The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 11, 1895, Page 13

4 THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, AUGUST 11, 1895. inary at Louvain, sionaries to the le; [ wse from the re at the age of 49 years. uster Damien was born in Belgium on January 3, 1840. He was educated where there exists at the present day an institu- pers. Father Damien went out to the island of he inhabited world. He himself fell a victim to the disease April The best-born hero that ever may be, The ve ry bravest in peace or in war Since that sad night in Gethsemane— Horns of the moon or the five-horned star? Why, merely a Belgian monk, and the least, The lowliest—merely a peasant-born priest. And how did he fight? and where did he fall? And whom did he conquer in the name of God? The Cross! And he conquered more souls than all Famed captains that ever fought fire-shod. Now, lord of the sapphire-set sea and skies, Far under his Southern gold Cross he lies. Far under the fire-sown path of the sun His ashes slow gather to ashes as His great seas chorus and his warm tides run To dulcet and liquid soft cadences. And, glories to come or great deeds gone, I'd rather be he than Napoleon. Hear this! a Hawaiian doomed leper lay, Lay prone in the sand, cast out and alone, The evites passing by the other wa Their proud hearts hardened as a hard millstone. This priest bore water, ki His robes into shreds till He rests with his lepers, neeled, prayed, and tore he bound each sore. for whom he died; The lorn outcasts in their cooped-up isle, While Slander purses her lips in pride And proud men gather their robes and smile. The Deriding his wa; mock at his deeds i n their daily talk, 's in their Christian (?) walk. But the great wide, honest, the wise, big world, Or sapphire splendors or midnight sun, It is asking the while that proud lips are curled, Why do not ye as that monk hath done? ‘Why do not ye, if so braver than he, Some one brave deed tha Tae Heteurs, Oakland, Cal., August, 1895. t the world might see? Eg Sy He was a lover of humanity and had th.in the great destiny of the Race. elieved that the way to lift Man is to get down, beside him, into the pit. He 1 lofty ideais as to the dignity of labor, of the equality of all human beings. He longed to meet his fellows upon a per- fectly . equal footing; to watch with his s ‘brother, eye to eye; to talk with him as-one man to another. He used to t with the workingmen’s clubs on Sunday nights and address them upon the economic. fallacies of the day. On these occasions he always appeared in working- man’s garb, and it was a source of regret toliim that his hands were not stained with the marks of toil. He endeavored, always, to adapt his expression to thaiof the members of the clubs, so that they would- recognize the fact that his creed proclaimed his oneness with them. Itde- lighted him to feel that he was one with m. Tt was well that the gulf could be thus bridged, since they could never be one with him. “Iam no better than the least of you all,” was what he endeavored to make them feel. He was calling upon one of the boys in an evening class which be had established. The lad, who worked in a machine-shop, been struck on the head by a flying : of broken gearing. He bad received ‘a nasty cut and was in a high fever. The Altruist sat by.his bedside in the little stuffy tenement for over an hour, bathing the hot head. He rejoiced at this oppor- tunity to b of service to his fellow-creature. From time to time the boy’s father tiptoed in and out of the room. He had been out of work for some weeks and thus had time to look after the patient, while the mother in the next room finished some fine laun- dry work she had got to do. There were | only two rooms in the tenement, and the | steam from the living-room filled the | little dark bedroom, where were two beds. The transom giving upon the hallway was shut, as the noise of passers on the stair- ways made the half-delirious boy restless. Presently the wife and mother came to the bedroom door. She looked at her hus- | band, and then whispered to him. He turned to the Altruist. “Dinner’s after | bein’ reddy, sorr,”” he said, “an’ Jimmy’s | kem in from worruk an’ must be atin’ an’ 1 off agin. Mebby ye’ll be drawin’ up wid | us, sorr?”’ i The half-invitation was extended hesi- | tatingly. The Altruist. in turn, hesitated. | The mingled odors of laundry and culinar; operations were oppressive—almost repul- sive to him. But who was he, to refusethe invitation of a fellow-being? What his brother fared upon, daily, must his dainty stomach refuse? Should he turn from the proffered cheer of any human creature, when the world was crying out for per- sonal association, the giving of one’s self, in human sympathy and companionship, as man to man? RO So he accepted the inyitation, and went with his host to the other room. There was a dish of stewed beef and potatoes on the oilcloth covered table. This, with dry bread, made from rye and tea, with no milk, constituted the meal. The Altruist felta generous glow of good- fellowship pervading his being. He took the pmffereg chair and the proffered plate | of beef and potatoes. The latter was de- testible to him, but he ate heartily, chat- ting the while with his host and hostess. These humble folk were his brother and could fully understand it until he got down among his fellows—came in contact, as it were, with the great, beating, sufferin, heart of the people. How he sympathizes with them. He exerted himself to be en- tertaining. He talked as animatedly, as interestingly, as he would have tried to do at the table of his richest acquaintance. He owed it to the humble folk to give them of his best as freely as they had given him of theirs. He was sorry he could not wholly remove their sense of constraint. They sat and listened to him, but without eating. What a pity there skould be this terrible gulf between hu- man beings: that they should be embar- rassed in his presence. Even Jimmy, the other boy, regarded him reservedly, with an anxious air, as he allowed himself to be helped to the last potato, the last bit of meat in_the dish. He did not care for these. Nordid he want another slice of bread, nor any more of the terrible tea, but he ate in the efforg to make them feel at_ease, to show them that he did not de- spise their meager fare. But he felt, as he had never felt before, the austere clannish- ness of the poor. Even at their own table they would not really meet him half way. When would they learn that the chasm between them and their more prosperous brethren was largely of their own making? He was relieved when at last the food was all consumed and they left the table. His entertainers had eaten almost nothing. Would they never cease to be overawed by him? Would they never understand that e felt himself to be only their brother? He went back to the sick boy, but he felt depressed and discouraged. He would have liked to give the father some money and retire, released of responsibility. But he would not degrade a fellow with the proffer of mere material aid. had let them enjoy the higher blessing of giving. He had broken bread with them. He would not insult their humanity by ‘the offer of charity. But he went away disheartered. He felt that the problem was a bitter one. His heart yearned to help, but he seemed help- dess. He would come next day and try lagain. But on the next day he was very ill. The bad air, the coarse, unaccustomed food, the strain upon his sympathies, had combined to produce a serious gastric at- tack, and he was confined to his bed for a fortnight. When he recoyered he went back to visit his friends. They had gone. The man had been out of work, they were back in their rent and had been obliged to seek other quarter: Alas! the difficulty of maintaining these one-sided friendships with the suspicious poor. Why had not this man, whom he so longed to Lielp, turned to him for aid ? ApELINE KNAPP. A PIONEER OF YOSEMITE Life Story of the Man Who First Wrote of the Great Valley. Forty Years of Loving Labor In Popularizing Californla’s Scenlc Wonder. There isalittle log cabin in the Yosemite Valley with which is associated the story of an interesting pioneer life. In a cluster of towering pines, and from a distance ap- parently af the very foot of the mighty Yosemite fall, that cabin of unhewn logs has stood for thirty years. Since 1892 it hasserved the unromantic purpose of store- house for potatoes and apples. but soon it may be occupied again by the man who built it. That man is J. M. Hutchings, who for forty years, as a writer and a lec- turer, has been identified with the Yo- semite. He came to the United States from Eng- land when a boy of 15, and when ten years afterward California suddenly became the goal of fortune-hunters Hutchings was among those who crossed the plains in '49. His mining experience was marked with varying fortunes. But the failure of a San Francisco bank with the loss of a large part of his savings, at a time when he was on the point of completing the purchase of what are now valuable City properties, was probably instrumental in removing the chances of great wealth. In 1853 when an effort was made to turn Sunday, then the principal business day among the miners,intoa day of rest the Ten Commandments,” written by Hutch- ings, and so great was their popularity, that nearly a_hundred thousand copies o them were sold in the following year. It was not surprising then that their author conceived the idea of publishing the pioneer magazine of this coast In 1855 he began to collect material for the first number. and in the early summer of that year, accompanied by Thomas Avyres as artist, he set out for the Yosemite Valley, which a militia company of cav- alry from Mariposa had found in ’51 while in pursuit of a band of marauding Indians, sister, This after all was life. No one| until March, when and where they reported there was ‘“‘a waterfall 1000 feet high.” But no one could be found who could give directions how to reach the valley. None of those who had been of the party that went there to punish the Indians could remember the way well enough to even venture a visit en their own account. Fortunately it was learned that a few Yosemlites were living on the Fresno ranch, near Hunt’s store. They were the remnants of a tribe which two years be- fore, by the massacre of 300 of its braves, had been almost annihilated in a midnight attack conducted by the Monos, 1n revenge for the theft of a band of horses that the Monos themselves had stolen down near Los Angeles. A few squaws escaped, but the rest were carried away by the Monos. Only eight bucks got away alive. Two of these fiu!chings and his two companions secured as guides. . They set out on foot, with one pack ani- mal and a horse to be used in case of acci- dent to one of the party. Trusting un- questioningly to the Indiansto guide them across pathless mountain meadows, over talus-covered slopes, through what seemed to be interminable brush and wilderness, and across streams, they finally came in sight of the valley on the afternoon of the third day. Adfter five days spent in look- ing and wondering and admiring and in making sketches of some of the grander features of that granite-enwalled scenic wonder, with its towering cliffs and its migkty waterfalls, they started back to San Francisco, passing through Mariposa on their way. Then the editor, sick and short of matter for that week’s issue of the Mariposa Ga- zette, asked Mr. Hutchings to write a description of the valley he haa just visited. It was that article, copied by all the prominent ‘journals of the time, that first made the Yosemite known to the public. In July, 1856, the first number of Hutch- ings’ California Muagazine appeured, the leading article being on the Yosemite, and having illustrations from the sketches made the summer before—the first pic- tures ever made of the valley. In 1859-60 four consecutive numbers of the magazine contained illustrated articles on that little- known ralley. After publ iz‘hinf the magazine for five years the health of the proprietor became 50 broken down in the work that his physi- cian said: *“If you don’t give it up and leave the city you will have to leave the world.” His magazine was sold to the Golden Era Company, but ceased publication in 62, a i;n after the change of J)ropriewrs. eanwhile the old pioneer had decided to make the Yosemite his home, but a grave obstacle was suggested. Rumor had it that in winter the valley was filled to half its depth of some 3000 feet with snow that slid over the precipitous walls. No one had ever seen the valley in win- ter; so early in January of ’62 he tried to reach it and learn for himself whether it would be possible to live there in that sea- son. But the heavy floods made traveling impossible and he gave up the attempt e again started, ac- Placerville Herald published “The Miner’s | | that he averaged only about a mile’s prog- LANOR articles OF home & manufacluré §V\m"\\,{ time NEW TO-DAY. will insis f upon //g“ 74 Wi A ( Nt LANDS EXTRR Pay ERICKSBURG | IFORNIA BARLEY, CALIFORNIA nd with CAL IFORNIA LABO AND KEEPTHE M companied by Lamon, an old Yosemits pioneer, an1 Galen Clark, for many years the guardian of the valley. Everything was covered with snow to the depth of from two to ten feet, totally obscuring the traiis and making progress uncertain and perilous and very fatiguing. His companions would not continue and the melting of the snows. But then his purpose could not be attained, and he de- termined to keep on alone. For six days he floundered wearily through the snow,the crust on which continually broke letting him down among snow-covered hunshes from which be would have to clamber up to the surface. So great was the labor ress a day. Getting free from the snow on the afternoon of the ninth day he en- urged him to return with them and await | OREY 1 B & 7 13 thing had to be packed over the zigzaging trails on mules. The first four-horse stage that reached the valley was taken into the Yosemite in parts on the backs of mules. * Partitions had to Le made for the big | | fooms, for the women could not always be asked to.share the upstairs apartment and | | the men the room below. The nearest | sawmill was forty miles away, and lumber | could not be packed over the winding | trails on mules. Cloth could be brought in, and muslin was used for partitions. It was not, however, a protection dgainst re- markable silhouettes when the roomers were careless in placing their lights when | | retiring. { Two men were employed and worked all | the next winter in getting out lumber with a handsaw, but the insignificant product | of their labor proved that, with the greatest P. M. HUTCEINGS. fered the valley and found comparatively little snow there. 1f they were to make their home in the Yosemite some means of gaining a liveli- hood must be devised. Mrs. Hutchings suggested that they keep a hotel. There was a building in the valley already that had been put up for hotel purposes several years before, but it had not been patron- ized very much and was unfinished. It had two large rooms twenty by sixty feet, one above the other, but there were no windows or partitions. The hotel, with its ossegsory land claim, was purchased, and in April; 1865, the family effects were packed into the valley on mules for a dis- tance of fifty miles over a rough and narrow trail that is now the Coulterville road. It was then the only trail. The four-horse wagon that had brought the things to Coulterville was taken apart and carried into the valley on muleback. Crockery, chairs, looking-glasses, every- industry, enough lumber for building pur- poses could never be made by such means. Hutchings went to San Francisco and but some pears. Now those apple trees yield 100 barrels of fruit a year. In September, 1865, Governor Low issued a proclamation to the effect that Congress had given the Yosemite to California as a public park, and he warned trespassers against settling there. Hutchings mained, relying upon pre-emption rights for the validity oF his claim, no Govern- ment survey of the valley having been from the former occupant and took pos- session, returned from San Francisco, where he had gone to publish the ‘‘Yosemite Alma- nac,” he found awaiting him a notice from the Yosemite Board of Commissioners to the effect that he must secure a lease from them of the property he was occupying or they would lease the premises to some one else. He appealed to the State Legislature and was granted the quarter section he was occupying and which he had put so many improvements on. ut the action of the Legislature was useless unless ratified by Congress, and to Congress Hutchings appealed in 67 and ’68. But there were delays and disappoint- ments and no issue was reached. Hutchings meanwhile was engaged ex- tensively in the East in giving illustrated lectures upon the beauties and wonders of the Yosemite in order to raise money to press his claims. Nothing came of his efforts until in 1874 the State Legislature appropriated $60,000 to satisfy the ap- praised valuation of the few settlers’ claims. Hutchings’ improvements, in- a little settlement about the hotel, to- gether with his twelve years’ labor, were fixed by the Commissioners’ expert at his share was cut down to $24,000, while the shares of the other claimants were all increased. By that time the popularity of the valle; had been very thoroughly spread abroad. From a total of 147 visitors for 64 the num- ber had increased to 2711 for the And during the nine years from 55 to 64 only 653 people set foot in the valley. From was no_recognizable trail when he, as one of the first tourists, found his way into the valley in ’55, it had become, during his long residence, a Fluce of popular resort for people from all over the world; roads had been laid out by him through the val- ley and the Coulterville and the Big Oak Flat roads had just been completed, mak- ing the valley accessible in conveyances. Before that time better trails had been made so that visitors might come in on Lorseback, with a ride of only twenty-five Big Oak Flat to Harding’s, which then be- came the stage-line terminus. Travel became so great that Hutchings had 109 saddle animals for use on this trail and in the valley at the time he surren- dered possession to the State. After the winter of '75 the Commission- ers refused to lease Hutchings the cabin Te- | made at the time he purchased his claim | Late in the winter of 1865, having just | cluding eighteen buildings that formed | $41,000. When the payments were made | ear '74. | a pathless, unknown wild, to which there | miles, after the stage road was built from | ; and the small plat of ground surrounding | it, but leased it -to another party, because of his prenounced objections to the de- struction of the trees of the valley and the | change of any of the natural features. But when Bernard became the lessee of the hotel property in 78 he offered Hutchings the use of his old cabin, the occupancy of which Hutchings resumed and continued in until the present lessee of the Sentinel Hotel took charge of the property, about | three years ago. Since then Hutchings has been living in San Francisco, visi‘in, the valley often and. always hoping thaf { he might some day return to live in | the picturesque little cabin where he spent twenty-live winters; where | he wrote his book, ‘‘In the Heart of the Sierras’’; where helived as guardian of the valley from 1880 until 1884; where he was visited by many prominent people from all parts of the world, who were anxious to see and talk with “the oldest in- habitant”; for that little cabin was lined with curios of the valley, and its pioneer occupant was an encyclopedia of knowl- edge to those who wished to gain informa- tion on the flora of that region, on the | birds, on the glacial formations, on the neighboring mountain regions and on the Indian legends. For forty years he, more than any other one man, has made the Yosemite known to the world. He has written three books on the subject; he has furnished many sketches of the valley for the periodical press, including the first mention that was ever made of it, and he has traveled over the country for years lecturing on the sub- ject, sometimes before audiences of several | thousand people. | _ The Legislature, always magnanimous in | its treatment of the original settlers of the | Yosemite, passed the following res lution at the last session: T Resolved by the Scnate, the Assembly concurring That the use of the cabin erected in the Yo- semite Valley by J. M. Hutchings, and the or- chard adjoining of about five acres in extent, | planted by him, be and ‘the same are hereby granted to said J. M. Hutchings for the term of ten years. A wrong impression has been current that, in accordance with this resolution, adopted last March oy the State Legisla- ture, the old Yosemite settler was in pos- session of his reminiscent old cabin amid the pine trees. But the legislative action must be ratified by the Board of Yosemite Commissioners ‘before the premises can be occupied. - The Commissioners meet to-morrow and will take action on the matter. That thisde- cision will be‘in acoordance with the wishes of the membersof the Legislaturé represent~ ing the various districts of the State can hardly be doubted. . And then when the lease of the present | lessee of the Sentinel Hotel shall expire | next October, the old pioneer may be per- mitted to go back to spend his declining | years in the spot that has become a part of his life and his constant love—the valley where his three children were born and where one of them rests in the little grave- yard not far from the old cabin. bought the machinery for a sawmill, and hired a millwright to put up the plant. But the wheel would not turn. Finally, after much labor, Hutchings got it to go. The great rainfall of the previous winter had softened the earth so much that when a heavy windstorm came fully 100 large pines and cedars within an area of eleven acres toppled over and were uprooted. These supplied the logs from which was made the lumber used for buildings. The location of the hotel was such that in winter, owing to the narrowness of the valley and the great height of its walls, the sun only reached it for two hours in the day. Across the river there was a spot that got the sun for over six hours a day; and ‘‘over there” Hutchings built his lo cabin in'the fali of ’65, and planted a sma! orchard of five acres, principally apples, HUTCHINGS’ OLD CABIN, Y - OSEMITE VALLEY,