A Little Girl in Old San Francisco

"You will understand that better by and by."

Laverne nodded. She could never have a new mother. She wondered a little about her father. Uncle Jason never spoke of him. Of course he was dead also.

Mrs. Dawson was very anxious to give Miss Alwood a wedding feast, and indeed was fain to have her married in the parlor, but she preferred the church. Mr. Personette was well known, and the church was crowded. The two daughters walked in front and strewed flowers in their path, there were congratulations and good wishes, and a luncheon at the Dawson House, when the new husband and wife took a short journey, and ended the festivities by a reception at their own home.

Laverne thought it was very fine to have a new white frock, lace-trimmed, and a knot of blue ribbons on one shoulder, with long streamers. Isabel Personette was tall of her age, and quite a young lady, rather pretty. Olive had large, dark eyes, and shining chestnut hair, was round, plump, and merry-looking.

"Our new mother has been telling us about you," she began, grasping Laverne's hand. "And that you came from Maine with her. What a long, long journey. Weren't you awfully afraid? I looked up Maine on the map. But you had to go round the Horn. What did it look like?"

"It's a cape, you know."

"But – I supposed there was something," in a surprised tone. "Perhaps they blew a horn?"

"They didn't do anything as I remember," and Laverne smiled a little.

"I've never been farther than Monterey. But father went up to British Columbia once. It is desperately cold up there. And there is a Russian country where it is colder still. And you have snows in Maine."

"Oh, dreadful snows that do not go off all winter, and it seems so queer not to have any here. It was such fun to snowball and have sled-rides and build snowhouses."

"You didn't live in them?" in surprise.

"Oh, no! But sometimes we brought in dry hemlock branches and brush, and had a fire. It looks so pretty."

"Didn't it melt the house?"

"Oh, yes, a little. But you see it froze again."

"Which do you like best – there or here?"

"Oh, this is the most beautiful, for there are so many flowers and lovely places. And – I think I like the pleasant weather best."

"How many cousins have you?"

"None," answered Laverne rather regretfully.

"Oh, isn't that queer? I have four over to Oaklands. And two in London. And one of father's sisters married a Mexican, and lives way down to Santa Barbara. They have ever so many children with queer names. Aunt Amy died a little while ago, and as she hadn't any children, she left some money to us and the Oakland cousins. But not to have any – "

Olive Personette looked very sympathetic. Presently she said, "How many little girls do you know?"

"Only three, and they are Spanish. There were none where we lived before. It was a kind of wild place. I like this ever so much better."

"Did you love them?"

Laverne considered, while her eyes wandered off into space.

"I think I didn't really love them. I liked them. They came up to learn English, and Miss Holmes and I studied Spanish. And we played about. They had a queer old house and a lovely garden, with fruit and flowers, and tame birds, and everything. And I had a squirrel I tamed. We brought him up here, and I kept him two weeks in a little pen, but when I let him out he ran away."

"I'll tell you what I'll do. We'll make believe to ourselves that we are cousins. Mother said she hoped I would like you a good deal. You see, Isabel begins to go with big girls, and they just push you out when they tell secrets, and they have so many to tell. Do you know any secrets?"

Laverne shook her head gravely.

"But sometimes you do bad things and you don't want to tell anybody."

"Why, I tell Uncle Jason everything. And – "

Did she ever do anything very bad? She didn't always study when Miss Holmes told her to, and she sometimes tore her frocks scrambling up or down the hills. She had been brought up to be truthful and obedient, and now these traits were part of her nature.

"Well, it's this way – you must not tell your uncle the things I tell you, and you must find something to tell me – when Miss Holmes is cross to you."

"But she isn't ever cross."

"Oh, yes, everybody has a cross streak in her, or him. I'm cross often. And I do hope our new mother won't scold. Father said she was so good to Aunt Amy, and Aunt Amy was dreadful at times. Then the Mrs. Barr we had for housekeeper was just awful. She said naughty words, too, like the men. No one is good always. You can't be. And when I get in a taking I'm a terror at school. Miss Carson once wrote a note to father, but I begged so she tore it up. I wanted a watch for Christmas and I was afraid he would not give it to me if he knew. That was a secret I've kept until now, but he gave me the watch. I let it fall and it had to go away to be repaired. And I have three rings. See, are they not pretty? That garnet is getting tight. I'll have to give it away," and she laughed.

Her new mother came around to them.

"Are you making friends?" she asked. "That is right. Laverne, are you having a nice time? Come and see the dancing."

They were waltzing up and down the spacious hall. There had been dancing on shipboard among the men, but this was something that fascinated the little girl. The beautiful dresses and sparkling jewels, the delicate laces that floated like clouds, and among the men were two or three young Spaniards. One of them wore a beautiful fringed sash about his waist.

"Do you go to dancing school?

"No," replied Laverne.

"But you will. I began last winter. Isabel dances. See, some one has taken her out. Oh, dear, I wish I could grow up in a night, just three years. Wouldn't it be funny to have it happen in your sleep?"

Jason Chadsey had been looking about for his little girl. He had insisted at first that he could not come, that he was too old, and such a plain fellow, that he would look queer among the fine people. But Mrs. Personette had written him a special invitation, and he had compromised with Miss Holmes by promising to come for them. He knew Mr. Personette a little in a business way, and he was really gratified at Miss Alwood's good fortune. So he had gone to the tailor's and treated himself to a new suit of clothes, and looked fully five years younger.

Laverne stared at him a moment, then a lovely smile illumined her face as she slipped her hand in his and rather bashfully introduced her new friend.

"I have been making the acquaintance of your brother and your sister," he said. "I hope you and my little girl will be friends."

"Oh, we have promised to," declared Olive. "I am coming to see her pony, and I am very glad to know her."

He nodded and escorted the children about, or rather followed Olive, who gracefully made herself mistress of the occasion and chatted with an ease that amused him. But it was getting late, and as he had performed his round of duties, he proposed now that they should return home. Olive kissed her new friend with much fervor.

"Parties are just splendid," Laverne said, as she danced alongside of Uncle Jason. "Can't you have a party unless you are married?"

"Oh, yes, there are birthday parties and Christmas parties and parties just for fun."

"But you have to know a good many people, don't you?"

"I think I have seen three or four little girls have a party."

"I know four now."

"And perhaps by Christmas you will know four more," returned Uncle Jason.

She was very tired and sleepy when she reached home, and they all retired. And it so happened she slept late the next morning and had her breakfast alone. Pablo had found it very lonely without them and had decided to accept Mr. Chadsey's offer. So she ran out now to say good-morning to him and Pelajo.

Something scampered along at her feet, and then made a sudden dash among the vines. Two bright eyes peeped out and there was a peculiar little chatter.

"Why, if it isn't Snippy," she cried. "Snip, Snip!" and she knelt down in the gravelly path. "Snip!"

There was a sudden rush, and the squirrel ran up her arm, across her shoulders, and fairly nestled in the little curve below her ear. And then he began to chatter as if he was telling over his journey and his tribulations and expressing his joy. Surely no squirrel was ever more eloquent to his mate in love-making time. Laverne laughed until the tears came into her eyes, and she had a vague suspicion that she was crying as well, but it was for very joy.

Snippy wriggled out of the warm embrace presently and questioned her with his bright beady eyes, as if the voice might have led him into a mistake. But no, this was his little mistress sure enough.

She gathered him up and ran into the kitchen where Miss Holmes was making a pie.

"Oh," she cried, "Snippy has come back, my dear, darling Snippy."

He had come by his name in a rather unexpected fashion. When Laverne first had him tame enough to come into the house, throw his beautiful bushy tail up his back, and let the feathery end droop over his ears like a bit of Spanish lace, a trick of the Señoras, and eat a fragment of cracker, Miss Holmes said one day, "He looks so pert and snippy one has to smile at his daintiness."

They had tried on several names that did not seem to fit. It was easy enough to get something for a dog or a horse.

"Oh, that will just do, Snippy," and Laverne danced around in delight. "Then we can call him Snip when we are in a hurry – he is such a dear little dot, too. His tail is as big as his body; Snippy, Snippy!"

Perhaps there was something in the sound that attracted him, for he glanced up out of brightest eyes and winked as if he approved it.

He did soon come to know his name. Perhaps it was because it became connected with some tidbit, for when the little girl called him she always had a dainty morsel for him.

He glanced about the room now, and then thrust his head under Laverne's arm. Miss Holmes spoke and he peered out. Yes, he knew that voice surely, but the place was strange.

"Oh, Snippy, you can't imagine how glad I am to have you. I've been homesick for you, though I like this place better, and we're nearer the grand ocean, and can look over into the Golden Gate, and golden it is in the sunset. Oh, why did you run away?"

Snippy said something in his own language and struggled to get free. She let him run down her skirt and leap to the floor. He glanced round with sharp, inquiring eyes, then ran to one corner where, in the old place, he used to find nuts and perhaps a crust. Oh, it wasn't the same place. He fairly scolded, up went his tail, and he scampered out of the door. Laverne ran, calling him. Over the path, the rockery Uncle Jason had built for her, plunging into the great ferns that grew as high as her head, and shook off an odorous fragrance at being disturbed.

"Oh, Snippy! Snippy!" in a beseeching tone.

The little girl sat down on a stone and cried. Sorrow had followed so on the heels of delight. Bruno came and put his nose in her hand and looked comfort out of great wistful eyes.

Miss Holmes came out presently.

"I think he will come back," she said hopefully. "You see he found the way once and he can again. And now come in and study a lesson. There is nothing like work to lighten sorrow."

"If he only would come back! Bruno, if you see him, come and tell me at once."

Bruno nodded sagaciously.

CHAPTER VII

A TASTE OF GAYETY

May was beautiful enough to make the heart leap for joy. Rose-bushes sent up spikes of pink and blood-red blossoms or clambered over hillocks, lilies stood up among the ferns and bushes, and the poppies that grew everywhere seemed to dance with joy, as they flung out their silken leaves in a dazzle, wooed by the wind. Bees were busy enough with their bustle and humming, birds were singing everywhere. Squirrels and rabbits scudded about, little harmless lizards came out and sunned themselves on the stones, and great flying iridescent bugs that shot across the air with golden and green rays. Oh, how enchanting it all was. It stirred the little girl with unutterable thoughts.

"Laverne," Miss Holmes called. Oh, was it lesson time!

"Come, dear, Mrs. Personette has the carriage here, and we are going to take a look at the great German Mayday festival. Come quick, and slip in another frock."

For what with building dams for waterfalls, making paths and rockeries and flower beds, the little girl was not always in company trim.

"Oh, Uncle Jason was talking about that, and he was so sorry he could not get away, but some vessels were coming in. Oh, yes, I'll hurry."

There were baths and sundry conveniences in many of the houses in this new city. Perhaps no place in the world had ever worked such marvels in five years. But Jason Chadsey had not come to luxuries yet. However, the little girl did very well without them. She washed and dressed in a trice.

Mrs. Personette and Olive were in the big carriage. Isabel and Howard had taken the buggy. She greeted them cordially. Olive made room for Laverne, or rather beckoned her to her own seat.

The Germans were holding a grand festival at Russ's Garden. There was a big flag flying from the great marquee, and numerous lesser ones. There were the park of shade trees, the houses of refreshment, the arches wreathed with flowers, and German flags vying with the Stars and Stripes. Gay beds of flowers were interspersed that lent richest coloring. The broad driveway was thronged with carriages already, but none were allowed inside.

The Turner Gesang Verein was really the leader of the festivities. The members were dressed in brown linen, loose and baggy, and marched from their headquarters with banners flying and the band playing inspiriting airs from Vaterland. And when they all assembled before the marquee, "Das Deutsche Vaterland" swelled out on the balmy air in a most rapturous manner. They were in their home atmosphere again, they hardly remembered the land giving them shelter. The grand choruses went up in a shout. The instruments seemed fairly to beat waves of music on the air.

It appeared, indeed, as if all the Germans in the city had gathered there, and even at this time there were about two thousand. And then the games began. They leaped and balanced, they performed various athletic feats, the victor being crowned with shouts, as well as winning a prize. They danced, the boys and men with each other, many of them in native garments of the provinces from which they had emigrated, and some were amusing in motley array.

Outside there were booths with tables for refreshments, where wives and children congregated, and the place was patrolled by policemen to keep roughs away. The onlookers drove around or were on horseback; among them were the old Californians in leggings, sash, and sombrero, and a few Spaniards, who looked on haughtily at these people who were fast superseding the old stock.

There were not many places of amusement really proper for women and children of the better class. The circus had been the pioneer entertainment, then the theatre. Even at a concert of vocal music given by the favorite, Stephen C. Massett, where front seats were reserved for ladies, only four were present. A neat little theatre had been destroyed by fire; the Jenny Lind had shared the same fate, until a Mr. Maguire erected a large stone theatre destined for first-class amusements and that had been taken for the city hall. But the year before Mr. and Mrs. Baker, fine actors, had succeeded in establishing a new era in the Californian drama, and given it a style and excellence, and catered to the best class of people, who had begun to give tone to society.

Laverne hardly heeded Olive's chatter, she was so interested in the gay scene. There had never been anything like it to her. And the music stirred her wonderfully. They drove slowly round and round, watched the athletes and held their breath at some of the daring feats.

"Oh, you should hear Howard talk of the circus performers and what they do," exclaimed Olive. "There's a flying leap when a man comes over the head of the audience, and catches a big hoop on the stage, and hangs suspended while the audience applauds, and a woman that rides on two horses, changing about, and sometimes stands up. She's a foreigner of some sort."

"I should think they would be afraid;" and Laverne shuddered.

"Oh, no; they're trained, you see. And the races are splendid. We can go to them. And they used to have bull-baits at the Mission, but they don't allow it now."

"Bull-baits?" echoed Laverne.

"Oh, bull-fights," laughed Olive. "That's real Spanish, you know. Why, it seems all right to them, of course. And there are dog-fights and cock-fights here – I don't see much difference, only the bulls are bigger and stronger."

Then a Turk halted at the carriage which had been stopped in the press. He had a great clapper, which made a hideous noise, and a voice that went through your ears. A tray was suspended from a leathern strap that passed around his neck. He wore a gay fez, and a jacket embroidered with gold thread much tarnished, and full Turkish trousers of red silk so soiled one could hardly tell the color. His swarthy skin and long, waxed mustache gave him a fierce look.

"Oh, mother, get some candy," cried Olive, "I'm just dying for some."

Fortunately it was done up in a kind of soft Chinese paper, and so kept from the dust. Then in a jar he had some curious shredded stuff that looked like creamy ravellings.

"Oh, we will drive around and get some at Winn's," said her mother.

"Oh, Laverne, don't you want some real Turkish candy?"

Laverne looked undecided.

"Oh, do, do," pleaded Olive, and Mrs. Personette yielded.

The ravelly stuff was very funny and melted in your mouth, and the candy seemed saturated with all flavors.

"Of course, Winn's is much better," declared Olive, with an air. "Oh, mother, can't we go to Winn's and have some lunch!"

"I've been considering that," returned her mother.

The two friends had so much to talk about that the children's chatter had not really reached them. Old times and beliefs that seemed of some bygone century rather than a decade or two, so utterly had this Western coast outgrown them.

"Have you seen Howard anywhere?" asked Mrs. Personette.

"No," returned Olive. Then in a lower tone – "They're off, having a good time, I know. Let Isabel alone for that; mother needn't think she'll know everything," and the girl laughed.

They drove around once more. Now a good many were seated at the refreshment tables, smoking, drinking beer, and laughing over jokes of the old fatherland. Of course, before night they would be rather uproarious. They had seen the best part of the celebration.

"I do wish we could find the children," said Mrs. Personette. "We might have lunch together."

At Washington and Montgomery Streets was the new establishment of Mr. Winn, who had been twice burned out and had not lost his courage. It seemed the fate of nearly all of the old settlers, and would have ruined and discouraged a community with less pluck. For, after all, while there were no end of toughs and roughs and adventurers, there was still some of the best blood of the Eastern cities, full of knowledge and perseverance.

Winn's was a large refectory of the highest order. It was furnished in the most elegant and tasteful manner, and the service was admirable. Indeed, it had come to be quite a calling place for the real society people, where they could meet a friend and sit over their tea or coffee and exchange the news of the day, which meant more really than in any other city. For every twenty-four hours something stirring was happening. Every fortnight now a steamship came in. New people, new goods, letters from the States, messages to this one and that from friends thousands of miles away.

The large rooms were connected by arches with costly draperies. Tables here and there for guests, sofas, easy-chairs, a stand for flowers, the papers of the day and magazines that had to be old before they reached these Western readers. Silks and satins rustled, skirts were beginning to be voluminous, bonnets had wreaths of flowers under the brim, and it was the day of shawls, India, cashmere, and lace. Now and then a dark-eyed Señorita wore hers in some graceful folds that made a point over the curls on her forehead. But women mostly had their hair banded Madonna-wise that gave some faces a very serene and placid look. Long ringlets were another style. Demi-trains were also in vogue, and at Winn's at luncheon time, it had the appearance of a fashionable reception. Children wore stiffly starched skirts and gypsy hats with wreaths of flowers. Laverne's were forget-me-nots, with streamers of blue ribbon, and her soft light hair was braided in two tails, tied with a blue ribbon about halfway, the rest floating loose.

They had a dainty luncheon. Mrs. Personette received nods from this one and that one, for already she was becoming quite well known.

"Oh," she said presently, "do you know the school children are to have their walk on Monday, a Mayday walk, quite an institution, I believe. And Laverne ought to go to school, do you not think so? And this is to be quite an event. She must see it, and you as well."

"Alice Payne is to be Queen of the May, and seven maids of honor from the different schools," said Olive. "Why, I could take Laverne with me. You'd have to wear your white frock, that's all."

Laverne glanced up eagerly, with a dainty flush. Could she really take part in it?

It was true Jason Chadsey had not been very anxious to push his little girl forward. They had lived too far from schools before, and she was too much of a stranger to go around alone.

"It will be just splendid! And you will see so many girls. Of course, we have lived here a long while and know almost everybody."

"Of all the thousands," appended her mother, rather humorously. "Then you must be a 'Forty-niner.'"

Olive colored. "We're older than that," she answered, with some pride. "Father is a real Californian."

"And you children will belong to the old aristocracy when birth begins to count. I suppose that will come in presently."

"It always does," returned Miss Holmes. "Think of the pride of Boston over her early immigrants."

They drove around the garden and then took the two guests home. Miss Holmes expressed her pleasure warmly.

"Oh," laughed Mrs. Personette, "when we were on our long journey, coming to a strange land, who could have imagined that in so short a time I should be riding round in my carriage! And I seemed to have no special gift or attraction. Truly it is a Golden State."

Laverne had a great deal to tell Uncle Jason. She was so bright and happy, and had seen so much. And then there was the procession for Monday. Could she go?

Certainly, it was not possible to deny the eager, appealing face and pleading voice.

After supper, when she was in bed and Uncle Jason reading his papers, Miss Holmes broached the subject of school.

The first schools, as happens in most new places, were private enterprises. The earliest of all had been among the old residents before the great influx, and in 1847 the old plain little schoolhouse was erected on Portsmouth Square. It was used for many purposes. Religious bodies held their first meetings here, and the early public amusements were given, even political and benevolent assemblies. It was dignified as a Court House under Judge Almond, and at length turned into a station house until it went the way of transitory things. To this effort for education succeeded a real public school, with a board of trustees of prominent men, there being sixty children of school age in a population of a little over eight hundred, including Indians. Then suddenly the gold fever swept the town like wildfire, the public-school project was dropped, and the Rev. Albert Williams collected twenty-five pupils into a pay-school. In the spring of 1850, Mr. and Mrs. Pelton, who had succeeded the clergyman, and gathered in a large number of pupils, applied to the city for adequate recompense, and it was virtually made a public school. In January, a beautiful lot at Spring Valley, on the Presidio Road, was purchased, and a school was built in a delightful road of evergreens.

Soon after this the city started again and in time had seven schools, though several private schools were in a very flourishing condition. But many children were sent East to finishing academies, or to Monterey and other Southern towns to convent schools. Still the cause of education began to demand more attention, as the necessity for good citizenship became more strenuous.