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William Hepworth Dixon, White Conquest: Volume 1, Chapter 3: strangers in the land. (search)
they say, go out in each boat, according to the number of oars. Two watch; the others pull. On darting his harpoon into a whale, the leader pays out rope, and lets his victim writhe and plunge. The fight is often long, and sometimes fatal to the men. When hooked, the whale is towed to port, where he is sliced and boiled. You have no natives living in your port? No, Sefior, the natives are no good in a whaling craft. Noticing some foreign faces in the boats and near the fires, Chinese and even Sandwich Islanders, we ask the leading man whether he can employ such fellows in his trade. Not the Chinese, he answers; they are only good for catching cuttle-fish and drying aballones. Like the natives, they are skunks and cowards. The Sandwich Islanders are a better lot; but they are hard to teach, and scarcely worth their salt. We should be better off if we were left alone. Have you Portuguese wives and families with you? No, Sehor; we have to take such squaws a
William Hepworth Dixon, White Conquest: Volume 1, Chapter 15: Bay of San Francisco. (search)
arks. A pretty chalet peeps out here and there, with lawns and gardens trimmed in English taste. Five or six villas crown the knolls and nestle in the tress. Geraniums are in flower, and roses bloom on arch and wall. Sheep dot the sward, and cattle wander to the creeks. A chapel and a school arrest the eye. On every side there is a sense of home. Our villa is a frame house, built in showy Californian style; a new order of architecture, with a touch of Moorish taste, and not a little Chinese fantasy. A portico, too big for the villa, opens into sunny rooms, with inlaid floors and gaily decorated walls. Much wicker-work is used in chairs and ottomans. Bright curtains hang from gilded poles. Pianos, tables, shelves are all of yellow satin wood, veined with crimson streaks, a wood of Californian growth. An open gallery, lighted from above, serves for a public room. A glazed arcade runs round the villa, flooding it with sunshine, which is teased and petted through Venetian b
William Hepworth Dixon, White Conquest: Volume 1, Chapter 16: San Francisco. (search)
16: San Francisco. Closing the passage by the Golden Gate, a city of white houses, spires, and pinnacles rises from the water-line, and rolling backward over flat and sand rift, strikes a headland on the right, and surging up two hills, creams round their sides, and runs in foam towards yet more distant heights. This city is San Francisco, seen from the ferry-boat; a port and town with ships and steamers, wharves and docks, in which the flags of every nation under heaven, from England to China, flutter on the breeze; a town of banks, hotels, and magazines, of stock exchanges, mining companies, and agricultural shows; a town of learned professors, eminent physicians, able editors, and distinguished advocates; a town of gamblers, harlots, rowdies, thieves; a refuge for all tongues and peoples, from the Saxon to the Dyak, from the Tartar to the Celt. Lovely the city is; striking in site, brilliant in colour, picturesque in form. The rolling ground throws up a hundred shafts and s
William Hepworth Dixon, White Conquest: Volume 1, Chapter 17: White women. (search)
Smythe deserted her and the children, leaving her without a cent and with five or six little mouths to feed. On getting a divorce — an easy thing in Crescent City-she left that place, and brought her family to San Francisco, where she put her younger ones under care of the Ladies' Relief Society, and set about to earn a poor living for herself and baby, by washing for such persons as preferred helping a deserted woman, to having their work done better and cheaper by Chang Hi and Hop Lee, Chinese launderers in Jackson Street. Mrs. Cobb, one of the relieving ladies, heard her story from the little folk, and being a tenderhearted lady, with a family of her own, she begged her husband, General Cobb, to look into the case. Cobb thought he saw his way, but lawyers like to touch their fees, and Hannah Smythe was poor. Having no choice of means, she made over to Cobb her bit of land in trust, understanding that he was to pay all expenses for her, and to hold the property till she had
William Hepworth Dixon, White Conquest: Volume 1, Chapter 18: bucks and squaws. (search)
sound of friendly voices, the younger wife, a pretty Indian girl, peeps through her lashes, while the elder wife stares boldly up into your face, and begs. Both women have a strange resemblance to the nomads seen about a Tartar steppe; just as their sisters on Tule River bear a strange resemblance to the Chinese females in San Francisco. But these savage damsels bring their owner a lower price than their sisters from Hong Kong. Two hundred dollars are supposed to be the value of a comely Chinese girl. This Pai-Ute bought his squaw for twenty dollars. Her friends, it seems, were out of luck; the snow is getting deep; elk and antelope are scarce; and they have sold her to a stranger, as they might have sold him a pony or a dog. The money paid for her will be spent in drink. By law, no whisky can be sold to Indians; but up in these snow-deserts, where is the magistrate to enforce the law? Are you taking her home to your own country? Ugh! he hisses through his teeth, the P