Page images
PDF
EPUB

with great regularity through the park out to the beach, or round through the Military Reservation; which is a pity, for there are few cities, whether in the Old World or the New, that have a fairer possession. The Reservation is an enclosed track of ground open to the public, and much frequented, since the roads are in excellent condition and skilfully graded. When we drove through, a gang of military prisoners were at work, surrounded by a cordon of watchful sentries, musket on shoulder. The officers' quarters are very prettily situated, forming rows of rustic cottages, with bright flower-gardens and trimly kept lawns of freshest green. These oases of green lawn are very striking. At this season of the year trees and vegetation alike are at their utmost gasp for existence. It is months since rain fell, and what were green fields in the spring are now bare patches of brown earth, with here and there hapless tufts of hay showing themselves. It is hard to believe, looking down a far-reaching stretch of brown scorched earth, that in the spring this is a bank bright with lupin and other wild flowers. But such is the case, and so will it be again when the rain comes.

In the officers' quarters, and by all the magnificent houses on Nob's Hill and in Van

Ness Avenue, the lawns are kept ever green by a pretty and useful device which, though not unknown, is not common in England. This is a movable fountain, consisting of an upright iron pipe, fed by an india-rubber hose. At the top there is a horizontal arrangement of small pipes, perforated after the manner of a rose in a water-can. These revolve with the force of the water projected through them, and diffuse a fine soft shower of rain. When one section of the lawn is sufficiently watered, the fountain is moved to another-it can be lifted with one hand-so the rain is always falling and the grass ever blooming.

The park was originally a waste of sandhills. Outside it the sandhills reassert their supremacy, and lead down to the sea by rich masses of yellows and brown. It is a favourite expedition, both for strangers and citizens, to drive out to Cliff Home and watch the seals playing on the rocks. They are always there, floundering up or slipping off with a plunge into the cool depths, and incessantly grunting. There is one habitué of vast proportions in whom popular fancy traces resemblance to General Butler. As we sat and watched, a fisherman's boat slowly paddled past the cluster of brown rocks, and with excited cries the seals slid off into the sea. It was pretty

to see old Ben Butler slightly turning his stupendous carcase so as to bring his weathereye to bear upon the cause of the disturbance. When he saw what it was he gave a little grunt, settled himself in a more comfortable position, and lazily watched the flutter among the younger members of the community. Beyond the grunt, Ben offered no remark audible on shore. But when he resettled himself others, preparing to move, resumed their places, and some of those excitedly swimming round the edge of the rocks returned reassured. It was evident that on the rock in the far West, as in Massachusetts in the far East, there was a general impression that Ben Butler might be safely trusted to look after himself.

All day whilst the sun shines the seals play here. To the north stands Tamalpais, with wreath and white mist at its feet, and its head clothed in purple and golden brown, reaching far up in the blue sky. By here stands the Golden Gate, and beyond it the Pacific, breaking in white surf on the shore to the southward, and to the westward nothing between us and Asia but a wilderness of blue water.

CHAPTER X.

THE LABOUR QUESTION.

THE question of labour, always a pressing one in the United States, is just now accentuated in California and the bordering States which have been accustomed to look for service to the Chinese. For twenty-five years the Chinese have flooded California, and have been principal and indispensable factors in its rapid prosperity. Without the Chinese, California would be ten years behind the stage it has now reached. These smug-faced, pigtailed immigrants have built the railways, made the roads, laboured in the mines, nursed the babies, and washed the clothes for California. It is in the character of washerman that the Chinaman is most familiar to cursory information in England. But there is nothing he cannot do. His faculty and facility for labour are immeasurable, and whatever he

does he accomplishes with the thoroughness that comes of patient industry.

It is not difficult to understand how the presence of such a class should be distasteful to the Western working man. Even if the competition were on even terms, it would be hard to fight against this dexterous industrious class. But the Chinaman has an enormous advantage over the ordinary labourer, whether of English, Irish, German, or American birth. The Western man must have his three stout meals a day, with corresponding proportion of drink. The Chinaman can live on food the cost of which is almost literally infinitesimal. A bowl of rice, a square inch or two of dried fish, with, on the birthday of Confucius or some other gala day, a sausage fearfully and wonderfully made, suffice to meet his needs in the way of solid food; whilst a bowl of the water in which the rice has been boiled, or a pannikin of tea, taken without sugar or milk, comes up to his notion of what is necessary in the way of liquor. The ultimate basis of the rate of wages is the expenditure at which a man can support life. With a Chinaman this is a sliding scale reducible almost to the vanishing point. If the Western workman can live upon a dollar a day the Chinaman will manage on fifty cents. If in hard times

« PreviousContinue »