lo Life and Sport on the Pacific Slope 



life beneath the soft blue skies of California was 

 pictured as a sort of triumphant procession. 



And so it proved — for a season or two. 



I remember planting potatoes — the Early Rose 

 variety — upon some land for which I had just paid 

 (in '82) five dollars an acre. My neighbours, men 

 of flocks and herds, laughed at my folly. They too 

 had read the pamphlets, and sneered at the predic- 

 tions of the prophets. According to them, land in 

 Southern California was adapted to pastoral uses — 

 and nothing else. I was pronounced a tenderfoot 

 with money to burn. The potatoes were planted in 

 virgin soil. They increased and multiplied. In 

 due time the crop was sacked and sold. After pay- 

 ing expenses, I found that I had cleared about one 

 hundred dollars per acre ! 



I could cite a thousand such instances. 



During the decade that followed, the Pacific Slope 

 was peopled with petty farmers and fruit-growers. 

 Land values steadily rose in obedience to the im- 

 mutable laws of demand and supply. The men 

 of flocks and herds, the " silurians " as they were 

 called, the " moss-backs," ploughed up their pastures 

 and sold their sheep and cattle. The spirit of the 

 times had them by the throat. These patriarchs, 

 knowing but one business (and that indifferently 

 well), became of a sudden horticulturists, wine- 

 makers, fruit-growers, or dealers in real estate. 

 They no longer laughed at others, they laughed 

 with them. Everybody laughed. A broad grin 

 rested on the face of the landscape. We were all 

 blowing soap-bubbles, and that is glorious sport 

 when you are young. And there was plenty of 



