conjecture about this information. It was all demonstrated by the closest reasoning upon isolated and trifling yet incontrovertible signs; and what is most remarkable, his statement was subsequently corroborated by the facts in every particular.

We killed several deer in the vicinity of Tubac, which contributed materially to our scanty stock of provisions. Wild turkeys were also abundant, but our hunters failed to get a shot at them, although their tracks were to be seen within a stone's-throw of the Plaza.

Leaving a written notice upon the wall of the old fort, informing all persons who might pass this way of our arrival and departure, we proceeded without loss of time on our journey.

save to die at peace away from the country that
gave him birth.
The "Calabasas" will never
profit him more.

An ex-Governor is an outlaw in Sonora. And yet this ranch is one of the finest in the country. It consists of rich bottom lands and rolling hills, extending six leagues up and down the Santa Cruz River by one league in width, embracing excellent pasturage and rich arable lands on both sides. Situated as it is at the junction of the two main roads from Sonora, the Santa Cruz and Magdalena, it might be made a very valuable piece of property in the hands of some enterprising American. A ready market for its productions could always be had at the neighboring silver mines and also at Tucson. At present, however, and until there is military protection in the country, it is utterly worthless, owing to the incursions of the Apaches.

For the past two or three years a stout-hearted frontiersman by the name of Pennington lived at this place, with a family ranging from ten to a dozen daughters, and raised fine crops of corn, besides furnishing the troops at Tucson with a large amount of hay.

"Old Pennington," as he is familiarly called, is one of those strange characters not unfrequently to be met with in the wilds of Arizona.

Dur

Three miles beyond Tubac we made a halt to visit the old mission of San Jose de Tumacacari, another of those interesting relics of Jesuit enterprise which abound in this country. The mission lies a little to the right of the road, and is pleasantly situated on a slope, within a few hundred yards of the Santa Cruz River. A luxuriant growth of cotton-wood, mesquit, and shrubbery of various kinds, fringes the bed of the river and forms a delightful shade from the heat of the sun, which even in midwinter has something of a summer glow about it. Like San Xavier and other missions built by the Jesuits,ing the whole time of the abandonment of the Tumacacari is admirably situated for agricultural purposes. The remains of acequias show that the surrounding valley-lands must have been at one time in a high state of cultivation. Broken fences, ruined outbuildings, bake-houses, corrals, etc., afford ample evidence that the old Jesuits were not deficient in industry. The mission itself is in a tolerable state of preservation, though by no means so perfect as San Xavier del Bac. The dome, bell-towers, and adjacent outhouses, are considerably defaced by the lapse of time, or more probably by the Vandalism of renegade Americans. A strong adobe corral adjoining the back part of the main edifice, with a massive gateway and with loop-holes for purposes of defense, show the insecurity under which the worthy fathers carried on their agricultural pursuits. Valesquez writes in strong terms of the richness and beauty of this part of the valley. I spent some hours making sketches of the ruins, and succeeded, I flatter myself, in getting some tolerably good views, one of which was given in the first of these papers.

Proceeding on our journey, we reached at an early hour in the afternoon the fine old ranch of the Calabasas or "pumpkins." This splendid tract of country belongs, I believe, to Señor Gandara, formerly Governor of Sonora. As an instance of the vicissitudes of life in Sonora, I may mention that we met Señor Gandara just before crossing the Colorado Desert, making his way into California, with a few broken-down retainers, mounted on mules and burros. All he possessed in the world was a rickety ambulance, his animals, and a few pounds of corn. He was a sad spectacle of a used-up Governor; was old and poor, and had no hope in the future

country by the Americans he occupied with his family a small cabin three miles above the Calabasas, surrounded by roving bands of hostile Indians. He stubbornly refused to leave the country-said he had as much right to it as the infernal Indians, and would live there in spite of all the devils out of the lower regions. His cattle were stolen, his corrals burned down, his fields devastated; yet he bravely stood it out to the last. When hard pressed for food he was compelled to go out in the hills after deer, which he packed in on his back, always at the risk of his life. At times he was several days absent; and I am told his daughters frequently had to stand guard with guns in their hands to keep off the Indians who besieged the premises. One of them, a Mrs. Paige, was on one occasion traveling with her husband, when the Indians attacked the party, killed all the men, beat her on the head with a club, and cast her over a precipice, where they left her for dead. Maimed and bleeding, she crept away during the night, and for sixteen days endured the most dreadful tortures of hunger and thirst, subsisting on roots and berries, and suffering indescribable agony from her wounds. When rescued by a party of whites, she was nothing more than a living skeleton.

She now lives with her father, and is an active, hearty woman. Three months ago the family moved down to the neighborhood of Tucson, where I had the pleasure of an introduction to the eccentric "Old Pennington." He is a man of excellent sense, strange as it may seem. Large and tall, with a fine face and athletic frame, he presents as good a specimen of the American frontiersman as I have ever The history of his residence in the midst

seen.

of the Apaches, with his family of buxom daughters, would fill a volume.

my tour through Arizona as something of an achievement. Now I write the details with a humiliating consciousness that they are scarcely worthy of record, except as pictures of everyday life in a country but little known.

As the main object of our journey down in this direction was to ascertain the fate of our American friends who had been waylaid, we posted up notices advising them of our movements in case they should pass along the same road; and determined after some consultation to proceed to Magdalena, Sonora, so as to intercept them in case they had started to return by the way of Guyamas. A few miles beyond Calabasas we encountered a party of Mexicans and Yaqui Indians, on their way up to the placers on the Colorado River, from whom we learned that Mr. Butterworth and his party had passed through Magdalena eight days before. The Mexicans said they met them on the road between Magdalena and Hermosillo, and that they were in an ambulance with a white cover to it, and were traveling "muy racio," with their rifles in their hands. The cover to the ambulance, and some other details, showing the manner in which the Apaches had cut away the leather, identified our friends, and we were satisfied it would be impossible for us to overtake them. It was necessary, however, that we should continue our journey to Magdalena in order to procure a fresh supply of provisions, as we were nearly out, and there was but little prospect of procuring any thing at Santa Cruz.

While camped at the Calabasas, some of us slept in the old building, as the nights were rather cool. The escort remained by the bank of the river, which is the best place for pasturage. Calabasas presents something the appearance of a Mexican military post, which I believe it was in former years. The houses are built of stone and adobe, and are still in a good state of preservation, except some of the roofs and a portion of the tower. Major Stem had his head-quarters here in 1856-'57. It was occupied for nearly a year by the First Regiment of Dragoons under his command. It was also temporarily occupied by Colonel Ewell, now of the rebel service. A characteristic anecdote of Ewell was related to me during the evening. He wished to procure a supply of water from a spring in one of the neighboring hills, and went out one day with four or five of his men to survey the ground. Having no apprehension of an enemy in such close proximity to his command he had omitted to take any arms with him, and his men were only provided with axes and spades. About half a mile from the house they were suddenly surprised by a band of Apaches, who commenced shooting at them with their arrows from every bush. The men started to run for the fort, so that they might obtain their arms and make something of a decent fight. "Halt!" shouted Ewell, in stentorian tones, while the arrows fell around him in a perfect shower. "Halt, boys! let us retreat in good order!" And as the This day's journey through the valley of story goes, he formed his men in line, and de- Nogales, or the "walnut-trees," was one of the liberately marched down the hill to an imaginary most pleasant of our trip. Every mile we trav quick-step, stopping every now and then as the eled the country improved in beauty and fertilarrows pricked their skins or pierced their cloth-ity. Grass up to our horses' shoulders covered ing to deliver a broadside of imprecations at the cowardly devils who had taken such a dirty advantage of them. It was said of old Ewell that he could swear the scalp off an Apache any time; and one can readily imagine that he did some tall swearing on this occasion.

the

valley, and the hills were clothed with luxuriant groves of oak. Much of the country reminded me of the coast range in California.

We stopped a while at the boundary-line to examine the monument erected by Colonel Emory in 1855. Very little of it now remains save an unshapely pile of stones. Wandering bands of Sonoranians, in their hatred of every thing American, had doubtless mutilated it as an expression of national antipathy. These people say they never consented to the sale of any portion of Sonora, and still regard Arizona as legitimately a part of their territory.

During the night we were visited by a detachment of the common enemy, evidently on a tour of observation. Next morning their tracks were visible in the road near the river, showing how they had come down and where they halted to inspect the camp, as also their return. Their purpose evidently was to steal our horses; but they must have seen the sentinels and concluded I could not help regretting, as I looked beit would not be a safe investment of time or la-yond the boundary of our territorial possessions, bor. Had the command been less vigilant we would doubtless have made the remainder of our tour on foot, as many a command has already done in this country. Pleasant prospect, is it not? where one stands an even chance of being shot with a rifle-ball or an arrow as he sleeps, and does not know when he wakes up but he may have to cross deserts and mountains on foot before he reaches any point inhabited by white people. But I suppose in these war times, when men are slain every day by thousands, such incidents must appear very tame and commonplace. A few years ago I would have regarded

that we had not secured, by purchase or negotiation, a line sufficiently far south to afford us a port on the Gulf of California. Without such a port Arizona will always be difficult of access. Major Fergusson, in his report of a reconnoissance from Port Lobos to Tucson, via Caborca and Arivaca, demonstrates clearly the vast im portance of this strip of territory, not only to Arizona but to Mesilla and a large portion of New Mexico. He shows also the urgent desire of the people of the South to secure it, together with Arizona, and the advantages it would give them as a port for their Pacific commerce, in

WRECKS.

RECREATIONS OF A PHILOSOPHER.

"HARLES BABBAGE, Esq., M.A.," as | persecutor of organ-grinders and their monkeys.

Mr.

men as the author of the Calculating Machine, a high opinion of his own merits, and a poor one of the most complicated and ingenious contrivances of human invention for lightening the burdens of the memory and the intellect. He is better known to readers of English newspapers as the persistent opponent of street music, and

opinion of most of his contemporary lovers of wisdom. Nevertheless, he is not above amusing the world as well as instructing it; and in a recently published volume he takes the public into his confidence, and tells it some pleasant stories

concerning the pursuits and mishaps of a phi- | ed; the future novelist became a member of the losopher in this nineteenth century. three o'clock club, but turned it into a frolic and banished study.

While at Cambridge the embryo philosopher undertook to write a grammar and dictionary for a universal language, but gave it up. In his studies of mathematics he found the system of notation of Leibnitz far better than the system One ingenious pub-in use at Cambridge, and held private meetings to encourage the substitution of d's for dots. The society he thus formed undertook to print an essay, for which Mr. Babbage cleverly proposed a title, which at the same time hit off some of the theological disputes then raging. He suggested that the essay should be called, "The Principles of pure D-ism, in opposition to the Dot-age of the University."