Leaving Santa Barbara.--Delay at Saugus.--Viewing the Wreck.--
Brentwood.--The Mission Mass.--The Social Afternoon.--The Garden
and the Homing Pigeons.--The Grape-Shot.--The Chinaman's Pipe.
We had yet one more sweet glimpse of Santa Barbara as we left in the
early morning hour. It was soon hidden from our view, but not from our
memory, where it will ever abide, a place of sunshine and flowers,
where the old and the new stand face to face--the old ocean and the
everlasting hills, and the fresh young life of California, with its
exuberant surroundings and genial hospitality.
Our next point was Brentwood, which we hoped to reach ere the close of
day, but a wreck on the line ahead kept us for hours waiting at a place
called Saugus until the track could be cleared.
Saugus was as forlorn as a muddy beach at low tide, but some of us made
the most of our unpromising surroundings. The uncertainty of the moment
of our departure kept us ever within sound of the warning whistle of
the engine, so that our little rambles in the woods adjoining were
rather nervous and fitful, but yet better than nothing.
After all, it is a comfortable thing to be safe away from a wreck, and
a detention for our security from accident ought to bring gratitude
rather than fretfulness at all times.
In due time "All aboard!" was sounded, and then off we were, climbing
up into the mountains. It was a continual feast to look at their
ever-changing forms, and watch the curves and twists of the railroad as
it scaled their heights.
We reached the wreck, the cause of our delay, and even in our rapid
glimpse of it we could see the havoc which had been done in that one
"smash up." Sacks of flour were hurled hither and thither, their
contents scattered on the rocks; cans of fruit were shot about like
war-like projectiles; and the eccentric heaping of engine, tender, and
freight cars gave us an idea of the impetus of the force which caused
the whole disaster. Fortunately no lives were lost.
It was Sunday morning when we reached Brentwood. It was a scattering
village of detached houses in the midst of a vast plain through which
the railroad ran, straight as an arrow, from horizon to horizon. The
somnolence of Sunday and of nature hung over all, giving little promise
for the twenty-four hours we were to stay there; yet unpromising as it
all seemed, we passed there a very enjoyable time.
We were left to our own devices all day, for Dr. and Mrs. Humphreys and
the members of his family, went off in the early morning, to visit some
relatives ranching in the foot-hills of the encircling mountains, which
enclose the vast plain, on which Brentwood stands. How beautiful and
ever-varying those mountains were! They told us new stories from
morning until night--now a romance of purple and gold; again, a story
of less heroic character, as they stood out plain and clear in the
sunshine; and again, a tale of deeper mystery, as the night shadows
gathered upon their sides, and the moonbeams gave a strange brilliancy
to their higher peaks.
Brentwood and all its belongings was before us for the Sunday. After an
exploring tour, we found two churches, a Campbellite and a Methodist.
They did not look particularly inviting, although the hymn singing in
one by the Sunday-school children touched us. We still strolled on and
came upon a group of people busily engaged taking flowers into a long,
blackened shed which we were told was the town hall, and that there a
Dominican monk was to hold services that morning. A fine-looking young
German of the tall, black type was busy arranging the rude temporary
altar, and a number of ladies and others were assisting him. My German
friend offered us an introduction to Father Burke, the monk in
question, but we declined, not wishing to intrude upon him before his
Mass.
The hour for service came, and we were on hand, with a varied crowd
from the town and country adjacent, quite a goodly number. There was a
large, white curtain hung back of the altar as a sort of reredos. It
did not reach the floor, however, and as the platform was rather high,
we had a preliminary view from almost the knees down of all the
necessary preparation and vesting, more interesting than edifying. But
the service itself,--in the character of the congregation, the mothers
with their babies, the young, restless lads, the old people of other
days and other climes, and the young people of California growth,--all
made up a most interesting study. The music was quite good, being
provided by some visitors from San Francisco; two ladies, whom we
afterward met, having voices of excellent tone and real culture. An
_Ave Maria_ and the _Sanctus_ were especially well sung. Father Burke
gave an offhand sermon, well arranged and thoughtful, suitable for
Christians of any orthodoxy whatever. It was good to hear him.
My German friend, after service, again invited me to call. It turned
out he was the tavern-keeper in the place; so after our pleasant midday
dinner on the "Lucania," we all adjourned to the hotel, where in the
parlor were the choir of the morning service, several other ladies and
gentlemen, and, taking his ease and enjoyment, also Father Burke. We
spent more than two hours in the happiest way. Stories were told and
songs were sung, and libations of the best California vintage were
offered us, all ending with "The Star Spangled Banner," sung by all
standing. I say all standing, for two ladies, said to be Spanish
sympathizers, remained seated glumly on a sofa, but were good-naturedly
drawn to their feet by a laughing companion, and made to assume the
virtue of patriotism if they had it not.
By this time the train was due, and Father Burke, the lady singers
from San Francisco, and their friends had to leave us, obedient to
the imperial mandate, "All aboard!"
My German friend again came to our assistance in the way of amusements,
and invited us into his hotel garden. It was a humble little enclosure,
but in the centre, coming up through some rock-work, there was an iron
jet which he let on, and made a fountain of for our pleasure, quite
refreshing to look at. The distant mountains, too, which appeared so
far away as one looked from the open plain, seemed here strangely near
and picturesque, when seen through the arched openings of the enclosing
trees. Our friend also had a surprise for us in some homing pigeons of
rare excellence, of which he was specially proud. He showed us his pet
prize winner with its eyes and carriage like a genius. He went in among
them, and seemed so tender with them, and interested in them, that it
was all a thing of poetry of the highest kind; the great tall man and
the fairy-like shapes and motions of his beloved birds. He took out of
the cote the very best of the lot, and gave it to one of our young
ladies to let fly outside, so that we could see it circle round and
round, and then make for its home again.
By this time it was toward evening, and we could descry in the dim
distance the return of Dr. Humphreys and his family, as their carriages
wound along the plain back again to Brentwood.
Night brought us a silver moon, which added new beauty to all our great
surroundings of plain and mountain, and we could look back over a day
filled to overflowing with interest and pleasantness, the half of which
is not told; but we must at least mention the grape-shot which was
picked up on the railroad track, and which set us thinking of how it
got there. Was it fired from a Spanish cannon in early days, or by
settlers in some Indian difficulty, or marauding trouble, or when?
We must also tell of the happy Chinese laundryman whom we interviewed
under the light of the moon, the very picture of placid, contented
comfort, as he smoked a huge pipe with stem two feet long. Poor soul,
all in his loneliness, coming out from his little hole for a breath of
fresh air and a touch of that great nature which is ever so good to us
all if we will but let it. Our Chinaman told us that his pipestem was
especially valuable, that it had the excellent quality of making the
smoke cool, and that such stems, being made of the tea shrub, were very
rare. One of our number next morning wished to purchase the said
pipestem from "John," but he refused all offers, saying he would not
give it for fifty dollars.