A California Girl Part 1

A California Girl.

by Edward Eldridge.

PROLOGUE.

This book is not written for the specialist, but for that restless, seething mult.i.tude known as "the ma.s.ses." It is written for busy people, for workers, such as the shop-girl, the factory-girl, the clerk, the mechanic, the farmer, the merchant, and the busy housewife; but ministers, lawyers, and doctors may find food for thought within its covers.

My heart goes out to G.o.d's secular army, composed of those who have neither time nor opportunity to go through learned treatises and scholarly essays, yet whose natures are hungering for something better than they see and hear about them. So I have tried to weave into this story the best and latest thought that has been given to the world, believing it to be what the workers most need in the performance of their daily duties, and what will help them out of bondage.

People whose reading and observation have been limited may think that I have drawn on my imagination altogether for most of the material in this book. I can a.s.sure them that such is not the case; much of it is real.

In regard to Penloe, there have been men who had greater spiritual gifts than he, and I call to mind one, still living, whose illuminated countenance and remarkable personality are superior to his. In Penloe is seen the interior life of the Hindu combined with the best practical thought of the West.

Let a youth or maiden commence to live the life described by the man who won the heart of the "Oriental Lady," related by Penloe in his "Original Address," and he or she will then realize the facts which have made the characters of Penloe and Stella.

To any sensitive, fastidious reader I would say, it becomes an author, in order to be true to life, to present certain characters as they really are, and put into their mouths the language they actually use.

Whatever there is of error in the book is the result of egoism; whatever of truth and love is the work of Him who has brought me up out of the marshes and lowlands, and caused me to drink at the crystal fountains of the hills.

THE AUTHOR.

A CALIFORNIA GIRL.

CHAPTER I.

CLARA LAWTON.

"Well, dear," said Mrs. Lawton to her daughter Clara, "the home you will enter to-morrow as a bride is very different from the home that I entered as your father's bride. Our home was a log cabin in the Michigan woods, with only an acre of clearing, where the growing season is only about four months long and the winter eight. Snow lay on the ground six months of the year, from one to three feet deep. In our cabin, we had the bare necessaries and your father had to work very hard cutting cord-wood for a living; but we were very happy, for we had love and health; and need I say, dear, what a joy it was to us when you entered our cabin as a pa.s.senger on the journey of life.

"My wish for you now is, that you may find as much happiness in the companionship of Charles Herne as I have had in your father's, and as much joy in the advent of a little one in your home as I did in you."

"You have always been one of the kindest and best mothers a girl ever had," said Clara, warmly.

"I have tried to be," said Mrs. Lawton, simply.

Clara Lawton was twenty-two years of age, prepossessing in appearance, with a bright, happy expression. Her nature was deep and affectionate, her tastes domestic and social. When she was twenty, Mr. and Mrs. Lawton had moved to California and settled in the pretty little city of Roseland, which nestled in the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas.

At a camping party Clara had first met Charles Herne, and the outcome of that meeting was that to-morrow would be Clara's wedding day.

Who can describe the thoughts that filled the mind of Clara the night previous to her marriage? Who, indeed, can describe the thoughts that fill the mind of any maiden as she lays her head on her pillow the night previous to her marriage?

All her life she had been taught to consider this the most important event of her life, the acme of happiness, the end and aim of her womanhood. The thought of her own little world and the decrees of the great world at large alike hold her to that belief. That she is a soul in process of development; that marriage is only one step towards something higher; that the true union is the joining of hands to work for humanity, are doctrines which would sound strange in her ears. She feels that great change that is coming into her life, and her thoughts are in accordance with her character and circ.u.mstances. One bride may be filled with the sadness of unwilling acquiescence, another with the joy of complete absorption, a third with the excitement incident upon an entire change of environment. Clara Lawton's sweet nature prompted only tender thoughts of the parents she was leaving, strong love for the man who was to be her husband and the desire to be a true wife and make their union a happy one.

CHAPTER II.

RANCH TALK.

The road going north from the beautiful little city of Roseland to the mountains is known as the Walnut road. Six miles from Roseland, on the Walnut road, is "Treelawn," the home of Charles Herne. A modern two-story house is built well back from the road, and between the house and road are lawns decorated with flower-beds, some tall oleanders, several banana plants, and choice varieties of roses, vines, and shrubbery. On one side of the house there is a thriving orange and lemon orchard; on the other fig, almond, and walnut trees; while back of the house are other extensive orchards of the finest fruits. The house is very comfortably furnished, much better than most houses in the country; its arrangement being very convenient and modern.

Charles Herne, the owner of this property was, at the time our story opens, a young man of twenty-eight, tall, well built, with a pleasant open countenance which was a true index of his character. He always looked closely after his business interests, but at the same time allowed his generous, kindly spirit full scope.

When Charles was eighteen his father thought it would be well for him to go out to work a year or so on other ranches, that he might gain more by experience, get more ideas and know what it was to depend on himself and make his own way in the world. After an absence of two years, came the welcome summons home. On the evening of his return, when Charles and Mr.

Herne were seated comfortably on the porch, the father said:

"Well, Charles, relate some of your experiences while working on different ranches."

"Though I did not speak of it in my letters, father," said Charles, "I have had a pretty tough time of it since I left home."

"I thought so," said his father, "and I wish you had written particulars."

"I should have done so," replied Charles, "but I wanted to see if there was any sand in me and what staying qualities I possessed. Well, the first job I struck was at the Funson ranch, driving a six-mule team plowing. The leaders were the most contrary animals that ever had harness on, the swings never would keep in their places, and the near wheeler was so ugly that Pete, the man who had been driving the team, said, 'the Devil couldn't hold a candle to him for pure meanness.' He told me he used to swear at them all day and then lie awake nights cursing himself for being such a fool as to drive them. He said, one morning he took the team out to work, and after he had been working them about an hour, the off mule began to cut up, backing, bucking, and refusing to pull with the near one. At last Pete lost his temper and began laying the whip on him, saying he would 'whale the stuffing out of him'; then the mule got mad, broke the harness and the whole team became unmanageable and got away from him. He let them go and started toward the house, pouring out a steady stream of oaths as he went. Just at the gate he met the boss and greeted him with, 'I'll see that team in h.e.l.l before I'll ever draw another line over their backs.' Funson asked him what was the trouble, and Pete said, 'that off mule has been raising h.e.l.l, and the Devil has got into 'em all, breaking the harness and running away.' The boss told Pete not to make a fool of himself, but to go back to the field and get his team together. Pete said, 'I'll see you in h.e.l.l before I'll ever touch that team again. You haven't a well broke team on the ranch for a man to handle. You buy a lot of half-broken, bucking, balky teams because you can get 'em cheap. You don't care how much h.e.l.l it gives a man to drive 'em.' Funson told him to go and hunt up some cattle, and sent another man to drive the mules. It's an actual fact, father, that if a man had told the boss in polite and correct language what had happened to the team, he would have stared in utter astonishment and surprise."

"Quite true, my son, quite true," said the old gentleman.

"The man that took Pete's place," continued Charles, "drove the team two days and that let him out. Then I came along and got the job. Didn't Pete laugh when he came through the field with a bunch of cattle and saw me trying to take the contrariness out of the leaders. He called out, 'Give 'em h.e.l.l, give 'em h.e.l.l!'

"When I came up to the barn at night, Pete was there putting up his broncho, and he greeted me with, 'Well, Charles, how do you like your job?'

"I said I wasn't stuck on it.

"'It's h.e.l.l, ain't it?' said he; then added, 'the only way you can ever get that team to pull steady is to get right in and cuss 'em good; they are broke to cussing.'

"After supper the boys got together in the barn and played cards for two hours. When they were tired of card-playing, they interested each other by telling yarns about experiences with women, each striving to make his story more thrilling than the last, and this entertainment continued until they were ready to spread out their blankets and sleep.

"It is pretty cold sleeping in a barn December nights, even in our California climate; but, as you know, there are few ranches where the men are allowed to sleep in the house.

"I had to be up before it was light in the mornings and clean off those mules, feed and harness them, and then have my breakfast. After breakfast, just as it was getting light, we started to work. The mornings were very cold. About dark I would bring my team in and by the time I had unharnessed them, fed them, and had my supper, I was ready for bed.

"After a man has put all his energy into a long, hard, tedious day's work, he feels more like a worn-out old plug than a man. He has no surplus force left to expend in elevating mental pursuits, for it has been all exhausted in severe physical labor.

"Such labor continually kept up, has a tendency to dull what few good aspirations a man may have had to bring his animal nature under control.

Therefore, after such a day's work, if he has any desires, they are those of the brute, and it is no wonder that men should want something of a sensational, exciting nature at night to keep their minds off themselves and relieve the monotony of their toil.

"Well, father, I did lots of thinking when night came, about such subjects, and came to some very decisive conclusions; but to return to my story.

"One night when I was taking the harness off him, the near leader kicked me on the leg. The pain was so severe that I scarcely slept any that night. They say a mule will be good and gentle in the barn three hundred and sixty-four days in the year, for the sake of getting a chance to kick a man on the three hundred and sixty-fifth day, and I believe it is so.

"After dinner one day, we had just left the house when one of the men said, 'Didn't the old woman give the boss h.e.l.l, this noon? I tell you she's got a temper.' 'Yes,' said Pete, 'but she's not very old, not forty yet. She's always firing up about something; she keeps him in h.e.l.l most of the time. The trouble is,' continued he, 'he's got nothing broke on his ranch; his mules are not broke, his broncho cows are not broke, his wife is not broke, and the old cuss himself is not broke.'