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Rand, McNally & Go.'s 
 
 GUIDE TO 
 
 SoiitHeiq Gallioiiiia 
 
 AND THE 
 
 FacillG Coast. 
 
DEC 7 r-'i 
 
DE 
 
Map of the Uniiec i States. 
 
 Ui^i^i-: -.s. ^:. . 
 
Dl 
 
RAND, McHALLY & CO.'S 
 
 GUIDE TO 
 
 Southern California 
 
 DIRECT. 
 
 Narrative, Historical, Descriptive. 
 
 WITH NOTES ON 
 
 CALIFORNIA AT LARGE. 
 
 y 
 
 By J as. JV. STEELE. 
 
 WITH MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 0EC.7 1385 
 
 CHICAGO: ^<O^WASHVfie^ 
 Rand, McNally & Company. 
 1886. 
 
rs-<)^ 
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1885, by 
 
 RAND, McXALLY & CO., 
 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 
 
PRELIMINARY. 
 
 Perhaps there are few people who stop to think of the 
 possibilities of travel in modern times, especially over some 
 of the immense distances west of the Missouri. The luxury, 
 the convenience, the swiftness, the certainty, and a certain 
 colossal energy inherent in the whole, do not appear to the 
 average man in anything like their true light, because all 
 these things are dulled by custom. When we wish to go 
 anywhere, we only incidentally think of the distance, because 
 we know that nc) distances hinder us. We betake ourselves 
 to the depot, after purchasing a ticket that can be procured 
 in the remotest village, deposit ourselves and our belong- 
 ings on board the proper car, and presently go to sleep in a 
 luxurious bed, satisfied that we shall be found all right in 
 the morning, with facilities for breakfast, but several hun- 
 dred miles from our starting place. We do not take much 
 trouble. Travel has become not alone or always a necessity, 
 but often a recreation, and sometimes one of the harmless 
 forms of dissipation. If anything happens to go wrong with 
 the intricate and almost endless network of steel, which men 
 have woven and miraculously control from sea to sea, and 
 which it is one of the wonders o'f a wonderful age that they 
 have made or control at all, we think strange of it as being 
 out of the natural order of events. 
 
 Did the reader ever go to the depot on, 'say, a rariny 
 night, and endeavor to consider the situation there as it 
 
 (5) 
 
6 Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 actually is ? There is a long procession of oblong palaces, 
 such as Solomon in all his glory never knew, whose wet 
 and varnished sides shine richly in the lamplight, while 
 through their windows may be seen everything that is in 
 striking contrast to wet and darkness and discomfort. Each 
 car stands upon trucks so comparatively narrow that it 
 seems the top-heavy structure must certainly upset in a stiff 
 breeze. Each wheel is held in its place upon the rails by a 
 flange so narrow and so thin that it is absurd from any 
 standpoint but that of long experience to suppose that it 
 will stay on the slippery rail beyond the first sharp curve. 
 The whole train weighs hundreds of tons, and, except from 
 the habit of so regarding it, it does not seem possible that, 
 freighted with human life, brilliantly lighted and deliciously 
 warmed and ventilated, finished in plate-glass and mirrors 
 and carved and polished woods, it is destined to glide 
 through night and storm, and light and sunshine alike, at a 
 rate that is swifter than the flight of a bird of passage, 
 behind a gigantic power that is controlled more easily than 
 your family horse. 
 
 You have your sleeping-car check safe in your vest, and 
 you wait there a few minutes. People come hurrying from 
 all points. \"ou may possibly observe that all who have 
 been too late to secure a berth in the lower shelf of the 
 middle of the car, are apt to ask the conductor if there is 
 not one that they can get, and also that the answer of that 
 blue-coated and unruffled official is quite invariably a neg- 
 ative one. This, they knew, would be so beforehand ; but 
 we will not leave off a ceremony that is sanctioned by all 
 the traditions of a railroading race. The ebony statue in 
 uniform, who stands at the platform with a carpeted stool 
 at his feet, disdains all the functions of the hack-man, and 
 
Guide to Southern California. 7 
 
 does not utter a word, and will not lay hands upon 3-00 and 
 try to push you into his vehicle. He knows you will get 
 there, or, if you do not, that you have no right to consider 
 yourself as pertaining to this age or country. 
 
 Finally, a quarter of a mile down the glittering line, a 
 monster creeps stealthily up. You notice a phosphorescent 
 gleam when an iron door is opened by one who seems a gnome, 
 and the white heat of the furnace throws itself upon a curling 
 cloud. There is an impatient sizzle, furtive and deafening 
 explosions of the pop-valve, a head out of the cab window 
 watching for the waving hand or the momentary arc of light 
 from a swinging lantern. You hear a stroke upon some 
 distant bell, a voice says, in a tone you have heard a thousand 
 times without having particularly noticed it, something' 
 that sounds like " ah-ye-wore," and the colossal caravan 
 glides noiselessly away in the darkness, and is gone like 
 the dream that it is, or rather, like the embodiment of 
 all the dreams that tormented the souls of the fathers of 
 the world, of the power and progress that should come 
 at last. 
 
 This is not a scene arranged for one occasion. It occurs 
 every day, and in almost every corner of a wide country. 
 It is nothing ; yet it is really very much like what has been 
 attempted to be described. Some of those cars that you 
 have seen depart are destined to cross climates and zones, 
 and to bear all the hopes of their passengers to the ends of 
 the world. In a few days they will come swinging back 
 again, freighted with an assortment of humanity whose 
 hopes lie in a precisely opposite direction from those of the 
 first, with no soil of the journey upon them, and looking as 
 though they had not been away at all. 
 
 The suggestion that prompted the writing of these follow- 
 
8 Rand, McNallv & Co.'s 
 
 ing pages, was a journey to Southern California. If it had 
 been intended as a means for the special education of the 
 writer, which it by no means was, it could not have served 
 its purpose better. There was a yellow car that looked as 
 though it should have had its place at the head of some 
 crowded train, and be loaded to the ceiling with trunks, but 
 which was, in fact, a perambulatory kitchen and commissary 
 department, lined with zinc, and furnished with ranges, and 
 having its wall decorated with saucepans and griddles. 
 Behind it was a car that might have been mistaken for 
 a Pullman sleeper, but was not, and had been dedicated, 
 with all its rooms and carpets and chairs and tables, to the 
 uses of the hardest-worked of all the reputed potentates of 
 the world, the General Manager. It was in this that the 
 journey was made. I started a decided ignoiamus amid a 
 company of experts who knew what they were doing to the 
 extent of having spent from a dozen to twenty years each in 
 the management of railroads. The return was signalized by 
 the large accession of wisdom which may ]:)Ossibly be dis- 
 covered in the following pages. 
 
 There is an opportunity presented here to offer a para- 
 graph which has nothing to do, strictly speaking, with any 
 journey to Southern California. Many a man who has his 
 country's good more or less at heart has said to himself, 
 and possibly to his neighbors, " Now, look at those people ; 
 they will not ride in a train that they run for common folks, 
 and they wisii to \n\t on bond-holder's airs, and be very 
 e.xclusive." It might be nearer the truth to conclude that 
 every general manager privately hates his jirivate car. 
 There is a stenogra]:>her or two aboard there, and the 
 telegraph-wire beside the track is continually huniming mes- 
 sages for him, which get into his hands mysteriously at al- 
 
Guide to Southern California. g 
 
 most every station. They are not messages of congratulation, 
 or of special love and affection. They rather ask him what 
 shall be done about some new diablerie that has arisen since 
 he came away, and they request an immediate decision 
 upon something that he had hoped would decide itself, or 
 they declare the untimely hatching of some brood that has 
 been incubating for so long that he had hoped they were 
 all addled. There are boxes of documents and desks of 
 papers. He is not traveling for his health, and this car is a 
 perambulatory office in which there is a good deal of work 
 done without the usual conveniences for doing it. He travels 
 at unusual hours, and stops at places tiiat the average trav- 
 eler has not the slightest interest in. He must carry with 
 him his kitchen or starve, and have his couch handy in the 
 intervals of business or stay up. He puts in the time until 
 eleven o'clock at night in the leisurely and elegant occupa- 
 tion of dictating letters and messages ; gets up early in the 
 morning to see somebody who, as a rare case, is not looking 
 for //////, and starts his train out again at about six o'clock, 
 sliding over the landscape at about forty-five miles an hour, 
 stopping only at places where he has business, watching the 
 ties and rails from the rear window as a part of his duty, 
 and hurrying home again so as to be there to transact his 
 part in a regular performance that he is painfully aware 
 could not go on very well without him. 
 
 A long journey by rail is usually only a respectable 
 species of solitary confinement to the great majority of 
 travelers. There are only giimp'ses caught of the country 
 during daylight, and he knows nothing of the history, tra- 
 ditions, or industries of the country he is traversing. He 
 does not know what to look for; and all his information is 
 usually obtained from what the publishers call a "folder," 
 
lo Rand, McNally &: Co.'s 
 
 in which the stations are named one after the other with a 
 monotony that makes a traveler tired. 
 
 It has been imagined, that, with a guide book of any route 
 chosen to a given place, that stated the greater portion 
 of the facts without eulogy, statistics, or tabular statements, 
 one might be enabled to pursue his journey with greater 
 pleasure at the time, and with greater profit afterwards. 
 
 To cover these points this little volume has been written. 
 The journey spoken of afforded the extraordinary facility of 
 giving the route from the Missouri River to San Diego by 
 daylight. Its object is Southern California ; a new country 
 and a very old one, for some years past attracting great 
 attention on account of its unlooked-for development and 
 products, and its quite unequalled climate. 
 
 There are other routes than the one taken, — indeed, there 
 are four or five others, — but the shortest, other things being- 
 equal, is the one whose features must be of most interest to 
 the average traveler, to whom Southern California is the 
 direct object ; and that route has been chosen whose con- 
 tinuous track leads directly to the shores of one of the most 
 beautiful harbors of the world, and to the capital and centre 
 of a climate whose bland changelessness is one of the 
 wonders of meteorology. 
 
 From the Missouri River to Southern California is a long 
 stride, and amply sufficient for the scope of a small volume ; 
 while it may be added that the multiplicity of lines and 
 routes of travel east of the river, all well known, precludes 
 any possibility of stating their features of interest. This is a 
 journey over mountain and plain, over desert, lava and rock, 
 through a country that is as yet comparatively little known by 
 the great majority of travelers, ending at last on the shores of 
 that boundless waste of waters that to the Eastern man seems 
 
Guide to Southern California. ii 
 
 the end of all things. Southern California is, as yet, an 
 enigma to itself, and all of its future is by no means known. 
 It is an Eden that has sprung up out of a soil that, during 
 the process of making that California which the world knows 
 most about, was considered an irredeemable desert. One 
 can hardly believe, that, nestled amid those mountain ridges, 
 lie gems of soil, climate, and high cultivation where summer 
 is all the year, where roses and castor-beans alike take upon 
 themselves the similitude of trees, and where the palms and 
 pines of Japan, and curious fruits and flowers from across 
 the sea, flourish better than at home. It is well worth 
 talking about, for some other object than a desire to collect 
 the commission on a sale of real-estate. You may thread 
 miles of orange, fig, apricot, olive, peach and walnut trees, so 
 dense that you cannot see out, or over, or even under them. 
 Vines grow with a rank luxuriance that makes you wonder 
 at what you h^ive heretofore considered an arbor for the pro- 
 duction of grapes ; and lines of green cypress, twelve feet 
 high and about a foot thick, hedge in plantations like a wall. 
 
 The trans-continental railway was the greatest commercial 
 conception of modern times. Everybody remembers the 
 driving of the golden spike into a rosewood tie, some years 
 ago, and the attendant ceremonies and distinguished com- 
 pany. That was only for the first connection, and the en- 
 thusiasm has not been repeated. The fact of these long- 
 lines of railroad, the substitution of days for months, and 
 luxury and ease for hardship, time and toil, has ceased to be 
 a novelty. 
 
 But the multiplying of west-of-the-Missouri lines has re- 
 sulted in bringing about what is the very opposite of a 
 monopoly in trans-continental business. Every man chooses 
 the route that suits him best, depending upon where he 
 
Rand, McNallv & Co.'s 
 
 wishes to go, and how far south or north his startinc^ 
 point is. 
 
 This Guide is intended for the use of such persons as 
 wish to avail themselves of it, living as far south as 
 Memphis, for instance, and as far north as Chicago, whose 
 natural direction to Southern California would take them to 
 Kansas City as a starting point, across what it is now cus- 
 tomary to consider as The West. There are many thou- 
 sands of these travelers annually, for Kansas City is one of 
 the busiest and uKjst thronged of all the centres of American 
 travel. If you have never been there, you have a surprise 
 before you at the beginning of your journey. 
 
Guide to Southern California. 13 
 
 THE JOURNEY. 
 
 KANSAS, 
 
 Kansas City was one of the towns that began in time, and 
 estabhshed a union depot. No train enters or leaves the 
 place from any other station. The gloomy spot that was 
 Westport Landing a quarter of a century ago, has now a 
 population of more than one hundred and fifty thousand, 
 and is growing almost as fast as it is said to be. This is a 
 depot at which a round dozen roads make up their trains : 
 there is a cable street-car line, and all the bustle of an enor- 
 mous business. 
 
 Every traveler sees this now celebrated depot at its best, 
 if its best is when it is liveliest. Morning, evening, and 
 about midnight, it is pandemonium, of a mild and rather 
 pleasing type. There is a large crowd that is American in 
 essentials, with a sprinkling of every nationality. Waiting 
 rooms for both sexes are full. Counter restaurants are con- 
 fronted by hungry rows of travelers, some of whom may be 
 observed to wear overcoats, and others linen dusters, thus 
 giving themselves away as to the direction from which they 
 have come, and the climates natural to them. Vans of 
 trunks, and barrows of express packages, are trundling in 
 all directions. Newsboys are vociferous. There is an ex- 
 pression of resignation on the faces of some, at a necessary 
 delay of thirty or forty minutes, and a frantic rushing around 
 
14 
 
 Rand, Mc.Nallv tS: C(x's 
 
 
 
Guide to Southern California. 15 
 
 on the part of others. Long hnes of cars stand waiting, so 
 arranged as to be all visible and all accessible, and all 
 labeled ; and into them the crowd is swiftly percolating it- 
 self. Policemen, specially uniformed, and armed with in- 
 formation instead of clubs, and whose business it chiefly is 
 to direct and explain, are kept very busy. The trains are 
 all headed east-west ; the one with its headlight toward 
 the setting sun, the other back toward where you came 
 from, and where, if wishes were tickets, many an one in this 
 lonesome and bustling crowd would be. The scene will 
 change daily. If you come here tomorrow you will see ' ot 
 one of these faces, and these peculiarly mixed garments. 
 From this busy scene, in some respects the most remarkable 
 in the world, they have scattered to the four winds, in most 
 cases never to come here again. It is a daily gathering of 
 that class whose great object is a home. At train-time the 
 flood-gate is up, and the thousands who have of late years 
 peopled that God-forsaken desert that now produces its 
 hundreds of millions of bushels of corn and wheat every 
 year, come streaming through the narrow gateway of the 
 Union Depot at Kansas City. iii,-' 
 
 You hear the names of roads and traiihs called in long- 
 drawn tones : " Chicago, Rock-Island dM Pacif-e-ek. All 
 aboard for Chicago ; " and this one silently slips away. 
 " Union Pacif-e-e-k ;— for Denver and San Francisco;" and 
 in three minutes there is another long, vacant slip under the 
 shed. "Chicago and Alton," and another has slipped its 
 moorings for Chicago and Saint Louis. " Atchison, Topeka 
 and Santa Fe, — All aboard for Kansas, Colorado and 
 Southern Cal— " That is ours ; let us go. 
 
 ^^'e will suppose this to be about ten o'clock in the morn- 
 ing, and it may be tha\ or the same hour at night. You are 
 
i6 Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 no sooner away from the shadows of the building than you 
 are on historic ground. All the hills you see rolling away 
 to the southward were not long since covered with wagon- 
 corrals, and glowing in the dusk with camp-fires. They 
 were the camping-ground of the eastern terminus of that 
 weird and lonesome road known in those days as the Santa 
 Fe trail, the origin of the idea that built the Santa Fe 
 Route. You are destined to follow it so closely that you 
 can see the old track in mountain passes and prairie glades, 
 hundreds of miles to the westward of this. 
 
 You are following the wooded valley of the Kansas, 
 also called more anciently the Kaw, from the name of the 
 tribe of Indians that not long since owned its banks. 
 
 Lawrence is reached at noon. It is a town embowered 
 in trees, and a place of elegant homes, often referred to 
 somewhat tritely as "the Athens of Kansas." The State 
 university is here, an institution which has received especial 
 care from many successive legislatures, and occupies the 
 hill overlooking the town. 
 
 The only dam ever successfully made across the sandy 
 Kaw is here, and the town therefrom derives considerable 
 power for manufacturing purposes. 
 
 As a hi.storic point, Lawrence is scarcely excelled by Lex- 
 ington and Yorktown. Here was enacted one of the most 
 cold-blooded tragedies of the late war, and one among the 
 most sorrowful in American history. Early on the morning 
 of August 2 1 St, 1863, the band of guerillas under command 
 of a renegade who went by the name of Quantrell, burned 
 and sacked the town, killing almost indiscriminately persons 
 of all ages and of both sexes, all defenseless and all non- 
 combatants. The details of this massacre are the most 
 atrocious known in history where savages were not the 
 
Guide to Southern California. 17 
 
 Iliii^ii'IiSi^^ 
 lijiii 
 
i8 Raxi), McNallv & Co.'s 
 
 attacking party. The whole number killed was one hundred 
 and eighty, and the property destroyed was estimated to 
 have been worth $2,500,000. Long since recovered from 
 this calamity, the town has now about ten thousand ix)pu- 
 lation, and, in the beauty of the country lying about it, in 
 refinement, intelligence, and plentifulness of all the means 
 of cultivated life, has few equals anywhere. 
 
 Long previous to the massacre alluded to, Lawrence had 
 been the scene of armed disturbances. It was the centre 
 and .stronghold of the anti-slavery party from a time imme- 
 diately after the passage of the " Kansas-Nebraska Bill," 
 in 1854. Lecompton, a few miles above, was the head- 
 quarters of the opposite party. 
 
 It is entirely safe to call all Eastern Kansas historic 
 ground. It is not advancing a new idea to say that the 
 great war was begun here. The rolling hills that stretch 
 away on either side of the Kaw, were ridden over and 
 camped upon for several years before the fall of Sumter. 
 
 Eleven miles west of Lawrence, and reached a few min- 
 utes after noon, is the village of Lkcompton, the ancient 
 capital of the Territory of Kansas under the pro-slavery 
 organization; now a country hamlet, changed in its politics 
 and all its aspects. Here, overgrown with vegetation, may 
 .still be seen the foundations of the building that only a 
 change of political sentiment and the fortunes of war j^re- 
 vented from being the capitol building of a slave-holding 
 community. There are also the remains of the old jail 
 where the "Yankees" were ccnilined when caught, upon 
 the allegation of high political crimes and misdemeanors, 
 and under a peculiar construction of the constitutional 
 definition of "treason." Many of the old settlers of Kan- 
 sas obtained here, in this old " Bastile," their most valuable 
 
Guide to Southern California. 19 
 
 political capital, upon which they were rather disposed to 
 do a banking business for years afterwards. There are 
 various other objects of interest, now seldom thought of, 
 and never visited. Reminiscence and association might 
 have a rich field here; but it is a busy country, and the 
 growing trees, the fields of tall corn and the creeping car- 
 pet of sod, seem to have conspired to obliterate all the 
 past. New, rapidly growing, and full of energy, there is 
 no county where there is less attention given to all the has 
 beens and might have beens. The revolutionary war is 
 practically no more a memory than are those recent times 
 Avhen it was a question whether Kansas should be a slave 
 State or a free. 
 
 At nearly one o'clock Topeka is reached. Here is served 
 the first dinner of the route, in the first of what seems, and 
 probably is, the longest series of hotels in the country, 
 whose cookery and attendance you will discover to be an 
 especial feature of this route. The dining-car system has 
 never been adopted, presumably from a conservative notion 
 that it is pleasanter, on a long journey, for passengers 
 to seat themselves at a table that does not move, and enjoy 
 a dinner for which the old-fashioned twenty minutes has 
 _given place to a full half hour. 
 
 \'ery little of the actual city of 'I'opeka can be seen from 
 the depot. The extensive village in that neighborhood 
 consists of the machine-shops, warehouses and storehouses 
 of the company, and the comfortable dwellings of a small 
 army of employes. The place, now containing some thirty- 
 odd thousand jieople, was, when one of the most obscure 
 villages of a very new country, conceived of as the starting- 
 point of the Santa Fe Route. About the same time it 
 "was decided upon as the capital of the State. Both were 
 
Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
Guide to Southern California. 21 
 
 dreams of the future, in a country which then had nothing 
 but a future ; but, accompanied by many other curious things, 
 they came true. From here the hne extends to Atchison, 
 also on the Missouri. The stem of the grotesque "■ Y," for 
 the two arms of which this is the junction-point, will be 
 found to extend almost indefinitely down to the south- 
 westward. They call it "down" here, just as it is a 
 custom of the country to call a man " Governor " for the 
 remainder of his life, for the reason that he could never get 
 to be governor. It is really up, — about eight thousand feet 
 of steady climb before you get to the crest of the long slope 
 which is one side of the Mississippi-Missouri Valley, at Raton 
 tunnel. 
 
 Topeka is considered the political and social head-quarters 
 of Kansas. So overgrown with trees is the place that it 
 almost produces the impression of having been built in a 
 piece of natural forest. Grass, of the thickest and greenest, 
 variety, is also everywhere ; while in summer-time, many of 
 the streets are lined with a gigantic growth of that gorgeous 
 yellow flower emblematic of a^stheticism, though the stranger 
 who stops over will find nothing else indicative of any devo- 
 tion to that sentiment. The growth of trees and vegetation 
 is a fact not remarkable, unless taken in connection with 
 the other fact, that the soil where the town stands is of the 
 hardest and yellowest variety of " hard-pan," and twenty 
 years ago was not considered capable of sprouting a Car- 
 olina pea, and was covered with a short, wiry grass that 
 looked quite like dead moss. -This may answer for a 
 hundred or more other places in Kansas, and is one of the 
 curious things connected with that climatic change that has 
 wrought a miracle over all the country lying west of the 
 Missouri for five hundred miles, but which the reader will 
 
22 Rand, McNallv «S: Co.'s 
 
 not think of again until he reaches far western Kansas, and 
 concludes at once that it is a country never meant to be 
 lived in. It is merely interpolated here as a hint, that the 
 same opinion was justly entertained of this, and of Ne- 
 braska as well, less than a quarter of a- century ago. 
 
 The view in summer from the roof of any public building 
 in Topeka is, excepting the San Gabriel Valley in California, 
 as seen- from the western slope of the Sierra Madre range, 
 and the famed Valley of Mexico, the most beautiful pastoral 
 landscape in this country, or, perhaps, in any country. 
 
 Having passed the Osage coal-fields, — a great find in its 
 day, in a prairie country, — and the mining-villages of that 
 region, and passed Burlingame (2.15 p. m.), a fair specimen 
 of the average county seat of Eastern Kansas, we arrive at 
 Emporia 3.45. 
 
 Why did they not call it Empori///;/, asks the gentleman 
 whom one encounters on every through train. No one 
 knows ; and it seems very pretty as it is, with its main 
 street headed by an institution of learning, its homelike 
 residences, and its general air of wealth. The question re- 
 mains unanswered by everybody, especially after it is discov- 
 ered that the terminal vowel is sounded, by those who should 
 know best, like x. Thus the brakeman, " Emporyee." 
 
 It often happens that the well-meaning and polite Euro- 
 pean excursionist is quite frequent on these western through 
 trains. He has a general air of travel, and, after having 
 " done " Europe as the most important, he is probably about 
 to inform himself upon the geography of his own country. 
 You may observe that very frequently his audience looks as 
 though it would quite as willingly listen to a discourse 
 upon something more closely relating to the present excur- 
 sion. 
 
Guide to Souihern California. 
 
 23 
 
 As the remark has thus far not been made, and with a 
 solemn promise not to repeat it with regard to any other 
 locaUty, it may be said here that Emporia is the centre of 
 what is perhaps the richest agricultural country in any of 
 the western Stiites. The valleys of the Neosho and the 
 Cottonwood meet here, either of which may very well be 
 compared, in richness, extent and actual products, with the 
 Muskingum, the 
 Scioto, the Mo- 
 hawk, or the Con- 
 necticut. A few 
 miles below, and 
 near the junction 
 of the two rivers, 
 or "creeks," as 
 they seem to be 
 regarded here, is 
 the largest body of 
 natural timber in 
 the State, though 
 it is a fact forgot- 
 ten in latter years. 
 Large bodies of timber have grown up during the last few 
 years, largely natural growth, and due to the fact that 
 destructive prairie fires no longer sweep the country. 
 
 Emporia is one of numerous junction-points on this 
 line, and a branch runs southward to the lower tier of 
 counties, doing its share in a tolerably successful endeavor 
 to take it all in. A branch of the Missouri Pacific system 
 also crosses here, running almost north and south. 
 
 Entering the valley of the Cottonwood, and passing the 
 towns and stations w^iich look entirely appropriate to a rich 
 
24 Rand, McNallv & Co.'s 
 
 and rapidly improving country, we arrive at Newton at 
 about half-past six p. m., where it is expected that we shall 
 again eat. 
 
 Did the reader ever hear of Newton ? Look out over the 
 pretty town, as civil a place as one would wish to see, enter 
 the rather imposing railroad hotel, where a meal is served 
 that can scarcely be excelled in Chicago, and is not certainly 
 elsewhere west of the Missouri, and endeavor to remember 
 what Newton was, about A. D. eighteen hundred and seventy- 
 two. It was the then hardest community on this continent. 
 They counted that day lost whose low descending sun saw 
 no man killed, or other mischief done. There is a spot 
 near, where they used to " plant " them in those days ; — 
 those distinguished ones who died with their boots on. 
 Poker, and the dispensing and drinking of whiskey were 
 the only occupations. It was slab-and-canvas, idleness, 
 prostitution, vice, squalor, and general horror. It was the 
 "western progress" ridiculed by the eastern press, and 
 dwelt upon at great length in all its hideous phases. Look 
 about you now, while the sun sets upon the fair scene, and 
 you will see what western progress really is : a pretty town, 
 innumerable farms lying on all sides, leagues of fruitful 
 soil, happy homes, and a visible wealth that is growing so 
 rapidly that there are almost no poor men. 
 
 This is half-past six in the afternoon. There is a long 
 night before you, to be passed in the rumbling oblivion of 
 the sleeping-car, in which, were it only daylight, there are 
 some curious experiences to a stranger. Crossing the al- 
 most level plain l)etween Newton and Hutchinson, the Val- 
 ley of the Arkansas is entered at the latter place (8:12 p. m.), 
 and thence westward for some three hundred miles the 
 route lies mostly beside a stream that has been called 
 
Guide to Southern California. 
 
 25 
 
 the Nile of America ; silent, lone, treeless, its sources for a 
 long time untraced, and reaching the Mississippi a thousand 
 miles from where we now see it in the midst of Kansas. 
 It passes through two or three separate climates, and little 
 more than a dozen years ago its banks were as uninhabited 
 as those of any desert stream in an unknown corner of the 
 world. The prairie-dog towns were built beside it, their 
 outraged inhabitants seeming to hold daily indignation 
 meetings, and barking qutrulous protests against other 
 
 Prairie Dogs 
 
 diggers and delvers, the sound of escaping steam, and the 
 unauthorized presence of two very lonesome lines of steel 
 among the sedges.^ 
 
 The country was in those days crossed from south to 
 north with innumerable paths cut deeply into the sod, where 
 the bison had trailed himself in Long lines and innumerable 
 hosts from Texas to Manitoba, and back again, spring and 
 autumn. The gray thief of the wilderness yelped the night- 
 watches away, enamored of his own voice. Herds of 
 antelopes appeared for a moment, and were gone like 
 
26 Rand, IVIcXallv i\: Co.'s 
 
 ! ;i i ; 1 1 1 i|j||iiii|iiii!iiiii!i!i|i||iiip t ' dffp fiiH| 
 
Guide to Southern California. 27 
 
 phantoms of the iiiiras^e, the gracefulest and nimblest ot the 
 denizens of silence and peace. Skulking bands of Apaches, 
 dragging all their possessions upon lodge-poles that trailed 
 behind lean ponies, and riding single-file along the hill-tops, 
 added a touch of apprehension to a scene whose desolation 
 was otherwise unbroken for thousands of square miles. A 
 wind that never ceased or rested swept across the plain ; 
 in summer, from the south, and bearing all the aridness of 
 El Llano Estacado on its wings ; ni wmter, from the north, 
 and laden with the breath of the Arctic zone. Grass, which 
 was like greenish-brown moss, covered all like a carpet. 
 There was no hope there; it was the Crreat American Desert. 
 
 If you could see this same picture now, and in the light 
 of a summer noon, you would think the above the most 
 uselessly extravagant sketch ever written. 
 
 In the morning there will be a fresher coolness in the air. 
 Your car will seem to have an almost imperceptible slant 
 upward at the forward end. There will be, perhaps, a faint 
 balsamic odor, and vast blue shapes, tipped sometimes with 
 white, will lie on the far horizon ; and you will see at hand, 
 curious fiat-topped hills that are called "■ i/u-sas," from their 
 resemblance to tables. You will have attainetl an altitude 
 of about three thousand five hundred feet, and be in another 
 zone ; for over all the south-western country, and to the 
 heart of Mexico, elevations are zones as distinct as those 
 marked by distance from the equator. 
 
 But you will have passed, and amid the desolation de- 
 scribed, many thousands of acres of farming lands, dozens 
 of growing towns, each with her "boom," young orchards 
 and growing forest trees, some millions of spotted cattle, 
 and the homes of more than a quarter of a million of 
 prosperous and contented people. 
 
28 
 
 Rand, McNallv tlv: Co.'s 
 
Guide to Southern California. 
 
 29 
 
 All the wide country west of the Missouri presents, in one 
 sense, an anomaly in human history. So far as all the past 
 is concerned, everything has proceeded with a dignified 
 slowness compatible with the gravity of the result. This 
 country is full of people to whom it has been given to 
 witness with their own eyes all the magnificent processes of 
 the erection of an empire. 
 
 You yourself have caught but a glimpse. But it is 
 enough to impress the unaccustomed man with a new idea 
 of his country and its possibilities, and of the fact of how 
 easy and rapid the processes of civilization may become with 
 steam as a pioneer. Also a realization, more or less vivid, 
 of the mistake of adopting the Chinese idea of a region, 
 because it is not one's own Flowery Kingdom, elsewhere in 
 an eastern State. It has been but a very brief time smce 
 people who had marched and camped over this region for 
 years, and who knew all about it, knew and said that it 
 could never be made fit for the residence of civilized men. 
 
3° 
 
 Rand, McNALl.^■ (S: Co.'s 
 
Guide to Southern California. 31 
 
 COLORADO. 
 
 At seven o'clock in the morning you find yourself at La 
 Junta (Lah 1/ 00 //-tab.), where it is confidently e.xpected that 
 an elevation of four thousand and si.\ty-one feet will have 
 considerably sharpened your appetite for the breakfast 
 which awaits you. 
 
 W't are now five hundred and fifty-five miles from Kansas 
 City. The mountains lie just over the hill, and Pike's Peak 
 is almost north of us, and about ninety to a hundred miles 
 away. The cottonwoods and gray stream you see are 
 those of the head waters of the Arkansas, and this is our 
 last glimpse of the stream we have been beside for twelve 
 hours, and whose small beginnings, amid the melting snows, 
 are still many a long mile awav, twisting themselves, as cold 
 as ice, through many a gorge and canyon, before they unite 
 in the ashen current, upon whose banks vou can sa}' you 
 have slept. 
 
 La Junta is not a romantic spot, and chiefly exists ft)r 
 railroad purposes, and as a junction point (the name means 
 a joining, a junction, a reunion). Here, travelers for the 
 Manitou resorts, and for Pueblo and 1 )enver, have their cars 
 shunted off to the northward, among the foothills of the 
 Rockies, while those, who like ourselves will be content with 
 nothing less than the Pacific coast, are trundled away to the 
 south-westward, behind a monster called a " Mogul " en- 
 gine, who has just backed himself up the track, and joined 
 the procession with a snap. 
 
 Amid varying scenes, and upon a track that, owing to the 
 
32 . Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 increasing difficulties of nature, may, without quoting any 
 hymn, be called a devious way, we pass the forenoon. 
 During that forenoon we are expected to climb something 
 like three thousand feet. Magnificent glimpses of mount- 
 ains are in front, and much rock, canyon, and pine on 
 either hand. A rushing stream is occasionally passed, and 
 plough-land is very scarce. What houses one sees are as 
 different from those of yesterday as though we were in 
 Palestine, the faces are brown and of a new cast, the gar- 
 ments are queer, and the language was born in Spain so 
 long ago that they who use it do not know it. 
 
 About eleven o'clock we reach Trinidad {trt-ne-dad, with 
 the stress on the last syllable instead of the first, and which 
 is called, among the very religious people who originally 
 named it, "La Trinidad," — the Trinity). 
 
 The old town cannot be seen from the station, and the 
 place is not recognizable to the man of fifteen years ago. 
 It is Americanized. Asleep beside its brawling stream, it 
 was, to ancient ideas, a very charming place after the end- 
 less plains and three or four months of camping. It is here 
 that you really begin to climb. It is only twenty miles up 
 to the Raton tunnel, and there are sixteen hundred and 
 about fifty feet to climb in those twenty miles. 
 
 Rat(jn tunnel is an elongated perforation through at least 
 one of the back-bones of the continent ; for this same 
 back-bone, so often mentioned, is a rambling bit of geog- 
 raphy, with branches several hundred miles apart. You 
 come as near its exact location at this tunnel as you can 
 at any one place in a journey that, it must be conceded, 
 does certainly get over or around the vertebral column 
 somewhere. 
 
 Immediatelv after Trinidad comes a coal-mining region. 
 
Guide to Southern California. 
 
 33 
 
 This route has had great luck in striking coal-beds, most of 
 them yielding a product of very fine quality. It has them 
 in Kansas ; extensive ones beyond La Junta ; here, on the 
 other side of the tunnel at Blossburg, and conveniently 
 
 — ^,xA'; 
 
 Border Cattle.' 
 
 Strung along at intervals down to El Paso on the Mexican 
 line. Considering the size of the engine, the frantic cough- 
 ing and the clouds of smoke, you will conclude that it 
 needs them just about here, especially. 
 
34 Rand, McNallv & Co.'s 
 
 About noon, and while the train is toiUng up the steepest 
 grade east of the tunnel, you will see a house standing 
 down in a canyon to the right. There may be a bear-skin 
 nailed to the outside wall to dry, as there sometimes is, but 
 no further visible evidence of enterprise. This is the resi- 
 dence of the old-timer who kept the toll-gate of Raton 
 Pass in the old times, and the canyon is the Pass. There 
 is an old wagon-track there, as well as at other places on 
 both sides of the mountain, and this is the historic " trail," 
 over which has screeched many a cart laden with goods 
 from Westport Landing, Lexington and Leavenworth. It 
 seems worth while to try to think how slowly we seem to 
 have come thus far, with our modern ideas of getting over the 
 landscape, and then substitute for our twenty-six hours four 
 months. Not four months of sitting on red mohair, either. 
 
 The first merchandise sent by this historic road came 
 all the way from Kaskaskia, Illinois, in 1804, and from 1822 
 to 1856 it was almost continuous, and of greatly larger 
 value than is generally supposed. In 1846 the value of 
 the goods carried across the plains and mountains was 
 $1,752,250. The trade furnished employment to large num- 
 bers of people who became professional in it, and could 
 fight Indians, find water and feed, and take all the chances 
 of the wilderness, and make their round trips within a few 
 hours of a given number of days. 
 
 For the El Paso trade there was one other road, shorter, 
 and which did not cross the mountains here. It lay across 
 the north-west corner of El Llano Estacado (El Yano 
 Ais-tah-^^?//-do, the Staked Plain), and this was, perhaps, 
 the dreariest of all the roads ever traveled for the sake of 
 trade. 'J'o this day, the Staked Plain is largely unexplored. 
 
 Just at this point it is quite as well not to pay any atten- 
 
Guide to Southern California. 35 
 
 tion to the tunnel, which you will find not to be very pic- 
 turesque in its interior, but go to the rear of the car and 
 look. You will see rising up against the eastern sky a view 
 that, on a sunny day, has often been declared worth the 
 journey thus far : an almost unreal panorama of snowy 
 mountains against a sky as blue as sapphire, with the rug- 
 gedness of the foreground lying between, while over all 
 hangs a haze so thin and so ethereal that it gives to the 
 momentary picture the semblance of a scene out of some 
 gigantic fairy-land. 
 
 El Llano Estacado 
 
 Raton tunnel is seven thousand six hundred and twenty- 
 two feet above sea-level. It is nearly a mile through it, 
 and it is highest in the middle. When you enter the dark- 
 ness of the eastern end, you are in Colorado ; when you 
 emerge into daylight in the course of a few minutes you 
 are in New Mexico. There are interesting remains on the 
 mountain-side that are now almost pre-historic, for they are 
 the old grades of the daring "switch-back," by which trains 
 were taken over the mountain while the tunnel was building. 
 "Building" a tunnel is what engineers say, and we speak 
 by the book. Considering the success of their operations in 
 
36 Rand, McNallv & Co.'s 
 
 this country, the decision of the technical question as to 
 whether they were building or boring a hole in the ground 
 ought to be conceded to them. 
 
 Upon emerging on the western side, you will see a water- 
 tank perched like a pigeon-house in a cleft in the rockr. 
 There is no visible supply of water ; neither a wind -mill 
 or other power. By a slight mistake in the program of the 
 conspiracy against railroads, which seems to have been 
 organized in this region several thousand 3^ears ago, water 
 from a spring somewhere in the mountain-top runs directly 
 into this tank. If that little thing had been supposed to 
 be capable of assisting any, there is no doubt it would have 
 been omitted. 
 
 It is, as is usual in human affairs, hard to get up, and in 
 this case is still harder to get down. There was an engine 
 to pull and one to push in the ascent, and there is now one 
 Titanic monster exercising his utmost endeavors in what an 
 engine does not like to do, — holding back. The stalwart 
 employe of a prudent corporation stands at the brake-wheel, 
 with a stick in his hand strongly resembling a pick-handle. 
 If the air-supply should fail from any cause, he would 
 be found, to use a professional expression, "yankin'" that 
 stick into the spokes, and contorting that circular piece 
 of casting very vigorously. 
 
 Why should a gigantic crack in the face of the earth 
 be called "mouse" pass? Nevertheless, that is what 
 " Raton " means. 
 
Guide to Southern California. 37 
 
 NEW MEXICO. 
 
 It is to us tlie newest of the new, yet is really among the 
 eldest of the few old things we have to boast of. 
 
 It is, or was a few years ago, very foreign. There was 
 not an idea in all the mountain realm that owed any kinship 
 to our notions of life or of progress. It was the northern 
 outpost of a Latin empire flourishing south of the thirty- 
 second parallel, and the place you may refer to on the time- 
 table, called " Wagon Mound," was the site of a frontier 
 custom-house, whose collections were supposed to find their 
 way into the national money-box, in the City of Mexico. 
 With this empire was included California, most of Arizona, 
 parts of Kansas and Colorado, and Texas. 
 
 The country is still full of nooks and corners, where 
 eternal peace broods over the humblest and happiest homes 
 in the United States. The people still largely use the cum- 
 brous carts with wooden wheels, which it is against their re- 
 ligion ever to grease ; continue to live in houses built of 
 mud bricks, and yet plough with sharpened sticks. But 
 they are kindly, polite, hospitable, singularly intelligent for 
 their circumstances, and hold fast to their sonorous tongue 
 and their ceremonious religion with a pertinacity truly Latin. 
 It is the land of brilliant sunshine, mountain shadows, 
 blue distances, thin air and general drouth. There is no 
 dyspepsia, no malaria, no epidemic disease, and very little 
 worrying about the condition of business, or the price of 
 stocks, in New Mexico. 
 
38 
 
 Rand, McNallv & Co.'s 
 
 Ranches are now established in all the valleys, and tens 
 of thousands of cattle graze upon the mountain slopes. 
 Mines, and the general hope always attached to the mining 
 interest, divert the minds of the greater portion of the 
 foreign population,— for if it is possible to be a foreigner in 
 one's own country, the average American is a foreigner 
 here. The country undoubtedly has a future, as many 
 thousands of acres of good land, now unused because it is 
 imagined to be absolutely necessary to flood it with water, 
 will in the course of a few years be brought under cul- 
 tivation of some kind, and for the purposes to which it shall 
 be found best suited. 
 
 
 Mexican Farmei. 
 
 
 We shall find, for the purposes of crossing it at least, that 
 it is a pleasant land, full of charming glimpses of sky and 
 mountain, and dotted with a 'sufficient population to keep it 
 from seeming lonesome. It does not much matter to us 
 what its resources and future may be : the landscape is ours. 
 
 Raton is the first town (1.35 p. .m. — Dinner). It is en- 
 tirely a modern place, like La Junta built mostly for railroad 
 purposes, with its round-house, repair-shops, and dwellings 
 for employes. Part of its importance, however, does not 
 
Guide to Southern California. 39 
 
 appear upon the surface, as it is the centre of an extensive 
 cattle region. 
 
 Just below is a little spur running to Blossburg, — another 
 coal-mine. Still a short distance beyond, where the road 
 is seen to be fenced on either side with barbed wire, is the 
 extensive cattle-ranch of ex-senator Dorsey, of star-route 
 fame. Another man not unknown to fame is rumored to be 
 interested in the same ranch (when we get to California we 
 shall spell this word " rancho "), Col. Robert Ingersoll. 
 Sixty-six miles south of Raton a queerly shaped mountain 
 bears the name of "Wagon-Mound," before referred to. 
 
 In the neighborhood of Watrous, a little station that owes 
 its only importance to some pretty scenery, and to the fact 
 of being the port of entry for the government post of Fort 
 Union, some fourteen miles away, the train enters the wide, 
 green plateau named by the Spaniards " Las Vegas," — The 
 Meadows. This plain continues, fenced by mountains on 
 all sides, past the town of the same name, and until the 
 Glorieta range of mountains is reached. One loses the idea 
 of elevation here, and, by comparison with the surrounding 
 wall of mountains, thinks himself near sea-level. It is all 
 a mountain-top. This vast plain is six thousand three 
 hundred and ninety-eight feet above tide-water. 
 
 Lahs- F^?v-gahs is the pronunciation of this word, contrary 
 to the custom of saying " Loss Vaygus." Glo-re-<;?-tah is 
 in Spanish a word which may be construed to mean a pleas- 
 ant place. It is often applied to arbors, latticed summer- 
 houses, etc. 
 
 Las Vegas is reached at 6.45 p. m., and is the supper 
 station. The old town is, as usual, considerably in the 
 background, its peaceful days having gone with those of 
 Trinidad and Albuquerque. One who desires to look for it. 
 
40 Rand, McNallv (S: Co.'s 
 
 must find New Mexico now hidden away in mountain 
 valleys, and at a distance from the lines of travel. 
 
 There is a branch at Las Vegas, of course, but this time not 
 to a coal-mine. Quite the contrary. Six miles up the Gallinas 
 (Gal-j'f'-nas) River, which you may as well know is but a Hen- 
 Creek in plain Spanish, are the celebrated hot springs. There 
 are extensive bath-houses here, a hotel, and several cottages. 
 
 If you stop over here one train and go up to the springs 
 meantime, you can cross the Glorieta range, and go up to 
 Santa Fe, by daylight, catching this same train at Lamy 
 tomorrow. But you will lose twenty-four hours by the 
 operation. Whether any of this distinguished company do 
 this or not, it will never answer to lie over with this narrative, 
 which will answer you just as well tomorrow, and will be 
 found necessary in any event. We will endeavor to catch a 
 glimpse in print of what may not be seen distinctly by 
 reason of having to leave Las Vegas after supper, and 
 in the mountain twilight. Besides, in these regions as 
 elsewhere, there is sometimes a moon, which answers quite 
 as well amid surroundings so romantic. The scenery is 
 not sublime, though it is a pity to call anything like it 
 "pretty," as is usually done when the other term is not 
 quite applicable. 
 
 It is about ten o'clock before the preliminaries of the 
 Cilorietas begin to appear. Off to the left is Starvation 
 Peak, a flat-topped mass of .granite so high and steep and 
 bold that it is a very prominent figure fifty to a hundred 
 miles away. There are always three gigantic cros.ses on tlie 
 summit, except when, as sometimes happens, one or more of 
 them has been blown down. They seem to be maintained 
 there by the custom of the country, and in commemora- 
 tion of the event from which the i)eak is said to derive its 
 
Guide to Southern California. 
 
 41 
 
 not very attractive name. The legend has been related 
 hundreds of times, never twice alike except by collusion, and, 
 with all its variations and versions, is something like this : 
 
 There' were once three hundred (or else three) Mexicans 
 besieged on the top of this rock by Apaches (or else the 
 Apaches were besieged there by the Mexicans), until they all 
 perished by hunger. It occurred in the old times of the con- 
 quest of the country by the real, original, legitimate, imported 
 Spaniards, who were thereby much reduced in spirit and 
 number (or else it was only ^.imgr- 
 
 a few years agp, and within ___ 
 
 the memory of old men now 
 living, who were present). 
 In any event, the tragedy 
 occurred. The reader may 
 miagine that this is an at- 
 tempt to discredit the facts 
 of the case. On the con- 
 trary, it is only a condensa- 
 tion of the story as it has 
 been heard at various times. ' ^= 
 
 Nothing would please the *" "^ '^' " ' '^ "' "^ 
 
 present writer more, under circumstances sufficiently con- 
 vivial, than to make the story to suit himself, as generally is 
 done where there is a train-load of tenderfeet. This is not 
 that kind of a narrative. Whatever the facts, are in detail, 
 they have fastened a name upon the place, and were likely 
 very worthy of commemoration. The proof is very evident ; 
 anybody would starve who tried to stay an indefinite length 
 of tuTie on that rock. 
 
 We have traveled several hundred miles without traversing 
 a forest of pines, or a forest of any kmd. Here are the 
 
42 Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 children of the mountain spreading away in thick undula- 
 tions on either side of the rocky canyon which the train 
 threads, puffing and coughing up a winding grade only a 
 little less steep than that at Raton. Away to the north lie 
 piled the tops of the range ; in summer green, in winter 
 green-and-white. The air is cool, even in midsummer, and 
 at intervals there is a rushing stream. After the summit is 
 reached, where the little hamlet of Glorieta stands listening 
 'to the pines whispering, and has nothing else to listen 
 to, it becomes another case of holding back. Half way 
 down is visible through the trees, and in the valley of the 
 Pecos (Pay-cose), the venerable and massive ruin of a cel- 
 ebrated building known as " Old Pecos Church." AVhen 
 found by modern adventurers it had been roofless so long 
 that there was no tradition as to when it was not so, but the 
 adobe walls, six or eight feet thick, were still standing, and 
 in a surprising state of preservation. The interior was 
 strewn with cedar beams, most of them elaborately carved, 
 all of which have long since been carried away. 
 
 This country has no history. You may guess at all the 
 past. There is evidence that the Pueblos were here at least 
 a thousand years before the Spaniards came, and that they 
 then, as now, lived in towns, and in some cases large cities, 
 and cultivated the soil. In 1536, Cabeza de Vaca (literally 
 " Cow's Head," an aristocratic Spanish name) crossed the 
 country here from east to west, evidently not knowing 
 where he was. In 1539 came another, a priest named Niza 
 (Neesah). In 1540 came Qoronado ("The Crowned," also 
 a family name), and everybody has heard of the expedi- 
 tion which penetrated almost if not cpiite to the Missouri 
 River. In one of these expeditions the extensive settlement 
 whose remains now are visible around this old church. 
 
Guide to Southern California. 
 
 43 
 
 was discovered, and it was evidently built to convert the 
 inhabitants to the Christian faith. The best guess that 
 can be made designates the year 1540 as the time of its 
 erection. 
 
 The ruins around it are more interesting than itself. 
 They have mostly fallen down into long mounds of mingled 
 earth and stones, but were evidently not houses built by 
 
 ^•^ 
 
 
 '/AT, 
 
 When Brum Had It His Own Way 
 
 Spaniards. There is not, so far as 
 known, a single record, or even a tradi- 
 tion, that will enable the curious modern 
 to so much as guess at the date of the disappearance of this 
 community, or the cause of it. 
 
 It is evident that this region was once, and is measurably 
 now, a fine field for hunting. Bears especially, had it not 
 long since quite their own way. This curious plantigrade 
 is, in the veracious narratives of the older generation of 
 hunters, what the fox is in children's stories. Bruin lurks 
 
44 
 
 Rand, McXallv & Co.'s 
 
 here still, but is so shy of modern firearms as seldom to 
 permit himself to become an object of polite curiosity to 
 the modern wanderer in the Glorieta wilds. 
 
 The western t:;n(] of (ilorieta Pass is called Apache Can- 
 yon Theie are ^onie dozens of Apache canyons scattered 
 
 One of the Apache Canyons 
 
 throuiih the Rocky moun- 
 tain retjions. This is one 
 of them. That red devil 
 was, in his prime, very 
 nearly ubicpiitous. Just beside the end 
 of this canyon, and near the track, 
 there is a building that possesses 
 more modern and actual interest than 
 
 the church does. It was the school of a missionary 
 priest named Laniy, now an old man, and present Arch- 
 bishop of Santa Vv. The Indians are gone, and only the 
 
Guide to Southern California. 
 
 45 
 
 brown walls of the little building are standing. This evi- 
 dence of a practical effort, made within half a century, is 
 one that can be appreciated. It is a memento of the times 
 that lately were, .standing deserted beside the iron trail that 
 has modernized all things. 
 
 Lamy, a station reached about midnight by this train, and 
 in the afternoon by the following one, is the junction point 
 for the ancient and still interesting capital of Santa Fe,. 
 eighteen miles northward, and, it may be added, upward. 
 The road to Santa Fe, climbing among pinyon groves, and 
 
 Scene in Rio Grande Valley. 
 
 with a vast mountain landscape on every hand, is one of the 
 most enjoyable excursions possible. 
 
 You will be asleep, but it may be some consolation to you 
 to know that before you awake you will have entered 
 and passed the Rio Grande Valley, with its Pueblo capital 
 of Ysleta (Ees-M'-tah), and an almost continuous procession 
 of Mexican towns, such as Ortiz (Ore-tees, a family name), 
 Los Cerillos (Lose Se-mV-yose. a wax taper, a candle). 
 Rosario (Ro-W/-ree-oh, a rosary), Elota (a feminme name), 
 Algodones (Al-go-.^-nais, cotton ; cotton grounds), Berna- 
 lillo (Bern'l-^^/-yo, little Bernal, a boy's name), Alameda 
 (Ah-lah-OT<7j'-dah, a shaded walk). 
 
46 Rand, McNallv & Co.'s 
 
 You will not imagine — unless again reminded of the fact 
 — that the great war could ever have reached this far. Per- 
 haps the farthest ripple of it was the capture of Santa Fe b)^ 
 the confederates. A little distance north of the station for 
 the old town of San Marcial (San-mar see-a/), was fought 
 the short but bloody battle of Val Verde (Val- Ferday, a 
 green vale). 
 
 At Albuquerque (^/-boo-ker-kee, a family name), you will 
 have arrived at the metropolis of the upper Rio Grande 
 Vallev. There is, as usual, an old town and a new ; the old 
 one being much the more interesting of the two. As, if you 
 continue your journey, you cannot conveniently see either, 
 it may be as well not to indulge in any reminiscences, 
 of which there is full store. The Albuquerque of 1868 
 and the Albuquerque of the electric light are two very 
 different places. To one who remembers sauntering 
 these shady streets securely fastened to a sabre, some 
 sixteen years ago, and who now is in danger of being 
 defeated by the vagaries of a loaded baggage-truck, the 
 difference would fill a book. 
 
 In the night watches, and while there is considerable 
 racket going on outside in which you are i-n no way 
 interested, you will feel them pushing you around, and 
 making connections with you, and getting 3'ou in position 
 for a new start to the westward and the sounding sea. 
 When you awake in the morning it will be barely in time 
 to breakfast at Coolidge, on the western border of New 
 Mexico, and near the Arizona line, at about 8.30 a. m. 
 
 You will have passed in the night, besides the old towns 
 named above, about two hundred and eighty-five miles 
 of the wide, open country, which is a fit beginning for 
 all the leagues to come. 
 
Guide to Southern California. 47 
 
 ARIZONA. 
 
 We cross the line between New Mexico and Arizona at 
 about eleven o'clock a. m., and find ourselves in a region 
 compared to which all we have thus far passed is considera- 
 bly advanced in civilization. Arizona is a region upon 
 which sunrise of the coming time is just breaking ; a scene 
 ot wide pasture lands, vast mountain ranges filled with ores, 
 lava beds that seem to have scorched a fiery course through 
 the valleys in comparatively modern times, arid wastes, 
 rushing streams, pine forests, awful gorges like that of the 
 Grand Canyon, caves, petrified forests, rock-hewn cities ; 
 and all brooded over by the monotony of a vastness that 
 makes the eyes ache and all the senses tired. 
 
 It is also the residence, time immemorial, of savage 
 tribes whose history is in most cases only recently guessed 
 at, and who dilTer widely from each other in life, disposition 
 and habit. In places like Laguna, soon after leaving Albu- 
 querque, and still in New Mexico, the Pueblos are perched 
 upon a sterile hill, finding sustenance apparently in some 
 mysterious product of nature, while Navajoes and kindred 
 tribes, all enemies to these shepherds and farmers who 
 have gathered in spots that seem to be endeared to them 
 by association, come down from their reservations to the 
 stations and stare at the passing' trains. The Moquis, far 
 aloof, seem to have nothing to do with either their farming 
 kindred or with the red men, while the white American, 
 making his little ambitious town amid the solitudes of the 
 desert, is the manifest heir of all. 
 
48 
 
 Rand, McNally &: Co.'s 
 
 McCarty's station, a few miles west of Laguna, and 
 passed unfortunately by this train before breakfast this 
 morning, is twelve miles from the Pueblo village of Acoma, 
 which is, therefore, a quiet and unobtrusive neighbor of 
 Laguna. There is at Acoma, a canyon two or three miles 
 wide, the sides of which are almost perpendicular, and 
 which are descended by zig-zag paths. Three miles still 
 beyond this, where the canyon opens out into a valley, and 
 upon an elevated mass of rock standing isolated in the 
 
 Valley Scenes. 
 
 plain, is the village, about three acres in extent. Excepting 
 upon one side the place is inaccessible, and at this place the 
 stairs or steps are only wide enough for one animal at a 
 tune, and very steep. All about the plain are patches of 
 cultivated ground, and large flocks of sheep and goats are 
 grazing, herded by the children. Some of these animals 
 are driven every night to the top of the rock. There is 
 abundance of water, and of everything, including hospital- 
 ity, and ncitive kindness. It is a castle in the midst of a 
 fertile plain, occupied by a peaceful people who, time imme- 
 
Guide to Southern California. 
 
 49 
 
 morial, have been surrounded by enemies, and who now 
 chng to the place and the habit from association and love 
 of home. They are absolutely independent of all mankind 
 besides. They are the only successful communists. 
 
 A Pueblo, New Mexico. 
 
 Kindly remember, as you pass by on a hurried journey, 
 that Arizona is about as large as 'New York, New Jersey, 
 Pennsylvania, Delaware and Maryland combined. We are 
 not going to see it, the human vision being limited here, as 
 elsewhere, to a few miles. The Atlantic and Pacific rail- 
 road is but two lines of steel and a right of way across this 
 
5° 
 
 Rand, McXallv & Co.'s 
 
 vast territory, and a thing liardly noticeable to a soaring- 
 bird amid the surrounding immensity. 
 
 It is the land of mountams. They begin almost at sea- 
 level in the south-west, and, spreading themselves out in all 
 
 A O I b ttl 
 
 directions, rise to a height of ten thousand feet. They lie 
 sometimes in ranges, but generally in groups and spurs, 
 and some of them, like the San I'rancisfo range, rise out of 
 a surrounding plain to a height of fourteen thousand feet. 
 
Guide to Southern California. 51 
 
 They are apparently all bare, brown and scorched, but are 
 really largely covered with timber and grass, and abounding 
 in water. Some of those you are now looking at from the 
 car-window appear to be gigantic monuments to perpetual 
 desolation. But it is like looking at the moon. It is plain 
 enough, but you cannot precisely tell what is there. In some 
 cases, and more in certain groups than in others, there is a 
 country, a climate, a flora, that, as compared to all you see 
 below, form another and a delightful world. There are in 
 some parts vast plateaux, lying at an elevation of five thou- 
 sand feet or more, and out of which still rise lofty mount- 
 ains, that are covered with fine grasses, and crossed by 
 numerous water-courses. In some places these streams 
 have cut deep gorges and canyons, and in others they have 
 widened out into fertile valleys. 
 
 There will be times during today and tomorrow, when 
 3^ou will know, with a personal and private certainty which 
 you do not propose any guide-book or the stories of any 
 old settler shall cheat you of, that this gigantic panorama of 
 plain, mountain and canyon, blazing with white sunlight, 
 and uninhabited as the sea, is absolutely worthless for all 
 the purposes of human occupancy. But it is too early by at 
 least fifty years to say that, and in all probability you are 
 mistaken. Here and there in various places the remains of 
 the old Aztec or Toltec water-ways are still visible amid cac- 
 tus and rock and sage. Under a higher civilization than 
 Arizona will know again in many years to come, there were 
 hundreds of thousands of acres of fruitful land. It was never, 
 and will never be all so ; mountains are not tillable, but the 
 soil is inhabitable and highly productive in many places that 
 have long been abandoned to the coyote and the sage-hen, and 
 are all the more desolate from having been once inhabited. 
 
52 
 
 Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 In the Salt River Valley, in the neighborhood of the 
 town of Phoenix, there is a canal that furnishes more water 
 than is furnished by all the canals in Southern California. 
 It has been lately finished, and maybe regarded as a revival 
 of ancient times rather than a new thing. A hundred 
 thousand acres have already been placed under cultiva- 
 tion by it, that was desert previously, and this is but a 
 beginning. 
 
 In Arizona the great record of the primeval world lies 
 open, with the story of the ages upon its pages. It was 
 once a Paleozoic sea, on 
 whose waters no ship ever 
 sailed, whose shores no man 
 ever trod. You will note the 
 erosion of the cliffs, and the 
 deep marks left by the restless 
 waves. 
 
 At the station ten miles west 
 of Coolidge, called Wingate, 
 you can see to the southward 
 and ten miles away the white 
 tents and brown buildings 
 of Fort AVingate. Promi- 
 nently in view, near 
 the post, stands a 
 mass of rock known 
 as " Navajo Church," 
 from its form and 
 
 i^'iyj^ Water Worn Rocks. 
 
 Forty-five miles south of this point is Zufii, already very 
 fully described by Cushing and others. 
 
 Holbrook is reached at 1.30 p. m., and is the' only 
 
Guide to Southern California. 
 
 53 
 
 The Cliff Dwellings, Arizona 
 
54 Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 opportunity presented for dinner. We are here one thousand 
 one hundred and seventy-one miles west of Kansas City. 
 
 Sixty miles further west the train dashes over that hideous 
 gash in nature called Canyon Diablo (Devil Canyon). It is 
 two hundred and twenty-two feet in depth, and spanned by 
 an iron bridge five hundred and forty feet long. 
 
 We now enter a fine country of pine forest, open glades 
 and green grass, and at six o'clock reach Flagstaff, a 
 place of large lumber interests, though as yet but a village. 
 Eight miles south-east of here are the famous cliff-dwellings. 
 They occupy the walls on both sides of an enormous 
 canyon, and are extensive enough to have sheltered the 
 population of a large city. The dwellings are built in 
 a space between two strata of hard rock, where the softer 
 portion had crumbled and fallen out. They are about half 
 way between the top and bottom of the canyon. No one 
 knows who occupied these dwellings, where they came from, 
 whither they have gone, or how long ago. Enough of their 
 relics have been found to indicate their habits and occupa- 
 tions ; such as remains of woven fabrics, spindle-wheels, 
 pottery, a sandal of yucca fibre, a cushion for bearing 
 bundles on the head, timber that had been cut with a stone 
 axe, etc. On the plains, not far off, are extensive remains 
 of other dwellings. All the articles found are in use among 
 the Pueblos now. This Pueblo, Aztec, Toltec, Mound- 
 Builder, or whatever he' is, is the most interesting human 
 enigma now known ; an unconcerned sphinx that nobody 
 seems to be able even to intelligently guess at. 
 
 The scenery around Flagstaff is attractive. A drive that 
 will soon be taken every season by many travelers is from 
 Flagstaff to the Grand Canyon of the Colorado, about forty 
 miles. By this drive the canyon is accessible during the 
 
OriDK vo Southern California. 
 
 55 
 
 Scene .n {h.r danif Canyon. 
 
 s u m m e r, and 
 one of the most 
 magnificent of 
 the freaks of 
 nature becomes 
 the object of a 
 pic-nic excur- 
 sion. Why the 
 enterprise has 
 n o t a 1 r e a d y 
 been put upon 
 a regular and 
 convenient 
 footing, so that 
 visitors could 
 be carried to 
 the C a n y o n 
 w i t h o u t a n y 
 delay or uncer- 
 tainty, it is diffi- 
 cult to sa}-. 
 
 About eight 
 miles south of 
 the little station 
 called Carrizo, 
 lie the petri- 
 fied or silicified 
 trees. The 
 space covered 
 by this curious 
 forest is about 
 <) n e thousand 
 
56 Rand, McNallv c^' Co.'s 
 
 acres. Every color found in nature or the arts is reproduced 
 in these agatized tree-trunks. Those that measure five to 
 ten feet in diameter he about in profusion, and some are one 
 hundred and fifty feet long. The wood represents when 
 polished the colors of jasper, chalcedony, onyx, ruby, car- 
 buncle, opal, amethyst, pigeon's blood, azurite, malachite, 
 etc. They occur on a layer of sandstone, which rests on 
 volcanic ash. The trees are principally exposed where the 
 sandstone has been washed away. 
 
 There is a natural bridge, consisting of a solidified tree, 
 spanning a canyon forty-five feet deep and sixty-four feet 
 wide. 
 
 Wild as all this region is now, it bids fair to become in- 
 tensely American in the course of time. In all these road- 
 side villages everybody has an eye to business. Mines, 
 cattle, country merchandise, even newspapers, are engrossing 
 items. The curious geniuses the frontier produces are in 
 these little villages as they were furthef east some twenty 
 years ago. A humor alternately wicked and grotesque per- 
 vades almost all they do and say. At one station you will 
 notice a saloon called in big letters " The Y. M. C. A."; mean- 
 ing You May Call Again, or Young Men's Christian Asso- 
 ciation, whichever you please. There is a newspaper called 
 the "Calico Print," and a mining district called the Calico 
 district. There is, as everybody knows, a town called Con- 
 tention, and another named Tombstone, and at the last is 
 published a very good newspaper called the Tombstone 
 " Epitaph." At Winslo\\'', passed during the afternoon, a 
 merchant announces in a handbill freely distributed, that he 
 " is prepared to give the people of Winslow and vicinity the 
 Damndest Bargain ever heard of in this part of the World." 
 He further announces that he "Carries A Hell of an Assort- 
 
Guide to Soujhern California. 
 
 57 
 
58 
 
 Rand, McNallv cK: Co.'s 
 
 
 ment of Goods," and that "you can bet your Bottom Dollar 
 
 he will treat you Square" 
 if you come around with 
 the intention of trading. 
 All the same, there is no 
 assurance in all this that 
 this gentleman does not 
 go to church if there be 
 one, or that he is any 
 worse than other men 
 are. A great railroad 
 penetrating the wilder- 
 ness considerably to the 
 east of here, once an- 
 nounced in its adver- 
 tisements that what is 
 "called" the "Ciarden 
 of the Ciods" really be- 
 longed to it ; "there 
 being no God to speak 
 of west of Dodge City," 
 — a piece of ribaldry 
 that would have struck 
 you more forcibly per- 
 haps in the immediate 
 neighborhood of the last 
 named place at that 
 time, 
 l-'s We retire in Arizona, 
 1 and are destined to 
 '■^ breakfast in California. 
 Arizona Belle. It is aluiost impossible 
 
 
 V u 
 
Guide to Southern California. 59 
 
 when darkness and silence have shut in the wilderness, to 
 lie and listen to the ring of the wheel upon the rail, and not 
 wonder at the boldness of modern enterprise in causing so 
 incongruous a thing as a railroad train to dash across these 
 primeval silences, and awake echoes that should have been 
 for all time sacred to the memory of perished races and the 
 sacredness of ante-diluvian shrines. 
 
 At 7.30 A. M. we reach "The Needles," at or very near 
 the junction-point of Arizona, Nevada and California. 
 This curious name arises from the appearance of some 
 steep mountain peaks near the place. It is a breakfast 
 station and a curious gathering of railroad buildings, little 
 stores, railroad men, miners, and the original and unwashed 
 Yuma Indians. Sometimes the wickiups of these stand in 
 the swamp at or near the river on the eastern side, and the 
 denizens of them may be seen as the train passes, before 
 their morning toilets have been made. You will not miss 
 them, however, as it will be a considerably colder day than 
 they are accustomed to in that climate if a dozen or so of 
 them are not on hand in the village when the train stops. 
 
6o Rand, McNallv & Co.'s 
 
 SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA. 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 The rugged gate of The Needles is a very unprepossess- 
 ing entrance to the Golden State. We have before us now 
 a long day of what is called the desert. By a peculiar dis- 
 pensation of Providence, each trans-continental line crosses 
 one or more of these, some better, some worse, and this 
 undoubtedly the best and easiest of all. It is not necessary 
 to believe that clouds of sand will drift with the. wind, or 
 that the heat has any stifling qualities. Many a journey 
 between Saint Louis and Chicago has both more heat and 
 more dust in it. It is simply about one hundred and fifty- 
 eight miles (two hundred and forty to Mojave) of rock, 
 cactus, sunshine, and absolute silence. Save where at inter- 
 vals a little settlement has sprung up beside water, there 
 seems to be no inhabitant of earth or air. The thickest of 
 the stunted herbage is called sage, and, seeming to be always 
 dead, it covers a soil that is not soil but concrete. The 
 roadbed is one of the smoothest and most enduring ever 
 made. The region oppresses while it interests you. Vast 
 mountains lie all around. Gaunt cacti sway and nod in the 
 breeze. Forests of yucca palm are encountered at inter- 
 vals, some day all to be cut down and hauled away for the 
 manufacture of paper. Otcasionally a jackass rabbit lays 
 his long ears down and makes a gray streak of himself as 
 he departs to some locality where there are fewer mysteri- 
 ous rumblings and less smoke. The effect of the sunshine 
 is something like that of the electric light ; shadows intensely 
 
Guide to S<3uthern California. 
 
 6i 
 
 black, lights correspondingly brilliant. The scene is not 
 wanting in its peculiar charm, but it lacks only sand and a 
 string of camels, instead of the interior of a palace-car, to 
 give you all that sense of solitude, that feeling of the 
 danger of being lost, the pilgrim to Mecca has as he treads 
 the lonely reaches of the Sahara. 
 
 Daggett, reached at 3.10 p. m., is the dining-station. This 
 will be, in all probability, changed 
 to \\ aterman before this shall be in 
 prmt, as the latter is the station 
 horn which you turn southward to 
 ban Diego. 
 
 Scene in Southeastern 
 California. 
 
 Here our westward journey ends, one thousand six hun- 
 dred and fifty-two miles from Kansas City. 
 
 If you are destined for San Francisco direct, you do not 
 turn southward at Waterman, -but continue the journey 
 westward by way of Mojave, seventy-three miles further, 
 and arrive at Oakland pier at 10.40 p. m. the following 
 morning, — four days, precisely, from Kansas City. 
 
 The Sierra Madre (See-^v-rah A/ad-vdy) mountains, a part 
 
62 Rand, McNallv ^: Co.'s 
 
 of which is also called the San Bernardino range, lies between 
 you and the San Gabriel Valley, the entrance to which 
 is through a canyon called Cajon (Cah-hone, " box " ) Pass, 
 the southern outlet of which is a few miles north of the 
 village of San Bernardino. 
 
 From Waterman to Colton the distance is eighty-four 
 miles. 
 
 Near the end of this short ride all that is distinctive 
 of Southern California opens to the traveler. Like a 
 gigantic isothermal wall, the Sierra Madre range cuts off all 
 there is of the characteristic northern changefulness, and 
 the northern cold. Barrenness suddenly gives place to the 
 beginnings of orange groves, and the signs that everywhere 
 mark a new idea in agriculture. Where the Cajon Pass 
 opens into the valley the object of your journey begins. 
 
 This country is new in the sense that it has only attracted 
 attention and emigration during the last dozen years, or, 
 in some portions, a little earlier. It is very old in the 
 fact that it was the first locality occupied by the civilization 
 of southern Europe on what is now American soil. 
 
 A brief glance at its history may not be uninteresting, 
 though it be merely a look at those sleepy years when all the 
 life of Southern California was made as much as possible 
 like that of Spain, and beneath the smiles of a climate to 
 which even that of Spain offers only a resemblance. 
 
 To begin at the beginning, the Bay of San Diego was 
 discovered in the month of September, 1542 (December 
 21st, 1620, being the date of the landing of the Pilgrims), by 
 a Portuguese in the service of Spain named Cabrillo (Cab- 
 reel-yo, little goat, kid). 
 
 For fifty years no result followed this important find 
 of the finest harbor but one on the Pacific coast. But 
 
Guide to Southern California. 
 
 63 
 
 ||Pf|piiil|i|ll|i5'li'^ 
 
64 Rand, McNallv & Co.'s 
 
 during that interval Sir Francis Drake, whom the Spanish 
 historians of those times with one consent denominate 
 "a pirate," found his way into this bay, "and committed 
 such atrocities," including the naming of the place " New 
 Albion," that the then King of Spain, Philip II., gave 
 orders to fortify it and other accessible places near the 
 sea. 
 
 A'izciano (Bis-ke-^i'//-no, — a man from Biscay), came there 
 for this purpose, arriving on November loth, 1602. This 
 was the first step taken in the actual occupancy of California 
 by white men. The place was named San Diego, — it had to 
 be San or Santa something, — which is the same as St. 
 lames, or James, whose name is and has been for hundreds 
 of years the Spanish war-cry, and whose " day " is the T2th 
 of November, the date of the survey of the bay by Vizciano. 
 From that day what they called "alta" California, being 
 now known to us by a precisely opposite designation, was 
 considered by the Spaniards to be theirs, without boundary 
 or limit east or north. As usual, the)' did not know what 
 they had, either commercially or in a geographical sense. 
 
 But affairs moved very slowly in those days, and it was 
 not until July ist, 1769, a date which carries us along nearly 
 to the time of our Revolutionary war, that one of the most 
 remarkable men of those times, a Franciscan friar named 
 [unipero Serra (Hu-////'-a-ro Ser-zv?//), with his companions, 
 came to San Diego to establish a mission. It is very easy 
 to say they came, but the details show that they had an 
 awfully difficult time of it, and some who started never got 
 there at all. As usual, the soldier antl the priest came to- 
 gether, and camped upon a desolate shore to leave results 
 that have not yet (juite departed. This was therefore the 
 spot where civilization was begun. It is also entitled to the 
 
Guide to Southern Calieoknia. 
 
 65 
 
 honor of being the initial point of the second and more 
 available civilization which was to follow, for in 1846, Com- 
 modore Stockton entered the harbor with the frigate Con- 
 gress, and proceeded to take in the curious earthworks now 
 to be seen on the hill above Old Town, which since then 
 have been called Fort Stockton. He did not build these 
 works, as is often supposed. 
 
 Meantime, from August 6th, 1846, to the 2nd of Decem- 
 ber of the same year, had been passed by what we should 
 
 Old California Hacienda. 
 
 now consider a squad of men, but which then made up for 
 lack of numbers by calling itself the " Army of the West," 
 in marching from the banks of the Missouri to a pass upon 
 what is now known as Warner's Ranch, in San Diego county. 
 There they were met on December 6th by the Mexican 
 force, and the bloody little battle of San Pascual {?as(/i/a/) 
 was fought. It was a victory for the " invaders," but it cost 
 the lives of nineteen officers and men, only two of whom 
 
66 Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 were killed by firearms, the remainder having been lanced. 
 They were buried together where they fell, as an account 
 by one of the actors in the affair states, " under a willow 
 near the field." If there is not a national cemetery in this 
 remote corner of our dominion it would seem that there 
 ought to be. 
 
 Among the little command who afterwards continued the 
 march to San Diego and a junction with Stockton, were 
 several persons who afterwards achieved more or less dis- 
 tinction. There was Beale, afterwards minister to Aus- 
 tria : " Kit " Carson, a scout and a fighter to the day of his 
 death : and Lieutenant, afterwards Cieneral, Emory. 
 
 The Mission of San Diego was the mother of. all the rest, 
 of which there were afterwards many scattered over Alta 
 California, and as far north as San Francisco. Fifty years 
 after the establishment of this, there were twenty-one of 
 them, and though in many cases they were fifty miles apart, 
 their boundaries joined. In short, they occupied the land. 
 In 1825, when the Si^anish rule had already been broken in 
 Mexico, and the missions were rapidly decaying, they owned 
 1,200,000 head of cattle, more than 100,000 horses, 12,000 
 to 15.000 mules, 100,000 head of sheep, and innumerable 
 hogs. They had not less than one million dollars in coin 
 and bullion, to say nothing of treasures in the form of gold 
 and silver statues, crucifixes, and other church ornaments. 
 Thev carried on a large and lucrative trade in foreign ships 
 in hides, horns and tallow. For it was then, and would be 
 now but for the fact that land is more valuable for other 
 products, the finest cattle-country of which any knowledge 
 exists. About 1820 this religio-commercial arrangement 
 had reached the point of being the greatest agricultural or 
 pastoral hierarchy the world has ever seen. The beginnings 
 
Guide to Southern California. 67 
 
 had been purely missionary enterprises, entered into in 
 peril and good faith. Surrounded by limitless sea and land, 
 with every means at hand for unhindered accumulation, 
 priest and alcalde had alike yielded to their surroundings. 
 There were at that date twenty thousand "christianized," 
 /. r., enslaved, Indians in and about the missions, whose sole 
 occupation was that of agricultural laborers and servants. 
 They were under strict discipline, and were flogged and 
 tortured into willingness. Besides these there were a 
 hundred thousand wild Indians, to whose souls or bod- 
 ies no attention was paid whatever. For half a century 
 or more, the Spaniards who owned Southern California 
 had every inducement to become the idlest, proudest, most 
 independent and wealthy provincials on the face of the 
 earth. 
 
 And they were. You may see the remains of it wherever 
 you meet a son of the soil. Conversation with the elders 
 of them will convince you of a vain regret that the old 
 times did not stay, and that the change that ought to have 
 made a millionaire of every holder of a grant, and that 
 changed an unknown province into one of the great States 
 of the Union, was a most unfortunate one for " us." These 
 first families have a bearing that makes one privately smile, 
 and, strangely enough after so long a time, retain about all 
 the traditional Spanish moods, gaits, hauteur and arrogance. 
 Sometimes there is an evident admixture of blood, though 
 not often. The old Spaniard was not addicted to actual 
 matrimony with his slaves. 
 
 But when the change began it came rapidly enough. 
 Already in 1845, five thousand persons had crossed the 
 plains into CaUfornia, having made a jcnirney a good deal 
 longer and harder than that mentioned in these pages. It 
 
68 
 
 Rand, McNallv & Co.'s 
 
 will be recalled that Captain Donner and his party perished 
 in a snow-storm in 1846. Already in October, 1842, Com- 
 modore T'^"es, imac^ininc; that the'"e was a war between the 
 United St ite^ md Mcnko 01 tint it there was not 
 
 One of the Wild Ones. 
 
 there ought to be, captured the port of Monterey, the 
 Spanish capital, and the next day gave it back again 
 with apologies. However, in July, 1846, Commodore Stock- 
 
Guide to Southern California. 6g 
 
 ton took possession of it again, and it has not been returned 
 or apologized for to this writing. 
 
 Life in "Alta Cahfornia " (the Spaniards never got further 
 north than San Francisco) in the old mission times is dimly 
 indicated by the country and climate, which are the only 
 features that remain unchanged. An air that is warm vet 
 bracing and a sky that never frowns, no vicissitudes and 
 terrors, no winter and no snow, were strong incentives to 
 hundreds of leagues of pasture, to orange and olive trees, to 
 huge adobe houses with thick walls, and big doors, and long 
 porches, and sunny courts, to life on horseback and in the open 
 air, to the dispensing of hospitality and the general enjoyment 
 of easily-earned wealth. The Indians who had been en- 
 slaved in the name of piety were his. No Spaniard in 
 California ever worked, no matter how poor. The con- 
 sequence was that an aristocracy grew up here, the patent 
 to which consisted only in being natives of California. 
 They owned all the surroundings of a narrow and pro- 
 vincial magnificence. Their womenfolk were sprightly and 
 handsome, frivolous and pious, after the manner of their 
 great-great-grandmothers in Castile, whom they had never 
 heard of. 
 
 They imagined they had all this sunny world to them- 
 selves, and were born and died in it, secure and content. 
 They had forgotten Spain practically, and called themselves 
 Mexicans only because it was necessary to be something. 
 They cared not much for that far-away power, nor for any 
 other. They never anticipated'the destiny in store for them 
 at the hands of the republic whose existence they only knew 
 of from "around the Horn," and were at last very easily 
 taken in, considering their occupancy and their resources. 
 The country was full of cattle, but that "Army of the West," 
 
7° 
 
 Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 whose heroes Ue at San Pascual, ate a good deal of mule- 
 steak before they reached San Diego. 
 
 After the episode at Sutter's Mill, California filled very 
 rapidly. The new era had begun. But the American 
 occupation tended northward entirely. This remained, in 
 the public estimation, pretty much all desert. A few years 
 ago the results of agricultural experiments began to demon- 
 strate the wisdom of the Spaniard's choice. Southern 
 California is at present attracting more attention than any 
 other country of equal size anywhere in our domain. It 
 is the land of surprises, but its chiefest miracles are yet to 
 be wrought. 
 
Guide to Southern California. 71 
 
 SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA. 
 
 NOW. 
 
 Coming out at the southern end of Cajon Pass, we reach 
 San Bernardino, in the huge county of the same name. 
 West and east of it lies the wide extent of the San Gabriel 
 (San Gah-bve-ale) Valley. The old mission and village of 
 San Gabriel is seventy-five miles to the westward, and eight 
 miles east of Los Angeles (locally pronounced Lose A//g\e-es; 
 Span., Lahs .4//helais, or Lose ^;/helose, accordingly as 
 the angel spoken of is masculine or of the gentler sex), the 
 largest and finest town of Southern California so far, and a 
 place of considerable importance in the old days. 
 
 San Bernardino is four miles north of Colton, which is the 
 crossing of the California Southern and the Southern Pacific 
 roads. It lies near to the eastern end of the best part of 
 the valley, and the stretch of country to the west of it, and 
 as far as Los Angeles, is mostly fertile. 
 
 Colton is proclaimed to be an entirely modern place by 
 its name, there being no prefix of sacredness attached to it, 
 a very unusual thing in this valley. It has considerable 
 local trade, and is on or near the Santa Ana river. Crossing 
 the track of the Southern Pacific on our way southward, in 
 about SIX miles we come to the station for Riverside. 
 
 The town itself lies about four. miles from the main line, 
 and a road is projected, or already building to it. No visitor 
 to Southern California should be deterred from visiting this 
 remarkable place, which stands as a model for all the pos- 
 sibilities of. the country. It is a wonderful combination of 
 
;>VV -Rand, 'McNally <t O:. Z.iyr'j, Chicago. 
 
 (72) 
 
Guide to Southern California. 
 
 73 
 
 the results of climate, fertility, water and the application of 
 human industry. Before you reach the town,— if that can 
 be called a town where a luxuriant growth of orange, lime, 
 ohve, apricot, walnut and other fruit trees, combined with 
 cypress, palm, and other ornamental growths, form so dense 
 a mass on all sides that you cannot see under, over, or 
 through them,— a wide canal bank full of swift and clear 
 
 Orange Orchard 
 
 water attracts the eye. In former times it ran away into 
 some canyon, and left all the country beside it what it seems 
 to be without cultivation, a desert. You may drive through 
 these dense avenues for a day or two, with a guide, of 
 course, for it is as easy to get lost in the luxuriant maze as 
 it would be in an entirely strange city, and you see this 
 
74 Rand, McNallv & Co.'s 
 
 stream of water everywhere. But it is a trained and most 
 docile current, and is made to obey fairly and ecjuitably all 
 the behests of a fruit-laden and flower-garlanded com- 
 munity, and to meander over every man's orchard without 
 flurry and without waste. The " town " contains some seven 
 thousand acres of this kind of thing, and each block con- 
 tains a house ; sometimes a cottage, sometimes an elegant 
 mansion. The roads are called, and very justly, " avenues," 
 and some of them are underrated by the name of streets. 
 
 It is a scene intensely interesting, not to say curious. It 
 is as luxuriant as any nook in Hesperides, but it is not pic- 
 turesque. Its beauty, notwithstanding it is largely com- 
 posed of the richest fruits of any clime, is industrial. None 
 of the vagaries of nature are permitted, and the tourist will 
 conclude that it is the loveliest and most artificial spot on 
 earth. There is not a dark patch on any tree. There is not 
 a single, solitary, lone, despised weed in the whole place. 
 There is a beautiful wide avenue that is lined on either hand 
 for many miles with cypress, palm, and luxuriant ornamental 
 growths, compared with which any Floridian imitation would 
 be mere pretense, and which cannot be equalled, even on a 
 small scale, in any green-house even so far north as San 
 Francisco. But there is no sod. Every orange orchard is as 
 clean and bare and brown as an onion bed in the Bermudas. 
 
 And it is not yet nearly finished. "Where a single ravine 
 breaks the surface through the middle of the town they are 
 terracing it, and in a year or two there will be no waste 
 place for variety, and there will be no garden in Christendom 
 that can ecjual Riverside. 
 
 The valley of the Santa Ana where Riverside stands has 
 an elevation of something less than eight hundred feet. It 
 is surrounded at greater or less distance by frowning, bare. 
 
Guide to Southern California. 75 
 
 bald, brown mountains, that in winter are often white with 
 snow, and stand in striking contrast with the brightness of 
 this oasis of fruits and flowers nestled in their midst. 
 
 You would think it would be warm. On the contrary, 
 Riverside is a summer resort, and a winter one too. The 
 roof of the balcony around the pretty and clean Glenwood 
 hotel is cut away in sections to let the sunshine in. 
 
 All the year through the wind sighs among the thick 
 green leaves, all the year there is the babble of running- 
 water and the blooming of roses, while phenomenal grape- 
 vines grow bigger and bigger, and the inhabitants forget 
 even the traditions of that climate where nine in ten of 
 them were born, and gradually grow to believe that the 
 original Eden was located here, and almost say so. 
 
 From Riverside we take the train southward through the 
 Coast Range to San Diego. We shall return this way to go 
 to Los Angeles and the western end of the valley. It is more 
 convenient to follow the original course of our journey to 
 the coast, and to take the localities southward as they come. 
 
 It is about eighty miles from Colton to San Diego, the 
 crookedness of the track being added to this distance. 
 For two or three hours out of the valley it is a steady climb, 
 up to the Temecula canyon, through which we cross the 
 Coast Range. We begin now to encounter a queer mixture of 
 American, Spanish and English names, possibly with a slight 
 sprinkling of Indian. Nobody seems to know the signifi- 
 cance of most of them. However, Pinicate (Pee-nah-^v^/^-te), 
 a name at the top of the grade, means "little pines." Do 
 not do likewise if you hear anybody saying Pinny-kate. In 
 fine, if you wish to return to your native heath with all the 
 particularities of the geography of Southern California by the 
 rim, as it were, remember that in Spanish and Indian words 
 
76 
 
 Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 A Nook in the Canyon. 
 
Guide to Southern California. 77 
 
 every syllable is pronounced, and every two or more letters 
 make a syllable. For this lesson there is no extra charge. 
 
 It is nearly or quite twenty-five miles through Temecula 
 canyon. But there are no tunnels, nor anything to interfere 
 with your enjoyment of a charming piece of mountain 
 scenery. You will observe that vegetation the world over 
 has a language of its own, and that between this and that 
 growing north of the Sierra Madre there is a great contrast. 
 Live oaks, trees of beautiful foliage and form, begin to be 
 common, and shrubs of the laurel family appear in groups 
 and copses. 
 
 Just beyond Pinicate you are surprised at the appearance 
 of a sheet of water beside the track, and seeming to be 
 of considerable extent. It is, however, not a strikingly 
 romantic spot, and you cannot quite assure yourself that it 
 does not go dry, though it does not, according to report. 
 Here is what they call Elsinore, of which it is proposed to 
 make a mountain metropolis. The Spanish name for this 
 beautiful sheet of water, with a saint as a prefix, had been 
 mislaid when the present settlers arrived. 
 
 Every niche in the rocks, every rocky corner of a canyon, 
 takes upon itself as nearly as possible the semblance of 
 Eden, — after the fall, of course. After the gorge begins to 
 widen, becoming thereafter Santa Margarita canyon, you 
 come upon the little station of Fall Brook. The exigencies 
 of a through time-card may have since deprived it of that 
 distinction, but it was a dining-station. It is a little three- 
 cornered plateau, filled with fruit-trees and vines, and 
 presided over by three young women, who also seem, 
 between meals, to manage a telegraph instrument. 
 
 The village and settlement of Fall Brook lies back of this 
 some three or four miles. 
 
78 Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 It may be well to insert here a remark of which Fall 
 Brook is a text. In all mountain countries, and especially 
 in this region, one cannot tell what kind of country may 
 lie behind an intervening ridge. The country is made up of 
 ridges and corresponding valleys. As a rule all the higher 
 points are agriculturally almost useless, and all the valleys 
 more or less fruitful, sometimes to the degree that Riverside 
 and others are. Between these two extremes lie what are 
 called the mesa (may-sah) lands, upon which the future 
 of Southern California largely depends. The original idea 
 that irrigation is absolutely necessary to success in all crops, 
 has largely given way under experience and experiment. 
 Of these successful experiments there are hundreds in San 
 Diego county. You may see some of them beside the track 
 before you reach the bay. 
 
 A few miles south of Fall Brook station you enter a scene 
 that brings strongly to mind the old California days. The 
 canyon has opened into a valley, and beside the track lies 
 the Rancho of Santa Margarita de las Flores (Saint Mar- 
 garet of the Flowers). There is a very substantial barbed 
 wire fence, which is a terrible innovation, but inside of this, 
 and lounging and ruminating in groups in dells and canyons, 
 are large numbers of wonderfully sleek and comfortable 
 cattle. They are not of the shank-and-horn variety, either. 
 
 To the left lie the rancho buildings, old, shady, beside a 
 running stream, and giving every evidence of old-fashioned 
 comfort and independence. I do not know how many 
 thousand acres are included in this princely inheritance, but 
 there are enough to satisfy any man who does not want the 
 earth. The place at present belongs to one of the California 
 millionaires, who does not need it. 
 
 If for some hours you have been observing a change 
 
Guide to Southkkx CAUKcmNiA. 
 
 79 
 
8o Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 in the character (if the surrountling ozone, it is not a matter 
 of surprise. It is the breath of the sea, and very soon it 
 breaks upon you,— the endless leagues of the Pacific, per- 
 haps idly basking in the sunshine as placid as a pond, 
 perhaps breaking upon the low rocks of the shore with 
 a roar that can be heard far up the valley. 
 
 From the mouth of Santa Margarita Valley to San Diego, 
 some twenty-five miles, the track lies beside the sea. There 
 are some Titanic slices from the sides of hills, where curious 
 strata of round stones lie between layers of rock. In two 
 or three places there are dykes across inlets, of the same 
 material, and so straight and so evenly laid that at first you 
 are sure they were placed there by the hand of man, instead 
 of by wind and tide and torrent. 
 
 We pass the old missions of San Luis Rey (St. Louis the 
 King) and San Juan Capistrano (provincial Spanish ; as 
 nearly as anything, St. John the Chanter). The first of 
 these is not far from the track ; the last named is a few 
 miles to the northward. 
 
 Oceanside is a new beginning, facing a long stretch of 
 sand-beach and rollers. It is designed to be one of the 
 watering-places of the future, and the dream is by no means 
 an impossible one. It is chiefly interesting at present as 
 showing from the car-windows a remarkable growth of 
 young trees and vines without irrigation. This at present 
 very small matter is one of great interest in the near future, 
 as has been mentioned on a preceding page. 
 
 Indeed, all vegetation on this sea-bluff is somewhat sur- 
 prising to the stranger who is impressed with the idea that 
 nothing can be grown in the country without irrigation. 
 Some of it is entirely new to a tourist from the States, being 
 composed of tiny jilants growing in clumps and matted 
 
Guide ro Southern California. 8r 
 
 beds. Most of them upon closer inspection are found to be 
 beautiful little things. There are acres of dew, or ice- 
 plant, its leaves covered with minute globules of clear 
 licjuid, bearing a brilliant red flower, and afterwards a fruit 
 which looks something like a large green currant. 
 
 The " sage," of which two or three varieties are on all the 
 hills, is the bee-feed of the country, out of which, in some 
 in.stances, fortunes have been made. Clinging to a name 
 which is dear to the Californian heart, and which is one of 
 the legacies of the Spanish occupancy, they call the nooks 
 and corners that are devoted to the raising of this curious 
 
 cattle "bee-ranches." 
 
 * 
 
 As the sun sinks low in the west, a scene suddenly pre- 
 sents itself that carries one back about a century. It is the 
 old town of San Diego. Standing east of the track a 
 cjuarter of a mile or so, it looks ancient, quiet and some- 
 what shabby. An occasional tile roof, and some long, low, 
 rambling porches, are strong reminders of the times when 
 all that now is was undreamed of, and the only com- 
 munication with the outer world was when at long intervals 
 some Boston vessel swung slowly to her anchor in the 
 shining harbor, and her boats filled with sailors who had 
 rounded the Horn came ashore to fill up on the beverages 
 of the country, and to take off hides. 
 
 Some little brown-faced boys are very apt to run out and 
 cling to the hinder end of the train. With the precocity of 
 the youth of every age and country, they have not neglected 
 to " catch on " to this amusement.. An occasional accident 
 will attest in time that they are not exceptions to a rule that 
 will work both ways, and their friends will be left to console 
 themselves with the reflection that they, like the rest of 
 their countrymen, are victims of the new civilization. 
 
 6 
 
82 Raxi), McNallv & Co.'s 
 
 SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA. 
 
 SAN DIEGO. 
 
 As a coast town possessing many natural advantages 
 which in the course of time are destined to be utilized, and 
 as the capital and centre of the most unique and extraor- 
 dinary climate of the world, San Diego is given a chapter 
 for itself. The town here spoken of and which is meant 
 whenever the name is used by any one, dates only from 
 1867, and was the conception of a man still living there, 
 Mr. A. E. Horton. San Diego proper is the old place men- 
 tioned above. That place is a hundred years old, and a 
 nest of reminiscences and memories. 
 
 Previous to the date mentioned, the site of the present 
 pretty town was a sage-grown sheep-pasture. Mr. Horton 
 purchased it at something less than fifty cents per acre. 
 Within three years thereafter there was a population of 
 about three thousand, which would be doing very well even 
 for an average Kansas "city." About that time the project 
 of a Southern Pacific railroad was revived, and San Diego 
 was to be the western terminus. In 1872 the late Mr. 
 Thomas A. vScott, accompanied by several distinguished 
 financiers, paid the young jilace a visit. This visit, and the 
 assurances then given, rendered this railroad project a cer- 
 tainty in the minds of everybody interested, and San Diego 
 retired that memorable night an assured rival of San 
 Francisco, and for some time thereafter the citizens were 
 engaged in the industry of acquiring all the real estate 
 possible. But, in the vernacular, the thing did not "pan 
 
Guide to Southern California. 
 
84 Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 out." The railway was not built according to the declared 
 intentions of ~Mr. Scott, and with remarkable pertinacity in 
 a good cause, the citizens sat down in their sunshine, and 
 held on to their acquirements, to wait for the next boom. 
 The stranger need not be surprised if he finds an unusually 
 large number of the citizens engaged in the real-estate 
 business, and at prices that give the stranger pause. For 
 in this matter, Scott's visit was in the nature of a self- 
 registering thermometer, that has got itself stuck fast at an 
 altitude considerably higher than the latitude and the gen- 
 eral habits of weather seem to warrant. 
 
 The first occupation of a stranger in any part of the 
 world is to be interested. But while San Diego does not 
 lack historical interest, the citizens do not seem to know or 
 care greatly about that part of it, and are not interested in 
 old times. What they especially want is new times, and 
 they are not to be criticised for a very apparent desire to be 
 continually shunting you off on to that subject. It is 
 destined to become one of the great health-resorts of this 
 country, and the attempt to introduce such historical facts 
 of interest as were attainable in this chapter, is for the pur- 
 pose of saving the transient visitor the trouble of local 
 enquiry, with the annoyance of looking for sources of 
 information not always at hand, and of possible misinforma- 
 tion, not intended, but inevitable in any part of the world. 
 What nine strangers in ten desire to do, is to enjoy a 
 climate the most delicious in the world, to rest, to loaf, if 
 that term more accurately describes it, to find out all the 
 places of interest that are accessible without too much 
 trouble, and finally, if the inducements of the place or the 
 locality impress them, as they inevitably will in hundreds of 
 cases, to investigate with a view to investment. In the 
 
Guide to Southern California. 85 
 
 majority of cases, as is perfectly natural and as he intended in 
 the beginning, the visitor goes away again with the intention 
 of returning when leisure permits or health demands, having 
 thoroughly enjoyed himself, but wondering what there was 
 in his personal appearance that should have induced so 
 many of his fellow creatures to imagine that he had a private 
 intention of purchasing the place. 
 
 As a place of beginning, interest largely centres in the 
 Old Town. Here, or near here, is where the Franciscan 
 padre landed when he came to undertake the gigantic task 
 of converting Indians. Near where you stand is the spot, 
 ■only less historic than Plymouth Rock, where the first 
 civilization of the western coast of our country was begun. 
 The bluffs were then black with multitudes of Indians, 
 watching the advent of the friends of humanity who were 
 destined to make their bones ache for their souls' good, but 
 who are now gone where the woodbine twines around the 
 unknown grave of a departed race. But it is very strongly 
 indicated that these were not like the Indians we now know, 
 nor resembling those of the Atlantic coast, upon whom Penn 
 and the Pilgrims exercised their blandishments ; blandish- 
 ments that in the one case took the form of a one-sided 
 swap, and the other of shoot-on-sight. Those would not in 
 all probability have permitted the peculiar history of the 
 California missions to have ever begun. 
 
 Above the Old Town and the sand-flat there is a hill, and 
 upon the lower point of this hill there is an adobe wall, — 
 now but an elongated heap of earth. This was the Presidio, 
 the barracks, the enclosure within which during a portion 
 of those early times everybody lived. In looking at it now, 
 you must remember that it was in all probability then armed 
 with one or two long, old-fashioned bronze smooth-bores, 
 
86 Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 which at that date were fine pieces of ordnance ; that 
 the few soldiers wore still upon their persons some of 
 the stiff remains of armor, and were not all armed even 
 with a musket that had to be touched off. The brown old 
 mounds recall a time when young America was raising a 
 row with her maternal parent about stamp-acts, tea-duties, 
 etc. One may go still further back if one wishes, to the 
 days of 1602 and the Little Goat, when the whole scene was 
 medieeval and antique, and these shores saw the pomp 
 of helmet, breastplate, arquebuse, a banner hung by a cross- 
 stick like a Sunday-school standard, and a commanding 
 officer in opera bouffe tights, with a long red mantle 
 hanging from his shoulders that was gorgeously lined at the 
 edges with white fur. And immediately following that 
 scene one may recall the English "pirate," when a high old 
 three-decker, with a breast on her like the top of a hill, 
 poked her nose around point Loma, and Sir Francis Drake 
 came ashore and christened the whole country that was 
 under the sacred banner of Spain, New Albion, forsooth. 
 
 Still above this ruin is another, very much resembling the 
 old earthworks now scattered throughout the southern 
 States as mementoes of a time when the Saxon power 
 had grown to be something very unlike what it was in the 
 times just alluded to. Its shape induces you to think that 
 it was not made by a professional military engineer of these 
 times, but it was undoubtedly quite a defense against 
 any reasonable force, and is now in so fair a state of 
 preservation, that it would be very difficult of capture with 
 a band of determined men behind its grass-grown escarp- 
 ments. It is " Fort Stockton," and was originally con- 
 structed in 1840, but never knew Stockton until he captured 
 and occupied it as a defensive measure, pending the arrival 
 
Guide to Southern California. 87 
 
 of the "Army of the West," about that time hunting for 
 Mexicans in the neighborhood of San Pascual. 
 
 Under the ruin first mentioned is a small tunnel passing 
 beneath the hill. The mouth of it is in good repair and 
 readily seen from the roadside. The use of it does not 
 seem to" be known. There was a similar one at the old 
 Mission, leading into a covered well. 
 
 Six miles out in the Mission valley, the old Mission 
 stands in a state of ruin. This establishment had an 
 auditorium that would accommodate fifteen hundred people 
 while they listened to the gospel, and which was flanked by 
 cloisters for a large number of priests, kitchens, halls, refec- 
 tories, and all the appurtenances of an extensive religio-stock- 
 raising establishment. There was a large area of cultivated 
 land, an extensive orchard of all the fruits, and an abundance 
 of the good things of life generally. There yet remain 
 some three hundred old olive trees, from which the first 
 cuttings of all the orchards in California originally came, 
 some two or three palms, the remains of the old church, 
 and some remains of adobe wall. 
 
 The fathers at this mission owned about sixty thousand 
 acres of land, of which the establishment has left now only 
 twenty-two acres, and even that they do not need for any 
 visible purpose. They had also, eighty-five years ago, six 
 thousand head of cattle, the same number of sheep, nearly 
 one thousand horses, and over fifteen hundred Indian 
 " dependants ; " i.e., slaves. They raised three thousand 
 bushels of wheat, and two thousand bushels of barley, per 
 year. Less than thirty years afterwards they had increased 
 to about ten thousand head of cattle, eighteen thousand head 
 of sheep, and nearly one thousand two hundred head of 
 horses. They were thrifty, but very soon after this, under 
 
88 
 
 Rand, McNallv c\: Co.'s 
 
Guide to Southern California. 89 
 
 providential oversiglit, they began to decline. The expulsion 
 of the Spaniards from Mexico, in 1821, strangely affected 
 the religious interests of this distant province. The reason 
 they were affected while nothing else ever had been, was 
 because the Mexican government concluded to take in the 
 mission property, and include it among its available assets. 
 In a short time their wealth was secularized by law, and this 
 and all the missions died suddenly. 
 
 But it is pleasant to think of their blooming prosperity 
 while they lived. Their managers put almost as much 
 brains and industry into their business as would now com- 
 mand a remunerative salary in the railroad business. The 
 fathers of San Diego brought an additional supply of water 
 to their fields ten miles by an aqueduct, and to get a head 
 for it they built a dam of solid masonry two hundred and 
 twenty-four feet long and twelve feet thick. This dam still 
 stands, on the Cajon rancho, fourteen feet above the surface 
 of the ground. 
 
 They had their vicissitudes too. A few days after the 
 mission was established an Indian insurrection occurred 
 which required some hard fighting before it was subdued. 
 In 1774 there was another uprising, in the night, and as 
 there were then seventy Indian rancherias (villages) in the 
 immediate neighborhood, more than a thousand natives 
 joined in the attack, and made it warm for the fathers to 
 the extent of burning the mission buildings and all they 
 contained. Yet in a brief time everything was going on as 
 usual. 
 
 It was the valor of desperation. This was a solitary 
 oasis of hope, with the vastness of the ocean on one hand, 
 and the width of an unknown continent on the other. 
 Savages swarmed among the hills, and there was no base 
 
9° 
 
 Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 of supplies, no communication with one's relatives, no any- 
 thing outside of these adobe walls. But now, notwithstand- 
 ing their great success, at least from a pecuniary standpoint, 
 it is just the same as if they had never been. All the 
 features of the Spanish dominion on this side the sea are a 
 curious historical study. It has gone as it came, and left 
 nothing to be proud of. About all the Indians are gone 
 too, until there are but a few left as specimens for tourists 
 
 Indian Camp, near San Diego 
 
 to speculate upon. Adios, converted aborigine ! Vaya/i con 
 Dios, padres Franciscanos ! 
 
 The harbor of San Diego is undoubtedly the finest be- 
 tween Callao and Puget Sound, with the exception of that 
 of San Francisco, and it is practically as good as the latter. 
 The high land on the north side protects it from that awful 
 dry storm of the Pacific that Dana tells of. It is almost 
 land-locked, and the curious dykes made by the sea across 
 
Guide to Southern California. 91 
 
 all openings but one, are a curious feature that seems al- 
 most an intention \n the interests of commerce. From 
 almost all points of the bay one can look out over the low 
 walls upon the endless Pacific, yet be practically secure 
 from every wind that blows. 
 
 The Mexican boundary-line, marked by a monument often 
 visited, is only a few miles to the southward. One of the 
 minor shrewdnesses of the treaty of the Ciuadaloupe Hidal- 
 go was to place our boundary-line south of San Diego. 
 Harbors are as scarce on the Pacific coast as good society 
 was in the days of the early missionaries. In the prudent 
 forethought that governs national affairs, there is no telling 
 when we may need its narrow entrance and land-locked 
 refuge. 
 
 The town is pretty, and a little improvement, inevitable 
 in the course of a brief time, will make it a most delightful 
 place. The houses are strictly homes, some of them ideal 
 ones. The facilities offered by the climate for beautifying 
 grounds are extraordinary. The most delicate and beautiful 
 exotics grow here almost without care. Japanese pines, 
 curiously reminding one of the fan-pictures of those curious 
 artists, and other imported trans- Pacific evergreens, thrive 
 in dooryards. The Monterey cypress, cut into fantastic 
 shapes or trimmed into evergreen walls, comes quickly and 
 stays forever. The delicate ever-blooming roses that with 
 us require tender care to make them delicate shrubs, here 
 display a strong desire to clamber over the family roof-tree. 
 Geraniums and verbenas have a stem as thick and wooden 
 as a forest shrub, and those now eight or ten feet high seem 
 not to have ceased to grow. All the delicate nurslings of 
 warm air and glass, thrive here the whole year through in 
 the open air. 
 
92 Rand, McNally &: Co.'s 
 
 As to climate, the uniformity of it is something remark- 
 able. All of Southern California, delightful as it is com- 
 paratively, is not like it. San Diego is considered a good 
 place to go to for rest and change by the people whose 
 country is to us all a health resort. 
 
 It does not rain much on the shore of the bay or very 
 near it. An occasional shower during what they speak of 
 as " winter" from force of habit, is all there is of it. The 
 reason of this is that the mountains back of the town, like 
 
 A Southern California ' Storm, ' 
 
 Other mountains in other places, milk the clouds. It is on 
 the mesas and in the valleys twenty or thirty miles away 
 that the rainfall actually is. There are no street crossings 
 here to s])eak of, and not always a sidewalk. They are 
 not necessities. The soil is sandy, and always dry under 
 foot. Showers, when they come, simply sjirinkle a dry layer 
 of surface. It is amusing to note the occasional statement 
 of a San Diego newspaper that there has been a storm. 
 You were out in it, and, except that you thought it might 
 ])ossibh- rain a little, you had not noticed it. 
 
Guide to Southern California. 95 
 
 San Diego is in latitude 32 degrees 41 minutes. Man)^ 
 people are not satisfied with anything short of absolute 
 iigures except at the end of the month, when it becomes a 
 mixed question. In climatic affairs they do not express 
 any sensation, but only facts that in many cases mislead. 
 But here are some : 
 
 In New York City the mean temperature for January is 31 
 degrees; in New Orleans it is 55 degrees; in Boston it is 26 
 degrees; in San Francisco it is 48 degrees; in Los Angeles, 
 near at hand, it is 55 degrees, or the same as in New Orleans; 
 In San Augustine, Fla., it is 59 degrees; but in San Diego it 
 is 57 degrees. This is fair weather for January, especially 
 to people who have been accustomed to a temperature like 
 that at St. Paul, where its average for the same month is 10 
 degrees, or even that of Chicago, where it is 28 degrees. 
 
 This is winter. One naturally expects the retribution of 
 the gods during the opposite season. But in the case of 
 San Diego it is evidently reserved. August, in New York 
 City, shows a maximum of 87 degrees ; Jacksonville, Fla., 
 of 96 degrees ; San Antonio, Texas, of loi degrees ; Denver, 
 high up amid the Colorado mountain resorts, of 94 degrees, 
 while even Los Angeles has a showing of 99 degrees. 
 
 San Diego, during this month, has a maximum of S3 
 degrees, and a minimum of 62 degrees. In June, if you are 
 ever in the place at that season, you will see the curious 
 hyperboreans who come here, sitting on the sunny side of a 
 building during the whole of a Sunday forenoon. 
 
 You may frequently see in your walks large pieces of 
 beef hung up in the open air, the owner not seeming to care 
 what becomes of it as to freshness. It simply cures without 
 change otherwise. While the same is true of many places in 
 the west, it is not a common phenomenon at or near sea-level. 
 
94 
 
 Rakd, McNallv & Co.'s 
 
 There are some places to visit, among them : Old Tovvn 
 the ruins of the old times, Fort Stockton, etc. 
 The Mission, already described 
 
 oundi^,, L.:,v ,■.'„:, ^.ii.^i.; San Diego. 
 
 The boundary-line monument, fifteen miles out by the 
 road. It is near the o[)en sea, and a good place for pic-nic 
 excursions, etc. 
 
 Mussel-beds IJeach, eight miles out. Rolling surf .and 
 
Guide to Southern California. 95 
 
 good sand, and if desired a diversion similar to the down- 
 east clam-bake. 
 
 The long beach across the bay, where the open Pacific 
 breaks in rollers from Point Loma a long distance south- 
 ward. It is not known at present where one will find a 
 good sea-bathing place at all .seasons of the year equal to 
 this. The conveniences for getting to these bathing places 
 are not what it is affirmed they will be in the near future. 
 
 The lighthouse, eight miles by water, fourteen miles by 
 land. It is said to be the highest but one in the world. 
 The surrounding scenery is entertaining. 
 
 The Tijuana (Tia J nana ; Te-a-7<;'^7/;-ah, aunt Jane) hot 
 springs. Fourteen miles out, and in Old Mexico. A pretty 
 place in a valley where there are great quantities of wild 
 flowers in winter. 
 
 The church of the Mission of San Luis Rey is said to be 
 the finest bit of old church architecture in the country, and 
 therefore very interesting to many persons, who can easily 
 go there by rail. It is not far from the line, and was passed 
 in coming. 
 
 La Jolla (Lah-Hole-yah,— the nearest meaning at hand 
 for this name is "the Calm," — m which case, however, it 
 should be spelled with only one " 1 " ). This is a cave on 
 the coast, some twelve miles out, and much visited. 
 
 There are many other places, but they are not generally 
 accessible according to modern ideas of distances and 
 trouble. The tourist in nine cases out of ten has an under- 
 standing with himself that he did not come here to work, and 
 there are good hotels, plenty of sustenance for the inner 
 man, placid days and cool nights, flowers, the sea, sunshine 
 almost perpetually, and near at hand as fine sea fishing as 
 can be found on the continent. 
 
96 Rand, McNally «S: Co.'s 
 
 SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 Returning northward to Colton, you take the Southern 
 Pacific train westward to Los Angeles, passing on the way, 
 and about nine miles from Los Angeles, the village and 
 mission of San Gabriel. 
 
 San Gabriel village is a sleepy spot that reminds you of 
 all there is in scholastic retirement. The church is quite 
 well preserved, and still in service. But the chief charm 
 lies in the valley itself, of which, and of other charming 
 things besides, the best view obtainable is from the Sierra 
 Madre Villa. 
 
 To reach this charming spot, there is a choice of two or 
 three routes. It lies almost north of San Gabriel station 
 some four miles. From the station there is a comfortable 
 hack to the Villa, by which one may go and return. But if 
 the entire journey is preferred by rail, the Los Angeles and 
 San Gabriel Valley railroad, already finished to Pasadena, 
 will doubtless be finished as far as the Villa in time for all 
 who chance to read this to use it. The proper plan would 
 then be to go to Los Angeles direct, and thence to the Villa 
 by the road mentioned. This little route is one of the 
 finest side-trips in Southern California, on perhaps the only 
 road in the world that actually runs through orange-groves, 
 and upon which a trip would at all seasons of the year be 
 purely and simply an excursion, capable of being made in 
 open cars. 
 
 The Sierra Madre Villa is a hotel, resort, and orange 
 
Guide to Southern California. 
 
 97 
 
 plantation in unique combination, and one of the most de- 
 lightful visiting places in any land. Only its comparative 
 inaccessibility has kept it from becoming as famous as it 
 deserves to be. For from the observatory of the building 
 may be seen without obstruction the whole length and breadth 
 of the San Gabriel Valley, shining green and brown in per- 
 petual sun-light. 
 
 A Valley in Southern Gal forn a 
 
 Behind the Villa rises the steep slope of the Sierra Madre 
 (Setv-rah-J/^r^/ray, — mother range.. Sierra means, in Spanish, 
 a saw, and was originally applied to rows of sharp peaks, 
 saw-teeth, afterwards, l)y metonymy, to any range of 
 steep mountains). The southern side, next the Villa, is 
 accessible, though a steep climb. Water and trees, glen; 
 
98 Rand, McNallv & Co.'s 
 
 and canyons, lie in such shape as to make the ascent seem 
 nearer and less difficult than it really is. This is a universal 
 characteristic of all mountain ranges in the west. Canyon, 
 pronounced can-jone, with the stress on the last syllable, is 
 one of the commonest of western geographical terms. It 
 means a cannon, the bore or calibre of anything, a rift. 
 Americans apply the name, however, where the Spaniards 
 do not, and place the stress on the first syllable. In these 
 pages the spelling which indicates the pronunciation of the 
 word has been followed, the accented Spanish " n " not 
 being necessary to English-speaking people. 
 
 Los Angeles, as all know, is a city of some thirty thousand 
 people. It is one of the old places. One of the hotels is 
 named after old Don Pio Pico, who was the last governor 
 under Spanish rule, and who still lives here, — apparently 
 content m his old age with the new order of things. The 
 town was founded in 1781, and the centre of it was the 
 present plaza. The old adobe portion of the city is called 
 Sonoratown, a locality which had not long since a bad repu- 
 tation, but which is now tolerably Americanized. As relics 
 of the past, four ancient cannons are planted at as many cor- 
 ners in the streets, and on a hill in the borders of the town 
 there are still to be seen some deep earthwork trenches. 
 
 In strong contrast with these relics of a past that all con- 
 cerned "seem desirous of forgetting, the tourist will observe 
 a rather unique system of electric lights. The lamps are 
 borne on wooden masts, each one hundred and fifty feet 
 high, that look very unsubstantial, but seem to answer all 
 purposes. In the Missouri valley they would be found 
 standing, perhaps, after twenty-four hours. It is an indi- 
 cation that there is very little wind, of the kind that does 
 anv dama<re. 
 
Guide T() Southern California. 99 
 
 Irrigation is tlie great wonder-worker of this part of 
 tlie country. The water for the city and surroundings is 
 obtained from the Los Angeles river, and .stored in reser- 
 voirs. A second water corporation obtains its supply from 
 an artesian well. 
 
 The bustle, the drive, the brilliantly-lighted streets, the 
 fine business blocks, the general air of being not only an 
 American but a Californian place, make the visitor forget 
 that he is in the political and industrial heart of a civilization 
 that has so entirely passed away that it is the same as 
 though it never was. It changed from what it was to what 
 it is not through luck, and not by chance, but as a singular 
 example of the intelligence of the Americans who came 
 after, and who have been flying in the face of the old- 
 fashioned Spanish Providence by converting the supposed 
 obstacles of nature into the most perfect means that could 
 have been devised not only for making money, but for 
 beautifying the land. They began to bore these wells, 
 knowing by an instinct peculiar to the race, that they would 
 not bore in vain. They are made to flow at the surface 
 from a depth of about three hundred feet, all over Los 
 Angeles county. Within a radius of ten or a dozen miles 
 you may drive through as many "colonies," — new places 
 just opened, and each one destined to become a garden in a 
 brief time. 
 
 So also did the old Spaniards irrigate ; it was the first 
 thing they did. But the Los Angeles is a wide, shallow, 
 low-banked stream, that never did and never would have 
 produced any such results as are now seen, with the old 
 system of open ditches. Pipes will yet be entirely used, 
 and vastly more land will be wet by them from the same 
 supply. But aside from this, wells were never thought of 
 
Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
Guide to Southern California. ioi 
 
 in the old times. They are not all bored downwards either, 
 and some of them present the curious feature of being 
 horizontal ; pushed straight into the mountain-side, and 
 affording a supply of water that once found, cannot help 
 running out. 
 
 Tillage in all Southern California is an especial feature. 
 It is largely like that at Riverside, and is of a character 
 whose thoroughness is not thought of elsewhere in the 
 farming communities of this country. It would seem to 
 be by no means a ridiculous proposition to employ a leg- 
 islative appropriation on the part of many of our western 
 States to the payment of the expenses of some of their 
 leading agriculturists, to visit this country, and report upon 
 methods. There is scarcely a weed on cultivated soil in the 
 State. The consequence is that the country is productive 
 far beyond its appearance ; a fact not only applying to 
 quantity, but to quality as well. 
 
 Pasadena is seven miles to the north-east of Los Angeles 
 and on the line of the road mentioned above as the Los 
 Angeles and San Gabriel Valley road. This is a charming 
 ride across what is called the valley of the Arroyo Seco (Dry 
 Ravine) and through what would ordinarily be considered a 
 pass among beautiful scenery. The name, Pasadena, is 
 probably an abbreviation or corruption of what in Spanish 
 would mean The Gate of Eden (Pasa de Eden), though 
 Californians generally, while clinging with singular faithful- 
 ness to all the Sans and Santas, have skipped some of the 
 most beautiful meanings of the old tongue. 
 
 Pasadena now contains some four thousand people, and 
 in general plan and products it is nearly the same as the 
 famous Riverside, and probably almost as fruitful. Either 
 of them will do very well as a residence for any ordinary 
 
Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 citizen who is disposed to be satisfied with the goods the 
 gods provide. 
 
 Pomona is about twenty-five miles west of Colton, and 
 was passed on the way coming to Los Angeles by the 
 Southern Pacific. It has now some three thousand five 
 hundred people, and a plentiful supply of water out of 
 
 the San Antonio 
 canyon. 
 
 Los Angeles 
 county has within 
 its bounds three of 
 the twenty-one old 
 missions spoken of 
 some pages pre- 
 viously. One is 
 San Gabriel, already 
 referred to, another 
 San Juan Capistra- 
 no, and a third, San 
 Fernando Rey. Of 
 all these the best 
 ]ireserved is San 
 (labriel. The last 
 named of the three 
 is north of Los Angeles . twenty-two miles, and near the 
 railroad. It is not in fair preservation. Spoliation and 
 decay are combined to destroy as rapidly as possible all 
 these mementoes of the old times, and any visitor to 
 California who has any investigation to make, might better 
 make it as soon as possible. 
 
 It is not possible to name and describe, within the scope 
 of these pages, all the colonies and settlements of a country 
 
Guide to Southern California. 
 
 103 
 
 that is so rapidly changing. Many of these are in their in- 
 fancy, and yet to come forward with their claims to recog- 
 nition as either settlements or resorts. 
 
 Every visitor to this country, as to every other, will find 
 himself following certain lines of investigation, enquirv or 
 travel that no other man can define for him beforehand. 
 These pages have been devoted to an attempt at a general 
 description of striking features, particularizing only where 
 especial interest might be supposed to attach. If the aver- 
 age reader has gathered from them a fairly correct idea of 
 the country known as Southern California, and of the in- 
 cidents and scenes of the route most frequently taken to go 
 there, the object of the writer is fully attained. It is im- 
 possible to do more within the extent of less than a large 
 volume. 
 
I04 Rand, McNallv es: Co.'s 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 The tourist is supposed to have turned southward at 
 Waterman (see page 6i) direct to Southern CaUfornia. 
 There are doubtless those who, coming thus far, wish first 
 to go direct to San Francisco. 
 
 To do this the journey is continued to Mojave (Mo-hah- 
 ve), seventy-three miles further westward, where supper is 
 taken, and the through car attached to the train on the 
 Southern Pacific road that goes direct to San Francisco. 
 Oakland Pier is reached at 10.40 the following morning, 
 precisely four days after leaving Kansas City. 
 
 To visit Southern California by way of San Francisco, 
 the tourist passes Mojave again going southward, direct to 
 Los Angeles. The journey from Mojave to San Francisco 
 is therefore simply an additional trip, which can as well be 
 matle after as before visiting the southern portion of the 
 State. This note is simply added for convenience to those 
 who contemplate the journey, and to whom there may be a 
 cjuestion of routes in connection with the saving of time. 
 
 To return by the same route, whether San Francisco is 
 included in the tour or not, the junction-point is again the 
 little station of Waterman, on the Atlantic and Pacific road; 
 that is, passengers who have not gone to San Francisco will 
 there meet passengers who have. 
 
 Personally, it is suggested to California tourists that 
 there are complete conveniences for meals on this, and 
 so far as known on all other routes, with one e.xcepticjn. 
 There is no necessity at any pn\ni of the journey herein 
 
Guide to Southern California. 
 
 105 
 
 described, for the inconvenient lunch-basket, and the fruits 
 of the lower Rio Grande, supplemented later by those 
 of California, are to many an unexpected addition to bills- 
 of-fare. 
 
 It is not necessary to take more than one kind of clothing. 
 The climate permits the wearing of the same weight of 
 material the year round. This lessens the amount of bag- 
 gage necessary for both ladies and gentlemen. Always 
 carry with you when going more than a short distance a 
 light overcoat. 
 
 You will enjoy this trip much better by retiring quite 
 early every night, and rising early in the morning, — unless 
 in the case of youth in conjunction with moonlight ; nothing 
 can well be more beautiful than this combination in mountain 
 regions. The breakfast hour for fast trains is generally 
 early in the morning, while the air is delightfully fresh. 
 
 -I-V 
 
io6 Ranu, McNally is: Co.'s 
 
 AT LARGE. 
 
 The wonderful State of California has been much written, 
 and the best abilities of professional tourists and journalists 
 have been spent upon it. Nevertheless, there is no guide 
 now in print, of which any knowledge exists, that may be 
 said to be up to date in all its details. In some instances 
 new railroad lines have been built: in others, new conclu- 
 sions have been reached, with a distinguishable effect upon 
 tourists, and both health and investment seekers. The 
 traveler, following the route described in the foregoing 
 pages or not, fmds himself here, probably with a desire to 
 know as much as possible of the large territory lying out- 
 side of the limits of that portion of the State that is now 
 definitely known as Southern California. To cover that 
 ground briefly these pages have been added. 
 
 As has been stated, the climate south of Mojave, con- 
 sidered as a convenient reference-point, seems to be peculiar 
 to the country. There is, strictly speaking, no season that 
 can be called winter, or that bears any resemblance to that 
 season as most of us know it. The case is different in the 
 more northern portions. It is true that the climate of all 
 California is anomalous in the absence of all extremes, and 
 winter does not hinder the traveler in ordinary journeys. 
 But now your overcoat is going to be a iiade mecum, not for 
 winter alone, but for every day in the year. Wherever the 
 sea wind or the Pacific fog can reach you, you are going to 
 feel its harshness. But there are seven months in the year 
 during which you will need no umbrella. As it does not 
 
Guide to Southern California. 107 
 
 rain during all this time, the country is necessarily dusty. 
 Some of the most lasting of the recollections of the country 
 you will find to be of the dust. On the valley roads, where 
 there is much travel, it lies four inches deep, an impalpable 
 powder. Fortunately, there is not much wind ; when there 
 is, you must accept it as one of the ills of life ; it is not a 
 cold wind. 
 
 Stage-lines still exist in California, and must be used. To 
 hundreds of the able-bodied class of travelers they add to 
 the pleasure of the journey by affording a spice of novelty. 
 Mud may possibly sometimes be, — it has not come forward 
 prominently as a cause of complaint, — but cold, in our sense, 
 never. The stage-ride, to any person not a professional or 
 confirmed invalid, is in this climate a diversion. 
 
 The tour of California, under present rates of travel, can 
 be made from the Missouri River and return, for about 
 three hundred and fifty dollars, including all the conven- 
 iences reasonably required in the way of carriages, first-class 
 accommodations, and extras. By those who make an eft"ort 
 in that direction, the tour can be done for two hundred and 
 seventy-five dollars. It will be not quite so extensive or 
 luxurious, but many do it for even less than that sum. Ex- 
 cursion rates can always be procured over the transconti- 
 nental lines, and on the route described in these pages, at 
 all seasons of the year, owing to its climatic location and 
 more even temperature. Taking advantage of the greatly 
 reduced rates given where there is a party, or where special 
 rates exist from any cause, the tour of California is one of 
 the cheapest that can be made. 
 
 Hotel fares in California, contrary to the general idea on 
 that point, are mostly in the tourist's favor. The old days 
 of rough travel and endurance are passed. Ample and 
 
io8 Rand, McNallv (S: Co.'s 
 
 cheap accommodations are everywhere to be found. In Los 
 Angeles, for example, good hotel accommodations are had 
 at three dollars per day. This chief city of Southern Cal- 
 ifornia, as might be expected, charges as much as any. At 
 San Diego, first-class accommodations were had at two 
 dollars and fifty cents. At the Glenwood, at Riverside, a 
 resort, the charge was three dollars. The exception to this 
 general rule is San Francisco, where the Palace, a colossal 
 structure representing a larger sum at interest, charges an 
 average of about six dollars per day, though much cheaper 
 accommodations, perhaps equally good, can be had. At such 
 places, to be in harmony, it costs more to be shaved at the 
 hotel barber-shop, more by considerable for the after-dinner 
 cigar, and twenty-five cents for the occasional refreshment 
 indulged in at a silver-mounted bar, when something equally 
 vigorous can be got across the street for twelve-and-one- 
 half cents. 
 
 All through Northern California the rule of reasonable 
 charges holds good. It is a plentiful country, where, with 
 the exception of the very articles that are cheap elsewhere, 
 the necessities of life can all be procured at reasonable 
 prices. The land of contrarieties in climate and all things, 
 many of the commonest and cheapest articles are, to the 
 common conception, luxuries. 
 
 Not only essays and discourses, but even books, have 
 been written upon land and the price of it ; soil, products, 
 profits, and the best place to go, in California. Not only 
 are there thousands of conflicting local opinions on these 
 points, but the facts themselves are constantly changing. 
 It is a trait that is not confined to California for each man 
 to think his own tlie best, but that feeling is here remarka- 
 bly developed. Whatever these conflicting opinions niay 
 
Guide to Southern California. 109 
 
 be, there is no difficulty in getting at them. Real-estate 
 literature is a flood. Every colony and settlement has its 
 one or half-dozen publications on the subject of induce- 
 ments, products, advantages and prices. They are rarely 
 offered for sale; they are sufficiently rewarded by the 
 chances of your serious perusal of one in a dozen of them. 
 You can always get this literature, some of which is hand- 
 somely and entertainingly done, and therefore the subjects 
 treated of are not included in this volume. It is sufficient 
 to say, that it is a country of curious, and, for the most part, 
 successful, experiment, and that it is not yet more than half 
 developed. The desire for adventure in the first place, for 
 gold in the second era, and for health in the third, have 
 been the means of the present development of all Califor- 
 nia. Those that stayed, in many cases when they did not 
 wish to, were obliged to apply themselves to the develop- 
 ment of undiscovered resources, and the result is seen on 
 every hand. It is a curious reflection, that, for the greater 
 part of its romantic history, California w^as not even thought 
 of as a farming country. Now, it is scarcely thought of 
 in any other light. Frankly speaking, it has long ceased to 
 be the country for the poor man and the pioneer, if home 
 and the winning of it by industry and endeavor alone, is 
 what he is seeking. But it is still a country where fair cap- 
 ital often makes large returns ; where thousands are living 
 in robust health who elsewhere would be dead ; and where, 
 to rich and poor alike, a climate that is free to all, puts a 
 new meaning upon luxury. 
 
Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 MOJAVE TO SAN FRANCISCO. 
 
 The regular train from Mojave northwards is a night 
 train, but, night or day, it is a most enjoyable ride. 
 Eighteen miles above Mojave, and beginning at Tehachapi, 
 are the mountains, to cross which a remarkable engineering 
 work was constructed by the Southern Pacific road, called 
 the Loop, and the name more or less accurately describes it. 
 The line is made to double upon itself, and even an artificial 
 tunnel was constructed, through which it might run under 
 itself. In one place there are five parallel single tracks. A 
 cut of the Loop on paper very strongly resembles a gigantic 
 angle- worm, in a state of great personal discomfort. This 
 scene, even by night, and especially if the moon be shining, 
 is a very remarkable one ; the change from the scenes of 
 the Mojave "desert" being almost as great as it is on 
 turning southward into Southern California from Water- 
 man. The beautiful California live-oaks stand in clumps 
 or as single splendid trees, many of them apjx^aring to grow 
 out of the naked granite. This beautiful evergreen is 
 characteristic of the country, and one of its most attractive 
 features. It is a low, wide-spreading tree, whose foliage 
 lies in heavv masses, and affords a dense shade. Growing 
 almost always where there -is no underbrush, the effect is to 
 make the landscape look like a park. 
 
 Immediately bcNond the Loop, the traveler enters another 
 of the celebrated valleys of California ; the San Joaquin 
 (San Whah-/'<r//, — Saint Joachim), the crossing of the little 
 Kern river, at the station called Bakersfield, being about the 
 southern end of it. In this i)ocket at the end of the valley 
 
Guide to Southern California. 
 
 are clustered the three lakes, Tulare (Too-Az/r-e), Buena 
 Vista (Boo-(7///-ah Vees-tah, — good view), and Kern. None 
 of these are to be classed with Tahoe in attractiveness and 
 celebrity, and are not generally regarded as places of interest. 
 The valley takes its name from the San Joaquin river, 
 which flows through almost the entire length of it from 
 south to north. The railroad does not, however, follow the 
 banks of the stream, but crosses at frequent intervals its 
 affluents, as the Cottonwood, the Chowchilla, the Merced, the 
 
 Lake Scene. 
 
 Tuolumne, etc. These are none of them rivers, by any fair 
 construction of the term, but creeks of more or less volume. 
 The San Joaquin Valley shares with the Sacramento the 
 fame that pertains to two celebrated districts. Before arriv- 
 ing at Oakland Pier the tourist will have a good opportunity 
 to form his idea of its productiveness. Though not the land 
 of winter, the orchards of oranges, olives, apricots and 
 lemons are no longer seen. The country seems to be 
 largely devoted to wheat, of which large crops of superb 
 
112 Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 quality are often made. It is cut with a " header," threshed 
 on the spot, never "sweats" in bulk, and needs no barns 
 and granaries. The climate is the barn, and the rainless 
 dome of heaven a kindly roof that costs nothing. 
 
 Yet the scene is not entirely pleasant. There is a lack of 
 the appearance and usual surroundings of rural luxury. 
 The home-like houses, to say nothing of the opulent man- 
 sions of some of the farmers of Eastern Kansas or Illinois 
 and Michigan, are not seen here, and the mammoth barns 
 of the middle States are unknown. The inevitable infer- 
 ence is that the San Joaquin farmer is engaged in a 
 struggle, and cannot yet afford them, or that he is waiting 
 to grow rich before he begins to live. The often alleged 
 reason is that the climate does not require them. That is 
 saying that in the opinion of this farmer, houses are only 
 necessary as a shelter, and that the beauty and comfort of a 
 home that pleases for its own sake, is a gratification that can 
 be indefinitely delayed in the universal struggle for wealth. 
 
 Less than twenty years ago, the San Joaquin Valley was 
 used almost entirely for grazing purposes, and was alleged 
 to be unfitted for agricultural purposes. It is the very old 
 story of all the West repeated. The final grazing grounds 
 of this, and all other regions west of the Missouri, will be 
 fenced pastures and tame grasses. 
 
 The long, deep bay of San Francisco, on whose shore the 
 track lies for thirty miles or more, and the suburban towns 
 near the metropolis, including Oakland, are sights of the early 
 morning. When you reach the ferry-house, and go on board 
 the splendid steamer that carries you across to the foot of 
 Market Street, you will begin to realize the splendid civilization 
 of the Occident, and the vastness of the resources that wrought 
 it out of the homesick beginnings of less than forty years ago. 
 
Guide to Southern California. 113 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO. 
 
 It is still a place unique, and notwithstanding its tens of 
 thousands of annual visitors, and the hundreds of pages 
 that have been given to its description, worth seeing and 
 talking about. 
 
 Hold 3'Our left hand in such a position that the back of 
 the hand is uppermost before you ; bend your left index 
 finger downward, almost as much as you can, and imagine 
 San Francisco as located near the end of that side of the 
 finger that is next you, and you have a blind man's map of 
 the ground on which it stands, and its immediate surround- 
 ings of water. You have also, by the schoolboy's rule, the 
 points of the compass. It will not be considered an asper- 
 sion upon ordinary American intelligence to say that there 
 are a great many people whose knowledge of affairs is by 
 no means limited, who do not distinctly know that the 
 metropolis of the Occident does not stand on the main 
 land, or upon which bank of the Mississippi New Orleans 
 is situated. The bay of San Francisco ought, by all pre- 
 conceived ideas, to lie to the westward of the city ; but it 
 is mainly on the east and north. To get into town by way 
 of any of her connections, you must cross the bay. It may 
 be added that this is a considerable body of water, which 
 extends southward of the imaginary finger end many miles. 
 
 To be entirely frank with the tourist, it is necessary to 
 state that San Francisco produces upon most travelers im- 
 pressions that are conflicting, that are not all pleasant, and 
 that make him the victim of a variety of emotions. It has a 
 
114 Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 climate that is in one sense glorious, but from another view, 
 very nearly atrocious. It never snows ; that is, it never did 
 but once, and then the citizens of the place made the most 
 of it with true California enthusiasm, and proceeded to pelt 
 each other, and throw at everything in sight, until the car- 
 drivers abandoned their posts, and a general bandaging of 
 skulls, and repairing of hats and windows was the order for 
 a week afterward. But it is that peculiar climate that is 
 like a "cold" day in the West Indies; it gives you the 
 same sensations that the coolness of a friend does. I'he 
 balm of the May morning has a tincture of chill in it. 
 You discard the idea of a fire as ridiculous, when you know 
 you would like one very much. And then the gray fog is 
 blown away, the sun comes out gloriously, and the world 
 smiles. But in a few days you come to the understanding 
 that this smile is slightly hypocritical. In a city where you 
 can pluck a bouquet every day in the year out of doors, so 
 every day in the year you must have an overcoat on your 
 back or over your arm. 
 
 San Francisco never impresses the visitor as Chicago 
 does. The tall structures that give the latter, and other 
 cities, a monumental grandeur, are unknown here. The 
 shakings that sometimes occur without any warning have 
 deterred the erection of the twelve-story Babels, to the 
 extent that one is inclined to regret that earthquakes are 
 not more common in some other localities. 
 
 The architecture is, to Eastern eyes, peculiar in other 
 respects. All dwelling-houses are balconied from top to 
 bottom, and the majority of them are built of wood. There 
 is, or lately was, a passion for a dull gray in color, without 
 contrast in trimmings, which gives somewhat the impres- 
 sion of a universal sizing-coat, left as it was from motives 
 
Guide to Southern California. 
 
 "5 
 
 Court of the Pa'a^e Hotel. 
 
ii6 Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 of economy, which in San Francisco is a thing not at al! 
 likely. 
 
 As to the streets, they are among the most interesting^ 
 highways of the world. For, though the residents may 
 never have observed it, there is a sensation of foreignness 
 about them. They are intensely American, but lie under 
 strange skies and unaccustomed stars. They are, as a rule, 
 beautifully paved and admirably kept, while the inte- 
 riors of places of business are as handsome and as well 
 finished as any elsewhere. Some of the stores possess 
 what was until lately quite a novelty, being devoted en- 
 tirely to the sale of Chinese and Japanese products. 
 
 All the city is laid off in gigantic terraces, and the streets^ 
 above a certain height, are devoted entirely to business. 
 To each one of these, as they rise one above the other, the 
 ascent is considerably steeper than one ordinarily wishes to 
 climb, — about like ordinary stairs. These were endured, so 
 far as is known, with great cheerfulness, until the invention 
 of the cable-cars, and now nobody walks except an occa- 
 sional Chinaman, with a pole and two baskets. The cable 
 railway has ceased to be a novelty, being now in extensive 
 operation in Chicago, Kansas City and elsewhere. But no- 
 where else do they approach the comfort, handsomeness and 
 utility they have in San Francisco. They go up and down 
 these steep streets, maintaining the same rate of speed on 
 either side of the hill, and occasionally striking a decline 
 which makes the performance seem quite perilous. After 
 you recich San Francisco, you will find yourself riding in 
 these cars as a mere enjoyable diversion, and when you 
 come away you will be turning over in your mind the ques- 
 tion whether you may not better, once for all, resolve never 
 to ride behind mules again, preferring to just walk. . 
 
Guide to Southern California. 
 
 117 
 
 Museums and places of amusement are not wanting, but 
 one of your first visits will undoubtedly be to the Golden 
 ■Gate Park, and beyond to the resort known as the Cliff House. 
 
 All that part lying west of the city proper, and between it 
 and the coast, was originally gigantic billows of yellow and 
 shifting sand. Out of this material was this beautiful park 
 
 originally made. It is not yet fin- 
 ished, being intended to extend to -^ 
 the shore on the west. In this land of flowers one expects 
 to find beautiful specimens, and one does. In the matter of 
 natural and artificial and costly beauty, Golden Gate Park is 
 not the equal of Central Park in New York. But in the respect 
 of flowers, lovely almost beyond the conceptions of the north- 
 
ii8 Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 ern mind, it excels all the resorts of the world. Not alone in 
 the extensive conservatory do you find them, but everywhere. 
 
 As you take the train from one of the entrances of 
 the park, behind what is called a "dummy" engine, looking- 
 considerably like a kitchen range on wheels, you may. in a 
 few moments, observe the process by which the sand is made 
 soil. First, " pampas" grass is planted in rows in the sand. 
 Strangely enough it grows, and the roots serve the purpose 
 for which it was planted, in literally holding down the 
 sand. This once accomplished, and the grass having formed 
 a thick growth, trees are planted, and make a rapid growth. 
 These sand-hills are worse than the ordinary desert, as they 
 were shifted annually by the wind, like heaps of dry snow. 
 
 Behind this "dummy" engine you reach the Cliff House, 
 and may see the seal rocks, covered with their very unpre- 
 possessing inhabitants. The majority of visitors do not ap- 
 preciate these brutes at anything over their actual aesthetic 
 value. Awkward, ungainly, idiotic, they spend their time in 
 worming themselves out of the sea on to the rocks, and tum- 
 bling off again with a splash. This performance is accompa- 
 nied by the most discordant barkings ever heard, ceaseless 
 day and night. They are an ugly, quarrelsome and uncleanly 
 company, graceful no doubt in the water, but unattractive 
 and uninteresting, not to say a bore, after a few minutes' ac- 
 quaintance. The great, wide, beautiful sea is a sufficient 
 reward for the trouble of the excursion. To many minds the 
 Pacific al"f(jrds an idea of vastness that the Atlantic does not. 
 China, Japan, .\ustralia, and the Sandwich Islands between, 
 are what lie beyond, and the sun goes down behind them all. 
 The long and crested rollers that break at your feet, .seem 
 ■ to have come from far beyond all our interests and hopes. 
 
 A remarkable elevation, iioth in the old times and now, is 
 
Guide to Southern California. 119 
 
 the small mountain called Telegraph Hill, standing immedi- 
 ately south of the entrance to the harbor (Golden Gate). 
 It has not been long since it was necessary to climb the 
 steep ascent on foot if you wished to enjoy what is, on a 
 cleai dav, a fine prospect. Now, the means of climbing 
 Telegraph Hill add considerably to the attractiveness of the 
 excursion. It is a cable car which seems to be attached 
 permanently to the rope. The car is stopped and started 
 again by means of an electric signal made by the conductor, 
 which is responded to at some distant point by stopping 
 the cable, instead of letting go of it as usual. Whether 
 this is a measure of safety on perhaps the steepest decline 
 ever climbed by cars, or a mere matter of convenience, it 
 strikes the average passenger very forcibly with its ingenuity. 
 The observatory on Telegraph Hill is very completely 
 furnished with telescopes, field-glasses and other conven- 
 iences, and has also a restaurant, and is used by the popula- 
 tion as a pleasure resort. 
 
 The most curious of all the features of San Francisco is 
 that portion of the city that has, under the pressure of 
 circumstances, been given over to exclusive Chinese occu- 
 pancy. The children of the flowery kingdom swarm here 
 by tens of thousands, and have made of their portion of an 
 American city a Canton to suit themselves. The streets 
 occupied by them are easily found, and may be traversed 
 without difficulty by any stranger. It is a San Francisco 
 idea that Chinatown can only be seen aright about mid- 
 night, which means that the jnost revolting vices of the 
 Chinese then become shows to which visitors are admitted 
 on payment of a fee. Daylight will do for the average visitor 
 to whom heathen orgies are not entertaining, and the most 
 disgusting forms of lewdness displayed as an exhibition. 
 
Rand, McNallv & Co.'s 
 
 MONTEREY, 
 
 AND OTHER RESORTS. 
 
 This is considered the fashionable resort of California, 
 and is extensively patronized by the citizens of San Fran- 
 cisco. The sleepy old town was the Mexican capital, before 
 referred to as the scene of one of the p"emature exploits 
 of the American navy. It is a place of remarkably mild 
 temperature, good bathing facilities, and where the foliage 
 planted for ornamental purposes many years ago has ma- 
 tured into great size and charming effects. It is about four 
 hours' ride l)y rail from San Francisco. 
 
 The Geysers, the Almaden Mine, the Napa Val- 
 ley, Santa Rosa, Santa Cruz, are places usually "done " 
 by those who have ample time and means, and who wish to 
 see all there is of California. By the standard of modern 
 travel facilities, a visit to them costs some trouble besides. 
 Local information as to how to reach them and other 
 attractive spots, can be readily given by any resident. 
 There are a number of resorts, each well worth visiting, in 
 the neighborhood of San Francisco, that are not known to 
 any guide-book, and as yet have only a local value. There 
 is no city in the world that possesses in a fuller degree 
 the advantage and pleasure to be derived from a rest, and a 
 change of scene and climate, in a ride of two or three 
 hours by rail. A satisfactory description of them would 
 fill a large volume. 
 
 It should be remembered that the (ieysers mentioned are 
 not similar to the startlin"' wonders of the Yellowstone 
 
Guide to Southern California. 121 
 
 Park, known by the same name. These are flowing hot 
 springs only. 
 
 But there are two scenes in California, neither of them as 
 yet accessible by rail, that every traveler will wish to visit 
 if possible. These are The Big Trees and Yo Semite. 
 Time was, and not long since, when it was necessary to ride 
 to Yo Semite on horseback. You now go there by stage 
 over a fine road. 
 
 There are three groves of Big Trees in California, that 
 most frequently visited being the Mariposa grove, included 
 in the same tour with the Yo Semite. It is almost useless 
 to attempt a new, or in any way an adequate, description of 
 these wonderful places, which thousands have traveled 
 across the sea to behold. 
 
 The station of Madera, which you passed in coming 
 north to San Francisco, is the nearest point by rail. There, 
 all baggage should be left, a single substantial suit of 
 clothes, with serviceable shoes, being all that is necessary. 
 
 From Madera you go by stage to the Big Trees, where the 
 night is spent. Thence you go on the following morning a 
 short drive to the Yo Semite Valley. There are, of course, 
 good hotels, and ample, and even luxurious, accommoda- 
 tions. The stage ride may be tiresome, but it is novel and 
 pleasant ; and the average invalid does not hesitate about it. 
 There are also guides, horses, lunches, and every facility for 
 a thorough enjoyment of scenes no other region has to offer. 
 
 The Big Trees, thus seen on the road to Yo Semite, 
 have been so often drawn, described, photographed and 
 wondered over, that any detailed description of them here 
 would be superfluous. The enterprise of modern journal- 
 ism at intervals brings to the notice of the public accounts 
 of bigger trees in some remote corner of the world; but 
 
Rand, McNally «&: Co.'s 
 
Guide to Southern California. 12; 
 
 thus far these despatches remain unconfirmed, and the 
 Sequoia remains the sole representative of a race of vege- 
 table giants that will never come again. They are but the 
 stragglers of a host ; the remainder of a multitude. All 
 over these mountain sides there are great trenches where 
 the immense trunks lay after they had fallen, perhaps a 
 thousand years being occupied in their slow decay. It is 
 not even known how old these living ones are, whether they 
 are yet growing, how long they may stand, or if there is 
 any hope of a new and continued growth. 
 
 The Yo Semite Valley is an immense and irregular basin, 
 about two miles wide and eight miles long, whose sides are 
 irregular walls of rock nearly a mile high. Of the special 
 points in this notched tdge, to which names have been 
 given, the following are some of the heights : Mount Star 
 King (named after the celebrated San Francisco preacher 
 of that name who died some years ago), 5,600 feet; Cloud's 
 Rest, 6,034 feet; South Dome, 4,737 feet; Sentinel Dome, 
 4,500 feet ; El Capitan, 3,300 feet. 
 
 The lowest of any of the points specially named in the 
 rim of the valley is 1,800 feet. It will be readily seen, even 
 on paper, that these are very unusual elevations to be 
 grouped around an amphitheatre in such a manner that 
 most of them are included in one view, or break upon the 
 sight at a sudden turn. There are, in all, seventeen of 
 these objects bearing names. 
 
 There are eleven waterfalls, one of them, Vo Semite, 
 being 2,634 feet high, while the Sentinel measures 3,000 
 feet. There are 5,280 feet in one mile ; Niagara is only 
 163 feet high; and the steep Palisades of the Hudson, 
 classed among fine scenery, are, at their highest point, some- 
 thing over 500 feet in height. 
 
124 
 
 Rand, McNali.y &: Co.'s 
 
Guide to Southern California. 125 
 
 But you may read all the guides that ever were written ; 
 you may shut your eyes and endeavor to imai^nne the scene ; 
 you may institute all the comparisons of which the mind is 
 capable, and the endeavor will be entirely useless. Heights 
 and depths, figures, absolute statements, have nothing to do 
 with it. You cannot even take it in after you are there. 
 The falling waters, blown aside like lace at the caprices of 
 the wind, the lofty walls of rock, the glens, ravines and un- 
 dulations of the valley itself, grow upon you by slow pro- 
 cesses, llie longer you stay the better, if you have any 
 appreciation of the ennobling effect of such scenes on the 
 mind. It is almost inconceivable that a man can be very 
 narrow, or sordid, or fretful or unpatriotic, and visit Yo 
 Semite once a year. Niagara impresses one with a species 
 of terror ; this is like listening, amid settings no earthly stage 
 can contrive, to exquisite music none but yourself can hear. 
 To the great majority of visitors, El Capitan is the most 
 impressive object. It is not so high as other rocks, but 
 there is a majesty in this gigantic mass of solid, seamless 
 rock, shining in the sun with a dull lustre like unpolished 
 marble, that impresses the most stolid. It must be remem- 
 bered that it is not "pretty," or " picturesque." It is not a 
 pinnacle or a peak, but a wall nearly two miles broad, and 
 almost perpendicular. 
 
 When you have reached the foot of Yo Semite Fall, and 
 look up, up, and see what a vast body of water this foaming 
 band is, that is falling before your eyes 2,600 feet, while the 
 wind sways it from side to side, it will take you hours to 
 get anything like an adequate conception of the beauty and 
 majesty of a scene not equalled elsewhere on this planet. 
 Were you the most sordid citizen that ever travelled merely 
 because he could, you would be impressed. 
 
126 
 
 Rand, McNally cV Co.'s 
 
 Three Biothers, Yo Semite. 
 
Guide to Southern California. 127 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 California, as a wliole, is as curious in its general topog- 
 raphy as it is in its remarkable history ; tlian which there 
 is none more wonderful outside the realm of fable. It was 
 filled, within three years of the hour it was practically first 
 heard of, with adventurers of every kindred and tongue, 
 who established for themselves a code and a form of gov- 
 ernment never before heard of, which in its turn was broken 
 up by the memorable Vigilantes, the very opposite of a 
 commune, who, in an experiment that would have produced 
 a prolonged reign of anarchy in any other country than one 
 ruled by American traditions, established the rule of law 
 that will never again be broken. The question of the ad- 
 mission of the great State into the sisterhood of the Union 
 produced a furious storm in Congress ; a storm that was 
 born of the same fatuity on the slavery question that after- 
 wards brought on the war. As you wander amid these scenes, 
 wrought into semblances of the corners of Paradise by the 
 energy of a free and virile people, imagine how, by a slight 
 difference in original circumstances, California might have 
 spent the last twenty years in rubbing off the canker and 
 rust of a dead slavery. 
 
 The topography of the country has no standard of com- 
 parison by which the Eastern man may judge of it. It is 
 necessary to imagine a mountain wall, called the Sierra 
 Nevadas (Ne-7'(?//-dah, — snowed, or snow-covered), running 
 almost north and south on the eastern side, and melting 
 away at the southern end into the i)lain about Mojave. 
 
128 Rand, McNally &: Co.'s 
 
 West of this lies the Coast Range, very inferior in height. 
 Between the two Ues an immense valley, the northern half 
 being known as the Sacramento Valley, and the southern 
 half as the San Joaquin, already spoken of. In this valley 
 there is a curious arrangement of rivers. The San Joaquin, 
 rising in Tulare lake, runs northward about two hundred 
 miles, or almost opposite the bay of San Francisco, where 
 it is joined by the Sacramento river, rising near Mount 
 Shasta in the north. Each valley is called by the name of 
 its river, each of which turns off at a sharp angle and runs 
 into the bay. It is all really one valley, and, if it were not 
 in California, a river would run in one direction from end 
 to end of it, as usual. 
 
 The San Joaquin Valley contains about seven million 
 acres, the Sacramento about five million. Count in all the 
 nooks and corners, and the smaller valleys separated from 
 the main ones by spurs and small mountains, and the total 
 area of the great valley of California, land that at no distant 
 day will all be cultivated, is more than thirty millions of 
 acres. 
 
 This valley system is entirely distinct from the San 
 Gabriel and other valleys of Southern California. 
 
 These figures can be compared with those of the total 
 area of the State, which is the largest of the Union except 
 Texas, and estimated to contain 120,947,840 acres. 
 
 Outside of the valleys, it will be seen that the spots of 
 agricultural land are few antl far between, and that they 
 comprise an infinitesimal part of the whole area. The 
 dweller in any one of the great western States, will feel a 
 slight disgust for a country with so much waste land, so 
 much howling and irredeemable rock and canyon and 
 mountain top. The compensation is, that the lands that are 
 
Guide to Southern California. 
 
 129 
 
 tillable are much finer than any to be found even in Illinois 
 or Kansas. Two crops per year are often made. Water 
 
 A Rift in the Sierras. 
 
 from ditches renders agriculture a business in which results 
 are almost certain, and a land almost without a winter, and 
 a climate that has no vicissitudes, lend to the harvest an 
 
 9 
 
Tjo Rand, McNallv & Co.'s 
 
 assurance not possessed elsewhere. Labored and extensive 
 statistics could be given, if space and the patience of the 
 reader permitted, that would go far to show that California, 
 with less than one-thirtieth part of her area productive soil, 
 is one of the most voluminous producers of the American 
 Union. 
 
 To the traveler as he departs, and to the bird which flies 
 over the scene, those narrow streaks of green fenced by 
 eternal mountains must seem narrow. They .are so. Cali- 
 fornia can never come forward like that other wonder, 
 Kansas, reputed a desert and rich as the mud of the Nile, 
 as the fostering mother of industrious honesty, and the 
 home of the discouraged from every country. California 
 may be included among the luxuries. A home there can- 
 not now be had for the asking. At least moderate capital is 
 required in all cases. Hundreds of nooks and corners are 
 yet unoccupied, especially in the southern portion, but all of 
 them bear a value, in many cases entirely disproportionate 
 to any apparent advantage. 
 
 But as a place to see, a land in which to while a winter 
 away, a country to go to in weariness and failing health, 
 California has no equal. Nor does it entirely share the fate 
 of other beautiful countries. They are nearly all poor. All 
 regions of mountains and sunshine, of pines, falling water 
 and clear air, are more or less good for little else, — all 
 but thi.s. 
 
 'I'here remains but this : if, following the usual American 
 custom, you have worked yourself almost to death in middle 
 life ; if you have carried the seeds of consumption out of the 
 rich beech openings of Indiana or Ohio, or ague and its train 
 of torments from some corn-growing valley, there is still a 
 remedv left that is better than drugs and doctors. Put your- 
 
Guide tci Southern California. 131 
 
 self in direct competition witli tlie poorest man you know who 
 is also honest. Buy a second-class ticket if you can't a 
 first. Avail yourself of some one of the almost innumerable 
 means of cheap excursion travel now offered, and try 
 Southern California. You will find that the necessaries 
 of life are as cheap as at home, and that some of the 
 luxuries are cheaper still. You will meet others here who, 
 worse than yourself, are now rejoiced at the brilliancy 
 and success of the scheme of saving their lives by driving 
 mules or pruning trees. There is nothing to pay for what 
 you come after in such a case. Climate is free even to the 
 gophers. Your neighbor's garden, and God's blue-and- 
 gold landscape are yours without price. 
 
 As to the climatic cure of specific chronic diseases in 
 California, all grades and varieties of sick people go there 
 for that purpose. All mountain regions are more or less 
 visited for the same purpose. But in California, at least in 
 the southern part, the climate is a distinct addition to almost 
 all the sanitary features of other regions. There is at least 
 one widely disseminated complaint, for which remedies have 
 been sought in vain, and which plagues the lives of thousands 
 every season, for which the Pacific coast is stated to offer a 
 certain cure. This is "hay-fever," or "nose-cold," the 
 cause and cure of which nobody seems to understand, while 
 its victims are the most wretched of mortals while the 
 torment lasts. 
 
 A writer in the Trihniic, of Chicago, under date of 
 September 25, 1885, makes, in .the course of a letter upon 
 the subject, too long to reproduce entire, the following 
 observations : 
 
 " Wherever the western Atlantic winds blow most regu- 
 larly, and where the people were most exposed to them 
 
132 
 
 Raxd, McXallv & Co.'s 
 
 S 
 
 
 liiliiiiiiliiiiiili iiiiliiiiii'iiit'fiifr'" i> 
 
Guide to Southern California. 133 
 
 and least to the eastern, nortlieastern, or southern winds, 
 just to that extent were they exempt from hay-fever. 
 I discovered, that, in those portions of Europe where the 
 winds were frequently from the south or east, hay-fever was 
 almost as prevalent as in the United States. 
 
 " From these data I dvrw the conclusion that the Pacific 
 coast of this continent, from Victoria, in British Columbia, 
 south to San Diego, in California, should be exempt from 
 hay-fever, because, throughout the summer season — the 
 hay-fever period of the year — the prevailing, in fact the 
 constant, winds of that coast, are horn the Pacific Ocean. 
 Westerly and northwesterly trade-winds prevail, blowing 
 from the ocean inland for six or eight months in the year, — 
 from May until late in the beginning of winter. And of 
 course such winds, crossing the vast Pacific Ocean, would 
 bear very little of vegetable odors from the Asiatic shores, 
 but would be as free therefrom as anywhere in this world. 
 
 ''Reflecting upon this theory, and desiring to test its 
 soundness, this last summer, before the usual hay-fever season 
 set in, I corresponded with friends in Oregon and California 
 on the subject, all of whom assured me that such a thing as 
 hay-fever was utterly unknown on th 1: coast ; that all the 
 people who had been afflicted with the disease in the 
 Eastern or Middle States, and had settled on the Pacific 
 slope of the Sierra Nevada and Cascade ranges, had never 
 had any return of it since their settlement in the country ; 
 that all the Eastern visitors troubled with hay-fever who 
 have arrived on that coast in the summer have experienced 
 immediate and complete exemption from the pest ; and 
 that, so far as the most experienced hay-fever visitors' 
 knowledge extends, there has been no exception to this 
 universal rule. 
 
134 Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 " This was very interesting information, and, acting upon 
 it, I took a member of my family, long afflicted with hay- 
 fever, to the Pacific coast, visited many of the points just 
 named from Portland to Monterey, and found complete 
 exemption from the affliction. I met, during the hay-fever 
 period, several friends from the East who were seeking the 
 western coast in the hope that they might find a place 
 where they could find relief from their misery during the 
 summer. Each of them testified, that, immediately after 
 crossing the Sierra Nevada chain of mountains and coming 
 within the influence of the trade-winds of the Pacific Ocean, 
 which blow from the westward, they experienced no more 
 trouble from their annual evil ; and each and all joined in 
 the opinion that the Pacific slope was probably the best 
 place for hay-fever sufferers to visit in North America, 
 or perhaps the world. It has a pleasant summer climate, — 
 neither too hot nor too cold, — is perfectly healthy, free from 
 malaria, and not subject to any extremes of weather during 
 the summer, such as storms, cyclones, thunder and light- 
 nings ; while the population is hospitable, intelligent, and 
 pleasant to live among. All who can spare the time and 
 money for their hay-fever vacation will find the Pacific 
 coast the right place to visit, as there is no hay-fever there." 
 
 But money rules. Money /las ruled, or the majority of 
 the American people would not need the climate of Califor- 
 nia as badly as they now do. Perhaps advice as to the in- 
 vestment of funds is mere surplusage in these pages, but it 
 is well known that men are not alike in their view of this 
 time-worn subject. One of the unique features of land 
 investment in California is, that in the majority of cases 
 there is a water-right connected with the purchase, for 
 which you also jxiv. Frank confession is here maile that 
 
Guide to Southern California. 135 
 
 this subject is not understood in all its bearings by the 
 present writer. Water was a prominent factor in mining 
 operations in the early history of the State, and has cut a 
 prominent figure in the adjustment of individual and com- 
 munity rights ever since. The miner's "inch," and the 
 statute "inch" have sometimes come in conflict. Almo.st 
 the whole of the water supply, which sometimes has neces- 
 sitated the building of costly works, is in the hands of 
 companies. On the part of the older residents, a belief that 
 water is an absolute necessity in all agricultural operations 
 is very general. The new school are hesitatingly under the 
 impression that many processes can be successfully carried 
 on without it. In truth, the rainfall of California presents 
 some curious features. Westward of the coast range, with 
 some exceptions like that of San Diego, where the prevail- 
 ing Pacific winds are modified by the trend of the eleva- 
 tions, the prevailing climate is governed by the temperature 
 of the sea. From April to October the current of cold 
 water which pours out of Behring Strait has a temperature 
 of fifty-three degrees, and is the cause of the north and 
 north-west winds, and of the fogs which are wrapped like 
 a gray cloak around the foot-hills wherever they intervene, 
 and which is carried only a short distance into the interior. 
 There are, therefore, in California two climates ; the coast 
 and the inland. This is doubtless the reason of the state- 
 ment made by some authorities, that the coast of the 
 country is unsuitable for invalids. The statement is true 
 only generally, the unequalled situation of San Diego, and 
 possibly of other places, giving them all the advantages of 
 proximity to the sea, and freedom from the cold current and 
 the fog. 
 
 These rare locations are also largely exempt from the dis- 
 
136 Rand, McNally &: Co.'s 
 
 advantages of the inland climate, which may be considered 
 the exact opposite of the coast climate. The great interior 
 valleys are very warm, the thermometer at noon often mark- 
 ing 100 degrees for several days in succession. But the 
 nights and mornings are always cool. The heat is dry ; 
 there are no " muggy " days, and there is generally a breeze. 
 And " between the devil and the deep sea," as it were, 
 though precisely reversing the meaning of that time- 
 honored phrase, there is a district jointly ruled by these 
 two climates, and consequently the most delightful tem- 
 perature in the world. 
 
 The rainy season of California commences in November, 
 and lasts until about the first of May. The dry season 
 has all the remaining months. The rainy season is not to 
 be taken in any tropical sense ; it is not so wet as a 
 New England summer. But the dry season is all that the 
 term indicates. The average rainfall at San Francisco 
 for the year is only about twenty-one inches, and in 
 many localities it is even less than that. 
 
 On the other hand, peculiar locations greatly influence 
 the rainfall in its season. In the northern foot-hills of the 
 Sierra, eighty inches sometimes fall. In south-western 
 Oregon eleven feet of water has been known to fall in a 
 single year. 
 
 The greater part of the trees of California are not only 
 indigenous, but are C(jnfined to that coast. The giant 
 Sequoia, three species, including the "redwood," never 
 grew elsewhere. The last-named has frequently attained a 
 height of three hundred feet, and a circumference of eighty 
 feet. That makes of a common, ordinary rail-cut a stick 
 that is nearly thirty feet in diameter. It may be a source of 
 gratification to those who share the feeling of the author of 
 
Guide to Southern California. 
 
 1.37 
 
 " Woodman, spare that tree," that, once cut, its successor 
 never comes, and its place is taken by punier growths. 
 
 There are sixteen species of pine, of which the "sugar pine" 
 is the largest, being often forty-five feet in circumference. 
 
 There are six species of fir-tree, one ot them sometimes 
 attaining the height of three hundred feet. 
 
 There are two species of the live or evergreen oak, and 
 twelve other members of the oak family. The " chinquapin " 
 sometimes attains a height of one hundred and twenty-five 
 feet. 
 
138 Rand, McNally & Co.'s 
 
 There are three or four dogwoods, none of them hke the 
 same tree elsewhere, together with an extensive family of 
 smaller and greater trees, some of them the most beautiful 
 productions of the forest, but all differing in nature from 
 what we wouUl imagine they were from their familiar desig- 
 nations. 
 
 Yet there is but one species of native grape, all the rest 
 having been imported from Europe. 
 
 There are three hundred and fifty species of birds native 
 to California, including among these twenty kinds of wood- 
 peckers alone. There are thirty-seven different birds of 
 prey, and twelve kinds of owls ; none of these have ever 
 lived elsewhere. 
 
 There is no intention of going into zoCylogy or ornithology. 
 Two or three facts are given which indicate that there was 
 an original intention of leaving California to itself ; an 
 intention which, as in the case of Australia as well, has not 
 been carried out. To this it may be added that of the one 
 hundred and fifteen species of mammals, twenty-seven 
 are carnivorous. The list, and the remarks thereon, might 
 be continued almost indefinitely. Everywhere one goes, 
 the unaccustomed eye lights upon novelties in animal, fruit, 
 flower and scenery. 
 
 Of flowers, it is almost useless to begin again to write. 
 The greenhouses that wealthy people build, adorned with 
 stucco rocks, and waterfalls that remind one of an acci- 
 dental leak, and warmed with coils of plumber's work or the 
 uncongenial heat of a furnace, show all over the land the 
 appreciation in which the fragrance and beauty of the floral 
 world is held. Yet all the contrivances of art, in either the 
 northern or southern States, never produced under glass 
 anything to equal a nook in the forest, a corner by the 
 
Guide to Southern California. 139 
 
 roadside, or a poor man's dooryard, in midwinter, in the 
 southern portions of California. You cannot Hve upon 
 flowers ; even the humming-birds do not quite succeed in 
 that ; but they are the perennial beauty of a land where all 
 the joys of the tropics may be had, with not one of the pen- 
 alties. Here, as elsewhere, exist all the toils and trials of 
 life. California is not an Eden. But the flowers of the 
 Pacific shore have brightened many a weary woman's mo- 
 notonous days, added many a new pleasure to infancy, and, 
 perhaps, taught many a new lesson to the blase soul of the 
 wandering victim of life's dregs and bitternesses. 
 
 It is a curious country. After you have come away again, 
 this fact will appear to you in strong light, for you may add 
 to all this the immense yield of precious metals which 
 marked California's earlier history, the unique climate of 
 which she is the sole possessor, the profusion and quality of 
 her present products, the energy and talent of her people, 
 the priceless endowment of schools, colleges, asylums, insti- 
 tutes, and organized charities of which she is the possessor, 
 her authors, statesmen and generals, her renowned courts 
 of law, whose decisions are now quoted in every court 
 where English is spoken, her beautiful women and rosy 
 children, her tolerance and her hospitality ; recall the scene 
 as a whole as you again turn eastward across scenes only less 
 wonderful, and you will have a conception of the largest 
 progress ever made in thirty-six years m the history of the 
 human race, in the most favored land over which the stand- 
 ard of any country ever floated. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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