374 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[May 30, 1689. 



as these scholars are educated they are indeed refined. The sav- 

 age disappears, and the man stands redeemed, regenerated and 

 disenthralled, touched by the magic influences of mercy, humanity 

 and justice. 



These considerations have led me to-day to feel that here I am 

 no longer, as I have been for many weeks past, to represent the 

 Government as an appointing- officer; but in the superintendent 

 of this Indian Industrial School I may recognize, on behalf of the 

 United States, one conferring upon all the people a great and 

 mighty gift; a magnificent result that his tact and management 

 bas achieved and displayed in elevating these Indian pupils 

 from the forlorn position they have held to that great equality 

 ■with others, in which, indeed, they may have been born, but 

 which can be maintained only by educated intelligence. 



It has beeu a considerable part of my occupation lately to in 

 spect the letters and commendations of my fellow citizens, where- 

 by they inav secure certain offices. I cannot but admire him 

 who can present to a government such credentials of excellence 

 as your superintendent, exhibits to-day, and yet claims only you 

 sympathy and encouragement. 



Ladies and gentlemen of the graduating class, I am called upon 

 by your superintendent to present to each of you one of these cer- 

 tificates of your attainments acquired in this school. I have pre 

 pared no speech, but even if I had I should ere this have become 

 utterly disconcerted by the results I have seen, so far beyond 

 anything I could have anticipated. Your readiness of expression 

 in the English tongue, your general demeanor so courteous and 

 pleasant, your habitation so clean, your rooms so well ordered, 

 your classes so well disciplined; your own appearance so elevated 

 and bright and cheerful, your quickness of apprehension, your 

 scholarship so high, your industrial products so varied and so 

 good, your general fitness to compete with the most intelligent of 

 any of our people, lead me to say that I am not only pleased, but 

 that I am amazed at such magnificent results. 



If I may say a word more, it is to recall some of the features of 

 your forefathers. I would not have you for one instant forget 

 that the men who preceded you were men of exalted character in 

 their day and generation. I would beg you never to forget, either 

 as men or women, the fact that it was Logan who, on the one 

 hand, would not turn upon his heel to save his life, and on the 

 other knew not how to tell a lie. I would have you remember 

 too, that grand independence of character that Tecnmseh had, 

 and exhibited on a memorable occasion when once approaching 

 a general of the United States Government in camp, in order to 

 hold a council, and surrounded by many of his chiefs he was 

 allowed to wait in front of the tent unnoticed. At last an aid- 

 de-camp came and brought Tecumseh a chair, saying: "Your 

 father sends you a chair." The chieftain drew himself up, and 

 pointing to the sky said: "My father! The sun is my father, and 

 the earth is my mother; I will repose upon her bosom," and threw 

 himself upon the ground, and there remained throughout the 

 consultation. I do not wish you to imitate all Tecumseh did. 1 

 do not. wish you to return to the days of Logan, but I do wish you 

 to bear in your hearts, both men and women, that sterling quality 

 of independent personal liberty that brooks no oppression, and 

 around which alone can cluster the virtues that will support you 

 men to attain the best purposes of life, and will enable you women 

 in your homes to be true helpmates and the bentfactors of your 

 race. 



Blessed with a native love of liberty, and endowed with educa- 

 tion, be manly, you men, and womanly, you women, and there are 

 no heights to which you may not ascend in this free land, your 

 country, my country, the common country of all who are free, 

 who are intelligent and worthy of its protection. 



I give you, on behalf of the institution these certificates. I hope 

 for each of you that all that this certifies to may be a hundred- 

 fold increased as you go on your career; that you will maintain 

 your integrity, that you will maintain your independence, and 

 gather around it new virtues, until this will be to you merely the 

 A, B, C, of that great lesson of life you will ultimately conquer 

 and practice. With these words 1 bid you, on behalf of the Gov 

 ernment, God-speed, and to you, my friends, I bid farewell." 



r M Mporizttimt §ottmt. 



THE RANCH OF THE PALMS. 



RANCHO DE LAS PALMAS, Mexico. -Six weeks at 

 the Hotel del Coronada, Coronado Beach, Cal., with 

 almost daily excursions into the interior, with an occa- 

 sional day's shooting on the numerous bays with which 

 San Diego county is favored, the quack, quack of the 

 ducks and the whir-r-r of the quail still resound in my 

 ears. This southern California is certainly a great, grand 

 country, and the lover of the forest and stream and rod 

 and gun who fails to visit it in the near future, before 

 civilization encroaches upon its eastern boundary, misses 

 sport, pleasure and healthful recreation, the like of which 

 there is not on this continent. From the small smelt and 

 herring in the bay, taken with "grab hooks," we catch 

 flounder, mackerel, halibut and various kinds of bottom 

 fishes, tiring of which we jump aboard one of the numer- 

 ous sailboats, and after an hour's sail down one of the 

 most magnificent bays in the world, we round Point 

 Lorna and the lighthouse, and cast our line for Spanish 

 mackerel, barracuda or other game fishes. "We may be 

 in Mr. Babcock's famous catboat Teaser, or in another of 

 the numerous boats belonging to the hotel or its manage- 

 ment; but whatever we are in, we go spinning along 

 before a rattling breeze, and — there! There is one on 

 your hook! Pull him in hand over hand. Be careful 

 and don't give him any slack line. See him jump 10ft.' 

 out of the water! Ah, isn't he a beauty! A 10-pounder, 

 sure. You had better hit him a bifter over the head. 

 So it goes on all day; and please remember that this is a 

 land of perpetual summer — no winter, no frost — and out- 

 door sports are the order of the day. From fishing we 

 change to hunting, and in all the canons and on all the 

 mesa lands can be had quail and rabbits till you can't 

 rest— all within five miles of San Diego. I never saw 

 game so plentiftd. Further up in the mountains, say 

 thirty-five miles from town, we find deer— the magnificent 

 black-tailed monarch— bear, and pow and then a moun- 

 tain lion, with an abundance of coyotes and small game. 

 Of course, this cannot last forever, as civilization is even 

 now making a marked impression upon the game of the 

 country. But of this I shall speak again. At present I 

 am in the republic of Mexico, and it is of Mexico that I 

 want to speak. 



During a sojourn of three months in southern Califor- 

 nia, twelve years ago, it was my good fortune to meet 



Sefior Chanon Gilbert, one of those genial, warm-hearted, 

 genuine old Castilians— a Spanish gentleman, bred and 

 born— a very few of whom yet survive. Three weeks ago, 

 in January that was, I proposed to a Mexican friend that 

 we visit the Ranch of the Palms, and we started forth- 

 with. At Tia Juana, the border town, and the end of the 

 railroad, we procured a pair of ponies and a buggy, and 

 started on a forty-mile drive. The sun was hot, and I 

 doffed my coat. In a few moments my vest followed the 

 coat. I unbuttoned my blue flannel shirt, dropped 

 suspenders, cocked my Panama hat over my starboard 

 eye to protect it and that side of my face from the sun. 

 Still it was hot. My companion, Antonio Something— I 

 cannot remember his name a moment — in the meantime 

 was lolling lazily, sleepily in the buggy, smoking cigar- 

 ette after cigarette, and apparently very comfortable, and 

 the ponies jogged along with nary a wet hair. They were 

 acclimated, probably; at least that is what Antonio said, 

 adding the assurance that if I remained there long enough 

 I would "get used to it," also. Our road follows the Tia 

 Juana River, a bit of a stream, by the way, which has 

 a peculiar knack of suddenly disappearing' in the sand 

 and remaining hidden for several miles, and just as sud- 

 denly it reappears in all its glory, as if nothing had hap- 

 pened ; but in summer it disappears for several months, 

 and does not show up again until the rainy season — 

 about December. I remarked to Antonio that the river 

 had the bulge on us, as it were, insasmuch as when its 

 waters became so hot from the infernal rays of this tropi- 

 cal sun it "took a header" and down it went to cool off, 

 appearing again at the surface when it had accomplished 

 the object of its subterranean visit. I said other funny 

 things, and when the usually jolly Antonio refused or 

 neglected to laugh it not only surprised me, but I was 

 absolutely hurt. 



The sun still came straight down, red hot, the ponies 

 jogged along noiselessly in the sand and all was quiet— 

 and hot. I yawned, took out a cigar, lighted it and 

 offered Antonio one. He was asleep, sound asleep, with 

 a half-burned cigarette protruding from his brown lips. 

 I quietly placed the fire end of my cigar to the bit of 

 brown paper in his lips, saw it ignite and slowly burn, 

 wondered whether or no it would burn off his moustache 

 or just singe it a little, and finally the thought of how he 

 would jump and howl when the fire reached his lips be- 

 came so funny that it was with great difficulty I con- 

 trolled my merriment. I laughed inwardly until my 

 sides ached. Suddenly a lazy yawn, a mechanical puff 

 at the cigarette, and my dusky friend leisurely straight- 

 ened himself up and continued to smoke as if nothing 

 had happened. Not a word was spoken. The burial of 

 Sir John Moore was pandemonium compared with the 

 oppressive silence that reigned for a few minutes in that 

 buggy. I said not a word about the lighting of his 

 cigarette and he was too lazy to ask questions. Anyhow, 

 1 had a good laugh, but it was like the Irishman and the 

 bull. We drove on, and the sun came down red hot. 



"Antonio," said I, a happy thought striking me, "do 

 you know what the Governor of North Carolina said to 

 the Governor of South Carolina on a certain auspicious 

 occasion ?" 



"No, senor, no comprendo el Gubenor," he replied. 

 "Oh, I see. You don't savvy the Governor. Well, sir, 

 on a certain auspicious occasion, too well known to every 

 American citizen to justify me in entering upon a detailed 

 explanation as to time and place, the Governor of North 

 Carolina said to the Governor of South Carolina, 'It is a 

 long time between drinks.'" 



lo?" he murmured. That was all. Not a smile. 

 Casting a withering, scornful glance upon this inanimate 

 piece of humanity, I reached into my grip and drew forth 

 a bottle of "Monogram." Handing it to my companion 

 I said, "Here, take a snifter of this. It is good for what 

 ails you." 

 "What eez zis?" he inquired. 



"What is it? Why, man, it is whisky. What's the 

 matter with you? Take a drink." 



"Zere is nodings ze matter wiz me, but I drink ze 

 mescal." 



Mus-kell? And what in the name of Mexico is mus- 

 kelT? I know all about pulque, but don't savvy the mus- 

 kell." 



Mescal eez ze fine Spanish chink. Eet iz made from 

 ze cactus — ze century plant. I have some here," saying 

 which he brought forth from beneath the buggy seat a 

 quart beer bottle filled with a liquid resembling water. I 

 took a good-sized swallow of the stuff, and before my 

 breath returned I was certain I was a goner. After a 

 dozen or two spasmodic gasps for fresh air I finally suc- 

 ceeded in securing a limited supply, and felt that I was 

 safe. But the horror, and agony of the. moment! lean 

 compare it to nothing but swallowing a porcupine, head 

 foremost, and having some one pull it out by the tail. My 

 ears tingle yet when I think of it. Antonio watched my 

 gyrations and evolutions, which I know would have 

 caused the Majiltons to turn green with envy had they 

 witcessed them, and without even a sympathetic glance 

 at my pitiful condition he turned up the bottle and 

 guzzled the vile stuff as if it were soda water. 



During all this time the sun had not neglected its busi- 

 ness, but came straight for us. We are now fifteen 

 miles from Tia Juana (pronounced Tee-ah Whana) spin- 

 ning along at a lively gait up and down canons, over 

 mesas (table lands) across fertile valleys, sending rabbits 

 scooting hither and thither, while covey after covey of 

 quail darts in and out of the bushes, and an occasional 

 coyote is seen scampering away over the hills. Thus the 

 day passes on, and I begin to wonder how much further 

 we must go ere the Valley of the Palms is reached. Ah, 

 here comes a sleepy old Mexican, perched away up on the 

 seat of a rickety old wagon, driving six sleepy-looking 

 ponies. I will not disturb Antonio, who is again in the 

 arms of Morpheus, but will inquire of the old gentleman 

 myself. 



"Adios, sefior. Can you tell me how far it is to the 

 Ranch of the Palms?" 

 "No comprendo el Inglis." 



"Oh, you don't understand English? Well, that's too 

 bad; but it seems to me anybody ought to know how far 

 ''t is to the Palms." 

 "Si, si, pero no comprendo usted," he expostulated. 

 "Yes, I know. That's all right. But— how — far— is — 

 ; — to — the — Rancho— de — las— Palmas?" raising my voice 

 such a pitch that Antonio almost jumped from the 

 buggy. 



thinks I, they will dismount and fight it out; but no, 

 they are laughing. Then Antonio pounds his left hand 

 with the right and vice versa, and then the old gent has 

 Jus innings. Waltzing down the middle, figuratively 

 speaking, he executes a series of fandangoes, salutes his 

 partner, swings corners, chasse all, right hand to vour 

 partner, and grand change. They jabber incessantly, I 

 light another Mexican cigar, of "which I had laid in a 

 stock before leaving Tia Juana, pick up the lines and 

 drive on, with Antonio jabbering over his shoulder until 

 the old fellow disappears around a curve in the road. 

 " 'E eez a fine fellow," says Antonio. "Yes, I like him 

 vevj much," I replied, "and his conversation is especially 

 edifying." And I understood not a word of what they 

 had said. 



Five o'clock and we sight the magnificent Valley of the 

 Palms, and what a place! Think of a farm six miles 

 wide and thirty-three miles long. That is the size of El 

 Rancho de los Palmas— the Ranch of the Palms. Here 

 grow to perfection all the most delicate tropical fruits. 

 Bananas, figs, cocoanuts, oranges, lemons, almonds, 

 nectarines, raisins, etc., can be excelled nowhere. A.dd 

 to this the magnificent grazing lands over which for 

 miles and miles roam the hundreds of fine horses, 

 thousands of cattle, sheep, and the beautiful Angora 

 goats; farming lands upon which can be raised every- 

 thing known to man, from garden truck to the magnifi- 

 cent date palm, and we have a veritable Vale of Cash- 

 mere. 



We are heartily welcomed to the hospitable mansion by 

 our old friend Chanon, surrounded by a family of gallant 

 son3 and handsome, blushing senoritas, and" as I shake 

 the warm, soft hand of each, acknowledging the kind 

 words of welcome spoken in their low, sweet Spanish ac- 

 cent, I feel that I have just now begun to live. For 

 remember that these people are not Mexicans. They are 

 thoroughbred Spaniards on their mother's side, while the 

 usual dark hue characteristic of their race is toned down 

 by marriage, two generations ago, with a celebrated Eng- 

 lish lord. Thus we have by this intermarriage a pleasing 

 contrast. On one side we observe instantly the dark, 

 keen, piercing eye, the handsome mouth and pearly teeth 

 of the Spaniard, while English blood tones down the 

 dark-bucd skin to a beautiful, smooth velvety olive. I i 

 have sat by the hour in El Pravo, the fashionable thor- 

 oughfare of Madrid, Spain, and watched the dark-eyed 

 beauties of that celebrated city in all their loveliness, but 

 they were always associated in my mind with treachery 

 and deceit. While thus sitting one beautiful evening, 

 the thoroughfare thronged with its usual gaiety, I saw 

 two splendidly dressed ladies meet and embrace with 

 great enthusiasm, when, with a chill of horror, I saw one 

 of them stealthily draw a stiletto and plunge it deep into 

 the back of the other. A shriek, a fall, a sudden rustling 

 of dresses as the murderess quickly mingled with the 

 crowd, and all was over. I sat stupefied for a few mo- 

 ments, when the body was carried away. Since that 

 Spaniards, stilettoes and treachery are associated together 

 in my mind. 



In this old house of Las Palmas I often find myself 

 gazing vacantly at the magnificent faces of the senoritas 

 of the establishment as they flit hither and thither, while 

 my thoughts are far away among the scenes of that 

 memorable night in Madrid, and I ask myself, "Can it be 

 possible that these innocent, beautiful girls— but no. 

 What nonsense! They are perfection itself, in whom 

 there is no deceit." I cannot now remember whether or 

 no, in speaking of our visit to New Orleans in a steam 

 launch, I mentioned the Creole ladies. If I did not, it 

 was an oversight, and the only excuse I can offer con- 

 sists of the fact that my education and pursuits have not 

 fitted me to discuss the characteristics of the various 

 nationalities and incidents in general which a person of 

 traveling propensities necessarily encounters in several 

 years' wandering. The Creole impressed me very forci- 

 bly, and I must confess that, like the other boys, I was 

 loth to leave New Orleans. Thus it is with thesp Spanish 

 girls, and although I have been here three weeks the 

 time seems but a day. Each night brings something 

 new— a dance, in which all the dons and senoritas for 

 miles and miles around participate, and on which occa- 

 sion wine flows like water; or a trip to a neighboring 

 ranch to revel in the same sport, which sometimes con- 

 tinues two days. The strum, strum of the guitar or 

 mandolin is indeed music under such circumstances, and 

 of such sport these people never weary. 



We have done some hunting, but not much. There is 

 too much work about that to please the average Mexican. 

 They prefer to sit in the shade and leisurelv smoke cig- 

 arettes, watching the curling smoke ascend through the 

 green foliage, and think— well. I don't know what they 

 think, but they do keep up a terrible thinking. And I? 

 Well, I think, too. Ah, me! I must soon leave this 

 country, as the weather is becoming rather oppressive, 

 and again resume my flight. "What a world ! For twelve 

 long years I have followed the wild geese from north to 

 south and back again. From the everglades of Florida, 

 up through the pines of the Carolinas, the mountains of 

 Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New York, and so on 

 to the White Mountains. I have wandered along the 

 shores of that tideless sea, the Mediterranean; have spent 

 weeks and weeks on the Nile, in Egypt, ancient Egypt, 

 the truly wondrous land, where Isaiah prophesied, and 

 whose shady palms gave shelter to the Holy Family when 

 fleeing from the wrath of Herod, and whose extent is 

 dotted over with the ruins of many cities, tombs of a 

 buried civilization. Away north of the Arabian Sea, 

 beyond the Ganges and Bramapootra, hidden away mid 

 hill and dale in that remote and dreamy land, I have 

 witnessed sufferings similar to my own, but intensified 

 ten thousandfold by lack of proper "sanitary surroundings 

 and proper care. Well might Jeremiah cry out, ' 'Is there 

 no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there?" Re- 

 turning to our own country, I stood on the shores of Lake 

 Minnetonka one pleasant morning, and thanked God for 

 this glorious, health-giving America. 



"Breathes there a man with soul so dead, 

 Who never to himself hath said 

 This is my own, my native land?" 

 This is a rambling letter, and is not what I intended it 

 should be. I wanted to talk of Mexico and Mexican man- 

 ners, but these thoughts kept crowding in upon me, and, 

 like Banquo's ghost, they would not down. I shall leave 

 here in another week (perhaps), and after a week or two 



Taking in the situation, he instituted a series of in- ( more at Coronado Beach, will hie me eastward. The time 

 quiries, and the way they jabbered was a caution, Now, I is near at hand when my naphtha launch will be finished 



