California -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, American; Western stories
and the attention of the family became absorbed in bacon, potatoes, and
dried apples.
The meal was a sincere one. Gentle gurglings at the upper end of the
table often betrayed the presence of the “wellspring of pleasure.” The
conversation generally referred to the labors of the day, and comparing
notes as to the whereabouts of missing stock. Yet the supper was such a
vast improvement upon the previous intellectual feast that when a chance
allusion of mine to the business of my visit brought out the elder
Tryan, the interest grew quite exciting. I remember he inveighed
bitterly against the system of ranch-holding by the “greasers,” as he
was pleased to term the native Californians. As the same ideas have
been sometimes advanced under more pretentious circumstances they may be
worthy of record.
“Look at 'em holdin' the finest grazin' land that ever lay outer doors.
Whar's the papers for it? Was it grants? Mighty fine grants--most of 'em
made arter the 'Merrikans got possession. More fools the 'Merrikans for
lettin' 'em hold 'em. Wat paid for 'em? 'Merrikan and blood money.
“Didn't they oughter have suthin' out of their native country? Wot
for? Did they ever improve? Got a lot of yaller-skinned diggers, not
so sensible as niggers to look arter stock, and they a sittin' home
and smokin'. With their gold and silver candlesticks, and missions, and
crucifixens, priests and graven idols, and sich? Them sort things wurent
allowed in Mizzoori.”
At the mention of improvements, I involuntarily lifted my eyes, and
met the half laughing, half embarrassed look of George. The act did not
escape detection, and I had at once the satisfaction of seeing that the
rest of the family had formed an offensive alliance against us.
“It was agin Nater, and agin God,” added Tryan. “God never intended
gold in the rocks to be made into heathen candlesticks and crucifixens.
That's why he sent 'Merrikans here. Nater never intended such a climate
for lazy lopers. She never gin six months' sunshine to be slept and
smoked away.”
How long he continued and with what further illustration I could not
say, for I took an early opportunity to escape to the sitting-room. I
was soon followed by George, who called me to an open door leading to a
smaller room, and pointed to a bed.
“You'd better sleep there tonight,” he said; “you'll be more
comfortable, and I'll call you early.”
I thanked him, and would have asked him several questions which were
then troubling me, but he shyly slipped to the door and vanished.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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