Open Collections

BC Historical Books

BC Historical Books

BC Historical Books

To and fro, up and down in Southern California, Oregon, and Washington territory, with sketches in Arizona,… Adams, Emma H. (Emma Hildreth) 1888

Item Metadata


JSON: bcbooks-1.0222441.json
JSON-LD: bcbooks-1.0222441-ld.json
RDF/XML (Pretty): bcbooks-1.0222441-rdf.xml
RDF/JSON: bcbooks-1.0222441-rdf.json
Turtle: bcbooks-1.0222441-turtle.txt
N-Triples: bcbooks-1.0222441-rdf-ntriples.txt
Original Record: bcbooks-1.0222441-source.json
Full Text

Full Text

        Cliffs of the Columbia.
(See Page 327.) To and Fro,
Up and Down
Southern California, Oregon, and
Washington Territory,
Author of "digging the Top Off," and other Stories. 
Cincinnati,       -:-       Chicago,       -:-       ST. Louis. Copyright by
1888. p^EF^eE.
TO have been eyes and ears for a multitude of
persons, during a period of three years, is to
have possessed a high privilege. Such a franchise
was afforded the author of this work for an interval of about that length, which ended near the
close of 1886. Occupied as«the correspondent of
several leading dailies, and also as an occasional
contributor to prominent religious journals, she
traversed almost the entire American Pacific Coast,
with the exception of Alaska, ever bearing her
readers in mind.
The title of this book aptly expresses the character of its contents. Its chapters form a series of
sketches, picturing such only of the scenes, events,
incidents, industries, enterprises, institutions, and
people of the coast as came within the writer's observation or knowledge, and as, it is believed, will
contribute most to the service and enjoyment of
the reader.
The favor with which the writer's communications to the press were received, together with
frequent urgings to put into book form her painstaking studies of our "Western border-land, have 2 PREFACE.
resulted in the volume now offered the public. In a
new relation, therefore, will she continue to be eyes
and ears for other multitudes, whom opportunity may
not yet have favored with a sight of the almost endless wonders of the Pacific States, and also to many
besides, who, having seen them, may be glad to
refresh their memory of them through these pictures
of the pen and of the engraver's eloquent art.
E. H. A. goi^te^ts
Westward Bound,     11
The Southward Run,     17
la 's To-day and Yesterday,     21
Old Times and Present Resources,     27
The Church and School-house are the Pioneers,  . .    34
Incidents op the Second Journey,     39
From Deming to Tucson,     45
Arizona,     51
Tucson,     57
From Tucson to Los Angeles,     60
The City op Los Angeles,     64
Invalids in Southern California,     74
"What Shall We Wear?     82
A Former Home op General and Mrs. Hancock, . .      85
California's Great Historian,       92
An III Wind that Blew Good,     104
A Singular Character,     120
The Native Californians,     128
Schools op Los Angeles,     136
A Noble Pioneer,     146 CONTENTS. 5
Colonization Schemes,      165
Vineyards and Orange Groves,     181
The Picos and the Surrender op Cahuenga, .  .  .  .    193
Time Beguiles You     202
A Minister to the Lowliest,     209
Roses—Pampas Grass—The Datura Arborea,   . . .    219
Women as Cultivators of the Soil,     227
San Pedro     237
In the Santiago Canon     248
A Wonderful Flower Festival     258
From Los Angeles to San Francisco     267 6 CONTENTS.
From San Francisco to Portland by Sea,     281
Portland on the Willamette,     296
The Salmon Industry op the Columbia,      309
Some   op  Nature's   Masterpieces   in  the  Cascade
Range,     322
In the Columbia Basin,     339
A Noble Woman—What She Did—How She Did It,   351
Oregon's Capital—Prune-culture,     362
Schemes Aired Continually,     375
Living Oregon Pioneers,     383
From Portland to Puget Sound,     389
The Great Inland Sea,      398 CONTENTS. 7
Turning Trees into Money,     408
Tacoma—Full of Stumps and Enterprise,     418
The Expulsion op the Chinese,     431
A Rainy Season in the Puget Sound Valley, .  ...    447
Hops Turning into Soil—A Visit to one op the Hop-
farms OP THE PUYALLUP,       460
The Great Territory and its Resources,     476
British Columbia—In the Little Island City, .  . •     492
In the Little Island City,     503
Queen Victoria's American Domain,     511
The Return Down the Sound,     528
The Switzerland op America     538 8 CONTENTS.
Jacksonville, and Gold-mining in Southern Oregon,   553
Ashland, at the Base op the Siskiyous,      569
A Peculiar Wedding-trip,     580
Over the Siskiyous—Down the Canon op the Sacramento,          594 liiliUSTS£TtO#s.
Cliffs of the Columbia, Frontispiece.
Primitive Plow,  24
Homes of the Cliff-dwellers,  25
One of the Pioneers,  35
A Group of Cacti,  41
Salix Babylonica—Weeping Willow,  46
Cactus Opuntia—Prickly Pear,  48
Locomotion among the  Mexicans,  52
An, Adobe Ruin,  65
.Temiscal, or Indian Sweat-house,  101
The Fig,  108
A Drove of Ostriches,  112
An Avenue of Eucalypti,  117
A Rural Home in Southern California,  134
Corridor, San Luis Rey Mission,  151
Sacristy,     "       "       "        1          155
Fan Palms,  174
The Pepper-tree,  184
Raisin Grapes,  186
Time Beguiles,  203
Ruins of Mission Church, San Diego,  212
Ruins, San Juan Capistrano,  216
Agave Americanus—The  Century Plant,  225
The Sierra Madre Villa,  233
The Pomegranate, .        239
A California Live-oak,  249
A Bee Farm,  250
The Honey-makers,  257
Mission of San Fernando,  271
Valley of the San Joaquin,  277
Glaciers of Mt. Tacoma,  280
The Golden Gate,  287
Tillamook Light,  291
Portland,  Oregon, "  299
Mt. Hood, j Ml
9 10
Residence of Senator Dolph,  303
Salmon-fishing,  316
A Home in the Mountains,  323
Rooster Rock and the Needles,  326
Cape Horn, Columbia River,  328
Multnomah Falls, Oregon,  331
Bright Views of Other Falls,  333
Cascades of the Columbia River,  335
A View on the Columbia,  337
Spokane Falls,  Columbia Basin,  342
Emigrants Crossing the Mountains,  353
First Street, Portland, Oregon,  377
Ferrying a Train,  391
Lumber-mill, Tacoma, Washington Territory,  410
Washington Territory Saw-logs,  A\b
Coal-bunkers, Northern Pacific Railroad, Tacoma, .   -   . 421
St. Peter's Chapel, Tacoma, Oldest Bell-tower  on  the
Coast,  425
A Camp of Indians,  461
Hop-kilns, Puyallup Valley,  466
Green River Scenery, •  481
Cascade Mountain Scenery,  486
Arctic  Exploration,  501
The Wilds of Omineca,  528
A Road to the Mines,  525
The Fur-seal,  530
A Scene in the Umpqua Valley,  542
Nut Store-houses of the Indians,  548
Conveying Water to the Mines,  563
A California Scene,  606
Twenly-six Other Illustrations at end of Chapters. TO mm F50
Southern California.
OSesipwa^d Bound.
SOON after dark of a cold December night, 1£83,
a carriage containing three persons, the writer
being one, whirled rapidly over the glistening, snow-
covered pavement toward the great Union Depot in
C .    Two of us had begun the journey to the
far-off Pacific coast. The third occupant, after the
good-bye and the parting, was to return alone into
the city.
Of us who were westward bound, one was very
ill, and, as it proved, was in a double sense hastening towards the sunset.
Soon we were nicely settled in the luxurious
sleeper. Around us stood a gratifying array of
boxes and baskets, which loving hands had packed
with delicacies for the invalid and substantial provisions for the other.
ii 12
Time sped, and when the clock opposite the train
indicated the hour for starting, but two of us were
left on board. The wheels began to turn. A man
took the cards off the cars and walked away. Then
out of the noisy building we rolled, into star-light
and snow-light. On we went* past hamlet, and
town, and farm, until, soon after sunrise the second
morning, we rumbled into Kansas City.
Then took place those agreeable little episodes of
the trans-continental journey, the transferring ourselves to the shining Pullman of the Atchison,
Topeka, and Santa Fe railway, the weighing and
re-checking of baggage, and the taking breakfast.
This all done, we glided off across the broad, liberty-loving State of Kansas. Bare and desolate as
were the famous plains at that season, they were
made intensely interesting by the thrilling experiences they recalled, connected with overland traveling in an early day. Dashing along at a rapid
rate, well protected from the dust and cold, and as
comfortable as if in a parlor, how faintly we realized the depressing tediousness of toiling over those
dreary stretches behind a slow ox-team!
Armed cap-a-pie were most of those early adventurers into the wilds of the West, with patience,
hope, and courage. That is a curious'and startling
element in human nature, which leads men to face
danger from choice; to push out from comfort into
hardship; away from privilege into privation.   But WESTWARD BOUND. 13
so have men again and again followed the Star of
Empire around the earth.
The sight of a vast plain, as of a great mountain, leaves a deep impression upon the mind. Both
suggest the possession of mighty power by the Architect of the world. 1 As to that, power always impresses us, be it lodged in the winds, in steam, in
the little plant forcing its Way out of the soil, or in
the Creator's hand, lifting the rocks up into mountains, or rolling millions of acres out into plains,
level as a floor.
As we approached the western verge of the State,
the country became first undulating, then hilly, and
as we neared the border of Colorado it began to
stand upright, while far in the west snow-capped
summits appeared. It was a new thing to be able
to see objects eighty miles distant, as an attache of
our parlor car affirmed were some of the snow-
cones of the Greenhorn Range.
Running on to La Junta, Colorado, where the
road makes a decided, turn towards the south, we
soon had a fine view of the summit of Pike's Peak,
declared by the conductor to be one hundred and
fifty miles to the northward. Suddenly foot-hills,
clothed with snow and cedars, sprang up all around
us. Then our train began to climb, the upward
tendency of our course being very perceptible. We
were pushing on towards the Raton Pass, in the
mountains of that name. 14
On our right about this time, were discovered
the majestic Spanish Peaks, three cones, snow-tipped
and looming up finely. Arrived at the base of the
rugged Raton Range, the strength of our one engine
was insufficient to carry us up to the tunnel through
which the road crosses the summit. Accordingly,
"Uncle Ned," one of the largest locomotives in the
United States, and certainly a mighty fellow, was
marched to the front to "lend a hand." And
nobly did he perform the task. Sweeping up that
steep grade was a splendid piece of climbing. A
strong wind blew down the pass into the giant's
face. The car in which we rode strained, creaked,
and swayed as we went up and up, turning around
this shoulder and around that. Several young
ladies in the car were in terror, lest Uncle Ned
should lose his foot-hold, and let them go rolling
down the mountain-side, to become the victims of a
second Tehachapi disaster. Happily he was shod for
the steep roadway of steel, and no casualty occurred.
If I am correct, it has been the happy privilege
of Uncle Ned to pull up to the tunnel in the Raton
Pass, every westward-bound passenger train since
the completion of the road to this time. Men become attached to inanimate things, and I was told
that the employees of the road have a regard for
this engine, much like that a brave general feels for
an intelligent horse which has borne him through
many a well-fought battle. WESTWARD BOUND. 15
On the train, much interested in Uncle Ned's
struggle for the ascendency, were Mr. James C.
Warner and his wife, of Chicago, bound for Melbourne, Australia. Mr. Warner is an English electrician, and among that class of scientists is known
as an able inventor. He goes to the Fifth Continent as the agent of the Western Electric Company,
and in the city of Melbourne will superintend the
application, to machines already in use, the latest
improvements in telephonic apparatus. This company, he informed me, controls the system of telephones now working in that city, and hopes, by
promptly attaching thereto every important new
appliance, to secure a market for its instruments in
other towns of Australia. Mr. Warner has more
the air of an unpretending farmer than of a devout
student in the realm of electricity.
The boundary line between Colorado and New
Mexico runs through the Raton Tunnel, about midway of its length. We crossed this line, eight
thousand feet above sea-level, a couple of hours
after dark. A sensation of descent, as distinct as
that we had experienced of ascent in going up, told
us the moment we had passed this confine. This
brought us into Colfax County, New Mexico, one
of the largest and most promising sections of the
Territory, it being a well-known stock region. During the night our route lay, first, amid austere mount-
ain scenery, and then across broad mesas and plains. 16
In the following sketches, which pertain particularly to New Mexico and Arizona, I have mingled
the accounts of two trips across the Great American
Desert, between which nearly three years intervened. With the exception of a single episode or
two, I have so woven these together as to make them
read like the observations of one journey, ignoring
dates, and endeavoring only to present clearly the
facts gleaned. Instead of receiving detriment by
the arrangement, it is believed the reader will rather
be benefited. Should it appear necessary to introduce a date at any point for the clearer apprehension of the reader, it will be done.
She Southward l"jun.
DURING the night we drew up at a small town
named "Dorsey," after the famous "Star
Route" Senator, now a resident of New Mexico.
We had supposed this town to be located not far
from Mr.' Dorsey's great stock farm. But in this
we were mistaken. The next station, called
Springer, is the nearer his home, and is the place
where he always takes the cars when bound on a
visit to the outside world. Mr. Dorsey's immense
farm, according to a personal acquaintance of the
ex-Senator, riding in the seat next us, lies some
thirty miles from the railway. Upon it he is now
erecting an expensive and handsome residence,
"one staircase in which," said the gentleman, "will
cost him seven hundred dollars." Mr. Dorsey is
the possessor of large flocks and herds, and, notwithstanding the taint upon his reputation inflicted
by the memorable star-route investigation, he exerts
some political influence in the Territory.
17 I   I
While we were speeding over the plains in this
county the second time, which  was by daylight,
some one raised the cry:
| See the antelope! see the antelope!"
And on looking out of the windows we saw a
small group of the graceful creatures quietly feeding, a few rods from the train. And not long after,
quite as rare a sight was presented, when a savage
wolf stalked away from us, over the parched grass.
He held his head aloft and appeared as if he did n't
care a penny for the comfort of traveling by steam.
Morning found us at Albuquerque, the largest
city in New Mexico, having a population of about
ten thousand souls. The place received its name
from the Duke of Albuquerque, for four years the
Spanish Governor and Captain-general of New
Mexico, in the seventeenth century. It is quite
noted for the educational advantages it possesses,
while, as yet, no efficient system of public schools
maintains in the Territory. The Albuquerque
Academy is a promising institution, supervised by
Protestants. There is also conducted a Catholic
school of considerable strength; while on a farm
near the city flourishes the United States Industrial
School for Indian Children. To this even juvenile
Apaches are admitted without a fear of their taking ALBUQUERQUE. 19
to the war-path. The school is said to have been
modeled after those at Hampton and Carlisle.
As certain evidences of its future growth, the
city points to its central location; to the rich valleys lying north and south of it; to its contiguous
coal and mineral mines; to its importance as a railroad center, and best of all, to the activity and
public spirit of its citizens.
The first objects to arrest attention, on our leaving the train for breakfast, were a dozen or less
savage-looking Indians, sitting, standing, lying
down, on the broad veranda of the hotel. Men
and women were clad in the same costume—heavy
woolen blankets wrapped about the shoulders, and
thick leggings tied above the knee. The sky was
overclouded, and a fierce wind swept every inch of
the piazza. Yet there they remained, bronzed statues, silently watching the passengers oorne and go,
until the train pulled out southward. Not the vestige of a smile, or an emotion, lighted up their
coarse features.    Possibly their thought was:
" What wonderful beings these white-skins are!"
And possibly: "What thieves and robbers!" But
whatever their opinions, they will be spoken only
to one another.
No sooner does one interested in the human
race, enter New Mexico, than he becomes curious
in regard to certain Indian tribes dwelling iu the
Territory.     By the   term "Indian"   I  mean, not 20
simply wild Red men, but the inhabitants of both
American continents when first invaded by Europeans. This includes the nations and tribes of the
United States, the peoples whom Cortez subjugated
in Mexico and Central America, and the race whom
Pizarro overthrew in Peru, all of whom ethnologists now conveniently group together under the
term, "the American race." But arousing a pro-
founder curiosity are those earlier peoples, who long
preceded the American race, the ruins of whose
works are a marvel to-day. Of their mighty builders
no reliable account can be given. The very aspect
of New Mexico starts trains of thought about those
old, old occupants of the land. How long ago
they lived, here, in Yucatan, in Peru, no pen can
tell.    So we turn a leaf and write about the country. III.
Icts So-Day and "^estfei^day.
A TEW MEXICO, acquired from the Republic of
..M Mexico by the treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo,
is a quaint and singular portion of the United States.
Thousands of its acres are mere dismal stretches of
sand. Yet, stand where one may, mountain chains
diversify the landscape. West of the Rio Grande the
spurs of the Sierra Madre—the connecting link between the lofty Sierras of Old Mexico and the great
heights of Colorado—push out into the desert in
every direction, reckless, apparently, of all law and
order. "Everywhere on its surface the extremes of
scenery meet." The valleys between these spurs are
susceptible of extraordinary cultivation. Their mean
altitude above the sea is forty-five hundred feet.
Though a radiant, sunny region, it is yet a strange and
lonely land, a land given up to silence and the winds.
True, one may not now, as did Antonio de Espejo
three hundred years ago, 1 travel fifteen days in the
province without meeting any people;" still, even
in this year of grace 1883, and employing the modern mode of progress, one may ride for hours over
the desolate wastes and see almost no inhabitants.
Occasionally the train dashes past a low adobe hut,
3 1 22
far away from any town, but he catches no glimpse
of the inmates. There are no faces of children at
the little square windows, no forms in the low doorway. The ordinary tokens of civilization, seen all
along the great railroads throughout the East, are
absent here. Corn fields, wheat fields, and orchards
are rare, except near the villages, or in the vicinity
of the Rio Grande.
Nevertheless, it must not be inferred that New
Mexico is without population. In 1881 it exceeded
in number of inhabitants any other territory of the
Union, except the District of Columbia. The census of 1880 gave it nearly 121,000 people, the
natives being in strongest force. But what seems a
little startling, unless one is conversant with the
past history of this part of our country, is, that in
Espejo's day New Mexico sustained a much greater
multitude of people than at present. In the interests of Spain that officer traversed districts which
embraced " fourteen, twenty, thirty, and even fifty
thousand persons." This was in the northern portion of the province, however, and these communities were assemblages of the Pueblo Indians, a
people whom he found to be not only extremely
industrious and living peaceably under their caciques, but also possessing many of the luxuries of
life, practicing numerous arts of civilization, and
exhibiting toward strangers an ungrudging hospitality.    A recent report by the Governor of the Ter- ITS TO-DAY AND YESTERDAY. 23
ritory asserts that ten thousand of these Pueblos
now dwell in New Mexico, and offer to the student
of ethnology a subject as fascinating as when the
Spaniards invaded the land. An intelligent writer
upon the times and history of these ancient New
Mexicans, says of them, substantially:
"They were a nation who lived permanently in
homes, some of them in houses built of stone, five
lofts in height. They tilled the soil; constructed
irrigating ditches to water their corn fields and
gardens; made thoughtful provision against famine;
wove cloths; wore painted mantles; had articles of
dress embroidered in needle-work; used jewelry
made of the turquois, emerald, and garnet; and
administered wholesome laws, generations before the
landing of Columbus."
New Mexico abounds in legends and folk-lore
relating to this race. And the many remains of
ancient towns and cities, planted by its members on
her hills, plateaus, and desert borders, tell in some
degree how they lived and have passed away. Old
mines, "caved in and covered up," together with
| ruined smelters, surrounded by heaps of imperishable slag," evince their knowledge of the minerals
with which the mountains teem. The broken
pottery, sacred images, and other domestic relics
left by them, have rendered New Mexico a delightful field for the archaeologist and antiquarian for
nearly a half century past. 24
A district particularly rich in these ancient
tokens is the county of Rio Arriba, in the northwestern part of the territory. Here the traveler
finds himself in the old realm of the Cliff Dwellers,
where now may be seen the ruins of many of their
villages, and where, buried out of sight beneath
mounds of slowly accumulated soil, lie numerous
Primitive Flow
" Judging by the depth of the earth above them,"
says one of the officials of that county, " this people
must have settled the country thousands of years
ago." Some of their ancient cities were of vast
extent. Remains of them exist in the valleys, on
the mesas, on the mountains, and far up the sides
of rocky cliffs, which present an almost perpendicular front.
But between the era of the prosperous Village
Indians, and the domination of the Americans in
New Mexico, there intervened another nation. It
came into the country bearing the gospel of peace
in one hand and the sword in the other; came in to
vanquish, not to -uplift and improve. It built royal
edifices, " exacting from the hitherto happy Pueblos" ITS TO-DAY AND YESTERDAY.
unrequited la- jtty ]{f{[T*
bor.   And not
seldom did it inflict upon I'M^BW^
•them the cruel punish- /^^II.^Hil^^^
ments of the Inquisition.
By its rapacious policy
was     begotten,    in     the Homea of the Clifi-Dwellers.
course of years, a spirit of revolt and revenge which, in 26
1680, turned the peaceful province into a scene of
furious incendiarism and bloodshed.
Perhaps nowhere on either of the American
continents where the Spaniards obtained sway, did
they display toward the races they subjugated a
greater tyranny, or a more studied treachery, than
in the country by themselves called, " The Kingdom
and Province of New Mexico," and which then
included, besides the New Mexico of our day, the
whole of Arizona and a portion of Colorado.
The invasion of the Spaniards took place "about
one hundred years before the Pilgrims set foot upon
Plymouth Rock." Yet to-day the strong and
ornate structures they reared, some in ruins, others
in comparatively good preservation, occupy many a
vantage ground of the region. Thus one finds here
the eloquent works, as well as the living representatives of two former races, both of which have lost
control of the country. All this, and more, tends
to throw over the Territory of New Mexico a fascination and an air of romance which years will fail
to dispel. Indeed, in greater or less degree, the
same weird interest is aroused by all this dreamy,
desert portion of the United States. The vegetation is unique. A blue haze veils the mountains.
The distances deceive.    The mirages are illusions.
At the close of the Spanish dominion there
succeeded the Mexican r6gtme. This, in turn, was
followed by the American occupation in 1848. IV.
NEW MEXICO, as now constituted, contains an
area of 121,201 square miles. Its average
breadth is three hundred and sixty-seven miles; its
average length, three hundred and thirty-five miles.
Unquestionably it is one of the healthiest portions of
the country, " being absolutely free from all causes of
disease." Warm at midday, the nights are cool, and
the temperature of the mountains is everywhere delightful. Among the names of its counties we find the
illustrious ones of Lincoln, Grant, and Colfax. Its
chief cities are Santa Fe, the capital, Albuquerque,
already mentioned, and the point at which thev Atlantic and Pacific Railway leaves the Atchison,
Topeka, and Santa Fe road for San Francisco, Los
Vegas, celebrated for its hot springs, Las Cruces,
Silver City, Deming, and some others.
In age and historic interest, as well as in legendary charm, Santa Fe, colonized and re-named by
the Spaniards in 1598, stands pre-eminent. Probably no other spot in all this lower portion of our
land is so rich in old Indian traditions, in memories
27 28
of the relentless Spanish rule, and in reminiscences
of the intrepid Rocky Mountain fur traders. Its
plaza, streets, buildings, and some special precincts,
are eloquent with the deeds of the three races which
have successively held sway there.
Prior to the Spanish settlement, the place was
the governing center for a group of Indian villages
which were confederated under one cacique, and
enjoyed a remarkable prosperity, if we may credit
the testimony of their conquerors. These were villages of the gentle "Tanos people," upon whom
were executed, after 1662, some of the harsh edicts'
of the Inquisition.
Among the points of attraction belonging to a
former day are the old Church of San Miguel, the
Cathedral of San Francisco, Fort Marcy, certain
old landmarks of the American fur traders, and the
structure called the Governor's Residence. The
latter is said to be the oldest, and the only building
in the United States, preserved since the Spanish
sway, which is distinctively called a palace. It is
now familiarly known as the Governor's Residence,
and is occupied by the American Governor of the
Territory. No single feature of the old city excites
more interest in the minds of visitors than does this
It is a one-story, adobe structure, with very
thick walls, like all such works left by the Spaniards, and  is  supposed to  have been  erected  by OLD TIMES AND PRESENT RESOURCES.     29
Count Penaloza, chief executive of the province,
about 1662. Around it cluster volumes of historical associations. One of its distinctions is the great
number of titled people which have been entertained
wkhin it, in royal state. Considering its location,
in the heart of a great country, and the fact that
from no direction could it be reached, except by
traversing arid stretches of vast extent, or by crossing mountains rugged and bold, this feature is all
the more noteworthy. Among its guests have been
envoys of the kings of Spain, Mexican officials, and
distinguished citizens of the United States.
Penaloza, so runs the history, possessed not only
a decided taste for building cities and fine edifices,
but also great tact for quelling Indian outbreaks.
At the same time, he was not the man to meekly
execute all the decrees of the home government.
It is related that on one occasion he laid hold of a
Spanish commissary-general and confined him in the
palace for a week, in the hope that quietude and
time for reflection might teach him official moderation.    How he succeeded is not stated.
Modern writers have worked away at the ancient
Church of San Miguel, until most readers know all
about it. The principal facts concerning the structure, besides the history wrapped up in it, are the
following: It is believed to be the oldest church
edifice in the United States. Like scores of similar
buildings in  Arizona, Old Mexico, and California, 30
it was made of adobe, with walls immensely thick.
Its exterior is prison-like. In the general Pueblo
emeute of 1680 it suffered partial destruction, but
was restored thirty years later.
Near it stands a low adobe structure, two stories
in height, " known to antedate every other house in
our land," it being the only remains of the ancient
Pueblo village, or capital, of Analco, which, at
Espejo's advent, occupied the present site of
Santa Fe.
In the early years of this century there flourished, at times, in Santa Fe such notable Rocky
Mountain men as Kit Carson and Captain Zebulon
Pike, whose name is perpetuated by that peerless
summit, Pike's Peak, and who once languished, for
some little time, a prisoner in the famous " palace."
Added to these were Jedediah Smith, the two Sou-
blette brothers, the Messrs. Fitzpatrick and Bridger,
besides a score of less eminent but not less fearless
traders, trappers, and adventurers, who, in spite of
great obstacles and extreme reverses, built up a rich
commerce with Northern Mexico.
The resources of New Mexico may be grouped
under the heads of grazing, mining, agriculture, as
yet carried on to an extent much below the possibilities, horticulture, in which encouraging beginnings have been made, and endless openings for
manufactures.     Immense   herds  of  cattle,   sheep, OLD TIMES AND PRESENT RESOURCES.     31
goats, and horses range over its boundless pasture
tracts. A glimpse of these herds is sometimes obtained by the traveler as he flits through the Territory on the cars. Millions of acres are given up to
this purpose.
In the mountains of New Mexico lie buried in
vast quantities, gold, silver, copper, coal, mica, and
numerous other metals. Santa Fe County, embracing the celebrated Cerrillos anthracite fields, twenty
thousand acres in extent, together with the Callisteo
bituminous banks, of equal size, and those of Socorro
County, on the eastern side of the Rio Grande,
represent the wealth of a kingdom in fuel alone.
Donna Ana County, one hundred and fifty miles
long, one hundred miles wide, lying on the border
of Old Mexico and well watered by the Rio
Grande, excels in serai-tropical fruit products.
Every thing may be grown there, from apples to
strawberries, grown in abundance and to perfection.
Onion culture is also a prominent industry of the
district. The variety raised is a native of Old
Mexico, and has a great reputation for size and fine
flavor. In these particulars it surpasses the favorite
Bermuda onion. One cultivator of the fragrant (?)
edible, says: "An acre of ground will produce
thirty thousand onions, averaging one pound in
weight, and with skillful husbandry even fifty thousand pounds may be obtained from the same space.
The crop may be marketed on the ground at three 32
cents per pound, and will require the steady labor
of one man six months of the year.
A conspicuous resource of this county is its
gypsum plains, forty miles long by thirty miles
wide. The mineral exists in the form of powder,
and in some localities is "piled in drifts, from
twenty to fifty feet in height." From a distance, it
is said, these ridges resemble banks of snow. Its
special value lies in its being a fine fertilizer for
Four great rivers, with many lesser streams)
water the Territory of New Mexico. The Rio
Grande and the Rio Picos flow through its entire
length, from north to south, and find their outlet
in the Gulf of Mexico. The latter is the more
eastern stream, and refreshes Lincoln County, an
immense area, embracing about one-fifth of the
Rio Arriba County is another mammoth section.
Its altitude above sea-level averages seven thousand
feet. Its length is two hundred and fifty miles, its
width ninety miles. Through it flows the river
San Juan, a strong affluent of the Colorado, and
having many large branches of its own.
Turning now to the north-eastern corner of the
Territory, we behold rolling into populous San
Miguel County, from Texas, the Canadian River,
an important arm of the Arkansas. With its own
multiplied tributaries it nourishes a fine series of OLD TIMES AND PRESENT RESOURCES.     33
fertile valleys. In this section the hills and mountain slopes bristle with forests of pine and cedar.
On the streams are numerous saw-mills, busy cutting this timber into lumber, thus adding another
to the resources of New Mexico. She (shui^gh and SGHOOL1-170USE ai^e
BEFORE resuming the thread of my story, after
this long digression, I wish to make one or two
remarks on the subject of general education in this
and other south-western parts of our country, and
to make them in connection with Wallace, the terminus of a division of the Atchison, Topeka, and
Santa Fe Railway, where are located the company's
shops, round-house, and the like. Wallace is a
point of interest, also, on account of the liberal
provision it has made for the education and religious culture of its people, and in these respects it
is a typical Western town. It is not unusual in
these towns to find the church and school-house
going up simultaneously with the dwellings. Indeed, in my journeyings I have seen a town-site on
which a church, a school-house, and a hotel were
among the first buildings erected, and the men
laying out the place were of the shrewdest, most
far-seeing class. Another preliminary step was the
grading of the principal  streets  and the laying of
durable pavements.    Then followed electric lights,
and the next thing was a railway train thundering in.
It has been reserved for the West, the undefined
but prodigious West, to reverse the order of pro-
one of the Pioneers.
ceedings in founding towns and cities. The old
plan was for a number of families to appear, one
by one, on the scene, erect their habitations and get
settled at their various pursuits. Then tardily followed the  church  edifices and the institutions of j
learning. Now the latter are the pioneers. They
move on, in advance of the people, take possession
of the ground, and are ready to begin work when
the men and women, the boys and girls, come up.
Now returning to our journey: We were some
three hours beyond Albuquerque, when, halting at
a station in the desert, our car was invaded by a
band of Pueblo women carrying baskets of " pinions," a small nut gathered on the neighboring
mountains, and which resembled a variety of brown
bean I have frequently seen in Ohio. The fruit
was sweet and pleasant to the taste, and was offered
us at five cents the tumbler full. These little women
were a lively company, and flitted to and fro in the
car, disposing of their nuts in a very brisk, businesslike manner. They were clad in indescribable attire,
and evidently in expectation of seeing strangers.
Each woman wore upon her head about the following articles: A square piece of colored cloth, a gay
handkerchief, and a sun-bonnet tied with cord and
tassels. The remainder of the costume was similarly varied, both as to garments and color. There
could be little question but that each one had
donned her entire wardrobe for the occasion. With
their coal-black eyes, alert ways, and pleasant expression of countenance, they were agreeable
women, notwithstanding their swarthy skin, short
stature, and stout bodies. ALBUQUERQUE. 37
Not far to the east of us now, through many
miles of the treeless desert, lay the celebrated Santa
Fe Trail, formerly pursued by emigrants on their
way to the great El Dorado of the West.
" For a distance of ninety miles through New Mexico," said a gentleman familiar with the Territory,
"this route crossed not a single stream of running
water; and to this part of it was given the name
of 'Valley of Death.' And such, indeed, it was.
Great numbers of men and animals fell victims to
thirst upon its suffocating sands."
Here and there the precise locality of the trail
was pointed out to us, as we sped down the desolate expanse.
Many of the small hamlets which have sprung*
up because the railroad is here, are as quiet
and dreamy as the desert itself. No business
is transacting. No hum of manufacturing is
heard. No teams are at work. Not a woman
is seen abroad in the streets. No child voices
ring out through the heated air. And yet this
is sunny New Mexico, a land which many people
who have not traversed it, suppose to be clothed
with verdure, radiant with flowers, and teeming
with inhabitants.
It was a relief, under the circumstances, to have
the long, bright day wear away, and to see the sun 38
go down. Suddenly, thereupon, fully one-quarter
. of the great arch overhead turned to a brilliant
gold color. Half-way up to the zenith this softened into a faint pink, while at the horizon it
deepened to a rich orange. Soon after, in the
midst of the gold, appeared the fair evening star,
its soft, silvery beams contrasting strikingly with
the glory around. Slowly, then, night dropped her
curtains, now concealing this range of mountains,
and now that. It was nine o'clock. We were in
Deming, the south-western terminus of the Atchison
and Topeka road.
The only hotel was crowded with guests, waiting for a delayed train on the Southern road. Not
a room remained for the passengers from the North.
Happily, between the proprietor and a housekeeper
across the plaza there existed a silent partnership
in the hotel business, which was made apparent
on such occasions. To her house, accordingly, were
we marched, an inhospitable wind chilling us to
our very bones. Arrived at the place, we were
conducted up an outside staircase to our rooms, in
none of which was sign of fire, beyond, a warm
stove-pipe, which passed through one of them from
below. This was kindly assigned to the sufferer in
my care, and in a short time weariness and desert
solitudes were forgotten in sound sleep. VI.
Incidents op the Second ^oui^ney.
NEARLY three years after that night I again
.passed over this section of New Mexico, and
if the reader will pardon, I will insert here, before we move westward from Deming, one or two
episodes of that trip.
Under my care, by her own request, was an aged
German woman, for long years a resident of San
Francisco. So singular a character was she, such a
compound of smartness and utter inability, so unattractive in appearance, and yet so winning withal,
that I presume to photograph her on these pages.
Upon entering the Pullman car at Los Angeles,
I found her domiciled for the trip, and conversing
with a couple of genteel-looking friends. The
berth I had secured happened to be opposite her
own. Presently her friends bade her "good-bye,"
and we were alone. Then turning to me she remarked :
"May be you are going where I am?"
"Possibly.    I am going to Ohio."
| Is that east of Medora, Kansas?"
" Yes, a long distance."
39 40
" May be, then, you '11 look after me. I 've
never been over this road before. I live in San
Francisco—thirty years now in that wonderful
"I will, certainly, do all I can for you."
Then she proceeded to epitomize her austere
history, by saying that she had been a hard worker
all her days; had made and lost two or three ample fortunes; had buried her husband two years
before; had been left childless, and now, tired of a
silent home and a desolate life, she had started for
Medora, Kansas, " expressly to take back with her
a favorite niece and her family, to brighten the
" Should they prove kind to her," she went on,
"and not be too stuck up, the step should be the
making of them. But should they forget the respect due her, they 'd just have to pack up and git.
And, in that event, she should just take up the
dead body of her husband and git to Europe.
Germany was a better place, anyhow, than this
wretched, sandy country."
Hundreds of miles before reaching Deming, she
became disgusted with the route, and "just wished
she 'd gone by the Union Pacific. That was a
wonderful route, through magnificent scenery. But
on this Southern Pacific road she 'd seen nothing
but sand, mountains, and twisted cacti for nearly
thirteen hundred miles;   and, what was worse yet, INCIDENTS OF THE SECOND JOURNEY.      41
the attendant in the car assured her there
were twelve hundred miles more of the
same thing before she would see Medora."
Thus the good woman vented her discontent upon the innocent country.
It was a singular aspect of her
.case that, untidy as was her appearance, coarse as were her manners
and features, she yet managed to interest in her behalf every traveler
who happened to take a seat near
her.    On leaving the car, men and
women would shake hands with her
A Gronp of Cacti. 42
warmly, wishing her a safe arrival at " Medora,"
and success with the niece and her family. To the
through passengers this proceeding became rather
amusing toward the last. At the same time it disclosed a beautiful side of our human nature.
An important part of the woman's luggage consisted of a capacious portmanteau, crowded with
such fragrant provisions as pickles, cheese, ham,
doughnuts, and bologna sausage. From either one
of these the odor could have been endured; but
when all had been combined and confined for several hours, they had the effect to set her near
neighbors to devising an emigration scheme the
moment the receptacle was opened. From this supply, with the addition of a cup of coffee, procured
for her at the meal stations, she refreshed herself
three times each day. Though twice and a half my
weight, she seemed to regard me as a being who
could avert from her all the evils of the way, and,
indeed, but for my oversight on leaving Deming,
the poor woman would have been doomed to spend
twenty-four hours more in that " horrid sandy
At half-past nine in the morning we were located in the cool, wicker-seated coaches, ready for
the flight northward. Toward noon we came in
sight of the green fringe of the Rio Grande. Crossing this stream we soon drew up at Rincon, a place
consisting of the station-house and a very comfort- INCIDENTS OF THE SECOND JOURNEY.      43
able hotel. Both are shoved up into a narrow
canon, in order to escape overflows of the great
river. Here, during a three hours' waiting for the
northward-bound train from El Paso, we witnessed
a striking display of the mental resources of the
Mexican in times of emergency, and also of his
capacity to sympathize with others in condition of
Soon after our arrival one of their race attempted, when in a state of intoxication, to leap
upon an incoming local train. One of the brake-
men, perceiving the man's danger, pushed him
away vigorously. Enraged by this act, the crazed
fellow repeated the effort, missed his hold, fell beneath the car, and was taken up with one foot
severely crushed.    He became sober instantly.
Lying about on blankets, bedding, and bundles
of apparel in the broad covered passage-way between the two trains, were a score of his countrymen, unmoved by the accident and indifferent to
the victim's pain. There being no physician within
miles of the place, the wounded man was laid on
the floor of this passage, without sign of pillow,
and freely dosed with whisky, while upon the mangled foot was poured a stream of cold water. Meanwhile, did he attempt to turn his head, to move an
arm, or toss about in his agony, his two companions
held him as rigid as a statue, regardless of his
woeful cry of "Let me alone." 44
Distressed by all this, several gentlemen, leaving
the cars, urged gentler treatment and the pressing
need of a surgeon. But the brown-visaged men
replied only by a shake of the head, and a few
words uttered in the Spanish tongue. The administration of whisky and water continued during the
three hours of our stay, and when we moved off
northward the sufferer still lay on the floor, his foot
bleeding but himself quiet and unconscious of pain,
because dead drunk.
Shortly before four o'clock of the fifth day after
our departure from Los Angeles, the polite conductor of the train entered our car, stepped to the
seat occupied by my German friend, and said, smilingly, "The next station is Medora,".. and then
passed on. How the good woman's hands trembled
then as she tied her bonnet strings, clasped her reticule, and gave the half-dozen pieces of her luggage
a quick little shove together to have them ready for
a prompt departure! Stepping to her side I said:
"Do not worry; I will help you off the train."
Then she* calmed herself some and waited, and
finally, grateful for her cordial invitation to visit
her the next time I should be in "that wonderful
city, San Francisco," I bade her " good-bye " in the
long-looked-for Medora, and continued my flight
toward the Buckeye State. VII.
Fi^om Deming mo (qiigson.
NOW let us return to Deming. The reader will
remember we entered the place at nine o'clock
in the evening. The next morning, which dawned
cold and gray, revealed a small village of possibly
sixteen hundred inhabitants. In the distance, on
every hand, rose mountains blue and stately. Most
of the buildings were of wood, one story in height,
and erected, evidently, to serve only until better
structures should take their place. The commodious
hotel, hemmed in on three sides by railroads, was
new and well managed. Its bill of fare was surprisingly a le, and the cooking excellent, for a
table sp    id      the heart of a desert.
Sor cowns seem to have been foreordained to
become eminent. Reputation attaches to them independently of size or age. Location alone secures it
to them. This is Deming's prime advantage. The
village stands in the path of the ever-increasing
tide of travel from the vast "East" to our southwestern coast. Through it pass, also, from the
Pacific Slope thousands of people ticketed to Texas
and the Gulf States, while multitudes branch off
5 45 46
here for all points east of the Rocky Mountains.
Hence the little town is known far and near.
Deming is located about forty miles north of the
border of Old Mexico, and is a distributing point
for a large region of country.    Its altitude above
Salix Bacylonica—'' Weeping Willow. '
sea-level is four thousand two hundred feet. Underneath the place, some fifty feet below the surface,
lies an inexhaustible supply of excellent water.
This advantage the citizens naturally set forth with
some eloquence, situated as they are, on a great
desert unrefreshed by running streams. Like mill-
ions of acres of this Southland, the region needs FROM DEMING TO TUCSON.
jwater only to render it marvelously productive, they
tell us.    The  general cultivation of the soil here
however, is much a question of the future.    Many
of the mountains around are vast store-houses for
valuable metals and minerals.
Deming calls itself the half-way station between
Kansas City and San Francisco, being twelve hundred miles from the former, and nearly thirteen
hundred from the latter. The Southern Pacific
Railway connects the place with both the Pacific
and Gulf coasts. It is likewise the southern terminus for the narrow-gauge road now finished to
Silver City, situated in a rich mineral region. Proceeding westward as far as Benson, an important
mining town of Arizona, Deming has an outlet via
the Sonora Railway to the port of Guaymas, on the
Gulf of California.
At half-past ten we again pushed out into the
sand, with two hundred and twenty miles between
us and Tucson, Arizona. All day long we rolled
over the wild waste, our relation to the mountain
chains on either hand, changing every hour. The
vegetation of the desert proved an interesting study.
At one little station I observed, to my surprise,
the Salix Babylonica growing in a hot depression,
where one would suppose no green thing could
live. I noticed, also, in addition to several strange
varieties, frequent large patches of the cactus commonly called " prickly pear," or the cactus opuntia*. 48
Here the plant was dwarfed in size and the leaves
grew close to the ground.
But afterwards, in the city of Los Angeles, I
saw it attain a height of fifteen or eighteen feet.
The trunk was bare of limbs to a height of eight
CactU3 Opuatia—" Prickly Pear,"
or ten feet, while the top of ungainly, distorted
branches spread out in all directions. The last
time I passed this cactus tree, the edge of each
pulpy leaf had burst out into a circlet of yellowish-
red blossoms, making it a conspicuous object in
the neighborhood.    The fruit of this species is not FROM DEMING TO TUCSON.
only edible, but palatable, and being round at both
ends, reminds one of the short, smooth variety of
cucumber, though the color is a lighter green.
When crossing this desert the second time, I
was favored with a sight of that strange optical
illusion, the mirage. Happening to glance out of
the car-window, in the direction of the south-west,
about four o'clock in the afternoon, lo! there appeared a broad, placid river flowing through the
sand. Inverted in its depths we could plainly see
the summits of the nearest mountains, and also the
tops of the tallest shrubs close at hand. At one
point the stream appeared to divide, and encircle
the base of a stately butte standing far away, thus
forming an inverted conical island.
" Why ! is that a river ?" inquired a passenger,
springing to her feet, and trying to obtain "a clearer
view of the scene.
"No, madam," answered the conductor, just
then passing through the car. " There is no water
within two hundred miles of here."
But again we have digressed. It is not easy to
combine in one account the observations of opposite
trips through a land like this. On we fly, past acres
of cacti and chaparral, towards the quaint old city of
Tucson. Once more it is night. The sun sinks behind the low indigo hills, rimming the horizon in the
west. The heavens are glorious half-way to the
zenith.    The stars glitter in the azure sky.    The 50
air grows cold, making necessary the fire glowing
in the huge stove. Now a passenger steps to the
door, looks out ahead, returns, shrugs his shoulders,
and announces, "Tucson is in sight."
Presently the train halted in front of an excellent hotel, kept by a family named Porter, whom
the writer has occasion long to remember, for kindnesses shown her. Delivering up the checks for
our luggage, we stepped into an omnibus and drove
into the queer old town for a ten days' sojourn and
rest. Some little opportunity occurred during our
stay, to acquaint myself with Arizona and its ancient capital Certain general facts gained, appear
in the following chapter. VIII.
ARIZONA, once a part of New Mexico, embraces a territory of sixteen thousand square
miles. Superficially it consists of deserts, plateaus,
valleys, and mountains. Chains of the latter traverse it in almost every direction, with much rich,
productive land intervening. The southern portion
is an extensive plain, but slightly elevated above the
sea. Other parts attain altitudes of from six to nine
thousand feet. The splendid cone of Saint Francis
towers to a distance of eleven thousand feet. The
Rio Colorado is the most notable stream of the
Territory, and forms a cons'lderable part of its
western boundary. Next in importance is the Gila.
Having its source in New Mexico, it flows entirely
across the southern portion of Arizona, and joins the
Colorado about one hundred and sixty miles north
of the Gulf of California. Narrow, swift, and shallow most of the year, it swells to a mighty torrent
during the rainy season.
51 52
The valley of the Gila appears to have been the
seat, not only of a large Spanish colonization, but
also of a dense Indian population, far anterior to
the Spanish occupation. Portions of it are dotted
with the ruins of ancient pueblos and structures of
solid masonry, "which seem to have remained untenanted for centuries."    There exist evidences of
Locomotion Among the Mexicans.
long irrigating canals and other eloquent tokens of
a busy, industrial life. Some archaeologists have
conjectured that a people numbering not less than
one hundred thousand, dwelt in the valley of the
Gila, hundreds of years before Hernando Cortez
ever saw Mexico.
The Rio Colorado is navigable several hundred
miles above the Gulf of California. At one point,
as all the world has read, its deep, resistless current
has plowed a canon, surpassing in the majesty of
its scenery even the famous gorge of the Columbia,
itself renowned for grand and awe-inspiring sights. THE MINING INDUSTRY. 53
The writer will carry in mind to the end of life
some of the wonders which mark the rent in the
Cascade Mountains, made by the mighty Columbia.
The walls of that portion of the Colorado, called
the Grand Canon, attain a perpendicular height of
seven thousand feet.
Arizona still retains a large Indian population.
The tribes which live in general amity with the
Americans are the Pimas, Yumas, Mojaves, Mari-
copas, Papagoes, and some others. The Apaches,
as the newspapers have taken some pains to say,
are notably fierce and hostile. The friendly tribes
are more or less engaged in farming, stock-raising,
and similar pursuits, parts of the Territory being
admirably adapted to these purposes.
With most other classes of the people mining
appears to be the leading industry. The mountains
teem with valuable metals and minerals. Gold,
silver, and copper are the most plentiful. Then
follows a long list, useful in the arts, and in a thousand ways helpful to man.
The subject of mining certainly forms the staple
for conversation in Tucson, both in the home and
on the street.    In it women appear to be as deeply 54
interested as men, and numbers of them spend
weeks of time every year superintending the development of mines; while others, at great sacrifice of
domestic enjoyment, leave their homes and reside
in the rude camps months in succession, in order
that the members of their families engaged in
"working claims" may have the restraints and attractions of home life thrown around them.
As I pen these lines there is loading up in the
sunny court of this rambling adobe house, a rough-
looking, muddy-wheeled vehicle, in which a young
man and his mother, a most interesting woman, are
about to set out for a mine they own, something
like a hundred miles from Tucson. Upon this
mine, within a limited time, according to law, must
be performed a specified amount of work, else the
claim will be forfeited. The mother and son are
to set forth this morning to meet this requirement.
They came into the city three days ago, from mining property belonging to the family in another
direction. On that claim the husband, mother, and
son are making a home, until, as the woman re-
marked to me, "a wasted fortune could be repaired."
Within seventy-five miles of her temporary mining
home, not another woman resides!
Such are some of the sacrifices imposed by the
struggle for gold and silver in these mountains.
Sooner or later the precious ores cost the possessor
all they are worth.    Usually the road is long before THE MINING INDUSTRY. 55
a claim becomes remunerative, even-if it prove a
remarkably rich one. Great patience, perseverance,
and courage, as well as a practical knowledge of
mining, and a large outlay of money, are the preface
to success. And often, after the lavish expenditure
of all these, success hides out of sight.
It has been estimated that from twenty-five to
forty per cent of the attempts to extract fortunes
from the heart of these mountains end in ruin.
The outlay is continual. The income may never
come. Far surer of coaxing gold out of the valleys
is the man who plants potatoes and corn therein.
Still, Arizona is one of the richest mineral lands of
the world. Leaving gold and silver out of the
question, it is affirmed that the Territory's annual
yield of copper alone will in a few years reach the
vast sum of twenty-five million dollars. Statistics
showing the enormous output of some of the Arizona
copper mines might here be given, were it my purpose to cumber this little book with details of that-
character. I may add here, however, that in the.
opinion of a thoughtful observer of the- industry,
both here and in Colorado, " mining, properly conducted, is one of the most remunerative pursuits
which men follow, and is excelled in this respect
only by the liquor traffic." He might have continued: u There is this marked difference, though,
in the getting started. Frequently the miner invests
a fortune before he receives a farthing in return. 56
On the other hand, ten dollars will establish a
saloon. And not unlikely, the first day after the
screen is adjusted inside the front door, revenue
from the modest stock of mingled water, chemicals,
and alcohol begins to flow in freely."
f ! I IX.
THE city of Tucson stands in the center of a
wide sandy plain, a part of the great desert we
have traversed two days and two nights. It lies
on the Santa Cruz River, sixty miles north of the
frontier of Old Mexico, two hundred and twenty
miles west of Deming, two hundred and fifty miles
east of Yuma, reputed to be the "hottest place in
the world." Tucson is in size the chief town of
Arizona, and has a population of about fourteen
thousand. Prior to the American regime, it was a
Mexican military post of some consequence. It is
now a mining center of much influence, and is the
capital of Pima County, itself large enough to make
a good-sized state.
Tuscon, like St. Augustine, is an un-American,
and, on a small scale, extremely cosmopolitan city.
A resident of the place avers that on its streets
may be heard eighteen different languages. Americans, Mexicans, Germans, Russians, Italians, Aus-
trians, Frenchmen, Spaniards, Greeks, the Chinese,
Japanese, Portuguese, the African, Irishman, and
Sandwich Islander are all here, being drawn to the
spot by the irresistible mining influence.
m -I
In 1694 the Spaniards established a military
station here, for the defense of their Mission of San
Xavier. But its Indian occupation antedates that
day. So, under cloudless skies, and in sight of
haze-mantled mountains, the place has dreamed
away the years for centuries past. It contains a
few modern dwellings, but the majority are built of
adobe, in the style prevalent throughout this region
from an early day. Usually they stand flush upon
the sidewalk, are one story in height, have the
floors laid upon the ground, and, exteriorly, are but
straight white walls, pierced for doors and windows.
Two or three live newspapers find plenty to do
extolling the town, the climate, and the buried
wealth of the territory. There are several Protestant churches, with, of course, a Catholic house of
worship, and at least two good hotels, the one at
the railway station being owned by the Southern
Pacific Company.
At one side of this hotel is fenced in a pretty
green inclosure, set with trees, shrubs, and unique
cacti. On my homeward trip the train halted here
for dinner, the Pullman car stopping just in front
of this gem of green. Lazily leaning against the
fence, like so many towers of Pisa, were a dozen
bronzed Mexicans, who spent the twenty minutes of
our stay gazing dreatnily at the coaches. Alone
among them stood a tall, handsome young woman,
dressed in black, except that over her head was TUCSON.
thrown a white shawl of gauzy texture, which fell
in folds around her shoulders. With one elbow
resting on the fence, and her eyes fixed upon the
engine breathing heavily in front of the train, she
remained still as a statue until the sharp clang of
the bell, as we moved off, roused her from her
musings. That maiden was the Past of Arizona
personified. It needed the shrill bell and piercing
shriek of the locomotive to break up the chronic
reverie of the Territory.
Within a few miles of Tucson is to be seen the
ancient church' of San Xavier, in a state of partial
ruin. Considering the period in which it was
reared, and the almost insuperable difficulties overcome in conveying materials to the spot, the work
is a wonder. Reader, in making your visit to the
Pacific coast, visit the structure if you can. X.
CANDLE-LIGHTING, December 18th, found
us again aboard the cars, bound for Los Angeles. The train, heavily loaded with passengers
hastening to the sunny clime, was due on the coast
next day at sunset. All night we coursed over the
desert, a welcome rain laying the dust toward morning. Daybreak greeted us at Yuma, the half-way
Yuma may be imagined as a small town, lying
on the Colorado, just above the entrance of the
Gila. The place is scarcely more inviting than the
desert itself. As usual, the houses are made of
adobe chiefly. Mexicans are the more numerous
class of inhabitants; and the climate, extremely
mild in Winter, is insufferably hot in Summer. A
fort in the vicinity is garrisoned by a small detachment of United States troops; and decidedly startling, it is said, are the adjectives the soldiers sometimes employ to express the high temperature which
prevails in the place a good share of the time.
Yuma is the capital of a district of Arizona,
once   occupied   by  the   Indian   nation   so   called.
Over a century ago this tribe numbered above three
thousand persons, who styled themselves "Sons of
the River." History designates them as being at
that time a strong, sensible, and energetic race.
To-day the case may be differently stated. Only
a few years ago the Yumas counted but nine hundred and thirty souls, and every one of them was a
wreck physically.
There is still a day's ride before us, and all the
morning there is a genuine charm in the fantastic
vegetation of the desert, and the more so, as it is
refreshed by the falling rain. After some hours
we enter the San Gorgonio Pass, in the mountains
of that name, and when at the summit have attained the highest elevation between Deming and
Los Angeles. The next step is to strike out upon
the great mesa which skirts for a distance of eighty
miles, probably, the base of the rugged Sierra Madre
Mountains, in full view now on our right, until we
enter the city. Of this plain more will be said in
a subsequent chapter.
From this onward the stations become more
frequent. Flowers, carpets of thick, green grass,
and new varieties of ornamental trees, attract us at
all of them. San Bernardino, located a few miles
off the railway toward the north, is the first name
with which we are familiar. Carriages are in waiting to convey passengers thither, as the train draws
up at the little " outlet station " for the place. San
Bernardino is one of the many health resorts of
Southern California which are growing in reputa- 62
tion. Its warm springs and peculiar climate render it an especially propitious locality for the victims
of rheumatism.
We next hear of Riverside, distinctively a center for raisin culture. To this expanding industry
and to the place itself we shall devote a succeeding
chapter. As we approach Colton, a rapidly growing town, and now important as the point where
the I California Southern" intersects the Southern
Pacific Railway, Riverside lies nine miles to the
south-east of us.
At five o'clock in the afternoon our train landed
its freight of human beings, trunks, and carpet-bags
at the depot in Los Angeles. Here we were to
tarry but four days and then urge our way into the
Valley of the Ojai, lying ninety miles north of the
city, and reputed to be " the healthiest spot on the
globe." Rain having fallen most of the day, the
streets of Los Angeles were narrow seas of mud.
And although the sun beamed out brightly just
then the atmosphere was chilly. We shivered in
our warmest wraps. The question was: Are we
really in Southern California, the land of radiance
and even temperature, of which we have heard so
much ?   It was hardly just to let the first hour decide.
Driving immediately to the St. Charles Hotel,
to whose kindly and sympathetic manager we bore
letters of introduction, we were at once made comfortable with a warm room and an appetizing sup- FROM TUCSON TO LOS ANGELES.
per—I 'm too old-fashioned to call the six o'clock
evening meal, dinner. Probably I shall get used to
it, for that is the name it goes by, at all the first-
class hotels, in this nineteenth century. That "it
is not in man that walketh to direct his steps," soon
became sadly evident to us. The four days lengthened to eleven. For one of us they were days of
pain and suffering. For the other they were
crowded with anxiety and watching. When they
were passed, the sufferer had fallen asleep until the
end comes. A few days later he was laid away,
among strange dead, on a gentle hill-slope, facing
the sunset.    Then the survivor took up this pen. XL
She <&wy op Lcos ^ngeles.
THE city of Los Angeles, four years ago, well
known to but comparatively few persons living
east of the Mississippi, appeared to have just wakened
from its century-long slumber, and to have entered
upon a career of amazing prosperity. The Southern
Pacific Railroad had been completed between two
and three years previously, and now formed, with
the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe road, a highway of steel across the formidable Great American
Desert. By these instrumentalities a toilsome and
dangerous journey, requiring months for its- accomplishment, had been shortened to a pleasant and every
way comfortable, though somewhat monotonous,
ride of about three days. The effect was magical.
Thousands of people from all over the region east
of the Rocky Mountains began pouring into Southern California, the city of Los Angeles being the
center from which they radiated to everywhere,
ferreting out the lovely nooks for homes, and the
eligible situations for farms and towns. Thus was
the old Spanish city, together with the thousand
charming hills and vales surrounding it, aroused to
a new and marvelously vigorous life.
The unwholesome, one-story adobe houses, once
the only style seen in the city, and still numerous
in the portion termed " Sonora-town," or the Mexican quarter, were fast disappearing, and in their
stead were rising tasteful frame dwellings for residences, and durable brick structures for stores and
business houses.    The population of the place did
An Adobe Ruin.
not greatly exceed twenty thousand, and was a mixture of many nationalities. In the next three years
the number of its inhabitants nearly doubled, and
now, February, 1887, it claims forty thousand citizens, a note received from there to-day, certifying
to that effect.
Four causes, mainly, have promoted this astonishing growth. These are: First, the Southern
Pacific Railway, bringing hither not only all the
East, but Northern California as well; second, the 66
almost faultless climate of the region; third, the
astonishing fertility of the soil; and lastly, the
sleepless enterprise of its people. Among these,
English-speaking Americans predominate in numbers, wealth, and influence. Next in numbers come
the Spanish-speaking Americans, or native Califor-
nians, of whom there are in Los Angeles County
between ten and twelve thousand. Then follow
the representatives of a dozen different languages,
among them a scarcity of Frenchmen, but a multiplicity of Chinese and Germans. The Jews are a
numerous class, and are said to possess the preponderance of wealth.
The city lies on the west bank of the Los Angeles River, inland from the sea, eighteen miles, on
the west, and twenty-one miles on the south. "Built
chiefly in the valley of that stream, down which it
daily urges its way, to the westward and southward,
it yet steadily pushes its limits up the hills on the
north-west, to-day taking possession of one commanding height, and to-morrow of another. Indeed, the time hastens when all that fine series of
elevations lying between the town and the San
Fernando Mountains will be crowned with handsome homes, and be laid out in lawns and gardens,
where the visitor may delight himself amid an exuberance of trees, flowers, and climbing vines.
Many intelligent persons who have never visited
this section of the coast, think of Los Angeles as lo- THE CITY OF LOS ANGELES. 67
cated immediately upon the ocean shore, just as they
suppose Portland, Oregon, to be situated upon the
brink of the Columbia River, and should they suddenly be set down in the brisk city, would at once
look around for a sight of the big blue sea, or
would listen for the roar of its tumbling waves.
Nor is this lack of correct geographical knowledge
at all surprising. One can not know every thing,
and necessarily the maps do not represent the facts
accurately. It requires no small fraction of one's
time to acquaint himself with the details of matters
right at one's door. To grasp all that are embraced
within the horizon would demand several | threescore years and ten."
Los Angeles has two outlets to the sea, as follows: Santa Monica, a pretty village lying on the
coast, eighteen miles west of the city, was formerly
the chief port of landing, but being somewhat
ineligible, and San Pedro, on the shore, twenty-one
miles south of the city, having been declared by the
Government the port of entry for Southern California, the piers were removed from Santa Monica,
and the place became simply a sea-side resort and
temporary home for such invalids as are benefited
by close contact with the ocean. Thus exit from,
or entrance to, the metropolis by sea is confined to
San Pedro, which, though but an insignificant place,
is the entrepdt and outpdt for a large district of
Southern California.    The point has something of a '-: 1 :l
history, and a short chapter will be devoted to its
attractions further on.
If you are not making an ocean trip, but desire
simply to breathe the fresh sea air and rest awhile,
you may run away either to Santa Monica or to
Long Beach. The latter resort lies on the eastern
shore of San Pedro Bay. To both points there is
railroad communication from the city, and at neither
is Old Ocean chary of his tonics. At Santa Monica
you have the foaming, roaring surf, breaking in loud
thunder on the coast. At Long Beach you may
enjoy a carriage ride of several miles on the smooth,
hard-packed sand, in addition to the bathing; and
should you choose the proper week of the season
for your visit, you may have a taste of the literary
fare proffered by the " Chautauqua Society of Southern California," which there holds its annual sessions. Excellent accommodations are afforded, if
you have forgotten your tent, at both resorts.
Long Beach boasts one of the finest hotels in the
Not to violate the custom of historians, I suppose I should inform the reader when, and by whom,
Los Angeles was founded. Very briefly then: On
the 4th of September, 1781, a company of Spanish
people—twelve of them men grown—to whom had
been granted, at this point on the Los Angeles
River, a tract of land six miles square, came upon
the  ground  and  laid out this city, giving it the THE CITY OF LOS ANGELES.
name it bears, and allotting to it the total tract
of land. All the original streets traversed this
square diagonally. And the stranger must be quick-
minded who can to-day determine in which direction he is going without stopping to think. A
plaza was laid off and improved, which is even now
a central pleasure-ground of the city. Fronting it
on the west was erected the parish church. This
is still standing, an antique and venerable structure.
If I mistake not, one or two more of the first buildings erected by the colony are in existence, but one
by one all that class of houses must succumb to the
spirit of improvement so rife here.
Nearly due southward through this territory,
and east of its middle line, flows the Los Angeles
River. Some miles south of the city limits it joins
the San Gabriel River, and with it travels to the
sea at San Pedro, making a journey of about thirty
miles from its source in the Sierra Madre Mountains.
The Los Angeles is one of those streams whose
bed, at some points, is above the water. In other
words, it flows underground, or is lost in the sand.
During the rainy season it enlarges to a broad
river, with a powerful current and a dangerous
shifting bottom. Widely overflowing its banks, it
sweeps away real estate and personal property in
most merciless fashion. Scarcely a season passes in
which adventurous men do not lose their lives in
attempting to cross it with teams when at its flood. 70
Both driver and horses soon disappear beneath its
restless quicksands. But let the early Autumn
come! Then the once raging torrent purls along, a
narrow, shallow, garrulous brook, which bare-footed
children may easily ford.
The rain-fall in Southern California during the
Winter of 1884 had not been equaled in twenty-
six years. The Los Angeles then rose to a great
height. Numberless small tenements, improvidently
built too near its brink, were' swept from their
anchorage and borne away toward the sea, or were
ruthlessly wrecked on the spot. From the window
of my secure hill-top home I could look down upon
the stream and witness its ravages. Several lives
were that winter a prey to its waters.
At a point near the city a certain portion of the
water of the Los Angeles River is taken up and
conveyed hither and thither through seventy-five
miles or more of canals, thus forming the Los Angeles Irrigation System. In addition to this, several
private water companies supply the fluid,from other
sources, to extensive districts, for house, lawn, and
garden purposes. The value of effective systems of
irrigation to horticulture and vegetable farming in
Southern California exceeds all estimate. So rare
is frost that a harvest of almost every product
which grows here, is nearly an absolute certainty
with a moderate supply of water.
The  canals  are   called   zangas.    The  superin- THE CITY OF LOS ANGELES. 71.
tendent of the system is styled the zangero. Necessarily he must be a man promptly attentive to
business. When the day arrives for a certain orange
orchard or vineyard to be flooded, the zangero must
have the refreshing liquid ready to laugh and rip-
- pie around the roots of the thirsty trees, the moment the gate is opened which admits it to the
premises. He must also remember who wants it at
night, and see that such parties get it, and in sufficient quantity; nor must he fail to withdraw . it
from them in the morning.
The soft murmuring of the water as it glides
through the zangas in some of the beautiful suburbs
of the city is sweet music to the ear, a happy voice
sending out joy and gladness. Wherever it is heard
are sure to be seen verdure, flowers, and fruit.
One of the comforts a stranger appreciates in
Los Angeles is its well-lighted streets. The place
can certainly make good its claim to being the best
lighted city on the continent. From the central
streets to the most outlying alleys the darkness is
so far dispelled as to enable the citizens to go about
with ease. Electricity is the agent by which the
result is accomplished. Mainly the light radiates
from a system of tall masts, so located as to in each
case illuminate the largest possible area.
In most cities lighted by electricity only the central
and wealthier portions enjoy the luxury, the remoter
precincts taking the cheaper illuminators.    Usually 72
too, in such cities, the high price of property at the
heart of things, drives the poor man out into the
darkness for a home. In Los Angeles the light
has gone out to this class, and may be termed "the
poor man's light." Thus, also, are the owners of
humble homes, as well as the proprietors of the
more elegant ones, reaping the benefit of the augmented value of real estate which the system of
lighting helps to create.
A peculiarity of the system is the round, flat
"hood," or reflector, which crowns every mast.
This both throws the light upon the ground, and prevents its wasteful radiation through the atmosphere.
The area illuminated by this plan is, it is asserted,
twenty times greater than the space formerly lighted
by gas in the city, while the cost of the arrangement
is only about twice that of the latter. Per consequence, the citizens are constantly and generously
providing for an extension of the facility. This is
soundly politic; a casting of bread upon the waters,
which will return a myriad of loaves in less than
many days.
Three notable ranges of mountains begirt the
city of Los Angeles, while farther away, in full view,
lie several shorter chains. Within some ten miles
of the place, at their nearest point, and stretching
off eastward to the San Gorgonio Pass, rise the
white summits of the Sierra Madre, bold, rugged THE CITY OF LOS ANGELES. 73
elevations, wonderfully suggestive of stability and
strength. So near do they appear to-day, in this
strangely clear atmosphere, that from my window,
when the western sun lights them up, I can plainly
see into their riven sides. They are the first object
my eye rests upon in the morning, and the last one
to be shut out at night. An indescribable solace
have they often proved to me, a stranger in this
beautiful but melancholy land.
One distinguished summit of the range is Mount
San Bernardino, near the village of that name, and
sixty-three miles from Los Angeles. It towers eight
thousand five hundred feet above sea-level, and in
all dry, clear weather is visible from here. Another
lordly projection is Mount Baldy, immediately north
of Ontario, and easily accessible from that prosperous colony. Though forty miles from the city,, the
monarch looks down upon the driving Los Angelans
with the air of a watchful deity. North of the city
looms up the San Fernando range, shutting out the
fertile valley and the once wealthy mission named
in honor of that saint. West of us the Santa
Monica Mountains sweep proudly down to the verge
of the Pacific. XII.
Invalids in Souehei^n (©alipoi^nia.
SUNLIGHT is the life of Southern California at
any time, but especially in Winter. With
so many snow-capped mountains for near neighbors, and a great sea close at hand to send in, every
now and then, vast acres of fog, so dense with
moisture as to soon set roofs, door-caps, and window-ledges' to dripping musically, Los Angeles
would prove but a sorry place for invalids, were it
not for an abundance of sunlight, and that of a remarkable quality.
Immediately upon the completion of the Southern Pacific Railway multitudes of ill people flocked
to this part of the coast. The accommodations possible for the limited population to offer them, were
soon more than exhausted, and not a few sick persons sought ineffectually for entertainment. In the
short time which has since elapsed there have been
made large additions in the way of hotels and
boarding-houses; still each winter the number of
invalids has exceeded the added provision for their
At the present time the city is crowded to its
utmost capacity, and hundreds both of invalids and
tourists are quartered in the towns adjacent, making
the best of the situation. No doubt many of the
former class left comfortable homes in the North
and East, with mistaken notions of both the climate
and the conveniences of life here. Few realized
that, notwithstanding Southern California was more
than a century ago in the hands of the Spaniards, it is a comparatively new land, and among
improvements to come, are facilities for the proper
care of a large force of diseased and disabled men
and women. Particularly true is this of all the
new and smaller villages. Nowhere are there ample
hospital accommodations. Hotel room is inadequate. Indeed, many things are but at the starting
point. It deserves to be said, however, that the
readiness of the citizens to serve, and even faithfully
nurse, invalid strangers, is something remarkable,
and often far exceeds just demands. A more hospitable, large-hearted, and sympathetic people does
not exist than are the American residents of Southern California. To this fact the writer can bear
grateful testimony.
Recently an officer of the Young Men's Christian Association, who, more than any one else, perhaps, is aware of the disappointments encountered
by many who come to the coast for health, said to
the writer:
"Emphasis should undoubtedly be laid by parties writing back to the States, upon the fact that
within a very short time Los Angeles has leaped 76
from a quiescent old Spanish town into a rapidly
growing American city, but that as yet its limits
and provisions are insufficient for the complete accommodation of the thousands of tourists and invalids who converge here from all parts of the
continent. The city is simply taxed beyond its
capacity, and in spite of the excellent intentions of
the citizens, some sick strangers fare hardly.
"And another thing: Frequently women have
accompanied husbands to this coast who were just on
the verge of death, and have suddenly been left here
without means for returning to their families. For
such the city has no proper refuge until they can
either find employment or receive help from their
friends. In several instances the philanthropic
citizens have promptly contributed means for returning them to their relatives."
These statements were made in 1884. Since
then the deficiencies have to a considerable extent
been met. Large hotels and boarding-houses have
multiplied all over the region. Nevertheless, in the
Winter of 1886, so vast was the influx of visitors
from every quarter that shelter could barely be found
for them all. In the city of Los Angeles, at present, as will appear toward the close of this work,
are in progress active measures for erecting a spacious home for such women as may at any time be
left here in the pitiable plight above mentioned.
And a year hence, probably, abundant hospital at- INVALIDS IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA.       77
tentions can be guaranteed all those who will require
such ministries.
Consumptives and sufferers from rheumatism
usually picture to themselves an entire winter here
out of doors, in the enjoyment of genial sunshine,
and free from annoyance by cruel frost or piercing
wind. But the Winters are not uniform. During
that of 1884, for instance, those invalids who survived the change of climate, which is very great
and puts to an immense strain most persons far
advanced in disease, found themselves confined to
their rooms nearly one-half the time, and every
day in need of fire, especially if they were located
on the sunless side of their residences. Added to
this, some missed the gentle ministries which so
much conduced to their pleasure at home. Others
failed, it may be, to obtain the dishes which
tempted appetite and kept up strength. Under such
circumstances, those unattended by friends felt particularly desolate. Their maladies rather increased
than relaxed, perhaps. Happily those who had the
means could return to their homes, if sufficient
vitality remained to endure the long journey. But
what could those do who possessed but slender
purses, or had no helpful friends? They could do
but one thing: abide where they-were until they
entered upon their final rest. That has been the
sad fate of many. Then a few Christian men and
women, or a half-dozen members of some benevolent 78
order to which they have belonged, will sorrowfully
consign them to the arms of Mother Earth.
These are strong and not very cheerful statements. Yet are they true, and scarcely less so to-day
than they were three years ago. One needs but to
note the number of funerals held at the undertaking
establishments, or to observe the array of newly
made graves in the cemeteries, to be convinced on
this point. Most of the graves in which sleep the
once lonely and needy, will be found marked with
but a narrow board, and upon it inscribed the
occupants' name, age, and the date of his death.
A resident of the citv has several times remarked
to me: " Should we attend the funerals of all the
invalid strangers who die here we should do little
else." Some two weeks ago a member of one of
the well-known transcontinental excursion firms
stated that of five young men, victims of consumption, who came to the coast with his last company,
three passed away within a week after their arrival.
Not far from our door there entered into rest the
other day a noble young woman, a teacher in the
schools of Canada. She had not a relative this side
the Dominion. Hope of regaining health induced
her to undertake the long, wearying journey alone.
The draught upon her strength was too great. Typhoid fever came in and ended the scene. Leaving
means too scanty to convey her remains to her
home, h umane hands consigned them to the grave here. INVALIDS IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA.      79
What, then, shall the great army of sufferers in
our colder latitudes do? Not come to California?
Very decidedly, no; not after death is at the door.
But come when your disease begins to develop.
Make the sacrifice of leaving friends and business
earlier. Study the climate of different localities on
or near the coast. Or, what is better, have your
physician do it for you, and before you leave home.
By all means, get into the right place for your malady. Remember that sunlight in Southern California is as necessary to the life of sick persons as it
is to the life of vegetation. Hence secure rooms, if
possible, which the sunlight enters at least a part of
the day; if all day, the better for you. Understand,
however, that not even this potent agency can restore to health persons just ready to die upon their
arrival here.
Conversing with a leading physician of the city
on this subject to-day, he expressed substantially the
following opinions, which, though a partial repetition of what has already been said, I think best to
insert here:
In cases of consumption, where the disease is
not so far developed as to make recovery impossi-.
ble anywhere, it is a good thing to come to Southern California, for three reasons. First—A change
of climate and locality is secured. Other things
being equal, this is an advantage. Second—There
being, usually, little rain-fall, and no frost to be 80
considered, especially on the hills, opportunity is
offered to live much out of doors; and life in the
air and sunlight is the consumptive's prime requirement. Third—Once here, choice can easily be
made between the moist, salt air of the sea, the dry,
bracing atmosphere of the foot-hills, the vigorous
breath of the open canons, and the genial air of
the broad, sunny plains or verdant valleys. It has
been learned that the climate of no single situation
affects all consumptives alike. One will improve
on the border of the sea, its stiff breeze and chilling fog helping. From these the next patient must
run for his life. Another will take in mouthfuls
of health with every breath on a hill-top. The
reasons for this are very apparent. In the various
patients the disease is at all stages of progress.
Then each sufferer's ailment is due to a different
cause. All these are matters which should be intelligently studied.
A prudent course, perhaps, is to make Los Angeles your initial point. From there removal to
other localities can be effected at small cost of time,
money, and strength. The city lies with an hour's
ride of the two sea-side resorts already named. And
decking, like lovely gems, the great plain which
skirts the base of the Sierra Madre Mountains, from
the charming village of Pasadena, eastward seventy
miles or more, are the pretty towns of Garvanza,
Monrovia, San Gabriel, Pomona, Ontario, Etiwanda, INVALIDS IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA.      81
and San Bernardino, all offering special inducements
in the way of scenery, situation, climate, good water,
or healing springs. All lie near or upon the Southern Pacific Railway, and afford one or more well-
kept hotels, while many of the private families open
their homes to strangers in cases of exigency. San
Bernardino treats rheumatic people to mud baths.
Ontario tents asthmatic "visitors in the mouth of her
San Antonio canon. Consumptives may distribute
themselves all over the prairie, as suits their case.
Santa Ana, farther south on the plain, is said to be
an excellent point for them. In some of these
places there is not so remai'kable a difference between the air of the day and the night, as at Los
San Diego, on the coast, one hundred and thirty
miles south of Los Angeles, and connected therewith
by rail and by steamer, undoubtedly offers better
conditions for the cure of consumption and throat
disorders than does this city. But once more patients
diagree. A clergyman from the vicinity of Boston,
who had for several months tested the climate of San
Diego for a severe throat affection, said he " could
breathe most freely where fogs are frequent." Oh the
contrary, a friend in this city, similarly afflicted, finds
respiration most difficult in a moist atmosphere, and
therefore chose as her place of residence a delightful hill-top above the altitude of ordinary fogs. J 311
eOHAtf Shall we Q5eaf^?
THE question of clothing on the Pacific Coast is
an important one. Ordinarily the same apparel may bo worn the year round, and should be
composed of such garments as form the indoor
Winter raiment throughout the East. Neither old
nor young, sick nor well, should stray hither un-
supplied with both light and heavy wraps. Of
nights and mornings they are indispensable to comfort, especially on days when the sun refuses to
shine. Happily such days are few. As has been
said, from the sun, in large part, come the cheer,
the enjoyment, the recuperation, and strength so
ardently anticipated by the thousands who seek the
coast in Winter. From the first of October until the
middle of June, warm shawls, Newmarkets, fur-lined
cloaks, and heavy overcoats are in brisk demand,
except, perhaps, at midday, and are often welcome
at evening throughout the Summer. Light clothing, made of linen, cambrics, and similar fabrics, is
never needed except on a few days in Midsummer,
and even then can easily be dispensed with.
Last October there came to Los Angeles a lady
from—somewhere in the East—bringing an ample
Summer wardrobe, and leaving at home most of her
Winter attire. She expected to find the temperature ranging in the neighborhood of ninety or one
hundred degrees. Late in April that portion of
her outfit remained snugly packed in her trunks.
As she went up the coast early in May, passed the
Summer in San Francisco, where such apparel seldom gets an airing, made an Autumn visit in Oregon, and returned to her home in December, her
thin dresses had a long, restful trip.
A bright woman at my side says:
"When I left Michigan, a few years ago, a
doleful asthmatic, with scarcely a hope of relief,
even in Southern California, my friends laughed at
the idea of my bringing flannels. 'What possible
need of such garments,' they asked, 'in a land of
perpetual bloom?' So I left my warm underwear
to freeze in the Wolverine State, while I did the
same thing in Los Angeles."
There is another point: Many invalids delay
their journey to the Pacific Coast until too late in
the season, numbers coming towards the middle
of Winter. The danger of taking cold is then
much increased, since heavy rains are imminent.
Pneumonia comes with them, and is on the alert
for strangers with weak lungs, often quickly changing the scene for the sufferers, by shutting out this
world.    It is stated that about ninety of every one 84
hundred persons contract a severe cold immediately
upon reaching the coast. This is a sort of toll the
climate exacts for the delights it means to confer
afterwards. A little caution exercised for some
days might cheat it out of that revenue. Dress
warmly; avoid draughts of air; carry a wrap on
your arm, if you go out at midday to remain after
four o'clock.
Upon arriving in Los Angeles health-seekers
should avoid, particularly in Winter, apartments on
the first floors of brick, adobe, and even frame
dwellings, if the floors are laid near the ground.
An adobe house is seldom more than one story
in height. The floors are rarely raised above the
soil; hence the rains render them damp and unwholesome. Moreover,, the initiated claim that the
older adobe residences are little better than hotbeds for engendering malaria. Malignant fevers
lurk among their sand and gravel. In all such
quarters fire is the more indispensable, and in
Southern California the word fire means something.
A large portion of the coal used comes from Australia, and each ton costs a small fortune. The
crooked roots of the "grease-bush," together with
the trimmings from the eucalyptus, pepper, and
other trees, constitute the staple for wood. Coal-oil
is meeting with some favor here as a fuel, but the
heat from it is not the most agreeable in living
rooms for the seriously ill. XIV.
U   Foi^me^ J?ome  op  General  and
CQr^s. I^ANGOG^.
A CURIOSITY which finds satisfaction in visiting localities where flagrant crimes have been
committed, is a quality utterly lacking in the writer.
I would not walk one rod to see where a notorious
criminal had lived or died. Nor would I write
one line to spread the fame or perpetuate the name
of such a being. But I freely confess that I find
pleasure in looking upon the dwelling-place, in
contemplating the work, in standing beside the grave
of man or woman who has spent this life in welldoing. In such places, in such work, there is inspiration. Something about them always suggests
the character of the persons, their loveliness, genuineness, taste, and power, and strengthens you.
These notions found a practical application this
morning in a visit paid to the former home of General—then Captain—and Mrs. W. S. Hancock, who
for several years before the Rebellion were residents
of Los Angeles. Descending the long, zigzag, public staircase which leads from upper to lower Third
Street, and thence passing on down to Main Street,
and crossing that diagonally, turning a little to the
8 85 86
right, I stood in front of a square brick cottage,
one story in height, and painted red. A wide veranda, ample for a half dozen persons to sit and
chat at eventide, shaded its two front doors. This
spot afforded a view of the magnificent sunsets, and
from all I have learned was the favorite resort of
the few American residents of Los Angeles in that
early day.
The house was built for Captain Hancock about
the year 1859, by the present mayor of the city,
Mr. E. C. Thom, himself a devoted personal friend
of the Hancocks. The dwelling is a duplicate of
the one in which Mr. Thom then resided, and which
now stands on the adjoining lot, to the left of the
cottage, the mayor's present stately home being on
the right of it, with a narrow street intervening.
In the yard surrounding the cottage, their trunks
half buried in a mound of loose earth, stand several
orange-trees, now destitute of fruit. Originally this
yard, set with flowers, vines, fruit and ornamental
trees, formed a scene of beauty which both families
enjoyed. Mrs. Hancock is said to have been passionately fond of flowers.
Hearing the sounds of workmen inside, and both
front doors standing wide open, I walked in, and
in one of the back rooms found a young man, who,
upon learning my errand, very courteously acted
the part of host to the empty house and furnished
me  the information I sought.   The plan of the A FORMER HOME OF GEN. HANCOCK.     87
dwelling is very peculiar, and suggests that it was
devised for both the pleasure and the convenient
entertainment of guests, and back of that, that the
builder himself was a man hospitably inclined. The
main part is done off into four square rooms, each
opening into two others, around a square post in the
center. Both front rooms have a street entrance,
three large windows,-a fire-place—not grate—with
marble mantel, and two doors opening into the
succeeding apartment. These rear rooms once
opened into additions, ells, or wings, .which served
the purpose of kitchen, laundry, and servants'
quarters", and partly inclosed the presidio between
them. These wings are now removed, and in the
thick walls of the main building appear large apertures, in which are inserted heavy screws, ready for
transferring -the whole structure to the rear of the
lot, where it will serve as shops, the ground it now
occupies being required for a new street opening
between it and the residence of the mayor. Thus
will be banished to partial obscurity and to business
purposes a tenement which was once the happy
home of Almira Russell Hancock, then, as now, one
of the noblest and most beautiful of American
In the society of this frontier post Mrs. Hancock seems to have shone conspicuously, not for her
personal beauty only, but for her rare charms of
mind, grace of manners,, and kindness of heart.   The 88
sweetness of her disposition forms a subject of remark among old acquaintances here to-day. Men
and women alike, who knew her well in the various
relations of life, speak of her with admiration, uttering never a word of criticism. A gentlemen
prominent here in that day, said, speaking of her
this morning:
"I have never known a woman like her. She
was obliging to an extreme. Accomplished in
music, and though herself ap Episcopalian, she long
played the organ in our mingled Protestant services,
with as much zeal and interest as though she were
a member of all the churches represented."
Another, for thirty year's a personal friend and
correspondent of General Hancock, said, with the
feeling a brother might manifest:
"I hesitate to speak of her as she deserves, for
I know her dislike of publicity, her aversion to
display. But it is true that she seemed to possess
every trait that can adorn the character of woman.
During her life in Los Angeles, she was, to a remarkable degree, cheerful, hopeful, thoughtful of
the poor, pitiful towards the sorrowing, and always
ready to do any thing that would conduce to the
general welfare of the community. She was a wise
mother, and reared her two children, Ada and Russell Hancock, with the future of their lives always
in view. She shone in society, but more brightly
at home.    Added to all this, she was beautiful to A FORMER HOME OF cfEN. HANCOCK.       89
look at, and had the most expressive eyes I ever
"The years which have intervened," he continued, "between their departure from this city, in
1861, I think, when the general was ordered to the
east, at the outbreak of the Rebellion, and their
recent visit here, while they have greatly elevated
her in social position, appear only to have mellowed
the qualities we admired, not destroyed them."
" There were so few of us, American residents,
in Los Angeles then," said another, who, possessing,
like Mrs. Hancock, an obliging and helpful spirit,
had acted as chorister at the much prized Protestant services, " that we used to count heads every
Sunday.   Often there were only thirty of us all told."
"The daughter was a lovely girl," said the first
speaker. "Though she was young when they left
here, she was very attractive. Her death occurred
in New York, some eight or nine years since, I can
not tell just how long. She was eighteen years of
age, had just graduated from some school in that
vicinity, and was- considered much accomplished.
To her parents it was a terrible bereavement.
"Russell, the son is now a successful planter at
Clarksdale, Mississippi. He must be about thirty
years of age. He is a mechanical genius, and constructs almost every kind of machinery which the
exigencies of his business require. Neither of the
children were born in Los Angeles.    Captain Han- 90
cock was transferred to this post, then the principal
military station of Southern California, from Fort
Tejon, in Kern County."
The "recent visit" of General and Mrs. Hancock to Los Angeles, mentioned by this friend,
occurred the first week of January, 1884, and was
a time for general rejoicing on the part of those
who had known and loved them far back in the
fifties. A royal welcome was given them. There
was an enthusiastic procession of the citizens in
their honor on New Year's Day, and, if I mistake
not, a banquet was tendered them in the evening.
When it was known that Los Angeles would be
included in General Hancock's western trip, the
mayor of the city requested the work of demolishing their cottage to cease until after their departure,
in order that Mrs. Hancock might see her early
home as nearly in the state she left it as possible.
After seeing it the excellent woman remarked that
she had " spent the happiest hours of her life in that
little brick cottage."
Mrs. Anna Ozier, the widow-of Judge Isaac S.
R. Ozier, who was judge of the Federal Court for
Southern California in 1854, was one of the first
five American women who settled in Los Angeles
after the accession of California, and was an intimate friend of Mrs. Hancock. She still resides in
this city, and entertained her old friends when they
were here.    In a talk with her, after I had visited A FORMER HOME-OF GEN. HANCOCK.        91
the dismantled cottage, she cited this reminiscence
of them, among many others.    I give her words:
"One day during a season of heavy rainfall,
like that we have had this Winter, the entire north
wall of the captain's house fell out, flat upon the
ground. The soil of Los Angeles has a migratory
disposition, and a few days' heavy rain are enough
to start it traveling in all directions. Besides, the
brick we got here, in those days, were very porous,
and they, too, filling with water, were disposed to
change quarters.
"It was no trifling occurrence, but the captain
and Mrs. Hancock took the trouble with the greatest good nature. Happening to be coming up the
street that evening about tea-time, I saw the family
sitting at table as happy as if nothing were the
"Did I know them intimately? Mercy, yes!
They lived near us three years, and there was hardly
a,n evening when we were not together. Mrs. Hancock had the pleasantest disposition of any woman
I ever knew, and a brother could not have been
kinder to me, through all these years, than has been
General Hancock."
" If republics are ungrateful, you are not, I see."
I No; and I shall never forgive this nation for
not making General Hancock President." 1
(California's Greajii Historian.
SOMETIME in the latter part of March, 1884,
I received from the wife of Mr. Hubert H.
Bancroft, author of the "History of the Pacific
Coast States," a note stating that her husband, herself, and family would visit Los Angeles at an early
date in April, and while there would § be glad to
see me." The lady and her children had wintered,
I believe, in the Ojai Valley, and now, with the advent of Spring, were exchanging that " most healthful of all valleys on the globe" for the sea breeze
at San Diego, two hundred and twenty miles farther
south. I had sought from Mrs. Bancroft, as she
was within quick reach, certain information pertaining to her husband's great work; hence her
kindly reply.
Accordingly, next day after their arrival I
called at the Kimball Mansion, situated on New
High Street, where I found them comfortably quartered, with their family of four children, all under
eight years of age. During the informal interview
I had opportunity to note how delightful is the
home atmosphere which surrounds Mr. Bancroft,
and also to learn many interesting facts connected
with his early life, and with the founding of his
unique historical library in San Francisco. Most
persons take pleasure in reading sketches of the life
and labors of such men as Mr. Bancroft. I therefore present a hastily drawn picture of the great
historian and his family before speaking of his unexampled literary undertaking.
Mrs. Bancroft is an attractive and cultured
woman, whose married life covers nine years.
She is very youthful in appearance, has a slight
figure, blue eyes, light hair, and a fair complexion.
Her manner is extremely cordial, making one forget that she was the acquaintance of but an hour,
instead of a life-time. She is pleased with her
husband's growing reputation as an author, has a
keen appreciation of the importance of his work,
and so far as she has the power, compels affairs to
bend to its accomplishment.
The two eldest children are magnificent specimens of boyhood; strong, athletic little fellows,
with massive heads on their shoulders, and within
their breasts a mighty purpose to get out of every
hour of time the utmost of boy enjoyment. And
if I judged correctly, their parents mean this purpose
shall be accomplished, but within limits which shall
not infringe upon the rights of others, nor destroy
the capacity of their children to enjoy the higher
pleasures of life by and by.    From  some  things 94
i I
which Mr. Bancroft has written, I conclude that a
favorite opinion of his, is, that in the not very distant future the—let us say American—race will
have made so great advancement in what is termed
1 sublime culture," as to materially lessen the moral
distance between God and this nation. And, very possibly, the man's hope is,that his sons may live and be
fitted to take part in the affairs of that auspicious
time. Just where fifty years more of material and
national development, like that of the past half century—were our rapid progress in countless enormous
iniquities to suddenly cease—would bring us, even
the seer endowed with keenest vision could hardly
foretell. Should it be at dawn of an era so blessed,
any expectations of that nature which the distinguished historian may entertain, might possibly be
realized. For, judging from his mode of managing
his lively sons, he is just the man to train them
for a life under such conditions, and thus do his
part towards ushering in the glorious day he paints.
In the fair daughter, younger than her brothers,
scarcely less interest centers. I saw her but a few
moments, but they were enough to convince me
that, while her brothers are small bundles of condensed action, she is a little package of tranquillity,
just the article needed in the other end of the balance. The fourth child is a son, about three years
old at the present date.
Hubert Howe Bancroft is a native of Ohio, and CALIFORNIA'S GREAT HISTORIAN. 95
adds another name to her list of eminent men.
Next to California, that State should feel honored
in him, and take interest in his great work. He
was born in Granville, May 5, 1832, and is now
fifty-five years of age. Mr. Bancroft is a person of
medium height, rather heavy set, broad chested,
with square shoulders, which incline forward
slightly, the result, no doubt, of years of work
with the pen. He has a large head, thick, iron-
gray hair, dark eyes, and a Southern complexion.
His manner is frank and kindly. He impresses a
stranger as a man of honest purpose, and* great
decision of character. The sum of his school education was obtained in the district schools of Ohio
before he was sixteen years of age.
At that period Mr. Bancroft left home, going to
Buffalo, where he was employed in a book-store
owned by his brother-in-law, Mr. George H. Derby,
Here, for some reason, he failed of the advantage
he anticipated, and closed his engagement at the
end of a year.- A portion of his journey to Buffalo
was made on the Ohio Canal. Being rich, not in
this world's goods, but in having an uncle who was
the captain of a boat on that ancient water-way, he
proposed to ride one of the horses attached thereto!
to the city of Cleveland, in payment for his fare.
His uncle accepted the offer, and the future historian rode into the beautiful Forest City in the capacity of a canal-boy.   Mr. Bancroft mentioned this I
circumstance as an amusing experience of his youth,
rather than otherwise. I wondered at the moment
if, in relating it, he thought at all of the second
martyr President, the beginning of whose path to
eminence also ran along the brink of that canal.
Leaving Buffalo Mr. Bancroft laid his course
for the Pacific Coast, via Cape Horn, being intrusted
by Mr. Derby with an invoice of books and stationery with which to open the book-trade in the
city of San Francisco. Mouths were consumed in
making the passage, and before he reached the
Golden Gate Mr. Derby had died; and upon his
landing an order met him to re-ship the goods to
Buffalo. He, however, made a fortunate sale of
them instead, and remitted the proceeds to Mrs.
Derby, thereby much improving her financial condition.
As early as 1856 Mr. Bancroft had not only become known on the coast for his habits of industry
and economy, but had accumulated means to found
a book-store of his own in San Francisco. Twenty-
five years later the establishment was one of the
first of its kind in the world. About this time his
grand history project began to take serious shape
in his mind. Repeatedly during his residence on
the coast, had his attention been drawn to the fact
that important material for a true history of California was daily losing beyond recovery. He resolved to take steps to preserve it.    Immediately he CALIFORNIA'S GREAT HISTORIAN. 97
began to collect books, pamphlets, letters, and documents, pertaining thereto. By degrees the field of
these labors widened, until it embraced the entire
western half of the continent, from the Rocky
Mountains to the great ocean; from Alaska to Panama, including Central America and Mexico.
In pursuance of his purpose now, he not only
-visited the eastern part of the Continent, but made
several journeys to Europe, each trip adding priceless material to his collection. During 1868, with
twelve thousand volumes of these treasures on hand,
gathered at an immense cost, he conceived the idea
of giving them to the world in the form of one
continuous, carefully written history. But the question was: Could he accomplish such a feat? The
task involved an unflinching purpose, years of unremitting toil, the outlay of a fortune, and the possession of fine literary ability. Did he possess that?
was another question. Undismayed by this dread
presentation of the case, he determined to undertake the prodigious work.
Accordingly, releasing himself from the burden
of business in his book-store, he installed his
brother, Mr. A. L. Bancroft, manager-in chief of
the establishment; and, engaging a score of assistants, began arranging his material in the fourth
story of their building. His first step was to carefully index the vast collection, just as an author
would index the subjects in his book.  Thus his task 98
J Hi
was at once greatly facilitated. This work occupied
an average of six persons ten years, and cost up1-
wards of eighty thousand dollars.
Meanwhile another set of scribes, taking these
indexes, abstracted from them the information desired in reference to any given part of the Territory. This was known as the "rough material."
Next, a third class of writers, better qualified, elaborated this matter into proper historical form, and
submitted the result to Mr. Bancroft, who carefully
revised the work, rewriting such portions as he
chose. Sometimes, however, beginning back with
the indexes, he himself wrote out important portions entirely.
During all this time the collection of books,
letters, newspapers, maps of the coast, and of the
country, and annals in manuscript, went on, until
over thirty thousand volumes were accumulated, the
whole constituting a library unapproachable as to
value in this country, particularly to writers on
special historical themes, and it related to an area
equal to one-twelfth of the earth's surface.
In addition to this, his deputies had long been
busy, all over this territory, taking notes from aged
pioneers, military men, statesmen, and surviving
members of old Spanish families, all of whom, with
the antecedent Indian tribes, had helped make its
history. The result of this movement was thousands of manuscripts filled with the deeds or remiT
niscences of as many living people, all of it abso-
sutely original, and nowhere else existing.
At the-same time another force was busy copying
papers in county, state, and national archives. Nor
was this all. Interested persons all over the land
contributed piles of original documents, swelling
the mass to vast proportions. Finally this material
was bound in many folio volumes, inestimable in
value as sources of reference.
Twenty-five years in all had now been devoted
to this wqrk of aggregation. But in an hour fire
might reduce the treasure to ashes. To save it
from such a fate, Mr. Bancroft determined to place
over it a shelter absolutely fire-proof. The time
had been brought down to 1881. Accordingly,
during that year he erected, far out on Valencia
Street in San Francisco, a large, two-story, fireproof repository, and therein, in orderly arrangement, set up his possessions. This building with
its contents forms the famous Bancroft Library,
report of which has gone so far abroad.
All this was the munificent preparation for what
the papers have termed Mr. Bancroft's "stupendous
undertaking," namely, the writing the " History of
the Pacific Coast States of North America." But
introductory to this, and according to a plan which,
shows Mr. Bancroft's correct judgment, as regards
the order in which the different epochs of American
history should be presented, was to be published, a 100
" History of the Native Races of the Pacific Coast
States," in five volumes. One of these was to deal
with the wild tribes of the entire region, and
another with the i Civilized Nations of Mexico and
Central America." These five volumes are already
issued. After them comes the history proper, covering the extent of country I have designated, and
embraced in thirty volumes.
Closely related to the history, but more effective,
published apart from it, come four volumes, entitled,
"first, " California Pastoral," being an account of
life and times under the early Catholic missionaries:
second, "California Inter Pocula," or life during
the gold mining period; and third, " Popular Tribunals," or the acts of California Vigilance Committees. Thus the complete great work includes
thirty-nine volumes, and is a vast repository, packed
'from cover to cover with facts pertaining to the
habits, customs, sorrows, pleasures, religions, and
achievements of the races which have successively
held sway on the Pacific Coast. Mr. Bancroft
expects the year 1890 to witness the completion of
his task, should he live to urge forward its composition and publication.
Mr. Bancroft's work will live after him. As
well might we relegate to the periods which produced them the histories of Rollin, D'Aubieme,
Macaulay, and Prescott, as to confine this gigantic
record of  past  deeds  and  events to  the  present. CALIFORNIA'S GREA T HISTORIAN.        101
No, we must accord it life for all time. There will
be, however, this difference in its usefulness. The
above authors ai*e read by thousands upon thousands
of the common people, because jn scope, and time,
Temiscal, or Sweat-nouse.
and subject they are limited to narrow bounds, and
cost but a trifle. But from its very size and expense
the " History of the Pacific States of North America" will find entrance only into public libraries and
the book-cases of the-rich. 102
Notwithstanding, there is in the work much of
interest for readers old and young. What boy or
girl in all the Union would not sit entranced over
the volume on the. wild tribes of the coast? In
some parts its style is plain even to homeliness, but
it is suited to the subject, and allows the interest to
flag not for a moment. In other portions the story
runs on in clear, ringing, picturesque sentences.
Savage men and women stand before the reader,
creatures of a wonderfully distinct photography.
One lives among them; sees with his own eyes their
homes, children, old people; goes with them to
weddings, funerals, and wars; is interested, amused,
or shocked, according to the circumstances. Take,
for instance, the description of the temescal, or sweat-
house, an institution common to many of the tribes.
Virtually one enters the strange place, feels the
effects of the heat and steam, enjoys the final drowsiness and comfort, and upon emerging from the pit
wonders not at all that the vagabonds of the tribes
are often the victims of some pain or disease which
can be driven out of them only by a thorough
steaming and a long, sound sleep; nor that in the
Winter these ills are most frequent.
The second volume, treating of the civilized
races of Mexico and Central America, is a narrative
of marvelous life and doings. Its pages are equally
captivating for the cultured or untutored reader.
There Spain found and destroyed "a civilization in CALIFORNIA'S GREAT HISTORIAN. 103
some respects greater than her own." There she
caused rivers of innocent human blood to flow, in
the name of religion and for love of gold. In these
two volumes are depicted every phase of human
nature, from the reptile-eating cave-dwellers to the
enlightened Maya-Quicha people of the southern
table-lands. To the last line their history is a tale
which holds spell-bound the one who believes that
"every thing connected with man deserves man's
most careful study."
Mr. Bancroft's account of the Spanish conquest
of Peru is the most clear and succinct I have ever
read. One finishes the chapters with a well-defined
idea of the cause and the manner of the Incarial
overthrow. Sketched to the life are the mercenary
men who conceived and accomplished it. Their
motives, their insatiable greed, their disregard of
human life, are brought out into noonday light.
A mere handful of starved, insubordinate, and desperate adventurers, they conquer, when at the zenith
of its glory, an empire, opulent and teeming with
people, and so re-enact the r61e of Hernando Cortez
in the subjugation of Mexico.
For specialists in the many fields of literature,
this unequaled history will prove a mine of wealth
for all the future of America. Scarcely a question
can arise, touching the race, but here may find
something to the point. . XVI.
^n III ft5iND Sha?p Blew Good.
THE six weeks rain-fall which drenched the soil
of Southern California during February and
March of this year, 1884, will long be remembered
for the freshets it produced, the lives it cost, and
the property it destroyed. On several of the streams
between this city and the desert, the bridges of the
Southern Pacific road were either swept away or
rendered unsafe, detaining passengers and mails for
days in succession, at points where supplies were
difficult to obtain. Buildings and stock were caught
up by the resistless currents, wrecking the former
and drowning the latter. Acres of land were spirited away to the ocean. Many kinds of business
were seriously checked. Invoices of Spring goods
dallied on the desert. Nearly every body looked
doleful and felt apprehensive. The local weather
prophets enhanced the trouble by foretelling still
heavier floods before affairs should mend. Invalids,
scattered in all directions, confined indoors most of
the time, sighed for the latitudes where frost imprisons the streams and adorns the window-panes.
But after awhile the wind which had so long
blown ill changed its course, and as generously blew
good.    The earth, hard as stone, and almost impos-
sible to cultivate when dry, had been wet down to
an unusual depth, and could now be worked to
advantage. This gave a fresh impetus to tree-
planting all over the broad plain stretching between
the Sierra Madre and the sea, south and east of the
city. The citizens of Santa Ana, Orange, Tustin,
Westminster, and other thriving villages dotting
this plain, awoke to the value of the opportunity,
and early in April were setting trees. Meeting
a tourist from that section of the country this
morning, I inquired what varieties of trees were
planted in largest numbers.
"The orange, lemon, lime, olive, apricot, pear,
and others, for fruit; the pepper and eucalyptus, for
shade and ornament," he replied. "The nurserymen," he continued, "are paying the owners of
teams ten dollars per day for drawing trees to purchasers. On my way up to the city I rode some
distance with one of these teamsters, who had on
his wagon ten thousand apricot, pear, and olive trees
for horticulturists at some point. He said he distributed nearly that number daily. And how they
take hold and grow! Hardly is the ground well
packed around the roots ere they show themselves
at home in the new situation."
In one's rambles on this plain, one hears not a
little about the change of climate likely to result
from this lavish extension of orchards, groves, and
vineyards.    There are those who think the move- ^g^^
!' 1
ment will, in time, materially shorten the long summer drought of past days by bringing down showers
of rain. Every tree, it is contended, set in the
valleys or on the hill-sides becomes a leafy reservoir
for the storage of water. Not only so, it performs
a double duty in the case. The roots retain the
water which otherwise would flow away, especially
in sloping situations; while the top, a manifold
canopy sheltering the ground, prevents its evaporation from about the roots. At the same time the
leaves, from their million mouths, pour into the air,
of a sunny day, an invisible cloud of moisture.
With millions of trees united in the beautiful work,
the atmosphere will be charged with vapor, which,
condensing in the night, or by coming in contact
with a body of cooler air, will descend in showers,
blessing the earth.
Possibly the thousands of acres of trees already
well-grown on this vast prairie, where once scarce
a tree was to be seen, may account for the several
copious showers which fell in the Summer of that
year. But whether tree-planting shall or shall not
greatly affect the climate in Los Angeles and San
Diego counties, the work is certain to produce busi--
ness, fill the local markets with luscious fruits, and
render very picturesque the country. Therefore
may the desirable industry flourish.
If the reader will glance at a well-executed map
of these counties,  he will  find  a branch  of the DOWNEY. 107
Southern Pacific Railway extending from Los Angeles south-eastwardly to the bright little village of
Santa Ana, at present the terminus of the road.
The distance is forty-two miles. The route lies
through the rich plain of which we have been
speaking, and which was once a part of the celebrated San Joaquin rancho. It is one of the most
productive portions of semi-tropic California. Besides the towns I have already mentioned, those of
Downey, Norwalk, and Anaheim, with their extensive orchards and vineyards, grace leagues of country along the way. From the window of my room
on this hill-top I can trace the location of some of
these places, as I look down the Los Angeles Valley toward the sea. Since this is a bright morning,
suppose we step aboard the cars, take a run through
the fine district, and spend the night at Santa Ana.
As we speed along you notice that all manner
of fruits are cultivated—oranges, lemons, olives,
apricots, apples, grapes, figs, bananas, English walnuts, and many others.
At Downey, named for a recent governor of
California, and twelve miles out, we come to a
community of several hundred inhabitants. The
place is noted for the cultivation of figs and grapes.
At an exhibit of county fruits, held in Los Angeles
in October, my attention was drawn to a magnificent Ill
display of Malaga grapes from here. The weight
of nearly every cluster approximated to four pounds.
Beside these, its roots firmly imbedded in a tub
of sand, was stationed a vigorous Malaga vine,
weighed down with enormous bunches. How the
slender branches could sustain such a burden through
The Fig.
the season of growth was a wonder. Close at hand
lay small heaps of nine other varieties, very tempting to sight and taste, among them the Muscat, Sultana, Sweetwater, and Flaming Tokay.
But of greater interest to me than these was an
array of large, rich figs, fresh from the trees, four
varieties, the White Smyrna, Brown Turkish, Plymouth Rock—chickens, by no means—and the New
Pacific, a fig remarkable for its fine flavor and quick-
I I: DOWNEY. 109
drying quality/ The White Smyrna having been
longest known has the widest reputation and readiest
market. The New Pacific seriously threatens to supersede it, however. Fresh, ripe figs bear lengthy
transportation no better than do ripe peaches; and
picked before they are fully ripe, are not a particle
more savory than are green tomatoes.
Under a California sun, not too hot, figs dry in
from three to four days. For domestic use, housekeepers often cure them in the oven of the cooking-
stove or range. Care must always be taken, of
course, to preserve the proper temperature, or they
will sour. The fig produces the second year from
planting, and bears at the same time both green
and ripe fruit. Set in damp situations the tree
thrives like the willow; in dry positions it requires
irrigation. There are orchards numbering twenty-
five hundred trees, in full bearing, at Downey.
Fresh figs are very cheap in Los Angeles, but the
dried fruit retails at twenty-five cents the pound.
Countless private gardens in Southern California
contain one or more fig trees of a good variety.
Before continuing our journey I wish to call
attention to a gentleman who makes a specialty of
raising bananas on the foot-hills, some three miles
or so from Los Angeles.    This is Mr. J. W. Potts,
to whom the city newspapers, during the great flood
of last Winter, gave the euphonious sobriquet of
" Prophet Potts."    In size and general appearance
10 110
Mr. Potts closely resembles the picture of old Father
Time in the ancient Webster spelling-book. He
has a short, slight figure, iron-gray hair, a small
face, a sharp chin, and an exceedingly attenuated
voice. He speaks rapidly and nervously. His
manner partakes of the searching investigative
kind. Equipped with hour-glass and scythe he
would readily be mistaken for the original of the
spelling-book illustration.
Mr.. Potts came to, Los Angeles from somewhere
in the East, in the ever-memorable year of 1849,
an enthusiast, not in gold-hunting, but in fruit-
culture, as he himself told me. Having long been
a close observer of the laws which operate in the
domain of the atmosphere, he some time before it
occurred, predicted the very unusual rain-fall of last
Winter, adding that it would be attended with disaster and heavy loss. The fulfillment of the prediction secured him his title.
For four years past Mr. Potts has paid considerable attention to raising bananas on his farm among
the foot-hills. He asserts that of his three hundred
and fifty trees, from twelve to fourteen feet in
height, not one has ever been touched by frost.
During the year 1883 these trees were laden with
the delicious fruit at every stage of growth, and requiring some nine months for its perfection. Some
of this fruit hung on the trees unharmed during the
Winter of 1883-84, one of the most trying, for cold, ANAHEIM. HI
ever known here.    This is regarded as conclusive
evidence of the safety of tender fruits growing on
elevated situations near Los Angeles.    Mr. Potts
irrigates a portion of his   trees   once   during  the
season, and others not at all.   Their position decides
the question, I suppose.    This gentleman says he
was present, oVer thirty years ago, when Mr. William
Wolfskill planted his famous orange orchard, a spot
which few visitors to Los Angeles fail to see, and
avers that not once since then has there been frost
sufficient  in   Southern California  to   injure   large
orange trees.
Two things give Anaheim, our next point on
the road, prominence in the country and the newspapers. These are its wineries and ostrich farm.
The rearing of ostriches being a rare undertaking
in America, these birds excite much curiosity on
the part of visitors to the Pacific Coast. The
ostriches are farmed about seven miles from the
village, and at present number forty or more. I
have not seen them, but have been told that about
half of them are full grown, and measureTffcom the
ground to the top of the back, from eight to nine
feet." The ostrich is a timid fowl, but the males
when irritated are disposed to be violent, towards
their mates, and towards men and animals. It is
reported that even their former careful and humane
superintendent, Dr. Sketchley, occasionally became n| ANAHEIM. 113
the object of their wrath at Anaheim; and, also, that
one of the birds, a Hercules for strength, becoming
enraged at his mate not long ago, raised one of his
powerful legs and dealt her a terrific blow, when
quickly she was no more. I will not vouch for the
truth of these statements. Undoubtedly the African
bird holds, as many men do, that he has a right to
strike   his   wife.     Dr.   Sketchley,   no   longer   at
J  7 O
Anaheim, but now actively engaged in founding a
zoological garden, on a scale of munificence in
keeping with every thing Californian, a few miles
north-west of Los Angeles, among the foot-hills of
the San Fernando Mountains, can answer for himself as to the treatment he received from his Anaheim wards. Here also he is planting a colony of
these birds of elegant plumage.
Like the eucalyptus and the pepper tree, the ostrich loses its attractiveness as age creeps on. Hence
the juvenile members of the Anaheim family are most
in favor with visitors. Some of them are now
about the size of full-grown turkeys, and are prospectively very valuable on account of their feathers.
The first plucking takes place when the bird is
about a year and a half old.
The eyes of the ostrich are large and very keen,
enabling them to discern objects at a great distance.
Their hearing also is remarkably acute. I have
been told that the sight of a horse inspires them
with  great  terror, and  that a gentleman recently 114
rode one of these animals within view from their
inclosure at Anaheim, when the birds, eatching
sight of him, were thrown into such fright that the
rider was forced to remove him. \ Their cry is loud
and piercing, and may be heard at a great distance.
"When contending with a foe they hiss vigorously,
thus publishing their relationship to the goose."
The feathers of the ostrich are taken chiefly
from the tail and wings. Those of the males are
either white or brown, tipped with black, and are
remarkable for their length. It is for these long
plumes mainly that the ostrich is farmed. The
feathers of the female are dark brown, mingled
with white. For centuries past the handsome
plumes of the African ostrich have been worn by
men as insignia of their rank. The badge of the
present Prince of Wales is three white ostrich
feathers. When John, of Luxembourg, was defeated at Crecy, by Edward the Black Prince, he
wore in his casque one of their long, white plumes.
And, even prior to that date, they distinguished the
house of Plantaganet. The wearing of three feathers, grouped, in the coronet of an English prince
is said to have been introduced by Henry, eldest
son of James the First. Certain young women of
America must have adopted the fashion, for, seated
in front of me at church last Sunday morning, was
a young lady with three white plumes set against
the front of her hat, its only trimming. SANTA ANA. .115
Anaheim is one of the oldest of recent settlements in Southern California, having been established nearly twenty-five years ago. It was settled
by a colony of Germans, who planted extensively
the " wine grape," introduced by the Spanish missionaries. In a few years they were freely engaged
in the manufacture of wine. They made money at
the baleful business, and laid it up, as is so natural
for the frugal Teuton to do, instead of expending it
in making their surroundings beautiful. And, now,
in their plain and exteriorly comfortable homes,
they appear to be taking their ease. A few of the
residences are very pretty. The place has a drowsy,
Autumnish look. No new buildings are going up.
There is no activity in the streets. The spirit of
enterprise seems to have taken its flight, if it were
ever here. Anaheim is at the midnight of a long
sleep. When it wakens it will find that the enterprising villages of Orange, Tustin, and Santa Ana
have far outstripped it in the race for improvements.
Leaving here we pass on to the last-named town,
one of five charming villages occupying the valley
of the Santa Ana River, seven miles south-east of
Anaheim, two-and-a-half miles south of Orange,
with Tustin on the east, and Westminster, a neat,
thriving town, founded by a colony of enterprising
temperance people, who at the beginning forever
barred out the saloon by proviso in their act of
incorporation, lying due south of it. i
Tustin and Orange are little more than collections of beautiful homes, with a post-office,
grocery, hotel, store, church, and school-house
located at the center, while f the country adjacent
presents a net-work of vineyards and orchards
of all sorts. Access to these places is by carriage.
Every rod of the ride is delightful. Long lines of
eucalypti, pepper, and cypress trees grace the
road on either side. The gates of the pretty
yards stand invitingly open. The hedges are trim
and green. Flowers brighten the closely cut lawns.
The cottages, of a dozen chaste styles, look cool
and inviting on this warm afternoon. Every thing
betokens prosperity. Still, so recently were none
of these things here, that their existence seems like
the work of magic.
Santa Ana, the largest of the group, contains
about two thousand five hundred people. Eleven
years ago its now vine-clad site was a treeless waste,
a mere pasture for flocks. Its inhabitants were
principally Mexicans, and widely scattered. But
its climate had become known as one in which consumptives were almost sure to recover. Word to
that effect reached Minnesota and other Northwestern States. Hither from them came numbers
of that class of invalids. Few of them could come
alone. So with them came the strong and well,
bringing some money, indomitable energy, and
power to scheme and drive.    Mr. J. W. Layman,  118
of Minneapolis, one of the first on the ground, built
a hotel. Then followed church and school-house.
Soon up sprang lodges of Masons, Odd Fellows,
Good Templars, a Band of Hope, and a Post of the
Grand Army of the Republic, all wide-awake in
their legitimate fields of activity, and now possessing their own inviting halls for meetings. Transplanting their love of refinement into the new soil,
the citizens foster art in several of its departments,
and pay liberal stipends to teachers.
From the Santa Ana River and the two strata,
sheets, or lakes of water which underlie the entire
plain, one at a depth of sixty, the other at a distance of three hundred feet, is derived the water
supply for this coterie of settlements. For domestic
purposes the fluid is obtained through artesian
wells, sunk to the second stratum. To sum up,
the three strong points of the region are: An
almost faultless climate, a wonderfully fertile soil,
an inexhaustible supply of pure, cold water.   .
Eight miles south of Santa Ana lies Newport
Bay, the most accessible sea-side resort. In full
View from it, and near enough for an enjoyable sail,
are the islands of San Clemente and Santa Catalina,
notable for their scenic charms and historical associations.
Something like a mile below Santa Ana, on
property belonging to one Captain West, are to be
seen the ruins of an old adobe house, which, you SANTA ANA. 119
will be told, was the birthplace of the famous
Mexican General and President, Santa Anna. But
history robs the place of this honor. A friend, familiar with every page of the man's career, informs
me that the Mexican President never saw California.
Antonio Lopez was a native of the State of Jalapa,
Mexico. At one time in his life he was the proprietor of a handsome estate in that republic, which,
out of gratitude for the services of Sant Anne, he
named Santa Anna. There being other men in
Mexico of the name of Lopez, he in time came to
be designated as Lopez de Santa Anna; and, later,
by the American newspapers, and also by the American army during the war with Mexico, as General,
then President Santa Anna. To this river and valley the name Santa Ana was given by the "Missionary Fathers" during their first journey from
San Diego to Monterey, and long before the day
of Lopez, of Jalapa. XVII.
p Singular (Iha^agiief$.
LAST Tuesday afternoon it was arranged by the
lovely woman to whom belongs this hill-top
home, that I should next day accompany her on a
visit to a floral garden lying just within the western
limits of the city, and of which one Peter Ramau,
a native of Hungary, and a singular specimen of
the genus homo, is the proprietor. The day proved
a delightful one. Overhead nothing but blue; in
the sunlight an indescribable charm; an attraction
which fairly drew people out of doors, and when
out, produced in them a feeling of happiness and
exultation. In no other spot on this continent have
I experienced this exhilarating effect of the sunlight. But here ordinarily are to be enjoyed months
of such days every year—days when you are very
pleased, and hardly know why.
Taking a main street car to the Washington Gardens, two miles from the center of town, we were
within twenty minutes walk of the premises. Both
florists and their grounds are plentiful in this part
of the country, and I write of this man only because
he is an odd pattern of humanity, after which few
mortals are fashioned in any land. Such persons
seem to be freaks of nature, made up of mis-
matched material, an assorted lot, deviations from
the normal plan, people remarkable only for their
eccentricities. Occasionally I pass such persons on
the street here. In the veins of most of them flows
the blood of two races, and sometimes of more.
Usually their appearance is so striking that one is
eager to see them again. Not a few of them are
women. I call to mind one who is of immediate
French, English, and Hawaiian descent. The characteristics of the three races are very marked in her.
Strange vicissitudes have crowded themselves into
her life. Born on the Atlantic; reared and educated in England; connected with well-known families, both in that country and France; a resident
of this coast for forty year^; several times the possessor of great wealth, and as many times the
subject of absolute want, she has yet, under all
circumstances, been a woman of influence, and of
great charity, bestowed often upon the most lowly.
She speaks Spanish, Hawaiian, English, and some
French. There are enough interesting facts connected with her history to fill volumes.
Peter Ramau met us at the rude gate in front
of his home, opened it politely, and inquired: "Are
you tired, ladies?"
Mrs. H—, who had made several visits to the
place, and knew the man quite well, replied: "It
costs your friends something to visit yourself and
your flowers, Mr. Ramau." Ill
"Yes; and I'm so much obliged to them for
coming. Rest a little on the porch, and then I '11
show you what Madame Nature can do at flower
The man has a large round head, is broad-
chested, and of medium height. His eyes sparkle
with pleasure when he smiles, but flash like flames
when he is angry, or some unwelcome thought of
the past flits through his mind. His brain seems
to be crowded with strange conceits and fancies. A
reference to the beauty of his flowers is sure to
cause these odd notions to spring into the queerest
unions, like the bits of glass in a kaleidoscope.
His manner is kindly and his disposition humane.
Religiously he is a ship with anchor gone. He
loves birds, dogs, and flowers passionately. His
wife is dead. Two grown sons constitute the human
part of his family.
In front and to the right of his rambling and
desolate adobe house lies his flower garden, a parallelogram containing two acres or less. No other
florist on earth ever arranged a garden spot like
that. It is disarranged like the owner's brain, and
strange to say, the disorder in both is one of their
chief attractions. Will the reader try to imagine a
small patch of anemones, beautiful beyond the
power of pen to describe, springing out of a larger
plat of verbenas, dense, gay with bloom? Then
think of more anemones waving on the top of their A SINGULAR CHARACTER. 123
long, slender stems, among thorny rose bushes and
woody heliotrope; and of more still, crowded by
azure forget-me-nots and French pinks of every
hue. See tulips as large as tea-cups, single, double,
mottled, striped, ringed, and bordered, with a dozen
glorious colors, trying to get the upper hand of fragrant thyme and rank geraniums. Here, they are
reaching out for sunlight from under small orange
trees; there,from amid bushy fuchsias.
Bending over a cluster of anemones, simply
matchless for the delicacy, variety," and brilliancy
of their colors, Mr. Ramau clasped a dozen of the
perfect cups with both hands, and looking up in
my face, said, solemnly:
"Do you know, madam, I see God in these. I
can't see him in the Bible. If God were to tell
me, this day, that in a year I must die, do you
know what I would do?"—tears glistened in the
man's eyes^—"I would go to work and collect every
variety of anemone uuder heaven, and get them to
blooming in my ground. Then I 'd watch them and
admire them down to the last hour. Ah! madam,
the anemone is God's flower. Only look! Where
can you find such a sight?"
I did look, and could myself have cried over the
flowers. They seemed almost human, almost able
to think and love. There swayed to-and-fro splendid cups of scarlet, crimson, maroon, deep red, rich
orange, soft pink, and delicate straw-color,   cups of 124
blue, cups of purple and yellow, in shades magnificent. Some were single, others were double. As
in the case of the tulips, the man had taxed his
skill to the uttermost to produce these marvelous
"Are you aware, madam," he continued, "that
it is the multitude and variety of anemones in the
gardens of Francis Joseph, of Austria, that make
them so famous? My! madam, it is heaven to
walk there. There you can see beds four hundred
feet long, containing ever variety of wind-flower in
the world, and all collected for the enjoyment of
the people."
We remarked: " It is a pity you can not see
God in the Bible, since he there speaks more to the
purpose on some points than in flowers."
" Never mind; I see him in these gems of his.
But now mark what man can do. Of anemones
and tulips God made just one variety. Man, taking
that beginning, has, by his skill, multiplied the
varieties until now they are endless, and so beautiful! Madam, that's man. And God doesn't even
make them grow. Man does that. I tell you,
there 's a deal of God in man."
" Man is evidently your God," we replied. " Can
you make a plant drink, draw sustenance from the
soil, extract oxygen from the air, or appropriate
sunlight?" Just then two ladies entered the
grounds, and he turned to meet them. A SINGULAR CHARACTER. 125
During our stay we had observed numerous dogs
lying under the trees, and playing about the house,
and on his return we inquired if he owned them.
"Yes; they are my family. Let me call them
together, that you may see them. I have seventeen
in all."
He was then patting the heads of two that were
impatiently pulling at his garments, just as I have
seen peevish children tug at a mother's clothing.
Now he began calling, whistling, shouting, for his
family. "Lucy! Lucy! Here, Hongkong! here,
brave fellow! Hongkong, madam, is a Chinese
dog. Pat! here Pat! Pat is from green Erin,
ladies, and does n't like the English."
Thus the man invited and coaxed until six or
eight remarkable specimens of the canine race were
wildly racing around him, leaping upon his person,
or licking his hands, and all apparently anxious to
know why they had been called together.
"Now, would you like to hear them sing? Shall
I show you that some dogs know more than some
"If dogs can do a'ny thing more human than to
bark and bite, we should be interested in seeing
them do it," we answered.
Thereupon, his eyes lighting up, he began to
hum a lively tune. Instantly the animals broke
into canine bass, tenor, alto, soprano, and all kept
time with their leader.    When the time quickened, 126
they leaped upon him, sprang into the air, -whined,
barked, howled. Every dog was in a perfect frenzy,
and we were in bedlam. Hongkong, a splendid
greyhound, turned his back toward his master,
stretched his long nose out toward the sky, and
struck into a woeful, piercing cry, followed by a
low, melancholy wail. The creature's heart seemed
broken. He was telling his grief to the invisible
stars. His whole aspect betokened the deepest sorrow. The scene and the noise beggared description.
I doubt if any thing like it could be witnessed
outside of Southern California, where scenes and
objects unequaled are the rule rather than the exception.
We endured the horrible din five minutes, perhaps
ten, and then entreated the strange man to bring
that most unique of all vocal concerts to a close.
But the dogs were proud of their accomplishments,
and were far less ready to end the performance than
'to begin it.   By degrees, however, quiet was restored.
Then said the Hungarian: "Ladies, until recently I have kept two hundred mocking-birds.
The food of the happy songsters cost me ten dollars
every week. At last I concluded that was an expensive amusement for a poor man. So one day I
opened the cages and gave the sweet singers their
freedom. You see a few cages still, with here and
there a captive, but the family numbers only fifteen
now.    I love nature, and' could n't live a day with- A SINGULAR CHARACTER. 127
out these dogs, and birds, and anemones. Like that
lovely woman"—meaning Mrs. H—, whose snowy
hair, pleasant eyes, and fair complexion attract notice
wherever she goes—" they show me how God loves
beautiful things.
"Madame, I never go to bed at night without
taking a long, loving look at the stars; nor rise in
the morning without indulging in a tender chat with
the beauties in my garden. I tell you, if I but
had money to buy a telescope, I 'd spend the nights
in taking flights among the stars, and during the
day I 'd grow toward heaven among ray flowers.
" Where was I born ? In Vodena, Hungary, a
land which General Fremont declares is the 'most
beautiful under the sun,' and he has seen it. For
several years I was an officer in the Austrian army.
In 1850 I fled to this country. I married in Iowa.
My wife died in 1869, leaving me two good sons.
Louie lives here with me. My real name you must
not know. The Austrian Government has searched
for me all over these United States."
It was drawing towards sunset, and other parties
arriving, Mrs. H— and myself strolled for a moment through the trim orange orchard in the rear of
the house. The handsome trees were laden with
fragrant blossoms and ripe fruit. Returning, we
bade the father good-bye and walked away, wondering if there were on the earth another mortal
like him. 1'
"She Hajpiye (Californians."
IN his book entitled " Three Years in California,"
the Rev. Walter Colton talks much about the
"native Californians," and in terms which leave
most readers in doubt whether he means the Spaniards who centuries ago invaded California, or the
Indian races whom the Spaniards found here. The
latter are grouped by Mr. Hubert H. Bancroft
under three divisions, called, "The Northern, Central, and Southern Californians." These, then, were
the native Californians at the time of the Spanish
invasion, but not the native Californians of Mr.
Colton's book. Fully two centuries before the acquirement of California by the United States, the
Spaniards had spread over Central America, Mexico, and California—then a part of Mexico. . They
not only subdued the Indian tribes or nations
inhabiting these countries, but married, traded, and
lived among them, and had possession of their soil.
Thus, as the years passed on and on, there sprang
up a, nation in whose veins flowed a mixture of
Spanish and Indian blood, and which spoke the
Spanish language, corrupted, in many instances, by
words and phrases from the vocabularies of the
vanquished peoples.
Also, after Mexico threw off the Spanish yoke—\
some years prior to the obtaining of California by
our government—considerable colonies from that
country settled on this part of the coast. They,
likewise, were of Spanish and native origin, and
spoke the Spanish tongue. From these two sources,
then, came the "native Californians" with whom
we mingle to-day, and of Mr. Colton's acquaintance
from 1846 to 1849. In other words: Before they
became Americans, by our acquiring their territory,
they were Mexicans, and by that term are they
very generally designated here to-day. Tourists
and others often refer to them as Castilians, using
the " pure Castilian tongue." But the fact is, few,
if any of them, ever saw Spain. Much less were
they born in Castile. However, some of them are
of full Spanish blood, and are intelligent and meritorious citizens. Proverbial for politeness and
generosity, often too confiding for their own interests, and always ready to serve a friend to the
uttermost, they of course soon win the high esteem
of the English-speaking Americans. Almost.without exception they are members of the Catholic
On the contrary, the lower orders of Mexicans
are exceedingly illiterate, but their condition in this Ift
respect is said to be due not so much to incapacity
as to neglect. "It must be remembered," says an
educated missionary who has for years labored among
them, "that their religion is the Roman Catholic,
mingled still, in too many cases, with traces of the
ancient worship of the original tribes. Owing to
the disposition of the Romish Church to temporize
with its Indian converts, as it did with the heathen
nations brought into its fold in Constantine's day,
they were allowed to retain certain of their old
observances. From that day to this the Catholic
Church has been their teacher, and, as might be
expected, the lower Mexican element of our population to-day, is, in a religious sense, elevated not
far above its Indian ancestors prior to the Spanish
It should be remembered that those who do
break away from the Catholic Church, among this
class of Californians, seem to take most cordially to
the denominations whose forms of worship differ
most from the showy services of the system under
which they have grown up. Many of them enter
the Presbyterian fold, where they find neither images, crucifixes, lighted candles, holy fire, holy water,
the confessional, nor vestments for the ministry.
" I can not express to you," said an intelligent
Mexican, who had been reared in the Romish
Church, but who is now a Protestant, "how distasteful to me, for years, was the sight of a clergy- I THE NATIVE CALIFORNIANS." 131
man in robes. And usually, according to my
observation, when a Catholic becomes dissatisfied
with that system, he flees to the one farthest removed
from it, or to none at all."
At three points in Los Angeles County Mexican
Presbyterian churches have been established, the
stronger organization being in this city. No Sunday-schools are conducted as yet, but day schools
are in progress at Anaheim and in Los Angeles.
There are now few Mexican families living in
affluence in Southern California. Formerly many
were rich in*retnds and herds, but upon the accession
of the territory, understanding neither our -language
nor our laws, they were soon involved in endless
litigations with rapacious fortune-hunters from " the
States," who had managed, by one means or another,
to secure claims upon their property*" Often in
these cases the decisions of the Federal courts were
adverse to the Mexicans, how, or why, the latter could
not tell, and in an incredibly short time numbers
found themselves face to face with poverty. Unaccustomed to work, few were able to retrieve their
condition, and in their straits actually' borrowed
money of the robbers at a ruinous interest, and
mortgaged, to secure its payment, whatever property they had left. Of course this step hastened the
end. Finally, realizing that they were no match
for the new proprietors of the soil, many became
disheartened, "gave themselves up to melancholy," X t
and erelong moved into narrow homes on which
there were no mortgages.
"When I first came here, eleven years ago,"
said a lady this morning, "there were Mexicans
everywhere. They lounged on door-steps, within
the presidios of their homes, in front of the shops
and stores, and along the country roads. Apparently without a care, they laughed, chatted, and
danced. Now, I meet a few on the streets as I go
about the city, but their number seems greatly
diminished. Doubtless some of them have caught
the spirit of thrift and enterprise possessed by our
people, and have adopted habits of industry; but
my opinion is that the race is giving way before
the Americans, whose force and tenacity of life are
so much greater."
The Mexican women are objects of great interest to me. On the street the middle-aged woman
appears almost invariably in a dress of black, destitute of trimmings. The skirt is made of straight
breadths, minus any thing like drapery. Upon her
head, framing in- her swarthy face, she wears,
usually, a plain black shawl folded cornerwise, and
held together under her chin by her ungloved hand.
She never carries parasol or umbrella, even though
the Summer sun, holding the mercury up to 100°
in the shade, beats down upon her head, cooking
her ideas and wrinkling her skin. There she goes!
hair, eyes, shawl, dress, the color of night; in her " THE NATIVE CALIFORNIANS." 133
face no brightness; a silent figure, destined to be
left behind by a people whose skill, and power, and
range of knowledge simply bewilder her.
Many of the younger women strongly resemble
each other, with their black hair, dark eyes, southern complexion, medium height, slender figure, and
cheerful, animated countenance. They dress in
colors and with taste, and walk with an elastic step.
But, a few years hence, should the)' follow in the
course of their mothers, their forms will lose their
compactness and shapeliness. Their carriage will
become slow and heavy. American gentlemen frequently marry daughters of the better families, and
our young women occasionally take husbands from
among the educated Mexicans. So far as I have
been able to learn, these unions prove quite as happy
as if formed with persons of the same race. Having occasion the other day to call at the city home
of Don Pio Pico, the last Mexican governor of
California, I found there a niece of that courtly
gentleman, from Santa Barbara." She was a ladylike, beautiful-looking little woman, who spoke
English nicely, having enjoyed the benefit of the
American schools in that city. Some time before
she had married a young Mr. Perkins, from the
East, with whom she seemed to be much pleased,
and I could see no reason why he should not be
pleased with her.
On another occasion, when taking a walk in the
12 134
outskirts of the city, after a hard day's work, I came
upon one of the early rural homes of Los Angeles.
The house stood far back from the street, in the
midst of an orange-grove, and was a many-roomed
adobe, built out this way and that, with a wide
veranda  running  around  most  of it, and all the
A Rural Home in Southern California.
apartments opening upon that. It was the famous
Wolfskill residence. William Wolfskill was a Ken-
tuckian, I believe, who wandered off to this coast
and "built this house over fifty years ago." He
has gone to his rest, but the place is occupied by a
son, whose wife is a beautiful Spanish woman. Entering the open gateway, and  following the drive " THE NATIVE CALIFORNIANS.'
to the house, I found Mrs. Wolfskill seated on
the veranda, surrounded by a half-dozen children,
all evidently of Spanish descent, all busy doing
something, and apparently having a good time.
Rising as I drew near, she greeted me. kindly, using
excellent English. I have seldom seen a more
attractive woman. A wealth of dark hair was
coiled loosely upon the top of her head. Her manners were charming, and I noticed that her toilet
had been made without the use of cosmetics, a feature of dress which seems to be very popular among
the young women of the Spanish tongue.
Upon my inquiring if the whole group of little
ones were hers, she replied: "Ah, no! I wish they
were. It is the sorrow of my life that I have not
such a family of children. I love them, and find
great pleasure in caring for them. The babe only
is mine." After chatting a little time, and the
evening shadows beginning to fall, I bade her goodnight, having enjoyed the call. Afterward I learned
that the lady represents the best class "of Spanish-
speaking people on the coast. For that reason I
mention the trifling incident of my call. XIX.
Schools op Lxos ^ngeles.
FOR twelve years Los Angeles has supported an
excellent system of public schools. Although
the city covers a large area, school-houses are conveniently located in every part. Many of the buildings are new, thoroughly equipped for their purpose,
and are attractive externally. And it is doubtful
if in any city of its size there can be found a body
of teachers better qualified. Indeed the city is
reputed for the high scholarship of the teachers in
the graded schools. Moreover, the State itself demands unusual accomplishments in the candidates
for- certificates. It has been said that eastern teachers of experience have sometimes failed to pass the
examinations it requires. A principal in one of the
schools has just stated that applicants for certificates
must pass an examination in a number of branches
not demanded in other States. They must be familiar
with the school laws of California, and have an intelligent acquaintance with the State Constitution.
A branch of the State Normal School is making
fine headway here under Professor Ira More as
principal. Accompanied by this gentleman and
Mrs. More, on a recent Wednesday, the writer took
a look through the great* Normal School building,
and paid some attention to the methods of instruction. It may truthfully be said that, from basement
to roof, the structure is one of the best lighted,
best ventilated, and most economically arranged, I
have ever seen for the purpose. It is a handsome
edifice, built of brick, is three stories in height, has
spacious halls, ample class-rooms, and enough of
them, a sunny office for the principal, a bright parlor for the preceptress, an inviting library on the first
floor, partially filled with helpful books, and a well-
equipped laboratory in the basement. In this latter
room the professor of chemistry, Miss Sarah P.
Monks, an alumnus of Vassar College, becomes a
Michael Faraday every afternoon to a class of
shrewd, inquiring young men and women. In the
cheerful chapel, commanding a broad outlook westward, down the rich Cahuenga Valley, I found
assembled for the simple religious exercises of the
morning, nearly tw<5 hundred pupils in training
for the teacher's profession. They were an earnest,
sensible-looking company of students, evidently not
at school for play, and represented a half-dozen
nationalities, I should judge. Their free and frequent questions upon  the  subjects  under study in 138
IV li '   !i    I
the class-rooms, afterward, showed they were working for a purpose.
The Normal-school building crowns a commanding eminence between Bunker Hill Avenue and
Charity Street, and has the' distinction of being the
only school of its class in the United States, which
is located in the midst of an orange grove. The
art of the landscape gardener is now converting
the formerly rough hill-side in front of it, into a
picture wherein -mingle flowers, trees, terraces, a
fountain, and graveled drives. Glancing in any direction from the windows of the building, or from
its high tower, the views of the country are inspiring. In the east loom up the stately Sierra
Madre Mountains. On the west and north-west
rise the Santa Monica and San Fernando chains,
their sides chiseled with the storms of centuries,
while towards the south stretches the verdant
Los Angeles valley, bordered, twenty miles away,
by a strip of the sea. All around lives the city,
busy, taking on greater vigor every day. How
could intelligent young men and women be otherwise than in earnest, while fitting themselves for
life's work, amid such scenes?
Westward, a distance of three miles, or less,
stands the 1 University of Southern California,"
founded by the Methodists in 1878. Its curriculum is open to both sexes. The institution is a
thriving one, occupies a fine building, and holds the ELLIS VILLA COLLEGE.
title to considerable real estate. It has the confidence of the community, and looks forward to success. An important department of this University,
is the Chaffey College of Horticulture, located at
Ontario, the model colony of Southern California.
Now turn your eye toward that lovely elevation lying to the north-west of the Normal School,
and possibly a mile distant. The handsome structure you see, built in the composite style, so much
in favor just now, is Ellis Villa College, a school
for young ladies, built and opened in 1884 by Rev.
John Ellis, then pastor of the First Presbyterian
Church of Los Angeles, but now the president of
the college. The building overlooks scenery as
varied as that seen from the Normal School. The
grounds are charmingly improved. Every young
woman privileged to pursue her course of study
in the presence of so much that is noble and beautiful in nature, ought to form a character as attractive as the scenes she looks upon.
About the time the Ellis Villa School opened
its doors, there was established at Hermosa Vista
Hill, a delightful eminence lying between the city of
Los Angeles and the village of Pasadena, the " Eden
of Southern California," a college for young men, also
under the auspices of the Presbyterian Church, but
not intended to be sectarian. Dr. Ellis was one of
the prime movers in the enterprise. When projected, both these schools were by.many thought to !?J PI
be far in advance of the necessities in the line of education, because in advance of the population necessary to sustain them. But the cautious ones could
not foresee, that in the short space of three years
the metropolis of Southern California would double
the number of its inhabitants, and that the increase of population in the county would preserve
a fair proportion to that of the city, thus creating
a demand for institutions of this class. On their
arrival here, now, settlers find well planted and
at work, every grade of school, from the kindergarten to the university.
The College of Hermosa Vista Hill is as favored
as those I have described for scenic surroundings,
being seated almost under the shadows of the Sierra
Mad re, with the fair San Gabriel valley spread out
on one side. Here, surely, young men may prepare to live for their country, if not to die for it.
I learn this morning that the Baptists and
Episcopalians are soon to appear on the field, bidding for their share of patronage for schools of a
high order. Thus about all the ground will be
occupied, and the children of all denominations may
hurry forward. Teachers, books, and desks will be
ready for them.
Now if the reader is not weary, we will retrace
our steps to the fine, sloping ground in the rear of
the Normal School. Here, built into the hill-side,
and half hidden by the orange trees, we. shall find THE MAGNETIC OBSERVATORY.
an institution of an entirely different, but most
interesting character. This is an "observatory for
determining the direction, variation, and force of
the magnetic current." It is the only observatory
of the kind in the United States, and the best one
in the world. There are in this country several
other stations where partial dt occasional observations of the magnetic current are made. But here
the record is ceaseless. The work of the needles
stops night nor day, for holy day nor holiday.
Here is one kind of perpetual motion. The officer
whom the government appoints to duty in this
dark, double-walled mite of a structure, is little
better than buried. Unless he has an assistant,
competent and faithful, he has no hours off. The
magnetic current knows no Sunday. It furnishes a
man no tent on the sea-shore for a three weeks'
vacation in Summer.
The officer now in charge of this observatory is
Charles C. Terry, Jr., of Columbus, Georgia, aud
is a relative—cousin, if I am correct—of General
Terry, of Fort Fisher fame. The reader remembers that General Terry distinguished himself by
carrying that stronghold by assault, after General
B. F. Butler, co-operating with Admiral Porter, in
an unsuccessful attempt to capture the fort, declared
it could not be taken. Charles Terry is a young
man, thirty years of age, perhaps, and though very
courteous and obliging, seldom admits a visitor in-
13 142
side his castle, especially if he lacks the intelligence
to comprehend its purpose and machinery. The
writer was fortunate in having a " friend at court,"
and got in.
After our glance at the teaching of all sorts
of sciences at the Normal School, Mrs. More
and myself concluded we should like to see the
inside of a building so rare as is this observatory,
and to learn how the changes made by that mysterious force, magnetism, are recorded. Professor
More, therefore, accompanied us down the narrow
board walk leading to the little hut in the ground,
and as we approached the door, said:
" Ladies, you 'd better wait outside until I see
if you can be admitted." Then, with a firm, steady
push, he turned the solid outer door on its hinges,
and with a slow and cautious step, lest he should
jar the magnetic needles, so faithfully at work in
their dark dungeon, entered the narrow passage
separating the inner from the outer wall, and
disappeared. Meanwhile, we who were in waiting,
speculated as to the things within, and questioned
if it were possible to tread lightly enough not to
cause the delicate instruments to break the ninth
commandment.   In a short time our friend emerged,
"Mr. Terry is busy performing a difficult piece
of work, which must not be laid aside. But he savs
that if you will call again in a half-hour you will THE MAGNETIC OBSERVATORY.
be welcome, and he will take pleasure in explaining
to you how man, by his wonderful inventions, has
compelled the magnetic current to disclose some of
the laws by which it is governed."
We all returned to the school building, where
Mrs. More and myself passed the half-hour listening to a specimen of able teaching of grammar.
Then returning to the observatory, we pushed open
the massive door, closed it softly behind us, groped
our way along the dark hall until we came to a
door made partly of glass, and through which fell a
faint light. Upon our rapping gently, it was instantly opened by Mr. Terry, in shirt-sleeves and
long apron, the latter made of striped ticking, and
covering him from the neck down.
Greeting us kindly, he immediately defined the
work of the observatory to be: | The photographing
on paper, and afterwards making them permanent
by chemical processes, the direction, changes, dip,
and inclination of the magnetic current."
He then spent some moments explaining the use
of certain appliances of his work-room, as a sort of
introduction to our next lesson. Then asking us
to resign our steel-ribbed umbrellas to the care of
his chemicals, and charging us to step lightly, he
led the way to a small, double-walled, windowless
inner room, the walls of which were black with
smoke from burning lamps. Admitting us first, he
followed and carefully closed the door.    Here, each Hft
under a small glass dome covered with black cloth,
were three magnetic needles, suspended by delicate
cords. One of them indicating the vertical force,
another the horizontal force, and the third the dip
and inclination of the current of terrestrial magnetism. These needles are seldom, if ever, absolutely
at rest. Their movements are photographed by light
obtained from three coal-oil lamps, kept always
burning. The light is focalized by small mirrors,
upon strips of white paper, placed in an upright
cylinder, itself incased in dark cloth. Mr. Terry
explained, in a clear and interesting way, the manner in which all this work is done. But I forbear
attempting the task here, lest the words I should
use might shock those nicely hung needles into
recording a great deviation of the magnetic current.
Should the reader ever visit Los Angeles let him
pay a visit to the Normal School, where Professor
More will make him welcome, and then walk down
to the observatory and take a look at it. There is
little hope of his getting inside, but it is a satisfaction to say one has seen the place.
However, should you gain admission into that
strange inner room, you will probably be required
to leave behind you, not your umbrellas only, but
your gold rings, watches, the metallic buttons on
your clothing, and, if you are a woman, your hoop-
skirts and corsets, if they have steels in them. All
these things will so attract the magnets towards you THE MAGNETIC OBSERVATORY. 145
as to make them fail in their duty to the government. To some extent Mrs. More and myself
were so appareled, but Mr. Terry politely said that,
instead of asking us to lay the articles aside, he
would, in his report for that day, state the cause of
the aberration of the magnets, that the blame might
not be charged to the magnetic current.
Upon my return to Los Angeles last October,
after an absence of two years on the northern part
of the coast, I learned that Mr. Terry, failing in
health, contemplated resigning his position. His
misfortune was thought by his friends to be due to
two causes—close confinement in the observatory,
and excessive smoking. To smoke, therefore, is
one thing which the magnetic force allows a man
to do. None the less, he makes a mistake who does
it. They said Mr. Terry "smoked for company."
If there is a place in the world where the practice
would be justified on that ground, that little hut in
the hill-side is the one. It is with sincere regret
that I add: Since leaving the coast, word has reached
me to the effect that Mr. Terry has ceased to be the
medium through which the magnetic current tells
its mute story to the world from Los Angeles.
Death asked him to resign.    He obeyed. XX.
FOR some years preceding, as well as subsequent
to, the accession of California, there figured on
the Pacific Coast many remarkable characters.
Among them, besides native Californians, were
Americans from every quarter of the Union, and
also representatives of every nation on the globe.
Some of them were brave, upright men, loyal as
friends, generous to a fault, incapable of an unmanly
deed. Others were unprincipled, mercenary, and
placed a low value upon human life. To commit
crime seemed as natural to them as to breathe. Of
these some sprang from an ignoble ancestry. In
Others the bad blood seemed to start with themselves; but ill-doing distinguished them all. Society lived in terror of them, and slept peacefully
only when the earth was rounded above their
graves. But one by one both classes have left the
stage, until to-day a survivor is met only here and
there. Of one of these survivors, ranking in the
first category, I have occasion to speak in this
Colonel J. J. Warner, now an active octogenarian, has resided in this part of the Golden State
for fifty-six years. These years embrace the most
interesting and most exciting period in the modern
history of California. In the stirring: scenes attend-
ing the transfer of the Territory to the United
States, as in the more turbulent and rancorous ones
of the late Civil War, when wide difference of opinion as to the right of the government to coerce the
slaveholding States divided the citizens of the coast,
Colonel Warner was no inconsiderable figure. Fearless, resolute, absolutely loyal to the government,
he stood a steadfast advocate of the Union, when
the fiery adherents-of secession, by whom the State
was thronged, were determined to carry California
for the Confederacy. Colonel Warner lived long
also in the midst of treacherous Indian tribes,
where a moment's hesitation, in exigent cases>would
have proved fatal to his own and others' priceless
interests. More than once his prompt action in
great danger saved human lives and property.
Thus for many years following his settlement
in Los Angeles were the circumstances of his
life such as to brinsr out the strong: traits in his
Such men, living in such times, usually make
bitter enemies; but of this venerable pioneer, not
one of the surviving zealous partisans of to-day
speaks in other than terms of friendship and respect.
Not a tongue is barbed with enmity. And if general testimony be accepted, none have won greater 148
respect for their opinions, or higher appreciation of
their worth, than has the, subject of this sketch, the
first president of the California Historical Society.
Colonel Warner is a native of Lyme, Connecticut, in which place he was born in the year 1807.
His ancestors were early settlers in that part of the
State, and were persons of influence. His maternal-
grandfather, Samuel Selden, was a colonel in Washington's army when the colonial force evacuated
New York. Colonel Warner is himself a favorite
uncle of the wife of Chief-Justice Waite. He is a
cousin of the wife of the eminent Judge Ranney,
of Cleveland, Ohio. Other of his relatives scattered
over the Buckeye State are quite numerous. Among
them is Vice-President C. C. Waite, of the Cincinnati,
Hamilton and Dayton Railway. Probably a half-
century has passed since one of these friends has
grasped the hand of the esteemed pioneer.
In October, 1830, Mr. Warner, being then twenty-
three years of age, and of frail constitution, left
Connecticut to seek health and fortune in the "far
West." Arriving in St. Louis early in December,
he there made the acquaintance of Jedediah S.
Smith, a famous member of the Rocky Mountain
Fur Company. The noted trapper had just come
into the bustling village from the North-west, with
an invoice of furs. He was accompanied by his
partners, Jackson and the Soublette brothers.
Young    Warner's   imagination   was    excited    by A NOBLE PIONEER.
their stirring accounts of trapper life, and he concluded that rough fare and mountain air were just
the things required to render him strong and
vigorous. So, seeking an interview with the intrepid Smith, he conferred with him in reference
to spending a limited time at his camps in the dis-*
tant mountains. The hardy trapper discouraged
the step, and the tall New England youth had to
content himself with spending the Winter in the
"metropolis of Missouri." However, when the
Spring opened, Mr. Smith, who also had remained
in St. Louis, offered him a position in an expedition he was organizing to convey a quantity of
merchandise to Santa Fe, and once there, Mr.
Warner might choose between remaining in the
capital of New Mexico and returning East for a
fresh stock of goods. Smith himself headed the
enterprise, but not long after reaching Santa Fe he
met his death at the hands of Indians on the Sem-
eron River. This blow broke up the operations of
his firm in New Mexico. Mr. Jackson wound up
their affairs, and in company with his young friend
Warner started on the perilous overland journey to
Southern California, crossing the great desert of which
considerable has already been said in this volume,
and arrived in Los Angeles in November, 1831.
A few months subsequently Mr. Warner, desirous of seeing something of the vast North-west,
joined a hunting party bound to the San Joaquin wm
River and its tributaries, to the Sacramento and its
branches, and thence northward to the mouth of the
Umpqua River in Oregon, and from that point eastward to the Klamath Lake region. In this then
long and perilous trip, the young man accomplished
his earnest desire to take life roughly for awhile.
The adventures of the party were numerous, and
some of them trying, if not exciting. For the fa-,
tigue and hardship he cared little, if he might but
take his share in the risks and perils, and in the end
turn out a Hercules in strength. And this he did,
if the stories now told of his subsequent almost
incredible feats of horsemanship, and of his ability
to cope with a score of armed assailants, be true.
In those early days, trapping beaver in the great
mountain ranges of the West was an exciting pursuit. Young men eager to engage in it were never
lacking. All California was traversed by parties
of bold hunters, who, upon carrying their furs to
market in the East, set afloat marvelous accounts of
the fair land. Twenty years later there were residing in Oregon, Washington, and California, numbers of men, of distinguished endowments, who had
served an apprenticeship in trapping; men who had
been attached to the hazardous business, fascifiated
by the wild, independent life they led. But the
country settling up, one after another, for various
reasons, abandoned the mountains and took up his
residence on the coast.    Some turned their attention A NOBLE PIONEER.
to civil affairs, and have rendered excellent service
to the Pacific States.
Returning to Los Angeles after an absence of
fourteen months, Mr. Warner settled permanently
in Southern California.    He was now twenty-seven
Corridor, San Luis Key Hission.
years of age. Three years later, 1837, he was
united in marriage to a young lady who was the
ward of Don Pio Pico, then administrator of the
Mission of San  Luis Rey, and afterward Mexican 1
governor of California. The mother of the young
woman being dead, her father had placed her at
school in this mission. When the marriage took
place, Mr. Pico acted as godfather of the groom,
in obedience to a requirement of the Catholic
Church, I believe. Out of this relation sprang an
attachment between the two young men, which has
known no change through fifty eventful years. Mr.
Pico, of whom something is said further on in this
volume, is now a resident of this city. He has seen
upwards of eighty years, and is a person of striking
Mr. and Mrs. Warner established their home in
Los Angeles, where they resided for a considerable
period, and here occurred one of the incidents which
attest the man's courage, and exemplify his fidelity
to his friends.
During the Mexican regime in California, local
rebellions were frequent on the coast. Factions out
of power were ever plotting to unseat those in
authority. The city of Los Angeles was sometimes
the theater for this sort of pastime, and one morning Mr. Warner found himself suddenly and innocently taking part in one of these emeutes. The
conflict began and ended so quickly, however, that
it seemed more like a whiff of air off a battle-field
than like a genuine struggle. When it was passed
the hero found himself the possessor of a broken
arm and needing the help of a surgeon. A NOBLFT PIONEER.
Upon throwing open their dwellings early one
sunny morning in April, I forget what year, the
citizens of Los Angeles were surprised to see a
company of armed soldiers encamped on their plaza,
as a convenient point for operations in any direction. The commander of the body was one Espin-
osa, an adherent of the then reigning governor,
Alvarado. The purpose of his silent and secret
entrance into the city- was the arrest, of certain
prominent men suspected of disaffection toward
Alvarado, and of conspiring to reinstate in the
gubernatorial chair one Corrillio, previously deposed
from that office. Among the suspected persons were
Don Pio Pico and his brother, Andrez Pico, subsequently quite a notable character in the history of
Southern California, and a search for these parties
had already begun.
Colonel and Mrs. Warner were seated at the
breakfast table, in a cozy room at the rear of his
store, when an authoritative knock upon the front
door caused the husband to spring to his feet. Upon
opening the door there confronted him a number
of Espinosa's men, who inquired if Don Pio Pico
. were there. They were courteously informed that
he was not. Not satisfied, they proposed to search
the premises, a privilege which was at once refused.
This provoked an attempt to arrest the proprietor,
who stoutly resisted. A hand-to-hand contest
ensued, and the parties were soon struggling in the Ill
street, immediately below where the St. Charles and
St. Elmo hotels now stand. At this juncture Es-
pinosa himself appeared, coming out of Commercial
Street, with his revolver drawn. Perceiving him,
Colonel Warner realized his danger, and with great
force breaking away from his assailants, made a
dash upon that officer, and wrested the weapon
from his hand. Soon after, having occasion to use
his left arm, he found it would not obey his will.
In the effort to quickly free himself from his
captors, one of them, intending to disable him, had
by an instantaneous blow broken the arm between
the shoulder and elbow.
At that moment Mr. William Wolfskill, one of
the remarkable men of the place, and a staunch
friend of Colonel Warner, appeared in the doorway
of his own business house, and comprehending the
status of affairs in the street, advanced toward the
crowd, himself well armed. Seeing him. and divining his intent, the wounded man cried out:
I Do n't shoot; I do n't want any man killed."
These words had the effect to allay the heat of
Espinosa and his company, who, after a short
parley, released their captive. Meanwhile the Picos,
early informed of the captain's errand, had made
their escape. Some days later, however, they, with
a half-dozen other prominent citizens, were arrested
and conveyed to Santa Barbara " as prisoners of
war!"    Nearly  fifty years have passed away since A NOBLE- PIONEER.
that day, yet the victim of that rencounter recalls
the circumstances as clearly and as readily as if the
event had happened only yesterday.
In the year 1846, Colonel Warner secured from
Sacristy, San Ii.ui3 Rey Mission.
the Mexican government a valuable grant of land,
embracing twenty-six thousand acres, or six square
leagues. The tract adjoined the lands belonging to
the San Luis Rey Mission, and also skirted the old
through wagon-road from San Diego to Fort Yuma. 156
It lay some sixty miles east of the former place, and
one hundred and twenty south-east of Los Angeles.
Some time in 1844 Mr. Warner removed his family
to this princely estate. Thenceforth it was known
as I Warner's Ranch," and bears that name to-day,
though years have elapsed since the title thereto
was vested in Colonel Warner.
A distinguished Californian, writing upon incidents connected with those dangerous days in this
part of the State, says:
| Colonel John J. Warner, a pioneer whose magnificent domain was the first reached by the immigrant after crossing the Colorado desert, was always
open-hearted and generous to the wayworn traveler, and nearly impoverished himself by his acts of
charitable liberality. All honor to the benevolent
old pioneer."
Once in possession of these broad acres, the next
step was the stocking them liberally with horses,
cattle, and sheep. This Colonel Warner did, and
shortly was reputed to be "immensely rich." But
to-day, while comfort and plenty find lodgment at
the honorable man's fireside, he is no longer a
Croesus of the plains. In some of the many vicissitudes which have swept over this region, probably
some of this wealth took wings and flew away.
Much of it certainly was expended in charity. Not
a little was stolen by marauding Indians, as the
following occurrence shows: A NOBLE J>IONEER.
The ranchos of that period were kept munificently supplied, not only with groceries and provisions for the entertainment of large companies of
guests and frequent needy travelers, but also with a
full and often expensive assortment of dry goods.
This was especially the case at Colonel Warner's
frontier home. The man who could so liberally
provide for strangers and friends practiced no parsimony in supplying the wants of his family. One
is not surprised that the vast store of necessaries
and luxuries always on hand at the Warner rancho
should sooner or later excite the cupidity of predatory Indians, of whom a plenty were the colonel's
During the year 1851 he was repeatedly warned
of a threatened attack from the Cowia tribe, numbering several hundred, and living in villages not
far from his estate. Hardly believing the reports,
he, however, took the precaution to remove his wife
and children to San Diego, starting them out in the
night, under escort of one Captain Nye, a sea-faring
friend of the family, who happened to be on a visit
to the rancho. A little before sunrise the second
morning after their departure, the colonel was
awakened by the shouts of savages around the house.
Having kept watch during the night, he had lain
down toward day, taking care not to remove his
shoes, and was at the moment in a sound slumber.
On a table at the bedside lay several loaded
14 if
pistols and a fowling-piece or two. At the rear door
stood three saddle horses, tied, and ready for instant
mounting. The arms and animals were provided
for the escape of himself, his Mexican servant—at
that moment being slain by the plunderers, in a
corral a few rods away—and a mulatto boy, the
servant of an army officer at San Diego. The latter
was confined in the house, a helpless victim of rheumatism. He had been sent out from the city to try
the water of some notable hot springs on the rancho,
and had come over to the house but the day before.
Springing from the bed, Colonel Warner ran,
unarmed, to the rear door of the house, and opened
it, to ascertain if the horses were yet there. The
marauders, about two hundred in number, greeted
him with a shower of arrows, not one of which hit
him, fortunately.
Stepping quickly to the table, and securing one
of the fowling-pieces, he returned to his guests, and
found to his dismay that two of the horses had
been removed, and that an Indian was in the act of
loosing the third. The gun flashed, and the plunderer lay on the ground dead. A second, attempting
to take the animal, fell also. Then a third, making
the effort, was mortally wounded. Thrown into a
panic by these casualties, the band retreated temporarily to a shed near by, bearing the bodies of
their fallen comrades.
Resolved now to attempt an escape before the A NOBLE PIONEER.
Cowias  could rally, and also to  save the young
invalid in his care, Colonel Warner quickly placed
the boy on the horse, put his holster pistols in the
saddle, his belt pistols on his person, laid one fowling-piece across the neck of the horse, and suspended
another  at the  animal's side.    Then  mounting in
front  of the  youth  he  dashed, away, the foe not
interfering.    On the estate, some miles distant, lay
a village of friendly Indians, where were the headquarters of his herdsmen.    Thither rode the fugitives with  all  speed.    Immediately  thirty trusted
•Indians were charged with conveying the invalid
to St. Isabel, for care and safety, and the herders
were dispatched to bring in the stock.    Then, accompanied by a number of his own Indian dependents, Colonel Warner hastened back to his home.
The Cowias, recovered from their fright, were hurriedly removing  from the premises  the stock of
^merchandise, valued at about six thousand dollars.
They  now  showed  great   hostility, terrifying the
man's small escort, into a prompt retreat.   To oppose the spoilers single-handed, was to meet certain
death.    The Colonel, therefore, wheeled, rode away
and joined his family in San Diego.    Upon their
return they were attended by a considerable military escort, led by Major, afterwards General, Hein-
zelman.    This rancho, on the verge of the desert,
was the home of the family for thirteen years, or
until 1857, when Los Angeles once  more became 160
their place of residence.    The next year witnessed
the death of Mrs. Warner.
' For Mr. Warner's bravery in saving the life of
the colored youth at the risk of his own, he received
the title of Colonel—from his friends only, I presume.    He was never in the army.
In 1858 Colonel Warner entered journalistic
life, as the publisher of the Southern California Vineyard, a Democratic sheet, at first devoted to general
news, but in time drifting into a strong political
paper. But when the Democratic party of California took position in favor of secession, Colonel
Warner adhered to the Union, notwithstanding
strong party effort to control both him and his
paper. As was to be expected, loyalty killed the
journal, but failed to kill its editor.
The Vineyard breathed its last in 1861. For five
years thereafter Colonel Warner was the Southern
California correspondent of the Alta California.
Previous to becoming a knight of the pen,
he served the public in several responsible civil
positions. For the sessions of '51 and '52 he
represented San Diego County in the Assembly of
California; and Los Angeles County in the same
body in 1860. He was once elected a judge in San
Diego County, but being long absent in San Francisco never qualified, and never served.
A few years ago Colonel Warner wrote a series
of articles on methods for confining the Los Angeles A NOBLE PIONEER.
River within its proper channel in seasons of flood.
These papers drew attention at the time for their
apparent practicability. But with the deceptive
stream flowing under ground half the time, and
seldom troubling any body very much, his suggestions
were not heeded. But the suffering and loss of life
and property caused by its overflows last Winter,
have led to the republication and serious consideration of these articles.
In the spring of 1884 the aged pioneer completed a lengthy paper on " The Causes of the Cold
and Warm Ages in the Arctic Latitudes." His
theory, if not correct, is interesting, and reads as
"At one time in the world's history the Continents of North and South America were not as
they now are, muted by the Isthmus of Panama.
All Central America then lay beneath the ocean.
Behring's Strait, instead of being a narrow passage
of water, was a broad sea, connecting the Pacific
and Arctic Oceans. No warm Gulf Stream flowed
northward along the eastern coast of North America, and across the Atlantic to the British coast.
But an equatorial warm stream of vast proportions
flowed from the Atlantic into the Pacific Ocean,
over submerged Central America, and on northwestwardly to the north-eastern coast of Asia,
where, pouring through Behring's Strait into the
Polar Ocean, it converted it into a vast thermal 162
sea, on whose shores flourished a tropical vegetation. Ages passed away, and Behring's Strait became very nearly closed by volcanic upheaval,
greatly restricting the flow of warm water into the
Northern Ocean. Arctic temperature was the
result in those high latitudes. Meanwhile Central
America had appeared above the ocean, sending the
equatorial warm current northward along the eastern coast of North America, and forming the 'Gulf
Stream' of to-day."
In the neighborhood of forty years ago this
patriarch paid his first and, up to the present, only
visit to his native State. His route was a devious
one, taking him from Los Angeles to San Pedro,
thence to Acapulco by water, and from there across
Mexico to Vera Cruz, whence he went by sail to
Mobile, and thence on to the land of steady habits.
While in the East he delivered several addresses
on California. In the city of Rochester, 1841, he
discussed the question of a trans-continental, railway,
remarking: | Should I ever come East again, I shall
come in a railway car." That discussion gives
Colonel Warner, instead of Stephen H. Whitney,
as has been claimed for him, the honor of being the
first man to propose a thoroughfare of steel across
the continent of America.
A Los Angeles paper, speaking on this point
this morning, says: "Mr. Whitney took up the
suggestion and talking upon it, gained much eclat A NOBLE PIONEER.
in the East for the boldness of the idea, while Colonel Warner, returning to California, lost all credit
for it. The honor should certainly be awarded to
our esteemed fellow-citizen. It seems to us," the
sheet continues, " that the continental railway lines,
7 J /
even at this late day, should deem it an honor to
transport, in the most luxurious Pullman car, the
venerable gentleman, who, with profound foresight,
nearly a half a century ago,'first proposed a railway
across the American continent."
It may interest the reader to know that the
great railways did, in June, after this sketch was
written, convey Colonel Warner and the young
lady—a grandchild—who attended him, twice across
the continent. In an absence of several months in
the East, the happy pioneer visited the home of
Chief Justice Waite, in Washington; was received
with marked respect by President Arthur, and took
a look through all the grand government buildings.
Proceeding to New England, he renewed his acquaintance with the scenes and surviving friends of
his youth, and, going or returning, passed some
time, in a delightful way, among his relatives in
and around Cleveland, Ohio; and, as he said to the
writer after his return, " was everywhere treated
like a prince."
Colonel Warner now resides with a married
daughter on Main Street, in Los Angeles, in an
old-time adobe home, with its only entrance at the Ill
rear of the building. Unfortunately, since making
his last eastern trip, he has almost wholly lost
his sight. " I can not see you," he said, meeting me
on my return t>o Los Angeles, after an absence of
two years, "but I remember your voice." His
mental faculties, on the other hand, are perfectly
preserved. He was that day serving as a delegate
to a county political convention, held in the city.
The man is over six feet in height, slender, quite
erect. His white hair stands out from his head in
all directions. As to the matters of his own life
he is modest and reticent, though most of the facts
given in this sketch were obtained from his own
lips. He is a perfect encyclopedia of information
on a host of subjects. He readily recalls the leading events in the history of California for a half-
century past, with their exact dates; and also the
career of many of its prominent men. He is obliging, at great cost to himself many times. I
frequently had occasion, during my residence here,
to call upon him for information on some subject.
Every time he was the same patient, courteous, self-
forgetting gentleman. XXI.
Colonization Schemes.
IN no part of the United States, certainly, and,
perhaps, nowhere in the world, has the subject
of colonization received more earnest and more intelligent consideration than" has been given it in
Southern California during the past six years. The
most enterprising of men have devoted time,
strength, ability, and fortunes to devising schemes
for settling this part of the coast rapidly and well.
There was, the moment the Southern Pacific Road
was completed, and still is, ground for pushing and
developing this sort of business. Lying on this
coast, seven years ago, with a climate nowhere on
earth surpassed, was a vast area of country almost
literally without house or inhabitant. Of course
I know there were villages here, and ranchos, with
houses upon them, but that does not weaken the
statement I have made. On account of the productiveness of the soil, this area was fitted to
become the home of millions of people. Most of
it could be given to the plow almost without cutting
down a tree or removing: a stone, but it was land
asleep.    During the past week I have ridden over
15      * 165 16(
thousands of acres which the implements of husbandry have never touched. Under its covering of
thickly blooming flowers—white, pink, blue, purple,
and yellow, all tiny but beautiful things—are concealed possibilities of production, so great that I
dare not express the facts in the case, lest the
reader's incredulity shall break out in words I
should not care to hear.
To bring these acres under cultivation, and
bring human beings to the enjoyment of their products and the benefits of the delightful climate, as
well as to contribute to the resources of the country, while increasing their individual fortunes, are
the chief objects sought by the men engaged in
the numerous colonization enterprises.
The subject of colonization has at least two sides.
It will readily be conceded that all the benefits of
the scheme ought not to accrue to the families who
settle on colony sites, finding ready to their hand,
the moment they arrive on the ground, systems of
water, of light, and of education, together with
church privileges, a dry-goods store, a grocery, a
doctor, a newspaper, and, in many instances, a tasteful new dwelling ready for their occupancy. It is expected, or should be, that the two, ten, or twenty
men who purchase a large tract of land in a favorable location; lay it off in lots and parcels; plant
upon it trees by the thousand, for shade and fruit;
conduct to all parts of it  an   unfailing supply  of COLONIZATION SCHEMES.
pure soft water from some river or mountain spring,
miles distant; build a hotel; erect a church and
a school-house; secure postal facilities; arrange for
telephonic and telegraphic communication with the
outside world; work early and late, and hard, to interest people in what they are doing; and lastly,
worry until health declines, lest after all, the venture
may fail, will reap something of a harvest from the
one or two hundred thousand dollars sown in all
these improvements.
There are in Southern California a score, probably, of prosperous colonies. Some of them have
expanded into beautiful towns and strengthened into
extensive fruit-growing communities. In a preceding chapter I have referred to a cluster of such
settlements, all lying south-east of Los Angeles, in
the Santa Ana Valley. But on the through line of
the Southern Pacific Railway, east of the city and
within a distance of seventy miles, has been planted
another series of such colonies. It will do the
reader, who has never seen California, good to read
about them.
Last Thursday afternoon, at four o'clock, the
through eastern train on the above road pulled out
from the depot in Los Angeles with the writer on
board, wound through a dusty street or two, then
turned squarely away from the sunset, swept across
the nearly dry bed of the Los Angeles River, and
struck out for the great Colorado Desert.    On our iliil
left until long after sunset, the purple Sierra Madres
were in full view from the car windows, while short
spurs and ranges, named for the whole catalogue of
saints, shot out into the plain, over which we were
speeding, in every direction. For the first two or
three miles out the traveler sees nothing attractive,
except a few vineyards and young orange orchards,
with occasional residences planted on the hills
The first halt is at Alhambra, which suggests
Washington Irving and Old Spain, but which consists of little more than a fine hotel, set away on a
sightly hill-top under the Sierra Madre. Running
on some miles the train stopped in front of the ancient
church of the San Gabriel Mission, eleven and a half
miles from the city. Here stood this somewhat
unique structure when Los Angeles was founded, one
hundred years ago. All around it lies the rich and
highly cultivated San Gabriel Valley, verdant with
all kinds of fruit orchards, and as fragrant with flowers as Ignatius Donnelly claims were the fair plains
of the submerged island of Atlantis. It was the floral
copy of this church which formed so notable a
feature of the San Gabriel exhibit at the brilliant
flower festival held in Los Angeles last May.
Next on the list is the incipient town of La
Puente, which recalls to mind the fact that the La
Puente Rancho in this vicinity, is a tract of land
deemed exceedingly rich in petroleum deposit.  Some COLONIZATION SCHEMES.
six years ago—1880, I think—two indomitable
Canadian gentlemen, the Messrs. George and William Chaffey, founders of the flourishing colony of
Ontario, where our train will soon arrive, were
engaged, with some others, in developing this source
of wealth here. About that time Mr. Burdette
Chandler, a gentleman familiar with coal-oil mining
in Pennsylvania, began boring for oil on this ranch.
At a depth of one hundred and fifty feet he obtained
in paying quantities a grade of oil similar to the
West Virginia lubricating oil. Three wells were
put down to a depth varying from one hundred and
fifty to five hundred feet. Each well, prpduced fifteen barrels per day at the outset. About this time
was organized the Chandler Oil Company, for the
purpose of developing the petroleum on this farm.
Other wells were then sunk, with flattering results;
also a refinery was erected for distilling the oil. In
the "Annual Report of the Los Angeles Board of
Trade" for 1886, I notice that coal-oil is mentioned
as one of the most promising resources of Los Angeles County. It is well known that the county
sfbounds with oil springs, asphaltum beds, and mines
of brea.
The celebrated Brea Rancho, situated some
eight or nine miles north-west of Los Angeles, affords a splendid example of the bituminous deposit
of the region. Originally this was a large and valuable estate, whose proprietor, becoming pecuniarily 11
involved, mortgaged portions of it to enable him to
meet his obligations. But before the debts were
liquidated death released him from his burdens,
transferring them to the shoulders of his widow.
She bravely faced the responsibility, sold enough of
the estate to cancel the mortgages, and then began
mining the brea as a^ source of income for herself,
reducing it on the estate, to a form convenient for
making cement pavement for streets. The whole
was a piece of good management, and the lady now
finds herself on the road to independence. Five
hundred acres of this property are the possession of
ex-Senator Cornelius Cole, of California, appointed
some years ago to settle the claims of the Pacific
Coast creditors in the notorious Alabama case.
But while we have been talking about coal-oil
the train has run on to Pomotfa, an enterprising
village thirty-three miles from the city, and the
spot, of all others in Southern California, on which
the Goddess of Fruits should shower her favors,
since it bears her name. The place has existed but
a few years, and has a population of twenty-five
hundred people probably. Being a part of the great
plain which slopes southward from the base of the
Sierra Madre, its soil is inexhaustibly fertile, and
its climate almost faultless. Groves of semi-tropical
fruits flourish on all sides. A perennial supply of
pure water is furnished by a stream which breaks
from the mountains back of it.    That the place has COLONIZATION SCHEMES.
schools, churches, and other facilities for the improvement of the citizens, goes without saying. For
years to come, Pomona will be associated with the
J 7
name of that admirable Christian man, Rev. C. T.
Mills, who, with his capable wife, founded Mills
Seminary near Oakland, California, a number of
years ago. At one time Dr. Mills represented a
large interest in the land on which this village
stands, and his wise assistance in the development
of the colony insured the gratifying progress we
now see. While here attending to its affairs,
one day, he met with the accident that cost him
his life. Being thrown from his carriage, he received an injury to one of his arms which resulted
in amputation, and subsequently in death. Thus
was Mrs. Mills, assisted by a board of trustees, left
the sole head of the institution, and also an important member of the Pomona Land Company. Dr.
Mills, who was for some years president of Batti-
cotta Theological Seminary, India, and also of Oahu
College for Young Men in Honolulu, had the
respect and friendship of many prominent people in
this country.
Four miles further eastward, the train halts in
front of the trim little station-house at Ontario.
The tasteful building, with its surrounding of gay
flowers and borderings of bright color, looks more
like a summer-house on some gentleman's estate,
than like  a temporary shelter for passengers, and 172
the business office of the railway. The place takes
its name from Ontario, Canada, where its founders,
the Chaffey brothers, spent their youth. Their
father was once the owner of large shipping interests in an old Canadian city, and established quite
a commerce with certain American towns. As the
train draws up, passengers on the village side of the
cars exclaim: "What a pretty place!" But I happen to know that a little over four years ago not one
building, and but a single tree, relieved the thousand desolate acres now changed into this pleasant
scene. Less than three years since, I visited the
place for the purpose of studying the practical
workings of colonization schemes. The town was
then undergoing wide advertising as " the model
colony" of Southern California, and was a place of
great interest for many reasons, but the reader will
be most concerned in its present situation.
Ontario lies in San Bernardino County, the
largest county in the State (haviug an area of ten
million acres), is thirty-eight miles east of Los Angeles, and is a part of the territory known as the
" warm belt," a strip of country from eight to ten
miles wide, which skirts, for a distance of seventy
miles, from west to east, the base of the Sierra
Madre Mountains, and includes all the thriving
towns between Pasadena and the San Gorgonio
Pass. This district is seldom visited by frosts,
never by severe ones.    It may be irrigated in every COLONIZATION SCHEMES.
part by water from the rivers which traverse it
from north to south, or from mountain springs and
torrents. It is therefore admirably adapted to the
culture of both northern and semi-tropical fruits.
Ontario may also be said to lie in what is termed
the Upper Santa Ana Valley, between two lofty
ranges of mountains, the Sierra Madre, ten miles
away on the north, the Temescal, fifteen miles distant on the south. In every direction the view from
the place is very fine. The town plat is a part of
a tract of ten thousand acres to be devoted to the
colony. Purer air can nowhere be breathed.
Through the center of the tract, from the railway
to the nearer mountains, stretches a beautiful avenue, seven miles long, two hundred feet wide, as
straight as surveyor's chain could make it, with an
ascending grade toward the Sierra of one thousand
feet. Through the middle of this avenue was originally allotted a space forty feet wide for a double
line of cable railway to be operated by water. But
as the cars stopped opposite the magnificent thoroughfare, a passenger remarked:
"The Ontario Land Company is about to lay
the rails for an electric road up one of those drives
to the mountains, and thence around to the mouth
of the famous San Antonio canon."
Planted on both sides of this forty feet is a
row of fan palms, alternating with the eucalyptus,
or the  pepper  tree.    Both  the   latter   are   rapid 111!
growers, and are set to secure temporary shade and
tree effects until the palms make a display, when
they will be removed.    The imposing effect of this
Fan Palms.
double row of the fan palm, when sufficiently
grown, must be seen to be appreciated. Again, on
either side of this central way, extends a carriage
drive,   sixty-five feet  wide,  very   smooth,   n<
dusty, and lined, next the sidewalk, by a row of
grevillia and pepper trees, with the eucalyptus interspersed. The grevillia is a handsome tree, evergreen, with bushy, spreading crown, and general
appearance like that of the pepper tree, over which,
however, it has the advantage of preserving a
smooth, clean trunk in. old age. Finally, fifteen feet
are reserved on both sides this avenue for sidewalks and external parks of flowers. Many of the
lots fronting upon this street have been fenced with
a hedge of the Monterey cypress. Should this
hedge be continued to the mountains, there will appear two low, trim lines of vivid green, seven miles
long, doing away with unpicturesque fencings of
wood and iron. Now imagine this broad roadway
embellished with six rows of varied and fadeless
green, the whole flanked with a wealth of beautiful
bloom. Think, of a drive at early morning, or
after tea, up this smooth ascent, with the Sierra
rising right before one and a health-giving breeze
fanning the cheek. I myself rode over it when all
this charm of vegetation was at the starting point, before the grade was established quite to the mountains.
It was a delightful ride. But with all this ornamentation at maturity, there will be not another
such street in California, unless a rival be found in
Magnolia Avenue, at Riverside, of which we shall
have a word to say further on; nor on the continent, except it be Euclid Avenue, in Cleveland, 176
Ohio, whose name it borrows. The Ontario Euclid
embraces one hundred and eighty acres of land, and
is adorned with something like severity thousand
trees, and is twice the width of Cleveland's beautiful street.
At the time of my first visit, eighteen months
after the ground was broken, seventy families were
settled upon the tract; a public school was in progress ; postal and telegraph facilities had been
secured ; a commodious hotel had been erected, and
the varied work of laying off lots, grading streets,
putting down water-pipes, tunneling the mountains
for unfailing water, setting vines for raisins, and
planting a great variety of fruit trees, was going
on with a will, besides building for this purpose
and for that. Two years have passed since that
day, changing the scene wondrously. How so much
could have been done iu so little time is a marvel.
The soil of this warm belt is a sandy, -gravelly
loam, lying gently inclined to the southern and
western sun, and is easily worked. Dense fogs, a
serious hindrance in some localities to the curing
of raisins, are said to visit Ontario too seldom to be
taken into account.
It should now be said that the interests of the
colony have passed from the hands of its founders.
Some months ago a gentleman representing an
Australian colonization company arrived in Los
Angeles for the purpose of investigating the coloniza- COLONIZATION SCHEMES.
tion schemes of Southern California. The fame of
Ontario had reached his ears. He paid the place a
visit. The plan of these brothers commended
itself to his judgment. He conferred with them as
to the feasibility of undertaking a similar enterprise on land near the city of Melbourne. The result was a proposition to the Messrs. Chaffey to
transplant a colony of English people from the
mother country to the Fifth Continent. Mr. George
Chaffey soon sailed for Australia to look the"
field over. A grant- of twenty-five thousand acres
of land was offered him for the project. He
accepted it, arid decided to sell his interests in Ontario
and remove his family to Melbourne. Returning
to America he soon accomplished these steps, and
is now domiciled in the far-off land with his wife
and children. Mr. William Chaffey and his family,
it is understood, follow at a later day. This gentleman is also known as having been active a few
years earlier in adorning that section of the town
of Riverside called Arlington. These young men
seem to possess a genius for taking the virgin soil
and building up towns upon it." Their success at
both Ontario and Etiwanda, Mr. George Chaffey's
place of residence, is strong evidence to that effect.
I have it from a personal friend of this man, that
when he arrived in Los Angeles, less than five years
ago, " the sum of his wealth was four dollars." If
that be true, Ontario, made to spring out of the 178
naked mesa in the space of four years, with all its
present beauty, homes, and business, proves what
wonders can be accomplished by sheer courage,
energy, and industry, linked with a taste for education, and a reverence for God and religion.
A feature of special importance at Ontario is the
noble San Antonio caHon. From the head of Euclid
Avenue a carriage road winds off to the left, among
the few low foot-hills of the Sierra Madre. After
several hundred rods of distance, it turns and enters
the rock-strewn mouth of this grand gorge, penetrating the Sierra not less than nine miles. Down
this wild passage flows the clear, cold, roaring,
tumbling stream, which gives the colony its splendid drinking water. Speckled trout abound in it,
as do quail among the foot-hills and loftier heights,
making the place a paradise for the angler and
the hunter. But the place has higher recommendations than its fine scenery and myriad life in air
and water. It is an Eden for sufferers from asthma
and rheumatism. Relief from these troubles has
been, almost immediate in some cases, at the entrance to this canon. A well-known physician of
Chicago relates that a severe case of asthma was
greatly mitigated after one hour spent here, and a
trying case of sciatic rheumatism yielded after a
a two weeks' sojourn.
In a tent pitched on a grassy plot, among some
trees, at the opening to this gorge, there lived in COLONIZA TION SCHEMES.
1884 a gentleman from San Francisco, who had
long been afflicted with asthma of a terrible type.
So long as he remained in the canon his enemy let
him alone, but the moment he ventured into Los
Angeles for twenty-four hours, the disease attacked
him so fiercely that he was glad to hasten back to
his retreat under the shadow of the everlasting hills.
He pronounces the spot the best for his malady he
has ever found.
Nor is the resort without attractions for well
people. Numbers visit the locality every year for
refreshment. Business men jaded with care and
anxiety find new strength beside its merry stream.
Romping among the granite bowlders, pining children become hardy as little bears. And such an
appetite as people get! The most provident cook
would be taxed to meet its demands. Some three
years ago Mr. William Chaffey, worn with the burden of Ontario affairs, removed his wife and children to the canon and camped for several weeks.
Speaking of that time, he told me that when ready
to return to his home he felt strong enough to found
another colony. A fair road extends up the deep
rent in the mountains for a distance of some miles.
Mount Baldy, the regal, snow-capped summit mentioned in an early chapter of this book, stands at its
head, eight miles from the mouth, and sixteen from
Ontario and the Southern Pacific road. The monarch
is worthy a visit.    Its height is nine thousand feet. 180
In all this ten thousand acres of inclined plane
there is not an acre of marsh or fen; not a rod over
which malaria dare hover; scarcely a foot which the
health-giving sunshine does not bless. A thick fog
rarely finds its way th