They rode on in silence for a few moments; then Don Mariano said:
“Very well, I shall tell my wife that, for the present, the matter must not be mentioned outside the family or in the hearing of servants.”
“I thank you,” Clarence said: “it is very painful to me to find my father adhering so tenaciously to his old conviction that all Mexican grants not finally confirmed to their owners are public land, and being so, they are open for settlement to all American citizens. Thus, he still insists that, being an American citizen, he has the right to locate on your land or any other unconfirmed grant. This idea has been the bane of his life for many years, but for the very reason that in maintaining it he has caused so much trouble to himself and to others, he seems to cling to it most pertinaciously. He believes your land was rejected, and that the rejection will be sustained.”
“Yes, my land was reported rejected, but it was by some mistake of the clerks, because at that time the title had not been either finally rejected or confirmed. It had been before the Land Commission, and that (of course) decided adversely, as it generally did. Then I appealed to the United States District Court. This said that there was not sufficient testimony to confirm my title, but did not affirm the opinion of the Land Commission, nor reverse their decision, nor enter a decree of rejection. It simply left the case in that uncertain condition until 1870, when I discharged my lawyer and engaged another to attend to the suit. Then the case was reopened, and a decree of confirmation was entered. In the meantime, squatters had been coming, and they now have carried their appeal to Washington, to the United States Supreme Court, against me.”
“I see it all now,” Clarence said, thoughtfully.
“And don't you know,” Don Mariano continued, “that I don't find it in my heart to blame those people for taking my land as much as I blame the legislators who turned them loose upon me? And least of all I blame your father, for he has not killed my cattle, as the others have.”
“Of course, he couldn't, he wouldn't, he shouldn't do that. That would be worse than the lowest theft.”
“That is true, but there is a law to protect him if he did; in fact, to authorize him to do so. Thus, you see, here again come our legislators to encourage again wrong-doing—to offer a premium to one class of citizens to go and prey upon another class. All this is wrong. I hold that the legislators of a nation are the guardians of public morality, the teachers of what is right and just. They should never enact laws that are not founded upon rectitude, as Herbert Spencer says, no matter if expedience or adventitious circumstances might seem to demand it. But I need not tell you this, for you hold the same opinion.”
“Indeed I do, and understanding your rights better than I did, I think you were too generous in making the offer you made to the settlers at the meeting with them last year.”
“It was rather generous, but not as much so as you perhaps think. I was looking out for myself, too.”