Part 3

On a fair spring morning in the month of May, 1850, a single horse, with two riders, might have been seen threading its way up the steep mountain trail leading from Bolinas to San Rafael. The bright, girlish face of the first rider peered wistfully from beneath the soft folds of her mantilla, while the young caballero, on the crupper behind, whispered to her in those sweet, melodious tones unheard save from a liquid Spanish tongue. Of the purport of their whispers we can but judge, for on arriving at the Mission they were greeted by a joyous peal of wedding bells.

The groom was Francisco Sebrean, the bride the beautiful Senorita Maria Briones, daughter of the pioneer. This was the first marriage in Bolinas and the celebration which followed their return to the Rancho was the most notable ever witnessed in that region. Dancing, feasting, music and gayety continued until the gray dawn appeared to touch the surrounding hilltops and proclaim the approach of another day.

Stopping at the home of the only remaining daughter of Don Briones, now a dignified, delightful, old lady, with the charming manners and graces of a true descendant of old Spain, we procured directions and soon found the oldest house in Bolinas. Although this was not the first built there, it is the oldest standing, and was occupied by the Briones family, Don Gregorio dying many years ago, while his wife, the Senora Briones, lived there until 1903, reaching her one hundred and seventh birthday--which goes to prove that it is the simple, natural life which begets old age.

If one is a good pedestrian and has a desire to get acquainted with nature untamed "without her hair combed" he should take the Lone Tree Trail leading from Bolinas over the hills, through the canyons and along the ridges back to the starting point, Mill Valley.

In a little "Steep Ravine" amid the high hills, and but a short distance from the Ocean and Bolinas, stands the solitary cabin of the man who by the magic of his brush first awoke the outer world to a realization of the beauties and possibilities of this region.

With the hand of a master, Thad Welch caught the rare effects abounding here, which have delighted and won the admiration of all nature-lovers, and linked his name inseparably with Marin. While at present residing in another portion of the County, the cabin which he formerly occupied here is in a state of neglect, but while his little abode may perish, his pictures will live and be cherished in the ages yet to come.

Some distance from the Steep Ravine the trail descends an abrupt, wooded hillside, at the foot of which lies the Redwood Canyon. For this forest of giant redwoods, comprising six hundred acres, negotiations were pending toward making it a national reserve, but the efforts proved unsuccessful. Though of smaller dimensions than the Calaveras Big Trees, these redwoods gain by beauty of situation what they lack in size.

The Canyon runs diagonally with the sea coast and has its rise in one of Tamalpais' western ribs, from which a railroad similar to the Mount Tamalpais Railway is under course of construction, connecting the Mountain with the Canyon.

Its present owners, Messrs. Kent & Cushing, intend to erect a hotel at the terminus of the new road, and the building, on which it is said will be expended some fifty or sixty thousand dollars, will be a fully equipped, sumptuous modern hostelry.

It is to be hoped that the march of civilization, which so often leaves nature's handiwork crushed, broken and even obliterated, will spare this grand, majestic forest in which beauty now reigns supreme.

Bending low over the little stream which winds through this canyon huge sprays of azaleas filled the air with their delicate perfume; on the banks lacy wood warriors and the hardy sword-ferns mingled in graceful profusion, while the flickering sunlight filtering aslant through the tree tops fell on the transparent hazel leaves lending a soft, green glint to a neighboring pool which rippled every now and then by the action of numerous trout catching flies on its surface.

Wandering beneath these perennial columns, these huge monoliths of whose birth there is no record, one feels as if treading the grandest of cathedral aisles, and that in truth "The groves were God's first temples" and "Solitude is the veritable audience chamber of the Creator."

No echo follows our footsteps on the soft needles and oxalis and save for the murmuring of the little stream and the occasional calling of a mourning dove in the tree tops above there is no sound. Here, alone in these solitudes, the higher self--the soul--strikes off its shackles, and expands to the very infinitude of things, through nature to the Infinite.

Near the southeastern shores of Marin lies the largest and most picturesque of the three islands which adorn San Francisco Bay. Though lawfully a portion of Marin County, Angel Island, separated from the mainland by Raccoon Straits, besides being set aside as a Government reserve, is therefore seldom classed with the County, and usually ranks with her sister islands, Alcatraz and Yerba Buena.

But a sketch of Marin, however cursory, would be incomplete without her southern isle, for besides the United States Barracks, situated on the western part of the Island, there is located in a northern cove the Federal quarantine station, that most necessary adjunct of San Francisco, which prevents contagion by quenching the pestilence often brought to our shores from the Orient and South American ports.

Besides its present significance the Island has another and far older claim on our attention.

In the summer of 1775, Juan de Ayala, a lieutenant of the Royal Spanish Navy, was given a commission from Junipero Serra and Bucareli, the Mexican Viceroy, to proceed to "the arm of the sea" lying north of Monterey, which had been twice viewed by the padres from the land, to ascertain if it were a canal or bay, and make a survey of it.

Pursuant to these instructions Ayala cautiously crept up the Coast and on the ninth day sighted the narrow passage which is now known the world over as the Golden Gate.

A crude launch was sent to explore the opening, which was found to be deep and without obstructions. By the time the launch returned it had grown dark, nevertheless Ayala headed for the Bay and on the night of August 5, 1775, the San Carlos sailed in through the Strait, the first ship that ever passed the pillared passage or entered what is now known as the Bay of San Francisco.

Having entered safely, Ayala moored his vessel just inside the Bay, and the next morning, looking around him, selected an island not far from the entrance as a convenient spot to make his headquarters.

Upon examination, he found a suitable place for mooring his vessel, also wood and water in abundance. This Island was then named Nuestra Senora de Los Angeles, the appellation which it still bears, though shortened to Angel Island.

On the mainland, directly across from the Island, lies Tiburon, the ferry and terminus of the California Northwestern Railroad. Besides the Company's shops, Tiburon consists mainly of stores--in short all that is included in the usual "Water Front."

The most interesting object in Tiburon is on the road between that place and Belvedere. This is none other than the remains of a remarkable old hulk, now beached and converted into a habitation. Besides its unique appearance, there is an interesting tale connected with the Tropic Bird which is something like the following:

"Early in the year 1850 the good ship, Tropic Bird, Captain Homans skipper, set sail from Gloucester, Mass., with a cargo of general produce bound for the Golden Gate. On board was a mixed crew, seafaring men and land lubbers, all having but one hope, one idea--the far-famed gold fields of California. A good true ship was the Tropic Bird and a good true man her skipper, who had with him his brother.

"One day is very much like another on a long ocean voyage,--when the wind holds good and the weather is fair; but there came a time when ominous murmurings, gathering force each day, the echo of a mutinous discontent, reached the quick ears of the young Captain and his brother.

"The cargo was a valuable one. They were on the high seas. If the crew stood together against the two men they were as nothing in their hands.

"One night the cloud burst, there was a loud cry from the first mate, and in a second every one was in the scrimmage.

"The Captain rushed on deck. Though light, he was strong and a famous wrestler. As soon as he appeared he was pounced upon by the leader of the mutiny, called Dutch Dick, a big, heavy, slouching fellow. With almost superhuman strength the gallant Captain disarmed and stunned his foe after a heavy tussle.

"Men were moaning, yelling, dying on all sides, when suddenly above this howling, cursing, blood-thirsty mob, there was a bright, piercing flash, the sharp battalion crack, crack of thunder.

"The storm was on them. No time now for murder and rapine. It was a battle against the elements. The Captain was up roaring orders to his men. Those who could, obeyed and worked with a will in the common danger.

"Battered, tempest-torn, thrown hither and thither, a mere cockle shell in the hands of God's elements, the staunch ship, skilfully handled by her skipper, just managed to reach the Golden Gate.

"Water-logged and mauled, the gallant Tropic Bird was then unfit to further cope with the elements, and, after being converted into a boarding house at the foot of Telegraph Hill by her courageous Captain, she was later sold and beached at Tiburon, where she now rests, her labors o'er, a worthy ship with a peaceful, useful old age."

Belvedere--beautiful Belvedere it is called, and with justice, too; for who could view this thickly wooded hillside with its charming villas without exclaiming Beautiful! These villas are interspersed with graceful irregularity amid their leafy setting; the sparkling water at their feet, gay in summer, with house-boats, launches, yachts and other craft is resonant of one theme, united in one chord--the care-free, happy, guileless merriment which does more to erase the worry lines begotten of cities than all the lotions ever prepared. And this, in truth, is the veritable home of the sportsman, for across the cove on the Tiburon side is situated the Corinthian Yacht Club, famous in yachting annals.

However gay this little cove may appear by day it is by the pale light of the moon that Belvedere, like Venice, is at her best; for the harsher lines of fact are mellowed, and imagination gives the floating habitations a fairy aspect, while the strains of the military band from the Island but lend to the fantasy.

On the opposite side of Belvedere is situated one of the most prosperous industries conducted in Marin County.

Nestling at the base of the cliffs on an extensive wharf built for the purpose are the buildings of the Union Fish Company. The Company has several fishing stations in Alaska, the most extensive of which are on the Shumagin and Popof Islands. A schooner plying between the stations and this port brings the fish direct to the fishery, where they are prepared for use.

At the time of our visit, the schooner, which had arrived but a few days previously, was unloading and we were thus fortunate enough to see the evolution of the codfish from the time it leaves the hold of the ship until it is packed in neat boxes ready for shipment.

There were four hundred tons, or one hundred and seventy thousand fish on the vessel. When one thinks that each fish is caught by hook and line, the amount of work represented seems enormous, but this is a mere bagatelle compared to the process following.

On leaving the hold they are first thrown into vats of brine for rinsing, then loaded on small cars operated on a track and run into the building; from thence they are laid on immense racks in the sun to dry. If not for immediate shipment they are stored in huge vats of brine.

In one large room there were many men at long tables, engaged in skinning and boning the fish, and the celerity and skill with which this was accomplished are marvelous to watch. The refuse, which formerly was discarded as being useless, is now utilized, the bones being made into a fertilizer, while the skins are used for glue.

There are seventy-five men employed in this establishment, and the order and cleanliness of the place testify to its able management.

Owing to the inclemency of the weather during the winter months, a steam-drying apparatus was in the course of construction by which the fish can be dried with safety in the rainy season.

Leaving Tiburon, a short ride on the California Northwestern Railway brought us to Greenbrae, a small station, uninteresting in itself and unimportant save as the place from which is reached that huge institution known as the state prison, San Quentin.

Situated on Point San Quentin, which extends into upper San Francisco Bay, with round guard towers perched on the hill overlooking it, and a twenty-foot wall enclosing its eight acres, the prison would seem impregnable and unpropitious for an outbreak.

The high somber buildings, which are of red brick, have been added to and remodeled at intervals without any given plan, and thus they form an irregular mass, interspersed with paved courts and narrow cells.

A large, square plot is devoted to grass and flowers and lends a cheering tone to the grim structures surrounding it. One of these, a tall edifice with a succession of iron doors opening on to small, long balconies, reached by narrow steps, is called the Tanks.

The average cell in this building is eight by twelve feet in dimensions. In each of these five men are stowed--one could not say accommodated for the narrow bunks placed in tiers, with a still narrower passageway between, vividly suggested the over-crowded lodging houses of Mulberry Bend, which Jacob Riis's perseverance eradicated.

In other buildings are cells, each of which is thirty by twenty-seven feet, which contain twenty-six men, and one cell, of thirty-six by twenty-one feet, lodges forty-eight convicts.

Though the system of ventilation is by means of flues attached to the ceiling and door, still these rooms, in which are herded individuals of all ages and classes, must become exceedingly foul and unhealthful; while the opportunity which this congregate system affords the prisoners for concocting plots and outbreaks is undeniably assured.

Of the prison industries the jute mill is of sole importance to the outer world; all other products being consumed there. Some eight hundred convicts labor at the mill, and five million sacks are annually sent from the prison.

There are paint and tin shops which supply all the tin-cups, hand basins, pails, etc., used in the institution; tailor shops in which are made all the clothes; carpenter shops for repairing and furniture, while sixty pairs of shoes are turned out each week from the boot shop. In the machine shops where are manufactured all the needles used in sewing the jute bags half a dozen excellent sewing machines were recently made.

The extensive laundry where numerous Chinese convicts are employed, is only one of the many evidences of cleanliness witnessed in this institution, where order and system are apparent to even the casual observer. But however orderly, systematic and cleanly a prison may be kept, that is only one means toward eliminating crime; for so long as we continue in our congregate system of indiscriminate herding together of all classes of offenders so long will our penitentiaries be hot-houses for fostering crime. Instead of eliminating, we confirm; instead of inciting decency and self-respect, we incite indecency and rebellion.

At the time of our visit there were in San Quentin about a dozen lads, the youngest but fourteen years of age, imprisoned on charges of murder, who, had it not been for the supervision of Warden Tompkins, would have been placed with the confirmed, hardened criminals.

The State makes no provision for these offenders, and, unless as in this instance they are separated by the individual action of the Warden, they would ere now be proficient in the lore of crime.

Crime is contagious, because thought is contagious.

By this it is not meant that you and I, if we mix with criminals, will become criminally inclined; because our ego--or soul--not having any prenatal defect or susceptibility to crime will be unresponsive to its influence.

But to a criminal, whether he be a first offender or not, the pernicious, indiscriminate companionship of fellow convicts who suggest crime in its various distorted shapes to his abnormal, defective mind, will plant seed-thoughts which thus sown thrive and grow until we have the confirmed criminal.

If a criminal is so receptive to suggestions of evil, and his criminal capacity is so strengthened and fixed by the ideas and emotions that he entertains, would not counter-suggestions have just as potent an effect on the individual?

If, through the channels of thought, he is susceptible to maleficent influences will he not be equally responsive, through the same medium, to the beneficial?

Granting this to be true, would it not be well to surround the convict with all that stands for advancement, and through intelligent education and suggestion awaken the latent good which is in each individual, no matter how dormant and perverted it may be?

By education is not meant the rudimentary school education, for many criminals are proficient in that, but the far more important study of self-respect, honesty, veracity, industry, unselfishness, and an appreciation and proper use of the things that are.

Methinks if with the contemplated enlargement to the prison an educative, segregative, industrial system similar to that adopted with such marked success in the Elmira Reformatory, New York, were inculcated in our state prison there would be less "recedivists"--fewer many-term offenders--and the fifteen thousand dollars which it costs the State monthly to conduct a prison would not be devoted to confirming criminals.

Although Marin County is sparsely populated, owing to its large tracts of hilly surface and consequent non-agricultural facilities, still the towns within its borders are of average population, the largest, San Rafael, comprising five thousand inhabitants.

Besides being the county seat, San Rafael has the distinction of having once been a mission settlement, and though the church has long since mingled with the dust, the memory of its bygone glory clings like the lichen of the remaining pear trees to the spot which knew it in its prime; when to the clanging of the mellow toned Spanish bells, the neofites, the children of the soil, would kneel in meek devotion before the sacred altar whose fires, like their lives, have long been quenched but appear again, let us hope, in their successive higher spheres.

Except in memories San Rafael is essentially modern.

The factory and the loom form no part of its existence, and with the exception of two brick kilns and a planing mill on the outskirts, the town is without industries.

Therefore, sheltered as it is by beautiful rolling hills on three sides, with a mild climate and not even a street-car, as yet, to disturb the stillness, San Rafael, like Ross Valley, is considered an ideal spot for homes.

Besides its handsome residences and long shaded avenues, which afford much enjoyment for driving, San Rafael is noted for its excellent schools.

These not only consist of the splendid public schools, but of private institutions, notably the Hitchcock and Mt. Tamalpais Military Academies for boys, and the excellent Dominican Convent for girls, besides the St. Vincent and Presbyterian orphan asylums in the vicinity procure for the town the name of an educational center.

A short time ago, Mr. Andrew Carnegie donated to Marin's county seat the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars for a public library, the plans of which are now under consideration.

That her residents are not less generous than the famous philanthropist was forcibly shown on April 29, 1905, when Mr. and Mrs. John F. Boyd transferred to the town some seventy acres for a memorial park. The occasion of its dedication was marked by able addresses from the "Wizard of the Plant World," Mr. Luther Burbank, United States Judge W. W. Morrow, and Judge Thomas J. Lennon.

Abounding in natural verdure, artistically embellished and converted into a perpetual pleasure ground, the Boyd Memorial Park seems a fitting testimonial to the memory of the sons of its donators.

While noted as an educational center, San Rafael also has the unique distinction of being the Gretna Green of the Coast; and the blushing brides and happy grooms united here exceed in numbers those from the erstwhile famous European village.

To this charming little northern settlement from all the surrounding counties and various parts of the state they come to plight their troth, averaging, it is said, five a day; "and the best and most remarkable part of it all is," Marin's genial Judge informed me, "they turn out all right," and, really, I suppose he ought to know.

Notable among the many charming residences in San Rafael is Fairhills, a summer home of Mr. A. W. Foster.

It is surrounded by a stately garden where the choicest plants abound in graceful profusion, blending one with another in a perfect harmony of colors, while the majestic trees, spreading a deep shade over the sloping velvety lawn, are reminiscent of a Warwickshire landscape.

To the westward, wooded hills--truly fair hills--with their ever changing, hazy tones, are visible from the spacious veranda, and the perpetual calmness and majesty of their lofty slopes would seem to impart some of themselves to the beholder, for, as Rousseau says, "Our meditations gain a character of sublimity and grandeur proportioned to the objects around us."

Although essentially a resident settlement, the tourist will find ample accommodations at Hotel Rafael, sometimes called the "Del Monte of the North." Though of smaller dimensions, and with less sumptuous appointments and surroundings than the southern hostelry, Hotel Rafael, within easy access of the City, is more convenient for those who enjoy the country, yet never leave their business for its sake.

While the Assyrians, Babylonians, Greeks and later Gauls and Romans were weaving the first few threads of our planet's history in the old world, the aborigines of America roamed our trackless, primeval forests, boundless save for two shimmering oceans and a blue canopy overhead.