TO IMPERIAL VALLEY 289 



In the midst of the banks and mercantile places. 

 Whether they were used by bank presidents and 

 their kind, or by the common race, I never found 

 out: nor whether the recent earthquake had any 

 bearing on the matter. With their canopies of mos- 

 quito netting they had the look of palanquins or 

 howdahs. The Oriental flavor was strengthened by 

 the presence of many Hindoos. I fancied there was 

 as much dislike as curiosity in the feelings of the 

 Mexicans, who turned to stare at these silent, 

 turbaned fellows, the latest interlopers on the pay- 

 roll. 



The most attractive town in the valley is Brawley, 

 near the southern end of the Salton Sea. The first 

 settlers had the good sense to plant trees freely along 

 the streets, and the busy little place, embowered 

 among cottonwoods and eucalyptus, has a much 

 more finished and pleasing appearance than any of 

 the other settlements. 



Midway between El Centro and Brawley is the 

 town of Imperial. This place formerly aspired to be- 

 coming the county seat, but in a sharp engagement 

 of "interests" it was worsted by its southern neigh- 

 bor. Imperial thereupon took to drink, and now 

 exists mainly as a pestiferous nest of saloons, a 

 resort, especially on Sundays, for beery parties from 

 the surrounding country. As a place of genuine busi- 

 ness it seems dead, a commentary on the often 

 heard argument that the saloon is a necessity for 

 any community that wishes to thrive. 



A friend on whose farm I stayed a few days, 

 revelling in unlimited dairy produce, drove me over 



