail dry-goods business; and in 1867 he was admitted into partnership. on november 20th of that year meyer married miss harriet, the youngest daughter of joseph newmark--who officiated. felix bachman, who came in 1853, was at various times in partnership with philip sichel (after whom sichel street is named, and councilman in 1862), samuel laubheim and ben schloss, the firm being known as bachman & company; and on los angeles street near commercial they carried on the largest business in town. bachman secured much salt lake trade and in 1861 opposed high freight rates; but although well off when he left here, he died a poor man in san francisco, at the age of nearly one hundred years. [illustration: winfield scott hancock] [illustration: albert sidney johnston] [illustration: los angeles county in 1854 from a contemporary map] [illustration: the morris adobe, once frémont's headquarters] in 1861, adolph junge arrived and established a drug-store in the temple block, his only competitor being theodore wollweber; and there he continued for nearly twenty years, one of his prescription books, now in the county museum, evidencing his activity. for a while, f. j. gieze, the well-known druggist for so many years on north main street, and an arrival of '74, clerked for junge. at the beginning of the sixties, dr. a. b. hayward practiced medicine here, his office being next to workman brothers' saddlery, on main street. wollweber's name recalls a practical joke of the late sixties, when some waggish friend raised the cry that there was a bear across the river, and induced my teutonic neighbor to go in hot pursuit. after bracing himself for the supreme effort, wollweber shot the beast dead; only to learn that the bear, a blind and feeble animal, was a favorite pet, and that it would take just twenty-five dollars to placate the irate owner! the absence in general of shade trees was so noticeable that when john temple, on january 31st, planted a row facing temple building there was the usual town gossip. charley ducommon followed temple's example. previously, there had been several wide-spreading trees in front of the bella union hotel, and it came to pass within the next five years that many pepper-trees adorned the streets. in 1861, the post office was removed from north spring street to a frame building on main street, opposite commercial. about the same time when, owing to floods, no mail arrived for three or four weeks and someone facetiously hung out a sign announcing the office "to let!" the washington postal authorities began issuing stamped envelopes, of the values of twelve and twenty-four cents, for those business men of los angeles and the pacific coast who were likely to use the recently-developed pony express. matthew keller, or don mateo, as he was called, who died in 1881, was a quaint personality of real ability, who had a shop on the northwest corner of los angeles and commercial streets, and owned the adjoining store in which p. beaudry had been in business. his operations were original and his advertising unique, as will be seen from his announcement in the _star_ in february: m. keller, to his customers you are hereby notified that the time has at last arrived when you must pay up, without further delay, or i shall be obliged to invoke the aid of the law and the lawyers. your most ob't servant, m. keller. which warning was followed, in the next issue, by this: m. keller, to his customers the right of secession admitted! you are hereby notified that the time has arrived when you must pay up, without further delay, or i shall be obliged to invoke the aid of the law and the lawyers. after such settlement, slow-payers are requested to secede. m. keller. (to be augmented next week) this later advertisement, with the line in parenthesis, continued to be printed, week after week, without change, _for at least twelve months_. the following year, keller, in flaring headlines, offered for sale the front of his los angeles vineyard, facing on aliso street, in building lots of twenty by one hundred feet, saying, in his prospectus: great improvements are on the _tapis_ in this quarter. governor downey and the intrepid beaudry propose to open a street to let the light of day shine in upon their dark domains. on the equerry side of aliso street, "what fine legs your master has," must run to give way for more permanent fixtures. further on, the prior estates are about to be improved by the astute and far-seeing templito; and keller sells lots on the sunny side of aliso street. the map is on view at my office; come in and make your selections,--first come, first served! terms will be made handy! m. keller. nathaniel pryor--sometimes known as don miguel n. pryor or prior--is the pioneer referred to by keller. at the age of thirty, it is said, in 1828, he came here, and fifteen or twenty years later, about the time that he was a _regidor_ or councilman, was one of eight or ten easterners who had farms within the pueblo district. his property, in part a vineyard, included what is now commercial to first streets and possibly from los angeles street to the river; on it was an adobe which is still standing on jackson street, and is the only mud-brick structure in that section. for a while, and probably because he had loaned pryor some money, f. p. f. temple had an interest in the estate. pryor was twice married, having a son, charles, by his first wife, and a son, nathaniel, jr., by his second. pablo pryor of san juan was another son. the first mrs. pryor died about 1840, and is one of the few--with the mother of pio pico--buried inside of the old church at the plaza. the second mrs. pryor, who inherited the property, died about 1857. a granddaughter, mrs. lottie pryor, is a surviving member of this family. during the administration of padre blas raho, a genial, broad-minded italian, several attempts were made, beginning with 1857 or 1858, to improve the old church at the plaza; and in 1861, the historic edifice, so long unchanged, was practically rebuilt. the front adobe wall, which had become damaged by rains, was taken down and reconstructed of brick; some alterations were made in the tower; and the interesting old tiled roof was replaced--to the intense regret of later and more appreciative generations--with modern, less durable shingles. a fence was provided, and trees, bushes and plants were set out. the church was also frescoed, inside and out, by henri penelon, the french pioneer artist and photographer, who painted upon the wall the following inscription: _los fieles de esta parroquia á la reina de los angeles, 1861._[23] early in march, sanchez street was opened by the common council. it was opposite the northern section of arcadia block, passed through the properties of sanchez, pico, coronel and others, and terminated at the plaza. the los angeles mounted rifles, part of the five thousand militia wanted by california, was organized on march 6th at a meeting in the court house presided over by george w. gift, with m. j. newmark, who became an officer in the company, as secretary. late in march, john fröhling rented from the city fathers a space under the temple market building for a wine cellar; and in december, 1860, at the close of his vintage, when he had conducted a hearty harvest-home celebration, he filled the vault with pipes and other casks containing twenty thousand or more gallons of native wines. in a corner, a bar was speedily built; and by many angeleños that day not associated with at least one pilgrimage to fröhling's cool and rather obscure recesses was considered incomplete. few who witnessed the momentous events of 1861 will forget the fever-heat of the nation. the startling news of the attack on fort sumter took twelve days by pony express to reach the coast, the overland telegraph not being completed until six months later; but when, on the twenty-fourth of april, the last messenger in the relay of riders dashed into san francisco with the story, an excited population was soon seething about the streets. san francisco instantly flashed the details south, awakening here much the same mingled feelings of elation and sorrow. when the war thus broke out, albert sidney johnston, a fellow-townsman who had married a sister of dr. j. s. griffin, and who, in 1857, had successfully placed utah under federal control, resigned from his command as head of the department of the pacific--general edwin v. sumner succeeding him--and, being a southerner, left for the south, by way of warner's ranch and the overland route, with about a hundred companions, most of whom were intercepted at fort yuma through the orders of captain w. s. hancock. according to senator cornelius cole, sumner arrived at johnston's headquarters in san francisco after dark; and in spite of johnston's protest, insisted on assuming command at once. johnston took up arms for the confederacy, and was made a brigadier-general; but at shiloh he was killed, the news of his death causing here the sincerest regret. i shall speak of the loss of one of general johnston's sons in the disaster to the _ada hancock_; another son, william preston, became president of tulane university. others of our more enthusiastic southerners, such as cameron e. thom and j. lancaster brent, also joined the rebellion and proceeded to the seat of war. thom, who has since attained much distinction, returned to los angeles, where he is still living[24]. brent never came back here, having settled near new orleans; and there i again met him, while i was attending the exposition. he had fought through the war, becoming a general before its close; and he told me that he had been arrested by federal officers while on his way to the south from los angeles, but had made his escape. among the very few who went to the front on the union side and returned here was charles meyrs jenkins, already referred to as a city _zanjero_. owing to the possible need of troops here, as well as to the cost of transportation, volunteers from the pacific slope were not called for and jenkins joined an eastern cavalry battalion organized in october, 1862. even then, he and his comrades were compelled to pay their own way to the atlantic seaboard, where they were incorporated into the second massachusetts cavalry. jenkins engaged in twenty battles, and for fifteen months was a prisoner of war confined at both andersonville and libby; suffering such terrible hardships that he was but one of three, out of a hundred and fifty of his battalion, who came out alive. not everyone possibly even among those familiar with the building of the los angeles & san pedro railroad, knows that an effort was made, as far back as 1861, to finance a railroad here. about the middle of february in that year, murray morrison and abel stearns, assemblymen, learned of the willingness of eastern capitalists to build such a road within eighteen months, providing the county would subscribe one hundred thousand dollars toward the undertaking, and the city fifty thousand. the legislature therefore on may 17th, 1861, granted the franchise; but important as was the matter to our entire district, nothing further was done until 1863 to give life to the movement. for almost a decade after i came here, st. valentine's day was seldom observed in los angeles; but about 1861 or 1862, the annual exchange of decorated cards, with their sentimental verses, came to be somewhat general. phineas banning was a staunch republican and an ardent abolitionist; and it was not extraordinary that on may 25th, at a grand union demonstration in los angeles, he should have been selected to present to the union club, in his characteristically vigorous manner, an american flag made for the occasion. columbus sims, as president, accepted the emblem, after which there was a procession, led by the first dragoons' band, many participants being on horseback. in those days such a procession had done its duty when it tramped along main street and around the plaza and back, by way of spring street, as far as first; and everyone was in the right frame of mind to hear and enjoy the patriotic speeches made by captain winfield scott hancock, general ezra drown and major james henry carleton, while in the distance was fired a salute of thirty-four guns--one for each state in the union. senator william mckendree gwin was another man of prominence. following his search for gold with the forty-niners--due, he used to say, to advice from john c. calhoun, who, probably taking his cue from dana's prophecy in _two years before the mast_, one day put his finger on the map and predicted that, should the bay now called san francisco ever be possessed by americans, a city rivaling new york would spring up on its shores--gwin came to los angeles occasionally, and never forgot to visit me at my home. in 1861, he was arrested by the federal government for his known sympathy with the south, and was kept a prisoner for a couple of years; after which he went to france and there planned to carry through, under force of arms, the colonization of sonora, mexico, depending in vain on napoleon iii. and maximilian for support. notwithstanding this futile effort, gwin became a leader in national democratic councils, and was an intimate adviser of samuel j. tilden in his historic campaign. oscar macy, son of dr. obed macy, having as a newspaper man enthusiastically advocated the election of frémont in 1856, was appointed, on lincoln's inauguration, to the collectorship of customs at san pedro; a post which he continued to fill even after the office had been reduced to an inspectorship, later resigning in favor of george c. alexander. this recalls another appointment by lincoln--that of major antónio maría pico, a nephew of pio pico, to the receivership of public moneys at los angeles. pico lived at san josé; and finding that his new duties exiled him from his family, he soon resigned the office. old-time barbers, as the reader may be aware, were often surgeons, and the arrival in commercial street, in the early sixties, of j. a. meyer, "late of san francisco," was announced in part as follows: gentlemen will be waited on and have shaving, hair-dressing, and shampooing prepared in the most luxurious manner, and in the finest style of the art; while cupping, bleeding, and teeth-extracting will also be attended to! fort tejón had been pretty well broken up by june, when a good deal of the army property was moved to los angeles. along with uncle sam's bag and baggage, came thirty or more of the camels previously mentioned, including half a dozen "young uns." for some months they were corralled uncomfortably near the genial quartermaster's main street office; but in october they were removed to a yard fixed up for them on d. anderson's premises, opposite the second street schoolhouse. starting with the cook brought to los angeles by joseph newmark, the chinese population in 1861 had increased to twenty-one men and eight women--a few of them cooks and servants, but most of them working in five or six laundries. about the middle of june of that year, chun chick arrived from san francisco and created a flurry, not merely in chinatown, but throughout our little city, by his announcement that he would start a store here; and by the thirteenth of july, this pioneer chinese shop, a veritable curiosity shop, was opened. the establishment was on spring street, opposite the court house; and besides a general assortment of chinese goods, there was a fine display of preserves and other articles hitherto not obtainable in town. chun chick was clever in his appeals of "a chinese merchant to the public;" but he nevertheless joined the celebrities advertised for delinquent taxes. chun chick--or, as he appeared on the tax collector's list, chick chun--was down for five hundred dollars in merchandise, with one dollar and twenty-five cents for city, and the same amount for school taxes. sing hop, ching hop and ah hong were other chinamen whose memory failed at the critical tax time of that year. for years, until wharves made possible for thousands the pleasures of rod and reel, clams, since used for bait, were almost a drug on the market, being hawked about the streets in 1861 at a dollar a bucket--a price not very remunerative considering that they came from as far north as san buenaventura. footnotes: [22] a term locally applied to tugs. [23] "the faithful of this parish, to the queen of the angels." [24] captain thom died on february 2d, 1915. chapter xxi hancock--lady franklin--the deluge 1861 when the civil war began, california and the neighboring territory showed such pronounced southern sympathies that the national government kept both under close surveillance, for a time stationing major, afterward general james henry carleton--in 1862 sent across the colorado river when the government drove out the texans--with a force at camp latham, near ballona, and dispatching another force to drum barracks, near wilmington. the government also established a thorough system of espionage over the entire southwest. in los angeles and vicinity, many people, some of whom i mention elsewhere, were arrested; among them being henry schaeffer who was taken to wilmington barracks but through influential friends was released after a few days. on account of the known political views of their proprietors, some of the hotels also were placed under watch for a while; but beyond the wrath of the innkeepers at the sentinels pacing up and down their verandas, nothing more serious transpired. men on both sides grew hot-headed and abused one another roundly, but few bones were broken and little blood was shed. a policy of leniency was adopted by the authorities, and sooner or later persons arrested for political offenses were discharged. the ominous tidings from beyond the colorado, and their effect, presaging somewhat the great internecine conflict, recalls an unpublished anecdote of winfield scott hancock, who was a graduate of west point, an intense patriot and a "natural born" fighter. one day in 1861, coincident with the texan invasion, and while i was visiting him in his office on main street near third (after he had removed from the upstairs rooms adjoining the odd fellows' hall in the temple building), john goller dropped in with the rumor that conspirators, in what was soon to become arizona, were about to seize the government stores. hancock was much wrought up when he heard the report, and declared, with angry vehemence, that he would "treat the whole damned lot of them as common thieves!" in the light of this demonstration and his subsequent part as a national character of great renown, hancock's speech at the fourth of july celebration, in 1861, when the patriotic angeleños assembled at the plaza and marched to the shady grove of don luis sainsevain, is worthy of special note. hancock made a sound argument for the preservation of the union, and was heartily applauded; and a few days afterward one of the local newspapers, in paying him a deserved tribute, almost breathed an augury in saying: captain hancock's loyalty to the stars and stripes has never for a moment been doubted, and we hope he may be advanced in rank and honors, and live to a green old age, to see the glorious banner of our country yet waving in peaceful glory over a united, prosperous, and happy people. few of us, however, who heard hancock speak on that occasion, dreamed to what high position he would eventually attain. soon after this episode, that is, in the early part of august, 1861, hancock left for the front, in company with his wife; and taking with him his military band, he departed from san pedro on the steamer _senator_. some of my readers may know that mrs. hancock--after whom the ill-fated _ada hancock_ was named--was a southern woman, and though very devoted to her husband, had certain natural sympathies for the south; but none, i dare say, will have heard how she perpetrated an amusing joke upon him on their way north. when once out upon the briny deep, she induced the musicians to play _dixie_, to the great amusement of the passengers. like many southerners, mrs. hancock was an episcopalian and frequently contributed her unusual musical talent to the service of the choir of st. athanasius church, the little edifice for a while at the foot of pound cake hill--first the location of the los angeles high school and now of the county courthouse--and the forerunner of the episcopal pro-cathedral, on olive street opposite central park. having in mind the sojourn in los angeles for years of these representative americans, the following editorial from the los angeles _star_ on the departure of the future general and presidential nominee, seems to me now of more than passing significance: while resident here, captain hancock took great interest in our citizens, the development of our resources, and the welfare of this section of the country; and as a public-spirited, enterprising gentleman, he will be missed from among us, and his most estimable lady will long live in the hearts of her many friends. we desire their prosperity, happiness, and long life, wherever their lot may be cast. the establishing of drum barracks and camp drum at wilmington was a great contribution to the making of that town, for the government not only spent over a million dollars in buildings and works there, and constantly drew on the town for at least part of its supplies, but provisions of all kinds were sent through wilmington to troops in southern california, utah, yuma, tucson and vicinity, and new mexico. p. h., popularly known as major downing, was employed by banning for some time during the war to take charge of the great wagon-trains of government supplies sent inland; and later he opened a general merchandise store in wilmington, after which he transacted a large volume of business with h. newmark & company. at the breaking out of the war, the southern overland mail route was discontinued and a contract was made with butterfield for service along a more central course, by way of great salt lake. there was then a stage six times a week; and a branch line ran to denver, the terminus having been changed from st. joseph to omaha. twenty days was the time allowed the company to get its stages through during eight months of the year, and twenty-three days for the more uncertain winter months. this contract was made for three years, and one million dollars a year was the compensation allowed the butterfields. after the war, the old route was resumed. j. de barth shorb came to los angeles at the commencement of the war, as assistant superintendent of the philadelphia & california oil company; and in 1867 he bought the temescal grant and began to mine upon the property. the same year he married a daughter of b. d. wilson, establishing a relationship which brought him a partnership in the san gabriel wine company, of which he eventually became manager. his position in this community, until he died in 1895, was important, the little town of shorb testifying to one of his activities. not only were the followers of the indefatigable _padres_ rather tardy in taking up the cultivation of olives, but the olive-oil industry hereabouts was a still later venture. as an illustration, even in 1861 somewhat less than five hundred gallons of olive oil was made in all los angeles county, and most of that was produced at the san fernando mission. how important was the office of the _zanjero_, may be gathered from the fact that in 1861 he was paid twelve hundred dollars a year, while the mayor received only eight hundred dollars and the treasurer two hundred dollars less than the mayor. at the same time, the marshal, owing to the hazardous duties of his office, received as much as the mayor; the city attorney one hundred dollars less than the treasurer; and the clerk but three hundred and fifty. by 1861, there were serious doubts as to the future of cattle-raising in southern california, but banning & company came forward proposing to slaughter at new san pedro and contracted with john temple, john rains and others, to do their killing. for a while, the enterprise was encouraged; temple alone having six hundred head so disposed of and sold. in september, columbus sims, the popular attorney of unique personality who from 1856 to 1860 had been clerk of the united states district court, was appointed lieutenant-colonel in the united states army and placed in charge of camp alert, at the pioneer race course, san francisco, where twelve companies were soon assembled; and a month or two later he was made colonel in the second cavalry. late in december of that year, however, he had an altercation with d. d. colton, in san francisco, when blows were exchanged and sims drew "a deadly weapon." for this, the doughty colonel was arrested and held to await the action of the grand jury; but i am under the impression that nothing very serious befell the belligerent sims as a result. on september 11th, h. stassforth, after having bought out a. w. schulze, announced a change in the control of the united states hotel, inviting the public, at the same time, to a "free lunch," at half-past four o'clock the following sunday. stassforth was an odd, but interesting character, and stated in his advertisement that guests were at liberty, when they had partaken of the collation, to judge if he could "keep a hotel." whether successful or otherwise, stassforth did not long continue in control, for in november, 1862, he disposed of the business to webber & haas, who in turn sold it to louis mesmer. in the fall, an atrocious murder took place here, proving but the first in a series of vile deeds for which, eventually, the culprit paid with his own life at the hands of an infuriated populace. on sunday evening, september 30th, some frenchmen were assembled to sit up with the body of one of their recently-deceased countrymen; and at about eleven o'clock a quarrel arose between two of the watchers, a. m. g., or michel lachenais--a man once of good repute, who had cast some slurs at the french benevolent society--and henry delaval, a respected employee of the aliso mills who spiritedly defended the organization. lachenais drew a weapon, approached delaval and tried to shoot him; but the pistol missed fire. thereupon lachenais, enraged, walked toward a lamp, adjusted two other caps, and deliberately shot delaval through the body. the next day his victim died. lachenais made his escape and so eluded the authorities that it was not until the middle of february, 1866, that he surrendered himself to deputy sheriff henderson. then he was tried, but was acquitted. about october, remi nadeau, a canadian, after whom nadeau street is named and father of george a. nadeau, came across the plains to los angeles, having spent the previous winter, _en route_, in salt lake city; and for a while he teamed between here and montana. within the year, believing that san francisco offered a larger field, he moved to that city and continued his operations there. in the front part of a little building on main street, between second and third, lorenzo leck, whom i have already mentioned, conducted a grocery, living with his family in the rear. he was a plain, unassuming, honest dane of the old school, who attended scrupulously to his business and devoted his sundays and holidays to modest amusements. on such days, he would put his wife, caroline, and their children on a little wagon that he owned and take them to his vineyard on the outskirts of the town; and there he would enjoy with them those rural pastimes to which he had been accustomed in the fatherland, and which to many early-comers here were a source of rest and delight. on the afternoon of saturday, october 17th, francisco cota, a mexican boy fifteen years of age, entered leck's store while he was out, and, taking advantage of the fact that frau leck was alone, whipped out a knife, stabbed her to death, stole what cash was in sight and then escaped to a vineyard, where he hid himself. john w. henderson, the son of a. j. henderson, a deputy sheriff here still living in los angeles, came in soon after and finding mrs. leck horribly disfigured, he gave the alarm. neighbors and friends at once started in pursuit and caught cota; and having tied a rope around the murderer's neck during the excitement they dragged him down to alameda street, where i witnessed the uproar. as they proceeded by way of aliso street, the mob became more and more infuriated, so that before it reached the spot which had been selected for his execution, the boy had been repeatedly stabbed and was nearly dead. at length, he was strung up as a warning to other malefactors. a short time after this melancholy event, i was driving with my wife to the cerritos _rancho_ and, missing our road, we stopped at a mexican home to inquire the way. the woman who answered our summons proved to be one who knew, and was known by all los angeles merchants on account of her frequent excursions to town; she was, in fact, the mother of the mexican boy who had been mobbed and hung for the murder of poor leck's wife! the sight of _gringos_ kindled anew her maternal wrath; and she set up such a hue and cry as to preclude any further intelligible conversation. california being so far removed from the seat of war did not awake to its full significance until the credit of the government began to decline. four weeks were required, it is well to remember, to complete the trip from new york to san francisco _via_ panamá, and our knowledge of events in the east was far from perfect. until the completion of the continental telegraph in october, 1861, the only immediate news that reached the coast came privately and we were, therefore, pretty much in the dark until the arrival of eastern papers, and even after that telegraphing was so expensive that our poorly-patronized little news-sheets could not afford the outlay. a few of us therefore made up a purse of one hundred dollars a month, which small sum enabled us to allay our anxiety at least in the case of very important happenings. it must not be forgotten, though, that we then had a little relief from san francisco, whose newspapers, containing some telegraphic despatches, arrived in town perhaps three to four days after their publication. i may add, in fact, that it was not until about the beginning of the eighties that los angeles dailies could afford the luxury of regular direct telegrams. in other respects as well, editing a local newspaper during the war was apt to entail financial loss. the los angeles _news_, for instance, was outspoken for the union and so escaped the temporary eclipse suffered by the _star_ through government censorship; but the unionists being in a decided minority in the community, pickings for the _news_ were mighty poor. perhaps this want of patronage suggested the advisability, in 1863 (when that paper was published by c. r. conway and alonzo waite, on main street, opposite the express office), of reducing the subscription rate to five dollars a year. probably one of the most interesting visits to los angeles ever made by a well-known personage was the sudden call with which lady franklin, the wife of the eminent, lost arctic explorer, honored our little town far back in 1861. the distinguished lady, accompanied by mrs. cracroft, her niece, commodore and madame watkins and collector and mrs. rankin, arrived at san pedro on the _golden state_ during the first week in november and was driven, with her companions, to the bella union hotel, from which she made such short excursions about the city as were then possible; and as sympathy for her in her sorrow, and admiration for her long years of plucky though vain search for her husband were still general, every courtesy possible was afforded her. during lady franklin's stay benjamin d. wilson arranged a delightful garden party at his hospitable mansion at lake vineyard in her ladyship's honor, and phineas banning also entertained her with a reception and collation at his san pedro home; and these receptions and collations were as enjoyable as they were notable. after a day or two, lady franklin and her party left on the _senator_ for san francisco, being accorded, as the vessel weighed anchor, a marked ovation. for many years funerals were attended by men on horseback and by women on foot, as hacks were unknown in early days; and while the good citizens were doubtless then conducted to their last resting-place in a manner just as satisfactory to themselves as are their descendants who are buried according to present-day customs, those who followed in the train were very seriously inconvenienced by the melancholy, dusty processions to the old and now-forgotten burial-grounds; for in those days the trip, in summer exceedingly hot and in winter through rain and mud, was a long, fatiguing one. speaking of funerals, a strange sight was witnessed in our streets about the end of november, 1861, attending the burial of a child. the father and mother, both native californians, were seated in a wagon, in which was also placed the strikingly plain little coffin or box containing the dead. beside the wagon walked an old man, playing a fiddle. two or three persons followed in the deep mud; the whole forming a weird picture, said to be the relic of an almost obsolete back-woods custom. banning & hinchman's _comet_ proving insufficient, the _gondolier_ was put on in the fall of 1861 and became a familiar craft in the conveying of passengers and freight between new san pedro and the ships lying off the harbor. two years previous to the completion of the telegraph from san francisco to los angeles--that is, in 1858--the first continental telegraph was undertaken; and by october, 1861, governor downey of california sent a congratulatory message to president lincoln. on november 7th, the line was open to the public. several months before, all the companies in the state had consolidated into the california state telegraph company. banning & hinchman having succeeded, for a short season, phineas banning, the sub-contractor for the building of the first telegraph, they made an effort, following the establishment of communication between the atlantic and the pacific, to secure a line to new san pedro; and at the end of october, 1861, the first telegraph pole in the long row from los angeles to the harbor was formally set. about the middle of november, this line was completed; and though it was widely proclaimed as "working like a charm," the apparatus soon got out of order and by the following january there were many complaints that both poles and wire had fallen to the ground, blocking the thoroughfares and entangling animals in such a way as to become a nuisance. indeed, there was soon a public demand either to repair the telegraph or to remove it altogether and throw the equipment away. soon after the first of february, 1862, the line was working again; but by that time the telegraph to san francisco had gotten out of order! and so great were the difficulties in repairing that line, that los angeles was not again talking uninterruptedly over the wire with its neighbor until july. on november 15th, the first number of _el amigo del pueblo_, printed in spanish, appeared from the shop of josé e. gonzales & company; but native support being withheld, "the friend of the people" starved to death in the following may. whaling, like shark-hunting, continued brisk in 1861 and 1862, and many vessels were fitted out at san pedro; los angeles merchants selling them most of their supplies. the sea-monsters usually moved up the coast about the first of the year, the males keeping in toward the shore going up, and the females hugging the coast, coming down; and small boats such as captain w. clark's _ocean_, used to take from four hundred and fifty to five hundred barrels of oil in five or six weeks. for six days, in march, 1862, san pedro whalers harpooned a whale a day, bringing to the landing over two hundred barrels of oil as a result of the week's labor. the bitter fight between abolitionists and southern sympathizers was immediately reflected in the public schools. defenders of the union worked for a formal oath of allegiance to the national government, as a preliminary to granting teachers' certificates; while the confederates, incensed at what they deemed a violation of personal rights, assailed the institutions. the result was that attendance at the public schools gradually fell off until, in the winter of 1865-66, only about three hundred and fifty children of school age were being instructed by public teachers; another third of a thousand was in private schools, while some three hundred and sixty-nine were not on any roster. the gloom naturally caused by the outbreak of war was sometimes penetrated by the brightness of social life, and among the happier occasions of the winter of 1861 was the marriage, on december 23d, in the presence of a large circle of friends, of tom d. mott to ascención, daughter of don josé andrés and doña francisca ábila sepúlveda. the winter of 1861-62 recorded the greatest of all floods, especially in the north where, in december and january, something like thirty-five inches of rain was precipitated. in los angeles county the rivers soon rose and overflowed the lowlands; but the rise was gradual, causing the loss of but few or no lives and permitting the stock to reach the neighboring hills in safety. in anaheim the water was four feet deep in the streets and people had to seek flight to the uplands or retreat to the roofs of their little houses. vineyards were sometimes half-ruined with the layers of deep sand; banks of streams were lined for miles with driftwood; and ranchers saw many a clod of their farms carried off and deposited to enrich their neighbors, miles away. for a month it rained so steadily that the sun peeped out for scarcely an hour. i witnessed this inundation in los angeles, where much damage was done to business buildings, especially to mellus's row, and saw merchants in water up to their waists, trying to save their goods. the wall of the room occupied by sam meyer fell first, whereupon hellman & brother became intensely interested in the removal of their stock, while poor sam, knee-deep in water, sadly contemplated his losses. before the hellmans had made much headway, they observed a tendency on the part of their walls to crumble, and their exit was neither graceful nor delayed. after that the store occupied by meyer & breslauer caved in, smashing show cases and shelves, and ruining a large amount of merchandise. the ludicrous picture of this rush for "safety first" is not a fit reflection of the feelings of those pioneers who saw the results of years of labor obliterated in a moment. friends and neighbors lent assistance to the unfortunate, and helped to save what they could. after this flood, hellman & brother and sam meyer removed to the arcadia block, while meyer & breslauer secured accommodations north of the plaza church. chapter xxii droughts--the _ada hancock_ disaster 1862-1863 on the first of january, 1862, after an experience of about five years, i retired from the selling of clothing, which was never congenial to me; and as i had been buying hides and wool on a small scale since the middle of the fifties, i forthwith devoted myself to the commission business. frenchmen from the basque country, among whom were miguel leonis, gaston oxarart, domingo amestoy and domingo bastanchury, had commenced to appear here in 1858 and to raise sheep; so that in 1859 large flocks were brought into southern california, the sheep commanding a price of three dollars and a half per head. my own operations, exceedingly small in the beginning, increased in importance, and by 1862 i was fairly equipped for this venture. corn, barley and wheat were also then being raised, and i busied myself with these commodities as well. [illustration: eugene meyer] [illustration: jacob a. moerenhout] [illustration: frank lecouvreur] [illustration: thomas d. mott] [illustration: leonard j. rose] [illustration: h. k. s. o'melveny] [illustration: remi nadeau] [illustration: john m. griffith] most of the early sheepmen prospered and in time bought large tracts of land for their flocks, and with all of them i had dealings of more or less importance. amestoy's career is worthy of particular mention as exemplifying the three cardinal virtues of business: honesty, application and frugality. he and his wife took in washing; and while the husband went from house to house, leading a horse with a large basket strapped to either side, to collect and deliver the clothes, the wife toiled at the tub. in the end, what they together had saved became the foundation of their important investments in sheep and land. pedro larronde, another early sheepman, married the widow of his basque fellow-countryman, etchemendy, the tippling baker. having regularly established a commission business, i brought consignments of varied merchandise from san francisco on the semi-monthly steamer _goliah_, whose captain at one time was robert haley, and at another his brother salisbury haley, a brother-in-law of tom mott; and i disposed of them to small dealers with whom i thus became pretty well acquainted. these consignments were sold almost as soon as they arrived. i was careful to bring in only staple articles in the grocery line, and it was long before i appreciated the advantage of carrying sufficient stock to supply a regular demand. on the return trips of the steamer to san francisco i forwarded such produce as i had accumulated. i do not recall any important changes in 1862, the declining months of which saw the beginning of the two years' devastating drought. the civil war was in progress, but we were so far from the scene of strife that we were not materially affected. sympathy was very general here for the confederate cause, and the government therefore retained in wilmington both troops and clerks who were paid in a badly-depreciated currency, which they were obliged to discount at exorbitant rates, to get money at all; while other employees had to accept vouchers which were subject to a still greater discount. notwithstanding these difficulties, however, pay-day increased the resources of the pueblo considerably. hellman & brother, a partnership consisting of i. m. and samuel hellman, dissolved, on january 2d, i. m. continuing in the dry goods business while sam took the books and stationery. another brother and associate, h. m. hellman, a couple of years before had returned to europe, where he died. if my memory is accurate, i. w. remained with i. m. hellman until the former, in 1865, bought out a. portugal. samuel a. widney, who later had a curio store, was for a while with sam hellman in a partnership known as hellman & widney. on january 17th, don louis vignes passed away in los angeles, at the age of ninety-one years. january also witnessed one of those typical scenes, in the fitting out of a muleand wagon-train, never likely to be seen in los angeles again. two hundred wagons and twelve hundred mules, mostly brought from san francisco on steamers, were assembled for a trip across the desert to convey government stores. m. j. newmark became a partner, on february 1st, in the firm of howard, butterworth & newmark, federal and state attorneys with offices in the temple building, los angeles, and armory hall, san francisco; and it was considered at the time a rapid advance for a man of but twenty-three years of age. the los angeles _star_ of that date, in fact, added a word of good fellowship: "we congratulate friend newmark on the association." the intimate relations characteristic of a small community such as ours, and the much more general effect then than nowadays of any tragical occurrence have already been described. deep sympathy was therefore awakened, early in february, on the arrival of the steamer _senator_ and the rapid dissemination of the report that dr. thomas foster, the ex-mayor, had been lost overboard, on january 29th, on the boat's trip northward. just what happened to foster will never be known; in san francisco it was reported that he had thrown himself into the sea, though others who knew him well looked upon the cause of his death as accidental. but slight attention was paid to the report, brought in by horsemen from san bernardino on february 4th, that an earthquake had occurred there in the morning, until captain tom seeley returned with the _senator_ to san pedro and told about a seismic disturbance at sea, during which he struck the wildest storm off point concepción, in all his sea-faring experience. sailors were then better all-round seamen than now; yet there was greater superstition in jack tar's mind, and such a storm made a deep impression upon his imagination. i have alluded to the dependence of los angeles on the outside world, no better evidence of which, perhaps, can be cited than that on the twenty-second of february, george w. chapin & company of san francisco advertised here to furnish servants and other help to anyone in the southland. about the same time, san bernardino parties, wishing to bore a little artesian well, had to send to the northern metropolis for the necessary machinery. in october, 1860, as i have intimated, phineas banning took a. f. hinchman into partnership, the firm being known as banning & hinchman, and they seemed to prosper; but on february 12th, 1862, the public was surprised at the announcement of the firm's dissolution. banning continued as proprietor, and hinchman became banning's los angeles agent. although cattle-raising was the mainstay of southern california for many years, and gold-mining never played a very important part here, wells fargo & co., during the spring, frequently shipped thousands of dollars' worth of gold at a time, gathered from santa anita, san gabriel and san fernando _placers_, while probably an equally large amount was forwarded out through other channels. i have already pointed to the clever foresight shown by abel stearns when he built the arcadia block and profited by the unhappy experience of others, with rain that flooded their property; but i have not stated that in elevating his new building considerably above the grade of the street, somewhat regardless of the rights of others, he caused the surplus water to run off into neighboring streets and buildings. following the great storm of 1861-62, the city sued stearns for damages, but he won his case. more than that, the overflow was a godsend to him, for it induced a number of people to move from mellus's row to arcadia block at a time when the owner of vast ranches and some of the best town property was already feeling the pinch of the alternate dry and over-wet seasons. the fact is, as i shall soon make clear, that before stearns had seen the end of two or three successive dry seasons yet to come, he was temporarily bankrupt and embarrassed to the utmost. by april, the walls and roof for the little protestant church at temple and new high streets had been built, and there the matter rested for two years, when the structure, on which the taxes were unpaid, was advertised for sale. we have seen that the first jewish services here were held soon after the arrival of joseph newmark in 1854; under the same disadvantageous conditions as had hampered the protestant denominations, mr. newmark volunteered to officiate on the principal holidays until 1862, when the reverend abraham wolf edelman arrived. born at warsaw in 1832, rabbi edelman came to america in 1851, immediately after he was married to miss hannah pessah cohn, and settled successively in new york, paterson and buffalo. coming to california in 1859, he resided in san francisco until 1862, when he was chosen rabbi of the orthodox congregation b'nai b'rith of los angeles, and soon attained distinction as a talmudic scholar and a preacher. the first services under rabbi edelman were held in stearns's, or arcadia hall; next, the congregation worshipped in leck's hall on main street between second and third; and finally, through the courtesy of judge ygnácio sepúlveda, the court room was used. in 1873 the jews of los angeles erected their first synagogue, a brick building entered by a steep stairway leading to a platform, and located on the east side of fort street between second and third, on what is now the site of the copp building next to the city hall. in 1886, when local jewry instituted a much more liberal ritual, rabbi edelman's convictions induced him to resign. the purchase of a lot for a home on the corner of sixth and main streets proved a fortunate investment, later enabling him to enjoy a well-deserved comfort and to gratify his charitable inclinations. it is a strange coincidence that reverend edelman's first marriage ceremony was that which blessed samuel prager; while the last occasion on which he performed the solemn rites for the dead--shortly before his own death in 1907--was for the same friend. a. m. edelman, the architect, and dr. d. w. edelman, both well-known here, are sons of the rabbi. as late in the season as april, hail and snow fell in and near los angeles. to the north of the city, the white mantle quite hid the mountains and formed a new and lower snow-line; while within the city, the temperature so lowered that at several intervals during the day, huge hail-stones beat against the window-panes--a very unusual experience for angeleños. because of political charges preferred against a. j. king, then under sheriff of the county, the latter, on april 10th, was arrested by henry d. barrows, united states marshal, who had been appointed by president lincoln, the year previous. colonel carleton, commander of the southern military division, however, soon liberated king. on the last day of the year, the under sheriff married the estimable miss laura c. evertsen. travelers to europe have often suffered much annoyance through safe-conduct regulations, but seldom have americans had their liberty thus restricted by their own authorities. toward the middle of june, word was received in los angeles that, owing to the suspicion lest disloyalists were embarking for aspinwall, all passengers for california _via_ the isthmus would be required to take out passports. anticipating, by forty years or more, luther burbank's work, attention was directed, as early as 1862, to the possibility of eating the cactus and thus finding, in this half-despised plant of the desert, relief from both hunger and thirst. half a century later, in 1913, los angeles established the cactus candy industry through which the boiled pulp of the _bisnaga_, often spoken of as the fishhook, barrel and nigger-head variety, is made deliciously palatable when siruped from ten to thirty days. ygnácio sepúlveda, declared by the los angeles _star_ "a young gentleman of liberal education, and good, natural endowments, already versed in legal studies," on september 6th was admitted to the district court bar. on january 18th, 1860, the first number of the _semi-weekly southern news_ appeared, containing advertisements in both english and spanish. it was issued by c. r. conway and alonzo waite, who charged twenty-five cents a copy, or seven dollars a year. on october 8th, 1862, the title was changed to the _los angeles semi-weekly news_. in 1860, the bella union, as i have said, was under the management of john king, who came here in 1856; while in 1861 j. b. winston & company, who were represented by henry reed, controlled the hotel. in 1862 or 1863, john king and henry hammel were the managers. i have told of the purchase of the san pasqual _rancho_ by dr. j. s. griffin. on december 11th, dr. and mrs. griffin for five hundred dollars sold to b. d. wilson and wife some six hundred and forty acres of that property; and a few hours afterward the wilsons disposed of two hundred and sixty-two acres for one thousand dollars. the purchaser was mrs. eliza g. johnston, wife of general albert sidney johnston. mrs. johnston at once built a neat residence on the tract and called it _fair oaks_, after the plantation in virginia on which she had been born; and from this circumstance the name of the now well-known fair oaks avenue in pasadena is derived. at the time of her purchase mrs. johnston had hoped to reside there permanently; but the tragic fate of her son in the _ada hancock_ disaster, following the untimely death of her husband at shiloh, and the apparent uselessness of the land, led her to sell to judge b. s. eaton what to-day would be worth far more than thousands of acres in many parts of the southern states. a curious coincidence in the relations of general sumner, who superseded general johnston, to the hero of shiloh is that, later in the war, sumner led a corps of union troops at fair oaks, virginia! don ygnácio coronel, father of antónio franco coronel, and the early school patron to whom i have referred, died in los angeles on december 19th, aged seventy years. he had come to california in 1834, and had long been eminent in political councils and social circles. i recall him as a man of strong intellect and sterling character, kind-hearted and popular. another effort, without success, to use camels for transportation over the california and adjacent sands, was made in january, 1863, when a camel express was sent out from new san pedro to tucson. elsewhere i have indicated the condition of the public cemetery. while an adobe wall enclosed the roman catholic burial-place, and a brick wall surrounded the jewish resting-place for the dead, nothing was done until 1863 to improve the protestant cemetery, although desecration went so far that the little railing around the grave of poor mrs. leck, the grocer's wife who had been murdered, was torn down and burned. finally, the matter cried to heaven so audibly that in january, los angeles masons appropriated one hundred and fifty dollars, to be added to some five hundred dollars raised by popular subscription; and the common council having appointed a committee to supervise the work, william h. perry put up the fence, making no charge for his services. about the middle of january word was received in los angeles of the death, at baltimore, of colonel b. l. beall, commander for years of the fort tejón garrison, and active in the mojave and kern river campaigns. death entered our home for the first time, when an infant daughter, less than a month old, died this year on february 14th. in february, the editor of the _news_ advised the experiment of growing cotton as an additional activity for the colorado indians, who were already cultivating corn, beans and melons. whether this suggestion led william workman into cotton culture, i do not know; at any rate, late in november of the same year f. p. f. temple was exhibiting about town some well-matured bolls of cotton raised on workman's ranch, and the next spring saw in el monte a number of fields planted with cotton seed. a year later, j. moerenhout sent los angeles cotton to an exhibition in france, and received from across the water official assurance that the french judges regarded our product as quite equal to that grown in the southern states. this gave a slight impetus to cotton-culture here and by january, 1865, a number of immigrants had arrived, looking for suitable land for the production of this staple. they soon went to work, and in august of that year many fields gave promise of good crops, far exceeding the expectations of the experimenters. in the month of march a lively agitation on behalf of a railroad began in the public press, and some bitter things were said against those who, for the sake of a little trade in horses or draying, were opposed to such a forward step; and under the leadership of e. j. c. kewen and j. a. watson, our assemblymen at that session, the legislature of 1863 passed an act authorizing the construction of the los angeles & san pedro railroad. a public meeting was called to discuss the details and to further the project; but once more no railroad was built or even begun. strange as it seems, the idea of a railroad for los angeles county in 1863 was much too advanced for the times. billed as one who had "had the honor of appearing before king william iv. and all the principal crowned heads of europe," professor courtier held forth with an exhibition of magic in the temple theatre; drawing the usual crowd of--royalty-haters! in 1863, santa catalina was the scene of a gold-mining boom which soon came to naught, and through an odd enough occurrence. about april, martin m. kimberly and daniel e. way staked out a claim or two, and some miners agreed on a code of laws for operations in what was to be known as the san pedro mining district, the boundaries of which were to include all the islands of the county. extensive claims, chiefly in cherry and joly valleys and on mineral hill, were recorded, and streets were laid out for a town to be known as queen city; but just as the boom seemed likely to mature, the national government stepped in and gave a quietus to the whole affair. with or without foundation, reports had reached the federal authorities that the movement was but a cloak to establish there well-fortified confederate headquarters for the fitting out and repair of privateers intended to prey upon the coast-wise traders; and on february 5th, 1864, captain b. r. west, commanding the fourth california infantry, ordered practically all of the miners and prospectors to leave the island at once. the following september the national troops were withdrawn, and after the war the federal authorities retained control of a point on the island deemed serviceable for lighthouse purposes. in the spring of 1863, feeling ill, i went to san francisco to consult dr. toland, who assured me that there was nothing serious the matter with me; but wishing to satisfy myself more thoroughly, i resorted to the same means that i dare say many others have adopted--a medical examination for life insurance! bernhard gattel, general agent of the germania life insurance company, at 315 montgomery street, wrote out my application; and on march 20th, a policy, numbered 1472, was issued, making me, since the fall of 1913, the oldest living policy-holder in the southwest, and the twentieth oldest of the germania's patrons in the world. californians, during that period of the war when the north was suffering a series of defeats, had little use for greenbacks. at one time, a dollar in currency was worth but thirty-five cents, though early in april it was accepted at sixty-five, late in august at ninety, and about the first of october at seventy-five cents; even interest-bearing gold notes being worth no more. this condition of the money market saw little change until some time in the seventies; and throughout the war greenbacks were handled like any other commodity. frank lecouvreur, in one of these periods, after getting judgment in a suit against deputy surveyor william moore, for civil engineering services, and being paid some three hundred and eighty-three dollars in greenbacks, was disconcerted enough when he found that his currency would command but one hundred and eighty dollars in gold. san francisco merchants realized fortunes when a decline occurred, as they bought their merchandise in the east for greenbacks and sold it on the coast for gold. los angeles people, on the other hand, enjoyed no such benefit, as they brought their wares from san francisco and were therefore obliged to liquidate in specie. among the worst tragedies in the early annals of los angeles, and by far the most dramatic, was the disaster on april 27th to the little steamer _ada hancock_. while on a second trip, in the harbor of san pedro, to transfer to the _senator_ the remainder of the passengers bound for the north, the vessel careened, admitting cold water to the engine-room and exploding the boiler with such force that the boat was demolished to the water's edge; fragments being found on an island even half to three-quarters of a mile away. such was the intensity of the blast and the area of the devastation that, of the fifty-three or more passengers known to have been on board, twenty-six at least perished. fortunate indeed were those, including phineas banning, the owner, who survived with minor injuries, after being hurled many feet into the air. among the dead were thomas w. seeley, captain of the _senator_; joseph bryant, captain of the _ada hancock_; dr. h. r. myles, the druggist, who had been in partnership, opposite the bella union, with dr. j. c. welch, an arrival of the early fifties who died in 1869; thomas h. workman, banning's chief clerk; albert sidney johnston, jr.; william t. b. sanford, once postmaster; louis schlesinger and william ritchie, wells fargo's messenger, to whom was entrusted ten thousand dollars, which, as far as my memory goes, was lost. two mormon missionaries, _en route_ to the sandwich islands, were also killed. still another, who lost not only his treasure but his life, was fred e. kerlin of fort tejón: thirty thousand dollars which he carried with him, in greenbacks, disappeared as mysteriously as did the jewelry on the persons of others, and from these circumstances it was concluded that, even in the presence of death, these bodies had been speedily robbed. mrs. banning and her mother, mrs. sanford, and a daughter of b. d. wilson were among the wounded; while miss m. hereford, mrs. wilson's sister and the _fiancée_ of dr. myles, was so severely injured that, after long suffering, she also died. although the accident had happened about five o'clock in the afternoon, the awful news, casting a general and indescribable gloom, was not received in town until nearly eight o'clock; when drs. griffin and r. t. hayes, together with an army surgeon named todd, hastened in carriages to the harbor where soldiers from camp drum had already asserted their authority. many of the victims were buried near the beach at new san pedro. while i was calling upon mrs. johnston to express my sympathy, the body of her son was brought in; and words cannot describe the pathos of the scene when she addressed the departed as if he were but asleep. in june the government demanded a formal profession of loyalty from teachers, when miss mary hoyt and miss eliza madigan took the oath, but mrs. thomas foster and william mckee refused to do so. the incident provoked bitter criticism, and nothing being done to punish the recalcitrants, the los angeles board of education was charged with indifference as to the allegiance of its public servants. during 1863 sectional feeling had grown so bitter on account of the war that no attempt was made to celebrate the fourth of july in town. at fort latham, however, on the ballona ranch, the soldiers observed the day with an appropriate demonstration. by the end of july, troops had been sent from drum barracks to camp in the city--for the protection, so it was asserted, of union men whose lives were said to be in danger, although some people claimed that this movement was rather for the purpose of intimidating certain leaders with known sympathy for the south. this military display gave northerners more backbone; and on the twenty-sixth of september a union mass-meeting was held on main street in front of the lafayette hotel. eldridge edwards hewitt, a mexican war veteran who came to california in 1849 to search for gold, arrived in los angeles on july 31st and soon went on a wild-goose chase to the weaver diggings in arizona, actually tramping with luggage over five hundred miles of the way! after his return, he did odd jobs for his board, working in a stationery and toy store on main street, kept by the goldwater brothers, joe and mike, who had arrived in the early sixties; and later he entered the employ of phineas banning at wilmington, with whom he remained until the completion of the los angeles & san pedro railroad in 1870, when he became its superintendent. when the southern pacific obtained control of that road in 1873, hewitt was made agent, and after the extension of the line from san francisco he was appointed division superintendent. in that capacity he brought senator leland stanford to me, as i shall elsewhere relate, to solicit h. newmark and company's patronage. it was in 1863 that dr. j. s. griffin, father of east los angeles, purchased two thousand acres in that section, at fifty cents an acre; but even at that price he was only induced to buy it by necessity. griffin wanted sheep-pasture, and had sought to secure some eight hundred acres of city land along the river; but as this would prevent other cattle or sheep from approaching the water to drink, the common council refused griffin's bid on the smaller area of land and he was compelled to buy the _mesa_ farther back. it seems to me that b. d. wilson, j. g. downey and hancock m. johnston, general johnston's son, also had something to do with this transaction. both downey and griffin avenues derived their names from the association of these two gentlemen with that section. a smallpox epidemic which had started in the previous fall spread through los angeles in 1863, and owing possibly to the bad sanitary and climatic conditions much vigilance and time were required to eradicate it; compulsory vaccination not having been introduced (as it finally was at the suggestion of dr. walter lindley) until the summer of 1876. the dread disease worked its ravages especially among the mexicans and indians, as many as a dozen of them dying in a single day; and these sufferers and their associates being under no quarantine, and even bathing _ad libitum_ in the _zanjas_, the pest spread alarmingly. for a time fatalities were so frequent and the nature of the contagion so feared that it was difficult to persuade undertakers to bury the dead, even without funeral or other ceremony. following the opening of the owens river mines this year, los angeles merchants soon established a considerable trade with that territory. banning inaugurated a system of wagon-trains, each guarded by a detachment of soldiers. the san fernando mountains, impassable for heavy teaming, were an obstacle to regular trade with the new country and compelled the use of a circuitous route over poor roads. it became necessary, therefore, to consider a means of overcoming the difficulty, much money having already been spent by the county in an abortive attempt to build a tunnel. this second plan likewise came to naught, and it was in fact more than a decade before the southern pacific finally completed the famous bore. largely because of political mistakes, including a manifestation of sympathy for the southern confederacy that drew against him northern resentment and opposition, john g. downey, the democratic nominee for governor, was defeated at the election in september; frederick f. low, a republican, receiving a majority of over twenty thousand votes. in october, a peddler named brun was murdered near chino. brun's brother, living at san bernardino and subsequently a merchant of prominence there, offered two hundred dollars of his slender savings as a reward for the capture of the slayer; but nothing ever came of the search. in november the stern necessities of war were at last driven home to angeleños when, on the ninth of that somber month, don juan warner, deputy provost marshal, appeared with his big blank books and began to superintend the registering of all able-bodied citizens suitable for military service. to many, the inquisition was not very welcome and, had it not been for the union soldiers encamped at drum barracks, this first step toward compulsory enrollment would undoubtedly have resulted in riotous disturbances. i have frequently named tom mott, but i may not have said that he was one of the representative local democratic politicians of his day. he possessed, indeed, such influence with all classes that he was not only elected clerk of los angeles county in 1863, but succeeded himself in 1865, 1867 and 1869, afterward sitting in the state assembly; and in 1876, he was appointed a delegate to the national convention that nominated samuel j. tilden for the presidency. his relations in time with stanford, crocker, huntington and hopkins were very close, and for at least twenty-five years he acted as their political adviser in all matters appertaining to southern california. tall, erect and dignified, scrupulously attired and distinguished by his flowing beard, tom was for more than half a century a striking figure in los angeles. a most brutal murder took place on november 15th on the desert not far from los angeles, but few days passing before it was avenged. a poor miner, named r. a. hester, was fatally attacked by a border ruffian known as boston daimwood, while some confederates, including the criminals chase, ybarra and olivas, stood by to prevent interference. in a few hours officers and citizens were in the saddle in pursuit of the murderous band; for daimwood had boasted that hester was but the first of several of our citizens to whom he intended to pay his respects. daimwood and his three companions were captured and lodged in jail, and on the twenty-first of november two hundred or more armed vigilantes forced the jail doors, seized the scoundrels and hung them to the _pórtico_ of the old city hall on spring street. tomás sanchez, the sheriff, talked of organizing a _posse comitatus_ to arrest the committee leaders; but so positive was public sentiment, as reflected in the newspapers, in support of the summary executions, that nothing further was heard of the threat. an incident of value in the study of mob-psychology accentuated the day's events. during the lynching, the clattering of horses' hoofs was heard, when the cry was raised that cavalry from drum barracks was rushing to rescue the prisoners; and in a twinkling those but a moment before most demonstrative were seen scurrying to cover in all directions. instead, however, of federal soldiers, the horsemen were the usual contingent of el monte boys, coming to assist in the neck-tie party. besides the murderers lynched, there was an american boy named wood of about eighteen years; and although he had committed no offense more vicious than the theft of some chickens, he paid the penalty with his life, it having been the verdict of the committee that while they were at it, the jail might as well be cleared of every malefactor. a large empty case was secured as a platform on which the victim was to stand; and i shall never forget the spectacle of the youth, apparently oblivious of his impending doom, as he placed his hands upon the box and vaulted lightly to the top (just as he might have done at an innocent gymnastic contest), and his parting salutation, "i'm going to die a game _hen-chicken!_" the removal of the case a moment later, after the noose had been thrown over and drawn about the lad's head, left the poor victim suspended beyond human aid. on that same day, a sixth prisoner barely escaped. when the crowd was debating the lynchings, john p. lee, a resident of el monte who had been convicted of murder, was already under sentence of death; and the vigilantes, having duly considered his case, decided that it would be just as well to permit the law to take its course. some time later, j. lancaster brent, lee's attorney, appealed the case and obtained for his client a new trial, finally clearing lee of the charges against him, so that, in the end, he died a natural death. i frequently saw lee after this episode, and vividly recall an unpleasant interview years later. the regularity of his visits had been interrupted, and when he reappeared to get some merchandise for a customer at el monte, i asked him where he had been. he explained that a dog had bitten a little girl, and that while she was suffering from hydrophobia she had in turn attacked him and so severely scratched his hands and face that, for a while, he could not show himself in public. after that, whenever i saw lee, i was aware of a lurking, if ridiculous, suspicion that the moment might have arrived for a new manifestation of the rabies. speaking of the civil war and the fact that in southern california there was less pronounced sentiment for the union than in the northern part of the state, i am reminded of a relief movement that emphasized the distinction. by the middle of november san francisco had sent over one hundred and thirty thousand dollars to the united states sanitary commission, and an indignant protest was voiced in some quarters that los angeles, up to that date, had not participated. in time, however, the friends of the union here did make up a small purse. in 1863 interest in the old san juan capistrano mission was revived with the reopening of the historic structure so badly damaged by the earthquake of 1812, and a considerable number of townspeople went out to the first services under the new roof. when i first saw the mission, near don juan forster's home, there was in its open doors, windows and cut-stone and stucco ruins, its vines and wild flowers, much of the picturesque. on november 18th, 1862, our little community was greatly stirred by the news that john rains, one of colonel isaac williams' sons-in-law and well known in los angeles, had been waylaid and killed on the highway near the azusa _rancho_ the night before. it was claimed that one ramón carrillo had hired the assassins to do the foul deed; and about the middle of february, 1863, a mexican by the name of manuel cerradel was arrested by thomas trafford, the city marshal, as a participant. in time, he was tried and sentenced to ten years in san quentin prison. on december 9th, sheriff tomás sanchez started to take the prisoner north, and at wilmington boarded the little steamer _cricket_ to go out to the _senator_, which was ready to sail. a goodly number of other passengers also boarded the tugboat, though nothing in particular was thought of the circumstance; but once out in the harbor, a group of vigilantes, indignant at the light sentence imposed, seized the culprit at a prearranged signal, threw a noose about his neck and, in a jiffy, hung him to the flagstaff. when he was dead, the body was lowered and stones--brought aboard in packages by the committee, who had evidently considered every detail--were tied to the feet, and the corpse was thrown overboard before the steamer was reached. this was one of the acts of the vigilantes that no one seemed to deprecate. toward the end of 1861, j. e. pleasants, while overseeing one of wolfskill's ranches, hit the trail of some horse thieves and, assisted by city marshal william c. warren, pursued and captured several, who were sent to the penitentiary. one, however, escaped. this was charles wilkins, a veritable scoundrel who, having stolen a pistol and a knife from the bella union and put the same into the hands of young wood (whose lynching i have described), sent the lad on his way to the gallows. a couple of years later wilkins waylaid and murdered john sanford, a rancher living near fort tejón and a brother of captain w. t. b. sanford, the second postmaster of los angeles; and when the murderer had been apprehended and was being tried, an exciting incident occurred, to which i was an eye-witness. on november 16th, 1854, phineas banning had married miss rebecca sanford, a sister of the unfortunate man; and as banning caught sight of wilkins, he rushed forward and endeavoured to avenge the crime by shooting the culprit. banning was then restrained; but soon after, on december 17th, 1863, he led the vigilance committee which strung up wilkins on tomlinson & griffith's corral gateway where nearly a dozen culprits had already forfeited their lives. chapter xxiii assassination of lincoln 1864-1865 of all years of adversity before, during or since the civil war, the seemingly interminable year of 1864 was for southern california the worst. the varying moves in the great struggle, conducted mostly by grant and lee, sherman and farragut, buoyed now one, now the other side; but whichever way the tide of battle turned, business and financial conditions here altered but little and improved not a whit. the southwest, as i have already pointed out, was more dependent for its prosperity on natural conditions, such as rain, than upon the victory of any army or fleet; and as this was the last of three successive seasons of annihilating drought, ranchman and merchant everywhere became downhearted. during the entire winter of 1862-63 no more than four inches of rain had fallen, and in 1864 not until march was there a shower, and even then the earth was scarcely moistened. with a total assessment of something like two million dollars in the county, not a cent of taxes (at least in the city) was collected. men were so miserably poor that confidence mutually weakened, and merchants refused to trust those who, as land and cattle-barons, but a short time before had been so influential and most of whom, in another and more favorable season or two, were again operators of affluence. how great was the depreciation in values may be seen from the fact that notes given by francis temple, and bearing heavy interest, were peddled about at fifty cents on the dollar and even then found few purchasers. as a result of these very infrequent rains, grass started up only to wither away, a small district around anaheim independent of the rainfall on account of its fine irrigation system, alone being green; and thither the lean and thirsty cattle came by thousands, rushing in their feverish state against the great willow-fence i have elsewhere described. this stampede became such a menace, in fact, that the anaheimers were summoned to defend their homes and property, and finally they had to place a mounted guard outside of the willow enclosures. everywhere large numbers of horses and cattle died, as well as many sheep, the plains at length being strewn with carcasses and bleached bones. the suffering of the poor animals beggars description; and so distressed with hunger were they that i saw famished cattle (during the summer of 1864 while on a visit to the springs at paso de robles) crowd around the hotel veranda for the purpose of devouring the discarded matting-containers which had held chinese rice. i may also add that with the approach of summer the drought became worse and worse, contributing in no small degree to the spread of smallpox, then epidemic here. stearns lost forty or fifty thousand head of live stock, and was much the greatest sufferer in this respect; and as a result, he was compelled, about june, 1865, to mortgage los alamitos _rancho_, with its twenty-six thousand acres, to michael reese of san francisco, for the almost paltry sum of twenty thousand dollars. even this sacrifice, however, did not save him from still greater financial distress. in 1864, two los angeles merchants, louis schlesinger and hyman tischler, owing to the recent drought foreclosed a mortgage on several thousand acres of land known as the ricardo vejar property, lying between los angeles and san bernardino. shortly after this transaction, schlesinger was killed while on his way to san francisco, in the _ada hancock_ explosion; after which tischler purchased schlesinger's interest in the ranch and managed it alone. in january, tischler invited me to accompany him on one of the numerous excursions which he made to his newly-acquired possession, but, though i was inclined to go, a business engagement interfered and kept me in town. poor edward newman, another friend of tischler's, took my place. on the way to san bernardino from the _rancho_, the travelers were ambushed by some mexicans, who shot newman dead. it was generally assumed that the bullets were intended for tischler, in revenge for his part in the foreclosure; at any rate, he would never go to the ranch again, and finally sold it to don louis phillips, on credit, for thirty thousand dollars. the inventory included large herds of horses and cattle, which phillips (during the subsequent wet season) drove to utah, where he realized sufficient from their sale alone to pay for the whole property. pomona and other important places now mark the neighborhood where once roamed his herds. phillips died some years ago at the family residence which he had built on the ranch near spadra. james r. toberman, after a trying experience with texan redskins, came to los angeles in 1864, president lincoln having appointed him united states revenue assessor here, an office which he held for six years. at the same time, as an exceptional privilege for a government officer, toberman was permitted to become agent for wells fargo & company. again the fourth of july was not celebrated here, the two factions in the community still opposing each other with bitterness. hatred of the national government had increased through an incident of the previous spring which stirred the town mightily. on the eighth or ninth of may, a group stood discussing the fort pillow massacre, when j. f. bilderback indiscreetly expressed the wish that the confederates would annihilate every negro taken with arms, and every white man, as well, who might be found in command of colored troops; or some such equally dangerous and foolish sentiment. the indiscretion was reported to the government authorities, and bilderback was straightway arrested by a lieutenant of cavalry, though he was soon released. among the most rabid democrats, particularly during the civil war period, was nigger pete the barber. one hot day in august, patriotic biggs vociferously proclaimed his ardent attachment to the cause of secession; whereupon he was promptly arrested, placed in charge of half a dozen cavalrymen, and made to foot it, with an iron chain and ball attached to his ankle, all the way from los angeles to drum barracks at wilmington. not in the least discouraged by his uncertain position, however, pete threw his hat up into the air as he passed some acquaintances on the road, and gave three hearty cheers for jeff davis, thus bringing about the completion of his difficulty. for my part, i have good reason to remember the drought and crisis of 1864, not alone because times were miserably hard and prosperity seemed to have disappeared forever, or that the important revenue from uncle sam, although it relieved the situation, was never sufficient to go around, but also because of an unfortunate investment. i bought and shipped many thousands of hides which owners had taken from the carcasses of their starved cattle, forwarding them to san francisco by schooner or steamer, and thence to new york by sailing vessel. a large number had commenced to putrefy before they were removed, which fact escaped my attention; and on their arrival in the east, the decomposing skins had to be taken out to sea again and thrown overboard, so that the net results of this venture were disastrous. however, we all met the difficulties of the situation as philosophically as we could. there were no railroads in california until the late sixties and, consequently, there was no regular method of concentration, nor any systematic marketing of products; and this had a very bad economic effect on the whole state. prices were extremely high during her early history, and especially so in 1864. barley sold at three and a half cents per pound; potatoes went up to twelve and a half cents; and flour reached fifteen dollars per barrel, at wholesale. much flour in wooden barrels was then brought from new york by sailing vessels; and my brother imported a lot during a period of inflation, some of which he sold at thirteen dollars. isaac friedlander, a san francisco pioneer, who was not alone the tallest man in that city but was as well a giant operator in grain and its products, practically monopolized the wheat and flour business of the town; and when he heard of this interference, he purchased all the remainder of my brother's flour at thirteen dollars a barrel, and so secured control of the situation. just before this transaction, i happened to be in san francisco and noticing the advertisement of an approaching flour auction, i attended the sale. this particular lot was packed in sacks which had been eaten into by rats and mice and had, in consequence, to be resacked, sweepings and all. i bought one hundred barrels and shipped the flour to los angeles, and b. dubordieu, the corpulent little french baker, considered himself fortunate in obtaining it at fifteen dollars per barrel. speaking of foodstuffs, i may note that red beans then commanded a price of twelve and a half cents per pound, until a sailing vessel from chile unexpectedly landed a cargo in san francisco and sent the price dropping to a cent and a quarter; when commission men, among them myself, suffered heavy losses. in 1864, f. bachman & company sold out. their retirement was ascribed in a measure to the series of bad years, but the influence of their wives was a powerful factor in inducing them to withdraw. the firm had been compelled to accept large parcels of real estate in payment of accounts; and now, while preparing to leave, bachman & co. sacrificed their fine holdings at prices considered ridiculous even then. the only one of these sales that i remember was that of a lot with a frontage of one hundred and twenty feet on fort street, and a one-story adobe house, which they disposed of for four hundred dollars. i have told of don juan forster's possessions--the santa margarita _rancho_, where he lived until his death, and also the las flores. these he obtained in 1864, when land was worth but the merest song, buying the same from pio pico, his brother-in-law. the two ranches included over a hundred and forty thousand acres, and pastured some twenty-five thousand cattle, three thousand horses and six or seven thousand sheep; yet the transaction, on account of the season, was a fiscal operation of but minor importance. the hard times strikingly conduced to criminality and, since there were then probably not more than three or four policemen in los angeles, some of the desperadoes, here in large numbers and not confined to any particular nationality or color, took advantage of the conditions, even making several peculiar nocturnal assaults upon the guardians of the peace. the methods occasionally adopted satisfied the community that mexican _bandidos_ were at work. two of these worthies on horseback, while approaching a policeman, would suddenly dash in opposite directions, bringing a _reata_ (in the use of which they were always most proficient) taut to the level of their saddles; and striking the policeman with the hide or hair rope, they would throw him to the ground with such force as to disable him. then the ingenious robbers would carry out their well-planned depredations in the neighborhood and disappear with their booty. j. ross browne, one of the active forty-niners in san francisco and author of _crusoe's island_ and various other volumes dealing with early life in california and along the coast, was on and off a visitor to los angeles, first passing through here in 1859, _en route_ to the washoe gold fields, and stopping again in 1864. politics enlivened the situation somewhat in the fall of this year of depression. in september, the troops were withdrawn from catalina island, and the following month most of the guard was brought in from fort tejón; and this, creating possibly a feeling of security, paved the way for still larger union meetings in october and november. toward the end of october, francisco p. ramirez, formerly editor of _el clamor público_, was made postmaster, succeeding william g. still, upon whose life an attempt had been made while he was in office. as an illustration of how a fortunate plunger acquired property now worth millions, through the disinclination on the part of most people here to add to their taxes in this time of drought, i may mention two pieces of land included in the early ord survey, one hundred and twenty by one hundred and sixty-five feet in size--one at the southwest corner of spring and fourth streets, the other at the southeast corner of fort and fourth--which were sold on december 12th, 1864, for _two dollars and fifty-two cents_, delinquent taxes. the tax on each lot was but one dollar and twenty-six cents, yet only one purchaser appeared! about that very time, there was another and noteworthy movement in favor of the establishment of a railroad between los angeles and san pedro. in december, committees from outside towns met here with our citizens to debate the subject; but by the end of the several days' conference, no real progress had been made. the year 1865 gave scant promise, at least in its opening, of better times to come. to be sure, northern arms were more and more victorious, and with the approach of lincoln's second inauguration the conviction grew that under the leadership of such a man national prosperity might return. little did we dream that the most dramatic of all tragedies in our history was soon to be enacted. in southern california the effects of the long drought continued, and the certainty that the cattle-industry, once so vast and flourishing, was now but a memory, discouraged a people to whom the vision of a far more profitable use of the land had not yet been revealed. for several years my family, including three children, had been shifting from pillar to post owing to the lack of residences such as are now built to sell or lease, and i could not postpone any longer the necessity of obtaining larger quarters. we had occupied, at various times, a little shanty on franklin street, owned by a carpenter named wilson; a small, one-story brick on main street near first, owned by henne, the brewer; and once we lived with the kremers in a one-story house, none too large, on fort street. again we dwelt on fort street in a little brick house that stood on the site of the present chamber of commerce building, next door to governor downey's, before he moved to main street. the nearest approach to convenience was afforded by our occupancy of henry dalton's two-story brick on main street near second. one day a friend told me that jim easton had an adobe on main street near third, which he wished to sell; and on inquiry, i bought the place, paying him a thousand dollars for fifty-four feet, the entire frontage being occupied by the house. main street, beyond first, was practically in the same condition as at the time of my arrival, no streets running east having been opened south of first. after moving in, we were inconvenienced because there was no driveway, and everything needed for housekeeping had to be carried, in consequence, through the front door of the dwelling. i therefore interviewed my friend and neighbor, ygnácio garcia, who owned a hundred feet adjoining me, and asked him if he would sell or rent me twenty feet of his property; whereupon he permitted me the free use of twenty feet, thus supplying me with access to the rear of my house. a few months later, alfred b. chapman, garcia's legal adviser (who, by the way, is still alive)[25] brought me a deed to the twenty feet of land, the only expense being a fee of twenty-five dollars to chapman for making out the document; and later garcia sold his remaining eighty feet to tom mott for five dollars a foot. this lot is still in my possession. in due time, i put up a large, old-fashioned wooden barn with a roomy hay-loft, stalls for a couple of horses or mules, and space for a large flat-truck, the first of the kind for years in los angeles. john simmons had his room in the barn and was one of my first porters. i had no regular driver for the truck, but john usually served in that capacity. incidentally to this story of my selecting a street on which to live, i may say that during the sixties main and san pedro streets were among the chief residential sections, and spring street was only beginning to be popular for homes. the fact that some people living on the west side of main street built their stables in back-yards connecting with spring street, retarded the latter's growth. here i may well repeat the story of the naming of spring street, particularly as it exemplifies the influence that romance sometimes has upon affairs usually prosaic. ord, the surveyor, was then more than prepossessed in favor of the delightful señorita trinidad de la guerra, for whose hand he was, in fact, a suitor and to whom he always referred as _mi primavera_--"my springtime;" and when asked to name the new thoroughfare, he gallantly replied, "primavera, of course! primavera!" on february 3d, a wind-storm, the like of which the proverbial "oldest inhabitant" could scarcely recall, struck los angeles amidships, unroofing many houses and blowing down orchards. wolfskill lost heavily, and banning & company's large barn at the northeast corner of fort and second streets, near the old schoolhouse, was demolished, scarcely a post remaining upright. a curious sight, soon after the storm began to blow, was that of many citizens weighing down and lashing fast their roofs, just as they do in sweden, norway and switzerland, to keep them from being carried to unexpected, not to say inconvenient, locations. in early days, steamers plying up and down the pacific coast, as i have pointed out, were so poor in every respect that it was necessary to make frequent changes in their names, to induce passengers to travel on them at all. as far back as 1860, one frequently heard the expression, "the old tubs;" and in 1865, even the best-known boat on the southern run was publicly discussed as "the rotten old _senator_," "the old hulk" and "the floating coffin." at this time, there was a strong feeling against the steam navigation company for its arbitrary treatment of the public, its steamers sometimes leaving a whole day before the date on which they were advertised to depart; and this criticism and dissatisfaction finally resulted in the putting on of the opposition steamer _pacific_ which for the time became popular. in 1865, judge benjamin s. eaton tried another agricultural experiment which many persons of more experience at first predicted would be a failure. he had moved into the cottage at _fair oaks_, built by the estimable lady of general albert sidney johnston, and had planted five thousand or more grapevines in the good though dry soil; but the lack of surface water caused vineyardists to shake their heads incredulously. the vines prospered so well that, in the following year, eaton planted five or six times as many more. he came to the conclusion, however, that he must have water; and so arranged to bring some from what is now known as eaton's cañon. i remember that, after his vines began to bear, the greatest worry of the judge was not the matter of irrigation, but the wild beasts that preyed upon the clustering fruit. the visitor to pasadena and altadena to-day can hardly realize that in those very localities both coyotes and bears were rampant, and that many a night the irate judge was roused by the barking dogs as they drove the intruders out of the vineyard. tomlinson & company, always energetic competitors in the business of transportation in southern california, began running, about the first of april, a new stage line between los angeles and san bernardino, making three trips a week. on the fifteenth of april, my family physician, dr. john s. griffin, paid a professional visit to my house on main street, which might have ended disastrously for him. while we were seated together by an open window in the dining-room, a man named kane ran by on the street, shouting out the momentous news that abraham lincoln had been shot! griffin, who was a staunch southerner, was on his feet instantly, cheering for jeff davis. he gave evidence, indeed, of great mental excitement, and soon seized his hat and rushed for the door, hurrahing for the confederacy. in a flash, i realized that griffin would be in awful jeopardy if he reached the street in that unbalanced condition, and by main force i held him back, convincing him at last of his folly. in later years the genial doctor frankly admitted that i had undoubtedly saved him from certain death. this incident brings to mind another, associated with henry baer, whose father, abraham, a native of bavaria and one of the earliest tailors here, had arrived from new orleans in 1854. when lincoln's assassination was first known, henry ran out of the house, singing _dixie_ and shouting for the south; but his father, overtaking him, brought him back and gave him a sound whipping--an act nearly breaking up the baer family, inasmuch as mrs. baer was a pronounced secessionist. the news of lincoln's assassination made a profound impression in los angeles, though it cannot be denied that some southern sympathizers, on first impulse, thought that it would be advantageous to the confederate cause. there was, therefore, for the moment, some ill-advised exultation; but this was promptly suppressed, either by the military or by the firm stand of the more level-headed members of the community. soon even radically-inclined citizens, in an effort to uphold the fair name of the town, fell into line, and steps were taken fittingly to mourn the nation's loss. on the seventeenth of april, the common council passed appropriate resolutions; and governor low having telegraphed that lincoln's funeral would be held in washington on the nineteenth, at twelve o'clock noon, the union league of los angeles took the initiative and invited the various societies of the city to join in a funeral procession. on april 19th all the stores were closed, business was suspended and soldiers as well as civilians assembled in front of arcadia block. there were present united states officers, mounted cavalry under command of captain ledyard; the mayor and common council; various lodges; the hebrew congregation b'nai-b'rith; the teutonia, the french benevolent and the junta patriotica societies, and numerous citizens. under the marshalship of s. f. lamson the procession moved slowly over what to-day would be regarded as an insignificantly short route: west on arcadia street to main; down main street to spring as far as first; east on first street to main and up main street, proceeding back to the city hall by way of spring, at which point the parade disbanded. later, on the same day, there were memorial services in the upper story of the old temple court house, where rev. elias birdsall, the episcopal clergyman, delivered a splendid oration and panegyric; and at the same time, the members of the hebrew congregation met at the house of rabbi a. w. edelman. prayers for the martyred president were uttered, and supplication was made for the recovery of secretary of state seward. the resolutions presented on this occasion concluded as follows: resolved, that with feelings of the deepest sorrow we deplore the loss our country has sustained in the untimely end of our late president; but as it has pleased the almighty to deprive this country of its chief and great friend, we bow with submission to the all-wise will. i may add that, soon after the assassination of the president, the federal authorities sent an order to los angeles to arrest anyone found rejoicing in the foul deed; and that several persons, soon in the toils, were severely dealt with. in san francisco, too, when the startling news was flashed over the wires, unionist mobs demolished the plants of the _democratic press_, the _news letter_ and a couple of other journals very abusive toward the martyred emancipator; the editors and publishers themselves escaping with their lives only by flight and concealment. notwithstanding the strong secessionist sentiment in los angeles during much of the civil war period, the city election resulted in a unionist victory. josé mascarel was elected mayor; william c. warren, marshal; j. f. burns, treasurer; j. h. lander, attorney; and j. w. beebe, assessor. the triumph of the federal government doubtless at once began to steady and improve affairs throughout the country; but it was some time before any noticeable progress was felt here. particularly unfortunate were those who had gone east or south for actual service, and who were obliged to make their way, finally, back to the coast. among such volunteers was captain cameron e. thom who, on landing at san pedro, was glad to have j. m. griffith advance him money enough to reach los angeles and begin life again. outdoor restaurant gardens were popular in the sixties. on april 23d, the tivoli garden was reopened by henry sohms, and thither, on holidays and sundays, many pleasure-lovers gravitated. sometime in the spring and during the incumbency of rev. elias birdsall as rector, the right reverend william ingraham kip, who had come to the pacific coast in 1853, made his first visit to the episcopal church in los angeles, as bishop of california, although really elevated to that high office seven years before. bishop kip was one of the young clergy who pleaded with the unresponsive culprits strung up by the san francisco vigilance committee of 1856; and later he was known as an author. the reverend birdsall, by the way, was rector of st. paul's school on olive street, between fifth and sixth, as late as 1887. john g. downey subdivided the extensive santa gertrudis _rancho_ on the san gabriel river in the spring, and the first deed was made out to j. h. burke, a son-in-law of captain jesse hunter. burke, a man of splendid physique, was a blacksmith whose main street shop was next to the site of the present van nuys hotel. downey and he exchanged properties, the ex-governor building a handsome brick residence on burke's lot, and burke removing his blacksmith business to downey's new town where, by remaining until the property had appreciated, he became well-to-do. i have alluded to the dominguez _rancho_, known as the san pedro, but i have not said that, in 1865, some four thousand acres of this property were sold to temple & gibson at thirty-five cents an acre, and that on a portion of this land g. d. compton founded the town named after him and first called comptonville. it was really a methodist church enterprise, planned from the beginning as a pledge to teetotalism, and is of particular interest because it is one of the oldest towns in los angeles county, and certainly the first "dry" community. compton paid temple & gibson five dollars an acre. toward the end of the war, that is, in may, major-general irwin mcdowell, the unfortunate commander of the army of the potomac who had been nearly a year in charge of the department of the pacific, made los angeles a long-announced visit, coming on the government steamer _saginaw_. the distinguished officer, his family and suite were speedily whirled to the bella union, the competing drivers shouting and cursing themselves hoarse in their efforts to get the general or the general's wife, in different stages, there first. as was customary in those simpler days, most of the townsfolk whose politics would permit called upon the guest; and editor conway and other unionists were long closeted with him. after thirty-six hours or more, during which the general inspected the local government headquarters and the ladies were driven to, and entertained at, various homes, the party, accompanied by collector james and attorney-general mccullough, boarded the cutter and made off for the north. anticipating this visit of general mcdowell, due preparations were made to receive him. it happened, however, as i have indicated, that josé mascarel was then mayor; and since he had never been able to express himself freely in english, though speaking spanish as well as french, it was feared that embarrassment must follow the meeting of the civil and military personages. luckily, however, like many scions of early well-to-do american families, mcdowell had been educated in france, and the two chiefs were soon having a free and easy talk in mascarel's native tongue. an effort, on may 2d, better to establish st. vincent's college as the one institution of higher learning here was but natural at that time. in the middle of the sixties, quite as many children attended private academies in los angeles county as were in the public schools, while three-fifths of all children attended no school at all. at the beginning of the twentieth century, two-thirds of all the children in the county attended public schools. footnote: [25] died, january 22d, 1915. chapter xxiv h. newmark & co.--carlisle-king duel 1865-1866 from 1862 i continued for three years, as i have told, in the commission business; and notwithstanding the bad seasons, i was thus pursuing a sufficiently easy and pleasant existence when a remark which, after the lapse of time, i see may have been carelessly dropped, inspired me with the determination to enter again upon a more strenuous and confining life. on friday, june 18th, 1865, i was seated in my little office, when a los angeles merchant named david solomon, whose store was in the arcadia block, called upon me and, with much feeling, related that while returning by steamer from the north, prudent beaudry had made the senseless boast that he would drive every jew in los angeles out of business. beaudry, then a man of large means, conducted in his one-story adobe building on the northeast corner of aliso and los angeles streets the largest general merchandise establishment this side of san francisco. i listened to solomon's recital without giving expression to my immediately-formed resolve; but no sooner had he left than i closed my office and started for wilmington. [illustration: kaspare cohn] [illustration: m. a. newmark] [illustration: h. newmark & co.'s store, arcadia block, about 1875, including (left) john jones's former premises] [illustration: h. newmark & co.'s building, amestoy block, about 1884] during the twelve years that i had been in california the forwarding business between los angeles and the coast had seen many changes. tomlinson & company, who had bought out a. w. timms, controlled the largest tonnage in town, including that of beaudry, jones, childs and others; while banning & company, although actively engaged in the transportation to yuma of freight and supplies for the united states government, were handicapped for lack of business into los angeles. i thought, therefore, that phineas banning would eagerly seize an opportunity to pay his score to the numerous local merchants who had treated him with so little consideration. besides, a very close intimacy existed between him and myself, which may best be illustrated by the fact that, for years past when short of cash, banning used to come to my old sheet-iron safe and help himself according to his requirements. arriving in wilmington, i found banning loading a lot of teams with lumber. i related the substance of solomon's remarks and proposed a secret partnership, with the understanding that, providing he would release me from the then existing charge of seven dollars and a half per ton for hauling freight from wilmington to los angeles, i should supply the necessary capital, purchase a stock of goods, conduct the business without cost to him and then divide the profits if any should accrue. banning said, "i must first consult don david," meaning alexander, his partner, promising at the same time to report the result within a few days. while i was at dinner, therefore, on the following sunday, patrick downey, banning's los angeles agent, called on me and stated that "the chief" was in his office in the downey block, on the site of temple's old adobe, and would be glad to see me. without further parleying, banning accepted my proposition; and on the following morning, or june 21st, i rented the last vacant store in stearns's arcadia block on los angeles street, which stands to-day, by the way, much as it was erected in 1858. it adjoined john jones's, and was nearly opposite the establishment of p. beaudry. there i put up the sign of h. newmark, soon to be changed to h. newmark & company; and it is a source of no little gratification to me that from this small beginning has developed the wholesale grocery firm of m. a. newmark & company.[26] at that time, stearns's property was all in the hands of the sheriff, tomás sanchez, who had also been appointed receiver; and like all the other tenants, i rented my storeroom from deputy a. j. king. rents and other incomes were paid to the receiver, and out of them a regular monthly allowance of fifty dollars was made to stearns for his private expenses. the stock on stearns's ranches, by the way, was then in charge of pierre domec, a well-known and prosperous man, who was here perhaps a decade before i came. my only assistant was my wide-awake nephew, m. a. newmark, then fifteen years of age, who had arrived in los angeles early in 1865. at my request banning & company released their bookkeeper, frank lecouvreur, and i engaged him. he was a thoroughly reliable man and had, besides, a technical knowledge of wagon materials, in which, as a sideline, i expected to specialize. while all of these arrangements were being completed, the local business world queried and buzzed as to my intentions. having rented quarters, i immediately telegraphed my brother, j. p. newmark, to buy and ship a quantity of flour, sugar, potatoes, salt and other heavy staples; and these i sold, upon arrival, at cost and steamer freight plus seven dollars and a half per ton. since the departure of my brother from los angeles for permanent residence in san francisco (where he entered into partnership with isaac lightner, forming j. p. newmark & company), he had been engaged in the commission business; and this afforded me facilities i might otherwise not have had. inasmuch also, as all of my neighbors were obliged to pay this toll for hauling, while i was not, they were forced to do business at cost. about the first of july, i went to san francisco and laid in a complete stock paralleling, with the exception of clothing and dry goods, the lines handled by beaudry. banning, who was then building prairie schooners for which he had ordered some three hundred and fifty tons of iron and other wagon materials, joined me in chartering the brig _tanner_ on which i loaded an equal tonnage of general merchandise, wagon parts and blacksmith coal. the very important trade with salt lake city, elsewhere described, helped us greatly, for we at once negotiated with the mormon leaders; and giving them credit when they were short of funds, it was not long before we were brought into constant communication with brigham young and through his influence monopolized the salt lake business. thinking over these days of our dealings with the latterday saints, i recall a very amusing experience with an apostle named crosby, who once brought down a number of teams and wagons to load with supplies. during his visit to town, i invited him and several of his friends to dinner; and in answer to the commonplace inquiry as to his preference for some particular part of a dish, crosby made the logical mormonite reply that _quantity_ was what appealed to him most--a flash of wit much appreciated by all of the guests. during this same visit, crosby tried hard to convert me to mormonism; but, after several ineffectual interviews, he abandoned me as a hopeless case. at another time, while reflecting on my first years as a wholesale grocer, i was led to examine a day-book of 1867 and to draw a comparison between the prices then current and now, when the high cost of living is so much discussed. raw sugar sold at fourteen cents; starch at sixteen; crushed sugar at seventeen; ordinary tea at sixty; coal oil at sixty-five cents a gallon; axle-grease at seventy-five cents per tin; bluing at one dollar a pound; and wrapping paper at one dollar and a half per ream. spices, not yet sold in cans, cost three dollars for a dozen bottles; yeast powders, now superseded by baking powder, commanded the same price per dozen; twenty-five pounds of shot in a bag cost three dollars and a half; while in october of that year, blacksmith coal, shipped in casks holding fifteen hundred and ninety-two pounds each, sold at the rate of fifty dollars a ton. the steamers _oriflamme_, _california_, _pacific_ and _sierra nevada_ commenced to run in 1866 and continued until about the middle of the seventies. the _pacific_ was later sunk in the straits of san juan de fuca; and the _sierra nevada_ was lost on the rocks off port harford. the _los angeles_, the _ventura_ and the _constantine_ were steamers of a somewhat later date, seldom going farther south than san pedro and continuing to run until they were lost. to resume the suggestive story of i. w. hellman, who remained in business with his cousin until he was able in 1865 to buy out adolph portugal and embark for himself, at the corner of main and commercial streets: during his association with large landowners and men of affairs, who esteemed him for his practicality, he was fortunate in securing their confidence and patronage; and being asked so often to operate for them in financial matters, he laid the foundation for his subsequent career as a banker, in which he has attained such success. the pioneer oil company had been organized about the first of february, with phineas banning, president; p. downey, secretary; charles ducommon, treasurer; and winfield s. hancock, dr. john s. griffin, dr. j. b. winston, m. keller, b. d. wilson, j. g. downey and volney e. howard among the trustees; and the company soon acquired title to all _brea_, petroleum or rock oil in san pasqual _rancho_. in the early summer, sackett & morgan, on main street near the post office, exhibited some local kerosene or "coal-oil;" and experimenters were gathering the oil that floated on pico spring and refining it, without distillation, at a cost of ten cents a gallon. coming just when major stroble announced progress in boring at la cañada de brea, these ventures increased here the excitement about oil and soon after wells were sunk in the camulos _rancho_. on wednesday afternoon, july 5th, at four o'clock, occurred one of the pleasant social occasions of the mid-sixties--the wedding of solomon lazard and miss caroline, third daughter of joseph newmark. the bride's father performed the ceremony at m. kremer's residence on main street, near my own adobe and the site on which, later, c. e. thom built his charming residence, with its rural attractions, diagonally across from the pleasant grounds of colonel j. g. howard. the same evening at half-past eight a ball and dinner at the bella union celebrated the event. while these festivities were taking place, a quarrel, ending in a tragedy, began in the hotel office below. robert carlisle, who had married francisca, daughter of colonel isaac williams, and was the owner of some forty-six thousand acres comprising the chino ranch, fell into an altercation with a. j. king, then under sheriff, over the outcome of a murder trial; but before any further damage was done, friends separated them. about noon on the following day, however, when people were getting ready to leave for the steamer and everything was life and bustle about the hotel, frank and houston king, the under sheriff's brothers, passing by the bar-room of the bella union and seeing carlisle inside, entered, drew their six-shooters and began firing at him. carlisle also drew a revolver and shot frank king, who died almost instantly. houston king kept up the fight, and carlisle, riddled with bullets, dropped to the sidewalk. there king, not yet seriously injured, struck his opponent on the head, the force of the blow breaking his weapon; but carlisle, a man of iron, put forth his little remaining strength, staggered to the wall, raised his pistol with both hands, took deliberate aim and fired. it was his last, but effective shot, for it penetrated king's body. carlisle was carried into the hotel and placed on a billiard-table; and there, about three o'clock, he expired. at the first exchange of shots, the people nearby, panic-stricken, fled, and only a merciful providence prevented the sacrifice of other lives. j. h. lander was accidentally wounded in the thigh; some eight or ten bystanders had their clothes pierced by stray bullets; and one of the stage-horses dropped where he stood before the hotel door. when the first shot was fired, i was on the corner of commercial street, only a short distance away, and reached the scene in time to see frank king expire and witness carlisle writhing in agony--a death more striking, considering the murder of carlisle's brother-in-law, john rains. carlisle was buried from the bella union at four o'clock the next day. king's funeral took place from a. j. king's residence, two days later, at eight o'clock in the morning. houston king having recovered, he was tried for carlisle's murder, but was acquitted; the trial contributing to make the affair one of the most mournful of all tragic events in the early history of los angeles, and rendering it impossible to express the horror of the public. one feature only of the terrible contest afforded a certain satisfaction, and that was the splendid exhibition of those qualities, in some respects heroic, so common among the old californians of that time. july was clouded with a particularly gruesome murder. george williams and cyrus kimball of san diego, while removing with their families to los angeles, had spent the night near the santa ana river, and while some distance from camp, at sunrise next morning, were overtaken by seven armed desperadoes, under the leadership of one jack o'brien, and without a word of explanation, were shot dead. the women, hearing the commotion, ran toward the spot, only to be commanded by the robbers to deliver all money and valuables in their possession. over three thousand dollars--the entire savings of their husbands--was secured, after which the murderers made their escape. _posses_ scoured the surrounding country, but the cutthroats were never apprehended. stimulated, perhaps, by the king-carlisle tragedy, the common council in july prohibited everybody except officers and travelers from carrying a pistol, dirk, sling-shot or sword; but the measure lacked public support, and little or no attention was paid to the law. some idea of the modest proportion of business affairs in the early sixties may be gathered from the fact that, when the los angeles post office, on august 10th, was made a money-deposit office, it was obligatory that all cash in excess of five hundred dollars should be despatched by steamer to san francisco. in 1865, w. h. perry, having been given a franchise to light the city with gas, organized the los angeles city gas company, five years later selling out his holdings at a large profit. a promise was made to furnish free gas for lamps at the principal crossings on main street and for lights in the mayor's office, and the consumers' price at first agreed upon was ten dollars a thousand cubic feet. the history of westlake park is full of interest. about 1865, the city began to sell part of its public land, in lots of thirty-five acres, employing e. w. noyes as auctioneer. much of it went at five and ten dollars an acre; but when the district now occupied by the park and lake was reached, the auctioneer called in vain for bids at even a dollar an acre; nobody wanted the alkali hillocks. then the auctioneer offered the area at twenty-five cents an acre, but still received no bids, and the sale was discontinued. in the late eighties, a number of citizens who had bought land in the vicinity came to mayor workman and promised to pay one-half of the cost of making a lake and laying out pleasure grounds on the unsightly place; and as the mayor favored the plan, it was executed, and this was the first step in the formation of westlake park. on september 2d, dr. j. j. dyer, a dentist from san francisco, having opened an office in the bella union hotel, announced that he would visit the homes of patrons and there extract or repair the sufferers' teeth. the complicated equipment of a modern dentist would hardly permit of such peripatetic service to-day, although representatives of this profession and also certain opticians still travel to many of the small inland towns in california, once or twice a year, stopping in each for a week or two at a time. i have spoken of the use, in 1853, of river water for drinking, and the part played by the private water-carrier. this system was still largely used until the fall when david w. alexander leased all the public water-works for four years, together with the privilege of renewing the lease another four or six years. alexander was to pay one thousand dollars rental a year, agreeing also to surrender the plant to the city at the termination of his contract. on august 7th, alexander assigned his lease to don louis sainsevain, and about the middle of october sainsevain made a new contract. damien marchessault associated himself with don louis and together they laid pipes from the street now known as macy throughout the business part of the city, and as far (!) south as first street. these water pipes were constructed of pine logs from the mountains of san bernardino, bored and made to join closely at the ends; but they were continually bursting, causing springs of water that made their way to the surface of the streets. conway & waite sold the _news_, then a "tri-weekly" supposed to appear three times a week, yet frequently issued but twice, to a. j. king & company, on november 11th; and king, becoming the editor, made of the newspaper a semi-weekly. to complete what i was saying about the schlesingers: in 1865, moritz returned to germany. jacob had arrived in los angeles in 1860, but disappearing four years later, his whereabouts was a mystery until, one fine day, his brother received a letter from him dated, "gun boat _pocahontas_." jake had entered the service of uncle sam! the _pocahontas_ was engaged in blockade work under command of admiral farragut; and jake and the admiral were paying special attention to sabine pass, then fortified by the confederacy. on november 27th, andrew j. glassell and colonel james g. howard arrived together in los angeles. the former had been admitted to the california bar some ten or twelve years before; but in the early sixties he temporarily abandoned his profession and engaged in ranching near santa cruz. after the war, glassell drifted back to the practice of law; and having soon cast his lot with los angeles, formed a partnership with alfred b. chapman. two or three years later, colonel george h. smith, a confederate army officer who in the early seventies lived on fort street, was taken into the firm; and for years glassell, chapman and smith were among the leading attorneys at the los angeles bar. glassell died on january 28th, 1901. to add to the excitement of the middle sixties, a picturesque street encounter took place, terminating almost fatally. colonel, the redoubtable e. j. c. kewen, and a good-natured german named fred lemberg, son-in-law to the old miller bors, having come to blows on los angeles street near mellus's row, lemberg knocked kewen down; whereupon friends interfered and peace was apparently restored. kewen, a southerner, dwelt upon the fancied indignity to which he had been subjected and went from store to store until he finally borrowed a pistol; after which, in front of john jones's, he lay in wait. when lemberg, who, because of his nervous energy, was known as the flying dutchman, again appeared, rushing across the street in the direction of mellus's row, the equally excited colonel opened fire, drawing from his adversary a retaliatory round of shots. i was standing nearly opposite the scene and saw the flying dutchman and kewen, each dodging around a pillar in front of the row, until finally lemberg, with a bullet in his abdomen, ran out into los angeles street and fell to the ground, his legs convulsively assuming a perpendicular position and then dropping back. after recovering from what was thought to be a fatal wound, lemberg left los angeles for arizona or mexico; but before he reached his destination, he was murdered by indians. i have told of the trade between los angeles and salt lake city, which started up briskly in 1855, and grew in importance until the completion of the transcontinental railroad put an end to it. indeed, in 1865 and 1866 los angeles enterprise pushed forward until merchandise was teamed as far as bannock, idaho, four hundred and fifty miles beyond salt lake, and helena, montana, fourteen hundred miles away. this indicates to what an extent the building of railroads ultimately affected the early los angeles merchants. the spanish drama was the event of december 17th, when señor don guirado l. del castillo and señora amelia estrella del castillo played _la trenza de sus cabellos_ to an enthusiastic audience. in 1865 or 1866, william t. glassell, a younger brother of andrew glassell, came to los angeles on a visit; and being attracted by the southwest country, he remained to assist glassell & chapman in founding orange, formerly known as richland. no doubt pastoral california looked good to young glassell, for he had but just passed eighteen weary months in a northern military prison. having thought out a plan for blowing up the united states ironclads off charleston harbor, lieutenant glassell supervised the construction of a cigar-shaped craft, known as a _david_, which carried a torpedo attached to the end of a fifteen-foot pole; and on october 5th, 1863, young glassell and three other volunteers steamed out in the darkness against the formidable new _ironsides_. the torpedo was exploded, doing no greater damage than to send up a column of water, which fell onto the ship, and also to hurl the young officers into the bay. glassell died here at an early age. john t. best, the assessor, was another pioneer who had an adventurous life prior to, and for a long time after, coming to california. having run away to sea from his maine home about the middle fifties, best soon found himself among pirates; but escaping their clutches, he came under the domination of a captain whose cruelty, off desolate cape horn, was hardly preferable to death. reaching california about 1858, best fled from another captain's brutality and, making his way into the northern forests, was taken in and protected by kind-hearted woodmen secluded within palisades. successive indian outbreaks constantly threatened him and his comrades, and for years he was compelled to defend himself against the savages. at last, safe and sound, he settled within the pale of civilization, at the outbreak of the civil war enlisting as a union officer in the first battalion of california soldiers. since then best has resided mostly in los angeles. the year 1866 is memorable as the concluding period of the great war. although lee had surrendered in the preceding april, more than fifteen months elapsed before the washington authorities officially proclaimed the end of the titanic struggle which left one-half of the nation prostrate and the other half burdened with new and untold responsibilities. by the opening of the year, however, one of the miracles of modern history--the quiet and speedy return of the soldier to the vocations of peace--began, and soon some of those who had left for the front when the war broke out were to be seen again in our southland, starting life anew. with them, too, came a few pioneers from the east, harbingers of an army soon to settle our valleys and seasides. all in all, the year was the beginning of a brighter era. here it may not be amiss to take up the tale of the mimic war in which phineas banning and i engaged, in the little commercial world of los angeles, and to tell to what an extent the fortunes of my competitors were influenced, and how the absorption of the transportation charge from the seaboard caused their downfall. o. w. childs, in less than three months, found the competition too severe and surrendered "lock, stock and barrel;" p. beaudry, whose vain-glorious boast had stirred up this rumpus, sold out to me on january 1st, 1866, just a few months after his big talk. john jones was the last to yield. in january, 1866, i bought out banning, who was soon to take his seat in the legislature for the advancing of his san pedro railroad project, and agreed to pay him, in the future, seven dollars and a half per ton for hauling my goods from wilmington to los angeles, which was mutually satisfactory; and when we came to balance up, it was found that banning had received, for his part in the enterprise, an amount equal to all that would otherwise have been charged for transportation and a tidy sum besides. sam, brother of kaspare cohn, who had been in carson city, nevada, came to los angeles and joined me. we grew rapidly, and in a short time became of some local importance. when kaspare sold out at red bluff, in january, 1866, we tendered him a partnership. we were now three very busy associates, besides m. a. newmark, who clerked for us. several references have been made to the trade between los angeles and arizona, due in part to the needs of the army there. i remember that early in february not less than twenty-seven government wagons were drawn up in front of h. newmark & company's store, to be loaded with seventy to seventy-five tons of groceries and provisions for troops in the territory. notwithstanding the handicaps in this wagon-train traffic, there was still much objection to railroads, especially to the plan for a line between los angeles and san pedro, some of the strongest opposition coming from el monte where, in february, ranchers circulated a petition, disapproving railroad bills introduced by banning into the legislature. a common argument was that the railroad would do away with horses and the demand for barley; and one wealthy citizen who succeeded in inducing many to follow his lead, vehemently insisted that two trains a month, for many years, would be all that could be expected! by 1874, however, not less than fifty to sixty freight cars were arriving daily in los angeles from wilmington. once more, in 1866, the post office was moved, this time to a building opposite the bella union hotel. there it remained until perhaps 1868, when it was transferred to the northwest corner of main and market streets. in the spring of 1866, the los angeles board of education was petitioned to establish a school where spanish as well as english should be taught--probably the first step toward the introduction into public courses here of the now much-studied _castellano_. in noting the third schoolhouse, at the corner of san pedro and washington streets, i should not forget to say that judge dryden bought the lot for the city, at a cost of one hundred dollars. when the fourth school was erected, at the corner of charity and eighth streets, it was built on property secured for three hundred and fifty dollars by m. kremer, who served on the school board for nine years, from 1866, with henry d. barrows and william workman. there, a few years ago, a brick building replaced the original wooden structure. besides miss eliza madigan, teachers of this period or later were the misses hattie and frankie scott, daughters of judge scott, the misses maggie hamilton, eula p. bixby, emma l. hawkes, clara m. jones, h. k. saxe and c. h. kimball; a sister of governor downey, soon to become mrs. peter martin, was also a public school teacher. piped gas as well as water had been quite generally brought into private use shortly after their introduction, all pipes running along the surface of walls and ceilings, in neither a very judicious nor ornamental arrangement. the first gas-fixtures consisted of the old-fashioned, unornamented drops from the ceiling, connected at right angles to the cross-pipe, with its two plain burners, one at either end, forming an inverted t ([symbol: upside-down t]); and years passed before artistic bronzes and globes, such as were displayed in profusion at the centennial exposition, were seen to any extent here. in september, leon loeb arrived in los angeles and entered the employ of s. lazard & company, later becoming a partner. when eugene meyer left for san francisco on the first of january, 1884, resigning his position as french consular agent, loeb succeeded him, both in that capacity and as head of the firm. after fifteen years' service, the french government conferred upon mr. loeb the decoration of an officer of the academy. as past master of the odd fellows, he became in time one of the oldest members of lodge no. 35. on march 23d, 1879, loeb married my eldest daughter, estelle; and on july 22d, 1911, he died. joseph p. and edwin j. loeb, the attorneys and partners of irving m. walker, (son-in-law of tomás lorenzo duque),[27] are sons of leon loeb. in the summer there came to los angeles from the northern part of california an educator who had already established there and in wisconsin an excellent reputation as a teacher. this was george w. burton, who was accompanied by his wife, a lady educated in france and italy. with them they brought two assistants, a young man and a young woman, adding another young woman teacher after they arrived. the company of pedagogues made quite a formidable array; and their number permitted the division of the school--then on main near what is now second street--into three departments: one a kind of kindergarten, another for young girls and a third for boys. the school grew and it soon became necessary to move the boys' department to the vestry-room of the little episcopal church on the corner of temple and new high streets. not only was burton an accomplished scholar and experienced teacher, but mrs. burton was a linguist of talent and also proficient in both instrumental and vocal music. our eldest children attended the burton school, as did also those of many friends such as the kremers, whites, morrises, griffiths, the volney howards, kewens, scotts, nichols, the schumachers, joneses and the bannings. daniel bohen, another watchmaker and jeweler, came after pyle, establishing himself, on september 11th, on the south side of commercial street. he sold watches, clocks, jewelry and spectacles; and he used to advertise with the figure of a huge watch. s. nordlinger, who arrived here in 1868, bought bohen out and continued the jewelry business during forty-two years, until his death in 1911, when, as a pioneer jeweler, he was succeeded by louis s. and melville nordlinger, who still use the title of s. nordlinger & sons. charles c. lips, a german, came to los angeles from philadelphia in 1866 and joined the wholesale liquor firm of e. martin & company, later lips, craigue & company, in the baker block. as a volunteer fireman, he was a member of the old thirty-eights; a fact adding interest to the appointment, on february 28th, 1905, of his son, walter lips, as chief of the los angeles fire department. on october 3d, william wolfskill died, mourned by many. though but sixty-eight years of age, he had witnessed much in the founding of our great southwestern commonwealth; and notwithstanding the handicaps to his early education, and the disappointments of his more eventful years, he was a man of marked intelligence and remained unembittered and kindly disposed toward his fellow-men. a good example of what an industrious man, following an ordinary trade, could accomplish in early days was afforded by andrew joughin, a blacksmith, who came here in 1866, a powerful son of the isle of man, measuring over six feet and tipping the beam at more than two hundred pounds. he had soon saved enough money to buy for five hundred dollars a large frontage at second and hill streets, selling it shortly after for fifteen hundred. from los angeles, joughin went to arizona and then to san juan capistrano, but was back here again in 1870, opening another shop. toward the middle seventies, joughin was making rather ingenious plows of iron and steel which attracted considerable attention. as fast as he accumulated a little money, he invested it in land, buying in 1874, for six thousand dollars, some three hundred and sixty acres comprising a part of one of the ciénega _ranchos_, to which he moved in 1876. seven years later, he purchased three hundred and five acres once called the tom gray ranch, now known by the more pretentious name of arlington heights. in 1888, three years after he had secured six hundred acres of the palos verdes _rancho_ near wilmington, the blacksmith retired and made a grand tour of europe, revisiting his beloved isle of man. pat goodwin was another blacksmith, who reached los angeles in 1866 or 1867, shoeing his way, as it were, south from san francisco, through san josé, whisky flat and other picturesque places, in the service of a. o. thorn, one of the stage-line proprietors. he had a shop first on spring street, where later the empire stables were opened, and afterward at the corner of second and spring streets, on the site in time bought by j. e. hollenbeck. still another smith of this period was henry king (brother of john king, formerly of the bella union), who in 1879-80 served two terms as chief of police. later, a. l. bath was a well-known wheelwright who located his shop on spring street near third. in 1866, quite a calamity befell this pueblo: the abandonment by the government of drum barracks. as this had been one of the chief sources of revenue for our small community, the loss was severely felt, and the immediate effect disastrous. about the same time, too, samuel b. caswell (father of w. m. caswell, first of the los angeles savings bank and now of the security), who had come to los angeles the year before, took into partnership john f. ellis, and under the title of caswell & ellis, they started a good-sized grocery and merchandise business; and between the competition that they brought and the reduction of the circulating medium, times with h. newmark & company became somewhat less prosperous. later, john h. wright was added to the firm, and it became caswell, ellis & wright. on september 1st, 1871, the firm dissolved. footnotes: [26] fifty years after this unpretentious venture in arcadia block, that is, in the summer of 1915, the half-centenary of m. a. newmark & company and their predecessors was celebrated with a picnic in the woodlands belonging to universal city, the holiday and its pleasures having been provided by the firm as a compliment to its employees. on that occasion, a loving-cup was presented by the employees to m. a. newmark, who responded feelingly to the speech by m. h. newmark. another, but somewhat differently inscribed cup was tendered harris newmark in an address by herman flatau, bringing from the venerable recipient a hearty reply, full of genial reminiscence and natural emotion, in which he happily likened his commercial enterprise, once the small store in los angeles street, to a snowball rolling down the mountain-side, gathering in momentum and size and, fortunately, preserving its original whiteness. undoubtedly, this fifty-year jubilee will take its place among the pleasantest experiences of a long and varied career.--the editors. [27] died on april 6th, 1915. chapter xxv removal to new york, and return 1867-1868 the reader may already have noted that more than one important move in my life has been decided upon with but little previous deliberation. during august, 1866, while on the way to a family picnic at la ballona, my brother suggested the advisability of opening an office for h. newmark & company in new york; and so quickly had i expressed my willingness to remove there that, when we reached the _rancho_, i announced to my wife that we would leave for the east as soon as we could get ready. circumstances, however, delayed our going a few months. my family at this time consisted of my wife and four children; and together on january 29th, 1867, we left san pedro for new york, by way of san francisco and panamá, experiencing frightfully hot weather. stopping at acapulco, during maximilian's revolution, we were summarily warned to keep away from the fort on the hill; while at panamá yellow fever, spread by travelers recently arrived from south america, caused the captain to beat a hasty retreat. sailing on the steamer _henry chancey_ from aspinwall, we arrived at new york on the sixth of march; and having domiciled my family comfortably, my next care was to establish an office on the third floor at 31 and 33 broadway, placing it in charge of m. j. newmark, who had preceded me to the metropolis a year before. in a short time, i bought a home on forty-ninth street, between sixth and seventh avenues, then an agreeable residence district. an intense longing to see my old home next induced me to return to europe, and i sailed on may 16th for havre on the steam-propeller _union_; the band playing _the highland fling_ as the vessel left the pier. in mid-ocean, the ship's propeller broke, and she completed the voyage under sail. three months later, i returned on the _russia_. the recollection of this journey gives me real satisfaction; for had i not taken it then, i should never again have seen my father. on the twenty-first of the following november, or a few months after i last bade him good-bye, he died at loebau, in the seventy-fifth year of his age. my mother had died in the summer of 1859. it was during this visit that, tarrying for a week in the brilliant french capital, i saw the paris exposition, housed to a large extent in one immense building in the champ de mars. i was wonderfully impressed with both the city and the fair, as well as with the enterprising and artistic french people who had created it, although i was somewhat disappointed that, of the fifty thousand or more exhibitors represented, but seven hundred were americans. one little incident may be worth relating. while i was standing in the midst of the machinery one day, the _gendarmes_ suddenly began to force the crowd back, and on retreating with the rest, i saw a group of ladies and gentlemen approaching. it was soon whispered that they were the empress eugénie and her suite, and that we had been commanded to retire in order to permit her majesty to get a better view of a new railroad coach that she desired to inspect. not long ago i was reading of a trying ordeal in the life of elihu b. washburne, american minister to france, who, having unluckily removed his shoe at a court dinner, was compelled to rise with the company on the sudden appearance of royalty, and to step back with a stockinged foot! the incident recalled an experience of my own in london. i had ordered from a certain shoemaker in berlin a pair of patent-leather gaiters which i wore for the first time when i went to covent garden with an old friend and his wife. it was a very warm evening and the performance had not progressed far before it became evident that the shoes were too small. i was, in fact, nearly overcome with pain, and in my desperation removed the gaiters (when the lights were low), quietly shoved them under the seat and sat out the rest of the performance with a fair degree of comfort and composure. imagine my consternation, however, when i sought to put the shoes on again and found the operation almost impossible! the curtain fell while i was explaining and apologizing to my friends; and nearly every light was extinguished before i was ready to emerge from the famous opera house and limp to a waiting carriage. a trifling event also lingers among the memories of this revisit to my native place. while journeying towards loebau in a stage, i happened to mention that i had married since settling in america; whereupon one of my fellow-passengers inquired whether my wife was white, brown or black? major ben c. truman was president johnson's private secretary until he was appointed, in 1866, special agent for the post office department on the pacific coast. he came to los angeles in february, 1867, to look after postal matters in southern california and arizona, but more particularly to reëstablish, between los angeles and points in new mexico, the old butterfield route which had been discontinued on account of the war. truman opened post offices at a number of places in los angeles county. on december 8th, 1869, the major married miss augusta mallard, daughter of judge j. s. mallard. from july, 1873, until the late summer of 1877, he controlled the los angeles _star_, contributing to its columns many excellent sketches of early life in southern california, some of which were incorporated in one or more substantial volumes; and of all the pioneer journalists here, it is probable that none have surpassed this affable gentleman in brilliancy and genial, kindly touch. among truman's books is an illustrated work entitled _semi-tropical california_, dedicated, with a _dominus vobiscum_, to phineas banning and published in san francisco, 1874; while another volume, issued seven years later, is devoted to _occidental sketches_. a fire, starting in bell's block on los angeles street, on july 13th, during my absence from the city, destroyed property to the value of sixty-four thousand dollars; and the same season, s. lazard & company moved their dry goods store from bell's row to wolfskill's building on main street, opposite the bella union hotel. germain pellissier, a frenchman from the hautes-alpes, came to los angeles in august, and for twenty-eight years lived at what is now the corner of seventh and olive streets. then the land was in the country; but by 1888, pellissier had built the block that bears his name. on settling here, pellissier went into sheep-raising, scattering stock in kern and ventura counties, and importing sheep from france and australia in order to improve his breed; and from one ram alone in a year, as he demonstrated to some doubting challengers, he clipped sixty-two and a half pounds of wool. p. beaudry began to invest in hill property in 1867, at once improving the steep hillside of new high street, near sonora town, which he bought in, at sheriff's sale, for fifty-five dollars. afterward, beaudry purchased some twenty acres between second, fourth, charity and hill streets, for which he paid five hundred and seventeen dollars; and when he had subdivided this into eighty lots, he cleared about thirty thousand dollars. thirty-nine acres, between fourth and sixth, and pearl and charity streets, he finally disposed of at a profit, it is said, of over fifty thousand dollars. john g. downey having subdivided nieto's _rancho_, santa gertrudis, the little town of downey, which he named, soon enjoyed such a boom that sleepy los angeles began to sit up and take notice. among the early residents was e. m. sanford, a son-in-law of general john w. gordon, of georgia. a short time before the founding of downey, a small place named galatin had been started near by, but the flood of 1868 caused our otherwise dry rivers to change their courses, and galatin was washed away. this subdividing at once stimulated the coming of land and home-seekers, increased the spirit of enterprise and brought money into circulation. soon afterward, phineas banning renewed the agitation to connect los angeles with wilmington by rail. he petitioned the county to assist the enterprise, but the larger taxpayers, backed by the over-conservative farmers, still opposed the scheme, tooth and nail, until it finally took all of banning's influence to carry the project through to a successful termination. george s. patton, whose father, colonel patton of the confederate army, was killed at winchester, september 19th, 1864, is a nephew of andrew glassell and the oldest of four children who came to los angeles with their mother and her father, andrew glassell, sr., in 1867. educated in the public schools of los angeles, patton afterward attended the virginia military institute, where stonewall jackson had been a professor, returning to los angeles in september, 1877, when he entered the law firm of glassell, smith & patton. in 1884, he married miss ruth, youngest daughter of b. d. wilson, after which he retired to private life. one of patton's sisters married tom brown; another sister became the wife of the popular physician, dr. w. le moyne wills. in 1871, his mother, relict of colonel george s. patton, married her kinsman, colonel george h. smith. john moran, sr., conducted a vineyard on san pedro street near the present ninth, in addition to which he initiated the soda-water business here, selling his product at twenty-five cents a bottle. soda water, however, was too "soft" a drink to find much favor and little was done to establish the trade on a firm basis until 1867, when h. w. stoll, a german, drove from colorado to california and organized the los angeles soda water works. as soon as he began to manufacture the aerated beverages, stevens & wood set up the first soda-water fountain in los angeles, on north spring street near the post office. after that, bubbling water and strangely-colored syrups gained in popularity until, in 1876, quite an expensive fountain was purchased by preuss & pironi's drug store, on spring street opposite court. and what is more, they brought in hogsheads from saratoga what would be difficult to find in all los angeles to-day: congress, vichy and kissingen waters. stoll, by the way, in 1873, married fräulein louisa behn, daughter of john behn. an important industry of the late sixties and early seventies was the harvesting of castor beans, then growing wild along the _zanjas_. they were shipped to san francisco for manufacturing purposes, the oil factories there both supplying the ranchmen with seed and pledging themselves to take the harvest when gathered. in 1867, a small castor-oil mill was set up here. the _chilicothe_--derived, according to charles f. lummis, from the aztec, _chilacayote_, the wild cucumber, or _echinocystes fabacea_--is the name of a plaything supplied by diversified nature, which grew on large vines, especially along the slope leading down to the river on what is now elysian park, and in the neighborhood of the hills adjacent to the mallard and nichols places. four or five of these _chilicothes_, each shaped much like an irregular marble, came in a small burr or gourd; and to secure them for games, the youngsters risked limb, if not life, among the trees and rocks. small circular holes were sometimes cut into the nuts; and after the meat, which was not edible, had been extracted, the empty shells were strung together like beads and presented, as necklaces and bracelets, to sisters and sweethearts. just about the time when i first gazed upon the scattered houses of our little pueblo, the pacific railway expedition, sent out from washington, prepared and published a tinted lithograph sketch of los angeles, now rather rare. in 1867, stephen a. rendall, an englishman of angora goat fame, who had been here, off and on, as a photographer, devised one of the first large panoramas of los angeles, which he sold by advance subscription. it was made in sections; and as the only view of that year extant, it also has become notable as an historical souvenir. surrounded by his somewhat pretentious gallery and his mysterious darkroom on the top floor of temple's new block, v. wolfenstein also took good, bad and indifferent photographs, having arrived here, perhaps, in the late sixties, and remaining a decade or more, until his return to his native stockholm where i again met him. he operated with slow wet-plates, and pioneers will remember the inconvenience, almost tantamount to torture, to which the patron was subjected in sitting out an exposure. the children of pioneers, too, will recall his magic, revolving stereoscope, filled with fascinating views at which one peeped through magnifying glasses. louis lewin must have arrived here in the late sixties. subsequently, he bought out the stationery business of w. j. brodrick, and p. lazarus, upon his arrival from tucson in 1874, entered into partnership with him; samuel hellman, as was not generally known at the time, also having an interest in the firm which was styled louis lewin & company. when the centennial of the united states was celebrated here in 1876, a committee wrote a short historical sketch of los angeles; and this was published by lewin & company. now the firm is known as the lazarus stationery company, p. lazarus[28] being president. lewin and lazarus married into families of pioneers: mrs. lewin is a daughter of s. lazard, while mrs. lazarus is a daughter of m. kremer. lewin died at manilla on april 5th, 1905. on november 18th, the common council contracted with jean louis sainsevain to lay some five thousand feet of twoand three-inch iron pipe at a cost of about six thousand dollars in scrip; but the great flood of that winter caused sainsevain so many failures and losses that he transferred his lease, in the spring or summer of 1868, to dr. j. s. griffin, prudent beaudry, and solomon lazard, who completed sainsevain's contract with the city. dr. griffin and his associates then proposed to lease the water-works from the city for a term of fifty years, but soon changed this to an offer to buy. when the matter came up before the council for adoption, there was a tie vote, whereupon murray morrison, just before resigning as president of the council, voted in the affirmative, his last official act being to sign the franchise. mayor aguilar, however, vetoed the ordinance, and then dr. griffin and his colleagues came forward with a new proposition. this was to lease the works for a period of thirty years, and to pay fifteen hundred dollars a year in addition to performing certain things promised in the preceding proposition. at this stage of the negotiations, john jones made a rival offer, and p. mcfadden, who had been an unsuccessful bidder for the sainsevain lease, tried with juan bernard to enter into a twenty-year contract. notwithstanding these other offers, however, the city authorities thought it best, on july 22d, 1868, to vote the franchise to dr. griffin, s. lazard and p. beaudry, who soon transferred their thirty-year privileges to a corporation known as the los angeles city water company, in which they became trustees. others associated in this enterprise were eugene meyer, i. w. hellman, j. g. downey, a. j. king, stephen hathaway mott--tom's brother--w. h. perry and charles lafoon. a spirited fight followed the granting of the thirty-year lease, but the water company came out victorious. in the late sixties, when the only communities of much consequence in los angeles county were los angeles, anaheim and wilmington, the latter place and anaheim landing were the shipping ports of los angeles, san bernardino and arizona. at that time, or during some of the especially prosperous days of anaheim, the slough at anaheim landing (since filled up by flood) was so formed, and of such depth, that heavily-loaded vessels ran past the warehouse to a considerable distance inland, and there unloaded their cargoes. at the same time the leading coast steamers began to stop there. not many miles away was the corn-producing settlement, gospel swamp. i have pointed out the recurring weakness in the wooden pipes laid by sainsevain and marchessault. this distressing difficulty, causing, as it did, repeated losses and sharp criticism by the public, has always been regarded as the motive for ex-mayor marchessault's death on january 20th, when he committed suicide in the old city council room. jacob loew arrived in america in 1865 and spent three years in new york before he came to california in 1868. clerking for a while in san francisco, he went to the old town of san diego, then to galatin, and in 1872 settled in downey; and there, in conjunction with jacob baruch, afterward of haas, baruch & company, he conducted for years the principal general merchandise business of that section. on coming to los angeles in 1883, he bought, as i have said, the deming mill now known as the capitol mills. two years later, on the second of august, he was married to my daughter emily. dr. joseph kurtz, once a student at giessen, arrived in los angeles on february 3d, with a record for hospital service at baltimore during the civil war, having been induced to come here by the druggist, adolf junge, with whom for a while he had some association. still later he joined dr. rudolph eichler in conducting a pharmacy. for some time prior to his graduation in medicine, in 1872, dr. kurtz had an office in the lanfranco building. for many years, he was surgeon to the southern pacific railroad company and consulting physician to the santa fé railroad company, and he also served as president of the los angeles college clinical association. i shall have further occasion to refer to this good friend. dr. carl kurtz is distinguishing himself in the profession of his father. hale fellow well met and always in favor with a large circle, was my teutonic friend, lewis ebinger, who, after coming to los angeles in 1868, turned clay into bricks. perhaps this also recalled the days of his childhood when he made pies of the same material; but be that as it may, lewis in the early seventies made his first venture in the bakery business, opening shop on north spring street. in the bustling boom days when real estate men saw naught but the sugar-coating, ebinger, who had moved to elaborate quarters in a building at the southwest corner of spring and third streets, was dispensing cream puffs and other baked delicacies to an enthusiastic and unusually large clientele. but since everybody then had money, or thought that he had, one such place was not enough to satisfy the ravenous speculators; with the result that john koster was soon conducting a similar establishment on spring street near second, while farther north, on spring street near first, the vienna bakery ran both lewis and john a merry race. dr. l. w. french, one of the organizers of the odontological society of southern california, also came to los angeles in 1868--so early that he found but a couple of itinerant dentists, who made their headquarters here for a part of the year and then hung out their shingles in other towns or at remote ranches. one day in the spring of 1868, while i was residing in new york city, i received a letter from phineas banning, accompanied by a sealed communication, and reading about as follows: dear harris: herewith i enclose to you a letter of the greatest importance, addressed to miss mary hollister (daughter, as you know, of colonel john h. hollister), who will soon be on her way to new york, and who may be expected to arrive there by the next steamer. this letter i beg you to deliver to miss hollister personally, immediately upon her arrival in new york, thereby obliging yours obediently, (signed) phineas banning. the steamer referred to had not yet arrived, and i lost no time in arranging that i should be informed, by the company's agents, of the vessel's approach, as soon as it was sighted. this notification came, by the by, through a telegram received before daylight one bitterly cold morning, when i was told that the ship would soon be at the dock; and as quickly as i could, i procured a carriage, hastened to the wharf and, before any passengers had landed, boarded the vessel. there i sought out miss hollister, a charming lady, and gave her the mysterious missive. i thought no more of this matter until i returned to los angeles when, welcoming me back, banning told me that the letter i had had the honor to deliver aboard ship in new york contained nothing less than a proposal of marriage, his solicitation of miss hollister's heart and hand! one reason why the bella union played such an important _rôle_ in the early days of los angeles, was because there was no such thing as a high-class restaurant; indeed, the first recollection i have of anything like a satisfactory place is that of louis vielle, known by some as french louis and nicknamed by others louis _gordo_, or louis the fat. vielle came to los angeles from mexico, a fat, jolly little french caterer, not much over five feet in height and weighing, i should judge, two hundred and fifty pounds; and this great bulk, supported as it was by two peg-like legs, rendered his appearance truly comical. his blue eyes, light hair and very rosy cheeks accentuated his ludicrous figure. louis, who must have been about fifty-four years of age when i first met him, then conducted his establishment in john lanfranco's building on main street, between commercial and requena; from which fact the place was known as the lanfranco, although it subsequently received the more suggestive title, the what cheer house. louis was an acknowledged expert in his art, but he did not always choose to exert himself. nevertheless his lunches, for which he charged fifty or seventy-five cents, according to the number of dishes served, were well thought of, and it is certain that los angeles had never had so good a restaurant before. at one time, our caterer's partner was a man named frederico guiol, whom he later bought out. louis could never master the english language, and to his last day spoke with a strong french accent. his florid cheeks were due to the enormous quantity of claret consumed both at and between meals. he would mix it with soup, dip his bread into it and otherwise absorb it in large quantities. indeed, at the time of his fatal illness, while he was living with the family of don louis sainsevain, it was assumed that over-indulgence in wine was the cause. be that as it may, he sickened and died, passing away at the lanfranco home in 1872. vielle had prospered, but during his sickness he spent largely of his means. after his death, it was discovered that he had been in the habit of hiding his coin in little niches in the wall of his room and in other secret places; and only a small amount of the money was found. a few of the real pioneers recollect louis _gordo_ as one who added somewhat to the comfort of those who then patronized restaurants; while others will associate him with the introduction here of the first french dolls, to take the place of rag-babies. both judge robert maclay widney and dr. joseph p. widney, the surgeon, took up their residence in los angeles in 1868. r. m. widney set out from ohio about 1855 and, having spent two years in exploring the rockies, worked for a while in the sacramento valley, where he chopped wood for a living, and finally reached los angeles with a small trunk and about a hundred dollars in cash. here he opened a law and real-estate office and started printing the _real estate advertiser_. dr. widney crossed the continent in 1862, spent two years as surgeon in the united states army in arizona, after which he proceeded to los angeles and soon became one of the charter members of the los angeles medical society, exerting himself in particular to extend southern california's climatic fame. i have spoken of the ice procured from the san bernardino mountains in rather early days, but i have not said that in summer, when we most needed the cooling commodity, there was none to be had. the enterprising firm of queen & gard, the first to arrange for regular shipments of truckee river ice in large quantities by steamer from the north, announced their purpose late in march, 1868, of building an ice house on main street; and about the first of april they began delivering daily, in a large and substantial wagon especially constructed for that purpose and which, for the time being, was an object of much curiosity. liberal support was given the enterprise; and perhaps it is no wonder that the perspiring editor of the _news_, going into ecstasies because of a cooling sample or two deposited in his office, said, in the next issue of his paper: the founding of an ice depot is another step forward in the progress that is to make us a great city. we have water and gas, and now we are to have the additional luxury of ice! [illustration: dr. truman h. rose] [illustration: dr. vincent gelcich] [illustration: andrew glassell] [illustration: charles e. miles, in uniform of 38's] [illustration: facsimile of stock certificate, pioneer oil co.] [illustration: american bakery, jake kuhrts's building, about 1880] banning's fight for the los angeles & san pedro railroad has been touched upon more than once. tomlinson, his rival, opposed the project; but his sudden death, about two weeks before the election in 1868, removed one of the serious obstacles. when the vote was taken, on march 24th, as to whether the city and county should bond themselves to encourage the building of the railroad, seven hundred votes were cast in favor of, and six hundred and seventy-two votes against, the undertaking, leaving banning and his associates ready to go ahead. by the way, as a reminder of the quondam vogue of spanish here, it may be noted that the proclamation regarding the railroad, published in 1868, was printed in both english and spanish. on may 16th, henry hamilton, whose newspaper, the _star_, during part of the war period had been suspended through the censorship of the national government, again made his bow to the los angeles public, this time in a half-facetious leader in which he referred to the "late unpleasantness" in the family circle. hamilton's old-time vigor was immediately recognized, but not his former disposition to attack and criticize. dr. h. s. orme, once president of the state board of health of california, arrived in los angeles on july 4th and soon became as prominent in masonic as in medical circles. dr. harmon, an early successor to drs. griffin and den, first settled here in 1868, although he had previously visited california in 1853. carl felix heinzeman, at one time a well-known chemist and druggist, emigrated from germany in 1868 and came direct to los angeles, where after succeeding j. b. saunders & company, he continued, in the lanfranco building, what grew to be the largest drug store south of san francisco. heinzeman died on april 29th, 1903. about the same period, a popular apothecary shop on main street, near the plaza, was known as chevalier's. in the seventies, when hygiene and sanitation were given more attention, a welshman named hughes conducted a steam-bath establishment on main street, almost opposite the baker block, and the first place of its kind in the city. charles f. harper[29] of mississippi, and the father of ex-mayor harper, in 1868 opened with r. h. dalton a hardware store in the allen block, corner of spring and temple streets, thus forerunning coulter & harper, harper & moore, harper, reynolds & company and the harper-reynolds company. michel lèvy, an alsatian, arrived in san francisco when but seventeen years of age, and after various experiences in california and nevada towns, he came to los angeles in 1868, soon establishing, with joe coblentz, the wholesale liquor house of lèvy & coblentz. the latter left here in 1879, and lèvy continued under the firm name of m. lèvy & company until his death in 1905. anastácio cárdenas, a dwarf who weighed but one and a half pounds when born, came to los angeles in 1867 and soon appeared before the public as a singer and dancer. he carried a sword and was popularly dubbed "general." a brother, ruperto, long lived here. when the canal & reservoir company was organized with george hansen as president and j. j. warner as secretary, p. beaudry contributed heavily to construct a twenty-foot dam across the _cañon_, below the present site of echo park, and a ditch leading down to pearl street. this first turned attention to the possibilities in the hill-lands to the west; and in return, the city gave to the company a large amount of land, popularly designated as canal and reservoir property. in 1868, when there was still not a three-story house in los angeles, james alvinza hayward, a san franciscan, joined john g. downey in providing one hundred thousand dollars with which to open, in the old downey block on the site of the temple adobe, the first bank in los angeles, under the firm name of hayward & company. the lack of business afforded this enterprise short shrift and they soon retired. in july of the same year, i. w. hellman, william workman, f. p. f. temple and james r. toberman started a bank, with a capital of one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars, under the title of hellman, temple & company, hellman becoming manager. i do not remember when postal lock-boxes were first brought into use, but i do recollect that in the late sixties postmaster clarke had a great deal of trouble collecting quarterly rents, and that he finally gave notice that boxes held by delinquents would thereafter be nailed up. a year or two after the burtons had established themselves here, came another pedagogue in the person of w. b. lawlor, a thick-set, bearded man with a flushed complexion, who opened a day-school called the lawlor institute; and after the burtons left here to settle at portland, oregon, where burton became headmaster of an academy for advanced students, many of his former pupils attended lawlor's school. the two institutions proved quite different in type: the burton training had tended strongly to languages and literature, while lawlor, who was an adept at short-cut methods of calculation, placed more stress on arithmetic and commercial education. burton, who returned to los angeles, has been for years a leading member of the _times_ editorial staff, and _burton's book on california and its sunlit skies_ is one of this author's contributions to pacific coast literature; his wife, however, died many years ago. lawlor, who was president of the common council in 1880, is also dead. the most popular piano-teacher of about that time was professor van gilpin. william pridham came to los angeles in august, having been transferred from the san francisco office of wells fargo & company, in whose service as pony rider, clerk at austin, nevada, and at sacramento, and cashier in the northern metropolis he had been for some ten years. here he succeeded major j. r. toberman, when the latter, after long service, resigned; and with a single office-boy, at one time little joe binford, he handled all the business committed to the company's charge. john osborn was the outside expressman. then most of the heavy express matter from san francisco was carried by steamers, but letters and limited packages of moment were sent by stage. with the advent of railroads, pridham was appointed by wells fargo & company superintendent of the los angeles district. on june 12th, 1880, he married miss mary esther, daughter of colonel john o. wheeler, and later moved to alameda. now, after fifty-one years of association with the express business, pridham still continues to be officially connected with the wells fargo company. speaking of that great organization, reminds me that it conducted for years a mail-carrying business. three-cent stamped envelopes, imprinted with wells fargo & company's name, were sold to their patrons for ten cents each; and to compensate for this bonus, the company delivered the letters entrusted to them perhaps one to two hours sooner than did the government. this recalls to me a familiar experience on the arrival of the mail from the north. before the inauguration of a stage-line, the best time in the transmission of mail matter between san francisco and los angeles was made by water, and wells fargo messengers sailed with the steamers. immediately upon the arrival of the boat at san pedro, the messenger boarded the stage, and as soon as he reached los angeles, pressed on to the office of the company, near the bella union, where he delivered his bagful of letters. the steamer generally got in by five o'clock in the morning; and many a time, about seven, have i climbed signal or pound cake hill--higher in those days than now, and affording in clear weather a view of both ocean and the smoke of the steamer--upon whose summit stood a house, used as a signal station, and there watched for the rival stages, the approach of which was indicated by clouds of dust. i would then hurry with many others to the express company's office where, as soon as the bag was emptied, we would all help ourselves unceremoniously to the mail. in august, general edward bouton, a northern army officer, came to los angeles and soon had a sheep ranch on boyle heights--a section then containing but two houses; and two years later he camped where whittier now lies. in 1874, he bought land for pasture in the san jacinto valley, and for years owned the ocean front at alamitos bay from devil's gate to the inlet, boring artesian wells there north of long beach. louis robidoux, who had continued to prosper as a _ranchero_, died in 1868 at the age of seventy-seven years. with the usual flourish of spades, if not of trumpets, ground was broken for the los angeles & san pedro railroad at wilmington on september 19th, and toward the end of november, the rails had been laid about a mile out from wilmington. the last contract for carrying the overland mail was given to wells fargo & company on october 1st and pledged a round remuneration of one million, seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars per annum, while it also permitted passengers and freight to be transported; but the company came to have a great deal of competition. phineas banning, for example, had a stage-line between los angeles and yuma, in addition to which mail and passengers were carried in buckboards, large wagons and jerkies. moreover there was another stage-line between tucson and el paso, and rival stage-lines between el paso and st. louis; and in consequence, the butterfield service was finally abandoned. this american vehicle, by the by, the jerky, was so named for the very good reason that, as the wagon was built without springs, it _jerked_ the rider around unmercifully. boards were laid across the wagon-box or bed for seats, accommodating four passengers; and some space was provided in the back for baggage. to maintain one's position in the bumping, squeaking vehicle at all, was difficult; while to keep one's place on the seat approached the impossible. of the various los angeles roadways in 1868, west sixth street was most important in its relation to travel. along this highway the daily overland stages entered and departed from the city; and by this route came all the havilah, lone pine, soledad and owens river trade, as well as that of the ballona and ciénega districts. sixth street also led to the fair grounds, and over its none too even surface dashed most of the sports and gallants on their way to the race course. i have said that i returned to new york, in 1867, presumably for permanent residence. soon after i left los angeles, however, samuel cohn became desperately ill, and the sole management of h. newmark & company suddenly devolved on sam's brother kaspare. this condition of affairs grew so bad that my return to los angeles became imperative. accordingly, leaving my family, i took passage on october 31st, 1868, for san francisco, and returned to los angeles without delay. then i wired my wife to start with the children for the coast, and to have the furniture, including a chickering grand piano, just purchased, shipped after them; and when they arrived, we once more took possession of the good old adobe on main street, where we lived contentedly until 1874. this piano, by the way, which came by freight around cape horn, was one of the first instruments of the kind seen here, john schumacher having previously bought one. while we were living in new york, edward j. newmark, my wife's brother, died here on february 17th, 1868. before i left for new york, hardly anything had been done, in subdividing property, save perhaps by the lugos and downey, and at anaheim and wilmington. during the time that i was away, however, newspapers and letters from home indicated the changes going on here; and i recall what an impression all this made upon me. on my way down from san francisco on captain johnson's _orizaba_ in december--about the same time that the now familiar locomotive _san gabriel_ reached wilmington--land-agents were active and people were talking a great deal about these subdivisions; and by the time i reached los angeles i, too, was considerably stirred up over the innovations and as soon as possible after my return hastened out to see the change. the improvements were quite noticeable, and among other alterations surprising me were the houses people had begun to build on the approaches to the western hills. i was also to learn that there was a general demand for property all over the city, colonel charles h. larrabee, city attorney in 1868, especially having bought several hundred feet on spring and fort streets. later, i heard of the experiences of other angeleños aboard ship who were deluged with circulars advertising prospective towns. to show the provincial character of los angeles fifty years ago, i will add an anecdote or two. while i was in new york, members of my family reported by letter, as a matter of extraordinary interest, the novelty of a silver name-plate on a neighboring front door; and when i was taken to inspect it, a year later, i saw the legend, still novel: mr. and mrs. eugene meyer in the metropolis i had found finger-bowls in common use, and having brought back with me such a supply as my family would be likely to need, i discovered that it had actually fallen to my lot to introduce these desirable conveniences into los angeles. william ferguson was an arrival of 1868, having come to settle up the business of a brother and remaining to open a livery stable on north main street near the plaza, which he conducted for ten years. investing in water company stock, ferguson abandoned his stable to make water-pipes, a couple of years later, perhaps, than j. f. holbrook had entered the same field. success enabled ferguson to build a home at 303 south hill street, where he found himself the only resident south of third. this manufacture here of water pipe recalls a cordial acquaintance with william lacy, sr., an englishman, who was interested with william rowland in developing the puente oil fields. his sons, william, jr., and richard h., originators of the lacy manufacturing company, began making pipe and tanks a quarter of a century ago. c. r. rinaldi started a furniture business here in 1868, opening his store almost opposite the stearns's home on north main street. before long he disposed of an interest to charles dotter, and then, i think, sold out to i. w. lord and moved to the neighborhood of the san fernando mission. about the same time, sidney lacey, who arrived in 1870 and was a popular clerk with the pioneer carpet and wall-paper house of smith & walter, commenced what was to be a long association with this establishment. in 1876, c. h. bradley bought out lord, and the firm of dotter & bradley, so well known to householders of forty years ago, came into existence. in 1884, h. h. markham (soon to be congressman and then governor of the state), with general e. p. johnson bought this concern and organized the los angeles furniture company, whose affairs since 1910, (when her husband died), have been conducted by the president, mrs. katherine fredericks. conrad hafen, a german-swiss, reached los angeles in december, 1868, driving a six-horse team and battered wagon with which he had braved the privations of death valley; and soon he rented a little vineyard, two years later buying for the same purpose considerable acreage on what is now central avenue. rewarded for his husbandry with some affluence, hafen built both the old hafen house and the new on south hill street, once a favorite resort for german arrivals. he retired in 1905. footnotes: [28] died on september 30th, 1914. [29] died on september 13th, 1915. chapter xxvi the cerro gordo mines 1869 it was early in 1869 that i was walking down spring street one day and saw a crowd at the city hall. on a large box stood mayor joel h. turner, and just as i arrived a man leaning against the adobe wall called out, "seven dollars!" the mayor then announced the bid--for an auction was in progress--"seven dollars once, seven dollars twice, seven dollars three times!" and as he raised his hand to conclude the sale, i called out, "a half!" this i did in a spirit of fun; in fact, i did not even know what was being offered! "seven dollars fifty once, seven dollars fifty twice, seven dollars fifty three times, and sold--to harris newmark!" called the mayor. i then inquired what i had bought, and was shown the location of about twenty acres, a part of nine hundred being sold by the city at prices ranging from five to ten dollars an acre. the piece purchased was west of the city limits, and i kept it until 1886 when i had almost forgotten that i was the owner. then george williamson, one of the first salesmen of h. newmark & company, who became a boomer of the period, bought it from me for ten thousand dollars and resold it within two weeks for fourteen thousand, the sunset oil company starting there, as the land was within what was known as the oil district. since the opening of streets in all directions, i have lost trace of this land, but incline to the belief that it lies in the immediate vicinity of the wilshire district. my experience reminds me of colonel john o. wheeler's investment in fifty or sixty acres at what is now figueroa and adams streets. later, going to san francisco as a customs officer, he forgot about his purchase until one day he received a somewhat surprising offer. on january 1st, a. j. king and r. h. offutt began to publish a daily edition of the _news_, hitherto a semi-weekly, making it strongly democratic. there was no sunday issue and twelve dollars was the subscription. on october 16th, offutt sold his interest to alonzo waite, and the firm became king & waite. in another year king had retired. how modest was the status of the post office in 1869 may be gathered from the fact that the postmaster had only one assistant, a boy, both together receiving fourteen hundred dollars in greenbacks, worth but a thousand dollars in gold. henry hammel, for years connected with the bella union, and a partner named bremerman leased the united states hotel on february 1st from louis mesmer; and in march, john king succeeded winston & king as manager of the bella union. king died in december, 1871. in the winter of 1868-69, when heavy rains seriously interfered with bringing in the small supply of lumber at san pedro, a coöperative society was proposed, to insure the importation each summer of enough supplies to tide the community over during the wintry weather. over one hundred persons, it was then estimated, had abandoned building, and many others were waiting for material to complete fences and repairs. thanks to contractor h. b. tichenor's vigor in constructing the los angeles & san pedro railroad, public interest in the venture, by the beginning of 1869, had materially increased. in january, a vessel arrived with a locomotive and a steam pile-driver; and a few days later a schooner sailed into san pedro with ties, sleepers and rails enough for three miles of the track. soon, also, the locomotive was running part of the way. the wet winter made muddy roads, and this led to the proposal to lay the tracks some eight or ten miles in the direction of los angeles, and there to transfer the freight to wagons. stearns hall and the plaza were amusement places in 1869. at the latter, in january, the so-called _paris exposition circus_ held forth; while joe murphy and maggie moore, who had just favored the passengers on the _orizaba_, on coming south from san francisco, with a show, trod the hall's more classic boards. ice a quarter of an inch thick was formed here for several days during the third week in january, and butchers found it so difficult to secure fat cattle that good beef advanced to sixteen and a quarter cents a pound. on january 20th, i purchased from eugene meyer the southern half of lots three and four in block five, fronting on fort street between second and third, formerly owned by william buffum and j. f. burns. meyer had paid one thousand dollars for one hundred and twenty feet front and three hundred and thirty feet depth; and when i bought half of this piece for one thousand dollars, it was generally admitted that i had paid all that it was worth. isaac lankershim--father of j. b. lankershim and mrs. i. n. van nuys--who first visited california in 1854, came from san francisco in 1869 and bought, for one hundred and fifteen thousand dollars, part of andrés pico's san fernando _rancho_, which he stocked with sheep. levi strauss & company, scholle brothers, l. and m. sachs & company of san francisco and others, were interested in this partnership, then known as the san fernando farm association; but lankershim was in control until about one year later, when isaac newton van nuys arrived from monticello, where he had been merchandising, and was put permanently in charge of the ranch. at this period lankershim lived there, for he had not yet undertaken milling in los angeles. a little later, lankershim and van nuys successfully engaged in the raising of wheat, cultivating nearly sixty thousand acres, and consigning some of their harvests to liverpool. this fact recalls a heavy loss in the spring of 1881, when the _parisian_, which left wilmington under captain reaume, foundered at sea with nearly two hundred and fifty tons of wheat and about seventy-five tons of flour belonging to them. j. b. lankershim, owner of the well-known hotel bearing his name, after the death of his father made some very important investments in los angeles real estate, including the northwest corner of broadway and seventh street, now occupied by the building devoted to bullock's department store. m. n. newmark, a nephew of mine and president of the newmark grain company, arrived in 1869, and clerked for h. newmark & company until 1871, in which year he established a partnership with s. grand in compton, selling general merchandise. this partnership lasted until 1878, when newmark bought out grand. he finally disposed of the business in 1889 and, with d. k. edwards, organized the firm of newmark & edwards. in 1895 edwards sold out his interest. victor ponet, a native of belgium, and once belgian consul here, while traveling around the world, landed in california in 1867 and two years later came to los angeles. attracted by the climate and southern california's possible future, ponet settled here, engaging first in the pioneer manufacture and importation of mirrors and picture frames; and before his retirement to live in sherman, he had had experience both as undertaker and banker.[30] in 1869, general w. s. rosecrans came south in the interest of the proposed san diego & gila railroad, never constructed. the general, as a result, took up land around sausal redondo, and there by the summer of 1869 so many people (who insisted that rosecrans had appropriated public land) had squatted, that he was put to no end of trouble in ejecting them. though i have witnessed most of the progress in southern california, it is still difficult to realize that so much could have been accomplished within the life-time of one man. during 1868-69 only twenty-two hundred boxes of oranges were shipped from los angeles, while the southern counties' crop of oranges and lemons for 1913-14 is estimated, i am told, at about twelve million boxes! due to the eight-day shindy marking the celebration of the chinese new year, demand for a more concentrated rumpus was voiced in february, 1869, threatening an agitation against john chinaman. the same month, residents, wishing a school in which german should be taught, and a gymnasium, petitioned the common council to acquire a lot in new high street for the purpose. about 1869, the los angeles social club which, to the best of my recollection, was the first of its kind in the city, was organized, with headquarters in the earliest building erected by i. w. hellman, at the northwest corner of los angeles and commercial streets. among other pioneer members were captain cameron e. thom, tom mott, eugene meyer, sam and charles prager, tom rowan, i. w. and h. w. hellman, s. lazard, w. j. brodrick, john jones, kaspare cohn, a. c. chauvin, m. and j. l. morris, leon loeb, sam meyer, dr. f. a. mcdougal, b. cohn and myself. somewhat later, the club moved to the east side of los angeles street, between commercial and aliso. still later, it dissolved; and although it did not become the direct ancestor of any of the several well-known social organizations in the los angeles of to-day, i feel that it should be mentioned as having had the honor of being their precursor and model. speaking of social organizations, i may say that several los angeles clubs were organized in the early era of sympathy, tolerance and good feeling, when the individual was appreciated at his true worth and before the advent of men whose bigotry has sown intolerance and discord, and has made a mockery of both religion and professed ideals. it must have been early in the sixties that alexander bell sold the southern end of his property to h. heinsch, the saddler. on february 23d, 1869, the directors of the san pedro railroad selected the mike madigan lot on alameda street, on a part of which the owner was conducting a livery-stable, as the site for the depot in los angeles; and heinsch having allowed the authorities to cut through his property, the extension of commercial and requena streets eastward from los angeles to alameda was hastened. late on february 14th, the news was circulated of a shocking tragedy in the billiard saloon of the lafayette hotel, and at once aroused intense regret, affecting, as the affair did, the standing and happiness of two well-known los angeles families. about eight o'clock, charles howard, a young lawyer of prominence and a son of volney e. howard, met daniel b. nichols, son of the ex-mayor; and some dispute between them having reached its climax, both parties drew weapons and fired. howard was killed and nichols wounded, though not fatally, as was at first thought. the tragedy--the cause of which was never generally known--made a profound impression. the work of extending water mains along fort, spring and other streets progressed steadily until the los angeles water company struck a snag which again demonstrated the city's dependence. difficulty in coupling pipes called a halt, and the management had to send all the way to san francisco for _a complete set of plumbers' tools_! in the spring, tileston, emery & company, a los angeles and san gabriel firm, brought south the first steam separator seen here and took contracts to thrash the farmers' grain. on june 3d they started the machine, and many persons went out to see it work. among features pointed out were precautions against fire from the engine, which the contractors declared made "everything perfectly safe." from its inception, wilmington sought, in one way or another, to rival los angeles, and in april threw down the gauntlet. a. a. polhamus, a workshop engineer of the los angeles & san pedro railroad, (in 1887, a manufacturer of straw wrapping paper somewhere between here and wilmington,) had built a velocipede; and no sooner was it noised about than john goller set to work to eclipse the achievement. about one o'clock, therefore, on april 25th one of goller's apprentices suddenly appeared ready to make the first experiment. the streets were soon crowded and interest was at fever heat. the young fellow straddled the wheels, moved about half a block, and then, at the junction of main and spring streets, executed a first-class somersault! immediately, however, other intrepid ones tried their skill, and the velocipede was voted a successful institution of our young and progressive city. [illustration: loebau market place, near the house in which harris newmark was born] [illustration: street in loebau, showing (right) remnant of ancient city wall] [illustration: robert m. widney] [illustration: dr. joseph kurtz] [illustration: isaac n. van nuys] [illustration: abraham haas] by the first week in may, the velocipede craze had spread, crowds congregating daily on main street to see the antics of the boys; and soon h. f. laurence announced the opening in stearns's hall, on may 14th, of a velocipede school, where free instruction would be given: afternoons to _ladies_ and evenings to men; and to further stimulate interest, laurence announced a raffle on may 15th of "a splendid velocipede." by may 22d, j. eastman had obtained permission of the common council to build a velocipede track on the historic old plaza; but evidently he did not make use of the privilege, for a newspaper writer was soon giving vent to the following sarcasm: our city fathers tried to make a little coin by leasing the plaza as a velocipede circle or square; but, so far, the velocipedist has failed to connect. i dare say the cost of cleaning up the place of weeds backed the poor soul out! it happened in 1869 that judson, the financier, and belshaw, a practical miner, began working their lead mines in cerro gordo, in the owens river country; and as the handling of the ore necessitated a great many wagons, remi nadeau obtained the contract for the transportation of the ore brought down to wilmington and then shipped by boat to san francisco. remi had returned here about 1866, after having been in san francisco for four or five years; and eventually he built the nadeau hotel at the corner of spring and first streets, where a. bouelle, father of frank a. bouelle, had formerly kept a little grocery store in an adobe. this ore was loaded on to very large wagons, each drawn on level stretches by twelve or fourteen mules, but requiring as many as twenty or more mules while crossing the san fernando mountains--always regarded as one of the worst places on the route. in order not to return with empty wagons, nadeau purchased supplies of every description, which he sold to people along the route; and in this way he obtained the best financial results. this was about the same time that victor beaudry (prudent's brother, who came in 1855, to mine at san gabriel) opened a store at camp independence, inyo county, and became a stockholder in the cerro gordo mines. in the early eighties, beaudry was interested with his brother in local real estate movements. he died in montreal in 1888. after a time, the mines yielded so much ore that nadeau found himself short of transportation facilities; but with the assistance of judson & belshaw, as well as h. newmark & company, he was enabled to increase his capacity until he operated thirty-two teams. los angeles was then the southern terminus of his operations, although, during the building of the numerous southern pacific tunnels, his headquarters were removed to san fernando, and still later, on the completion of the railroad, to mojave. nadeau's assistant, willard g. halstead, son-in-law of h. k. w. bent, handled most of the business when nadeau was absent; a. e. lott was foreman of teams and continually rode up and down the line of operations; while thomas o'brien was station-agent at cerro gordo. the contract had been very profitable to judson & belshaw; yet when the agreement expired on january 1st, 1872, they wished to renew it at a lower figure. nadeau, believing that no one else could do the work satisfactorily, refused the new terms offered; whereupon judson & belshaw entered into an arrangement with william osborn, a liveryman, who owned a few teams. the season of 1871-72 was by no means a good one and barley was high, involving a great expense to nadeau in feeding four or five hundred animals; and right there arose his chief difficulty. he was in debt to h. newmark & company and therefore proposed that he should turn his outfit over to us; but as we had unlimited confidence both in his integrity and in his ability, we prevailed on him to keep and use his equipment to the best advantage. the suggestion was a fortunate one, for just at this time large deposits of borax were discovered in the mountains at wordsworth, nevada, and nadeau commenced operations there with every promise of success. in his work of hauling between cerro gordo and los angeles, nadeau had always been very regular, his teams with rare exceptions arriving and leaving on schedule time; and even when, occasionally, a wagon did break down, the pig-lead would be unloaded without delay, tossed to the side of the trail and left there for the next train; a method that was perfectly safe, since thieves never disturbed the property. osborn, on the other hand, soon proved uncertain and unreliable, his wagons frequently breaking down and causing other accidents and delays. to protect themselves, judson & belshaw were compelled to terminate their contract with him and reopen negotiations with nadeau; but the latter then rejected their advances unless they would buy a half-interest in his undertaking and put up one hundred and fifty thousand dollars for the construction and maintenance of the numerous stations that had become necessary for the proper development of his business. nadeau also made it a condition that h. newmark & company be paid. the stations already constructed or proposed were mud springs, lang's station, mojave, red rock, panamint, indian wells, little lake, haiwee meadows and cartago. before these were built, the teamsters camped in the open, carrying with them the provisions necessary for man and beast. cartago was on the south side of owens lake, cerro gordo being on the north side, eighteen miles opposite; and between these points the miniature side-wheeler _bessie_, of but twenty tons capacity, operated. an interesting fact or two in connection with owens lake may be recorded here. its water was so impregnated with borax and soda that no animal life could be sustained. in the winter, the myriads of wild duck were worth talking about; but after they had remained near the lake for but a few days, they were absolutely unpalatable. the teamsters and miners operating in the vicinity were in the habit of sousing their clothes in the lake for a few minutes, and when dried, the garments were found to be as clean as if they had passed through the most perfect laundry. even a handful of the water applied to the hair would produce a magnificent lather and shampoo. judson & belshaw were compelled to accept nadeau's terms; and nadeau returned from nevada, organized in 1873 the cerro gordo freighting company, and operated more extensively than ever before until he withdrew, perhaps five years after the completion of the southern pacific railroad and just before the petering out of the cerro gordo mines. in their palmy days, these deposits were the most extensive lead-producers of california; and while the output might not have been so remarkable in comparison with those of other lead mines in the world, something like eighty-five to ninety bars, each weighing about one hundred pounds, were produced there daily. most of this was shipped, as i have said, to san francisco; and for a while, at least, from there to swansea, wales. nadeau at one time was engaged in the industry of raising sugar-beets at the nadeau _rancho_, near florence, now nadeau station; and then he attempted to refine sugar. but it was bad at best, and the more sugar one put in coffee, the blacker the coffee became. on april 24th, 1869, under mayor joel turner's administration, the los angeles board of education came into existence. in the early sixties, the city authorities promised to set out trees at the plaza, providing neighboring property-owners would fence in the place; but even though governor downey supplied the fence, no trees were planted, and it was not until the spring of 1869 that any grew on the public square. this loud demand for trees was less for the sake of the usual benefits than to hide the ugliness of the old water tank. on may 9th, f. g. walther issued the first number of the _los angeles chronik_, a german weekly journal that survived scarcely three months. the tenth of may was another red-letter day for the pacific coast, rejoicing, as it did, in the completion of the central pacific at promontory point in utah. there, with a silver hammer, governor stanford drove the historic gold spike into a tie of polished california laurel, thus consummating the vast work on the first trans-continental railroad. this event recalls the fact that, in the railway's construction, chinese labor was extensively employed, and that in 1869 large numbers of the dead bodies of celestials were gathered up and shipped to sacramento for burial. william j. brodrick, after wandering in peru and chile, came to los angeles in 1869 and started as a stationer; then he opened an insurance office, and still later became interested in the main street railway and the water company. on may 8th, 1877, brodrick married miss laura e., daughter of robert s. carlisle. on october 18th, 1898, brodrick died, having been identified with many important activities. hacks and omnibuses first came into use in 1869. toward the end of may of that year, j. j. reynolds, who had long been popular as a driver between los angeles and wilmington, purchased a hack and started in business for himself, appealing to his "reputation for good driving and reliability" as a reasonable assurance that he would bring his patrons right side up to their scattered homes; and so much was he in demand, both in the city and its suburbs, that a competitor, j. hewitt, in the latter part of june ordered a similar hack to come by steamer. it arrived in due time and was chronicled as a "luxurious vehicle." hewitt regularly took up his stand in the morning in front of the lafayette hotel; and he also had an order slate at george butler's livery-stable on main street. during the sixties, dr. t. h. rose, who had relinquished the practice of medicine for the career of a pedagogue, commenced work as principal of the boys' grammar school on bath street, and in 1869 was elected superintendent of city schools. he held this office but about a year, although he did not resign from educational work here until 1873. during his incumbency, he was vice-principal of the first teachers' institute ever held here, contributing largely toward the founding of the first high school and the general development of the schools prior to the time when dr. lucky, the first really professional teacher, assumed charge. on leaving los angeles, dr. rose became principal of the school at healdsburg, sonoma county, where he married a mrs. jewell, the widow of an old-time, wealthy miner; but he was too sensitive and proud to live on her income and, much against her wishes, insisted on teaching to support himself. in 1874, he took charge of the high school at petaluma, where the family of mrs. rose's first husband had lived; and the relationship of the two families probably led to rose and his wife separating. later, dr. rose went to the sandwich islands to teach, but by 1883, shortly before he died, he was back in los angeles, broken in health and spirit. dr. rose was an excellent teacher, a strict disciplinarian and a gentleman. the retirement of dr. rose calls to mind a couple of years during which los angeles had no city school superintendent. while rose was principal, a woman was in charge of the girls' department; and the relations between the schoolmaster and the schoolmistress were none too friendly. when dr. rose became superintendent, the schoolma'am instantly disapproved of the choice and rebelled; and there being no law which authorized the governing of los angeles schools in any other manner than by trustees, the new superintendent had no authority over his female colleague. the office of superintendent of city schools, consequently, remained vacant until 1873. dr. james s. crawford had the honor, as far as i am aware, of being one of the first regular dentists to locate in los angeles. as an itinerant he had passed the winters of 1863, 1864 and 1865 in this city, afterward going east; and on his return to california in 1869 he settled in the downey block at spring and main streets, where he practiced until, on april 14th, 1912, he died in a ventura county camp. in 1864, the california legislature, wishing to encourage the silk industry, offered a bounty of two hundred and fifty dollars for every plantation of five thousand mulberry trees of two years' growth, and a bounty of three hundred dollars for each one hundred thousand salable cocoons; and in three years an enormous number of mulberry trees, in various stages of growth, was registered. prominent among silk-growers was louis prévost, who rather early had established here an extensive mulberry-tree nursery and near it a large cocoonery for the rearing of silk worms; and had planned, in 1869, the creation of a colony of silk-worms whose products would rival even those of his native _belle france_. the california silk center association of los angeles was soon formed, and four thousand acres of the _rancho_ once belonging to juan bandini, fourteen hundred and sixty acres of the hartshorn tract and three thousand one hundred and sixty-nine acres of the jurupa, on the east side of the santa ana river, were purchased. that was in june or july; but on august 16th, in the midst of a dry season, louis prévost died, and the movement received a serious setback. to add to the reverses, the demand for silk-worm eggs fell off amazingly; while finally, to give the enterprise its death-blow, the legislators, fearful that the state treasury would be depleted through the payment of bounties, withdrew all state aid. the silk center association, therefore, failed; but the southern california colony association bought all the land, paying for it something like three dollars and a half an acre. to many persons, the price was quite enough: old louis robidoux had long refused to list his portion for taxes, and some one had described much of the acreage as so dry that even coyotes, in crossing, took along their canteens for safety! a town called at first jurupa, and later riverside, was laid out; a fifty thousand-dollar ditch diverted the santa ana river to a place where nature had failed to arrange for its flowing; and in a few months a number of families had settled beside the artificial waterway. riversiders long had to travel back and forth to los angeles for most of their supplies (a stage, still in existence, being used by ordinary passengers), and this made a friendly as well as profitable business relation with the older and larger town; but experiments soon showing that oranges could grow in the arid soil, riverside in course of time had something to sell as well as to buy. who was more familiar both to the youth of the town and to grown-ups than nicolás martinez, in summer the purveyor of cooling ice cream, in winter the vender of hot _tamales_! from morning till night, month in and month out during the sixties and seventies, martinez paced the streets, his dark skin made still swarthier in contrast to his white costume--a shirt, scarcely tidy, together with pantaloons none too symmetrical and hanging down in generous folds at the waist. on his head, in true native fashion, he balanced in a small hooped tub what he had for sale; he spoke with a pronounced latin accent, and his favorite method of announcing his presence was to bawl out his wares. the same receptacle, resting upon a round board with an opening to ease the load and covered with a bunch of cloths, served both to keep the _tamales_ hot and the ice cream cool; while to dispense the latter, he carried in one hand a circular iron tray, in which were holes to accommodate three or four glasses. further, for the convenience of the exacting youth of the town, he added a spoon to each cream-filled glass; and what stray speck of the ice was left on the spoon after the youngster had given it a parting lick, nicolás, bawling anew to attract the next customer, fastidiously removed with his tobacco-stained fingers! footnote: [30] died, february 9th, 1914. chapter xxvii coming of the iron horse 1869 the los angeles & san pedro railroad continued in 1869 to be the local theme of most importance, although its construction did not go on as rapidly as had been promised. the site for a depot, it is true, had been selected; but by june 14th, only six miles were finished. farmers were loud in complaints that they had been heavily taxed, and in demanding that the road be rushed to completion, in order to handle the prospectively-large grain crop. additional gangs were therefore employed, and by the twentieth of july, seven more miles of track had been laid. in the meantime, the sunday school at compton enjoyed the first excursion, the members making themselves comfortable on benches and straw in some freight cars. as the work on the railroad progressed, stages, in addition to those regularly running through from los angeles to wilmington, began connecting with the trains at the temporary terminus of the railroad. people went down to wilmington to see the operations, not merely on the track, but in the machine shops where the cars for freight, express, baggage, smoking and passenger service (designed by a. a. polhamus, the machinist) were being built under the superintendence of samuel atkinson, who had been brought west by the san francisco & san josé valley railroad, because of a reputation for railroad experience enjoyed by few, if by any other persons on the coast. the company also had a planing mill and wheelwright shop under the charge of george w. oden. by the first of august, both the railroad and connecting stages were advertising sunday excursions to the beach, emphasizing the chance to travel part of the way by the new means of transit. curiously, however, visitors were allowed to enjoy the sea-breezes but a short time: arriving at wilmington about ten or half-past, they were compelled to start back for los angeles by four in the afternoon. many resorters still patronized the old service; and frequently the regular stages, racing all the way up from the steamer, would actually reach the city half an hour earlier than those transferring the passengers from the railway terminus which was extended by august 1st to a point within four miles of town. when eighteen miles had been finished, it was reported that general stoneman and his post band would make an excursion on the first train, accompanied by general banning and leading citizens of the town; but strong opposition to the company laying its tracks through the center of "the lane," now alameda street, having developed, the work was stopped by injunction. the road had been constructed to a point opposite the old wolfskill home, then "far from town," and until the matter was settled, passengers and freight were unloaded there. great excitement prevailed here shortly after sundown on wednesday evening, august 21st, when the mail-stage which had left for gilroy but a short time before came tearing back to town, the seven or eight passengers excitedly shouting that they had been robbed. the stage had proceeded but two miles from los angeles when four masked highwaymen stepped into the road and ordered, "hands up!" among the passengers was the well-known and popular ben truman who, having learned by previous experience just what to do in such a ticklish emergency and "being persuaded that the two barrels of cold steel had somewhat the proportions of a railway tunnel," sadly but promptly unrolled one hundred and eighty dollars in bills, and quite as sadly deposited, in addition, his favorite chronometer. the highwayman picked up the watch, looked it over, shook his head and, thanking ben, returned it, expressing the hope that, whatever adversity might overwhelm him, he should never be discovered with such a timepiece! all in all, the robbers secured nearly two thousand dollars; but, strange to relate, they overlooked the treasure in the wells fargo chest, as well as several hundred dollars in greenbacks belonging to the government. sheriff j. f. burns and deputy h. c. wiley pursued and captured the robbers; and within about a week they were sent to the penitentiary. on the same evening, at high tide, the little steamer christened _los angeles_ and constructed by p. banning & company to run from the wharf to the outside anchorage, was committed to the waters, bon-fires illuminating quite distinctly both guests and the neighboring landscape, and lending to the scene a weird and charming effect. in a previous chapter i have given an account of lady franklin's visit to san pedro and los angeles, and of the attention shown her. her presence awakened new interest in the search for her lamented husband, and paved the way for the sympathetic reception of any intelligence likely to clear up the mystery. no little excitement, therefore, was occasioned eight years later by the finding of a document at san buenaventura that seemed "like a voice from the dead." according to the story told, as james daly (of the lumber firm of daly & rodgers) was walking on the beach on august 30th, he found a sheet of paper a foot square, much mutilated but bearing, in five or six different languages, a still legible request to forward the memoranda to the nearest british consul or the admiralty at london. every square inch of the paper was covered with data relating to sir john franklin and his party, concluding with the definite statement that franklin had died on june 11th, 1847. having been found within a week of the time that the remnant of dr. hall's party, which went in search of the explorer, had arrived home in connecticut with the announcement that they had discovered seven skeletons of franklin's men, this document, washed up on the pacific coast, excited much comment; but i am unable to say whether it was ever accepted by competent judges as having been written by franklin's associates. in 1869, the long-familiar adobe of josé antónio carrillo was razed to make way for what, for many years, was the leading hotel of los angeles. this was the pico house, in its decline known as the national hotel, which, when erected on main street opposite the plaza at a cost of nearly fifty thousand dollars, but emphasized in its contrasting showiness the ugliness of the neglected square. some thirty-five thousand dollars were spent in furnishing the eighty-odd rooms, and no little splurge was made that guests could there enjoy the luxuries of both gas and baths! in its palmy days, the pico house welcomed from time to time travelers of wide distinction; while many a pioneer, among them not a few newly-wedded couples now permanently identified with los angeles or the southland, look back to the hostelry as the one surviving building fondly associated with the olden days. charles knowlton was an early manager; and he was succeeded by dunham & schieffelin. competition in the blacking of boots enlivened the fall, the hotel lafayette putting boldly in printer's ink the question, "do you want to have your boots blacked in a cool, private place?" this challenge was answered with the following proclamation: champion boot-black! boots blacked neater and cheaper than anywhere else in the city, at the _blue wing_ shaving saloon by d. jefferson. brickmaking had become, by september, quite an important industry. joe mullally, whose brickyard was near the jewish cemetery, then had two kilns with a capacity of two hundred and twenty-five thousand; and in the following month he made over five hundred thousand brick. in course of time, the los angeles & san pedro railroad was completed to the madigan lot, which remained for several years the los angeles terminus; and justly confident that the difficulty with the authorities would be removed, the company pushed work on their depot and put in a turn-table at the foot of new commercial street. there was but one diminutive locomotive, though a larger one was on its way around the horn from the east and still another was coming by the continental railway; and every few days the little engine would go out of commission, so that traffic was constantly interrupted. at such times, confidence in the enterprise was somewhat shaken; but new rolling stock served to reassure the public. a brightly-painted smoking-car, with seats mounted on springs, was soon the "talk of the town." i have spoken of j. j. reynolds's early enterprise and the competition that he evoked. toward the end of july, he went up to san francisco and outdid hewitt by purchasing a handsome omnibus, suitable for hotel service and also adapted to the needs of families or individuals clubbing together for picnics and excursions. this gave the first impetus to the use of hotel 'buses, and by the first sunday in september, when the cars from wilmington rolled in bringing passengers from the steamer _orizaba_, the travelers were met by omnibuses and coaches from all three hotels, the bella union, the united states and the lafayette; the number of vehicles, public and private, giving the streets around the railroad depot a very lively appearance. judge w. g. dryden, so long a unique figure here, died on september 10th and a. j. king succeeded him as county judge. a notable visit to los angeles was that of secretary william h. seward who, in 1869, made a trip across the continent, going as far north as alaska and as far south as mexico, and being everywhere enthusiastically received. when seward left san francisco for san diego, about the middle of september, he was accompanied by frederick seward and wife (his son and daughter-in-law), general w. s. rosecrans, general morton c. hunter, colonel thomas sedgwick and senator s. b. axtell; and the news of their departure having been telegraphed ahead, many people went down to greet them on the arrival of the steamer _orizaba_. after the little steamer _los angeles_ had been made fast to the wharf, it was announced, to everyone's disappointment, that the secretary was not coming ashore, as he wished to continue on his way to san diego. meanwhile, the common council had resolved to extend the hospitality of the city to the distinguished party; and by september 19th, posters proclaimed that seward and his party were coming and that citizens generally would be afforded an opportunity to participate in a public reception at the bella union on september 21st. a day in advance, therefore, the mayor and a committee from the council set out for anaheim, where they met the distinguished statesman on his way, whence the party jogged along leisurely in a carriage and four until they arrived at the bank of the los angeles river; and there seward and his friends were met by other officials and a cavalcade of eighty citizens led by the military band of drum barracks. the guests alighted at the bella union and in a few minutes a rapidly-increasing crowd was calling loudly for mr. seward. the secretary, being welcomed on the balcony by mayor joel h. turner, said that he had been laboring under mistakes all his life: he had visited rome to witness celebrated ruins, but he found more interesting ruins in the spanish missions (great cheers); he had journeyed to switzerland to view its glaciers, but upon the pacific coast he had seen rivers of ice two hundred and fifty feet in breadth, five miles long and god knows how high (more cheers); he had explored labrador to examine the fisheries, but in alaska he found that the fisheries came to him (hear! hear! and renewed applause); he had gone to burgundy to view the most celebrated vineyards of the world, but the vineyards of california far surpassed them all! (vociferous and deafening hurrahs, and tossing of bouquets.) the next day the washington guests and their friends were shown about the neighborhood, and that evening mr. seward made another and equally happy speech to the audience drawn to the bella union by the playing of the band. there were also addresses by the mayor, senator axtell, ex-governor downey and others, after which, in good old american fashion, citizens generally were introduced to the associate of the martyred lincoln. at nine o'clock, a number of invited guests were ushered into the bella union's dining-room where, at a bounteous repast, the company drank to the health of the secretary. this brought from the visitor an eloquent response with interesting local allusions. secretary seward remarked that he found people here agitated upon the question of internal improvements--for everywhere people wanted railroads. californians, if they were patient, would yet witness a railroad through the north, another by the southern route, still another by the thirty-fifth parallel, a fourth by the central route, and lastly, as the old plantation song goes, one "down the middle!" california needed more population, and railroads were the means by which to get people. finally, mr. seward spoke of the future prospects of the united states, saying much of peculiar interest in the light of later developments. we were already great, he affirmed; but a nation satisfied with its greatness is a nation without a future. we should expand, and as mightily as we could; until at length we had both the right and the power to move our armies anywhere in north america. as to the island lying almost within a stone's throw of our mainland, ought we not to possess cuba, too? other toasts, such as "the mayor and common council," "the pioneers," "the ancient hospitality of california," "the press," "the wine press" and "our wives and sweethearts," were proposed and responded to, much good feeling prevailing notwithstanding the variance in political sentiments represented by guests and hosts; and everyone went home, in the small hours of the morning, pleased with the manner in which los angeles had received her illustrious visitors. the next day, secretary seward and party left for the north by carriages, rolling away toward santa barbara and the mountains so soon to be invaded by the puffing, screeching iron horse. recollecting this banquet to secretary seward, i may add an amusing fact of a personal nature. eugene meyer and i arranged to go to the dinner together, agreeing that we were to meet at the store of s. lazard & company, almost directly opposite the bella union. when i left los angeles in 1867, evening dress was uncommon; but in new york i had become accustomed to its more frequent use. rather naturally, therefore, i donned my swallowtail; meyer, however, i found in a business suit and surprised at my query as to whether he intended going home to dress? just as we were, we walked across the street and, entering the hotel, whom should we meet but ex-mayor john g. nichols, wearing a grayish linen duster, popular in those days, that extended to his very ankles; while pio and andrés pico came attired in blue coats with big brass buttons. meyer, observing the mayor's outfit, facetiously asked me if i still wished him to go home and dress according to los angeles fashion; whereupon i drew off my gloves, buttoned up my overcoat and determined to sit out the banquet with my claw-hammer thus concealed. mr. seward, it is needless to say, was faultlessly attired. the spanish archives were long neglected, until m. kremer was authorized to overhaul and arrange the documents; and even then it was not until september 16th that the council built a vault for the preservation of the official papers. two years later, kremer discovered an original proclamation of peace between the united states and mexico. elsewhere i allude to the slow development of fort street. for the first time, on the twenty-fourth of september street lamps burned there, and that was from six to nine months after darkness had been partially banished from nigger alley, los angeles, aliso and alameda streets. [illustration: phineas banning, about 1869] [illustration: henri penelon, in his studio] [illustration: carreta, earliest mode of transportation] [illustration: alameda street depot and train, los angeles & san pedro railroad] supplementing what i have said of the los angeles & san pedro railroad depot: it was built on a lot fronting three hundred feet on alameda street and having a depth of one hundred and twenty feet, its situation being such that, after the extension of commercial street, the structure occupied the southwest corner of the two highways. really, it was more of a freight-shed than anything else, without adequate passenger facilities; a small space at the north end contained a second story in which some of the clerks slept; and in a cramped little cage beneath, tickets were sold. by the way, the engineer of the first train to run through to this depot was james holmes, although b. w. colling ran the first train stopping inside the city limits. about this time the real estate excitement had become still more intense. in anticipation of the erection of this depot, commercial street property boomed and the first realty agents of whom i have any recollection appeared on the scene, judge r. m. widney being among them. i remember that two lots--one eighty by one hundred and twenty feet in size at the northwest corner of first and spring streets, and the other having a frontage of only twenty feet on new commercial street, adjacent to the station--were offered simultaneously at twelve hundred dollars each. contrary, no doubt, to what he would do to-day, the purchaser chose the commercial street lot, believing that location to have the better future. telegraph rates were not very favorable, in 1869, to frequent or verbose communication. ten words sent from los angeles to san francisco cost one dollar and a half; and fifty cents additional was asked for the next five words. after a while, there was a reduction of twenty-five per cent, in the cost of the first ten words, and fifty per cent, on the second five. twenty-four hundred voters registered in los angeles this year. in the fall, william h. spurgeon founded santa ana some five miles beyond anaheim on a tract of about fifty acres, where a number of the first settlers experimented in growing flax. it is not clear to me just when the rocky arroyo seco began to be popular as a resort, but i remember going there on picnics as early as 1857. by the late sixties, when santa monica cañon also appealed to the lovers of sylvan life, the arroyo had become known as sycamore grove--a name doubtless suggested by the numerous sycamores there--and clois f. henrickson had opened an establishment including a little "hotel," a dancing-pavilion, a saloon and a shooting-alley. free lunch and free beer were provided for the first day, and each sunday thereafter in the summer season an omnibus ran every two hours from los angeles to the sycamores. after some years, john rumph and wife succeeded to the management, frau rumph being a popular _wirtin_; and then the los angeles turnverein used the grove for its public performances, including gymnastics, singing and the old-time sack-racing and target-shooting. james miller guinn, who had come to california in november, 1863 and had spent several years in various counties of the state digging for gold and teaching school, drifted down to los angeles in october and was soon engaged as principal of the public school at the new town of anaheim, remaining there in that capacity for twelve years, during part of which time he also did good work on the county school board. under the auspices of the french benevolent society and toward the end of october, the corner-stone of the french hospital built on city donation lots, and for many years and even now one of the most efficient institutions of our city, was laid with the usual ceremonies. on october 9th, the first of the new locomotives arrived at wilmington and a week later made the first trial trip, with a baggage and passenger car. just before departure a painter was employed to label the engine and decorate it with a few scrolls; when it was discovered, too late, that the artist had spelled the name: los angel_o_s. on october 23d, two lodges of odd fellows used the railway to visit bohen lodge at wilmington, returning on the first train, up to that time, run into los angeles at midnight. october 26th was a memorable day, for on that date the los angeles & san pedro railroad company opened the line to the public and invited everybody to enjoy a free excursion to the harbor. two trains were dispatched each way, the second consisting of ten cars; and not less than fifteen hundred persons made the round trip. unfortunately, it was very warm and dusty, but such discomforts were soon forgotten in the novelty of the experience. on the last trip back came the musicians; and the new los angeles depot having been cleared, cleaned up and decorated for a dedicatory ball, there was a stampede to the little structure, filling it in a jiffy. judge h. k. s. o'melveny, who first crossed the plains from illinois on horseback in 1849, came to los angeles with his family in november, having already served four years as a circuit judge, following his practice of law in sacramento. he was a brother-in-law of l. j. rose, having married, in 1850, miss annie wilhelmina rose. upon his arrival, he purchased the southwest corner of second and fort streets, a lot one hundred and twenty by one hundred and sixty-five feet in size, and there he subsequently constructed one of the fine houses of the period; which was bought, some years later, by jotham bixby for about forty-five hundred dollars, after it had passed through various hands. bixby lived in it for a number of years and then resold it. in 1872, o'melveny was elected judge of los angeles county; and in 1887, he was appointed superior judge. h. w. o'melveny, his second son, came from the east with his parents, graduating in time from the los angeles high school and the state university. now he is a distinguished attorney and occupies a leading position as a public-spirited citizen, and a patron of the arts and sciences. in his very readable work, _from east prussia to the golden gate_, frank lecouvreur credits me with having served the commonwealth as supervisor. this is a slight mistake: i was an unwilling candidate, but never assumed the responsibilities of office. in 1869, various friends waited upon me and requested me to stand as their candidate for the supervisorship; to which i answered that i would be glad to serve my district, but that i would not lift a finger toward securing my election. h. ábila was chosen with six hundred and thirty-one votes, e. m. sanford being a close second with six hundred and sixteen; while five hundred and thirty-seven votes were cast in my favor. trains on the new railway began to run regularly on november 1st; and there still exists one of the first time-tables, bearing at the head, "los angeles & san pedro railroad" and a little picture of a locomotive and train. at first, the train scheduled for two stated round trips a day (except on steamer days, when the time was conditioned by the arrival and departure of vessels) left wilmington at eight o'clock in the morning and at one o'clock in the afternoon, returning at ten in the morning and four in the afternoon. the fare between los angeles and wilmington was one dollar and fifty cents, with an additional charge of one dollar to the anchorage; while on freight from the anchorage to los angeles, the tariff was: dry goods, sixteen dollars per ton; groceries and other merchandise, five dollars; and lumber, seven dollars per thousand feet. after the formal opening of the railroad, a permanent staff of officers, crew and mechanicians was organized. the first superintendent was h. w. hawthorne, who was succeeded by e. e. hewitt, editor of the _wilmington journal_. n. a. mcdonald, was the first conductor; sam butler was the first and, for a while, the only brakeman, and the engineers were james mcbride and bill thomas. the first local agent was john milner; the first agent at wilmington, john mccrea. the former was succeeded by john e. jackson, who from 1880 to 1882 served the community as city surveyor. worthy of remark, perhaps, as a coincidence, is the fact that both milner and mccrea ultimately became connected in important capacities with the farmers & merchants bank. the first advertised public excursion on the los angeles & san pedro railroad after its opening was a trip to wilmington and around san pedro harbor, arranged for november 5th, 1869. the cars, drawn by the locomotive _los angeles_ and connecting with the little steamer of the same name, left at ten and returned at three o'clock in the afternoon. two dollars was the round-trip fare, while another dollar was exacted from those who went out upon the harbor. in the late seventies, a portuguese named fayal settled near what is now the corner of sixth and front streets, san pedro; and one lindskow took up his abode in another shack a block away. around these rude huts sprang up the neighborhoods of fayal and lindville, since absorbed by san pedro. probably the first attempt to organize a fire company for los angeles was made in 1869, when a meeting was called on saturday evening, november 6th, at buffum's saloon, to consider the matter. a temporary organization was formed, with henry wartenberg as president; w. a. mix, vice-president; george m. fall, secretary; and john h. gregory, treasurer. an initiation fee of two dollars and a half, and monthly dues of twenty-five cents, were decided upon; and j. f. burns, b. katz, emil harris, george pridham, e. b. frink, c. d. hathaway, p. thompson, o. w. potter, c. m. small and e. c. phelps were charter members. a committee appointed to canvass for subscriptions made little progress, and the partial destruction of rowan's american bakery, in december, demonstrating the need of an engine and hose cart, brought out sharp criticism of los angeles's penuriousness. about the middle of november, daniel desmond, who had come on october 14th of the preceding year, opened a hat store on los angeles street near new commercial, widely advertising the enterprise as a pioneer one and declaring, perhaps unconscious of any pun, that he proposed to fill a want that had "long been felt." the steamer _orizaba_, which was to bring down desmond's goods, as ill luck would have it left half of his stock lying on the san francisco pier; and the opening, so much heralded, had to be deferred several weeks. as late as 1876, he was still the only exclusive hatter here. desmond died on january 23d, 1903, aged seventy years, and was succeeded by his son, c. c. desmond. another son, d. j. desmond, is the well-known contractor. toward the close of november, joseph joly, a frenchman, opened the chartres coffee factory on main street opposite the plaza, and was the pioneer in that line. he delivered to both stores and families, and for a while seemed phenomenally successful; but one fine morning in december it was discovered that the "jolly joseph" had absconded, leaving behind numerous unpaid bills. the first marble-cutter to open a workshop in los angeles was named miller. he came toward the end of 1869 and established himself in the downey block. prior to miller's coming, all marble work was brought from san francisco or some source still farther away, and the delay and expense debarred many from using that stone even for the pious purpose of identifying graves. with the growth of anaheim as the business center of the country between the new san gabriel and the santa ana rivers, sentiment had been spreading in favor of the division of los angeles county; and at the opening of the legislature of 1869-70, anaheim had its official representative in sacramento, ready to present the claims of the little german settlement and its thriving neighbors. the person selected for this important embassy was major max von stroble; and he inaugurated his campaign with such sagacity and energy that the bill passed the assembly and everything pointed to an early realization of the scheme. it was not, however, until los angeles awoke to the fact that the proposed segregation meant a decided loss, that opposition developed in the senate and the whole matter was held up. stroble thereupon sent posthaste to his supporters for more cash, and efforts were made to get the stubborn senate to reconsider. doubtless somebody else had a longer purse than stroble; for in the end he was defeated, and the german's dream did not come true until long after he had migrated to the realms that know no subdivisions. one of the arguments used in favor of the separation was that it took two days's time, and cost six dollars, for the round trip to the los angeles courthouse; while another contention then regarded as of great importance was that the one coil of hose pipe owned by the county was kept at los angeles! stroble, by-the-way, desired to call the new county anaheim. major von stroble was a very interesting character. he was a german who had stood shoulder to shoulder with carl schurz and franz sigel in the german revolution of 1848, and who, after having taken part in the adventures of walker's filibustering expedition to nicaragua, finally landed in anaheim, where he turned his attention to the making of wine. he soon tired of that, and in 1867 was found boring for oil on the brea ranch, again meeting with reverses where others later were so successful. he then started the movement to divide los angeles county and once more failed in what was afterward accomplished. journalism in anaheim next absorbed him and, having had the best of educational advantages, stroble brought to his newspaper both culture and the experience of travel. the last grand effort of this adventurous spirit was the attempt to sell santa catalina island. backed by the owners, stroble sailed for europe and opened headquarters near threadneedle street in london. in a few weeks he had almost effected the sale, the contract having been drawn and the time actually set for the following day when the money--a cool two hundred thousand pounds--was to be paid; but no stroble kept tryst to carry out his part of the transaction. only the evening before, alone and unattended, the old man had died in his room at the very moment when fortune, for the first time, was to smile upon him! eighteen or twenty years later, catalina was sold for much less than the price once agreed upon. chapter xxviii the last of the vigilantes 1870 as i have somewhere related, i began buying hides as far back as 1855, but it was not until 1870 that this branch of our business assumed such importance as to require more convenient quarters. then we bought a place on the southeast corner of alameda and commercial streets, facing sixty feet on alameda and having a depth of one hundred and sixty-five feet, where we constructed a hide-house and erected a press for baling. we paid p. beaudry eleven hundred dollars for the lot. the relatively high price shows what the los angeles & san pedro railroad depot had done for that section. in the days when hides were sent by sailing-vessels to the east, a different method of preparing them for shipment was in vogue. the wet hides having been stretched, small stakes were driven into the ground along the edge of, and through the skins, thus holding them in place until they had dried and expanding them by about one-third; in this condition they were forwarded loose. now that transportation is more rapid and there are tanneries in california, all hides are handled wet. in 1870, business life was centered on los angeles street between commercial and arcadia; and all the hotels were north of first street. fort street ended in a little bluff at a spot now between franklin and first streets. spring street was beginning to take on new life, and yet there was but one gas lamp along the entire roadway, though many were the appeals to add another lamp, "say, as far as first street!" sometime in january, a number of ladies of this city met and, through the exertions of mrs. rosa newmark, wife of joseph newmark, formed the ladies' hebrew benevolent society. mrs. newmark, as was once pointed out in a notable open-air meeting of women's clubs (to which i elsewhere refer), never accepted any office in the society; but for years she was untiring in her efforts in the cause of charity. the first officers were: president, mrs. w. kalisher; vice-president, mrs. harris newmark; treasurer, mrs. john jones; secretary, mrs. b. katz; and collector, mrs. a. baer. three counselors--henry wartenberg, i. m. hellman and myself--occasionally met with the ladies to advise them. aside from the fact of its importance as the pioneer ladies' benevolent organization instituted in los angeles, the society found a much-needed work to do. it was then almost impossible to obtain nurses, and the duty devolved on members to act in that capacity, where such assistance was required, whether the afflicted were rich or poor. it was also their function to prepare the dead for interment, and to keep proper vigil over the remains until the time of burial. during the year 1869 or 1870, as the result of occasional gatherings in the office of dr. joseph kurtz, the los angeles turnverein was organized with eleven members--emil harris leading in the movement, assisted by dr. kurtz, ed. preuss, lorenzo leck, philip and henry stoll, jake kuhrts, fred morsch, c. c. lips and isaac cohn. dr. kurtz was elected president. they fraternized for a while at frau wiebecke's garden, on the west side of alameda near first street, about where the union hardware and metal company now stands; and there, while beer and wine were served in the open air, the teutons gratified their love of music and song. needing for their gymnastics more enclosed quarters, the turnverein rented of kalisher & wartenberg the barn on alameda street between ducommon and first, used as a hide-house; and in that rough-boarded shack, whose none too aromatic odors are still a souvenir to many a pioneer resident, the _turners_ swung and vaulted to their heart's content. classes were soon arranged for boys; and the envy of all was the lad who, after numerous risks to limb and neck, proudly topped the human pyramid. another garden of this period often patronized by the turnverein was kiln messer's, on first street between alameda and the river. the post office was moved this year from the corner of north main and market streets to the middle of temple block, but even there the facilities were so inadequate that wells fargo & company, in june, put up a letter-box at the corner of main and commercial streets which was emptied but once a day, at four o'clock in the afternoon, save on steamer days when letters were taken out at half-past nine. one other box was at the sole railroad depot, then at the corner of alameda and commercial streets. the post office at that time was also so miserably illuminated that citizens fumbled about to find their letter-boxes, and ladies were timid about entering the building at night. postmasters were allowed small reserves; and for some time in 1870 the los angeles post office was entirely out of oneand two-cent stamps. in february, the way was prepared for the first city directory when the houses of los angeles were ordered to be numbered, a public discussion of the need for a directory having taken place the previous december. when the collaborators began to collect names and other data, there were many refusals to answer questions; but the little volume of seventy pages was finally published in 1871. until 1870 los angeles had no bookbinder, all binding having had to be sent to san francisco; and a call was then sent out to induce a journeyman to settle here. on the fourteenth of february, phineas banning was married to miss mary, daughter of colonel j. h. hollister--the affair being the consummation of a series of courtly addresses in which, as i have related, it was my pleasurable privilege to play an intermediary part. as might be expected of one who was himself an experienced and generous entertainer, the wedding was a social event to be long and pleasantly remembered by the friends of the bride and groom. mrs. banning, who for years maintained an attractive home on fort hill, is now living on commonwealth avenue. about this time, colonel isaac r. dunkelberger came to los angeles to live, having just finished his fifth year in the army in arizona, following a long service under northern banners during the civil war. while here, the colonel met and courted miss mary mallard, daughter of judge mallard; and on february 26th, 1867, they were married. for eight years, from march, 1877, dunkelberger was postmaster. he died on december 5th, 1904, survived by his widow and six children. while writing about this estimable family, it occurs to me that mary, then a little girl, was one of the guests at my wedding. frank lecouvreur, who was surveyor of los angeles county from 1870 until 1873, was a native of east prussia and like his predecessor, george hansen, came to california by way of the horn. for a while, as i have related, he was my bookkeeper. in 1877, he married miss josephine rosanna smith who had renounced her vows as a nun. ten years later he suffered a paralytic stroke and was an invalid until his death, on january 17th, 1901. once introduced, the telegraph gradually grew in popularity; but even in 1870, when the western union company had come into the field and was operating as far as the coast, service was anything but satisfactory. the poles between los angeles and san francisco had become rotten and often fell, dragging the wires with them, and interrupting communication with the north. there were no wires, up to that time, to santa bárbara or san bernardino; and only in the spring of that year was it decided to put a telegraph line through to san diego. when the santa bárbara line was proposed, the citizens there speedily subscribed twenty-two hundred and forty-five dollars; it having been the company's plan always to get some local stockholders. as the result of real estate purchases and exchanges in the late sixties and early seventies between dr. j. s. griffin, phineas banning, b. d. wilson, p. beaudry and others, a fruit-growing colony was planned in april, when it was proposed to take in some seventeen hundred and fifty acres of the best part of the san pasqual _rancho_, including a ten-thousand-dollar ditch. a company, with a capital stock of two hundred thousand dollars divided into four thousand shares of fifty dollars each, was formed to grow oranges, lemons, grapes, olives, nuts and raisins, john archibald being president; r. m. widney, vice-president; w. j. taylor, secretary; and the london & san francisco bank, treasurer. but although subscription books were opened and the scheme was advertised, nothing was done with the land until d. m. berry and others came from indiana and started the indiana colony. a rather uncommon personality for about thirty years was fred dohs, who came from germany when he was twenty-three and engaged in trading horses. by 1870 he was managing a barber shop near the downey block, and soon after was conducting a string band. for many years, the barber-musician furnished the music for most of the local dances and entertainments, at the same time (or until prices began to be cut) maintaining his shop, where he charged two bits for a shave and four bits for a hair-cut. during his prosperity, dohs acquired property, principally on east first street. the first foot-bridge having finally succumbed to the turbulent waters of the erratic los angeles river, the great flood of 1867-68 again called the attention of our citizens to the necessity of establishing permanent and safe communication between the two sides of the stream; and this agitation resulted in the construction by perry & woodworth of the first fairly substantial bridge at the foot of the old aliso road, now macy street, at an outlay of some twenty thousand dollars. yet, notwithstanding the great necessity that had always existed for this improvement, it is my recollection that it was not consummated until about 1870. like its poor little predecessor carried away by the uncontrolled waters, the more dignified structure was broken up by a still later flood, and the pieces of timber once so carefully put together by a confident and satisfied people were strewn for a mile or two along the river banks. 'way back in the formative years of los angeles, there were suddenly added to the constellation of noteworthy local characters two jovial, witty, good-for-nothing irishmen who from the first were pals. the two were known as dan kelly and micky free. micky's right name was dan harrington; but i never knew kelly to go under any other appellation. when sober, which was not very frequent, dan and micky were good-natured, jocular and free from care, and it mattered not to either of them whether the morrow might find them well-fed and at liberty or in the jail then known as the hotel de burns: "sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof" was the only philosophy they knew. they were boon companions when free from drink; but when saturated, they immediately fought like demons. they were both in the toils quite ten months of the year, while during the other two months they carried a hod! of the two, micky was the most irredeemable, and in time he became such a nuisance that the authorities finally decided to ship him out of the country and bought him a ticket to oregon. micky got as far as san pedro, where he traded his ticket for a case of delirium tremens; but he did something more--he broke his leg and was bundled back to los angeles, renewing here the acquaintance of both the bartender and the jailer. some years later, he astonished the town by giving up drink and entering the veterans's home. when he died, they gave him a soldier's honors and a soldier's grave. in 1870, f. bonshard imported into los angeles county some five or six hundred blooded cashmere goats; and about the same time or perhaps even earlier, j. e. pleasants conducted at los nietos a similar enterprise, at one time having four or five hundred of a superior breed, the wool of which brought from twenty-five to thirty-five cents a pound. the goat-fancying pleasants also had some twelve hundred angoras. on june 1st, henry hamilton, who two years before had resumed the editorship of the los angeles _star_, then a weekly, issued the first number of the _daily star_. he had taken into partnership george w. barter, who three months later started the _anaheim gazette_. in 1872, barter was cowhided by a woman, and a committee formally requested the editor to vamose the town! barter next bought the _daily star_ from hamilton, on credit, but he was unable to carry out his contract and within a year hamilton was again in charge. at the beginning of this decade, times in arizona were really very bad. h. newmark & company, who had large amounts due them from merchants in that territory, were not entirely easy about their outstanding accounts, and this prompted kaspare cohn to visit our customers there. i urged him to consider the dangers of the road and to abandon his project; but he was determined to go. the story of the trip, in the light of present methods and the comparative safety of travel, is an interesting one, and i shall relate his experiences as he described them to me. he started on a saturday, going by stage (in preference to buckboard) from los angeles to san bernardino, and from there rode, as the only passenger, with a stage-driver named brown, passing through frink's ranch, gilman's, white river, agua caliente, indian wells, toros, dos palmas, chuckawalla, mule springs and willow springs. h. newmark & company had forwarded, on a prairie schooner driven by jesse allen of los angeles, a considerable amount of merchandise which it was their intention should be sold in arizona, and the freighting charge upon which was to be twelve and a half cents per pound. in chuckawalla, familiarly called chucky valley, the travelers overtook allen and the stock of goods; and this meeting in that lonesome region was the cause of such mutual rejoicing that kaspare provided as abundant an entertainment as his limited stores would permit. resuming their journey from chuckawalla, the driver and his companion soon left allen and his cumbersome load in the rear. it was near granite wash, as they were jogging along in the evening, that they noticed some indian fire signals. these were produced by digging a hole in the ground, filling it with combustible material, such as dry leaves, and setting fire to it. from the smoldering that resulted, smoke was emitted and sparks burst forth. observing these ticklish warnings, the wayfarers sped away and escaped--perhaps, a tragic fate. arriving at ehrenberg on a tuesday morning, kaspare remained there all night. still the only passenger, he left the next day; and it may be imagined how cheering, after the previous experience, was the driver's remark that, on account of the lonesome character of the trip, and especially the danger from scalping apaches, he would never have departed without some company! somewhere between granite wash and wickenberg, a peculiar rattling revealed a near-by snake, whereupon kaspare jumped out and shot the reptile, securing the tail and rattles. changing horses or resting at tyson's wells, mcmullen's and cullen's station, they arrived the next night at wickenberg, the location of the vulture mines, where kaspare called upon the superintendent--a man named peoples--to collect a large amount they owed us. half of the sum was paid in gold bars, at the rate of sixteen dollars per ounce, while the other half we lost. a niece of m. kremer lived in wickenberg, where her husband was in business. she suffered a great deal from headaches, and a friend had recommended, as a talisman, the possession of snake rattles. kaspare, with his accustomed gallantry, produced the specimen which he had obtained and gave it to the lady; and it is to be hoped that she was as permanently relieved of her pain as so many nowadays are cured of imaginary troubles by no more substantial superstitions. making short stops at wilson's station, antelope station, kirkland valley, skull valley and mint valley, kaspare reached prescott, some four hundred and thirty miles from san bernardino, and enquired after dan hazard, the ex-mayor's brother and one of our customers--who died about the middle of the eighties--and learned that he was then on his way to st. louis with teams to haul back freight for levi bashford who, in addition to being an important trader, was government receiver of public moneys. kaspare decided to remain in prescott until hazard returned; and as jesse allen soon arrived with the merchandise, kaspare had ample time to sell it. bashford, as a government official, was not permitted to handle such goods as matches and cigars, which bore revenue stamps, but kaspare sold him quantities of lard, beans, coffee, sugar and other supplies. he sold the revenue-stamped articles to buffum & campbell, the former of whom had once been a well-known resident of los angeles. he also disposed of some goods to henderson brothers, afterward prominent bankers of tucson and globe, arizona. in the meantime, dan hazard returned and settled his account in full. kaspare remained in prescott nearly four weeks. between the collections that he made and the money which he received for the consigned merchandise, he had about thirteen thousand dollars in currency to bring back with him. with this amount of money on his person, the return trip was more than ever fraught with danger. mindful of this added peril, kaspare kept the time of his departure from prescott secret, no one, with the exception of bashford, being in his confidence. he prepared very quietly; and at the last moment, one saturday afternoon, he slipped into the stage and started for california. brown was again his companion as far as ehrenberg. there he met frank ganahl and charles strong, both soon to become southern californians; and knowing them very well, their companionship contributed during the rest of the trip not only pleasure but an agreeable feeling of security. his arrival in los angeles afforded me much relief, and the story of his adventures and success added more than a touch of interest. the first street-sprinklers in los angeles were owned and operated about the middle of july by t. w. mccracken, who was allowed by the council to call upon residents along the route for weekly contributions to keep the water wagon going. i have told of the establishing of hellman, temple & company as bankers. in september, the first-named bought out his partners and continued, until 1871, as hellman & company. with the commencement of autumn, when the belief prevailed that little or nothing could be done toward persuading the common council to beautify the plaza, a movement to lay out and embellish the five-acre tract bounded by hill and olive, and fifth and sixth streets, met with such favor that, by the first week in october, some eight hundred dollars had been subscribed for the purpose. on november 19th a public meeting was held, presided over by prudent beaudry, major h. m. mitchell serving as secretary; and it was suggested to call the proposed square the los angeles park, and to enclose it, at a cost of about five hundred dollars, with a fence. another two hundred dollars was soon made up; and the services of l. carpenter, who offered to plow the land prior to sowing grass-seed, were accepted in lieu of a subscription. both george lehman and elijah workman showed their public spirit by planting what have since become the largest trees there. sometime later, the name was changed to central park, by which it is still known. the first hackney coach ever built in los angeles was turned out in september by john goller for j. j. reynolds--about the same time that the oriental stage company brought a dozen new concord coaches from the east--and cost one thousand dollars. goller was then famous for elaborate vehicles and patented spring buggies which he shipped even to pretentious and bustling san francisco. before the end of november, however, friends of the clever and enterprising carriage-maker were startled to hear that he had failed for the then not insignificant sum of about forty thousand dollars. up to the fall of the year, no connection existed between temple and first streets west of spring; but on the first day of september, a cut through the hill, effected by means of chain-gang labor and continuing fort street north, was completed, to the satisfaction of the entire community. about the middle of october, a petition was presented to the common council calling attention to the fact that the los angeles water company two years before had agreed to erect a fountain on the plaza; and declaring that the open place was little short of a "scarecrow for visitors." the company immediately replied that it was ready to put up the fountain; and in november the council ordered the brick tank taken away. at the beginning of august, 1871, the fountain began playing. during the second marshalship of william c. warren, when joe dye was one of his deputy officers, there was great traffic in chinese women, one of whom was kidnaped and carried off to san diego. a reward of a hundred dollars was offered for her return, and she was brought back on a charge of theft and tried in the court of justice trafford, on temple street near spring. during the trial, on october 31st, 1870, warren and dye fell into a dispute as to the reward; and the quarrel was renewed outside the courtroom. at a spot near the corner of spring and temple streets dye shot and killed warren; and in the scrimmage several other persons standing near were wounded. dye was tried, but acquitted. later, however, he himself was killed by a nephew, mason bradfield, whose life he had frequently threatened and who fired the deadly bullet from a window of the new arlington hotel, formerly the white house, at the southeast corner of commercial and los angeles streets. mrs. c. p. bradfield, bradfield's mother and a teacher, who came in 1875, was the author of certain text-books for drawing, published by a. s. barnes & company of new york. failures in raising and using camels in the southwest were due, at least partially, to ignorance of the animal's wants, a company of mexicans, in the early sixties, overloading some and treating them so badly that nearly all died. later, frenchmen, who had had more experience, secured the two camels left, and by 1870 there was a herd of no less than twenty-five on a ranch near the carson river in nevada, where they were used in packing salt for sixty miles or more to the mills. on october 31st, the first teacher's institute held in los angeles county was opened, with an attendance of thirty-five, in the old bath street schoolhouse, that center being selected because the school building at spring and second streets, though much better adapted to the purpose, was considered to be too far out of town! county superintendent w. m. mcfadden was president; j. m. guinn was vice-president; and p. c. tonner was secretary; while a leader in discussions was dr. truman h. rose, who there gave a strong impetus to the founding of the first high school. soon after this institute was held, the state legislature authorized bonds to the amount of twenty thousand dollars for the purpose of erecting another schoolhouse; and the building was soon to be known as the los angeles high school. w. h. workman, m. kremer and h. d. barrows were the building committee. mentioning educators, i may introduce the once well-known name of professor adams, an instructor in french who lived here in the early seventies. he was so very urbane that on one occasion, while overdoing his polite attention to a lady, he fell off the sidewalk and badly broke his leg! in a previous chapter i have spoken of a frenchman named lachenais who killed a fellow-countryman at a wake, the murder being one of a succession of crimes for which he finally paid the penalty at the hands of a vigilance committee in the last lynching witnessed here. lachenais lived near where the westminster hotel now stands, on the northeast corner of main and fourth streets, but he also had a farm south of the city, adjoining that of jacob bell who was once a partner in sheep-raising with john schumacher. the old man was respectable and quiet, but lachenais quarreled with him over water taken from the _zanja_. without warning, he rode up to bell as he was working in his field and shot him dead; but there being no witnesses to the act, this murder remained, temporarily, a mystery. one evening, as lachenais (to whom suspicion had been gradually directed), was lounging about in a drunken condition, he let slip a remark as to the folly of anyone looking for bell's murderer; and this indiscretion led to his arrest and incarceration. no sooner had the news of lachenais's apprehension been passed along than the whole town was in a turmoil. a meeting at stearns's hall was largely attended; a vigilance committee was formed; lachenais's record was reviewed and his death at the hands of an outraged community was decided upon. everything being arranged, three hundred or more armed men, under the leadership of felix signoret, the barber--councilman in 1863 and proprietor of the signoret building opposite the pico house--assembled on the morning of december 17th, marched to the jail, overcame sheriff burns and his assistants, took lachenais out, dragged him along to the corral of tomlinson & griffith (at the corner of temple and new high streets) and there summarily hanged him. then the mob, without further demonstration, broke up; the participants going their several ways. the reader may have already observed that this was not the first time that the old tomlinson & griffith gate had served this same gruesome purpose. the following january, county judge y. sepúlveda charged the grand jury to do its duty toward ferreting out the leaders of the mob, and so wipe out this reproach to the city; but the grand jury expressed the conviction that if the law had hitherto been faithfully executed in los angeles, such scenes in broad daylight would never have taken place. the editor of the _news_, however, ventured to assert that this report was but another disgrace. chapter xxix the chinese massacre 1871 h. newmark & company enjoyed associations with nearly all of the most important wool men and _rancheros_ in southern california, our office for many years being headquarters for these stalwarts, as many as a dozen or more of whom would ofttimes congregate, giving the store the appearance of a social center. they came in from their ranches and discussed with freedom the different phases of their affairs and other subjects of interest. wheat, corn, barley, hay, cattle, sheep, irrigation and kindred topics were passed upon; although in 1871 the price of wool being out of all proportion to anything like its legitimate value, the uppermost topic of conversation was wool. these meetings were a welcome interruption to the monotony of our work. some of the most important of these visitors were jotham, john w. and llewellyn bixby, isaac lankershim, l. j. rose, i. n. van nuys, r. s. baker, george carson, manuel dominguez, domingo amestoy, juan matías sanchez, dan freeman, john rowland, john reed, joe bridger, louis phillips, the brothers garnier, remi nadeau, e. j. baldwin, p. banning and alessandro repetto. there was also not a weather prophet, near or far, who did not manage to appear at these weighty discussions and offer his oracular opinions about the pranks of the elements; on which occasions, one after another of these wise men would step to the door, look at the sky and broad landscape, solemnly shake his head and then render his verdict to the speculating circle within. according as the moon emerged "so that one could hang something upon it," or in such a manner that "water would run off" (as they pictured it), we were to have dry or rainy weather; nor would volumes of talk shake their confidence. occasionally, i added a word, merely to draw out these weather-beaten and interesting old chaps; but usually i listened quietly and was entertained by all that was said. hours would be spent by these friends in chatting and smoking the time away; and if they enjoyed the situation half as much as i did, pleasant remembrances of these occasions must have endured with them. many of those to whom i have referred have ended their earthly careers, while others, living in different parts of the county, are still hale and hearty. a curious character was then here, in the person of the reputed son of a former, and brother of the then, lord clanmorris, an english nobleman. once a student at dr. arnold's famous rugby, he had knocked about the world until, shabbily treated by dame fortune, he had become a sheepherder in the employ of the bixbys. m. j. newmark, who now came to visit us from new york, was admitted to partnership with h. newmark & company, and this determined his future residence. as was natural in a town of pueblo origin, plays were often advertised in spanish; one of the placards, still preserved, thus announcing the attraction for january 30th, at the merced theater: teatro merced los angeles lunes, enero 30, de 1871 primero función de la gran compañia dramática, de don tomás maguire, el empresario veterano de san francisco, veinte y cuatro artistas de ambos sexos, todos conocidos como estrellas de primera clase. in certain quarters of the city, the bill was printed in english. credit for the first move toward the formation of a county medical society here should probably be given to dr. h. s. orme, at whose office early in 1871 a preliminary meeting was held; but it was in the office of drs. griffin and widney, on january 31st, that the organization was effected, my friend griffin being elected president; dr. r. t. hayes, vice-president; dr. orme, treasurer; and dr. e. l. dow, secretary. thus began a society which, in the intervening years, has accomplished much good work. late in january, luther h. titus, one of several breeders of fast horses, brought from san francisco by steamer a fine thoroughbred stallion named _echo_, a half-brother of the celebrated trotter _dexter_ which had been shipped from the east in a central pacific car especially constructed for the purpose--in itself something of a wonder then. sporting men came from a distance to see the horse; but interest was divided between the stallion and a mammoth turkey of a peculiar breed, also brought west by titus, who prophesied that the bird, when full grown, would tip the beam at from forty-five to fifty pounds. early in february, the first steps were taken to reorganize and consolidate the two banking houses in which downey and hellman were interested, when it was proposed to start the bank of los angeles, with a capital of five hundred thousand dollars. some three hundred and eighty thousand dollars of this sum were soon subscribed; and by the first week in april, twenty-five per cent. of the capital had been called in. john g. downey was president and i. w. hellman was cashier; their office was in the former rooms of hellman, temple & company. on the tenth of april the institution was opened as the farmers & merchants bank; and on july 10th, j. g. downey, charles ducommun, o. w. childs, i. m. hellman, george hansen, a. glassell, j. s. griffin, josé mascarel and i. w. hellman were chosen trustees. from the first the bank prospered, so that when the crisis of 1875 tested the substantiability of the financial institutions here, the farmers & merchants rode the storm. in april, 1871, hellman inaugurated a popular policy when he offered to pay interest on time deposits, for it brought many clients who had previously been accustomed to do their banking in san francisco; and before long the bank advertised one hundred thousand dollars to lend on good security. on february 14th, stephen samsbury, known as buckskin bill, and a man named carter murdered the twin brothers bilderback who had taken up some land very close to verdugo--now incorporated in glendale--and were engaged in chopping wood; the murderers coveting the land and planning to sell the fuel. deputy sheriff dunlap went in pursuit of the desperadoes, and noticing some loose earth in the roadbed near by, he thrust a stick into the ground and so uncovered the blood-stained end of a blanket which led to the finding of the bodies. j. f. burns, who, at eighty-three years of age, still manifests his old time spirit, being then sheriff, pursued buckskin bill until the twenty-fourth of june. a young soldier on the way to fort yuma met burns at san pedro, and having agreed to sell him certain information about the fugitive, revealed the fact that bill had been seen near tecate, mounted on a horse, with his squaw and infant riding a mule. the chase had previously taken the sheriff from verdugo cañon to white pine, nevada, and back to los angeles; and acting on this new clue, burns obtained a requisition on the mexican governor from judge ygnácio sepúlveda, and went to lower california where, with felipe zarate, a mexican officer, he located the man after two or three days' search. about twenty miles north of real castillo, the sheriff found the fugitive, and in the ensuing fight samsbury accidentally shot himself; and so terribly did the wounded man suffer that he begged burns to finish him at once. the sheriff, refusing, improved the opportunity to secure a full confession of bill's numerous crimes, among which figured the killing of five other men--besides the bilderback brothers--in different parts of california. after samsbury died, burns cut off his foot--known to have six toes--and placed it in _mescal_, a popular and strongly-intoxicating beverage of the mexicans; and when later the sheriff presented this trophy to the good citizens of california, it was accepted as abundant proof that the man he had gone after had been captured and disposed of. the legislature promptly paid burns nearly five thousand dollars; but los angeles county, which had pledged two hundred dollars' reward, refused to recompense the doughty sheriff and has never since made good its promise. in 1889, burns was chief of police, with emil harris as his captain. the earliest move toward the formation of a los angeles board of trade was made, not in 1883, nor even in 1873--when the first chamber of commerce began--but in 1871, a fact that seems to be generally forgotten. late in february of that year, a number of leading shippers came together to discuss coast trade and other interests; and b. l. peel moved that a board of trade be organized. the motion was carried and the organization was effected; but with the waning of enthusiasm for the improvements proposed or, perhaps, through the failure of its members to agree, the embryonic board of trade soon died. in february, b. l. peel & company installed the telegraph in their commission office--probably the first instance of a private wire in local business history. at the outset of the somewhat momentous decade of the seventies, hellman, haas & company was established, with h. w. hellman, jacob haas and b. cohn partners; their first store being on the east side of los angeles street opposite h. newmark & company's. abraham haas, who came in december, 1873, had a share in his brother's venture from the start; but it was not until 1875, when he bought out cohn's interest, that he became a partner. ten years after the firm commenced business, that is, in 1881, jacob baruch, who had come to california with j. loew, and with him had made his start at galatin, was admitted to partnership; and in 1889, a year after jacob haas's death, haas & baruch bought out h. w. hellman. then it was that haas, baruch & company, a name so agreeably known throughout southern california, first entered the field, their activity--immediately felt--permitting very little of the proverbial grass to grow under one's feet. on january 7th, 1909, jacob baruch died. haas since december 12th, 1900 has been a resident of san francisco. this year the united states government began the great work of improving wilmington or san pedro harbor. the gap between rattlesnake and dead man's islands was closed by means of a breakwater, creating a regular current in the channel; and dredging to a depth of seventeen or eighteen feet first made it possible for vessels of size to cross the bar at low tide. among those active in preparing documents for congress and securing the survey was judge r. m. widney, of whose public services mention has been made; while phineas banning, at his own expense, made trips to washington in behalf of the project. a genuine novelty was introduced in 1871, when downs & bent late in february opened a roller-skating rink at teutonia hall. twenty-five cents was charged for admission, and an additional quarter demanded for the use of skates. ladies and gentlemen flocked to enjoy the new sensation; a second rink was soon opened in los angeles and another in el monte; and among those who became proficient skaters was pancho coronel, one of the social lions of his day. in time, however, the craze waned, and what had been hailed as fashionable because of its popularity in the great cities of the east, lost in favor, particularly among those of social pretensions. in march, a call for a meeting to organize an agricultural society for the counties of los angeles, santa bárbara, san bernardino, kern and san diego brought together a large number of our citizens. l. j. rose and his neighbor l. h. titus, dr. j. s. griffin, colonel j. j. warner, judge h. k. s. o'melveny, judge a. j. king, john g. downey, f. n. slaughter and many others including myself became actively interested, and then and there started the southern district agricultural society which, for years, contributed so much to advance the agricultural interests of southern california. annual trotting races, lasting a week, lent impetus to the breeding of fine stock, for which this part of the state became famous. l. j. rose was the moving spirit in this enterprise; and he it was who induced me and other friends to participate. even the first ice machine, in march, did not freeze the price below four cents per pound. edited by henry c. austin, the _evening express_ made its first appearance on march 27th. it was started by the printers, george and jesse yarnell, george a. tiffany, j. w. paynter and miguel verelo; but james j. ayers--in 1882 state printer--who was one of the founders of the san francisco _morning call_, succeeded austin in 1875, and then the yarnells and verelo retired. l. v. prudhomme, better known as victor prudhomme--a name sometimes, but probably incorrectly, spelled prudhon--who is said to have come from france about the middle of the thirties, died here on may 8th. his wife was a spanish woman and for a while they resided on the east side of main street between requena and first, not far from my brother's store. as a rather active member of the french colony, he was a man in good standing, and was engaged, it seems to me, in the wine industry. he also owned some land near san bernardino and was continually visiting that place. on may 27th, s. j. millington, announced as "the pioneer dancing master of california," opened a dancing academy at stearns's hall, and it at once sprang into social favor. he had morning classes for children and evening classes for adults. i happen to recall the circumstances more clearly for i was one of his committee of patrons. dances, by the way, were given frequently, and were often attended in costume and even in disguise. i remember such an occasion in the early seventies when elaborate toilettes and variety of dress marked an advance in these harmless diversions. conspicuous among the guests was john jones, elderly and seldom given to frivolity, who appeared in the character of the father of his country. in early june, a chinese junk, cruising in search of _abalones_, attracted no little attention at san pedro as a primitive and clumsy specimen of marine architecture. the sudden and abnormal demand for the _abalone_ shell offered such large returns as to tempt men to take desperate chances in hunting for them among the rocks. sometime in the seventies, a chinaman, searching near san diego, thrust his hand into an open shell and the _abalone_ closed upon his wrist with such an irresistible grip that the unfortunate shell-hunter was held fast until overtaken by the rising tide and drowned. for many years los angeles booklovers were supplied by merchants who sold other things, or who conducted a limited loan library in conjunction with their business. such a circulating collection samuel hellman displayed in february, 1871. the first exclusively book and periodical store was opened in the same year, by brodrick & reilly, adjoining the post office on spring street. albert fenner kercheval, who took up his residence in 1871 on the west side of pearl street near the end of sixth, on what was formerly known as the gelcich place, first came to california--hangtown--in 1849 and experienced much the same kind of mining adventure as inspired bret harte. on his second visit to the coast, kercheval raised strawberries and early tomatoes, for which he found a ready sale in san francisco; and in his spare moments he wrote poems--collected and published in 1883 under the title of _dolores_--some of which rather cleverly reflect california life. on june 19th, the teutonia-concordia society merged with the los angeles turnverein, forming the turnverein-germania; and about the same time, the original home of the _verein_, a frame building on south spring street, was erected. in that year, also, the first german school was founded--the sessions being conducted at the old round house. [illustration: (_standing_) lorenzo leck louis mesmer william nordholt (_sitting_) henry c. g. schaeffer henry hammel john schumacher] [illustration: turnverein-germania building, spring street] having had no fitting celebration of the fourth of july for years, a number of citizens in 1871 called a meeting to consider the matter, and a. j. johnston, l. lichtenberger, w. h. perry, j. m. griffith, john wilson, o. w. childs and myself were appointed to make arrangements. a list of forty or fifty leading merchants willing to close their places of business on independence day was drawn up; a program was easily prepared; and the music, display of flags and bunting, and the patriotic addresses awakened, after such a neglect of the occasion, new and edifying emotions. slight regard was formerly paid by officers to the safety or life of the indian, who had a persistent weakness for alcohol; and when citizens did attend to the removal of these inebriates, they frequently looked to the municipality for compensation. for instance: at a meeting of the common council, in july, pete wilson presented a bill of two dollars and a half "for the removal of a nuisance," which nuisance, upon investigation, was shown to have been a drunken squaw whom he had retired from the street! the council, after debating the momentous question of reimbursement, finally reached a compromise by which the city saved just--twenty-five cents. alexander bell died on july 24th, after a residence of twenty-nine years in los angeles. beginning with the seventies, attention was directed to santa monica as a possible summer resort, but it was some years before many people saw in the bay and its immediate environment the opportunities upon which thousands have since seized. in the summer of 1871 less than twenty families, the majority in tents, sojourned there among the sycamore groves in the cañon where j. m. harned had a bar and "refreshment parlor." the attractions of beach and surf, however, were beginning to be appreciated, and so were the opportunities for shooting--at tell's and elsewhere; and on sundays two or three hundred excursionists frequently visited that neighborhood, reynolds, the liveryman, doing a thriving business carrying people to the beach. speaking of this gradual awakening to the attractions of santa monica, i recall that school children of the late sixties held their picnics at the cañon, going down on crowded stages where the choicest seats were on the box; and that one of the most popular drivers of that period was tommy o'campo. he handled the reins with the dexterity of a hank monk, and before sunrise young america would go over to the corral, there to wait long and patiently in order to get an especially desirable seat on tommy's stage. with the completion of the los angeles & san pedro railroad, excursions to catalina began to be in vogue; but as the local population was small, considerable effort was needed sometimes to secure enough patrons to make the trips pay. thus an excursion for sunday, august 13th, was advertised by the skipper of the steamer _vaquero_, a couple of dollars for the round trip being charged, with half price for children; but by saturday morning the requisite number of subscribers had not been obtained, and the excursion was called off. otto j. and oswald f. zahn, sons of dr. johann carl zahn who came here about 1871, were carrier-pigeon fanciers and established a service between avalon and los angeles, fastening their messages, written on tissue paper, by delicate wire to the birds' legs. for some time the catalina pigeon messengers, as they were called, left avalon late in the afternoon, after the last steamer, bringing news that appeared in the los angeles newspapers of the following morning. usually the birds took a good hour in crossing the channel; but on one occasion, _blue jim_, the champion, covered the distance of forty-eight miles in fifty minutes. on the evening of august 23d, the announcement came over the wires of don abel stearns's death in san francisco, at five o'clock that afternoon, at the grand hotel. late in october, his body was brought to los angeles for final interment, the tombstone having arrived from san francisco a week or two previously. awesome indeed was the scene that i witnessed when the ropes sustaining the eight hundred pound metallic casket snapped, pitching the coffin and its grim contents into the grave. i shall never forget the unearthly shriek of doña arcadia, as well as the accident itself. with the wane of summer, we received the startling news of the death, through indians, of frederick loring, the young journalist and author well known in los angeles, who was with the united states exploring expedition to arizona as a correspondent of _appleton's journal_. "bootless, coatless and everything but lifeless," as he put it, he had just escaped perishing in death valley, when the stage party was attacked by apaches, and loring and four other passengers were killed. in september, during captain george j. clarke's administration as postmaster, foreign money-orders began to be issued here for the first time, payable only in great britain and ireland, twenty-five cents being charged for sending ten dollars or less; and shortly afterward, international money-orders were issued for germany and some other continental countries. then five or six hundred letters for los angeles county were looked upon as rather a large dispatch by one steamer from san francisco and the north; and the canceling of from twelve to fifteen dollars' worth of stamps a day was regarded as "big business." vincent collyer--the peace commissioner sent out with general o. o. howard by the government in 1868--who eventually made himself most unpopular in arizona by pleading the cause of the scalping apaches in the fall of 1871, put up at the pico house; when public feeling led one newspaper to suggest that if the citizens wished "to see a _monster_," they had "only to stand before the hotel and watch collyer pass to and fro!" in the fall, tidings of chicago's awful calamity by fire reached los angeles, but strange to say, no public action was taken until the editor of the los angeles _news_, on october 12th, gave vent to his feelings in the following editorial: three days ago the press of this city called upon the public generally to meet at a stated hour last evening, at the county courtroom, to do something towards alleviating the sufferings of the destitute thousands in chicago. the calamity which has overtaken that unfortunate city has aroused the sympathy of the world, and the heart and pulse of civilized humanity voluntarily respond, extending assistance in deeds as well as in words. from all parts of the globe, where the name of chicago is known, liberal donations flow into a common treasury. we had hoped to be able to add the name of los angeles among the list, as having done its duty. but in whatever else she may excel, her charity is a dishonorable exception. her bowels are absolute strangers to sympathy, when called upon to practically demonstrate it. at the place of meeting, instead of seeing the multitude, we were astonished to find but three persons, viz: governor downey, john jones, and a gentleman from riverside, who is on a visit here. anything more disgraceful than this apathy on the part of her inhabitants she could not have been guilty of. for her selfishness, she justly deserves the fearful fate that has befallen the helpless one that now lies stricken in the dust. let her bow down her head in shame. chicago, our response to your appeal is, _starve_! _what do we care?_ this candid rebuke was not without effect; a committee was immediately formed to solicit contributions from the general public, and within an hour a tidy sum had been raised. by october 18th the fund had reached over two thousand dollars, exclusive of two hundred and fifty dollars given by the hebrew benevolent society and still another hundred dollars raised by the jewish ladies. about the twenty-first of october a "war" broke out near nigger alley between two rival factions of the chinese on account of the forcible carrying off of one of the companies' female members, and the steamer _california_ soon brought a batch of chinamen from san francisco, sent down, it was claimed, to help wreak vengeance on the abductors. on monday, october 23d some of the contestants were arrested, brought before justice gray and released on bail. it was expected that this would end the trouble; but at five o'clock the next day the factional strife broke loose again, and officers, accompanied by citizens, rushed to the place to attempt an arrest. the chinese resisted and officer jesus bilderrain was shot in the right shoulder and wrist, while his fifteen-year-old brother received a ball in the right leg. robert thompson, a citizen who sprang to bilderrain's assistance, was met by a chinaman with two revolvers and shot to death. other shots from chinese barricaded behind some iron shutters wounded a number of bystanders. news of the attacks and counter-attacks spread like wildfire, and a mob of a thousand or more frenzied beyond control, armed with pistols, guns, knives and ropes, and determined to avenge thompson's murder, assembled in the neighborhood of the disturbance. while this solid phalanx was being formed around nigger alley, a chinaman, waving a hatchet, was seen trying to escape across los angeles street; and romo sortorel, at the expense of some ugly cuts on the hand, captured him. emil harris then rescued the mongolian; but a detachment of the crowd, yelling "hang him! shoot him!" overpowered harris at temple and spring streets, and dragged the trembling wretch up temple to new high street, where the familiar framework of the corral gates suggested its use as a gallows. with the first suspension, the rope broke; but the second attempt to hang the prisoner was successful. other chinamen, whose roofs had been smashed in, were rushed down los angeles street to the south side of commercial, and there, near goller's wagon shop, between wagons stood on end, were hung. alarmed for the safety of their cook, sing ty, the juan lanfrancos hid the mongolian for a week, until the excitement had subsided. henry t. hazard was lolling comfortably in a shaving saloon, under the luxurious lather of the barber, when he heard of the riot; and arriving on the scene, he mounted a barrel and attempted to remonstrate with the crowd. some friends soon pulled him down, warning him that he might be shot. a. j. king was at supper when word was brought to him that chinese were slaughtering white people, and he responded by seizing his rifle and two revolvers. in trying one of the latter, however, it was prematurely discharged, taking the tip off a finger and putting him _hors de combat_. sheriff burns could not reach the scene until an hour after the row started and many chinamen had already taken their celestial flight. when he arrived, he called for a _posse comitatus_ to assist him in handling the situation; but no one responded. he also demanded from the leader of the mob and others that they disperse; but with the same negative result. about that time, a party of rioters started with a chinaman up commercial street to main, evidently bent on hanging him to the tomlinson & griffith gate; and when burns promised to attempt a rescue if he had but two volunteers, judge r. m. widney and james goldsworthy responded and the chinaman was taken from his tormentors and lodged in jail. besides judge widney, cameron e. thom and h. c. austin displayed great courage in facing the mob, which was made up of the scum and dregs of the city; and sheriff burns is also entitled to much credit for his part in preventing the burning of the chinese quarters. all the efforts of the better element, however, did not prevent one of the most disgraceful of all disturbances which had occurred since my arrival in los angeles. on october 25th, when coroner joseph kurtz impanelled his jury, nineteen bodies of chinamen alone were in evidence and the verdict was: "death through strangulation by persons unknown to the jury." emil harris's testimony at the inquest, that but one of the twenty-two or more victims deserved his fate, about hits the mark and confirms the opinion that the slight punishment to half a dozen of the conspirators was very inadequate. at the time of the massacre, i heard a shot just as i was about to leave my office, and learned that it had been fired from that part of chinatown facing los angeles street; and i soon ascertained that it had ended thompson's life. anticipating no further trouble, however, i went home to dinner. when i returned to town, news of the riot had spread, and with my neighbors, cameron e. thom and john g. downey, i hurried to the scene. it was then that i became an eye-witness to the heroic, if somewhat comical parts played by thom and burns. the former, having climbed to the top of a box, harangued the crowd, while the sheriff, who had succeeded in mounting a barrel, was also addressing the tumultuous rabble in an effort to restore order. unfortunately, this receptacle had been coopered to serve as a container, not as a rostrum; and the head of the cask under the pressure of two hundred pounds or more of official avoirdupois suddenly collapsed and our worthy guardian of the peace dropped, with accelerated speed, clear through to the ground, and quite unintentionally, for the moment at least, turned grim tragedy into grotesque comedy. following this massacre, the chinese government made such a vigorous protest to the united states that the washington authorities finally paid a large indemnity. during these negotiations, chinese throughout the country held lamentation services for the los angeles victims; and on august 2d, 1872, four chinese priests came from san francisco to conduct the ceremonies. in 1870, f. p. f. temple, who had seen constructed two sections of the building now known as temple block, made the fatal blunder of accepting the friendly advice that led him to erect the third section at the junction of spring and main streets, and to establish therein a bank under the name of temple & workman. the building, costing in the neighborhood of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, was all that could have been desired, proving by long odds the most ornamental edifice in the city; and when, on november 23d, 1871, the bank was opened in its comfortable quarters on the spring street side of the block, nothing seemed wanting to success. the furnishings were elaborate, one feature of the office outfit being a very handsome counter of native cedar, a decided advance in decoration over the primitive bare or painted wood then common here. neither temple, who had sold his fine ranch near fort tejón to embark in the enterprise, nor workman had had any practical experience in either finance or commerce; and to make matters worse, workman, being at that time a very old man, left the entire management to his son-in-law, temple, in whom he had full confidence. it soon became evident that anybody could borrow money with or without proper security, and unscrupulous people hastened to take advantage of the situation. in due season i shall tell what happened to this bank. in the preceding spring when the coast-line stage companies were still the only rivals to the steamers, a movement favoring an opposition boat was started, and by june leading shippers were discussing the advisability of even purchasing a competitive steamer; all the vessels up to that time having been owned by companies or individuals with headquarters in the northern metropolis. matthew keller was then in san francisco; and having been led to believe that a company could be financed, books were opened for subscriptions in los angeles, santa bárbara, san luis obispo and elsewhere. for lack of the necessary support, this plan was abandoned; but late in july a meeting was held in the bella union to further consider the matter. among those present was george wright, long engaged in coast shipping; and he proposed to sell the control of the _olympia_. h. newmark & company being considerably interested in the movement, declared themselves ready to coöperate in improving the situation; for which reason great surprise was expressed when, in december, 1871, b. l. peel, the commission merchant, made an attack on us, openly charging that, although "the largest shippers in the city," we had revoked our pledge to sustain the opposition to high freight rates, and so had contributed toward defeating the enterprise! it is true that we finally discouraged the movement, but for a good and sufficient reason: wright was in the steamship business for anything but his health. his method was to put on a tramp steamer and then cut passenger and freight rates ridiculously low, until the regular line would buy him out; a project which, on former occasions, had caused serious disturbances to business. when therefore wright made this offer, in 1871, h. newmark & company forthwith refused to participate. i shall show that, when greater necessity required it, we took the lead in a movement against the southern pacific which, for lack of loyalty on the part of many of the other shippers, met not only with disastrous failure but considerable pecuniary loss to ourselves. on december 18th, 1871, judge murray morrison died. three days later, his wife, jennie, whom we knew as the attractive daughter of dr. thomas j. white, also breathed her last. chapter xxx the wool craze 1872-1873 as already stated, the price of wool in 1871 was exceedingly high and continued advancing until in 1872 when, as a result, great prosperity in southern california was predicted. enough wool had been bought by us to make what at that time was considered a very handsome fortune. we commenced purchasing on the sheep's back in november, and continued buying everything that was offered until april, 1872, when we made the first shipment, the product being sold at forty-five cents per pound. as far as i am aware, the price of wool had never reached fifty cents anywhere in the world, it being ordinarily worth from ten to twelve cents; and without going into technicalities, which would be of no interest to the average reader, i will merely say that forty-five cents was a tremendously high figure for dirty, burry, california wool in the grease. when the information arrived that this sale had been effected, i became wool-crazy, the more so since i knew that the particular shipment referred to was of very poor quality. colonel r. s. baker, who was living on his ranch in kern county, came to los angeles about that time, and we offered him fifty cents a pound for beale & baker's clip amounting to one hundred and seventy-five thousand pounds. his reply was that it would be impossible to sell without consulting beale; but beale proved as wool-crazy as i, and would not sell. it developed that beale & baker did not succeed in effecting a sale in san francisco, where they soon offered their product, and that they concluded to ship it to boston; the new england metropolis then, as now, being the most important wool-center in the united states. upon its arrival, the wool was stored; and there it remained until, as fate would have it, the entire shipment was later destroyed in the great boston fire of 1872. as a result of this tremendous conflagration, the insurance company which carried their policy failed and beale & baker met with a great loss. the brothers philip, eugène and camille garnier of the encino ranch--who, while generally operating separately, clubbed together at that time in disposing of their product--had a clip of wool somewhat exceeding one hundred and fifty thousand pounds. the spokesman for the three was eugène, and on the same day that i made colonel baker the offer of fifty cents, i told eugène that i would allow him forty-eight and a half cents for the garnier product. this offer he disdainfully refused, returning immediately to his ranch; and now, as i look back upon the matter, i do not believe that in my entire commercial experience i ever witnessed anything demonstrating so thoroughly, as did these wool transactions, the monstrous greed of man. the sequel, however, points the moral. my offer to the garnier brothers was made on a friday. during that day and the next, we received several telegrams indicating that the crest of the craze had been reached, and that buyers refused to take hold. on monday following the first visit of eugène garnier, he again came to town and wanted me to buy their wool at the price which i had quoted him on friday; but by that time we had withdrawn from the market. my brother wired that san francisco buyers would not touch it; hence the garnier brothers also shipped their product east and, after holding it practically a full year, finally sold it for sixteen and a half cents a pound in currency, which was then worth eighty-five cents on the dollar. the year 1872 is on record as the most disastrous wool season in our history, when millions were lost; and h. newmark & company suffered their share in the disaster. it was in march that we purchased from louis wolfskill, through the instrumentality of l. j. rose, the santa anita _rancho_, consisting of something over eight thousand acres, paying him eighty-five thousand dollars for this beautiful domain. the terms agreed upon were twenty thousand dollars down and four equal quarterly payments for the balance. in the light of the aftermath, the statement that our expectations of prospective wool profits inspired this purchase seems ludicrous, but it was far from laughable at the time; for it took less than sixty days for h. newmark & company to discover that buying ranches on any such basis was not a very safe policy to follow and would, if continued, result in disaster. indeed, the outcome was so different from our calculations, that it pinched us somewhat to meet our obligations to wolfskill. this purchase, as i shall soon show, proved a lucky one, and compensated for the earlier nervous and financial strain. john simmons, who drove h. newmark & company's truck and slept in a barn in my back yard on main street, was so reliable a man that we made him overseer of the ranch. when we sold the property, simmons was engaged by lazard frères, the san francisco bankers, to do special service that involved the carrying of large sums of money. when we bought the santa anita, there were five eucalyptus or blue gum trees growing near the house. i understood at the time that these had been planted by william wolfskill from seed sent to him by a friend in australia; and that they were the first eucalyptus trees cultivated in southern california. sometime early in 1875, the forest grove association started the first extensive tract of eucalyptus trees seen in los angeles, and in a decade or two the eucalyptus had become a familiar object; one tree, belonging to howard & smith, florists at the corner of olive and ninth streets, attaining,[31] after a growth of nineteen years, a height of one hundred and thirty-four feet. on the morning of march 26th, los angeles was visited by an earthquake of sufficient force to throw people out of bed, many men, women and children seeking safety by running out in their night-clothes. a day or two afterward excited riders came in from the owens river valley bringing reports which showed the quake to have been the worst, so far as loss of life was concerned, that had afflicted california since the memorable catastrophe of 1812. intending thereby to encourage the building of railroads, the legislature, on april 4th, 1870, authorized the various boards of supervisors to grant aid whenever the qualified voters so elected. this seemed a great step forward, but anti-railroad sentiment, as in the case of banning's line, again manifested itself here. the southern pacific, just incorporated as a subsidiary of the central pacific, was laying its tracks down the san joaquín valley; yet there was grave doubt whether it would include los angeles or not. it contemplated a line through teháchepi pass; but from that point two separate surveys had been made, one by way of soledad pass via los angeles, through costly tunnels and over heavy grades; the other, straight to the needles, over an almost level plain along the thirty-fifth parallel, as anticipated by william h. seward in his los angeles speech. at the very time when every obstacle should have been removed, the opposition so crystallized in the legislature that a successful effort was made to repeal the subsidy law; but thanks to our representatives, the measure was made ineffective in los angeles county, should the voters specifically endorse the project of a railroad. in april, 1872, tom mott and b. d. wilson wrote leland stanford that a meeting of the taxpayers, soon to be called, would name a committee to confer with the railroad officials; and stanford replied that he would send down e. w. hyde to speak for the company. about the first of may, however, a few citizens gathered for consultation at the board of trade room; and at that meeting it was decided unanimously to send to san francisco a committee of two, consisting of governor downey and myself, there to convey to the southern pacific company the overtures of the city. we accordingly visited collis p. huntington, whose headquarters were at the grand hotel; and during our interview we canvassed the entire situation. in the course of this interesting discussion, huntington displayed some engineer's maps and showed us how, in his judgment, the railroad, if constructed to los angeles at all, would have to enter the city. when the time for action arrived, the southern pacific built into los angeles along the lines indicated in our interview with huntington. on saturday afternoon, may 18th, 1872, a public meeting was held in the los angeles court-house. governor downey called the assembly to order; whereupon h. k. s. o'melveny was elected president and major ben c. truman, secretary. speeches were made by downey, phineas banning, b. d. wilson, e. j. c. kewen and c. h. larrabee; and resolutions were adopted pledging financial assistance from the county, provided the road was constructed within a given time. a committee was then appointed to seek general information concerning railroads likely to extend their lines to los angeles; and on that committee i had the honor of serving with f. p. f. temple, a. f. coronel, h. k. s. o'melveny, j. g. downey, s. b. caswell, j. m. griffith, henry dalton, andrés pico, l. j. rose, general george stoneman and d. w. alexander. a few days later, wilson, rose and w. r. olden of anaheim were sent to san francisco to discuss terms with the southern pacific; and when they returned, they brought with them stanford's representative, hyde. temple, o'melveny and i were made a special committee to confer with hyde in drawing up ordinances for the county; and these statutes were immediately passed by the supervisors. the southern pacific agreed to build fifty miles of its main trunk line through the county, with a branch line to anaheim; and the county, among other conditions, was to dispose of its stock in the los angeles & san pedro railroad to the southern pacific company. when all this matter was presented to the people, the opposition was even greater than in the campaign of 1868. one newspaper--the _evening express_--while declaring that "railway companies are soulless corporations, invariably selfish, with a love for money," even maintained that "because they are rich, they have no more right to build to us than has governor downey to build our schoolhouses." public addresses were made to excited, demonstrative audiences by henry t. hazard, r. m. widney and others who favored the southern pacific. on the evening of november 4th, or the night before the election, the southern pacific adherents held a torchlight procession and a mass-meeting, at the same time illuminating the pueblo with the customary bonfires. when the vote was finally counted, it was found that the southern pacific had won by a big majority; and thus was made the first concession to the railroad which has been of such paramount importance in the development of this section of the state. in 1872, nathaniel c. carter, who boasted that he made for the government the first american flag woven by machinery, purchased and settled upon a part of the flores _rancho_ near san gabriel. through wide advertising, carter attracted his massachusetts friends to this section; and in 1874 he started the carter excursions and brought train-loads of people to los angeles. terminating a series of wanderings by sea and by land, during which he had visited california in 1849, john lang, father of gustav j. (once a police commissioner), came to los angeles for permanent residence in 1872, bringing a neat little pile of gold. with part of his savings he purchased the five acres since known as the laurel tract on sixteenth street, where he planted an orchard, and some of the balance he put into a loan for which, against his will, he had to take over the lot on spring street between second and third where the lang building now stands. soon after his advent here, lang found himself one of four persons of the same name, which brought about such confusion between him, the pioneer at lang's station and two others, that the bank always labelled him "lang no. 1," while it called the station master "lang no. 2." in 1866, lang had married, in victoria, mrs. rosine everhardt, a sister of mrs. kiln messer; and his wife refusing to live at the lonesome ranch, lang bought, for four hundred dollars, the lot on fort street on which tally's theater now stands, and built there a modest home from which he went out daily to visit his orchard. being of an exceedingly studious turn of mind, lang devoted his spare time to profitable reading; and to such an extent had he secluded himself that, when he died, on december 9th, 1900, he had passed full thirty years here without having seen santa monica or pasadena. nor had he entered the courtroom more than once, and then only when compelled to go there to release some property seized upon for taxes remaining unpaid by one of the other john langs. regarded by his family as idealistic and kind-hearted, john lang was really such a hermit that only with difficulty were friends enough found who could properly serve as pall-bearers. on june 2d, b. f. ramirez and others launched the spanish newspaper, _la cronica_, from the control of which ramirez soon retired to make way for e. f. de celis. under the latter's leadership, the paper became notable as a coast organ for the latin race. almost simultaneously, a. j. king and a. waite published their city directory. on the seventeenth of july our family circle was gladdened by the wedding festivities of kaspare cohn and miss hulda, sister of m. a. newmark. the bride had been living with us for some time as a member of our family. i have spoken of the attempt made, in 1859, to found a public library. in 1872, there was another agitation that led to a mass-meeting on december 7th, in the old merced theatre on main street; and among others present were judge ygnácio sepúlveda, general george h. stoneman, governor john g. downey, henry kirk white bent, s. b. caswell, w. j. brodrick, colonel g. h. smith, w. b. lawlor and myself. the los angeles library association was formed; and downey, bent, brodrick, caswell and i were appointed to canvas for funds and donations of books. fifty dollars was charged for a life membership, and five dollars for yearly privileges; and besides these subscriptions, donations and loans of books maintained the library. the institution was established in four small, dark rooms of the old downey block on temple and spring streets, where the federal building now stands, and where the _times_, then the youngest newspaper in los angeles, was later housed; and there j. c. littlefield acted as the first librarian. in 1874, the state legislature passed an enabling act for a public library in los angeles, and from that time on public funds contributed to the support of the worthy undertaking. on january 1st, 1873, m. a. newmark, who had come to los angeles eight years before, was admitted into partnership with h. newmark & company; and three years later, on february 27th, he married miss harriet, daughter of j. p. newmark. samuel cohn having died, the associates then were: kaspare cohn, m. j. newmark, m. a. newmark and myself. on february 1st, 1873, two job printers, yarnell & caystile, who had opened a little shop at 14 commercial street, began to issue a diminutive paper called the _weekly mirror_, with four pages but ten by thirteen inches in size and three columns to the page; and this miniature news-sheet, falling wet from the press every saturday, was distributed free. success greeted the advertising venture and the journal was known as the smallest newspaper on the coast. a month later, william m. brown joined the firm, thenceforth called yarnell, caystile & brown. on march 19th, the publishers added a column to each page, announcing, rather prophetically perhaps, their intention of attaining a greatness that should know no obstacle or limit. in november, the _mirror_ was transferred to a building on temple street, near the downey block, erected for its special needs; and there it continued to be published until, in 1887, it was housed with the _times_. nels williamson, to whom i have referred, married a native californian, and their eldest daughter, mariana, in 1873 became the wife of antónio franco coronel, the gay couple settling in one of the old pueblo adobes on the present site of bishop & company's factory; and there they were visited by helen hunt jackson when she came here in the early eighties. in 1886, they moved opposite to the home that coronel built on the southwest corner of seventh street and central avenue. educated here at the public and the sisters' schools, mrs. coronel was a recognized leader in local society, proving very serviceable in the preparation of _ramona_ and receiving, in return, due acknowledgment from the distinguished authoress who presented her with the first copy of the book published. daniel freeman, a canadian who came in 1873, was one of many to be attracted to california through nordhoff's famous book. after looking at many ranches, freeman inspected the centinela with sir robert burnett, the scotch owner then living there. burnett insisted that the ranch was too dry for farming and cited his own necessity of buying hay at thirty dollars a ton; but freeman purchased the twenty-five thousand acres, stocked them with sheep and continued long in that business, facing many a difficulty attendant upon the dry seasons, notably in 1875-76, when he lost fully twenty-two thousand head. l. h. titus, who bought from j. d. woodworth the land in his san gabriel orchard and vineyard, early used iron water-pipes for irrigation. a bold venture of the same year was the laying of iron water-pipes throughout east los angeles, at great expense, by dr. john s. griffin and governor john g. downey. about the same time, the directors of the orange grove association which as we shall later see founded pasadena, used iron pipe for conducting water, first to a good reservoir and then to their lands, for irrigating. in 1873 also, the alhambra tract, then beginning to be settled as a fashionable suburb of los angeles, obtained its water supply through the efforts of b. d. wilson and his son-in-law, j. de barth shorb, who constructed large reservoirs near the san gabriel mission, piped water to alhambra and sold it to local consumers. james r. toberman, destined to be twice rechosen mayor of los angeles, was first elected in 1873, defeating cristóbal aguilar, an honored citizen of early days, who had thrice been mayor and was again a candidate. toberman made a record for fiscal reform by reducing the city's indebtedness over thirty thousand dollars and leaving a balance of about twenty-five thousand in the treasury; while, at the same time, he caused the tax-rate during his administration to dwindle, from one dollar and sixty cents per hundred to one dollar. toberman street bears this mayor's name. in 1873, president grant appointed henry kirk white bent, who had arrived in 1868, postmaster of los angeles. the several agitations for protection against fire had, for a long time no tangible results--due most probably to the lack of water facilities; but after the incorporation of the los angeles water company and the introduction of two or three hydrants, thirty-eight loyal citizens of the town in april organized themselves into the first volunteer fire company, popularly termed the 38's, imposing a fee of a dollar a month. some of the yeomen who thus set the ball a-rolling were major ben c. truman, tom rowan, w. j. brodrick, jake kuhrts, charley miles, george tiffany, aaron smith, henry t. hazard, cameron e. thom, fred eaton, matthew keller, dr. j. s. crawford, sidney lacey, john cashin and george p. mclain; and such was their devotion to the duty of both allaying and producing excitement, that it was a treat to stand by the side of the dusty street and watch the boys, bowling along, answer the fire-bell--the fat as well as the lean hitched to their one hose-cart. this cart, pulled by men, was known as the _jumper_--a name widely used among early volunteer firemen and so applied because, when the puffing and blowing enthusiasts drew the cart after them, by means of ropes, the two-wheeled vehicle jumped from point to point along the uneven surface of the road. the first engine of the 38's, known as fire engine no. 1, was housed, i think, back of the pico house, but was soon moved to a building on spring street near franklin and close to the city hall. about 1873, or possibly 1874, shrimps first appeared in the local market. in 1873, the los angeles _daily news_ suspended publication. a. j. king had retired on the first of january, 1870, to be succeeded by charles e. beane; on october 10th, 1872, alonzo waite had sold his interest and beane alone was at the helm when the ship foundered. to resume the narrative of the _daily star_. in july, henry hamilton sold both the paper and the job-printing office for six thousand dollars to major ben c. truman, and the latter conducted the _star_ for three or four years, filling it brimful of good things just as his more fiery predecessor had done. john lang--"number two"--the cultivator of fruit on what was afterward washington gardens, who established lang's station and managed the sulphur springs and the hotel there, in july killed a bear said to have been one of the grizzliest grizzlies ever seen on the coast. lang started after mr. bruin and, during an encounter in the san fernando range that nearly cost his life, finally shot him. the bear tipped the beam--forbid it that anyone should question the reading of the scales!--at two thousand, three hundred and fifty pounds; and later, as gossip had it, the pelt was sold to a museum in liverpool, england. this adventure, which will doubtless bear investigation, recalls another hunt, by colonel william butts, later editor of the _southern californian_, in which the doughty colonel, while rolling over and over with the infuriated beast, plunged a sharp blade into the animal's vitals; but only after butts's face, arms and legs had been horribly lacerated. butts's bear, a hundred hunters in san luis obispo county might have told you, weighed twenty-one hundred pounds--or more. dismissing these bear stories, some persons may yet be interested to learn of the presence here, in earlier days, of the ferocious wild boar. these were met with, for a long time, in the wooded districts of certain mountainous land-tracts owned by the ábilas, and there wild swine were hunted as late as 1873. in the summer, d. m. berry, general nathan kimball, calvin fletcher and j. h. baker came to los angeles from indianapolis, representing the california colony of indiana, a coöperative association which proposed to secure land for hoosiers who wished to found a settlement in southern california. this scheme originated with dr. thomas balch elliott of indianapolis, berry's brother-in-law and an army surgeon who had established the first grain elevator in indiana and whose wife, now ill, could no longer brave the severe winters of the middle west. soon after their arrival, wall street's crash brought ruin to many subscribers and the members of the committee found themselves stranded in los angeles. berry opened a real estate office on main street near arcadia, for himself and the absent elliott; and one day, at the suggestion of judge b. s. eaton, baker visited the san pasqual _rancho_, then in almost primeval glory, and was so pleased with what he saw that he persuaded fletcher to join dr. elliott, thomas h. croft of indianapolis and himself in incorporating the san gabriel orange grove association, with one hundred shares at two hundred and fifty dollars each. the association then bought out dr. j. s. griffin's interest, or some four thousand acres in the ranch, paying about twelve dollars and a half per acre, after which some fifteen hundred of the choicest acres were subdivided into tracts of from fifteen to sixty acres each. the san pasqual settlement was thus called for a while the indiana colony, though but a handful of hoosiers had actually joined the movement; and dr. and mrs. elliott, reaching los angeles on december 1st, 1874, immediately took possession of their grant on the banks of the arroyo seco near the frémont trail. on april 22d, 1875, the indiana colony was discontinued as the name of the settlement; it being seen that a more attractive title should be selected. dr. elliott wrote to a college-mate in the east for an appropriate indian name; and _pasadena_ was adopted as chippewa for "crown of the valley." linguists, i am informed, do not endorse the word as indian of any kind, but it is a musical name, and now famous and satisfactory. dr. elliott threw all his energy into the cultivation of oranges, but it was not long before he saw, with a certain prophetic vision, that not the fruit itself, but the health-giving and charming qualities of the san pasqual climate were likely to prove the real asset of the colonists and the foundation of their prosperity. pasadena and south pasadena, therefore, owe their existence largely to the longing of a frail indiana woman for a less rigorous climate and her dream that in the sunny southland along the pacific she should find health and happiness. m. j. newmark was really instrumental, more than anyone else, in first persuading d. m. berry to come to california. he had met berry in new york and talked to him of the possibility of buying the santa anita _rancho_, which we were then holding for sale; and on his return he traveled homeward by way of indiana, stopping off at indianapolis in order to bring berry out here to see the property. owing to the high price asked, however, berry and his associates could not negotiate the purchase, and so the matter was dropped. lawson d. hollingsworth and his wife, lucinda, quakers from indiana, opened the first grocery at the crossroads in the new settlement, and for many years were popularly spoken of as grandpa and grandma hollingsworth. dr. h. t. hollingsworth, their son, now of los angeles, kept the post office in the grocery, receiving from the government for his services the munificent sum of--twenty-five cents a week. the summer of 1873 was marked by the organization of a corporation designed to advance the general business interests of los angeles and vicinity. this was the chamber of commerce or, as it was at first called, the board of trade; and had its origin in a meeting held on august 1st in the old court-house on the site of the present bullard block. ex-governor john g. downey was called to the chair; and j. m. griffith was made secretary _pro tem_. before the next meeting, over one hundred representative merchants registered for membership, and on august 9th, a constitution and by-laws were adopted, a board of eleven directors elected and an admission fee of five dollars agreed upon. two days later, the organization was incorporated, with j. g. downey, s. lazard, m. j. newmark, h. w. hellman, p. beaudry, s. b. caswell, dr. j. s. griffin, r. m. widney, c. c. lips, j. m. griffith and i. w. lord, as directors; and these officers chose solomon lazard as the first president and i. w. lord as the first secretary. judge widney's office in the temple block was the meeting-place. the chamber unitedly and enthusiastically set to work to push forward the commercial interests of southern california; and the first appropriation by congress for the survey and improvement of san pedro harbor was effected mainly through the new society's efforts. descriptive pamphlets setting forth the advantages of our locality were distributed throughout the east; and steps were taken to build up the trade with arizona and the surrounding territory. in this way the chamber of commerce labored through the two or three succeeding years, until bank failures, droughts and other disasters, of which i shall speak, threw the cold blanket of discouragement over even so commendable an enterprise and for the time being its activities ceased. on october 3d, c. a. storke founded the _daily and weekly herald_, editing the paper until august, 1874 when j. m. bassett became its editor. in a few months he retired and john m. baldwin took up the quill. in the autumn of 1873, barnard brothers set in operation the first woolen mill here, built in 1868 or 1869 by george hansen and his associates in the canal and reservoir company. it was located on the ditch along the _cañon_ of the arroyo de los reyes--now figueroa street; and for fifteen years or more was operated by the barnards and the coulters, after which it was turned into an ice factory. in march of the preceding year, i sent my son maurice to new york, expecting him there to finish his education. it was thought best, however, to allow him, in 1873, to proceed across the ocean and on to paris where he might also learn the french language, at that time an especially valuable acquisition in los angeles. to this latter decision i was led when zadoc kahn, grand rabbi of paris and afterward grand rabbi of france, and a brother-in-law of eugene meyer, signified his willingness to take charge of the lad; and for three years the grand rabbi and his excellent wife well fulfilled their every obligation as temporary guardians. how great an advantage, indeed, this was will be readily recognized by all familiar with the published life of zadoc kahn and his reputation as a scholar and pulpit orator. he was a man of the highest ideals, as was proved in his unflinching activity, with émile zola, in the defense and liberation of the long-persecuted dreyfus. sometime in december, l. c. tibbetts, one of the early colonists at riverside, received a small package from a friend at washington, d. c., after having driven sixty-five miles to los angeles to get it; and he took it out of the little express office without attracting any more attention than to call forth the observation of the clerk that some one must care a lot about farming to make so much fuss about two young trees. "'tis nothing, says the fool!" the package in question contained two small orange trees from bahia, brazil, brought to the united states by the agricultural department and destined to bestow upon tibbetts the honor of having originated the navel orange industry of california. in 1873, drum barracks at wilmington were offered by the government at public auction; and what had cost a million dollars or so to install, was knocked down for less than ten thousand dollars to b. d. wilson, who donated it for educational purposes. during the winter of 1873-74, the southern pacific commenced the construction of its anaheim branch; and the first train from los angeles to the thriving, expectant german settlement made the run in january, 1875. max cohn, a nephew, arrived in los angeles in 1873 and clerked for h. newmark & company for a number of years. in december, 1885, when i retired from the wholesale grocery business, max became a full partner. in 1888, failing health compelled him, although a young man, to seek european medical advice; and he entered a sanatorium at falkenstein, in the taunus mountains where, in 1889, he died. footnote: [31] blown down, in a wind-storm, on the night of april 13th, 1915. chapter xxxi the end of vasquez 1874 although a high school had been proposed for los angeles as early as 1860, it was not until 1873, during dr. w. t. lucky's superintendency and under his teaching, that high-school courses were inaugurated here. then the more advanced students were accommodated in the schoolhouse on pound cake hill, where the court-house now stands; and from this humble beginning the present high-school system of los angeles has been evolved. later, under dr. t. h. rose's leadership, the grammar departments were removed to the other school buildings and the high school was conducted as an independent institution. in 1874, s. lazard & company dissolved, eugene and constant meyer succeeding, on june 15th, under the firm name of eugene meyer & company or, as the store was better known, the city of paris. charles h., or charley white, long prominent in the passenger department of the southern pacific, entered the service of the los angeles & san pedro railroad in 1874, as john milner's assistant, and soon became the regular ticket-agent here. after forty years of invaluable service, he is still with the southern pacific occupying the important position of chief clerk of the general passenger office. [illustration: vasquez and his captors (_top_) d. k. smith, william r. rowland, walter e. rodgers. (_middle_) albert johnson, greek george's home, g. a. beers. (_bottom_) emil harris, tibúrcio vasquez, j. s. bryant.] [illustration: greek george] [illustration: nicolás martinez] george h. peck, county superintendent of schools between 1874 and 1876, was a vermonter who came in 1869 and bought five hundred acres of land near el monte. on his first visit to the coast, peck handled hay in san francisco when it was worth two hundred dollars a ton; then he mined a little; and subsequently he opened the first public school in sacramento and the first industrial school in san francisco. andrew a. weinschank, a veteran of the battle of vera cruz who came to los angeles in 1856, died on february 16th, 1874. for a while, he sold home-made sauerkraut, pickles and condiments, and was one of a well-known family in the german pioneer group here. carrie, one of weinschank's daughters, married a circus man named lee who made periodical visits to los angeles, erecting a small tent, at first somewhere in the neighborhood of the present _times_ building, in which to conduct his show. later, polly lee became a rider in the circus and with her father electrified the youth of the town when lee, in the character of _dick turpin_, and mounted on his charger, _black bess_, carried off the weeping polly to his den of freebooters. a son, frank a. weinschank, was a pioneer plumber. in the early seventies, while the southern pacific railway was building from san francisco to san josé, some twelve or fifteen bandits, carousing at a country dance in the mexican settlement, panamá (about six miles south of bakersfield) planned to cross the mountains and hold up the pay-car. they were unsuccessful; whereupon, they turned their attention to the village of tres pinos, robbed several store-keepers and killed three or four men. they were next heard of at little kingston, in tulare county, where they plundered practically the whole town. then they once more disappeared. presently various clues pointed to the identity of the chief _bandido_ as one tibúrcio vasquez, born in monterey in the thirties, who had taken to the life of an outlaw because, as he fantastically said, some _gringos_ had insolently danced off with the prettiest girls at _fandangos_, among them being his sweetheart whom an american had wronged. with the exception of his lieutenant, chavez, he trusted no one, and when he moved from place to place, chavez alone accompanied him. in each new field he recruited a new gang, and he never slept in camp with his followers. although trailed by several sheriffs, vasquez escaped to southern california leading off the wife of one of his associates--a bit of gallantry that contributed to his undoing, as the irate husband at once gave the officers much information concerning vasquez's life and methods. one day in the spring of 1874, vasquez and three of his companions appeared at the ranch of alessandro repetto, nine miles from town, disguised as sheep-shearers. the following morning, while the inmates of the ranch-house were at breakfast, the highwaymen entered the room and held up the defenceless household. vasquez informed repetto that he was organizing a revolution in lower california and merely desired to borrow the trifling sum of eight hundred dollars. repetto replied that he had no money in the house; but vasquez compelled the old man to sign a check for the sum demanded, and immediately dispatched to town a boy working for repetto, with the strict injunction that if he did not return with the money alone, and soon, his master would be shot. when the check was presented at the temple & workman bank, temple, who happened to be there, became suspicious but could elicit from the messenger no satisfactory response to his questions. the bank was but a block from the courthouse; and when sheriff rowland hurriedly came, in answer to a summons, he was inclined to detain the lad. the boy, however, pleaded so hard for repetto's life that the sheriff agreed to the messenger's returning alone with the money. soon after, rowland and several deputies started out along the same trail; but a lookout sighted the approaching horsemen and gave the alarm. vasquez and his associates took to flight and were pursued as far as tejunga pass; but as the cutthroats were mounted on fresh horses, they escaped. even while being pursued, vasquez had the audacity to fleece a party of men in the employ of the los angeles water company who were doing some work near the alhambra tract. the well-known angeleño and engineer in charge, charles e. miles, was relieved of an expensive gold watch. in april, 1874, sheriff rowland heard that vasquez had visited the home of "greek george"--the smyrniot camel-driver to whom i have referred--and who was living about ten miles from los angeles, near the present location of hollywood. rowland took into his confidence d. k. smith and persuaded him to stroll that way, ostensibly as a farmer's hand seeking employment; and within two weeks smith reported to rowland that the information as to vasquez's whereabouts was correct. rowland then concluded to make up a _posse_, but inasmuch as a certain element kept vasquez posted regarding the sheriff's movements, rowland had to use great precaution. anticipating this emergency, city detective emil harris--four years later chief of police--had been quietly transferred to the sheriff's office; in addition to whom, rowland selected albert johnson, under sheriff; b. f. hartley, a local policeman; j. s. bryant, city constable; major henry m. mitchell, an attorney; d. k. smith; walter rodgers, proprietor of the palace saloon; and g. a. beers, a correspondent of the _san francisco chronicle_. all these were ordered to report, one by one with their horses, shortly after midnight, at jones's corral on spring street near seventh. arms and ammunition, carefully packed, were likewise smuggled in. whether true or not that vasquez would speedily be informed of the sheriff's whereabouts, it is certain that, in resolving not to leave his office, rowland sacrificed, for the public weal, such natural ambition that he cannot be too much applauded; not even the later reward of eight thousand dollars really compensating him for his disappointment. by half-past one o'clock in the morning, the eight members of the _posse_ were all in the saddle and silently following a circuitous route. at about daybreak, in dense fog, they camped at the mouth of nichols's canyon--two miles away from the house of greek george--where charles knowles, an american, was living. when the fog lifted, johnston, mitchell, smith and bryant worked their way to a point whence they could observe greek george's farm; and bryant, returning to camp, reported that a couple of gray horses had been seen tied near the ranch-house. shortly thereafter, a four-horse empty wagon, driven by two mexicans, went by the _cañon_ and was immediately stopped and brought in. the mexicans were put in charge of an officer, and about the same time johnston came tearing down the ravine with the startling statement that vasquez was undoubtedly at greek george's! a quick consultation ensued and it was decided by the _posse_ to approach their goal in the captured vehicle, leaving their own horses in charge of knowles; and having warned the mexicans that they would be shot if they proved treacherous, the deputies climbed into the wagon and lay down out of sight. when a hundred yards from the house, the officers stealthily scattered in various directions. harris, rodgers and johnston ran to the north side, and hartley and beers to the west. through an open door, vasquez was seen at the breakfast table, and harris, followed by the others, made a quick dash for the house. a woman waiting on vasquez attempted to shut the officers out; but harris injected his rifle through the half-open door and prevented her. during the excitement, vasquez climbed through a little window, and harris, yelling, "there he goes!" raised his henry rifle and shot at him. by the time harris had reached the other side of the house, vasquez was a hundred feet away and running like a deer toward his horse. in the meantime, first hartley and then the other officers used their shotguns and slightly wounded him again. vasquez then threw up his hands, saying: "boys, you've done well! but i've been a damned fool, and it's my own fault!" the identity of the bandit thus far had not been established; and when harris asked his name, he answered, "alessandro martinez."[32] in the meantime, captors and prisoner entered the house; and vasquez, who was weakened from his wounds, sat down, while the young woman implored the officers not to kill him. at closer range, a good view was obtained of the man who had so long terrorized the state. he was about five feet six or seven inches in height, sparely built, with small feet and hands--in that respect by no means suggesting the desperado--with a low forehead, black, coarse hair and mustache, and furtive, cunning eyes. by this time, the entire _posse_, excepting mitchell and smith (who had followed a man seen to leave greek george's), proceeded to search the house. the first door opened revealed a young fellow holding a baby in his arms. he, the most youthful member of the organization, had been placed on guard. there were no other men in the house, although four rifles and six pistols, all loaded and ready for use, were found. fearing no such raid, the other outlaws were afield in the neighborhood; and being warned by the firing, they escaped. one of vasquez's guns, by the way, has been long preserved by the family of francisco ybarra and now rests secure in the county museum. underneath one of the beds was found vasquez's vest containing charley miles's gold watch, which harris at once recognized. the prisoner was asked whether he was seriously hurt and he said that he expected to die, at the same time admitting that he was vasquez and asking harris to write down some of his bequests. he said that he was a single man, although he had two children living at elizabeth lake; and he exhibited portraits of them. he protested that he had never killed a human being, and said that the murders at tres pinos were due to chavez's disobedience of orders. the officers borrowed a wagon from judge thompson--who lived in the neighborhood--into which they loaded vasquez, the boy and the weapons, and so proceeded on their way. when they arrived near town, smith and mitchell caught up with them. mitchell was then sent to give advance notice of vasquez's capture and to have medical help on hand; and by the time the party arrived, the excitement was intense. the city fathers, then in session, rushed out pellmell and crowds surrounded the jail. dr. k. d. wise, health officer, and dr. j. p. widney, county physician, administered treatment to the captive. vasquez, in irons, pleaded that he was dying; but dr. widney, as soon as he had examined the captive, warned the sheriff that the prisoner, if he escaped, would still be game for a long day's ride. everybody who could, visited him and i was no exception. i was disgusted, however, when i found vasquez's cell filled with flowers, sent by some white women of los angeles who had been carried away by the picturesque career of the _bandido_; but sheriff rowland soon stopped all such foolish exuberance. vasquez admitted that he had frequently visited mexicans in los angeles, doing this against the advice of his lieutenant, chavez, who had warned him that sheriff rowland also had good friends among the mexicans. among those said to have been in confidential touch with vasquez was mariano g. santa cruz, a prominent figure, in his way, in sonora town. he kept a grocery about three hundred feet from the old plaza church, on the east side of upper main street, and had a curiously-assorted household. there on many occasions, it is declared, vasquez found a safe refuge. five days after the capture, signor repetto called upon the prisoner, who was in chains, and remarked: "i have come to say that, so far as _i_ am concerned, you can settle that little account with god almighty!" vasquez, with characteristic flourishes, thanked the italian and began to speak of repayment, when repetto replied: "i do not expect that. but i beg of you, if ever you resume operations, never to visit _me_ again." whereupon vasquez, placing his hand dramatically upon his breast, exclaimed: "ah, señor, i am a cavalier, with a cavalier's heart!"--_¡señor repetto, yo soy un caballero, con el corazón de un caballero!_ as soon as vasquez's wounds were healed, he was taken by sheriff rowland to tres pinos and there indicted for murder. miller & lux, the great cattle owners, furnished the money, it was understood, for his defense--supposedly as a matter of policy. his attorneys asked for, and obtained, a change of venue, and vasquez was removed to san josé. there he was promptly tried, found guilty and, in march, 1875, hanged. many good anecdotes were long told of vasquez; one of which was that he could size up a man quickly, as to whether he was a native son or not, by the direction in which he would roll a cigarette--toward or away from himself! as soon as the long-feared bandit was in captivity, local wits began to joke at his expense. a burlesque on vasquez was staged late in may at the merced theater; and the day the outlaw was captured, a merchant began his advertisement: "vasquez says that mendel meyer has the finest and most complete stock of dry goods and clothing, etc." in the spring of 1874, charles maclay, with whom were associated george k. and f. b. porter, purchased the san fernando _rancho_ which consisted of fifty-six thousand acres and embraced the old spanish mission; and on april 20th, maclay invited fifty of his friends to a picnic on his newly-acquired possession. during the day some one suggested founding a town there. the name of the new settlement was to be decided by a vote of the participants, and almost unanimously they selected the title of san fernando. within a couple of weeks, hundreds of lots were sold and the well-known colony was soon on the way to prosperity. boring for petroleum commenced in the san fernando mountains about that time, and the new town became the terminus of the southern pacific until the long tunnel was completed. maclay, who was a native of massachusetts, came to california at about the same time as i did; he was at first a tanner in santa cruz, but later came south and, entering into politics in addition to his other activities, became state senator, in which position he attained considerable local prominence. a charming home of the seventies was that of dr. and mrs. shaw, pioneers situated, as i recollect, on san pedro street perhaps as far south as what is now adams. they conducted a diversified nursery, including some orange trees, to obtain which shaw had journeyed all the way to nicaragua. toward the end of april, 1874, general e. f. beale and colonel r. s. baker, representing themselves and new york capitalists, sought support for a new railroad project--a single-track line to run from this city to shoo-fly landing, located, i think, near the present playa del rey and considerably north of san pedro; where a town, truxton--doubtless named after the general's son--was to be founded. the proposed railway was to be known as the los angeles & truxton railroad, with a route from the western part of the city in the direction of ciénega and the rincon de los bueyes, and along a corner of the ballona. the estimated length of the line was fourteen miles, and the projectors claimed that it would enable the angeleño to reach san francisco within thirty hours, with but one night at sea, and so add to the comfort, convenience and cheapness of passenger travel. a new harbor and an additional pier stretching far into the ocean were to be features of the enterprise; but for some reason or other, nothing grew out of the movement. as late as the following september, the promoters were still interviewing councilmen and ranch-owners; but the los angeles & truxton railroad remained a mere fancy of the financier and engineer. for a resort that never came to be settled by a community, truxton acquired some fame in the early seventies, a rumor also being current in the summer of 1874 that a fine sea-shore hotel was to be built there. a clipping before me of the same date even says that "the roads to santa monica, truxton and will tell's are in splendid order--the former being the finest natural highway on the pacific coast." f. x. eberle and wife, marsetes, came here in 1874, bought six or seven acres on the corner of san pedro and the present eighth streets, and fitted up the city gardens, with bowling alleys, swings, lawns and bowers, erecting there also a picturesque windmill. i have expressed the surprise that i felt, when, upon my return from new york in 1868, i observed that the approaches to the hills were dotted here and there with little homes. this extension of the residence area, together with the general lack of street and sidewalk improvements making travel to and from the town somewhat inconvenient, suggested, i have no doubt, the need of the first street railroad here. in 1869, judge r. m. widney, together with his associates, obtained a fifty-year franchise; and by 1874, the little spring and sixth street line--in time bought by s. c. hubbell and j. e. hollenbeck--had been built and was in operation. it is my recollection that this line (partly paid for by subscriptions from property owners along the selected route, each of whom contributed fifty cents per running foot) began at the plaza and extended as far out as pearl and sixth streets by way of main, spring, first, fort, fourth, hill, fifth and olive; and that it was at the sixth and pearl street terminus that the almost miniature wooden barn was put up. for the convenience of the traveling public, two bob-tailed, one-horse cars with a small platform at each end were used over a single track approximately but two and a half miles in length; and to permit these cars to pass each other when they met halfway along the line, a turnout or side-track was constructed. many a time at such a siding have i wasted precious minutes awaiting the arrival of the other, belated car; and the annoyance of these delays was accentuated when, in winter, the cars stuck in the mud and often required an hour or more to make the run from one end of the line to the other. indeed, the ties having been laid almost on the surface of the streets, service in bad weather was sometimes suspended altogether. each car was in charge of a driver who also acted as conductor and was permitted to stop as often as he pleased to take on or let off passengers; and while the single horse or mule jogged along slowly, the driver, having wound his reins around the handle of the brake, would pass through the never-crowded vehicle and take up the fares. single rides cost ten cents; four tickets were sold for two bits; and twenty tickets were given for a dollar. so provincial was the whole enterprise that passengers were expected to purchase their tickets either at w. j. brodrick's book store or of dr. fred. p. howard, the druggist. at a later period, a metal box with a glass front was installed, into which the passenger was required to drop his coin or ticket. in those modest days, small compensation in public utility enterprises--if such they could be called--was quite acceptable; and since the spring and sixth street line had proven rather profitable, it was not long before w. j. brodrick, governor downey, o. w. childs, dave waldron, i. w. hellman and others inaugurated a second horse-railway. this was popularly known as the main street line and extended straight down main street from temple block to washington gardens. much the same kind of equipment was used, one horse or mule poking along with a bob-tailed car in tow, seating at most eight or ten passengers; but the fare for adults was ten cents, and for children five. at night, the motor power and the couple of cars were housed in a barn at either main or washington street. soon after this line was in running order, it was extended from washington south to jefferson, out jefferson to wesley (now university) avenue, and thence to the race-track at agricultural park; and there the shed for this section was erected. still later, a branch was built out washington street to figueroa, and down figueroa to jefferson, where it connected with the first extension. no formal transfers were made, transfer-tickets first coming into vogue in los angeles about 1889. two routes for the cars were arranged, both running between temple block and the race-track. the entire system was controlled by the main street & agricultural park railroad company, with which w. j. brodrick was associated as its first president, continuing in that office until his death in 1898. in 1877, colonel john o. wheeler, the quondam journalist, was manager. later, e. m. loricke was superintendent--the same loricke who built the line between oakland and berkeley, and was finally killed by one of his own cars. james gallagher, who went to work for the main street & agricultural park railroad company in october, 1888, and who had charge also of one of the first electric cars run here, is still a street-car conductor pleasantly known, with the longest record for service of any conductor in the city. as i have said, travel in winter was anything but expeditious and agreeable; and it was not uncommon for passengers, when a car left the track, to get out and assist in the operation of putting it back. notwithstanding these drawbacks, however, the mule-car novelty became popular with some; and one spanish girl in particular, whose father amply supplied her with pocket-money, was a frequent passenger, riding back and forth, from hour to hour, for months. as late as 1887, there were no cars before six o'clock in the morning or after ten o'clock at night; and in that same year, serious complaint was made that, despite a city ordinance forbidding any street railway company to carry more than forty persons in a car drawn by a single horse, the ordinance was shamefully disregarded. another regulation then frequently disobeyed was supposed to limit smoking to the rear end of street cars. the same year, d. v. waldron bought about thirty-five acres on the southwest corner of main and washington streets, soon known as the washington gardens, later chute's park. these gardens, among the most popular pleasure resorts here, were served by the main street cars which ran direct to the gate. in addition to a sunday afternoon variety show that held forth in a small pavilion and secured most of its talent from wood's opera house, there was also dancing for those who wished to indulge. i may add that this so-called opera house was nothing more than a typical western song and dance resort, the gallery being cut up into boxes where the actresses, between the acts, mingled with the crowd. patrons indulged in drinking and smoking; and the bar in front did a thriving business. an insignificant collection of animals--one of which, an escaping monkey, once badly bit waldron--attracted not only the children, but their elders as well; and charmingly-arranged walks, amid trees and bowers, afforded innocent and healthful means of recreation. waldron later went to alaska, where a tragic death closed his career: alone and in want, he was found, in may, 1911, dead in his hut. waldron and eberle's prosperity may have influenced george lehman's fortunes; but however that was, he always maintained his popularity. many a joke was cracked at his expense; yet everybody had a good word for him. here is a newspaper note of '74: round house george is making great improvements in his property at fort and sixth streets. he has already, at great expense, _set out a post and whitewashed a cactus plant_! the popularity of the 38's fire company soon inspired a second group of the good men of los angeles; and in 1874 or 1875, george furman, george e. gard, joe manning, john r. brierly, bryce mcclellan and others started confidence engine company no. 2, obtaining a steamer known as an amoskeag, which they installed in a building on main street near first, on what was later the site of childs' opera house. it soon developed, as in the days of the san pedro stages when the most important feature of the trip was the race to town, that a conflagration was a matter of secondary importance, the mad dash, in rivalry, by the two companies being the paramount object. this was carried to such an extent that the day following a fire was largely given to discussing the race, and the first thing that everybody wished to know was, who got there first? indeed, i believe that many an alarm was sounded to afford the boys around town a good chance to stake their bets! all this made the fire-laddies the most popular groups in the pueblo; and in every public parade for years the volunteer fire companies were the chief attraction. in 1876, walter s. moore, an arrival of 1875, became the confidence engine company's secretary, that being the commencement of his career as a builder of the department. in 1877, moore was elected president, occupying that office till 1883 when he was made chief engineer of the los angeles fire department. on may 13th, 1874, the los angeles _daily star_ contained the following reference to mr. and mrs. joseph newmark and an event of particular interest to me and my family: mr. newmark, _père_ and wife, were among the passengers for san francisco by the _senator_ yesterday. this well-known and highly-esteemed couple go to attend the marriage of their son, judge m. j. newmark, which event occurs on the seventh proximo, as announced in the star some time ago. [illustration: benjamin s. eaton] [illustration: henry t. hazard] [illustration: fort street home, harris newmark, site of blanchard hall; joseph newmark at the door] [illustration: calle de los negros (nigger alley), about 1870] [illustration: second street, looking east from hill street, early seventies] eugene meyer and myself attended the wedding, leaving los angeles by stage and completely surprising the merry company a few moments before the groom's father performed the ceremony. the fair bride was miss sophie cahen, and the occasion proved one of the very agreeable milestones in an interesting and successful career. the first-born of this union, henry m. newmark, now of morgan & newmark, has attained civic distinction, being president of the library board. the reason we journeyed north by stage was to escape observation, for since the steamer-service had been so considerably improved, most of our friends were accustomed to travel by water. the pacific mail steamship company at that time was running the _senator_, the _pacific_, the _orizaba_ and the _mohongo_, the latter being the gunboat sold by the government at the end of the war and which remained on the route until 1877; while the line controlled by goodall, nelson & perkins or goodall, nelson & company had on their list the _constantine_, the _kalorama_, the _monterey_ and the _san luis_, sometimes also running the _california_, which made a specialty of carrying combustibles. a year later, the _ancon_ commenced to run between san francisco and san diego, and excepting half a year when she plied between the golden gate and portland, was a familiar object until 1884. the farmers & merchants bank, on june 15th, 1874, moved to their new building on the west side of main street, opposite the bella union. on july 25th, 1874, conrad jacoby commenced in the old lanfranco building the weekly _sued-californische post_; and for fifteen years or more it remained the only german paper issued in southern california. jacoby's brother, philo, was the well-known sharpshooter. henry t. payne, the early photographer, was probably the first to go out of town to take views in suburbs then just beginning to attract attention. santa monica was his favorite field, and a newspaper clipping or two preserve the announcements by which the wet-plate artist stimulated interest in his venture. one of these reads: mr. payne will be at santa monica next sunday, and take photographic views of the camp, the ocean, the surrounding scenery, and such groups of campers and visitors as may see fit to arrange themselves for that purpose; while another and rather contradictory notice is as follows: to make photographs of _moving_ life, such as mr. payne's bathing scenes at santa monica next sunday, _it is absolutely necessary that everybody should keep perfectly still_ during the few seconds the plate is being exposed, for the least move might completely spoil an otherwise beautiful effect. santa monica, with its bathers in nice costume, sporting in the surf, with here and there an artistically-posed group basking in the sunshine, ought to make a beautiful picture. as late as 1874, fort street--not yet called broadway--was almost a plain, except for the presence of a few one-story adobe houses. j. m. griffith, the lumberman, put up the first two-story frame dwelling-house between second and third streets, and judge h. k. s. o'melveny the second; shortly after which eugene meyer and myself built our homes in the same block. these were put upon the lots formerly owned by burns & buffum. within the next two or three years, the west side of fort street between second and third was the choicest residence neighborhood in the growing city, and there was certainly not the remotest idea at that time that this street would ever be used for business purposes. sometime later however, as i was going home one day, i met griffith and we walked together from spring street down first, talking about the new county bank and its cashier, j. m. elliott--whom griffith had induced four years previously to come to los angeles and take charge of griffith, lynch & company's lumber yard at compton. we then spoke of the city's growth, and in the course of the conversation he said: "newmark, fort street is destined to be the most important business thoroughfare in los angeles." i laughed at him, but time has shown the wisdom of griffith's prophecy. the construction of this fort street home i commenced in the spring, contracting with e. f. keysor as the architect, and with skinner & small as the builders. in september, we moved in; and i shall never forget a happy compliment paid us the first evening. we had already retired when the sound of music and merriment made it unmistakable that we were being serenaded. upon opening the door, we saw a large group of friends; and having invited them into the house, the merrymakers remained with us until the early morning hours. in july, 1874, the los angeles county bank was started with a capital of three hundred thousand dollars, its first directors being r. s. baker, jotham bixby, george s. dodge, j. m. griffith, vincent a. hoover, jonathan s. slauson and h. b. tichenor, with j. m. elliott as cashier. its first location was the room just rented by the farmers & merchants bank adjoining the bella union, the county bank's step in that direction being due, no doubt, to a benevolent desire to obtain some of its predecessor's business; and in july, 1878, it moved into the temple & workman banking-room, after the latter's failure. for a while the county bank did both a commercial and a savings business; but later it forfeited the savings clause of its charter, and its capital was reduced to one hundred thousand dollars. in time, john e. plater, a well-known angeleño, became a controlling factor. about the end of 1874, edward f. spence, who had come to california by way of the nicaragua route a year earlier than myself, reached los angeles. in 1884, spence was elected mayor on the republican ticket. in the course of time, he withdrew somewhat from activity in los angeles and became a heavy investor in property at monrovia. in 1874 or 1875, there appeared on the local scene a man who, like his second cousin, united states senator mallory of florida, was destined to become a character of national renown; a man who as such could and, as a matter of fact, did serve his constituents faithfully and well. that man was stephen m. white. he was born in san francisco a few weeks before i saw that harbor city, and was, therefore, a native son, his parents having come to the coast in 1849. while a youth, he was sent to santa clara where, in june, 1871, he graduated from the well-known college; he read law at watsonville and later at santa cruz; and having been admitted to the bar in 1874, he shortly afterward came to the southland. arriving in los angeles, white studied law with john d. bicknell, who afterward took him into partnership; and he soon proved to be a brilliant lawyer. he was also an orator of the first magnitude; and this combination of talent made him not only prominent here, but attracted great attention to him from beyond the confines of city and county. standing as a democrat in 1882, he was elected district attorney by a large majority and in that capacity served with distinction, in the end declining renomination. in 1886 he was elected state senator and soon became president of the senate, and then acting lieutenant governor. after a phenomenal career both in his profession and in the public service--during which he was one of three counsel elected by the california legislature to maintain the scott exclusion act before the united states supreme court and thus conclude the controversy in the chae chan ping case--he was elected to the united states senate, and there, too, his integrity and ability shone resplendent. the zeal with which white so successfully entered the conflict against c. p. huntington in the selection of a harbor for los angeles was indefatigable; and the tremendous expenditures of the southern pacific in that competition, commanding the best of legal and scientific service and the most powerful influence, are all well known. huntington built a wharf--four thousand six hundred feet long--at port los angeles, northwest of santa monica, after having obtained control of the entire frontage; and it was to prevent a monopoly that white made so hard a fight in congress in behalf of san pedro. the virility of his repeated attacks, his freedom from all contaminating influence and his honesty of purpose--these are some of the elements that contributed so effectively to the final selection of san pedro harbor. on february 21st, 1901, senator white died. while at his funeral, i remarked to general h. g. otis, his friend and admirer, that a suitable monument to white's memory ought to be erected; and on december 11th, 1908, the statue in front of the county courthouse was unveiled.[33] hotel competition was lively in 1874. charles knowlton concluded his advertisement of the pico house with a large index-finger and the following assurance: the unpleasant odor of gas has entirely disappeared since the building of the new sewer! hammel & denker announced for the united states (commonly known as the u. s.): we have all _spring beds_ at this hotel! fluhr & gerson--the latter long a popular chap about town--claimed for the lafayette: the eating department will be conducted with especial care; and this was some of the bait displayed by the clarendon, formerly the bella union: carriages are kept standing at the door for the use of the guests, and every effort is being made by col. b. l. beal, the present manager, to render the guests comfortable and happy. a couple of years later, the name of the clarendon was changed to the st. charles; next to which, during the centennial year, the grand central, pretentious of name though small of dimension, opened with a splurge. hammel & denker continued to manage the united states hotel. the lafayette in time became, first the cosmopolitan and then the st. elmo. octavius morgan, a native of the old cathedral town of canterbury, england, came to los angeles in 1874 and associated himself with the architect, e. f. keysor, the two forming the firm of keysor & morgan. they were charter members of the southern california architects association, and for many years morgan and his associates have largely influenced the architectural styles of los angeles. a really picturesque old-timer even now at the age of nearly seventy, and one who, having withstood the lure of the modern automobile, is still daily driving a "one-hoss" buggy to the office of the los angeles soap company, is j. a. forthman. in 1874, he brought a small stock of groceries from san francisco and started a store at what is now sixth and olive streets; but at the end of three months, having sold out at a loss, he bought a quarter interest in a little soap plant conducted by c. w. gibson. soon thereafter, vats and fat were moved to their present site on first street. in 1875, w. b. bergin and in 1879, gideon le sage joined forthman and gibson; and in 1887, the latter sold out to his associates. j. j., a brother of w. b. bergin, was added to the force in 1895. for many years the concern dealt in hides, and this brought us into close business relations. i have referred to the death of four children. edith, a child of six, was taken from us on october 15th, 1874. while william f. turner, son of the miller, was busy in his little store near the puente mills about three miles from el monte, on the third of june, 1874, a californian named romo, who lived at pio pico's _ranchito_, entered and bought some goods, also asking to be shown a pair of boots. turner stooped to reach the articles, when the stranger drew a pruning-knife across his throat. in defense, the storekeeper caught hold of the sharp blade with both hands and thereby crippled himself for the rest of his days. turner had been in the habit of closing before dark on account of the rough element near by; and when he did not return home at the accustomed hour, mrs. turner, taking with her a little five-shooter, set out to find him and arrived in the midst of the murderous assault. her pistol missed fire, but she succeeded in seizing the assassin and dragging him away from her husband; after which, the mexican shot her just as turner, bleeding, fell in the road. the explosion aroused a neighbor who reached the scene after romo had fled with some boots--mostly for one foot!--and seventy dollars in cash. when the news passed from mouth to mouth in el monte, a _posse_ started out to hunt for the mexican; but after two days' unsuccessful search, they gave up the job. then fred lambourn, who had a share in turner's business, rushed in on jake schlesinger, shouting excitedly, "by god, jake, i know where the fellow is!" and jake and others responded by saddling their horses and hurrying to a rendezvous at durfee's farm. the party of nineteen, including john broaded and bill cooper, broke up into divisions of one or two and in time found themselves wading in and out of the san gabriel river and the puente creek. soon old dodson spied their quarry floundering across stream; and when schlesinger took a pop at him, the culprit cried out, "don't shoot!" and agreed to come ashore. of the money stolen, all but a few dollars was found on the prisoner; nevertheless, the captors told him that, as soon as turner should identify him, he would be hung and that there was not much time for foolishness. romo said that he had assaulted the storekeeper in order to get money with which, on the following sunday, to marry; that his immediate need was a cigar; and that, if he must die, he would like to have his friends notified, that they might bury him. jake handed the doomed man his only weed; and soon after, five or six masked men rode up and announced that they would care for the criminal. then they drove under a tree on the bank of the river and there, in short order, the cutthroat was hanged. pio pico soon heard of the lynching and sent jake and the el monte boys word that he would come over and "kill the whole damned lot" of them; in reply to which, el monte forwarded to the last of the mexican governors a cordial invitation to come, at the same time pledging to receive him in true california style--with due hospitality and warmth. this was contemporaneous with the vasquez excitement, and romo was probably bent on imitating the outlaw. footnotes: [32] not the spanish alejandro; a variation doubtless suggested by the italian repetto's forename. [33] executive committee of the memorial fund: m. p. snyder, chairman; joseph scott, secretary; james c. kays, treasurer; f. w. braun, a. b. cass, r. f. del valle, i. b. dockweiler, w. j. hunsaker, m. h. newmark and h. g. otis. chapter xxxii the santa anita _rancho_ 1875 until near the end of the seventies, there was very little done toward the laying of sewers, although the reader will remember that a private conveyor connected the bella union with the _zanja_ running through mellus's row. los angeles street from first to second, in 1873, had one of brick and wood; and in 1875, a brick sewer was built from the corner of main and arcadia streets down to winston and thence to los angeles street. it must have been in the early seventies that a wooden sewer was constructed on commercial street from los angeles to alameda, and another on new high street for about one block. in 1879, one of brick was laid from los angeles and commercial as far north as arcadia, and connecting with the main street sewer. at about the same time, vitrified clay was used on a portion of temple street. my impression is that there was no _cloaca_ laid on spring street until after 1880, while it was still later that fort, hill and olive streets were served. as late as 1887, hope street had no sewer and very little conduit-building, if any, had been undertaken south of seventh or west of flower. in january, 1875, the commercial bank, that was to change five years later into the first national, began business. most of the incorporators were san diego men--among them being captain henry wilcox--although four--l. j. rose, s. h. mott, r. m. town and edward bouton--were from los angeles. m. s. patrick, of chicago, was president; and edward f. spence was cashier. their room was on main street between commercial and requena. j. e. hollenbeck, who was succeeded by spence, was the first president of the national bank. j. m. elliott, made cashier in 1885, has for years well filled the office of president. a pillar of strength in this institution is vice-president stoddard jess. captain wilcox, owner of the colorado steam navigation company, who finally sold out to the pacific mail steamship company, brought to california, on his own vessel in 1848, the first light-houses. he married señorita maría antónia arguello, the granddaughter of an early governor of california. one of his daughters became the wife of lieutenant randolph huntington miner, and another married lieutenant j. c. drake. captain wilcox had induced e. f. spence to come from san diego to los angeles, and thereby gave a decided impetus to the starting of the commercial bank. milton lindley, formerly an indiana saddle-maker and treasurer of los angeles county in 1879, arrived here in 1875, accompanied by walter, the physician; henry, the banker, who settled at whittier; albert, an attorney; and miss ida b., a teacher. in the eighties, he was twice supervisor. dr. walter lindley, once a minnesota schoolmaster, so soon established himself that in 1878 he was elected health officer and, in 1880, a member of the board of education. the following year, he was president of the county medical society. with dr. widney, he contributed to the literature setting forth california's natural attractions; and with his brother-in-law, dr. john r. haynes, he took a leading part in organizing the california hospital. both lindley and haynes have identified themselves with many other important local institutions and movements. madame caroline severance, already distinguished as the founder, in 1868, of the first woman's club in america--the new england, of boston--took up her residence in los angeles in 1875 and soon made her home, _el nido_, the center of many notable sociological and philanthropic activities. especially active was she in promoting the free kindergarten, working in coöperation with mrs. grover cleveland and kate douglas wiggin, the california author who was her _protégée_ and resided for some time at _el nido_ when she was first becoming famous as a story-writer. on march 27th, the _weekly mirror_ was again enlarged and a subscription rate of one dollar a year was charged. by the beginning of 1876, a bindery was established in connection with the printery; and a potter cylinder press--one of the first operated west of the rockies--was installed. e. j. baldwin bought the santa anita _rancho_, in april, from h. newmark & company--a transaction recalled thirty-eight years later when, in 1913, the box which had been sealed and placed in the corner-stone of the trinity methodist episcopal church, at about the time of the sale, was brought forth from its long burial. baldwin had just sold his controlling interest in the ophir mine of the comstock district for five million, five hundred thousand dollars. in the same year, we purchased of the vejar estate the splendid vineyard of fifty acres commencing at washington street, on the south and a little east of main street, and taking in many important sections of to-day; selling it, in the early eighties, to kaspare cohn who, in turn, disposed of it during the boom of that decade. george compère, somewhat noted as a local entomologist, cared for this vineyard while we owned it. baldwin died on march 1st, 1909. the sale of the santa anita is not without an incident or two, perhaps, of exceptional interest. on "lucky" baldwin's first visit, he offered us one hundred and fifty thousand dollars for the property; but learning that we wanted two hundred thousand dollars, he started off in a huff. then reuben lloyd, the famous san francisco attorney who accompanied him, said on reaching the sidewalk, "lucky, go back and buy that ranch, or they'll raise the price on you!" and baldwin returned, carrying under his arm a tin-box (containing several million dollars) from which he drew forth twelve thousand, five hundred, tendering the same as a first payment. one can hardly refer to baldwin without recalling h. a. unruh, in the late sixties in the employ of the central pacific. it is my impression that i first met him at the baldwin hotel in san francisco. this meeting may have occurred nearly thirty-five years ago; and after his removal to the santa anita ranch, where he took charge of baldwin's interests in the southland, he transacted a large amount of business with h. newmark & co. in 1887, unruh was also in partnership at la puente with a man named carroll, the firm advertising as "agents for baldwin's grain warehouse, wells fargo & co.'s express and postmaster." when baldwin died, his will named unruh executor; bradner w. lee being the attorney. ravenna, on the southern pacific, was a town of the middle seventies, at whose start james o'reilly, an irishman of medium build, with reddish hair and a pug nose decidedly indented at the bridge, turned up with a happy-go-lucky air. always slovenly, he wore a big, black slouch hat on the back of his head, as well as a good-natured expression, in days of prosperity, on his comical face. he had a grocery, famed for a conglomeration of merchandise not at all improved by age and hard usage; and this he sold to a none too fastidious clientele. he also cooked for himself, bragging that he was sufficiently adroit to throw a slapjack up the chimney and catch it in the pan, _outside the shanty_ on its flop or turn! when jim took to working a couple of claims known as the new york and parnell mines, his tribulations began: he spent more in the development of his property than he ever recovered, and claim-jumpers bothered him to death. in truth, once ascribing debatable motives to a man prowling there, he took aim at the intruder and--shot off an ear! later, he married; but his wife soon divorced him. in time, his troubles affected his mind; and having lost everything and come to fancy himself an alchemist, he would sit for hours in the burning sun (his temples plastered with english mustard) industriously stirring a pestle and convinced that he could bring about a transmutation of the mortarful of mud. in the end, this good-natured son of erin was one day found dead in his little shanty. j. a. graves arrived in los angeles on june 5th and soon entered the office of brunson & eastman, lawyers. the following january he was admitted to practice before the supreme court and then became a member of the firm of brunson, eastman & graves, dissolved in 1878. practicing alone for a couple of years, graves, in 1880, formed a partnership with j. s. chapman. on the dissolution of this firm, in 1885, graves joined, first h. w. o'melveny and then j. h. shankland; graves, o'melveny & shankland continuing until january, 1904. on june 1st, 1903, graves became vice-president of the farmers & merchants national bank. in the fall of 1879, the young attorney married miss alice h., daughter of j. m. griffith, and for nine years they lived at the corner of fort and third streets. in 1888 they removed to alhambra, where they still live. in 1912, graves published some entertaining reminiscences entitled, _out of doors california and oregon_. colonel w. e. morford, a native of new jersey and, late in the eighties, superintendent of streets, returned to los angeles in 1875, having previously been here. morford had been assistant to captain sutter; and when he left san francisco on march 14th, 1849, to return east, he carried the first gold taken from the diggings in the exciting era of 1848. this gold was sent by frank lemon, a member of stevenson's regiment, to his brother william, a partner of john anderson, the new york tobacco merchant; and morford liked to tell how, when the strange find was displayed on august 22d, in a little window of the well-known jewelry store of benedict at 7 wall street near a high-hatted guard, the narrow thoroughfare was soon beyond hope of police control, thousands of curious, excited people struggling to get a glimpse of the california treasure. [illustration: round house, with main street entrance] [illustration: spring street entrance to garden of paradise] [illustration: temple street, looking west from broadway, about 1870] [illustration: pico house, soon after completion] moses langley wicks was a mississippian who for some years had a law office at anaheim until, in 1877 or 1878, he removed to los angeles and soon became an active operator in real estate. he secured from jonathan s. slauson--who organized the azusa land and water company and helped lay out the town--the dalton section of the san josé ranch. wicks was also active in locating the depot of the santa fé railroad, carrying through at private expense the opening of second street from main almost to the river. a brother, moye wicks, long an attorney here, later removed to the state of washington. southern california was now prospering; in fact, the whole state was enjoying wonderful advantages. the great comstock mines were at the height of their prosperity; the natural resources of this part of the country were being developed; land once hard to sell, at even five dollars an acre, was being cut up into small tracts; new hamlets and towns were starting up; money was plentiful and everybody was happy. about this time my brother, j. p. newmark, and i made a little tour, visiting lake tahoe--an unusual trip in that day--as well as the mines of nevada. virginia city, gold hill and other mining-camps were the liveliest that i had ever seen. my friend, general charles forman, was then superintendent of the overman and caledonia mines, and was engaged in constructing a beautiful home in virginia city. after the collapse of the nevada boom in the early eighties, he transported this house to los angeles, at a freight expense of eleven hundred and thirty-five dollars and a total cost of over six thousand, and located it on ten acres of land near the present site of pico and figueroa streets, where mr. and mrs. forman, still residents of los angeles, for years have enjoyed their home. miners were getting high wages and spending their money lavishly, owners of buildings in virginia city receiving from four to eight per cent. a month on their investments. w. c. ralston, president of the bank of california at san francisco, was largely responsible for this remarkable excitement, for he not only lent money freely but he lent it regardless of conservative banking principles. he engaged in indiscriminate speculation, for a time legitimatizing illegitimacy, and people were so incited by his example that they plunged without heed. all of nevada's treasure was shipped to san francisco, whose prosperity was phenomenal. from san francisco the excitement spread throughout the state; but these conditions, from the nature of things, could not endure. from bull to bear is but a short step when the public is concerned, and it happened accordingly, as it so frequently does, that the cry of "save yourself, if you can!" involved california in a general demoralization. one day in october, 1875, when ralston's speculation had indeed proven disastrous, the bank of california closed its doors; and a few days after this, ralston, going a-swimming in the neighborhood of the north beach at san francisco, was drowned--whether a suicide or not, no one knows. in the meantime, the recessional frenzy extended all over the state, and every bank was obliged to close its doors. those of los angeles were no exception to the rule; and it was then that temple & workman suspended. i. w. hellman, who was on a european trip at the time, forthwith returned to los angeles, re-opened the doors of the farmers & merchants bank and resumed business just as if nothing had happened. following this panic, times became dreadfully bad; from greatest prosperity, we dropped to the depths of despair. specie disappeared from circulation; values suffered, and this was especially true of real estate in california. temple & workman's bank, for reasons i have already specified, could not recover. personally, these gentlemen stood well and had ample resources; but to realize on these was impossible under conditions then existing. they applied to e. j. baldwin, a monte cristo of that period, for a loan. he was willing to advance them two hundred and ten thousand dollars, but upon two conditions: first, that they would give him a blanket-mortgage on their combined real estate; secondly, that their intimate friend, juan matías sanchez, would include in the mortgage his splendid tract consisting of twenty-two hundred acres of the finest land around the old mission. sanchez, who transacted a good deal of business with h. newmark & company, came to me for advice. i felt convinced that temple & workman's relief could be at best but temporary, although i am sure that they themselves believed it would be permanent, and so i strenuously urged sanchez to refuse; which he finally promised me to do. so impressive was our interview that i still vividly recall the scene when he dramatically said: "_¡no quiero morir de hambre!_"--"i do not wish to die of hunger!" a few days later i learned, to my deep disappointment, that sanchez had agreed, after all, to include his lands. in the course of time, baldwin foreclosed and sanchez died very poor. temple also, his pride shattered --notwithstanding his election in 1875 to the county treasurership --died a ruined man; and workman soon committed suicide. thus ended in sorrow and despair the lives of three men who, in their day, had prospered to a degree not given to every man, and who had also been more or less distinguished. baldwin bought in most of the land at sheriff's sale; and when he died, in 1909, after an adventurous career in which he consummated many transactions, he left an estate of about twenty millions. a pathetic reminder of sanchez and his one-time prosperity is an _asador_ or meat toaster, from the old sanchez homestead, now exhibited at the county museum. in 1874, senator john p. jones came south and engaged with william m. stewart, his senatorial colleague (once an obscure lawyer in downieville, and later a nevada croesus), in mining at panamint, purchasing all their supplies in los angeles. about the same time, colonel r. s. baker, who had shortly before bought the san vicente _rancho_, sold a two-thirds interest in the property to jones; and one of their first operations was the laying out of the town of santa monica. after the hotel and bath-houses had been built, an auction sale of lots took place on july 16th, 1875, and was attended by a large number of people, including myself; prospective buyers coming from as far as san francisco to compete with bidders from the southland. tom fitch, already known as the "silver-tongued orator," was the auctioneer and started the ball rolling with one of his most pyrotechnical efforts. he described the place about to be founded as "the zenith city by the sunset sea," and painted a gorgeous vista of the day when the white sails of commerce would dot the placid waters of the harbor, and the products of the orient would crowd those of the occident at the great wharves that were to stretch far out into the pacific! then tom turned his attention and eloquence to the sale of the lots, which lay along ocean avenue, each sixty by one hundred and fifty feet in size. calling for a bid, he announced the minimum price of three hundred dollars for sites along the ocean front. several friends--i. m. hellman, i. w. hellman, kaspare cohn, eugene meyer and m. j. newmark--had authorized me to act for them; and i put in the first bid of three hundred dollars. fitch accepted, and stated that as many more of these lots as i wanted could be had at the same price; whereupon i took five, located between utah and oregon avenues. these we divided among us, each taking fifty feet front, with the expectation of building summer homes; but strange to say, none of us did so, and in the end we sold our unimproved ground. some years later, i bought a site in the next block and built a house which i still occupy each year in the summer season. three early characters of santa monica had much to do with the actual starting of the place. the one, l. g. giroux, a canadian, walked out to santa monica one day in 1875, to get a glimpse of the surf, and came back to town the owner of a lot on which he soon built the second permanent house there--a small grocery and liquor shop. in the eighties, giroux did good public service as a supervisor. the second, billy rapp, also came in 1875 and built a small brick house on the west side of second street somewhere between utah and arizona avenues. there, after marrying a german _frau_, he opened a saloon; and pleasure-seekers visiting santa monica on sundays long remembered billy's welcome and how, on the arrival of the morning train from los angeles, he always tapped a fresh keg of lager. after a while, he closed his saloon and sold the little building for a town hall. hard times in later years rapped at billy's door, forcing him to work on the public streets until 1899, when he died. the third settler was george boehme, who landed with the first steamer and, within an hour or two, invested in lots. his family is there to-day. another pioneer santa monica family was that of william d. vawter who, with his sons, w. s. and e. j., originally members of the indiana colony at pasadena, removed to the beach in 1875. my relations with these gentlemen were quite intimate when they conducted a general merchandise business, that being but one of their numerous enterprises. of late years, w. s. vawter has twice been postmaster at santa monica. in 1875, paul kern, who had come to los angeles in 1854 and was for years a baker, set to work to improve a piece of property he owned at the junction of south main and spring streets, between eighth and ninth. at the end of this property he erected a two-story brick building--still to be seen--in the lower part of which he had a grocery and a saloon, and in the upper part of which he lived. toward the middle of the seventies, a. ulyard, the baker, embarked in the carrying of passengers and freight between los angeles and santa monica, sending a four-horse stage from here at half-past seven every morning, and from santa monica at half-past three in the afternoon, and calling at all four los angeles hotels as well as at the private residences of prospective patrons. one dollar was the fare charged. ralph leon had the only regular cigar store here in the late sixties, occupying a part of the united states hotel; and he was very prosperous until, unable to tolerate a nearby competitor--george, a brother of william pridham--he took up a new stand and lost much of his patronage. pridham opened the second cigar store, about 1872 or 1873, next to the hotel; and leon moved to a shop near the farmers & merchants bank. the names of these early dealers remind me of an interesting custom especially popular with captain thom, billy workman and other lovers of the aromatic weed. instead of buying cigars by the piece, each of these inveterate smokers purchased a box at a time, wrote his name on the lid and left it on a shelf of the dealer; and from time to time they would slip in by a rear door and help themselves--generally from their own or, occasionally, from their neighbor's supply. when leon discovered that the patron's box was empty, he would have it refilled. in the autumn, temple & workman were obliged to suspend. after closing temporarily, they made an effort to resume, but a run on the bank deprived them of all reserves and they finally had to close their doors. it was the worst of all bank failures here, the creditors losing everything. some idea of the disaster may be gathered from the fact that the receiver finally sold worthless securities to the extent of about three hundred thousand dollars for the paltry sum of thirty dollars. on the sixth of november, 1875, mrs. joseph newmark, my wife's mother, died here surrounded by her nearest of kin. during the construction of the southern pacific railway, sisson, wallace & company, who furnished both labor and supplies, brought m. dodsworth to los angeles and like many of their employees, he remained here after the railroad was completed. he engaged in the pork-packing business, for a long period prospered and built a residence on the southwest corner of sixth and main streets, opening it with a large reception. he was an honorable man and had a host of friends; but about 1887, when the santa fé had been built to los angeles, the large eastern packers of hog products sent agents into southern california and wiped dodsworth out of business. s. j. mathes came in 1875, helped enlarge the _mirror_ and was identified with the _times_; but failing health, forcing him to abandon office work, led him in the eighties to conduct pullman excursions, in which undertaking he became a pioneer, bringing thousands of tourists to the southland. he also toured the country with a railway car exhibit known as "california on wheels," pointing the way of exploitation to later chambers of commerce. toward the end of the year, when attention was being centered on the coming exposition at philadelphia, i was asked by the chamber of commerce to assist in editing a report on the resources, conditions, population, climatic advantages and mercantile interests of the city and county of los angeles. the aim of the board was to make the report truthful and helpful, and to distribute it gratis, particularly at the centennial. ben c. truman wrote about cities, towns and climate; judge r. m. widney reported on railroads; h. mcclellan, the steamship agent (who preceded willis parris, the present representative and once a competent bill-clerk in the employ of h. newmark & company) and brother of bryce and george f. mcclellan, told of ocean navigation; dr. j. e. fulton, of fulton wells, discussed farming; dr. j. p. widney described our harbor; d. m. berry argued for real estate; governor downey presented banks and banking; m. keller and l. j. rose treated of vine culture; j. de b. shorb looked after semi-tropical fruits and nuts, and t. a. garey--himself the owner of a charming place on san pedro street, where his spiritualistic tendencies kept him up at night awaiting the arrival of spooks--considered other fruits and nurseries; w. j. brodrick stated our advance in trades, professions, churches and societies; e. c. french summed up about stock; captain gordon recounted our prospects for beet culture; while h. d. barrows and i prepared data as to the commerce of southern california. thus compactly put together, this booklet certainly led many easterners to migrate west and to settle in los angeles and vicinity. in the early seventies, grange stores, brought into existence by a craze for coöperation, were scattered throughout the state, and milton h. la fetra in february, 1875 helped to organize one here. in time, this establishment became known, first as seymour & company and then as seymour, johnson & company, their location being on main street near first. w. h. northcraft's activity as an auctioneer began about the middle of the seventies. for a while, he had an office in temple block, but about 1880 moved to the east side of los angeles street near requena; later to the signoret building, and still later to the baker block. in 1879, thomas b. clark, still well known "in the profession," came to los angeles and, marrying northcraft's daughter, joined his father-in-law in partnership. c. l. northcraft, a son, was added to the firm. alonzo b. cass came to los angeles in 1888, accompanied by his brothers, and soon after, as cass brothers' stove company, they started a hardware store on third street, purchasing some of northcraft & clark's stock of merchandise. a. b. cass, who served as president of the chamber of commerce in 1901, has freely given of his time to public movements. as president of the home telephone & telegraph company, he has had much to do with their local success. e. w. noyes was also a popular, old-time auctioneer, remaining in harness until he was seventy-five years old or more. the mention of these names recalls the auction of past decades, such a familiar feature of los angeles life. in few respects were the methods of early days at all like those of our own: there were no catalogues, no neatly-arranged store-rooms and but little expert service; noise and bluff constituted a good, even important portion of the necessary auctioneering talent; household effects were usually offered at homes; horses--and these constituted the objects of most early auctioneering activities--were trotted up and down los angeles street for display and sale. chapter xxxiii los angeles & independence railroad 1876 once santa monica's boom had been launched, the town developed as had few other suburbs of los angeles. within nine or ten months a thousand inhabitants pointed with satisfaction to one hundred and sixty houses and perhaps half as many tents. senator jones built a wharf and pushed to completion the los angeles & independence railroad; and the road was opened to the public on wednesday, december 1st, 1875, with a depot on san pedro street near wolfskill lane. two trains a day were run--one leaving los angeles for santa monica at half-past nine in the morning and another at a quarter after four in the afternoon; the trains from santa monica for los angeles departing at half-past seven in the morning and half-past two in the afternoon. on january 5th, 1876, the railroad company offered sixty single commutation tickets for ten dollars; and a few days later, the conductor and other train employees appeared in uniform, each wearing on his cap what was then considered an innovation, the badge of his office. captain joseph u. crawford was superintendent and chief engineer. from the start the road did a thriving freight business, although passenger traffic was often interfered with. early in january, 1876, for instance, the train from santa monica failed to make its appearance, the engineer having spied a bit of ground suspiciously soft in the _ciénaga_--locally spelled _ciénega_--refused, despite the protests of passengers, to proceed! there were also inconveniences of travel by steamer such as arose from the uncertainty whether a vessel running between san francisco and san diego would put in at san pedro or santa monica. according to conditions, or perhaps through the desire to throw a little trade one way or the other, the captain might insist on stopping at one port, while friends had assembled to greet the traveler at the other. a single car, with such objects of wonder as air brakes and miller couplers drew sunday crowds; and when, about the middle of january, the company carried down ten car-loads of people on a single day and brought them back safely, substantial progress, it was generally felt, had been made. in february, the santa monica land company was pushing its sales of real estate, and one of its announcements began with the headlines: santa monica! the wonderful young city and seaport of southern california! the future terminus of the union & texas pacific railroad! the advertisement winding up with the declaration that several hundred vessels, including the largest boats of the pacific mail steamship company, had already loaded and discharged at the wharf in all weathers! my memory is obscure as to just when senator jones built his splendid mansion at the corner of ocean and nevada avenues, but i think it was about 1890. i certainly recollect that it was then considered the most extensive and elaborate home in the vicinity of los angeles. rather late in january, h. newmark & company had their first experience with burglars who scaled the wall behind the store one saturday night, cut away enough brick to enable them to throw back the bolt of the door, then barricaded the front doors by means of crowbars and proceeded to open the safe, which was of the old tilton & mcfarland pattern. the face was forced off, but the eight hundred dollars in the safe remained intact and undisturbed, the burglars making a total haul of only five dollars. other merchants also suffered at this time from the depredations of cracksmen. following this futile attack, we sent for a new safe of the hall type. scarcely had a month elapsed, however, when a second attempt was made in much the same way. then the burglars went to work in real earnest and soon effected an entrance into the money-drawers. but, alas! the entire contents secured would not have provided half a dozen _tamales_! this fact, probably, aroused the ire of the rascals, for they mutilated the front of the prettily-decorated safe before leaving, and tried to destroy the combination. the best excuse--and perhaps not such a bad one--that the police had to offer for not furnishing los angeles street better protection, was that the night was dark, the street and sidewalks flooded and that a policeman, who had tried the beat, had been nearly drowned! in february, trains on the los angeles & independence railroad began to leave los angeles at ten o'clock in the morning and five o'clock in the afternoon, and santa monica at eight and four o'clock, the company deeming it a sufficient inducement to allow excursionists five or six hours to bathe, fish or picnic. round-trip tickets, good for the day and date only, were sold at a dollar each; and the management reserved the right, on steamer days, to change the schedule to fit the sailings. when a fourth passenger coach was added to the equipment, the company declared that the accommodations between this city and santa monica were "equal to those on any road along the entire coast;" but the high-water mark of effort was reached when it was announced that the "splendid palace car dubbed _santa monica_, which had carried senator jones to washington," was then being sent south from san francisco for the convenience of the company's patrons. in march, while the san pedro street railway was being built, another official announcement said that "in the course of a few days the people of this city will have the _honor_ and delight of seeing a _palace_ car standing on a railroad track near the pico house;" and about the end of march printer's ink displayed this appeal to the expectant public: go, by all means, to the grand seaside excursion to santa monica on friday, for among the objects of interest will be senator jones's magnificent new palace-car now being completed by the tailors (_sic_) which will have three _salons_, supplied with tables and all the usual comforts, and two private compartments, the whole sumptuously furnished and partly upholstered with crimson velvet! on february 14th, general andrés pico died at his residence, 203 main street, and was buried from his home on the following day. on march 1st, work was commenced on the san pedro street railway, which in time was extended from the santa monica station to the plaza, _via_ san pedro, los angeles, arcadia and sanchez streets. the gauge was that of the los angeles & independence railway, thus permitting freight cars to be hauled to the center of the city; on which account business men looked upon the new road as a boon. passenger cars soon ran from the depot to the pico house; and as the fare was but five cents, or thirty tickets for a dollar, this line was rewarded with a fair patronage. at the end of 1876, four street railways were in operation here. in march, also, two hundred pleasure-seekers, then considered a generous outpouring, went down to santa monica on a single sunday; and within the first three months of the year, the land company there gathered in about seventy-three thousand dollars--selling a lot almost every day. south santa monica was then looked upon as the finer part of the growing town, and many of my friends, including andrew glassell, cameron e. thom, general george stoneman, e. m. ross, h. m. mitchell, j. d. and dr. frederick t. bicknell and frank ganahl, bought sites there for summer villas. micajah d. johnson, twice city treasurer, was a quaker who came here in 1876. he built at santa monica a hotel which was soon burned; and later he became interested in the colony at whittier, suggesting the name of that community. in 1876, the city purchased a village hook-and-ladder truck in san francisco which, drawn by hand in the vigorous old-fashioned way, supplied all our needs until 1881. in 1876, the archer freight and fare bill, which sought to regulate railroad transportation, engrossed the attention of commercial leaders, and on march 9th, president s. lazard called together the directors of the chamber of commerce at the office of judge ygnácio sepúlveda. besides president lazard, there were present r. m. widney, w. j. brodrick, m. j. newmark, e. e. hewitt and i. w. lord. little time was lost in the framing of a despatch which indicated to our representatives how they would be expected to vote on the matter. several speeches were made, that of m. j. newmark focusing the sentiment of the opposition and contributing much to defeat the measure. newmark expressed surprise that a bill of such interest to the entire state should have passed the lower house apparently without discussion, and declared that southern californians could never afford to interfere with the further building of railroads here. our prosperity had commenced with their construction, and it would be suicidal to force them to suspend. in a previous chapter i have spoken of the rate--ten dollars per thousand--first charged for gas, and the public satisfaction at the further reduction to seven dollars and a half. this price was again reduced to six dollars and seventy-five cents; but lower rates prevailing elsewhere, los angeles consumers about the middle of march held a public meeting to combat the gas monopoly. after speeches more lurid, it is to be feared, than any gas flame of that period, a resolution was passed binding those who signed to refrain from using gas for a whole year, if necessary, beginning with the first of april. charles h. simpkins, president of the los angeles gas company, retorted by insisting that, at the price of coal, the company could not possibly sell gas any cheaper; but a single week's reflection, together with the specter of an oil-lamp city, led the gas company, on march 21st, to grant a reduction to six dollars a thousand. will tell was a painter in 1869 and had his shop in temple block, opposite the court house. early in 1876 he opened a lunch and refreshment house at the corner of fourth street and utah avenue in santa monica, where he catered to excursionists, selling hunting paraphernalia and fishing tackle, and providing "everything, including fluids." down at what is now playa del rey, tell had conducted, about 1870, a resort on a lagoon covered with flocks of ducks; and there he kept eight or ten boats for the many hunters attracted to the spot, becoming more and more popular and prosperous. in 1884, however, raging tides destroyed tell's happy hunting grounds; and for fifteen or twenty years, the "king's beach" was more desert than resort. tell continued for a while at santa monica and was an authority on much that had to do with local sport. on sunday, april 9th, the cathedral of sancta vibiana, whose corner-stone had been laid in 1871 on the east side of main street south of second, was opened for public service, its architecture (similar to that of the puerto de san miguel in barcelona, spain) at once attracting wide attention. as a matter of fact, the first corner-stone had been placed, on october 3d, 1869, on the west side of main street between fifth and sixth, when it was expected that the cathedral was to extend to spring street. the site, however (and oddly enough,) was soon pronounced, "too far out of town," and a move was undertaken to a point farther north. in more recent years, efforts have been made to relocate the bishop's church in the west end. a feature of the original edifice was a front railing, along the line of the street, composed of blocks of artificial stone made by busbard & hamilton who in 1875 started a stone factory, the first of its kind here, in east los angeles. victor dol, who arrived here in the centennial year and became the delmonico of his day, kept a high-grade restaurant, known as the commercial in the old downey block, about one hundred and fifty feet north of the corner of spring and temple streets. the restaurant was reached through a narrow passageway that first led into an open court paved with brick, in the center of which a fountain played. crossing this court, the interested patron entered the main dining-room, where an excellent french dinner was served daily at a cost of but fifty cents, and where the popular _chef_ furnished many of the notable banquets of his time. dol also had a number of private dining-rooms, where the epicures of the period were wont to meet, and for the privilege of dining in which there was an additional charge. dol's commercial was a popular institution for more than a quarter of a century. dol then had in his employ an uncle, who was a rather mysterious individual, and who proved to be a french anarchist. it was said that his pet scheme for regulating the government of louis philippe met with such scant approval that, one fine day, he found himself in jail. escaping in course of time from the anxious and watchful authorities, he made his way to the outside world and finally located here. after the franco-prussian war of 1870-71, he was supposed to have returned to his native land, where he once more satisfied his peculiar propensity for patriotic activity by tearing down and burning, in company with other so-called communists, some of the most beautiful buildings in all paris. in the spring of 1876, los angeles boasted of another french restaurant, a dining place called the oriental and conducted by a frenchman, c. casson and a german, h. schmitt. it was on main street opposite the pico house, and much ado was made of the claim that everything was "in european style" and that it was "the largest and most commodious restaurant south of san francisco." human nature--at least of the feminine type--was much the same, thirty-five or forty years ago, as it is to-day. such a conclusion, at least, the reader may reach after scanning an easter advertisement of miss hammond, an 1876 milliner who had a little shop at 7 north spring street and who then made the following announcement to those of her fashion-loving sex: miss hammond, who has just received a splendid lot of new styles of hats, bonnets, silks, ribbons, etc., invites the ladies of los angeles to call at her place of business before purchasing elsewhere. one glance into her show-window will be enough to project any modern heart into a state of palpitation. elsewhere i have mentioned the salt works near redondo's site. dr. h. nadeau (who came here in 1876, had an office in the grand central hotel and was soon elected coroner) was once called there and started with a constable and an undertaker--the latter carrying with him a rough board coffin for the prospective "subject." losing their way, the party had to camp for the night on the plains; whereupon the coroner, opening the coffin, crawled in and "slept like a brick!" john edward hollenbeck, who in 1888 built the hollenbeck hotel, returned to los angeles in the spring of 1876--having been here in 1874, when he made certain realty investments--secured land on the east side of the los angeles river, spent a large sum of money for improvements and soon built a residence exceptionally fine for that time. and in this beautiful home, in close proximity to boyle avenue, he lived until his death, on september 2d, 1885, at the age of fifty-six years. succeeding a. c. bilicke in 1903, john s. mitchell, long a prominent angeleño, is still controlling this busy hostelry. i have spoken of an adobe on ten acres of land i once purchased to secure water for my flock of sheep. after hollenbeck had built his home on boyle heights, he was so disturbed by a company of mexicans who congregated in this adobe that, in sheer desperation, he asked me in 1882 to sell him the land. i did so, and we agreed upon six hundred and twenty-five dollars as a price for the entire piece. hollenbeck then made another noteworthy investment. h. c. wiley owned a lot, one hundred and twenty feet by one hundred and sixty-five, on the southeast corner of fort and second streets, where he lived in a small cottage. he had mortgaged this property for six thousand dollars; but since, under his contract, wiley was not required to pay interest, the mortgagee tired of the loan. hollenbeck bought the mortgage and made a further advance of four thousand dollars on the property. he finally foreclosed, but at the same time did the handsome thing when he gave mrs. wiley, a daughter of andrés pico, a deed for the forty feet on fort street upon which the cottage stood. these forty feet are almost directly opposite coulter's dry goods store. so many ranchers had again and again unsuccessfully experimented with wheat in this vicinity that when i. n. van nuys, in 1876, joined isaac lankershim in renting lands from the company in which they were interested, and in planting nearly every acre to that staple grain, failure and even ruin were predicted by the old settlers. van nuys, however, selected and prepared his seed with care and the first season rewarded them with a great harvest, which they shipped to liverpool. thus was inaugurated the successful cultivation of wheat in southern california on a large scale. in 1878, the depot of the southern pacific at the corner of alameda and commercial streets had become too small for the company's growing business, compelling them to buy on san fernando street; and lankershim and his associates purchased the old structure from the company for the sum of seventeen thousand, five hundred dollars, and there erected a flour mill which they conducted until the ranch was sold, a few years ago. one of the very interesting cases in the los angeles courts was that which came before judge h. k. s. o'melveny on may 15th when mrs. eulalia perez guillen, one hundred and thirty years old according to the records of the church at san gabriel, claimed the right to exhibit herself at the centennial exposition in philadelphia as a california curiosity. she was accompanied to court by a daughter, mariana and their counsel, f. p. ramirez; but there was also present another daughter, mrs. de white, who brought attorney stephen m. white to assist in opposing the visionary scheme. mariana admitted that she had not the means to humor the old lady in her hobby, while mrs. de white objected that her mother was in her dotage and could not travel as far as philadelphia. the judge granted the old lady liberty to live with either daughter, but required of mariana a bond of five hundred dollars as a guarantee that she would not take her mother out of the county. on may 17th, william workman was gathered to his fathers, later being buried near the little chapel at la puente, side by side with john rowland, his early comrade and life-long friend. an early and popular educator here was miss e. bengough who, about 1870, had started her "select school for young ladies and children," and who on june 5th had one of her "commencements" in the spring street school house. at the beginning of the eighties, the bengough school was at no. 3 third street. miss bengough died, a number of years ago, after having been for some years at the hollenbeck home. glowing descriptions of the centennial exposition first attracted the attention of madame helena modjeska, the polish lady eventually so famous, and the presence here of a small polish colony finally induced her and her husband, charles bozenta chlapowski, to make the dubious experiment of abandoning the stimulation of old world culture and committing themselves to rustic life near the bee ranch of j. e. pleasants in santiago cañon. heaps of cigarettes, books and musical instruments were laid in to help pass the hours pleasantly; but disaster of one kind or another soon overtook the idealists who found that "roughing it" in primeval california suggested a nightmare rather than a pleasant dream. forced to take up some more lucrative profession, madame modjeska, in july, 1877, made her _début_ in san francisco as _adrienne lecouvreur_ and was soon starring with booth. this radical departure, however, did not take the gifted lady away for good; her love for california led her to build, near the site of their first encampment and in what they called the forest of arden, a charming country home to which she repaired when not before the footlights. still later, she lived near newport. more than one public ovation was tendered madame modjeska in los angeles, the community looking upon her as their own; and i remember a reception to her at o. w. childs's home when i had a better opportunity for noting her unostentatious and agreeable personality. modjeska avenue is a reminder of this artist's sojourn here. in june, w. w. creighton started the _evening republican_; but during the winter of 1878-79 the paper, for lack of support, ceased to be published. andrew w. ryan, a kilkenny irishman commonly called andy, after footing it from virginia city to visalia, reached los angeles on horseback and found employment with banning as one of his drivers. from 1876 to 1879, he was county assessor, later associating himself with the los angeles water company until, in 1902, the city came into control of the system. chapter xxxiv the southern pacific 1876 before the completion of the san fernando tunnel, a journey east from los angeles by way of sacramento was beset with inconveniences. the traveler was lucky if he obtained passage to san fernando on other than a construction train, and twenty to twenty-four hours, often at night, was required for the trip of the telegraph stage line's creaking, swaying coach over the rough road leading to caliente--the northern terminal--where the longer stretch of the railroad north was reached. the stage-lines and the southern pacific railroad were operated quite independently, and it was therefore not possible to buy a through-ticket. for a time previously, passengers took the stage at san fernando and bounced over the mountains to bakersfield, the point farthest south on the railroad line. when the southern pacific was subsequently built to lang's station, the stages stopped there; and for quite a while a stage started from each side of the mountain, the two conveyances meeting at the top and exchanging passengers. once i made the journey north by stage to tipton in tulare county, and from tipton by rail to san francisco. the coast line and the telegraph line stage companies carried passengers part of the way. the coast line stage company coaches left los angeles every morning at five o'clock and proceeded _via_ pleasant valley, san buenaventura, santa bárbara, guadalupe, san luis obispo and paso de robles hot springs, and connected at soledad with the southern pacific railroad bound for san francisco by way of salinas city, gilroy and san josé; and this line made a speciality of daylight travel, thus offering unusual inducements to tourists. there was no limit as to time; and passengers were enabled to stop over at any point and to reserve seats in the stage-coaches by giving some little notice in advance. in 1876, i visited new york city for medical attention and for the purpose of meeting my son, maurice, upon his return from paris. i left los angeles on the twenty-ninth of april by the telegraph stage line, traveling to san francisco and thence east by the central pacific railroad; and i arrived in new york on the eighth of may. my son returned, june 29th, on the steamer _abyssinia_; and a few days later we started for home. while in brooklyn, on june 4th, i attended plymouth church and heard henry ward beecher preach on "serve thy master with a will." his rapid transition from the pathetic to the humorous, and back to the pathetic, was most effective. our itinerary brought us to the centennial exhibition in philadelphia, on the fourth of july; and aside from the peculiar satisfaction at being present on historic ground upon that anniversary, i recall, with pleasure, many experiences and impressions new and interesting, notwithstanding the inconvenience caused by the great crowds. at the exhibition, which had a circumference of only three and a half miles, i saw california's small but very creditable display; and i remember my astonishment at seeing a man seated before an apparatus, apparently in the act of printing letters. he was demonstrating an early typewriter, and i dictated to my wife half a dozen lines which he rapidly typed upon paper. of the various nations, the japanese and the chinese attracted me most. machinery hall, with its twelve hundred machines all run by one huge corliss engine, was as noisy as it was interesting. the new york _herald_ and the _times_ were printed there daily. in the art gallery there was one marble figure so beautifully draped that a young lady, passing by, said: "father, why don't they remove that lace shawl from the statue?" during the evening, on the balconies of the union league club, we enjoyed a torchlight parade never to be forgotten. on our way west we stopped at salt lake city; and as we had been informed that brigham young would be at the opera house that evening, we attended the performance. i have forgotten the name of the play, but rose eytinge was the star. brigham sat in his private box with two of his wives; and as it was a very hot night in july and the building was packed with people, his wives were both fanning him assiduously and otherwise contributing to his comfort. the following day we called at his residence to see him, expecting to renew an acquaintanceship established years before; but to our regret he was ill and could not receive us. a few months later, he died. leaving salt lake city early in august, we traveled by the central pacific to san francisco where several days were very pleasantly spent with my brother and his family, and from there we left for los angeles, taking the southern pacific to its terminus at lang's station. proceeding over the mountain by stage, we arrived at what is now the south end of the long tunnel and there boarded the train for this city. among others who went from los angeles to the philadelphia centennial was ben c. truman. he took with him specimens of choice california plants, and wrote letters, from various stations on the way, to his paper, the _star_. governor and mrs. downey, whom i met in new york in june, were also at the exhibition. ben truman's visit recalls the enterprise of preparing a booklet for circulation at the exposition setting forth the advantages of los angeles, and the fact that the _star_ was the first to propose sending copies of the local newspapers to philadelphia, at the same time agreeing to contribute its share. in that connection, it also referred to a previous, similar experiment, endorsed by truman, in these words: this city has never been so prosperous as when the chamber of commerce sent fifty papers each week for one year of the _herald_, _express_ and _star_, to the leading hotels and libraries throughout the country, a movement inaugurated and carried out by mr. m. j. newmark. those few papers, distributed where they would do the most good, filled our hotels and boarding houses, and sent joy to the hearts of the real estate dealers. it's a most trifling thing to do, and "there's millions in it." another interesting experiment in early advertising, by means of the stereopticon, was made in 1876 when the los angeles photographer, henry t. payne, exhibited at philadelphia a fine selection of views designed to inform the spectator about southern california and to attract him hither. toward the end of may, payne left for the east, taking with him a first-class stereopticon and nearly a thousand lantern slides of the old wet-plate process, the views being the product of payne's own skill and labor. for some time prior to 1876, the suitable observance here of the anniversary of the nation's independence had been frequently discussed, and when james j. ayers called a meeting of citizens in the county court house, on the evening of april 29th, and another on may 6th, it was decided to celebrate the fourth of july in a manner worthy of the occasion. committees were appointed to arrange the details; and when the eventful day arrived, the largest throngs in the city's history assembled to give vent to their patriotism. the procession--led by grand marshal h. m. mitchell, assisted by marshals eugene meyer, francisco guirado, john f. godfrey and otto von ploennies, mounted on the best-groomed steeds of the fashion stables--formed towards ten o'clock and was half an hour in passing the corner of temple, spring and main streets. the woods opera house band, the los angeles guard and the los angeles rifleros assisted. the parade wended its tortuous way from the aliso mills in the northeast to the round house in the south. an interesting feature of the march was the division of mexican war veterans. forty-two of these battle-scarred soldiers, a number of whom had become prominent in civic life, lined up, among them general george stoneman, captain william turner, dr. j. s. griffin, major henry hancock, s. c. foster, john schumacher, l. c. goodwin, d. w. alexander and a. w. timms. another feature worthy of note was the triumphal chariot of the french benevolent society, in which three young ladies represented respectively the goddess of liberty, france and america. fire engine company no. 38, confidence engine company no. 2 and the hook and ladder company formed another division, followed by several societies and secret orders. in one float thirteen young ladies represented the thirteen original colonies and in another twenty-five damsels portrayed the rest of the states. there were also the forty-niners, the butchers and the other tradesmen; while george and martha washington accompanied the philadelphia brewery! for this local celebration of the centennial, streets, public buildings, stores and private residences were beautifully decorated, portraits of washington being everywhere. hellman, haas & company, s. c. foy, the los angeles social club and h. newmark & company were among those who especially observed the day. there was a triple arch on main street, with a center span thirty feet wide and thirty feet high, and statues of washington, grant and others. the railroad depots and trains were also fittingly adorned; and at the residence and grounds of consular agent moerenhaut, the stars and stripes, with the french tricolor, were displayed under the legend, "friends since one hundred years." the pico house was perhaps the most elegantly adorned, having a column, a flagstaff and a liberty cap, with the enthusiastic legends: 1776. 1876. now for 1976! to the patrons of the pico house: may you live 100 years! no north, no south, no east, no west! [illustration: william pridham] [illustration: benjamin hayes] [illustration: isaac lankershim] [illustration: rabbi a. w. edelman] [illustration: fort street, from the chaparral on fort hill] the round house gardens having been reached, the literary and musical program began. the band played _hail columbia!_ and general phineas banning, the presiding officer, introduced the rev. t. t. packard who delivered the opening prayer. banning then made a short patriotic address; _america_ was sung by several church choirs of the city; professor thomas a. saxon read the _declaration of independence_; the choirs sang the _red, white and blue_; and j. j. ayers, as poet of the occasion, read an original poem. _yankee doodle_ came after that; and then james g. eastman, as orator of the day, delivered the address, reviewing the civilization and wonders of every age, and tickling the hearers' vanity with perorations such as this: when the mournful zephyrs, passing the plain where marathon once stood, shall find no mound to kiss; when the arch of titus shall have been obliterated; the colosseum crumbled into antique dust; the greatness of athens degenerated into dim tradition; alexander, cæsar and napoleon forgotten; the memories of independence hall shall still bloom in imperishable freshness! at the conclusion of the oration, jacob a. moerenhout, the venerable french representative, spoke very appropriately of the relation of france to america in our great revolutionary struggle; after which the rev. a. w. edelman concluded the exercises by pronouncing the benediction. the celebration had a soul in it and no doubt compensated in patriotic sincerity for what it may have lacked in classical elegance. incidental to this commemoration, the literary committee having in charge the exercises had named don j. j. warner, judge benjamin hayes and dr. j. p. widney a sub-committee to compile the most interesting data about the old town from the spanish occupancy by the founding of the mission at san gabriel; and on the fourth of july, or within less than two months after their appointment, the historians produced their report--to which i have already referred--a document, known as _an historical sketch of los angeles county, california_, which, in spite of the errors due to the short period allotted the editors, is still interesting and valuable; portraying, as it does, various characteristics of early life in the southland and preserving to posterity many names and minor facts. in the summer of 1875, fifteen hundred men began to dig their way into the san fernando mountains; and about the end of the first week in september, 1876, the long tunnel was completed--a bore six thousand nine hundred and forty feet in length, beginning twenty-seven miles from los angeles. during the course of construction, vast quantities of candles, generally the best, were employed to furnish light for the workmen, h. newmark & company supplying most of the illuminants. some of the facts concerning the planning, building and attendant celebration of this now famous tunnel should be peculiarly interesting to the angeleño of to-day, as also to his descendants, for not only do they possess intrinsic historical importance, but they exemplify as well both the comparative insignificance of los angeles at the time when this great engineering feat was so successfully undertaken and the occasional futility of human prophecies, even when such prophecies are voiced by those most fitted at the time to deliver them. i have already mentioned the interview which governor downey and i had with collis p. huntington, in san francisco, when we presented the arguments of los angeles for the extension of the southern pacific railroad to this point. the greatest difficulty, from an engineering standpoint, was the boring and finishing of the san fernando tunnel, and the then small town of los angeles was compelled to pass through much discouragement before she became the southern terminus of the road, a selection of the most vital importance to her future prosperity and growth. in the first place, a mr. rice, whose office was in temple block, represented the railroad company in telling the citizens of los angeles that if they did not appropriate toward the undertaking two hundred and fifty thousand dollars--then an enormous sum of money--los angeles would be left out of the line of travel and the railroad would be built so as to pass several miles inland, compelling our city to make a choice between putting in a branch to connect with the main line or resigning any claim she might have to become a railroad center. in fact, this is precisely what occurred in the case of visalia and a number of other towns; that is to say: they are to-day the termini of railroad feeders, instead of a part of the main line as they perhaps might have been. when this threat or warning was delivered, an agitation immediately set in, both to collect the money that the company demanded and to influence its management to include los angeles on the main line. judge r. m. widney was one of the prominent figures in the local campaign. the chamber of commerce, through its president, solomon lazard, also buckled on its armor in behalf of los angeles and entered the lists. notably it sent a telegram to the united states senate--the railroad, as is well known, having received land-grants of inestimable value from congress and being considered, therefore, susceptible to influence; and this telegram was penned with such classical eloquence that it poured seventy-five dollars into the coffers of the telegraph company. the net result of the campaign was the decision of the railroad company to include los angeles among the favored stations. the politics of the situation having thus been satisfactorily settled, the engineering problems began to cast their shadows. general stoneman stated that the tunnel bore could not be effected, an opinion which was by no means uncommon at that time. others again said that people would never be induced to travel through so long a tunnel; still another set of pessimists stated that the winter rains would cause it to cave in, to which senator stanford laconically replied that it was "too damned dry in southern california for any such catastrophe." this railroad and the tunnel, however, were fortunately to become one of those happy instances in which the proposals of man and the disposals of the lord are identical, for in course of time both found their completion under the able direction of railroad genius, assisted in no small way by the gangs of thousands of orientals who did the hard road-work. as in the case with practically every southern californian enterprise, the finishing of this great undertaking was accompanied by a rather elaborate celebration. a delegation of san francisco citizens, one of whom was my brother, met at newhall a delegation from los angeles including s. lazard[34] and myself, and i thus have the pleasant recollection of having been among the very first who went through the tunnel on that initial trip. having arrived at newhall, the citizens of the northern and southern cities symbolized, by fraternal handshaking, the completion of this new and strongest bond between them. amidst general rejoicing, and with thousands of chinamen lined up on either side of the track, each at full attention and all presenting their--_shovels!_--general d. d. colton drove the golden spike which bound the rails from the north with the rails from the south. after considerable speech-making and celebrating, most of the company boarded the train for los angeles, where the jollification was concluded with a banquet, a ball, illuminations and other festivities. possibly due to the great increase in chinese brought to southern california through railroad work, repeated demonstrations against the mongolians were made here at meetings during the summer. shortly after the completion of the southern pacific railroad the people of los angeles became very much dissatisfied with the company's method of handling their business, and especially with the arbitrary rulings of j. c. stubbs in making freight rates. on one occasion, for example, a shipper approached stubbs and asked for a rate on a carload of potatoes from san francisco to tucson. stubbs asked him how much he expected to pay for the potatoes and what he would get for them; and having obtained this information, he allowed the shipper a small profit and took the balance for freight. this dissatisfaction on the part of an enterprising community accustomed to some liberality found in time such an open expression that charles f. crocker, one of the original promoters of the central, and one of the owners of the southern pacific, who had occasionally visited los angeles, came down to confer with the city council at a public meeting. crocker, as president of the central pacific railroad company, was a very important man, and i felt at the time that he was most discourteously received by those with whom he had come to discuss the situation. the meeting, which i attended, was held in the small council room, and i well remember the oppressive closeness. the place was, indeed, packed; people were smoking and chewing tobacco; and the reader may perhaps imagine the extreme condition of both the atmosphere and the floor. this, however, was not all: when one of the councilmen--out of regard, i suppose, for the railroad president's other engagements--asked that mr. crocker be permitted to address the city fathers, j. s. thompson, a revolutionary councilman, stood up and declared that the san francisco magnate would be heard when his time came and--not before! how this lack of consideration impressed the visitor may be seen from the conclusion of my story. after a while, crocker was allowed to speak; and in the course of his remarks he stated that the southern pacific railroad company had invested a great amount of money, and that it was necessary to realize proper interest on their expenditure. thereupon, isaac w. lord, one of the spectators, after whom lordsburg was named, arose and begged to tell a little story. an ambitious individual, he said, who had once built a hotel on the desert at a cost of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, was without a guest until, one day, a lone traveler rode across the burning sands and put up for the night at the hostelry. next morning, the stranger was handed a bill for seventy-five dollars; and upon inquiring why so much had been charged, the proprietor explained that he had spent one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in building the hotel; that the stranger was, thus far, the first and only guest; and that, therefore, he must pay his part of the interest on the investment. the story, to mr. crocker's discomfiture, brought a loud laugh; and it was then, before the laughter had died out, that the famous railroad man, resuming the debate, made his memorable threat: "if this be the spirit in which los angeles proposes to deal with the railroad upon which the town's very vitality must depend, _i will make grass to grow in the streets of your city_!" and, considering the fate that has befallen more than one community which coldly regarded the proposals of these same california railroads, crocker's warning was not without significance. the crocker incident having left matters in a worse state than before, colonel eldridge e. hewitt, agent for the southern pacific, brought governor stanford to my office and introduced him. stanford stated that his road would soon be in operation and expressed the hope that h. newmark & company would patronize it. i told stanford that our relations with the steamship company had always been very pleasant, but that we would be very glad to give his line a share of our business, if rates were made satisfactory. at the same time, the southern pacific railroad company, having secured control of the los angeles & san pedro railroad, issued circulars announcing that steamer freight would henceforth be classified. as this was a violent departure from established precedents, it foreshadowed trouble; and, sure enough, rates moved upward from eight to as high as thirty dollars a ton, according to classification. h. newmark & company and hellman, haas & company, who were the heaviest shippers in los angeles, together with a number of other merchants, decided to charter a steamer or sailing vessel. james mcfadden, of santa ana, owned the tramp steamboat _newport_ which plied between san francisco and newport landing, in an irregular lumber-trade; and this, after some negotiations, we engaged for three years, on the basis of three dollars per ton. having made this contract, we entered valiantly into the contest; and, in order suitably to impress the southern pacific railroad company with our importance, we loaded the vessel, on her initial trip, to the gunwales. now cargo, on arriving at wilmington at that time, used to be loaded into cars, brought to los angeles and left in the freight shed until we removed it at our convenience; but when the _newport_ arrived, the vessel was unloaded and the merchandise put into the warehouse at wilmington, where it was held several days before it was reshipped. on its arrival in los angeles, the railroad company gave notice that removal must be effected within twenty-four hours, or demurrage would be charged; and since, with the small facilities in those days at our command, so prompt a withdrawal of an entire cargo was a physical impossibility, our expenses were straightway heavily increased. subsequent to this first shipment, we adopted a more conservative policy, in spite of which our troubles were to multiply. the southern pacific railroad company named a rate of three dollars a ton in less than carload lots between san francisco and way-stations, and this induced many of our country customers to trade in that city. at the same time, the company carried many lines between san francisco and los angeles free of charge, potatoes and other heavy items being favored. the mask was now discarded, and it became evident that we were engaged in a life-and-death struggle. had there been a united front, the moral effect might have sustained us in the unequal contest; but unfortunately, h. newmark & company were abandoned by every shipper in los angeles except hellman, haas & company, and we soon found that fighting railroad companies recalled the adage, "the game's not worth the candle." at the end of ten months of sacrifices, we invoked the assistance of my former partner and friend, phineas banning, who was then associated with the southern pacific; and he visited the officials in san francisco in our behalf. stanford told him that the railroad company, rather than make a single concession, would lose a million dollars in the conflict; but banning finally induced the company to buy the _newport_, which brought to a close the first fight in los angeles against a railroad. in the winter of 1876-77, a drought almost destroyed the sheep industry in southern california. as a last resort, the ranchers, seeing the exhausted condition of their ranges, started to drive their sheep to arizona, new mexico or utah; but most of them fell by the way. again, we had the coincidence of drought and a fatal epidemic of smallpox, not only leaving death in its wake, but incidentally damaging business a good deal. mrs. juan lanfranco was one of those who died; mr. and mrs. solomon lazard lost a son, and a grocer by the name of henry niedecken, who had a little frame store where the angelus hotel now stands, as well as many others, succumbed. footnote: [34] died, january 13, 1915, in the ninetieth year of his age. chapter xxxv the revival of the southland 1877-1880 the late seventies were marked by an encouraging awakening of national energy and a growing desire on the part of the angeleño, notwithstanding the excessive local dullness, to bring the outside world a pace or two nearer; as a result of which, things began to simmer, while there was an unmistakable manifestation on the part of those at places more or less remote to explore the almost unknown southwest, especially that portion bordering on the pacific. i have already noted, with varying dates, the time when patents to land were issued. these dates remind me of the long years during which some of the ranch owners had to wait before they received a clear title to their vast estates. although, as i have said, the land commission was in session during the first decade of my residence here, it was a quarter of a century and more, in some cases, after the commissioners had completed their reports before the washington authorities issued the desired patents confirming the mexican grants; and by that time, not a few of those who had owned the ranches at the beginning of the american occupancy were dead and buried. william mulholland, who was really trained for navigation and had followed the sea for four or five years, steered for los angeles in 1877 and associated himself with the los angeles water company, giving his attention especially to hydraulic engineering and passing as it were in 1902, with the rest of the water-plant, to the city when it bought the company out. on march 22d, the common council changed the name of nigger alley, in the adobe days known as calle de los negros, to that of los angeles street; and thus faded away a designation of los angeles' early gambling district long familiar to old settlers. the same year, the city marshalship, which j. j. carrillo had held during 1875-76, was discontinued, and j. f. gerkins was appointed the first chief of police. part of the property included in the blanket mortgage given by temple & workman to e. j. baldwin was temple block; and when this was sold at sheriff's sale in 1877, h. newmark & company decided to acquire it if they could. dan freeman, acting for baldwin, was our only competitor; and after a somewhat spirited contest, the property was knocked down to us. in 1909, we sold temple block to the city of los angeles. quite a large contribution of money was then made by adjoining landowners, with the understanding that the site would form the nucleus for a civic center; but thus far this solemn promise remains unfulfilled --more's the shame, especially since the obligation is precisely coincidental with the city's needs. in 1877, colonel r. s. baker erected the block bearing his name on the site of the historic adobe home of don abel stearns, the walls of which structure, when demolished, killed two of the workmen. this building, the most modern of that period, immediately became the scene of much retail activity; and three wide-awake merchants--eugène germain, george d. rowan and rev. b. f. coulter--moved into it. germain was the first of these to arrive in los angeles, coming in 1870 and, soon after, establishing several trading posts along the line of the southern pacific during its construction through arizona. one day, while inspecting branches in this wild and woolly region, germain ran into a party of cowboys who were out gunning; and just for a little diversion, they took to peppering the vicinity of his feet, which attention persuaded him into a high-step less graceful than alert. germain came to occupy many positions of trust, being appointed, in 1889, commissioner from california to the paris exposition, and later american consul at zurich, switzerland. next among the tenants was george d. rowan, who opened a grocery store in the strelitz block, opposite the old jail, remaining there until the completion of baker's building; thus supplying another illustration of the tendency then predominating to gravitate toward the extreme northern end of the town. in several enterprises, rowan was a pioneer: he brought from chicago the first phaeton seen on our streets; and in conjunction with germain, he inaugurated the shipping of california products, in carload lots, to the eastern market. he was also one of the first to use pennies here. withdrawing from the grocery trade, in 1882, he busied himself with real estate until 1892, when he retired. a public-spirited man, he had the greatest confidence in the future of los angeles, and was instrumental in subdividing much important acreage, including the block between sixth, seventh, hill and olive streets, which he sold in sixty-foot lots at prices as low as six hundred dollars each. he was a prime mover in having the name of fort street altered to that of broadway, certainly a change of questionable propriety considering the origin of the old name. rowan died on september 7th, 1901. his sons, r. a. and p. d. rowan, constitute the firm of r. a. rowan & company. reverend coulter, father of frank m. coulter,[35] brought his family to los angeles on september 17th, 1877, and after a short association in the hardware firm of harper & coulter, he entered the dry goods field as b. f. coulter, now the coulter dry goods company. in 1878, coulter bought the woolen mills on pearl street near fifth. coulter was a man of genial temperament and great integrity; and i shall have occasion to speak of him again. r. f. del valle was born in december, 1854, at the plaza ancestral home, where, before the family's removal to camulos _rancho_, i frequently saw him playing when i attended the political councils at his father's home. by the by, i believe that j. l. brent had his law office there, which may account for those gatherings. del valle's boyhood days were spent in and around los angeles. he studied law in san francisco and returned to los angeles in 1877, a promising young orator and attorney. since that period he has been in public life practically all of the time. for some time past he has been a member of the water board. he has been frequently honored by the democratic party, especially in 1880, when as elector he was instructed to vote for our former fellow-townsman, general w. s. hancock. in 1890, del valle married mrs. helen caystile, widow of thomas caystile and daughter of caleb e. white, a pomona horticulturist and sheepman. a murder case of the late seventies was notable on account of the tragic fate of two indirect participants. on october 10th, g. m. waller, custodian of the land company's bath-house at santa monica, detected victor fonck, who had been warned to keep off the premises, in the act of erecting a private bath-house on the beach, and shot him in the leg, from which wound, after two days, fonck died. in his defense, waller claimed that, as watchman, he was acting under orders from e. s. parker, the land company's agent. waller was found guilty of involuntary homicide and sentenced on january 25th, 1878, to one year in the penitentiary. parker, on the other hand, was convicted of murder in the second degree, and on march 8th was sentenced to ten years' imprisonment. this severe and unexpected punishment caused a mental excitement from which parker soon died; and, but a few days later, his broken-hearted wife fell dead. annual public fairs were centers of social life as late as the middle of the seventies, one being held, about 1876 or 1877, in the old alameda street depot, which, decorated with evergreens and flowers, had been transformed into a veritable garden. with succeeding years, these displays, for some time in horticultural hall on temple street, came to be more and more enchanting. still later, one or more flower festivals were held in hazard's pavilion on fifth street, near olive, that of 1889 in particular attracting, in the phraseology of a local newspaper, "one of the largest and most brilliant gatherings in the history of the city." it is indeed a pity that these charming exhibitions, requiring but the mere bringing together of some of the flowers so bountifully supplied us, have been abandoned. on february 1st, 1878, twenty-three years after the odd fellows first organized here, their newly-constructed hall in the oxarart block at 108 north spring street was dedicated with elaborate ceremonies. about 1878, captain george j. clarke, who had been postmaster from 1866 to 1873, and who lived well out of town, offered me sixty feet adjoining my home on fort street, a site now occupied by the j. w. robinson company. he asked one hundred dollars a foot for the fort street frontage alone, but as only sixteen dollars a foot had been paid for the full depth to hill street of the piece i already owned, i refused to purchase; nor was i persuaded even when he threatened to erect a livery stable next to my house. another item respecting land values, and how they impressed me: in 1878, nadeau purchased, for twenty thousand dollars, the site of the nadeau hotel, whereupon i told him that he was crazy; but later events proved him to have been a better judge than i. sometime in the late seventies, jerry illich started a chop-house on north main street and prospered so well that in time he was able to open a larger and much finer establishment which he called the maison dorée. this restaurant was one of the best of the time, and became the _rendezvous_ of men about town. in 1896, jerry moved again, this time to third street opposite the bradbury block; and thither went with him his customers of former days. when illich died in december, 1902, he had the finest restaurant in the city. in april the public library was transferred to the care of the city. in the beginning, as i have stated, a fee of five dollars was charged to patrons; somewhat later, it is my recollection, a legislative enactment permitted a small addition to the tax-rate for the partial support of this worthy enterprise, and this municipal assistance enabled the directors to carry the work along even though the annual membership fee was reduced to four dollars, payable quarterly. on september 25th, general john c. frémont arrived in los angeles on his way to arizona, of which territory he had been appointed governor; and accompanied by his wife and daughter, he was driven at once to the st. charles hotel. there, in response to a demonstration by the citizens, he referred to the great changes which had taken place here during his absence of thirty years. two days later, general frémont and family left for yuma, the explorer traveling that route by means of the iron horse for the first time. benjamin franklin taylor, the lecturer and author, visited los angeles, in 1878, and wrote the sympathetic book, _between the gates_, full of just discrimination and hopeful views respecting the southland. some new ordinances regulating vegetable venders having been passed in the winter of 1878-79, the chinese peddlers went on a strike, and for some time refused, to the inconvenience of their dependent customers, to supply any truck-farm products. during the postmastership of colonel isaac r. dunkelberger, the post office was moved, in 1879, to the oxarart block on north spring street near first. there it continued for eight years, contributing much toward making the neighborhood an important commercial center. m. j. newmark, having sold to his partners his interest in the firm of h. newmark & company, left los angeles, in 1879, for san francisco, after building a residence on spring street next to the southwest corner of spring and seventh and adjoining the dwellings owned by kaspare cohn and m. a. newmark. each of these houses stood on a sixty-foot lot; and to protect themselves from possibly unpleasant neighbors, the holders had bought the corner of seventh and spring streets for four hundred and twenty-five dollars. on his departure, m. j. newmark committed his affairs to my care, desiring to dispose of his place; and i offered it to i. n. van nuys for seven thousand five hundred dollars, which represented the cost of the house alone. times were quite hard in los angeles at this period; and when van nuys said that he would give six thousand five hundred dollars for it, i accepted his offer and induced the owners to sell to him the corner lot for four hundred and seventy-five dollars. this is the earlier history of the corner now occupied by the i. n. van nuys building, in which the first national bank conducts its affairs. long before there was any necessity for cutting sixth street through, east of main, george kerckhoff (who, in 1879, had brought his family from indiana) bought the six acres formerly belonging to the intrepid pioneer, j. j. warner, and, in the midst of this pretty orchard, built the home in which he continued to reside until 1896, when he died. william g. kerckhoff, a son, came with his father and almost immediately engaged in the lumber business with james cuzner. an ordinary man might have found this enterprise sufficient, especially as it expanded with the building up of our southland communities; but this was not so with the younger kerckhoff, who in 1892 entered the ice business, after which effort, within ten years, he evolved the san gabriel electric company. henry e. huntington then associated himself with this enterprise, somewhat later buying that part of the kerckhoff property on which the huntington building, opposite the kerckhoff, now stands; and as a result of the working together of two such minds, huge electrical enterprises culminated in the pacific light and power company. the year 1879 was tragic in my family. on the 20th of january, our son philip, only nine years of age, died of diphtheria; and a trifle more than three weeks later, on february 11th, leo, a baby of three years, succumbed to the same treacherous disease. barely had the grave closed on the second, when a daughter became seriously ill, and after her recovery, in a fit of awful consternation we fled the plague-infected house and the city, taking with us to san francisco, edward, a son of five years. but alas! hardly had we returned to town, when he also died, on march 17th, 1879. in may, judge r. m. widney broached to the rev. a. m. hough, rev. m. m. bovard, e. f. spence, dr. j. p. widney and g. d. compton his project for the first protestant institution of higher learning in southern california; and meeting with their encouragement, certain land in west los angeles, consisting of three hundred and eight acres, was accepted in trust as a gift from i. w. hellman, j. g. downey and o. w. childs, forty acres being later added. in 1880, the first building was put up on wesley avenue; and on the sixth of october the college was opened. most of the projectors were methodists; and the institution, since known as the university of southern california, became a methodist college. the beginning of the institution has been odd: its first department of arts was built, in 1883, at ontario; while two years later its theological school was opened at san fernando. recently, under the energetic administration of president f. d. bovard, the university has made much progress. a. b. chapman, about 1879, joined c. t. paul in opening a hardware store at 12 commercial street, with a little tin-shop opposite; and they soon introduced here the first gasoline stoves, to which the insurance companies at once seriously objected. probably the earliest los angeles newspaper published in french was a weekly, _l'union nouvelle_, which commenced in 1879 with p. ganée as editor. exceeding the limits of animated editorial debate into which the rival journalists had been drawn in the heated campaign of 1879, william a. spalding, a reporter on the _evening express_, waited for joseph d. lynch, the editor of the _herald_, at about eleven o'clock in the morning of august 16th, and peppered away with a bull-dog pistol at his rival, as the latter, who had just left the pico house, was crossing spring street from temple block to go to the _herald_ office. lynch dropped his cane, and fumbled for his shooting-iron; but by the time he could return the fire, a. de celis and other citizens had thrust themselves forward, making it doubly perilous to shoot at all. spalding sent the bullet which wounded, not his adversary, but a bystander, l. a. major of compton. colonel g. wiley wells arrived in 1879, after a civil war career in which his left arm was permanently crippled. he also served as united states district attorney in mississippi, where he prosecuted many of the ku-klux klan, and as united states consul-general to china, where he had a varied experience with men and affairs. with a. brunson, he formed the law partnership of brunson & wells, having offices in the baker block. the next year, bradner w. lee, a nephew of wells, who had arrived here in 1879, was added to the firm. after fifteen years' practice in the local courts, during which time wells became a noted figure, he retired to private life at santa monica, disposing of his extensive law library, consisting of some six thousand volumes, to his successors, works & lee. henry milner mitchell, to whom i have referred as assisting to run down vasquez, reached los angeles by way of nicaragua in 1868, and was successively a surveyor, a reporter, a law student and, finally, from 1878 to 1879, sheriff. in 1879, he was admitted to practice before the supreme court of california, and in the same year, he married the eldest daughter of andrew glassell. eventually he met a very tragic death: while hunting near the scene of vasquez's capture, he was shot by a friend who mistook him for a deer. colonel henry harrison markham, a new yorker, pitched his tent in los angeles and pasadena in 1879, and was elected to congress from the sixth district, defeating r. f. del valle. he succeeded in getting one hundred and fifty thousand dollars for a public building and appropriations for wilmington and other harbors; and he also aided in establishing army headquarters at los angeles for arizona, new mexico and southern california. carl seligman left germany for america in 1879 and spent a year in san francisco, after which he removed to tucson, arizona. and there he remained, engaged in the wholesale and retail grocery business until, on december 6th, 1885, he married my daughter ella, following which event he bought an interest in the firm of m. a. newmark & company. the early eighties witnessed a commercial development so marked as to remind one of the proverbial grass that could be heard to grow. during an entire century, business (centered, like social life, more or less about the plaza) had crawled southward to first street, a distance of but three or four blocks; and now, in five or six years, trade passed first, extended along both main and spring streets and reached almost to, or just beyond second. at this time, the baker block, at the corner of north main and arcadia streets, which contained the first town ticket-office of the southern pacific railroad, was still the center of the retail trade of los angeles. and yet some idea of the backwardness of the city, even then, may be obtained from the fact that, in 1880, on the southwest corner of spring and second streets where the hollenbeck hotel was later built, stood a horse corral; while the old adobe on the lot at the corner of first and spring streets, which was torn down later to make room for the hotel nadeau, was also still there. obadiah truax barker settled in los angeles in 1880 and, with otto mueller, started a furniture and carpet business, known as barker & mueller's, at 113 north spring street. strange as it seems, however, the newcomers found themselves too far from the business district; and, on mueller's retiring, o. t. barker & sons moved to a store near the pico house. now the firm is barker brothers. in fond recollection, the homely cheerfulness of the old-time adobe recurs again and again. the eighties, however, were characterized by another form of dwelling, fashionable and popular; some examples of which, half-ruined, are still to be seen. this was the frame house, large and spacious with wide, high, curving verandas, semicircular bay-windows, towers and cupolas. flower-bordered lawns generally encircled these residences; there were long, narrow hallways and more spare bedrooms than the less intimate hospitality of to-day suggests or demands. on january 1st, 1880, the district court of los angeles was abolished to give way to the county court; on which occasion don ygnácio sepúlveda, the last of the district court judges, became the first county judge. the first cement pavement in the city was laid on main street north of first by a man named floyd. having bought temple block, we were thinking of surrounding it with a wooden sidewalk. floyd recommended cement, asking me, at the same time, to inspect a bit of pavement which he had just put down. i did so, and took his advice; and from this small beginning has developed the excellent system of paving now enjoyed by los angeles. in 1880, there visited southern california a man who not only had a varied and most interesting past, but who was destined to have an important future. this was abbot kinney, a blood relation of emerson, holmes and old general harrison, and a student of law and medicine, commission merchant, a botanical expert, cigarette manufacturer and member of the united states geological survey; a man, too, who had traveled through, and lived long in europe, asia and africa; and who, after seeing most of our own northwest, was on his way to settle in florida in search of health. while in san francisco he heard of the recently-formed sierra madre colony, whither he made haste to go; and after a month or two there, he liked it so well that he decided to remain on the gentle slope, found there a home and lay out a farm. at that time we had a customer by the name of seabury, who owned one hundred and sixty acres along the foothills; and this land he had mortgaged to us to secure a note. when kinney came, he bought a place adjoining seabury's, and this led him to take over the mortgage. in due season, he foreclosed and added the land to his beautiful property, which he named _kinneloa_. all kinney's combined experience was brought to bear to make his estate pleasurable, not only to himself but for the casual visitor and passer-by; and in a short time he became well known. he also was made a special commissioner of the united states to examine into the condition of the mission indians of southern california; and on this commission he served with helen hunt jackson, so famous as _h. h._ or, especially in california, as the author of _ramona_, visiting with her all the well-known indian _rancherías_ between san diego and monterey, in addition to the twenty-one franciscan missions. toward the end of april, f. p. f. temple passed away at the merced ranch and was buried in the family burying-ground at la puente. this recalls to mind that, in early days, many families owned a hallowed acre where, as summoned one by one, they were laid side by side in rest eternal. on may 16th, john w. bixby died, at his long beach estate. about 1871 he had entered his brother jotham's service, supervising the sheep ranch; and to john bixby's foresight was attributed, first the renting and later the purchase of the great ranch controlled, through foreclosure of mortgage, by michael reese. a year or two before bixby's death, five thousand acres were set aside for the town of los alamitos, but john never saw the realization of his dream to establish there a settlement. it was on the eighteenth of the same month that my brother found it necessary to visit carlsbad for the benefit of his health, and the decision occasioned my removal to san francisco to look after his affairs. what was expected to be a brief absence really lasted until september, 1882, when he and his family returned to america and san francisco, and i came back to los angeles, with which, of course, i had continued in close communication. during our absence, my wife's father, joseph newmark, died rather suddenly on october 19th, 1881. [illustration: antonio franco and mariana coronel from an oil painting in the coronel collection] [illustration: fourth street, looking west from main] [illustration: timms landing from a print of the late fifties] [illustration: santa catalina, in the middle eighties] reference has been made to the movement, in 1859, for the division of california into two states. in the spring of 1880, john g. downey republished the original act and argued that it was still valid; and dr. j. p. widney contended that the geographical, topographical, climatic and commercial laws were all working for the separation of california into two distinct civil organizations. not long after, at a mass-meeting in los angeles called to forward the improvement of wilmington harbor, an executive committee consisting of j. g. downey, w. h. perry, e. f. spence, dr. j. p. widney, a. b. moffitt and j. g. estudillo was named to see what could be done; and this committee appointed a legal committee, consisting of henry t. hazard, r. m. widney, george h. smith, c. e. thom, a. brunson, s. c. hubbell and h. a. barclay. the latter committee endorsed downey's view that congress could admit the new state; and it arranged for a convention which met on september 8th, 1881. there the gist of the sentiment was that state division was a necessity, but that the time was not yet ripe! in 1880, jotham bixby & company sold four thousand acres of their celebrated cerritos ranch to an organization known as the american colony, and in a short time willmore city, named after w. e. willmore and the origin of long beach, was laid out and widely advertised. willmore, a teacher, had been fairly successful as a colonizer in fresno county; but after all his dreaming, hard work and investments, he lost all that he had, like so many others, and died broken-hearted. the earliest recollection i have of a storekeeper at long beach was my customer, w. w. lowe. at an early period in the development of santa monica, as we have seen, senator jones built a wharf there; but the los angeles & independence railroad, expected to become the outlet on the pacific coast of a supposedly great mining district in inyo county, never reached farther east than los angeles. the southern pacific railroad company, desiring to remove this competition, obtained possession of the new road, razed the warehouse and condemned and half dismantled the wharf; and by setting up its terminus at wilmington, it transferred there the greater part of its shipping and trade. by 1880, santa monica, to-day so prosperous, had shrunk to but three hundred and fifty inhabitants. competition compelled us, in 1880, to put traveling salesmen into the field--an innovation we introduced with reluctance, involving as it did no little additional expense. near the end of august, a citizens' committee was appointed to receive and entertain president rutherford b. hayes, whose visit to los angeles, as the first president to come here, caused quite a stir. his stay was very brief. during the few hours that he was here, he and his party were driven around the neighborhood in open hacks. in the midst of his successive greenback campaigns, general ben. f. butler sojourned for a few days, in 1880, in los angeles and was the recipient of many attentions. at the beginning of this decade, the los angeles & san pedro railway was extended to timms' landing, the well-known old shipping point; and san pedro then began to grow in earnest, both on the bluff and in the lowlands bordering on the bay. wharves were projected; and large vessels, such as would have startled the earlier shippers, yet none too large at that, made fast to their moorings. but the improvement of yesterday must make way for that of to-day, and even now the harbor commissioners are razing historic timms' point. penning again this familiar cognomen, i am reminded of what, i dare say, has been generally forgotten, that the bay of avalon was also once called timms' landing or cove--after a. w. timms, under-officer in the united states navy--and that the name was changed prior to the bannings' purchase of catalina. frequent reference has been made to those who, in one way or another, sought to infuse new commercial life here and more rapidly to expand the city; but, after all, george lehman, of whom i have already spoken, was perhaps _the_ pioneer local boomer before that picturesque word had become incorporated in the angeleño's vocabulary. nor were his peculiarities in this direction entirely confined to booming, for he did considerable buying as well. lehman's operations, however, most unfortunately for himself, were conducted at too early a period, and his optimism, together with his extensive, unimproved holdings, wrought his downfall. besides the round house and gardens, he owned real estate which would now represent enormous value, in proof of which i have only to mention a few of his possessions at that time: the southwest corner of sixth and spring streets; the northeast corner of sixth and hill streets; large frontages and many other corners on main, spring, fort and hill streets. practically none of this property brought any income, so that when the city began to grade and improve the streets, lehman's assessments compelled him to give a fifteen thousand dollar blanket mortgage to lazard frères of san francisco. lehman soon found himself beyond his depth and defaulted in the payment of both principal and interest. not only that, but with a complacency and a confidence in the future that were sublime, he refused to sell a single foot of land, and lazard frères with a worthy desire, natural to bankers, to turn a piece of paper into something more negotiable, foreclosed the mortgage, in 1879, and shut the gates of the garden of paradise forever; and a sheriff's sale was advertised for the purpose of concluding this piece of financial legerdemain. i attended the sale, and still distinctly remember with much amusement some of the incidents. the vociferous auctioneer mounted the box or barrel provided for him and opened the program by requesting an offer for the corner of hill and second streets, a lot one hundred and twenty by one hundred and sixty feet in size. nor did he request in vain. one of the heroes of the occasion was louis mesmer, a friend of lehman, whose desire it was to take a talking part in the proceedings, force up the prices and so help the latter. amidst the familiar, "going, going, going!" accordingly, the bidding began and, under the incentive of mesmer's bullish activities, the figures soon reached four hundred dollars, the last bidder being eugene meyer, local agent for the mortgagee. at this juncture mesmer, in his enthusiasm, doubled the bid to eight hundred dollars, expecting, of course, to induce someone to raise the price, already high for that day, still higher. but "the best-laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft a-gley." how eagerly mesmer awaited the fruition of his shrewd manipulation! how he listened in hopeful anticipation to the repeated, "going, going, going!" of the auctioneer! in vain, however, he waited, in vain he listened. to his mortification and embarrassment, his astounded ear was greeted with the decisive, "gone!--for eight hundred dollars! sold to louis mesmer!" mesmer had bought, for more than it was worth, a piece of property which he did not want, a catastrophe realized as well by all the others present as it was patent to the victim himself. the crowd relished keenly the ludicrous situation in which mesmer found himself, encumbered as he was with an investment which he had had no intention of making; and throughout the remainder of the contest he was distinguished only by his silence. poor old george! his vision was accurate: los angeles was to become great, but her splendid expansion was delayed too long for him to realize his dreams. when lehman died, he was buried in a pauper's grave; and toward the end of the eighties, the adobe round house, once such a feature of george lehman's garden of paradise, was razed to make way for needed improvements. i have spoken of the intolerable condition of the atmosphere in the council chamber when charles crocker made his memorable visit to los angeles to consult with the city fathers. in the eighties, when the common council met in the southeast corner of the second floor of temple block, the same objectionable use of tobacco prevailed, with the result that the worthy aldermen could scarcely be distinguished twenty-five feet away from the rough benches on which sat the equally beclouded spectators. doubtless the atmosphere of the court room was just as foul when the mayor, as late at least as 1880, passed judgment each morning, sitting as a justice, on the crop of disorderlies of the preceding night. then not infrequently some neighbor or associate of the mayor himself, caught in the police dragnet, appeared among the drowsy defendants! footnote: [35] died on october 27th, 1915. chapter xxxvi centenary of the city--electric light 1881-1884 the year 1881 opened with what, for los angeles, was a curious natural phenomenon--snow falling in february and covering the streets and plains with a white mantle. so rare was the novelty that many residents then saw the oddly-shaped flakes for the first time. it was about that time, according to my recollection, that another attempt was made to advertise los angeles through her far-famed climate, an effort which had a very amusing termination. prominent men of our city invited the california editorial association, of which frank pixley of the _argonaut_ was president, to meet in los angeles that year, with the far-sighted intention of having them give wider publicity to the charms and fame of our winters. during this convention, a banquet was held in the dining-room of the st. elmo hotel, then perhaps called the cosmopolitan. after a fine repast and a flow of brilliant eloquence, principally devoted to extolling our climatic wonders, the participants dispersed. but what was the surprised embarrassment of the los angeles boomers, on making their exit, to find pieces of ice hanging from all points of vantage and an intense cold permeating and stiffening their bones. thus ended, amid the few icicles los angeles has ever known, the first official attempt to extend the celebrity of our glorious and seductive climate. in february, nathaniel c. carter, to whom i have referred as a pioneer in arranging railroad excursions for tourists coming to california, bought from e. j. baldwin some eleven hundred acres of the santa anita ranch, comprising the northern and wilder portion which sloped down from the base of the sierra madre mountains. this he subdivided, piping water from the hills; and by wide advertising he established sierra madre, appropriating the name already selected by a neighboring colony. in 1881, j. m. guinn, who for a decade or more had been principal of the schools at anaheim, was made superintendent of los angeles city schools. a tragedy attracted unusual attention in the early eighties, owing, in part, to the social connections of the persons involved. francisco, or chico forster, as he was popularly called, the sporting son of don juan forster, had been keeping company with a señorita abarta, a young woman of superb stature, whose father was french and mother was mexican; and having promised to marry her, he betrayed her confidence. her insistence that forster should keep his word had its _dénouement_ when, one day, at her behest, they visited the plaza church; but forster so far endeavored to postpone the ceremony that he returned to the carriage, in which he had left her, declaring that no priest could be found. then they drove around until they reached the corner of commercial and los angeles streets, half a block from h. newmark & company's. there the young woman left the carriage, followed by forster; and on reaching the sidewalk, she said to him in spanish, "_¿chico, que vas hacer?_" ("what are you going to do?") forster gave some evasive answer, and señorita abarta shot him dead. she was arrested and tried; but owing to the expert evidence in her behalf given by dr. joseph kurtz she was exonerated, to the satisfaction of nearly the entire community. among those who followed the proceedings closely with a view to publishing the dramatic story was george butler griffin, traveler and journalist, who, having recently arrived, had joined the staff of the _express_, later becoming somewhat noted as a student of local history. at a meeting in turnverein hall, on march 24th, the german ladies' benevolent society of los angeles, so long known for its commendable work, was organized. mrs. john milner was elected president; mrs. d. mahlstedt, vice-president; mrs. john benner, secretary; and mrs. jacob kuhrts, treasurer. savarie j., _alias_ professor brewster, was a simple-minded freak of the freakish eighties, who dropped into los angeles--as such characters generally do--without anyone knowing much about his origin. it was during the time that walking matches were much in vogue, and whenever one of these took place, savarie j. was sure to participate. he was the only man in town that took savarie j. seriously, and i assume that he was generally entered rather to attract spectators than for any other purpose. one day the professor disappeared and no clue to his whereabouts could be discovered until his dead body was found far out on the desert. he had walked once too often and too far! fabian was a frenchman and a jack-at-all-trades doing odd jobs around town, whose temperament and out-spoken way of expressing himself used to produce both amusement and surprise. on one occasion, when he took offense at the daughter of a prominent family for whom he was working, he sought out the lady of the house and said to her: "madam, your sons are all right, but _your daughters are no good_!" two other names not forgotten by householders of an earlier day in los angeles are john hall and henry buddin. the former, whose complexion was as black as his soul was white, came to los angeles a great many years ago. he was a whitewasher by trade and followed this calling for a livelihood, later giving it up to run an express wagon; and i can still see john plying about town and driving in summer between los angeles and santa monica, his wagon piled high with household effects, as our good citizens moved from one dwelling to another or went on their way to the shore of the sea. i remember, also, that one day some unnatural parent left a newborn, white infant on john hall's steps. he was never able to locate the mother of the little fellow, and therefore took the foundling into his home and raised him as his son. moses was the name john very appropriately bestowed upon the baby; and the white lad grew into manhood in the midst of this negro family. like fabian, buddin proved himself handy in doing odd jobs of carpentering and upholstering, and was in frequent demand. on september 5th, at the conclusion of the city's first century, or, more strictly speaking, one hundred years and a day after the founding of los angeles, a noteworthy celebration was undertaken. a population of about twelve thousand was all that los angeles then boasted; but visitors added greatly to the crowd, and the town took on a true holiday appearance. main street was decorated with an arch, bearing the inclusive figures, _1781-1881_; and the variegated procession, under the grand marshalship of general george stoneman, was made up of such vehicles, costumed passengers and riders as suggested at once the motley but interesting character of our city's past. there were old, creaking _carretas_ that had seen service in pioneer days; there were richly-decorated saddles, on which rode gay and expert horsemen; and there were also the more up-to-date and fashionable carriages which, with the advent of transcontinental railroading, had at last reached the coast. two mexican indian women--one named benjamina--alternately scowling and smiling, and declared to be, respectively, one hundred and three and one hundred and fourteen years old, formed a feature of the procession. clouds of dust, from the crowding auditors, greeted the orators of the day, who spoke not only in english and spanish, but also in french; there were festal games and sports characteristic of the olden time; and the celebration concluded with a spanish _baile_, at which dancing was continued until the following morning. one of the musical celebrities of her time, and a native of los angeles of whom the city was justly proud, was miss mamie perry, daughter of mr. and mrs. william h. perry. in 1880, she went to italy and studied under sangiovanni and in september, 1881, made her _début_, singing in milan, florence, mantua and bologna the title _rôle_ of petrella's opera, _contessa d'amalfi_. in other cities, she attained further distinction. a musical career was interrupted by her marriage, in 1883, to charles w. davis; but, after his untimely death in 1889, mrs. perry-davis returned to italy, a notable _musicale_ in turnverein hall being given, as a farewell honor, on april 22d. still later, she returned to los angeles and married c. modini wood. when the funeral of president garfield took place at washington, on september 27th, his memory was also honored in los angeles. a procession started at two o'clock from spring street and marched to the plaza, colonel john o. wheeler acting as grand marshal and george e. gard, chief of police, leading the way. a catafalque, draped with black, star-bedecked silk and green smilax, and surmounted by a shrouded eagle and a little child--laura chauvin, daughter of a. c. chauvin, the grocer--kneeling and representing columbia lamenting the loss of the martyred chief, was drawn by six horses, followed by the honorary pallbearers and by civic and official bodies. judge volney e. howard, as president, introduced dr. j. p. widney, who read the resolutions of condolence, after which a. brunson delivered the eulogy. mrs. garfield, the president's widow, who first came to winter in california in 1899, finally built her own winter home in pasadena, in october, 1904. s. a. and m. a. hamburger, who were engaged in business in sacramento, concluded they would do better if they secured the right opening in the southland; and having persuaded their father, asher hamburger, to join them in the new enterprise, they came to los angeles in november, 1881, and established their present business, under the firm name of a. hamburger & sons. d. a. hamburger, who had been reading law, joined them in january, 1883. for years, until his death on december 2d, 1897, the elder hamburger participated actively in all the affairs of the concern. they first opened on main street near requena--close to the popular dry-goods store of dillon & kenealy, conducted by richard dillon & john kenealy--what was known as the people's store, occupying a one-story building with a room containing not more than twenty-five hundred square feet; but having outgrown this location, they moved to the bumiller block. again obliged to seek more room, the phillips block, at the corner of spring and franklin streets, was built for their use on the site of the old city and county building and the jail. in 1908, the hamburgers moved to their extensive building on broadway and eighth street. owen brown, son of the famous john brown of ossawatomie, and long the only survivor of the little party that seized the arsenal at harpers ferry, came west late in 1881 and settled with his brother jason, already at pasadena. a horseback trail up one of the neighboring mountains still leads the traveler to speak in friendly spirit of this late pioneer, who died in 1889 and is buried near the foothills. five years later, jason brown returned to ohio. the _daily times_, a republican sheet started by nathan cole and james gardiner, began on december 4th to be issued six days in the week. both publishers within a month were succeeded by yarnell, caystile & mathes, owners of the _mirror_. so successful was the paper that it soon grew to be a nine-column folio. [illustration: main street, looking north from sixth, probably in the late seventies] [illustration: high school, on pound cake hill, about 1873] [illustration: first street, looking east from hill] [illustration: temple court house, after abandonment by the county] in the height of the winter season of 1881-82, when the semi-tropical glory of southern california was most appealing, helen hunt jackson, exploring the southwest for materials of value in the study of the indian, came to los angeles and met, as i have already related, abbot kinney, himself a student of the aborigines. she also met don antónio f. and doña mariana coronel; and finding in the latter a highly intelligent and affable lady, she passed some hours each day at the hospitable coronel mansion, driving out there from her hotel and reclining under the broad palm trees. when mrs. jackson first came, with her pencils and note-books, the retiring señora (as she used to tell me), having little comprehension of the eastern lady's ambitious plans, looked with some suspicion on the motives of her enthusiastic visitor; but fortunately this half-distrust was dispelled by the warmth of the author's geniality, and doña mariana, opening both her house and heart, contributed inestimably to the success of the now famous _ramona_, most of the rough notes for which were written at a little table on the coronel veranda. on doña mariana's advice, mrs. jackson selected the del valle ranchhouse at the camulos, as the best-preserved and most typical place for a background; although, disappointed in not finding the del valles at home, and consequently seeing the imagined headquarters of ramona for but an hour or two, she was compelled to rely upon her los angeles hostess for many of the interesting and singularly accurate details. on departing from southern california, mrs. jackson wrote for the _century magazine_ a charming description of life at the old coronel adobe, whence she never departed without a carriageful of luscious fruit. she also added her tribute to the attractions of the san gabriel and san fernando valleys. now the world at large has been made more conversant with the poetical past of los angeles for the most part through the novel _ramona_. in 1882, the telephone was first introduced here, h. newmark & company so early subscribing for the service that they were given 'phone no. 5, the old river station having no. 1. but it may amuse the reader to know that this patronage was not pledged without some misgivings lest the customary noises around the store might interfere with hearing, and so render the curious instrument useless! on january 20th, don juan forster died at his santa margarita rancho, in san diego county; followed to the grave but a few months later by mrs. forster, a sister of pio pico. as rugged as the climate of his native state of maine, a. t. currier, after the usual hazardous life of the pioneer on the plains and in mines, proved his good judgment when, in the late sixties, after riding through california in search of the best place to found a home, he selected a ranch close to that of louis phillips. for years, i had pleasant relations with currier; and i must confess that it was not easy to decide, in 1882, when two such friends as he and billy rowland were the opposing candidates, how i should vote for sheriff. currier was elected. the arroyo vista--later and more correctly named the vista del arroyo--kept by mrs. emma c. bangs, was the only hotel in the pasadena settlement in 1882, and not infrequently passengers who journeyed there by the narrow, stuffy stage, running every day except sunday, found on arriving that they could not be accommodated. so small, in fact, was the hostelry that it became necessary to advertise when all the rooms had been taken. the stage left for los angeles at nine o'clock in the morning and returned at three; and the driver, who was a student of the classics from the east, doled out to the passengers both crossroad data and bits of ancient lore. fire having destroyed the state normal school at san josé, in 1880, then the only institution of its kind in california, the legislature, on march 14th, 1881, provided for the establishing here of a branch; and the following march george gephard, a german who had come in 1875, raised eight thousand dollars to purchase the orange grove at bellevue terrace, near fifth street and charity, for a site. on august 29th, 1882, the school was opened with charles h. allen of san francisco as first principal, two other teachers and sixty-one students. in 1883, allen was succeeded by president ira more and the school became an independent institution. edward t. pierce, who followed professor more, retired in 1904. an instructor there for twenty-two years was professor melville dozier, who made for california, by way of panamá, in 1868. largely through the devotion of these pioneer teachers, as well as through those qualities which have marked the administration of dr. jesse f. millspaugh, scholar and pedagogue, for nearly the last decade, this normal school has grown, each year, from a very humble beginning until now it sends out hundreds of men and women into one of the noblest of all professions. a commencement of the los angeles high school of particular interest to me was celebrated in june in the old turnverein hall, on spring street--superintendent james m. guinn presenting the diplomas--when my daughter ella graduated. among her instructors had been mrs. chloe p. jones, for three years principal of the school and for one year superintendent (having been the last incumbent, at the same time, of both offices), and the late mrs. anna averill, a noted club woman. mrs. jones came to california from ohio in 1873, taught for a while in santa rosa and, after a year of grade work here, began to instruct in the new high school; and there, after a service of nearly four decades, she is still a highly esteemed member of the staff. mrs. averill was the first woman to enter the board of education; and in her honor a bell was placed on the mission road, el camino real, to celebrate her seventieth birthday. colonel harrison gray otis, who had been a farmer's boy, printer, union soldier, foreman of the government printing office, newspaper correspondent and editor, and had first visited los angeles late in 1874 or 1875 to familiarize himself with local conditions, on august 1st, 1882 joined the firm of yarnell, caystile & mathes, thereupon assuming the management of both the _times_ and the weekly _mirror_. in october, 1883, yarnell and mathes retired. a year later, the times-mirror company was incorporated with a capital stock of forty thousand dollars. notwithstanding the failure of the _evening republican_, in 1878-79, nathan cole, jr. started another afternoon daily, the _evening telegram_, on august 19th. it was very neatly printed; was delivered by carrier at sixty-five cents a month; and was a pioneer here in inserting free advertisements for those desiring situations. in the spring of 1882, my attention had been called to the public need of proper facilities for obtaining a drink of good water; and no one else having moved in the matter, the following communication was sent, during the heated summer, to the city authorities: los angeles, august 25, 1882. to the honorable, the council of los angeles city: gentlemen:- the undersigned hereby tender to the city a drinking fountain, as per the accompanying cut, to be placed on that portion of temple block fronting the junction of main and spring streets, for the free use of the public, and subject to the approval of your honorable body. respectfully, h. newmark & co. about the same time stephen h. mott, secretary of the los angeles city water company, promised enough drinking water, free of charge, to supply the fountain. the unpretentious gift having been accepted, the fountain was installed. the design included an iron pedestal and column, surmounted by a female figure of attractive proportions; while below, the water issued from the mouth of a lion's head. though but seven feet in height and not to be compared with more ambitious designs seen here later, the fountain may have given some incentive to city service and adornment. it has been shown that remi nadeau bought the southwest corner of spring and first streets at what i then considered a ridiculously high price. on that site, in 1882, he commenced building the hotel nadeau--the first four-story structure in town. this fact is not likely to escape my memory, since he acquired the necessary funds out of the profit he made in a barley speculation involving the sale, by h. newmark & company, of some eighty thousand bags of this cereal; his gain representing our loss. it thus happened that i participated in the opening festivities (which began with a banquet and ended with a ball) to a greater extent than, i dare say, the average guest ever suspected. for many years thereafter, the nadeau, now comparatively so deserted, was the center of social and business life in los angeles. on october 11th occurred the death of don manuel dominguez, his wife surviving him but a few months. in 1882, f. h. howland, representing the brush electric lighting company, made an energetic canvass in los angeles for the introduction of the electric light; and by the end of the third week in august, forty or more arc lamps had been ordered by business houses and private individuals. he soon proposed to light the city by seven towers or spliced masts--each about one hundred and fifty feet high--to be erected within an area bounded by the plaza, seventh, charity and main streets, and supplied from a power-house at the corner of banning and alameda streets. the seven masts were to cost seven thousand dollars a year, or somewhat more than was then being paid for gas. this proposition was accepted by the council, popular opinion being that it was "the best advertisement that los angeles could have;" and when howland, a week later, offered to add three or four masts, there was considerable satisfaction that los angeles was to be brought into the line of progress. on the evening of december 31st, the city was first lighted by electricity when mayor toberman touched the button that turned on the mysterious current. howland was opposed by the gas company and by many who advanced the most ridiculous objections: electric light, it was claimed, attracted bugs, contributed to blindness and had a bad effect on--ladies' complexions! in 1883, herman flatau came to los angeles from berlin and soon entered the employ of h. newmark & company. his first duty was to bale hides; in a year, he was a porter in the grocery department; and by another year he had advanced to a place in the billing-office. since then, he has risen step by step until he is now a stockholder in m. a. newmark & company and is taken into the most confidential and important councils of that firm. on the nineteenth of february, 1888, flatau married miss fanny bernstein, a lady distinguished as the first girl graduate of a los angeles high school to enter the state university, receiving therefrom the ph.b. degree. dr. elizabeth a. follansbee registered in los angeles in february, 1883, and as one of the earliest women physicians here soon secured an enviable position in the professional world, being called to the chair for diseases of children in the college of medicine of the university of southern california. j. w. robinson in 1833 established a small dry goods shop at the corner of temple and spring streets, which he named the boston dry goods store.[36] a couple of years later he moved into the jones block opposite the court house, the growth of his business having warranted such a change. in 1895 the block next to blanchard hall was built by this firm, and this he has occupied ever since. in march, 1896, the present manager, j. m. schneider, became associated with the boston dry goods co., which was incorporated in 1891. n. b. blackstone, a kinsman of robinson, once in business with him, in time withdrew and set up for himself, under his own name, on broadway. one of the most shocking railroad accidents in the history of california blotted the calendar for january 20th, when over twenty persons were killed and sudden grief was brought to several happy los angeles circles. about three o'clock on a cold wintry night, an express train, bound south, stopped at the teháchepi station, near the summit; and while the engineer and fireman on the detached locomotive and tender were busy loading water and fuel, and the conductor was in the office making his report, the brakeman, with what proved to be uncalculating gallantry, was hastening to escort a young lady from the car to the railway station. in his hurry, he had forgotten to apply the brakes; and before he could return, the entire train, started by a heavy gale, had begun to move away--at the outset slowly, then dashing, with ever-increasing momentum, down the heavy mountain grade! the conductor, upon leaving the depot, was the first to discover that the cars had started away; the disappearing lights having become so faint as to be scarcely visible. the passengers, too, had noticed nothing unusual until too late; when the train, plunging along at fearful velocity, leaped the track and fell in a heap to the ravine below. the old-fashioned lamps and stoves set fire to the _débris_; with the result that those who were not crushed were burned. the dead and wounded were brought to los angeles as quickly as possible; but the remains of some were never identified. governor downey, who was on the train, was rescued, though for years he suffered from the nervous shock; but among those lost was his charming wife. marshall & henderson established themselves, in 1883, in the wholesale iron and wagon-supply trade; whereupon we sold that branch of our business to them. shortly after, we vacated the storerooms in the arcadia block, which we had continuously occupied since the establishing of h. newmark & company in 1865, and moved to the two-story amestoy building on los angeles street, north of requena, but a few paces from the corner on which i had first clerked for my brother. at a meeting in the office of the los angeles produce exchange, in the arcadia block on los angeles street on march 9th, presided over by c. w. gibson when j. mills davies acted as secretary, the board of trade of los angeles was organized, m. dodsworth, c. w. gibson, a. haas, j. m. davies, eugène germain, j. j. mellus, john r. mathews, walter s. maxwell, i. n. van nuys and myself being the incorporators. six directors--gibson, van nuys, haas, dodsworth, mathews and newmark--were chosen. on march 14th, 1883, the board was formally incorporated for fifty years. after a while the board met in the baker block, and still later it assembled in a two-story brick structure at the northwest corner of fort and first streets. in october, 1906, the board of trade and the wholesalers' board of trade were consolidated, the new organization becoming known as the wholesalers' board of trade. this move was initiated by herman flatau. the republication, in the los angeles _express_ of march 23d, 1908, under the caption, "twenty-five years ago to-day," of several paragraphs, savoring of village gossip such as the following- some very fine nugas [_nougats?_] are to be seen at dol's commercial restaurant. they are meant for the silver-wedding feast at mr. newmark's-calls to mind an event of march 21st, when my wife and i celebrated our silver wedding at our home on fort street. at half-past six in the evening, all of my employees sat down at dinner with us, having come in a body to tender their congratulations. a reunion of three generations of the newmarks, some of whom then saw one another for the first time, came to a close a week or two later. as the anniversary approached, i prepared a surprise for my wife, arranging that her brother, abraham newmark of st. louis, should be present in los angeles for the occasion. his visit, however, had a grievous termination: while in san francisco on his way home from los angeles, death came to him suddenly in the home of a friend. in may, the los angeles board of education sold the northwest corner of spring and second streets--a lot one hundred and twenty by one hundred and sixty-five feet, where the city, in 1854, had built the first schoolhouse--to the city authorities for thirty-one thousand dollars; and the next year the council erected on the inside sixty feet the first municipal building of consequence. when the boom was at its height in 1887, the city sold the balance of the lot with its frontage on spring street and a depth of one hundred and five feet for one hundred and twenty thousand dollars, to john bryson, sr., an arrival of 1879 and ten years later mayor of los angeles; and george h. bonebrake (who came a year earlier than bryson, and was in his day a prominent financier) opened, if my memory serves me correctly, the first agency for eastern vehicles. together, they built the bryson block. this sale and purchase reminds me that when the lot was cleared to make way for the new city hall, ten or twelve fine black locust trees were felled, much to the regret of many old-timers. these were the same shade trees for the preservation of which billy mckee, the early schoolmaster, had risked bodily encounter with the irate waterman. when the board of education sold this lot, it bought another, which extended from fort street to spring between fifth and sixth streets and had a frontage of one hundred and twenty feet on each street. the price paid was twelve thousand five hundred dollars. this is the lot now known as mercantile place, whose retention or sale has been so much debated and which, with its many small stores, reminds the traveler not a little of those narrow but cosy, and often very prosperous, european streets and alleys on both sides lined with famous shops. august 22d was the date of the city ordinance creating elysian park, the act leading the early settler back to pueblo days when the land in question passed from mexican to american control and remained a part of the city lots, already described, and never subdivided and sold. the last companies of volunteer firemen were organized in 1883, one being in the morris vineyard, a district between what is now main, hill, fifteenth and sixteenth streets, and the other in east los angeles, where a hose company was formed. during september or october, a party of distinguished german bankers and statesmen, who had come to the united states to investigate certain branches of business, visited los angeles. the most important of this commission was dr. edward lasker of the german reichstag, other eminent members being henry villard, president of the northern pacific railroad, and judge siemens, president of the german bank of berlin. a committee, consisting of i. w. hellman, c. c. lips, m. morris, a. w. edelman, conrad jacoby, dr. joseph kurtz and myself took charge of these gentlemen, as well as a number of others, whose names i forget. dr. lasker, during his brief stay, accepted the hospitality of my home, and there received considerable honor at the hands of his german admirers, a large body of enthusiasts serenading him. even while with us, it was evident that dr. lasker was an ailing man; and on the fifth of the following january, while riding in a carriage in galveston, he suddenly died. general george h. stoneman, when he retired from the army in 1871, settled near san gabriel; and continuing more or less in public life, he was elected in 1883 governor of california. in december, 1883, eugene meyer sold out to nathan cahn and leon loeb, his partners in the city of paris store, and engaged in banking with lazard frères, in san francisco, in which enterprise he continued until 1892, when he moved to new york and became one of the managing partners of the same institution in that city, retiring from active business nearly a decade later. when meyer left, he sold his home on fort street, which had originally cost him six thousand, to moses l. wicks for sixteen thousand dollars; and his friends told him that so successful a sale proved the meyer luck. wicks in time resold it to john d. bicknell, whose heirs still own it. with the coming at christmas in 1883 of robert n. bulla, began a career that has made itself felt in local legal, political, commercial, social and scientific circles. in 1884, he joined the law firm of bicknell & white; nine years later, he was representing his district in the state assembly; in 1897, he was a state senator; and his efficient activity as a director of the chamber of commerce, together with his forensic talent, lead one to anticipate his rise to further distinction in that body. as a director of the southwest museum, bulla performs another of his services to the community. after an unsuccessful canvass made by judge noah levering, which resulted in the attendance of just four persons, the historical society of southern california was finally organized at meetings in temple block, in november and december, 1883. j. j. warner was the first president; h. d. barrows, a. f. coronel, j. g. downey and john mansfield, the vice-presidents; j. m. guinn, treasurer; and c. n. wilson, secretary. for a time, the society's meetings were held in the city council room, after that in the county court room; and later at the houses of the members. on february 12th, 1891, the society was incorporated. _le progrès_, a seven-column paper, was started here, in 1883, as the organ of the french population, some rather prominent citizens of gallic origin becoming the stockholders. dr. pigné du puytren was the first editor, and he was succeeded, in a year or two, by georges le mésnager, the wine-grower. on february 18th, another flood of unusual proportions, continuing until may, devastated the southland. following several days of heavy rain, the river rose and fifty houses and large sections of vineyards and orchards in the low-lying portions of the city were carried away by the mad waters; several lives being lost. in that year, the santa ana cut its new channel to the sea, deviating from the old course from one to three miles, but still holding to the southwest, a direction apparently characteristic of rivers in this vicinity. speaking of rains, reminds me that, in 1884, one of the difficulties in the way of solving the water problem was removed in the purchase, by the city of los angeles, for fifty thousand dollars, of colonel griffith j. griffith's right to the water of the los angeles river. charles f. lummis, long a distinguished and always a picturesquely-recognizable resident, walked across the continent "for fun and study," from cincinnati to los angeles, by a roundabout route of 3507 miles in one hundred and forty-three days, in 1884, having made an arrangement with the los angeles _times_ to which he contributed breezy letters on the way. the day after his arrival he became city editor of that newspaper, and in the last apache campaign, in 1886, he was its war correspondent. in 1887 a stroke of paralysis sent him to new mexico; and recovering, he spent several years exploring and studying spanish-america from colorado to chile, becoming acknowledged here and abroad as an authority on the history and the peoples of the lands he visited. in 1893, returning from peru, he edited for a dozen years the _land of sunshine_ magazine (later _out west_); after that founding the landmarks club to which we owe the preservation, from utter ruin, of several of the old missions. this club has lately been reorganized to care for all of the twenty-one missions of the state. later lummis incorporated the sequoya league which has so much bettered the condition of thousands of california indians--securing, in particular, for the evicted warner's ranch indians a better reservation than that from which they were driven. from 1905 to 1911 he was librarian of the los angeles public library. in 1903 he founded the southwest society of the archæological institute of america which conducted many scientific expeditions in arizona, new mexico and guatemala, acquired valuable collections and maintained the first free public exhibits of science in southern california. in 1907 he and others incorporated the southwest museum, whereupon the society conveyed to it all its collections, a twenty-acre site and the fifty thousand dollars bequeathed by mrs. carrie m. jones for the first buildings. besides other and many literary activities, lummis has published over a dozen notable books on the southwest and spanish america.[37] clad in corduroys from barcelona--coat and trousers, with very wide wales, of olive or green--wearing no vest, but having a shirt of heavy drawn-work of the pueblo indians (with whom he dwelt six years), a red-and-white _faja_ or waist-band made by the same people, and a grey _sombrero_ banded with mexican braided horse-hair, lummis roams the desert or is welcome at the most exclusive functions; having already been a guest many times at the white house and the palaces of diaz and other presidents in spanish america. "i don't change my face for company," he says, "then why my garb--so long as both are clean?" an interesting figure at scientific meetings and on the lecture platform, lummis is equally so at home where, after twenty years' work with his own hands, he is still building his stone "castle," _el alisal_; and as his house is a rendezvous for artists, musicians, authors and scientists, his guests often find him toiling as either carpenter or mason. the _alisal_, by the way, is built around the huge sycamore under which greek george camped with his camels on his first arrival in los angeles nearly sixty years ago. in 1884, colonel h. z. osborne--always a foremost citizen of the town and in 1912 a most energetic president of the chamber of commerce--and e. r. cleveland bought the _express_; and two years later they organized the evening express company, j. mills davies, once secretary of the board of trade, becoming business manager. in 1897, colonel osborne was appointed united states marshal for the southern california district, whereupon charles dwight willard became general manager of the paper, to be succeeded by j. b. abell. for a short time in 1900, the _express_ fell into the hands of a group of men, of whom john m. miller acted as president and richard beebe served as secretary. o. w. childs opened his new theater known as childs' opera house, on main street south of first, in what was then the center of the city, on may 24th, when the _school for scandal_ was given, mlle. rhea taking the leading part. this, the first theater of real consequence built in los angeles, had a seating capacity of eighteen hundred; and for some time, at least, an entertainment was booked there for every night of the week. frequently, too, whenever anything of moment was going to happen there, childs sent me an invitation to occupy his private box. an interesting personality for many years was c. p. switzer, a virginian, who came in 1853 with colonel hollister, w. h. perry and others. switzer became a contractor and builder; but in 1884, in search of health, he moved to an eminence in the sierras, where he soon established switzer's camp, which gradually became famous as a resort generally reached on burros. a few years ago, "commodore" switzer--or sweitzer as he was also called--retired, but the camp, more than ever popular, has been continued as "switzer's." toward the middle of the eighties, excitement among citrus growers throughout southern california gave way to deep depression due to the continued ravages of the fluted scale, a persistent insect whose home, according to research, is australia, and which had found its way, on australian plants (and especially on _acacia latifolia_) into south africa, new zealand and california, arriving on the pacific coast about 1868. this particular species, known to the scientist as the _icerya purchasi_, resisted and survived all insecticide sprayings, washes and fumigation, and for a while it seemed that one of the most important and growing industries of the southland was absolutely doomed. indeed, not until 1889, when the result of albert koebele's mission to australia, as a representative of the department of agriculture, was made known, did hope among the citrus orchardists revive. in that year, the tiny ladybird--styled by the learned the _novius cardinalis_, but more popularly spoken of as the ladybug--the most effective enemy of the fluted scale, was introduced here, the government establishing, among other stations, an experimental laboratory on the wolfskill ranch under the charge of professor d. w. coquillett; and so rapidly was this tiny favorite of children propagated and disseminated, that the dreaded scale was exterminated and the crops were saved. wolfskill, by the way, though he fought hard with the assistance of his foreman, alexander craw, to save his noted trees, lacked the coöperation of his neighbors; and the injury then inflicted largely influenced him to subdivide his famous citrus property. with the arrival on march 1st, 1887, of j. o. koepfli, a man came on the scene who during the next twenty-five years was to be not only one of the real forces in the development of the city, but, as a whole-souled gentleman, was to surround himself, through his attractive personality, with a large circle of representative and influential friends. as president of the merchants' association, his record was such that in 1896 he was elected a director of the chamber of commerce where, during twelve years, he performed valiant service on all the important committees. his work in behalf of the harbor and the owens river aqueduct is especially memorable. he was president of the chamber in 1905 and 1906. with such men as c. d. willard and r. w. burnham, he founded the municipal league, whose president he was for seven years. his efforts were always free from the taint of personal aggrandizement, and he thus had the public confidence. he is a member of the well-known firm of bishop & company. among the present social organizations of the city, the los angeles athletic club takes second place in point of age. it was organized in 1879 by forty young men, among whom were fred wood, bradner w. lee, mark g. jones, frank m. coulter, frank a. gibson, john s. thayer, m. h. newmark, w. g. kerckhoff, alfredo solano, j. b. lankershim, w. m. caswell, james c. kays, joseph binford, and samuel dewey. the initial meeting took place in wood's office in the mcdonald block, and a hall in the arcadia building was the club's earliest headquarters. j. b. lankershim was the first president. a few years later, the club moved to the downey block; and there the boys had many a merry bout. in the course of time, the gymnasium was located on spring street, between fourth and fifth; now it occupies its own spacious and elaborate building on seventh street, at the corner of olive, the club's quarters being among the finest of their kind in america. footnotes: [36] may 1st, 1914, the j. w. robinson dry goods co. contracted to move to seventh street between grand avenue and hope street. this is one of the notable examples of leapfrog that real estate operators have played in los angeles, to the detriment perhaps, at times, of the town itself. [37] in 1915, in recognition of historical work, the king of spain conferred upon lummis the dignity of a knight commander of the royal order of isabel la católica. chapter xxxvii repetto and the lawyers 1885-1887 ten or twelve months after the starting of the first cable railway here, los angeles, in 1885, resumed the march of progress, this time with an electric street car line. poles--with huge arms stretching out into the middle of the street and often spoken of derisively as gallows-poles--and wires were strung along los angeles and san pedro streets, down maple avenue to pico street and thence westward to what was known as the electric homestead tract, just outside of the city limits. a company owned much land not likely to be sold in a hurry, and to exploit the same rapidly, the owners built the road. f. h. howland, who introduced the electric light here, was a prime mover in this project, but ill fortune attended his efforts and he died a poor man. on january 11th, my wife and i left for a trip to the city of mexico, where we spent four or five days and were pleasantly entertained, before going to the new orleans exposition, by our old friend, judge ygnácio sepúlveda and his wife. previous to crossing the border, we stored our trunks in el paso and received them upon our return, strapped as before. some valuables, however, which i had hidden away in the linen were missing when i reopened the trunk, and have never been recovered. among other companions on this outing were fred, son of j. m. griffith, and james s., son of jonathan s. slauson. by the bye, james himself has had an honorable public career, having served in one of his activities as president of the chamber of commerce. early in march, i believe, sewing was first introduced into the public schools of los angeles, the board of education consenting to it only as an experiment. two celebrities divided the honors in the spring and summer in local circles: united states senator john sherman, who visited los angeles on may 8th, 1885, and sir arthur sullivan, the distinguished english composer, of _pinafore_ and _mikado_ fame, who tarried near the ocean in the hot days of august. about 1885, a dr. sketchley, who enjoyed some reputation for his work in the natural history field and had been a traveler through many remote countries, brought to los angeles quite a collection of ostriches and opened, about where tropico lies, an amusement resort known as "the ostrich farm." having provided a coach to connect with the end of the temple street cable cars and advertised the strange peculiarities of his finely-feathered animals, the doctor soon did a thriving business, notwithstanding the task of caring for the birds in their new environment. later, sketchley removed from los angeles to red bluff; but there he failed and lost all that he had. soon after dr. sketchley arrived here with his ostriches and three or four men and one woman from madras, edwin cawston, an englishman now retired and living in surrey, happening (while on a tour through america) to glance at an article in _harper's magazine_ pointing out the possibilities of successfully raising ostriches, returned to london, secured the necessary capital and in 1887 began shipping these camel-birds from south africa to los angeles. many of the easily-affected creatures died at sea; yet forty, as good luck would have it, survived, and with them cawston and a partner named fox opened a second "ostrich farm" at washington gardens. in time, cawston transferred his establishment to la habra, associating with himself e. h. rydall as publicity agent; and in 1908 the cawston ostrich farm, between los angeles and pasadena, was incorporated. quite naturally with the advent of the settler from the east and the middle west, the _zanjas_, in early years so serviceable both for domestic and irrigation purposes and, therefore, more or less venerable, came to be looked upon as mere surface-conveyers and public nuisances; a sign, in 1883, at the corner of sixth and olive streets warning teamsters against crossing the ditch. by 1885, such opposition had developed that most of the _zanjas_ were condemned, the one extending from requena street to adams _via_ figueroa being, if i am right, one of the last that was buried from view. for some time, east los angeles maintained its character as a village or small town, and in 1885 the _east side champion_, started and edited by edward a. weed, voiced the community's interests. this year was marked by the demise of a number of well-known angeleños. on the second of march, john schumacher, a man esteemed and beloved by many, died here of apoplexy, in the seventieth year of his age. six days later, general phineas banning, who had been sick for several months, expired at san francisco, his wife and daughters being with him; and on march 12th, he was buried in rosedale cemetery. in his declining years, illness often compelled general banning to remain at home in wilmington; and when needing the services of his physician, dr. joseph kurtz, he would send a locomotive to fetch him. on june 5th, dr. vincent gelcich, the pioneer surgeon, died here at the age of fifty-six years. in 1885, the first medical school in los angeles was founded in the house once occupied by vaché frères, the wine-makers, on aliso street between lyons and center. for years the school was conducted as a part of the university of southern california, and dr. j. p. widney was dean. in the fall of 1885 dr. m. dorothea lummis, a graduate in medicine of the boston university, settled in los angeles and in time became president of the los angeles county homeopathic medical society. distinguished in her profession, dr. lummis became a leader in humane endeavor, reorganizing here the society for the prevention of cruelty to animals and founding the society for the prevention of cruelty to children. the first train of the santa fé railroad to enter the city of los angeles ran from colton over the rails of the southern pacific, on november 29th, the two corporations having come to an agreement to use the one set of tracks until the spring of 1887, when the santa fé finished building from san bernardino to its junction with the los angeles & san gabriel valley railroad. the locomotive bore the name, _l. severy_--a prominent director in the company, and the father of the well-known resident of pasadena--and the number 354. after twenty years' association with the wholesale grocery business, i withdrew, on december 5th, 1885, from h. newmark & company, and on that day the business was absorbed by m. a. newmark, m. h. newmark, max cohn and carl seligman, and continued as m. a. newmark & company. this gave me the opportunity of renewing my association with one of my earliest partners, kaspare cohn, the new firm becoming k. cohn & company; and the change in my activities found me once again shipping hides and wool. looking through the haze of years, many are the recollections--often vague, it is true--of those with whom i had business relations. in the picturesque adobe days, the majority of my customers were simple-mannered natives such as manuel carizosa, on south alameda street; josé maría dávila, in sonora town next door to josé maría fuentes, his competitor; and m. g. santa cruz, in the same district. jordan brothers, americans, kept store on aliso street opposite the aliso mill, and g. ginnochio, father-in-law of james castruccio, on macy street, near the river; while bernardino guirado, mrs. john g. downey's brother, and max schwed supplied the wants of los nietos. j. b. savarots, who went to south america when he sold out to j. salaberri & company--a firm composed of two basques, juan salaberri and domingo oyharzabel--was in general merchandise in san juan capistrano. hippolyte cahen (whose widow is a member of the lazarus stationery company,) had an up-to-date general store at anaheim; and simon cahen, son-in-law of bernard cohn, was similarly occupied in the azusa district. others of about the same period, were dominico rivara, who established himself on main street near commercial, shortly to be succeeded by vignolo & sanguinetti, in whose store--known as la esperanza and near castruccio brothers' la mariposa--jim moiso bought an interest. two more main street merchants were a. c. chauvin, who conducted his el dorado store in the lanfranco building, and his neighbor, joe lazarowich. and near them francisco vassallo had his little fruit stand. the erratic lucas sciscisch, who terminated his life as a suicide, attended diligently to business on first street, near los angeles; and not so very far away thomas strohm was laying the foundation, in his grocery trade, for that popularity which caused him, in the eighties, to be chosen chief of the fire department. antónio valle, who built on the northeast corner of first and los angeles streets (calling the block in honor of his five sons, the five brothers), for a number of years had a grocery store on main street near requena and not far from the butcher shop of vickery & hinds. in view of the ravages of time among the ranks of these old-timers, it is a satisfaction to observe that at least some of those who were active before i retired are still in the trade. the first-comer was george a. ralphs, who, reaching los angeles as a boy, learned brick-masonry and was known as the champion bricklayer of california until, while on a hunting expedition, he lost an arm.[38] with a man named francis, he started, in 1877, the ralphs & francis grocery, on the old georgetown corner. this was the beginning of the ralphs grocery company. in february, 1882, hans jevne, a norwegian by birth, who had been associated with his brother in chicago, came to los angeles, and a few months later he opened a small grocery store in the strelitz block at 38 and 40 north spring street. in less than no time, so to speak, the good housewives of the town were able to secure the rarest tidbits from all the markets of the world; and not only that, but jevne, since his advent here, has been identified with most important steps in the evolution of the city. w. f. ball for thirty years or more has been a tobacconist, and for thirty years, or somewhat less, has occupied the same premises on spring street, north of first. the williams family came from england in 1882, and george soon established his grocery business out in what was then known as the university district, where he bought a block of land. george has given of his time for the public weal, having been for several terms a city councilman. another los angeles merchant who has attained success is albert cohn; and while his start in life, in an independent career, began a couple of years after my retirement, he had been in my employ as a clerk almost from the time of his arrival, in 1882. marius bellue has been located on south alameda street so long that it seems as though he must have arrived here in the year one. so much for the merchants of the city; among such tradesmen in the districts outside of los angeles, i can recall but three active in my day and still active in this. alphonse weil, a native of the sunny slopes of france, has grown up with the town of bakersfield. john r. newberry opened his doors in 1882, and, after moving to los angeles in 1893, commenced that meteoric career, during which he established stores throughout los angeles and its suburbs. george a. edgar, about thirty-one years ago, brought a stock of groceries and crockery to santa ana and deposited the contents of his cases in the same location, and on the same shelves, from which he still caters to his neighbors. the great flood of 1886 reached its first serious state on january 19th. all of los angeles between wilmington street and the hills on the east side was inundated; levees were carried off as if they were so much loose sand and stubble; and for two or three weeks railway communication with the outside world was impossible. during this inundation on january 19th, martin g. aguirre, who was a deputy under sheriff george e. gard, gave an exhibition of great courage. so rapidly had the waters risen that many persons were marooned; and it was only by throwing himself on the back of his favorite horse that aguirre, at very great risk, rescued twenty or more people from drowning, the number including many children. in the last attempt, aguirre nearly lost his own life. somewhat of a hero, in november, 1888, he was elected sheriff, defeating tom rowan for that office. rebecca lee dorsey, another of the early women practitioners of medicine, came to los angeles in january, 1886, a graduate both of eastern colleges and of a leading vienna hospital. peddling vegetables as a child, later working as a servant and hiring out as a nurse while finishing her course in europe, dr. dorsey was of a type frequently found among the early builders of the southwest. largely to a board of commissioners, consisting of mayor e. f. spence, h. sinsabaugh and the ever-ready jake kuhrts, appointed in 1886 when provision was made for a paid fire department, is due the honor of having successfully arranged the present excellent system in los angeles. it was in 1886 that we bought the repetto _rancho_, under circumstances of such interest that it may be well to tell something about the owner and his connections. alessandro repetto was an italian of such immense size that he was compelled, when standing, to shift the weight of his body from one leg to the other. he was miserly in the extreme, but this was compensated for by his honesty and uprightness of character. he was also far from being neat, and i remember the way in which he dispensed hospitality when i visited his ranch to buy wool. he would bring out some very ordinary wine and, before serving it, would rinse out the glasses with his fat fingers; and it was courtesy alone that prompted me to partake of what he offered. he lived on his ranch, but when attacked by his last illness, he took a room at the new arlington hotel, formerly the white house, on the southeast corner of commercial and los angeles streets. there, finding him alone and neglected, i advised him to go to the sisters' hospital on ann street; but the change did not save him and after a few days he died. a fellow italian named scotti, a knave of a chap who was with him in his last moments, knowing that i was repetto's executor, soon brought to my house a lot of papers which he had taken from the dead man's pockets. repetto being a recluse somewhat on the misanthropic order, i had difficulty in getting pallbearers for his funeral, one of my applications being to james castruccio, president of the italian benevolent society and then italian consul, who said that repetto had never helped anyone, but that if i would give, in his name, five hundred dollars to charity, the attendants would be supplied. to this i demurred, because repetto had made no such provision in his will; and castruccio giving me no satisfaction, i went to father peter, explained to him that repetto had bequeathed six thousand dollars to the church, and stated my needs; whereupon father peter arranged for the bearers. all the provisions for the funeral having been settled, i cabled to his brother and heir, then living in the mountains near genoa, whose address i had obtained from castruccio. repetto had really hated this brother and, in consequence, he had very unwillingly bequeathed him his large estate. in due season, the brother, a hunchback, appeared on deck as an intimate with scotti, and i found him to be an uncouth, ignorant fellow and a man who had probably never handled a ten-dollar gold piece or its equivalent in his life. he had on shoes that an elephant might have worn, a common, corduroy suit, a battered hat and plenty of dirt. wishing to take him to stephen m. white, my lawyer, i advised the purchase of new clothes; but in this, as in other matters, i appealed in vain. so miserly was he indeed, that one day, having purchased a five-cent loaf of bread in sonora town, he was seen to hide himself behind a building while he ate it, doubtless fearful lest someone might ask him for a bite. alessandro repetto had lived with an indian woman by whom he had a son; and a los angeles attorney soon had himself appointed guardian, declaring that the property belonged, not to the brother, but to the boy. this, because the woman had never left her husband, was blackmail, pure and simple; besides repetto had willed the lad some property in san gabriel. stephen m. white was the attorney for the estate; but when this lawsuit started, scotti advised the unsophisticated brother to take other lawyers. two men, accordingly, one named robarts and the other jim howard, suddenly appeared at the trial; and when i asked why they were there, they replied that they had been engaged by repetto's brother. four hundred and seventy-five dollars settled this extortion, the lawyers taking all but twenty-five dollars, which was paid to the mother of the boy. early in the morning, a few days later--either on christmas or new year's--there was a knock at my door; and when the girl answered the call, the sheriff was found there with the interesting news that repetto had been arrested and that he wished me to bail him out! i learned that robarts and howard had presented him with a bill for three thousand five hundred dollars, for services; and that, since the money was not immediately forthcoming, they had trumped up some sort of a charge and had had the foreigner incarcerated. white advised a settlement, and after much difficulty we succeeded in having their bill reduced to three thousand dollars, which we paid. repetto's troubles now seemed at an end; but just as he was ready to leave for italy, scotti put in an appearance with a claim for benefits bestowed, which the much-fleeced italian refused to pay. scotti, knowing along which road the unfortunate man would travel, was early at san gabriel with the sheriff, to intercept repetto and return him to limbo; and the genoese being brought back, he again appealed to me. it was now my turn, as executor, to have an interesting inning with scotti. while i was settling the estate, i was made aware that repetto had loaned another italian named g. bernero, on his note, some three thousand dollars; but this document i missed, and it was only by accident that i traced it to scotti. he had abstracted it from the papers found in repetto's pocket, carried it to the borrower, and sold it back to him, for four hundred dollars! i recovered this note and collected the balance due; nevertheless, when scotti had repetto arrested, i threatened the former with prosecution on the charge of stealing and selling the note, with the result that scotti did not press his suit and repetto was released. in connection with this move by scotti, robarts and howard reappeared to defend repetto, notwithstanding his previous announcement that he would have nothing more to do with them; and to bolster up their claim, they drew forth a paper certifying that repetto had engaged them to attend to any law business he might have while he was in this country! repetto, now really alarmed, once more quickly settled; but the crafty robarts and howard had another bill up their sleeves, this time for three or four thousand dollars, and poor repetto was obliged to pay that, too! kaspare cohn, j. d. bicknell, i. w. hellman and s. m. white, in conjunction with myself, bought the repetto ranch from the brother, before he left for italy, for sixty thousand dollars. all in all, the heir, who survived the date of his windfall but a few years, carried away with him the snug sum of one hundred thousand dollars. this fine domain, lying between whittier and los angeles, was apportioned long before 1899, among the five purchasers. in that year, kaspare cohn and i, on the advice of william mulholland, developed water on our undivided share, meeting with as great a success as has attended all of the operations of that eminent engineer. after an abundance of water was secured, we sold the property in five-acre and smaller lots, locating the town site of newmark near the tracks of the san pedro, los angeles & salt lake railroad, and naming the entire settlement montebello. it was in the spring of 1886 that colonel h. h. boyce, who had been business manager of the times-mirror company, was bought out by colonel h. g. otis and became editor-in-chief and general manager of the los angeles _tribune_, conducting the paper, during his short association, with some vigor. one more reference to the _times-mirror_ publishing house. on april 8th, the company was reorganized, with colonel h. g. otis as president and general manager, albert mcfarland as vice-president and treasurer and william a. spalding as secretary. about the middle of july, the company bought the corner of fort and first streets, and in the following may moved to its new home erected there. on february 1st, 1887, the _times_ began to appear seven days in the week. after grinding away for ten years as the sole owner of the los angeles _herald_, j. d. lynch, in 1886, took into partnership his former associate, james j. ayers, and once more the alliance of these puissant forces made of the paper a formidable bulwark for the democracy. colonel john franklin, or plain j. f. godfrey as he was known in those days, was rather a prominent attorney in his time; and i knew him very well. about 1886, as chairman of a democratic committee, he headed the delegation that invited me to become a candidate for mayor of los angeles; but a contemplated european trip compelled me to decline the honor. in the spring of 1886, a falling out between the southern pacific and the santa fé railroads brought on a rate-war, disastrous enough to those companies but productive of great benefit to los angeles. round-trip tickets from points as far east as the missouri river were hammered down to fifteen dollars, and for a few days, charley white (who then conducted the southern pacific office in the baker block, and had full authority to make new fares) defied the rival road by establishing a tourist rate of just one dollar! when normality again prevailed, the fare was advanced to fifty dollars for first-class passage and forty dollars for second-class. the low rate during the fight encouraged thousands of easterners to visit the coast, and in the end many sacrificed their return coupons and settled here; while others returned to their eastern homes only to prepare for permanent removal west. in a sense, therefore, this railroad war contributed to the boom of a year or two later. freight as well as passenger rates were slashed during this spasmodic contest, and it was then that the ridiculous charge of one dollar per ton permitted me to bring in by rail, from chicago, several carloads of coal, which i distributed among my children. such an opportunity will probably never again present itself to los angeles. another interesting shipment was that of a carload of willow-ware from new york, the freight-bill for which amounted to eight dollars and thirty-five cents. these goods ordinarily bear a very high tariff; but competition had hammered everything down to a single classification and rate. i remember, also, that m. a. newmark & company brought from new york a train-load of liverpool salt, then a staple commodity here, paying a rate of sixty cents per ton. stimulated, perhaps, through the setting aside of elysian park by the city council, another pleasure-ground, then known as east los angeles park, was assured to the public toward the middle of the eighties; the municipal authorities at the same time spending about five thousand dollars to improve the plaza, one of the striking features of which was a circular row of evergreens uniformly trimmed to a conical shape. on october 14th, h. t. payne and edward records published the initial number of the los angeles _tribune_, this being the first newspaper here to appear seven days in the week. the following january, a company was incorporated and for years the _tribune_ was well maintained. charles frederick holder, the distinguished naturalist, came to california in search of health,[39] in 1886, and settled in pasadena, where he was appointed professor of zoölogy in the throop institute. an enthusiastic admirer of the southland and an early explorer of its islands and mountain ranges, professor holder has devoted much attention to pasadena and the neighboring coast. as early as 1891, he published _antiquities of catalina_; later he wrote his spirited southern california book on _life and sport in the open_; and with his gift for popularizing, probably no other scientific writer has contributed more to make known, both in america and abroad, this attractive portion of our great state. prudent and victor beaudry bought considerable land on the west side of new high street, probably in 1887, including the site of one of the old _calabozos_; and as some of the purchase was a hill, he spent about one hundred thousand dollars grading the property, excavating fifty thousand or more cubic feet of earth and building the great retaining wall, finished in 1888, four hundred and sixty-five feet long and fifty feet high, and containing two hundred thousand cubic feet of stone. when he was ready, beaudry began to advertise the superior merits of his land; and i still have in my possession one of the flaring circulars, printed in red ink, including such headlines as these: now is the time! don't shut your eyes and turn your back! and the following: have a home on the hills! stop paying rent in the valleys! view from your own home the broad pacific, the green hills and the model city! best water supply. drainage perfect. best sunny exposures. pure air, and away from fogs! have a home on the line of the great cable railway system! mark your catalogue before the day of sale! february 15, 16 and 17, at 10 o'clock each day. bear in mind that this property is on the hills, and on the line of the cable railway system! no such opportunity has ever been offered to the people of southern california. public school and young ladies' seminary in the immediate vicinity. four years after he had built the nadeau block, remi nadeau died here, at the age of sixty-eight, on january 15th. the same month, another man of marked enterprise, llewellyn j., brother of reese and william llewellyn, founded the llewellyn iron works, attaining a success and fame very natural considering that the llewellyns' father, david, and uncle, reese before them had acquired a reputation as ironworkers both in wales and san francisco. in january, fred w. beau de zart and john g. hunsicker established _the weekly directory_, whose title was soon changed to that of _the commercial bulletin_. under the able editorship of preston mckinney, the _bulletin_ is still fulfilling its mission. phineas, son of j. p. newmark, my brother, came to los angeles in 1887 and associated himself with m. a. newmark & company. in july, 1894, he bought out the southern california coffee and spice mills, and in the following september, his younger brother, samuel m. newmark, also came to los angeles and joined him under the title of newmark brothers. on december 26th, 1910, the city suffered a sad loss in the untimely death of the elder brother. sam's virility has been amply shown in his career as a business man and in his activity as a member of the municipal league directorate. among the hotels of the late eighties were the belmont and the bellevue terrace, both frame buildings. the former, at the terminus of the second street cable railway, was known for its elevation, view, fresh air and agreeable environment of lawn and flower-bed, and the first floor was surrounded with broad verandas. for a while it was conducted by clark & patrick, who claimed for it "no noise, dirt or mosquitoes." the latter hotel, on pearl street near sixth, was four stories in height and had piazzas extending around three of them; both of these inns were quite characteristic of southern california architecture. the bellevue terrace, so full of life during the buoyant boom days, still stands, but alas! the familiar old pile has surrendered to more modern competitors. the tivoli opera house, on main street between second and third, was opened by mclain & lehman in 1887, and for a time it was one of the attractions of the city. it presented a curious mixture of egyptian, east indian and romanesque styles, and was designed by c. e. apponyi, an architect who had come to the coast in 1870. the stage was the largest, except one--that of the san francisco grand opera house--on the coast, and there were eight proscenium boxes. the theater proper stood in the rear of the lot, and entrance thereto was had through the building fronting on the street; and between the two structures there was a pretty garden, with grottos and fountains, and a promenade gallery above. in february, the postmaster packed the furniture and other outfit--only two or three good loads--and moved the post office to the hellman building, at the corner of north main and republic streets; but it was soon transferred to an office on fort street, south of sixth, a location so far from the center of the city as to give point to cards distributed by some wag and advertising rates for sleeping accommodations to the new office. in that year, the sum-total of the receipts of the los angeles post office was not much over seventy-four thousand dollars. during the twelve months of the boom, mail for over two hundred thousand transients was handled; and a familiar sight of the times was the long column of inquirers, reminding one of the famous lines in early san francisco when prospectors for gold paid neat sums for someone else's place nearer the general delivery window. i have told of some incidents in the routine of court proceedings here, in which both judge and counselor played their parts. now and then the juror also contributed to the diversion, as was evidenced in the late eighties when a couple of jurymen in a san gabriel cañon water case created both excitement and merriment through a practical joke. tiring of a midnight session, and bethinking himself of the new invention to facilitate speaking at a distance, one of the jurors telephoned police headquarters that rioters were slashing each other at a near-by corner; whereupon the guardians of the peace came tearing that way, to the merriment of the "twelve good men and true" peeking out from an upper window. the police having traced the telephone message, the jury was duly haled before the judge; and the latter, noting the reticence of the accused, imposed a fine of twenty-five dollars upon each member of the box for his prank. william h. workman, who had repeatedly served the city as councilman, was elected mayor of los angeles in 1887. during workman's administration, main, spring and fort streets were paved. about 1887, benjamin s. eaton, as president, took the lead in organizing a society designed to bring into closer relationship those who had come to california before her admission to the union. there were few members; and inasmuch as the conditions imposed for eligibility precluded the possibility of securing many more, this first union of pioneers soon ceased to exist. professor t. s. c. lowe, with a splendid reputation for scientific research, especially in the field of aëronautics--having acquired his first experience with balloons, as did also graf ferdinand zeppelin, by participating in the union army maneuvers during our civil war--took up, in the late eighties, the business of manufacturing gas from water, which he said could be accomplished beyond any doubt for eight cents a thousand feet. c. f. smurr, the capable los angeles agent of the southern pacific railroad company, as well as hugh livingston macniel, son-in-law of jonathan s. slauson and then cashier of the main street savings bank, became interested with lowe and induced kaspare cohn and me to participate in the experiment. accordingly, we purchased six acres of land on the southeast corner of alameda and seventh streets for fifteen thousand dollars, and there started the enterprise. we laid pipes through many of the streets and, in the course of a few months, began to manufacture gas which it was our intention to sell to consumers at one dollar per thousand feet. the price at which gas was then being sold by the los angeles gas company was one dollar and fifty cents per thousand, and we therefore considered our schedule reasonable. everything at the outset looked so plausible that smurr stated to his associates that he would resign his position with the railroad and assume the management of the new gas works; but to our chagrin, we found that gas was costing us more than one dollar per thousand, and as one discouragement followed another, smurr concluded not to take so radical a step. yet we remained in business in the hope that the los angeles gas company would rather buy us out than reduce their price fifty cents a thousand feet, and sure enough, it was not so very long before they did. the large gas tank now standing at the corner of seventh and alameda streets is the result of this transaction. late in the spring, senator stanford and a party of southern pacific officials visited los angeles with the view of locating a site for the new and "magnificent railroad station" long promised the city, and at the same time to win some of the popular favor then being accorded the santa fé. for many years, objection had been made to the tracks on alameda street, originally laid down by banning; and hoping to secure their removal, mayor workman offered a right of way along the river-front. this suggestion was not accepted. at length the owners of the wolfskill tract donated to the railroad company a strip of land, three hundred by nineteen hundred feet in size, fronting on alameda between fourth and sixth streets, with the provision that the company should use the same only for railroad station purposes; and stanford agreed to put up a "splendid arcade," somewhat similar in design to, but more extensive and elaborate than, the arcade depot at sacramento. soon after this, the rest of that celebrated orchard tract, for over fifty years in the possession of the wolfskill family, was subdivided, offered at private sale and quickly disposed of. the old-fashioned, one-horse street car had been running on and off the tracks many a year before the city railroad, organized, in the middle eighties, by i. w. hellman and his associates, w. j. brodrick, john o. wheeler and others, made its more pretentious appearance on the streets of los angeles. this, the first line to use double tracks and more modern cars with drivers and conductors, followed a route then considered very long. starting as it did at washington street and leading north on figueroa, it turned at twelfth street into olive and thence, zigzagging by way of fifth, spring, first, main, marchessault, new high, bellevue avenue, buena vista, college, upper main and san fernando streets, it passed river station (the southern pacific depot on san fernando street), and ran out downey avenue as far as the pasadena railroad depot. the year 1885 saw the addition of another spanish name to the local map in the founding of alhambra, now one of the attractive and prosperous suburbs of los angeles. sometime in the spring of 1885, or perhaps a little earlier, the second street cable railway was commenced when isaac w. lord turned a spadeful of earth at the corner of second and spring streets; and within a few months cars were running from bryson block west on second street over bunker hill along lakeshore avenue and then by way of first street to belmont avenue, soon bringing about many improvements on the route. and if i am not mistaken, considerable patronage came from the young ladies attending a boarding school known as belmont hall. henry clay witmer was a moving spirit in this enterprise. in course of time the cable railway connected with the steam dummy line, landing passengers in a watermelon patch--the future hollywood. unlike sierra madre, so long retarded for want of railway facilities, monrovia--founded in may, 1886, by william n. monroe, at an altitude of twelve hundred feet, and favored by both the santa fé and the southern pacific systems--rapidly developed, although it did not attain its present importance as a foothill town until it had passed through the usual depression of the late eighties, due to the collapse of the boom, of which i am about to speak. footnotes: [38] on june 21st, 1914, mr. ralphs lost his life in a deplorable accident in the san bernardino mountains, being crushed by a huge bowlder; although his wife escaped by springing from the rolling rock. [39] died on october 10th, 1915. chapter xxxviii the great boom 1887 not as impulsively perhaps as on previous occasions, i left los angeles for europe on april 30th, 1887, accompanied by my wife and our two children, marco and rose. mrs. eugene meyer, my wife's youngest sister, and her daughter joined us at san francisco and traveled with us as far as paris. we took passage on the french ship _normandie_, departing from the morton street pier in new york on may 14th, and nine days later we landed at havre, from which port we proceeded to the french capital. on this trip we visited france, england, scotland, ireland, belgium, holland, denmark, germany, austria--including bohemia--and italy. we also touched at points in sweden, although we did not "do" that country thoroughly until a later voyage. while in germany, where i met my nephew leo--son of j. p. newmark--then a student in strassburg, i was impressed with the splendid hotels and state highways, and the advantage taken of natural resources; and from ems on july 22d, i wrote a letter on the subject to kaspare cohn, which i later found had been published by one of the los angeles dailies. during this journey we traveled with m. j. newmark and his family. it was also on this tour, on june 10th, that i returned to my native town of loebau, both to visit the graves of my parents and once more to see some relatives and a few old friends. in paris we had an exciting experience as observers of a conflagration that might have terminated seriously for us. we had been thinking of going to the opéra comique in the evening, but instead had accepted an invitation to dinner at the residence of alexander weil, the well-known international banker, formerly of san francisco; and only on our return to the hôtel du helder, a comfortable family hostelry in the rue du helder (within a couple of blocks of the theater), did we learn of a disastrous fire in the opera house which caused the loss of many lives. for blocks around, streets and sidewalks were roped in and great was the confusion everywhere. the following day a number of solicitous inquiries arrived from friends in america. in connection with our departure for this tour of europe, i am reminded of a unique gift to my wife of a diary in eight volumes, tastefully bound in russian leather--the whole neatly encased for traveling. with almost painful regularity my wife entered there her impressions and recollections of all she saw, refusing to retire at night, as a rule, until she had posted up her book for the day. glancing over these pages written in her distinct, characteristically feminine hand, i note once more the intellectual vigor and perspicuity displayed by my companion in this, her first contact with european life and customs. it was during my absence, on may 2d, that erskine mayo ross was appointed, by president cleveland, judge of the new united states district court just established. he was then in partnership with stephen m. white. a native of belpré, virginia, he had come to los angeles in 1868 to study law with his uncle, cameron e. thom. soon admitted to the bar, he was elected in 1879, at the age of thirty-four, to the supreme bench of the state. the judge, with whom i have been on friendly terms since his arrival, is still living in los angeles, a familiar and welcome figure in club circles. speaking of this esteemed judge, i am reminded of a visit here, in 1887, of justice stephen j. field, when he sat with judge ross in the united states circuit court, the sessions of which were then held over the farmers & merchants national bank at the corner of main and commercial streets. on that occasion the members of the bar, irrespective of party, united to do him honor; and justice field, in turn, paid a warm tribute to los angeles and her hospitality. d. w. hanna, a michigan pedagogue who had come to los angeles in 1884 to open ellis college on fort street near temple--burned in 1888--established on september 2d, 1885, the los angeles college, a boarding school for girls, in a couple of buildings at the corner of fifth and olive streets. in 1887 hanna, having formed a stock company, erected a new school structure at the southwest corner of eighth and hope streets, where eighteen teachers soon instructed some two hundred and fifty students. but the institution failed, and the building, still standing, was finally bought by abbot kinney and named the abbotsford inn. in a note regarding the life and accomplishments of mme. severance, i have referred to the distinguished _rôle_ played by this angeleña in the early advocacy of the kindergarten for america. it took three years, however, for the educational authorities here to awake to the significance of the departure, for it was not until 1887 that froebel's plan was admitted for experiment into the los angeles schools. a group of presbyterian clergymen from los angeles and vicinity in 1887 joined in establishing occidental college--now, as developed under john willis baer, one of the promising institutions of the southwest--locating its site east of the city between first and second streets, both lots and acreage having been donated with the usual southern california liberality. there, the following year, the main college building was erected; but in 1896 that structure and most of its contents were destroyed by fire. [illustration: spring street, looking north from first, about 1885] [illustration: cable car, running north on broadway (previously fort street), near second] [illustration: early electric car, with conductor james gallagher (still in service)] early in june, as ex-mayor e. f. spence was about to leave for europe, some enthusiasm was created in educational circles by the announcement that he would deed certain property, including the lot at the corner of pearl and sixth streets (on which the gates hotel now stands), to the university of southern california for the establishing of a telescope on mount wilson. the matter had been communicated to president m. m. bovard, who ordered a glass from the celebrated cambridge grinders, alvan clark & sons. when president bovard died, spence was too ill to arrange the details necessary to the further carrying out of his plans; the property that he had promised to give remained part of his estate; and the great glass, when ground, had to be resold, the university of chicago becoming the lucky purchaser. as all the scientific world knows, the carnegie foundation at washington some years later established, to the extension of california's fame, the celebrated wilson telescopes on the mountain spence once had in view. early in june, also, smith & mcphee issued a directory of los angeles. but two weeks afterward, george w. maxwell published another book of addresses with more than _five thousand_ additional names! the second directory listed over eighteen thousand adults, from which fact it was estimated that los angeles then had a population of quite sixty thousand. in 1887, mrs. charlotte lemoyne wills, wife of the attorney, john a. wills, and daughter of dr. francis julius lemoyne (who in 1876 erected at washington, pennsylvania, the first modern crematory in the world, notwithstanding that he was denied permission by the cemetery authorities there and was compelled to construct the furnace on his property outside of the town), inspired the establishing here of what is said to have been the second crematory in the united states and certainly the first built west of the rocky mountains. it was opened at rosedale cemetery by the los angeles crematory society, which brought to the coast an incinerating expert. dr. w. lemoyne wills, a son, was one of the leading spirits in the enterprise and among the first directors of the local organization. the first cremation occurred in june; and the first body so disposed of was that of the wife of dr. o. b. bird, a homeopathic physician. the experiment stirred up a storm of adverse, as well as of favorable criticism. the brothers beaudry were interested, doubtless through their undeveloped hill-property, in organizing the temple street cable railway, running from the foot of temple street at spring out temple as far west as union avenue, with cars operated every ten minutes. the company had an office at no. 10 court street, and the directors were: prudent beaudry, victor beaudry, walter s. maxwell, e. t. wright, the surveyor, octavius morgan, ralph rogers, thomas stovell, john milner and e. a. hall. about july, the trustees of james lick sold santa catalina island to george r. shatto (who founded avalon[40]--at first giving it his name--and after whom shatto street is called), the price fixed upon being one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, shatto making a partial payment; whereupon the latter agreed to resell the island to an english syndicate. failure to find there the store of minerals they expected, however, led the english bankers to refuse the property; and in 1892, after a friendly suit had reëstablished the title of the lick trustees, they disposed of that part of the estate (for about the same price offered shatto), to william, j. b. and hancock banning--sons of my old friend, phineas banning--the three forming the santa catalina island company. several years later, george s. patton was admitted as a partner. little by little catalina became a favorite resort, although it was years before there was patronage enough to warrant a daily steamer service. in the summer of 1887, for example, at the height of the boom, william banning, manager of the wilmington transportation company, ran the steamer _falcon_ (whose captain was j. w. simmie) only once every seven or eight days. then the vessel used to leave san pedro wharf at one o'clock in the afternoon and return the next day in time to connect with the three o'clock train for los angeles. the fare for the round trip was four dollars. the year 1887 witnessed the completion of the arcadia hotel at santa monica, named after doña arcadia, wife of colonel r. s. baker. it was built on a bluff, was four stories high and had a great veranda with side wings; and with its center tower and cupola was more imposing than any hotel there to-day. under the proprietorship of j. w. scott, the arcadia became one of the first fine suburban hotels in southern california. as late as 1887 there was no passenger service between the city and santa monica from six to seven o'clock in the evening, though i cannot say just how many trains ran during the day. i am sure, however, that there were not many. merchants spending their summers at the beach were more inconvenienced through this lack of evening service than at any other time; and after repeated complaints, a coach was hooked onto a freight train. later, the board of trade objected to this slow method, and arrangements were made for another passenger train. speaking of santa monica in the late eighties, i am reminded of a gravity railroad, somewhat on the principle of the present-day roller-coaster, which was opened near the arcadia hotel and as a novelty was a great success. the track was not more than fifteen feet above the ground at its highest point of elevation--just sufficient to give the momentum necessary for an undulating movement. as the final sequence to the events of three or four preceding years, los angeles, at the time when i left for europe, had already advanced beyond the threshold of her first really violent "boom;" and now symptoms of feverish excitement were everywhere noticeable in southern california. the basis of real estate operations, heretofore sane enough, was quickly becoming unbalanced, a movement that was growing more and more intensified, as well as general; and as in the case of a mighty stream which accumulates overwhelming power from many feeders, there was a marshalling, as it were, in los angeles of these forces. the charms of climate and scenery (widely advertised, as i have said, at the philadelphia centennial and, later, through the continuous efforts of the first and second chambers of commerce and the board of trade), together with the extension of the southern pacific to the east and the building of the santa fé railroad, had brought here a class of tourists who not only enjoyed the winter, but ventured to stay through the summer season; and who, having remained, were not long in seeking land and homesteads. the rapidly-increasing demand for lots and houses caused hundreds of men and women to enter the local real-estate field, most of whom were inexperienced and without much responsibility. when, therefore, the news of their phenomenal activity got abroad, as was sure to be the case, hordes of would-be speculators --some with, but more without knowledge of land-manipulation, and many none too scrupulous--rushed to the southland to invest, wager or swindle. thousands upon thousands of easterners swelled the number already here; dealers in realty sprang up like mushrooms. it was then that the demand for offices north of first street, exceeding the supply, compelled many an agent unwillingly to take accommodations farther south and brought about much building, even to--second street! it also happened that a dozen or more competitors occupied a single store-room. selling and bartering were carried on at all hours of the day or night, and in every conceivable place; agents, eager to keep every appointment possible, enlisted the services of hackmen, hotel employees and waiters to put them in touch with prospective buyers; and the same properties would often change hands several times in a day, sales being made on the curbstone, at bars or restaurant tables, each succeeding transfer representing an enhanced value. although i was abroad during the height of this period, psychologically so interesting, newspapers, letters and photographs from home--supplemented, on my return, by the personal narratives of friends--supplied me with considerable information of the craze. as i have already remarked, the coming of the santa fé--as well as the ensuing railroad war--was a very potent factor in this temporary growth and advance in values; and soon after the railroad's advent, a dozen towns had been laid out on the line between los angeles and san bernardino, the number doubling within a few months. indeed, had the plan of the boomers succeeded, the whole stretch between the two cities would have been solidly built up with what in the end proved, alas! to be but castles in the air. wherever there was acreage, there was room for new towns; and with their inauguration, thousands of buyers were on hand to absorb lots that were generally sold on the installment plan. more frequently than otherwise, payments became delinquent and companies "went broke;" and then the property reverted to acreage again. this sometimes led to serious complications, especially when the contract between the landowner and the so-called syndicate allowed the latter to issue clear title to those who paid for their lots. in such cases, the acreage when recovered by the original owner would be dotted here and there with small possessions; and to reinstate his property was, as a rule, no easy task. this, of course, refers to the failures of which there were more than enough; on the other hand, many of the towns inaugurated during the boom period not only have survived and prospered, but have become some of our most attractive and successful neighbors. if every conceivable trick in advertising was not resorted to, it was probably due to oversight. bands, announcing new locations, were seen here and there in street cars, hay and other wagons and carriages (sometimes followed by fantastic parades a block long); and for every new location there was promised the early construction of magnificent hotels, theaters or other attractive buildings that seldom materialized. when processions filled the streets, bad music filled the air. elephants and other animals of jungle and forest, as well as human freaks--the remnants of a stranded circus or two--were gathered into shows and used as magnets; while other ingenious methods were often invoked to draw crowds and gather in the shekels. the statements as to climate were always verified, but in most other respects poor martin chuzzlewit's experience in the mississippi town of eden affords a rather graphic story of what was frequently in progress here during the never-to-be-forgotten days of the boom. as competition waxed keener, dishonest methods were more and more resorted to; thus schemers worked on the public's credulity and so attracted many a wagon-load of people to mass-meetings, called ostensibly for the purpose of advancing some worthy cause but really arranged to make possible an ordinary sale of real estate. an endless chain of free lunches, sources of delight to the hobo element in particular, drew not only these chronic idlers but made a victim of many a worthier man. despite all of this excitement, the village aspect in some particulars had not yet disappeared: in vacant lots not far from the center of town it was still not unusual to see cows contentedly chewing their cud and chickens scratching for a living. in 1889, however, the council governed this feature of domestic life by ordinance, and thenceforth there was less of the "cock's shrill clarion." extraordinary situations arose out of the speculative mania, as when over-ambitious folks, fearful perhaps lest they might be unable to obtain cornerand other desirably-situated lots, stationed themselves in line two or three days before the date of anticipated land-sales; and even though quite twenty selections were frequently the limit to one purchase, the more optimistic of our boomers would often have two or three substitutes waiting in a line extending irregularly far down the sidewalk and assuming at night the appearance of a bivouac. i have heard it said that as much as a hundred dollars would be paid to each of these messengers, and that the purchaser of such service, apprehensive lest he might be sold out, would visit his representative many times before the eventful day. later, this system was improved and official place-numbers were given, thus permitting people to conduct their negotiations without much loss of time. so little scientific consideration was given to actual values that they were regulated according to calendar and clock; lots in new subdivisions remaining unsold were advertised to advance to certain new prices at such and such an hour, on such and such a day. after these artificial changes, investors would gleefully rub their hands and explain to the downcast outsider that they had "just gotten in in time;" and the downcast outsider, of whom there were many, yielding after repeated assaults of this kind, would himself become inoculated with the fever and finally prove the least restrained boomer of them all. from what i read at the time and heard after my return, i may safely declare that during the height of the infection, two-thirds of our population were, in a sense, more insane than sane. syndicates, subdivisions and tracts: these were the most popular terms of the day and nearly everybody had a finger in one or the other pie. there were enough subdivisions to accommodate ten million people; and enough syndicates to handle the affairs of a nation. and talking about syndicates: the disagreement of members themselves as to values frequently prevented the consummation of important sales and resulted in the loss of large profits to the objectors as well as to their associates. in many a well-authenticated case, the property remained on the owners' hands until it became almost worthless. wide-awake syndicates evolved new methods, one of which--the lottery plan--became popular. a piece of land would be prepared for the market; and after the opening of streets, as many chances would be sold as there were lots in the tract. on the eventful day, the distribution took place in the presence of the interested and eager participants, each of whom made a selection as his number was drawn. to increase the attractiveness of some of these offers, cottages and even more elaborate houses were occasionally promised for subsequent erection on a few lots. the excitement at many of these events, i was informed, beggared description. among others sold in this manner at the beginning, or possibly even just before the boom, were the williamson tract, beginning at the corner of pico and figueroa streets and once the home-place of the formans, and the o. w. childs orchard on the east side of main street and running south from what is now about eleventh. both of these drawings took place in turnverein hall, and the chances sold at about three hundred and fifty dollars each. tricksters, of whom at such times there are always enough, could exercise their mischievous proclivities; and the unwary one, who came to be known as the tenderfoot, was as usual easily hoodwinked. land advertised as having "water privileges" proved to be land _under water_ or in dry creeks; land described as possessing scenic attractions consisted of--mountains and chasms! so situated were many of these lots that no use whatever could be made of them; and i presume that they are without value even now. one of the effects of subdividing a good part of the ten thousand or more acres of agricultural land in the city then irrigated from the _zanjas_ was both to reduce the calls for the service of the city _zanjero_, and to lessen considerably the importance and emoluments of his office. advertisers tried to outdo themselves and each other in original and captivating announcements; with the result that, while many displayed wit and good humor, others were ridiculously extravagant. the artesian water company came onto the market with three hundred acres of land near compton and the assurance that "while the water in this section will be stocked, the stock will not be watered." alvan d. brock, another purveyor of ranches, declared: i mean business, and do not allow any alfalfa to grow under my feet. a. f. kercheval, the poet, to whom i have already referred, relieved himself of this exuberance regarding the kercheval tract (on santa fe avenue, between lemon and alamo streets): he or she that hesitates is lost! an axiom that holds good in real estate, as well as in affairs of the heart. selah! another advertisement read as follows: halt! halt! halt! speculators and homeseekers, attention! $80,000--eighty thousand dollars--$80,000 sold in a day at the beautiful mcgarry tract bounded by ninth and tenth and alameda streets. come early, before they are all gone! still another was displayed: boom! boom! arcadia! boom! boom! and now and then, from a quarter to a full page would be taken to advertise a new town or subdivision, with a single word--the name of the place--such as [illustration: ramirez!] vernon and vernondale were names given to subdivisions on central avenue near jefferson street. advertising the former, the real-estate poet was called into requisition with these lines: go, wing thy flight from star to star, from world to luminous world as far as the universe spreads its flaming wall, take all the pleasure of all the spheres, and multiply each through endless years, one winter at vernon is worth them all! while, in setting forth the attractions of the lily langtry tract, the promoter drew as follows from the store of english verse: sweet vernon, loveliest village of the plain, where health and plenty cheers the laboring swain, where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, and parting summer's lingering blooms delayed; concluding the announcement with the following lines characteristic of the times: catch on before the whole country rushes to vernondale! every man who wishes a home in paradise should locate in this, the loveliest district of the whole of southern california. this is where the orange groves are loveliest! this is where the grapes are most luxuriant! this is where the vegetation is grandest! this is where the flowers are prettiest! with the boom affecting not only los angeles but also each acre of her immediate vicinity, pasadena and the district lying between the two towns took on new life. five thousand inhabitants boasted a million dollars in deposits and a couple of millions invested in new buildings; while "gilt-edged raymond," a colony surrounding the raymond hotel, became a bustling center. in march, george whitcomb laid out glendora, naming it (with the use of a couple of additional letters) after his wife, ledora; and at the first day's sale, he auctioned off three hundred lots. in december, the old-established town of pomona was incorporated. whittier, started by quakers from indiana, iowa and illinois, and christened in honor of the new england poet, began at this time with a boom, two hundred thousand dollars' worth of property having been sold there in four months. this prosperity led one newspaper to say with extreme modesty: whittier is the coming place! it will dwarf monrovia and eclipse pasadena. nothing can stop it! the quakers are coming in from all over the united states; and another journal contained an advertisement commencing as follows: whittier! whittier!! whittier!!! queen of the foothills and crown of the san gabriel valley. i. w. lord established lordsburg--or at least an elaborate hotel there, for in those days a good hotel was half of a town; and when lordsburg slumped, he sold the building to a colony of dunkers for a college. nadeau park was projected as a town at the junction of the atchison, topeka & santa fé's ballona road and the southern pacific. santa ana, too, after its sale in june of over eighty thousand dollars' worth of land, came forward in the summer with this confident salutation: this is pure gold!!! santa ana, the metropolis of southern california's fairest valley! chief among ten thousand, or the one altogether lovely! beautiful! busy! bustling! booming! it can't be beat! the town now has the biggest kind of a big, big boom. a great big boom! and you can accumulate ducats by investing! fullerton was started in july, when ninety-two thousand dollars changed hands within half a day; and conditions favoring the young community, it survived. rivera, in the upper los nietos valley, also then came into being. the glories of tustin (founded in 1867 by columbus tustin, but evidencing little prosperity until twenty years later) were proclaimed through such unassuming advertisements as this: tustin the beautiful unexcelled in charm and loveliness. an earthly eden unsurpassed in wealth of flower and foliage. however, imagination cannot conceive it: it must be seen to be realized, supplemented by the following versification: when the angel of peace to earth first descended, to bless with his presence the children of men, 'mid the fairest of scenes his pathway e'er tended, and unto his smile the glad earth smiled again. he joyed in the fragrance of orange and roses, and loved 'mid their glances to linger or roam, and he said: "here in tustin, where beauty reposes, i also will linger or build me a home!" in april, jonathan s. slauson and a company of los angeles capitalists laid out and started the town of azusa, on a slope eight hundred feet high in a rich and promising country. not so far away was palomares, announced through the following reassuring poster: grand railroad excursion and genuine auction sale! _no chenanekin!!_ thursday, june 7, 1887. beautiful palomares, pomona valley! lunch, coffee, lemonade, and ice water free! full band of music. and here it may not be without interest to note the stations then passed in making such an excursion from los angeles to the new town: commercial street, garvanza, raymond, pasadena, lamanda park (named, henry w. o'melveny tells me, after amanda, wife of l. j. rose), santa anita, arcadia, monrovia, duarte, glendora, san dimas and lordsburg. providencia _rancho_, consisting of seventeen thousand acres of mountain and valley, was opened up in 1887 and the new town of burbank was laid out; j. downey harvey, j. g. downey's heir, and david burbank, the good-natured dentist and old-timer, then living on the site of the burbank theater (once the orchard of j. j. warner), being among the directors. about the same time, twelve thousand acres of the lankershim _rancho_, adjoining the providencia, were disposed of. sixty-five dollars was asked for a certificate of stock, which was exchangeable later for an acre of land. glendale was another child of the boom, for the development of which much dependence was placed on a new motor railroad. rosecrans and its addition were two other tracts relying on improved facilities for communicating with los angeles. under the caption, _veni, vidi, vici!_ a motor road was promised for service within ninety days; and lots, from one hundred dollars up, were then to be advanced five hundred per cent! excursions, accompanied by colonel bartlett's seventh infantry band, to "magnificent monte vista, the gem of the mountains! the queen of the valley!" near san fernando, fifteen miles from los angeles, were among the trips arranged. speaking of the boom, i recall an amusing situation such as now and then relieved the dark gloom of the aftermath. when a well-known suburb of los angeles was laid out, someone proposed that a road be named euclid avenue; whereupon a prominent citizen protested vigorously and asked _what mr. euclid had ever done for southern california_? during 1887, and at the suggestion of george e. gard, many neighboring towns--a number of which have long since become mere memories--donated each a lot, through whose sale a los angeles county exhibit at the reunion of the grand army of the republic was made possible; and among these places were alosta, gladstone, glendora, azusa, beaumont, arcadia, raymond, san gabriel, glendale, burbank, lamar's addition to alosta, rosecrans, st. james, bethune, mondonville, olivewood, oleander, lordsburg, mccoy's[41] addition to broad acres, ivanhoe, new vernon, alta vista, nadeau park, bonita tract, san dimas, port ballona, southside, ontario, walleria and ocean spray. when the lots were sold at armory hall, some ten thousand dollars was realized--twelve hundred and seventy-five dollars, paid by colonel banbury for a piece of land at pasadena, being the highest price brought. not even the celebrity given the place through the gift of a lot to the grand old man of england saved gladstone; and st. james soon passed into the realms of the forgotten, notwithstanding that one hundred and fifty vehicles and five hundred people were engaged, in june, in caring for the visitors who made their way to the proposed town-site, five miles from anaheim, and bought, when there, forty thousand dollars' worth of property in a few hours. ben e. ward--a good citizen whose office was in the renovated municipal adobe--operated with santa monica realty during the boom, somewhat as did colonel tom fitch in the cradle days of the bay city. he ran private trains and sold acre and villa lots, and five-and ten-acre farms, for ten per cent. of the price "at the fall of the hammer;" the balance of the first quarter payable on receipt of the agreement, and the other payments in six, twelve and eighteen months. on one occasion in june, ward was advertising as follows: ho, for the beach! to-morrow, to-morrow! grand auction sale at santa monica. 350--acres--350 one of the grandest panoramic views the human eye ever rested upon, including ballona, lake and harbor, with its outgoing and in-coming vessels, the grand old pacific, the handsome new hotel arcadia, while in the distance may be seen los angeles, the pride of all, and the coming city of two hundred thousand people. long beach came in for its share of the boom. in july, h. g. wilshire (after whom, i believe, wilshire boulevard was named), as general manager of the new hotel at that place, offered lots at one hundred and fifty dollars and upward, advertising under the caption, "peerless long beach!" and declaring that the place was "no new settlement, but a prosperous town of two thousand people," to be "reached without change of cars." the hotel was to be doubled in size, streets were to be sprinkled and bathhouses--with hot and cold water--were to be built. one of the special attractions promised was even a billiard-room for ladies! but the hotel was afterward destroyed by fire, and long beach dwindled away until, in 1890, it had scarcely a population of five hundred. besides the improving of santa monica and the expanding of san pedro, several harbor projects were proposed in the days of the boom. about the first of june, 1887, port ballona--formerly will tell's--began to be advertised as "the future harbor of southern california" and the ocean terminus of the california central railroad, which was a part of the atchison, topeka & santa fé system. in august, thousands of people assembled at the beach to celebrate the opening of la ballona harbor. the enterprise had been backed by louis mesmer, bernard mills, frank sabichi and others; and mesmer, general nelson a. miles, ex-governor stoneman, eugène germain and j. d. lynch were among the speakers. a syndicate, headed by j. r. tuffree, which purchased the palos verdes _rancho_, announced its intention of creating the harbor of catalina at portuguese bend. the syndicate was to build there a large hotel named borromea, while a mr. kerckhoff, encouraged by the prospect of a railroad around point firmin, was to erect another huge hotel and lay out a watering place. as the boom progressed and railroads continued to advertise los angeles, the authorities began to look with consternation on the problem of housing the crowds still booked to come from the east; and it was soon recognized that many prospective settlers would need to roost, for a while, as best they could in the surrounding territory. the hotel splendid, an enterprise fostered by hammel & denker, proprietors of the united states hotel, was then commenced on main street, between ninth and tenth, though it was never completed. numerous capitalists and business houses encouraged the proposition; yet the site was sold, but a single generation ago, to o. t. johnson, a local philanthropist, for about twenty-five thousand dollars--a conservative estimate placing its present value at not much less than two and a half millions. but there are other indications of the strength, or perhaps the weakness, of the boom. in 1887, the total assessment of the young city and county was three million dollars, or about one-third that recorded for the longer-developed city and county of san francisco. in one day in july, real estate valued at $664,000 was transferred; on another day in the same month, $730,000 worth; and soon after, in one day, property to the value of $930,000 changed hands. from forty million dollars in march, 1886, the wealth of the county jumped, in just two years, to one hundred and three millions. so many, indeed, were the purchasers of real estate in los angeles at that time who soon left the town and were seldom or never heard of again, and so many were the sales effected by proxy, that even in august of 1887 one of the newspapers contained over three pages of taxes listed on property whose possessors were unknown. during this wild excitement, few men of position or reputation who came to town escaped interrogation as to what they thought of the boom. "phil" d. armour, head of the armour packing company, was one who arrived late in july, and whose opinion was immediately sought; and his answer indicated the unbounded confidence inspired in the minds of even outsiders by the unheard-of development of land values. "boom--will it break soon?" repeated armour and proceeded to answer his own query. "there is no boom to break! this is merely the preliminary to a boom which will so outclass the present activities that its sound will be as thunder to the cracking of a hickory nut!" nor was armour the only one who was so carried away by the phenomena of the times: san francisco watched los angeles with wonder and interest, marveling at all she heard of the magic changes south of the teháchepi, and asking herself if los angeles might not be able to point the way to better methods of city-building? i have thus endeavored to give a slight idea of the lack of mental poise displayed by our good people in the year 1887, when the crop of millionaires was so great that to be one was no distinction at all. but alas! the inevitable collapse came and values tumbled fully as rapidly as they had advanced, finding many (who but a short period before had based their worth on investments figured at several times their value) loaded with overwhelming debts and mortgages quite impossible of liquidation. indeed, readjustments took years and years to accomplish; and so it happened that many an imaginary croesus then became the bidder, often unsuccessful, for humble employment. just as is always the case, too, in periods such as i have described, the depression, when it came was correspondingly severe and sudden. many of our greatest boomers and speculators lost all hope; and more than one poor suicide so paid the price of his inordinate craving for wealth. to be sure, some level-headed people, acting more conservatively than the majority, in time derived large profits from the steady increase in values. those who bought judiciously during that period are now the men of wealth in los angeles; and this is more particularly true as to ownership in business sections of the city. even at the height of the boom but little property on any of the streets south of fifth was worth more than two hundred dollars a foot. following the boom, there was an increase of building, much of it doubtless due to contracts already entered into. incidental to the opening of the southern pacific railroad's route between the north and south by way of the coast, on august 20th, a great railway _fête_ was held at santa bárbara, the first through trains from san francisco and los angeles meeting at that point. a procession, illustrating the progress in transportation methods from the burro pack and stage coach to the modern train of cars, filed about the streets of the old spanish town. on the return of the los angeles excursion train, however, a defective culvert near the camulos ranch caused the cars, with one hundred and fifty passengers, to plunge down an embankment--luckily with but few casualties. l. e. mosher, who had much literary ability and is still remembered as the author of the poem, _the stranded bugle_, joined the _times_ staff in august and became prominently identified with the conduct of that newspaper. later, he left journalism and entered on a business career in new york; but experiencing reverses, he returned to los angeles. failing here, he at length committed suicide, to the deep regret of a large circle of friends. late in august, the paving of main street, the first thoroughfare of los angeles to be so improved, was begun, much to the relief of our townspeople who had too long borne the inconvenience of dusty and muddy roadways, and who, after heavy rains the winter before, had in no uncertain fashion given utterance to their disgust at the backward conditions. this expression was the result of a carefully and generally organized movement; for one morning it was discovered that all of the principal streets were covered with mounds of earth resembling little graves, into each of which had been thrust imitation tombstones bearing such inscriptions as the following: beware of quicksand! fare for ferrying across, 25 cents. no duck-hunting allowed in this pond! boats leave this landing every half-hour. requiescat in pace! this year, the _sued-californische post_, which had been established in 1874, began to appear as a daily, with a weekly edition, the germans in los angeles in the eighties representing no mean portion of the burgher strength. in 1887, the turnverein-germania sold to l. j. rose and j. b. lankershim, for removal and renovation, the frame structure on spring street which for so many years had served it as a home, and erected in its place a substantial brick building costing about forty thousand dollars. six or seven years afterward, the society resold that property--to be used later as the elks' hall--for one hundred thousand dollars; then it bought the lot at 319 and 321 south main street, and erected there its new stone-fronted turner hall. on the occasion of the corner-stone laying, on august 14th, 1887, when the turnverein-germania, the austrian verein and the schwabenverein joined hands and voices, the germans celebrated their advancement by festivities long to be remembered, ex-mayor henry t. hazard making the chief address; but i dare say that the assembly particularly enjoyed the reminiscences of the pioneer president, jake kuhrts, who took his hearers back to the olden days of the round house (that favorite rendezvous which stood on the very spot where the new building was to rise) and pointed out how time had tenderly and appropriately joined the associations of the past with those of the present. turner hall, with its restaurant, brought our german citizens into daily and friendly intercourse, and long served their rapidly-developing community. how true it is that a man should confine himself to that which he best understands is shown in the case of l. j. rose, who later went into politics, and in 1887 was elected state senator. neglecting his business for that of the public, he borrowed money and was finally compelled to dispose of his interest in the new york house. indeed, financially speaking, he went from bad to worse; and the same year he sold his magnificent estate to an english syndicate for $1,250,000, receiving $750,000 in cash and the balance in stock. the purchasers made a failure of the enterprise and rose lost $500,000. he was almost penniless when on may 17th, 1899, he died--a suicide. rose was an indefatigable worker for the good of the community, and was thoroughly interested in every public movement. for years he was one of my intimate friends; and as i write these lines, i am moved with sentiments of sadness and deep regret. let us hope that, in the life beyond, he is enjoying that peace denied him here. the los angeles & san gabriel valley railroad, begun the previous year by j. f. crank and destined to be absorbed by the santa fé, was opened for traffic to pasadena on september 17th by a popular excursion in which thousands participated. with the increase in the number and activity of the chinese here, came a more frequent display of their native customs and ceremonies, the joss house and the theater being early instituted. on october 21st, a street parade, feast and theatrical performance with more or less barbarous music marked a celebration that brought mongolians from near and far. on october 24th, cardinal gibbons made his first visit to los angeles--the most notable call, i believe, of so eminent a prelate since my settling here. one of the numerous fires of the eighties that gave great alarm was the blaze of october 28th, which destroyed the santa fé railroad depot and with it a trainload of oil. the conflagration proved obstinate to fight, although the good work of the department prevented its spread. a host of people for hours watched the spectacular scene. the raymond hotel, commonly spoken of as belonging to pasadena although standing just inside the city to the south, was completed in november; and catering exclusively to tourists, its situation on an eminent knoll overlooking the towns and orange-groves contributed to make it widely famous. in april, 1895, it was swept by fire, to be rebuilt on larger and finer lines. the hotel la pintoresca, on fair oaks avenue, burned four or five years ago, was another pasadena hostelry, where i often stopped when wishing to escape the hurly-burly of city life. now its site and gardens have been converted into a public park. in november, following the efforts made by the board of trade to secure one of the veterans' homes projected by congress, the managers of the national home for disabled volunteer soldiers visited los angeles. a committee, representing business men and the grand army, showed the visitors around; and as a result of the coöperation of general nelson a. miles, judge brunson (representing senator jones) and others, three hundred acres of the old san vicente _rancho_ were donated by the jones and baker estates and the santa monica land and water company, as were also three hundred acres of the wolfskill tract. orchards were laid out, and barracks, chapel, hospital and extra buildings for a thousand men erected. near this worthy institution, housing as it now does more than two thousand veterans, has developed and prospered--thanks to the patronage of these soldiers and their families--the little town of sawtelle. in november, local democratic and republican leaders, wishing to draft a new charter for los angeles, agreed on a non-partisan board consisting of william h. workman, cameron e. thom, i. r. dunkelberger, dr. joseph kurtz, walter s. moore, jeremiah baldwin, general john mansfield, p. m. scott, j. h. book, josé g. estudillo, charles e. day, thomas b. brown, w. w. robinson, a. f. mackey and george h. bonebrake; and the following 31st of may the board was duly elected. workman was chosen chairman and moore, secretary; and on october 20th the result of their deliberations was adopted by the city. in january, 1889, the legislature confirmed the action of the common council. the new charter increased the number of wards from five to nine, and provided for the election of a councilman from each ward. as the result of an agitation in favor of los angeles, the southwest headquarters of the united states army were transferred from whipple barracks, arizona, about the beginning of 1887, the event being celebrated by a dinner to brigadier-general nelson a. miles, at the nadeau hotel. within less than a year, however, general miles was transferred to san francisco, general b. h. grierson succeeding him at this post. footnotes: [40] largely destroyed by fire, november 29th, 1915. [41] bearing the name of frank mccoy, who died on march 4th, 1915. chapter xxxix proposed state division 1888-1891 by agreement among property owners, the widening of fort street from second to ninth began in february, 1888. this was not accomplished without serious opposition, many persons objecting to the change on the ground that it would ruin the appearance of their bordering lots. i was one of those, i am frank to say, who looked with disfavor on the innovation; but time has shown that it was an improvement, the widened street (now known as broadway), being perhaps the only fine business avenue of which los angeles can boast. booth and barrett, the famous tragedians, visited los angeles together this winter, giving a notable performance in child's opera house, their combined genius showing to greatest advantage in the presentation of _julius cæsar_ and _othello_. toward the end of the seventies, i dipped into an amusing volume, _the rise and fall of the mustache_, by robert j. burdette--then associated with the _burlington hawkeye_--little thinking that a decade later would find the author famous and a permanent resident of southern california.[42] his wife, clara bradley burdette, whom he married in 1899 and who is well known as a clubwoman, has been associated with him in many local activities. george wharton james, an englishman, also took up his residence in southern california in 1888, finally settling in pasadena, although seven years previously he had been an interested visitor in los angeles. james has traveled much in the southwest; and besides lecturing, he has written ten or twelve volumes dealing in a popular manner with the spanish missions and kindred subjects. through the publication by d. appleton & company of one of the early books of value dealing with our section of the state, progress was made, in the late eighties, in durably advertising the coast. this volume was entitled, _california of the south_; and as a scientifically-prepared guide was written by two fellow-townsmen, drs. walter lindley and j. p. widney. very shortly after their coming to los angeles, in april, 1888, i had the pleasure of meeting mr. and mrs. tomás lorenzo duque with whom i have since been on terms of intimacy. mr. duque, a cuban by birth, is a broad-minded, educated gentleman of the old school. frederick william braun established on may 1st, at 127 new high street, the first exclusively wholesale drug house in southern california, later removing to 287 north main street, once the site of the adobe in which i was married. the same season my brother, whose health had become precarious, was again compelled to take a european trip; and it was upon his return in september, 1890, that he settled in los angeles, building his home at 1043 south grand avenue, but a few doors from mine. the coast-line branch of the santa fé railroad was opened in august between los angeles and san diego. w. e. hughes has been credited with suggesting the second and present chamber of commerce, and j. f. humphreys is said to have christened it when it was organized on october 15th. e. w. jones was the first president and thomas a. lewis the first secretary. in addition to these, s. b. lewis, colonel h. g. otis, j. v. wachtel (a son-in-law of l. j. rose), colonel i. r. dunkelberger and william h. workman are entitled to a great deal of credit for the movement. so well known is this institution, even internationally, and so much has been written about it, that i need hardly speak of its remarkable and honorable part in developing southern california and all of the southland's most valuable resources. late in the fall the los angeles theater, a neat brick edifice, was opened on spring street, between second and third. at that time, other places of amusement were the childs or grand opera house, mott hall, over mott market--an unassuming room without stage facilities, where adelina patti once sang, and where charles dickens, jr., gave a reading from his father's books--and hazard's pavilion at fifth and olive, built on the present site of the temple auditorium by mayor h. t. hazard and his associate, george h. pike. during the boom especially and for a few years thereafter (as when in 1889, evangelist moody held forth), this latter place was very popular; and among celebrities who lectured there was thomas nast, _harpers'_ great cartoonist, who had so much to do with bringing boss tweed to justice. as nast lectured, he gave interesting exhibitions of his genius to illustrate what he had to say; and many of his sketches were very effective. doubtless alluding to the large audience gathered to do him honor, the artist said: "ladies and gentlemen, i will now show you how to draw a big house," whereupon he rapidly sketched one. on the morning of october 21st, the _los angeles times_ created one of the most noted surprises in the history of american politics, making public the so-called murchison letters, through which the british diplomat lord sackville west, caught strangely napping, was recalled in disgrace from his eminent post as british minister to washington. in 1882, george osgoodby located at pomona. though of english grandparents, osgoodby possessed a strong republican bias; and wishing to test the attitude of the administration toward great britain, he formed the scheme of fathoming cleveland's purpose even at the british minister's expense. accordingly, on september 4th, 1888--in the midst of the presidential campaign--he addressed lord west, signing himself charles f. murchison and pretending that he was still a loyal though naturalized englishman needing advice as to how to vote. "murchison" reminded his lordship that, just as a small state had defeated tilden, so "a mere handful of naturalized countrymen might easily carry california." the british minister was betrayed by the plausible words; and on september 13th he answered the pomona farmer, at the same time indicating his high regard for cleveland as a friend of england. osgoodby gave the correspondence publicity through the _times_; and instantly the letters were telegraphed throughout america and to england, where they made as painful an impression as they had caused jubilation or anger in this country. how, as a consequence, diplomatic relations between america and england were for a while broken off, is familiar history. during the winter of 1888-89, alfred h. and albert k. smiley, twin brothers who had amassed a fortune through successful hotel management at summer-resorts in the mountains of new york, came to california and purchased about two hundred acres near redlands, situated on a ridge commanding a fine view of san timoteo cañon; and there they laid out the celebrated cañon crest park, more popularly known as smiley heights. they also gave the community a public library. on account of their connections, they were able to attract well-to-do settlers and tourists to their neighborhood and so contribute, in an important way, to the development and fame of redlands. the city hall was erected, during the years 1888-89, on the east side of broadway between second and third streets on property once belonging to l. h. titus. as a detail indicating the industrial conditions of that period, i may note that john hanlon, the contractor, looked with pride upon the fact that he employed as many as thirty to forty workmen and all at one time! another effort in the direction of separating this part of california from the northern section was made in december, 1888 and here received enthusiastic support. general william vandever, then a representative in congress from the sixth district, introduced into that body a resolution providing for a state to be called south california. soon after, a mass meeting was held in hazard's pavilion, and a campaign was opened with an executive committee to further the movement; but--california is still, and i hope will long continue to be, a splendid undivided territory. on january 1st, 1889, pasadena held her first rose tournament. there were chariot races and other sports, but the principal event was a parade of vehicles of every description which, moving along under the graceful burden of their beautiful floral decorations, presented a magnificent and typically southern california winter sight. the tournament was so successful that it has become an annual event participated in by many and attracting visitors from near and far. it is managed by a permanent organization, the tournament of roses association, whose members in 1904 presented tournament park, one of the city's pleasure-grounds, to pasadena. once outdistanced by both main and spring streets, and yet more and more rising to importance as the city grew, fort street--a name with an historical significance--in 1889 was officially called broadway. fred l. baker, who reached los angeles with his father, milo baker in 1874, designed in 1889, and when he was but twenty-four years of age, the first locomotive built in los angeles. it was constructed at the baker iron works for the los angeles county railroad, and was dubbed the _providencia_; and when completed it weighed fifteen tons. on february 16th, jean louis sainsevain, everywhere pleasantly known as don louis, died here, aged seventy-three years. i have spoken of l. j. rose's love for thoroughbred horses. his most notable possession was _stamboul_, the celebrated stallion, which he sold for fifty thousand dollars. at rose meade, toward the end of the eighties, there were about a hundred and twenty pedigreed horses; and at a sale in 1889 fifty of these brought one hundred and ninety thousand dollars. this reminds me that early in april, the same year, nicolás covarrúbias (in whose stable on los angeles street, but a short time before, nearly a hundred horses had perished by fire) sold _gladstone_ to l. h. titus for twenty-five hundred dollars. general volney e. howard died in may, aged eighty years, just ten years after he had concluded his last notable public service as a member of the state constitutional convention. one of those who well illustrate the constant search for the ideal is dr. joseph kurtz. in the spring of 1889 he toured europe to inspect clinics and hospitals; and inspired by what he had seen, he helped, on his return, to more firmly establish the medical college of los angeles, later and now a branch of the university of california. in 1889, i built another residence at 1051 south grand avenue, and there we lived for several years. as in the case of our fort street home, in which four of our children died, so here again joy changed to sorrow when, on november 18th, 1890, our youngest daughter, josephine rose, was taken from us at the age of eight years. the los angeles public library was once more moved in july from the downey block to the city hall where, with some six thousand books and about one hundred and thirty members, it remained until april, 1906, when it was transferred by librarian charles f. lummis to the annex of the laughlin building. it then had over one hundred thousand volumes. in the fall of 1908, it was removed to the new hamburger building. colonel james g. eastman, who arrived in los angeles during the late sixties, associated himself with anson brunson in the practice of law and, as a cultured and aristocratic member of the bar, became well known. for the centennial celebration here he was chosen to deliver the oration; yet thirteen years later he died in the county poorhouse, having in the meantime sunk to the lowest depths of degradation. drinking himself literally into the gutter, he lost his self-respect and finally married a common squaw. the early attempts to create another county, of which anaheim was to have been the seat, are known. in 1889, the struggle for division was renewed, but under changed conditions. santa ana, now become an important town and nearer the heart of the proposed new county, was the more logical center; but although anaheim had formerly strongly advocated the separation, she now opposed it. the legislature, however, authorized the divorce, and the citizens chose santa ana as their county seat; and thus on august 1st, orange county began its independence. although the cable lines on second and temple streets were not unqualified successes, j. f. crank and herman silver in 1887 obtained a franchise for the construction of a double-track cable railway in los angeles, and in 1889 both the boyle heights and the downey avenue lines were in operation. on august 3d, 1889, the boyle heights section of the los angeles cable railway was inaugurated with a luncheon at the power house--invitations to which had been sent out by the boyle heights board of trade, william h. workman, president--preceded by a parade of cars; and on november 2d, the official opening with its procession of trains on the downey avenue line culminated, at noon, with speech-making at the downey avenue bridge, and in the evening with a sham battle and fireworks. some old-timers took part in the literary exercises, and among others i may mention mayor henry t. hazard, dr. j. s. griffin, general r. h. chapman and the vice-president and superintendent of the system, j. c. robinson. the east los angeles line started at jefferson street, ran north on grand avenue to seventh, east on seventh to broadway, north on broadway to first, east on first to spring, north on spring to the plaza, down san fernando street, then on the viaduct built over the southern pacific tracks and thence out downey avenue. the boyle heights line started on seventh street at alvarado, ran along seventh to broadway, up broadway to first and east on that street to the junction of first and chicago streets. quite a million dollars, it is said, was invested in the machinery and tracks--so soon to give way to the more practicable electric trolley trams--to say nothing of the expenditures for rolling stock; and for the time being the local transportation problem seemed solved, although the cars first used were open, without glass windows, and the passengers in bad weather were protected only by curtains sliding up and down. to further celebrate the accomplishment, a banquet was given colonel j. c. robinson on december 18th, 1889. herman silver, to whom i have just referred, had not only an interesting association as a friend of lincoln, but was a splendid type of citizen. he achieved distinction in many activities, but especially as president of the city council. [illustration: george w. burton] [illustration: ben c. truman] [illustration: charles f. lummis] [illustration: charles dwight willard] [illustration: grand avenue residence (left), harris newmark, 1889] on november 4th, bernard cohn, one of the originators of hellman, haas & company (now haas, baruch & company, the well-known grocers), and a pioneer of 1856, died. during the late seventies and early eighties, he was a man of much importance, both as a merchant and a city father, sitting in the council of 1888 and becoming remarkably well-read in the ordinances and decrees of the los angeles of his day. like abbot kinney, dr. norman bridge, an authority on tuberculosis, came to sierra madre in search of health, in 1890; lived for a while after that at pasadena, and finally settled in los angeles. five or six years after he arrived here, dr. bridge began to invest in californian and mexican oil and gas properties. despite his busy life, he has found time to further higher culture, having served as trustee of the throop institute and as president of the southwest museum, to both of which institutions he has made valuable contributions; while he has published two scholarly volumes of essays and addresses. thomas edward gibbon who, since his arrival in 1888, has influenced some of the most important movements for the benefit of los angeles, and whose activities have been so diversified, in 1890 bought the _daily herald_, becoming for several years the president of its organization and its managing editor. during his incumbency, gibbon filled the columns with mighty interesting reading. after living in los angeles thirty years and having already achieved much, i. w. hellman moved to san francisco on march 2d, 1890, and there reorganized the nevada bank. still a resident of the northern city, he has become a vital part of its life and preëminent in its financial affairs. judge walter van dyke was here in the early fifties, although it was some years before i knew him; and i am told that at that time he almost concluded a partnership with judge hayes for the practice of law. he was judge of the superior court when the city of los angeles claimed title--while i was president of the temple block company--to about nine feet of the north end of temple block. the instigator of this suit was louis mesmer, who saw the advantage that would accrue to his property, at the corner of main and requena streets, if the square should be enlarged; but we won the case. a principal witness for us was josé mascarel, and our attorneys were stephen m. white and houghton, silent & campbell. my second experience with judge van dyke was in 1899, when i bought a lot from him at santa monica. this attempt to enlarge the area at the junction reminds me of the days when the young folks of that neighborhood used to play tag and other games there. baseball, here called town-ball, was another game indulged in at that place. temple block came to be known as lawyer's block because the upper floors were largely given over to members of that profession; and many of the attorneys i have had occasion to speak of as being here after our acquisition of the building had their headquarters there. thus i became acquainted with judge charles silent who, like his partner, sherman otis houghton, hailed from san josé in 1886, or possibly 1885, the two doubtless coming together. judge houghton brought with him a reputation for great physical and moral courage; and the two friends formed with alexander campbell the law firm of houghton, silent & campbell. judge charles silent, a native of baden, germany (born stumm, a name englished on naturalization), father of edward d. silent and father-in-law of frank j. thomas, once served as supreme court judge in arizona, to which office he was appointed by president hayes; and since his arrival here, he has occupied a position of prime importance, not only on account of his qualifications as an attorney but also through the invaluable service he has always rendered this community. the judge now possesses a splendid orange orchard near the foothills, where he is passing his declining years. in the same way i had pleasant relations with the barrister, c. white mortimer, for a long time the popular english vice-consul, who came from toronto. among other attorneys whom it was a pleasure to know were aurelius w. hutton; john d. bicknell (once a partner of stephen m. white); j. h. blanchard; albert m. stephens; general john mansfield (who, by the way, was the first lieutenant-governor under the constitution of 1879); thomas b. brown, district attorney from 1880 until 1882; will d. gould; julius brousseau; j. r. dupuy, twice district attorney; and general j. r. mcconnell. most of these gentlemen were here before 1880. on the twentieth of january, 1889, m. l. graff, a practicing attorney, reached los angeles, and until my family broke up housekeeping, he was a regular and welcome visitor in my home. ferdinand k. rule came to southern california in 1890 and soon after associated himself with the old los angeles terminal railroad. he was a whole-souled, generous man, and was henceforth identified with nearly every movement for the welfare of his adopted city. charles dudley warner, the distinguished american author, revisited los angeles in may, 1890, having first come here in march, three years before, while roughing it on a tour through california described in his book, _on horseback_, published in 1888. on his second trip, warner, who was editor of _harper's magazine_, came ostensibly in the service of the harpers, that firm later issuing his appreciative and well-illustrated volume, _our italy_, in which he suggested certain comparisons between southern california and southern europe; but the santa fé railroad company, then particularly desirous of attracting easterners to the coast, really sent out the author, footing most if not all of the bills. mrs. custer, widow of the general, was another guest of the santa fé; and she also wrote about southern california for periodicals in the east. news of the death, in new york city, of general john c. frémont was received here the day after, on july 14th, and caused profound regret. in the fall, henry h. markham stood for the governorship of california and was elected, defeating ex-mayor pond of san francisco by a majority of about eight thousand votes--thereby enabling the southland to boast of having again supplied the foremost dignitary of the state. after several years of post-graduate study in higher institutions of learning in germany, leo newmark, son of j. p. newmark, in 1887 received his degree of doctor of medicine from the university of strassburg. he then served in leading european hospitals, returning in 1890 to his native city, san francisco, where he has attained much more than local eminence in his specialty, the diseases of the nerves. the public pleasure-grounds later known as hollenbeck park were given to the city, in 1890-91, by william h. workman and mrs. j. e. hollenbeck, workman donating two-thirds and mrs. hollenbeck one-third of the land. workman also laid out the walks and built the dam before the transfer to the city authorities. mrs. hollenbeck suggested the title, workman-hollenbeck park; but billy's proverbial modesty led him to omit his own name. at about the same time, mrs. hollenbeck, recognizing the need of a refuge for worthy old people, and wishing to create a fitting memorial to her husband (who had died in 1885), endowed the hollenbeck home with thirteen and a half acres in the boyle heights district; to maintain which, she deeded, in trust to john d. bicknell, john m. elliott, frank a. gibson, charles l. batcheller and j. s. chapman, several valuable properties, the most notable being the hollenbeck hotel and a block on broadway near seventh. more than once i have referred to the chino ranch, long the home of pioneer isaac williams. in his most extravagant dreams, he could not have foreseen that, in the years 1890-91 there would grow on many of his broad acres the much-needed sugar-beet; nor could he have known that the first factory in the southland to extract sugar from that source would be erected in a town bearing the name of chino. the inauguration of this important activity in southern california was due to henry t. and robert oxnard, the last-named then being engaged in cane-sugar refining in san francisco. henry t., who had previously ventured in the beet-sugar field in nebraska, while on the coast was impressed with the possibilities in our soil and climate; and after a survey of the state, he reached the conclusion that of all california the south offered the conditions most favorable to his plans. accordingly, he entered into negotiations with richard gird, then the owner of the chino ranch, who made some preliminary experiments; and the outcome was the factory started there in the season of 1890-91, under the superintendency of dr. portius, a german agricultural chemist. in this initial enterprise the oxnards met with such success that they extended their operations, in 1898 establishing a second and larger factory in ventura county, in what soon came to be called oxnard, dr. portius again taking charge. five or six years after the oxnards opened their chino factory, j. ross clark and his brother, senator william a. clark, commenced the erection of a plant at alamitos; and in the summer of 1897, the first beets there were sliced, under the superintendency of g. s. dyer, now in honolulu. since then, under a protective policy, several more refineries have started up in the neighborhood of los angeles. in january, 1891, the home of peace society was organized by the hebrew ladies of los angeles, largely through the exertions of mrs. m. kremer, who was the first to conceive the idea of uniting jewish women for the purpose of properly caring for and beautifying the last resting-place of their dead. amos g. throop, of chicago, more familiarly known among his friends and fellow-citizens as father throop, founded at pasadena in 1891 the institution at first called throop university and now known as the throop college of technology, giving it two hundred thousand dollars and becoming its first president. the next year, when it was decided to specialize in manual training and polytechnic subjects, the name was again changed--remaining, until 1913, throop polytechnic institute. the southern california science association, later called the southern california academy of science, was organized in 1891 with dr. a. davidson as its first president, and mrs. mary e. hart as secretary. for five years, it struggled for existence; but having been reorganized and incorporated in 1896, it has steadily become a factor for intellectual progress. the friday morning club began its existence in april, 1891, as one of the social forces in the city, many of the leading lecturers of the country finding a place on its platform; and in 1899 the club built its present attractive home on figueroa street. as far as i was familiar with the facts, i have endeavored in these recollections to emphasize the careers of those who from little have builded much, and quite naturally think of william dennison stephens whom i came to know through his association as a salesman from 1891 until 1902 with m. a. newmark & company, after which he engaged with j. e. carr on broadway, between sixth and seventh streets, in the retail grocery business. much of his success i attribute to honest, steady purpose and a winning geniality. by leaps and bounds, stephens has advanced--in 1907 to the presidency of the chamber of commerce; in 1908 to the grand commandership of knights templars in california; in 1909 to the mayoralty of los angeles; and in 1910 to one of the advisory committee for the building of the aqueduct. at present, he is the congressman from the tenth congressional district. three years before congressman stephens entered the employ of the newmarks, robert l. craig had just severed his relations with them to form, with r. h. howell of louisiana, the third wholesale grocery house to come to los angeles. in the course of a few years, howell & craig sold out; but craig, being young and ambitious, was not long in organizing another wholesale grocery known as craig & stuart, which was succeeded by r. l. craig & company. at craig's untimely death, mrs. craig, a woman of unusual mental talent, took the reins and, as one of the few women wholesale grocers in the country, has since guided the destinies of the concern; still finding time, in her arduous life, to serve the public as a very wide-awake member of the board of education. four other names of those once associated with my successors and who have been instrumental in establishing important commercial houses here are, p. a., a brother of m. a. newmark; e. j. levy; frank humphreys, now deceased; and d. wiebers. the first-named, for some years connected with brownstein, newmark & louis--now brownstein & louis--inaugurated and is at the head of p. a. newmark & company; while levy, humphreys and wiebers incorporated the standard wooden ware company. in 1891, the terminal railroad was completed from los angeles to east san pedro, and rapid connection was thus established between pasadena and the ocean, the accomplishment being celebrated, on november 14th, by an excursion. the road ran _via_ long beach and rattlesnake, later known as terminal island--a place that might become, it was hoped, the terminus of one of the great transcontinental railroads; and since the island is now the end of the san pedro, los angeles & salt lake railroad, that hope has been realized. it was in connection with this railway enterprise that long beach made the great mistake of giving away the right of thoroughfare along her ocean front. footnote: [42] dr. burdette died on november 19th, 1914. chapter xl the first _fiestas_ 1892-1897 accompanied by my family, i traveled to alaska, in 1892, going as far as muir glacier and visiting, among other places, metlakahtla (where we met father william duncan, the famous missionary and _arctander_), sitka, juneau and the treadwell mines, near which the town of treadwell has since developed. to-day, the tourist starts from seattle; but we left tacoma, sailing north about the seventh of july. i found much to inspire me in that rather extreme portion of the globe, where i was profoundly impressed with the vast forests and colossal rivers of ice, so emblematic of nature's law of eternal change. our party was especially fortunate in witnessing the rare sight of huge masses of ice as, with sound of thunder, they broke from the glacier and floated away, brilliantly-tinted bergs, to an independent, if passing, existence. having arrived in the bay of sitka, our ship, the _queen of the pacific_, struck a submerged rock. instantly excitement and even frenzy prevailed. levi z. leiter, a member of the firm of field, leiter & company of chicago, was so beside himself with fear that he all but caused a panic, whereupon the captain ordered the first mate to put the chicagoan and his family ashore. leiter, however, was shamed by his daughter, miss mary victoria--afterward lady curzon and wife of the viceroy of india--who admonished him not to make a scene; and having no desire to be left for a protracted stay in sitka, he came to his senses and the commotion somewhat abated. meantime, not knowing how much damage had been done to the vessel, i hastily proceeded to gather our party together, when i missed marco and only after considerable trouble found the boy in the cabin--such is the optimism of youth--with a huge sandwich in his hand, not in the least excited over the possible danger nor in any mood to allow a little incident of that kind to dissipate his appetite. when it became evident that the ship had sustained no vital damage, the captain announced that as soon as a higher tide would permit we should proceed on our way. in 1892, abbot kinney and f. g. ryan, disregarding the craze for property along the bluffs of old santa monica, gave practical evidence of their faith in the future of the sand dunes hereabouts by buying an extensive strip of land on the ocean-front, some of it being within the town of santa monica but most of it stretching farther south. they induced the santa fé to lay out a route to ocean park as the new town was to be called; and having erected piers, a bath house and an auditorium, they built numerous cottages. hardly was this enterprise well under way, however, when ryan died and t. h. dudley acquired his share in the undertaking. in 1901, a. r. fraser, g. m. jones and h. r. gage purchased dudley's half interest; and the owners began to put the lots on the market. one improvement after another was made, involving heavy expenditures; and in 1904, ocean park was incorporated as a city. e. l. doheny and a partner had the good luck to strike some of the first oil found in quantities within the city limits. they began operations in february on west state street, in the very residence section of the town; and at about one hundred and sixty feet below the surface, they found oil enough to cause general excitement. mrs. emma a. summers, who had been dealing in real estate since she came in 1881, quickly sank a well on court street near temple which in a short time produced so lavishly that mrs. summers became one of the largest individual operators in crude oil. she is now known as the oil queen. at the suggestion of mrs. m. burton williamson, an interesting open-air meeting of the los angeles historical society was held on the evening of march 28th at the residence of don antónio and doña mariana coronel, near the corner of central avenue and seventh street. three hundred guests assembled to enjoy the proverbial spanish hospitality of this distinguished couple, and to hear reports of the activities of various los angeles societies. don antónio possessed, as is well known, valuable historical and ethnological collections; and some of his choicest curios were that evening placed at the service of his guests. professor ira more participated, presiding at a table once used by the first constitutional governor, echeandia, and i still recall the manner in which antónio chuckled when he told us how he had swapped "four gentle cows" for the piece of furniture; while, instead of a gavel, señora coronel had provided a bell long used to summon the indians to mission service. as early as the height of the great boom, professor t. s. c. lowe (to whom i have referred in the story of an experiment in making gas) advocated the construction of a railroad up the mountain later officially designated mt. lowe; and almost immediately financiers acted on the proposal and ordered the route surveyed. the collapse of the boom, however, then made the financing of the project impossible; and the actual work of building the road was begun only in 1892. on the fourth of july of the following year, the first car carrying a small party of invited guests successfully ascended the incline; and on august 23d the railway was formally opened to the public, the occasion being made a holiday. in 1894, the mt. lowe astronomical observatory was built. at one time, the railway was owned by valentine peyton, my agreeable neighbor and friend then and now residing on westlake avenue. in june, 1893, the los angeles post office was moved from its location at broadway near sixth street to the national government building at the southeast corner of main and winston streets, which had just been completed at a cost of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. seized with the same desire that animated many thousands who journeyed to chicago, i visited the world's fair in the fall of 1893. everywhere i was impressed with the extraordinary progress made, especially by americans, since the display in philadelphia; and i was naturally proud of the exhibits from california in charge of my fellow-townsman, ben truman. russell judson waters, a well-known banker and member of congress from the sixth district between 1899 and 1903, came from redlands in 1894 and another southern californian who has turned his attention to literary endeavor: his novel, _el estranjero_, dealing with past local life. joseph scott, who has risen to distinction in the california legal world, alighted in los angeles in june, having tried without success to obtain newspaper work in boston, in 1887, although equipped with a letter of introduction from john boyle o'reilly. in new york, with only two dollars in his pocket, he was compelled to shoulder a hod; but relief came: as scott himself jovially tells the story, he was carrying mortar and brick on a tuesday in february, 1890, and but two days later he faced a body of students at st. bonaventura's college in allegany, new york, as instructor in rhetoric! within ten months after scott came to southern california, he was admitted to practice at the los angeles bar; and since then he has been president of the chamber of commerce. he is now a member of the board of education, and all in all his services to the commonwealth have been many and important. the existence of the merchants' association, which was organized in 1893 with w. c. furrey as president and william bien (succeeded the following year by jacob e. waldeck, son-in-law of samuel hellman) as secretary, was somewhat precarious until 1894. in that year, los angeles was suffering a period of depression, and a meeting was called to devise ways and means for alleviating the economic ills of the city and also for attracting to los angeles some of the visitors to the midwinter fair then being held in san francisco. at that meeting, max meyberg, a member of the association's executive committee, suggested a carnival; and the plan being enthusiastically endorsed, the coming occasion was dubbed _la fiesta de los angeles_. meyberg was appointed director-general; and the following persons, among others, were associated with him in the undertaking: mayor t. e. rowan, f. w. wood, r. w. pridham, h. jevne, j. o. koepfli, leon loeb, h. t. hazard, charles s. walton and m. h. newmark. the _fiesta_ lasted from the 10th to the 13th of april and proved a delightful affair. the participants marched in costume to the city hall during a meeting of the council, usurped the government, elected a queen--mrs. o. w. childs, jr.--to preside over the destinies of the city during the _fiesta_ and communicated to everybody a spirit of uncontrollable enthusiasm based on a feeling of the most genuine patriotic sentiment. the result was thoroughly successful, the carnival bringing out the real californian fellowship--whole-souled and ringing true. indeed, it is conceded by all who have seen los angeles grow, that this first _fiesta_ and the resulting strengthening of the association have been among the earliest and, in some respects, the most important elements contributory to the wonderful growth and development of our city. a few evenings after the conclusion of the celebration, and while the streets were brilliantly illuminated with bengal fire, the leaders again marched in a body, this time to the hall over mott market, where they not only laid plans for the second _fiesta_, but installed j. o. koepfli as president of the merchants' association. so enthusiastic had the citizens of los angeles really become that in the years 1895 and 1896 the _fiesta_ was repeated and many prominent people supported the original committee, assisting to make the second festival almost equal to the first. among these patrons were john alton, hancock banning, w. a. barker, a. c. bilicke, l. w. blinn, w. c. bluett, r. w. burnham, john m. crawley, james cuzner, j. h. dockweiler, t. a. eisen, j. a. foshay, john f. francis, a. w. francisco, h. w. frank, dan freeman, mrs. jessie benton frémont, w. m. garland, t. e. gibbon, j. t. griffith, harley hamilton, r. h. howell, sumner p. hunt, a. jacoby, general e. p. johnson, john kahn, f. w. king, abbot kinney, e. f. c. klokke, j. kuhrts, dr. carl kurtz, j. b. lankershim, general c. f. a. last, s. b. lewis, h. lichtenberger, charles f. lummis, simon maier, d. c. mcgarvin, john r. mathews, james j. mellus, l. e. mosher, walter s. newhall, j. w. a. off, colonel h. z. osborne, colonel h. g. otis, madison t. owens, w. c. patterson, niles pease, a. petsch, john e. plater, r. w. pridham, judge e. m. ross, f. k. rule, frank sabichi, j. t. sheward, colonel w. g. schreiber, john schumacher, professor p. w. search, edward d. silent, alfredo solano, george h. stewart, frank j. thomas, d. k. trask, ben c. truman, i. n. van nuys, k. h. wade, stephen m. white, frank wiggins, c. d. willard, dr. w. le moyne wills, w. b. wilshire, h. j. woollacott and w. d. woolwine. this second _fiesta_ brought into the local field two men then unknown, but each destined to play an important part in the affairs of los angeles. j. o. koepfli, president of the merchants' association, and m. h. newmark, chairman of the finance committee, selected felix j. zeehandelaar (a reporter for the los angeles _herald_ during the short ownership of john bradbury) as financial and publicity agent; with the result that more than thirty thousand dollars was collected and valuable advertising was secured. at that time, the finance committee also discovered the undeveloped talent of lynden ellsworth behymer, since so well known as the impresario, who, in managing with wonderful success the sale of tickets for the various events, laid the foundation for his subsequent career. commencing with adelina patti, there have been few celebrities in the musical world that behymer's enterprise has not succeeded in bringing to los angeles; his greatest accomplishment in recent seasons being the booking of the chicago grand opera company, in february, 1913, under a guarantee of eighty-eight thousand dollars. second in chronological order among the larger societies of women, and doubtless equal to any in the importance of its varied activities, the ebell club was organized in 1894, due time providing itself with a serviceable and ornate home, within which for years broad courses of departmental study have been prosecuted with vigor. after worshiping for more than fifteen years in the old synagogue on fort street, and five years more after that name was changed to broadway (during which period, from 1881 until i started, in 1887, on my second european trip, it was my privilege to serve as president of the congregation), the reformed jews of los angeles built, in 1894, the temple b'nai b'rith on the corner of hope and ninth streets. in the meantime, following the resignation of dr. a. w. edelman, in 1886, dr. emanuel schreiber for two years occupied the pulpit; and then reverend a. blum came from galveston to succeed him. from the early part of 1895, rabbi m. g. solomon held the office until 1899. it was during his administration, it may be interesting to observe, and while herman w. hellman was president, that the present temple was consecrated. in 1894, homer laughlin, of ohio, during a visit purchased from mrs. mary a. briggs the property on broadway between third and fourth streets, where she had lived. three years later, he moved to los angeles and began the erection of the homer laughlin fire-proof building, adding to the same, in 1905, a reinforced concrete annex. at midnight, on april 17th, don antónio franco coronel died at his home in los angeles, aged seventy-seven years. in less than four months, his life-long friend, don pio pico died here--on september 11th, aged ninety-three years. the belgian hare aberration was a spasmodic craze of the nineties and when i remember what the little rabbit did to our judgment then, it brings to mind the black-tulip bubble of holland though, in point of genuine foolishness, i should award the prize to the former. a widely-copied newspaper article, claiming for the flesh of the timid belgian rodent extraordinary qualities and merit, led first hundreds, then thousands, to rig up hare-coops for the breeding of the animal, expecting to supply the world with its much-lauded meat. before long, people abandoned profitable work in order to venture into the new field, and many were those who invested thousands of dollars in belgian hare companies. during the wild excitement attention was also given to the raising of hares for exhibition, and fancy prices were paid for the choicest specimens. at last, the bubble burst: the supply far exceeded the now-diminishing demand and the whole enterprise collapsed. a lively election in 1895 was that which decided the immediate future of a suburb of los angeles where, on april 27th of the same year, don juan warner, who had lived there with his daughter, mrs. rúbio, went to his rest. this was university place, in 1880 a mere hamlet, though three years later it had a post office of its own. in 1895, an effort was made to annex the community, with vernon, rosedale and pico heights; but the measure was defeated, and only on june 12th, 1899 was the college district annexed to los angeles. for some years, the boundary line of the town at that point followed such a course through house-lots that residents there, still at home, often ate in the county and slept within the city! the early nineties were full of the spirit of accomplishment, and notwithstanding the failure of the electric homestead tract association and its street car line, already described, a successful electric railway system for los angeles was at length installed. in 1892, a route was laid out to westlake park, the company having been encouraged by a subsidy of fifty thousand dollars pledged by owners of property most likely to be affected by the service; and by 1895 the electric traction system was so general that even the bob-tailed cars on main street gave way to the new order of things. at this early stage in the application of electricity to street cars, some of the equipment was rather primitive. wooden poles, for example, were a part of the trolley; and as they were easily broken, conductors were fined a dollar for any accident to the rod with which they might have to do! electricity--when it was forthcoming at all--was only harnessed to impel the vehicle; but there were no devices for using the current to warm the car, and instead of an electric light, an _oil_ lamp, hung onto the dashboard, faintly illuminated the soft roadbed of the irregular tracks. the most active promoters of the improvements of 1895 were the two brothers, william spencer and thomas j. hook, who operated mainly in the southwestern part of the city, developing that rather sparsely-settled district and introducing what was the best and most handsome rolling stock seen here up to that time. b. f. coulter, who from 1881 to 1884 had preached here as a clergyman of the christian church, in 1895 built a place of worship at his own expense, on broadway near temple street, costing twenty thousand dollars--no inconsiderable sum for that time. sometime in march appeared the first issue of the _los angeles record_, a one-cent evening paper started by e. w. scripps as "the poor man's advocate." it was really another one of the many enterprising scripps newspapers scattered throughout the country and championing, more or less, socialistic principles; in accordance with which scripps, from the outset, distributed some of the stock among his working associates. at the present time, w. h. porterfield is the editor-in-chief, and w. t. murdoch the editor. thomas j. scully, a pioneer school teacher who came to los angeles the same year that i did, died here in 1895. for some time scully was the only teacher in the county outside of the city, but owing to the condition of the public treasury he actually divided his time between three or four schools, giving lessons in each a part of the year. after a while, the schoolmaster gazed longingly upon a lovely vineyard and its no less lovely owner; and at last, by marrying the proprietress, he appropriated both. this sudden capture of wife and independence, however, was too much for our unsophisticated pedagogue: scully entered upon a campaign of intemperance and dissipation; his spouse soon expelled him from his comfortable surroundings, and he was again forced to earn his own living with birch and book. inoffensive in the extreme, yet with an aberration of mind more and more evident during twenty years, frederick merrill shaw, a well-informed vermonter born in 1827, shipped for california as cook on the brig _sea eagle_ and arrived in san francisco in september, 1849, where he helped to build, as he always claimed, the first three-story structure put up there. well-proportioned and standing over six feet in height, shaw presented a dignified appearance; that is, if one closed an eye to his dress. long ago, he established his own pension bureau, conferring upon me the honor of a weekly contributor; and when he calls, he keeps me well-posted on what he's been doing. his weary brain is ever filled with the phantoms of great inventions and billion-dollar corporations, as his pocketful of maps and diagrams shows; one day launching an aerial navigation company to explore the moon and the next day covering california with railroad lines as thick as are automobiles in the streets of los angeles. on september 21st, my brother, j. p. newmark, to whom i am so indebted, and who was the cause of my coming to california, died at his home, in the sixty-ninth year of his age; his demise being rather sudden. during the extended period of his illness, he was tenderly nursed by his wife, augusta; and i cannot pay my sister-in-law too high a tribute for her devoted companionship and aid, and her real self-sacrifice. mrs. newmark long survived her husband, dying on january 3d, 1908 at the age of seventy-four. the reader will permit me, i am certain, the privilege of a fraternal eulogy: in his acceptance and fulfillment of the responsibilities of this life, in the depth and sincerity of his feeling toward family and friend, my brother was the peer of any; in his patient, silent endurance of long years of intense physical suffering and in his cheerfulness, which a manly courage and philosophical spirit inspired him to diffuse, he was the superior of most; and it was the possession of these qualities which has preserved his personality, to those who knew him well, far beyond the span of natural existence. in may, 1896, the merchants' association consolidated with the manufacturers' association (of which r. w. pridham was then president), and after the change of name to the merchants & manufacturers' association, inaugurated the first local exhibit of home products, using the main street store of meyberg brothers for the display. on august 1st, 1897, felix j. zeehandelaar, later also consul of the netherlands, became the stalwart, enthusiastic and now indispensable secretary, succeeding, i believe, william h. knight. this same year major ben. c. truman, formerly editor of the _star_, together with george d. rice & sons established the _graphic_, which is still being published under the popular editorship of samuel t. clover. in 1900, truman was one of the california commissioners to the paris exposition. after his foreign sojourn, he returned to los angeles and, with harry patton, started a weekly society paper called the _capitol_. rather recently, by the advantageous sale of certain property early acquired, ben and his good wife have come to enjoy a comfortable and well-merited degree of prosperity. clover came to los angeles in 1901; was editor and publisher of the _express_ for four years; and in 1905 started the _evening news_, continuing the same three years despite the panic of 1907. a year previously, he purchased the _graphic_, more than one feature of which, and especially his "browsings in an old book shop," have found such favor. w. a. spalding, whose editorial work on los angeles newspapers--dating from his association with the _herald_ in 1874, and including service with both the _express_ and the _times_--in 1896 assumed the business management of his first love, the _herald_. after again toiling with the quill for four years, he was succeeded by lieutenant randolph h. miner. the magnificent interurban electric system of los angeles is indebted not a little to the brothers-in-law, general m. h. sherman and e. p. clark--the former a yankee from vermont, and the latter a middle westerner from iowa--both of whom had settled in arizona in the early seventies. while in the territory, sherman taught school and, under appointment by governor frémont as superintendent of instruction, laid the foundation of the public school system there. both came to los angeles in 1889, soon after which sherman organized the consolidated electric railway company. in 1896, the old steam railroad--which about the late eighties had run for a year or so between los angeles and the north beach, by way of colegrove and south hollywood--was equipped with electrical motor power and again operated through the enterprise of eli p. clark, president of the los angeles pacific railroad company. together, sherman and clark built an electrical road to pasadena, thus connecting the mountains with the sea. in 1896, i dissolved partnership with kaspare cohn, taking over the hide business and, having fitted up a modest office under the st. elmo hotel, revived with a degree of satisfaction the name of h. newmark & company. a notable career in los angeles is that of arthur letts who in 1896 arrived here with barely five hundred dollars in his pocket and, as it would appear, in answer to a benign providence. j. a. williams & company, after a brief experience, had found the corner of broadway and fourth street too far south, and their means too limited, to weather the storm; so that their badly-situated little department store was soon in the hands of creditors. this was letts' opportunity: obtaining some financial assistance, he purchased the bankrupt stock. his instantaneous success was reflected in the improvement of the neighborhood, and thereafter both locality and business made rapid progress together. meredith p. snyder, who became a resident in 1880 and started business by clerking in a furniture store, in 1896 was elected to the office of mayor, on a municipal water-works platform. during the presidential campaign of 1896, when the west went wild over "16 to 1," and it looked as if w. j. bryan would sweep aside all opposition here, an organization known as the sound money league undertook to turn the tide. george h. stewart was elected president, the other members of the executive committee being john f. francis, frank a. gibson, r. w. burnham and m. h. newmark. so strenuous was the campaign, and so effective was the support by the public, that when the sun set on that memorable tuesday in november, los angeles was found to be still strong for sound principles. perhaps the most remarkable outpouring in the political history of the city took place during this period when business men, regardless of previous party affiliations, turned out to hear tom reed, the "czar" of the house of representatives. it was in the christmas season of 1896 that colonel griffith j. griffith so generously filled the stocking of los angeles with his immensely important gift of griffith park, said to be, with its three thousand and more diversified acres, magnificent heights and picturesque roadways--some of which, with their dense willow growth, remind me of the shaded lanes described in earlier chapters--the second largest pleasure ground in the world. on july 1st, 1897, the atlantic & pacific railroad was absorbed by the santa fé; charles w. smith, the receiver, having brought order out of chaos after the former road in 1895 had met with disaster. dr. henry s. orme, h. w. o'melveny, j. m. griffith, j. w. gillette, a. l. bath, j. m. guinn, m. teed, j. m. elliott and w. a. spalding on august 2d met in the office of the _daily herald_, in the bradbury block on third street, to consider the organization of an old settlers' society. at that meeting a committee, consisting of dr. j. s. griffin, henry w. o'melveny, benjamin s. eaton, h. d. barrows, j. m. guinn, dr. h. s. orme, j. w. gillette and myself was appointed to direct the movement. on august 10th, we selected the los angeles county pioneers of southern california as the name of the society and decided that eligibility should be limited to those who had resided in the county twenty-five years. a public meeting was held at the chamber of commerce on september 4th, 1897 and the twenty-five persons present signed the roll. the first president chosen was benjamin s. eaton and the first secretary, j. m. guinn. dr. william f. edgar, who had resided here continuously for over thirty years, died on august 23d, at the age of seventy-three; a sword given to him by general phil kearney resting among the floral tributes. the tenth of the following november witnessed the death of george hansen, the surveyor, whose body (in accordance with his expressed wish) was cremated. on the same day, j. j. ayers died. this year, when the town was full of unemployed, hundreds of men were set at work to improve elysian park, a move suggested by judge charles silent. frank walker, who had been here for a while in the middle of the eighties and had gone away again, returned to los angeles about 1897 and set himself up as a master builder. while contracting for certain unique bungalows, his attention was directed to the possibility of utilizing the power of the sun, with the result that he soon patented a solar heater, similar to those now extensively built into southern california residences, and organized a company for exploiting the invention. chapter xli the southwest archæological society 1898-1905 a cloud, considerably larger than a man's hand, flecked the skies at the dawn of 1898 and troubled many who had been following the course of events in cuba. so, too, like the thrill sent through the nation at the firing on fort sumter, the startling intelligence of the destruction of the united states battleship _maine_ electrified and united the people. along the coast, intense excitement scarcely permitted westerners to keep themselves within bounds; and instant was the display of patriotic fervor, southern californians willingly shouldering their share of the unavoidable war burdens. on january 22d, john g. nichols, several times mayor of los angeles and always a welcome figure on the streets, died here at the age of eighty-five years. [illustration: isaias w. hellman] [illustration: herman w. hellman] [illustration: cameron e. thom] [illustration: ygnácio sepúlveda] [illustration: main street, looking north, showing first federal building, middle nineties] [illustration: first santa fé locomotive to enter los angeles] colonel harrison gray otis, soldier, union officer, government official in alaska and president of the los angeles _times_ publishing company, was appointed by president mckinley, on may 27th, a brigadier-general of the united states volunteers, following which he was assigned to a command in the philippines, where he saw active service until honorably discharged in 1899, after the fall of malolos, the insurgent capital. during general otis's absence, his influential son-in-law, the large-hearted, big man of affairs, harry chandler, vice-president of the corporation, was general manager of the _times_; while l. e. mosher was managing editor. in 1897, harry e. andrews joined the _times_ staff, in 1906 becoming managing editor and infusing into the paper much of its characteristic vigor. in 1899, hugh mcdowell, who had entered the employ of the _times_ four years before, began his long editorship of the _times'_ magazine, a wide-awake feature which has become more and more popular. during many years, mrs. eliza a. otis, the general's gifted wife, now deceased, also contributed to both the _times_ and the _mirror_. from the beginning, the paper has been republican and in every respect has consistently maintained its original policies. especially in the fight for san pedro harbor, it was an important element and did much to bring the energetic campaign to a successful termination. paul de longpré, the french artist who made his mark, when but eleven years old, in the salon of 1876, was a distinguished member of a little group of frenchmen arriving in the late nineties. in 1901, he bought a home at hollywood and there surrounded himself with three acres of choicest gardens--one of the sights of suburban los angeles--which became an inspiration to him in his work as a painter of flowers. de longpré died in hollywood, on june 29th, 1911. on august 23d, my excellent friend, dr. john strother griffin, for nearly fifty years one of the most efficient and honored residents of los angeles, died here. a career such as should inspire american youth is that of henry t. gage (long in partnership with the well-known bibliophile, w. i. foley,) a native of new york who in 1877, at the age of twenty-four, began the practice of law in los angeles, to be elected, twenty-one years later, governor of california. a handsome man, of splendid physique--acquired, perhaps, when he started as a sheep-dealer--he is also genial in temperament, and powerful and persuasive in oratory; qualifications which led to his selection, i dare say, to second the nomination at chicago, in 1888, of levi p. morton for the vice-presidency. ex-governor gage's wife was miss fannie v., daughter of john rains and granddaughter of colonel isaac williams. april 27, 1899 was printed large and red upon the calendar for both los angeles and san pedro, when the engineers, desiring to commence work on the harbor in true spectacular fashion, brought a load of quarried rock from catalina to dump on the breakwater site. president mckinley sent an electric spark from the white house, intended to throw the first load of ballast splashing into the bay; but the barge only half tilted, interfering with the dramatic effect desired. nevertheless, the festivities concluded with the usual procession and fireworks. movements of great importance making for a municipal water-system occurred in 1899, the thirty years' contract with the assigns of john s. griffin, p. beaudry, s. lazard and others having expired on july 22d, 1898. an arbitration committee, consisting of charles t. healey for the company and james c. kays--long a citizen of importance and sheriff from 1887 to 1888--for the city, failed to agree as to the valuation of the los angeles city water company's plant, whereupon colonel george h. mendell was added to the board; and on may 12th, 1899, kays and mendell fixed their estimate at $1,183,591, while healey held out for a larger sum. in august, the citizens, by a vote of seven to one, endorsed the issuing of two million dollars of city bonds, to pay the water company and to build additional equipment; and the water-works having been transferred to the municipality, five commissioners were appointed to manage the system. during august, 1899, the reverend dr. sigmund hecht of milwaukee took into his keeping the spiritual welfare of los angeles reformed jewry; and it is certainly a source of very great satisfaction to me that during his tenure of office his good fellowship has led him, on more than one occasion, to tender the altar of the jewish temple for christian worship. scholarly in pursuits and eloquent of address, dr. hecht for sixteen years has well presided over the destinies of his flock, his congregation keeping pace with the growth of the city. incursions of other jobbing centers into los angeles territory induced our leading manufacturers and wholesalers to combine for offensive as well as defensive purposes; and on october 11th, 1899, in answer to a call, an enthusiastic meeting was held in room 86, temple block, attended by j. baruch, j. o. koepfli, j. saeger, r. l. craig, l. kimble, l. c. scheller, george h. wigmore, f. w. braun, c. c. reynolds, i. a. lothian, w. s. hunt, a. h. busch, m. h. newmark and others, who elected baruch, president; koepfli, first vice-president; reynolds, second vice-president; scheller, treasurer; and braun, secretary. a couple of weeks later, a. m. rawson was named secretary, braun having resigned to accept the third vice-presidency; and on november 3d, the associated jobbers of southern california, as the organization was called, was re-christened the associated jobbers of los angeles. meanwhile at a quiet luncheon, koepfli and newmark had entered into negotiations with charles d. willard, with the result that, when rawson withdrew on february 28th, 1900, willard assumed the duties of secretary, holding the office for years, until compelled by sickness, on january 18th, 1911, to relinquish the work. on february 21st, 1900, baruch having resigned, m. h. newmark began a service of twelve years as president. the strength of the organization was materially increased when, in march, 1908, f. p. gregson, well up in the traffic councils of the atchison, topeka & santa fé railroad, assumed the management of the recently-established traffic bureau. on april 10th, 1908, after many years of hardship, financial trouble and disappointment, during which the executive committee and secretary willard had frequent conferences with j. c. stubbs and william sproule (then stubbs's assistant) of the southern pacific, and w. a. bissell, of the atchison, topeka & santa fé railroad, it became evident that more equitable rates for shippers into the san joaquín valley and elsewhere could not peaceably be obtained. a promised readjustment, lowering los angeles rates about twenty per cent., had been published; but at the request of the san francisco merchants, the new tariff-sheet was repudiated by the transportation companies. a rehearing was also denied by them. the associated jobbers then carried the case before the newly-created railroad commission and obtained concessions amounting to fifty per cent. of the original demands. guided by their astute traffic manager, f. p. gregson, the jobbers, not satisfied with the first settlement, in 1910 renewed their activity before the commission; and on the 15th of the following february, still further reductions were announced. the last rates authorized in 1912 are still in effect. in 1899, james m. guinn, after some years of miscellaneous work in the field of local annals, issued his _history of los angeles county_, following the same in 1907 with a _history of california and the southern coast counties_. as i write, he has in preparation a still more compendious work to be entitled, _los angeles and environs_. at half-past four o'clock on the morning of december 25th, a slight shock of earthquake was felt in los angeles; but it was not until some hours later that the telegraph reported the much greater damage wrought at san jacinto, riverside county. there, walls fell in heaps; and a peculiar freak was the complete revolution of a chimney without the disturbance of a single brick! six squaws, by the falling of their adobes at the reservation some miles away, were instantly killed. when day dawned and the badly-frightened people began to inspect the neighborhood, they found great mountain-crevices, into some of which even large trees had fallen. toward the end of the nineties, henry e. huntington sold much or all of his large holdings in the san francisco railways and began both to buy up los angeles railway stocks and to give his personal attention to the city's traffic-problems. at the same time, he bent his energies to the crowning work of his life--the development of the various interurban electric systems focusing in los angeles. in 1902, the road to long beach was completed; and in the following year electric cars began to run to monrovia and whittier. in 1903, the seven-story huntington or pacific electric building at the corner of main and sixth streets was finished. the effect of these extensive improvements on local commerce and on the value of real estate (as well as their influence on the growth of population through the coming of tourists seeking the conveniences and pleasures of social life) cannot, perhaps, be fully estimated--a fact which the people of this city should always remember with gratitude. during the winter of 1899-1900, business cares so weighed upon me that i decided temporarily to cast off all worry and indulge myself with another visit to the old world. this decision was reached rather suddenly and, as my friends insist, in a perfectly characteristic manner: one morning i hastened to the steamship office and bought the necessary tickets; and then i went home leisurely and suggested to my wife that she prepare for a trip to europe! about the first of january, therefore, we left los angeles, reached naples on february 1st and traveled for nine months through great britain, france, germany, italy, switzerland, norway, sweden and denmark. i returned to my birthplace, loebau, which in my youth had appeared of such importance; but although somewhat larger than it used to be, it now nevertheless seemed small and insignificant. while making this tour of europe, i revisited sweden and renewed my acquaintance with the families that had been so kind to me as a boy. time had lamentably thinned the ranks of the older generation, but many of the younger, especially those of my own age, were still there. those only who have had a similar experience will appreciate my pleasure in once again greeting these steadfast friends. i also reviewed numerous scenes formerly so familiar. it is impossible to describe my emotions on thus again seeing this beautiful country, or to convey to the reader the depth of my respect and affection for her intelligent, thrifty and whole-souled people, especially when i remembered their liberal encouragement of my father about forty years before. thanks to the indefatigable labors of mrs. a. s. c. forbes of los angeles, the beautiful ceremony of strewing flowers upon the restless ocean waters in honor of the naval dead was first observed at santa monica on memorial day in 1900, and bids fair to become an appropriate national custom. señora antónio f. coronel entrusted to the chamber of commerce, on june 6th, the invaluable historical souvenirs known as the coronel collection; and now[43] for years these exhibits, housed in the chamber of commerce building, have been one of the sights of the city, a pleasure and a stimulation alike to tourist and resident. a good anecdote as to the transfer of this collection is related on the authority of miss anna b. picher, president of the boundary league and the lady who made the first move to secure the interesting league mementos now preserved and displayed at the county museum. when the matter of making the coronel heirlooms more accessible to the public was brought to señora coronel's attention, she not only showed a lively interest, but at once agreed to make the donation. she imposed, however, the condition that miss picher should bring to her m. j. newmark and john f. francis, then directors, in whose integrity and acumen she had great confidence. this was done; and these gentlemen having pledged their personal attention and sponsorship, the señora committed the historic objects to the chamber of commerce for the benefit, forever, of all the people. the los angeles _herald_, on july 7th, passed into the hands of a group of stockholders especially interested in petroleum, wallace r. hardison being president and general manager, and r. h. hay chapman, managing editor. at the same time the newspaper's policy became republican. the harvard school was opened, on september 25th by grenville c. emery and was the first notable military academy for youth in los angeles. after many terms of successful work under congregational auspices, the school has passed to the control of the rt. reverend j. h. johnson, as trustee for the episcopal church, which has acquired other valuable school properties in the southland; professor emery remitting fifty thousand dollars of the purchase price in consideration of a promise to perpetuate his name. a tunnel was put through bunker hill--by the way, one of the highest of downtown elevations--from hill street to hope on third, in 1901, bringing the western hill district into closer touch with the business center of the town and greatly enhancing the value of neighboring property. the delay in cutting through first and second streets, which would afford so much relief to the municipality, is a reproach against the good sense of the city. the los angeles _express_, which enjoys the honor of being the oldest daily newspaper still published in los angeles, and which, for fifteen years, has been so well managed by h. w. brundige, was sold in january to edwin t. earl, who moved the plant to a building erected for it on fifth street between broadway and hill. earl came to los angeles in 1885, having previously for years packed and shipped fruit on a large scale. in 1890, as a result of the obstacles handicapping the sending of fresh fruit to the east, earl invented a new refrigerator car with ventilating devices; and unable to get the railroads to take over its construction, he organized a company for the building of the conveyors. on selling out to the armours, earl made large investments in los angeles real estate. a few years ago, the _express_ was moved to hill street near seventh. possibly owing to the renewed interest in local historical study, the _express_, in 1905, commenced the republication of news items of "twenty-five years ago to-day"--a feature of peculiar pleasure to the pioneer. william f. grosser, who died on april 15th, was long active in los angeles turnverein circles, having popularized science before institutions and lecture-courses existed here for that purpose. a native of potsdam, prussia, grosser came to southern california _via_ panamá, and on settling in los angeles, laid out the grosser tract. having been an advanced student of astronomical science and microscopy, and possessing a good-sized portable telescope, he was soon in demand by societies and schools, for which he lectured without financial remuneration. one of grosser's sisters, mrs. a. jelinek--whose husband, a boston cabinet-maker, had an interesting part in the carving of the chair made from "the spreading chestnut tree" and presented to the poet longfellow by the school children of cambridge--has been for years an honored resident of ocean park, where she was one of the early investors. a granddaughter is fräulein elsa grosser, the violinist. on april 24th, samuel calvert foy died, aged seventy-one, survived by his wife and six children. a little town in ventura county, bearing the name of the famous student and author, recalls the death near here in july of charles nordhoff, whose pioneer book, _california: for health, pleasure and residence_, published in the early seventies, did more, i dare say, than any similar work to spread the fame of the southland throughout the east. charles brode, who died in august, first saw los angeles in 1868, when he came here to nurse edward j., my wife's brother, in his last illness. he then opened a grocery store at south spring street near second, and was active in turnverein and odd fellow circles. the mention of brode recalls the name of one who has attained distinction here: even as a messenger boy at the california club in the eighties, oscar lawler gave promise of an important future. he had come from iowa as a child, and his personality, ability and ambition soon brought him prominently before the bar and the people. he served as united states attorney for this district from 1906 until 1909, when he became assistant to the attorney-general of the united states. he is high in masonic circles, being past grand master of the masonic grand lodge of california. in 1901, he married miss hilda, daughter of charles brode. catalina island, in the summer of 1902, established wireless connection with the mainland, at white's point; and on august 2d, the first messages were exchanged. on march 25th of the following year began the publication of the catalina newspaper known as the _wireless_. after graduating from the university of california in 1902, my son marco attended for a while the university of berlin; after which he returned to los angeles and entered the house of m. a. newmark & company. the women of california, in the late eighties, wishing to pay mrs. john c. frémont an appropriate tribute, presented her with a residence at the northwest corner of hoover and twenty-eighth streets, los angeles where, on december 27th, 1902, at the age of seventy-eight years, she died. mrs. frémont was a woman of charming personality and decidedly intellectual gifts; and in addition to having written several meritorious works, she was engaged, at the time of her death, on her autobiography. her ashes were sent east to the banks of the hudson, to be interred beside those of her distinguished husband; but her daughter, miss elizabeth benton frémont, has continued to reside here in the family homestead. on the site of one of my early homes, the corner-stone of the new chamber of commerce was laid on march 28th with impressive masonic ceremonies. the principal address was made by jonathan s. slauson. ferdinand k. rule was then president of the chamber; and the building committee consisted of m. j. newmark, chairman; a. b. cass, homer laughlin, f. k. rule, h. s. mckee and james a. foshay--the latter for sixteen years, beginning with the middle nineties, having demonstrated his efficiency as superintendent of city schools. early in 1903, g. a. dobinson, a shakespearian student and teacher of elocution, induced me to build a hall on hope street near eleventh, connected with a small theater; and there, in the spring of 1904, he opened the well-known dobinson school, which he conducted until 1906. then the gamut club, an organization of 1904--whose first president was professor adolph willhartitz,[44] the artistic german pianist--moved in. the pioneer experiments with the navel orange have already been referred to; a late episode associates the luscious fruit with a president of the united states. on may 6th, amid great festivity participated in by all riverside, theodore roosevelt replanted, in front of frank miller's mission inn, one of the original, historic trees. william k. cowan came to los angeles as a jeweler in 1887, later embarked in the bicycle trade and was one of the first men in los angeles to sell automobiles, at length building in 1903 at 830 south broadway the first large garage here. some months later, if i recollect aright, witnessed the advent on our streets of a number of horseless carriages, and i was seized with a desire to possess not one, but two. my acquisitions were both electric, and soon i was extending, right and left, invitations to my friends to ride with me. on the first of these excursions, however, one of the machines balked and the second also broke down; and to make a long story short, no mechanic in town being sufficiently expert to straighten out the difficulty, i soon disposed of them in disgust for about seven hundred dollars. in 1903, a notable change was made, and one decidedly for the better interests of the public schools, when one hundred citizens, pursuant to a change in the city's charter, selected a non-partizan board of education consisting of john d. bicknell, joseph scott, j. m. guinn, jonathan s. slauson, charles cassatt davis, emmet h. wilson and w. j. washburn. on october 23d the southwest society was founded here by charles f. lummis with jonathan s. slauson as its first president; charles f. lummis, secretary and w. c. patterson, treasurer. associated with these officers were j. o. koepfli, m. a. hamburger, general h. g. otis, henry w. o'melveny, major e. w. jones, j. a. foshay, the right reverend thomas j. conaty, j. d. bicknell and others. in the beginning, it was a branch of the archæological institute of america; but so rapid was the society's growth that, in three years, it had fifty per cent. more members than belonged to the thirty-year-old parent organization in boston, with which it remained affiliated until 1913 when it withdrew in order that all its funds might go toward the maintenance of the southwest museum, a corporation founded in 1907 as the result of the southwest society's labors. the first plant of the los angeles _examiner_, a newspaper owned by william randolph hearst, was installed in 1903 by dent h. robert, then and now publisher of the san francisco _examiner_. the paper, illustrated from the start, made its first appearance on december 12th and sprang into immediate favor. r. a. farrelly was the first managing editor. the office of the paper was on the west side of broadway near fifth street, where it remained for ten years, during which it rendered valuable service to the community, notably in conducting a successful campaign for the sale of seven hundred and twenty thousand dollars' worth of school bonds which had hitherto proven unmarketable. in the meantime, robert had been succeeded, first by a mr. strauss, and then by henry lowenthal and william p. leech, while farrelly was followed by foster coates, arthur clark and w. p. anderson. in 1908, the enterprising maximilian f. ihmsen assumed the responsibilities of publisher, and at the same time frederick w. eldridge became the efficient managing editor. under the able direction of these experienced men, this morning daily has attained its highest prosperity, marked by removal in the fall of 1913 to the _examiner_ building at broadway and eleventh street. abbot kinney, foreseeing a future for the tide-flats and lagoons south of ocean park, in 1904 purchased enough acreage whereon to build the now well-known venice, which, as its name implies, was to be adorned with canals, bridges and arcades. through kinney's remarkable spirit of enterprise, a wonderful transformation was effected in a single year. such in fact was the optimism of this founder of towns that, in order to amply supply the necessary funds, he closed out important city holdings including the flat iron square, lying between eighth and ninth, and main and spring streets, the abbotsford inn property and the large southeast corner of spring and sixth streets, at present occupied by the grosse building. kinney's foresight, courage and persistence have been rewarded, the dreams of his prime becoming the realities of his more advanced age. the task of building here a king's highway--el camino real--intended to connect all the missions and _presidios_ between san diego and sonoma was undertaken in the troublous days of don gaspar de portolá and father junípero serra; but time in a measure obliterated this landmark. since 1904, however, such kindred spirits as miss anna b. picher--for nearly twenty years a zealous toiler for the preservation of our historic monuments, and whose zeal in behalf of the royal road was paramount--mr. and mrs. a. s. c. forbes, dr. milbank johnson, r. f. del valle, mrs. c. r. olney of oakland and frank ey, mayor of santa ana, have so caused the work to prosper that at the present time much of the original highway is about to be incorporated with the good state roads of california. the first bell for one of the mission-bell guide posts (designed, by the way, by mrs. forbes) was dedicated at the plaza church on august 15th, 1906; and since then some four hundred of these indicators have been placed along the camino real. an interesting attempt to transplant a small eastern town to california was made in 1904 when alfred dolge, the founder of dolgeville, new york (and the author of the elaborate work, _pianos and their makers_, published in 1911 at little covina), established dolgeville in los angeles county, opening there, with three hundred or more operatives, a felt works for piano fixtures. the experiment had been undertaken because of expected advantages in the supply of wool; but changes in the tariff ruined the industry, and after some years of varying prosperity, dolgeville was annexed to alhambra. a syndicate, styled the los angeles herald company, whose president was frank g. finlayson, in 1904 bought the _herald_, at that time under the editorial management of robert m. yost. future generations will doubtless be as keen to learn something about the preserving of albacore, commonly spoken of as tuna, as i should like to know how and by whom sardines were first successfully put into cans. the father of this industry is albert p. halfhill, a minnesotan drawn here, in 1892, through the opportunities for packing mackerel on this southern coast. in 1894, we find him organizing the california fish company, soon to be known as the southern california fish company. in 1904, halfhill, while experimenting with various western sea-foods, accidentally discovered the extraordinary quality of the albacore, a briny-deep heavyweight so interesting to the angler and so mysterious to the scientist. as a mere bit of gossip, halfhill's assurance that m. a. newmark & company purchased the first canned tuna is entitled to mention. the turnverein-germania took a notable step forward this year by buying a lot, one hundred by three hundred feet, on south figueroa, between pico and fifteenth streets; and on september 3d, 1905, the new club building and gymnasium were formally opened. william h. workman in 1904 was elected treasurer of the city of los angeles for the third time, his first term of office having begun in 1901. this compliment was the more emphatic because workman was a democrat and received four thousand five hundred votes more than his opponent--and that, too, only a month after roosevelt had carried los angeles by a majority of thirteen thousand. in a previous chapter, i have described the vender of _tamales_ and ice-cream, so familiar through his peculiar voice as well as his characteristic costume. about 1905, another celebrity plying a trade in the same line, and known as francisco, appeared here and daily made his rounds through the more fashionable westlake district. he had a tenor voice of rare quality and power, and used it, while exquisitely rendering choice _arias_, to advertise his wares. such was his merit that lovers of music, as soon as his presence was known, paused to listen; with the natural result that business with francisco was never dull. whenever a grand opera company came to town, the italian was there, in a front seat of the gallery; and so great was his enthusiastic interest in the performance of those whose voices were often inferior to his own, that he could be seen, with gaze fixed on the proscenium, passionately beating time as if to direct the orchestra. seven or eight years ago, the long-favorite francisco was foully murdered, and under strange circumstances; leading many to believe that, having perhaps degraded himself from his former estate and fleeing, an alien, to an unknown land, he had fallen at last the victim of a _vendetta_. in 1905, i took part in a movement, headed by joseph mesmer, to raise by subscription the funds necessary to buy the old downey block--fronting on temple and north main streets, and extending through to new high--for the purpose of presenting it to the national government for a federal building site. unusual success attended our efforts, and the transfer to uncle sam was duly made. in the meantime, an appropriation of eight hundred thousand dollars had been secured for the building, and it was with no little surprise and disappointment when the bids for construction were opened, in may, 1906, that the lowest was found to be nearly a million dollars. this delayed matters until the following fall. in october, the site at the corner of main and winston streets was sold for three hundred and fourteen thousand dollars; and the deficiency having thus been supplied, it was not long before the new building was in course of construction. desiring to celebrate the fifty years which had elapsed since, perched upon an ox-cart, he rode into los angeles for the first time, william h. workman on january 21st gave a banquet to five hundred pioneers in turnverein hall, the menu being peculiarly _mejicano_. the reminiscences, speeches and quips were of the friendliest and best; and the whole affair was one that recalled to both host and guests the _dolce far niente_ days of dear old los angeles. on february 21st, the san pedro, los angeles & salt lake railroad was completed--the fourth transcontinental line, with its connections, to enter los angeles. in the spring, a. c. and a. m. parson bought a tract of land on alamitos bay and there, at the mouth of the san gabriel river, founded naples, with features somewhat similar to those at venice; but unlike the latter town, the new naples has never developed into a crowded resort. arriving in california in 1869, at the age of seven, frank putnam flint, a native of massachusetts concerning whom much of importance might be related, was elected in 1905 united states senator from california. his brother, motley h. flint, high in masonic circles, has also enjoyed an important career, having long been associated with many local public movements. an optimist of optimists, still young though having passed more than one milestone on the road to success, willis h. booth came to los angeles a mere lad and is a product of the los angeles high school and the state university. before, while and since filling the office of president of the chamber of commerce, booth has been identified with nearly everything worth while here and gives promise of an important and interesting future. he is now one of the vice-presidents of the security trust and savings bank. in august, juan b. bandini, second son of the famous don juan, died at santa monica. two of bandini's daughters were noted los angeles belles--arcadia, who became the wife of john t. gaffey, of san pedro; and dolores, who married into the well-known literary family, the wards, of london. strenuous efforts were made in 1905 to house the historical society of southern california, which, incorporated on february 12th, 1891, boasts of being the oldest organization of its kind on the coast and the only one doing state work; and the legislature appropriated one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars for a building. governor pardee, however, vetoed the bill--an act which later contributed to the endowment, by the state, of the comely county museum in which the historical society now has its home. in the spring of 1905, the then eight-year-old town of redondo, with her large hotel and busy wharf, and famed for her fields of carnations, became the scene of one of those infrequent, but typically american, real estate frenzies which come suddenly, last a few days and as suddenly depart. this particular attack, not to say epidemic, was brought on by one or two newspaper headlines announcing to the breakfasting reader that henry e. huntington had decided to spend millions of dollars in making immense railroad and other improvements in the seaside town, and that this would at once raise redondo from the humble status of a village to almost metropolitan dignity. in about as little time as is required to relate it, the astonished beach-dwellers found themselves overwhelmed by a surging mass of humanity struggling for the privilege of buying lots. the real estate offices were soon surrounded by hundreds of people, fighting, pushing and shoving, all possessed of but the one idea--to buy. and they bought. they bought corners and they bought in the middle of the blocks; they bought heaps of sand and holes in the ground; they bought in one breath and sold in the next; they bought blindly and sold blindly. redondo had become a huge, unregulated stock exchange, lots instead of stocks for five days becoming the will-o'-the-wisps of the fated bidders, until the boom collapsed leaving hundreds with lots they had never seen and which, for the time being, they could not sell at any price. huntington did not spend his millions--at least then and there. redondo did not suddenly become a big center. yet, in passing through the experience of many a town, redondo has gradually grown in population and importance, even developing something of a suburb--clifton-by-the-sea. such was the famous boom of 1905; and such will probably be the story of similar california booms to come. footnotes: [43] installed, of late, in the county museum. [44] died on january 12th, 1915, aged seventy-eight years. chapter xlii the san francisco earthquake 1906-1910 on january 1st, 1906, after more than half a century of commercial activity--with some things well done, and some poorly enough--during which it has never been my ambition to better myself at the expense of others, i retired from business to enjoy the moderate but sufficient affluence which years of varying fortune had bestowed upon me. rather early in the morning of april 18th, news was received here of the awful calamity that had befallen san francisco; and with lightning rapidity the report spread throughout the city. newspaper and telegraph offices were besieged for particulars as to the earthquake, which, strange to say, while it also affected even san diego, was scarcely felt here; and within a couple of hours, more than a thousand telegrams were filed at one office alone, although not a single message was despatched. thousands of agitated tourists and even residents hastened to the railroad stations, fearing further seismic disturbance and danger, and bent on leaving the coast; and soon the stations and trains were so congested that little or nothing could be done with the panic-stricken crowds. meanwhile, more and more details of the widespread disaster poured in; and los angeles began to comprehend how paralyzing to her sister cities must have been the wreck and ruin following, first, the shaking of the earth, and then the much more serious fires and explosions. soon, too, refugees from the north commenced flocking into our city; and these thousands, none with complete and few with decent attire, each pleading pathetically for assistance, told the sad tale much more frankly than could the noisy newsboy, with his flaring headlines and shrill, intermittent _extra!_ long before much information was secured as to just what had happened, public-spirited men and women, some under the banners of regular organizations, some acting independently, moved energetically to afford relief. the newspapers led off with large subscriptions, while the chamber of commerce, board of trade and the merchants & manufacturers' association swelled the amount. eventually some two hundred and fifty thousand dollars was raised. at the same time, and within two or three hours after the terrifying news had first been received, the directors of the chamber of commerce met and appointed various committees headed by francis quarles story, a patriotic and indomitable citizen who arrived in 1883; and having the valuable coöperation of frank wiggins, who served as secretary, they went actively to work to render the most practical assistance possible. a supply committee, of which m. h. newmark was chairman, by five o'clock the same afternoon had assembled fourteen carloads of goods, partly donated and partly sold to the committee at cost, to go by rail, and nine carloads to go from san pedro by water. this train full of necessaries was the first relief of its kind that reached san francisco; other shipments of supplies followed daily; and with the first relief train went a corps of surgeons, under the chairmanship of dr. l. m. powers, health officer, who established a hospital in the jefferson square building, treating two thousand patients in less than three weeks. among the chairmen of the several committees were: j. o. koepfli, j. baruch, r. w. burnham, niles pease, perry weidner, john e. coffin, j. j. fogarty, w. l. vail, d. c. mcgarvin, w. a. hammel, f. edward gray, mrs. r. m. widney and d. j. desmond; while h. b. gurley, long identified with frank wiggins in chamber of commerce work, was assistant secretary. in this way was our sister-city laid low; but only, as it were, for a moment. while the flames were yet consuming the old san francisco, her children were courageously planning the new; and supported by that well-nigh superhuman spirit which community misfortune never fails to inspire--the spirit that transforms weakness into strength, and transmutes, as by an altruistic alchemy, the base metal of "eachness" into the pure gold of "allness"--this stricken people built and built until, to-day, less than a decade after that memorable night, there stands by the golden gate a finer and more beautiful city than the one from which it sprang. and, as if to emphasize to other nations the fulness of san francisco's accomplishment, her invincible citizens are now organizing and triumphantly carrying out a great world's exposition. one incident of this period of excitement and strain is perhaps worthy of record as evidence of the good fellowship existing between los angeles and the prostrate city. on may 2d the executive committee[45] of the associated jobbers passed resolutions discouraging any effort to take advantage of san francisco's plight, and pledging to help restore her splendid commercial prestige; whereupon samuel t. clover made this editorial comment in the los angeles _evening news_: we commend the reading of these expressions of kindly good will to every pessimist in the country, as an evidence that all commercial honor is not wiped out in this grossly materialistic age. the resolutions, as passed, are an honor to the jobbers' association in particular, and a credit to los angeles in general. the _evening news_ desires to felicitate president newmark and his associates on the lofty attitude they have taken in the exigency. we are proud of them. among the many who at this time turned their faces toward los angeles is hector alliot, the versatile curator of the southwest museum. born in france and graduating from the university of lombardy, dr. alliot participated in various important explorations, later settling in san francisco. losing in the earthquake and fire everything that he possessed, alliot came south and took up the quill, first with the _examiner_ and then the _times_.[46] mr. and mrs. m. kremer, on april 9th, celebrated their golden wedding; less than a year later, both were dead. mrs. kremer passed away on march 5th, 1907, and her husband followed her two days later--an unusual dispensation. in july, i was seized with an illness which, without doubt, must have precluded the possibility of writing these memoirs had it not been for the unselfish attendance, amounting to real self-sacrifice, of lionel j. adams. from that time until now, in fair weather or foul, in good health or ill, adams uncomplainingly and, indeed cheerfully, has bestowed upon me the tender care that contributed to the prolongation of my life; and it affords me peculiar pleasure to record, not only the debt of gratitude that i owe him and the sincere friendship so long marking our relations, but also his superior character as a man. j. m. griffith, for years a leading transportation agent and lumber merchant, died here on october 16th. griffith avenue is named after him. just two weeks later, william h. perry passed away--a man of both influence and affluence, but once so poor and tattered that when he arrived, in february, 1854, he was unable to seek work until he had first obtained, on credit, some decent clothes. sometime about 1907, major ben c. truman, both a _connoisseur_ of good wines and an epicure, figured in an animated controversy as to the making of mint-julep, the battle waging around the question whether a julep's a julep, or not a julep, with the mint added before or after a certain stage in the concocting! [illustration: harris and sarah newmark, at time of golden wedding] [illustration: summer home of harris newmark, santa monica] in an exceedingly informal manner, at the westlake avenue residence of my daughter, mrs. l. loeb, my wife and i on the 24th of march, 1908 celebrated our golden wedding anniversary, the occasion being the more unusual because both the nuptials and the silver wedding festivity had occurred in los angeles.[47] our pleasure on that occasion was intensified by the presence of friends with whom, during most of our married life, we had maintained unbroken the most amicable relations. many years after spur-track switching charges had been abolished throughout other industrial districts of the united states, the western railroads continued to assess this charge in los angeles, to the extent that, as was estimated, our merchants were paying through this tribute alone an amount not less than $250,000 a year. in august, 1908, however, or shortly after f. p. gregson became identified with the associated jobbers, suit was filed by m. h. newmark, as president, before the interstate commerce commission; and on may 7th, 1910, a decision was rendered in favor of local shippers. but unfortunately this decision was reversed on july 20th, 1911, by the commerce court.[48] joseph p. loeb and edward g. kuster, young attorneys, handled the case in a manner recognized among men of their profession as being unusually brilliant; while gregson brought together a mass of valuable facts. this was probably the most notable of all the cases of its kind in the commercial history of los angeles. the other directors at the time the suit was brought were: j. o. koepfli, c. c. reynolds, f. w. braun, l. c. scheller, h. r. boynton, a. douglass, d. wiebers, w. h. joyce, w. e. hampton and e. h. greppin. not the least interesting step forward in providing los angeles with a harbor was the acquisition of a strip of land known as the shoe string connecting los angeles with san pedro and wilmington. this practical idea made possible in 1909 the unhampered consolidation of the three places; and before the beginning of april their various civic bodies had been considering the formation of committees to bring this about. on saturday, april 3d, the los angeles appointees met at the rooms of the chamber of commerce for permanent organization. they were william d. stephens, mayor of los angeles; stoddard jess; homer hamlin, city engineer; f. w. braun; j. a. anderson, attorney for the harbor commission and ex-member of the board of public works; leslie r. hewitt, city attorney; frank simpson; joseph scott, president of the board of education; m. h. newmark, president of the associated jobbers; j. m. schneider, president of the merchants and manufacturers' association; a. p. fleming, secretary of the harbor commission; ex-mayor m. p. snyder, h. jevne, o. e. farish, president of the realty board; and f. j. hart. jess was elected president; fleming, secretary; and to the admirable manner in which they conducted the campaign, much of the ultimate success of the movement must be attributed. the delegates from san pedro and wilmington refused to go on until the associated jobbers had pledged themselves to obtain for the harbor districts, after consolidation was effected, the same freight advantages enjoyed by los angeles. this promise was given and fulfilled. various other pledges were outlined in the committee's report and adopted by the city council; but many of these assurances have not thus far been carried out by the authorities. then a vigorous campaign was projected, as a result of which both elections--that of wilmington and los angeles on august 5th, and the other, of san pedro and los angeles, on august 12th--resulted in handsome majorities for consolidation. these substantial victories were fittingly celebrated throughout the consolidated cities; and on february 13th, 1910, the port became officially known as los angeles harbor. in april, 1906, the one hundred thousand books of the los angeles public library, then under the administration of charles f. lummis, were moved from the city hall to the laughlin building. with the opening of september, 1908, the library was again moved by the same librarian, this time to the hamburger building.[49] on the evening of october 11th, 1909, i attended a banquet tendered to president taft by the city of los angeles, at the shrine auditorium. every honor was shown the distinguished guest, and his stay of two or three days was devoted to much sight-seeing, to say nothing of the patriotic efforts of many politicians whose laudable desire was to whisper in the presidential ear _à propos_ of government employment. the election of george alexander as mayor on november 10th, 1909 was largely responsible for the later success of the progressive party--with whose socialistic policies i am not in sympathy. w. c. mushet, the more acceptable candidate, ran on a ticket endorsed by business-men organized under the chairmanship of m. h. newmark, while george a. smith was the republican candidate. alexander's campaign was managed by meyer lissner, an arrival of 1896 who had a brief experience as a jeweler before he turned his attention to law. he possessed much political sagacity, and was therefore quick to turn the alexander success to the advantage of hiram johnson who was soon elected governor. george n. black, who came here a child in 1886, and graduated from the los angeles high school, later being president of the california state realty confederation and grand president of the independent order b'nai b'rith of this district, directed smith's campaign. on january 29th, 1910, the citizens of los angeles, under the leadership of max meyberg, tendered to d. a. hamburger (chairman), perry w. weidner, fred l. baker, william m. garland, m. c. neuner, dick ferris and f. j. zeehandelaar, the committee in charge of the first aviation meet here, a banquet at the alexandria hotel. the contests had occurred a few days before at dominguez field, on a part of the once famous _rancho_; and to see the aërial antics of the huge man-made birds, as they swiftly ascended and descended, was no less nerve-racking, at least to me, than it was interesting. litigation having established a clear title to the property once held by the sixth district agricultural association, and the state, the declared owner, having agreed to lease the ground to the county and the city for fifty years, decisive steps were taken in january, 1910, by the historical society of southern california to provide the museum building now such a source of civic pride. other bodies, including the fine arts league, the southern california academy of science and a branch of the cooper ornithological society, were invited to coöperate, each being promised a place in the park and museum plans; and by the middle of february, the supervisors had agreed to vote the necessary building funds. on july 11th, 1910, in the presence of a large and representative gathering at exposition park, ground was broken for the building, although the corner-stone was not laid until the 10th of december. * * * * * in the dark hours of the night of april 25th, 1910, after an illness of four days and almost entirely free from suffering, she who had shared with me the joys and sorrows of over half a century was called to her reward. she passed from this life as she had passed through it--gently and uncomplainingly. i was left in the midst of a gloom that i thought would be forever black; for six out of our eleven children had preceded their mother, whose spirit on that night was reunited with theirs. i was soon to find, however, how true it is that "the lord tempers the wind to the shorn lamb." common misfortune and common memories made but stronger the tie, always strong, between my children and myself. time has performed his kindly offices: he has changed the anguish of grief to the solace of recollection; and in assisting me to realize that i was permitted so long and so happy a companionship, he has turned my heart from its first bitterness to lasting gratitude. footnotes: [45] president, m. h. newmark; first vice-president, j. o. koepfli; second vice-president, c. c. reynolds; third vice-president, f. w. braun; treasurer, l. c. scheller; secretary, charles dwight willard; directors: h. r. boynton, j. baruch, p. a. benjamin, a. douglass, i. a. lothian and d. wiebers. [46] one of dr. alliot's most recent accomplishments is a comprehensive _bibliography of arizona_, recently published--the result of dr. j. a. munk's liberal provision. [47] on july 5th, 1915, mr. and mrs. s. lazard celebrated their golden wedding, mrs. lazard being the third daughter of mr. and mrs. joseph newmark to enjoy the privilege--almost unique in a single family, and that will become the more remarkable if mrs. eugene meyer (the fourth daughter) and her husband live to commemorate, on the 20th of november, 1917, the fiftieth anniversary of their marriage. [48] the supreme court of the united states, on june 8th, 1914, affirmed the decision of the interstate commerce court, and thus was obliterated this very iniquitous charge. [49] on june 1st, 1914, the library--directed by everett r. perry, who came to los angeles in the fall of 1911, from the staff of the new york public library--was removed to the metropolitan building at the northwest corner of broadway and fifth street, its shelves, a month later, holding 227,894 volumes. chapter xliii retrospection 1910-1913 at one o'clock in the morning of october 1st, 1910, occurred the most heinous crime in the history of los angeles. this was the dynamiting, by the evil element of union labor, of the building and plant of the los angeles _times_, resulting in the sudden extinction of no less than twenty human lives and the destruction of the property of the corporation. the tragedy, lamented in obsequies of the most impressive kind ever witnessed in this city, was followed by the construction, on the same site and at the earliest moment, of the present home of the _times_. the trial of some of those deemed responsible for this disaster brought to the fore john d. fredericks, district attorney[50] in 1900, 1902, 1906 and 1910. not the least of the many and far-reaching losses entailed through the ruin of this printery was a _history of the medical profession of southern california_ by dr. george h. kress, with an introduction by dr. walter lindley--a work of extended research almost ready for publication. after all such material as could be saved from the ruins had been assembled, an abridged edition of the volume once planned was issued. in strong contrast to this annihilation of man by his brother, were the peaceful exercises marking the afternoon of the previous sunday, june 19th, when the kaspare cohn hospital, on stephenson avenue, was dedicated; a worthy charity made possible through the munificence, several years before, of the pioneer after whom the hospital is named. as superintendent of city schools here for four years beginning in 1906, c. e. moore laid the foundation for that national reputation which, in july, 1910, led to his being called as a professor to yale university. jacob a. riis, the famous danish-american sociologist, who was so instrumental in cleaning up new york's tenement districts, visited los angeles for the fourth time, on march 10th, 1911, lecturing at the temple auditorium on "the battle with the slum." the city council having created a harbor board, mayor george alexander, in october, 1909, appointed stoddard jess, thomas e. gibbon and m. h. newmark as commissioners. in march, 1911, at a popular election, the board was made a charter body, and mayor alexander reappointed the gentlemen named. owing, however, to the numerous difficulties thrown in the way of the commissioners in the accomplishment of their work, m. h. newmark resigned in december, 1911 and stoddard jess in january, 1912; while thomas e. gibbon, for many years one of the most formidable advocates of a free harbor, met with such continued obstacles that he was compelled, in the summer of 1912, to withdraw. having left los angeles, as i have said, in 1879, myer j. newmark made san francisco his home until december, 1894, at which time he returned here and became associated with kaspare cohn. in december, 1905, he once more took up his abode in san francisco where, on may 10th, 1911, he died at the age of seventy-two years. the first issue of the los angeles _tribune_, a wide-awake sheet projected by edwin t. earl, owner of the _express_, appeared on july 4th, flying the banner of the progressive party, but making its strongest appeal for support as the first one-cent morning newspaper on the coast, and a readable journal advocating the moral uplift of the community. like all the other newspapers of this period, the _tribune_ was illustrated with photo-engravings. in 1911, william r. hearst, of national newspaper fame, bought the los angeles _daily herald_, making it at the same time an evening newspaper and placing it under the management of guy b. barham. the latter had come to southern california with his father, richard m. barham, who located in 1873 at anaheim, conducting there the old planters' hotel. after school was out, guy did chores. graduating, he worked for hippolyte cahen, the anaheim merchant; then he kept books for eugene meyer & company, and in time became deputy internal revenue collector. for some years he has been a custom house broker, in which activity, in addition to his newspaper work, he is still successfully engaged. the federal telegraph company, which had established itself in los angeles in the fall of 1910, inaugurated in july, 1911 a wireless service with san francisco and other coast cities; and just a year later it effected communication with honolulu, although oddly enough at first, owing to atmospheric conditions, it was necessary to flash all messages across the waste of waters during the night. for some years, the giant steel masts erected by the company in the southwestern part of the city have puzzled the passer-by. at half-past three o'clock on november 28th, i turned the first spadeful of earth in the breaking of ground for the jewish orphans' home of southern california. this privilege was accorded me because, in response to the oft-expressed wish of my wife to assist those dependent children bereft of their natural protectors, i had helped, in a measure, shortly after her demise, to assure the success of the proposed asylum. sixteen years after colonel griffith j. griffith agreeably surprised los angeles in the presentation of griffith park, his munificent bounty again manifested itself in another christmas donation, that of one hundred thousand dollars for the construction of an observatory on mount hollywood, the highest point in griffith park. incidental to the making of this gift, due official recognition of the colonel's large-heartedness was displayed at a public meeting in the city hall, in which i had the honor of participating. m. a. newmark & company in february, 1912 removed to their present quarters on wholesale street--a building (it may some day be interesting to note) five stories high with a floor space of one hundred and thirty thousand square feet. in common with the rest of the civilized world, los angeles, on april 15th, was electrified with the news of the collision between an iceberg and the great ocean steamer _titanic_ which so speedily foundered with her 1535 helpless souls. for a day or two, it was hoped that no one with los angeles connections would be numbered among the lost; but fate had decreed that my nephew, edgar j. meyer, a son of mr. and mrs. eugene meyer, should perish. he was one of those who heroically hastened to the aid of the women and children; nor did he rest until he saw his wife and child placed in one of the lifeboats. they were saved, but he went down, with other gallant men, among whom i may mention walter m. clark, son of j. ross clark, of this city. nor can i refrain, while mentioning this awful catastrophe, from alluding to another example of courage and conjugal devotion[51] than which, perhaps, neither song nor story portrays one more sublime. as the huge liner was sinking into the dark abyss, one frail woman declined to become the beneficiary of that desperate command, "_women and children first!_" the wife of isadore straus, unafraid though face to face with death and eternity, still clung to her loyal husband, refusing, even in that terrible moment, to leave him. she chose rather to die by his side; and as the black sea roared out its chill welcome, it received one who, in the manner of her going, left a precious heritage for all mankind. [illustration: harris newmark, at the dedication of m. a. newmark & co.'s establishment, 1912] [illustration: j. p. newmark, about 1890] [illustration: harris newmark breaking ground for the jewish orphans' home, november 28th, 1911] through a high school friendship of my son marco i came to know quite well one who, though physically handicapped, acquired much international fame. i refer to homer lea, a native of denver, who came to los angeles in 1890, at the age of fourteen, studied at the high school, occidental college and at stanford, and then conceived the monumental idea of freeing the chinese from the despotism of the old manchurian dynasty. making his first trip to china in 1900, he took an active part in a revolutionary campaign; and returning to america a lieutenant-general and a force in the chinese republican party, he devoted himself to drilling chinese troops, and to literary work, some of his writings, notably _the valor of ignorance_, when widely translated, bringing him repute as a military strategist. having married mrs. ethel powers, general lea, late in 1911, joined dr. sun yat sen, the chinese leader, and proceeded with him from london to shanghai, only to arrive there after the revolution had actually started. even then success was not to crown his labors; during the convention called to establish the republic, general lea was stricken with paralysis and his public career was at an end. he returned to southern california; and at ocean park on november 1st, 1912, while looking out toward the land that he loved so well, homer lea yielded up his soul. he was not destined to see the fulfillment of his dream; but when the people for whom he labored shall some day have established a true democracy, his name will loom large in their history. in december, the museum of history, science and art, so favorably situated in exposition park, was informally opened[52] to the public under the scholarly administration of dr. frank s. daggett, who had been appointed director the year previous; and during the few months following, professor daggett, backed by the board of supervisors, carried forward with such enterprise the excavations of the pits at la brea _rancho_ that, before the ornate building was ready to receive the finds, a unique collection of fossils invaluable for the study of california fauna had been assembled. the discovery of these evidences of primeval animal life, already concentrating the attention of the scientific world, may well be regarded with pride by every southern californian; while the proper housing here of precious souvenirs recalling those whose lives have contributed so much to making los angeles what it was and is, will permanently add to the attractions of the southland. pluckily resisting the inroads of an insidious disease, yet cheerful under all the discouraging circumstances and as deeply interested as ever in the welfare of this community, charles dwight willard has been confined to his home for many months. on my last visit i found him very feeble,[53] though still fired with a resistless enthusiasm; the power of his mind asserting itself over the flesh in forcible, if quiet, expression. we sat in a comfortable little bower at his home on san rafael heights, with mrs. willard, his faithful companion; and after he had uttered an earnest desire to see these memoirs published, we chatted about his life and his activities here. born in illinois and graduating from the university of michigan, an affection of the lungs, brought on by an attack of typhoid fever, induced him in 1888 to come to los angeles in search of a milder climate. his first occupation here was to serve as a reporter for the _times_, and then for the morning _herald_. in 1891, he was elected secretary of the chamber of commerce; and during the six years of his incumbency he raised the membership from one hundred and fifty to a thousand, at the same time contributing in a powerful manner to the leading part played by this organization in the fight for a free harbor. during that period also, in conjunction with frank a. pattee and harry brook (both well-known wielders of the pen), he started the _land of sunshine_ (six months later taken over by charles f. lummis, as editor, and in 1902 renamed the _out west magazine_;) while in 1897 he assumed the management of the los angeles _express_, from which he resigned two years later. in 1892, he organized with others the municipal league, serving it ever since as either secretary or vice-president, and in the same energetic way in which he toiled as secretary of the associated jobbers. in his literary capacity, willard has been equally efficient, being the author of a compact _history of los angeles_, a _history of the los angeles chamber of commerce_, _the free harbor contest_ and a high school text-book on city government, all of which, as well as contributions to the san francisco _argonaut_, have been favorably received by a discerning public. frank wiggins' name is considered by many of his friends a synonym for that of the chamber of commerce. like his predecessor, charles d. willard, wiggins came to california for his health; and upon its restoration, identified himself with the chamber of commerce on september 17th, 1889, becoming secretary in 1897. although ferociously bewhiskered, he is the mildest and best-natured man in town. he has had charge, in all parts of the country, of many exhibits so unique and so successful that he is known from coast to coast. on may 24th, 1913, while many thousand people were assembled at long beach for a southern california celebration of empire day, one of the worst of local catastrophes occurred through the caving-in of the defective floor of a crowded dancing pavilion. medical and police aid were at once despatched from los angeles; but the result of the accident, the death of forty persons and injury to many more, cast a deep spell over the two cities. dr. charles f. lummis, assisted by other public-spirited men and women of los angeles including lieutenant-general adna r. chaffee[54] (the first president), joseph scott, mrs. clara b. burdette, miss mary e. foy, m. h. newmark and william lacy, on the last day of 1907 incorporated the southwest museum.[55] on the 1st of march, 1910, dr. lummis, celebrating his fifty-first birthday, conveyed to the museum his priceless collection of _americana_. a sightly eminence of seventeen acres near sycamore grove was secured; and on november 16th, 1912, ground was broken with the formalities usual to such events, the first spadeful being turned by miss elizabeth benton frémont, daughter of the pathfinder, followed by general chaffee and dr. lummis. an inspiring feature of the day was the raising by miss frémont and general chaffee of the same flag that on august 16th, 1842 general frémont had unfurled on the crest of the rocky mountains. on this occasion henry w. o'melveny presented a certified check for fifty thousand dollars, the bequest of mrs. carrie m. jones. this auspicious beginning was followed, on july 9th, 1913, by the pouring of the first concrete.[56] how broadly and well those have built who planned this much-needed institution may be seen from both the distinguishing architectural features of the structure, including the caracole tower of cement, and the location--one of the most notable occupied by any museum in the united states. dr. j. a. munk, an ohioan, to whom i have just referred, has not been in los angeles as long as many others, having arrived only in 1892, but he is known among his friends for his charming personality, and among historians and scientists for his splendid collection of _arizoniana_--commenced on his first trip to arizona in 1884--all of which has been given to the southwest museum. among the features of the southwest museum is the large square, or so-called torrance tower, the funds for which were generously provided by jared s. torrance, whose residence in pasadena dates from 1887. in that year he came from the empire state; and ever since he has been an active participator in the development of southern california. the town of torrance is an example of his enterprise. my sixty years' residence in los angeles has been by no means free from the ordinary family cares, vicissitudes and sorrows, and it seems proper that i should refer to the physicians who, in times of illness, have ministered to the comfort of my home and its inmates. our first doctor was john s. griffin, and he continued in that capacity until i left for new york. shortly before 1873, dr. griffin, whose advancing age compelled him to withdraw from general practice, had been calling dr. joseph kurtz into consultation; and it was then that the latter became my family physician. for a short time, i consulted dr. charles a. h. de szigethy, a relic of the old school, whose nauseating doses were proverbial; and then dr. john r. haynes, now well known as an advocate of socialism, who had arrived from philadelphia in may, 1887, assumed the responsibility. again a long period elapsed before events caused a change. in the year 1897, my nephew, dr. philip newmark, came to los angeles from berlin and succeeded dr. haynes. notwithstanding these mutations and cares, my friends have often insisted that i am quick and perhaps even sprightly for my age, and have more than once asked to what i attribute this activity and alertness. it is due, i think, first, to the inheritance from my parents of a strong constitution; and, secondly, to the preservation of my health by a moderate, though never over-abstemious, manner of living. to begin with, ever since i traveled with my father in sweden, i have kept my mind healthfully employed, while i have never long deprived myself of rest. i have also always used tobacco and liquor in moderation; and in this connection i can testify that, although wine and beer were at the free disposal of my children, they have grown up to use it either most temperately or not at all. this fact i ascribe to liberal views on such subjects; for it has always been my belief that to prohibit is to invite, whereas to furnish a good example and at the same time to warn, is to insure rational restriction and limitation. in short, in preparation for a vigorous old age, i have followed as closely as i could the ancient ideal, "a sound mind in a sound body." at the age of nineteen, i came to los angeles; and after a lapse of exactly sixty years--that is, on october 21st, 1913--i find myself completing these reminiscences, ruminating on the past, and attempting a prophecy for the future. a battle of eighty years with the world cannot, in the nature of human affairs, leave any man or woman unscarred; but i have learned many things, and among them the consolations of philosophy. it would be presumption on my part to make complaint against the inscrutable decrees of that providence which guides the destinies of us all; i dwell, rather, on the manifold blessings which have been my lot in this life--the decision of fate which cast my lines in the pleasant places of southern california; the numerous excellent and estimable friends whom i have met on life's highway; the many years of happiness vouchsafed me to enjoy; and, finally, whatever degree of success has attended my more serious efforts. when i came, los angeles was a sleepy, ambitionless adobe village with very little promise for the future. the messenger of optimism was deemed a dreamer; but time has more than realized the fantasies of those old village oracles, and what they said would some day come to pass in los angeles, has come and gone, to be succeeded by things much greater still. we possessed however, even in that distant day, one asset, intangible it is true, but as invaluable as it was intangible--the spirit popularly called "western," but which, after all, was largely the pith of transferred eastern enterprise. this characteristic seized upon a vast wilderness--the same which daniel webster declared, in the senate of the united states, unworthy of membership in the sisterhood of states; and within this extensive area it builded great cities, joined its various parts with steel and iron, made great highways out of the once well-nigh impassable cattle-paths, and from an elemental existence developed a complex civilization. nor is there to-day in all this region a greater or finer city than fair los angeles. many of us saw it grow; none of us foresaw that growth, even from decade to decade. "westward the course of empire takes its way." when bishop berkeley so poetically proclaimed this historic truth, even he could hardly have had in mind the shores of the pacific; but here we have an empire, and one whose future is glorious. this flourishing city stands, in fact, with its half million or more human beings and its metropolitan activities, at the threshold of a new era. the operations of nature change so slowly as to show almost no change at all: the southern california of the coming years will still possess her green hills and vales, her life-giving soil, her fruits, flowers and grain, and the same sun will shine upon her with the same generous warmth, out of the same blue sky, as ever. the affairs of men, on the other hand, change rapidly. after gigantic labor initiated but ten short years ago, the panamá canal is dedicated to the use of mankind, and through its crowded waters will come the ships of every nation, bringing to the marts of los angeles choice products to be exchanged for our own. for this and other reasons, i believe that los angeles is destined to become, in not many years, a world-center, prominent in almost every field of human endeavor; and that, as nineteen hundred years ago the humblest roman, wherever he might find himself, would glow with pride when he said, "i am a roman!" so, in the years to come, will the son of the metropolis on these shores, wheresoever his travels may take him, be proud to declare, "i am a citizen of los angeles!" footnotes: [50] in 1914, fredericks was the republican candidate for the governorship of california. [51] even while this manuscript is being revised, the name of another angeleño--that of the lamented a. c. bilicke, a self-made man of large accomplishments, who perished on may 7th, 1915, in the awful destruction of the _lusitania_--is added to the scrolls of the ill-starred. [52] the formal dedication took place on november 5th, 1913. [53] during the night of january 21st, 1914, willard died--on the anniversary of his birth. [54] died on november 1st, 1914. [55] the present officers are: president, dr. norman bridge; vice-presidents, mrs. clara b. burdette, joseph scott and j. s. torrance; founder emeritus, charles f. lummis; treasurer, stoddard jess; curator, hector alliot; directors, dr. norman bridge, robert n. bulla, mrs. clara b. burdette, e. p. clark, charles f. lummis, dr. j. a. munk, m. h. newmark, joseph scott and j. s. torrance. [56] on december 6th, 1913, the corner-stone for the building already looming large was laid by the rt. reverend thomas j. conaty--the broad-minded, scholarly and much-respected bishop of monterey and los angeles, who died on september 18th, 1915--and by general chaffee. index a abalones, 427; shells as jewelry, 261; gatherer trapped, 428 abarca, luis (louis), 63 abarta, señorita, 526 abbotsford inn, 566, 627 abbott, william and mrs. (_née_ garcia), 186 abell, j. b., 543 ábila, francisco, 100 ábila, h., 403 ábila, josé maría and señora, 100 ábila ranch, 447; springs, 210 abolitionists, 296, 308 _acacia latifolia_, 544 acapulco, 359 acorns, as indian food, 203 aqueduct, owens river, 50 _active_, u. s. ship, 251 adams, lionel j., 636 adams, professor, 419 adams street, 459 adams & co., 242 _ada hancock_, disaster to steamer, 75, 109, 132, 154, 295, 300, 316, 319, 329 adelsdorfer bros., 120 adler, adelaide (later mrs. samuel hellman), 142 adler, caroline (later mrs. i. m. hellman), 142 adobe, municipal and county, 36, 40, 41, 209, 256, 324, 338, 530 adobes, 31, 32, 38, 61, 62, 63, 65, 66, 67, 73, 76, 78, 80, 81, 94, 97, 99, 100, 101, 103, 104, 109, 113, 115, 119, 121, 124, 134, 147, 165, 167, 193, 197, 202, 220, 256, 257, 263, 293, 317, 335, 343, 347, 372, 376, 396, 444, 466, 492, 510, 518, 620 _adrienne lecouvreur_, modjeska in, 494 advertisements, 137, 151, 177, 281, 292, 297, 396, 422, 465, 469, 486, 492, 558; pictures in, 356 advertising, freak, 571; boom --, 573ff. æneas, xiii africa, 193, 211 agricultural park, 462, 640; -society, 426 agua caliente, 50, 92, 414 _aguardiente_, 134, 278 aguilar, casildo, 147 aguilar, cristóbal, 66, 98, 100, 120, 366, 445 aguilar, josé maría, 210 aguirre, josé antónio, 174 aguirre, martin g., 551 alameda street, 63, 112, 187, 197, 201, 304, 383, 394, 400, 408, 493, 562 alamitos, los, 599, 520 alamitos bay, 374, 630 alamitos ranch, 166, 329 alaska, 397, 463, 602 albacore, 628 albino, exhibition of, 186 albuquerque, 222 alder, 197 alder, captain, 251 alexander, david w., 23, 35, 38, 43, 61, 64, 74, 120, 218, 343, 350, 441, 500; mrs. -(formerly mrs. francis mellus), 227; -& banning, 218; -& mellus, 62, 151 alexander, frank, 206 alexander, george, 639, 642 alexander, george c., 74, 194, 297 alexander, henry n., 39, 241, 260; mrs. --, 39 alexander, ramón (raimundo), 59, 64, 193 alexandria hotel, 77, 639 alfilaria, 126 alhambra and a. tract, 445, 454, 563, 628 alisal, el, 543 _aliso, el_, 198 _aliso_, meaning of, 197 aliso mill, 198, 218, 303, 499 aliso road, 198, 412; -street, 71, 112, 197, 198, 238, 288, 292, 400 aliso vineyard, 197, 198 allanson, horace s., 62, 256 allen block, 372 allen, charles h., 532 allen, gabriel, 221 allen, jesse, 414, 416 alliot, hector, 635, 636, 647 alosta, 579; lamar's addition to, 579 _alta california_, 270 altadena, 178, 337 alta vista, 579 alton, john, 606 altschul, richard, 230 alvarado house, the, 115 alvitre, felipe, 139 alvitre, josé claudio, 147 amat, thaddeus, 189, 279 america, foreign ideas as to, 361 _america_, steamship, 149 american bakery, 405 american boy, first born here, 33 american colony, 521 american express co., 234 american fork, 155 amestoy, domingo, 310, 421; -building, 537 _amigo del pueblo, el_, 308 _amigos, los dos_, 64 amo, dr. del, 174 amusements, 102, 124, 135, 161, 182, 183, 186, 192, 229, 263, 282, 286, 318, 352, 372, 381, 383, 384, 409, 422, 463, 488, 547, 569, 592, 596, 605 anaheim, 177, 212, 309, 329, 376, 398, 401, 406, 441, 451, 526, 580, 593 anaheim, proposed county of, 406, 593 _anaheim gazette_, 414 anaheim landing, 366 anchorage, 404 _ancon_, steamer, 465 anderson, d., 83, 297 anderson, j. a., 638 anderson, john, 476 anderson, w. p., 627 andersonville, 295 andrews, harry e., 616 anecdotes, 43, 51, 52, 53, 56, 82, 141, 151, 155, 162, 175, 176, 177, 183, 190, 196, 222, 269, 283, 300, 301, 325, 336, 337, 338, 345, 419, 458, 474, 492, 523, 579, 598, 610 angelus hotel, 508 angels, city of the, 25, 68 animals, society for the prevention of cruelty to, 548 antelope station, 415 apablasa, juan, 31 apache indians, 188, 415 apothecaries' hall, 156 appleton & co., d., 589; _appleton's journal_, 430 apponyi, c. e., 559 arbuckle, samuel g., 36, 65 arcade depot, 112 arcadia, 574, 578, 579 arcadia block, 77, 186, 214, 226, 229, 256, 272, 293, 309, 313, 338, 342, 343, 537, 545 arcadia, doña (see under baker, bandini, stearns) arcadia hall (see stearns hall) arcadia hotel, 314, 568, 580 arcadia street, 226, 408, 518 archæological institute of america, 626 archer freight and fare bill, 489 archibald, john, 412 archives, l. a., removed to san francisco, 231 ardinger, william c., 150 arenas, luis, 179, 210 _argonaut_, san francisco, 525, 647 arguello, concepción, 99 arguello, maría antónio, 473 arguello, refúgio, 255 arguello, santiago, 99, 177, 255 arizona, 222, 354, 361, 366, 370, 414, 430, 431, 450, 507, 510, 514, 542, 587, 648 _arizona, bibliography of_, 636 _arizoniana_, 648 arlington heights, 357 armory hall, 205; new --, 579; --, san francisco, 312 armour, phil d., 582; -& co., 582, 623 arnold, thomas, 422 arroyo de los reyes, 450 arroyo seco, 225, 401, 448 artesian wells and water company, 192, 313, 574 arza, syriaco, 262 asparagus, 125 asphalt, 114; for sidewalks, 114, 287 aspinwall, 315 assayers, 130 associated jobbers of los angeles, 619, 635, 637; of southern california, 619 atchison, topeka & santa fé railroad, 63, 83, 123, 153, 482, 556, 562, 569, 570, 576, 581, 585, 597, 603, 614, 619; coast line, 589; depot, 477, 586; first train, 549 atkinson, samuel, 393 atlantic & pacific railroad, 614 atlantic states, imports from, 151 auctioneers and auctioneering, 155, 281, 349, 379, 483, 484, 523, 578, 580 austin, henry c., 427, 434 australia, 160, 439, 544; noted --n convict, 21 austria, 564; austrian verein, 584 automobiles, 626 avalon, 430, 522, 568 averill, anna, 533 aviation meet, first, 639 ávila, juan, 262 axtell, s. b., 397, 399 ayers, james j., 427, 499, 501, 556, 614 _ayuntamiento_, 100 aztec, derivation from the, 364 azusa and azusa ranch, 87, 162, 174, 326, 476, 578, 579 b babylon, xi bachman, felix, 66, 212, 256, 275, 290; -& co., 223, 290, 332; -& bauman, 61 baer, abraham, 337; mrs. --, 338, 409 baer, henry, 337 baer, john willis, 566 bahama islands, 14 bahia, brazil, 451 bailes, 528 baker, arcadia (_née_ bandini), 215, 255, 568 baker, charles k., 206 baker, edward dickenson, 285 baker, francis, 221 baker, frederick, xv baker, fred l., 592, 639 baker, george the, 192 baker, horace, xv baker, j. h., 447 baker, milo, 592; -iron works, 592 baker, r. s., 143, 181, 215, 255, 421, 437, 459, 467, 479, 510, 568, 586 baker, mrs. t. j., 214 baker block, 70, 356, 510, 517, 518, 556 bakers and bakeries, 77, 191, 244, 311, 332, 367, 368 bakersfield, 143, 453, 496 baldwin, e. j. ("lucky"), 282, 421, 474, 475, 478, 510, 526; --'s grain warehouse, 475; -hotel, 475 baldwin & co., 130 baldwin, jeremiah, 587 baldwin, john m., 450 ball, w. f., 551 _ballad of bouillabaisse_, 118 ballestero, maría, 99 ballona, la, 179, 299, 321, 359, 375, 460, 580; port --, 581; --railroad, 576 balls, 109, 284, 427 banbury, colonel, 579 bandini, alfredo, 255 bandini, arcadia (later señora stearns and señora baker), 255 bandini, arcadia (later mrs. j. t. gaffey), 631 bandini, arturo, 255 bandini, dolores (later mrs. johnson), 255 bandini, dolores (later mrs. ward), 631 bandini, josé maría, 255 bandini, josefa (later señora p. c. carrillo), 255 bandini, juan 109, 135, 183, 254, 391, 631; señora -(_née_ estudillo), 255; señora -(_née_ arguello), 255 bandini, juan b., 631 bandini, juan de la cruz, 255 bandini, juanito, 255 bandini, margarita (later mrs. j. b. winston), 183, 255 bandits (_bandidos_), 206, 333, 453 bangs, mrs. emma c., 532 banks and bankers, 171, 242, 416, 423, 435, 466, 467, 482; first --, 372; b. failures, 423, 479, 482; b. of california, 477, 478; -of l. a., 423; commercial --, 472; first nat'l --, 472. (see farmers & merchants' --.) banning, hancock, 522, 568, 606 banning, j. b., 522, 568 banning, phineas, 23, 35, 42, 74, 157, 199, 218, 236, 248, 250, 274, 276, 283, 296, 301, 306, 313, 320, 321, 322, 327, 343, 345, 346, 353, 354, 356, 361, 363, 368, 370, 375, 394, 410, 412, 421, 426, 441, 495, 500, 507, 548, 562, 568; - mrs. (_née_ sanford), 320; (_née_ hollister), 368, 411; -& alexander, 187; -& co., 290, 302, 336, 343, 344, 395; -& hinchman, 274, 307, 313 banning, william, 522, 568 banquets, 254, 399, 594, 595, 630, barbecues, 145, 202 barbers, 137, 297, 396, 412, 420; as surgeons, 297 barcelona, spain, 490 barclay, h. a., 520 barham, guy b., 643 barham, richard m., 643 barker, obadiah truax, 518; -& mueller, o. t. -& sons, -bros., 518 barker, partner of corbitt, 244 barker, w. a., 606 barley, 247, 331, 354, 386, 534 barnard bros., 450 barnes & co., a. s., 418 barnum, p. t., 13 barracuda, 127 barrett, lawrence, 588 barri, juan, 62, 65; -& mascarel block, 189 barrows, henry dwight, 69, 106, 141, 200, 202, 219, 224, 246, 284, 315, 355, 419, 483, 541, 614; mrs. -(_née_ wolfskill), 142; (_née_ woodworth), 142; (_née_ greene), 142 barrows, james arnold, 142; mrs. --, xv barrows, prospero, xv barter, george w., 414 bartlett, a. g., 68, 579 bartolo, paso de, 180 barton, james r., 36, 55, 81, 118, 139, 179, 206ff., 223, 244, 275; -& nordholt, 61; -vineyard, 281 bartow, mrs. r. c., xv baruch, jacob, 367, 425, 619, 634, 635 baseball, called town-ball, 596 bashford, levi, 416 basques, 310, 549 bassett, j. m., 450 bastanchury, domingo, 310 batcheller, charles l., 598 bathing, in ocean, 466; in river, 116; in _zanjas_, 322 baths and bathrooms, 92, 119, 210, 371, 396 bath street, 210; -school, 33, 190, 389, 419 bath, a. l., 358, 614 bayer, joe, 231; -& sattler, 230 beaches, excursions to, 250, 429, 486, 487; growing popularity of, 394 beale, e. f., 143, 222, 285, 459; --'s route, 222; -& baker, 437 beale, truxton, 460 beal(l), b. l., 204, 317, 469 bean, j. h., 50; --'s volunteers, 47 beane, charles e., 446 beans, 332; castor --, 364 bears, 195, 291, 337, 447 bear valley mines, 247, 268 beard, a. s., 36 beau de zart, fred w., 559 beaudry, prudent, 61, 70, 73, 128, 132, 142, 164, 165, 211, 291, 292, 342ff., 353, 362, 365, 366, 372, 386, 408, 412, 417, 449, 558, 567, 618 beaudry, victor, 241, 386, 558, 567 beaudry avenue, 74 beaudry & marchessault, 247 beaumont, 579 beckley, anna mcconnell, xv beckwith, jim, 63 beebe, j. w., 339 beebe, richard, 543 beecher, henry ward, 497 beel, sigmund, xv beer, 123, 230, 258, 272, 273, 402; -gardens, 193, 409, 460 beers, g. a., 455 bees and beehives, 81, 127, 494 beet-sugar, 388; first factory, 598 behn, john, 64, 86, 364 behn, louisa, 364 behrendt, casper, 72, 270, 271 behrendt, samuel, xv behymer, lynden ellsworth, 607 belgian hare aberration, 608 bell, alexander, 57, 61, 383, 429; mrs. --, 38, 61, 133 bell, horace, 35, 57 bell, jacob, 40, 419 bell, major, 224 _bell, song of the_, 119 bell street, 61 bella union, 25, 27, 80, 92, 93, 94, 110, 136, 150, 154, 169, 183, 184, 219, 223, 226, 227, 228, 229, 245, 250, 251, 256, 265, 269, 271, 272, 291, 306, 316, 327, 341, 347, 348, 349, 354, 358, 362, 369, 380, 397, 398, 399, 400, 436, 469, 472 bella union, san francisco, 22 belleville, 268 bellevue terrace, 532, 559 bells, plaza church, 101 bell's row or block, 27, 57, 61, 119, 362 bellue, marius, 551 belmont, the, 559 belmont hall, 563 belshaw (of judson & --), 385 benedict, samuel w., 476 bengough, e., and the -school, 494 benjamin, p. a., 635 benjamina, 528 benner, john, 78; mrs. --, 527 bennett, "hog," 78 bent, arthur s., xv bent, henry kirk white, 386, 443, 446 bergin, j. j. and w. b., 470 berkeley, george, 650 berlin, university of, 624 bernard, juan, 63, 200, 280, 366; mrs. --, 63 bernero, george, 554 bernstein, fanny, 535 berry, d. m., 412, 447ff., 483 berry, george, 138 _bessie_, steamboat, 387 best, john t., 352 bethune, 579 betting on races, 160; with cattle, merchandise, land, 161 _between the gates_, 514 beythien, cyrus, 212 bicknell, frederick t., 488 bicknell, john d., 468, 488, 540, 555, 597, 598, 626; -& white, 540 bicycles, 626 bien, william, 605 biggs, peter, 60, 137, 138, 330 bigotry, russian, 5; a later phase of local social life, 383 bilderback brothers, 424 bilderback, j. f., 330 bilderback, dora, xv bilderrain, jesus, 432 bilicke, a. c., 492, 606, 644 bill (hickey), the waterman, 116, 117, 350 billiards and b. tables, 81, 261, 384 _billy blossom_, race horse, 282 binford, joe, 373, 545 bird, o. b., 567 birdsall, elias, 339, 340 bishop, samuel a., 143; -& beale, 143, 234 bishop & co., 444, 545 bissell, w. a., 619 bits (coin), 162, 279, 461; (harness), 159 bixby, eula p., 355 bixby, john w., 421, 520 bixby, jotham, 67, 166, 403, 421, 422, 467, 520; -& co., 521 bixby, llewellyn, 67, 421 _black bess_, circus horse, 453 black, george n., 639 blacking, early, 4 _black maria_, 118 blacksmiths, 82, 115, 140, 153, 213, 231, 340, 357, 358 blackstone, n. b., 536 _black swan_, race horse, 160, 161; dray, 279 _black warrior_, race horse, 282 blair, widow, 184 blanchard f. l., 68; -hall, 68, 536 blanchard, j. h., 597 blanco, miguel, 209 bland, adam, 103, 246; mrs. --, 106 blankets, mexican, 29, 158 bleeding, 297 blinn, l. w., 606 blond, j. h., 94 bloodsworth, harry, 58 bluett, w. c., 606 _blue jim_, carrier pigeon, 430 blue wing shaving saloon, 396 blum, a., 608 b'nai b'rith, 314, 338, 339, 608; used for christian worship, 618 boar, wild, 447 board of education, 105, 162, 187, 190, 211, 216, 262, 321, 354, 388, 538, 539, 547, 626 board of trade, attempt to organize, 425, 537, 569, 586, 634 boardman, william e., 246 boehme, george, 480 bohen, daniel, 356; -lodge, 402 bollo, santiago, 78 bonaparte, napoleon, 1 bonebrake, george h., 539, 587 bonita tract, 579 bonnets, all of one pattern, 132 bonshard, f., 413 book, j. h., 587 bookbinders, 213, 410 bookstores, 428 boom, development of the great, 569; height of, 581; collapse of, 582; activities of tricksters, 573; advertising during, 573-580; assessments, 582; purchases of land by non-residents, 582; 174, 232, 367, 379, 556, 559, 560, 563, 568, 569ff., 590, 604 boom, early real estate, 401 boorham, george, 153 bootblacks, 396 booth, edwin, 494, 588 booth, willis h., 631 boot-jacks, 87 boots, 86, 158 boquist, c. v., xv borax and owens lake, 387 bordenave & co., émile, 279 bors, the miller, 351 _boston_, clipper-brig, 237 boston dry goods store, 536 boston, market for wool, 438; fire, 438 boswell, james, xi _bota de agua_, 195 botello, refúgio, 78 bothnia, gulf of, 5 _boticas_, 110 botiller, d., 63 boundary league, 622 bouelle, a., 385 bouelle, frank a., 385 bounties to encourage silk industry, 390 bouton, edward, 374, 472 bovard, f. d., 516 bovard, m. m., 516, 566 bowman, mary, xv boyce, h. h., 555 boyle, andrew, 198, 232; mrs. --, 232; -avenue, 220; - heights, 198, 202, 232, 374, 492, 551, 598 boynton, h. r., 635, 637 bradbury, john, 607 bradbury block, 513, 614 bradfield, mason, 418 bradfield, mrs. c. p., 418 bradley, c. h., 377 brady, bill, 160 brady, james d., 81 brandy for tropics, 14; s. calif. --, 200, 238 branding iron, 83, 242 _brasero_, 113 braun, frederick william, 469, 589, 619, 635, 637, 638 brea, 114, 287, 346 brea _rancho_, la, 37, 114, 287, 407, 645 breakwaters, 426, 618 breckenridge, john c., 282; -democrats, 285 breed block, 192 breer, louis, 153, 239 bremerman, hotel-keeper, 380 brent, j. lancaster, 35, 45, 47, 105, 178, 243, 295, 325, 512; --street, 47 brentano, mrs. arthur, 71 breweries: gambrinus, 258; henne, 230, 259; new york, 258; philadelphia, 197, 500; brewer at anaheim, 213 brewster, "professor," 527 bricks and b. making, 63, 83, 115, 226, 233, 256, 269, 355, 367, 396; champion b. layer, 550 bridge, norman, 595, 647 bridger, jim, 171 bridger, joe, 421 bridles, 85, 159 brierly, john r., 464 briggs, mary a., 201, 608 briggs, samuel, 201, 280 brinckerhoff, john, 107 briswalter, andrew, 124, 125 broad acres, mccoy's addition to, 579 broadway, naming of, 466, 511, 588, 592 broadway department store, 613 broaded, john, 471 brock, alvan d., 574 brode, charles, 624 brode, hilda, 624 broderick, david colbert, 130 brodie, john p., 190 brodrick, w. j., 180, 280, 365, 383, 389, 443, 446, 461, 462, 483, 489, 562; -& reilly, 428 bromberg, prussia, 3 bromley, allan, xv broncos, 243 brook, harry, 646 brookside vineyard, 281 broom-making, 261 brousseau, julius, 597 brown, stage-driver, 414, 416 brown, dave, 46, 139ff. brown, jason, 530 brown, john of ossawatomie, 530 brown, owen, 530 brown, thomas b., 363, 587, 597 brown, tom, 363 brown, william m., 444 brown's restaurant, 279 browne, j. ross, 333 browning, elizabeth barrett, 264 brownstein & louis, 601 brownstein, newmark & louis, 601 _browsings in an old book shop_, 612 brun, murdered peddler, 323 brundige, h. w., 623 brunson, anson, 517, 520, 521, 586, 593; -& eastman, 476; -eastman & graves, 476; -& wells, 517 brunswig drug co., 224 brush electric lighting co., 535 bry, theresa, 225 bryan, william j., 613 bryant, j. s., 455 bryant, joseph, 320 bryson, john, 538; -block, 105, 539, 563 buchanan, james, 163, 214, 219, 231, 239 buckboards, 375, 414 bucket-brigade, 119 buckskin bill, 424 buddin, henry, 527 buehner, valentin, xv buffum, william, 67, 381, 466; -& campbell, 416; --'s saloon, 405 buggies, spring, 417 buhn, susan, 229 bulkhead bill, 269 bull-fights, 161, 182, 282 bulla, robert n., 540, 647 bullard, rose, xv bullard block, 67, 115, 229, 240, 449 _bulletin, the commercial_, 559 _bulletin_, san francisco, 284, 285 bullock's department store, 382 bumiller block, 530 bunker hill, 563, 622; -tunnel, 622 _buñuelo_, 102 burbank, david, 578 burbank, luther, 315 burbank, 578, 579 burbank theater, 170, 578 burdette, clara b., 588, 647 burdette, robert j., 588 burdick, cyrus, 90, 127 burdick, helen l., 90 burdick, lucretia, 106 burglaries, 486 burgundy, 398 burials, 307, 406, 409, 430; private --, 494, 520 burke, j. h., 84, 115, 340 burland, captain, 10ff. _burlington hawkeye_, 588 burnett, sir robert, 445 burnham, r. w., 545, 606, 613, 634 burns, j. f., 67, 106, 208, 209, 339, 381, 395, 405, 420, 424, 433, 466; mrs. --, 209 burns, hôtel de, 413 burns, j. o., xv burns & buffum, 466 burr-clover, 126 burrill, george thompson, 56, 57, 171, 190 burrill, s. thompson, 51, 57 burros, 272, 544, 583 burton, george w., and mrs., 356, 373; --'s school, 356; _burton's book on california_, 373 busbard & hamilton, 490 business, center of, 214; -conditions in the fifties, 129; --depression, 334, 339; -district, extension of area, 518, 570; --methods, 62, 311; -prosperity, 289; - specialization, lack of, 189, 280; --, temporary closing of, 65, 81; --, trend northward, 511 butler, visit of benjamin f., 522 butler, george, 217, 389 butler, sam, 404 butterfield, john, 234, 301; -& co., 234; -routes and stages, 143, 234, 235, 259, 285, 361, 375 butters, first mate, 154 butts, william, 133, 447 c _caballero_, 85, 158 _caballos de silla_, 157 cabbage, 125, 272 cable railway, first, 546, 563; boyle heights --, 594; downey avenue --, 594; second street --, 559, 563, 594; temple street --, 547, 558, 567, 594; -viaduct, 594; description of cars, 595 _cachucha_, 135 _cactus_, 126, 463; -as food, 315 cafeterías, then and now, 133 cahen, hippolyte, 549, 643; mrs. --, 549 cahen, simon, 550 cahen, sophie, 465 cahn, nathan, 540 cahuenga, 179, 196 cajón pass, 228 _calabozos_, 66, 558 caler, otmar, 212 calhoun, john c., 296 caliente, 496 california, 6, 14; -constitutional convention, 47, 48, 49, 55, 89; admission of --, 22, 93; advertising -in the east, 597; -governors from the southland, 109, 269, 378, 540, 598, 617; -legislature, first speaker of, 185; fourth - infantry, 318; -soldiers in the civil war, 294, 295, 300, 353; -at the centennial, 497, 498; unhealthy - prosperity, 477; -fauna, 645; -fruits, first carload shipments, 511; _california_, steamer, 346, 465; california central railroad, 581; -editorial association, 525; - fish co., 628; --hospital, 473; -silk center association, 391; -state telegraph co., 307; university of --, 593; "- on wheels," 482 _california of the south_, 589 _california: for health, pleasure and residence_, 624 _california and the southern coast counties, history of_, 620 _californian_, 93 _calzoncillos_ and _calzoneras_, 158 camels and camel-express, 222, 234, 297, 281, 316, 418, 543 camino real, el, 533, 627; -guide posts, 628 camp alert, 303; -independence, 386; -latham, 299 campbell, alexander, 596 campbell, malcolm, xv campbell, thompson, 146 camphine, imported by j. p. newmark, 34 camping, 429 camp meetings, 195 camulos _rancho_, 40, 98, 347, 511, 531, 583 cañada de brea, la, 346 canal & reservoir co., 372, 450 candidates' announcements, 43, 283 candles, 34, 183; for lighting tunnels, 502 cannibal islands, 93 cañon crest park, 591 canterbury, england, 469 _capitol_, the, 612 capitol mills and co., 87, 367 caracole tower, 648 cárdenas, anastácio, 372 cárdenas, ruperto, 372 card-playing, 55, 81, 230 cardwell, h. c., 125 carizosa, manuel, 549 carleton, james henry, 296, 299, 315 carlisle, laura e., 389 carlisle, robert and mrs., 168, 197, 347, 348, 389 carnations, 631 carnegie foundation, 567 _carne seca_, 25 carpenter, frank j., 209 carpenter, joseph, 209 carpenter, l., 417 carpenter, lemuel, 106, 172, 180, 261 carpenters, 81, 203, 213 carr, charles e., 35, 36 carr, j. e., 600 _carrera_, 160 _carretas_, 68, 83ff., 126, 135, 153, 192, 196, 528 carriages and c. makers, 83ff., 184, 417 carrier-pigeons, 430 carrillo, j. a., 98, 99, 114, 396; señora -(_née_ pico), 98; carrillo, joaquín, 56, 57 carrillo, j. j., 255, 510 carrillo, pedro c. and mrs., 255 carrillo, ramón, 326 _carrington_, ship, 121 carroll, gabe, xv carsley, bob, 186 carson, george, 174, 196, 217, 421; mrs. --, 174, 217 carson, j. w., xv carson, kit, 187 carson, moses, 187 carson river, 418 carson station, 217 cartago, 387 carter, dr., 206 carter, nathaniel c., 442, 525; -excursions, 442 _casalinda_, 185 _casamiento_, 136 _cascarones_, 136 cashin, john, 446 cashmere goats, 127, 413 cass, alonzo b., 469, 484, 625; -bros. stove co., 484 casson, c., 491 castillo rapids, 15 castle, walter m., xv castor-oil mill, 364 castro, josé, 178 castruccio bros., 550; james --, 549, 553 caswell, samuel b., 358, 441, 443, 449; -& ellis, 358; --, ellis & wright, 358 caswell, w. m., 358, 545 catalina (see under santa catalina island) _catalina, antiquities of_, 558 cathedral of sancta vibiana, 490 catholics, roman, 102, 103, 232 cattle, 90, 95, 110, 160, 215, 263, 302, 332, 334; --, bet on races, 160; branding of --, 182, 242; --, driven to utah, 330; --, effect of drought on, 329; slaughtering of --, 302; stampeding of --, 182; --, stolen by indians, 275 cauliflower, 125 cawston, edwin, 547; -ostrich farm, 547 caystile, helen, 512 caystile, thomas, 512 celery, 125 cellars dug in hillsides, 233 cemeteries: evergreen, 104; at flower and figueroa, 104; fort hill, 104, 280; jewish, 104, 122, 317; protestant, 103, 104, 280, 317; roman catholic, 103, 317; rosedale, 104 censorship, federal, 371 centenary of los angeles, 528 centennial exhibition, 355, 482, 493, 497, 499, 569, 605; - parade, philadelphia, 498; celebration in los angeles, 50, 365, 593 centinela ranch, 445 central american village life, 16 central avenue, 378 central pacific railroad, 388, 423, 440, 475, 497, 504 central park, 417 _century magazine_, 531 cerradel, manuel, 326 cerritos, los, 166; -_rancho_, 67, 166, 521 cerro gordo, 386; -freighting co., 388; -mines, 385 chaffee, adna r., 647 chamber of commerce, first, 425, 449, 450, 482, 489, 498, 503, 569 chamber of commerce, present, 334, 569, 589, 622, 634, 647; --building, 625 _chamber of commerce, history of the_, 646 champagne, california, 199 chandler, harry, 616 _chaparral_, 126 chapels, private, 103 chapin & co., george w., 313 chapman, alfred beck, 46, 52, 335, 351; mrs. --, 46 chapman, a. b., 516 chapman, j. s., 476, 598 chapman, joseph, 87 chapman, r. b., xv chapman, r. h., 594, 622 _chapollin_, 232 chapules, calle de los, 232 chapultepec, 232 charity street, 232, 355, 535 charity, sisters of, 189, 203, 210 charles, henry, 206 charleston harbor, 352 charter, city, 587 chartres coffee factory, 405 chauvin, a. c., 383, 529, 550 chauvin, laura, 529 chavez, julian, 64; -ravine, 118; -street, 64 chavez, vasquez's aide, 453, 457 chestnut trees, 163 chevalier's apothecary, 371 chicago, fire at, 431; -grand opera co., 607; -world's fair, 605 chicken thief, the, 220 children, society for prevention of cruelty to, 549 children's hospital, 70 childs, m. w., 77 childs, o. w., 69, 125, 127, 163, 201, 223, 231, 342, 353, 423, 428, 462, 495, 516, 543, 573; mrs. -and the naming of streets, 201, 231; -avenue, 69; -& hicks, 69, 223; - grand opera house, 464, 543, 588, 590 childs, mrs. o. w., jr., 606 chile, 332, 389, 542 _chilicothe_, 364 chilis, california, 87 chimneys, 113 china, revolution in, 645 chinatown, 31, 434 chinese, 31, 79, 123ff., 188, 261, 278, 297, 382, 389, 418, 428, 503; agitation against the --, 504; at the centennial, 497; -feuds, 432; first -here, 123; -goods and shops, 279, 298; -government demands indemnity, 435; -junk, 427; -massacre, 423ff.; -music and festivals, 585; - peddlers of vegetables, 514; -priests and memorial services, 435; -trunks, 175; -women, traffic in, 418, 432 chino, 598; -_rancho_, 38, 63, 167, 168, 175, 226, 347, 598 chlapowski, charles bozenta, 494 cholera in prussia, 4 cholo, viejo, 277 chop-house restaurants, 513 christian worship in jewish temple, 618 christians, church of, 610 christmas eve celebration, 102 _chronik_, los angeles, 388 _chronicle_, san francisco, 455 chuckawalla (chucky valley), 414 church festivals, 98 church of our lady of los angeles, 100 chute's park, 463 chuzzlewit, martin, 571 ciénega _rancho_, 357, 375, 460 ciénega ó paso de la tijera, 275 cigarettes, 252, 253; --, use by vasquez, 459 cigars, 253 circuses, 186, 381, 453 citrus fruits, 88; industry threatened by scale, 544 city gardens, 200, 460 city guards, 147 city hall (adobe), 229, 256, 338, 379; (second), 105, 539; (present), 314, 591, 593 city lots, 33, 36, 112, 125, 322, 379, 402, 539 city market, auction of stalls, 258 city marshal, last, 510 city officials, salaries of, 302 city of paris store, 452, 540 civic center proposed, 510 civil war, 47, 236, 289, 299, 305, 311, 323, 325, 330, 334, 339, 352, 353, 616; -and aëronautics, 561 _clamor público, el_, 156, 333 clams, 298 clancy, j. h., xv clanmorris, lord, 422 clarendon hotel, 469 _clarissa perkins_, bark, 107 clark, alice taylor, 50 clark, arthur, 627 clark, eli p., 612, 647 clark, j. ross, 599, 644 clark, thomas b., 483 clark, w., 308 clark, walter m., 644 clark, william a., 599 clark & patrick, 559 clark & sons, alvan, 567 clarke, george j., 373, 431, 513 classen, c. h., 252, 259 clay, henry, 93 clayton vineyard, 200 clemente, vineyardist, 202 cleveland, e. r., 543 cleveland, grover, 565, 590; mrs. --, 474 clifford, pinckney, 139 clifton-by-the-sea, 632 climate of southern california, 271, 370, 382, 448; advertising of, 525, 569, 571 clinton, e. m., 254 clock-tower, 241 clover, samuel t., 612, 635 clubs, 230, 272, 383, 409, 473, 545, 600, 604, 607, 624 (see also turnverein) coal, blacksmith, 345; --, shipped at low rates, 557 coal creek, 155 coal oil refined without distillation, 346 coast freighting, 331 coast line stage co., 496 coastwise boat service, 246, 366 coates, foster, 627 coblentz, joe, 372 cock fights, 161 coffin, captain, 153 coffin, john e., 634 coffins, 208; use of one as bed, 492 cohn, albert, 551 cohn, bernard, 180, 383, 425, 550, 595 cohn, herman, xv cohn, isaac, 409 cohn, kaspare and mrs., 13, 249, 260, 353, 354, 376, 383, 414ff., 443, 444, 474, 480, 514, 549, 555, 561, 564, 613; -hospital, 641; kaspare cohn & co., 549 cohn, max, 451, 549 cohn, samuel, 13, 196, 353, 375, 444 coins, early american, 247; bits, 162, 279; small coin despised, 247; importation of foreign, 129, 267 cole, cornelius, 294 cole, louis m., 248 cole, nathan, 530 cole, nathan, jr., 533 colegrove, 612 coleman, william t., 55 colling, b. w., 401 collyer, vincent, 431 colorado river, 38, 227, 228; -indians, 317 colorado, proposed state of, 188, 241 colorado steam navigation co., 473 colton, d. d., 303, 504; town of --, 549 _comet_, 250, 290, 307 commerce court, 637 commercial bank, 472 commercial restaurant, 490, 538 commercial street, 36, 128, 189, 293, 383, 400, 401, 408, 472, 493, 578; new --, 401, 405 commercial street wharf, san francisco, 237 commercial union insurance co., 280 commission merchants, 310, 342, 434, 436 compère, george, 474 compton, g. d., 340, 516; compton (comptonville), 263, 340, 382, 393, 466, 574 comstock mines, 474, 477 conaty, thomas j., 626, 648 concord coaches, 417 confederates and the confederacy, 295, 308, 311, 318, 323, 325, 337, 338 confidence engine co., no. 2, 464, 500 congregational church, 622 conscription, proposed, 323 consolidated electric railway co., 612 consolidation of los angeles with harbor towns, 638 _constantine_, steamer, 346, 465 _contessa d'amalfi_, 529 continental railway, 397 continental telegraph, 307 conway, c. r., 306, 315, 341, 350 cooper, bill, 471 cooper ornithological society, 640 copenhagen, 4, 6 copley, thomas, 233 copp building, 314 coquillett, d. w., 544 corbitt, william, 244; --, dibblee & barker, 170 corn, 366 coronel, antónio f., 36, 80, 105, 135, 171, 190, 201, 316, 441, 444, 530, 604, 608; señora (mariana, _née_ williamson) --, 444, 530, 604, 622; -chapel, 103; -home, 444, 530 coronel, manuel, 36 coronel, pancho, 426 coronel, ygnácio, 36, 98, 99, 105, 316; señora, 105 coronel collection, 622 coronel street, 36 coroner sleeps in coffin, 492 _corpus christi_, 101 _correr el gallo_, 162 corridors, 113 corrugated iron buildings, 120, 190 _cortez_, 19 cortez, hernando, xii corzina, maría, 190 cosmopolitan hotel, 252, 469, 525 cota, francisco, 304 cota, maría engracia (later señora dominguez), 535 cotton, experiments in cultivating, 317 coues, elliott, xii coulter, b. f., 450, 510, 511, 610; -& harper, 372, 511; -dry goods co., 511 coulter, frank m., 511, 545 council room, intolerable atmosphere of, 505, 524 county court, 518; -judge, first, 518 county medical society, 423, 473 county treasurer, work and emoluments, 260 court house, -temple, 40, 240, 242, 286, 449; --, present, 301, 452 court of sessions, first, 176 courtier, "professor," 318 courtroom, untenantable, 256; -used for religious services, 246, 314 courts and court life, 45, 46, 50, 55, 56, 493, 560 coutts, cave j. and mrs. -(_née_ bandini), 255 covarrúbias, josé maría, 216 covarrúbias, nicolás, 592 covent garden, 360 cowan, william k., 625 cowboy sport, 510 cow counties, 95 cows and chickens, legislation governing, 572 _coyote_, race horse, 262 coyotes, 337, 391 coyotes, los, 166, 180 crabb, alexander, 150 crabb, henry a., 205 crackers, first locally-baked, 77, 288 cracroft, mrs., 306 craig, robert l., 600, 619; mrs. --, 600; -& stuart, 600; -& co., r. l., 600 crank, j. f., 585, 594 craw, alexander, 544 crawford, james s., 390, 446 crawford, joseph u., 485 crawley, j. m., 606 credit, shaken, 328; -system, little, 130 creighton, w. w., 495 crematory and cremations, first, 567 _cricket_, steamboat, 326 criminals and crimes, 25, 31, 35, 58, 68, 139, 205, 221, 223, 304, 323, 324, 326, 327, 330, 333, 394, 418, 419, 424, 432, 453, 470, 486, 512, 641 crocker, charles f., 324, 504ff., 524; famous threat to punish los angeles, 506 croft, thomas h., 448 _cronica, la_, 443 crosby, mormon apostle, 345 "crown of the valley," 448 _crusoe's island_, 333 cruz, martin, 217 _cuartel_, 66 cuatro ojos, 76 cuba, 252, 399, 616 cucamonga, _rancho_, 167, 168; -vineyard, 265; -winery, 239 cudahy packing co., 201 _cuisine_, native, 133 cullen's station, 415 cupping, 297 curley, scout, 261 currency, depreciation of, 311, 319 currier, a. t., 531 curtis, e. a., 125 curzon, lady, 602 custer massacre, 261 custer, mrs. george armstrong, 597 cuzner, james, 515, 606 d daggett, frank s., 645 daguerreotype, first one made here, 94 daimwood, boston, 324 dairies, 289 daley, charles f., 206 dalton, e. h., 162 dalton, eliza m., 162 dalton, george, 94, 162, 174 dalton, henry (enrique), 87, 90, 120, 162, 174, 179, 190, 200, 335, 441, 476 dalton, r. h., 372 dalton, winnall travelly, 162 dalton avenue, 162 daly, james, 395; -& rodgers, 395 dana, richard henry, 135, 197, 226, 227, 255, 296; - street, 227 dancing and dances, 136, 183, 402, 427; licenses for --, 137 daniel, pancho, 46, 49, 51, 55, 206, 208, 223 _danube_, shipwrecked brig, 238 darlow, gertrude, xv date street, 198 david, a kind of torpedo, 352 davidson, a., 599 davies, j. mills, 537, 543 dávila, josé maría, 549 davis, charles cassatt, 626 davis, charles w., 529 davis, jefferson, 222, 331, 337 davis, johanna, 75 davis, m. m., 150 davis, s. c., 75 dawson, ernest, xv dawson's book shop, xv day, charles e., 587 dead bodies, robbery of, 320 dead man's island, 290, 426 dean, hardware dealer, 217 death valley, 378, 431 de celis, a., 516 de celis, eulógio f., 251, 443 decoration day, 621 deen, louise, xv deighton, doria, 65 de la guerra, pablo, 48 de la osa, vicente, 252 delano, thomas a., 147 delaval, henry, 303 del castillo, guirado l., 352; amelia estrella --, 352 de long, charles, 143 de longpré, paul, 617 del valle, josefa, 173 del valle, lucretia, 103 del valle, r. f., 98, 103, 469, 511, 517, 628 del valle, ygnácio, 40, 41, 98, 99, 102, 103, 173, 190, 251, 511; --ranch house, 531 deming, j. d., 87; -mill, 367 _democratic press_, 339 democrats, 91, 323, 330, 380 den, nicholas, 108 den, r. s., 107ff., 371 denmark, 2, 4, 6, 564, 621 dentists, 297, 368; itinerant --, 349, 368, 390 desmond, c. c., 405 desmond, daniel, 230, 405 desmond, d. j., 405, 634 desmond, william, 155 desert travel, 312, 316, 354 desperadoes, 149, 333 de szigethy, charles a. h., 649 _deutscher klub_, 230 devil's gate, 374 de white, mrs., 493 dewdrop vineyard, 200 dewey, samuel, 545 _dexter_, race horse, 423 diaz, bernal, viii diaz, porfirio, 542 dibblee, ranchman, 244 _dick turpin_, 453 dickens, charles, 253, 590 dickens, charles, jr., 590 dillon, richard, 529; -& kenealy, 529 dimitry, george e., xv dimmick, kimball h., 45, 49, 50 directories, city, 443, 567; first, 410 _directory_, the _weekly_, 559 disasters, 22, 48, 154, 165, 204, 224, 238, 312, 319, 439, 536, 644, 647 (see, also, droughts and floods) district court of los angeles, 518 _dixie_, 301, 338 dobinson, g. a., 625; -school, 625 dockweiler, henry, 251 dockweiler, isidore b., 251, 469 dockweiler, j. h., 251, 606 dodge, george s., 467 dodson, arthur mckenzie, 78, 193 dodson, james h., 78; -& co., 258 dodson, william r., 471 dodsworth, m., 482, 537 dogs, poisoning of, 57 doheny, e. l., 603 dohs, fred, 412 dol, victor, 490 dolge, alfred, 628; dolgeville, new york and california, 628 dolls, french, 370 _dolores_, 428 domec, pierre, 344 domestic inconveniences, 335 domestics, 123, 124, 297, 313 domingo, j. a., 238 domingo, juan, 238 dominguez, anita, 51 dominguez, cristóbal, 173 dominguez, juan josé, 173 dominguez, manuel, 51, 173, 217, 236, 340, 421, 535; señora --, 535; -chapel, 103; -field, 639; _rancho_ --, 35, 214, 217, 244, 246, 340, 639; battle of --, 101 dominguez, nasário, 78, 173 dominguez, pedro, 39, 173 dominguez, reyes, 78 dominguez, robert, xv dominguez, victoria, 173 dominguez, victoria (later mrs. george carson), 174, 217 door-plates, 377 doors, how fastened, 113 dorado, el, barroom, los angeles, 103; --, barroom, san francisco, 22; --, store, 550 dorsey, h. p., 118, 143, 144, 163, 214 dorsey, kewen h., 145 dorsey, rebecca lee, 552 dotter, charles, 377; -& bradley, 378 douglas, stephen a., 282 douglass, a., 635, 637 dow, e. l., 423 downey, eleanor, 214 downey, john gately, 35, 66, 68, 109, 169, 189, 214, 269, 292, 307, 322, 323, 334, 340, 346, 355, 362, 366, 372, 376, 388, 399, 423, 426, 432, 434, 440, 441, 442, 443, 445, 449, 462, 483, 498, 502, 516, 521, 537, 541, 578; mrs. --, 103, 498, 537, 549; --, town of, 180, 340, 362, 367; -avenue, 322; -block, 66, 70, 343, 372, 390, 406, 443, 545, 593, 630; -bridge, 594 downey, patrick, 343, 346 downing, p. h., 301 downs & bent, 426 dozier, melville, 532 drackenfeld, b. f., 230 drake, j. c., 473 draper, durell, xv drays, 74, 116, 138, 279, 527 dress, evening, in los angeles, 400; native --, 158 dreyfus, alfred, 451 drinking and drunkenness, 24, 25, 31, 32, 58, 60, 369, 413, 429, 463 driscoll, marjorie, xv droughts and their effects, 108, 203, 205, 257, 311, 313, 328, 329, 331, 333, 334, 391, 445, 507; smallpox, incidental to --, 322, 329, 508 drown, ezra, 45, 48, 149, 189, 246, 296; death of mrs. --, 48 druggists and drug stores, 109, 185, 371, 461, 589 drum, richard coulter, 247; camp --, 301, 321; -barracks, 247, 299, 301, 321, 331, 358, 398, 451 dryden, william g., 36, 45, 50ff., 56, 118, 210, 282, 354, 397; mrs. -(_née_ nieto), 51; mrs. -(_née_ dominguez), 51; -springs, 210 duane, c. p., 150 duarte, 174, 578 dubordieu, b., 64, 332 ducks, 279, 490; wild --, owens lake, 387 ducommun, charles l., 68ff., 76, 235, 291, 346, 423; - hardware co., 69; -street, 69 dudley, t. h., 603 duels, 347, 348, 351, 384, 516 dunann, s. d., xv duncan, father william, 602 dunham, ed., 396; -& schieffelin, 396 dunkelberger, isaac r., 411, 514, 587, 589; mrs. --, 411 dunkers, 576 dunlap, deputy sheriff, 424 dupuy, j. r., 597 duque, tomás lorenzo, 355, 589; mrs. --, 589 durfee's farm, 471 dutchman, flying, 351 du puytren, pigné, 541 dye, joseph f., 221, 418 dyer, g. s., 599 dyer, j. j., 349 e _eagle_, ship, 123 eagle mills, 87, 123 earl, edwin t., 623, 642 earthquakes, 165, 204, 312, 439, 620, 633ff. east los angeles, 322, 445, 539, 548; -park, 557 eastman, james g., 501, 593 eastman, j., 385 easton, jim, 335 _east prussia to the golden gate, from_, 403 _east side champion_, 548 eaton, benjamin s., 45, 50, 66, 316, 336, 448, 561, 614; mrs. --(_née_ hayes), 47, 50; mrs. -(_née_ clark), 50; --'s cañon, 337 eaton, frederick, 50, 66, 90, 106, 446 ebell club, 607 eberle, f. x., 460, 463; marsetes --, 460 ebinger, lewis, 367 echeandia, josé maría, 604 _echo_, race horse, 423 echo park, 372 eckbahl, gottlieb, xv eckert, bob, 231 edelman, a. m., 314 edelman, abraham wolf, 122, 314, 339, 501, 540, 608 edelman, d. w., 314 edgar, george a., 551 edgar, william francis, 58, 227, 614 edwards, d. k., 382 egan, richard, xv ehrenberg, 415 eichler, rudolph, 367 eighth street, 202 eintracht society, 272 eisen, t. a., 606 eldridge, frederick w., 627 elections, 42, 44, 401, 442, 613 electric homestead tract, 546; -association, 609 electric light, distributed from high masts, 535; objections to its introduction, 535 electric railways, first, 462, 546, 594, 609, 612, 620 elias, jacob, 70, 118, 122, 203; -bros., 70 elizabeth lake, 457 elks hall, 584 ellington, james, 139 elliott, john m., 466, 473, 598, 614 elliott, thomas balch, 447, 448; mrs. --, 448 ellis college, 566 ellis, john f., 358 elm street synagogue, new york, organized by joseph newmark, 122 el monte (see under monte) elsaesser, a., 230 elysian park, 37, 364, 539, 557, 615 emerson, ralph, 212, 257 emerson, ralph waldo, 257, 519 emerson row, 257 emery, grenville c., 622 empire saloon, san francisco, 22 empire stables, 357 employment agency, 138 ems, 564 _enchiladas_, 134 encino, el, 252, 438 episcopalians and episcopal church, 246, 339, 340, 356, 361, 622 equator, celebration of crossing, 121 esperanza store, la, 550 espinosa, bandit, 209 espinosa, ensign, 169 espionage in southern california, 299 estates lost through easy credit, 130, 131 encino, el, 252, 438 _estranjero, el_, 605 _estrella de los angeles, la_, 92, 93 estudillo, dolores, 255 estudillo, josé g., 521, 587 estudillo, josé, 255 etchemendy, juan, 311 eucalyptus trees, 439; notable tree blown down, 439 euclid avenue, 579 eugénie, empress, 360 europe, travel to, 165 evans, charley, 205 everhardt, joseph, 251, 274, 275; -mrs., 442; -& koll, 251 evertsen, laura cecilia, 89, 315 ewington, alfred, xv _examiner_, los angeles, 626, 636; -building, 627; --, san francisco, 627 excursions, 250, 393, 394, 404, 442, 488, 525; dependent on subscriptions, 430; -and fares, 430 exposition park, 640, 645 _express, evening_, and _los angeles_, 427, 441, 498, 516, 526, 538, 543, 612, 623, 642, 646 express business, 138, 373 express, pony (see pony express) ey, frank, 628 eytinge, rose, 498 f fabian, 527 fair grounds, 375 fair oaks, 316, 337; -avenue, 316 fairs, public, 512 faith street, 232 _faja_, 542 _falcon_, steamer, 568 falkenstein, germany, 451 fall, george m., 405 families, large, 178, 202 _fandangos_, 135, 136, 453 _fandangueros_, 135 fares, excursion, 430; --, steamer, 71, 568; --, railroad, 404 farish, o. e., 638 farmers, 126, 354, 363, 393 (see, also, under ranchers) farmers & merchants bank, 63, 70, 404, 423, 465, 467, 476, 478, 481, 565 farragut, david glasgow, 328, 350 farrelly, r. a., 627 fashion stables, 499 faulkner, charles j., 287 faulkner, william, 280 fayal, 404, 405 federal building, 67, 444, 604, 630 federal government and secession, 318, 321, 330, 339 federal telegraph co., 643 feliz, reymunda, 238 fences scarce on ranches, 182 ferguson, william, 377 ferner & kraushaar, 61 ferrell, william c., 53 ferris, dick, 639 fiddle used at funerals, 307 field, stephen j., 565 field, leiter & co., 602 _fiestas de los angeles_, 605ff. figueroa street, 104, 125, 232, 380, 450, 548 fillmore city, 155 fine arts league, 640 finger-bowls, first here, 377 finland, 5 finlayson, frank g., 628 fires, fire-fighting, and fire companies, 119, 120, 223, 225, 229, 257, 275, 288, 356, 362, 405, 446, 464, 489, 500, 539, 565, 566, 568, 586, 593, 633, 640; first engine, 446; first protection, 120; hand-cart, 119; ordinances, 286; racing to fires, 464; san francisco, 633ff.; volunteer firemen, 446, 464, 539 fire insurance companies: phoenix and new england, 280 firearms, free use of, 59, 60 fire-proof buildings, first, 120, 190 fireworks, 594 firmin, point, 581 first dragoons' band, 296 first national bank, 472, 515 first street, 62, 112, 408, 417, 518, 543, 570 fischer, john, 212 fischer, g., 261 fish and fish trade, 127, 278 fish, captain, 152 fiske, john, xii fitch, tom, 479, 580 fitzgerald, edward harold, 190, 262 five brothers, the, 550 five points, new york, 12 flag presentation, early, 296 flashner, marcus, 245; -& hammel, 245 flat iron square, 627 flatau, herman, 344, 535, 538 flax, experiments with, 401 fleishman, israel, 72, 256 fleming, a. p., 638 fleming, david p., xv fletcher, calvin, 447 flint, bixby & co., 170 flint, frank putnam, 630 flint, motley h., 631 floods, 257, 258, 309, 313, 362, 365, 412, 541, 551 floors, earthen, 113 florence, 388 flores, josé maría, 178, 182 flores, juan, 47, 206, 208, 210 flores, las, 173, 180, 332, 442 flour, 322, 331; -mills, 493 flowers, festivals of, 512; painter of --, 617; -strewn on waters, 621 flower street, 232, 472 floyd, pavement layer, 519 fluhr, chris, 176, 251, 252; -& gerson, 469 flying horses, 193 fogarty, j. j., 634 foley, w. i., 617 follansbee, elizabeth a., 536 fonck, victor, 512 foodstuffs, affected by heat, 88, 287; prices, 331, 332; supply, 88; variety, 124 foot-bridges, 289, 412 forbes, a. s. c., 628; mrs. --, 621, 628 forbes, charles henry, 214 forest of arden, 494 forest grove association, 439 forman, charles, 172, 477, 573 forster, francisco (chico), 526 forster, juan, 98, 173, 326, 332, 526, 531; doña -(_née_ pico), 98, 173, 531 fort hill, 104, 209, 280, 417 fort pillow massacre, 330 fort street, 400, 408, 417, 466, 472, 561; called broadway, 511, 592; property values on, 67, 332, 381; prophecy as to, 466; widening of, 588 fort tejón, 194, 195, 207, 234 fort yuma, 424 forthman, j. a., 470 forwarding, 23, 74, 236, 242, 272, 274, 312, 342, 343, 351, 373; toll for, 345 (see camel-express) foshay, james a., 606, 625 fossils, excavation of, at la brea _rancho_, 645 foster, f., 239 foster, stephen c., 30, 35, 49, 105, 120, 139, 140, 147, 200, 263, 500; mrs. --, 263 foster, thomas, 107, 108, 118, 156, 189, 203, 246, 312, 321; mrs. --, 107 foster, timothy, 118 foster & mcdougal, 76 foster vineyard, 200, 201 foundry, stearns, 186, 226 fountains, 418; presentation to city, 534 four-story structure, first, 534 fourth of july celebrations, 47, 157, 193, 273, 300, 321, 330, 428, 429, 499 fowler, james g., xv fox, ostrich handler, 547 foy bros., 110 foy, james c., 110 foy, james calvert, 111 foy, john m., 110, 111 foy, mary e., 111, 647 foy, samuel c., 110, 111, 205, 256, 500, 624; mrs. --, 92, 106, 205, 224 frame buildings, first on fort street, 466; -of the seventies, 518 france, 564, 621 francisco, a. w., 606 francisco, the vender, 629 francis, john f., 174, 606, 613, 622 frank, h. w., 216, 606 franklin, john, 306; supposed records of, 395 franklin, lady, visit to los angeles, 306, 395 franklin alley, 36, 40 franklin street, 36, 334, 408 fraser, a. r., 603 _frazadas_, 29 fredericks, john d., 641 fredericks, katherine, 378 _free harbor contest_, 646 free, micky, 413 free lunches, 303, 402, 571 freeman, dan, 421, 445, 510, 606 freight: dissatisfaction with rates, 504, 506; high rates, 290, 404; shipment of --, 153 freighting along the coast, 345, 435; -by teams, 290, 416 frémont, elizabeth benton, 625, 647 frémont, j. c., 61, 99, 156, 171, 173, 178, 272, 297, 514, 597, 612, 648; -trail, 448 frémont, jessie benton, 606, 625; carriage of, 86; gift of residence to, and death of, 625 french, e. c., 483 french, l. w., 368 french, t. b., 121 french benevolent society, 303, 338, 402, 500 french bread, 77 french consul, 254 french hospital, 402 french language, 341, 450, 528 frenchmen, 199, 207 french newspapers, 516, 541 french restaurant, 279 friday morning club, 600 friedlander, isaac, 331 _frijoles_, 134 frink, e. b., 405; --'s ranch, 414 fröhling, john, 117, 212, 213, 294 frosts, 212, 525 fruit, sent to the president, 219; peddler of, 126; - grafts, first from new york, 33; -trees imported from the east, 139 fuentes, josé maría, 549 fullerton, 577 fulton, j. e., 483; -wells, 483 funeral customs, 306, 307 furman, george, 464 furniture, 81, 377 furrey, w. c., 69, 605 fussell, effie josephine, xv g gadsden purchase, 222 gaffey, john t. and mrs., 631 gage, h. r., 603 gage, henry t., 168, 617; mrs. -(_née_ rains), 617 galatin, 362, 367, 425 gale, anita, 170 gallagher, james, 462 gallardo, francisca, 100 galta, p., 191 gamblers and gambling, 29ff., 149, 510; property lost through --, 131; -at san francisco, 21, 29 gamut club, 625 ganahl, frank j., 416, 488 ganée, p., 516 garage, first, 626 garcia, francisca, 95 garcia, joseph s., 65, 237, 239; mrs. --, 239 garcia, manuel, 206 garcia, merced, 186 garcia, ygnácio, 66, 67, 335 gard, george e., 464, 529, 552, 579 garden of paradise, 192, 272, 273, 523 garden grove, 177 gardens, few, 54, 69, 114, 124, 147, 163, 192; outdoor --, 273, 275, 340, 410, 463, 500 gardiner, james, 530 garey, thomas a., 91, 483 garfias, manuel, 36, 178, 237, 238 garfield, james a., memorial services here, 529; mrs. --, resident, 529 garland, w. m., 606, 639 garnier bros., 421, 438; --, camille, eugène, philip, 438 garra, antónio, 50, 168, 169 garter, mexican, 158 garvanza, 578 garvey, richard, 282 gas, 267, 349, 355, 370, 396, 561, 604; -fixtures, 355; - co., 349, 561; -rates, 489 gasoline stoves, 516 gates hotel, 566 gattel, bernhard, 319 gaviota pass, 246 gefle, 4 gelcich, v., 110, 428, 548 geller, william, 74 george the baker, 65 georgetown, 193 gephard, george, 532 gerkins, j. f., 510 germain, eugène, 510, 537, 581 german bankers and statesmen, visit of, 539 german benevolent society, 272; -of ladies, 527 german bread, 77 german hotels and highways, 564 german language, demand for teaching the, 383 german music, 213, 214, 259, 272, 409, 584; -newspapers, 388, 465, 584; first german newspaper here, 465; -school, first, 428 germania life insurance co., 319 germans and germany, 207, 212, 272, 378, 453, 564, 621; german-born american citizens, 239; travel in germany in 1849, 3 gerson, charles, 251, 469 getman, william c. (billy), 31, 208, 220, 221 gibbon, thomas edward, 595, 606, 642 gibbons, james, 586 gibson, a. p., xv gibson, c. w., 470, 537 gibson, fielding w., 90, 261 gibson, frank a., 545, 598, 613 gieze, f. j., 291 gift, george w., 294 gila river, 38, 188, 261; --, passage by emigrants, 188 gilbert & co., 155 gilchrist, ira, 81 gillette, j. w., 614 gilman's, 414 gilroy, 234, 497 ginnochio, g., 549 gird, richard, 599 giroux, l. g., 480 gitchell, joseph r., 45, 54, 246 glaciers, 398, 602 gladstone, william ewart, 579; --, proposed town of, 579, 593 _gladstone_, race horse, 593 glasscock, j. sherman, xv glassell, andrew, 363 glassell, andrew j., 350, 352, 363, 423, 488, 517; -& chapman, 352; --, chapman & smith, 351; --, smith & patton, 363 glassell, wm. t., 352 glendale, 177, 424, 578, 579 glendora, 576, 578, 579 goats, angora, 413; --, cashmere, 413; --, wild, 216 godey, alexander, 272; --'s ranch, 272 godfrey, john f., 499, 556 gold, 39, 94, 95, 142, 247, 268, 321, 333, 380, 402, 476; appreciation of --, 319; -bars, 415; -dust, 95, 96, 130, 242; found in ruins, 223; -mining, 148, 149, 201, 228; --, searching for, 254, 313, 318, 386; -notes, 319; -nugget, 39, 40; -and the san francisco clearing house, 95 gold hill, nevada, 477 golden gate, 17, 19, 121, 123, 204, 211, 283, 635 _golden state_, steamer, 306 _gold hunter_, steamer, 22, 152 goldwater, joe and mike, 321 _goliah_, 22, 143, 152, 153, 311 goller, john, 28, 65, 82, 85, 121, 149, 153, 239, 300, 384, 417, 433 _gondolier_, 307 gonzales, juan, 140 gonzales & co., josé e., 308 goodall, nelson & perkins, goodall, nelson & co., 465 goodman, morris l., 150, 213 goodwin, l. c., 70, 150, 500; mrs. --, 70 goodwin, pat, 357 gordo, louis, 369, 370 gordon, john w., 362 gordon, captain, 483 gordon's station, 195 gospel swamp, 366 gothenburg, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9 gould, will d., 597 government, messenger to new mexico, 282; -stores, transportation of, 354 graff, m. l., 597 grand army of the republic, 579 grand avenue, 232 grand central hotel, 469, 492 grand hotel, san francisco, 430, 440 grand opera house, 590 grand rabbi of france, 450 grand, s., 382 grange stores, 483 granger, lewis, 33, 36, 45, 53, 105 granite wash, 414, 415 grant, u. s., 255, 328, 446, 500 grapes, 25, 103, 139, 142, 199, 265, 285, 412, 576; --, first sent east, 139; vines grown in dry soil, 337 _graphic_, 612 grasshoppers, 266 grasshopper street, 232 graves, j. a., 69, 475; --, o'melveny & shankland, 476 gray, charlotte, 91 gray, f. edward, 634 gray, william h., 432 _greasers_, 140 great salt lake, 302 greek george, 223, 234, 281, 455, 457, 543 greenbacks, 319, 380, 522 greenbaum, e., 72; mrs. --, mother of first jewish child born here, 104 green meadows, 40 greenwich avenue school catastrophe, new york, 224 greene, bessie anne, 142 gregory, john h., 405 gregson, f. p., 619, 637 greppin, e. h., 637 grey town, 14 grierson, b. h., 587 griffin, george butler, 526 griffin, john s., 47, 106, 107, 108, 193, 200, 205, 207, 237, 241, 252, 294, 316, 320, 322, 337, 346, 365, 371, 412, 423, 426, 445, 448, 449, 500, 594, 614, 617, 618, 648; mrs. --, 47, 205, 316; -avenue, 322 griffith, alice h., 476 griffith, fred, 546 griffith, griffith j., 541, 614, 643; -park, 614, 643 griffith, j. m., 190, 290, 340, 356, 428, 441, 449, 466, 476, 546, 614, 636; -avenue, 636; -lynch & co., 466 griffith, j. t., 606 _gringos_, 159, 160, 305, 453 groningen, johann, 238 grosse building, 627 grosser, elsa, 624 grosser, william f., 623 grosser tract, 623 grosvenor, gilbert h., xv guadalupe, 496 guatemala, 542 guerra, pablo de la, 35, 48 guerra, trinidad de la, 336 guillen, eulalia perez, 493 guillen, mariana, 493 guinn, james miller, 402, 419, 526, 533, 541, 614, 620, 626 guiol, frederico, 369 guirado, bernardino, 549 guirado, f. l., 35 guirado, francisco, 499 gunsmiths, 147, 230 gurley, h. b., 634 gwin, william mckendree, 296 gymnasiums, turnverein, 192, 409, 584, 629; 273; petition for a --, 383, 545 h haap, mary, 213 haas, abraham, 230, 425, 537; --, baruch & co., 367, 425, 595 haas, jacob, 425 habra, la, 166, 179, 547 _hacienda_, 168 hacks, 306, 389, 417 hafen, conrad, 378; --, hafen house, 378 haight, fletcher m., 279 haight, h. h., 279 hail, 314 haiwee meadows, 387 hale, charles, 77 haley, robert, 285, 311 haley, salisbury, 22, 152, 181, 204, 311; mrs. --, 181 halfhill, albert p., 628 half-way house, 25 hall, charles francis, 395 hall, e. a., 568 hall, hiland, 146 hall, john, 527 halle university, germany, viii halsey, dr., 211, 212 halstead, willard g., 386 hamburg-bremen fire insurance co., 120 hamburger, asher, 529; -& sons, a., 529; -building, 593, 639 hamburger, d. a., 529, 639 hamburger, m. a., 529, 626 hamburger, s. a., 529 hamilton, harley, 606 hamilton, henry, 192, 280, 371, 413, 446 hamilton, maggie, 355 hamlin, homer, 638 hammel, henry, 259, 316, 380; -& denker, 469, 581 hammel, william a., 115 hammel, william a., jr., 115, 634 hammond, miss l. j., milliner, 491 hampton, w. e., 637 _hancock, ada_, disaster, 75, 132, 300, 329 hancock, george allan, 37 hancock, henry, 34, 36, 37, 104, 112, 149, 500; mrs. --, 18, 37; --'s surveys, 33, 38; -ranch, 114 hancock, winfield scott, 82, 246, 247, 265, 281, 282, 294, 296, 297, 299, 300, 301, 346, 512; mrs. --, 300 (see under _hancock, ada_) hangtown, 428 hanlon, john, 591 hanna, d. w., 566 hansen, george, 34, 37, 38, 212, 372, 411, 423, 450, 614 haparanda, 4, 5 haraszthy, augustin, 37 _harbor contest, the free_, 646 hardison, wallace r., 622 hardy, alfred, 206, 207 hardy, surveyor, 34 hard times, 256, 333 harford, port, 346 harmon, j., 371 harned, j. m., 429 harper, arthur c., 372 harper, charles f., 371; -& moore, --, reynolds & co., harper-reynolds co., -& coulter, 372 harper's ferry, 530 _harper's magazine_, 547, 597; -_weekly_, 590 harris, emil, 405, 409, 425, 433, 434, 455ff. harris, l., 18, 216 harrison, william henry, 93, 519 harrison, miss, 225 hart, f. j., 638 hart, mary e., 599 harte, bret, 32, 428 hartley, b. f., 455 hartman, isaac and mrs., 54 hartshorn tract, 391 hartung edgar j., xv harvard school, 622 harvey, j. downey, 214 harvey, t. j., 269 harvey, walter harris and mrs., 214 haskell, leonidas, 272 hathaway, c. d., 405 hathwell, belle cameron (later mrs. c. e. thom), 52 hathwell, susan henrietta (later mrs. c. e. thom), 52 hat-makers, native, 159 hatter, first, 230, 405; 213 havilah, 148, 149, 375 hawkes, emma l., 355 hawthorne, h. w., 404 hay, high price of, 445, 453 hayes, benjamin, 35, 45, 46, 48, 139, 189, 256, 501, 596; mrs. --, 46 hayes, chauncey, xv hayes, helena (later, mrs. b. s. eaton), 47, 50 hayes, louisa (later, mrs. j. s. griffin), 47, 106, 107 hayes, rutherford b., 522, 596 hayes, r. t., 107, 143, 156, 320, 423 hayes. t. a., 91 haynes, john r., 473, 649 hay-scale, public, 288 hayward, a. b., 107, 291 hayward, james alvinza, 372; -& co., 372 hayward hotel, 192 hazard, a. m., 74 hazard, dan, 74, 415, 416 hazard, george w., 74, 258 hazard, henry t., 74, 235, 415, 433, 442, 446, 521, 584, 590, 594, 606; mrs. --, 74; --'s pavilion, 512, 590, 592; - street, 75 healdsburg, 389 healey, charles t., 618 hearst, william randolph, 626, 643 heat, excessive, 257 heath, samuel m., 91, 92 hebrew benevolent society, 122, 432; --, ladies', 409 hecht, sigmund, 618 heinsch, hermann, 213, 214, 230, 259, 272, 383; mrs. --, 213; --building, 214 heinsch, r. c., 214 heintzelman, henry, 35 heinzeman, c. f., 230, 371 hellman, h. m., 142, 311 hellman, herman w., 53, 142, 248, 383, 425, 449, 608; --, haas & co., 425, 500, 506, 595; -building, 53 hellman, i. m., 142, 248, 311, 409, 423, 480; -& bro., 309, 311, 462, 478, 480, 539 hellman, i. w., 53, 63, 70, 191, 248, 311, 346, 366, 372, 383, 423, 516, 555, 560, 562, 595; -building no. 1, 383; -temple & co., 372, 416, 423; -& co., 417 hellman, james w., 69 hellman, marco h., 248 hellman, maurice s., 143 hellman, samuel, 142, 311, 365, 428, 605; -& widney, 311 henderson, a. j., 304 henderson bros., 416 henderson, john w., 304 henne, christian, 230, 259, 334; -block, 192 henrickson, clois f., 401 henriot, françois and mme., 225 _henry_ steamer, _chancey_, 359 henseley, captain, 62 _herald_, los angeles, 450, 498, 516, 556, 595, 607, 612, 614, 622, 628, 643, 646 _herald_, new york, 234 hereford, m., 320 hereford, margaret s., 169 hereford, robert s., 150 hereford, thomas s., 169 herodotus, xii hester, r. a., 324 hewitt, eldridge edwards, 321, 404, 489, 506 hewitt, j., 389, 397 hewitt, leslie r., 638 _hermosa_, steamer, 15 hernösand, 4 hickey, william (bill, the waterman), 116, 117, 350 hicks, j. d., 69, 142, 217; -& co., 69, 142 hides and hide-business, 196, 197, 257, 331, 408, 613; shipping hides, 197 higbee, george h., xv high, e. wilson, 150 high school, los angeles, 301, 419, 452, 532 hill-property, 376, 460, 558 hill street, 377, 472 hinchman, a. f., 66, 67, 241, 313 historical society of southern california, 541, 604, 631, 640; open air meeting of, 604 hodge, frederick webb, xii hodges, a. p., 107 holbrook, j. f., 377 holcomb, william, 268; -valley and -mines, 268, 282 holder, charles frederick, 557 hollenbeck, john edward, 357, 461, 473, 492; mrs. --, 598; -home, 220, 494, 598; -hotel, 492, 518, 598; -park, 598 hollingsworth, h. t., 449 hollingsworth, lawson d. and mrs., 449 hollister, john h., 368, 410, 543 hollister, mary, 368, 410 hollywood, 455, 563, 612, 617 hollywood, mount, 643 holmes, james, 401 holmes, oliver wendell, 519 home of peace society, 104, 599 home telephone and telegraph co., 484 homes, furnishing of, 113, 124 honolulu, 156; --, wireless telegraphing to, 643 _honeymoon, the_, 286 hook, thomas j., 609 hook, william spencer, 609 hoover (formerly huber), leonce, 185, 199, 200, 201; - street, 201; -vineyard, 198 hoover, mary a., 201 hoover, vincent a., 200, 201, 467 hope, a. w., 35, 99, 107, 109 hope street, 232, 472 hopkins, mark, 324 hopper, joseph, xv horn, a. j., 91 horn, cape, 37, 62, 86, 107, 121, 123, 167, 203, 221, 284, 352, 397, 411 hornbeck, robert, 176 hornung, adelbert, xv horses, 243, 318, 332, 354; --, bet on races, 160; --, breaking in, 243; --, breeding of, 95, 215, 423, 592; --, effect of drought on, 215, 329; horse-thieving, 326; runaway --, 243 horse cars, 460ff., 562, 609 horsemanship, 242, 243 horse-racing, 109, 160, 182, 375 horticultural hall, 512 hospitality, 113, 135; --, spanish-american, 71, 150, 252, 604; -of the city, 341, 398 hospitals, 210, 250 hotels and hotel life, 227, 245, 369, 380, 396, 397, 408, 481; --, advertising, 469; lack of, during boom, 581; under surveillance, 299; hotel splendid, 581. (_see, also_, under alexandria, angelus, bella union, bellevue terrace, belmont, cosmopolitan, hollenbeck, lafayette, lanfranco, lankershim, nadeau, national, new arlington, pico, st. charles, st. elmo, united states, what cheer house, etc.) hotz, walter, xvi hough, a. m., 515 houghton, sherman otis, 596; --, silent & campbell, 596 house, building, 82; --, furnishing, 82; --, moving of, 477; --, three-story, 372 howard, charles, 384 howard, fred h., 439; -& smith, 439 howard, frederick preston and mrs., 201, 461 howard, james g., 347, 350, 554, 555 howard, o. o., 431 howard, volney e., 54, 55, 346, 356, 384, 529, 593; mrs. --, 55; --, butterworth & newmark, 312 howard, william d. m., 227; -& mellus, 227 howard-nichols duel, 384 howe, f. a., xvi howell, r. h., 600, 606; -& craig, 600 howland, f. h., 535, 546 hoyt, albert h., 106 hoyt, gertrude lawrence, 92, 106, 107, 258 hoyt, mary, 107, 257, 321 hubbell, s. c., 461, 521 huber, caroline, 201 huber, edward, 201 huber, emeline, 201 huber, joseph, 200, 201; mrs. --, 201 huber, joseph, 201, 261 huber, william, 201 hudson river, 625 hughes, captain, 237, 276 hughes, saloon-keeper, 103 hughes, w. e., 589 hughes, steam-bath proprietor, 371 hull, england, 7, 8, 10 human life, disregard for, 31 humber docks, 8 humbert, augustus, 130 humphreys, frank, 601 humphreys, j. f., 589 hunsaker, w. j., 469 hunsicker, john g., 559 hunt, sumner p., 606 hunt, w. s., 619 hunter, edward, 35 hunter, jesse, 115, 340 hunter, morton c., 397 hunting grounds, 73 huntington, collis p., 324, 440, 468, 502 huntington, henry e., 232, 515, 620, 631, 632; -building, 515, 620; -purchase, 69; -hotel, 54 hutton, aurelius w., 597 hydrophobia, 325 hyde, e. w., 440 hydrants, 446 i ice, 233, 247, 370; first --, 191; formed here, 381; - house, 247, 370; -machine, first, 427; -wagon, 370 ice cream, first, 191, 391; venders, 391, 629 ice water convention, 13 _icerya purchasi_, 544 icicles, 525 idaho, 351 ide, clarence edward, xvi ihmsen, maximilian f., 627 illich, jerry, 513 illinois, 576 _illinois_, steamer, 14 _imprenta_, 94 _independence_, steamer, 48 indian wells, 387, 414 indiana, 576; --, colony, 412, 447, 481 indians, 25, 35, 42, 47, 62, 82, 89, 95, 105, 106, 123, 124, 126, 131, 134, 165, 169, 182, 202, 203, 217, 218, 227, 228, 248, 253, 259, 261, 262, 266, 275, 277, 281, 285, 286, 317, 322, 330, 352, 415, 429, 430, 431, 448, 519, 528, 530, 542, 553, 604; polonia, 253; -agents, 143, 168; --, dances of, 278; fire signals, 415; apache --, 431, 541; chippewa --, 448; colorado river --, 317; pueblo --, 542; -as illegal voters, 43; -reservation and adobes, 248, 620 ingersoll, luther, xvi institute, sisters', 190 institute, teachers', 389 insurance, 120, 223, 389, 516 interstate commerce commission, 637 inyo county, 386, 521 iowa, 576 iron buildings, corrugated, 120, 133, 190 _ironsides_, 352 irrigation, 115, 213, 215, 218, 329 irving party, 46, 175, 190 irving, washington, 65 isthmuses, the, and isthmian travel, 15, 38, 48, 201, 232, 315 italian benevolent society, 553 ivanhoe, 579 j jackson, andrew, 254 jackson, helen hunt (_h. h._), 41, 102, 444, 519, 530 jackson, john e., 404 jackson, r. w., 261 jackson, simon, 150 jackson street, 293 jackstones, 103 jacobi, a., 28 jacobs, lewis, 151 jacoby, abraham, 287, 606; -bros., 287 jacoby, charles, 287 jacoby, conrad, 230, 465, 540 jacoby, herman, 287 jacoby, lesser, 287 jacoby, morris, 287 jacoby, nathan, 286 jacoby, philo, 465 jail, old, 115, 286, 511, 530 jail street, 36 jamaica, 14 james, collector, 341 james, george wharton, 588 janeiro, rio de, 123 japanese at the centennial, 497 jazynsky, louis, 212, 219 jefferson, d., 396 jelinek, mrs. a., 623 jenkins, charles meyers, 94, 295 jenkins, william w., 76 jenny lind bakery, 77, 191 jerkies, 375 jerky, 25 jess, stoddard, 473, 638, 642, 647 jevne, hans, 76, 550, 606, 638 jewish cemetery, 104, 122, 396 jewish orphans home of southern california, 643 jewish reformed ritual, 314 jewish services, 122, 314, 608, 618 jewish synagogue, first, 314 jewish temple, 608 jewish women, 104, 409, 432, 535, 599, 644 jews, threat to drive out the, 342 jinks, captain, 278 johnson, adelaida, 61 johnson, albert, 455 johnson, andrew, 361 johnson, bridget, 28 johnson, captain, 376 johnson, charles r., 62, 249, 255; mrs. --, 255; -& allanson, 62, 151 johnson, dick, 82 johnson, e. p., 378, 606 johnson, hiram, 639 johnson, j. a., 91 johnson, james (santiago), 53, 61, 279; mrs. --, 38 johnson, joseph h., 622 johnson, margarita, 53 johnson, micajah d., 488 johnson, milbank, 628 johnson, o. t., 581 johnston, a. j., 428 johnston, albert sidney, 107, 294, 316, 337; mrs. --, 316, 321, 337 johnston, albert sidney, jr., 320 johnston, hancock m., 322; mrs. --, 50 johnston, william preston, 295 jolly, hi, 222 joly, joseph, 405 jones, c. w., xv jones, chloe p., 533 jones, clara m., 355 jones, eleanor brodie, xv jones, e. w., 589, 626 jones, g. m., 603 jones, john, 65, 342, 353, 356, 366, 383, 427, 432; mrs. --, 65, 409 jones, john h., 85, 86; mrs. (carrie m.) --, 85, 542, 648 jones, john p., 181, 479, 485ff., 521, 586 jones, john t., 105 jones, m. g., 65, 545 jones, wilson w., 35, 107 jones block, 536 jones's corral, 455 jordan bros., 549 _jota_ 135 joughin, andrew, 357 joyce, w. h., 637 juan, cojo, 238 judd, henderson, xvi judges of the plains, 182, 183, 242 judson & belshaw, 385ff. juez de paz, 99 _julius cæsar_, 588 jumper, 446 juneau, 602 junge, adolph (adolf), 290, 367 junta patriotica, 338 jurupa _rancho_, 175ff., 255, 391 k kahn, john, 72, 606 kahn, zadoc and mme., 450 kaiser, charles, 273 kalamazoo, mich., 106 kalisher, w., 61; mrs. --, 409; -& wartenberg, 61, 409 _kalorama_, steamer, 465 kane, mr., 337 katz, b., 405; mrs. --, 409 kays, james c., 469, 545, 618 kearney, phil., 614 kearny, s. w., 206, 255 keller, m., 35, 128, 200, 292, 293, 346, 436, 446, 483 keller's building, 94 kellogg, d. p., xvi kellogg & co., 130 kelly, dan, 413 kenealy, john, 529 kercheval, albert fenner, 428, 574; -tract, 574 kerckhoff, george, 515 kerckhoff, william g., 515, 545; -building, 515 kerckhoff, mr., 581 kerlin, fred e., 320 kern, paul, 481 kern county, 188, 272, 426, 437 kern river, 148, 149, 317 kerosene, 346 kewen, a. l., 54 kewen, edward j. c., 45, 54, 55, 170, 185, 249, 285, 318, 351, 356, 441; mrs. --, 185 keyes, c. g., xvi keysor, e. f., 466, 470; -& morgan, 470 kimball, c. h., 355 kimball, cyrus, 348 kimball, nathan, 447 kimberly, martin m., 318 kimble, l., 619 kindergarten, 356, 566 king, andrew j., 89, 91, 246, 250, 315, 344, 347, 350, 366, 380, 397, 426, 433, 443, 446; mrs. --, 89, 315; -& co., 350; -& waite, 380 king, frank, 347 king, f. w., 606 king, henry, 358 king, houston, 347 king, john, 245, 316, 358, 380 king, samuel, 91, 92 king, thomas, 210 king, william r., 121 king-carlisle duel, 347ff. kingston, tulare co., 453 _kinneloa_, 519 kinney, abbot, 519, 530, 566, 595, 603, 606, 627 kip, william ingraham, 340 kirkland valley, 415 klokke, e. f. c., 606 _knäckebröd_, 5 _kneipe_, temple block 230 knight, william h., 612 knights commander, order of, 542 knowles, charles, 455 knowlton, charles, 396, 455, 469 knowlton, willis t., xvi koebele, albert, 544 koepfli, j. o., 544, 606, 619, 626, 634, 635, 637 kohler, f. d., 130 kohler, g. charles, 212, 213; -& fröhling, 213 koll, frederick w., 251, 275 koster, john, 368 kragevsky, miguel, 206 kremer, campbell & co., 280 kremer, maurice, 39, 71, 72, 189, 191, 201, 260, 280, 287, 334, 347, 355, 365, 400, 415, 419, 636; mrs. -(_née_ newmark), 191, 599, 636 kress, george h., 641 kuhn, henry, 258 kuhrts, jacob, 228, 229, 409, 446, 552, 585, 606; mrs. --, 229, 527 ku-klux klan, 516 kurtz, carl, 367, 606 kurtz, joseph, 230, 367, 409, 434, 526, 540, 548, 587, 593, 649 kuster, edward g., 637 l labatt bros., 69 laborie, antoine, 64 labrador, 398 lacey, sidney, 377, 446 lachenais, a. m. g., 40, 303, 419 lacy, richard h., 377; -manufacturing co., 377 lacy, william, 377, 647 lacy, william, jr., 377 ladies, escorting of, 184; -at political gatherings, 282 ladybird, 544 ladybug, 544 lafayette hotel, 176, 251, 275, 321, 384, 389, 396, 397, 469 la fetra, milton h., 483 lafoon, charles, 366 lager beer, first, 40 lamanda park, 578 lambourn, fred, 87, 471 lamps, coal oil, 34 lamson, george f., 155 lamson, gertrude, 155 lamson, s. f., 338 lancaro, b. h., 179 land bet on races, 161 land commission, 238 land commissioners, board of, 146, 509 landmarks club, 542 land office, register of, 143, 214 land values, unscientific consideration of (see under property) _land of sunshine_, 542, 646 land patents, 509 land syndicates in the boom, 572 lander, james h., 45, 53, 339, 348; mrs. --, 38, 53 lane, the, 394 lane, joseph, 282 lane's crossing, 281 lanes, 25, 112, 126, 198, 394, 485, 614 lanfranco block, new, 371; --, old, 71, 231, 367, 369, 465, 550; the --, hotel. 369 lanfranco, juan t., 70, 71, 216, 369, 433; mrs. --, 71, 181, 508 lanfranco, mateo, 70, 216 lanfranco, petra pilar, 135 lang, gustav j., 442 langenberger, a. and mrs., 212 langs, confusion as to, 442; lang, john, no. 1, 274, 442; --, no. 2, 442, 447; --'s station, 387, 447, 496, 498 lankershim, isaac, 381, 421, 493; -ranch, 578 lankershim, j. b., 381, 584, 606; mrs. --, 65; -block, 192 lanterns, candle, camphine, coal oil, 34 largo, juan, 169 larkin, thomas o., american consul, 108 la rue, john, 27ff., 61 larrabee, charles h., 376, 441 larronde, pedro, 311 lasker, edward, 539 lasky, l., 72 lasso, 243 latham, milton s., 109, 282, 285; camp --, 299; fort --, 321 latterday saints, 345 laubheim, samuel, 290 laughlin, homer, 201; -building, 201, 608, 625, 638; - annex, 593 laughlin, richard, 187 laundries, first, 78, 298, 310 _laura bevan_, wreck of, 66, 152 laurel tract, 442 laurence, h. f., 385 lauth, philip, 230 laventhal, elias, 146, 189 lawler, oscar, 624; mrs. --, 624 lawlor, w. b., 373, 443; -institute, 373 lawyers, 45ff.; --', fees, 47; --' block, 596 lazard, abe, 72 lazard, e. m., 72 lazard frères, 439, 522, 540 lazard, max, 89 lazard, solomon, 65, 71, 89, 120, 123, 133, 163, 224, 287, 290, 347, 365, 366, 383, 449, 489, 503, 504, 508, 618, 637; mrs. --, 224, 253, 347, 508, 637; -& co., 132, 171, 229, 355, 362, 400, 452; -& kremer, 71, 189; -& wolfskill, 72 lazarowich, joe, 550 lazarus, p., 230, 365; mrs. --, 365; -stationery co., 365 lea, homer, 644 lead mines, 385, 388 lechler, george and mrs., 235 leck, henry v. d. and mrs., 64 leck, lorenzo, 64, 78, 259, 304, 409; mrs. --, 304, 317; --'s hall, 314 lecouvreur, frank, 149, 152, 230, 319, 344, 403, 411; mrs. --, 411 lectures, public, 190, 623 ledger, reflections caused by an old, 219 ledyard, captain, 338 lee, bradner w., 475, 516, 517 lee, bradner w., jr., xvi lee, charles, 453 lee, john d., 217 lee, john p., 325 lee, robert edward, 328, 353 leech, william p., 627 leeds, england, 276 leggings, leather, 159 legislature appealed to, 207 lehman, andrew, 86 lehman, george, 192, 193, 272, 273, 417, 463, 522ff. leiter, levi z., 602 leiter, mary victoria, 602 lelande, h. j., xvi lelong, joseph, 77 lemberg, fred, 351 lemons, and lemon-culture, 211, 212, 412 lemon, frank, 476 lemon, william, 476 le mésnager, george, 541 le moyne, francis julius, 567 leon, ralph, 481 leonis, miguel, 310 le sage, gideon, 470 lessen, 3 letter boxes, 94, 410 letter, jacob, 72 letts, arthur, 613 levering, noah, 540 levy, e. j., 601 levy, isaac, xvi levy, michael, 372; -& co., 372; -coblentz, 372 lewin, louis and mrs. 365; -co., louis, 365 lewis, david, 91; and mrs., 93 lewis, john a., 93; --, mcelroy & rand, 93 _lewis perry_, 237, 276, 290 lewis, s. b., 589, 607 lewis, thomas a., 589 libby prison, 295 libraries, loan, 428 library association, los angeles, 443 library, los angeles, 257, 443, 513, 542, 593, 638; --, first, 256; transferred to the city, 513 lichtenberger, h., 607 lichtenberger, louis, 153, 154, 428 lick, james, 71, 216, 568 liebre, rancho de la, 195 _lied von der glocke, das_, 119 life insurance, 319 _life and sport in the open_, 558 lighthouses, first here, 473; --, at catalina, 319 lighting of streets and buildings, 34, 349, 408, 410 lightner, isaac, 344 lily langtry tract, 575 lincoln, abraham, 142, 236, 238, 249, 264, 289, 297, 307, 315, 330, 334, 337, 338, 339, 399, 595; vote in los angeles, 282 lindley, albert, 473 lindley, henry, 473 lindley, ida b., 473 lindley, milton, 473 lindley walter, 322, 473, 589, 641 lindskow, 404 lindville, 405 lips, charles c., 356, 409, 449, 539 lips, walter, 356; --, craigue & co., 356 lissner, meyer, 639 little, w. h., 206, 207 littlefield, j. c., 444 little lake, 387 liverpool, england, 8, 9, 10, 381, 447, 493 livery stables, 377, 383, 389, 429 livingstone, david, 211 llewellyn, david, 559 llewellyn, llewellyn j., 559; -iron works, 559 llewellyn, reese, 559 llewellyn, william, 559 lloyd, reuben, 474 locomotives (see under railroads) lock-boxes, postal, 372 locust trees, black, 162, 539 loeb, edwin j., xv., 355 loeb, joseph p., xv., 355, 637 loeb, leon, 355, 383, 540, 606; mrs. --, 355, 636 loebau, 1, 5, 7, 12, 360, 361, 564, 621 loew, jacob, 87, 367, 425; mrs. --, 367 loewenstein, emanuel, 75 loewenstein, hilliard, 75, 233; mrs. --, 75 loewenthal, max, 75 logan, honey dealer, 127 lomas de santiago _rancho_, 170 london, 360, 407 london & san francisco bank, 412 lone pine, 375 long beach, 166, 167, 374, 519, 580, 601, 620; -disaster, 647 longevity, 493, 528, 649 longfellow, henry w., 624 lopez, bandit, 209 lord, isaac w., 377, 449, 489, 505, 563, 576 lordsburg, 576, 578 loricke, e. m., 462 loring, frederick, 430, 431 los angeles, 6, xv., 22ff., 36, 52, 205, 231, 240, 258, 313, 338, 348, 349, 365, 379, 388, 400, 402, 417, 440ff., 445, 504, 510, 528, 539, 541, 557, 598, 614, 618, 626, 640, 642, 643; extension of hospitality, 398, 639 los angeles advertised at the centennial, 483, 498 los angeles and consolidation with harbor towns, 638 _los angeles and environs_, 620 los angeles and the civil war, 294, 299ff., 305, 308, 311, 316, 318, 321, 323, 326, 328, 330, 333, 334, 337ff., 350, 353, 371 los angeles and the southern pacific railroad problem, 440 ff, 489, 502ff los angeles as market for the interior, 385; as market for whalers, 308 los angeles charity, criticism of, 431 los angeles coffee saloon, 279 los angeles college, 566 los angeles college clinical association, 367 los angeles county, 25, 35, 92, 188, 426; organization of, 35; ownership of, 166; proposed divisions of, 406, 593; reward unpaid, 425 _los angeles county, an historical sketch of_, 365, 501 _los angeles county, history of_, (guinn) 620 los angeles county bank, 466 los angeles county homeopathic medical society, 548 los angeles county railroad, 592 los angeles court house, adobe, 40, 256; temple --, 67, 294, 339, 441, 449; present --, 301, 452 los angeles crematory society, 567 los angeles, early views of, 364 los angeles furniture co., 378 los angeles gas co., 489 los angeles guards, 499 los angeles harbor, 545, 637, 642; -board, 642; - dredging, 426; proposed harbors, 581. (see _harbor contest_.) _los angeles, history of_, (willard) 646 los angeles high school, 301, 419, 452, 532; first - student to enter state university, 536 los angeles infirmary, 210 los angeles medical society, 370 los angeles pacific railroad co., 613 los angeles, panoramic views of, 364 los angeles produce exchange, 537 los angeles rifleros, 499 los angeles river, 116, 258, 289, 398, 412; --, right to water of, 541 los angeles saddlery co., 82 los angeles savings bank, 358 los angeles soap co., 470 los angeles social club, 383, 500 los angeles soda water works, 363 _los angeles_: steamer, 346; little steamer, 395, 398, 404; locomotive, 402, 404 los angeles street, 30, 288, 383, 400, 408, 433, 472, 510 los angeles terminal railroad, 597 los angeles theater, 590 los angeles water co., 366, 377, 384, 389, 418, 446, 510, 534, 617 los angeles & independence railroad, 485, 487, 488, 521, 569; --depot, 485 los angeles & san gabriel valley railroad, 549, 585 los angeles & san pedro railroad, 295, 318, 321, 334, 353, 354, 363, 370, 375, 380, 383, 384, 393, 396, 404, 408, 430, 440, 441, 452, 506, 521; --, depot, (later owned by the southern pacific) 107, 383, 393, 400, 401, 403; first train into los angeles, 401; first regular trains, 403; first midnight train, 402; first popular excursion, 402 los angeles & truxton railroad, 460 lothian, i. a., 619, 635 lott, a. e., 386 lotteries, land sales by, 573 louis french, 369 louis vielle (louis _gordo_), 369 louisiana coffee saloon, 279 love, harry, 58 lover's lane, 198 low, frederick, f., 323, 338 lowe, ella housefield, xvi lowe, t. s. c., 561, 604; -railroad, mount, 604; - astronomical observatory, 604 lowe, w. w., 521 lowenthal, henry, 627 lucky, w. t., 389, 452 lugo, antónio maría, and the lugo family, 35, 47, 74, 102, 135, 159, 167, 168, 174, 183, 200, 214, 253, 263, 376 lugo, felipe, 220, 242 lugo, josé del carmen, 87, 174 lugo, josé maría, 87, 99, 174 lugo, josé ygnácio, 171, 263 lugo, magdalena, 171 lugo, vicente, 87, 99, 102, 174 lugo, ygnácio, 74, 158, 174 luleå, 4 lumber-famine, 380 lumber, from san bernardino, 88; -yards, 81, 88, 274, 380 lummis, charles f., 232, 364, 541ff., 593, 607, 626, 638, 646, 647, 648; personality, 542; on the memoirs of harris newmark, xii lummis, m. dorothea, 548 _l'union nouvelle_, 516 _lusitania_, sinking of the, 644 last, c. f. a., 607 lynch, joseph d., 516, 556, 581 lynchings: brown, 140; alvitre, 147; flores, 209; daniel, 223; cota, 304; daimwood, 324; wholesale, 325; cerradel, 326; wilkins, 327; lachenais, 420; chinese, 30, 433; --, defense of, 141; --, el monte boys at, 91, 324, 471 lyons, cy, 194, 195; --'s station, 194 lyons, sanford, 194 m macaulay, thomas babington, xi macgowan, granville, 201 mcarthur, anna, 107 mcbride, james, 404 mcconnell, j. r., 597 mccoy, frank, 579 mccracken, t. w., 416 mccrea, john, 404 mccrellish, frederick j., 270, 271, 283ff.; -& co., 270 mccullough, j. g., 341 mcdonald, edward n., 218; -block, 206, 218, 545 mcdonald, n. a., 404 mcdougal, f. a. and mrs., 168, 383 mcdowell, hugh, 617 mcdowell, irwin, 341 mcelroy, john, 93 mcfadden, james, 506 mcfadden, p., 366 mcfadden, william, 419 mcfarland, albert, 556 mcfarland, james p., 107, 109; -& downey, 109 mcgarry tract, 574 mcgarvin, d. c., 607 mcginnis, ed., 137 mcgroarty, john s., 102 mcguire, thomas, 422 mckee, h. s., 625 mckee, william, 107, 163, 321, 539 mckinley, william, 616, 618 mckinney, preston, 559 mclain, george p., 446; -& lehman, 559 mcclellan, bryce, 464, 483 mcclellan, george f., 483 mcclellan, h., 483 mcloughlin, ben, 153 mcmullen's station, 415 machado, augustin, 63, 179 machado, susana, 63 machado, ygnácio, 179 _machete_, 231 mackey, a. f., 587 maclay, charles, 459 macniel, hugh livingston, 561 macy, lucinda, 106 macy, obed, 26, 91, 92, 150, 297; -street, 92, 198, 412 macy, oscar, 91, 92, 210, 216, 297 madigan, eliza, 321, 355 madigan, mike, 383; -lot, 396 madox, a., 91 madras, 547 magic performances, 318 magruder, john b., 224 mahler, first jewish child to die here, 104 mahlstedt, mrs. d., 527 maier, simon, 69, 607 mail, dead-letter, 267; --, disturbed, 291; --, sent by express company, 374, 375; overland --, 256, 259; uncertain arrival of --, 235, 374; -routes, 361; improvement in despatch of --, 264; small amount of -business, 431; introduction of money-orders by --, 431; -by stages, 234, 373, 374 main street, 31, 32, 73, 112, 125, 158, 335, 472, 518, 519, 535, 543, 561, 573, 584 main street savings bank, 561 main street & agricultural park railway co., 389, 462 _maine_, the, 616 maison dorée, 513 major, l. a., 516 mallard, augusta, 361 mallard, joseph stillman, 33, 36, 89, 205, 361, 364, 411; mrs. --, 46; -street, 36 mallard, mary, 411 mallard, walter, 89 mallory, stephen russell, 467 maloney, richard, 239 manilla, 365 manning, celeste, xvi manning, joe, 464 mansfield, john, 541, 587, 597 manufacturers' association, 611 marble-cutter, first, 406 marchessault, damien, 132, 241, 258, 350, 366 mariguana, 14 mariposa, 148 mariposa, la, 550 mariposa big trees, 272 market house, temple, 240, 241, 258, 263, 294 markham, henry harrison, 378, 517, 598 marks, baruch, 75; -& co., b., 75 marriages, native, 136 marsh, william, 149 marshall & henderson, 537 marshals, u. s., 315, 543 martial law, 207 martin & co., e., 356 martin, jack, 268 martin, mrs. peter, 355 martin, w. h., 237 martinez, nicolás, 391 mascarel, josé, 62, 63, 65, 339, 341, 423, 596; -& barri, 189 masonic temple, san francisco, laying of corner-stone, 270 masons, f. & a., 156, 208, 317, 371, 624; lodge no. 42, 26, 105, 118, 203 massachusetts cavalry, second, 295 matches, swedish, 120 mathes, s. j., 482 mathews, john r., 537 maurício, maurice, 191 maximilian, emperor, 224, 359 maxwell, george w., 567 maxwell, walter s., 71, 537, 568; mrs. --, 71 mayerhofer, josephine, 191 mayors of los angeles, 32, 33, 36, 50, 100, 105, 115, 147, 218, 288, 302, 372, 379, 388, 398, 399, 445, 467, 556, 561, 566, 613, 616, 638, 639, 642; mayor as justice of peace, 524 mazatlán, 23, 27 meat-packers, 482 meat, price affected by cold, 381 mechanics' institute, 190 medical aid, visiting europe for, 164 medical colleges, los angeles, 280, 593; first medical school, 548 _medical profession of southern california, history of the_, 641 medicines, early, 110 meiggs, harry, 21 mellus, francis, 35, 36, 39, 61, 87, 105, 119, 132, 137, 227, 256, 265, 288; mrs. --, 61, 227 mellus, henry, 39, 85, 132, 133, 226, 227, 256, 268, 284, 288; mrs. --, 85, 133, 227; -& howard, 61 mellus, james j., 61, 537, 607 mellus' row, 60, 61, 71, 75, 248, 309, 313, 351, 472 mendell, george h., 618 mercantile place, 539 merced ranch, 167, 520 merchandise, bet on races, 161; --, early prices of, 73 merchandising, extravagant stories about, 38 merchants' association, 605, 611 merchants and manufacturers' association, 611, 634 merchants, small stocks of, 311; --, tricks of, 131, 177 merrymaking, 135 _mesa_, 322 _mescal_, 134, 205, 424 mesmer, joseph, 244, 630 mesmer, louis, 191, 244, 303, 380, 523, 581, 596 messer, kiln, 123, 200, 274, 275, 410; mrs. --, 442 methodists, 103, 340, 516 metlakahtla, 602 metropolitan building, 639 mexican war, 108, 169; -veterans, 138, 499 mexicans, 89, 322, 330, 333; _cuisine_ of, 102, 133, 630; dress of, 99, 157; goods of, 62, 66, 279; as laborers, 25; as outlaws, 206, 333; as illiterate voters, 42 mexico, 397; peace proclamation of, 400 mexico, city of, 57, 546 meyberg, max, 605, 606, 639; -bros., 611 meyberg, mrs. morris, xvi meyer, constant, 452 meyer, edgar j., 644 meyer, eugene, 68, 198, 237, 290, 355, 366, 377, 381, 383, 400, 450, 452, 464, 466, 480, 499, 523, 540, 644; mrs. --, 196, 290, 377, 564, 637, 644; -& co., eugene, 452, 643 meyer, isaac a., 309; -& breslauer, 309 meyer, j. a., 297 meyer, louisa, xvi meyer, mendel, 233, 459 meyer, samuel, 26, 75, 150, 194, 233, 309, 383; mrs. --, 75 meyer & breslauer, 309 meying, william, xvi michaels, m., 72 micheltorena, manuel, 92, 178 midwinter fair, san francisco, 605 _mikado_, 547 miles, charles e., 446, 454, 457 miles, nelson a., 581, 586, 587 military academy, first, 622; -bands, 296, 394, 398, 579; -posts, los angeles trade with, 265 milk, early peddling of, 172 miller, marble cutter, 406 miller, john m., 543 miller & lux, 458 milliner's advertisement, 492 millington, s. j., 427 mills and millers, 54, 87, 213, 218, 367, 381, 470, 581 millspaugh, jesse f., 532 milner, john, 404, 452, 568; mrs. --, 527 miner, randolph huntington, 473, 612; mrs. --, 473 mining and miners, 17, 94, 108, 123, 126, 148, 149, 228, 268, 271, 318, 321, 385ff., 474, 475, 476, 477 minstrels, 186 mint valley, 415 minting, early, 130 miron, juan maría, 202 miron, juana, 202 _mirror_, los angeles, 444, 474, 482, 530, 533, 617 mission dolores, 276 mission fathers, 88, 92, 101, 115, 199 mission inn, frank miller's, 625 mission play, 102 mission road, 42, 533 missions (see under spanish missions) mitchell, charles e., xvi mitchell, henry milner, 417, 455, 457, 488, 499; --, shot by mistake, 517; mrs. --, 517 mitchell, john s., 492 mix, w. a., 405 mob, psychology of the, 324 modjeska, helena, 494, 495; -avenue, 495 moerenhaut, jacob a., 254, 317, 501 moffatt & co., 130 moffitt, a. b., 521 mohave county, arizona, 92 _mohongo_, 465 moiso, jim, 550 mojave, desert, 317; fort --, 281; --, town of, 386, 387 _molino, el_, 54 mondonville, 579 money, exchange with san francisco, 129; expressing -as coin to san francisco, 129; hoarding -in bags, 129; - orders, first foreign, 431 monk, hank, 429 monroe, william n., 563 monrovia, 467, 563, 576, 578, 620 montana, 304, 351 monte, el, 71, 88, 90, 91, 92, 107, 150, 196, 207, 234, 251, 261, 317, 324, 325, 354, 426, 452, 471 montebello, 535 monterey, 22, 47, 254, 255, 279, 520 _monterey_, steamer, 465 monte vista, 579 montgomery saloon, 31, 209, 282 moody, dwight l., 590 moore, c. e., 642 moore, maggie, 381 moore, walter s., 71, 464, 587; mrs. --, 71 moore, william, 319 moran, john, 363 more, ira, 532, 604 moreno, bankrupt, 68 moreno, francisco, 159 morford, w. e., 476 morgan, octavius, 469, 568 morgan, cosmo, 465; -& newmark, 465 mormons, 87, 88, 151, 155, 156, 217, 218, 242, 320, 345 _morning call_, san francisco, 427 morris, herman, 72 morris, jacob, 72 morris, j. l., 72, 383 morris, moritz, 72, 356, 383, 540; -bros., 104; - vineyard, 104, 539 morris, shoemaker, 86 morrison, murray, 185, 295, 365, 436; mrs. --, 185, 436 morsch, fred, 409 mortimer, c. white, 597 morton, f., 65, 66, 152, 248 morton, levi p., 617 mosher, l. e., 583, 607, 616 mosquito gulf, 14 mott, john g., 72 mott, stephen hathaway, 82, 366, 472, 534 mott, thomas d., 64, 72, 73, 81, 82, 160, 181, 309, 311, 323, 324, 335, 366, 383, 440; mrs. --, 181, 309; -hall, 590; -market, 590 moulton, elijah t., 171, 289; mrs. --, 171 mountain meadow massacre, 106, 217 mountain travel, difficulty of, 120, 121, 285 mounted rifles, los angeles, 294 mud springs, 387 mueller, otto, 518 muir glacier, 602 mulberry-tree, 390 mule springs, 414 mules, 16, 92, 312; on street railways, 462; mule trains, 187, 312, 385 mulholland, william, 50, 509, 555 mullally, joe, 396; --, porter & ayers, 83 mumus, 125 municipal and county adobe, 36, 40, 41, 209, 256, 324, 338, 530 municipal league, 545, 646 munk, j. a., 636, 647, 648 murat, john, 258 "murchison, charles f.," 590; -letters, 590 murders, 31, 35, 46, 58, 139, 190, 206, 303, 304, 323, 324, 326, 327, 330, 340, 418, 424, 430, 432, 470, 512, 629 murdoch, w. t., 610 murieta, joaquín, 58 murphy, joe, 381 murphy, sheriff, 223 muscupiabe, 90 museum of history, science and art, 110, 159, 238, 253, 258, 291, 457, 479, 622, 631, 640, 645 mushet, w. c., 639 music, early, 157, 183, 193, 268, 398; spanish and mexican, --, 22, 31; -teachers, 373; musicians, 183, 213, 214, 412 mustard, wild, 126 mutton, 216 myles, henry r., 109, 111, 320 n nadeau, george a., 304 nadeau, h., 492 nadeau, remi, 304, 385ff., 421, 513, 534, 558; -block, 558; --hotel, 385, 513, 518, 534, 587; -park, 576, 579; - station, 388; _rancho_, 388 napa valley, 199 naples, 621 naples, california, 630 nast, thomas, 590 natick house, 63, 77 _nation, the_, xii national hotel, 396 natives, naïve temperaments of, 162 naud, edouard, 202, 288; mrs. --, 202; --'s warehouse, 288 needles, 440 negroes, 123, 138, 330, 527; negro troops, 330 negros, calle de los, 30, 98, 288, 510 neuendorffer, r. c., xvi neumark, west prussia, 1 neuner, m. c., 639 nevada bank, san francisco, 595 new arlington hotel, 418, 552 new high street, 472 newberry, john r., 551 newell, jerry, 83 newfoundland, storm off, 11 newhall, walter s., 607 newhall, 41, 95, 170, 504 newman, edward, 330 newmark, abraham, son of joseph newmark, 538 newmark, augusta, wife of j. p. newmark, 163, 191, 240; death of, 611 newmark bros., 559 newmark, caroline, daughter of joseph newmark, 121, 347 newmark, edith, daughter of harris newmark, 470 newmark, edward j., son of joseph newmark, 121, 376, 624 newmark, edward j., son of harris newmark, 515 newmark, ella, daughter of harris newmark, 517, 533 newmark, emily, daughter of harris newmark, 367 newmark, estelle, daughter of harris newmark, 355 newmark (neumark), esther, mother of harris newmark, 1, 2, 3, 7; death of, 360 newmark, harriet, daughter of joseph newmark, 121, 195, 290 newmark, harriet, daughter of j. p. newmark, 444 newmark (neumark), harris, son of philipp neumark, birth, 1; boyhood, 2; accompanies father to sweden, 3, 649; first experience at sea, 3; in denmark and sweden, 4; returns to loebau, 4; becomes shoeblacking apprentice, 4; visits finland, 5; experience with russian bigotry, 5; last winter at loebau, 5; invited by brother, j. p. newmark, to come to california, 6; leaves gothenburg for america, 7; forms peculiar acquaintance, 7ff.; lands at hull, 8; arrested with fellow-passenger at liverpool, 9; misses steamer, 9; sails from liverpool, 10; narrowly escapes shipwreck, 11; arrives at new york, 12; tries peddling--for a day, 13; sails for california _via_ nicaragua, 14; crosses the isthmus, 15; adventure on a mule, 16; shares the vicissitudes of the trip with lieutenant william tecumseh sherman, 17; reaches the pacific, 18; enters the golden gate, 19; meets mr. and mrs. joseph newmark and family, 121; absorbed with early san francisco life, 19ff.; continues sea-trip to southern california, 22; disembarks at san pedro, 22; meets phineas banning, 23; comes by stage to los angeles, 24; amazed at first sight of indians, squirrels and _carne seca_, 25; reunion with brother, 26; clerks for brother, 27; makes rounds of los angeles gambling dens, 30 ff.; faces gun of drunken neighbor, 58; and confronts weapon of another joker, 60; early associations with mayor nichols, 32; acts as agent for henry hancock, 37; lives in the family of joseph newmark, 121; first meeting with george hansen, 37; friendship with george carson, 217; learns spanish before english, 121; becomes charter member of los angeles hebrew benevolent society, 123; establishes himself in business, 128; sacrifices necessary to attain success, 128; first business profits, 128; duns a debtor at some personal risk, 144; becomes partner in rich, newmark & co., 146; business trips and adventures, 150ff.; attends bull-fight, 161; experiences first earthquake, 165; participates in early social life, 183; forms friendship with cameron e. thom, 228; proposes marriage to miss sarah newmark, 103; third business venture, 189; revisits san francisco, 191; rides horseback to fort tejón, 194ff.; begins buying hides, 196; joins the masonic order, 203; second experience with earthquake, 204; as vigilante, 205; again visits san francisco, 211; dealings with louis robidoux, 175; engages in sheep business, 220; eyewitness to slaying of sheriff getman, 221; marries miss sarah newmark, 224, 589; engages in the clothing trade, 237; unfortunate business venture at fort tejón, 248; participates in a _rodeo_, 242; forms friendship with winfield scott hancock, 246; n. on hancock's patriotism, 300; becomes citizen of the united states, 249; associations with juan bandini, 255; appointed deputy county treasurer, 260; delegate to masonic ceremonies, san francisco, 270; first opportunity to use the telegraph, 271; cordial relations with senator gwin, 296; sees lynching of cota, 304; embarks in the commission business, 310; suffers first loss of a child, 317; is examined for health and becomes pioneer policy holder of germania insurance company, 319; present at wholesale lynching, 324; condones lynch-law, 141; probable narrow escape from accidental assassination, 330; observes fearful effect of drought, 329; loss in hide speculation, 331; pays high price for flour and beans, 332; buys first home, 335; plays poker in jury-room, 55; represses an anti-lincoln demonstration and saves a friend, 337; in response to a threat, establishes, with phineas banning, the firm of h. newmark, soon h. newmark & co., 342 ff.; takes frank lecouvreur into his service, 344; dealings with mormons, 345; forces business competitors to capitulate, 353; buys out banning, 353; spectator at the king-carlisle duel, 348; also at the kewen-lemberg affray, 351; decides to remove to new york, 359; with family, crosses the isthmus of panamá, 359; opens branch office in the metropolis, 359; buys home in new york, 359; revisits europe, and sees again birthplace and father, 360; at the paris exposition of 1867, 360; unpleasant predicament at covent garden, 360; bears to miss mary hollister proposal of marriage from phineas banning, 368; returns to los angeles, 376; imports one of the first grand pianos seen here, 376; introduces finger-bowls, 377; installs bathroom in adobe, 119; buys city acreage at auction, 379; purchases site for home on fort street, 68, 381; helps organize first social club, 383; friendship with remi nadeau, 386ff.; assists in welcoming william h. seward, 398; with an amusing result, 400; involuntary candidate for supervisorship, 403; counsellor to ladies' hebrew benevolent society, 409; intimate relations with early ranchers, 421; helps organize sixth district agricultural society, 426; on committee to arrange patriotic celebration, 428; witnesses chinese massacre, 434; psychologically affected by the wool craze, 437ff.; member of committee to invite southern pacific railroad company to build into los angeles, 440, 502; helps prepare county railroad ordinances, 441; one of the founders of the public library, 443; visits vasquez in captivity, 458; travels to san francisco by stage, 465; n. on the future of fort street, 466; housewarming, 467; first meeting with lucky baldwin, 474; visits lake tahoe, 477; advises juan matías sanchez against risking his property, 478; buys first lot sold in santa monica, 480; coöperates in editing chamber of commerce report for centennial, 482; by stage and rail to san francisco, 496; visits centennial exhibition, 497; crossing continent to new york by rail, 497; makes use of early typewriter, 497; again in san francisco, 498; takes part in the opening of san fernando tunnel, 504; n. on discourteous treatment of c. f. crocker by municipal authorities, 504; relations with leland stanford, 322, 506; dealings with john e. hollenbeck, 492; failure to appreciate land-values, 513; sells van nuys building site, 515; removes temporarily to san francisco, 520; president of the congregation, b'nai b'rith, 608; president, temple block co., 596; meets mme. modjeska, 495; director, board of trade, 537; celebrates silver wedding, 538; entertains dr. edward lasker, 540; tours mexico and visits new orleans exposition, 546; retires from wholesale grocery business, 549; with kaspare cohn forms k. cohn & co., 549; resumes shipping of hides and wool, 549; relations with alessandro repetto, 552ff.; administrator of repetto's estate, 553; one of the purchasers of the repetto _rancho_, 552, 555; a founder of newmark and montebello, 555; invited to stand as candidate for mayor, 556; brings in eastern coal at fabulously low rates, 557; again tours europe, 564; n. on state division, 592; invests in gas-making plant, 561; in alaska, 602; at the chicago fair, 605; dissolves partnership with kaspare cohn, 613; revives h. newmark & co., 613; on pioneer society committee, 614; n.'s tribute to his brother, j. p. newmark, 611; builds residence on grand avenue, 593; once more buys a lot at santa monica, 596; final visit to europe, 621; builds blanchard hall, 68; buys electric automobiles--and soon sells them, 626; proposes monument to s. m. white, 469; erects gamut club, 625; participates in a movement to provide land for federal building, 630; retires from business, 633; n.'s tribute to lionel j. adams, 636; golden wedding anniversary, 636; at banquet to william h. taft, 639; n. on the death of his wife, 640; recollections of family physicians, 648; breaks ground for jewish orphans' home, 643; joins in testimonial to griffith j. griffith, 643; speech at the half-century jubilee of m. a. newmark & co., 344; receives loving cup, 344; at santa monica, looking backward, vii, 649; views on longevity and health, 649; attitude toward alcohol and tobacco, 649; pride in los angeles, 651; object in writing his memoirs, ix, 477 newmark & co., h., wholesale grocers, establishing of the firm, 343; monopolize trade, 345; supply government stores, 354; agents for insurance, 280; affected by hard times, 358; open branch office in new york, 359; trade with arizona, 414; declared "the largest shippers," 436; attitude toward a proposed opposition steamer, 436; assistance rendered remi nadeau, 386ff.; dealers in wool, 437; purchase the santa anita _rancho_, 439; the first to operate a two horse flat-truck, 439; sale of the santa anita, 474; their patronage solicited by leland stanford, 322, 506; twice burglarized, 486; fight with the southern pacific railroad co., 506; purchase of temple block, 510; early to employ traveling salesmen, 521; loss in barley speculation, 534; among the first to use the telephone, 531; give fountain to the city, 534; removal from arcadia block to amestoy building, los angeles street, 537; dissolution of the firm, 549; revival, a decade later, 613; 111, 230, 252, 301, 375, 379, 382, 422, 425, 444, 451, 475, 478, 500, 502, 514, 521, 526, 535 newmark, henry m., son of myer j. newmark, 465 newmark, hulda, niece of harris newmark, 443 newmark (neumark), johanna, sister of harris newmark, 7 newmark (neumark), joseph, uncle of harris newmark, and first to adopt the english form of the name, 122; personality, 122; reaches new york, 122; organizes there elm street and wooster street synagogues, 122; joins the masons, at somerset, connecticut, 122; marries miss rosa levy, 122; removes to st. louis, 122; then to dubuque, 122; arrives in los angeles, 121ff.; brings first chinese servant seen here, 123, 297; establishes los angeles hebrew benevolent society, 122; officiates as rabbi, 122; holds first jewish service in los angeles, 122, 314; leads movement for a los angeles jewish cemetery, 122; performs ceremony at marriage of sons and daughters, 191, 224, 290, 347, 464; member of newmark, kremer & co., 189; death of, 520; 37, 205, 228, 409, 464, 637 newmark (neumark, joseph philipp), j. p., brother of harris newmark, 2; and first of family to come to california, 6; assists father in sweden, 3; goes to england, 3; embarks for america, is drawn to san francisco by the gold fever, and settles in los angeles, 6; buys out howard, 27; partner of jacob rich, 19, 32; as merchant, 27, 37, 57, 73, 427; wholesaler, 32; imports first camphine to los angeles, 34; attends three-day barbecue, 157; sends for harris, 6; furnishing him with funds, 13; and gives him employment, 27; interrupts an entertainment, 60; removes to san francisco, 60; sells out and establishes credit for his brother, 128; acts also as his business adviser, 146, 359; helps organize rich, newmark & co., 146; becomes a mason, 203; revisits europe, 163; bearer of u. s. government despatches, 163; marries, in germany, fräulein augusta leseritz, 163; returns from europe, 191; member of newmark, kremer & co., 189; removes again to san francisco, 240; activity there as commission merchant, 240, 344, 438; forms partnership with isaac lightner under title of j. p. newmark & co., 344; advises harris to remove to new york, 359; visits lake tahoe and the mines of nevada, 477; member of the delegation from san francisco to attend the opening of the san fernando tunnel, 503; visits carlsbad, 520; returns to san francisco, 520; journeys again to europe, 589; and returns to los angeles, 589; death of, 611; 26, 271, 444, 559, 564, 598; - & kremer, 237; --, kremer & co., 36, 104, 176, 189, 219, 235, 237; -& rich, 33; -& co., j. p., 344 newmark, josephine rose, youngest daughter of harris newmark, 564, 593 newmark, leo, son of harris newmark, 515 newmark, leo, son of j. p. newmark, xv, 564, 598 newmark, marco r., son of harris newmark, accompanies parents to europe, 564; visits alaska, 603; graduates from the university of california and attends the university of berlin, 624; enters the wholesale grocery trade, 624; friendly association with homer lea, 644; vii newmark, matilda, daughter of joseph newmark, 121, 191 newmark (neumark), morris a., nephew of harris newmark, arrives in los angeles, 344; clerks for h. newmark, later h. newmark & co., 354; admitted as partner, 444; marries harriet, daughter of j. p. newmark, 444; helps organize m. a. newmark & co., 549; participates in their fiftieth anniversary, and receives silver cup, 344; 443, 514, 601 newmark & co., m. a., successors to h. newmark & co., 549; removal to wholesale street, 644; celebrate their fiftieth anniversary, 343; 517, 535, 559, 600, 624, 629, 644 newmark, maurice h., son of harris newmark, sent to school in new york and paris, 450; partner in m. a. newmark & co., 549; association with first three _fiestas_, 606, 607; member of executive committee of sound money league, 613; president of associated jobbers, 619, 635, 637; chairman of supply committee for relief of san francisco, 634; helps incorporate southwest museum, 647; member of executive committee, stephen m. white memorial fund, 469; one of committee on harbor consolidation, 638; chairman, w. c. mushet campaign committee, 639; appointed harbor commissioner, 642; resigns from commission, 642; presents silver cup to m. a. newmark, at half-century jubilee, 344; v, 497, 545, 642 newmark (neumark), max n., nephew of harris newmark, 382; - & edwards, 382; -grain co., 382 newmark, myer j., son of joseph newmark, journeys to california _via_ the horn, 121; keeps diary of the voyage, 121; arrives in los angeles, 121; serves, later, as member of the coleman vigilance committee, san francisco, 55; admitted to the bar, 249; as attorney, witnesses killing of dorsey by rubottom, 144; helps organize the first public library here, 256; partner in howard, butterworth & newmark, 312; secretary of los angeles mounted rifles, 294; city attorney, 46; represents h. newmark & co., in new york, 359; member of h. newmark & co., 422, 444; indirectly associated with the founding of pasadena, 449; marries miss sophie cahen, 464; early purchaser of land at santa monica, 480; opposes anti-railroad legislation, 489; pioneer in advertising los angeles in the east, 499; retires from h. newmark & co. and removes to san francisco, 514; on committee, chamber of commerce (later becoming president), 625; instrumental in securing the coronel collection, 622; in europe, 564; returns to los angeles, 642; association with kaspare cohn, 642; returns to san francisco, 642; death there, 642 newmark (neumark), nathan, brother of harris newmark, 7 newmark (neumark), philip, son of nathan newmark, 649 newmark (neumark), philip a., nephew of harris newmark, 601; -& co., p., 601 newmark, philip h., son of harris newmark, 515 newmark (neumark), philipp, native of neumark, west prussia, and father of harris newmark, 1, 360; sent, as a boy, to napoleon bonaparte, 1; manufacturer of blacking and ink, 2; travels in sweden and denmark, 2, 621; voyages to new york, 2; returns to europe, 2; resumes enterprises in denmark and scandinavia, 3ff.; takes harris into business, 4; operates, with son, workshops at copenhagen and gothenburg, 6, 7, 649; consents to lad's departure for california, 7; warns harris against strangers, 8; death, 360 newmark, phineas, son of j. p. newmark, 559 newmark, rosa, wife of joseph newmark, 122; removes to los angeles, 121, 123; prime mover in formation of ladies' hebrew benevolent society, 409; death of, 482; 464, 637 newmark, samuel m., son of j. p. newmark, 559; -bros., 559 newmark, sarah, daughter of joseph newmark and wife of harris newmark, arrives here _via_ the horn, 121; narrow escape in school catastrophe, 224; engaged to harris newmark, 103; marriage, 224; vice-president, ladies' hebrew benevolent society, 409; celebrates silver wedding, 538; visits mexico, 546; tours europe, 564; keeps diary of the journey, 565; revisits europe, 621; celebrates golden wedding, 636; death, 640; interest in orphans, 643; 106, 195 newmark, los angeles county, 555 new mexico, 282, 301, 361, 507, 542 new orleans exposition, 546 new orleans shaving saloon, 137 newport, 494 newport landing, 506 _newport_, steamboat, 506, 507 _news, evening_, 612, 635 _news_, los angeles, 283, 306, 315, 316, 317, 350, 370, 380, 420, 431, 446 news, slow transmission of, 93, 211; -of the war, 305 _news letter_, 339 newspapers, first issues of, 92, 133, 156, 223, 308, 318, 388, 427, 443, 444, 450, 465, 495, 516, 530, 533, 541, 548, 557, 559, 584, 626, 642; --, first free advertising, 533; --, from the east, 235, 256; illustrated --, 627, 642; first seven-day issues, 557; --, during the boom, 574ff; --, during the civil war, 305, 339, 371 new town (san pedro), 236, 290 new vernon, 579 new year's, early celebration of, 58, 59 new york city, 12, 13, 14, 17, 359, 497; shipment of hides to, 331 _new york herald_, 497 new york mine, 475 _new york times_, 497 nicaragua, 14, 18, 236, 459 nicaragua route, 13, 18, 467, 517; --, lake, 15 nichols, daniel b., 33, 384 nichols, john gregg, 32, 33, 35, 36, 105, 115, 205, 218, 246, 356, 364, 384, 400, 616; mrs. --, 46 nichols, john gregg, jr., 33 nichols' canyon, 455 nickels, 248 _nido, el_, 473 niedecken, henry, 508 nieto, dolores, 51 nieto, manuel, 180 nietos, _rancho_, los, 180, 214, 261, 362; town of --, 549; -valley, 413, 577 nigger alley, 30, 31, 400, 432, 433, 510 nordhoff, charles, 445, 624; --, town of, 624 nordholt, william, 65, 202, 244; mrs. --, 202, 245 nordlinger, louis s., 356 nordlinger, melville, 356 nordlinger, s., 356; -& sons, 356 _normandie_, 564 north beach, san francisco, 478 north beach, santa monica, 612 northcraft, c. l., 483 northcraft, w. h., 483; -& clark, 484 norton, myron, 45, 47, 54, 140; -avenue, 48 norton, m., 72 norton, s. b., xvi norway, 336, 621 _novius cardinalis_, 544 noyes, e. w., 349, 484 _nuestra señora reyna de los angeles, la_, 100 nurses, scarcity of trained, 409 nuts, 412 o oak knoll, 169 oak trees, 126 oath of allegiance, 308, 321 oatman girls, 218 o'brien, jack, 348 o'brien, thomas, 386 o'campo, francisco, 99, 100 o'campo, tommy, 429 occidental college, 566 _occidental sketches_, 361 _ocean_, steamer, 308 ocean park, 603, 627, 645 ocean spray, 579 odd characters, 253, 277, 527, 528, 610 odd fellows lodge no. 35, 49, 149, 355, 402, 624; -halls, 300, 513 oden, george n., 394 odontological society of southern california, 368 off, j. w. a., 607 offices, 570; furnishing of --, 435, 570 offutt, r. h., 380 ogier, isaac stockton keith, 35, 45, 53, 246; -street (lane), 54 _ohio_, steamer, 152 oil, 377, 379, 407, 622; -found in residence district, 603; -hair, 138; -queen, 603 olden, w. r., 441 old mission, 54, 150 _old oaken bucket, the_, 231 old settler's society, 614 oleander, 579 olives and their culture, 92, 212, 302, 412, 472; -oil, 302 olive street, 73, 472 olivewood, 579 _olla-podrida_, 118 _ollas_, 117, 184 olney, mrs. c. r., 628 olvera, agustin, 35, 47, 99, 102, 214, 215; -street, 99 olvera, louisa (later mrs. c. h. forbes), 214 _olympia_, 436 o'melveny, h. k. s., 285, 403, 426, 441, 466, 493; mrs. --, 403 o'melveny, h. w., 403, 476, 578, 614, 626, 648 omnibuses, 389, 397, 402 o'neill, lillian nance, 155 _on horseback_, 597 ontario, 516, 579 onteveras, pacífico, 212 opéra comique, paris, 565 ophir mine, 474 orange, town of, 177, 352 orange county, 177, 594 orange grove association, 445, 448 oranges and orange groves, 211, 212, 286, 352, 382, 391, 412, 448, 532, 576, 578; orange trees brought from nicaragua, 459; first navel oranges, 451, 625; device for picking oranges, 265 orchards, 28, 112, 162, 573, 578 ord, e. o. c., 33, 34, 112, 336; -survey, 334 o'reilly, james, 475 o'reilly, john boyle, 605 oriental restaurant, 491 oriental stage co., 417 _oriflamme_, 346 _orizaba_, 376, 381, 397, 398, 405, 465 orme, henry s., 371, 423, 614 ormsby, j. s., 130 ormsby, w. l., 234 _oropel_, 136 orphans, homes for, 190, 643 ortega, émile c., 87 ortiz, miguel, 272 osborn, john, 373 osborn, william, 386, 387 osborne, h. z., 543, 607 osburn, william b., 94, 107, 108, 109, 138, 155, 192, 194 osgoodby, george, 590 ostriches, 547; the ostrich farm, 547 otaheite, 254 _othello_, 588 otis, harrison gray, 468, 533, 555, 556, 557, 589, 607, 616, 626; mrs. --, 617 otter hunting, 170 _our italy_, 597 _out of doors california and oregon_, 476 "out of town," 32, 105 _out west magazine_, 542, 646 overland mail, 259, 301, 375; -co., 234; -route, 234, 242, 271, 294; -staging, 91, 234, 267 overman & caledonia mines, 477 overstreet, dr., 107 owens, bob, 138; mrs. (aunt winnie), 138 owens lake, cleansing properties of, 387 owens, madison t., 607 owens river and country, 375, 385ff.; -aqueduct, 50, 545; -mines, 322, 385ff.; -valley, 440 oxarart, gaston, 310; -block, 513 oxnard, henry t., 598; --, town of, 599 oxnard, robert, 598 ox-teams, 201, 233 oyharzabel, domingo, 549 oysters, 279 p _pacific_, 336, 346, 465 pacific & atlantic telegraph co., 283 pacific coast compared to other countries, 398 pacific electric building, 620 pacific light and power co., 515 pacific mail steamship co., 465, 486 pacific railway expedition, 364; --'s view of los angeles, 364 packard, albert, 168 packard, t. t., 500 packet service, coast, 152, 153, 237 pack-trains, 272 padilla, juan n., 32, 244; -building, 57 _padres_ (see mission fathers) _paisano_, 159 palace saloon, 455 palacio, el, 223 palmas, dos, 414 palmer, joseph c., 272 palomares, ygnácio, 174, 179; --, town of, 578 palos verdes _rancho_, 71, 182, 357, 581 panamá canal, 236, 651; -route and travel, 13, 46, 142, 305, 315, 359, 532, 623; -hat, 158, 159; --, kern county, 453 panamint, 387, 479 _pan de huevos_, 134 panic following prosperity, 478 _panocha_, 134 paper, local manufacture of, 384 pardee, george c., 631 paris, 67, 360, 450, 564; --, commune, 491; --, exposition, 1855, 164; --, exposition, 1867, 360 paris exposition circus, 381 parish, e. c., 92 _parisian_, 381 parker house, san francisco, 22 parker, e. s., 512 parkman, francis, xii parks, 97, 388, 417, 539, 557, 614, 643 parnell mines, 475 parris, willis, 483 parrott, dr., 200 parson, a. c., 630 parson, a. m., 630 pasadena, 178, 238, 316, 337, 445, 557, 576, 578, 579, 585, 586, 592, 599, 601, 613; --, colony and settlement, 50, 532; --, origin of name, 448; south --, 586; -railroad, 563 paso de águila, el, 82 paso de robles, 329, 496 paso, el, 546 passports, 163, 315 _pastores, los_, 102 pastrymen, 288 patagonia copper mining co., 276 patents to lands, 146, 166, 172, 173, 174, 179, 182, 244, 275, 509 _patios_, 113, 135 patrick, m. s., 472 pattee, frank a., 646 patterson, w. c., 607, 626 patti, adelina, 590, 607 patton, george s. and mrs., 363 patton, george s., jr., 363, 568; mrs. --, 363 patton, harry, 612 paul, c. t., 516 paulding, joseph, 261 pavements, 519, 561, 584 pawnbrokers, 221 payne, henry t., 465, 499, 557 paynter, j. w., 427 peach and honey, 40 _peachbrand_, chewing tobacco, 253 pearl street, 231, 362, 461, 559 pease, 126 pease, niles, 607, 634 peck, george h., 452, 453 _pedro_, game of, 230 pedro, the indian, 124 peel. b. l., 425, 436; -& co., b. l., 425 pekin curio store, 232 pellissier, germain, 362 penelon, henri, 82, 293 pennies, 248, 511 peoples, superintendent, 415 people's store, 530 pepper trees, 97, 291 pepys, samuel xi; -diary, xiii perry, everett r., 639 _perry, lewis_, 237, 276 perry, mamie (perry-davis, later mrs. modini wood), 528, 529 perry, w. h., 66, 81, 162, 317, 349, 366, 428, 521, 528, 543, 636; mrs. --, 66, 162, 528; -& co., 81; -& woodworth, 81, 82, 127, 412 persimmon tree, 163 peru, 71, 120, 162, 389, 542 _pescadero_, 127 pesthouse, 118 peter, father, 553 petroleum, 459 petsch, a., 607 peyton, valentine, 604 pflugardt, george w., 206 phæton, first here, 511 phelps, e. c., 405 philadelphia, 497; -brewery, 197, 500; --, centennial at, 497; --oil co., 170; -& california oil co., 302 philbin, john, 248, 249 "philip's best" beer, 231 philippines, 616 philippi, jake, 230 phillips, louis, 89, 531; -block, 115, 530; 161, 330, 421; mrs. --, 89 photographers, 82, 293, 364, 465; wet-plate --, 365 physical culture, first, 273 physicians, 26, 58, 92, 94, 99, 106, 107ff., 193, 227, 237, 245, 322, 389, 423, 548, 589, 593, 598, 641, 648 pianos, 376 _pianos and their makers_, 628 picayune, 192 picher, anna b., 622, 628 picnics, 132, 397, 401, 429 pico, andrés, 38, 92, 99, 135, 172, 173, 178, 179, 180, 190, 208, 214, 381, 400, 441, 488, 493; -ranches, 179 pico, antónio maría, 297 pico, jesus, 178 pico, pio, 27, 98, 99, 102, 160, 170, 173, 177, 179, 180, 293, 294, 297, 332, 400, 471, 531, 608; -crossing, 180; - heights, 609; --house, 98, 180, 186, 396, 431, 469, 488, 491, 500, 516, 518; --ranches, 180; -spring, 346; - street, 73, 125 pico, ysidora, 173 pierce, edward t., 532 pierce, franklin, 65, 121 pierce, h. a., 121 pierce, n. & co., 152 pigeon messengers, 430 pig lead, 387 pike, george h., 590 _pilgrim_, brig, 226 _pilon_, 77 _pinafore_, 547 pinikahti, 277, 278 pinney block, 192 _pinole_, 134 pintoresca, 586 pioneer oil co., 346 pioneer race course, 303 pioneers, banquet to, 630; neglected duty of --, vii; early proposed society of --, 561; -first as tourists, 353 pioneers of southern california, los angeles county, 239, 614 pipes, clay and brier, 253 pipes, iron, 365, 377, 384, 445; -wooden, 350, 366 pitch-roofs, 114 piteå, 4 pi-utes, 275 pixley, frank, 525 plains, continental, 71, 77, 82, 304, 403; local significance of, 276 planters hotel, anaheim, 643 plater, john e., 467, 607 playa del rey, 125, 459, 490 plaza, 30, 31, 47, 66, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 106, 107, 112, 115, 149, 210, 224, 232, 254, 262, 272, 281, 285, 294, 296, 300, 381, 385, 388, 417, 418, 461, 488, 511, 518, 535, 557; -water tank, 211, 388, 418 plaza church, 82, 97, 100, 101, 112, 114, 258, 293, 628; --, repairing of, 293 plaza hotel, san juan bautista, 270 plaza, san francisco, 21, 98 pleasant valley, 496 pleasants, j. e., 106, 126, 127, 171, 326, 413, 494 ploennies, otto von, 499 plows, iron and steel, 357 plumbers' tools, brought from san francisco, 384 plunger, luck of a, 333 _pocahontas_, gunboat, 350 poe, edgar allan, 101 poker playing, 55, 154 polaski, isidor, 70 polaski, louis, 70; -& goodwin, 70; -& sons, 70 polaski, myer l., 70 polaski, samuel, 70; -bros., 70 polhamus, a. a., 384, 393 police, first chief of, 510; lack of --, 333; poor - protection, 487 politeness, accident due to excessive, 419 political celebrations, 268; -gatherings, 40, 282, 511 pollitz, edward, 230 pollock, merchant, 70; -& goodwin, 70 polonia, 253 pomegranates, 126 pomona, 330, 576; -valley, 578 pond, edward b., 598 ponet, victor, 382 pony express, 245, 264, 291, 294, 373 population of los angeles, 25, 266, 271, 528, 567 porches, 113 _porcupine_, 57 portable houses, 203 port ballona, 579; -harford, 346; -los angeles, 468; - san carlos, 16; -san luis, 152 porter, david dixon, 222 porter, f. b., 459 porter, george k., 459 porter, murder of, 35 porterfield, w. h., 610 portius, dr., 599 portland, oregon, 373 portolá, gaspar de, 627 portugal, adolph, 244, 248, 311, 346 portuguese bend, 581 _posse_, sheriff's, 206, 348, 455, 457, 471; -_comitatus_, 324, 433 postage stamps, sale of, 431; --, scarcity of, 410 post, delay of, 93, 147, 264 postmasters, remuneration of early, 380, 449 post office, 66, 94, 231, 291, 349, 354, 372, 380, 410, 514, 560, 604, 630 potatoes, 331 potomac block, 115 potrero grande, 181 potter, nehemiah a., 203, 218, 246; -& co., 219 potter, o. w., 405 potts, j. wesley, 61, 126 poulterer, de ro & eldridge, 281 pound cake hill, 301, 374, 452 powers, ethel, 645 powers, l. m., 634 prager, charles, 104, 180, 383 prager, sam, 104, 105, 314, 383 prairie schooners, 201, 345, 414 prentice, b. h., xvi presbyterians, 566 prescott, 415, 416 president of the united states, gift to, 219 prentiss, samuel, 238 preuss, edward, 409; mrs. --, 39; -& pironi, 363 prévost, louis, 390 price, burr, xvi prices of commodities, early, 345 prickly pear, 126 _pride of the sea_, clipper-brig, 237 pridham, george, 405, 481 pridham, r. w., 606, 607, 611 pridham, william, 106, 373, 374, 481; mrs. --, 373; - block, 192 principal, calle, 31 prisoners on public works, 286 pro-cathedral, episcopal, 301 processions, 101, 254, 296, 338, 442, 499, 528, 529, 606 _progrès, le_, 541 progressive party, 639, 642 prohibition, convention, 13; first -community, 340 promontory point, utah, 388 property, low valuations of, 37, 220, 379, 572 protestants and the protestant church, 102, 103, 208, 246, 313, 314, 516 _providencia_, locomotive, 592 providencia _rancho_, 74, 578 provincial life in the late sixties, 377 prudhomme (prudhon), l. victor, 62, 427 pryor, charles, 293 pryor, lottie, 293 pryor (prior), nathaniel (miguel n.), 292, 293; mrs. --, first wife, 293; mrs. --, second wife, 293 pryor, nathaniel, jr., 293 pryor, pablo, 293 pueblo-like life of the early sixties, 266 puente, la, 475, 494, 520; -creek, 471; -mills, 470; - oil, 172, 377; -_rancho_, 87, 172, 242, 377 puerto san miguel, barcelona, 490 pursuits, humble, 79 pyle, b. w., 235, 236 q quakers, 449, 576 quartermaster, u. s. a., 246, 265, 297 queen city, proposed town of, 318 queen & gard, 370 _queen of the pacific_, steamship, 602 quimby, c. h., xvi quinces, 126 r race track, 462 raffles, 385 raho, padre blas, 293 railroads, 331, 352, 363, 370, 373, 380, 402, 423, 430, 440, 452, 486, 507, 556, 562, 581, 583, 604, 614, 630; accidents, 536, 583; affected by steamers, 404; railroad commission, 620; excursions, 393, 394, 404, 430, 442, 485, 525; first fight against the -companies, 506, 507; locomotives, 376, 380, 397, 402; first one built here, 592; war between --s, 556, 570; san pedro -(see los angeles & san pedro r. r.); opposition to --s, 354, 441; private cars, 487; seward's prediction as to --s, 399 raimond, r. e., 283 rainfall, effect and importance of, 34, 215, 309, 329, 360, 380; rains, 241, 289, 328, 329, 487, 541 rains, fannie v., 617 rains, john, 197, 302, 326, 348, 617; mrs. --, 168 raisins, 412 ralphs, george a., 550; mrs. --, 550; -& francis grocery, 550; --grocery co., 550 ralston, w. c., 477, 478 ramirez, andrés, 63 ramirez, b. f., 443 ramirez, francisco p., 156, 333, 493 ramirez, town of, 575 _ramona_, 41, 102, 445, 520, 531 _rancherias_, 176, 520 ranch stores, 175 _ranchito_, 98, 470 _ranchos_ and _rancheros_, 84, 110, 166ff., 175, 181, 214, 242, 313, 329, 332, 340, 344, 421; ranch fences, 167, 274; spanish ranch houses, 167 _ranger, reminiscences of a_, 58 rangers, 35, 53, 58, 74, 83, 99, 139, 147, 207, 221 rankin, collector, 306 rapp, william, 480 rate war, 556, 557 rattlesnakes, 415 rattlesnake island, 174, 268, 426, 601 ravenna, manuel, 233, 234, 475 ravenna, town of, 475 rawson, a. m., 619 raymond, 576, 578, 579; -hotel, 576, 586 real castillo, 424 _real estate advertiser_, 370 real estate, 232, 332, 333, 362, 401, 513, 522, 569ff., 583; leap frog with --, 536; sudden advances in --, 570 realty agents, first, 401 _reata_, 34, 85, 92, 150, 333 reaume, captain, 381 rebbick, lydia, 250 _rebozos_, 66, 158 _record, los angeles_, 610 records, edward, 557 redlands, 176, 591 redondo, boom at, 631, 632; -salt works, 133, 492 red rock, 387 redwood, 230 reed, henry, 316 reed, maniac, 220 reed, thomas brackett, 614 reese, michael, 329, 520 refreshments, 184 refrigerator cars, 623 registration of 1869 voters, 401 reid, hugo, 89, 107; mrs. --, 165; --, library of, 47 reid, templeton, 130 religious services held in courts, 314, 339 rendall, stephen a., 364 repetto, alessandro, 421, 454, 458, 552ff.; -_rancho_, 450, 552, 555; --'s brother, 553ff. _republican, evening_, 495, 533 republicans, 91, 285, 296, 323, 639; "black" --, 240 requena, manuel, 38, 105, 190, 219, 253; -street, 32, 38 restaurant life, early, 27, 369, 490; outdoor restaurants, 340 reward unpaid by l. a. county, 425 reyes, pablo, 202 reyes, ysidro, 202 reynolds, c. c., 619, 635, 637 reynolds, j. j., 389, 397, 417, 429 rhea, mlle., 543 rheim, philip (felipe), 58, 59, 64 rice, 329 rice, george d., 612 rice, mr., 502 rich, b. b., xvi rich, jacob, 19, 21, 23, 24, 32, 60, 61, 118, 189; mrs. --, first jewess to settle here, 60, 61, 104; -bros., 12; -& laventhal, 189; --, newmark & co., 146 richards, c. n. & co., 133 richland, 352 rico, mr. and mrs., 181 riis, jacob a., 642 riley, frank, 262 rinaldi, c. r., 377 rincon de los bueyes, 460 rincon _rancho_, 74 rio colorado, u. s. surveying expedition to, 183 rio grande, 222, 232 _rise and fall of the mustache, the_, 588 ritchie, william, 320 rivara, dominico, 550 rivera, 180, 577 riverside, 175, 391, 451 river station, 531 robarts, john, 535, 554ff. robert, dent h., 626 robidoux hill, 175 robidoux, louis, 64, 174, 176, 177, 374, 391; señora --, 175; --mount, 175; -_rancho_, 391; --, spelling of name, 176 robinson, edward i., xvi robinson, j. c., 594, 595 robinson, j. w., 536; -co., 513; -dry goods co., 536 robinson, w. w., 587 rocha, a. j., 37 rocha, jacinto, 174 rock-fish, 127 rocky mountain circus, bartholomew's, 262 rodeos, 182, 242 rodgers, walter e., 455 roeder, louis, 153, 154, 239, 267; -block, 267 rogers, ralph, 568 rojo, manuel clemente, 53, 54, 56 roller-skating, 426 roman catholics (see under catholics) rome, 398 romero, guadalupe, 226 roofs, of tar, 114; --, tiled, 114; --, weighted with stones, 336 roosevelt, theodore, 625, 629 roosters, game, 162 rosa, josé de la, 93 rose, annie wilhelmina, 403 rose, l. j., 43, 200, 285, 286, 403, 421, 426, 427, 439, 441, 472, 483, 578, 584, 585, 589, 592; mrs. (amanda) --, 578; rose meade, 592 rose, truman h., 389, 390, 419, 452; mrs. --, 390 rosecrans, william starke, 33, 382, 397; --, town of, 579 rosedale, 609; -cemetery, 548, 567 rose tournament at pasadena, first, 592 roses, imported from the east, 139 ross, erskine mayo, 230, 488, 565, 607 ross, w. g., 150 round house, 41, 64, 126, 192, 259, 272, 273, 428, 499, 522, 585; --george, 193, 463 rouse, w. j., xvi row, the, 61, 351 rowan, george d., 510 rowan, james, 191 rowan, p. d., 511 rowan, r. a., 511; -& co., 511 rowan, thomas e., 191, 269, 383, 405, 446, 552, 606; mrs. --, 191; --avenue, 191; -street, 191 rowland, john, 87, 91, 106, 172, 211, 421, 494; mrs. --, 91 rowland, nieves, 172 rowland, william (billy), 172, 377, 454, 455, 458, 532 royere, paul p., xii rúbio, josé de, 23, 201, 202; señora --, 202, 609; rúbio's, 202 rubottom, ezekiel, 91, 144 rubottom, william (uncle billy), 91, 144 rugby school, 422 rule, ferdinand k., 597, 607, 625 rumph, john and frau, 402 russ garden, san francisco, 275 _russia_, steamship, 360 ryan, andrew w., 495 ryan, f. g., 603 rydall, e. h., 547 s sabichi, frank, 171, 607 sabichi, josefa franco, 171 sabichi, mateo, 171 sabine pass, 350 sachs & co., l. & m., 381 sackett & morgan, 346 sackett, russell, 36 sackville-west, lord, 590 sacramento, 260, 389, 403, 453, 496, 562 saddle-horses, 157 saddles and saddlery, 74, 82, 85, 110, 111, 132, 157, 159, 291, 383, 473, 528 saeger, j., 619 safes, for valuables and money, 129, 343, 487 _saginaw_, steamer, 341 sailing vessels, 237, 290, 345; from and to the atlantic, 151, 331. (see also under cape horn) sainsevain, jean louis, 132, 163, 197, 198, 239, 254, 265, 273, 300, 350, 365, 366, 369, 592; -bros., 199; -street, 199; -vineyard, 198 sainsevain, louis, xvi sainsevain, michel, 199 sainsevain, paul, 199 sainsevain, pierre, 198, 199, 265 st. athanasius church, 301 st. charles hotel, 469, 514 st. elmo hotel, 252, 469, 525, 613 st. george d'oléron, france, 281 st. james, 579 st. louis, 416 st. paul's school, 340 st. valentine's day, 46, 296 st. vincent's college, 232, 341 salaberri, juan, 549; -& co., j., 549 salandie, mme., 78 salesmen, traveling, 521 salinas city, 497 saloons, 21, 29, 30, 31, 39, 59, 64, 134, 149, 209, 230, 347, 405, 480, 570; --, synonym for shops, 137, 396 salsido, vicente, 114 salt lake city, 66, 74, 155, 187, 233, 248, 304, 345, 351, 498; --, great, 187; --, trade with, 187, 290 salt lake express, great, 155 salt lake route, 82 salt, liverpool, 557 samsbury, stephen, 424 san antónio _rancho_, 174, 220, 263 san bernardino, 71, 74, 88, 90, 150, 155, 165, 187, 198, 207, 233, 234, 242, 287, 312, 313, 323, 337, 366, 411, 414, 415, 549; -county, 87, 281, 426 san bernardino mountains, 350, 370; --, ice from, 191, 247, 370 san bernardino _rancho_, 263 san buenaventura, 153, 209, 246, 298, 395, 496 san carlos, port, 16 san clemente island, 216 san diego, 28, 67, 71, 152, 160, 207, 397, 398, 411, 418, 472, 589, 633; --, old town, 153, 367; -county, 426, 531 san diego, 520, 589, 633 san diego & gila river railroad, 382 san dimas, 578, 579 san feliciano cañon, 95 san fernando, 386, 459, 496, 516, 579; -farm association, 381 san fernando mission, 92, 120, 196, 459 san fernando mountains, 321, 323, 385, 459, 502 san fernando placers, 313 san fernando ranches, 179, 180, 381, 459 san fernando street, 63, 160, 493; -railroad station, 211 san fernando tunnel, 323, 386, 459, 496, 502; --, declared impossible, 503; --, inauguration of, 504 san fernando valley, 275, 531; -and bears, 447 san francisco, 19ff., 39, 71, 73, 120, 152, 153, 160, 199, 211, 216, 233, 240, 242, 260, 283, 284, 294, 296, 322, 325, 359, 397, 401, 411, 417, 453, 497, 504; -compared with los angeles, 582; --, dependence of los angeles on, 73, 152, 305, 311, 313, 332, 384, 405, 406, 410, 438; theatrical talent from --, 286, 381, 422; -earthquake and fire, 633 ff., 636; relief furnished -by los angeles, 634; --, first three-story building there, 610; -grand opera house, 560; lead shipped to --, 388; -dock & wharf co., 269; - _rancho_, 40, 120; --& san josé valley railroad, 393; -as a standard of comparison, 491 san francisquito cañon, 95; -ranch, 170, 174 san gabriel, 50, 54, 71, 87, 89, 90, 106, 107, 126, 161, 165, 199, 208, 376, 384, 386, 579; -cañon, 95; locomotive, 376 san gabriel electric co., 515 san gabriel mission, 55, 88, 102, 171, 199, 200, 255, 286, 493, 501 san gabriel mountains, 179 san gabriel placers, 313 san gabriel river, 91, 180, 257, 471; new --, 406 san gabriel, sheep at, 216 san gabriel valley, 90, 91, 107, 168, 374, 531, 576 san gabriel wine co., 302 san jacinto and valley, 374, 620 san joaquín ranch, 181, 206 san joaquín valley, 440; -rate case, 619, 620 san josé, 153, 234, 357, 453, 458, 497 san josé _rancho_, 144, 174, 178, 179, 476 san juan bautista, 270 san juan cajón de santa ana, 166 san juan capistrano, 157, 181; don san juan and don san juan capistrano, 173; -mission, 92, 206, 207, 254, 326 san juan de fuca, 346 san juan del norte, 14, 15, 18 san juan del sur, 16, 17, 18 san juan river, 15 san luis obispo, 22, 48, 153, 178, 188, 246, 496; -county, 246, 447 _san luis_, 465 san pasqual _rancho_, 36, 178, 237, 316, 346, 412, 448 san pedro, 22, 23, 24, 27, 48, 68, 74, 127, 152, 155, 156, 170, 173, 188, 197, 199, 202, 205, 227, 236, 245, 250, 274, 276, 290, 301, 302, 306, 308, 346, 359, 380, 395, 404, 424, 427, 460, 468, 522, 637, 638 san pedro harbor, 174, 268, 290, 320, 404, 426, 450, 468, 581, 617, 618; -fight, 617 san pedro, journey by foot from, 68, 149 san pedro, los angeles & salt lake railroad, 341, 535, 630 san pedro, new, 236, 250, 290, 302, 307, 317, 321 san pedro new town, 236, 290, 307 san pedro railroad (see under los angeles) san pedro, _rancho de_, 173, 340 san pedro street, 25, 160, 200, 202, 335, 459; -railway, 487, 488 san pedro wharf, 568 san quentin prison, 206, 326 san rafael ranch, 178, 214; -heights, 646 san timoteo cañon, 591 san vicente _rancho_, 143, 181, 479, 586 sanchez, francisco, 181 sanchez hall, 99 sanchez, juan matías, 181, 421, 478 sanchez, pedro, 183 sanchez, tomás a., 43, 99, 275, 324, 326, 344 sanchez, vicente, 99, 114, 294; -street, 99, 293 _sandía_, 126 sandwich islands, 93, 156, 320, 390 sandy hook, 12 sanford, e. m., 362, 403 sanford, john, 327 sanford, rebecca, 327 sanford, w. t. b., 105, 187, 320, 327; mrs. --, 320 sanford, mr., 217 sangiovanni, a. bergamo, 528 sanitary commission, u. s., and san francisco 325; -and los angeles, 326 sanitation, primitive, 119 sansome street, san francisco, 22 santa ana, 166, 177, 401, 576, 594; -river, 212, 348, 391, 406; --, new channel, 541 santa anita, 578; -mining co., 241; -placers, 313; - _rancho_, 170, 244, 439, 449, 474, 526 santa bárbara, 22, 48, 108, 152, 153, 244, 246, 399, 411, 436, 496, 583; -channel, 216; -county, 108, 426; --, road to, 246 santa catalina island, 15, 89, 216, 238, 318, 333, 407, 430, 522, 568, 624; 1859 excursion to --, 250ff.; proposed harbor of --, 581; --co., 568 santa clara river, 40 santa cruz island, 216 santa cruz, mariano g., 162, 458, 549 santa fé railroad (see atchison, topeka & santa fé) santa fé, town of, 63, 83, 187 santa gertrudis _rancho_, 180, 340, 362 santa margarita _rancho_, 173, 180, 332, 531 santa monica, 231, 429, 460, 465, 466, 468, 479ff., 485 ff., 490, 568, 569, 580, 581, 603, 621; advertising --, 486, 580; sale of first lots at --, 479, 480; gravity railroad, 569; opposition of southern pacific railroad to --, 521; - cañon, 401, 429; -hotels, 479, 488, 568; -land co., 486, 488, 586; --, south, 488 _santa monica_, palace car, 487 santiago cañon, 127, 207, 494 _sarah gamp_, 250 saratoga mineral waters, 363 _sarco_, race horse, 160 sartori, joseph f., 143 saunders & co., j. b., 371 sausal redondo, 382 _savannah_, war-ship, 182 savarie j., 527 savarots, j. b., 549 sawmill, first, 81 sawtelle, 586 saxe, h. k., 355 saxon, thomas a., 501 scale, fluted, 544 schaeffer, henry c. g., 147, 299 scheller, l. c., 619, 635, 637 schieck, dan and mrs., 117 schieffelin, charles l., 396 schiff, ludwig, xvi schiller, johann christoph friedrich, 119 schlesinger, herman, 75, 177; -& sherwinsky, 76, 177 schlesinger, jacob, 350, 471 schlesinger, louis, 320, 329 schlesinger, moritz, 75, 76, 350 schliemann, heinrich, 20 schloss, benjamin, 290 schmitt, h., 491 schneider, j. m., 536, 638 scholle bros., 381 _school for scandal_, 543 school teachers, 163, 402 schools, 54, 105ff., 156, 190, 211, 262, 308, 321, 341, 354, 355, 356, 390, 419, 453, 494, 526, 533, 547, 610, 625, 626, 642; --, lack of public money for, 257; -closed for want of money, 211; dirty --, 262; private --, 106, 225, 257, 341, 494, 563, 622; -and sectarianism, 269; sewing in --, 547. (see also under teachers) schooners, coastwise freight, 65, 152, 170, 237, 276, 290, 331 schreiber, emanuel, 608 schreiber, w. g., 607 schulze, a. w., 303 schumacher, frank g., 39 schumacher, john, 39, 40, 64, 85, 200, 356, 376, 419, 500; mrs. --, 39, 40; -building, 39, 40 schumacher, john, jr., 39, 607 schurz, carl, 406 schwabenverein, 584 schwarz, louis, 230 schwed, max, 549 sciscisch, lucas, 550 scott exclusion act, 468 scott, frankie, 355 scott, hattie, 355 scott, jonathan r., 45, 46, 53, 87, 139, 176, 209, 355, 356; mrs. --, 46 scott, j. r., jr., 46 scott, j. w., 568 scott, joseph, 469, 605, 626, 638, 647 scott, p. m., 587 scott & co., e. l., 153 scotti, 553ff. scripps, e. w., 610 scully, thomas j., 610 _sea bird_, steamer, 152, 181, 204, 205 seabury, mr., 519 sea-captains, 10, 11, 12, 22, 46, 65, 66, 121, 152, 153, 154, 226, 251, 276, 308, 311, 312, 320, 352, 359; brutality of --, 352 _sea eagle_, brig, 610 search, p. w., 607 searles, moses, 94 _sea serpent_, schooner, 152 seattle, 602 second street, 419, 477, 518, 563, 570 security of property on the desert, 387 security trust and savings bank, 358, 631 sedgwick, thomas, 397 seeley, thomas w., 154, 312, 320 seligman, carl, 517, 549 _semi-tropical california_, 361 _semi-weekly southern news_ (see under _news_) _senator_, steamer, 153, 154, 210, 264, 285, 290, 300, 306, 312, 320, 326, 336, 465 sentous, jean, 78; -street, 78 sentous, louis, 78 sentous, louis, jr., 78 sepúlveda, andrónico, 181 sepúlveda, ascención, 181, 309 sepúlveda, bernabé, 181 sepúlveda, diego, 87, 181 sepúlveda, dolores, 181 sepúlveda, fernando, 181, 262 sepúlveda, francisca ábila, 309 sepúlveda, francisca, 100, 181 sepúlveda, j., 120 sepúlveda, joaquín, 181 sepúlveda, josé andrés, 57, 97, 104, 160, 181, 206, 210, 309; señora --, 160; -avenue, 57 sepúlveda, josé del carmen, 181 sepúlveda, josé loreto, 71, 181 sepúlveda, juan, 35, 181 sepúlveda, juan maría, 181 sepúlveda landing, 202 sepúlveda, maurício, 181 sepúlveda, miguel, 181 sepúlveda, petra pilar, 71 sepúlveda, ramona, 181 sepúlveda, r. d., xvi sepúlveda, tomása, 181 sepúlveda, tranquilina, 181 sepúlveda, ygnácio, 57, 181, 314, 420, 424, 443, 489, 519, 546; mrs. --, 546 sequoya league, 542 _serapes_, 66, 158 serenades, 184, 467 serra, junípero, 88, 627 serrano, josé, 199 servants, chinese, 123; indian --, 124; --, san francisco agency for, 313 seventh infantry band, 579 seventh street, 472, 535 severance, caroline, 473, 566 severy, calvin luther, xvi severy, luther, 549 seward, frederick and mrs., 397 seward, william henry, 49, 339, 397ff., 440 sewers, 265, 469, 472 sexton, daniel, 254 seymour, (johnson) & co., 483 shankland, j. h., 476 shark hunting, 268, 308 shasta, proposed state of, 241 shatto, george r., 568; -street, 568 shaw, dr. and mrs., 459 shaw, frederick merrill, 610 sheep, 167, 216, 218, 220, 310, 322, 332, 362, 374, 381, 419, 437, 445, 507; -shearing, 362; --, bet on races, 160; -wash, 252 sherman, john, 547 sherman, m. h., 612 sherman, william tecumseh, 17, 18, 20, 21, 55, 107, 255, 328 sherman, town of, 382 sherwinsky, tobias, 75, 177 sheward, j. t., 607 shields, james, 271 shiloh, battle of, 295, 316 shoes and shoemakers, 86, 159, 213 shoe-string strip, the, 637 shoo-fly landing, 459 shooting alleys, 402 shorb, j. de barth, 169, 302, 445, 483; mrs. --, 302; - station, 169, 302 shore, john w., 39 shore, william h., 246 shrimps, 446 shrine auditorium, 639 shrubbery, imported from the east, 139 sichel, julius, 72 sichel, parisian oculist, 164 sichel, philip, 290 sichel street, 290 sidewalks, 20, 34, 211, 226, 229, 287, 343, 518 side-wheelers, 153 siemens, judge, 539 sierra madre and colony, 168, 519, 526, 563, 595; - mountains, 526 _sierra nevada_, 346 sigel, franz, 406 signal hill, 374 signoret, felix, 137, 420; -building, 252, 420 signs, early, 80, 111; --, painters of, 94 silent, charles, 596, 615 silent, edward d., 596, 607 silk industry, 390; -worms, 391 silver, herman, 594, 595 silver, supply of in the fifties, 129; -coins, first from san francisco mint, 247 simi pass, 208 simmie, j. w., 568 simmons, john, 335, 439 simmons, mrs., nurse, 250 simpkins, charles h., 489 simpson, frank, 638 sims, columbus, 51, 55, 246, 296, 303 sinsabaugh, h., 552 sisson, wallace & co., 482 sisters' hospital, 100, 233, 553 sisters of charity, 100, 189, 190, 203; sister ana, 190, 210; --angela, 190; -clara, 190; -francisca, 190; - maría corzina, 190; -maría scholastica, 190 sitka, 602 "sixteen to one," 613 sixth district agricultural association, 640 sixth street, 73, 231, 375, 461, 515 _skat_, 230 skinner & small, 467 sketchley, dr., 547 skull valley, 415 slaney bros., 86 slaughter, f. n., 426 slauson, james s., 546 slauson, jonathan s., 467, 476, 546, 561, 578, 625, 626 slotterbeck, henry, 230 slugs, gold, 130, 160; --, thrown to actors, 186 small, c. m., 405 smallpox, 118, 202, 322, 329, 508 smeltzer, d. e., 125 smiley, albert k., 591 smiley, alfred h., 591; -heights, 591 smith, aaron, 446 smith, charles w., 614 smith, d. k., 455, 457 smith, emily r., xvi smith, george, 279 smith, george a., 639 smith, george h., 351, 363, 443, 521; mrs. --, 363 smith, josephine rosanna, 411 smith, orin, 268 smith, william a., 118 smith & mcphee, 567 smith & walter, 377 smoking, 252; -in the street cars, 463 smurr, c. f., 561 snow, 314, 525 snyder, meredith p., 469, 613, 638 soap, first manufacture of, 78 social customs, 135, 136, 184, 224, 228, 347 social distinctions, absence of, 185 social life, simplicity of, 185; --, marked by cordiality, 135, 184, 312, 383 society islands, 254 soda in owens lake, 387 soda water and fountains, 363 söderhamn, 4 sohms, henry, 340 solano, alfredo, 78, 545, 607 solano, francisco, 78 solar heater, inventor of, 615 soldiers, 586; -home, 143; --, return of, to the coast, 353 soledad, 375, 496; -pass, 440 solomon, david, 342, 343 solomon, m. s., 608 _sombrero_, 158, 264 _song of the bell, the_, 119 sonita, 205 sonora, 42, 90, 205 sonora town, 31, 62ff., 78, 97, 134, 161, 227, 362, 458, 549 sortorel, romo, 433 sound money league, 613 south africa, 547 south california, proposed state of, 591 south pasadena, 178, 448 southern california, 22, 26, 95, 146, 166ff., 168, 176, 183, 187, 205, 211, 215, 242, 252, 261, 274, 328, 334, 421, 437, 439, 450, 477, 493, 503, 519, 520, 530, 544, 569, 597, 616, 640, 645, 650; -in state affairs, 35, 353, 406 southern california academy of science, 599, 640; -science association, 599 southern california architects association, 470 southern california coffee and spice mills, 559 southern california colony association, 391 southern california fish co., 628 southern california, university of, 566 _southern californian_, 92, 133, 141, 148, 177, 190, 447 _southern news_ (see under _news_) southern overland mail route, 301 southern pacific railroad co., 190, 322, 388, 450, 451, 453, 468, 475, 482, 493, 496, 498, 503ff., 506, 510, 517, 521, 549, 556, 561, 563, 569, 576, 619; threat to cut off los angeles, 502; arcade depot, 112, 512, 531, 562; river station, 531, 562; --, coast line, 583 _southern vineyard_ (see under vineyard) _southerner_, 152 southland, new interest in the, 509 southside, 579 southwest museum, 595, 635, 647, 648 southwest society, 542, 626 spadra, 89, 144, 330 spain, king of (alfonso xiii.), 542; grant from king of spain, 40 spalding, william a., 516, 556, 612 spanish-american war, 616 spanish archives, 400; -drama, 352; -families, 97; - fathers, 101; -language and names, 56, 93, 133, 170, 262, 308, 315, 354, 371, 422, 528, 563; -missions, 102, 326, 398, 520, 542, 589, 604; --newspapers, 93, 156, 308, 443; - -mexican restaurants, 133, 178 speculation during the boom, mania for, 572 spence, edward f., 467, 473, 516, 521, 552, 566 spencer, william, 609 spikes, golden, 388, 504 spiritualism, 483 sports, 157, 159ff., 182, 242, 282, 401, 423, 490 spring street, 112, 335, 336, 401, 408, 417, 419, 472, 518, 561; --, origin of the name, 336; spring and sixth street railway, 460ff. sproule, william, 619 spurgeon, william h., 401 spurs, 110, 159 squatters, 382 squirrels, ground, 24, 163, 215 stages and staging, 117, 198, 234, 235, 246, 270, 302, 337, 357, 374, 389, 391, 393, 394, 414, 416, 429, 435, 464, 465, 481, 496, 497, 498, 532, 583; coast line, 153; express and mail by stages, 234, 373; staging from san pedro to los angeles, 24, 341, 464; from los angeles to san francisco, 464; stage robberies, 394 _stamboul_, stallion, 592 stamped envelopes, 291, 374 standard wooden ware co., 601 stanford, leland, 322, 324, 388, 440, 503, 506, 507, 562 stanley, john quincy adams, 35, 43, 44 _star king_, 10 _star_, los angeles, 54, 89, 92, 93, 94, 133, 162, 191, 240, 249, 262, 276, 280, 292, 301, 306, 312, 315, 361, 371, 414, 446, 447, 464, 498, 612 _star of the west_, steamship, 14, 289 stark & ryer, 286 stassforth, h., 303 state divisions, proposed, 188, 241, 520, 521, 591 state moneys, how carried to sacramento, 260 state normal school, 532 stationers, 389 stealing, indians prone to, 131 steam-bath, 371 steam navigation co., 336 steam separator, first, 384 steam wagon, 276 steamers, 237, 290, 346, 366, 395; little --, or tugs, 165, 237, 290, 398; --, affecting schedule of trains, 404; arrival of -announced by a signal gun, 153; change of names, 152; competition of --, 285, 435; departure of - affected by high seas, 154; or dependent on whim of captain, 154; express sent by --, 373; -and mail, 374; pacific --, 336; coastwise service of --, 22, 149, 152, 154, 210, 300, 311, 312, 336, 381, 432, 436, 460, 465, 486, 506; service often miserable, 336, and inconvenient, 486 stearns, abel, 30, 46, 70, 73, 77, 84ff., 109, 151, 166, 189, 214, 215, 223, 226, 229, 255, 295, 313, 329, 343, 344, 377, 430, 510; -& bell, 200; -carriage, 85; -hall, 314, 381, 385, 420, 427; doña arcadia -(_née_ bandini), 85, 109, 254, 430 steele, harriet, xvi stephens, albert m., 597 stephens, william dennison, 600, 638 stereopticon, early used in advertising, 499 stern, alfred, 43 stern, charles f., 43 stettin, germany, 3, 4 stevens & wood, 363 stevenson, j. d., & --'s regiment, 39, 49, 94, 476 stewart, george h., 607, 613 stewart, william m., 479 still, william g., 283, 333 stock breeding, 427 stockholm, 5 stockton, robert field, 24, 100, 178 stockton, william m., 199 stoermer, august, 147 stoll, h. w., 363, 409 stoll, philip, 409 stone, artificial, 490 stoneman, george h., 394, 441, 443, 488, 499, 503, 528, 540, 581 storke, c. a., 450 storms, off newfoundland, 11; of 1856, 194; incidental to earthquakes, 312 story, francis quarles, 634 stovell, thomas, 568 stower, john s., 230 _stranded bugle, the_, 583 strassburg, 564; university of --, 598 straus, isadore and mrs., 644 strauss, mr., 627 strauss, levi & co., 381 strawberries, 125, 428 street of the maids, 63, 159 street railways: first (spring & sixth street), 460, 461, 609; second (main street line), 389, 462; tickets, how sold, 461; transfers, 462; first double-track, 562 streets, lighting of, 34, 68, 267, 349, 400, 408; --, bad condition of, 34, 307, 584; --, filled with refuse, 34; --, neglect of, 83; --, ungraded, 34; street numbers, absence of, 80; -parades in, 338, 499ff., 528, 529; street-scenes, 222; -sprinklers, 416 strelitz block, 511, 550 stroble, max von, 346, 406 strobridge, george f., xvi strohm, thomas, 550 strong, charles, 416 stuart, j. h., 203 stubbs, j. c., 504, 619 subdividing and subdivisions, 292, 376, 570, 572ff. _sued-californische post_, 465, 584 suffrage convention, equal, 13 sugar-beets, 388, 598; beet-sugar refining, 388, 598 sugranes, eugene, xvi sulky, pioneer, 71 sullivan, arthur, 547 _sultana_, 253 summer outings, 429, 481 summers, emma a., 603 summit creek, 155 sumner, edwin v., 294, 316 sumter, fort, 266, 294, 616 sundsvall, 4 sunny slope, 200 sunset oil co., 379 sun yat sen, 645 superintendent of schools, 105, 106, 389, 390, 419, 452, 526, 642; office once vacant, 396 _supply_, steamship, 222 supreme court, 637 surgeons and early surgery, 108, 110, 297 surveyors and surveys, 33, 34, 36, 38, 112, 149, 411 sutter, john a., 476; --'s creek, 39 swamps, 112 swansea, wales, 388 sweden, 2, 3, 6, 336, 564, 621 sweet-potatoes, 126 switching-charge case, 637 switzer, carrie, xii switzer (sweitzer), c. p., 543; --'s camp, 543 switzerland, 336, 398 sycamore grove, 401, 647 sycamore tree, 126, 197, 401, 543 _sydney ware_, race horse, 160 sylvester, john, 58 t tacoma, 602 taft, william h., banquet to, 639 tag, game of, 596 tahoe lake, 477 tailors, 338; american --, 159; mexican --, 159 tajo building, 90 tally, thomas l., 443; --'s theater, 443 _tamales_, 134, 277, 391; _tamale_ vender, 391, 629 _tanner_, brig, 345 tannery, 82; attempt to establish a --, 269 tapía, luciano, 206, 210 tatooing, by indians, 218 taxes, 298, 333, 446; --, property sold for delinquent, 334, 443; --, delinquent during boom, 582; --, not collected, 328 taylor, benjamin franklin, 514 taylor, w. j., 412 teachers, 47, 92, 105ff., 111, 141, 163, 190, 257, 263, 308, 331, 355, 356, 373, 389, 390, 402, 419, 473, 494, 532, 539, 610; first woman public school teacher, 47 teachers' institute, first, 418 tecate, 424 tedro, philip, 222 teed, m., 614 tefft, henry a., 56 teháchepi, 44, 440, 582; disaster near --, 536 tejón, fort, 46, 204, 222, 234, 248, 297, 317, 327, 333; - band, 157; -paso, 58 tejunga pass, 208, 454; -_rancho_, 74 _telegram, evening_, 533 telegram, $75 to u. s. senate, 503 telegraph, electric, and telegraphing, 234, 271, 283ff., 305, 307, 308, 411; rates, 401; undeveloped --, 9; first wire into a business office, 425; shortage of wire, 284; wireless --, 624, 643 telegraph stage line, 496, 497 telephone, 560; --, first introduction here, 531 telescopes, astronomical, 566 tell, will, and tell's place, 429, 460, 490, 581 temécula, 124, 234 temescal mines, 272, 302 temple auditorium, 590 temple, francis phinney fisk, 67, 167, 274, 282, 292, 317, 328, 372, 435, 441, 454, 479; known as _templito_, 167, 292; death of, 167, 479, 520; -_rancho_, 435; -& workman, 435, 454, 467, 478, 482, 510 temple, john (juan), 37, 66ff., 74, 80, 122, 129, 139, 159, 165, 229, 240, 256, 258, 263, 287, 291, 302; mrs. --, 67; - building (adobe), 67, 78, 291, 343, 372; -court house, 67, 339, 440; -market, 240, 294; -_rancho_, 204; --, sale of properties, 67; -street, 61, 66, 417, 472; -theater, 240, 263, 286, 318; subdivision of west temple street, 61, 112; -& alexander, 23; -& gibson, 340 temple block, 32, 67, 229, 273, 279, 300, 312, 364, 410, 435, 462, 490, 510, 519, 524, 534, 596 terminal island, 601 terminal railroad, 601 terry, david s., 130 teschemacher, h. f., 284 teutonia, 214, 338; -hall, 426; -concordia, 259, 428 texans, 91; exodus to texas, 266 thackeray, william makepeace, 118 thayer, john s., 545 theaters, 185, 543, 559; john temple's theater, 240, 263, 286, 318; merced theater, 103, 186, 422, 443, 450; rough and ready theater, 186; spanish theater, 352, 422; theatrical plays postponed, 286 theodore bros., 87 thirty-eights, firemen, 356, 446, 464, 500 thirty-fifth parallel, 285, 399, 440 thom, cameron e., 45, 49, 51, 52, 139, 146, 172, 224, 228, 295, 339, 347, 383, 434, 446, 481, 488, 521, 565, 587; mrs. -(first wife, _née_ hathwell), 52; mrs. -(second wife, _née_ hathwell), 52 thomas, bill, 404 thomas, frank j., 596, 607 thompson, captain, 226 thompson, ira w., 91, 196, 218, 251 thompson, james, 181, 208, 246 thompson, j. s., 505; mrs. --, 181 thompson, judge, 457 thompson, p., 405 thompson, robert, 432, 433, 434 thompson, s. s., 120 thorn, a. o., 357 thornton, harry i., 146 threadneedle street, 407 three-fingered jack, 58 throop, amos g. ("father"), 599; -college of technology, 599 thurman, h. l., 92 thurman, j. s., 92 thurman, s. d., 92 thwaites, reuben gold, xii tibbetts, jonathan, 91 tibbetts, l. c., 451 tichenor, h. b., 380, 467 tiffany, george a., 427, 446 tiffany & wethered, 267 tilden, a. f., 273 tilden, samuel j., 297, 323, 591 tileston, emery & co., 384 _times_, los angeles, 373, 444, 482, 530, 533, 541, 556, 583, 590, 591, 612, 616, 617, 636, 646; times-mirror co., 533, 555, 556, 557; the times building, 453; --, destruction of, 641; _times magazine_, 617 timms, augustus w., 23, 342, 500, 522; -cove, 522; - landing, 23, 237, 522; -point, 522 tipton, 496 tischler, hyman, 75, 329, 330; -& schlesinger, 229 _titanic_, steamship, disaster to the, 644 titus, l. h., 200, 423, 426, 445, 591, 593 tivoli garden, 273, 340; -opera house, 559 toasts, old-fashioned, 399 tobacco, 253, 505, 649; -growing, 252; indulgence in --; by women, 253 toberman, james r., 330, 372, 373, 445, 446, 535; -street, 446 todd, surgeon, 321 toland, dr. h. h., 319 tomatoes, early, 428 tom gray ranch, 357 tomlinson, j. j., 23, 42, 236, 274, 290, 370, 371; -& co., 337, 342; -& griffith, 420; -corral gate, 327, 420, 433 tonner, p. c., 419 _toreador_, 161 torneå, 5 toros, 414 toros, calle de, 161 torrance, jared s., 647; -tower, 648 _tortillas_, 134 tourists, great influx of, 570 tournament park, pasadena, 592; tournament of roses association, 592 town ball, 596 town, r. m., 472 towns, frenzied founding of, 570 townsend, b. a., 23 trafford, thomas, 326, 418 transatlantic travel, 10ff., 67, 163, 164, 360, 564, 621 trask, d. k., 607 travel, difficulties of railway, 393, 496 treadwell and treadwell mines, 602 treasure, digging for, 254 trees, 269, 291, 388; --, dearth of early, 162, 291; mariposa big --, 272; --, objection to watering, 163; --, sacrificed for fuel, 141 _trenza de sus cabellos, la_, 352 tres pinos, 453, 457 _tribune, daily_, los angeles, 556 _tribune_, los angeles, 642 trinity methodist church, corner-stone opening, 474 tropical life, 15 tropico, 547 truck, first flat, 335 truck gardening, 124, 125 truckee river, 370 trudell, jean b., 132; mrs. -(formerly, mrs. henry mellus), 133 truman, ben c., 361, 394, 441, 446, 447, 483, 498, 605, 607, 612, 636; mrs. --, 361, 612 truth, native shyness of, 131 truxton, 460 tuch, nathan, 89 tucson, 301, 317, 375, 504 tuffree, j. r., 581 tulare county, 188 tules, 112 tuna, canned, 628 tunnels, 496, 502, 504, 622; made and needed, 623 turck, w. i., xvi turkey, mammoth, 423 turner, joel h., 379, 388, 398, 399 turner, john, 87 turner, william, 500 turner, william f., 87, 470; mrs. --, 470 turntable, first railroad, 397 turnverein, 214, 272, 402, 409, 410, 428, 623; -building, first, 428; -block, 192; turnverein-germania, 428, 584, 629; -hall, 192, 526, 529, 533, 573, 584, 630 tustin (tustin city), 181, 577 tustin, columbus, 577, 578 twain, mark, 32 tweed, william marcy, 590 "twenty-five years ago to-day," 623 twist, w. w., 147, 209 twitchell, cæsar c., 106 _two years before the mast_, 197, 226, 255, 296 typewriter, first, 497 ty, sing, 433 tyson's wells, 415 u uhrie, marie, 39 ulyard, august, 77, 191, 287, 481; mrs. --, 77 umeå, 4 unangst, e. p. and mrs., xvi union hardware and metal co., 409 union league, 338; -club, philadelphia, 498 _union_, steamer, 360 union warehouse, 288 union & texas pacific railroad, 486 unionists, 224, 296, 306, 321, 333, 339, 341; --, san francisco, 339 united states and north america, 399 united states army and officers, 166, 171, 173, 221, 224, 247, 271, 272, 297, 303, 341, 358; headquarters, 246, 265, 297, 299, 301, 311, 321, 341, 358, 517, 587 united states circuit court, 565; -district court, first judge, 279 united states government, 299, 308, 311, 321, 339, 353, 426, 435, 630 united states hotel, 149, 244, 279, 303, 380, 397, 469, 481, 581 universal city, 344 university of california, 403, 536, 624, 631 university of chicago, 567 university of southern california, 516, 536, 548 university place, 609 unruh, h. a., 475 upper main street, 63, 159 usurers, 130 utah, 507, 301, 330 v vaccination, opposition to, 118, 322 vaché, adolphe, 281 vaché, émile, 280; -frères, 280, 548 vaché, théophile, 280; -& co., t., 281 vail, w. l., 634 valdez, josé maría, 58 valle, antónio, 550 vallejo, general, 263 _valor of ignorance, the_, 645 vandever, william, 591 van dyke, walter, 596 van dyke, william m., xvi van gilpin, professor, 373 van nuys, isaac newton, 381, 421, 493, 514, 515, 537, 607; --building, 515; -hotel, 340 _vaquero_, steamship, 430 _vaqueros_, 90, 182, 243 _vara_, the, 33, 262 varela, serbo, 266 vasquez, tibúrcio, 223, 453ff., 471, 517; --, recipient, in cell, of flowers, 458; --, executed, 458 vassallo, francisco, 550 vawter, e. j., 481 vawter, william d., 481 vawter, w. s., 481 vegetables, 88, 124ff., 192, 272, 317, 332, 428, 504, 514, 552; --peddled to steamers, 12 vejar, john c., 147 vejar, ricardo, 174, 178, 200, 329; -vineyard, 474 vejar, soledad, 147 velardes, francisco, 159 velocipedes, 384 venice, 627, 630 ventura (see san buenaventura) _ventura_, 346 ventura county, 22, 599 verandas, 113 verde, cape, 123 verdugo cañon, 424; --, casa, 178 verdugo family, 177 verdugo, guillermo, 178 verdugo, josé maría, 177; -_rancho_, 178, 181, 424 verdugo, julio, 178 verdugo, julio chrisostino, 178 verdugo, victoriano, 178 verelo, miguel, 427 vergara, manuel, 35 vernon, 575, 609 vernon avenue, 202 vernondale, 575 vickery & hinds, 550 vielle, louis, 369 vigilance committees, 66, 139, 147, 207ff., 324ff., 419; --, san francisco, 21, 54, 340 vignes, jean louis, 62, 89, 100, 108, 171, 190, 197, 198, 200, 312; --street, 198 vignolo & sanguinetti, 550 villard, henry, 539 vineyard, james f., 143 vineyard, lake, 169, 306 _vineyard, southern_, 224 vineyards, 25, 103, 112, 132, 142, 162, 197ff., 200, 213, 233, 238, 249, 265, 281, 286, 292, 293, 300, 337, 363, 378, 398, 445, 474, 610; -affected by floods, 309; mother vineyard, 199 vintage, 294 virgen, p. j., 34; -street, 34 virgenes, calle de las, 159 virgin bay, 16 virginia city, nevada, 477 visalia, 270, 234; -and the southern pacific, 503 visiting, 81 visitors, commotion caused by, 137 vista del arroya, 532 voting precinct, first, 41 vulture mines, 415 w wachtel, j. v., 589 wackerbarth, august, xvi wade, k. h., 607 wadhams, collins, 76; -& foster, 76 wagons, 24, 83; --, bet on races, 161; --, used for gallows, 433; --from salt lake, 187; spring-wagon, 85; wagon-trains, 242, 322, 354 waite, alonzo, 306, 315, 350, 380, 443, 446 waite, james s., 94, 191, 192; -& co., 133 waldeck, jacob e., 605 waldron, dave, 462, 463 walker, frank, 615 walker, irving m., 355 walker, william, 21, 54, 407 wall street, 448 wallace, william a., 106, 192 waller, g. m., 512 walleria, 579 walnut seed, black, 163 walters, george, 63 walther, f. g., 388 walton, charles s., 606 ward, ben e., 580 ward, mrs. j. t., xvi ward, john, 83 wards, london publishers, 631 ware, jim, 268 warehouses, 288 warner, charles dudley, 597 warner, jonathan trumbull (juan josé), 169, 170, 224, 256, 323, 372, 426, 501, 515, 541, 578, 609; --, mrs., 170; --'s ranch, 169, 234, 294, 542 warren, william c., 221, 327, 339, 418 wartenberg, henry, 61, 405, 409 washburn, w. j., 626 washburne, elihu b., 360 washing clothes, mode of, 117; --, in the river, 117 washington, colonel, 183 washington gardens, 447, 462, 463, 547 washington, george and martha, 500; --'s birthday celebrations, 147, 264 washington street, 474 washoe gold fields, 333 wass molitor & co., 130 watchmakers, 68, 213, 235, 356 water, 211, 355, 360, 365, 370, 372, 418, 446, 533, 613, 618; --commissioner, 116; -companies, 366, 377, 384, 418, 446, 454, 495, 509, 534; -dam, 372; -ditch, child's 231; domestic -supply, 116, 117; --, los angeles river, 116; water system, nucleus of, 210; --, objection to use of, 163; --, peddling of, 116, 117, 350; -pipes, iron, 377, 384, 445; -pipes, wooden, 211, 350, 366; --, pollution of, 116; --, scarcity of, 114; --, stealing of, 125; --, _zanja_, 115, 116 watermelons, 126, 563; seeds of, for medicinal uses, 127 waters, james, 63 waters, russell judson, 605 watkins, commodore, 306 watson, james a., 139, 174, 318 way, daniel e., 318 weapons, carrying, 224; --, forbidden, 348 weather prophets, 126, 421 weaver diggings, 321 webber & haas, 244, 303 weber, shoemaker, 86 webster, daniel, 93, 650 weddings, 136, 224, 347, 410, 464, 538, 636, 637 weed, edward a., 548 _weekly mirror_, see under _mirror_ weidner, perry w., 634, 639 weil, alexander, 565 weil, alphonse, 551 weil, jacob, 91 weiner, captain, 150 weinschank, andrew a., 453 weinschank, caroline, 453 weinschank, frank a., 453 weixel, jacob, 115 welch, j. c., 109, 320 wells fargo & co., 39, 57, 111, 201, 233, 241, 245, 260, 261, 280, 313, 320, 330, 373ff., 395, 410, 475 wells, g. wiley, 517 wesley avenue, 462, 516 west, b. r., 318 western union telegraph co., 411 westlake district, 629; -park, 349, 609; --, subdivision, 112 westminster, 177; -hotel, 419 weston, olive e., xvi west prussia, 1 weyse, h. g., 202 weyse, julius, 202 weyse, otto g., and mrs., 202 weyse, rudolf g., 202; mrs. --, 142, 202 whaling, 268, 308 wharf, long, san francisco, 21, 89, 199; --, port los angeles, 468 wharf, santa monica, 485 wharves, absence of, 19, 22, 56 what cheer house, 369 wheat, 332, 381, 493 wheat, a. c., xvi wheeler, horace z., 38, 218 wheeler, john ozias, 38, 133, 218, 249, 279, 373, 379, 462, 529, 562; -bros., 38 wheeler, mary esther, 106, 373 wheelwrights, 82, 84, 115, 153, 239, 358, 384 whigs, 91 whipping post, 66 whipple barracks, arizona, 587 whisky flat, 357 whist, 230 whitcomb, george, 576 whitcomb, ledora, 576 white, caleb e., 512 white, charles h., 452, 556 white, jennie, 185, 436 white, michael, 87, 90 white house, 219, 542, 618; --, hotel, 418, 552 white pine, nevada, 424 white river, 414 white, stephen m., 467, 553ff., 565, 596, 597, 607; --, monument to, 468 white, thomas j., 107, 185, 200, 267, 356, 436 white, t. jeff, 185 white's point, 624 whitman, george n., 43 whittier, john greenleaf, 576; --, town of, 180, 374, 555, 576, 620; --, origin of name, 489 whitworth, james h., 250 wholesalers' board of trade, 538 wickenberg, 415 wicks, moye, 477 wicks, moses langley, 476, 540 widney, joseph p., 370, 423, 457, 483, 501, 516, 521, 529, 548, 589 widney, robert maclay, 370, 401, 412, 426, 434, 442, 449, 460, 483, 489, 503, 515, 521; mrs. --, 634 widney, samuel a., 311 wiebecke's beer garden, frau, 409 wiebers, d., 601, 635, 637 wiggin, kate douglas, 474 wiggins, frank, 607, 634, 647 wigmore, george h., 619 wilburn, robert, 275 wilcox, henry, 472, 473 wild animals, first, 463 wilde, charles l., xvi wiley, h. c., 180, 395, 492; mrs. --, 180, 493 wilhart, louis, 82, 200 wilkins, charles, 327 willard, charles dwight, vii, 543, 545, 607, 619, 635, 646; mrs. --, 646, 647 willhartitz, adolph, 625 williams, francisca, 168, 347 williams, george, 348 williams, george, grocer, 551 williams, hiram, 197 williams, j. a. & co., 613 williams, julian isaac, 38, 167, 168, 197, 226, 263, 326, 347, 598, 617; --, mrs., 347 williams, maría merced, 168 williamson, george, 379 williamson, mariana, 444 williamson, mrs. m. burton, 603 williamson, nels, 82, 444 williamson tract, 573 willmore, w. e., 521; -city, 521 willows, 126, 198, 212, 329, 614 willow springs, 414 wills, mrs. charlotte lemoyne, 567 wills, john a., 567 wills, w. lemoyne, 363, 567, 607 wilmington, 218, 236, 247, 299, 301, 311, 321, 326, 342, 353, 363, 366, 375, 376, 381, 384, 389, 393ff., 397, 402, 404, 506, 520, 548, 637, 638; --, charge for hauling from, 343; -harbor, 426; --shipping, 236; --, southern pacific railroad influence in favor of, 521; -street, 551; - transportation co., 568 _wilmington journal_, 404 wilmington, delaware, 236 wilshire, h. g., 580; -boulevard, 580 wilshire, w. b., 607 wilshire district, 379; -subdivision, 112 wilson, benjamin (benito) davis, 63, 168, 172, 175, 190, 200, 241, 302, 306, 316, 320, 322, 346, 363, 412, 440, 445, 451; mrs. -(_née_ yorba), 169; mrs. -(formerly mrs. m. s. hereford), 169, 316, 320; proposed -college, 451; --, mount, 566; --'s peak, 168 wilson, bob, 248 wilson, c. n., 541 wilson, emmet h., 626 wilson, john, 28, 428 wilson, peter (bully), 279, 429 wilson, ruth, 363 wilson's station, 415 windmills, 460 windstorms, 336 windward passage, 14 wine cellars, 294; -gardens, 193 wineries, wine-making and wines, 134, 200, 202, 203, 219, 233, 238, 239, 265, 280, 294, 369, 407 _winfield scott_, steamship, wreck of, 22 winston, james b., 107, 108, 109, 183, 245, 255, 346, 380; mrs. --, 183, 255; -& co., j. b., 316; -& hodges, 26, 92; -& king, 380 _wireless_, 624 wise, k. d., 457 witmer, henry clay, 563 wolfenstein, v., 364 wolfskill, john, 170; -tract, 586 wolfskill, joseph, 212, 263 wolfskill, juana, 142 wolfskill, louis, 170, 174, 263, 439 wolfskill, magdalena, 171 wolfskill, mateo, 170, 171 wolfskill, timoteo, 72 wolfskill, william, 72, 89, 106, 112, 125, 142, 163, 170, 174, 187, 199, 201, 211, 212, 219, 229, 244, 286, 326, 336, 357, 394, 439; mrs. --, 171; -building, 362; -lane, 485; -orange grove, 212; --ranch and subdivision, 544; -road, 273; -tract, 562; -vineyard, 201 wollweber, theodore, 201, 291 woman's gun, 101; -rights, 278 women's clubs, 473, 600, 607; --, open air meeting of, 409 wood as fuel, 37, 141 wood, lynching of, 324, 327 wood, c. modini, 529; --, mrs. (see under perry) wood, f. w., 606 wood, john, 463; --'s opera house, 463; --'s band, 499 woodworth, alice, 142 woodworth, john d., 231, 445 woodworth, samuel, 231 woodworth, wallace, 81, 231, 263; --, mrs., 200, 263 wool, and the wool-craze, 288, 421, 437ff., 628; woolen mills, 450, 511 woollacott, h. j., 79, 607 woolwine, thomas lee, 111 woolwine, w. d., 607 wooster street congregation, new york, 122 worden, perry, viii., 119 workman, antónia margarita, 167 workman, boyle, 233 workman, david and mrs., 132 workman, elijah h., 132, 269, 417 workman, thomas h., 42, 132, 142, 320; mrs. --, 142 workman, william, 132, 172, 205, 242, 317, 355, 372, 479, 494 workman, william h., 42, 43, 132, 141, 202, 224, 232, 256, 269, 349, 419, 481, 561, 587, 589, 594, 598, 629, 630; - bros., 291; -street, 132 workman, william h., jr., 233 works, john d., 517; -& lee, 517 wright, e. t., 568 wright, george, 436 wright, john h., 358 wright, j. t., 285 y _yankee doodle_, 501 yankee notions, 218 yarnell, george, 427; -& caystile, --, caystile & brown, 444; --, caystile & mathes, 530, 533 yarnell, jesse, 427 yarrow, henry g., 76 yates, j. d., 78, 279 yates, mary d., 79 ybarra, francisco, 457 yeast powders, 346 yellow fever, 14, 359 yellow tail, 127 yerba buena, 49 yorba, bernardo, 169, 177, 212, 238 yorba, josé antónio, 181 yorba, josefa, 103 yorba, ramona, 169 yost, robert m., 628 young, brigham, 156, 218, 345, 498 young, ewing, 170, 187 young, frances, 143 ystad, 3, 4 yuma, fort, 35, 74, 205, 234, 247, 274, 283, 294, 301, 343, 375, 514 z zahn, johann carl, 430 zahn, oswald f., 430 zahn, otto j., 430 _zanjas_, 88, 115, 119, 125, 210, 218, 265, 322, 364, 472, 548, 573; _zanja madre_, 116, 210 _zanjero_, 36, 94, 116, 125, 286, 295, 302, 573 zarate, felipe, 424 zeehandelaar, felix j., 607, 611, 639 zeppelin, ferdinand, 561 zola, émile, 451