INDEX OF EXHIBITS.

Exhibit A.

Los Angeles, Cal., May 12th, 1883.

Sir,—In response to your verbal request asking our opinion as to the following questions,viz.:—

1st. Have civilized Indians and those who are engaged in agriculture or labor of any kind, and also those who are known as Pueblos or Rancheros Indians in California, a right to occupy and possess lands which they and their predecessors had continuously occupied, possessed, and enjoyed while said lands were under the jurisdiction of the Mexican Government, up to and at the date of the ratification of the treaty Guadalupe Hidalgo between the United States and the Mexican Republic, March, 1848, notwithstanding that said lands so occupied and enjoyed by the Indians aforesaid had been while they were so occupying and possessing the same, by the proper Spanish and Mexican authorities before the ratification of said treaty granted to certain Spanish and Mexican citizens, and since the acquisition by the United States of the territory embracing said lands so granted been by the United States confirmed, surveyed, and patented to the grantees or their legal representatives?

2d. Has the United States Government the right to condemn lands within the State of California for the purpose of giving Indians homes thereon?

We have the honor to submit the following as our reply and answer to the above interrogatories. Before and at the date of the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, all the territory now known as California was a part of and under the jurisdiction of the Mexican Republic. We do not regard it as necessary, in order to answer the questions propounded, to give a history of the land-laws of Spain and Mexico, nor the method of acquiring land prior to August 18th, 1824.

On August 18th, 1824, the Mexican Congress enacted a general colonization law, prescribing the mode of granting lands throughout the Mexican territory. This law was limited and defined by a series of regulations ordained by the Mexican Government, November 21st, 1828. By these laws and regulations, which have ever since continued in force, the governors of Territories were authorized to grant, with certain specified exceptions, vacant land. By the fundamental laws of 1824, the regulations of 1824, and the regulations of the departmental legislature consistent therewith, all Mexican grants in California have been determined; and by this has been determined the validity of every grant of land in California. (Lesse & Vallejovs.Clark, 3 Cal. 17.) The limitations, as well as the fundamental laws mentioned, provided that in making grants or distribution of land (such as are now known as Mexican grants),—

1st. It must be vacant land, and, if occupied by Indians, then without prejudice to them.

2d. That such land as would be granted to the damage and injury of the Indians should be returned to the rightful owners.

The Mexican Government reserved from private grant all lands occupied and possessed by the Indians. Great care was taken to make strict reservation of such land; and by law no valid grant of land occupied or possessed by Indians could be made so as to dispossess them. When California was ceded to the United States, the rights of property of its citizens remained unchanged. By the law of nations those rights were sacred and inviolable, and the obligations passed to the new government to protect and maintain them. The term property, as applied to lands, embraces all titles, legal or equitable, perfect or imperfect. (Teschemachervs.Thompson, 18 Cal. 12.) The United States never had, and does not now possess, any power under or by virtue of said treaty whereby it could or can confer upon a citizen holding and claiming property granted by the Mexican Government other or different property rights than those conferred by such Government, and such as were possessed, enjoyed, and held by him while under the jurisdiction of such government. It cannot abridge or enlarge the right to enjoy and to possess property held by virtue of Mexican law at the date of said treaty, nor can it deprive persons of any right to property which belonged to them at the date of said treaty.

A mere grant of land by the Mexican governor without compliance by the grantee with the further requisitions of the Mexican laws forms but an inchoate title, and the land passed to the United States, which hold it subject to the trust imposed by the treaty and the equities of the grantee.The execution of the trust is a political power.(Lessevs.Clark, 3 Cal. 17.)

By the fundamental laws of 1824, the regulation of 1828, and the regulation of the departmental legislature, one condition was that in making private grants of lands the lands granted must be vacant lands. Lands occupied by and in possession of Indians were not such vacant lands; for by the same laws and regulations it was provided that such grants must be without prejudice or damage to the Indians, and that such land granted to the damage and injury of the Indians should be returned to the rightful owners. (New Code, law 9, title 12, book 4.)

The Mexican authorities recognized the rights of Indians to hold, enjoy, and possess lands, and there are of record a number of grants made by the Mexican authorities to Indians. They not only had the right to receive grants of land under the Mexican laws, but also to convey the lands so granted. (United Statesvs.Sinnol, Hoffman's Reports, 110.)

It will be observed that at the date when private grants of land were made with some regard for law, the limitation and conditions required by law to be observed were inserted in such grants,viz.: L.C., No. 342-6,S. D., 398; L. C., No. 254-219, S. D., 228-407; L. C., No. 740-372, N. D., 208; L. C., No. 326-359, N. D., 389; Hoffman's Report Land Cases, pp. 35et seq.; Surveyor-General's letter, dated San Francisco, March 14, 1883, and addressed to Mrs. William S. Jackson.

The Indians and their descendants, who occupied and now occupy lands within the grants above named, as well as grants containing claims of a similar character, are in our opinion possessed and seized of the lands which were and have been and now are in their possession; and they can hold the same against persons claiming the same by virtue of a United States patent, issued upon a confirmed Mexican grant. This leaves to be answered the following question: Can the Indians hold lands for which a United States patent has issued conditioned as set out in the first question, provided no conditions or limitations are contained or expressed in the grant? This is a question beset and surrounded by many difficulties; nor do we deem it necessary to do more than refer to restrictions and limitations contained in the laws of Mexico concerning private grants of lands upon which Indians were residing,—lands which were occupied by them. It is certain that if such lands were granted by a Mexican official, and the authorities omitted to recite the conditions and limitations required by law, and reserve from the operation of such grant such lands as the law conditioned could not be conveyed by such grant, such a grant would and could not take it out of the operation of the law. It could not defeat the rights of those whose rights attached by reason of law. If the officers of the Mexican Government to whom was confided the trust exceeded their authority as regulated by the solemnities and formalities of the law, the courts are bound to take notice of it, and cannot shield those claiming under such title from the necessary consequence of ignorance, carelessness, or arbitrary assumption of power. (Lesse & Vallejovs.Clark, 3 Cal. 17.)

It is now necessary to inquire how far and to what extent will the issuance to the grantee of the United States patent change or modify this rule. We shall not discuss, as we do not deem it necessary, the decision of the United States Supreme Court, that "a United States patent cannot be attached collaterally, but may be by a direct proceeding," as we did not regard these decisions as in any way affecting the question submitted and now before us.

In 1851, March 3d, Congress passed an act entitled "An act to ascertain and settle the private land-claims in the State of California." By said statute it was enacted "that it shall be the duty of the commission herein provided for to ascertain and report to the Secretary of the Interior the tenure by which the Mission lands are held, and those held by civilized Indians, and those who are engaged in agriculture or labor of anykind, and also those which areoccupiedand cultivated by Pueblos or Rancheros Indians." (U. S. Statutes at Large, vol. ix. p. 634,sec. 16, Little & Brown's ed.) We have no means of ascertaining whether such a report was made, or, if made, its contents. We have no doubt the commission did their duty and complied with the law, and that their report will be found on file in the Department of the Interior. This report, if in our hands, would greatly aid us in reaching a correct conclusion. By the same act it is further provided that the patent of the United States issued to parties holding Mexican grants are conclusive between the United States and the said claimants only, and shall not affect the interest of that person. (Ib.p. 634.) If the report of the commission established the fact that the Indians were residing upon and occupying lands within the boundaries of claimed grants, which grants have no conditions or limitation inserted therein, that they claimed such lands by virtue of the laws of Mexico, this evidence, with such other evidence as we understand can be furnished, is in our opinion enough to establish under the law, as we regard it, a right in the Indians to hold and occupy such lands against the confirmee or patentee. If, however, no such report has been made, we are of the opinion, if conclusive evidence can be furnished proving that these Indians were in possession of these lands at the time these grants were made by the Mexican authorities, that they continued in possession, and were in possession at the date of the treaty, and have since continued in possession, the law will entitle them to hold such land against all persons claiming under the patent.

We answer the second question propounded as follows:—

By the fifth amendment to the Constitution of the United States it is provided: *** "Nor shall private property be taken for public use without just compensation." Would the taking of lands belonging to citizens for the purpose of giving the same to Indians be such a public use as is contemplated by the Constitution? We are of the opinion it would not. (Walthervs.Warner, 25 Mo. 277; Board of Educationvs.Hockman, 48 Mo. 243; Buffalo & New York Railroad Companyvs.Brannan, 9 N.Y. 100; Bradleyvs.New York, &c. Railroad Company, 21 Conn. 294; Fishervs.Horicon Iron Work, &c. Company, 10 Wis. 354; New Orleans & Railroad Companyvs.Railroad Company, 53 Ala. 211; Connvs.Horrigan, 2 Allen, 159; Chambersvs.Sattuler, 40 Cal. 497; Railroad Companyvs.City of Stockton, 41 Cal. 149; Channel Companyvs.Railroad Company, 51 Cal. 269; Gilmervs.Lime Point, 18 Cal. 229; Connvs.Tewksbury, 11 Metcalf, 55; Manufacturing Companyvs.Head, 56 N.H. 386; Olmsteadvs.Camp, 33 Conn. 532; Buckmanvs.Saratoga Railroad Company, 3 Paige Ch. 45; Memphis Freight Companyvs.Memphis, 4 Cold. 419; Enfield Toll Bridge Companyvs.Hartford Railroad Company, 17 Conn. 42.)

We are, very respectfully,

Brunson & Wells, Attorneys-at-Law.

Abbot Kinney, Esq., Los Angeles, Cal.

Exhibit B.

SABOBA.

Saboba is the name of a village of Indians of the Serrano tribe, one hundred and fifty-seven in number, living in the San Jacinto Valley, at the base of the San Jacinto Mountains, in San Diego County. The village is within the boundaries of a Mexican grant, patented to the heirs of J. Estudillo, January 17th, 1880. The greater part of the grant has been sold to a company which, in dividing up its lands, allotted the tract where the Saboba village lies to one M. R. Byrnes, of San Bernardino, who proposes to eject the Indians unless the United States Government will buy his whole tract of seven hundred acres at an exorbitant price. The Saboba village occupies about two hundred acres, the best part of Mr. Byrnes's tract. The Indians have lived in the place for over a hundred years. They have adobe houses, fenced fields and orchards, and irrigating ditches. There is in the village a never-failing spring, with a flow of about twenty-five miner's inches. It is claimed by the Indians that the first surveys did not take in their village. This is probably true; the resurveying of grants and "floating" their lines so as to take in lands newly discovered to be of value, and leave out others discovered to be worthless, being a common practice in California. In a country where water is gold, such a spring as these Saboba Indians owned could not long escape notice or be left long in the undisturbed possession of Indians. These Indians support themselves now, and have always done so, by farming, and by going out in organized bands as sheep-shearers and vintagers. They are industrious and peaceable, and make in good seasons a fairly comfortable living. They formerly kept stock, but since the new occupancy, allotting and fencing of the valley, have been obliged to give it up. There is a Government school in this village, numbering from thirty to forty pupils, who have made remarkable progress in their studies. The school is taught by a Pennsylvania lady, formerly a teacher of the freedmen. Her gentleness and refinement have exerted an influence all through the village, and her self-denying labors among the people in times of sickness and suffering have been the work of a missionary rather than of a teacher. The following letters were written by two of the children in this school, both under fourteen years of age. They were written without the teacher's knowledge or aid, and brought to her with the request that she would send them. The handwritings are clear and good:—

To the President of the United States:

Mr. President:Dear Sir,—I wish to write a letter for you, and I will try to tell you some things. The white people call San Jacinto rancho their land,and I don't want them to do it. We think it is ours, for God gave it to us first. Now I think you will tell me what is right, for you have been so good to us, giving us a school and helping us. Will you not come to San Jacinto some time to see us, the school, and the people of Saboba village? Many of the people are sick, and some have died. We are so poor that we have not enough good food for the sick, and sometimes I am afraid that we are all going to die. Will you please tell what is good about our ranches, and come soon to see us?

Your friend,

Ramon Cavavi.

Mrs. Jackson:

My dear Friend,—I wish to write you a letter about the American people that want to drive us away from our own village of Saboba. I don't know what they can be about. I don't know why they do so. My teacher told me she was very sorry about the town, and then my teacher said, I think they will find a good place for you if you have to go; but I do hope they will not drive you away. Then it will be very good for all the people of Saboba. It is a very good town for the people. They have all the work done on their gardens, and they are very sorry about the work that is done. My work is very nicely done also. The people are making one big fence to keep the cows and the horses off their garden.

Your true friend,

Antonio Leon.

These Saboba Indians are greatly dispirited and disheartened at the prospect of being driven out of their homes, and feel that the Government ought to protect them. The captain of the village, a very sensible and clear-headed man, said, "If the Government says we must go, we must; but we would rather die right here than move." The right of these Indians to the tract they have so long occupied and cultivated is beyond question. That this right could be successfully maintained in the courts is the opinion of the law firm of Brunson & Wells, whose admirable paper covering all cases of this kind is given herewith. (See exhibit.)

We found three miles from this village on Government land a narrow cañon called Indian Cañon, in which half a dozen Indian families were living. The cañon is but five or six miles long and very narrow; but it has a small, never-failing brook in it, and some good bottom land, on which the Indians had excellent wheat crops growing. The sides of it are moderately well wooded. It was surprising that so desirable a nook had been overlooked or omitted by the surveyors of the San Jacinto Ranch. We wrote to the Department immediately, recommending its being set aside for Indians' use. In another beautiful cañon, also with a never-failing stream running through it, we found living the old chief, Victoriano, nearly one hundred years old. The spot was an oasis of green, oak and willow trees, a wheat field, and apricot orchard and vineyard, the latter planted by Victoriano's father.This place has been given by Victoriano to his grandson, who we were told is taking steps to secure it to himself under the Indian Homestead Act.

Exhibit C.

THE CAHUILLA RESERVATION.

The Cahuilla Valley is about forty miles from Saboba, high up among the peaks and spurs of the San Jacinto Mountains; a wild, barren, inaccessible spot. The Cahuilla village, situated here, was one of the most interesting that we visited, and the Indians seemed a clear-headed, more individual and independent people than any other we saw. This is partly due to their native qualities, the tribe having been originally one of the most warlike and powerful in the country, as is indicated by their name, which signifies "master." The isolation of this village has also tended to keep these Indians self-respecting and independent. There is no white settlement within ten miles, there being comparatively little to tempt white men into these mountain-fastnesses. The population of the village numbers from one hundred and fifty to two hundred. The houses are of adobe, thatched with reeds; three of the houses have shingled roofs, and one has the luxury of a floor. These Indians make the greater part of their living by stock-raising. They also send out a sheep-shearing band each year. They have sixteen fields, large and small, under cultivation, and said they would have had many more except for the lack of ploughs, there being but one plough for the whole village. They raise wheat, barley, corn, squashes, and watermelons. Sometimes the frost kills the corn, and occasionally the grasshoppers descend on the valley, but aside from these accidents their crops do well. All through the village were to be seen their curious outdoor granaries—huge baskets made of twisted and woven twigs and set up on poles. The women were neatly dressed, the children especially so, and the faces of all, men, women, and children, had an animation and look of intellectual keenness very uncommon among the Southern California Indians. On the outskirts of the village is a never-failing hot spring. In this water the Indians, old and young, are said to be continually bathing. It was the Indians' impression that the lines of their reservation ran directly through the centre of this hot spring. They had been told so by some white men, but they know nothing certainly. The lines had never been shown to them. On subsequent examination at the surveyor-general's office in San Francisco we discovered that this spring and the village itself are entirely outside the reservation lines; also that another Indian settlement called Duasno, a few miles distant, andintended to have been included in the reservation, is outside the lines. The Cahuilla Reservation stands recorded as containing twenty-six sections of land; so far as we could judge of the region, it seemed to us a generous estimate to say that there might be possibly five hundred acres of cultivatable land in it. In good years there would be considerable pasturage on the sides of the mountains; but far the greater part of the tract is absolutely worthless, being bare and stony mountains. The Cahuillas, however, are satisfied with it. They love the country, and would not exchange it for fertile valleys below. They said that they would be perfectly contented if the Government would only mark their land off for them, and set up boundaries so that they could know where they might keep their own stock and keep the white men's stock out. All they asked for in addition to this was some harnesses, wagons, and agricultural implements, especially ploughs. Of these last the captain reiterated, and was not satisfied till he saw the figures written down, that ten was the smallest number that would be sufficient for the village.

A few rods from the hot spring there stood a good adobe house, shut up, unoccupied. The history of this house is worth telling, as an illustration of the sort of troubles to which Indians in these remote regions, unprotected by the Government, and unable to protect themselves, are exposed. Some eight years ago the Cahuillas rented a tract of their land as pasture to two Mexicans named Machado. These Machados, by permission of the Indians, built this adobe house, and lived in it when looking after their stock. At the expiration of the lease the house was to be the property of the Indians. When the Machados left they said to the Cahuilla captain, "Here is your house." The next year another man named Thomas rented a pasture tract from the Indians and also rented this house, paying for the use of it for two years six bulls, and putting into it a man named Cushman, who was his overseer. At the end of the two years Thomas said to the Cahuillas, "Here is your house; I now take my cattle away." But the man Cushman refused to move out of the house; said it was on railroad land which he had bought of the railroad company. In spite of the Indians' remonstrances he lived on there for three or four years. Finally he died. After his death his old employer, Thomas, who had once rented this very house from the Indians, came forward, claimed it as his own, and has now sold it to a man named Parks. Through all this time the Indians committed no violence on the trespassers. They journeyed to Los Angeles to find out from the railroad company whether Cushman owned the land as he said, and were told that he did not. They laid the matter before their agent, but he was unable to do anything about it. It would seem of the greatest importance in the case of this reservation, and of all others similarly placed, that the odd section claimed or owned by the railroad companies should besecured and added to the permanent reservation. Much further trouble will in this way be saved.

An incident which had occurred on the boundaries of the Cahuilla Reservation a few weeks before our arrival there is of importance as an illustration of the need of some legal protection for the Indians in Southern California. A Cahuilla Indian named Juan Diego had built for himself a house and cultivated a small patch of ground on a high mountain ledge a few miles north of the village. Here he lived alone with his wife and baby. He had been for some years what the Indians call a "locoed" Indian, being at times crazy; never dangerous, but yet certainly insane for longer or shorter periods. His condition was known to the agent, who told us that he had feared he would be obliged to shut Juan up if he did not get better. It was also well known throughout the neighboring country, as we found on repeated inquiry. Everybody knew that Juan Diego was "locoed." (This expression comes from the effect a weed of that name has upon horses, making them wild and unmanageable.) Juan Diego had been off to find work at sheep-shearing. He came home at night riding a strange horse. His wife exclaimed, "Why, whose horse is that?" Juan looked at the horse, and replied confusedly, "Where is my horse, then?" The woman, much frightened, said, "You must take that horse right back; they will say you stole it." Juan replied that he would as soon as he had rested; threw himself down and fell asleep. From this sleep he was awakened by the barking of the dogs, and ran out of the house to see what it meant. The woman followed, and was the only witness of what then occurred. A white man, named Temple, the owner of the horse which Juan had ridden home, rode up, and on seeing Juan poured out a volley of oaths, levelled his gun and shot him dead. After Juan had fallen on the ground Temple rode closer and fired three more shots in the body, one in the forehead, one in the cheek, and one in the wrist, the woman looking on. He then took his horse, which was standing tied in front of the house, and rode away. The woman, with her baby on her back, ran to the Cahuilla village and told what had happened. This was in the night. At dawn the Indians went over to the place, brought the murdered man's body to the village, and buried it. The excitement was intense. The teacher, in giving us an account of the affair, said that for a few days she feared she would be obliged to close her school and leave the village. The murderer went to the nearest justice of the peace and gave himself up, saying that he had in self-defence shot an Indian. He swore that the Indian ran towards him with a knife. A jury of twelve men was summoned, who visited the spot, listened to Temple's story, pronounced him guiltless, and the judge so decided. The woman's testimony was not taken. It would have been worthless if it had been, so far as influencing that jury's minds was concerned. Her statement was positive that Juan had noknife, nor weapon of any kind; sprang up from his sleep and ran out hastily to see what had happened, and was shot almost as soon as he had crossed the threshold of the door. The district attorney in San Diego, on being informed by us of the facts in the case, reluctantly admitted that there would be no use whatever in bringing a white man to trial for murder of an Indian under such circumstances, with only Indian testimony to convict him. This was corroborated, and the general animus of public feeling vividly illustrated to us by a conversation we had later with one of the jurors in the case, a fine, open-hearted, manly young fellow, far superior in education and social standing to the average Southern California ranchman. He not only justified Temple's killing the Indian, but said he would have done the same thing himself. "I don't care whether the Indian had a knife or not," he said; "that didn't cut any figure at all the way I looked at it. Any man that'd take a horse of mine and ride him up that mountain trail, I'd shoot him whenever I found him. Stockmen have just got to protect themselves in this country." The fact that Juan had left his own horse, a well-known one, in the corral from which he had taken Temple's; that he had ridden the straight trail to his own door, and left the horse tied in front of it, thus making it certain that he would be tracked and caught, weighed nothing in this young man's mind. The utmost concession that he would make was finally to say, "Well, I'll agree that Temple was to blame for firin' into him after he was dead. That was mean, I'll allow."

The account of our visit to the Cahuilla Reservation would be incomplete without a brief description of the school there. It numbers from forty to fifty scholars, and is taught by a widow who, with her little daughter ten years of age, lives in one small room built on at the end of the school-house. Part of the room is curtained off into a recess holding bed, washstand, and bureau. The rest of the room is a sitting-room, kitchen, store-room, and barely holds the cooking-stove, table, and chairs. Here alone, with her little daughter, in a village of near two hundred Indians, ten miles from any white man's home, this brave woman has lived more than a year, doing a work of which the hours spent in the school-room are the smallest part. The Indians come to her with every perplexity and trouble; call on her for nursing when they are ill, for food when they are destitute. If she would allow it her little room could always be crowded with women, and men also, eager to watch and learn. The Cahuillas have good brains, are keen, quick, and persevering. The progress that these children have made in the comparatively short time since their school was opened was far beyond that ordinarily made by white children in the same length of time. Children who two years ago did not know a letter, read intelligently in the second and third readers, spelled promptly and with remarkable accuracy, and wrote clear and legible hands, their copy-booksbeing absolutely free from blots or erasures; some of the older pupils went creditably through a mental arithmetic examination, in which the questions were by no means easy to follow. They sang songs in fair tune and time, and with great spirit, evidently enjoying this part of the exercises more than all the rest. We had carried to them a parcel of illustrated story-books, very kindly contributed by some of the leading publishers in New York and Boston, and the expression of the rows of bright dark eyes as the teacher held up book after book was long to be remembered. The strain on the nervous system of teachers in such positions as this can hardly be estimated by ordinary standards. The absolute isolation, the ceaseless demand, the lack, not only of the comforts, but of many of the necessities of life, all mount up into a burden which it would seem no woman could long endure. Last winter there was a snow-storm in the Cahuilla Valley lasting two days and nights. A fierce wind drove the dry snow in at every crevice of the poorly built adobe house, like sand in a sand-storm. The first day of the storm the school had to be closed early in the day, as the snow fell so fast on books and slates nothing could be done. The last night of the storm the teacher and her little girl spent the entire night in shovelling snow out of the room. They would pile it in a blanket, open the door, empty the blanket, and then resume shovelling. They worked hard all night to keep pace with the storm. When the snowing stopped the school-room was drifted full, and for many days after was wet and damp. It would seem as if the school term in such places as this ought not to be over eight months in the year. The salaries, however, should not be reduced, for they are barely living salaries now, every necessary of life being procured at a great disadvantage in these wild regions. One of these teachers told us she had been obliged to give an Indian $1 to ride to the nearest store and bring her one dollar's worth of sugar. It was the opinion of the Cahuilla teacher (a teacher of experience at the East before her marriage) that the Indians would accomplish more in eight months than in the nine. The strain upon them also is too great—of the unwonted confinement and continuous brain work. Should this change be made the vacation should be so arranged as to be taken at the sheep-shearing season, at which times all the schools are much broken up by the absence of the elder boys.

Exhibit D.

THE WARNER'S RANCH INDIANS.

The tract known as Warner's Ranch lies in the northern part of San Diego County, about forty miles from the Cahuilla Valley. It contains two grants, the San José del Valle and the Valle de San José; the firstcontaining between 26,000 and 27,000 acres, confirmed to J. J. Warner, patented January 16th, 1880; the second, containing between 17,000 and 18,000 acres, confirmed to one Portilla, patented January 10th, 1880. The whole property is now in the possession of Governor Downey, of Los Angeles. There are said to be several conflicting claims yet unsettled. The ranch is now used as a sheep and stock ranch, and is of great value. It is a beautiful region, well watered and wooded. There are within its boundaries five Indian villages, of San Luisenos and Diegmons—Aqua Caliente, Puerta de la Cruz, Puerta de San José, San José, and Mataguay. The last four are very small, but Aqua Caliente has long been the most flourishing and influential village in the country. It was formerly set apart as a reservation, but the executive order was cancelled January 17th, 1880, immediately after the patenting of the San José del Valle Ranch, within the boundaries of which it was then claimed that the village lay, although to the best information we could get the first three surveys of that ranch did not take the village in. The aged captain of the Aqua Caliente Indians still preserves a paper giving a memorandum of the setting off of this reservation of about 1,120 acres for this people. It was by executive order, 1875. He also treasures several other equally worthless papers—a certificate from a San Diego judge that the Indians are entitled to their lands; a memorandum of a promise from General Kearney, who assured them that in consideration of their friendliness and assistance to him they should retain their homes without molestation, "although the whole State should fill with white men." It is not to be wondered at that these Aqua Caliente Indians find it difficult to-day to put any faith in white men's promises.

It will be seen from the above brief statement of the situation that they have an exceedingly strong claim on the Government for protection in their right to their lands. Since the restoration of their village and fields "to the public domain," the patenting of the ranches and their sale to Governor Downey, the Indians have been in constant anxiety and terror. Governor Downey has been considerate and humane in his course toward them, and toward all the Indians on his estate. And his superintendent also is friendly in his treatment of them, permitting them all the liberty he can consistently with his duty to the ranch. He finds their labor invaluable at sheep-shearing time, and is able throughout the year to give them occasional employment. But the Indians know very well that according to the usual course of things in San Diego County they are liable any day to be ejected by process of law; and it is astonishing that under the circumstances they have so persevered in their industries of one sort and another. They have a good number of fields under cultivation. They also make saddle mats and hats out of fibrous plants; the women make baskets and lace. It is said to be the most industrious village in the county; the oldcaptain dealing severely with any Indian found idle. They have also a small revenue from the hot springs, from which the village takes its name. These bubble up in a succession of curious stone basins in the heart of the village. They are much resorted to in summer by rheumatic and other patients, who rent the Indians' little adobe houses and pay them a small tax for the use of the waters. The Indians themselves at these times move into bush huts in a valley or cañon some two miles above the village, where their chief cultivated fields lie. They were very earnest to know from us if we would advise their planting more of this ground. They said they would have planted it all except that they were afraid of being driven away. This upper valley and these planting fields were said to be on Government land; but on examination of the surveyor's plats in the Los Angeles land office, we could find no field notes to indicate their location. These Indians have in use another valley called Lost Valley, some fifteen miles from their village high up in the mountains, and reached only by one very steep trail. Here they keep their stock, being no longer able to pasture it below. They were touchingly anxious to have us write down the numbers of cattle, horses, sheep, each man had, and report to Washington, that the President might see how they were all trying to work. There are probably from one hundred and twenty-five to one hundred and fifty head of cattle owned in the village, about fifty horses, and one hundred sheep.

There is here a Government school, taught by a young German lady of excellent education and much enthusiasm in her work. At great cost and risk she has carried her piano up into these wilds, and finds it an invaluable assistance in training and influencing her pupils. It was a scene not to be forgotten, when after their exercises in reading, arithmetic, &c., in all of which they showed a really wonderful proficiency, the children crowded into the teacher's little room and sang their songs to the piano accompaniment, played by her with spirit and feeling. "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty," was the song they seemed to like best; all unaware how little applicable to their own situation were its strains of exultant joy and freedom. In this one tiny room adjoining the school-room this young lady lives, sleeps, prepares her own food, frequently having a "cooking class" of Indian women, whom she is teaching to make soups, bread, &c., and to do fine washing. It is impossible to put too much appreciative sympathy on these women teachers in Indian schools in Southern California. Their situation and their work are unique in isolation and difficulty.

The other Indian villages on Warner's Ranch do not demand separate description, consisting of not more than half a dozen houses each, and numbering only from fifteen to thirty Indians. Each village, however, has its own captain, and its cultivated fields, orchards, &c., to which the Indians are profoundly attached, and from which it would be veryhard to induce them to move, spite of their poverty, and the difficulty of making a living, as they are now placed.

During our stay at Warner's Ranch, the captain of the San José village had an experience which will illustrate the helplessness of these Indian farmers in Southern California. He had on a piece of Government land, a short distance from his village, a fenced wheat-field of some fifty acres; it was his chief dependence for his year's support. Going away one day, he left his aged father in charge at home; the old man wandered away, and during his absence one of the roving sheep-herders, of whom the country is full, broke down the fence, turned in his flock, and when Domingo came home at night the whole field was eaten close to the ground. Hearing of our being at the superintendent's house, Domingo came over to ask if we could help him in the matter. The quiet, matter-of-course way in which he told the story was more impressive than any loudness of complaint would have been. He said very simply, "What can I do for food this winter?" Mr. Kinney rode over to the village, saw the field, and after some trouble found the herder, who, much frightened, said he did it by his master's orders. This master, an Italian, lived some twenty miles away; the nearest justice of the peace, sixteen miles. On seeing the justice we found that nothing could be done in the way of securing damages from the sheep-owner until two white men, residents of the county, should inspect the premises and estimate the damages. Domingo rode sixteen miles in the night in a fierce storm of sleet and rain, with letters from us to white men on the ranch, asking them to do this. He was back again at daylight with a note from one of them, saying that he could not induce a man to go with him. Finally, the justice, at our request, hired two men at days' wages to go and inspect the Indian's field. They estimated the damages at about one-tenth of the real amount, and thus we were obliged to leave the matter. We afterwards received a letter from the Italian stating that he had settled with Domingo, but not mentioning the sum paid. It was plain that except for our taking hold of the affair the Indian would never have recovered a cent. This is by no means an exceptional instance.

Exhibit E.

THE SAN YSIDRO INDIANS.

In the San Ysidro Cañon, about eight miles from Warner's Ranch, has been living from time immemorial a band of San Luiseno Indians, numbering from fifty to seventy-five, and called by the name of their cañon. We first saw the captain of these Indians in Los Angeles, in the office of the United States Court Commissioner, Mr. H. T. Lee, ofwhose kindness and humane sympathy in dealing with all Indian matters which come under his notice it is not out of place here to make grateful mention. This Captain Pablo, with two of his head men, had walked a three days' journey to Los Angeles to see if he could get any help in the matter of lands which had been wrested from his people. His story was a pitiful one. Some six years ago a white man named Chatham Helm had come in at the head of their cañon, three miles above the site of their village, taken up a homestead claim there, cutting off the greater part of their water supply, and taking some of their cultivated fields, and leaving them restricted room for their stock. Since that time they had been growing poorer and poorer, but had managed to live by cultivating lands below the village near the mouth of the cañon, where there was another small stream. But now a new squatter had appeared below them, and filed on all the remaining lands, including the site of the village itself. The man Helm, above them, had patented his lands, built a good house, and was keeping considerable stock. The Indians could have no water except what he permitted to come down the cañon. Three years ago one of their number had been shot dead by Helm, who was set free on the usual plea of self-defence. Since then the Indians had been in continual terror. The new squatter had threatened them with the same fate if they came near his enclosures. Between these two squatters the Indian village was completely hemmed in and cut off, and starvation stared them in the face. In fact, in the course of the last winter one little girl had actually died for want of food. Their countenances corroborated the tale. They were gaunt with hunger and full of despair. It would exceed the limits of this paper to give a full report of the interview with these Indians. It will not soon be forgotten by any one taking part in it,—the solemn tones in which the Indians replied to the interpreter's questions, the intent and imploring gaze with which they studied all our faces and listened to all the words unintelligible to them in which we spoke with one another.

It was finally decided to forward to the Interior Department the affidavits of these Indians, setting forth the manner in which they had been robbed of their lands, and requesting that Cloos's entry be held for cancellation, and that Helm's patent be reopened. It was found, on looking the matter up in Washington, that several years ago this cañon had been withdrawn from market with a view to having it set off as a reservation for the Indians living in it, but the matter had slipped everybody's mind. On visiting the San Ysidro Cañon ourselves a few weeks later, we found that Cloos, taking time by the forelock, had sold out his homestead claim, his house, and what he was pleased to call his "improvements," for $600 to a poor old widow, Mrs. Pamela Hagar by name. We found Mrs. Hagar, with her son, on the ground, preparing to go into the bee business. She appeared very little surprisedat hearing that the claim she had bought was a questionable one, remarking: "Well, I mistrusted something was wrong; Cloos seemed in such a hurry to get his money." This woman appeared nearly as helpless as the Indians themselves. The deed she had taken from Cloos was not acknowledged; she had not got it recorded; her name was misspelled in it; and the enumeration of the sections, &c., in it did not agree with the list in the land office certificate. She begged us to ask the Government to refund to her the sum she had paid to Cloos, and signed by her mark a paper saying she would accept it. It is a small sum, and as the poor old woman made the transaction in good faith, knowing nothing about the Indians' presence on the place, it would seem not unreasonable that she should be paid. The next morning Cloos himself appeared on the scene, very angry and resentful. He said he had "a perfect right to file on that land;" that "Indians were not citizens" and "had no right to public lands," and that "the stockmen of San Diego County were not going to stand the Indians' killing their stock much longer;" that "the Government ought to put the Indians all together somewhere and take care of them," and that "there'd be a big fight with Indians in San Diego County before long, we might rest assured of that;" and much more of the same sort, which would not be worth repeating, except that it is a good illustration of the animus of the greater portion of Southern California ranchmen towards Indians. A few days after this we were gladdened by the news from Washington that Cloos's filing was held for cancellation, and that the Attorney-General had ordered proceedings to be begun in San Francisco for the vacating of Chatham Helm's patent. A few instances of such promptitude as this would change the whole status of the South California Indians, giving courage to them, and, what is still more important, making it clear to the perception of white men that the Indians' rights are no longer to be disregarded as they have been.

Exhibit F.

THE LOS COYOTES.

Five miles up from the head of the San Ysidro Cañon, to be reached only by a steep and narrow trail, lies a small valley on the desert side of the mountains. It is little more than a pocket on a ledge. From its rim one looks down directly into the desert. Few white men have ever penetrated to it, and the Indians occupying it have been hitherto safe, by reason of the poverty and inaccessibility of their home. No agent has ever visited them; they have supported themselves by keeping stock and cultivating their few acres of land. There are not morethan eighty acres all told in the valley. About three weeks before our arrival at Warner's Ranch a man named Jim Fane, a comrade of Helm, who had usurped the San Ysidro Cañon, having, no doubt, learned through Helm of the existence of the Los Coyotes Valley, appeared in the village and offered the Indians $200 for their place. They refused to sell, upon which he told them that he had filed on the land, should stay in any event, and proceeded to cut down trees and build a corral. It seems a marvellous forbearance on the part of a community numbering twenty-six able-bodied men and twenty-one women not to take any forcible measures to repel such an intruder as this. But the South California Indians have learned by long experience that in any contest with white men they are sure to be found in the wrong. Not an Indian laid violent hands on Fane. He seems to have gone about as safely in the heart of this Indian village, which he was avowedly making ready to steal, as if he had been in an empty wilderness. Mr. Kinney found him there, hard at work, his belt full of cartridges and pistols. He was a rough fellow, at first disposed to be defiant and blustering, but on being informed of the Department's action in the case of Cloos's filing, he took a milder tone, and signed a paper saying that he would take $75 for his "improvements." Later in the day, after consulting with his friend Helm, he withdrew the paper and announced his determination to stay in the valley. On inquiry at the land office at Los Angeles we found that his filing had been returned to him for correction of errors. We were therefore in time to secure the stopping of all further proceedings on his part through the land office. Nothing, however, but authorized and authoritative action on the part of the agent representing the Interior Department will stop his proceedings on the ground. Just before leaving California we received an urgent letter from the Los Coyotes' captain, saying that Fane was still there—still cutting down their trees and building corrals.

The Indians of this band are robust, active, and finely made, more nearly in the native health and strength of the race than any other band in the country. The large proportion of children also bore testimony to their healthful condition, there being thirty-five children to twenty-one women and twenty-six men. The captain had the lists of his people kept by three lines of notches on a stick, a new notch being made for each birth and crossed out for each death. They could count only up to five. Everything beyond that was "many." Their houses were good, built of hewn pine timber with thatched roofs made from some tough fibrous plant, probably the yucca. Each house had a thatched bower in front of it and stood in a fenced enclosure. These Indians raise beans, pumpkins, wheat, barley, and corn. They have twenty-five head of cattle and more horses. They say they have lived in this valley always, and never desire to leave it. The only things they asked for were a harness, chain, coulter, and five ploughs. They have now one plough.

This village is one of the best illustrations of our remarks on the need of itinerary labor among the Mission Indians. Here is a village of eighty-four souls living in a mountain fastness which they so love they would rather die than leave it, but where the ordinary agencies and influences of civilization will never reach, no matter how thickly settled the regions below may come. A fervent religious and practical teacher spending a few weeks each year among these Indians might sow seed that would never cease growing during the intervals of his absence.

Exhibit G.

THE SANTA YSABEL RANCH.

The Santa Ysabel Ranch is adjoining to Warner's Ranch. It is a well-wooded, well-watered, beautiful country, much broken by steep and stony mountains. The original grant of this ranch was confirmed March 17th, 1858, to one José Ortego and the heirs of Edward Stokes. The patent was issued May 14th, 1872. It is now owned by a Captain Wilcox, who has thus far not only left undisturbed the Indian village within the boundaries of his estate, but has endeavored to protect the Indians by allowing to the ranch lessee a rebate of $200 yearly on the rent on account of the Indians' occupancy. There is in the original grant of this ranch the following clause: "The grantees will leave free and undisturbed the agricultural lands which the Indians of San Diego are actually occupying."

We found on arriving at the Santa Ysabel village that an intelligent young Indian living there had recently been elected as general over the Dieguino Indians in the neighborhood. He showed to us his papers and begged us to wait till he could have all his captains gathered to meet us. Eight villages he reported as being under his control,—Santa Ysabel, Mesa Grande, Mesa Chilquita, San José, Mataguay, La Puerta, Laguna, and Anaha. He was full of interest and inquiry and enthusiasm about his people. "I want know American way," he said in his broken English. "I want make all my people like American people. How I find out American laws? When white men lose cow, lose pig, they come here with pistol and say we must find or give up man that stole. How we know? Is that American law? We all alone out here. We got nobody show us. Heap things I want ask about. I make all my people work. We can't work like American people; we ain't got work with; we ain't got wagon, harness; three old broked ploughs for all these people. What we want, some man right here to go to. While you here white man very good; when you go away trouble same as before."

There are one hundred and seventy-one Indians in this village. They are very poor. Many of their houses are of tule or brush, their clothes were scanty and ragged, some of the older men wearing but a single garment. That they had not been idle their big wheat-field proved; between three and four hundred acres fenced and the wheat well up. "How do you divide the crops?" we asked. "Every man knows his own piece," was the reply. They sell all of this wheat that they can spare to a storekeeper some three miles away. Having no wagon they draw the wheat there on a sort of sledge or wood triangle, about four feet long, with slats across it. A rope is tied to the apex of this, then fastened to the horn of a saddle on a horse ridden by a man, who steers the sledge as best he may. The Indians brought this sledge to show us, to prove how sorely they needed wagons. They also made the women bring out all the children and arrange them in rows, to show that they had enough for a school, repeating over and over that they had many more, but they were all out digging wild roots and vegetables. "If there was not great many them, my people die hungry," said the general; "them most what we got eat." It is a sore grievance to these Santa Ysabel Indians that the Aqua Caliente Indians, only twenty miles away, have received from the Government a school, ploughs, wagons, &c., while nothing whatever has been done for them. "Them Aqua Caliente Indians got everything," said the general; "got hot springs too; make money on them hot springs; my people got no chance make money."

On the second day of our stay in this region we saw four of the young general's captains, those of Puerta San Felipe, San José, Anaha, and Laguna. In Puerta San Felipe are sixty-four people. This village is on a confirmed grant, the "Valle de San Felipe," confirmed to Felipe Castillo. The ranch is now leased to a Frenchman, who is taking away the water from the Indian village, and tells the captain that the whole village belongs to him, and that if anybody so much as hunts a rabbit on the place he will put him in prison. These people are in great destitution and trouble, being deprived of most of their previous means of support. The Anaha captain reported fifty-three people in his village. White men had come in and fenced up land on both sides of him. "When he plants his wheat and grain the white men run their hogs into the fields;" and "when the white men find anything dead they come to him to make him tell everything about it, and he has not got anything to tell." The San José captain had a similar story. The Laguna captain was a tall, swarthy, well-to-do-looking Indian, so unlike all the rest that we wondered what there could have been in his life to produce such a difference. He said nobody troubled him. He had good land, plenty of water, raised grain and vegetables, everything he wanted except watermelons. His village contained eleven persons; was to be reached only by a steep trail, the last four miles. We expressed our pleasure at finding one Indian captain andvillage that were in no trouble and wanted for nothing. He smiled mysteriously, as we afterward recalled, and reiterated that nobody troubled him. The mystery was explained later, when we discovered accidentally in San Diego that this Laguna village had not escaped, as we supposed, the inroads of white men, and that the only reason that the Laguna Indians were not in trouble was that they had peaceably surrendered half their lands to a white man, who was living amicably among them under a sort of contract or lease.

Exhibit H.

MESA GRANDE.

Mesa Grande lies high up above the Santa Ysabel village and fifteen miles west of it. The tract adjoins the Santa Ysabel Ranch, and is, as its name indicates, a large table-land. There was set off here in 1876 a large reservation, intended to include the Mesa Grande Indian village, and also a smaller one of Mesa Chilquita; but, as usual, the villages were outside of the lines, and the lands reserved were chiefly worthless. One of the settlers in the neighborhood told us he would not take the whole reservation as a gift and pay the taxes on it. The situation of the Indians here is exceedingly unfortunate and growing more and more so daily. The good Mesa Grande lands, which they once owned and occupied, and which should have been secured to them, have been fast taken up by whites, the Indians driven off, and, as the young general said, "all bunched up till they haven't got any room." Both the Mesa Chilquita and Mesa Grande plateaus are now well under cultivation by whites, who have good houses and large tracts fenced in.

They have built a good school-house, which we chanced to pass at the hour of recess, and noting Indian faces among the children, stopped to inquire about them. There were, out of twenty-seven scholars, fifteen Indians or half-breeds, some of them the children of Indians who had taken up homesteads. We asked the teacher what was the relative brightness of the Indian and white children. Supposing that we shared the usual prejudice against Indians, the teacher answered in a judiciously deprecating tone, "Well, really there isn't so much difference between them as you would suppose." "In favor of which race?" we asked. Thus suddenly enlightened as to our animus in the matter, the teacher changed his tone, and said he found the Indian children full as bright as the whites; in fact, the brightest scholar he had was a half-breed girl.

On the census list taken of Indians in 1880 Mesa Grande and Mesa Chilquita are reported as having, the first one hundred and three Indians, the second twenty-three. There are probably not so many now, the Mesa Chilquita tract being almost wholly in possession of the whites. The Mesa Grande village has a beautiful site on a small stream, in a sort of hill basin, surrounded by higher hills. The houses are chiefly adobe, and there is on one of the slopes a neat little adobe chapel, with a shingled roof nearly done, of which the Indians were very proud. There were many fields of grain and a few fruit orchards. The women gathered around our carriage in eager groups, insisting on shaking hands, and holding up their little children to shake hands also. They have but once seen an agent of the Government, and any evidence of real interest in them and their welfare touches them deeply.

The condition of the Indians in this district is too full of complications and troubles to be written out here in detail. A verbatim copy of a few of our notes taken on the spot will give a good picture of the situation.

Chrysanto, an Indian, put off his farm two months ago by white man named Jim Angel, with certificate of homestead from Los Angeles land office. Antonio Douro, another, put off in same way from his farm near school-house. He had built good wooden house; the white man took that and half his land. He was ploughing when the white man came and said, "Get out! I have bought this land." They have been to the agent. They have been ten times, till they are tired to go. Another American named Hardy ran an Indian off his farm, built a house on it; then he sold it to Johnson, and Johnson took a little more land; and Johnson sold it to Stone, and he took still more. They used to be well fixed, had plenty of stock and hundreds of horses. Now they are all penned up, and have had to pay such fines they have got poor. Whites take their horses and cattle and corral them and make them pay 25 cents, 50 cents to get them out. "Is that American law?" they asked; "and if it is law for Indians' horses, is it not same for white men's horses?" But one Indian shut up some of the white men's horses that came on his land, and the constable came and took them all away and made the Indian pay money. The Americans so thick now they want all the Indians away; so, to make them go, they keep accusing them of stealing.

This is a small tithe of what we were told. It was pitiful to see the hope die out of the Indians' faces as they laid grievance after grievance before us, and we were obliged to tell them we could do nothing, except to "tell the Government." On our way back to Santa Ysabel we were waylaid by several Indians, some of them very aged, each with the same story of having been driven off or being in imminent danger of being driven off his lands.

On the following day we had a long interview with one of the white settlers of Mesa Grande, and learned some particulars as to a combination into which the Mesa Grande whites had entered to protectthemselves against cattle and horse thieves. The young Indian general was present at this interview. His boots were toeless; he wore an old gingham shirt and ragged waistcoat, but his bearing was full of dignity. According to the white man's story, this combination was not a vigilance committee at all. It was called "The Protective League of Mesa Grande," and had no special reference to Indians in any way. According to the Indian general's story it was a vigilance committee, and all the Indians knew very well that their lives were in danger from it. The white man protested against this, and reiterated his former statements. To our inquiry why, if the league were for the mutual protection of all cattle-owners in the region, the captains of the Indian villages were not invited to join it, he replied that he himself would have been in favor of that, but that to the average white settler in the region such a suggestion would be like a red rag to a bull; that he himself, however, was a warm friend to the Indians. "How long you been friend to Indians?" asked the boy-general, with quiet sarcasm. We afterwards learned by inquiry of one of the most influential citizens of a neighboring town, that this protective league was in fact nothing more or less than a vigilance committee, and that it meant short shrift to Indians; but being betrayed by one of its members it had come to an untimely end, to the great relief of all law-abiding people in the vicinity. He also added that the greater part of the cattle and horse stealing in the region was done by Mexicans and whites, not by Indians.

Whether it is possible for the Government to put these Mesa Grande Indians into a position to protect themselves, and have anything like a fair chance to make their living in their present situation, is a question; but that it ought to be done, if possible, is beyond question. It is grievous to think that this fine tract of land so long owned and occupied by these Indians, and in good faith intended by the Government to be set aside for their use, has thus passed into other hands. Even if the reservation tract, some three hundred acres, has been by fraudulent representations restored to the public domain, and now occupied by a man named Clelland, who has taken steps to patent it, the tract by proper investigation and action could probably be reclaimed for the Indians' use.

Exhibit I.

CAPITAN GRANDE.

Capitan Grande is the name of the cañon through which the San Diego River comes down from the Cuyamaca Mountains, where it takes its rise. The cañon is thirty-five miles from the city of SanDiego; is fifteen miles long, and has narrow bottom lands along the river, in some places widening out into good meadows. It is in parts beautifully wooded and full of luxuriant growths of shrubs and vines and flowering plants. In 1853 a band of Dieguino Indians were, by the order of Lieutenant Magruder, moved from San Diego to this cañon (see Paper No. 1, appended hereto). These Indians have continued ever since to live there, although latterly they have been so much pressed upon by white settlers that their numbers have been reduced. A large reservation, showing on the record nineteen full sections, was set off here, in 1876, for these Indians. It is nearly all on the bare sides of the mountain walls of the cañon. As usual, the village site was not taken in by the lines. Therefore white settlers have come in and the Indians been driven away. We were informed that a petition was in circulation for the restoration to the public domain of a part of this reservation. We could not succeed in finding a copy of this petition; but it goes without saying that any such petition means the taking away from the Indians the few remaining bits of good land in their possession. There are now only about sixty Indians left in this cañon. Sixteen years ago there were from one hundred and fifty to two hundred—a flourishing community with large herds of cattle and horses and good cultivated fields. It is not too late for the Government to reclaim the greater part of this cañon for its rightful owners' use. The appended affidavits, which we forwarded to Washington, will show the grounds on which we earnestly recommended such a course.

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