ark, originally a large Spanish grant, had long since been cut
up into country places for what may be termed the "Old Families of San
Francisco!" The eight or ten families that owned this haughty precinct
were as exclusive, as conservative, as any group of ancient families
in Europe. Many of them had been established here for twenty years,
none for less than fifteen. This fact set the seal of gentle blood
upon them for all time in the annals of California.

GERTRUDE ATHERTON,
in _The Californians._

JUNE 25.

John Bidwell, prince of California pioneers, was my chief in a
memorable camping trip in the northern Sierras. What a magnificent
camper was Bidwell! What a world of experience, what a wealth of
reminiscence! What a knowledge; what unbounded hospitality! Not while
life lasts can I forget the gentle yet commanding greatness of this
man, whose friendships and benefactions were as broad as his spreading
acres of Rancho Chico.

ROCKWELL D. HUNT,
in _Camping Out in California, Overland Monthly,
September_, 1907.

JUNE 26.

The average stage-driver merits one's liveliest gratitude. He is the
essence of good nature and thoughtfulness. His stories, tinctured by
his own quaint personality, ward off the drowsy wings of sleep and
materially shorten the long hours of the night. * * * To the
households scattered along his route he is the never-failing bearer of
letters, and newspapers, and all sorts of commodities, from a sack of
flour to a spool of cotton. His interest in their individual needs is
universal, and the memory he displays is simply phenomenal. He has
traveled up and down among them for many years, and calls each one by
his or her given name, and in return is treated by them as one of the
family. He is sympathetic and friendly without impertinence, and in
spite of your aching head and disjointed bones, you feel an
undercurrent of regret that civilization will soon do away with these
fresh and original characters.

NINETTA EAMES,
in _Overland Monthly, January_, 1888.

JUNE 27.

When the June sunshine gladdened the Sacramento Valley, three little
bare-footed girls walked here and there among the homes and tents of
Sutter's Fort. They were scantily clothed, and one carried a thin
blanket. At night they said their prayers, lay down in whatever tent
they happened to be, and, folding the blanket about them, fell asleep
in each other's arms. When they were hungry they asked food of
whomso