This is the fashion of dispensing justice in San Diego, just as Peter bargains for.
But this order of things (or rather disorder) could not have been possible if the Texas Pacific Railroad had not been strangled, as San Diego would not then be the poor, crippled and dwarfed little city that she now is. In this unfortunate condition it is that she submits to the scandalous debaucheries of judicial favorites; debaucheries and violations of common justice, social decorum, of individual rights; debaucheries tolerated because the local power sanctions with his encouragement such proceedings.
If San Diego had been permitted to grow, to have a population, her administration of the laws would have been in other hands, and outrages like breaking into the Mechlin house could not have occurred. The voters of the county would not then have elected a Judge that could reward such vandalism, by allowing the thieves to keep the stolen premises. Now, however, without a railroad, San Diego is at the bottom of a bag, the mouth of which Mr. Huntington has closed and drawn the strings tight.
CHAPTER XXXVI.—Clarence and George with the Hod-carrier.
The lawsuits forced upon the Mechlins, to resist the fraudulent claims trumped up by Roper and Gasbang, obliged Gabriel to delay returning to his place at the San Francisco bank. It was very painful to leave his mother and Mercedes still so sick and depressed, but they themselves urged him to go, fearing that his place would be given to another, and now, when their pecuniary circumstances were so embarrassed, he could ill afford to lose his position. But he did, for as the bank could not wait for him longer, they took some one else instead. He wished to spare his family the regret of knowing this, and tried to get anything to do to earn a living. Thus he began that agony endured by so many young men of good families and education, trying to find employment to support themselves decently. Gabriel found the task most difficult. He was dignified and diffident, and could not be too pressing. He was persevering and patient and willing to work, but he dreaded to seem importunate, and never urged his services upon any one. But he tried everything, every means he could think of or Lizzie suggest to him. At times he would find some writing to do, either copying or translating English or Spanish, but this did not give him permanent employment, and between one job and another Lizzie's jewelry had to be sold for their daily expenses. They gave up the nice little cottage they had had before, and took two small rooms at the house of a widow lady who kept a few boarders. Their living was simple, indeed; but their landlady was kind and courteous and obliging, and her house clean and very respectable. Thus many months went by.
George and Elvira and Caroline wrote to them, constantly telling them how and where they were. Now they were in Germany, as Mr. Mechlin's physician advised George to try some German baths in which he had great faith. His faith was justified in George's case, for he began to improve rapidly before he had been taking the baths a month, and he was confident of regaining his health perfectly. This was cheerful news, and Lizzie felt great reluctance in writing to George how unsuccessful Gabriel had been, thus perhaps checking his recovery by making him again despondent; for it was a noted fact, well recognized by the two families, that misfortunes made them all more or less physically ill.
The winter of 1876 now set in, and Gabriel thought he must make up his mind to find some manual labor, and by that means perhaps get permanent occupation; but here other obstacles, no less insuperable, confronted him. He had had no training to fit him to be a mechanic, and what could he do? He did not know, and yet his family must be supported. He had not been able to send to his mother any money, as his scant earnings were inadequate to support his wife and babies. There was now another little girl to provide for—a little darling, eight months old. Poor people are bound to have children.
About this time he got a letter from Victoriano, telling him how his miserable legs had failed him again, giving out in the midst of his plowing. Everett had come to help him plow up a fifty-acre piece of land he had intended to put in wheat, but lo! before he had plowed two acres, his legs seemed to disappear from under him as if the very Old Nick had unscrewed his knees and carried them off. Tano added: “And here I am, a perfect gentleman from my knees up, but a mean chicken, a ridiculous turkey, a kangaroo, from my knees down; and this, too, when we can so ill afford to have me lying in a sick-bed, perfectly useless. If land was not so valueless now, we might perhaps be able to sell some, although the price would have to be very low, on account of the delay in getting our patent and its being mortgaged; but as all hopes in the Texas Pacific are dead, land sales are dead, too, and we might as well all be dead, for as we have nothing but land to get a living from, and that is dead, you can draw the inference. However, don't worry about us; for the present, we are getting along very well. Several of the cattle lost in the mountains have come and keep coming, and Everett puts our ‘venta’ brand on, and pays mamma, on Clarence's account, cash down for them. To-day he paid mamma three hundred dollars, and he says he heard that more cattle are on the way here.”
Gabriel was very glad that his mother and sisters would have this little pittance at least, but he was much alarmed and anxious about Victoriano, and hastened to tell Lizzie he thought they ought to go home.
“I am truly sorry for poor Tano. Really, my sweet husband, you must let me write to George, telling him our circumstances. He can and will help us, and we might go back to the rancho.”