He took the watch and examined it carefully, handed it back, and

remarked as before, "_Quien sabe?_" The glitter of the gold, however,

seemed to quicken his perceptive faculties to this extent that he got up

from the bed, put on his spurs, took a riata from a peg on the wall, and

walked out, leaving me to entertain myself as I thought proper during

his absence.

Having finished a substantial repast of jerked beef and tortillas, I

went out and rambled about among the ruins for nearly an hour. A few

lazy and thriftless Indians, lying in the sun here and there, were all

the inhabitants of the place I could see. This ranch must have been a

very desirable residence in former times. The climate is charming,

except that it was a little warm in summer, and the cattle ranges are

richly clothed with grass and very extensive.

[Illustration: A SPANISH CABALLERO.]

In about an hour my friend the vaquero came back, mounted on a broncho

or wild horse, leading after him my mule, with the pack unchanged.

From what I could understand, he had found the mule entangled by the

bridle in the bushes, some three miles on the trail toward San Luis.

According to promise, I handed him my watch. He took it and examined it

again, then handed it back without saying a word.

"_Amigo_," said I, "the watch is yours. I promised it to you if you

found my mule."

To this he merely shrugged his shoulders.

"Won't you take it? I have no money."

"No, senor," said he, at length, with a somewhat haughty air, "I am a

Spanish gentleman."

"Oh, I beg your pardon. Will you do me the favor, then, to accept a plug

of tobacco?"

I opened my pack and handed him a large plug of the finest pressed

Cavendish.

"_Mil gracias!_" said the Spanish gentleman, smiling affably, and making

a condescending inclination of the head. "That suits me better. A watch

is bad property here. I don't want to be killed yet a while."

Here was a hint of his reason for declining the proffered reward. But he

did it very grandly; and I was quite willing to accord to him the title

of Senor Caballero to which he aspired, though he certainly looked as

unlike the Caballeros described by the learned Fray Antonio Agapida, who

went out to make war upon the Moors of Granada, as one distinguished

individual can look unlike another.

There was ample reason why I should regard my mule with dissatisfaction.

All my misfortunes, so far, had arisen from his defective physical and

mental organization (if I may use the term in reference to such an

animal); but the fact is, it has been my fate, as far back as I can

recollect, to have the worst stock in the country foisted upon me. Never

yet, up to this hour, have I succeeded in purchasing a sound, safe, and

reliable animal--except, indeed, an old horse that I once owned in

Oakland, generally known in the neighborhood as Selim the Steady--a

name derived from his unconquerable propensity for remaining in the

stable, or getting back to it as soon as ever he left the premises.

The vaquero, or, as he aspired to be called, the Caballero, offered to

barter his broncho for my mule, and, as an inducement, set him to

bucking all over the ground within a circle of fifty yards, merely to

show the spirit of the animal, of which I was so well satisfied that I

declined the barter.

CHAPTER IX.

A DANGEROUS ADVENTURE.

Bidding my worthy friend a kindly "adios," I mounted the mule and

pursued my journey toward San Luis. The country, for many miles after

leaving San Miguel, was very wild and picturesque. Blue mountains loomed

up in the distance; and the trail passed through a series of beautifully

undulating valleys, sometimes extensive and open, but often narrowed

down to a mere gorge between the irregular spurs of the mountains. Game

was very abundant, especially quail and rabbits. I saw also several fine

herds of deer, and occasionally bands of large red wolves. It was a very

lonesome road all the way to the valley of Santa Marguerita, not a house

or human being to be seen for twenty miles at a stretch. Toward evening,

on the first day after leaving San Miguel, I descended the bed of a

creek to water my mule. While looking for the water-hole, I heard some

voices, and suddenly found myself close by a camp of Sonoranians. It was

too late to retreat, for I was already betrayed by the braying of my

mule. Upon riding into the camp I was struck with the savage and

picturesque group before me, consisting of some ten or a dozen

Sonoranians. It is doing them no more than justice to say that they were

the most villainous, cut-throat, ill-favored looking gang of vagabonds

I had ever laid eyes upon. Some were smoking cigarritos by the fire,

others lying all about the trees playing cards, on their ragged

saddle-blankets, with little piles of silver before them; and those that

were not thus occupied were capering around on wild horses, breaking

them apparently, for the blood streamed from the nostrils and flanks of

the unfortunate animals, and they were covered with a reeking sweat.

Probably it may be thought that I exceeded the truth when I asked this

promising party if they had seen six "Americanos" pass that way with a

pack-train from San Luis, friends of mine that I was on the look-out

for. They had seen no such pack-train; it had not passed since they

camped there, which was several days ago.

"Then," said I, "it must be close at hand, and I must hurry on to meet

it. The mules are laden with _mucha plata_."

Having watered my mule, I rode on about five miles farther, where I

reached a small ranch-house occupied by a native Californian family.

They gave me a good supper of frijoles and jerked beef, and I slept

comfortably on the porch.

Next day I struck into the Valley of Santa Marguerita. I shall never

forget my first impression of this valley. Encircled by ranges of blue

mountains were broad, rich pastures, covered with innumerable herds of

cattle; beautifully diversified with groves, streams, and shrubbery;

castellated cliffs in the foreground as the trail wound downward; a

group of cattle grazing by the margin of a little lake, their forms

mirrored in the water; a mirage in the distance; mountain upon mountain

beyond, as far as the eye could reach, till their dim outlines were lost

in the golden glow of the atmosphere. Surely a more lovely spot never

existed upon earth. I have wandered over many a bright and beautiful

land, but never, even in the glorious East, in Italy, Spain,

Switzerland, or South America, have I seen a country so richly favored

by nature as California, and never a more lovely valley than Santa

Marguerita upon the whole wide world. There is nothing comparable to the

mingled wildness and repose of such a scene; the rich and glowing sky,

the illimitable distances, the teeming luxuriance of vegetation, its

utter isolation from the busy world, and the dreamy fascination that

lurks in every feature.

[Illustration: VALLEY OF SANTA MARGUERITA.]

I had passed nearly across the valley, and was about to enter upon an

undulating and beautifully timbered range of country extending into it

from the foot-hills, when a dust arose on a rise of ground a little to

the left and about half a mile distant. My mule, ever on the alert for

some new danger, pricked up his ears and manifested symptoms of

uncontrollable fear. The object rapidly approached, and without farther

warning the mule whirled around and fled at the top of his speed.

Neither bridle nor switch had the slightest effect. In vain I struggled

to arrest his progress, believing this, like many other frights he had

experienced on the road, was rather the result of innate cowardice than

of any substantial cause of apprehension. One material difference was

perceptible. He never before ran so fast. Through brush and mire, over

rocks, into deep arroyas and out again, he dashed in his frantic career,

never once stopping till by some mischance one of his fore feet sank in

a squirrel-hole, when he rolled headlong on the ground, throwing me with

considerable violence several yards in advance. I jumped to my feet at

once, hoping to catch him before he could get up, but he was on his feet

and away before I had time to make the attempt. It now became a matter

of personal interest to know what he was running from. Upon looking

back, I was astonished to see not only one object, but four others in

the rear, bearing rapidly down toward me. The first was a large animal

of some kind--I could not determine what--the others mounted horsemen in

full chase. Whatever the object of the chase was, it was not safe to be

a spectator in the direct line of their route. I cast a hurried look

around, and discovered a break in the earth a few hundred yards

distant, toward which I ran with all speed. It was a sort of mound

rooted up by the squirrels or coyotes, and afforded some trifling

shelter, where I crouched down close to the ground. Scarcely had I

partially concealed myself when I heard a loud shouting from the men on

horseback, and, peeping over the bank, saw within fifty or sixty paces a

huge grizzly bear, but no longer retreating. He had faced round toward

his pursuers, and now seemed determined to fight. The horsemen were

evidently native Californians, and managed their animals with wonderful

skill and grace. The nearest swept down like an avalanche toward the

bear, while the others coursed off a short distance in a circling

direction to prevent his escape. Suddenly swerving a little to one side,

the leader whirled his lasso once or twice around his head, and let fly

at his game with unerring aim. The loop caught one of the fore paws, and

the bear was instantly jerked down upon his haunches, struggling and

roaring with all his might. It was a striking instance of the power of

the rider over the horse, that, wild with terror as the latter was, he

dared not disobey the slightest pressure of the rein, but went through

all the evolutions, blowing trumpet-blasts from his nostrils and with

eyes starting from their sockets. Despite the strain kept upon the

lasso, the bear soon regained his feet, and commenced hauling in the

spare line with his fore paws so as to get within reach of the horse. He

had advanced within ten feet before the nearest of the other horsemen

could bring his lasso to bear upon him. The first throw was at his hind

legs--the main object being to stretch him out--but it missed. Another

more fortunate cast took him round the neck. Both riders pulled in

opposite directions, and the bear soon rolled on the ground again,

biting furiously at the lassos, and uttering the most terrific roars.

The strain upon his neck soon choked off his breath, and he was forced

to let loose his grasp upon the other lasso. While struggling to free

his neck, the two other horsemen dashed up, swinging their lassos, and

shouting with all their might so as to attract his attention. The

nearest, watching narrowly every motion of the frantic animal, soon let

fly his lasso, and made a lucky hitch around one of his hind legs. The

other, following quickly with a large loop, swung it entirely over the

bear's body, and all four riders now set up a yell of triumph and began

pulling in opposite directions. The writhing, pitching, and straining of

the powerful monster were now absolutely fearful. A dust arose over him,

and the earth flew up in every direction. Sometimes by a desperate

effort he regained his feet, and actually dragged one or more of the

horses toward him by main strength; but, whenever he attempted this, the

others stretched their lassos, and either choked him or jerked him down

upon his haunches. It was apparent that his wind was giving out, partly

by reason of the long chase, and partly owing to the noose around his

throat. A general pull threw him once more upon his back. Before he

could regain his feet, the horsemen, by a series of dexterous

manoeuvres, wound him completely up, so that he lay perfectly quiet upon

the ground, breathing heavily, and utterly unable to extricate his paws

from the labyrinth of lassos in which he was entangled. One of the

riders now gave the reins of his horse to another and dismounted.

Cautiously approaching, with a spare riata, he cast a noose over the

bear's fore paws, and wound the remaining part tightly round the neck,

so that what strength might still have been left was speedily exhausted

by suffocation. This done, another rider dismounted, and the two soon

succeeded in binding their victim so firmly by the paws that it was

impossible for him to break loose. They next bound his jaws together by

means of another riata, winding it all the way up around his head, upon

which they loosened the fastening around his neck so as to give him air.

When all was secure, they freed the lassos and again mounted their

horses. I thought it about time now to make known my presence and stood

up. Some of the party had evidently seen me during the progress of the

chase, for they manifested no surprise; and the leader, after exchanging

a few words with one of the men, and pointing in the direction taken by

the mule, rode up and said very politely, "_Buenas dias, Senor!_" He

then informed me, as well as I could understand, that he had sent a man

to catch my mule, and it would be back presently. While we were

endeavoring to carry on some conversation in reference to the capture of

the bear, during which I made out to gather that they were going to drag

him to the ranch on a bullock's hide, and have a grand bullfight with

him in the course of a few days, the vaquero returned with my mule.

[Illustration: LASSOING A GRIZZLY.]

I had a pleasant journey of thirty-five miles that day. Nothing farther

occurred worthy of record. When night overtook me I was within fifteen

miles of San Luis. I camped under a tree, and, notwithstanding some

apprehension of the Sonoranians, made out to get a good sleep.

Next morning I was up and on my way by daylight. The country, as I

advanced, increased in picturesque beauty, and the hope of soon reaching

my destination gave me additional pleasure. A few hours more, and I was

safely lodged with some American friends. Thus ended what I think the

reader must admit was "a dangerous journey."

CHAPTER X.

A TRAGEDY.

A few days after my arrival in San Luis I went, in company with a young

American by the name of Jackson, to a fandango given by the native

Californians. The invitation, as usual in such cases, was general, and

the company not very select. Every person within a circle of twenty

miles, and with money enough in his pockets to pay for the refreshments,

was expected to be present. The entertainment was held in a large adobe

building, formerly used for missionary purposes, the lower part of which

was occupied as a store-house. A large loft overhead, with a step-ladder

reaching to it from the outside, formed what the proprietor was pleased

to call the dancing-saloon. In the yard, which was encircled by a mud

wall, were several chapadens, or brush tents, in which whisky, gin,

aguardiente, and other refreshments of a like nature, "for ladies and

gentlemen," were for sale at "two bits a drink." A low rabble of Mexican

greasers, chiefly Sonoranians, hung around the premises in every

direction, among whom I recognized several belonging to the gang into

whose encampment I had fallen on my way down from Santa Marguerita.

Their dirty serapas, machillas, and spurs lay scattered about, just as

they had dismounted from their mustangs. The animals were picketed

around in the open spaces, and kept up a continual confusion by bucking

and kicking at every straggler who came within their reach. Such of the

rabble as were able to pay the entrance-fee of "_dos realles_" were

sitting in groups in the yard, smoking cigarritos and playing at monte.

A few of the better class of rancheros had brought senoritas with them,

mounted in front on their saddles, and were wending their way up the

step-ladder as we entered the premises.

I followed the crowd, in company with my friend Jackson, and was

admitted into the saloon upon the payment of half a dollar. This fund

was to defray the expense of lights and music.

On passing through the doorway I was forcibly impressed with the scene.

Some fifty or sixty couples were dancing to the most horrible scraping

of fiddles I had ever heard, marking the time by snapping their fingers,

whistling, and clapping their hands. The fiddles were accompanied by a

dreadful twanging of guitars; and an Indian in one corner of the saloon

added to the din by beating with all his might upon a rude drum. There

was an odor of steaming flesh, cigarritos, garlic, and Cologne in the

hot, reeking atmosphere that was almost suffocating; and the floor

swayed under the heavy tramp of the dancers, as if every turn of the

waltz might be the last. The assemblage was of a very mixed character,

as may well be supposed, consisting of native Californians, Sonoranians,

Americans, Frenchmen, Germans, and half-breed Indians.

Most of the Mexicans were rancheros and vaqueros from the neighboring

ranches, dressed in the genuine style of Caballeros del Campana, with

black or green velvet jackets, richly embroidered; wide pantaloons, open

at the sides, ornamented with rows of silver buttons; a red sash around

the waist; and a great profusion of gold filigree on their vests. These

were the fast young fellows who had been successful in jockeying away

their horses, or gambling at monte. Others of a darker and lower grade,

such as the Sonoranians, wore their hats and machillas just as they had

come in from camp; for it was one of the privileges of the fandango that

every man could dress or undress as he pleased. A very desperate and

ill-favored set these were--perfect specimens of Mexican outlaws.

The Americans were chiefly a party of Texans, who had recently crossed

over through Chihuahua, and compared not unfavorably with the

Sonoranians in point of savage costume and appearance. Some wore

broadcloth frock-coats, ragged and defaced from the wear and tear of

travel; some red flannel shirts, without any coats--their pantaloons

thrust in their boots in a loose, swaggering style; and all with

revolvers and bowie-knives swinging from their belts. A more reckless,

devil-may-care looking set it would be impossible to find in a year's

journey. Take them altogether--with their uncouth costumes, bearded

faces, lean and brawny forms, fierce, savage eyes, and swaggering

manners--they were a fit assemblage for a frolic or a fight. Every word

they spoke was accompanied by an oath. The presence of the females

imposed no restraint upon the subject or style of the conversation,

which was disgusting to the last degree. I felt ashamed to think that

habit should so brutalize a people of my own race and blood.

Many of the senoritas were pretty, and those who had no great

pretensions to beauty in other respects were at least gifted with fine

eyes and teeth, rich brunette complexions, and forms of wonderful

pliancy and grace. All, or nearly all, were luminous with jewelry, and

wore dresses of the most flashy colors, in which flowers, lace, and

glittering tinsel combined to set off their dusky charms. I saw some

among them who would not have compared unfavorably with the ladies of

Cadiz, perhaps in more respects than one. They danced easily and

naturally; and, considering the limited opportunity of culture they had

enjoyed in this remote region, it was wonderful how free, simple, and

graceful they were in their manners.

[Illustration: THE BELLE OF THE FANDANGO.]

The belle of the occasion was a dark-eyed, fierce-looking woman of about

six-and-twenty, a half-breed from Santa Barbara. Her features were far

from comely, being sharp and uneven; her skin was scarred with fire or

small-pox; and her form, though not destitute of a certain grace of

style, was too lithe, wiry, and acrobatic to convey any idea of

voluptuous attraction. Every motion, every nerve seemed the incarnation

of a suppressed vigor; every glance of her fierce, flashing eyes was

instinct with untamable passion. She was a mustang in human shape--one

that I thought would kick or bite upon very slight provocation. In the

matter of dress she was almost Oriental. The richest and most striking

colors decorated her, and made a rare accord with her wild and singular

physique; a gorgeous silk dress of bright orange, flounced up to the

waist; a white bodice, with blood-red ribbons upon each shoulder; a

green sash around the waist; an immense gold-cased breast-pin, with

diamonds glittering in the centre, the greatest profusion of rings on

her fingers, and her ears loaded down with sparkling ear-rings; while

her heavy black hair was gathered up in a knot behind, and pinned with a

gold dagger--all being in strict keeping with her wild, dashing

character, and bearing some remote affinity to a dangerous but royal

game-bird. I thought of the Mexican chichilaca as I gazed at her. There

was an intensity in the quick flash of her eye which produced a burning

sensation wherever it fell. She cast a spell around her not unlike the

fascination of a snake. The women shunned and feared her; the men

absolutely worshiped at her shrine. Their infatuation was almost

incredible. She seemed to have some supernatural capacity for arousing

the fiercest passions of love, jealousy, and hatred. Of course there was

great rivalry to engage the hand of such a belle for the dance. Crowds

of admirers were constantly urging their claims. It was impossible to

look upon their excited faces and savage rivalry, knowing the desperate

character of the men, without a foreboding of evil.

"Perhaps you will not be surprised," said Jackson, "to hear something

strange and startling about that woman. She is a murderess! Not long

since she stabbed to death a rival of hers, another half-breed, who had

attempted to win the affections of her paramour. But, worse than

that--she is strongly suspected of having killed her own child a few

months ago, in a fit of jealousy caused by the supposed infidelity of

its father--whose identity, however, can not be fixed with any

certainty. She is a strange, bad woman--a devil incarnate; yet you see

what a spell she casts around her! Some of these men are mad in love

with her! They will fight before the evening is over. Yet she is neither

pretty nor amiable. I can not account for it. Let me introduce you."

As soon as a pause in the dance occurred I was introduced. The revolting

history I had heard of this woman inspired me with a curiosity to know

how such a fiend in human shape could exercise such a powerful sway over

every man in the room.

Although she spoke but little English, there was a peculiar sweetness

in every word she uttered. I thought I could detect something of the

secret of her magical powers in her voice, which was the softest and

most musical I had ever heard. There was a wild, sweet, almost unearthly

cadence in it that vibrated upon the ear like the strains of an AEolian.

Added to this, there was a power of alternate ferocity and tenderness in

her deep, passionate eyes, that struck to the inner core wherever she

fixed her gaze. I could not determine for my life which she resembled

most--the untamed mustang, the royal game-bird, or the rattlesnake.

There were flitting hints of each in her, and yet the comparison is

feeble and inadequate. Sometimes she reminded me of Rachel--then the

living, now the dead, Queen of Tragedy. Had it not been for a horror of

her repulsive crimes, it is hard to say how far her fascinating powers

might have affected me. As it was, I could only wonder whether she was

most genius or devil. Not knowing how to dance, I could not offer my

services in that way, and, after a few commonplace remarks, withdrew to

a seat near the wall. The dance went on with great spirit. Absurd as it

may seem, I could not keep my eyes off this woman. Whichever way she

looked there was a commotion--a shrinking back among the women, or the

symptoms of a jealous rage among the men. For her own sex she manifested

an absolute scorn; for the other she had an inexhaustible fund of sweet

glances, which each admirer might take to himself.

At a subsequent period of the evening I observed, for the first time,

among the company a man of very conspicuous appearance, dressed in the

very picturesque style of a Texan Ranger. His face was turned from me

when I first saw him, but there was something manly and imposing about

his figure and address that attracted my attention. While I was looking

toward him he turned to speak to some person near him. My astonishment

may well be conceived when I recognized in his strongly-marked features

and dejected expression the face of the man "Griff," to whom I was

indebted for my escape from the assassins near Soledad! There could be

no doubt that this was the outlaw who had rendered me such an

inestimable service, differently dressed, indeed, and somewhat

disfigured by a ghastly wound across the temple, but still the same;

still bearing himself with an air of determination mingled with profound

sadness. It was evident the Colonel had misinformed me as to his death.

Perhaps, judging from the wound on his temple, which was still unhealed,

he might have been left for dead, and subsequently have effected his

escape. At all events, there was no doubt that he now stood before me.

I was about to spring forward and grasp him by the hand, when the

dreadful scene I had witnessed in the little adobe hut near San Miguel

flashed vividly upon my mind, and, for the moment, I felt like one who

was paralyzed. That hand might be stained with the blood of the

unfortunate emigrants! Who could tell? He had disavowed any

participation in the act, but his complicity, either remote or direct,

could scarcely be doubted from his own confession. How far his guilt

might render him amenable to the laws I could not of course conjecture.

It was enough for me, however, that he had saved my life; but I could

not take his hand.

While reflecting upon the course that it might become my duty to pursue

under the circumstances, I observed that he was not exempt from the

fascinating sway of the dark senorita, whose face he regarded with an

interest even more intense than that manifested by her other admirers.

He was certainly a person calculated to make an impression upon such a

woman; yet, strange to say, he was the only man in the crowd toward whom

she evinced a spirit of hostility. Several times he went up to her and

asked her to dance. Whether from caprice or some more potent cause I

could not conjecture, but she invariably repulsed him--once with a

degree of asperity that indicated something more than a casual

acquaintance. It was in vain he attempted to cajole her. She was

evidently bitter and unrelenting in her animosity. At length, incensed

at his pertinacity, she turned sharply upon him, and leaning her head

close to his ear, whispered something, the effect of which was magical.

He staggered back as if stunned, and, gazing a moment at her with an

expression of horror, turned away and walked out of the room. The

woman's face was a shade paler, but she quickly resumed her usual smile,

and otherwise manifested no emotion.

This little incident was probably unnoticed by any except myself. I sat

in a recess near the window, and could see all that was going on without

attracting attention. I had resolved, after overcoming my first friendly

impulses, not to discover myself to the outlaw until the fandango was

over, and then determine upon my future course regarding him by the

result of a confidential interview. I fully believed that he would tell

me the truth, and nothing but the truth, in reference to the murder of

the emigrants.

The dance went on. It was a Spanish waltz; the click-clack of the feet,

in slow-measured time, was very monotonous, producing a peculiarly

dreamy effect. I sometimes closed my eyes and fancied it was all a wild,

strange dream. Visions of the beautiful country through which I had

passed flitted before me--a country desecrated by the worst passions of

human nature. Amid the rarest charms of scenery and climate, what a

combination of dark and deadly sins oppressed the mind! What a cess-pool

of wickedness was here within these very walls!

Half an hour may have elapsed in this sort of dreaming, when Griff, who

had been so strangely repulsed by the dark senorita, came back and

pushed his way through the crowd. This time I noticed that his face was

flushed, and a gleam of desperation was in his eye. The wound in his

temple had a purple hue, and looked as if it might burst out bleeding

afresh. His motions were unsteady--he had evidently been drinking.

Edging over toward the woman, he stood watching her till there was a

pause in the dance. Her partner was a handsome young Mexican, very gayly

dressed, whom I had before noticed, and to whom she now made herself

peculiarly fascinating. She smiled when he spoke; laughed very musically

at every thing he said; leaned up toward him, and assumed a wonderfully

sweet and confidential manner. The Mexican was perfectly infatuated. He

made the most passionate avowals, scarcely conscious what he was saying.

I watched the tall Texan. The veins in his forehead were swollen; he

strode to and fro restlessly, fixing fierce and deadly glances upon the

loving couple. A terrible change had taken place in the expression of

his features, which ordinarily had something sweet and sad in it. It was

now dark, brutish, and malignant. Suddenly, as if by an ungovernable

impulse, he rushed up close to where they stood, and, drawing a large

bowie-knife, said to the woman, in a quick, savage tone,

"Dance with me now, or, damn you, I'll cut your heart out!"

She turned toward him haughtily--"Senor!"

"Dance with me, OR DIE!"

"Senor," said the woman, quietly, and with an unflinching eye, "you are

drunk! Don't come so near to me!"

The infuriated man made a motion as if to strike at her with his knife;

but, quick as lightning, the young Mexican grasped his uprisen arm and

the two clenched. I could not see what was done in the struggle. Those

of the crowd who were nearest rushed in, and the affray soon became

general. Pistols and knives were drawn in every direction; but so sudden

was the fight that nobody seemed to know where to aim or strike. In the

midst of the confusion, a man jumped up on one of the benches and

shouted,

"Back! back with you! The man's stabbed! Let him out!"

The swaying mass parted, and the tall Texan staggered through, then

fell upon the floor. His shirt was covered with blood, and he breathed

heavily. A moment after the woman uttered a low, wild cry, and, dashing

through the crowd--her long black hair streaming behind her--she cast

herself down by the prostrate man and sobbed,

"O cara mio! O Deos! is he dead? is he dead?"

"Who did this? Who stabbed this man?" demanded several voices, fiercely.

"No matter," answered the wounded man, faintly. "It was my own fault; I

deserved it;" and, turning his face toward the weeping woman, he said,

smiling, "Don't cry; don't go on so."

There was an ineffable tenderness in his voice, and something

indescribably sweet in the expression of his face.

"O Deos!" cried the woman, kissing him passionately. "O cara mio! Say

you will not die! Tell me you will not die!" And, tearing her dress with

frantic strength, she tried to stanch the blood, which was rapidly

forming a crimson pool around him.

The crowd meantime pressed so close that the man suffered for want of

air, and begged to be removed. Several persons seized hold of him, and,

lifting him from the floor, carried him out. The dark senorita followed

close up, still pressing the fragments of her bloodstained dress to his

wound.

Order was restored, and the music and dancing went on as if nothing had

happened.

I had no desire to see any more of the evening amusements.

Next day I learned that the unfortunate man was dead. He was a stranger

at San Luis, and refused to reveal his name, or make any disclosures

concerning the affray. His last words were addressed to the woman, who

clung to him with a devotion bordering on insanity. When she saw that he

was doomed to die, the tears ceased to flow from her eyes, and she sat

by his bedside with a wild, affrighted look, clutching his hands in

hers, and ever and anon bathing her lips in the life-blood that oozed

from his mouth.

"_I loved you--still love you better than my life!_"

These were his last words. A gurgle, a quivering motion of the stalwart

frame, and he was dead!

At an examination before the alcalde, it was proved that the stabbing

must have occurred before the affray became general. It was also shown

that the young Mexican was unarmed, and had no acquaintance with the

murdered man.

Who could have done it?

Was it the devil-woman? Was this a case of jealousy, and was the tall

Texan the father of the murdered child?

Upon these points I could get no information. The whole affair, with all

its antecedent circumstances, was wrapped in an impenetrable mystery.

When the body was carried to the grave by a few strangers, including

myself, the chief mourner was the half-breed woman--now a ghastly wreck.

The last I saw of her, as we turned sadly away, she was sitting upon the

sod at the head of the grave, motionless as a statue.

Next morning a vaquero, passing in that direction, noticed a shapeless

mass lying upon the newly-spaded earth. It proved to be the body of the

unfortunate woman, horribly mutilated by the wolves. The clothes were

torn from it, and the limbs presented a ghastly spectacle of fleshless

bones. Whether she died by her own hand, or was killed by the wolves

during the night, none could tell. She was buried by the side of her

lover.

Soon after these events, having completed my business in San Luis, I

took passage in a small schooner for San Francisco, where I had the

satisfaction in a few days of turning over ten thousand dollars to the

Collector of Customs.

I never afterward could obtain any information respecting the two men

mentioned in the early part of my narrative--the Colonel and Jack. No

steps were taken by the authorities to arrest them. It is the usual fate

of such men in California sooner or later to fall into the hands of an

avenging mob. Doubtless they met with a merited retribution.

Eleven years have passed since these events took place. Many changes

have occurred in California. The gangs of desperadoes that infested the

state have been broken up; some of the members have met their fate at

the hands of justice--more have fallen victims to their own excesses. I

have meanwhile traveled in many lands, and have had my full share of

adventures. But still, every incident in the "Dangerous Journey" which I

have attempted to describe is as fresh in my mind as if it happened but

yesterday.

OBSERVATIONS IN OFFICE.

I.

MY OFFICIAL EXPERIENCES.

There is something very fascinating in public office. The dignity of the

position touches our noblest sympathies, and makes heroes and patriots

of the most commonplace men. It is wonderful, too, how unselfish people

become under the influence of this most potent charm. Every four years

it becomes an epidemic. The passional attraction of office is felt

throughout the length and breadth of the land. Many thousands of our

best citizens visit the seat of government at the inauguration of a new

president. A large proportion of them have faithfully served their

country by contributing their time, talents, energies, and pecuniary

resources to the success of the dominant party. But they don't want any

thing; they have a natural repugnance to office; they merely come to

look on, and pay their respects to the chief magistrate. If he deems it

necessary to solicit their services for the common good, it is not for

them, as patriotic citizens, to refuse. The seductive influences of

official position may tend, perhaps, to quicken their perception of the

grades of service in which their time could be most profitably spent;

but modesty, after all, is their predominant trait. Indeed, for that

matter, the general characteristic of great men is modesty, and where

will you see so many notoriously great men as in Washington upon the

advent of a new administration. The difficulty is to find a man who is

not great. You may find many who are poor, some thriftless, and a few

worthless, but none deficient in greatness. It must not be understood,

however, that mercenary considerations have any connection with the

charm which allures them thither. These excellent people--as in my own

case, for example--are governed by motives of the purest and most

exalted patriotism. Who is there so destitute of national pride--so

indifferent to the welfare of his fellow-beings, that he does not desire

to serve his country when he sees that she stands in need of his

services?

The consideration of a per-diem allowance could not be wholly discarded,

but I assure you, upon the veracity of a public officer, it had not the

slightest influence upon me when I accepted the responsible position of

Inspector General of Public Depositories. The Secretary of the

Treasury--a gentleman in whom I had great confidence--required my

services. I was unwilling, of course, to stand in the way of an

efficient administration of the affairs of his department. The fact is,

I had great personal respect for him, and was anxious to afford him all

the assistance in my power. I do not pretend to say that the appointment

of inspector general was destitute of attractions in itself, but they

were not of a pecuniary character. The title had a sonorous and

authoritative ring about it altogether different from the groveling

jingle of filthy lucre--something that vibrated upon the higher chords

of the soul.

An honorable ambition to serve one's country is one of the highest and

most ennobling passions that can govern the human mind. To this may be

attributed some of the greatest achievements which have given lustre to

ancient and modern history. It has developed the greatest intellects of

the Old and New World, and furnished the rising generation with

illustrious models of unselfish devotion to the common welfare of

mankind.

No wonder, then, that office possesses such extraordinary attractions.

It is the cheapest way of becoming great. A man never before heard of

outside of his village home--never before known to do any thing

remarkable by his most intimate friends--never before suspected of

possessing the least capacity for mental or manual labor of any kind

whatsoever, may become, in the course of four-and-twenty hours, a topic

of newspaper comment throughout the whole country--praised for virtues

he never possessed, abused for vices to which he never aspired. An

appointment places him prominently before the public. It shows the world

that there was always something in him--whether whisky or sense matters

little, since he has received the endorsement of the "powers that be."

To make a short story of it, I was obliged to accept the position. The

party in power stood in need of my services. I could not refuse without

great detriment to the country. This was many years since; and I beg to

say that there is nothing in my journal of experiences bearing upon the

present state of affairs. At great pecuniary sacrifice (that is to say,

in a prospective sense, for I hadn't a dime in the world), I announced

myself as ready to proceed to duty. In his letter of instructions, the

Secretary of the Treasury was pleased to direct me to proceed to the

Pacific coast, and carefully examine into the condition of the revenue

service in that remote region. I was to see that the accounts of the

collectors were properly kept and rendered; that the revenue laws were

faithfully administered; that the valuation of imports was uniform

throughout the various districts; whether any reduction could be made in

the number of inspectors and aids to the revenue stationed within their

limits, with a view to a more economical administration of the laws;

whether the public moneys were kept in the manner prescribed by the

Independent Treasury Act of August 6th, 1846; and what additional

measures, if any, were necessary for the prevention of smuggling and

other frauds upon the revenue, all of which I was to report, with such

views as might be suggested in the course of the investigation for the

promotion of the public interests. These were but a few of the

important subjects of official inquiry upon which I was to enlighten the

Department. I frankly confess that, when I read the instructions, and

pondered over their massive proportions and severe tone of gravity, I

was appalled at the immensity of the interests committed to my charge. A

somewhat versatile career, during which I had served before the mast in

a whaler, studied medicine, hunted squirrels in the backwoods, followed

the occupation of ferry-keeper, flat-boat hand, and short-hand writer,

had not fitted me particularly for this sort of business. What did I

know about the forms of accounts current, drawbacks, permits, entries,

appraisements, licenses, enrollments, and abstracts of imports and

exports? What reliable or definite information was I prepared to give to

collectors of customs in reference to schedules and sliding scales? What

hope was there that I could ever get to the bottom of a fraud upon the

revenue service, when I had but a glimmering notion of the difference

between fabrics of which the component parts were two thirds wool, and

fabrics composed in whole or in part of sheet-iron, leather, or

gutta-percha?

As for inspectors of customs, how in the world was an agent to find out

how many inspectors were needed except by asking the collector of the

district, who ought to know more about it than a stranger? But if the

collector had half a dozen brothers, cousins, or friends in office as

inspectors, would it not be expecting a little too much of human nature

to suppose he would say there were too many in his district? I reflected

over the idea of asking one of these gentlemen to inform me

confidentially if he thought he could dispense with a dozen or so of his

relatives and friends without detriment to the public service, but

abandoned it as chimerical. Then, to go outside and question any

disinterested member of the community on this subject seemed equally

absurd. Who could be said to be disinterested when only a few offices

were to be filled, and a great many people wished to fill them? I would

be pretty sure to stumble upon some disappointed applicant for an

inspectorship, or, worse still, upon a smuggler. It is a

well-ascertained fact that disappointed applicants for office are always

opposed to the fortunate applicants, and smugglers, as a general rule,

have a natural antipathy to inspectors of customs.

There was another serious duty imposed upon me--to ascertain the

character and standing of all the public employes, their general

reputation for sobriety, industry, and honesty, and to report

accordingly. Here was rather a delicate matter--one, in fact, that might

be productive of innumerable personal difficulties. Having no unfriendly

feeling toward any man, and attaching a fair valuation to life, I did

not much relish the notion of placing any man's personal infirmities

upon the official records. If a public officer drank too much whisky, it

was certainly a very injurious practice, alike prejudicial to his health

and morals; but where was to be the gauge between too much and only just

enough? No man likes to have his predilection for stimulating beverages

made a matter of public question, and the gradations between temperance

and intemperance are so arbitrary in different communities that it would

be a very difficult matter to report upon. I have seen men "sociable" in

New Orleans who would be considered "elevated" in Boston, and men "a

little shot" in Texas who would be regarded as "drunk" in Maine. It is

all a matter of opinion. No man is ever drunk in his own estimation, and

whether he is so in the estimation of others depends pretty much upon

their standard of sobriety. With respect to honesty, that was an equally

delicate matter. What might be considered honest among politicians might

be very questionable in ordinary life. I once knew of a public officer

who had been charged with embezzling certain public moneys. There was no

doubt of the fact, but he fought a duel to prove his innocence. In one

respect, at least, he was honest--he placed a fair valuation upon his

life, which was worth no more to the community than it was to himself.

I did not think an ordinary per-diem allowance would be sufficient to

compensate for maintaining the public credit by such tests as this,

especially as there were nearly two hundred public offices to be

examined; but it seemed nothing more than reasonable that the laws

should be administered by sober and honest men, and, upon the whole, I

could not perceive how this unpleasant duty could be avoided.

The Department furnished me with a penknife, a pencil, several quires of

paper, and a copy of Gordon's Digest of the Revenue Laws. This was my

outfit. It was not equal to the outfit of a minister plenipotentiary,

but there was a certain dignity in its very simplicity. To be the owner

of a fine Congressional penknife, a genuine English lead-pencil, paper

_ad libitum_, and Gordon's Digest, was no trifling advance in my

practical resources. I looked into the Digest, read many of the laws,

and became satisfied that the Creator had not gifted me with any

capacity for understanding that species of writing. For Mr. Gordon, who

had digested those laws, I felt a very profound admiration. His powers

of digestion were certainly better than mine. I would much rather have

undertaken to digest a keg of spike nails. The Act of March 2, 1799,

upon which most of the others were based, was evidently drawn with great

ability, and covered the whole subject. Like a Boeotian fog, however,

it covered it up so deep that I don't think the author ever saw it again

after he got through writing the law. Whenever there was a tangible

point to be found, it was either abolished, or so obscured by some other

law made in conformity with the progress of the times that it became no

point at all; so that, after perusing pretty much the whole book, and

referring to Mayo's Compendium of Circulars and Treasury Regulations, I

am free to confess the effect was very decided. I knew a great deal less

than before, for I was utterly unable to determine who was

right--Congress, Gordon, Mayo, or myself.

Under these circumstances, it will hardly be a matter of surprise that

serious doubt as to my capacity for this service entered my mind.

Perhaps, in the whole history of government offices, it was the first

time such a doubt ever entered any man's head upon receiving an

appointment, and I claim some credit for originality on that account.

The position was highly responsible; the duties were of a very grave and

important character, bordering on the metaphysical. Now, had I been

requested to visit Juan Fernandez, and report upon the condition of

Robinson Crusoe's castle, or ascertain the spot in which he found the

footprint in the sand, or describe for the benefit of science the breed

of wild goats descended from the original stock--had these questions

been involved in my instructions, or had I been appointed to succeed

Sancho Panza in the government of Nantucket (which I verily believe was

the island referred to by Cervantes), I could have had no misgivings of

success. But this awful thing of abstracts and accounts current; this

subtile mystery of appraisements, appeals, drawbacks, bonds, and bonded

warehouses; this terrible demon of manifests, invoices, registers,

enrollments, and licenses; this hateful abomination of circulars on

refined sugar, and fabrics composed in whole or in part of wool; this

miserable subterfuge of triplicate vouchers and abstracts of

disbursements, combined to cast a gloom over my mind almost akin to

despair. The question arose, would it not be the most honorable course

to return the commission to the Secretary of the Treasury, and confess

to him confidentially, as a friend, that I thought he would render the

country greater service by appointing a more suitable agent? But then

there was the per-diem allowance, a very snug little sum, much needed at

the time; and there was the honor of the position--a pillar in the

federal structure; and then the advantage of travel, and the charm of

becoming at once famous in the national records. Besides, it might be

considered disrespectful to say to the Secretary of the Treasury--a

gentleman from an interior state, who had no experience in commerce or

public finances--that I had no experience in these things myself, and

doubted my capacity to do justice to the government. Might he not regard

such a confession in the light of a personal reflection?

After all, I thought it would be as well perhaps to try my hand at the

business. Many a man never finds out that he is great in some particular

line till he tries his hand. I have at this moment in my eye at least

half a dozen senators of the United States who I verily believe would

make excellent butchers, bakers, blacksmiths, and carpenters, if they

only knew it. I am acquainted with some that would be an ornament to any

court of justice as public criers, and not a few who would make capital

hands at playing quoits and pitch-penny. In short, I know many men

occupying these positions who would succeed even better in other

branches of industry than in the capacity of statesmen; but the

misfortune is, they are not aware of the fact, and never can be

persuaded to believe it. Very few men understand what they are good for

till some adventitious circumstance occurs to develop their latent and

peculiar talents. In this view, it might be that I was a capital hand at

revenue business, though, to tell the truth, I had never collected any

revenue worth mentioning on my own account; and what experience I had

had in depositories was confined to my own pockets, which seldom

retained the sums deposited in them over twelve hours, if so long as

that.

A transcript from my official reports will convey some idea of my labors

under the complicated instructions issued to me at various intervals

from Washington.

The first has reference to the general subject of smuggling, and

proposes the removal of the Custom-house from San Francisco to Bear

Harbor, near Cape Mendocino. This was addressed to his Honor the

Secretary of the Treasury:

"SIR,--If Bear Harbor is eligible for any purpose in the world, it is

for a port of entry and a custom-house. Not that there are any

inhabitants there at present, or in the vicinity, except Indians, bears,

elk, deer, and wildcats; not that any vessels ever come in there, or

ever will, perhaps, but as a guard against smuggling. You know, sir,

from the experience of collectors from Passamaquoddy Bay to Point

Isabel, and from San Diego to the Straits of Fuca, that smuggling must

be going on somewhere, else why is the Treasury Department flooded with

applications for an increase of inspectors? Even senators and members of

Congress unite in the opinion that a great deal of smuggling is

perpetrated on remote and isolated parts of our coast, for they are

always recommending some friend in whom they have confidence to keep a

guard upon the revenue at such places. One would think that smugglers

would rather pay duties and take their wares into a good market, than

put them ashore where there are no inhabitants, and transport them at

double the risk and cost to some place where they are wanted. If they

must enjoy the pleasure of violating the law at all, would it not pay

better to smuggle their wares directly into the principal cities, as New

York or San Francisco, for example? I know that in the former place they

incur some risk of detection from night inspectors, who are supposed to

be always on the look-out about the wharves after dark; but in San

Francisco the night inspectors have been abolished on account of the

soporific effects of the climate. Several of them fell asleep directly

after receiving their appointments, and never woke up, except on

pay-day, during the entire term of their service.

"For some years, at least, one collector of customs could perform all

the duties that might be required of him at Bear Harbor. No doubt the

dullest and laziest politician in the entire state could be hired to

occupy the position at three thousand dollars per annum. The collector

at the city of Gardner, which consists of two small frame shanties and a

pig-pen, situated at the mouth of the Umpqua River--where shipwreck is

almost absolutely certain in case a vessel attempts to enter--receives

only a thousand dollars per annum. Sir, it can not be expected that a

gentleman more than ordinarily gifted with valuable traits of character

can be obtained for so small a sum. Government is compelled to pay for

the services of active and intelligent collectors at the ports of

Benicia, Sacramento, Stockton, Monterey, San Pedro, and San Diego, three

thousand dollars a year each. If they were at all conspicuous for

idleness, it is impossible to conjecture what it would cost to obtain

their services; but the amount of labor performed by these gentlemen

(who, by the way, are all very excellent persons, and for whom I

entertain great personal respect) is almost incredible. At Benicia the

duties of the office are absolutely onerous. From one to two vessels a

year enter that port with coals from Cardiff, which are deposited at the

depot of the Pacific Steam-ship Company. Upon these coals the duties

have to be computed and accounts rendered to the Department, besides

which he is compelled to keep an accurate account of his own salary. For

all this he is only allowed the occasional services of one inspector,

whereas he ought to be allowed three. If they were gentlemen of a lively

temperament, they would at least give something of vitality to the

present deserted appearance of the port. I have known a smaller number

than that to produce a considerable sensation in the public streets of

other cities. A great deal of trouble to the Benicia collector might be

saved if the two Cardiff vessels per annum were permitted to enter at

San Francisco on their way up.

"At Sacramento the duties of the collector are still more arduous.

Indeed, it is a matter of surprise that any man can be found to

undertake them at three thousand dollars a year. A vessel with foreign

goods entered this port in 1849, since which period some six or eight

consecutive collectors have been anxiously awaiting the arrival of

another. The most remarkable part of it is, that the other vessel has

never yet arrived. Upon a review of the facts, I think that any person

of a less sanguine temperament than a collector of customs would have

long since given up the hope of obtaining any public revenue from this

source. Somehow all the vessels have a habit of stopping at San

Francisco, paying duties there, discharging their cargoes for interior

transportation, and going about their business, which must be a constant

subject of mortification to the Sacramento collectors. I have known

respectable gentlemen who occupied this position to be denied over

twenty-five dollars a month for office-rent, after it had ranged for

years at two or three hundred--even denied the services of a deputy or

clerk, and actually compelled to make out their own pay accounts!

"And yet these officers are required to attend at primary meetings,

conventions, and legislative assemblages, and keep the party all right,

when there may be a complication of difficulties between the various

aspirants for the Senate of the United States, utterly impossible to

settle except by electing them all.

"At Stockton the case is still harder. I never knew a collector there to

have any thing at all to do, except to keep the run of his office-rent

and salary, which, in justice it must be said, is a branch of public

duty always faithfully performed. Yet this officer is expected to pass

the time agreeably year after year on a miserable pittance of three

thousand dollars, without even the hope of ever seeing a dutiable cargo

landed upon the wharves of the city. I do not believe that the most

sanguine gentleman that ever held that position aspired to any thing of

greater commercial value than a flock of sheep supposed to be on the way

from Mexico, and for the capture and confiscation of which two

inspectors were for many years stationed at the Tejon Pass, about three

hundred miles from Stockton. But even the hope of seizing these sheep or

their descendants has been blasted since Congress abolished the duties

on stock; and now the collector, to protect the revenue, must fail

unless he succeeds in getting hold of a box of contraband articles that

it is supposed certain parties in San Francisco are awaiting an

opportunity to send up, either by the steam navigation line or some of

the small sailing craft that ply on this route. As this box of goods has

been expected ever since 1852, the prospect of its appearance and

seizure is becoming more favorable every year. If there was a surveyor

stationed at the mouth of the San Joaquin--say in the city called 'the

New York of the Pacific'--the chances of seizure would be greatly

augmented. There is a surveyor of customs at Nisquelly, in the Territory

of Washington, and another at Santa Barbara, who might render some aid

by the transmission of secret information. I do not know what has become

of the surveyor at Pacific City, near the mouth of the Columbia. The

last time I saw him he was engaged in the performance of his official

functions in the tin business at Oregon City, the City of Pacific having

been discontinued about two years previously in consequence of a lack of

inhabitants.

"At Monterey the amount of hardship endured by the collector is

absolutely incredible. Not only is he furnished with an indifferent

government house to live in, which costs an annual outlay of several

hundred dollars to keep it from falling to pieces, and thereby crushing

himself and assistants beneath the ruins, but he is required to look

after two inspectors, who are appointed to aid him in protecting the

coast from the nefarious operations of smugglers. Besides this, it is

supposed that a mysterious vessel has been hovering around the Bay of

Monterey ever since 1852, with an assorted cargo of bar fixtures,

billiard balls, whisky, nine-pins, cards, cotton handkerchiefs, boots,

bowie-knives, and revolvers, upon a considerable portion of which duties

have never been paid. This vessel is no doubt awaiting an opportunity to

land these articles in violation of law, and to the great detriment of

public morals and serious loss to the treasury. The collector is

expected to be present or within reach of a telegraphic dispatch

whenever she makes her appearance; and it is farther expected that he

will not flinch from his duty even should she prove to be the Flying

Dutchman or the Wizard of the Seas.

"At San Pedro the coasting steamer Senator touches for grapes and

passengers some half a dozen times a month, and the collector is

expected to keep a record of that vessel's arrivals and departures; also

the range of Captain Banning's paddle-wheeled steam skiff Medora, six

scows, and several fishing smacks. In addition to these onerous duties,

it devolves upon him to keep his own pay account, and see that the light

does not stop burning of nights in the public light-house on Point

Conception, without any money to pay the keeper and assistant except

such casual remittances as may be made once or twice in the course of as

many years. I knew one light-house keeper who stood by the light

manfully for a whole year, and finally had to sell his chance of pay for

the means of subsistence. Some of the light-house keepers, indeed, are

supposed to live on whale-oil, the Board in Washington being evidently

under the impression that oil is a light article of diet, upon which men

will not be apt to go to sleep. Another reason, perhaps, for the

remissness with which their salaries generally arrive is that their

stations are generally not densely populated with voters, or, in fact,

with any thing but sheep and rabbits. I have a person in my eye whom I

would like to recommend for the collectorship at San Pedro whenever the

present incumbent may think proper to resign. By the way, the latter is

a very clever and estimable gentleman, to whom I intend not the

slightest disrespect in thus referring to his office; but there are

peculiar qualifications for every position in life, and the individual

to whom I refer possesses some very remarkable advantages over the

generality of custom-house officers; that is to say, he can sleep on his

desk in the midst of the direst confusion; is never known to be in a

hurry; thinks no more of time than he does of eternity, or any thing

else; and invariably postpones till to-morrow what most people would

deem of vital importance to be done to-day. His work is generally in

arrears, but will be all right--_poco tiempo_!

"At San Diego the same burdensome and oppressive state of things exists.

The Custom-house is an old military building, with a roof that falls to

pieces every winter, and a set of doors and windows through which both

wind and rain have free access. The only article of public property

about the premises that yet sticks together is a tremendous iron safe,

in which the revenue is going to be kept--as soon as it is collected.

Even this is getting rusty for want of use. The books have an ancient

and fish-like aspect; and a public shovel, that is used to clear the mud

away from the door whenever a vessel is seen in the offing, is going

away year after year, and will eventually be reduced to a broken handle.

This office is accessible by means of a boat, though in bad weather the

deputy prefers to reside in an old hulk that lies at anchor in the bay.

The building is eligibly located in a chapparal of prickly pears, within

about five miles of Old Town, or, properly speaking, the beautiful city

of San Diego. Mexican stock were formerly imported into this district,

but, having been made free by act of Congress, the collector is left

destitute of occupation, and is compelled to seek business and society

in various parts of the state. Now and then, however, he is supposed to

take a look at his pay account, and see that the public light on the

Point keeps burning of nights, notwithstanding the roof has been blown

off. As government refuses to furnish him with rain-water to drink, he

is compelled, whenever his official duties call him to the port of

entry, to hitch up his buggy and travel five miles to the city of San

Diego every time he is thirsty. Indeed, so parsimonious is the

Department becoming of late, that it will not even allow him a deputy or

clerk at public expense, although there has been one there for years. I

look upon this as a very severe course of discipline to impose upon any

gentleman whose services are presumed to be worth three thousand

dollars per annum, and would recommend that he should at least be

allowed a bottle of whisky.

"All these are examples of the manner in which executive patronage may

be enlarged without inconvenience to commerce or obstruction to

navigation. If it were not for the collectorships, what would the

delegation in Congress have to make up the complement of their

indebtedness to partisan politicians? and if one delegation were denied

this privilege, how could accounts be settled with fellow-members

similarly situated in other states? An inspector of customs, at a

compensation of five hundred dollars a year (for there is nothing to

do), would of course answer the requirements of commerce at any of these

ports; but then what sort of an office would that be to offer to the

owner of one or more members of the Legislature? It would be especially

severe at Bear Harbor, where there will be no coffee-houses, billiard

saloons, or other places of amusement for some time.

"In view of these suggestions being urged upon Congress by the heads of

the departments, I would mention that, in the temporary absence of

government buildings at Bear Harbor, a number of chapadens, or brush

tents, at present occupied by Indians, can be leased for a term of years

at a rate of rent not exceeding from five hundred to a thousand dollars

each per month. The very best of them can be had for less than the rent

paid for the Union Street Bonded Warehouse in San Francisco, toward the

building of which government loaned seventy-two thousand dollars as an

advance of rent, and paid, by way of interest on the capital, for four

years, two hundred and eighty-eight thousand dollars; after which, upon

the united representation of twenty influential merchants, a collector

and deputy collector of customs, and a special agent, that the premises

were only worth about fourteen thousand per annum, it paid one hundred

and ten thousand more to abrogate the contract, and as a solemn warning

to all private individuals and public officers not to attempt such a

speculation as that again. The chapaden of the chief digger,

To-no-wauka, could be purchased in fee simple for less than twenty-eight

thousand dollars, which was the exact amount annually expended for the

rent of the United States Court-rooms at San Francisco until my friend

Yorick, the government agent, reduced it to ten thousand, after which,

of course, he was removed.

"As an additional protection to the revenue, I would suggest that a

revenue cutter be stationed at Bear Harbor, modeled after the fashion of

a large wash-tub, which would be but a slight improvement upon the

sailing capacity of the three cutters now stationed on the Pacific

coast. The masts might be constructed out of large tin dippers inverted,

in the bowls of which marines could be stationed to keep a look-out for

smugglers. Spare blankets would answer for the sails, and a large

carving-knife run out at the stern would serve admirably to steer by. In

order that there might be no danger of missing the way during dark

nights from any variation in the compass, it would be well, perhaps, to

abandon the compass altogether, and send a boat ahead with a light, to

point out where the rocks and smugglers might be found. There being no

vessels to catch at Bear Harbor, no inconvenience would result from the

fact that such a cutter would be as well calculated to lie at anchor as

the cutter Marcy at San Francisco, which has been known to pursue

several vessels for infractions of the revenue laws, but never to catch

any of them. I attribute this not to any want of zeal on the part of the

officers, but partly to the superior speed of the runaway vessels, and

partly to the fact that the Marcy is obliged to lie at anchor for six

months in the year in the Bay of San Francisco for want of other

occupation. The remaining six months she necessarily spends in the

Straits of Carquinas, near Benicia, in order to get rid of the barnacles

that accumulate on her bottom during the term of her sedentary career

below.

"If exception should be taken to this precedent on the ground that a

revenue cutter may sometimes really be wanted at a port of entry where

there is some commerce, surely none will be taken to the cutter Lane,

stationed within the mouth of the Columbia River. For the officers of

this cutter I entertain the most sincere respect; but if she has ever

been known to chase any thing larger than wild ducks, the fact must have

been hushed up from motives of public policy. It has certainly not been

a matter of general comment. About one vessel with dutiable merchandise

enters the Columbia in the course of half a dozen years, and certainly

all sailing vessels have difficulty enough in getting in, without

attempting to run away after they come to an anchor. Indeed, I don't

know where they would run to unless it might be over the Cascades, and

through the Dalles to Walla Walla, or up to Oregon City on the

Willamette River, where the flour-mills of Abernethy & Co. would soon

grind them to pieces. To suppose that they would undertake to run away

before they get over the bar is to suppose that they might just as well

stay away altogether, and thereby avoid the risk of shipwreck in

addition to the remote possibility of being captured by a revenue

cutter. The officers condemned to this station have my most ardent

sympathies. It generally rains at Astoria between two and three hundred

days every year, the consequence of which is, that the whole country and

every thing in it has a mildewed appearance. Already I can fancy that

barnacles are growing on the beards of these gentlemen; that their skin

is becoming slippery and green; their eyes sharkish in expression, from

a constant habit of looking out for smugglers that never can be within

five hundred miles; that the habit of pulling ashore in the boats and

back again; 'making it so' when four and eight bells are announced;

looking up at the mast-head and then down again; going below and reading

the same old newspaper, and coming up again; turning in and taking a

nap, and turning out when the nap is ended; exercising their quadrants

by an occasional peep at the heavenly bodies; eating three scanty and

melancholy meals a day; doing all this and never doing any thing else,

unless it may be to superintend the patching of an old sail which has

rotted to pieces, or the splicing of an old rope to keep the blocks from

falling down on their heads, will eventually so wear upon their mental

and physical resources as to drive them all mad. Should it ever be the

misfortune of any suspicious character to fall into the hands of these

gentlemen, I have no doubt he will have reason to regret it during the

brief period of his existence; for they will certainly cut him to pieces

with their swords, or blow him to fragments out of one of the public

guns, on the general principle that, being paid for doing something,

they ought to do it as soon as possible.

"The revenue cutter at Puget's Sound, familiarly known as the 'Jeff

Davis,' finds occasional occupation in chasing porpoises and wild

Indians. It is to be regretted that but little revenue has yet been

derived from either of these sources; but should she persist in her

efforts, there is hope that at no distant day she may overhaul a canoe

containing a keg of British brandy--that is to say, in case the paddles

are lost, and the Indians have no means of propelling it out of the way.

"These vessels, in addition to their original cost, which was not cheap

considering their quality and sailing capacity, require an expenditure

of some forty or fifty thousand dollars a year for repairs, rigging, pay

of officers and men, subsistence, etc., as also for powder to enable the

officers to kill ducks and salute distinguished people that visit these

remote regions. Now and then they run on the rocks in trying to find

their way from one anchorage to another, in which event they require

extra repairs. As this is for the benefit of navigation, it should not

be included in the account. They generally avoid running on the same

rock, and endeavor to find out a new one not laid down upon the

charts--unless, perhaps, by some reckless fly--in order that other

vessels may enjoy the advantage of additional experience. The beauty of

Bear Harbor in this respect is, that a revenue cutter could run on a new

rock every day in the year, so that, by designating its exact location

on the chart, there would be three hundred and sixty-five rocks per

annum to be avoided by vessels entering the harbor.

"Some military protection would probably be required there for several

years to come, in order to protect the citizens from the attacks of

grizzly bears. I would suggest that a post be established on some

eligible point, and comfortable quarters erected for the officers and

soldiers. While these quarters are in progress of erection, it might be

well to station a large rooster in the top of a neighboring tree to give

warning of the approach of the enemy. As Rome was saved in one way, so

might Bear Harbor be saved in another. Should it become necessary to

abandon them, the citizens will no doubt be willing to purchase them at

public auction.

"I do not know what the military quarters at Fort Miller are going to

do, but the last time I saw them they looked very sorry they had ever

been built. The same may be said of the quarters at Benicia, Fort Tejon,

and San Diego, which goes to prove the transitory character of military

operations. So long as our army goes about the country dropping down

beautiful little cities, we in the line of civil life can certainly have

no objection. As expense is no object, perhaps, to the War Department, I

would suggest that there is a very rugged point of rocks near the

entrance of Bear Harbor, upon which a friend of mine has located a claim

that he is willing to sell for military purposes for the sum of one

hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It commands a fine view of the

ocean, and abounds in mussels and albicores; besides which, it is

cheaper and uglier than Lime Point at the entrance of the Golden Gate,

and would not require near so much writing to make the purchase

satisfactory to the public.

"For a few years, during the infancy of the community, it may be

necessary for some enterprising citizen to borrow from government one

hundred thousand dollars at six per cent. per annum, in consequence of

the high rates of interest in California. There will be no difficulty in

doing this, I apprehend, if he have influence at court. A precedent may

be found in the case of the Folsom estate, against which judgment had

been obtained, and an execution placed in the hands of the marshal.

Private parties found it to their advantage to step in, purchase a

portion of the property, pay a portion of the debt, and, upon giving

satisfactory security, assume the remainder, amounting to a hundred

thousand dollars, at six per cent. It may be a little irregular to favor

particular parties in this way, but then public money had better be

bringing six per cent. than lying idle in the treasury; and besides,

when it is found necessary to issue treasury notes in order to carry on

the government, they bring a premium, and there is a gain to that extent

over the ready cash. If all the public money was loaned out at six per

cent., and all the private money that might be necessary borrowed at

five, of course the financial condition of the treasury would be one per

cent. better per annum.

"After these things were done, and the business of Bear Harbor placed

upon a permanent footing, private instructions might be issued to the

collector of customs to go out and stump the state in behalf of the

great principles of national economy. Experience would enable him to

stand firmly upon the broad platform of public integrity; and when he

addressed the multitude, he could dwell feelingly on the sublime

doctrine of earlier days--'Millions for defense, but not a cent for

tribute!' He could put his hand upon his brow, and solemnly declare

that, so long as he was gifted with the light of intellect to comprehend

the sound doctrines of public policy bequeathed to us by our

forefathers, he would stand by the laws and the Constitution. He could

put his hand upon his heart, and call upon the people to witness that

he, for one, had ever remained true to first principles. He could put

his hand upon his stomach, and avow, from the bottom of his soul, that

he conscientiously indorsed the measures of the prevailing party. He

could put his hand upon his pocket, and affirm in all sincerity that he

went heart and hand with the reigning powers on all the great questions

of the day. And, having fully delivered himself on these various points,

he could wind up with an anecdote from the Schildburghers. When the wise

men of Schilda undertook to build their grand council-house, they

carried down on their backs from the top of a high hill a large number

of heavy logs. In moving the last log, it fell out of their hands and

rolled to the bottom of the hill. 'Don't you see,' said the town fool,

'if you had started them all in the same way, they would have rolled

down of their own accord?' which they admitted was true, and accordingly

carried all the logs up to the top of the hill again, and then rolled

them down. So, if the people don't like this party, they can roll in

another just as good.

Your obedient servant, etc."

In my next chapter of experiences I propose giving a succinct account of

the great Port Townsend Controversy. This cost me more trouble than all

my other experiences together, and came very near costing me my life.

II.

THE GREAT PORT TOWNSEND CONTROVERSY, SHOWING HOW WHISKY BUILT A CITY.

Few persons who have visited the Pacific coast of late years are

ignorant of the fact that the city of Port Townsend is eligibly situated

on Puget's Sound, near the Straits of Fuca; and none who have seen that

remarkable city can hesitate a moment to admit that it is a commercial

metropolis without parallel.

Port Townsend is indeed a remarkable place. I am not acquainted with

quite such another place in the whole world. It certainly possesses

natural and artificial advantages over most of the cities known in the

Atlantic States or Europe. In front there is an extensive water

privilege, embracing the various ramifications of Puget's Sound.

Admiralty Inlet forms an outlet for the exports of the country, and

Hood's Canal is an excellent place for hoodwinking the revenue officers.

On the rear, extending to Dunganess Point, is a jungle of pine and

matted brush, through which neither man nor beast can penetrate without

considerable effort. This will always be a secure place of retreat in

case of an invasion from a war-canoe manned by Northern Indians. With

regard to the town itself, it is singularly picturesque and diversified.

The prevailing style of architecture is a mixed order of the Gothic,

Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian. The houses, of which there must be at

least twenty in the city and suburbs, are built chiefly of pine boards,

thatched with shingles, canvas, and wooden slabs. The palace and

out-buildings of the Duke of York are built of drift-wood from the

saw-mills of Port Ludlow, and are eligibly located near the wharf, so

as to be convenient to the clams and oysters, and afford his maids of

honor an opportunity of indulging in frequent ablutions. There is

somewhat of an ancient and fish-like odor about the premises of his

highness, and it must be admitted that his chimneys smoke horribly, but

still the artistic effect is very fine at a distance. The streets of

Port Townsend are paved with sand, and the public squares are curiously

ornamented with dead horses and the bones of many dead cows, upon the

beef of which the inhabitants have partially subsisted since the

foundation of the city. This, of course, gives a very original

appearance to the public pleasure-grounds, and enables strangers to know

when they arrive in the city, by reason of the peculiar odor, so that,

even admitting the absence of lamps, no person can fail to recognize

Port Townsend in the darkest night. When it was a port of entry under

the laws of the United States, there was a collector of customs

stationed in a small shanty on the principal wharf, whose business it

was to look out for smugglers, and pay the salary of an inspector who

owns some sheep on San Juan Island, and holds joint possession of that

disputed territory with the British government. The collector of

customs, being unable to attend to the many important duties that

devolved upon him without assistance, was allowed two boatmen, whose

duty it was to put him on board of suspicious vessels in the offing, and

one of whom, by virtue of a special commission, was ex-officio deputy

collector, and made up the accounts of the district.

The principal luxuries afforded by the market of this delightful

sea-port are clams, and the carcasses of dead whales that drift ashore,

by reason of eating which the inhabitants have clammy skins, and are

given to much spouting at public meetings. The prevailing languages

spoken are the Clallam, Chenook, and Skookum-Chuck, or Strong Water,

with a mixture of broken English; and all the public notices are written

on shingles with burnt sticks, and nailed up over the door of the

town-hall. A newspaper, issued here once every six months, is printed

by means of wooden types whittled out of pine knots by the Indians, and

rubbed against the bottom of the editor's potato pot. The cast-off

shirts of the inhabitants answer for paper. For the preservation of

public morals, a jail has been constructed out of logs that drifted

ashore in times past, in which noted criminals are put for safe keeping.

The first and last prisoners ever incarcerated in that institution were

eleven Northern Indians, who were suspected of the murder of Colonel Ehy

at Whidbey's Island. As the logs are laid upon sand to make the

foundation secure, the Indians, while rooting for clams one night,

happened to come up at the outside of the jail, and finding the

watchman, who had been placed there by the citizens, fast asleep, with

an empty whisky bottle in the distance, they stole his blanket, hat,

boots, and pipe, and bade an affectionate farewell to Port Townsend.

The municipal affairs of the city are managed by a mayor and six

councilmen, who are elected to office in a very peculiar manner. On the

day of election, notice having been previously given on the town

shingles, all the candidates for corporate honors go up on the top of

the hill back of the water-front, and play at pitch-penny and quoits

till a certain number are declared eligible; after which all the

eligible candidates are required to climb a greased pole in the centre

of the main public square. The two best then become eligible for the

mayoralty, and the twelve next best for the common council. These

fourteen candidates then get on the roof of the town-hall and begin to

yell like Indians. Whoever can yell the loudest is declared mayor, and

the six next loudest become the members of the common council for the

ensuing year.

While I had the misfortune to be in public employ (and for no

disreputable act that I can now remember), it became my duty to inquire

into the condition of the Indians on Puget's Sound. In the course of my

tour I visited this unique city for the purpose of having a "wa-wa"

with the Duke of York, chief of the Clallam tribe.

The principal articles of commerce, I soon discovered, were whisky,

cotton handkerchiefs, tobacco, and cigars, and the principal shops were

devoted to billiards and the sale of grog. I was introduced by the

Indian Agent to the Duke, who inhabited that region, and still disputed

the possession of the place with the white settlers. If the settlers

paid him any thing for the land upon which they built their shanties it

must have been in whisky, for the Duke was lying drunk in his wigwam at

the time of my visit. For the sake of morals, I regret to say that he

had two wives, ambitiously named "Queen Victoria" and "Jenny Lind;" and

for the good repute of Indian ladies of rank, it grieves me to add that

the Queen and Jenny were also very tipsy, if not quite drunk, when I

called to pay my respects.

The Duke was lying on a rough wooden bedstead, with a bullock's hide

stretched over it, enjoying his ease with the ladies of his household.

When the agent informed him that a Hyas Tyee, or Big Chief, had called

to see him with a message from the Great Chief of all the Indians, the

Duke grunted significantly, as much as to say "that's all right." The

Queen, who sat near him in the bed, gave him a few whacks to rouse him

up, and by the aid of Jenny Lind succeeded, after a while, in getting

him in an upright position. His costume consisted of a red shirt and

nothing else, but neither of the royal ladies seemed at all put out by

the scantiness of his wardrobe. There was something very amiable and

jolly in the face of the old Duke, even stupefied as he was by whisky.

He shook me by the hand in a friendly manner, and, patting his stomach,

remarked, "Duke York belly good man!"

[Illustration: THE DUKE OF YORK, QUEEN VICTORIA, AND JENNY LIND.]

Of course I complimented him upon his general reputation as a good man,

and proceeded to make the usual speech, derived from the official

formula, about the Great Chief in Washington, whose children were as

numerous as the leaves on the trees and the grass on the plains.

"Oh, dam!" said the Duke, impatiently; "him send any whisky?"

No; on the contrary, the Great Chief had heard with profound regret that

the Indians of Puget's Sound were addicted to the evil practice of

drinking whisky, and it made his heart bleed to learn that it was

killing them off rapidly, and was the principal cause of all their

misery. It was very cruel and very wicked for white men to sell whisky

to the Indians, and it was his earnest wish that the law against this

illicit traffic might be enforced and the offenders punished.

"Oh, dam!" said the Duke, turning over on his bed, and contemptuously

waving his hand in termination of the interview--"dis Tyee no 'count!"

While this wa-wa, or grand talk, was going on, the Queen put her arms

affectionately around the Duke's neck, and giggled with admiration at

his eloquence. Jenny sat a little at one side, and seemed to be under

the combined influence of whisky, jealousy, and a black eye. I was

subsequently informed that the Duke was in the habit of beating both the

Queen and Jenny for their repeated quarrels, and when unusually drunk

was not particular about either the force or direction of his blows.

This accounted for Jenny's black eye and bruised features, and for the

alleged absence of two of the Queen's front teeth, which it was said

were knocked out in a recent brawl.

Some months after my visit to Port Townsend, in writing a report on the

Indians of Puget's Sound, I took occasion to refer to the salient points

of the above interview with the Duke of York, and to make a few remarks

touching the degraded condition of himself and tribe, attributing it to

the illegal practice on the part of the citizens of selling whisky to

the Indians. I stated that his wigwam was situated between two

whisky-shops, and that the Clallams would soon be reduced to the level

of bad white men in Port Townsend, "which, to say the least of it, was

a very benighted place." The report was printed by order of Congress,

though I was not aware of that fact till one day, sitting in my office

in San Francisco, I received a copy of the "Olympia Democrat" (if I

remember correctly), containing a series of grave charges against me,

signed by the principal citizens of Port Townsend. I have lost the

original documents, but shall endeavor to supply the deficiency as well

as my memory serves. The letter was addressed to the "United States

Special Agent," and was substantially as follows:

"SIR,--The undersigned have read your official report

relative to the Indians of Puget's Sound, and regret that

you have deemed it necessary to step so far aside from the

line of your duty as to traduce our fair name and

reputation as citizens of Port Townsend. You will pardon

us for expressing the opinion that you might have spent

your time with more credit to yourself and benefit to the

government.

"Sir, it may be that on the occasion of your visit here

the Duke of York and his wives were drunk; but the

undersigned are satisfied, upon a personal examination,

that neither Queen Victoria nor Jenny Lind suffered the

loss of two front teeth, as you state in your report; and

they are not aware that Jenny Lind's eyes were ever

blacked by the Duke of York, nor do they believe it,

although you have thought proper to make that statement in

your report.

"The undersigned do not pretend to say that there is no

whisky sold in Port Townsend; but they deny, sir, that you

ever saw any of them drunk, or that the citizens of Port

Townsend, as a class, are at all intemperate. On the

contrary, they claim to be as orderly, industrious, and

law-abiding as the citizens of any other town on the

Pacific coast or elsewhere.

"Sir, it is scarcely possible that you can have forgotten

so soon the marked kindness and hospitality with which

you were treated by the citizens of this place during your

sojourn here; and now the return you make is to blacken

the reputation of our thriving little town, and endeavor

to destroy our future prospects. You are, of course, at

liberty to choose your own line of travel, but if ever you

visit Port Townsend again, we can assure you, sir, you

will enjoy a very different reception. Had you confined

your misstatements to the Indians, we might have excused

it on the ground that it is not customary for public

officers to adhere strictly to facts in their reports; but

when you go entirely out of your way, and commit such an

unprovoked attack upon our character, we feel bound to set

ourselves right before the world.

"In charity, we can only suppose that you have been

grossly deceived in your sources of information; yet, when

you profess to have witnessed personally the evil effects

of whisky in Port Townsend, and go so far as to pronounce

it 'a benighted place,' we can not evade the conclusion

that you must have had some experience in what you say you

witnessed; either that, or you deliberately committed a

base slander upon the citizens of this place. Although the

undersigned consider themselves included in your sweeping

assertion, it can not have escaped your memory, sir, that

on the occasion of your visit to Port Townsend you found

them engaged in their peaceful avocations as useful and

respectable members of society; and they positively deny

that any of them have ever sold whisky to the Indians, or

committed the crime of murder.

"Sir, the undersigned have made inquiry into that portion

of your report in which you state that no less than six

murders were committed here during the past year, and can

only find that two were committed, and neither of them by

citizens of this place. The conclusion, therefore, to

which the undersigned are forced, is, that you were at a

loss for something to say, and invented at least four

murders for the purpose of contributing to the interest of

your report.

"Sir, when a respectable community are engaged in trying

to make an honest living, we think it hardly fair that

you, as a government agent, should come among them, and,

without cause or provocation, slander their character and

injure their reputation. We therefore enter our solemn

protest against the unfounded charges made in your report,

and respectfully recommend that in future you confine

yourself to your official duties.

"(Signed), J. Hodges, B. Punch, T. Thatcher, B. Fletcher,

Warren Hastings, Wm. Pitt, J. Fox, E. Burke, and eleven

others."

Here was a serious business. I can assure the reader that the sensations

experienced in the perusal of such a document, when addressed to one's

self through a public newspaper, and signed by fifteen or twenty

responsible persons, are peculiar and by no means agreeable. For a

moment I really began to think I was a very bad man, and that there must

be something uncommonly reprehensible in my conduct.

Upon the whole, I felt that I was a little in fault, and had better

apologize. There was no particular necessity for introducing Queen

Victoria's front teeth and Jenny Lind's black eye to Congress; and, to

confess the truth, it was really going a little beyond the usual limits

of official etiquette to "ring in" a public town possessing some

valuable political influence.

I therefore prepared and published in the newspapers an Apology, which

it seemed to me ought to be satisfactory. The following is as close a

copy of the original as I can now write out from memory:

"San Francisco, Cal., April 1st, 1858. "To Messrs. J.

Hodges, B. Punch, T. Thatcher, B. Fletcher, Warren

Hastings, Wm. Pitt, J. Fox, E. Burke, and eleven others,

citizens, Port Townsend, W. T.:

"GENTLEMEN,--I have read with surprise and regret your

letter of the 10th ult., in which you make several very

serious charges against me in reference to certain

statements contained in my report on the Indians of

Puget's Sound. Not the least important of these charges is

that I stepped aside from the line of my duty to traduce

your fair name and reputation as citizens of Port

Townsend. You entertain the opinion that I might have been

better employed--an opinion in which I would cheerfully

concur if it were not based upon erroneous premises. I

have not the slightest recollection of having traduced

'your fair name and reputation,' or made any reference to

you whatever in my report. When I alluded to the

'beach-combers, rowdies, and other bad characters' in Port

Townsend, I had no idea that respectable gentlemen like

yourselves would take it as personal. Of course, as none

of you ever sold whisky to the Indians or committed

murder, you do great injustice to your own reputation in

supposing that the public at large would attribute these

crimes to you because I mentioned them in my report.

"You deny positively that either Queen Victoria or Jenny

Lind had her front teeth knocked out by the Duke of York.

Well, I take that back, for I certainly did not examine

their mouths as closely as you seem to have done. But when

you deny that Jenny Lind's eye was black, you do me great

injustice. I shall insist upon it to the latest hour of my

existence that it was black--deeply, darkly, beautifully

black, with a prismatic circle of pink, blue, and yellow

in the immediate vicinity. I cheerfully retract the teeth,

but, gentlemen, I hold on to the eye. Depend upon it, I

shall stand by that eye as long as the flag of freedom

waves over this glorious republic! You will admit, at all

events, that Jenny had a drop in her eye.

"While you do not pretend to say that there is no whisky

sold in Port Townsend, you do insist upon it that I never

saw any of you drunk. Of course not, gentlemen. There are

several of you that I do not recollect having ever seen,

either drunk or sober. If I did see any of you under the

influence of intoxicating spirits, the disguise was

certainly effectual, for I am now entirely unable to say

which of you it was. Besides, I never said I saw any of

you drunk. It requires a great deal of whisky to

intoxicate some people, and I should be sorry to hazard a

conjecture as to the gauge of any citizen of Port

Townsend. I do not believe you habitually drink whisky as

a beverage--certainly not Port Townsend whisky, for that

would kill the strongest man that ever lived in less than

six months, if he drank nothing else. Many of you, no

doubt, use tea or coffee at breakfast, and it is quite

possible that some of you occasionally venture upon water.

"Gentlemen, you were pleased to call my attention to

certain custom-house claims, Indian claims, and

pre-emption claims when I was at Port Townsend; but when

you 'claim to be as orderly, industrious, and law-abiding

as the citizens of any other town on the Pacific coast or

elsewhere,' you go altogether beyond my official

jurisdiction. I think you had better send that claim to

Congress.

"That 'it is not customary for public officers to adhere

strictly to facts for their reports' is a melancholy

truth. You have me there, gentlemen. Truth is very scarce

in official documents. It is not expected by the public,

and it would be utterly thrown away upon Congress.

Besides, the truth is the last thing that would serve your

purpose as claimants for public money.

"You are charitable enough to suppose that I may have been

grossly deceived in my sources of information. Well, you

ought to know all about that, for I got most of the

information from yourselves. As to my remark that Port

Townsend is 'a benighted place,' I am astonished that you

did not see into the true meaning of that expression. It

was merely a jocular allusion to the absence of lamps in

the public streets at night.

"You do not think it can possibly have escaped my memory

that I found you engaged in your peaceful avocations as

useful and respectable members of society on the occasion

of my visit to Port Townsend. Now, upon my honor, I can

not remember who it was particularly that I saw engaged in

peaceful avocations, but I certainly saw a good many white

men lying about in sunny places fast asleep, and a good

many more sitting on logs of wood whittling small sticks,

and apparently waiting for somebody to invite them into

the nearest saloon; others I saw playing billiards, and

some few standing about the corners of the streets,

waiting for the houses to grow--all of which were

unquestionably peaceful, if not strictly useful

avocations. I have no recollection of having seen any

person engaged in the performance of any labor calculated

to strain his vertebrae.

"The result of your inquiries on the subject of murder

appears to be that only two murders were committed in Port

Townsend during the past year, instead of six, as stated

in my report. Well, gentlemen, I was not present, and did

not participate in any of these alleged murders, and

cheerfully admit that your sheriff, who gave me the

information, and whose name is appended to your letter,

may not have counted them accurately. At all events, I

take four of them back, and place them to the credit of

Port Townsend for the ensuing year. I utterly disclaim

having invented them, though I would at any time much

rather invent four murders than commit one. Nor can I

admit that I was at a loss for something to say. There was

abundance of fictitious material presented in the course

of my official investigations, without rendering it at all

necessary for me to resort to imaginary murders. And I

farther insist upon it that, if I did not personally

witness the violent death of six men in Port Townsend, I

heard the king's English most cruelly murdered there on at

least six different occasions. Gentlemen, you need not

take any farther trouble about 'setting yourselves right

before the world.' I trust you will admit that you are all

right now, since I have duly made the amende honorable.

"Wishing you success in your 'peaceful avocations,' and

exemption from all future anxiety relative to the price of

lots in Port Townsend, I remain, very respectfully, your

obedient servant," etc.

Strange to say, so far from being satisfied with this apology, the

citizens of Port Townsend were enraged to a degree bordering on

insanity. The mayor, upon the reception of the mail containing the fatal

document, called the Town Council together, and the schoolmaster read it

to the Town Council, and the Town Council deliberated over it for three

days, and then unanimously resolved that the author was a "Vile

Kalumater, unworthy of further Atension, and had beter stere cleer of

Port Townsend for the Future!" For two years they did nothing else, in

an official point of view, but write letters to the San Francisco papers

denouncing the author of this Vile Kalumy, and assuring the public that

his description of Port Townsend was wholly unworthy of credit; that

Port Townsend was the neatest, cleanest, most orderly, and most

flourishing little town on the Pacific coast. By the time the Frazer

River excitement broke out, the people of California were well

acquainted, through the newspapers, with at least one town on Puget's

Sound. If they knew nothing of Whatcomb, Squill-Chuck, and other rival

places that aspired to popular favor, they were no strangers to the

reputation of Port Townsend. Thousands, who had no particular business

there, went to take a look at this wonderful town, which had given rise

to so much controversy. The citizens were soon forced to build a fine

hotel. Many visitors liked the society, and concluded to remain. Others

thought it would soon be the great centre of commerce for all the

shipping that would be drawn thither by the mineral wealth of Frazer

River, and bought city lots on speculation. Traders came there and set

up stores; new whisky saloons were built; customers crowded in from all

parts; in short, it became a gay and dashing sort of place, and very

soon had quite the appearance of a city. When the Frazer River bubble

burst, nobody was killed at Port Townsend, because it had a strong

reputation, and could still persuade people that it was bound to be a

great city at some future period.

During the following year I made bold to pay my old friends a visit. A

delegation of the Common Council met me on the wharf. There were no

hacks yet introduced, but any number of horses were placed at my

disposal. The greeting was cordial and impressive. A most complimentary

address was read to me by the mayor of the city, in which it was fully

and frankly acknowledged that I was the means of building up the

fortunes of Port Townsend. After the address, the citizens with one

accord rushed to me, and, grasping me warmly by the hand, at once

retracted their injurious imputations. These gratifying public

demonstrations over, we adjourned to the nearest saloon, and buried the

hatchet forever in an ocean of the best Port Townsend whisky. It is due

to the citizens to say that not one of them went beyond reasonable

bounds on this joyous occasion, by which I do not mean to intimate that

they were accustomed to the beverage referred to. At all events, I think

it has been clearly demonstrated by these authentic documents that

"whisky built a great city."

III.

THE INDIANS OF CALIFORNIA.

When the State of California was admitted into the Union, the number of

Indians within its borders was estimated at one hundred thousand. Of

these, some five or six thousand, residing in the vicinity of the

Missions, were partially civilized, and subsisted chiefly by begging and

stealing. A few of the better class contrived to avoid starvation by

casual labor in the vineyards and on the farms of the settlers. They

were very poor and very corrupt, given to gambling, drinking, and other

vices prevailing among white men, and to which Indians have a natural

inclination. As the country became more settled, it was considered

profitable, owing to the high rate of compensation for white labor, to

encourage these Christian tribes to adopt habits of industry, and they

were employed very generally throughout the state. In the vine-growing

districts they were usually paid in native brandy every Saturday night,

put in jail next morning for getting drunk, and bailed out on Monday to

work out the fine imposed upon them by the local authorities. This

system still prevails in Los Angeles, where I have often seen a dozen of

these miserable wretches carried to jail roaring drunk of a Sunday

morning. The inhabitants of Los Angeles are a moral and intelligent

people, and many of them disapprove of the custom on principle, and hope

it will be abolished as soon as the Indians are all killed off.

Practically, it is not a bad way of bettering their condition; for some

of them die every week from the effects of debauchery, or kill one

another in the nocturnal brawls which prevail in the outskirts of the

Pueblo.

[Illustration: THE DIGGERS AT HOME.]

The settlers in the northern portions of the state had a still more

effectual method of encouraging the Indians to adopt habits of

civilization. In general, they engaged them at a fixed rate of wages to

cultivate the ground, and during the season of labor fed them on beans,

and gave them a blanket or a shirt each; after which, when the harvest

was secured, the account was considered squared, and the Indians were

driven off to forage in the woods for themselves and families during the

winter. Starvation usually wound up a considerable number of the old and

decrepit ones every season; and of those that failed to perish from

hunger or exposure, some were killed on the general principle that they

must have subsisted by stealing cattle, for it was well known that

cattle ranged in the vicinity, while others were not unfrequently

slaughtered by their employers for helping themselves to the refuse

portions of the crop which had been left in the ground. It may be said

that these were exceptions to the general rule; but if ever an Indian

was fully and honestly paid for his labor by a white settler, it was not

my luck to hear of it; certainly it could not have been of frequent

occurrence.

The wild Indians inhabiting the Coast Range, the valleys of the

Sacramento and San Joaquin, and the western slope of the Sierra Nevada,

became troublesome at a very early period after the discovery of the

gold mines. It was found convenient to take possession of their country

without recompense, rob them of their wives and children, kill them in

every cowardly and barbarous manner that could be devised, and when that

was impracticable, drive them as far as possible out of the way. Such

treatment was not consistent with their rude ideas of justice. At best

they were an ignorant race of Diggers, wholly unacquainted with our

enlightened institutions. They could not understand why they should be

murdered, robbed, and hunted down in this way, without any other

pretense of provocation than the color of their skin and the habits of

life to which they had always been accustomed. In the traditionary

researches of their most learned sages they had never heard of the

snakes in Ireland that were exterminated for the public benefit by the

great and good St. Patrick. They were utterly ignorant of the sublime

doctrine of General Welfare. The idea, strange as it may appear, never

occurred to them that they were suffering for the great cause of

civilization, which, in the natural course of things, must exterminate

Indians. Actuated by base motives of resentment, a few of them

occasionally rallied, preferring rather to die than submit to these

imaginary wrongs. White men were killed from time to time; cattle were

driven off; horses were stolen, and various other iniquitous offenses

were committed.