"Philadelphia, July 19, 1872.
"Hon. John Sherman, Mansfield, Ohio.
"My Dear Sir:—A few gentlemen connected with the Texas and Pacific road, and myself, propose to go to the Pacific coast, leaving Philadelphia about the 12th to the 15th of August.
"If your engagements will permit, I shall be very glad indeed to have you go with us.
"I am going from San Francisco to San Diego, and shall return by way of San Francisco; the trip will occupy about thirty days.
"Please let me hear from you, and, if possible, let me have the pleasure of your company.
"Very truly yours,
"Thomas A. Scott, President."
I accepted the invitation, and with a very agreeable party of ladies and gentlemen, among whom were Mr. W. T. Walters, of Baltimore, and his daughter, made my first voyage to the Pacific coast. Mr. Scott, as president of the Pennsylvania Railroad Company, had command, by courtesy, of every convenience of travel. We had a dining car which we could attach to any train, with ample room for beds, and a full supply of provisions. The journey to San Francisco was broken by several stops on the way at places that we thought interesting.
Great changes had occurred in the brief period since my trip in an ambulance with General Sherman. The Indians and buffaloes had disappeared from the plains, the former placed on reservations distant from the railroad, and the latter by gradual extinction. When we crossed the Laramie plains I was in, to me, a "terra incognita." The great basin of Salt Lake, with the varied and picturesque scenery to the east and west of it, attracted our attention, but the want of water, the dry air, the dust and the absence of tress and vegetation of any kind, condemn all that country to waste and desolation, except in a few places where irrigation can be had. The Nevada range of mountains was crossed at night, but we were to explore them on our return. When the broad valley of the Sacramento opened to our view, we could hardly express our delight. Here, indeed, was the land of gold, with its clear air, its grand mountains, its rich plains.
Aside from the wonderful variety of its scenery, the history of California has always excited poetic interest—its long settlement by mixed races living in quiet peaceful harmony, mainly as herdsmen and shepherds, suddenly disturbed and conquered without firing a gun, by an aggressive race who soon revolutionized the habits of the natives, and planted a new civilization, with all the bad as well as the good elements of our race. Then the discovery of gold, immediately following the conquest of California, drew to it, from all parts of the United States, the most restless and adventurous of our population, some of the worst and many of the best. The rapid admixture of these diverse elements threatened for a time hostile conflicts, in which criminals, under cover of law, committed murder and other crimes, and peaceful, law-abiding citizens were compelled to appeal to force and mob law to preserve civilization.
The railway soon brought us through Sacramento to San Francisco, where we remained several days. We were kindly received and entertained. The enterprise of Scott was not then favored in San Francisco, but this did not prevent our hearty welcome. Here I met Mr. Hollister, whom I had known in Ohio. He was the great shepherd of California. I was informed that he owned 100,000 sheep, divided into flocks of about 3,000 each. These flocks were wintered at a large ranch near the Pacific coast belonging to him. The climate was mild, and the sheep could live without shelter during the winter. The flocks would start eastwardly over the great valley, each flock cared for by a shepherd, a boy and a dog, feeding in the open country, some of the flocks reaching the Mariposa valley, one hundred miles away. When the grass failed they were turned to the west to their home. Whether this tale is an exaggeration I cannot say, but certain it is that at that time sheep raising and the production of wool was one of the chief industries of California. Hollister was also interested in woolen manufacture, especially of blankets, equal to any in the world. When I knew him in Ohio, he and his brother were the owners, by inheritance, of a large and valuable farm in Licking county. When gold was discovered in California, Hollister sold to his brother one-half of the farm, and with the proceeds purchased a large flock of the best Ohio sheep, and drove them to California, taking two years for the journey. He was fond of telling his adventures, and proud of his success. He died a few years since in California, but whether his good fortune followed him to the close of his life I do not know. He was very kind to our party and accompanied us to San Diego.