sent to the Buttermakers' Convention held in Chicago during the World's 

 Fair. Fidessa, a winner at Sacramento for several years, and over twenty 

 other cows with records of over twenty pounds of butter per week were 

 bred here on my ranch. 



Another success has been attained with table grapes. By careful 

 selection the Emperor has been developed into a heavy bearing vine with 

 large highly colored fruit in magnificent bunches. When these grapes were 

 first shipped from the ranch the packing was done in Fresno, where the large 

 buncheswere cut up to fit small baskets, eight of which were put into a crate. 

 Their value for table use was almost completely destroyed, so I opened a 

 packing house at the ranch and by laying down the sides of the small bas- 

 kets managed to pack the bunches uncut. The next season larger baskets 

 were ordered and all the crate stock was ordered for single crates. Ribbons 

 left from the previous season's raisin pack were used for decoration, and 

 they sold at once for a dollar more a crate than the rest of the pack. Each 

 year we pack with the same care and now after having heard that the 

 large package was often more than a family cared to buy of high priced 

 fruit, I tried one year sawing some crates in half, thus making a smaller 

 package. This also sold well, so that we try to place in each car seventy- 

 five half crates. The returns from the Emperor vineyard have always been 

 good, ranging from $10,000 to $15,000 a year after freight refrigeration 

 and packing material have been paid for. Like the care of the cows 

 this has been a most interesting work, for in all life the same laws pre- 

 vail, and if the grower does not constantly build up the strength and care- 

 fully select his vines and trees there will be only a minimum of success. 

 Pedigree is as important in a plant as in an animal. In the vineyard fer- 

 tilizing and pruning, spraying and clean cultivation put the vines in the 

 best conditions for bearing. Quantity of fruit must give way to quality, for 

 quantity makes pigs' feed, while quality makes money. 



My olive orchard also has a pedigree, being only two generations from 

 the trees of an old mission. We had a friend who grew the trees from cut- 

 tings from the bearing wood of his own orchard. At four years of age 

 these trees bore a half crop and have not failed since. The olives are so 

 large and fine that the first two sizes have been sold under a five years 

 contract for $75.00 to $80.00 a ton f. o. b. Fresno. The smaller olives 

 are pickled for local trade and oil is made that sells readily in the East in 

 case lots among private customers. 



These are successes, yet without a few failures they would be less 

 sweet. The beautiful Bartlett pear orchard, just when at its best, and when 

 the brand had built up a reputation for good packing and prices were in- 

 creasing, the blight came. Though each winter, in hopes of saving at least 

 a portion the blight was carefully removed under antiseptic conditions, yet 

 each year the trees had more cut off than the summer growth renewed, 

 until only pitiful stumps remained and these were finally cut up for fire 

 wood. The second failure was the peach orchard. It bears well but "haste 

 made waste" and the trees were foolishly bought, instead of being grown 

 and budded to order. They were labeled as Early Crawfords, Muirs, and 

 Orange Clings. How many varieties of peaches are cultivated I do not 

 know. I feel sure, however, that I have every one of them in the forty 

 acres. 



Now, I have tried to tell you about a woman's experiences in ranching. 

 I find ranch life full of joy. To all it is not given to create pictures on can- 

 vass or to enrich literature. These are special gifts. But who cannot plant 

 a tree and make a picture against the sky? My memory calls up the pic- 

 ture of the Fresno plains of twenty years ago, covered with yellow stubble, 

 the sun burning down and spirits of dust whirling up like dancing dervishes, 

 the only motion in the tense stillness. To-day, my vines and trees spread 

 a living green over these plains, the birds sing, and the cool sweet wind 

 comes over the alfalfa fields when the cows are standing knee deep in the 

 purple-tinted greenery. 



Yes! it is a life worth living, for when the time comes to fold my hands 

 in a quiet old age, how much sweeter will be the rest, for the struggle toward 

 improvement has been with kindly nature and not with restless humanity. 



