"How confident he is of their power over Congress! And he certainly means to wield it as if he came by it legitimately. He is proud of it,"

added Mr. Holman.

"Yes, but he is wrong to be proud of a power he means to use only for selfish ends. Sooner or later the people will get tired of sending men to Congress who can be bought so easily. I am disappointed in Governor Stanford. I thought him much more just and fair; a much higher order of man," said the Don. "How coolly he laughed at us for quoting Carlyle and Spencer! As if he would have said, 'You quote the philosophers, gentlemen, and I'll make the millions. You might die in poverty, _I_ shall revel in wealth.'"

"I ought to have quoted Emerson, when he says: 'I count him a great man who inhabits a higher sphere of thought into which other men rise with labor and difficulty.' This might have pointed out to him how groveling it is never to rise above the mere grubbing for money. No, he is not half as large-minded as I had believed," said Mr. Mechlin.

"How can he be if he is cognizant of the means employed by Huntington to defeat all legislation in favor of the Texas Pacific?" observed Mr.

Holman.

"Yes, I fear now the Governor gives his sanction to Huntington's work. I never believed it before. I am disappointed in the Governor as much as in our fruitless errand," the Don said.

"How irksome and distasteful it is for him to hear about '_the rights of others_.' He almost takes it as an insult that any one but himself and associates should have _rights_; and he seems to lose all patience at the mention of the distress they have brought upon the people of San Diego and the financial ruin that their rapacity and heartless conduct will cause the Southern people," said Mr. Holman. "Did you notice how he frowned at the allusion to the fact that the Central Pacific was built with Government money? The mere mention irritates his nerves."

"Does he suppose we don't know that they had no money, and that it was with capital _given_ as absolute gifts, or loaned to them on the guarantee of the Government, that they built and are building their roads?" said Mr. Mechlin. "I never saw such complete subversion of the laws of reasoning as these men exhibit. Good luck has made them think that to genius they owe success. Thus their moral blindness makes them take as an insulting want of proper deference any allusion to those _rights of others_ which, in their feverish greed, they trample. For this reason they hate San Diego, because San Diego is a living proof of their wrong-doing; a monument reminding California of their deadly egotism, of the injury done by unscrupulous men to their fellow-men.

Hence, my friends, I say that San Diego must have no hopes while those men live."

"I am afraid you are right, and as I have invested in San Diego all I have in the world, I see no hope; nothing but hard-featured poverty staring me in the face," said Mr. Holman, sadly.

"If it were owing to natural laws of the necessities of things that San Diego is thus crippled, our fate would seem to me less hard to bear,"

said Don Mariano; "but to know that the necessities of commerce, the inevitable increase of the world's population, the development of our State, all, all demand that Southern California be not sacrificed, _and yet it is_, and our appeals to Congress are of no avail! All this adds bitterness to our disappointment. Yes, it is bitter to be reduced to want, only because a few men, without any merit, without any claims upon the nation's gratitude, desire more millions."

Thus the disheartened friends discoursed, fully realizing their terrible proximity to that financial disaster which was sure to overtake them. In the generosity and kindness of their hearts, they felt added regret, thinking of so many others who, in San Diego, were in the same position of impending ruin; so many good, worthy people, who certainly did not deserve to be thus pitilessly sacrificed; so many who yet clung to the hopes of '72, when all rushed to buy city lots; so many out of whose hopes three years of disappointment had not quenched all life. The failure of Jay Cook in the fall of '73 had made the financial heart of America shrink with discouragement and alarm, but San Diego did not realize how much her own fate was involved in that sad catastrophe, and continued her gay building of proud castles in the air and humble little cottages on the earth-very close to the earth, but covered with fragrant flowers, with roses, honeysuckles and fuchsias. These little one-story wooden cottages were intended for temporary dwellings only. By and by the roomy stone or brick mansions would be erected, when the Texas Pacific Railroad-the highway of traffic across the continent-should bring through San Diego the commerce between Asia and the Atlantic seaboard, between China and Europe. San Diego lived her short hour of hope and prosperity, and smiled and went to sleep on the brink of her own grave, the grave that Mr. C. P. Huntington had already begun to excavate, to dig as he stealthily went about the halls of our National Capitol "offering bribes." But such "foul work" was then only surmised and scarcely believed. It was reserved for Mr. Huntington himself to furnish proof that this was the fact. His letters were not published until years after, but the world has them now, and the monopoly, with all its power, cannot gainsay them.

The three friends were yet discussing this painful topic of their pilgrimage, when Mr. Mechlin observed that Don Mariano was looking very pale, and asked if he felt ill.

"Yes," Don Mariano replied; "I feel very cold. I feel as if I was frozen through and through. When we were at the Governor's office I felt very warm, and when we came out my clothing was saturated with perspiration.

Now I feel as if I had been steeped in ice."

"This won't do. You must change your clothes at once," said Mr. Mechlin.

Mr. Holman also became alarmed at seeing the bluish pallor of his face.

"Why, this is a congestive chill," said he, hurrying off to call the doctor, who resided at the hotel, and who fortunately was at home.

Prompt and efficient medical attendance saved Don Mariano's life, but he was too ill to leave his bed for several days. His two friends remained with him, writing home that business matters detained them.

Dona Josefa did not feel anxious; she thought that her husband was busy negotiating a loan on his land, and this detained him.

Gabriel and Lizzie also were in constant attendance, and thus the sick man was kept in a cheerful frame of mind, a thing much to be desired in sickness always, but more especially in his case, accustomed as he was to be surrounded by a loving family.

Still he was anxious to return home. Reluctantly the doctor allowed him to do so, hoping that the salubrious climate of Southern California would be beneficial. But he said to him:

"I let you go on condition that you pledge me your word to be very careful not to get into a profuse perspiration and then rush out into the cold air. If your lungs had not been originally so healthy and strong you could not have rallied so soon, if ever; but they are yet filled with phlegm, and the least cold might give you pneumonia." To Gabriel the doctor repeated the same words of warning, adding: "Not only is the condition of your father's lungs very precarious, but also that of his heart. He must not task either too much."

Gabriel was thoroughly alarmed at hearing the doctor's opinion, and immediately wrote to his mother how careful his father ought to be, and how she should watch him.

Don Mariano tried to be careful, but having been very healthy all his life, he did not know how to be an invalid, nor guard against fresh colds.

About two weeks had elapsed since his return from San Francisco, when a notice that many of his city lots would be sold for taxes brought Don Mariano to town. He still held to the belief that a railroad to San Diego would surely be built at some future day, but had ceased hoping to see that day. However, he would willingly have waited for a rise in real estate before selling any of his city property, but he saw it was ruinous for him to pay taxes-taxes for town property and taxes for squatters-it was too much; so he reluctantly concluded that it would be best to lose a great many lots (yes, whole blocks), permitting them to be sold for taxes, hoping to redeem them on the following year if Tom Scott was more successful with the Texas Pacific. Mr. Mechlin and Mr.

Holman did the same, and many other unlucky ones followed their discouraging examples. Thus city lots by the hundreds were sold every year.

Don Mariano saw his city property thus sacrificed before his eyes at public sale, just as he had seen his cattle buried under the snow. He submitted in both cases to the inevitable without a murmur; but this time the blow seemed heavier. He was pecuniarily less able to bear it, and being in bad health and discouraged, his misfortunes were more depressing. He rode home saddened indeed.

Victoriano, who was now able to be about (but said he _mistrusted_ his legs), was with him.

"Father, why don't you use some of that money Clarence sent you? I am sure he would approve your doing so, and feel glad, _very_ glad, indeed, that you did it," said Victoriano, when they had driven for a long time without uttering a word.

Don Mariano turned sharply and said: "Why should I use Clarence's money?

If I had delivered the cattle to Fred Haverly, as it was agreed I should, then I would have a right to take from Clarence's money the price of the cattle delivered. But having delivered no cattle, I take no money."

"Everett was saying that Clarence distinctly stated to his father that the cattle in the Alamar rancho with your brand were all his, and would be driven as soon as the weather permitted. Mr. Darrell thinks that the cattle lost belonged to Clarence, and not to you."

"Mr. Darrell is wrong, then. I cannot expect to be paid for cattle I did not deliver."

"But he says you had sold them already. If they were lost on the way it was neither your fault nor your loss."

"No, but was my misfortune, not Clarence's."

"The cattle were going to Clarence's mines, which goes to prove that they had been bought by him."

"I cannot view the matter like that," Don Mariano said, and Victoriano saw his mind was settled upon the subject, and it was best not to annoy him by insisting in opposition.

When they arrived home they found that Dona Josefa had received a telegram from Gabriel, sent the night before, saying that he, Lizzie and the baby would spend Christmas and New Year's Day at the rancho. This was glad news, indeed, and most unexpected, for inasmuch as Lizzie had just been down on a visit and hurried back, so that Gabriel would not be all alone on Christmas, they did not think that Lizzie would want to take the trip so soon again. But Lizzie would travel many more miles to be with her family. And the reason that Gabriel had for coming was, moreover, a most powerful one.

He had one day casually met the doctor who attended his father, and after inquiring whether Don Mariano was better, added:

"I tell you frankly, Don Gabriel, your father may yet live many years, but he is in danger, too, of dying very suddenly."

"How? Why so?" Gabriel asked, pale with alarm.

"Because his heart may give out if his lungs don't work well, and as he is not very careful of himself, you see he might task his heart with heavier work than it can perform. If he is kept from excitement and gets rid of all that phlegm which has accumulated in his lungs, he will be well enough. So write to him to be careful in avoiding colds," said the doctor.

"I will go and tell him so myself," Gabriel said.

"That is right. The case is serious, I assure you."

This short dialogue brought Gabriel home.

From the time he had entered the bank he had never been absent from it one minute during office hours, so a three weeks' vacation was readily granted to him.

All the Mechlins would come to Alamar to pass the holidays. George told his father that they might as well go back to their home again since his lameness did not require daily medical attendance.

Mr. Mechlin replied that they would decide upon that after New Years, but he was evidently pleased at the prospect of returning to Alamar.

The Alamar house looked once more as it had in the days of old, before squatters invaded the place; it was full of people, and music and laughter resounded under the hospitable roof. Mercedes, however, sat silent, and though she smiled her own sweet smile, it was too sad; it failed to deepen the cunning little dimples as it did in other days. The Don and Mr. Mechlin, too, were not as cheerful as they used to be. In that visit to San Francisco "_a change came over the spirit of their dream_," and it seemed to have come to quench the light of their lives.

But the young people wanted to decorate the house with green boughs and have a huge Christmas-tree, and the Don himself went to help them to get pine branches and red "_fusique_" berries. The tree would be in honor of his two grandchildren; they were now eighteen months old, and the proud mammas said they were so intelligent that they would surely appreciate the tree.

Everett, Alice, Rosario and Victoriano were the committee on decorations; Carlota, Caroline, Lucy and Webster were the committee on refreshments. While the laughter of the young people came ringing out through the parlor windows, Don Mariano and Mr. Mechlin slowly walked up and down the back veranda in earnest conversation.