A LESSON ON THE TRAIN.
"The Schoolmistress Abroad."
All through Southern California I hear words of whose meaning I have no
idea until they are explained. For instance, a friend wrote from San
Diego in February: "Do not longer delay your coming; the mesas are
already bright with wild-flowers." A mesa is a plateau, or upland, or
high plain. And then there are fifty words in common use retained from
the Spanish rule that really need a glossary. As, arroyo, a brook or
creek; and arroyo seco, a dry creek or bed of extinct river.
Alameda, an avenue.
Alamitos, little cotton-wood.
Alamo, the cotton-wood; in Spain, the poplar.
Alma, soul.
That is all I have learned in A's. Then for B's.
I asked at Riverside what name they had for a big, big rock that rose
right out of the plain, and was told it was a "butte." That gave a
meaning to Butte City, and was another lesson.
Banos means baths, and barranca is a small ravine.
Then, if we go on alphabetically, cajon, pronounced _cahone_, is a box.
Calaveras, skull.
Campo, plain.
Cienaga, a marshy place.
Campo sancto, cemetery.
Canyon or canon, gulch.
Cruz, cross.
Colorado, red.
Some of the Spanish words are so musical it is a pleasure to repeat them
aloud; as:
Ensenada, bright.
Escondido, hidden.
Fresno means ash.
I inquired the meaning of "Los Gatos," and was kindly informed it was
"The Gates," but it really is "The Cats."
Goleta, the name of another town, means schooner.
The Spanish _j_ nearly always has the sound of _h_.
Jacinto, Hyacinth.
Jose, Joseph.
Lago is lake; pond, laguna; and for a little lake the pretty name
lagunita. "Lagunita Rancho" is the name of an immense fruit ranch in
Vacaville--and, by the way, vaca is cow.
Madre is mother; nevada, snowy.
San Luis Obispo is San Luis the Bishop.
El Paso is The Pass.
Pueblo, a town.
Pinola is parched corn ground fine between stones, eaten with milk.
Pinoche, chopped English walnuts cooked in brown sugar--a nice candy.
Rancho, a farm; and rio, river.
Everything is a ranch out here; the word in the minds of many stands
for home. A little four-year-old boy was overheard praying the other day
that when he died the Lord would take him to His ranch.
Sacramento is the sacrament.
Sierra, saw-toothed; an earthquake is a temblor.
San and Santa, the masculine and feminine form of saint.
As the men who laid out a part of New York evidently travelled with a
classical dictionary, and named the towns from that, as Rome, Syracuse,
Palmyra, Utica, so the devout Spanish explorer named the places where he
halted by the name of the saint whose name was on the church calendar
for that day. And we have San Diego (St. James), San Juan (St. John),
San Luis, San Jose, San Pedro, Santa Inez, Santa Maria, Santa Clara,
and, best of all, Santa Barbara, to which town we are now going.
The Mexican dialect furnishes words which are now permanently
incorporated in our common speech; as:
Adobe, sun-dried brick.
Canon, gorge.
Tules, rush or water-weed. (Bret Harte's _Apostle of the Tules_.)
Bonanza, originally _fair weather at sea_, now _good fortune in mining_.
Fandango, dance of the people.
Corral, a place to collect stock. (A farmer of the West never says
cow-pen, or barnyard, or farmyard, but corral.)
Cascarones, egg-shells filled with finely cut gold or silver paper, or
perfumes, broken on head of young man, in friendly banter or challenge
to a dance.
Burro, small kind of donkey.
Broncho, wild, untamed animal.
Sombrero, hat.
Rebozo, scarf.
Serape, blanket.
Lariat, rawhide rope.
Hacienda, estate.
While we are rattling along there is so little to see until we reach
the ocean, that we may as well be recalling a few more facts worth
knowing. At Riverside I learned that the leaf of the orange tree was
larger when it first came out than later. It grows smaller as it
matures. And most people say that the fig tree has no blossom, the fruit
coming right out of the branch. But there is a blossom, and you have to
cut the fruit open to find it. Just split a young fig in two and notice
the perfect blossom in the centre.
They say it takes two Eastern men to believe a Californian, but it only
takes one Eastern woman to tell true stories which do seem almost too
big for belief. One man got lost in a mustard field, and he was on
horseback too.
I saw at San Diego a tomato vine only eight months old, which was
nineteen feet high and twenty-five feet wide, and loaded full of fruit
in January. A man picking the tomatoes on a stepladder added to the
effect. And a Gold of Ophir rose-bush at Pasadena which had 200,000
blossoms. This is vouched for by its owner, a retired missionary, who
cannot be doubted. There are truly true pumpkins that weigh 256 pounds
and are seven feet in circumference; cucumbers seven feet long; seven
beets weighed 500 pounds; three bites to a strawberry; and the
eucalyptus shoots often grow twenty feet the first year, carrying with
them in their rapid ascension the stakes to which they were tied. All
this is true. But here are two stories which may be doubtful, just to
show what anecdotes are current in California. "A man was on top of a
California pumpkin chopping off a piece with an axe, when it dropped in.
He pulled up his ladder and put it down on the inside to look for it.
While groping about he met a man, who exclaimed, 'Hello! What are you
doing here?' 'Looking for my axe.' 'Gosh! you might as well give that
up. I lost my horse and cart in here three days ago, and haven't found
'em yet!'"
"A farmer raised one thousand bushels of popcorn and stored it in a
barn. The barn caught fire, and the corn began to pop and filled a
ten-acre field. An old mare in a neighboring pasture had defective
eyesight, saw the corn, thought it was snow, and lay down and froze to
death."
As to serious farming, and how it pays in this part of the State, I have
clipped several paragraphs from the papers, and will give three as
samples of the whole. I desire also to communicate the cheerful news
that there are no potato bugs to make life seem too hard to bear.
"RAISED ON TWENTY ACRES.
"How much land do I need in California? is a question often asked. The
answer is readily made: as much as you can profitably and economically
work. A gentleman has made the following exhibit in the Los Angeles
Chamber of Commerce: 'Raised on twenty acres of ground, 2500 boxes of
oranges, 1500 boxes of lemons, 37,000 pounds of grapes, 2000 pounds of
pears, 35,000 pounds of apples, 15,000 pounds of berries, black and red,
1000 pounds of English walnuts. Besides nectarines, apricots, plums,
three crops of potatoes, 500 pounds of crab-apples, and one acre of
alfalfa kept for cows, and flowers of different varieties. These
oranges are worth on the trees $3500, the lemons $3000, the grapes $370,
pears $30, apples $75, berries $30, walnuts $80. The total will be
$7085, and all the products not counted. That surely is more than the
crops of a half section in Kansas or Illinois will sell for.' Every one
may not do as well, but they can approach it, and if they do, twenty
acres is quite enough."
"PROFITS OF BERRY CULTURE.
"Speaking of the profits of growing strawberries in Southern California,
the Covina _Argus_ gives some interesting facts and figures. That paper
says: 'One of the growers stated to us that last year he picked and
shipped from three acres the enormous amount of fourteen tons. These
berries brought as high as fifteen cents and as low as four cents per
pound, but netted an average of about eight cents per pound, or $2240.
That would make an acre of berries produce a cash return of $746.66 2/3,
which, considering the shortness of the berry season, from four to five
months, is a pretty good income on the money invested.'"
"PROFIT IN ALMONDS.
"M. Treat, an authority on almond culture, has contributed the following
to the Woodland _Mail_: 'This year from 190 California paper-shell
almond trees (five years old), covering two and five-sevenths acres, I
gathered 3502 pounds of nuts, which sold in Chicago at twenty-two cents
a pound. This is $316.82 to the acre--a little over $4 to the tree--181/2
pounds to the tree. When these same trees were four years old they
averaged about three pounds, and in eight years they will double what
they bore at five. They will at eight years bear full 40 pounds to the
tree. At twelve years they will bear fully 100 pounds to the tree
without the least exertion. This is at seventy trees to the acre, and
reckoning at twenty-two cents to the pound, $1540 per acre. Now these
are nothing but plain, bare, raw facts.
"'Almond trees live and do well for fifty years, and in some places in
Europe when fifteen years old bear from 150 to 200 pounds per tree.'"
At Saugus Junction Mr. Tolfree has established one of his famous
restaurants, where I can conscientiously urge you to get out and dine.
Every course is delicious.
Ventura County is partially devoted to the culture of Beans. I use a
capital because Beans represent Culture, or are associated with it in
one State at least, and the very meaning of the word is property, money,
from the French _biens_--goods. I wonder how many of my Boston friends
knew that! I did not until a friend showed it to me in Brewer's
phrase-book, where I also learned that beans played an important part in
the politics of the Greeks, being used in voting by ballot. I always had
a liking for beans, but I have a profound respect for them since viewing
the largest Lima Bean Ranch in the world, belonging to my friend Mr.
D. W. Thompson, of Santa Barbara. There are 2500 acres of rich land,
level as a house floor, bounded by a line of trees on one side and the
ocean on the other; 1600 acres are planted to beans, and the profits
are nearly $60,000 yearly. Thirty-six tons of beans were used this year
in planting. This could not be done in the East, but beans do not need
to be "poled" here, as, influenced by the dreamy atmosphere, they show
no desire to climb, but just lie lazily along the ground. Still, there
is a deal of work connected with the business. Dairying, building,
horseshoeing, repairing of machinery, are all done on the place. "As
soon as the spring rains are over, eleven gang ploughs, four ploughs to
a gang, each gang drawn by six horses, plough about seven acres per
day." Then the harrowing and planting in the same big way. During the
entire summer these vines grow without a drop of water, freshened daily
by the heavy sea fogs. Harvesting and threshing all done by machinery.
The steam thresher would amaze some of our overworked, land-poor
farmers. About one hundred and twenty carloads of beans are annually
shipped from this ranch, reserving the tons needed for seed.
And all along the way fine ranches are seen, where beans are seen
growing alone, or planted between the long even rows of fruit trees. Mr.
Thompson also owns a large hog ranch. But dear me! We are now skirting
the beautiful ocean curve which leads to the "Channel City"--so near the
beach that the waves almost touch the rails and the dash of the surf
seems under the cars. See how fine a situation! The coast line taking a
sudden and most fortunate turn, the trend of mountain range and plain
land is east and west, instead of north and south. Sheltered by
mountains and mesas, and nestled in the green foot-hills, with the ocean
breeze tempered by a chain of islands, making a serene harbor, Santa
Barbara has much to make it the rival of San Diego and Pasadena. Pork
and beans must now give way to legend and romance, martyred virgin, holy
monks, untutored "neophytes," handsome Castilians, dashing Mexicans,
energetic pioneers, the old Spanish, the imported Chinese, the eastern
element now thoroughly at home, and the inevitable, ubiquitous invalid,
globe-trotter, and hotel habitue--each type or stratum as distinctly
marked as in a pousse cafe, or jelly cake. What a comparison! I ask
Santa Barbara's pardon, and beg not to be struck with lightning, or
destroyed by gunpowder.--"_Yes, to the Arlington._"