132 HISTORY OF PASADENA. 



and acted very sick ; for as I walked about the streets of the city I over- 

 heard such remarks as these : " There's another poor consumptive. He's 

 come out here to die. He's too far gone. This climate won't do him any 

 good. He'd better have staid at home with his friends," etc., etc. One 

 said, " He ought to drink buttermilk; that will cure him. When I came 

 here I had the consumption ; and I drank buttermilk and it cured me." I 

 looked at the fellow, and thought him a pretty poor specimen to be sent 

 back East as an advertisement of this country — for his cheeks were sunken 

 like the hollows on a New England coast map, and his eyes looked like 

 buttons in a washtub. Seeing things thus, I decided not to diet on butter- 

 milk. 



In May I got acquainted with surveyor E. T. Wright of Eos Angeles. 

 He invited me one day to ride with him out to the " Indiana Colony." We 

 went by the Arroyo road. On what is now called Highland Park, and near 

 the Arroyo where the Potts residence now stands, there was a low old adobe 

 building — a relic of the old Spanish or Mexican days ; and Wright told 

 me, with solemn tone and countenance, that the man living in that house 

 had killed six men, and was waiting for the seventh to come along. I felt 

 very uncomfortable till we got well past the place. (We returned to the city 

 by the east or adobe road, and I was very glad of it.) We reached the 

 colony settlement at what was called " Porter's Hill," where A. O. Porter 

 and P. M. Green had pretty cottages — the prettiest in the place, I thought, 

 because the others were mostly unpainted. At this time there were no 

 houses on the Eake Vineyard Tract — that is, none east of Fair Oaks 

 Avenue. 



In June I bought lo acres on the Eake Vineyard side at $55 per acre, 

 less 12 per cent, for cash down — the land where Hotel Green, and the 

 Santa Fe depot, and the Post Office building, and the Wooster block all now 

 stand. I came to pitch my tent here July 8, 1875. My lumber, my stove 

 and other kitchen utensils, mj^ provisions and myself were hauled out from 

 Eos Angeles by a Mr. Higgins with his 6-horse team that day. I lodged 

 awhile at Dr. Elliott's, nearly where the Arroyo Vista house (Mrs. Bangs's) 

 now stands ; then a week or two at Rev. W. C. Mosher's home ; then 

 moved into my own less than half-completed shanty. While at Mosher's, 

 and also in my own shanty alone, I suffered terribly and nearly died with 

 rheumatism. I lived in my shanty several months before I got a roof on it, 

 for I was too sick to work, and had but little means. But I needed a horse ; 

 and I bought from a man who had just came from Arizona, an Indian pony, 

 a fine saddle, bridle and tether, all for $40. The boys called my pony 

 " Rosinante," after Don Quixote's famous steed. I rigged up for my pony 

 a two-wheeled cart, the thills of which were fastened to the saddle ; and 

 when I hauled wood, or water, or anything, I rode in the saddle myself 

 instead of the cart. The pony was Injin bred and I was Yankee bred, and 



