A QUEER WINTER
Christmas and New Year's brought a mad whirl. All that could, came in
from the mines. The streets were thronged. Banjo and guitar were
thrummed to the songs and choruses of the day, and even the accordion
notes floated out on the air, now soft and pathetic with "Annie
Laurie", "Home, Sweet Home," and "There's Nae Luck About the House,"
"The Girl I Left Behind Me," or a jolly song from fine male voices.
Then there were balls, and a great masquerade, until it seemed as if
there was nothing to life but pleasure.
Miss Gaines came in with some of the stories. But the most delightful
were those of the three little Estenega girls about the Christmas eve
at the church and the little child Jesus in the cradle, the wise men
bringing their gifts, the small plain chapel dressed with greens and
flowers in Vallejo Street. Laverne had not been brought up to
Christmas services and at first was quite shocked. But the child's
heart warmed to the thought, and Miss Holmes read the simple story of
Bethlehem in Judea, that touched her immeasurably.
And then there seemed a curious awakening of spring. Flowers sprang up
and bloomed as if the rain had a magic that it scattered with every
drop. The atmosphere had a startling transparency. There were the
blue slopes of Tamalpais, and far away in the San Matteo Range the
redwood trees stood up in their magnificence. Out through the Golden
Gate one could discern the Farallones forty miles away. The very air
was full of exhilarating balm, and the wild oats sprang up in the
night, it seemed, and nodded their lucent green heads on slender
stems. And the wild poppies in gorgeous colors, though great patches
were of an intense yellow like a field of the cloth of gold.
Sometimes Jason Chadsey of a Sunday, the only leisure time he could
find to devote to her, took his little girl out oceanward. There were
the seals disporting themselves, there were flocks of ducks and
grebes, gulls innumerable, and everything that could float or fly.
Ships afar off, with masts and sails visible as if indeed they were
being submerged. What stores they brought from the Orient! Spices and
silks, and all manner of queer things. And the others coming up from
the Pacific Coast, where there were old towns dotted all along.
Or they took the bayside with its circle of hills, its far-off
mountains, its dots of cities yet to be. Angel Island and Yerba Buena
where the first settlement was made, growing so slowly that in ten
years not more than twenty or thirty houses lined the beach. Or they
boarded the various small steamers, plying across or up and down the
bay. Miss Holmes did object somewhat to this form of Sunday
entertainment. There was always a motley assemblage, and often rough
language. Men who had come from decent homes and proper training
seemed to lay it aside in the rush and excitement. Yet that there
were many fine, earnest, strong men among those early emigrants was
most true; men who saw the grand possibilities of this western coast
as no eastern stay-at-home could.
Was the old legend true that some mighty cataclysm had rent the rocks
apart and the rivers that had flowed into the bay found an outlet to
the sea? Up at the northern end was San Pablo Bay into which emptied
the Sacramento and its tributaries, and a beautiful fertile country
spreading out in a series of brilliant pictures, which was to be the
home of thousands later on.
And from here one had a fine view of the city, fast rising into
prominence on its many hills as it lay basking in the brilliant
sunshine. Irregular and full of small green glens which now had burst
into luxuriant herbage and were glowing with gayest bloom, and
diversified with low shrubbery; then from the middle down great belts
of timber at intervals, but that portion of the city best known now
was from Yerba Buena Cove, from North Beach to Mission Cove. Already
it was thriving, and buildings sprang up every day as if by magic, and
the busy people breathed an enchanted air that incited them to
purposes that would have been called wildest dreams at the sober East.
The little girl looked out on the changeful picture and held tight to
her uncle's hand as the throngs from all parts of the world, and in
strange attire, passed and repassed her, giving now and then a sharp
glance which brought the bright color to her face. For the Spanish
families kept their little girls under close supervision, as they
went decorously to and from church on Sunday; the dirty, forlorn
Indian and half-breed children hardly attracted a moment's notice,
except to be kicked or cuffed out of the way. More than one man
glanced at Jason Chadsey with envious eyes, and remembered a little
girl at home for whom he was striving to make a fortune.
Jason Chadsey did not enjoy the crowd, though the sails to and fro had
been so delightful. Miss Holmes was shocked at the enormity of
Sabbath-breaking.
"There is no other day," he said, in apology. "I shouldn't like you to
go alone on a week-day, the rabble would be quite as bad."
She sighed, thinking of orderly Boston and its church-going people.
Not but what churches flourished here, new as the place was, and the
ready giving of the people was a great surprise to one who had been
interested, even taken part in providing money for various religious
wants. It was a great mystery to her that there should be so many
sides to human nature.
"I wonder if you would like a pony?" he asked of the little girl, as
they were picking their way up the irregularities of the pavement or
where there was no pavement at all.
"A pony?" There was a dubious expression in the child's face, and a
rather amazed look in her eyes. "But--I don't know how to ride,"
hesitatingly.
"You could learn," and he smiled.
"But a horse is so large, and looks at you so--so curiously--I think I
do feel a little bit afraid," she admitted, with a flush.
"Oh, I mean just a nice little pony that you could hug if you wanted
to. And I guess I could teach you to ride. Then we could have nice
long journeys about. There are so many beautiful places and such
fields and fields of wild flowers. You cannot walk everywhere. And I
have not money enough to buy a boat of my own," with a humorous smile.
"I suppose a boat does cost a good deal," she returned thoughtfully.
"I love to be on the water. Though at first I was afraid, and when
that dreadful storm came. A ship is a queer thing, isn't it? One would
think with all the people and all the cargo it must sink. I don't see
_how_ it keeps up," and her face settled into lines of perplexity,
even her sweet mouth betraying it.
"That is in the building. You couldn't understand now."
"Do you know who made the first ship?"
He laughed then. He had such a hearty, jolly laugh, though he had been
tossed about the world so much.
She had a mind to be a little offended. "It isn't in the geography,"
she said, with dignity. "And Columbus knew all about ships.
"Yes, we can go back of Columbus. The first one I ever really heard
about was Noah's Ark."
"Oh, Noah's Ark! I never thought of that!" She laughed then, and the
lines went out of her face. "I'm glad we didn't have a deluge on our
long journey. And think of all the animals on board! Was the whole
world drowned out?"
"I believe that has never been satisfactorily settled. And long
before the time of Christ there were maritime nations----"
"Maritime?" she interrupted.
"Sailors, vessels, traders. The old Phoenicians and the nations
bordering on the Mediterranean Sea. Though they went outside the
pillars of Hercules, and there were seamen on the Asian side of the
world."
"Oh, dear, how much there is for me to learn," and she drew a long
breath. "And they thought I was real smart in our little old school.
But I could spell almost everything."
"There are years in which you can learn it," he said encouragingly.
"And you have been almost everywhere." There was a note of admiration
in her voice. "The stories were so wonderful when you told them on
shipboard. I didn't half understand them then because I didn't think
the world could be such a great place, so you must tell them over to
me."
"Yes. And some day you may go the rest of the way round the world.
You've been nearly half round it and you are still in America."
They paused at the little cottage. Bruno, the great dog, lay on the
doorstep, but he rose and shook himself, and put his nose in the
little girl's hand.
She had been rather afraid of him at first. Even now when he gave a
low growl at some tramp prowling round it sent a shiver down her
spine. But he was a very peaceable fellow and now devoted to his new
mistress.
Miss Holmes prepared the supper. She had a fondness for housekeeping,
and this life seemed idyllic to her. The old weariness of heart and
brain had vanished. Miss Gaines told her she looked five years younger
and that it would not take her long to go back to twenty. Miss Gaines
had made some charming new friends and did not always spend Sunday
with them.
Laverne wiped the dishes for Miss Holmes. Jason Chadsey lighted his
pipe, and strolled uptown.
"I wish you would read all about Noah's ark to me," Laverne said, and
Miss Holmes sat down by the lamp.
The child had many new thoughts about it at this time.
"People must have been very wicked then if there were not ten good
ones. There are more than that now," confidently.
"But the world will never be drowned again. We have that promise."
"Only it is to be burned up. And that will be dreadful, too. Do you
suppose--the people will be--burned?" hesitating awesomely.
"Oh, no, no! Don't think of that, child."
"I wonder why they saved so many horrid animals? Did you ever see a
tiger and a lion?"
"Oh, yes, at a menagerie."
"Tell me about it."
She had an insatiable desire for stories, this little girl, and picked
up much knowledge that way. Miss Holmes taught her, for there was no
nearby school.
She made friends with the Estenega girls, though at first their
mother, with true Spanish reticence and pride held aloof, but interest
in her children's welfare and a half fear of the Americanos, beside
the frankness of the little girl induced her to walk in their
direction one day, and in a shaded nook she found Miss Holmes and her
charge. Perhaps the truth was that Señora Estenega had many lonely
hours. Friends and relatives were dead or had gone away, for there had
been no little friction when California was added to the grasping
"States." When she could sell her old homestead she meant to remove to
Monterey, which at this period was not quite so overrun with
Americanos. But she had been born here, and her happy childhood was
connected with so many favorite haunts. Here she had been wedded, her
children born, in the closed room where there was a little altar her
husband had died, and she kept commemorative services on
anniversaries. And then no one had offered to buy the place--it was
out of the business part, and though the town might stretch down
there, it had shown no symptoms as yet.
Miss Holmes was reading and Laverne sewing. She had taken a decided
fancy to this feminine branch of learning, and was hemming ruffles for
a white apron. Her mother had taught her long ago, when it had been a
very tiresome process. But the Estenega girls made lace and
embroidered.
Laverne sprang up. "It is Carmen's mother," she said. Then she glanced
up at the visitor, with her lace mantilla thrown over her high comb,
her black hair in precise little curls, each side of her face, and her
eyes rather severe but not really unpleasant.
"I do not know how you say it," and she flushed with embarrassment.
"It is not Madame or Mrs.----"
"Señora," answered the Spanish woman, her face softening under the
appealing eyes of the child.
Then Laverne performed the introduction with an ease hardly expected
in a child. Miss Holmes rose.
"I am very glad to meet you. I was deciding to come to ask about the
children. Laverne is often lonely and would like playmates. And she is
picking up many Spanish words. You understand English."
"Somewhat. It is of necessity. These new people have possessed our
country and you cannot always trust servants to interpret. Yes, the
children. I have a little fear. They are Catholics. Carmencita will go
to the convent next year for her education. And I should not want
their faith tampered with."
"Oh, no," Miss Holmes responded cheerfully. "You know we have
different kinds of faith and yet agree as friends." And glancing at
Laverne she almost smiled. These Spanish children would be much more
likely to convert her to their faith. Would her uncle mind, she
wondered? He seemed to think they all stood on the same foundation.
"You have not been here long?" and there was more assertion than
inquiry in the tone.
"No," returned the younger woman. And then she told a part of her
story, how she had come from the east, the Atlantic coast, and that
she was governess to the child, and housekeeper. "Did the Señora know
a family by the name of Vanegas?"
"Ah, yes, they were old friends. Two daughters, admirable girls,
devoted to their mother, who had suffered much and whose husband had
made away with most of the estates. There was an American lady in her
house, she rented two rooms."
"A friend of mine. She came from the same place, and we have known
each other from girlhood."
Then the ice was broken, and Miss Holmes in a certain manner was
vouched for, which rather amused her, yet she accepted the Spanish
woman's pride. Many of them felt as if they had been banished from
their own land by these usurpers. Others accepted the new order of
things, and joined heart and soul in the advancement of the place, the
advancement of their own fortunes also. But these were mostly men. The
prejudice of the women died harder.
The children were in a group at one of the little hillocks, much
amused it would seem by their laughter. And the two women patched up a
bit of friendship which they both needed, seeing they were near
neighbors, and interested in the education of young people, Miss
Holmes listened to what the elder woman said and did not contradict or
call the ideas old-fashioned. After all it was very like some of her
old grandmother's strictures, and she was a staunch Puritan. What
would she have said to women who had not yet reached middle life, and
had planned to go to a strange land to seek their fortunes!
The Señora was so well satisfied that she asked Miss Holmes to come
and take coffee and sweetmeats with her the next afternoon.
Oh, how lovely the hills and vales were as they wandered homeward. For
now it was the time of growth and bloom and such sweetness in the air
that Marian Holmes thought of the gales of Araby the blest. Truly it
was an enchanted land. The birds were filling the air with melody,
here and there a farmer or gardener, for there was fine cultivated
lands about the foothills, and even higher up there were great patches
of green where some one would reap a harvest, garden stuff waving or
running about rich with melon blooms, here the blue of the wild
forget-me-nots and the lupines. And further on flocks of sheep
nibbling the tufts of grass or alfalfa. Some one was singing a song, a
rich, young voice:
"Oh, Susanna, don't you cry for me,
I'm goin' to California with my banjo on my knee."
Here and there in a clump of trees was a dark shadow, and the long
slant rays betokened the coming of evening. It gave one a luxurious
emotion, as if here was the true flavor of life.
Miss Holmes was feeling a little sorry for those swept off of their
own land, as it were.
"What have they been doing with it these hundreds of years?" asked
Jason Chadsey. "Even the Indians they have pretended to educate are
little better off for their civilization. And think how the gold lay
untouched in the hills! Spain still has the Philippines with all her
treasures."
It rained the next morning with a musical patter on everything, and
little rivulets ran down the steps. Then it suddenly lighted up and
all San Francisco was glorified. Pablo, an old Mexican, came to work
in the little garden patch. Laverne said her lessons, then went out to
find her squirrels and talk to her birds who came to enjoy the repast
of crumbs, and then went hunting bugs and worms for their importunate
babies. And at last they were making ready for their walk.
"It is nice to go out visiting," Laverne said, as she danced along,
for the sunshine and the magnetic air had gotten into the child's
feet. "We have been nowhere but at Mrs. Dawson's."
"And Miss Gaines."
"Oh, that isn't really visiting. Just a little cake and fruit on a
plate. And now she is so busy she can hardly look at you. I wish we
lived farther up in the town. Don't you think Uncle Jason would move
if you said you did not like it here?"
"But I do like it. And there are so many dreadful things happening all
about the town. And we might be burned out."
"Well, I am glad of the Estenegas, anyhow."
The old place was like some of the other old homes going to decay now,
but it was so embowered with vines that one hardly noted it. The
chimney had partly fallen in, the end of the porch roof was propped up
by a pile of stones. But the great veranda was a room in itself, with
its adobe floor washed clean, and the big jars of bloom disposed
around, the wicker chairs, the piles of cushions, and the low seats
for the children. Little tables stood about with work, many of the
women were very industrious, the mothers thinking of possible
trousseaus, when laces and fine drawn work would be needed. Carmencita
had her cushion on her knees, and her slim fingers carried the thread
over the pins in and out, in a fashion that mystified Laverne.
"It's like the labyrinth," she said.
"What was that?" glancing up.
"Why, a place that was full of all kinds of queer passages and you did
not know how to get out unless you took a bit of thread and wound it
up when you came back."
"But I know where I am going. Now, this is round the edge of a leaf. I
leave that little place for a loop, and then I come back so. The
Señorita Felicia makes beautiful lace for customers. But mine will be
for myself when I am married."
"But I thought--you were going to a convent," said Laverne, wide-eyed.
"So I am. But that will be for education, accomplishments. And there
are more Spanish men there," lowering her voice, "more lovers. Pepito
Martinez, who lived in the other end of the old place, down there,"
nodding her head southward, "found a splendid lover and was married in
the chapel. Her mother went on to live with her. They had no
troublesome house to sell," and she sighed.
"Juana," exclaimed the mother, "get thy guitar. The guests may like
some music."
Juana rose obediently. She, too, was older than Laverne, but Anesta
younger. She seated herself on one of the low stools, and passed a
broad scarlet ribbon about her neck, which made her look very
picturesque. And she played well, indeed, for such a child. Then she
sang several little songs in a soft, extremely youthful voice. Miss
Holmes was much interested.
The children were sent to play. There was a little pond with several
tame herons, there were two great cages of mocking birds that sang and
whistled to the discomfiture of the brilliant green and scarlet
parrot. The children ran races in the walk bordered with wild olive
trees on the one side, and on the other a great tangle of flowers,
with the most beautiful roses Laverne had ever seen, and hundreds of
them.
"Oh, I should like to live here," declared Laverne.
"Then ask thy uncle to buy. The Americanos have money in plenty. And
see here. It is my tame stork. His leg was broken so he could not fly.
Diego bound it up and he staid here. But when he sees a gun he dashes
away and hides."
He had a number of amusing tricks, but he eyed the strange little girl
suspiciously and would not let her come too near.
They went back to the house and swung in the hammock, talking broken
English and Spanish and laughing merrily over the blunders. Carmencita
put away her lace and began to prepare two of the small tables,
spreading over each a beautiful cloth.
Miss Holmes had been taken through the apartments. There were three on
the lower floor, the kitchen being detached. The walls were a dark
faded red, the windows small, with odd little panes of glass. There
was some fine old furniture, and a rug soft as velvet on the floor
that long ago had crossed the ocean. Family portraits were hung high
on the wall, and looked down frowningly, the brilliancy of their
garments faded and tarnished, but Miss Holmes noted that they were
mostly all military men. In the next room were several portraits of
the priests of the family, and hideous copies of the old Madonnas. In
this room a high cabinet of wonderful carving, filled with curios and
one shelf of books. The third was evidently a sitting and sleeping
chamber, with a spindle-post bedstead and canopy of faded yellow silk,
edged with old lace; while the bedspread in its marvellous handiwork
would have filled a connoisseur with envy. For two hundred years or
more there had been Estenegas here, and then the old part, now fallen
down, had its ballroom and its long dining room where banquets and
wedding feasts had been given.
"There is another branch of the family at Santa Margarita who have not
fallen into decay as we have, and as many old families do. I dare say
they would be glad to have some of the heirlooms. They have young men,
and it would be but right that they should propose to marry one of my
daughters."
Carmen summoned her mother and the guest. The tables were daintily
arranged with fruit and custards, some sweet fried cakes and bread
covered with a sort of jelly compound that was very appetizing, with
some shredded cold chicken highly spiced. For drink, tea for the
elders, but fruit juice made of orange and berries for the young
people. Carmencita was at the table with her mother, the three others
together, and they had a merry time.
The Señora and the children walked part of the way with them. Miss
Holmes had proposed that they should come up in the morning for
lessons with Laverne. The distance to the Sisters' school was too
great, and now one dreaded to send young girls through the new part of
the town.
"It was very nice," declared Laverne, "only I think I like the little
Maine girls better. They understand more quickly, and they have so
many thoughts about everything, while you have to explain continually
as you talk to these children."
"Perhaps it is because they do not understand the language," said Miss
Holmes.