But that boy at the age of fifteen would drive his father’s two-horse wagon, loaded with fruit and vegetables, 150 miles from California to Nevada over the rough mountain roads of the Sierras, sell the produce to the silver miners of Aurora and adjacent camps, and return safely home. He was obliged in places to camp out at night, cook for himself, look out for his stock, repair harness or wagon and keep an eye out for skulking Indians, who, if not “hostile,” were not saints. When it came to using the hand and the head together he had in him “go,” “gumption” and executive ability, and none of my “teaching” put it where it was in him, either. He may have grown up “unpolished,” but he is one of the kind who are at this moment hiring polished and scholarly men to do work for them on very small wages. I do not despise “polish” and “culture” but is there not an education now necessary which shall give the child some clearer idea of the manner in which it must cope with the world in a few years? The land to-day is full of “culture” at ten dollars a week. Culture gives polish to the blade. But it is not the process which makes the hard, well-tempered steel. The “smartest” boy in my school gave me even more trouble than the son of the rancher. He could commit to memory as much in ten minutes as the others could in an hour, and the balance of the time he was working off the Satanism with which he was filled. His memory was an omnivorous maw. It would take in anything and everything with the smallest amount of application. It would have required two-thirds of my time to feed this voracious and mischievous little monster with books for his memory to devour. But he was not the boy to drive a team through a wild country and dispose of the load in Nevada, though he could on such a trip have committed to memory several hundred words per day on any subject, whether he understood it or not. My young lady pupils also gave me a great deal of trouble. They were very independent, and for this reason: Girls, even of fifteen, were very scarce then in the mines. So were women of any marriageable age. There were ten men to one woman. The result was that anything humanly feminine was very valuable, much sought after and made much of by men of all ages. My girls of fifteen, as to life and association, were grown-up women. Young miners and middle-aged, semi-baldheaded miners, who did not realize how many of their years had slipped away since they came out from the “States,” took these girls to balls and whirled them by night over the dusty roads of Tuolumne County in dusty buggies.