Why I went to America—Agents in London and the Eden promised—New York to New Orleans—Railroads in the States—American scenery—Ranch life—Deserts in the States—Antelope Valley.
left New York for California, which is right on the other side of the huge continent, but why I did so I must explain, for thereby hangs an important tale.
My object in going to America was to buy an estate and settle on it with my two sons, whom I had sent out there some eighteen months before. They went to learn farm and cattle ranch work, and had been so employed. Before leaving London I inquired much as to the best part of America to go to, but, as is so often the case, I found that nearly all the advice I received was prompted by self-interest, i.e. that among the class I applied to, mostly agents connected in some way or other with America, each vaunted the excellence of the State and locality he worked for. In short, the result of all my inquiries was that a great many different States were the best in the Union!
While in doubt what to do, and with the determination not to be "done" by an agent, I read a very tempting advertisement, and eventually, like many more, was done very completely by the advertiser and his representations! The said advertisement set out that 160 acres in California would be granted free of cost by the Government to any one, above twenty-one years of age, and that any further area could be bought on very reasonable terms. The locality was said to possess a charming climate and many advantages, all of which would be detailed on application, &c., &c. I have not the advertisement, unfortunately, or would set it out. This I thought looked tempting. My two sons and I could take up 480 acres, and I could buy any more I wanted. I went to the advertiser (I found out later that he was an American, but he had been long in England and did not betray it), and what I saw of him I liked. He said the locality was in California, and that it was known as the "Antelope Valley" (a taking name!), and possessed a very perfect climate. The winters were very mild, the summers not hot, and bright sunny days were the rule. That he was there in June, and wore with comfort the same clothes he did in England. That the rainfall was scanty, but the deficiency was supplied by artesian wells, which could be sunk at a small cost anywhere in the valley, and with certain results. That California was known to be a great fruit country, and that the valley in question was pre-eminently fitted for all kinds of fruit. That settlers had only begun to go there a few months before, and were increasing in number at a great pace. That a railroad ran through the valley, and that all the land in its vicinity was taken up, but that, if I went out soon, I could probably get land two or three miles from it. That crops of most kinds, besides fruit of all kinds, could be grown there, and that the rail connecting at either end with San Francisco and Los Angelos (the former the capital of California and on the sea, the latter a large town and seaport), there was an unlimited market for all produce. The scenery, too, he said, was beautiful, the valley being surrounded by picturesque hills, &c., &c., &c. All these statements he supported by a map of the valley, showing the lands taken up, by a pamphlet he had written, in which the glories of this Eden were highly painted, and to which were added letters from the settlers, thanking him for having brought such a paradise to their notice.[2] But this was not all. Specimens of the crops and fruits grown in the valley, some dried, some imitations in wax, heavy bunches of grapes, peaches wonderful as to size, Brobdingnag strawberries, and what not! The only wonder was why so desirable a tract had only lately become known, and I asked as much. The answer was, "Want of population. California is roughly 800 miles long, with perhaps an average width of 200 miles. In this large tract, twice as big as England and Wales together, there are about a million inhabitants."
And I, like a fool, was more or less satisfied, for I found the areas and population mentioned were right.
Now in all the above, truth and fiction were so closely blended, that, to discriminate which was which, I should have to travel over the whole ground again, and this is not the place to do it. Wait till we get there. But I would ask the reader to note this page, and compare it later on with the facts.
Suffice it here to state that the said agent, who sent me and many others there, knew that not one in twenty would remain, and that numbers in fair positions here in England, who, influenced by him, sold up all they had and went out, some with wives and families, to this El Dorado, crossed the Atlantic on the high road to ruin!
But what was his object? Did he own lands there and want to sell them? Not an acre, I believe! He got a commission on the passengers he sent over a particular line of rail, and thus managed to send all his victims the same way that I went.