A PARTY AND AN ADMIRER
When the sun dropped into the ocean the world for a time seemed
ablaze. Certainly, here was the place for sunsets. And as they went on
they crushed the dying ferns and foot-high evergreens into penetrating
fragrance. Down below the Estenegas they turned around and took a
lower road that had little in it except the whispering trees and
plaintive bird songs, until houses came into view, and human figures
moving about. They did not go down in the city, there was always more
or less carousing on Saturday night. A strong young voice was shouting
out a favorite song:
"Oh, Sally, dearest Sally; oh, Sally, for your sake,
I'll go to California and try to make a shake;
Says she to me, 'Joe Bowers, you are the man to win,
Here's a kiss to bind the bargain,' and she hove a dozen in."
There were musical voices, too. A square below them a wagon load were
singing to the accompaniment of an accordion. Lights were flashing
out, throngs began to gather in the streets, and they were glad to
canter away to quiet.
"It is the most splendid thing of my life," Miss Holmes said.
"And you have done exceptionally well. You and Laverne can take many
an hour's enjoyment when I am busy."
Pablo took the horses down while Miss Holmes spread the supper, and
the two went to look after the gull, who seemed very well content, and
allowed his neck to be stroked without demur.
"And we saw a great bird snatch a fish from one of your kind," Laverne
told him. "And such lots of your relations!"
Bruno looked on curiously.
"Don't you touch him. And don't you let any wild cat or fox come after
him. Mind, now."
Bruno beat his tail on the dry grass.
If there were nations from almost every corner of the globe, they all
joined in celebrating Fourth of July. This year there was a fine
military parade, and Sutter's Rifles from Sacramento City came up and
passed in review before the old true-hearted pioneer, Major-General
John H. Sutter, rapturously applauded by the crowd. Then they marched
to the Russ Garden, where they were presented with a set of colors.
Irish and German were alike patriotic. There were singing and
speeches; booths on corners dispensed simple refreshments to the weary
and the children. Carriages were ornamented with small flags, and
filled with the better class, who cheered as heartily. It was really a
gala day. They had been invited to the Personettes, where tea was set
out on the lawn, and as there was no moon it was hung with Chinese
lanterns. There were some schoolgirls, and they had a table to
themselves, and some dancing. Several of the young people gave the
fancy dances they had learned at the classes the winter before.
Vacations had generally commenced. There were picnics to San José and
mountain climbs; there were excursions up and down the bay and to the
towns opposite up to San Pablo and Mare's Island, over to Sausalito.
And on Sunday, the road to the old Mission Dolores was always thronged
with pleasure-seekers, elegant open carriages filled with
finely-dressed ladies, equestrians of all kinds, and the Spanish
señors often disported themselves in all their bravery. Miss Holmes
was rather startled at first, and to her it was Sabbath-breaking, but
Jason Chadsey was so used to the cosmopolitan order of the day, and
she met the people who had been to church in the morning.
The hot sun and lack of rain had not dried up everything. There were
fogs on the coast that dripped like fine rain, and fairly drenched
bush and faded grass. There were fine green hills and fields of
flowers, and the new crop of wild oats and barley.
And then autumn came in again, schools opened, business stirred up,
there were blessed rains, and it was like a later summer.
The little girl had been much interested in her gull and he had grown
very fond of her, eating out of her hand, and hiding his head under
her arms as the squirrel did. She had traced Snippy to his home, and
sure enough he had a companion. There was an old scrubby dead pine in
which there was a hollow, or they had gnawed it, and thither they
carried nuts and crusts of bread that Laverne pretended to lose.
"Uncle Jason," she said one day, "did you ever see an albatross?"
"Yes. Not very often. They are in the Northern Pacific."
"They are not like gulls."
"Oh, much larger."
"There is a story about one. Miss Bain has it in a beautiful book. One
day she read it."
"Oh, 'The Ancient Mariner.'"
"Do you know about it?" Her face was alight with pleasure. "And is it
true? Did he kill the bird:
"'Who, every day for food or play,
Came to the Mariner's hollo.'"
"It's a queer story. No, I don't suppose it was really true. But it is
always considered bad luck to kill one. I must get the book for you."
"Oh, if you would," in her pretty, coaxing way. "Pablo wanted to kill
the gull. Then we might have had bad luck. And now we can't find any
name for him."
"That's bad, too."
His leg had mended nicely and the splints were off, though it must be
confessed he had tugged a great deal at them, and could not be brought
to understand their benefit, though it was explained over and over
again. But his wing did not seem to be just right, and his efforts to
fly were not successful.
"But I wish he could. He would look so lovely sailing about."
"And fly away!"
"Oh, I don't really believe he would."
Uncle Jason brought home a fine illustrated copy of the "Ancient
Mariner" from an English press. In the early fifties, even in vaunted
New York, Boston, and Philadelphia illustrating had not reached the
high point of art it was destined to later on.
She was delighted and in a little while knew it all by heart. She grew
very fond of poetry. She used to read to the gull until he seemed
hypnotized, and presently would nod, sometimes put his head under his
wing.
In September, there was another great celebration on the opening of
the first electric telegraph. This was between San Francisco and Point
Lobos, and was erected by Messrs. Sweeny and Baugh to give early
information of shipping arrivals. They had a station on Telegraph Hill
in which they used various signals, but this was of immeasurably
greater service.
Early in November, there was the anniversary of the founding of the
Mission of Dolores. There were a number of Catholic children in the
school, and a holiday was given.
"Oh, come, go," Olive coaxed. "Eulogia Garfias and her mother are
going, and we are great friends. You've never been in a Catholic
Church?"
"No; but I know some Catholic girls, and one has gone to a convent to
be educated. Oh, and the two little ones were to come up to the
Sisters' School."
"Why, maybe they will be there."
She had not been to the Estenegas in a long, long time; since the day
she and Uncle Jason had ridden down there.
Miss Holmes made no objection. People grew broader in this grand air.
There were many points in which all denominations worked together for
the city's welfare.
It was constructed of adobe, partly whitewashed. It had been very
grand in its day, and had a capacious interior. The walls and roof
roughly painted still held saints and angels and sacred subjects much
faded by the seventy-five years. The damp earthen floor struck a chill
to one. Some of the ornaments of the great altar had been carried
away, and those left were of no great value. But on this occasion
every year there was a large accession of worshippers, even Spanish
and Mexican men as well as women, kneeling reverently on the floor,
and that seemed strange to Laverne, who glanced up with great awe to
the figure of the Christ on the cross between the two oriel windows.
At the side was a female figure with hands clasped, the Virgin. Tall
candles were burning on each side of the altar.
The service was mostly in Latin. The congregation went out reverently,
some to walk in the small graveyard. Yes, there were Juana and Anesta
and several other girls, attended by a sister. They were delighted to
meet Laverne, and were full of confidences as they walked out to the
street. The house was shut up, their mother had gone to Monterey, and
they were staying at school all the time. They liked it so much. And,
if they were allowed, they would be so glad to visit Laverne. Eulogia
Garfias knew the sister and introduced her schoolmates; that made the
sister soften somewhat to them, and listen to their plea.
So Laverne had quite an eventful morning.
"But the little girls look sad, I think," she commented. "And the old
church isn't a bit pretty, it looks faded. And no seats to sit on. It
didn't seem at all like church."
What with lessons, her pets, and her rides, the days were all too
short. Her gull still remained and now could fly a short distance. It
really seemed to love the shelter of the house, and this amused Uncle
Jason very much. Then it never flapped its wings, but seemed to rise
slowly and float about with a serene air. It enjoyed the stream and
the new lake Pablo and Laverne had made. For now the frequent rains
swelled all the streams, and the bright bracing northwest winds
brought the fragrance of spring. Everything grew by bounds. The little
girl could hardly believe it was winter. The bluest skies, the golden
sunshine that flashed in streams of brilliance, the bay a sea of
silver bearing on its bosom treasures of every land.
And so came in a Merry Christmas, with pleasure in every home; a
children's festival, with not so much religious significance as now.
They went to a grand dinner at Mrs. Personette's, Miss Gaines with
them, who looked splendid in her satin gown, and who was coining money
rapidly. Lines were not very closely drawn; the aristocrat of to-day
riding round in his carriage was the workman of last year. The poor
mechanic lucky enough to find a nugget of gold brought his wife in the
front rank and dressed her in velvet, loaded her with jewels. The
keeper of an ordinary restaurant branched out presently in a very
respectable hotel. It was difficult to keep up with all the changes.
Then, it must be admitted, that many of these people were from the
East and had good educations, had, indeed, been accustomed to the
refinements of civilized life, but the thought of making a fortune in
a few years had given them courage to breast the vulgarity and rough
life until they could advance themselves to the old standard.
The children had a party in the evening. Howard had gone to a
preparatory school in the East, as his keen-eyed stepmother found he
was in a rather dangerous circle of young men--girls, too, for that
matter--who were likely to lead one astray, and this had also
influenced Isabel and was bringing her forward much more rapidly than
was judicious. So they were principally schoolgirls, with the cousin
from Oaklands and the young sons of a few friends and neighbors. At
first Isabel was rather stiff and important, but she thawed presently.
Mrs. Personette remembered her own youth and how much these pleasures
had been to her, and really exerted herself in a delightful manner to
keep them well entertained.
Victor Savedra, one of the cousins from Oaklands, took a great fancy
to the shy little girl, and asked her to dance.
"I don't know how," she said, flushing and drawing back.
"Why--don't you dance?" in surprise.
"Just a little, with the girls at school. But--I am afraid----"
"Why, I'll take you through. This is just the plainest quadrille. Oh,
Aunt Grace, don't you think this--" little girl, he was about to
say--"your name is Laverne, isn't it--can't she dance? She looks as if
she could--she's as light as a feather."
"Oh, you can never learn younger. All the children dance here. I think
it comes natural. But you are too late for that. And, Victor, you
might be explaining the figures to her and be ready for the next one."
Victor led her a little to one side. "Aunt Grace is just a trump," he
said. "We thought at first we shouldn't like her, some of the Yankees
are so queer, and talk so outlandish and all that, through their
noses, you know, but she is just a lady all through, and full of fun.
Now, look at this--it's an easy figure--balancing to corners, turning
your partner and a galop down the middle----"
"Why, it's like the fairy rings you read about--I have a splendid
fairy book uncle brought me, and on moonlight nights the little people
go out and dance on the green. The Irish stories are just enchanting.
They love the little people."
Her eyes had been following the dances and she moved her head faintly
as if she was keeping time. Then the fiddles gave a sharp staccato and
stopped.
"Oh," she exclaimed, in bewilderment.
He laughed at the startled look.
"They'll tune up and begin again." Oh, what eager eyes she had. Why,
she was really very pretty, with that soft rose flush and fair hair.
Olive had called her "a plain little thing."
Sure enough that was long ago, remember, before we heard of Strauss
and Sousa. Many a quadrille has begun with "Life let us cherish."
Victor took her hand and fairly impelled her out on the floor. "Now,
I'll tell you everything, and you just mind and don't feel afraid."
She never knew whether she minded or not. She was thinking of Nora of
the Mill when she stepped in the magic ring, and Laudeen, with the
blue coat and a firefly for each button all the way down, just whisked
her around until the air was full of fireflies. It was splendid.
"Oh, you've done very well," Victor said, in a delighted tone. "You
didn't mind the mistakes at all, but just kept on, and that's the way
to do. But you must learn to dance regularly. And I hope we shall
dance together often. You are just like a fairy. That Larkin girl trod
on my foot about every other step. Oh, that is the Cheat. That's rare
fun. Now, see--when it is 'All hands round,' and your partner turns
the other girls, come straight back to him, to _me_, will you? The
fellows left out get laughed at. Now, you'll see."
When the Cheat came he told her again. She turned away from the
outstretched arms and looked for Victor, whose face was flushed. For
he felt he had been really rude to one of the best dancers in the
room. And in the next Cheat some one picked up Laverne, almost lifting
her off her feet, while Esta Collins paid him back with interest and a
triumphant smile.
"I didn't do it right," Laverne said ruefully. "He was so big and
strong, and I never saw him----"
"Oh, that's a good deal of the fun when you know all about it. The
girls flirt awfully, but now and then one gets left in the lurch. The
next is the Spanish Galop, and then the refreshments. Who is going to
take you in?"
"Why--I don't know----" hesitatingly.
"Then I will, and we will have this galop."
"Victor," Isabel said, rather sharply, in the pause. "You take Miss
Payne in for refreshments."
"Can't, my dear cousin. I wouldn't dare poach on Leon Sturges' manor."
"Victor!" But he had gone.
"Just see how that little thing holds on to Victor! Olive, you put a
stop to it as soon as supper is over. I didn't think Victor would make
such a fool of himself. He's danced three times with her. And she's
just crazy over it. She's making a sight of herself."
Olive nodded. She had had all the attention she wanted, and had never
once thought of Laverne, or Victor either.
Victor was asking if Laverne didn't most blow away up on the hill
where she lived, and if she didn't get lost in the dreadful fogs. And
she told him about her squirrel and the gull.
"Why, I thought they were the shyest, wildest things, and that you
couldn't touch them while they were alive. And he really stays with
you?" in amaze.
"He can't fly very far. You see, his wing isn't quite right, though he
can raise it, but it doesn't seem strong. Still he flies so
beautifully a short distance it is a pleasure to see him. Sometimes I
make believe he is an albatross. And I tell him about the 'Ancient
Mariner.'"
"Oh, do you know that queer old thing! And do you love verses? We're
reading the Iliad at school. It isn't verse exactly, but it's poetry
all the same. There are some splendid heroes in it."
She didn't know exactly what it was, but she liked reading about
heroes and her eyes kindled.
"Do you think I might come to visit you and the gull? Are there any
more pets?"
"Oh, yes, a splendid big dog; and I never feel afraid with him. And
the loveliest Mexican pony. Then the birds are very tame. There is the
sauciest mocking bird, and we whistle to each other. He will come for
crumbs, and when the weather is very dry we put out a pan of water and
it is fun to see them bathe. And the jays chatter and scold so."
"How much you must love everything!"
"Well--there are no children near by. Though now I go to school."
"And you came from Maine, Aunt Grace said, all the way round the Horn.
Do you know they are talking of a railroad across the Continent? Oh,
what lots of things we would have to talk about. I'll ask father to
let me come over here and then I'll come up and see you--some
Saturday."
"Oh, I shall be just delighted." The little face was all rosy
eagerness.
"You're not eating anything. Oh, here are the mottoes. Now, we'll have
some fun."
They were prizes to children in those days. A candy in a pretty
colored fringed paper, with two or four printed rhymes, sometimes very
funny, at others sentimental. Victor had numbers sent to him by
different girls, who were beginning to think the little Maine damsel
was getting more than her share of him.
Olive stood ready to pounce upon him. But Miss Holmes was there at the
doorway.
"Uncle Jason has come," she said, in a low tone. "Are you not tired
and almost ready to go home?"
Laverne took the outstretched hand.
"Remember," Victor said, "I shall come before long."
"Really," began Olive tauntingly, "you seem very fond of small fry."
"Why--she is your friend. You have told us ever so much about her. And
she's a nice little thing."
"Oh, a mere child! A flower of the field sort of thing," rather
disdainfully.
He thought her very ungracious when she had been quite eloquent over
Laverne at Oaklands.
She leaned against Miss Holmes' shoulder and talked of the dancing,
while two or three men discussed the prospect of a road across the
continent. The hardships of the overland journey were almost
incredible. Congress could hardly be roused on the subject. Daniel
Webster, broad statesman as he was, opposed it with energy. The Great
American Desert was a formidable thing. And there were the Rocky
Mountains. The gold fields might give out--it was not an agricultural
region--how could manufactures ever be established so remote from
every centre! Spain and Mexico had tried their hands. There was enough
to do nearer home.
The little girl listened with a curious interest. It was a wonderful
country to her. Maine had nothing to compare with it. And though she
began to feel sleepy now that she was quiet, she winked her eyes hard
so as not to lose a word.
"We must go," Miss Holmes said at length; so they rose and wished
their host good-night.
What a glorious night it was! There was no moon, but the wide blue
vault was studded so thick with stars, great golden, twinkling globes,
that seemed to keep Christmas as truly as when they sang to the
shepherds on the plains of Judea. All the air was spicily fragrant,
for there was just enough fog over on the ocean side to make a dew and
distil sweetness. Some of the newly whitewashed houses glistened like
marble, and the brick ones threw a weird kind of shade. There were
clumps of trees, and the little girl half suspected Indians or wolves
lurking behind them.
"Did you have a nice time, little one?" asked her uncle, in a fond
tone.
The cool, fresh, inspiriting air had wakened her.
"Oh, it was splendid! And I danced. Don't you think I might go to
dancing school? All the children do. Olive's cousin was so nice to me,
and he wants to come and see the gull. And he has a pony, too. He is
going to ride over some day. He's nicer than Dick Folsom; that is--he
is polite and gentle, and has such a sweet voice. Oh, I liked him so
much. And there were so many pretty and finely dressed girls--maybe it
was because I didn't have any brother or cousin that he was so good to
me."
Jason Chadsey gave a soft little sigh.