and he has a comfortable amount placed in bank to his credit. Nine acres of land near Santa Fé yielded last year over $3,000 in fruit from young trees-less than six years old, in fact. The oats grown in the valley near Albuquerque often stand six feet in height. Mangel wurzel beets produce beets produce fifty tons to the acre, and, with better cultivation, sixty tons could be as easily grown. Nine or ten dollars per ton is considered a fair price for beets. Alfalfa, beets, and improved cattle, either beef or dairy, suit the lower lands along the river, and the Mexican laborers, under careful direction, are steady and reliable, doing especially well with sheep and cattle.

This matter of farm-labor is so all-important to the farmer, that the character of the Mexican help needs further explanation. Good Mexican laborers can be hired for one dollar a day, and, if boarded on the farm, for about fifteen dollars a month. These peasants are a quiet, orderly, teachable and law-abiding people, and are for the most part very frugal, patient and tractable. Their contentment with their lot, their lack of ambition, and of "American worry, in brief, their simple peasant virtues, deserve the highest praise. They thoroughly comprehend the cultivation of the soil, and the management of irrigation ditches "according to the elders;" but whoever wishes to have them turn from the system of the Spain of the Middle Ages, will have to use line upon line, precept upon precept. They are full of quaint Spanish proverbs, filtered through Mexican hands, and still stately, musical, and wise. They dwell in earthernfloored huts of light-hued adobe, very different from the dark adobes of California, but quite as durable. Goats and chickens abound in their villages, and share the family fortunes. As one drives past the low, broad doorways, bits of color flash out, scarlets and purples, for the Mexican women delight in gorgeous hues. Children swarm in the villages, like bees in a hive-dark-eyed, grave,

and silent children, pretty enough in their oriental aspect, to bring half the artists of the United States here, to study this antique degenerate Castilian life, this peasantry folk that are own cousin to the peasantry of Spain, Portugal, and Italy, with the added infusion of conquered Aztec blood. Now and then, the law of atavism works its way, as in other communities, and one finds among the simple, unfettered Mexican peasants, a face and form that would have graced some lordly castle of Spain, eyes an unconscious heritage from some duke's daughter.

The lands of the Rio Grande, beautiful to look upon, semi-tropic in their appearance, yet so far above the sea-level that the climate is temperate and delightful, are waiting, as Southern California waited, for the horticulturist and the home-seeker to take possession. The old is rapidly passing away. Even now, American farmers are breaking down the old adobe walls, about acre and half acre enclosures, ancient as the days of Espejo, and making broader fields, where plow-lands can be laid out and cultivated on a larger scale. Some day there will be water ditches far out on the plains, artesian wells on the mesas, and close, careful culture of every acre in the broad and fertile valley; then, it is probable, only a few crumbling walls will remain to tell the story of the many and loosely built villages of adobes that now make the valleys so picturesque and so oriental. The vineyards, with long lines of earthen mounds, three feet high, piled each winter over the crown of each vine, will, perhaps, give place to varieties that will stand the weather, or better methods of cultivation and better sites, if chosen farther from the river, will ensure safer crops. The Mexican peasant with his children, going forth to toil in his garden, will, let us hope, still remain; but far and wide, for miles, orchards and gardens, supplying daily the great cities of the Mississippi Valley, will extend, even as the orchards of prosperous California.

O. E. Cromwell.

THE result of the charter election in San Francisco is a matter for regret, but no surprise. Four years ago, the OVERLAND remarked editorially, in regretting the defeat of the last proposed charter: "It was apparent from the beginning that there was wide-spread apathy concerning their work. It is difficult to satisfactorily account for this frame of mind, unless it be that a very large number of the citizens do not care anything about municipal affairs; and we are inclined to think such is the case.... Fifty oat of every hundred will not bother their heads about it, and these fifty will most likely be of the more intelligent classes-the merchants of all grades, the master mechanics, the professional men. In truth, these classes have substantially abdicated in favor of the classes which have the least property interest in the city. As it will be impossible to frame a charter fit to live under which will not contain some features that will excite the prejudices of those who control the politics of the city, it may be set down that San Francisco will not have a new charter for many years to come." This prediction (written, it may be interesting to note, by that most clear-headed man and good citizen, the late W. W. Crane, Jr.) is verified, so far, by the event.

Across the Isthmus by Canoe.

THE OVERLAND for March contains a very readable paper by Mr. Malcom McLeod, entitled "The First Vessel Across the Isthmus"-this vessel, according to his account, a Canadian bark canoe, dissected, packed in a box, and borne across the Isthmus by his stalwart brother, having left Canada in November, 1849.

Now, passing by the history of the vessels carried across centuries ago by the early Spanish Conquerors, and reconstructed at Panama, a bark canoe in perfect trim was brought over many months before the time maintained by Mr. M. McLeod.

Early in February, 1849, eight of us left Bangor, Maine, for the Land of Gold, and I propose to give you a brief history of the bark canoe that we brought with us.

This boat was of the usual size made by the Penobscot Indians, capable of carrying four men comfortably, and so light that an Indian could easily carry it inverted upon his head, over a long portage. It was transported on top of a Concord coach to Frankfort, Maine, thence by boat and rail to New York, without freight charges, as we easily

pursuaded the agents to include our pet in the baggage list. From New York we took the staunch brig Sampson for Chagres.

On arriving at Chagres our canoa bonita, as the Isthmonians called it, was the admiration of the native boatmen. Yet nothing would induce one of them to step into it; and when four of our partywho were Penobscot lumbermen, and used to the craft-started up the river with an expert canoeman in bow and stern, and it shot swiftly by the native boats and was quickly lost to view behind a wooded point, their admiration found expression in wild shouts.

Driven rapidly through the quiet waters of the lower Chagres by the elastic Indian paddles, and forced through the rapids above by a slender spruce pole, she probably made the quickest passage ever performed by a boat propelled by human muscle up the Chagres River to Gorgona.

From Gorgona to Panama our little craft was carried on the shoulders of two natives, for ten dollars, and this, by the way, was all the freight that we paid on her from Maine to San Francisco. After a detention of about two months at Panama, we secured passage for ourselves and little boat on the good ship Niantic, and arrived in San Francisco on the fifth day of July, 1849.

Late in the following November, the writer and another of our party made a trip a short distance up the Yuba, and passed every craft in sight while on the Sacramento, including one old scow apparently propelled by a cooking-stove. When we passed this feeble craft, which seemed to be affected with an asthmatic cough, our generous offer to throw them a tow-line was answered ungratefully with billets of wood.

About the time of the Christmas holidays, we returned to Sacramento for a load of supplies, and were overtaken in that city by the memorable flood of that season, and remained some days engaged in rescuing people from the submerged tents and conveying them to dry land at Sutter's Fort, or to the vessels at the levee. During the first day of the flood we witnessed many amusing scenes. There was no panic, but much hilarity. Although usually there was very little drunkenness in those days, still, owing to the excitement and the fact that casks of liquors were floating freely about all over the city,

re

Every floating thing that could be constructed from pine-boards was utilized, and these strange crafts were often so rickety as to require two men to bail while one paddled. One young man, I member, had made a tub from half a large cask, and, accompanied by his sister, was making frantic efforts to get somewhere, but could only succeed in turning the thing on its axis. It gyrated like a top, and every fresh effort of his paddle added momentum to its circulation. They refused our offer to tow them into a harbor, either from fear of our demanding salvage or from a desire to fully enjoy their unique ride.

When the flood had partially subsided, we loaded up and started once more for the Yuba, taking a direct course over the submerged valley. The first night out we camped on a little wooded point that had emerged from the water, and were entertained by two huge bears, which persisted in call ing to each other in the peculiar and at that time familiar-bear language until daylight.

On reaching the lower Yuba, we found the shores strewn with the wreckage of implements washed down by the flood. We cachéd our little cargo, and loaded our canoe with pieces of rockers, screens, etc., including two wheelbarrows. These we carried to Ousley's Bar and readily sold for three hundred dollars. The screens (sheets of perforated iron about two feet square) brought ten dollars each, and one of the wheelbarrows we sold to its owner for forty dollars. This gentleman regardless of our protests, insisted upon our accepting that amount, and many thanks besides, for restoring his-to him—indispensable property.

From Ousley's we propelled our little craft a long distance above, poling up the rapids and making a portage at Parks' Falls. Once we nearly lost our boat and provisions. A hungry coyote, trying to eat up the painter (which was a raw-hide lariat), cast it adrift, but by chance it lodged on a rock just above the falls.

Shortly after, we went to Marysville, and buying a fine yoke of oxen at Sutter's stock-farm, we made a cart from the hind wheels of a wagon. This we loaded with provisions, surmounted by our precious bark, and started for Bidwell's Bar on Feather River. At this place we left our cart, packed our provisions on our oxen, and started for mines farther up. We left our canoe with a Canadian, well acquainted with the nature of the ticklish craft,

with instructions to sell it; but to be sure to dispose of it to no one who was not an expert canoeman. Shortly after, a party of Missourians purchased it. They insisted that they could navigate anything that floated. They took it across to the North Fork, launched it in that rapid stream, capsized of course, swam ashore, and history has never disclosed what disposition the raging waters made of our canoa bonita.

Now, then, if this was not the first bark-canoe to cross the Isthmus of Darier, let us hear from its predecessor. John Perleey Hain.

Song of other Seasons.

BY W. WINTER GREEN.

The bumbler flews are buzzing o'er the cauliflowers in bloom,

And the tittle bats are flipping in the stream, And the clouds are silver-white, and the skies are navy-blue,

O, life seems butter summer dream.

And the flutterbys they go, and the butterflies they

come,

While the skeeters get their fiddles all in tune, And summer's on the way; if it doesn't come in May,

Then p'raps 'twill drop along in June.

And the chick-hens and their dam be as happy as

a clam,

And the jay-birds dance a chorus jig,

While the tree-toads in the vines are a cutting up o' shines,

And the bobolink goes winking at the pig.

And the tadpoles and their dads, among the lily pads,

Are a-watching what the speckled turtles do, And the jack-snipes in the sedge, along the water's edge,

Are a-picking up a little worm or two.

O, summer's on the way; if it doesn't come in May, Perhaps 'twill come along in June;

Or, should it disremember, we'll go skating in Sep

tember,

And "Greenland's icy mountains " be the chune! R. E. C. S.

BOOK

The editor of Humorous Masterpieces from American Literature explains that his title is not quite accurate, as, "in order to make the work fitly representative," he had to put in some selections that are not really masterpieces. This is quite true, but the collection is, on the whole, a good one. It begins with Washington Irving, and, in three handy, well-printed volumes, comes rapidly down to date, selecting from forty-five authors, most of them contemporary. It tends rather to the mildly amusing than to the irresistibly laughable.The Standard Oratorios is a convenient handbook, in which are summarized and grouped, according to composers, the contents and history of thirtyeight oratorios, with an introductory chapter upon oratorios in general, and a few words of the biography of each composer. It is by the author of "The Standard Operas," and compiled upon the same plan. Charles and Mary Lamb's "Tales from Shakespeare" have been translated into French by T. T. Timayenis, and appear in a neat volume under the title Contes Tirees de Shakespeare."Stories from Life1 is a collection of brief stories with morals by Sarah K. Bolton. They make no pretension to any particular literary quality, but their motive is excellent, their lessons generally sound, and to those who care to take elementary social or moral instruction in the form of stories, they are readable. They are many of them written from a religious point of view, and are in general of the type of fiction characteristic of the religious weeklies.- -A sort of modern and improved form of the "Complete Letter-Writer" of the past appears in The Correspondent—a compendium of information with regard to well-bred letterwriting. In alphabetical order, under all manner of headings, are grouped a great number of bits of advice and information. Thus, under "Countess," we are told how we should address a lady of that rank, how direct our envelope, etc.; under “County,” how far it is necessary to name that division in a direc

'Humorous Masterpieces from American Literature. Edited by Edward T. Mason. New York and London: G. P. Putnam's Sons. 1886.

The Standard Oratorios, A Handbook. By George P. Upton. Chicago: A. C. McClurg & Co. 1887.

3 Contes Tirees de Shakespeare. D'apres l'Anglais de Charles et Mary Lamb. Par. T. T. Timayenis. York: Charles Scribner's Sons. 1886.

New

4Stories from Life. By Sarah K Bolton. New York: Thos. Y. Crowell & Co.

5The Correspondent. By Jas. Wood Davidson, M. A. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1886. For sale in San Francisco by Jas. T. White.

tion; under "Dash," we are referred to "Punctuation;" under "Date" occurs a sensible discussion of the practice of dating by the number of the month, an argument in favor of placing the year first in order in the date,instead of last, etc. The entire omission of "salutation" and "complimentary close" between intimate friends is recommended-sensible advice, we think, but there can be no question that good practice does not give much precedent for the informality.It was a good idea to collect for young people's reading the stories of the deeds for which the United States' Medal of Honor has been given. Uncle Sam's Medal of Honor undertakes to do this, in part. It is a handsome, large book, well printed, and adorned with many and good pictures. The stories, however, are confusedly told, without much excellence in arrangement or style. The period covered is 1881-1886.- -The Memoir of the Rev. J. Lewis Diman, D. D., records the life of a very successful and useful man, whose death, at the age of about fifty, was a loss to the community. Professor Diman was descended through his mother from John Alden. He was a studious and amiable youth, who went through his school and college course and some university study abroad with honor. He studied theology afterwards, entered the Congregational ministry, and was urged by Doctor Bushnell to become his colleague, but declined. He was sought after and successful in the ministry; but he did not long continue therein. He had always had a very decided leaning to historical and political studies, aud this finally led him to a professorship at Brown University. In this capacity, too, he was successful and efficient. A quotation or two from his lectures to his classes will illustrate his manner of thought: "When the Crusaders went to Palestine, they went in a fury of religious zeal. The two most valuable things they brought back were playing cards and sugar." He then explained this epigram by tracing the influence of playing cards in developing the arts of printing and engraving, and of sugar in revolutionizing the culinary arts. Again: "The duel was a restraint upon indiscriminate

6Uncle Sam's Medal of Honor. Some of the Noble Deeds for which the Medal has been awarded. Described by those who have won it. Collected and edited by Theo. F. Rodenbough, Brevet Brigadier-General, U. S. A. New York and London: G. P. Putnam's Sons. For sale in San Francisco by Samuel Carson & Co.

7 Memoir of the Rev. J. Lewis Diman, D. D., Late Professor of History and Political Economy in Brown University. By Caroline Hazard. Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 1886. For sale by Chilion Beach.

slaughter, and was really the first step in civilization. Slavery was also a step in advance, since it took the place of butchery."-Parlor Varieties (Part Three) containing twenty short plays for parlor and school exhibitions, will be found useful in the place it is designed to fill. The plays are mostly of a juvenile character, a few of them of very light material, and none of them evincing more than average merit. But they are bright and conversational, and most of them are introspersed with music and song. Teachers and others who are looking up matter for the exhibition room may find in this little volume just what they are seeking.- -The Reading Club (No. 17) edited by Geo. M. Baker is the last number issued of a well known series of selections in prose and poetry, for readings and recitations. The compiler has much skill in collecting suitable selections for many occasions. Boys and girls will find in this series a vast collection of just such selections for declamation and recitation as they need. Teachers who are often puzzled to find selections for their pupils something fresh and new that has not been worn threadbare by oft repeated appearance in public on the stage-will find a treasury, in the numbers of 'Parlor Varieties (Part Three. By Olivia S. Wilson, Boston: Lee & Shepard, For sale in San Francisco by Samuel Carson & Co.

the Reading Club, that embraces all sorts of things new and old.--Five Minute Readings for Young Ladies is the result of the favorable reception given to a book of similar character for boys. The selections found in the present volume have been made with an eye to their particular adaptability to meet the wants of young ladies in preparing for school or parlor readings. Boys will also find many excellent and suitable recitations in it. Some of the selections embrace a sufficient range of action and passion to merit a high standing among public readers; others that go softly home to the heart will find their best expression in the friendly home circle. The Book of Eloquence is guaranteed at the outset to contain good selections by the name of the editor, C. D. Warner. The number of these is large-over three hundred; and they are mostly new to school use, one chief object of the collection being to afford relief from the perpetual use of the selections common in school speakers. The brevity of the extracts is another characteristic. They are arranged in three groups: "American Eloquence;" European Eloquence, Ancient and Modern;" and "Selections of Poetry."

3 Five Minute Beadings for Young Ladies. By Walter K: Forbes. Boston: Lee & Shepard. For sale in San Francisco by Samuel Carson & Co.

The Book of Eloquence. By C. D. Warner. Boston: Lee and Shepard. For sale in San Francisco by Chilion Beach.