GLANCES AT TOWNS SPRUNG AND SPRINGING.—SAN
FRANCISCO.—BENICIA.—SACRAMENTO
CITY.—SUTTER.—VERNON.—BOSTON.—STOCKTON.—NEW
YORK.—ALVEZO.—STANISLAUS.—SONORA.—CRESCENT CITY.—TRINIDAD.
The growth of towns in California is so rapid, that before you can
sketch the last, a new one has sprung into existence. You go to work on
this, and dash down a few features, when another glimmers on your
vision, till at last you become like the English surgeon at the battle
of Waterloo; who began by bandaging individuals, but found the wounded
brought in so fast he declared he must splinter by the regiment.
SAN FRANCISCO.—This town has thrice been laid in ashes; but the young
phœnix has risen on ampler wings than those which steadied the consumed
form of its parent. It must be the great commercial emporium of
California in spite of competition, wind, and flame. Its direct
connection with the sea, its magnificent bay and internal
communications, have settled the question of its ultimate grandeur. It
may be afflicted with grog-shops and gamblers, and the mania of
speculation, but these are temporary evils which time, a higher moral
tone, and the more steady pursuits of man will remedy. Three years ago
only a dozen shanties sprinkled its sand-hills; now, even with its heart
burnt out, it looks like the skeleton of a huge city. That heart will be
reconstructed, and send the life-blood leaping through the system.
BENICIA.—This town on the straits of Carquinas has the advantages of a
bold shore, a quiet anchorage, and depth of water for ships of any size.
Even without being a port of entry, it must become in time a large
commercial depot. The small craft which float the waters of the Suisun,
Sacramento, and San Joaquin, and which are ill suited to the rough bay
below, will here deposit their cargoes. It has been selected as the most
feasible site for a navy yard, and the army stores are already housed on
its quay. It was first selected as the site of a city by Robert Semple,
president of the Constitution Convention, and rose rapidly into
importance under his fostering care, and the energetic measures of
Thomas O. Larkin.
SACRAMENTO CITY.—The site of this town on the eastern bank of the
Sacramento, at its junction with the Rio Americano, presents many
picturesque features. It is a town in the woods, with the native trees
still waving over its roofs. The sails of the shipping are inwoven with
the masses of shade, which serve as awnings. Roads diverge from it to
the mines on the North, Middle, and South Forks, Bear, Juba, and Feather
rivers. The town has been swept by one inundation from the overflow of
the Americano. It came upon the inhabitants like a thief in the night;
they had only time to jump from their beds; the roaring flood was at
their heels: some reached the shipping, and some sprung into the tops of
the trees. But a levee is now going up which will shut out the flood;
while brick and slate will ward off the flame. This place is destined to
figure among the largest towns of California.
SUTTER.—This town, which bears the name of the old pioneer on whose
lands it stands, is beautifully located on the Sacramento, at the head
waters of navigation. From it issue the roads leading to all the
northern mines; the site is not subject to overflow, and the country
around possesses great fertility. It has a large commercial business:
its central position must secure its prosperity. Its proprietors are
Capt. Sutter and John McDougal, lieutenant-governor of the
state—gentlemen who pursue the most liberal policy, and reap their
reward in the growth of their town.
VERNON.—This is the only town on Feather river, and stands at the
confluence of that stream with the Sacramento. It is above the reach of
any inundation, and commands a country of wildly varied aspect. Its
location, rather than buildings or business, invest it with interest.
Its importance is prospective; but the future is fast becoming the
present. Its projectors are Franklin Bates, E. O. Crosby, and Samuel
Norris.
BOSTON.—This town is located on the American Fork at its junction with
the Sacramento. The plot of the town is beautiful—its situation
agreeable. Direct roads issue from it to the placers of the Yuba,
Feather river, the North, Middle, and South forks of the Americano. Like
Sacramento City, it is located within the grant of Capt. Sutter, whose
title to the enterprising proprietors will undoubtedly be found valid.
Several buildings have been erected, which give an air of stability to
the flapping tents which shadow its avenues.
STOCKTON.—This flourishing town is located at the head of an arm of the
Suisun bay, and is accessible to small steamers. It stands in the centre
of a vast fertile plain, and on a position sufficiently elevated to
exempt it from inundation. It is the commercial depot for the southern
mines; the miners on the Mokelumne, Stanislaus, Tuolumne, Mariposa,
Mercedes, and King’s river, are supplied with provisions and clothing
from its heavy storehouses. It will yet loom largely in the map of
California.
NEW YORK.—This town is located on the triangle formed by the junction of
the San Joaquin river and Suisun bay, with its base resting on a broad
plain, covered with clusters of live-oak. The banks of the river and bay
are bold, and above the reach of tide and freshet. The bay is
represented on the surveys which have been made as having sufficient
depth for merchantmen of the largest class. The communication with the
sea lies through the broad strait of the Carquinas. The town will
naturally command the commerce of the San Joaquin and its numerous
tributaries. The projectors of the town are Col. Stevenson and Dr.
Parker.
ALVEZO.—This town is situated at the head of the great bay of San
Francisco, on the Gaudalupe, which flows through it. It is the natural
depot of the commerce which will roll in a broad exhaustless tide,
through the fertile valleys of Santa Clara and San José. It lies
directly in the route to the gold and quicksilver mines, with a climate
not surpassed by that of any locality in the northern sections of
California. The fertility of the surrounding country must ere long make
itself felt in the growth and prosperity of this town. San Francisco is
dependant on the products of its horticulture. Fortunes might be made by
any persons who would go there and devote themselves exclusively to
gardening. But it is not in man to raise cabbages in a soil that
contains gold. The proprietors of the town are J. D. Hoppe, Peter H.
Burnett, and Charles B. Marvin.
STANISLAUS.—This town, situated at the junction of the Stanislaus and
San Joaquin, is fast rising into consideration. It is the highest point
to which the lightest steamer can ascend, and is in the immediate
vicinity of the richest mines in California. From its storehouses
supplies are destined to flow through the whole southern mines. The
placers on the Stanislaus, Tuolumne, Mercedes, and King’s river must
contribute to its growing wealth. It is in the direct route from
Monterey to the mines—a route which has been surveyed in reference to a
great public road, and through which a portion of the commerce of the
Pacific will one day roll. This town was projected by Samuel Brannan,
the sagacious leader of the Mormon battalion in California.
SONORA and CRESCENT CITY.—These towns, perched up among the gold mines
which overlook the San Joaquin, derive their importance from no river or
bay; their resources are in the rocks and sands of the mountain freshet.
They are the miner’s home—his winter quarters—his metropolis, to which
he goes for society, recreation, repose, frolic, and fun. Through the
livelong night the rafters ring with resounding mirth, while the storm
unheeded raves without. Of all the sites for a hamlet which I have met
with in the mining region, I should prefer the one at the head of a
ravine near the sources of the Stanislaus. It is a natural amphitheatre,
throwing on the eye its sweeping wall of wild cliffs and waving shade.
From the green bosom of its arena swells a slight elevation, covered
with beautiful evergreen trees. A little rivulet leaps from a rock, and
sings in its sparkling flow the year round; while the leaves, as if in
love with the spot, whisper in the soft night-wind. Many a night have I
stood there in silent revery, watching the bright stars, the trembling
shadows of the trees, and listening to the silver lay of the streamlet.
The Coliseum, with its melancholy night-bird and solemn grandeur, can
never rival this temple of nature.
THE ONE MOON TOWN.
The recent discovery of Trinidad bay, which lies about two hundred miles
north of San Francisco, will have a material effect on the local
interests of the country. It will open a new channel of commerce into
the northern mines, and render accessible the finest forests in
California. This bay, as represented, has sufficient depth and capacity
to shelter a large marine. A town has already been laid out on the curve
of its bold shore; streets, squares, and edifices have ceased to figure
on the map, and become a reality. Where but one moon since the shark and
seal plunged and played at will, freighted ships are riding at anchor;
while the indignant bear has only had time to gather up her cubs and
seek a new jungle.
Before this sheet can get to press, there will be a daily on Trinidad
bay, with the price-current of New York and London figuring in its
columns, and an opera of Rossini singing its prelude between the reeling
anthems of the church-going bell. Why, man! you talk of the slumbers of
Rip Van Winkle, and the visions of the seven sleepers of Ephesus! Know
you not the whole world is asleep, save what wakes and works on Trinidad
bay? It takes an age in other lands to rear a city; but here, one phase
of the fickle moon, and up she comes, like Venus from the wave, or the
peak of Pico at the call of the morning star. Clear the coast with your
old dormitory hulks of slumbering ages, and let this new Trinidad launch
her keeled thunder! Her pennant unrolls itself in flame on the wind, and
her trident is tipt with the keen lightning. The great whale of the
Pacific turns here his startled gaze—plunges, and blows next half-way to
Japan.
Hurra for Trinidad! Let nations sleep,
And empires moulder in their misty shroud;
She shakes her trident on her golden steep,
O’er waving woods, in solemn reverence bowed;
Her bright aurora throws its flashing ray
Where primal worlds in sunless darkness stray!
A shout from those touched orbs comes rolling back,
As rose the anthem of this earth, when first
Around the night that sphered her rayless track,
The breaking morn in golden splendors burst—
The king of chaos sees the new-born light,
And, howling, plunges down the gulf of night.
OLD AND WELL-TRIED FRIENDS.
I must not forget in my reveries over the map marvels of the new towns,
the fireside friends of good old Monterey. Among _them_ my three years
circled their varied rounds, now stored with memories that can never
die. I must introduce them to the reader before we part, and pay them
the tribute of a farewell word. They have no splendor of outward
circumstance to stir your wonder, but hearts as true as ever throbbed in
the human breast. Here is David Spence, from the hills of Scotland, a
man of unblemished integrity and sterling sense, married to a daughter
of the late Don José Estrada, a resident of twenty-five years in
Monterey, my predecessor in the office of alcalde, and recently prefect
of the department. Here is W. P. Hartnell, from England, married into
the Noriega family, the best linguist in the country, and the government
translator, with the claims of a twenty-seven years’ residence, and a
circle of children, in which yours, my gentle reader, would only appear
as a few more added to a sweeping flock.
Here is Don Manuel Dias, a native of Mexico, married to a sister of Mrs.
Spence, a gentleman whose urbanity and intelligence honors his origin.
Here is James McKinley, a gentleman of liberality and wealth from the
Grampian Hills, married to a daughter of a Spanish Don from the Bay of
Biscay. Here is Don Manuel Jimeno, once secretary of state, married into
the Noriega family, to a lady of sparkling wit and gentle benevolence.
Here is Milton Little, a man of mind and means, who broke into
California many years ago from the west, and whom I joined in wedlock to
a fair daughter of the empire state. Here is Don José Abrigo, blest with
wealth, enterprise, and a fine family of boys. Here is J. P. Lease, from
Missouri, long resident in California, with ample fortune and generous
heart, and whose amiable wife is the sister of Gen. Vallejo. Here is
James Watson, born on the Thames; came to Monterey twenty-five years
since, married a lady of the country, is now a heavy capitalist, with a
charity open as day. Here is Charles Walter, of German origin, a
resident of many years, married into the Estrada family, and possessed
of wealth. Here is Gov. Pulacio, from Lower California—a gentleman of
the old school—with a wife and daughter imbued with the same spirit of
refinement. Here is J. F. Dye, from our own shores, long identified with
the interests of the country, and married to one of its daughters. Here
are Messrs. Toomes & Thoms, bosom friends, partners in business, and men
of enterprise and substance. Here is James Stokes, from England, for
twenty-five years a citizen of Monterey, a merchant, farmer, and doctor,
married to a lady of the country, in whom the afflicted always find a
friend.
Here is Señor Soveranez, whose saloon is lit by eyes bright as nuptial
tapers, and where the Castilian flows soft as if warbled by a bird. Here
is Padre Ramirez, an intelligent, liberal, and warm-hearted canon of the
Catholic church; and also the Rev. S. H. Willey, of the Protestant
persuasion, who is organizing a society, and who has the zeal and energy
to carry the enterprise through. Monterey lost one of its most cherished
ladies, when Mrs. Larkin took her departure. Here for eighteen years she
had lent a charm to its society. She was the first lady from the United
States that settled in California. Long will the good old town lament
the departure of T. H. Green. His enterprise and integrity as a
merchant, and his benevolence as a citizen, were everywhere felt. The
widow and the orphan ever found in him a generous friend. Nor must I
forget the young and gentle Saladonia, who has often hovered like a
ministering angel in the family of the poor emigrant. Nor must I pass
unheeded the grave of my revered friend Don Juan Malerine, beloved in
life, and who died
“Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.”