Chapter I

dec

A second trip to California after forty years; My home in Marion; Begins the trip; The dry dock; Not another berth; The Sunset Limited; The Great Salt Mine; Beaumont; San Antonio; The Alamo; He expects it of me; Out on the boundless prairies; Nears the Del Rio; The Seminole Cave Canon; Breakfast at El Paso; The Rio Grande; Consumptives' paradise; At Lordsburg; At San Simons; Tucson; People go to Europe.

Dear Bro. Barnett:

WHEN I promised weeks ago to write something of my trip for the Alabama Baptist, I thought it an easy task but I discover my mistake. "Trip Notes" in Alabama, which I have been writing for twenty years, are not hard to prepare. If it is not convenient towrite them on the spot, one can carry in his mind the points worthy of mention and write them at leisure; but not so with a trip like this. There is so much to see during the day you do not want to be writing, lest you miss something of interest; if you put off the writing, you are sure to leave out much which would interest the reader. So here I am far out on the sandy plains of New Mexico, where the scenery seems to be unchanged for many miles. I am trying to put together the points I have scored down for my friends in Alabama. We have just passed the 1,200th mile post, just about half the way from New Orleans to San Francisco.

It was very kind of the brethren of the State Board of Missions to give me this month off. Probably, ten years ago, I was given my first vacation of one month. It was a new experience to me. Brethren who had been used to such things volunteered to advise me where to spend it. "Go to Monteagle," said one, "Go to the coast," said another; but I went to

the best spot on earth for me to rest. I thought. Every day my mail was sent me and after a rest of one day, I went to writing letters and in a little while, I found myself planning campaigns and arranging my plans of work for months ahead. The month was soon gone and I returned to the office but little benefitted. I have determined that shall not occur again. I hope I will not receive a business letter for a month. Don't get it into your mind, kind reader, that I am sick or broken down. I am all right—never felt better than I do this morning of January 15th; but I am sure I will be better and stronger after this month's rest.

George Ely, of Montgomery, the Traveling Passenger Agent of the Southern Pacific, is one of the cleverest railroad men in all the South. I have been telling him of this trip for years:"All right, when you get ready, let me know, and I will load you up," said he, after every talk. Sure enough he did. "Through Story Land to Sunset Skies," is the striking name of a book he gave me. A couple of old travelers who are supposed to have passed this way years ago before there was any thought of a railroad, takes a girl and her papa into their party and start for San Francisco on the Limited. First one and then the other talks. In those far-off days, they must have camped for months at every point, for they know the history of every section and places of interest.

Their "Limited" seems to have been an unlimited, as to time, for the narrative takes you leisurely from point to point. It is invaluable to the party who takes the trip and I am the only one who seems to possess one in the car.

"Where are we?" "Wonder what there is here?" "I declare it is the driest dullest trip I ever took." These are some of the expressions I have heard. I haven't time to tell them about things. I wish I had, for it is such a pity for people to take the long trip and get solittle out of it. One old sister, I fear, will worry herself sick.

The great

lately built by the government and brought by sea from New York to New Orleans, was all the talk. "What sort of a looking thing is a dry dock?" I asked one of my friends. "We'll go out tomorrow and see it," was the reply. It's wonderful to think of a machine like that with power to lift the man-of-war, "Illinois," the biggest vessel in the navy, clear out of the water. "The biggest dry dock in the world," said my friend. It is wonderful how many "biggest things in the world" one meets in traveling. I have passed near "the biggest salt mines," "the biggest hunting and fishing ground," "the biggest bridge in the world," "the biggest sugar refinery." I don't know how many "biggest things in the world" there are ahead of me, but that dry dock and the battleship Illinois, are big things, for sure.

on the Limited Monday," was the unpleasant news I got at the ticket office two days before I was ready to go. It was a great disappointment. The Limited is made up entirely of Pullman sleepers with a dining car attached. "Seventy-three hours from New Orleans to San Francisco," are the words which I have thought about for three months. Here is a description which charmed me: "Sunset Limited traverses the New Coast Line between Los Angeles and San Francisco, the grandest trip in the United States."

EQUIPMENT OF "SUNSET LIMITED." COMPOSITE CAR, "EL INDIA."

"A place where men smoke, read and rest. The first car of the train: It contains buffet, baths, barber shop, desk, bookcases, books and stationery. Here one may view the peculiar scenery through wide plate-glass windows, tell yarns and enjoy full comfort of an up-to-date equipment. A conveyance worthy of any man's admiration."

Then it goes on to describe in the same style each car: The ladies' parlor car, the sleeping car, the dining car. But I missed it by not engaging a place beforehand. Never mind, next time I'll know better. I lose a day thereby and pay double for a sleeper. Poor comfort, but the best at hand, "an upper berth only to Los Angeles on the regular train is all that is left—nothing to San Francisco," and I jumped at it.

An hour later and I would have had to go in the day coach andnodit out. It looks like everybody has taken a notion to travel at the same time; but I learn it is always this way on this road in winter. Through the low lands and swamps and magnificent sugar plantations, the train speeds on its western course. The Teche country through which we go is called the "Sugar Bowl of Louisiana." I wonder that it wasn't put down as the "biggest thing of its kind in the world."

Before we leave Louisiana, it will be interesting to some I am sure, to hear something of the

which for several years furnished the most of the salt used in the Confederacy, in our civil war. The mine is on "Avery's Island," on the Gulf coast. Many years ago a boy returning from a successful hunt, threw the deer he had killed into the fork of a tree while he sought to slake his thirst at a beautiful spring. The water was so salty he could not drink it. On telling his mother about it, she had water brought from the spring and boiled and secured a good deposit of salt. Gradually the spring came to be used. After a while, farming interests absorbed the attention of the owner of the island, who by the way was a Yankee from New Jersey, who fled South with his negro slaves, when it became inevitable that the negroes North were going to be freed. How the South has been cursed about slavery: The facts of history show that Northern people are responsible. Not Southerners, but Northerners, stole the negroes from Africa and introduced slavery in the United States. When theyfound the institution didn't pay, they brought the slaves South and sold them to our fathers. Later they drenched the nation in blood to free the slaves their daddies had sold to us. Some few did as Col. Avery did: moved South with their negro slaves. (But to return to the Salt Industry.)

Gradually the salt springs were abandoned until our civil war, when salt began to bring $11.00 a barrel in New Orleans. The son of the planter asked his father for permission to run a kettle in boiling, to this was added other kettles, and so the mine developed. When the springs would not supply the water fast enough, a well was dug. Sixteen feet from the surface, what seemed to be the stump of an old tree was struck, covering the bottom of the well. Close examination proved it to be solid rock salt. The owner, Col. Avery, leased a part of the mine to the Confederate Government. It is said at the close of the war, he found himself the fortunate possessor of $3,000,000 of worthless Confederate money; besides this, he lost 2,000 bales of cotton, whichthe government had paid him for, worth in the market after the surrender from twenty-five to fifty cents per pound. The mines were captured by the Federals in 1863, but work was resumed after they left.

The mining goes on now on an extensive scale and great tunnels run through it many feet below the surface. The supply is practically inexhaustible. It has been explored by boring 1,200 feet down and the bottom of the salt bed is still below. How is that for a salty story! We passed

at night, much to my regret, but I learned the oil fields, which I hoped to catch a sight of, were five miles away. However, I felt the breeze, as every passenger who got aboard for a hundred miles in either direction was talking oil. I imagined I could almost smell and taste kerosene. You may be sure I heard of the "biggest" oil well. A little later I struck a cow-man. I don't know whether he was a "Cattle King"or not, but he could talk cows. I was glad to have him in the same section with me for he knew the country and could answer all my questions. Houston was passed in the night.

We breakfasted at

and found the town rejoicing over the breaking of a five month's drought by the rain which was then falling. One of the natives said: "You can't tell anything about rains here. They may stop in fifteen minutes or they may pour down for a week." We found it so, for in a few minutes after leaving San Antonio, the clouds began to break and soon the bright sun appeared, but the rain had extended far to the west which was fortunate for the travelers. I was so impressed with what I read of the battle of the Alamo which took place near San Antonio. I will quote it. Some have read it before, but the most of your readers have not:

"If deeds of daring sanctify the soil that witnessed them, that should be to every American, one of the sacred places of the land. We soon alighted in front of the old church and entered its broad portal. A hundred and seventy-five years have elapsed since its foundations were begun. Its early history would be filled with the interest of tradition were it not for the fact that one glorious deed of sacrifice dwarfs all that went before. Here on March 6, 1836, one hundred and eighty-one citizen soldiers, untrained to war, fought more than twenty times their number and scorning retreat deliberately chose to die. The fight began February 23rd, when the Mexican army under Santa Anna began the assault. The attack was continued day and night, and each time the Mexican column was hurled back with frightful loss. Each day witnessed supreme examples of heroism on the part of the beleaguered men. One of the most inspiring of them was the sacrifice of James Butler Bonham, a nativeof South Carolina, and the friend of Col. Travis, who commanded the Alamo forces. He had been sent to Fannin with appeals for aid, which were unavailing. On March 2nd, he reached, on his return, a hill overlooking the scene of the seige, accompanied by two companions. Realizing the situation, these associates saw no necessity for further progress and demanded of Bonham that they retire. The reply of Bonham immortalized him. He said: "I will report the result of my mission to Colonel Travis.

I have to tell him there is no prospect of reinforcements, that he has but to die in defending his cause and that I came to die with him." Then bidding farewell to his companions, mounted on a cream colored horse, through the lines of the enemy and amid showers of bullets, this gallant son of South Carolina rode to his death. The gates of the fortress opened to receive him and he presented himself to his chief. Thisis the noblest incident in history of stern adherence to solemn duty without regard to personal danger. On the morning of March 6th, a general assault took place. Slowly the noble Texans were driven back until inside the church they made their last stand. No quarter was asked, none granted. Each Texan died desperately in hand-to-hand conflict with overpowering numbers. Col. Jas. Bowie, sick and unable to rise, was bayoneted in bed. Col. David Crocket died amid a circle of slaughtered foes. Travis fell upon the wall when he was giving inspiration to his men. When the last Texan died, the floor was nearly ankle deep in blood and ghastly corpses were heaped everywhere. By order of Santa Anna, the bodies were piled in heaps and burned. On the monument to these immortal dead, Texas writes an inscription so great it makes the heart stand still: "Thermopylae had its messenger of defeat—the Alamo had none."

"I am sorry for you for

A lady, with whom I became acquainted said that to me on quitting the train at San Antonio. Folks are so unlike. What was to her dull and uninteresting, I found to be of the greatest interest to me. True there were not many people to be seen, but the boundless prairies with here and there herds of cattle or horses grazing and occasionally a Greaser village with mountains now and then appearing in the distance, had a charm about it for me which I have never experienced before.

Mesquite bushes cover thinly the land and remind one constantly of an old neglected orchard where the sprouts have been allowed to grow up from the roots of the trees. The railroad has a four-wire fence on each side of the track, which gives the land the appearance of being fenced and you are all the time on the lookout for the farmhouse, just beyond theorchard, but it never appears. Occasionally right in the midst of the Mesquite you see a forty or eighty acre tract broken in a square, showing the soil as black as one's hat. Occasionally is seen a cotton field, but the crop failed because of the drought. All the laborers on the railroad seem to be Mexicans and I learn they give general satisfaction, but my! what shabby hovels they live in! Sometimes only straw or brush covered with straw, but more frequently built of "doby," sun dried brick. As we near the Texas border, the soil becomes thinner and more rocky. We pass towns with no sign of gardens or orchards.

We have passed the dry beds of immense streams, some of them called rivers, I presume.

some running streams are seen and signs of irrigation. Here is the Rio Grande which for thirteen miles of its length forms the boundary between the United States and Mexico. The railroadskirts along the river bank at the base of a great cliff to the right and on the other side of the river the bare Mexican mountains frown down upon us. Devil's river is crossed, a beautiful stream which refuses for miles, to mix its clear waters with the muddy Rio Grande.

pronounced "kanyon," as the gorges between the mountains are called, is so grand one regrets that the railroad does not go through it. Only a glimpse is had of its mouth as it opens on Devil's river. Up, up the rocky steeps we go until the open plains are reached. The Spanish dagger, some scrubby bushes, and a species of grass, resembling bear grass is all there is in the way of vegetation. The Pecos river is crossed by the "highest bridge in the world," the boy said who tried to sell the pictures: "No it ain't," said a gentleman, "the one across Kentucky river near Lexington, is the highest," and the man by my side said he knew of two that were higher than either one. Anyway, as Ilooked down into the river, 320 feet below, I thought it was high enough. They say that the atmosphere is so clear here that your eyes deceive you. At one point, the Santa Rosa mountains in Mexico, seventy miles away, can be clearly seen, but they look to be only five miles off. Much of the finest scenery we missed at night. Paisaino Pass, summit of the Sunset Route, we did not see. Its altitude is 5,082 feet.

—two full days from New Orleans. What horrible tales are told of Mexican and Indian cruelties in the days of long ago, but my Texas friend tells me that everything like ruffianism in all this section is passed; that hunters can, with perfect safety, camp miles away on these plains without fear of molestation. But looking at some of the specimens of men hereabouts, I'd rather do my hunting further East, if sport was what I was after. In spite of the dry climate some people are farming about El Paso. Of course it is done by irrigation,the Rio Grande furnishing the water. Here is where we change time. By our watches it was 8:30 only a little after daylight. They said the only thing perplexing about El Paso is the time. It has four brands of time and the citizen takes his choice. "They used to have four or five other varieties, but so many people became insane in the attempt to keep their watches right and meet appointments, that now they have only four." Between New Orleans and El Paso, Central time is adhered to, Pacific time from there West. The difference is two hours; so if you arrive at El Paso at 11:15 a.m. and wait there an hour and three quarters, you still get away at 11 a.m., and experience no delay. Then there is local or sun time and Mexican time besides. "Wonder if all the boys who read these lines understand about the change from sun time to railroad time?" The 12 o'clock mark, when I was a boy, was what we blew the dinner horn by and we got along first-rate; but now the railroads have taken us in hand and changed all that. Here at El Paso, they seem tohave done their worst on old time—cheating him out of two hours when going West, or maybe they only borrow the two hours and pay it back on the trip East.

The water is very low and muddy. We are now in New Mexico running across its southwestern border for two hundred and fifty miles. There was a white frost on this morning, a rare thing here. The poor Mexicans were huddled on the sunny-side of their dugouts and dobys, wrapped in their blankets. I can't see where they get wood to burn, the country is so barren. My friend told me yesterday that these are typical Mexican homes. A poor little pony, a long-nosed pig or two, a mangy cur, and a few chickens are all they possess in the way of live stock, with these they seem perfectly contented. Some one said El Paso was the

but from stories I heard about otherplaces, I am sure it has rivals. One man asserted that one winter he heard there were 37,000 consumptives in and around San Antonio and El Paso. Of course it was not so; but that yarn is spun by the great family of "They Say." On our train there were several poor fellows on their way West for their health. How they did cough! It was distressing. One said, "I have bronchitis which bothers me some. My lungs are not at all affected." How strange the hopeful tone of all consumptives! May be it is well that they are so. "When you get into Arizona, it will be so dusty you can hardly see out of the windows," said the porter. That is the case here in New Mexico and if the wind was blowing it would be blinding. A vast sandy plain in every direction with bare mountains, sometimes sand, sometimes rock, in the far distance, is all we see. As we near Deming, we begin to see wind mills, which indicates the presence of water at not a great depth. Here is a nice town, some large stores, a court house and public school building, all of brick; butwhat on earth keeps up the town? Possibly there may be grazing land in the region and maybe some mining; but to a stranger all is desert.

we pass into Arizona. Drummers are everywhere present. They crowd on with their grips and sample cases at every station. The saloon is everywhere present also. At one place, besides the depot building, I saw no business house except a combined saloon and barber shop. The "Tennessee Saloon" was in one place; "This here is a saloon," was the sign on another. After we left San Antonio, the tramps disappear. Up to that point, I could see them looking wistfully at the flying train in day time and at night I could see their camp fires beside the track; but the stations are too far apart and the picking too poor beyond San Antonio for these enterprising travelers. Though the country seems so dry and barren, there are evidences that sometimes they have fearful rain falls. I noticed at severalpoints in Arizona vast areas, covering probably thousands of acres, where at times there are lakes or inland seas. Now the surface is dry and cracked, with not the least sign of water except at one spot where the depression is deepest and there is congregated a great herd of poverty-stricken cattle. The wire fence on either side of the road keeps me company. It makes one think the land is fenced to keep the cattle in and you are expecting to see a great herd every minute; but the fence belongs to the railroad and is intended to keep cattle off the track. Think of a double line of wire fence three thousand miles long; yes, longer than that, for the Southern Pacific goes right on to Portland, Oregon, nearly eight hundred miles north and to Ogden, nearly a thousand miles east of San Francisco and the fences go with it.

in Arizona, they say there is fine grazing for cattle, one company alone owning 75,000 head. I was on the lookoutfor the face of the Apache chief, called "Cochise's Head." It is far to the southwest on the mountain top. I fancied I saw it time and again, but when it came in sight, there was no mistaking it. The outline of the face with its great Roman nose looking towards the heavens, is very distinct; for three hours it was in full view of the train. The Apache Indians, who once roamed these plains, called that mountain after the name of their greatest chieftain

pronounced "Tuson," said to be one of the quaintest towns in all the West and next to the oldest place in the United States, I saw only by its electric lights. Phoenix, the capital, is thirty-four miles from our route on a branch road. I was so charmed with descriptions of the country thereabouts, I copy for your readers some interesting matter:

"All this country was settled by an earlier race than any of the present Indians. The cliffs all through these Arizona mountains are covered with hieroglyphicsand pictographs. The Salt and Gila (Hela) river valleys are full of old ruins of early occupancy. There are artificial mounds, hundreds of feet long, extensive canals for irrigating purposes, and vast debris—all, a class of work the present races are unfamiliar with. The most wonderful, or at least the best known of all these ruins—lies three hours of stage north of the station of Casa Grande. Father Niza, who, in 1539, visited the country, heard of these ruins which were then regarded with awe and veneration by the native tribes. Coronado's people visited them in 1540, and since then many explorers have come and gone, and left descriptions to tell us what they were and are. As they exist today, they still show the towering adobe walls that are believed to have been seven stories in height.

"Some of the rooms were thirty and forty feet long. Archaeologists and ethnologists have puzzled over these ruins for ages. Today, with their remains of great irrigating ditches all about them, they present a hard nut for scientists to crack. However, wemust stand amazed at the extent of these ruins. One of the great canals tapped the Salt river on the south side near the mouth of the Verde. For three and a half miles it passes through an artificial gorge in the Superstition mountains, cut out of solid rock to a depth of a hundred feet. After passing the mountains, it divides into four branches whose aggregate length is 120 miles independent of the distributing ditches. This system of canals irrigated 1,600 square miles of country. The engineering is perfect. There is not even a tradition to be found of these people. We only know that at a period fixed by scientists as 2,000 years ago, the Bradshaw mountains were active volcanoes, and the lava, making its way through Black Canon flowed into these canals. Still later, a great deluge flowed over McDowell Mountains, segregating their granite sides and depositing their wash over the upper valley and the canals to a depth of from three to five feet. This gives us testimony as to the age of these vast works, and tells us nothing of the millions of people who must oncehave lived here in a high state of civilization.

to find ancient civilizations, when they can get them right here at home. There isn't anything in history more fascinating than the story of the conquest of this very region we are traveling through. There is a dramatic recital of Spanish occupancy reaching back 280 years beyond the Guadalupe-Hidalgo treaty of '46. The gold and silver hungry Madrid government was pretty nearly pushed out by the Indian outbreak of 1802, the Mexican revolution twenty years later, and the Apache uprising of 1827. The country became a wilderness almost until from 1845 to 1860, hardy settlers forced their way into the rich valleys, established homes and began developing again the resources of the country. Then our war came on, protection was withdrawn, the Apaches swooped down, and it took ten years to undo their work and begin again the building of a commonwealth.Now, here's an empire as large as the six New England States with New York thrown in. Its climate and scenery are so varied that they appeal to every interest. All the semi-tropical plants grow in the southern valleys, while the peaks of its northern mountains are clad in perpetual snow. Here is the awe-inspiring canon of the Colorado, the greatest and most marvelous cleft in the mountains of the world. You can see a petrified forest here, with the trees congealed into stone, rearing their rugged trunks fifty and seventy feet in the air. What else does man want than that which he can find in Arizona? It is rich in mines, in timber, grazing land, soil for fruit culture, the best climate to be found anywhere. The wealth of the territory is worth more than a hundred million dollars, and is increasing with wonderful rapidity as people are coming to know its limitless resources.

"It used to be that the consumptive had Phoenix all to himself. He went there and the climate gave him life and health, but of late years the agriculturist,the fruit raiser and bee keeper have crowded him pretty closely, so that now you find the thrifty modern city set down among groves of oranges, lemon, plum, apricot and peach trees that make a paradise out of all that beautiful valley, so that men find there not only health, but wealth. It is the center of some of the greatest irrigation schemes that have been undertaken in our age."

In Southern California; Plowing machine; In the oil country; San Francisco; The Union Ferry Depot; Fort Alkatras; Sausalito; Seal rocks; The Golden Gate; Sutro baths and museum; China Town; The United States Mint; James Lick; The Stanford University; The climate.

AFTER days of travel over the dreary desert waste, it was refreshing to look out in the early morning on the orchards of oranges, lemons, limes, and I know not how many other kinds of fruit. We are now

There are yet miles on miles of desert country, but it is frequently broken by the orchards of tropical fruits. Some one said as we traversed New Mexicoand Arizona deserts: "This country was made only to tie the lands which are fit for something together." I fell in with the balance in that opinion; but I am far from believing that now. Wherever water can be had for irrigation, these sandy plains and knobs can be made to blossom as the rose. It is demonstrated beyond all question here and in some of the parks about San Francisco. We passed in the night old Fort Yuma and the Colorado river, which separates Arizona from California and empties into the Gulf of California. From Riverside, Pomona and Los Angeles to San Francisco, over the Coast Line, the country is as the garden of the Lord, except when the great cattle ranches and wheat farms occupy the territory. Farming is made profitable only by irrigation. This is usually the rainy season when the irrigating ditches are not much in use, but no rain has fallen and the farmers are busy preparing the ground and planting wheat. In many places they were flooding the ground in order to bring up the wheat, already sown. I saw only a few placeswhere the crop was showing. What would Alabama farmers think of running a plow with six and eight horses attached? It was not one plow, but a

having several large breakers. I saw from six to ten horses pulling harrows. Horse flesh seems to be abundant. In size, the horses are simply immense. The Eucalyptus tree is a disappointment: where it stands alone it grows to a great height, having a few scattering branches; but in groves and clusters along avenues and on the mountain sides, it is charming. Its growth is rapid, and as an absorbent of malaria it is noted above all plants. I am surprised that it is not grown around Mobile and New Orleans. The Coast Line from Los Angeles has been open only a few weeks, and now trains run into San Francisco for the first time. Many roads centre here, but the Southern Pacific is the first to take its train into the city. All others have their terminals over the Bay at different points, ortrains are brought over by steamers. From San Buena Ventura for many miles, our train runs by the side of the Ocean. It is a glorious sight to one unused to the Sea. There are numerous large towns and the lands in many places seem to be fertile almost to the beach. California is becoming

At one point on the coast there must have been three hundred derricks, many of them on wharves extending far out into the ocean, the wells being only a few feet apart. Back in the mountains and foot-hills there must be many more, as I can see hundreds of great tanks along the beach. Owing to the high price for coal, it will not be a great while before oil will run most of the machinery on the Pacific Coast. The most of the coal used comes from Australia and is very high. The wildest, grandest scenery of the whole trip is where the road pierces the Coast Range at San Louis Obispo. I would not dare undertake its description. And now I am in

after an absence of forty years. Of course I recognize nothing—all is changed; hills have been leveled and their sands emptied into the Bay. Front Street is now separated from the Bay front by blocks of magnificent buildings. My brother and his wife met me. How they have changed! I never would have known them. They were impolite enough to accuse me of growing old, too.

from which our boat started on its six mile trip across the Bay, is a wonderful structure, and is built on a mud foundation where the Bay has been filled in. It is 659 feet long with a clock tower rising 245 feet. The second story contains a hall the whole length of the building, 48 feet wide and 42 feet high. The building belongs to the State and is used for waiting rooms for some of the great railroads and for the many large ferry boats which cross theBay to Oakland, Alameda, Berkeley, Sausalito and many other points. The Bay is filled with shipping of every description and from all parts of the world.

is on an island. If the prison there could talk, it could tell many a tale of suffering during the civil war, the only offense being, the occupant sympathized with the Confederacy. Yonder is Goat Island, in whose shadow a number of boys and I, years ago, in our own beautiful sail boat, on a Saturday morning, made a fine beginning for a day's fishing, but the wretched fellows soon took a notion to return to Oakland—meantime the wind had sprung up and the Bay was lashed into great billows. I was hopelessly in the minority, and reluctantly took my place and steered the little craft over the mad waves. In a few minutes every fellow except myself was deathly sick, and I was left to manage sails and helm alone. It was my first lesson in navigation. Time andagain I was sure we were lost, but the Lord must have interposed, though none of us were much given to a religious life. When we got safely ashore my interest in the boat was quickly disposed of to my fool-hardy companions. Through all these years I have fondly hoped I might some day finish that fish, so unceremoniously broken into.

is the end of my journey. My brother lives here in a lovely home built in a niche of the mountain and fronting the Bay, which is not twenty steps from his gate. San Francisco is plainly in view directly in front, and Oakland and other cities by the Bay, are to the left. This is the terminus of a railroad which runs back in Marin county through a beautiful country. People who live here and on back for miles to San Rafael, mostly have business in the city.

They are conveyed to and from their homes by cars and boats which run every half hour. It is said there are two thousand people in this burg; but Ican't see where they are. In nooks and corners of the mountains they are stuck away so that it looks more like a thickly settled country community than a town. The streets run around the mountains on easy grades so that before one is aware of it he is on a high elevation. Exercise! You can get all you want here. The back entrance to my brother's home is some four hundred feet above his house and is reached by a flight of steps almost as steep as a ladder. I have always counted myself a good walker, but I am not in it with these Californians. Both men and women are great walkers. Remarking on the great number of ruddy-faced girls and women I saw, the quick explanation was: "We have so much open weather and the air is so bracing, our people are so much out of doors; hence the ruddy cheeks." I am a

Probably it comes from a sort of tired feeling which I have had since my birth; anyway, I don't like to start outin the business of seeing things, but I just had to. These people believe they have something worth seeing and they leave their affairs behind and give themselves to showing the tourists the sights. And they are worth seeing, too. You can write almost anything extravagant about California and it will not be far from the truth. I was glad I was not left to myself, but how helpless I am when it comes to writing about the sights. I can command only a few adjectives and they soon become commonplace. "Immense" is one of my favorites. "Wonderful" is another. Then comes "great" and a lot of little ones until I grow tired and only grunt as my guide raves over what we are looking at. If I could only rave over things! I will never have a better opportunity than now, but the thing is impossible for me.

"The City of Atlanta" is the name of the Observation Car which makes several trips daily to the Cliff House and return. The conductor is a good talker and knows his business thoroughly. While the car moves along at a goodspeed, he announces to the travelers the places of interest.

We pass the great power house where is generated the electricity which runs the many miles of electric car line; the Mission Dolores, an old adobe building erected in 1776; Golden Gate Park, covering more than one thousand acres; the Affiliate Colleges, three great buildings situated on a mountain side overlooking the city and bay, and finally the Cliff House on the point on the Pacific. Out there two hundred yards away are the

A great herd of seals live there, protected by the authorities for the pleasure of the travelers who flock here by the thousands. In the afternoon they look like a flock of sheep resting in the shadows of the rock; but in the morning they are playing in the waters. At one time they sound like a pack of hounds far in the distance; at another, like a herd of hungry cattle. This, with the roar of the ocean against the rocks, makes a sound one never can forget.

It is said that here, on the broad piazzas of the Cliff House, is the only spot in all the world where such a sight can be enjoyed. I was told that some years ago after a storm, a large sea-lion, killed by the storm, was washed ashore, and its weight was twenty-seven hundred pounds. I do not doubt it, judging by the appearance of one immense old fellow, which they have named "Ben Butler," after "Beast Butler," I suppose, of New Orleans fame.

The quickest way out of my troubles at this point is to allow other writers to tell of the things that I saw there.

"The entrance through

cannot be surpassed. On the right can be seen the Cliff House and Sutro Heights; on the left, Point Bonita Lighthouse. Passing these, you enter what might be called the vestibule of the Golden Gate, which narrows to the distance of one and one-eighth miles between Fort Point and Lime Point, with a depth of water of three hundred and ninety feet.

The bay is so land-locked that the early voyagers kept sailing right by its narrow opening, and it was not until November 7, 1769, that it was discovered; but it was not entered and made known to the world until 1775. The Bay covers 450 square miles. It can accommodate the navies of the entire world without crowding them.

is where an immense rock basin catches the water from the ocean twice a day at high tide. The baths, with a capacity of nearly two millions of gallons, can be filled within an hour. The length of the building is 500 feet. It has seating capacity for 3,700 and swimming accommodations for 2,000 bathers. Tons of iron and thousands of feet of glass, 3,000,000 feet of lumber and over 300,000 feet of concrete were used in its construction. The bathers are here all times of the year.

I can't tell of Golden Gate Park, with its beautiful drives, its statuary, museum, its herds of buffaloes and deer; ofthe Presidio, the Government reservation of over 1,500 acres, which has been beautified until it may be included among the parks of San Francisco.

covering twelve squares of the city, where nobody lives but Chinese, is a place of great interest. Many visitors employ guides and take in the town at night, which, I am told, is the best time to see it at its worst. Horrid tales are told of underground opium dens, where victims of the drug, of all colors, congregate; of the gambling hells, and the Chinese lotteries. Two Chinese landed in 1848; in 1850 there were 450; in 1852 10,000 landed in one month. They were welcomed at first. They are the best of laborers, but they soon began to supplant white labor. It was discovered also that they did not come with their families, to make this country their home. They keep what they make and return with it to China—they even send the bones of their dead back to the Celestial Empire. By law, they havebeen prohibited from coming to this country for some years. The years of the first Exclusion Act are now about out, and one of the biggest questions, in the minds of Californians is, the new Exclusion Law. The Labor party is very strong in the State, and the politicians dare not antagonize it. It is a serious problem. If the Chinese would come like the people of other nations and bring their families and settle in the country, their enemies would be robbed of their strongest argument. No exclusion laws are thought of against the people of other nations, even though they supplant, in many lines, the American laboring man.

"The biggest mint in the world," the fellow said, is a place where one can feel mighty rich for a little while. Visitors are received at regular hours, bunched and put in charge of a guide who shows them through. One can see the money in every process of manufacture. I was impressed with the factthat two dies stamp $40,000 in $20 gold pieces in ten minutes and that the coinage is about $30,000,000 a year. I saw only one greenback and one copper while I was in San Francisco. Only gold and silver are used.

was an old pioneer—a machinist and a bachelor. He used his immense wealth in beautifying the city and benefiting his fellow men. The Pioneers' Building he gave, leaving it richly endowed. Here are gathered all the curios of the early times and from the fund is supported old and disabled pioneers. He gave to the city a great bath house, where any one can bathe without cost; $400,000 of his money went into the California Academy of Science.

The Lick Observatory, near San Jose, crowning the summit of Mount Hamilton, 4,250 feet above sea level, his greatest benefaction, I could only read about. The bequest amounted to $7,000,000, and the telescope alone cost $55,000.This is indeed the biggest telescope in the world.

at Palo Alto, only a few miles away from San Francisco on the Coast Line, I could easily have seen in passing, but it escaped me. It is named for Leland Stanford, Jr., for whom it will be a perpetual monument. He was the only child, and the parents devoted the whole of their princely fortune to the erection and endowment of this great school. I saw the palatial home of the widow in San Francisco. This school and the State University at Berkeley, certainly offer great advantages to the young men and women of California—they are both co-educational.

The great wealth of this country is simply marvelous. The taxable property of San Francisco amounts to nearly $400,000,000, with $120,000,000 hoarded in savings banks, or $343 per capita, but notwithstanding all this there is a great army of very poor people.

about San Francisco is peculiar. The average maximum temperature for twenty-two years has been 62 and the minimum 51 degrees, a variation of only eleven degrees. The January temperature, for those years, has been 50 and for June 59 degrees. The last and the first three months of each year are the rainiest—only about 67 rainy days in the year. The people wear the same outer garments the year round. Ice and snow are seldom seen. The fogs make it an undesirable place for people with pulmonary troubles.

I have missed many things of great interest. Back of my brother's house, upon Mount Tamalpais, is the "crookedest railroad in the world." It doubles back on itself five times, forming a double bow knot. But for the fogs, I should have enjoyed the trip where the finest view in all the country may be had.

Los Angeles; "Seeing Los Angeles"; The return; The pit; The Mirage; Old Fort Yuma; Religious matters; Baptists; An interesting occurrence; The pastors' conference; California College; One serious question.

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