The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, May 15, 1898, Page 24

24 UNDAY, MAY 15, 1898 = “THERE, GENERAL,” I f[ Mo e e i i ,“",mumum/,h} @ AR P i =, €, 7 —A GASPED, “THERE IS YOUR ? it / \\ f\uesouns 0¥, 5 = i i CITADEL.” ERTRAM EASTFORD had intended to pass the shop of his old friend, the curiosity dealer, into whose pocket so much of his money had gone, for trinkets gathered from all quarters of the globe. He knew it was weakness on his part to select that street when he might have taken another, but he thought it would do no harm to treat himself to one glance at the seductive window of the old curiosity shop, where the dealer was in the habit of displaying his latest acquisitions. On the central shelf of the window stood an hour glass, its framework of some wood as black as ebony. He stood gazing at it for a moment, then turned to the door and went Inside, greeting the ancient shopman, whom he knew so well. “I want to look at the hour glass you have in the window,” he said. He took the hour glass from the shelf in the window, reversed it and placed it on a table. “There is no need for you to extol its antiquity,” said tford with a smile. *I knew the moment I looked at it that such gl are rare, and you are not going to find me a cheapening customer.”” “So far from overy ng it,” protested the shopman, “T wi about to call your attention to a derect. It is usele: a measurer of time.” . Li‘lr doesn't record the exact hour, then?” asked East- ord. “‘Well, I suppose the truth is they were not very par- ticular in the old days, and time was not money as it Is now. It measures the hour with great accuracy,” the curfo dealer went on, “that is, if you watch it, but, strangely enough, after it has run for half an hour or thereabouts, through some defect in the neck of the glass, or in the pulverizing of the sand, it stops, and will not go again unless the glass is shaken.” The hour glass at that moment verified what the old man said. The tiny stream of sand suddenly ceased, but went on again the moment its owner jarred the frame, and continued pouring without interruption. “Well, T don’t want it as a timekeeper, so we will not allow that defect to interfere with the sale. How much do you ask for it?” The dealer named his price, and Eastford paid the amount asked. “I shall send it to you this afternoon.” “Thank you,” said the customer, taking his leave. That night in his room Bertram Eastford wrote busily until a late hour. When his work was concluded he pushed away his manuscript with a sigh of that deep con- tentment which comes to a man who has not wasted his day. He replenished his open fire, drew ais most com- fortable armchair in front of it, took the gre=en shade from his lamp, thus filling the luxurious apartment with a light that was reflect from armor and from anclent weapons, standing in corners and hung along the walls. He lifted the paper-covered package cut the string that bound it, and placed the ancient hour glass on his table. watching the thin stream of sand which his action had set_running. The constant, hypnotize him. 2 itself. steady downrall seemed to as sllent as the footsteps ed as it had done in the d on his tingling nerves He could almost ng the thin cylinder of the shook the bygone time meas- steadily when the sand he took the glass from the yme attention. He thought but further inspection con- d with age. On one round hearts overlapping, and rpent: unceasing, lescent was ddenly it st tling it. [ and breathed again more resumed its motion. Presently table and examined it with at first its frame was ebony, vinced him it was oak, black end was carved rudely two twined about them a pair of “Now, I wonder what that’s for?”’ murmured Eastford to himself. ‘“An attempt at a coat-of-arms, perhaps.” There was no clew to the meaning of the hieroglyphics, and Bastford, with the glass balanced on his knee, watched the sand still running, the crimson threads spark- ling in the lamplight. He fancied he saw distorted reflec- tions of faces in the convex glass, although his reason told him they were but caricatures of his own. The great bell in the tower near by with slow solemnity tolled 12. He counted its measured strokes one by one, and then was startled by a decisive knock at his door. One section of his brain considered this visit untimely, mnother looked on it as perfectly usual, and while the two were arguing the matter out he heard his own voice cry: “Come in!"” XL The door opened, and the discussion between the government and the opposition in his mind ceased to con- sider the untimeliness of the visit, for here in the visitor himself stood another problem. He was a young man in military costume, his uniform being that of an officer. stford remembered seeing something fike 1t on the stage, and knowing little of military affairs, thought per- haps the costume of the visitor before him indicated an officer In the Napoleonic war. “Good evening,” said the incomer. ‘“May I introduce myself? I am Lieutenant Sentore of the regular army.” ““You are very welcome,” returned his host. *“Wiil you be seated?” “Thank you, no. I have but a few moments to stay. I have come for my hourglass, if you will be good enough to let me have it.”” ‘““Your hourglass? “ejaculated Eastford, in uurgflne. 2 think you labor under a misapprehension. The glass belongs to me. I bought to-day ‘at the old curlosity shop in Finchmore street.” “I have already admitted that my claim is moral rather than legal,” continued the visitor. “It is a long story; have I your permission to tell it?” “T ghall be delighted to listen,” replied Eastford, “but before doing so 1 beg to renew my Invitation, and ask you to occupy this easy chair before the fire. The officer bowed in silence, crossed the room behind Eastford, and sat down in the armchair, placing his sword across his knees. The stranger spread his hands before the fire, and seemed to enjoy the comforting warmth., He remained for a few moments buried in deep reflection, quite ignoring the presence of his host, who, glancing upon the hourglass in dispute upon his knees, seeing that the sands had all run out, silently reversed it, igain. This action caught the corner and brought him to a realization of Drawing a heavy sigh, he began and set them runnix of the stranger’s eve, y he was there. his’ story. IIL “In the year 1706 I held the post of lieutenant in that part of the British army commanded by General Trelaw n}é the supremM(- (-nmm:m‘d being, of course, in the hands of he great Marlborough.” v Ezaskford llg(u this announcement with the idea that there w omething absurd about the statement. The man sitting there calmly talking of a time 182 years past, and yet he himself could not be a day more than 2 years old. Somewhere entangled in this were tie elements of absurdity castford found himself unable to unravel them, but the more he thought of the matter the more reasonable it began to appear,and so, hoping his & tor had not noted the look of surprise on his face, he quietly, casting his mind back over the history of England, and remembering what.he had learned at school: “That was during the war of the Spanish succession “Yes, the war had then been in progress four years. “Everything went well until we came to the town of Elsengore, which we captured without the loss of a man. The capture of the town, however, was of little avail, for in the center of it stood a strong citadel, which we tried to take by assault, but could not. General Trelawny, a very irascible, hot-headed man, but on the-whoie a just and capable officer, impatient at this unexpected del son almost any terms they desired to on offered the garri: evacuate the castle. But having had warning of our com- ing, they had provisioned the place, were well ~applied with ammunition and their commander refused to make terms_with General Trelawny. & “‘If you want the place,’ said the Frenchman, ‘come d take it.” an0, oneral Trelawny, angered, at this contemptuous treatment, flung his men again and agamn at the citadel, and that without making the slightest impression on it. “We were In no wise prepared for a long siege, nor had we expected stubborn resistance. Marching quickly, as was our custom heretofore, we possessed no heavy artillery, and so were at a_disadvantage when attacking a fortress as strong as that of Elsengore. Meanwhile General Trelawny sent mounted messen%er! by different roads to his chief, giving an account of what had hap- HERE is an interesting relic ot‘ the early political history of | 0000000000000 000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 pened, explaining his delay in joining the main army, and asking for definite instructions. He expected that one or two at least of the mounted messengers sent away every day would reach his chief and be enabled to return. And that is exactly what happened, for one day. a dusty horse- man came to General Trelawny's headquarters with a br}sfl note from Marlborough. ~The commander-in-chief said: “ ‘T think the Frenchman's advice is good. We want the place, therefore take it.’ " “But he sent no heavy artillery to aid us in this task, for he could not spare his big guns, expecting as he did an important battle. General Trelawny having his work thus cut out for him, settled down to accompltish it as best he might. He quartered officers and men m various parts of the town, the more thoroughly to keep watch on the citizens, of whose good intentions, if the slege were pro- longed, we were by no means sure. It fell to my lot to be lodged in the house of Burgomaster Seidelmier, of ‘whose conduct I had no reason to complain, for he treated me well. I was given two rooms, one a large, low apart- ment on the first floor, and communicating directly with the outside by means of a hall and a separate stairway. The room was lighted by a long, many-paned window, leaded and filled with diamond-shaped glass. Beyond this large drawing room was my bedroom. I must say that I enjoyed my stay in Burgomaster Seidelmier’s house, not the less so because he had an only daughter, a most charmlng girl. Our acquaintance ripened into deep friend- ship, and afterward into—but that has notning to do with what I have to tell you. My story is of war and not of love. Gretlich Seidelmier presented me with the hourglass vou have in your hand, and on it I carved the joined earts entwined with our similar initials.” ‘So they are initials, are they?” said Eastford, glanc- Ing down at what he had mistaken for twining serpents. ‘‘Yes," said the officer. “I was more accustomed to a sword than to an etching tool, and the letters are but rudely drawn. One evening after dark Gretlich and I were whispering together in the hall, when we heard the heavy tread of the general coming up the stairs. The girl fled precipitately, and I, holding open the door, walted the approach of my chief. He entered and curtly asked me to close theldoor. “ ‘Lieutenant,’ he sald, ‘it s my intention to capture the citadel to-night. Get together twenty-five of your men and have them ready under the shadow of this house, but give 1o one hint of what you intend to do with them. In one hour’s time leave this place as quictly as possible and make an attack on the western entrance of the citadel. Your attack is to be but a feint and to draw off their forces to that point. Still, if any of your men succeed in gaining entrance to the fort, they shall not lack reward and promotion. Have you a watch? ‘“ *Not one that will go, general; but I have an hour- glass here.” ‘ ‘Very well, set it running. Collect your men and exactly at the hour lead them to the west front; it is but five minutes’ quick march from here. An hour and five minutes from this moment I expect you to begin the attack, and the moment you are before the western gate make as much noise as your twenty-five men are capable of, so as to lead the enemy to believe that the attack is rious one.’ “Saying this, the general turned and made his way, heavy footed, through the hall and down the stairway. “I sat the hourgiass running, and went at once to call my men, etationing them where I had been ordered to place them. I returned to have a word with Gretlich before 1 deperted on what I knew was a dangerous mis- sion. Glancing at the hourglass I saw that not more than a quarter of the sand had run down during my absence. I remained in the doorway where I could keep an eye on the hourglass, while the.girl stood leaning her arm against the angle of the dark passage way, supporting her fair cheek on her open palm, and, standing thus in the dark- ness, she talked to me in whispers. We talked and talked, engaged in that sweet, endless conversation that mur- murs in subdued tone round the world, being duplicated that moment at who knows how many 'places. Absorbed as 1 was in listening, at last there crept into my conscious- ness the fact that the sand in the upper bulb was not diminishing as fast as it should. This knowledge was fully in my mind for some time before I realized its fearful significance. Suddenly the dim knowledge took an I sprang from the door lintel, saying: 0od heavens, the sand in the hourglass has stopped running!” ”* IV. “I remained there motionless, all action struck from my rigid limbs, gazing at the hourglass on the table. Gretlich peering in at the doorway, and looking at the hourglass and not at me, having no susplicion of the ruin !nvulverll in the stoppage of that miniature sandstorm, said presently: ‘0O, yes; I forgot to tell you it does that now and 50’ you must shake the glass.’ “‘She bent forward as if to do this when the leaden windows shuddered, and the house itself trembled with the sharp erash of our light cannon, followed aimost im- mediately by the deeper detonation of the heavier guns from the citadel. The red sand in the glass began to fall again and its liberation seemed to unfetter my paralyzed limbs. Bareheaded as 1 was, I rushed like one frantic along the passage and down the stairs. The air was resonant with the quick following reports of the cannon, and the long narrow street was fitfully lit up as if by quick flashes of summer lightning. ¥y men were still standing where I had placed them. Giving a quick word of command. I marched them down the street and out into the square, where I met General Trelawny coming back from his futile assault. ' Like myself, he was bareheaded, and his white hair bristled with rage. His military countenance was begrimed with powder smoke, but he spoke to me with no trace of anger in his voice. “ ‘Lieutenant Sentore,’ he sald, ‘disperse your men.’ “I gave the word to disband my men, and then stood at attention before him. ‘ ‘Lieutenant Sentore,’ he said, In the same level voice, ‘return to your quarters and consider yourself under arrest. Await my coming there.’ “T iurned and obeyed his orders. It seemed incredible that the sand should still be running in the hourglass, for ages had passed over mv head since last I was in that room. I paced up and down awaiting the coming of my chief, feeling neither fear nor regret, but rather dumb despair. In a few minutes his heavy tread was on the stair, followed by the measured tramp of a file of men. Ile came into the room and with him was a sergeant and four soldiers, fully armed. The general was trembling with rage, but held strong control over himseif, a2 was his habit on serious occasions. ‘Lieutenant Sentore,’ he said, ‘why were you not at your post? i “The running sand in the hourglass’ (I hardly recog- nized my own voice on hearing it), ‘stopped when but half exhausted. I did not notice its interruption until it was too late.’ “The general glanced grimly at the hourglass. The last sands were falling through to the lower butb. I saw that he did not believe my explanation. “ ‘It seems now to be in perfect working order,” he said at last. “He strode up to it and reversed it, Watchlnf the sand pour for a few moments, then he spoke abruptly: “ ‘Ljeutenant Sentore, your sword.’ “T handed my weapon to him without a word. Turning to the sergeant, he said: “ ‘Lieutenant Sentore is sentenced to @eath. He has an hour for whatever rrepamtlons he chooses to make. Allow him to dispose of that hour as he chooses, so long as he remains within this room and holds converse with no one whatever. When the last sands of this hourglass are run, Lieutenant Sentore will stand at the other end of this room and meet the death merited by traltors, lag- gards or cowards. Do you understand your duty, sergeant?” 3 *Yes, general. “After that, for a long time, no word was :?okgn_ 1 watched my life run readily through the wasp waist of the transparent glass, then suddenly the sand ceased to flow, half in the upper bulb, half in the lower. ‘Tt has stopped,’ said the sergeant. ‘I must shake the glass. * ‘Stand where you are,’ I commanded sharply. ‘Your orders do not run to that.” eant to the spot. relawny,’ I said, “Tell him what has “The habit of obedience rooted the ser 1; }Send one of your menbto gene&al as If I had still the right to be obeyed. haggened. and ask for instructions. Let your man tread lightly as he leaves the room.” Rt piive “The sergeant did not hesitate a moment, but gave the order I required of him. The soldier nearest the doo tip-toed out of the honse. Probably more than half an hour had passed, during which no man moved, the ser- geant and his three remalining soldjers seemed afraid to reathe, then we heard the step of the general himself on the stair. 1 feared that this would give the needed impetus to the sand In the glass, but when Trelawny entered the status quo remained. The general stood look- ing at the suspended sand, without speaking. “ “That is what happened before, general, and that is why I was not at my place. 3 “The general, still without a word, advanced to the table, slightly shook the hourglass and the sand began to Ppour again. Then he picked it up in his hand, examining it minutely, as if it were some kind of a strange toy, turning it over and over. He glanced up at me and said, quite in his usual tone, as if nothing in particular had come between us: ! “Remarkable thing that, Sentore, 1sn’t 1Y & *Very,’ 1 answered grimly. ‘He put the glass down. ‘Sergeant, take your men to quarters. Lleutenant Sentore, I return to you.your sword; you can perhaps make better use of it alive than dead. He left me without further word, and buckling on my sword, I proceeded straightw to disobey again. v. “I had a great liking for G how he fumed and raged at be apparently impregnable fortre: " of Elsengore, T had myself studied the citadel from all points, and had come to the conclusion that it might be Successfully attempted, not by the great gates that openec neral Trelawny. Knowing s thus held helpless by an in the wnimportant town on the square of the town, nor by the inferior west gates, but by scaling jthe mingly unclimbable cliffs at the north side. The wall at the top of this prec:gh e was 10;;‘ and owing to the height of the beetling cliff, was lnt,‘I ~ ciently watched by one lone sentinel, who paced the bal}de~ ments from corner tower to corner tower. 1 had made my plans, intending to ask the general's permission to risk this venture, but now I resolved to try it without his knowledge or consent, and thus retrieve, if I cou'ldh my fallure of the foregoing part of the night. ‘Taking with me a long, thin rope which I had in my room. anticipatini such a trial for it, I roused five of my picked men, anc silently we made our way to the foot of the northern cliff. Here, with the rope around my waist, T W.'nrl(ed my way diagonally up along a cleft in the rcck, which, like others parallel to it, marked the face of the precipice. A slip would be fatal. The loosening of a stone would give warning to the sentinel, whose slow steps I heard on the wall above me, but at last I reached a narrow ledge with- out accident, and standing up in the darkness, my chin was level with the top of the wall on which the sentry paced. The shelf between the bottom of tne wall and the top of the cliff was perhaps three feet in width, and gave ample room for a man careful of his feoting. Alded by the rope, the others, less expert climbers than myself, made their way to my side one by one, and the six of us stood on the ledge under the low wall. We were all in_our,stockinged feet, some of the men, in fact, not even having stockings on As the sentinel passed, we crouching in the darkness under the wall, the most stal- wart of our party sprang up behind him. The soldier had taken off his jacket, and tiptoeing behind the sentinel, he threw the garment over his head, tightening it with a twist that nearly choked the man. Then seizing his gun so that it would not clatter en the stones, held him thus helpless while we five climbed up beside him.. Feeling under the jacket I put my riih! hand firmly on the senti- nel’s throat, and nearly choking the breath out of him, said: “ “Your life_depends on your actions now. Will you utter a sound if I let go your throat?' “The man shook his head vehemently and I released my clutch. “‘Now,’ I said to him, ‘where is the powder stored? Answer in'a whisper and speak truly.’ “ “The bulk of the powder, he answered, ‘s in the vault below the citadel.’ ‘“““Where is the rest of 1t?" I whispered. « ‘In the lower room of the round tower by the gate.’ “ ‘Nonsense,’ I said; ‘they would never store It in & place so liable to attack.’ “There was nowhere else to put it,’ repiied the senti- ‘unless they left it in the open courtyard. ‘Is the door to the lower room in the tower bolted?" * “There is no door,’ replied the sentry, ‘but a low arch- way. This archway has not been closed, because no cannon balls ever come from the northern side.’ “‘How much powder is there in this roo “ ‘I do not know; nine or ten barrels, I think.” “It was evident to me that the fellow, in his fear, spoke the truth. Now the question was, how to get down from the wall into the courtyard, and across that to the archway at the southern side. Cautioning the sentinel again that if he made the slightest attempt to escape, or glve the alarm, instant death would be meted to him, I told him to guide us to the archway, which he did, down the stone steps that led from the northern wall into the courtyard. They seemed to keep loose watch inside, the only sentinels in the place being those on the upper walls. But the man we had captured not appearing at his corner in time, his comrade of the western side became alarmed, spoke to him, and obtaining no answer, shouted for him, then discharged his gun. “Instantly the place was in an uproar. Lights flashed, and from different guardrooms soldiers poured out. I saw across the courtyard the archway the sentinel had spoken of, and calling my men made a dash for it. The besieged garrison, not expecting an enemy within, had been rushing up the stone steps at each side to the outer wall to man the cannon they had so recently quitted, and it was some minutes before a knowledge of the real state of things came to them. These few minutes were all we needed, but I saw there was no chance for a slow match, whils if we fired the mine we probably would die under the tot- tering tower. “By the time we reached the archway and found th. powder barrels, the besieged, finding everything silent out- side, came to a realization of the true condition of affairs. We faced them with bayonets fixed, while Sept, the man who had captured the sentinel, took the hatchet he had brought with him at his girdle, filung over oneof the barrels on its side, knocked in the head of it, allowing the dull black powder to pour on the cobblestones. Then filling his hat with the explosive he came out toward us, leaving a thick trail behind him. By this time we were sorely beset, and one of our men had gone down under the firs of the enemy, who shot wildly. being baffled by the dark- ness. otherwise all of us had been slaughtered. I seized 2 musket from a comrade and shouted to the rest: “‘Save vourselves’ and to the garrison in French, T gave the same warning, then I fired the musket into the train of powder, and next instant found myself half stunned and bleeding at the further end of the courtyard. The roar of the explosion and the crasn of the falling tower was deafening. All Eisengore was aroused by the earthquake shock. I called to my men when I could find my voice, and Sept answered from one side, and two more from another. Together we tottered across the debris- strewn courtyard. Some woodwork inside the citadel had taken fire and was burning fiercely, and this lit up the ruins and made ble the great gap in the wall at the fallen gate. Into the square below we saw the whola town pouring, soldiers and civilians alike, coming from the narrow streets into the open quadrangie. I made my way, leaning on Sept, over the broken gate and down the causeway into the square, and there, foremost of all met my general, with a cloak thrown round him, to make up for his want of coat. ““There, general,’ I gasped; ‘there is your citadel, and through this gap can we march to meet Marlborough.’ * "Pray, sit, who the devil are you? erted the general, for my face was like that of a blackamoor. “T am the lieutenant who has once more disobeyed your orders, general, in the hope of retrieving a former mistake.’ “ ‘Sentore!’ he cried, rapping out an oath. ‘I shall have vou courtmartialed, sir’ ‘ ‘I think, general,’ I said, ‘that/I am courtmas already, for T thought then that the hand of dain med upon me, which shows the effect of imagmation, for my wounds were not serious, vet I sank down at the Zeneral's feet. He raised me in his arms as if I had been his own son, and thus carried me to my rooms. Seven years later when the war ended, I got leave of absence and came back to Blsengore for Gretlich Seidelmier and the hour. glass. nel, As the lieutenant ceased speaking Eastford thought ha heard again the explosion at the tower, and started to his feet in nervous alarm, then looked at the lieutenant, and laughed. while he said: ‘Lieutenant, I was startled by that noise just now, and thnu‘fht for the moment that ¥ was In Brabju.nt. You have made good your claim to the hourglass, and you are wellc;“:‘e t(;‘ it et fut as he spoke he turned his eyes toward the chair in which the lieutenant had been seated, and found it vacant. Gazing round, he saw that he was indeed alone. At his feet was the shattered hourglass, which nad fallen from his knees, its blood-red sand mingling with the colors on the csrp;t. | Eastford said, with an air of surprise: 0000000000000 00000000000000O0 during the year with adobe walls, at a cost of $100,000, was later on in the ses- sion the hotlel of the place. A large portion of the throng was compelled to o (] California in the possession of | o o the Sacramento Soclety of Pio- | neers. It suggests a volume of | pioneer memories and as time passes | its value and interest will increase. It | is a scroll of blue writing paper—such | as was generally used fifty years ago— | upon which is written briefly the bio. graphies of the members of the first Legislature of California. It is of | especial historical value in that each individual penned his life sketch with | his own hand; that it relates to as re- markable a State Legislature as was ever convened, and that many who made the record have been distin- | guished in State and national history. Very few of the writers survive. The Jast to pass away was Captain Joseph Aram, whose death at San Jose was noted in The Call last month. There were but sixteen Senators, who repre- sented the nine districts that had been | established by the Mexican Govern- ment. The first of the Senators who wrote upon the scroll was David F. Douglass, and he incidentally mentfoned that “on March 17, 1839, had a fight with Dr. ‘William Howell, in which H. was killed; imprisoned fourteen months.” Douglass was a member of Captain Jack Hays' celebrated regiment of Texas rangers during the Mexican war, and on the declaration of peace came to California. After having served two terms in the State Senate and one in the Assembly he was nypolnted Secre- tary of State by J. Neely Johnson, the “Know Nothing” Governor, in 1855, and o °000OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOQOOOO0000000000000000000000000OOOOOOOOOOOOOODOOOO was afterward appointed United States Marshal by a Democratic President. Old General M. G. Vallejo was a na- tive son member of the Senate. He had been connected with the Mexican civil and military Government since 1824, and was one of few prominent natives who favored the transfer of California to the Americans rather than to the English at the impending outbreak of the war with Mexico. But he never forgave the bear flag party for taking him a prisoner at Sonoma, carrying him to Sutter’s Fort and keep- ing him there in confinement. ‘When the constitutional convention of 1849 was selected the old general was a delegate and all went well until it was proposed to place the representa- tive of a bear in the State coat of arms at the suggestion of one of the party that had inaugurated the revolution of 1846. The memory of the inaignity to which he had been subjected was re- vived and he demanded that if any | bear went into the State seal it should be represented as being lassoed by a vaquero. Don Pablo de la Guerra was another native Californian Senator. He was of distinguished family—one of the oldest in the territory, and a man of refine- ment and education. His career in the Legislature extended over many ses- sions and for a time he was ex-officio Lieutenant Governor. At the time of his death he was holding the office of District Judge in his native county— Santa Barbara. 5 Monterey district was reprgunted by Selim E. Woodworth, a son of the | author of the familiar poem, “The Old | Oaken Bucket.” He amassed a fortune in San Francisco and died in 1871 William D. Fair was elected from S8an Joaquin district to fill a vacancy. He had won honors in the Mexican War and had entered on a successful law practice in Stockton. In 1858 he mar- ried Mrs. Laura Grayson, and com- mitted suicide in San Francisco Decem- ber 27, 1861. It is a curious coincidence that his widow, Laura D. Fair, shot and killed Alexander T. Crittenden, who represented Los Angeles in the Hfirst Assembly, and who wrote upon the same scroll with Colonel Fair, There was a bit of grim humor in the nota- tion made in the scroll by Crittenden; he closed it with the words, “Died, 18—" The writing of David C. Broderick is concise and formal. He was then, as always, a busy man when political mat- ters demanded attention. John Bidwell was a Senator from Sacramento district, and with perhaps one exception is the only survivor of the first California Senate. Henry E. Robinson was another Sen- ator from Sacramento district. When he died in 1880 he left some $40,000 for the benefit of the poor in San Fran- cisco. Nelson Taylor had been elected from San Joaquin district, but left the State without resigning, and his seat was declared vacant. In the Civil War he was a Union brigadier-general, later on a member of Congress, and died in New Jersey a few years ago. | _Dr. E. Kirby Chamberlain, a Senator | from San Diego and Los Angeles, was the president pro tem. He had been a surgeon in the army during the Mexi- can War, and died at sea en route to the East in December, 1851 Senator Thomas J. Green from Sac- ramento district was a Jackson Demo- crat of the most pronounced type, a Southerner by nativity and breeding. He was a veteran of the Texas ravolu- tion, and had been one of the prison- ers in the Castle of Parote. His wife was possessed of a large fortune and from it she liberally supplied her hus- band to support his extravagant hab- its. He was proud of his ability to entertain his friends and did so with lavish hand. His birthday anniver- sary occurred in January, and he cel- ebrated it in grand style by a big ban- quet and a rousing dance. There was no business done in_either house the day succeeding the festivities. They were too much for human endurance, even in those speedy days. It was truly a “Legislature of . thousand drinks,” and of many thousand more. The Leg- islature elected Green a major-general before it adjourned—a fitting recogni- tion of the estimate his liberality had gained for him. He left the State in early days and died in Warren County, North Carolina, December 13, 1863. The Assembly comprised thirty-six members. The district of n Jose had three representatives, San Diego and San Luis Obis vne each, Los An- geles, Santa B Sonoma and THE LEGISLATURE OF (000 DRINKS. Monterey two each, San Francisco five and Sacramento and San Joaquin nine each. The delegation from San Jose was composed of Joseph Aram and Elam Brown, who had been delegates to the constitutional _convention at Monterey, and the late Dr. Benjamin Corey. The first Legislature met at the Pueblo of San Jose, on December 15, 1849. The Capitol building was an adobe structure 60 feet long, 40 feet wide, two stories high, and adorned with a piazza in front. The upper story, used for the Assembly chamber, contained but one room. The lower story was divided into four rooms, the largest, 40 by 20 feet, being designed for the accommodation of the Senate and the others for the secretary and the committees. The building had been constructed for a hotel and had been purchased by the town authorities and placed at the disposal of the State. ‘When the Legislature convened the work of remodeling the structure had not been completed, and for a time the Senate met in the residence of Isaac Branham, some little distance away from the meeting place of the Assem- bly. The gathering of the Legislature of a new State that was afterward ad- mitted into the Union without going through the usual form of territorial government was of itself a novelty and without precedent, and naturally at- tracted a large number of outsiders, in- dependent and irrespective of the regu- lar organization. Two United States Senators and State, executive and judi- 0000 DO000DO00D0D0O000000000O0 cial officers were to be chosen and then, as now, such important political events caused no_ little excitement among all classes. More especially was the interest felt by the political adven- turers from other States who had join- ed in the rush to the Pacific in an- ticipation of securing good hands in the new deal in the game of politics in this then far-away region. There was no lack of patriots anxious to serve their country for the good recompense that promised. Then again, many important meas- ures were to be considered, and some of them promised rich pickings for the lobby and for those who were more directly concerned. “Cinch” bills could not zvail, for the country was too new for the founding of any enterprises that could be af- fected by hostile legislation, but the shrewder ones foresaw the advantage that could be gained to them by the passage of favoreble measures, and were keen to anticipate the ease with which a primitive body could . be handled. The accommodations in San Jose were inadequate for the sudden in- crease to its population, and naturally such as could be afforded were held at gilt-edge prices. The principal public house was the City Hotel, and the charges were fully commensurate with the exigencies of the times—the rate being $5 a dav in gold coin. A dinner $2, and an ordinary shake-down bunk on the floor was $1 a night. The Mansion House, that was constructed . lodge in a room denominated “the cor- ral,” and it was a favorite pastime with some of the occupants whose rest was disturbed b the candle of some party who indulged in the dangerous and highly reprehensible practice of reading in bed to put out his light with a shot from a revolver, and even those carrying a light te find their resting place were sometimes taken aback by finding their candles snuffed in a simi- ;"ar]g unceremoxflgus way. Those who red were marksmen; t true and they knew it. At The accommodations and prices na- turally created considerable feeling of indignation among the members, and as a matter - of scare for correction George B. Tingley introduced in the Assembly a bill to remove the seat of government to Monterey. The bill im- mediately - assed first reading, but it produced the desired effect and was al- lowed to die g natural death. The citi- zens of San Jose becoming alarmed at the continued grumbling and the threat to remove the Legislature, determined that it was necessary to do something to placate the members and accordingly arranged for a grand ball to be given in the Assembly chamber. The ‘Legislature of a thousand drinks” perhaps justly earned its de- signation. But the code of laws it en- acted was singularly perfect, when it is considered the disadvantages under which the labor was performed. They had but few statutes of other States for guidance, and conditions were such in the new State that de- manded laws of entirely original draft- ing and dissimilar with those of any of the sister States. WINFIELD J. DAVIS