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The California's crew manned her weather rigging, waved their hats in the air, and gave us three hearty cheers, which we answered as heartily, and the customary single cheer came back to us from over the water.
The story used to be told that after the Reverend Horace Holley had delivered a prayer on some public occasion, Major Ben. The "Alta California's" "elegant tribute" is not quite up to this rhetorical altitude.
So when a new gold mine was opened up in the mountains that overlook southern California's desert, he moved into the little frontier town of Palada, forty miles from the new mines, and got the freighting contract from this railroad point up into the mountains.
They had borne children, comforting and caring for each other in the wilderness; they had talked of wolves and of Indians while trusting little hands caught their knees and ignorant little lips pulled at their breasts; they had known fire and flood and famine, crude offense and cruder punishment; they had seen the Indians and the buffalo go with the Missions and the sheep; they had followed the gold through its sensational rise to its sensational fall, and had held the wheat dubiously in their fingers before ever California's dark soil knew it had wondered whether the first apple trees really might come to blossom and bear where the pines were cleared away.
In this monotonous round of duty and prayer the mind is free, the heart remains ever young, the soul unspotted; so that when " She had paused, hesitated a moment, then abruptly left the room, and Teresa had wept a torrent in her disappointment that this first of California's heroines whose place in history and romance was assured had not broken her reserve and told her all that story of many versions.
Facing west from California's shores, Inquiring, tireless, seeking what is yet unfound, I, a child, very old, over waves Towards the house of maternity, The land of migrations look afar, Look off the shores of my western sea, The circle almost circled. Whitman. The panel at the right of the attic, representing Spain, is inscribed
The Rainbow shook out her sails to a favouring breeze, and, sweeping out upon the great Pacific, was soon bowling along the western coast of South America, in the direction of Cape Horn. The fair wind that swept the good ship Rainbow away from California's golden shores carried her quickly into a fresh and purer atmosphere, moral as well as physical.
The bankers, merchant princes, and stock operators are writing their names fast in California's strange "Libro d'oro." All is restlessness. All is a mere waiting for the turbid floods of seething human life to settle down. In the newer discoveries of Nevada, in the suspense of the war, the railroads are yet only half finished, croaked at mournfully by the befogged Solons of the press.
The record, impartially examined, shows, we believe beyond reasonable doubt, that California's destiny in this critical hour was chiefly determined by the word and work of her patriot-preacher, Starr King. Part III. California's Hour of Decision
In a moment we heard three in answer from the California's crew, who had seen us taking in our long-boat; ``the cry they heard, its meaning knew. The last week we had been occupied in taking in a supply of wood and water for the passage home, and in bringing on board the spare spars, sails, &c.
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