Nov. is, 1913- 
FOREST AND STREAM 
625 
The Days of Yesteryear 
I N the fall of 1867 I landed in San Diego, 
Southern California, with one companion 
in search of adventure. It was the 
period of its first boom. All the site of the 
present city was then owned by a man named 
Thorton, barring those portions he had already 
sold to settlers who had been attracted by the 
glowing reports of its advantages for the me¬ 
tropolis of the coast. The old adobe tile- 
covered Custom House was the only building 
there when Dana wrote his “Two Years Before 
the Mast.” It was still doing duty at the old 
stand, but now there were new houses scattered 
about among the low brush that covered the flat 
between the bay and the mesa land for half a 
mile or more, while a couple of miles to the 
north on the bank of the San Diego River—• 
perfectly dry in its sandy bed at that season— 
lay the somnolent old Pueblo of San Diego, 
founded by the Spaniards one hundred years 
before. Two small hotels had already been 
erected to accommodate the expected tide of 
immigration, and at one of these—the “Bay 
View”—we established ourselves. 
The climate at that season was perfect, the 
bay a charming sheet of water, and although 
there was no timber for miles in any direction, 
we found plenty of sport very near the town. 
We shot deer within three miles of the wharf, 
and in the aroyas quail were to be found in 
thousands. 
There is no stream in the county that runs 
into the ocean the entire year, although the dry 
bed of the San Diego River was at least half 
a mile wide at the old town. I doubt there was 
a trout in the whole county. But when we got 
tired of deer and quail shooting, we sometimes 
took a row boat and went out to the kelp beds, 
where big red cod and barracuta were abundant. 
The country was exceedingly dry, no rain 
had fallen for many months, and the only thing 
of a greenish tinge was the beds of cactus, 
which showed a little life through the thick 
mantle of yellow dust. Still we passed a month 
very pleasantly, the hotel taking all the venison 
and quail we brought in. The early evenings 
were very enjoyable; we used to sit out on the 
veranda, and while smoking our post-prandial 
pipes, watched the dogs drive the little cotton¬ 
tails out of the brush around the hostelry. 
Tiring finally of the universal yellow land¬ 
scape, and hearing of an oasis called the 
Milquatay Valley, sixty miles in the interior, 
we started one morning before sunrise on foot 
to visit it. Skirting the bay to the south until 
we reached Tia Juana, where the road crosses 
into Mexican territory, traveling all day through 
long narrow valleys almost destitute of either 
water or vegetation and flanked by low bare 
ranges of hills, we found no dwellings after 
crossing the line. But we had taken provisions 
for two days, and late in the afternoon, finding 
a little water and a few cottonwood trees, we 
passed the night there. A few road runners— 
chaparral cocks—and quail was the only animal 
life encountered, and two or three Mexican 
horsemen the only human beings. 
By FORKED DEER 
Tired, footsore and hungry, we reached the 
valley which was on United States soil, about 
10 p. m. the next day. Three or four families 
of squatters who had crossed the plains from 
Missouri had already located there and built 
cabins for themselves and animals. 
Making our headquarters with one of these, 
we spent a week in this delightful spot. The 
valley is three or four miles long by half that 
in width, and owing to some peculiar formation 
of the sub stratum, the water rises everywhere 
within a few inches of the surface, with several 
brooks and small lakes or ponds scattered 
about in meadows of perennial green. 
Quail were abundant, but we wanted a 
change and devoted ourselves almost entirely 
to the flocks of mallard and teal that frequented 
SIERRA GROUSE FROM LAKE TAHOE, CAL. 
the ponds, and in their journey to the different 
ponds furnished fine wing shooting. 
Off to the east was a low range, whose 
highest peaks were not more than 5,000 or 
6,000 feet high, but as it looked well timbered, 
we determined to visit it. For the first few 
miles brush and large rocks interfered with our 
progress, but as we ascended these gave place 
to an open pine forest, but neither range or 
the trees had anything of the grandeur of the 
northern Sierras. We had taken but a small 
amount of food, not anticipating any difficulty 
in securing game enough for our needs. But 
we found that both game and water were ex¬ 
ceedingly scarce. On one of the last ledges 
passed before entering the pines we saw a 
litter of half-grown bob cats basking in the 
sun. Two of these we shot; but not considering 
them edible, left them on the rocks, and these, 
with the exception of two small rabbits killed 
in a brush gulch on the second of our three 
days’ wanderings in the hills, was the only 
animal life encountered. A small stream in one 
of the gulches- carried water for a short dis¬ 
tance below the timber, and here we found 
tracks of wolves, mountain lion, cats and one 
or two deer. 
The last night of our stay there we went 
supperless to bed. The two rabbits had only 
made us one meal, and the next morning we 
arose lank and hungry; in fact, we were partially 
lost, for while we knew that by taking down one 
of the gulches for thirty or forty miles we would 
reach the sea, we had no idea where Milquatay 
was, except to the west of the range. After 
ascending three or four peaks without success 
in our attempt to get a view to the west, we 
finally came out upon a high point only thinly 
timbered, and there far below us and more than 
ten miles away, like a great emerald in a setting 
of gold, lay the fair meadows of Milquatay. 
It was late that night when we got back to 
the hospitable ranch, and our deeds as trencher 
men before we struck our couches can easily 
be imagined by those who have been there. 
Two days later we started on our return 
trip to the bay of San Diego, where we finished 
our stay in the southern country. 
Our Obligation in the Philippines. 
Ti-ie Treaty of Paris did not merely put us 
in a position of legal authority at Manila, but 
it also imposed upon us serious obligations to 
the people of the islands and to all nations hav¬ 
ing interests in the Pacific. It might have been 
unwise statesmanship that brought this respon¬ 
sibility upon us; but it must be the most de¬ 
liberate and careful statesmanship that can find 
an honorable way to permit our relinquishment 
of t-he obligations we have assumed. If we 
were ever touched at all with the imperialistic 
craze, we are well over it. It is no longer with 
the American people a question of “posses¬ 
sions,” or of keeping what is “ours,” or of 
“hauling down the flag”; but it is merely a 
question of the wisest and best way to proceed 
in view of all facts and obligations. We can 
get along very well without the Philippines, but 
it remains doubtful whether the Filipinos could 
get along very well without us—even though 
a thousand ambitious natives out of eight mil¬ 
lions might naturally like to take over full con¬ 
trol. and have the unrestricted collection and 
expenditure of public revenues and the ramified 
power that goes with administration in a coun¬ 
try where the majority of the people are not 
highly civilized, and a considerable part of 
them are still in the wild or savage state.— 
American Review of Reviews. 
To secure a merit badge in forestry, boy 
scouts are required, among other things, to 
identify twenty-five kinds of trees. 
