two or three of the largest nuggets into his pockets, and, on pleasure bent, pointing towards the nearest drinking booth.

Some of them understood and gladly followed; others moved away in different directions, the great event of the day having been accomplished, and nothing more being likely to turn up in connection with it; and soon Mark was left again alone. Not altogether Not altogether so, at once; for almost immediately Ohio's Pride returned, with hospitable purpose impelled.

"Won't you go, too, partner ?" he said. "It's a little hard, is it not, to ask me to celebrate my ill luck?" Mark responded.

one.

"Perhaps it is," said the sailor, thoughtfully stroking his rough chin. "Blowed if I'd thought of it in that way. Do you know, partner, I'm rather sorry?" "Since it was to happen, Ohio, I would as soon you should have the money as any But why not now take a new turn, and save up your little fortune for the future?" "Yes; it's the right thing, I suppose. But all the same, I know I couldn't. I might take the money home, and try to live respectable, but they'd pretty soon find me out at Puntacooset. I'd get into trouble for want of something to do, and so find myself going off to sea again. What's the good of money, after all, partner, except to spend it? All this'll be gone in a few days, I know; but I'll have had the fun of it. Whatever do I want but a chest of sea-togs, plenty of tobacco, and a little grog at odd times? I can have all those to the end of my life on board the old Ohio, if I can only get back there. Some day I'll tumble off a yard, perhaps, or die in a yellow fever hospital. Then I'll be glad I spent the money like a man while I had it, instead of saving it up for nobody at all. What's the odds, partner? It must go in the end, as all the rest of it has gone.-Well, if you won't"

He turned and strolled away slowly, and somewhat regretfully at the first; but cheering up and quickening his pace as, after a

minute, he came nearer the drinking-booth, and saw his friends, who had preceded him, and now stood clustered around the entrance, awaiting him. And so, for an instant, Mark was really left alone.

Alone with his own thoughts, which seemed to stupefy him with their dull, depressing weight. In a moment of almost unaccountable recklessness he had thrown aside the labor of weeks-had, as it were, given up his birthright. It mattered little that he had thought he was acting for the best; that if the claim had turned out altogether barren, he would so have saved a trifle from the wreck. It was enough that the mischief had been done, and that now he must go home-since go home he would-emptyhanded, and with the confession of failure clinging to him.

And yet, all was not lost, since Ruth was there to console him, and with her legacy help him on his way to a more suitable and prosperous life. She would not blame him, however he might reproach himself: and surely, now that he had done his best, though under a mistaken impulse, he should feel no loss of self-respect at accepting her willing aid. Fate, which had arranged his present failure, might also so order things that there should yet be spread out before them a calm, unruffled, unanxious existence. Why then should he remain unduly despondent?

Again he felt Ruth's letter rustling in his pocket; often while at his work, it thus betokened itself, and the sound was always sweet music in his ears. He drew the letter forth, and perhaps for the fiftieth time. read it. The pleasant words of love, the petty village gossip, no longer, as once it might have been, of trifling import, the few short lines that told him of the good fortune come at last; he knew it all by heart, yet for his present comfort must read it over again. Now he studied it as never before, technical words and all, with an attention that he had not yet brought to it-giving each word its full meaning as far as he could

comprehend it; striving not merely to enjoy the realization of the new dawn of prosperity, but also to concentrate his whole attention upon every syllable that announced it. What now, as he read, sent the blood to his heart with a chill as of death, and made his palsied limbs almost sink beneath him? It was not Ruth's name that he read--it was

And

not there even mentioned; it was by implication only that she had any portion in the old man's will. "To the oldest child of my sister Rachel"--those were the words. turning one side as he finished reading, Mark Redfern saw the Doctor, Bartley Preston, standing silent and motionless at his right hand. Leonard Kip.

Owing to the new railroad that is being built from Newhall down through the Santa Clara valley in Ventura County, this part of the State is deservedly receiving a good deal of attention lately, not only from the Eastern immigration, but from our own unsettled population who are on the lookout for suitable locations for homes. In the latter part of last November, business interests called me to that section. rived at Newhall after dark, the train from the north being five hours late. I was met by Jack, who hastily stowed me away under heavy robes in his buggy, for the air had much of the keenness of an Eastern winter.

I ar

We drove rapidly away from the station, toward the Camulos, under a blazoned sky whose myriad eyes gave but a subdued light. It was a pity that there was no moon to reveal the picturesqueness of our surroundings-though we could have put her to a more practical use just then in helping us to discover the road, which was often displaced by the new track.

To the north and south we could dimly discern the faint outlines of mountain ranges, between which on our left glimmered a wide white stretch of river-bottom. At intervals we crossed dry gravelly arroyos, which marked the courses of streams that in

the rainy seasons help to swell the Santa Clara into a resistless flood, rolling its huge volume of water westward for more than sixty miles, to empty it into the sea south. of San Buenaventura. Now and then we dashed through some creek or river, on whose banks were clumps of shadowy trees. These furnished a roost for flocks of buzzards and nighthawks, who shrieked in alarm at our intrusion, and swooped over our heads like unearthly shapes between us and the heavens.

A saucy coyote barked at us from an adjacent hill, and in the distance resounded the answering howl of a dog. The dog probably belonged to a village of tents that we soon passed, whose cheerful campfires showed us groups of Chinamen, eating, smoking, and lounging after their hard day's work. They do all the grading for the company, and something like five hundred are employed on this road.

By nine o'clock we ate a hearty lunch, the cold air and our long fast having sharpened our appetites to a keen appreciation of the remaining contents of my basket. We were now traveling in the shadow of near mountains, seeing little beyond our horses' heads. What a curious sensation it is to use one's eyes to their fullest extent and yet to see

nothing! It cannot be very unlike what the blind must feel. At such moments we realize that our noblest pleasures are those we receive through the eye.

It was past eleven when Jack suggested that we remain at Martin's over night, which would give us the advantage of daylight and refreshed horses to ascend the dangerous grade that led to his place. To this I readily assented, but was doubtful of the reception we would receive from his neighbors at this late hour. As we drove up before a lowbuilt house, with not the slightest attempt at yard or garden in front, Jack called loudly to the occupants:

"Tom! hello there! Charlie, Jamie, are you all asleep?"

"Hello yourself," answered back a goodnatured boyish voice from within; and almost immediately the door opened, and by the light of a flaring candle we saw the frowzy head of the oldest son, Tom, who greeted us with great cordiality.

"Come right in and have some supper. You must be awful tired, ma'am. Twentyfive mile stretch over a rough road ain't so easy for city folks! Here, Charlie," addressing a fair-faced, shabbily dressed boy of ten, "throw on some cobs on that fire, and put some water in the tea-kettle."

The little fellow--the youngest of the three-with smiling alacrity, heaped the corn-cobs in a cracked old stove, which soon threw out a pleasant warmth and light. In vain we insisted on helping ourselves, making no trouble, and the like. These motherless boys went ahead with almost feminine ability and tact, and soon had an oilcloth covered table spread with a supper of fried quail, soda bisucits, dried apples, coffee, and a large square of fresh honey. Honey is a never-failing article of diet with these Santa Clara farmers. We had no occasion for such a meal, neither of us being in the least hungry, but it would have been a pity not to eat after such beautiful hospitality.

There is something touchingly sad in the

thought of the lives of these boys, wholly deprived of maternal and sisterly influences, and forced into duties unfitting their years and sex. Their poverty was as apparent as their kindness, showing up in all its nakedness because no womanly hand was there to cover rude outlines with the thousand graceful impostures that never fail of their pleasing effect on the household. They told me their mother had died of a lingering illness some six months before, and they lived with their father, who was at present away from home.

The house was a fair sample of the average one through this part of the valley. It was low-roofed, unplastered and unpainted, and had once been "cloth-ed" and papered-the usual mode of finishing off these southern country houses. For the papering in this instance old newspapers had been utilized, with occasional copies of Harper's Illustrated Weekly by way of special embellishment.

The boys were intelligent and not without a rudimentary education, which they had received from the public school a few miles away. Their farm lay at the foot of the Tapo Mountains--the local name for the Sierra de San Fernando range opposite Scenega-and joined on to the lower end of Jack's stock-ranch, which extended to the very crests of their highest peaks.

We made ourselves as comfortable as we could for the night, being ashamed to feel annoyance at any lack of order or cleanliness, when the hospitality of these lads could only be compared to that of the noble Douglas, who reserved no personal right to his castle, from "turret to foundation stone."

I could not sleep, my reason being a common one in California, and as old, I imagine, as the country itself. It was a small one, too, and one would feel more dignified and exalted to be above such a trifle; but I at last confessed myself vanquished, and rose with a humiliating sense

of defeat and stole out to watch the sunrise. It was a cloudless dawn with a warm wind blowing from the east-a sure precurser of a dry season--so say the weather prophets. The sky was delicately blue and soft, and by degrees a silvery light rose slowly from the east and made a luminous background for the giant forms of the mountains. Gradually this glow slid from their topmost summits down their indented sides into the silent valley that slept at their feet. The vision of the morning was spread on the heights, and blessed were the eyes that beheld the divine panorama. Now the silver and gray were dashed with flashes of red and gold, and far abroad the sun outflung his splendid banners, until mountain and valley were but a radiant reflection of the flaming sky. The day had dawned-the royal day who tosses at large his gifts of purple and gold at every recurring miracle

of his creation.

From several camps by the new track that stretched its unbroken line beyond the river bed, arose the pale blue smoke of freshly kindled fires. The tinkling of a bell from a band of horses grazing on the nearest slope sounded blithely in the clear air. A snatch of an old hunting song reached my ears: "Before the sun rises away we fly,

Dull sleep and a drowsy bed scorning." And Jamie, the singer, broke through the chaparral back of the house, swinging triumphantly a string of quail he had evidently just shot.

I've got most a dollar's worth ma'am, and didn't get up till after you did, either." And he went on to explain that he and Charlie often made from ten to fifteen dollars a month this way during the season.

"We send 'em to 'Frisco by way of Newhall, which cuts our profits short, as you may suppose. We'll make more when there is a station near by, and I guess they are nearly ready to build it"-signing toward the train that was moving slowly along the track, looking at this distance very like toy

cars. It is easy to imagine the interest the rising generation here take in this innovation of modern civilization, for most of them had never before seen a locomotive or car.

With the unwearying assistance of the boys, we were soon over breakfast and ready for our two miles' climb up the cañon.

Who could forget such a morning in the mountains! To have fully lived such an experience is worth the pain of existence :-the wonderful freshness of the air; the brilliancy of the sunshine that sucked up a thousand glittering vapors from tree, and bush, and flower; the hills around, breaking away into lofty peaks, bristling with olivegreen brush or bearded with a scant growth of pine. Through the dark shades of the chaparral marking some mountain stream, were lines of white-boughed sycamores, flaunting their remnant of gaudy leaves, while great gray boulders stood out like ancient castles on the loftiest heights above our heads. In the deepest ravine we crossed, there lay an immeasurable flood of shadows, which the sunlight never pierced. The stillness of this place was very impressive. A singing brook made crystal pools under the alders and willows, their drooping foliage mirrored on the surface.

Suddenly we hear the rich, soft notes of the mountain quail, and with a buzz and whir they run from the underbrush, all their jetty plumes erect above the white bands of their throats. One hesitates a few feet behind the rest, and with a dignified and confident air surveys us critically from his bright black eyes, his tail and breast expanding to imposing dimensions. He is a beautiful bird, about a fifth larger than our Eastern quail, with a brownish-gray back, a breast of white and cinnamon, and a bluish head surmounted by a fluffy gray cap, from which stream two slender feathers of black. The country here abounds with both the valley and mountain quail, which are killed in immense numbers by hunters and settlers.

The aromatic odor of several varieties of

Do you see that smoke rising from the cañon to the left ?" asked Jack. "That is Williams's bee-ranch. Beyond my place is 'Happy Camp,' where Henderson has hundreds of hives. He has had wonderful luck with his bees. Began with seventyfive hives in December, several years ago, and by swarming increased them to three hundred, so that by the following August he shipped thirty thousand pounds of as fine comb honey as you ever saw. Almost every farmer through the valley, and each stockman in the mountains, has from twenty-five to a hundred hives of bees. It isn't so profitable as you may think, because we get but three cents a pound for honey, which is abominable, considering the retail price in San Francisco."

Meanwhile we were steadily climbing higher, each succeeding hill being steeper than the last. Our turns in ravines were often so short that the stout wheels of our buggy crowded the horses' heels. A large wagon could not possibly have made it. One can scarcely conceive of the difficulties these mountain residents overcome to get their lumber, household goods, tools, etc., up such dangerous roads; and yet every five, ten, or fifteen miles along these ranges the grand old heights resound to the happy voices of children, the bay of the good watch dog, the cheerful sounds of the barnyard, and the bells of home-coming cows.

Sometimes our road led above the edge of a frightful precipice, whose crumbling walls threatened to give way beneath our weight. We soon commanded a view of innumerable mountain chains lying beneath us, through whose intersecting ravines the dark green of the oak and manzanita made a striking contrast to the tawny shades of the hills.

VOL. IX.-25.

The hills were covered with a stubble of wild oats, in which were bands of horses like moving specks. Jack said that in some localities the oat-crop was eaten so closely by cattle that it had been killed out. He went on to explain that the grain is propagated not by the roots but by the seed, which often falls into the cracks in the earth that open in every direction during the dry season. He had sometimes traced the position of these cracks later on by the stalks of oats that not infrequently surpass in height and thickness the cultivated grains.

Another hill of chalky stone, and, behold, the Santa Clara valley, from the Sespe to the Camulos, lay in one unbroken picture before us. Five years ago I stood on this same white cliff and saw the valley in its spring dress of green and purple and gold. Those riotous growths of mustard and wild flowers have now given place to orchards and grain fields, the evergreen livery of the orange trees of the orchards making vivid patches in the brown stubble of the fields. Homes had sprung up on every side, and the shriek of the locomotive, which reached our ears even at this elevation, was the herald of a new era of development to this beautiful country.

As we rounded the butte an enchanting picture broke upon our vision. A reedfringed lake lay under the sunlight, like an outspread mantle of gold. Across its shimmering surface a flock of wild ducks were making shining trails. A little beyond this sparkling gem of the mountains were numbers of sycamore trees marshaled in stately lines, whose naked white boughs were waving a mournful relinquishment of the heaps of fallen leaves that made a perpetual glory on the ground. Hundreds of feet above the water's edge upreared a frowning cliff, to whose ribbed, perpendicular sides clung the red arms of the manzanita; while from its craggy brow the madroña shook her lustrous leaves and bunches of scarlet berries.

Passing the lake, we drove through the