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, chası, 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 all 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 trouled 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.

With climate and scenery comes the sufficiency of elbow-room. The dominant note is that of personal freedom. Individualism is the characteristic of California life. Man exists as man in California, not as a part of a social organism. With plenty of elbow-room he works out his inborn character. He may be wicked, if that is his nature, but he is not hypocritical, for to be that implies a yielding to outside demands, doing something "against nature." The Californian carries his "own head under his hat," and California is in Browning's classification emphatically one of "Earth's male lands," a land where things are settled by out-of-door standards, not by that public opinion which women make in the house.

The development of the individual among her sons and daughters is the greatest contribution of California as a whole to American civilization. This is her work by virtue of being California, to give physical tone, heightened perceptions and a broader outlook on nature and life. The rest of her contribution is that of her sons and daughters who have been civilizing agencies by virtue of being themselves.

For good influences have gone out from every man and woman who has done honest work of whatever sort in California, and many are the names which should be written high in California's Hall of Fame. It is still too soon to see most of these in their propert perspective, and the writer has not lived long enough in California to have seen clearly any large number even of those whose position is undoubted. He is therefore forced to trust largely to what others have said and written, and for all omissions and distortions he has only the one apology, he did the best he could in an embarrassment of wealth. And in this same embarrassment he may leave out for the most part all those who are not so old as the state of California and who are therefore still at their work, promising youngsters indeed many of them, for by a trick of human nature all who are younger than we are still seem very young.

For our purpose of course to be a Californian is not necessarily to be a native son. Most Californians had the ill-fortune to be born somewhere else, and the good fortune to remove in time. Every one who has seen the seasons round must be held a Californian. For the love of California grows deep in his heart-that is, if he has any heart at all. And as we must adopt some sort of classifications, we may begin with the first of California's his