After we had very exhaustively explored this middle part of the
State, we determined to go to San Francisco and see how we liked the
conditions in the North.
We took rooms in a fairly comfortable boarding-house, and settled down
for an indefinite time. Our boys went to the public schools, which, in
the towns, are very good indeed.
We found a great charm and attraction about San Francisco, with its
splendid bay and curious town; the latter, built partly on a tract
of land snatched from the sea, and partly on the drifting shifting
sand hills, which stretch for miles around, is a triumph of energy
and enterprise. Some of the streets had to be carried up at an angle
of almost forty-five degrees, and the quays, water front and business
quarter are built on what was at one time a shallow part of the bay.
Now innumerable electric and cable cars fly up and down the steep
hill streets. It is a strange sensation to "go the round trip" on
any of these beautifully built machines; a sensation not altogether
comfortable at first. One seems to be either slipping down the polished
seats, on to the top of the next person, from the steep upward incline
of the car, or one is trying to look quite easy-minded as the thing
glides smoothly up to the edge of a cliff, and, without pause, runs
straight down the face of it. Accidents, however, seem very rare,
and all is so well managed, that one soon forgets to be uneasy, and
some of these rides are delightful. One in particular--to the Cliff
House--where the railroad is cut out of the cliff half way up its
steep side, with the beautiful Pacific Ocean spread out below, and the
Golden Gate in full view, is magnificent. China Town was thrillingly
interesting to us, and we behaved like veritable _gamins_, hanging and
dawdling about, flattening our noses against windows, and trying to see
all we could of the ways of these mysterious people. Our impressions
were, and still remain, that they are marvellously quick and clever,
but unlovely.
Now began again the same diligent search that had kept us so busy in
the South; far and near, to different neighbourhoods on all sides we
went, seeing a great deal, and receiving much kindness from strangers,
anxious to aid us to find what we wanted. Indeed, all over the United
States we were impressed with the goodwill everyone showed, taking
trouble and thought to help us if possible, and ready to be most
hospitable, though we were absolute strangers.
This was often very comforting during those long months of undecided
wanderings, when we felt so particularly homeless, and so anxious about
the future, and the great importance of choosing wisely.
We were often amused to find what very unexpected people had ranches,
somewhere in the Golden State. The black porter on the train; the man
who swept out and attended to the church opposite our boarding-house;
the driver of the hotel omnibus; our Chinese laundryman, and the Irish
woman who succeeded him. This last-named proprietor was very anxious
to warn us against unwise speculations. She considered speculation the
only business worth going into, and herself made quite a good deal in
this way. Then there was the learnèd head of a university, and the
pretty young lady teacher at one of the Normal schools; also the rich
Easterner, coming over three thousand miles in his private car to
escape the cruel winter of the East. All these had ranches of different
kinds, and all were ready to help and advise.
The only people whom we were very shy of consulting were the "real
estate" men. It is true we had many a useful drive with them to inspect
new neighbourhoods, but we would never have dreamt of buying on their
recommendation. We had heard too much from others of the tricks they
play, and the schemes they carry through, to influence possible buyers,
and we took a rather wicked delight in making them useful, while
remaining perfectly independent of them. We discovered that everyone
who had a ranch spoke as though that part of the State were the only
possible neighbourhood where ranching was sure to pay; yet we could not
but notice that each one was most ready to sell his ranch.
It is said that every ranch in California is for sale, if the proper
price be offered. But an explanation of this is that there seems to be
a kind of restlessness and a speculative spirit in all Americans, which
leads them to undertake everything in a tentative spirit, and makes
them always ready to change, if any profit or advantage can be assured.
Most of the ranches have that air, very plain at least to English eyes;
there is nearly always the appearance of the owner being ready to move
on to something else.
Such changes are regarded in America as perfectly natural occurrences.
A man who changes his business often, from whatever cause, in England
is looked upon as unsteady and unreliable, almost good for nothing in
fact; but here the habit is so universal that it calls forth no comment.
Considering how very difficult it is for an ordinary young man entering
upon life to hit upon just the best thing for his abilities and tastes,
it seems a sensible view to take that the door should be left open for
change, without any slur being cast on the stability or steadiness of
the worker.
The changes made by men over here are most unexpected and often quite
startling. The man who did all the hauling of our heavy furniture out
to the ranch from the water front in San Miguel, some seventeen miles
by road, was once a lawyer in the East. The indoor life did not suit
him, and he never really liked his profession, so he came out here and
has drifted into this, becoming one of the most skilled teamsters in
all the neighbourhood.
On a neighbouring large ranch, where a good deal of labour is employed,
and which the proprietor only visits occasionally for a few odd days,
the manager and overseer is, or rather was, a doctor, and a very good
manager he makes.
An elderly rancher we came across had been a soldier during the Civil
War; a farmer in the East; had driven an express waggon, and after
ranching a short time in the South and finding it difficult to make
both ends meet, emigrated to Oregon and became a member of the State
Legislature, in which position the salary was probably not the only
pecuniary advantage.
We had not been long in the North when we decided that the climate was
not good enough. We had left home and come six thousand miles, and were
critical. It was damp and windy. In the fruit valleys, the summers were
quite as hot, if not more so, than in the middle South. Most of the
early fruit comes from this part, and in the winter there was rain,
more or less constantly, for four months.
In consequence of the heavier rainfall, the North is much greener than
the South; the hills too are beautifully wooded with every variety of
tree. But in many neighbourhoods the work of ranching is more fatiguing
than in the South; the soil is heavier, and the longer wet season has
many disadvantages for people who do their own ranching.
By this time the uncertainty and general homeless feeling of our lives
was beginning to be almost unendurable.
There were so many things to consider; firstly, which kind of
fruit paid the best and was the least subject to accidents and the
disappointments of bad seasons; secondly, the quality of land best
suited to such fruit and the conveniences for getting it to market;
thirdly, the amount of water to be had; this last quite as vital as any
point whatsoever about the land. In fact one might almost be said to
buy water with land attached, so great is the value of a certainty of
enough water.
We were so much impressed with this, that we were quite determined
to buy land only where there was a well-tried and well-established
irrigating system, and where all the water difficulties of the
neighbourhood were solved and settled.
This resolve, with some others, had eventually to go by the board; but
of this much we made sure when we bought, that there was water enough
running in a satisfactory flume some two miles from our land. The part
which had to be taken more or less on trust was the piping of the
water to our little settlement, and the dividing of it in a fair and
workable manner; this has given us more trouble than we would care to
undertake again. The climate, too, had to be carefully examined, even
in California. And the view meant a great deal to us; we were very
unwilling to settle in a plain or valley, where soon our own windbreak
trees would be the only outlook, year in, year out.
A school within reach for the younger boy was another point about which
I was resolved to be stubborn.
Then, though we had so unhesitatingly chosen the absolute freedom of
country life, in preference to pretentious villadom, we did not want
isolation.
I was haunted with the remembrance of those terribly lonely farms which
one passes as the train rushes through Kansas and Missouri, where each
desolate building stands absolutely surrounded by miles and miles of
dreary-looking prairie waste.
We realised before long that if we could find a place fulfilling some
of the most essential qualities for which we were striving, we should
have to let the rest go. Indeed, in our diligent search, which brought
us into contact with so many ranchers of several nationalities, we
heard and saw so much that was discouraging, that we determined not to
take any definite or binding steps for some time, but go south, see how
we liked the climate and other conditions of San Miguel, and then make
our decision.
There is something of the same spirit of jealousy between San Francisco
and San Miguel as there is (or used to be) between Manchester and
Liverpool; we could therefore hear very little but the proverbial faint
praise of San Miguel while in the North. All the same, we were resolved
to try to find a better climate, after travelling six thousand miles in
search of it.
(_To be continued._)
[Illustration: YOUNG EYES.]
OLD EYES AND YOUNG EYES.
BY HELEN MARION BURNSIDE.
Oh, the young eyes looking forward
Through the rosy mists of hope;
Oh, the young feet, glad and eager,
As they mount the sun-lit slope!
"'Twill grow fairer"--youth is saying,
"Better things before us lie,
Ah, how beautiful and happy
Looks the land of by-and-by!"
Oh, the old eyes looking backward,
From the hill-tops chill and wide,
Ere the old feet, in the sunset,
Journey down the further side:
"Life was fairer"--age is saying
"In the morning's golden glow--
Ah, how beautiful and happy,
Was the land of long ago!"
Yet, oh, young eyes looking forward,
And, oh, old eyes looking back,
Be it noon-tide--be it sunset,
That is shining on the track--
Life is beautiful and happy,
Unto _all_ who look on high--
Unto _all_ whose hopes are centred,
In the Heavenly by-and-by!
[Illustration]
FATHER ANTHONY.