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stands on the left, a second on the right of Main Street, and folks step in and out of these churches as neatly dressed as visitors at Shanklin and Torquay.
“Now here's a place to open your eyes like a cocktail, eh, Colonel?
” cries the settler.
“I am not a colonel.
So far as I have anything to do with arms, I serve Queen Victoria as a private in the Inns of Court Volunteers.”
“Then you are equal to a colonel!
Sir, a man must have a title if he wishes to escape notice, as a gentleman in this country would like to do. Once I was crossing Firebaugh ferry, on San Joaquin River over here, beyond the range, when the old boatman stopped in the middle of his passage, and enquired my name.
“Mister Brown,” said I. “Mister Brown?” said lhe, resting on his oars, evidently puzzled in his head.
“ What name, stranger?”
he inquired once more.
“Mister Brown.” He looked distressed, but said no more until I stepped on shore and offered him his fare.
“Excuse me, sir,” he cut in quickly, “I cannot take your money.
Keep it in memory of this remarkable day. Boy and man, I have kept this ferry on the San Joaquin River for twenty-two. ””
1875.
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