A Truthful Woman in Southern California by Kate Sanborn (read this if .txt) 📕

East, but beans do not need to be "poled" here, as, influenced by the dreamy atmosphere, they show no desire to climb, but just lie lazily along the ground. Still, there is a deal of work connected with the business. Dairying, building, horseshoeing, repairing of machinery, are all done on the place. "As soon as the spring rains are over, eleven gang ploughs, four ploughs to a gang, each gang drawn by six horses, plough about seven acres per day." Then the harrowing and planting in the same big way. During the entire summer these vines grow without a drop of water, freshened daily by the heavy sea fogs. Harvesting and threshing all done by machinery. The steam thresher would amaze some of our overworked, land-poor farmers. About one hundred and twenty carloads of beans are annually shipped from this ranch, reserving the tons needed for seed.

And all along the way fine ranches are seen, where beans are seen growing alone, or planted between the long even rows of fruit trees. Mr. Thompson also owns a large hog ranch. But dear me! We are now skirting the beautiful ocean curve which leads to the "Channel City" - so near the beach that the waves almost touch the rails and the dash of the surf seems under the cars. See how fine a situation! The coast line taking a sudden and most fortunate turn, the trend of mountain range and plain land is east and west, instead of north and south. Sheltered by mountains and mesas, and nestled in the green foot-hills, with the ocean breeze tempered by a chain of islands, making a serene harbor, Santa Barbara has much to make it the rival of San Diego and Pasadena. Pork and beans must now give way to legend and romance, martyred virgin, holy monks, untutored "neophytes," handsome Castilians, dashing Mexicans, energetic pioneers, the old Spanish, the imported Chinese, the eastern element now thoroughly at home, and the inevitable, ubiquitous invalid, globe-trotter, and hotel habitué - each type or stratum as distinctly marked as in a pousse café, or jelly cake. What a comparison! I ask Santa Barbara's pardon, and beg not to be struck with lightning, or destroyed by gunpowder. - " Yes, to the Arlington. "


CHAPTER XI.

SANTA BARBARA.


"Saints will aid if men will call,
For the blue sky bends o'er all."

Sweet sixteen and an "awful dad." Santa Barbara and Dioscurus. Such a cruel story, and so varied in version that the student of sacred legend gets decidedly puzzled. The fair-haired daughter was advised secretly by Origen, who sent a pupil disguised as a physician to instruct her in the Christian faith. She insisted on putting three windows instead of two into the bathroom of the tower to which her father sent her, either to prevent her from marrying or to imprison her until she would wed one of the many gay young suitors. These three windows showed her belief in the Trinity, which she could not have learned from Origen, as among Christians he was regarded as heretical, and his followers were Unitarians and Universalists combined, adding the cheerful theory of the "second opportunity" and that all punishment from sin would have an end, yet clinging to the old pagan mythology and believing that sun, moon, stars, and the ocean all had souls - a "Neo-Platonist."

Refusing to recant, Barbara was arraigned and condemned to death. Her energetic paternal evidently had heard the maxim, "If you want anything done, do it yourself." His heavy blows fell soft as feathers. She seemed in sweet slumber. So he drew his sword, cut off her head, and was instantly killed by lightning from Heaven. Thus ends the history of two "Early Fathers."

But sweet St. Barbara will never be forgotten. She is the patroness of artillery soldiers, and protects from lightning and sudden death. In the many pictures where she appears she carries a feather, or the martyr's sword and palm, or a book; and the three windows are often seen. She is the only Santa who bears the cup and wafer.

The appreciative Spaniards honored her memory by bestowing her pretty name on the choicest spot of the coast, a belt of land seventy miles long and thirty-five wide, from Point Concepcion to Buena Ventura. No one can dare to doubt this tragic tale, for Barbara's head may still be seen preserved as a relic in the temple of All Saints at Rome. I do not want to be too severe in my estimate of the Roman noble, Dioscurus. An old lady who never spoke ill of any one, when called upon to say something good of the devil, said, "We might all imitate his persistence;" and this impulsive demon was certainly a creature who, if he had an unpleasant duty confronting him, attended to it himself.

The first navigator who landed on the coast of Santa Barbara, or on one of the four islands, was Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo, in 1542. He is buried on San Miguel (pronounced Magell ). The Indians (and the entire Indian population at that time amounted to 22,000) were exceedingly glad to welcome the strangers, much better behaved than those found at San Diego, who stripped the clothing from those too ill to defend themselves. Perhaps a reason for this superiority may be found in the fact that these tribes were entirely naked, and had no desire for any conventional covering. They serenaded their new friends so loudly that sleep or rest was impossible, and offered their most delicious food and free use of canoes. They ate seeds, fruit, fish, locusts; hunted rabbit, hare, and deer; dried the meat of the latter on trees; placed acorns in a sieve basket, rinsed and boiled them. As every race is unhappy without an intoxicating drink and something to chew or smoke, they extracted a bitter beverage from a certain seed, and used a root in place of tobacco.

These Channel Indians let their hair grow so long that they could make braids and fasten them round the face with stone rings. The visitors spoke of the "Island of the Bearded People." They had substantial brush huts, supported by pillars bearing inscriptions supposed to allude to their religion, and they enjoyed dancing to the music of bone flutes. For gifts, they most desired red calico and chocolate.

Cabrillo's men found a primitive temple on one of the islands, and in it an unknown god or idol. One of the eight original tribes had a form of worship strongly resembling a Turkish bath. The men sat round a hot fire until drenched in perspiration; then plunged into a pool of cold water. The women were not permitted to be devout in this "cleanliness next to godliness" manner. It was a luxury and prerogative the noble braves wanted entirely for themselves. (We see something similar in our own progressive, enlightened churches, where women are expected to provide and pack clothing for missionary boxes, attend unfailingly on the stated means of grace, visit and nurse the sick and poor members, deny themselves for charity, listen reverently to stupid discourses on the unknown, delivered with profound certainty that approaches omniscience, but are not allowed to "speak out in meetin'," or to have the honor of being represented by women delegates at denominational conventions, or clubs and councils. They are to lead heavenward, but earthly pleasures and honors are strictly "reserved"! About the same, isn't it?)

When Father Junipero Sena reached Santa Barbara on his mission-starting pilgrimage, he sent for Mexican artisans, who taught his converts all the industrial arts. They were taught to support themselves, then a piece of ground was parcelled out to each, with a yoke of oxen and farming utensils. Serra formed eleven missions; ten were added later. He built the great aqueduct which is still used in Santa Barbara. All honor to his memory! "There lingers around Santa Barbara more of the aroma and romance of a bygone civilization, when the worthy Padres set an example of practical Christianity to the Indian aborigines that we would do well to emulate, than is found elsewhere in the State."

In the good old days a person could travel from San Diego to San Francisco and not expend one shilling. The Mission Fathers would furnish saddle, horse, or a comfortable bed, meals, and the Spanish host would leave in the guest-chamber a small heap of silver covered by a cloth, and the stranger, if needy, was expected to take some of it to supply his wants.

Would you like to see a specimen of the Indian dialect used by the "Bearded People"? I can count to five in the Siujtu language - or, at least, I don't care to go much further: paca, sco, masa, scu, itapaca; twenty is sco-quealisco; and to-morrow, huanahuit.

The islands are now only occupied by flocks of sheep, sheared twice a year, and paying their owners a good profit; $100,000 one year from Santa Rosa alone. The wool gets full of seed, and it is not the finest quality, but this is counterbalanced by the quantity.

Many large abalone shells are found on San Miguel. They are pried off with a crow-bar, the shells are polished for sale, made into buttons, etc., and the meat is dried and sent to China, where it is ground and made into soup. It has been used here, and pronounced by some to be equal to terrapin, and by others to closely resemble leather.

These islands are always a delight to look upon. As the state of the atmosphere varies they seem near or far away, clearly defined, or with a hazy outline. But in sunlight or shadow, mist or mirage, they are ever beautiful. Within the peaceful channel ships are safe while a wind storm rages just beyond. The government sends big war-ships here for a trial of speed. None of these islands are now desirable for residence. There is no natural supply of fresh water, and the sheep rely on the moisture left by the heavy fogs, and on a certain plant which holds water in its cup-like blossom. I hear that at Catalina the goats, deprived of their natural pabulum of hoop-skirts, tomato cans, and old shoes, feed on clover and drink the dew.

That's what this climate does for a goat. I do not dare to make many statements in regard to novelties in natural history since one poor woman poetized upon the coyote "howling" in the desert, and roused hundreds of critics to deny that coyotes ever howled. And a scientific student came to Santa Barbara not so long ago, and found on one of these islands a species of tailless fox, and hastened to communicate the interesting anomaly to the Smithsonian Institute. It seems that the otter hunters trapped these foxes for their tails, then let them go.

If it were not for these blunders I would state that roosters seem to keep awake most of the night in Southern California, and can be heard crowing at most irregular hours. Considering the risks, I refrain.

The islands were named by a pious priest, who made the map; and those we see in looking out from Santa Barbara are San Miguel, Santa Rosa, Santa Cruz, Ana, Capa. San Nicholas Island is interesting as having been the abode for sixteen years of a solitary Indian woman, a feminine Robinson Crusoe, without even a Friday, who was left by mistake when the rest of the Indians were carried away by order of the Mission Fathers. Two of the men who at last succeeded in finding her gave their testimony, which has been preserved; and one of them, Charlie Brown, is still alive, and likes to tell the strange story. It seems she