part the annals of the state afford an interesting and consistent story of American life under picturesque circumstances.

In some aspects the early years of California's history-after the discovery of gold in 1848—remind one of the simplicity of the ancient Greeks. Emerson's description of the days of Hercules might well apply to pioneer life in California in the few years just following Marshall's good fortune; for "the manners of that period were plain and fierce. The reverence exhibited is for personal qualities-courage, address, self-command, rude justice, strength, swiftness, a loud voice, a broad chest."

Certainly there was even less luxury and elegance than in Homeric Greece, save that inventions here and there-matches, the improvements in clothing and houses, fire-arms, and like additions to human comforthad lightened human toil in some degree.

"A sparse population and want," says the Sage of Concord, "make every man his own valet, cook, butcher, and soldier, and the habit of supplying his own needs educates the body to wonderful performances."

Such were the environments of Agamemnon and Diomed in Homer's story, and such, too, were the conditions that confronted the rough and ready men of brawn who rounded the Horn, crossed the Isthmus of Panama, or made their way with oxen over the untrodden wilds that stretched from the Missouri to the hills of the Sacramento, where there was gold for the gathering.

Columbus needed a planet to shape his course upon, and Copernicus, Newton, LaPlace, and Galileo required the star-strown depths of space to enable them to fulfill the bent and genius of their natures. The restless and aggressive American of 1848 and 1849 was ripe for the great fields of opportunity that lay in the rich mountains, the fertile valleys, and the sunset slopes of the Golden West. And in no other epoch of our country's history, save, perhaps, in the days of the Revolution "that tried men's souls," were there ever such opportunities on the one hand and such hardships on the other as tested the strength and manhood of the actors in the days of the California Argonauts.

To write of the Mediterranean shores of America, as Charles Dudley Warner has aptly called California, is to tell of a country of wonders and unexplored possibilities, and to recount the story of the conquest and occu

pation of this fair land is to deal with one of the most romantic and striking eras of American history. Here and there shadows fall across the pages of that alluring story, as in the mistaken zeal of Fremont and his men, the brutality of some of the early settlers toward the inoffensive natives, the disregard of the rights of the original Californians by their conquerors, and the lawlessness and licentiousness of large parts of the population; but for the most part the narrative deals with rare powers of endurance, the inventiveness and good fortunes of brawny men, the trials and privations of the early mothers of the state, and the growth of an empire in a region destined to play a wonderful part in the history of the coming centuries.

There are elements of the poetic in almost every page of the story; and the activities of to-day, the cities and factories, the fields and workshops where new Californians now carry on their vocations, are not beyond the allurements of historic association. The pathfinders wrought not far from the present centers of population, the sound of old monastery bells rang forth centuries ago where steam whistles are heard to-day, and the romance of the Bonanza Kings was enacted on the very soil that is now dedicated to the uses of the new time. The charm of incident, the poetry of circumstance, the thrill of adventure in a brand-new land belong to the state with which this work deals, the wonderland of song and story made famous by Bret Harte, Mark Twain, and the Poet of the Sierras.

The San Francisco Call has truly said that the story of California is one of the most interesting in the annals of mankind. The writer who thus characterized the history of the state cleverly presents a picture that may well finish this introductory chapter:

Beginning as a tale of adventure on the part of the cavaliers and freebooters of Spain and of England, exemplified in the romantic personalities of Cabrillo and Drake, it is soon transformed into a story of missionary zeal, telling of the labors of Junipero Serra and his colleagues; then slowly changes into an idyl of pastoral life whose continuity is rudely broken, first by revolution, and then by a magic-working discovery of gold that brings the restless foot of American enterprise to the land, and begins an era that changes every existing institution and creates a new commonwealth.

With the change in the nature of its civilization a change comes over the story of the state, but it remains as interesting as ever. In place of

the old records of adventurers, missionaries, and lordly rancheros, we have now the story of gold hunters, miners, merchants, railroad builders, founders of schools, churches and universities-men of every class and grade of the pioneer type. The story of the work of those men and of their sons constitutes the world's greatest historic romance of modern times. In no other part of the globe, among anything like so limited a population, has been done so much during the last fifty years to advance human welfare. We have carried the industries of mining and of horticulture to a perfection unknown elsewhere. Our ship-builders have established themselves among the foremost of the age. In the application of electric energy to the needs of industry, not only in cities, but in rural districts, we lead the van of progress, and in many another department of industry we hold rank among the foremost.

Nor have the achievements of the Californians been confined to the attainment of material good. We have already furnished many a brilliant name to the list of scientists, poets, painters, singers, sculptors, musicians and orators whom the world honors. In short, the profuse fertility of the state has been almost as notable in the domain of the intellect as in that of the production of fruits and of gold.

CHAPTER I.

CALIFORNIA'S GIFT TO CIVILIZATION.

A CAREFUL SURVEY OF THE PEOPLE AND THEIR ENVIRONMENTS—THE BUILDERS OF THE COMMONWEALTH AND THEIR ACHIEVEMENTS— HONORED NAMES AMONG THE PROFESSIONS-WHAT AUTHORS AND THINKERS HAVE DONE FOR THE GREAT WEST.

By President David Starr Jordan, of Stanford University.

California is still very young and has most of her history ahead of her. What in time she will do for civilization will make a great volume when its story is written. What she has already done, if adequately treated, will demand more knowledge than any one man can possess, and more space than this volume can give. All that can be attempted here is to give some slight analysis of the elements of which California's past contribution consists.

First we may consider those contributions independent of man made by sheer virtue of being California. The relation to nature has its civilizing effect on men, not on all men of course, for California's scenery and climate did very little for the development of the Digger Indian and does even less for that of the hobo of to-day. Nature does nothing directly for any man. It is a general rule of Evolution that Environment affects those who respond to it or react from it. It encourages or checks or changes individual activity. It does not create it. The finer grades of men respond to the touch of nature and transmute physical sunshine and greenery into intellectual and moral sweetness and light. To such as these California offers the choicest impulses in her glorious scenery, her health-giving climate and the elbowroom she allows to the individual man. To these we may add the wider perspective that comes from seeing men and things, for to be a Californian implies that one has traveled somewhat and has seen the world that lies beyond his native parish.

To realize the glory of California scenery one must live close to it through the changing years, from mountain to sea, from north to south; every crag, chasm, lake or headland bears the stamp of its own peculiar

Coastwise every

beauty, a blending of richness, wildness and warmth. where sea and mountains meet and the surf of the Kuro Shiwo, the current of Japan, chilled by its stay in the Bering Sea, breaks in turbulent beauty against tall "vincoves" and jagged teeth of rock.

In the hills of the Coast range, "a misty camp of mountains pitched tumultuously," lie valleys dotted with wide limbed oaks, or smothered beneath over-weighted fruit trees, all flooded with golden light in summer and in the winter wet with fragrant rains.

Inside rises the great Sierra with spreading ridge and foothill like some huge crawling centipede with back unbroken for a thousand miles. Frostbitten peaks of every height and bearing pierce the blue skies above. The slopes are dark with giant pines and mighty sequoias which have lived over from some other geological age and in whose silent aisles one may wander ail day long and see no sign of man. Here and there are purple dots of lakes which mark the craters of dead volcanoes of the last efforts of glacier polishing.

Through mountain meadows run swift brooks over-peopled with trout, leaping full-throated over the crags, to be half-blown in mist before they reach the bottom. Far down the fragrant canons sing the green and troubled rivers twisting their way lower and lower to the common plains. And these plains are never common, even the most hopeless alkali sinks being redeemed by the delectable mountains which are sure to shut them in. Everywhere from each rising hill are great vistas of mountain and valley, blue distances which swim in the crystalline air.

As there is from end to end of California scarcely a commonplace mile, so from end to end of the year there is scarcely a tedious day. The climate is part of the scenery. Each season brings its fill of satisfaction and winter or summer we look forward with regret to the inevitable change.

So far as man is concerned the one essential fact is that he is never the limate's slave. The powers of the air never besiege him in his castle. Winter and summer are alike his friends calling him out of doors. The old Californian never roasted himself all winter long. When he was cold in the house he went out of doors to get warm, and he built a house only to keep his belongings dry. To hide in it from the weather is a necessity only in unfriendly regions.