return.

I never heard such a heart-beat as his. He put on his clothes, sat down on the blankets, looked anxiously on every side, and told his story. He was never in his life sleeping more quietly. He was waked by footsteps near his head. Looking up he saw an Indian bent over him, with a knife in his uplifted hand. He kicked the blankets in the Indian's face and gave the alarm. He could not doubt that we were all murdered. My assurances that I was on my feet almost as soon as he, that I looked around for enemies and saw none, had no effect. He was certain of what he had seen. The hooting of owls almost threw him into convulsions. He sat, with pistol in hand, talking, his heart pounding his ribs until morning. It was a remarkably complete instance of the phenomenon of panic. Of course it was caused by a dream, but it must have been a singularly real one.

The soldiers passed down the valley in the. morning, though it was late before the animals were found and brought back. Our Englishman concluded to return with the soldiers. By the advice of Lieutenant Davidson and Mose Carson, the rest of us sought as open a camping place as possible, and waited for the wagon party we had left at Sonoma to come up. We were told to travel with caution through the country ahead, and keep Indians out of our camp and at a distance, and were assured that the wagon party would be hurried along as fast as possible. The Doctor, either because he wanted no more of Lieutenant Davidson's company or for fear of ridicule, concluded to stay with his party. We chose a new camping ground, moved to it, and prepared for defense. There was little to fear except perhaps from the numerous Indians on the ranch, who, if not of the same tribe as those massacred by the soldiers, had intermarried with them, and might claim kinship and seek revenge.

Before the sun went down, in fact, we discovered a file of Indians entering the upper end of the ranch and moving down. They had been up to their battle ground to burn the dead. At nightfall the weird wail of

mourning went up from the wigwams along the river. It brought back the Doctor's panic. And this was the lone companion I had left San Francisco with, to explore an untrod wilderness! I could see, too, by the signs of the cross and genuflexions, as well as looks, that our Chileno was more or less infected by his demoralization. The Oregonian, however, "had not been raised in the woods to be scared by owls," and we made common cause. We persuaded the Chileno to take to his blankets and go to sleep. All we had to do with the Doctor was to tell him his whimpering would draw the Indians upon us. It was of no use to try to stop the pounding of his heart.

It was late when the wailing ceased. The moon was high up, but obscured with clouds. Footsteps from the direction of the ranch house were distinctly heard. I challenged in Spanish, and found that an advance guard of the wagon party was seeking us, having been urged on by the soldiers, who had represented our situation as dangerous. The party added fifteen to our number, or rather we added four to theirs.

We did not break camp next morning till quite late, and only made the "battle field" for the day's journey. Riding over the ground we found that the entire rancheria had been burned to the ground. The charred corpses of several Indians lay among the smoking ruins. Evidences of a conflict were visible in the brush by the river brink. All the Indians had not been killed however, for we discovered one lonely survivor feeding with sticks his evening fire in the timber, and left him to his labor and his mourning.

I cannot attempt to give events in consecutive order after this, nor the appearance of the country day by day. Russian River seemed to run through a succession of valleys, the last of which we entered by crossing a considerable elevation to the right of a cañon through which the valley was drained. Wild oats, wild rye, and native clover were everywhere luxuriant, and grizzly and cinnamon. bears abounded. From a ridge we saw five grizzlies in sight at once, and they did not appear to belong to one family.

Not long after leaving Russian River an exciting episode broke the monotony of our journey. It was the lassoing of a grizzly. Passing along on the eastern border of a long, narrow, and wet meadow one morning we discovered a bear on the thinly timbered slope opposite. One of our party in a spirit of bravado galloped across the meadow and charged on Bruin. The race was soon the other way. "Windy"- that was the nickname of the horseman emptied a dragoon Colt over the rump of his steed at the bear while in full retreat. It was evident that when the wet land should be reached the immense plantigrade foot of the bear would have the advantage over the small hoof of the horse. Something must be done. We had a gay little Californian in the party, with his jacket of buttons, wide pantaloons, jaunty broad brim hat on one side of his head, and immense jingling spurs. He seized his riata, swung it round his head, put spurs to his horse, and galloped rapidly to the relief of Windy. Catching up the hind leg of the bear with a short rope he leaped his horse from side to side to keep the bear from seizing the riata, until another old Californian lassoed him by the neck, and George Brewer then shot him through the heart. He was estimated to weigh six hundred pounds. It was the first game we had bagged, and stood us in good stead for fresh meat for several days.

The country grew more rough and mountainous and traveling more difficult. The ridges seemed to run northwest to the sea, and in order to keep in as direct a line as possible, we followed a ridge until some spur invited us across to another. It was a tedious life, searching for passes and cutting trails for our animals. As for hauling a wagon, that was out of the question and was given up.

One morning while we were packing our mules, an Indian came upon us and motioned to us to go back. Little attention was paid to his gestures. We took our own time, and had our own way. But as we ascended a steep and sharp ridge, we found a saddle of chaparral brush thrown across it. We tore

it out of the way and went on. After a mile or two the ridge widened out, and in a depression were a multitude of Indians.

Without stopping we held a consultation, and decided that we would go through. The Indians though armed did not attack. They certainly knew nothing of mules or firearms, for they tried to handle the one, and looked down the barrels of the others without fear. Some of these Indians followed to our camp at night, and in spite of our watchfulness carried away a serape, the only ax, two hatchets, and all the table knives of our reinforcing party before morning.

Further on, when stopping for a noonday meal, we encountered a few Indians who had bleeding tongues. Their breasts were covered with dried and fresh blood. It may have been some ceremony of mourning to slit the edges of their tongues, perhaps when a chief had passed away. But we heard of the "bloody bellies" from other parties who followed our trail, and told their experiences on coming up with us on Trinity River afterwards.

It was a rough and weary journey, all the latter part of it, and tedious in the extreme. No gold or signs of it were found anywhere. Not a glimpse of the ocean or the Sacramento Valley met our view from the highest mountains. We had expected to complete the journey in eight days. When we had been out from Sonoma thirty days our stock of provisions was running rather low, and various were the opinions advanced of our latitude and longitude. The startling guess was made that we had somehow crossed the headwaters of the Trinity River and were making our way northward through Oregon.

The general appearance of the country had been the same until we came to what must have been, from what we know of the region now, a branch of Eel River. The mountains were covered, but not densely in general, with nut pines, oaks, clumps of buckeye, with here and there pretty thick patches of chaparral and manzanita. In some places fires had run through the chaparral and killed it. These dead acres were the worst of all the annoyances we met, as a pathway

was only to be made through them by a vigorous use of the back of our ax.

There was a change in store for us. From the top of a high ridge we descended over broken shale or slate rocks, which moved with us down the hill, until a dense belt of large fir or spruce trees was entered. After this forest another of redwood, on a flat, was crossed to a considerable river. Here I saw for the first time these monsters of the vegetable kingdom. One lying down was ninety paces in length, and all those standing were of enormous size and tall, and the sunshine was completely cut off by the foliage. The mules sank deep in the carpet of dead leaves. There was not a stick of underbrush, not a note of bird, but a solemn stillness among those lofty columns, and a dim cathedral light that made the scene most impressive.

Around the evening camp-fire of the thirtyfourth day, our position was seriously discussed. Where are we? was the question. Again it was insisted that we were a hundred or two miles farther north than we were. We had no instruments to find our latitude. We did not know that the redwood was a littoral tree, and that therefore we could not be far from the ocean. To silence clamor I made a rough observation on the north star, based on the well-known fact that from the equator the north star is about at the horizon and therefore rises one degree with each degree of north latitude. By getting the elevation of the star, our latitude would be found nearly enough for our purpose. We had no level nor quadrant. Two stakes were driven into the ground, of unequal height, so that the eye ranging from the top of one to the top of the other would take the polar star in range, and a fish line was stretched from one top to the other and let fall from the highest stake with a plumb attached. To supply a quadrant a large sheet of paper was doubled and then folded and cut in the form of a circle; folded again to give an arc of forty-five degrees. This was spaced by an improvised pair of compasses into as nearly as possible forty-five parts. With this paper quadrant the upper angle was measured; and the result subtracted from the right angle gave

the angle at the imaginary base or level, and the ground end of the fish line. The result corresponded nearly with the latitude of Humboldt Bay, as we knew it from the report of the captain of the Laura Virginia, which had returned before we left San Francisco.

The next day about two o'clock we struck the trail from Uniontown, now Arcata, on the bay, to Trinity River and our position was determined. On the thirty-sixth day we rested at the big bar of Trinity River.

As no gold had been found in our wanderings and the diggings on the Trinity did not meet expectations, in a few days two or three of our party joined with others, and fitted out an expedition to explore the country northward. I was not one of these. Nothing was heard of the party till the 2d of July, when two returned with the news of rich bars on what was called the Salmon River. Stealthily we got away from Big Bar, but were followed.

Going up the Trinity two or three miles we turned northward, encountering a snowstorm on the 4th, which compelled a resort to roofs and side walls of spruce boughs. It is enough to say that the trip from the Trinity to the Salmon consumed eleven days of the roughest traveling I ever did in my life. The saying with us was, that we never saw a foot of land in the whole distance. In conclusion it may be proper to remark, that in the entire trip of forty-seven days our party never had occasion to shoot at or use any force against the Indians; nor did we have cause to complain of them (except for the pilfering mentioned) up to the last day of September, when we hurriedly left Salmon River and made a forced march to Weaverville in consequence of the outbreak of the Klamath Indian war, and that was caused by ill treatment of the natives by Oregon men. Indeed, Oregonians who came after us had difficulties with the Indians somewhere to the west of Colusa or Tehama. One of them related to me the incident at Big Bar. The Indians, he said, gathered around, and some of the party fired their guns to scare them off. 'One big old fellow," said he, " just turned round and slapped

THE appointment of the Honorable Horace Davis to the presidency of the State University has been received with almost universal approval. It was somewhat unexpected, for Mr. Davis had scarcely been mentioned in connection with the position; and while he has been known as a gentleman of scholarly avocations, his vocation has, since the close of his own student days, lain entirely apart from the active work of education and scholarship. Most of the press of the State, either from sheer Philistinism or from a misconception of the duties of a college president, praise the choice on this very ground, - viz., that Mr. Davis's practical experience hitherto has been with business affairs instead of college affairs. From sheer Philistinism, we say, because that mental condition not infrequently reveals itself in the doctrine that, money-making being the great est of all achievements, whoever has been well-trained at that will, a fortiori, be able to succeed in any such smaller matter as governing a country or a college wisely, or pronouncing upon art, and literature, and science. Or from a misconception of the duties of a college president, we say, because one who did not know that the business part of the administration of a college or university rests with boards of trustees or regents, composed largely of active business men, might naturally suppose that the president of such an institution, with its large endowments and many material interests, would have special need of years of training in dealing with material activities and money matters. In fact, the administration of a large business is so different from the administration of a college, that much in the one would rather unfit a man than fit him for the other. Certain qualities, indeed, which are developed by responsible position of any sort, caution, the habit of trying to see things as they are and studying means to bring about ends, resolution, and energy, - - are excellent helps, so far as they go, in equipment for any other responsible position. But we believe that experience agrees with reason in showing that-granted, of course, equal fitness in natural qualities — the best equipment for the administration of colleges has been gained by college work, and the best presidents have been made by promotion of professors. Perhaps no one is less qualified to take charge of an institution of general learning than a specialist; but every professor is not a specialist. The administration of a university requires the co-ordination and regulation of the work of dozens of men, almost every one of whom in his own department ranks the president, and knows far better than he can know what he wishes to accomplish and how to do it; it requires sufficient knowledge of all these departments

to be able to weigh in every detail their relative importance, and fix their proper subordination to each other; it requires in a high degree the qualities of a teacher and a leader and inspirer of the young, for the president who cannot establish a friendly ascendency over several hundred more or less unreasonable young people is lost. And all this cannot be done, as business is done, by the word of authority, however wise: educational administration must be highly republican, managed by co-operation and mutual comprehension in the highest degree. Mr. Davis will not misunderstand us when we say that the hope which the OVERLAND, in common with the rest of the public, feels in seeing him take the chair is based not on what he is as a business man, but on what he is besides a business man; on the fact that he has never amid material interests allowed his life and thought to drift altogether outside the influence of college spirit and methods, and so has preserved his perception of that in which their excellence and power really consists, and his reverence for those human achievements that are chiefly their work, in short, his loyalty to good intellectual ideals. And after all is said, nothing on earth really counts to fit a man for such a position as personal quality counts; the man himself, his inherent genius for presiding over education, ought rightly to outweigh in his selection all considerations of training, whether he be soldier, or merchant, or clergyman, or chemist.

BESIDES the internal administration of a college, it is nowadays reckoned a very important part of a president's duties to keep it on good terms with the outside world, to attract students to its halls and money to its endowment funds, to see that it is so well and widely spoken of as to give its degree great éclat and therefore power to help a man on in the world. We are not without much misgiving on our own part that these fine achievements are pursued at some expense to modest learning and an atmosphere of pure and single-minded moral motive for the student to breathe about the college halls; and we have heard with some impatience the constant request among our own alumni for a president who "will build the University up on the outside," without much concern as to his building it up on the inside, for a showy man, an advertising man. Nevertheless, a State University must be kept in cordial relations with legislatures and public. We are not of those who think it desirable that it should canvass and advertise and display much; but of those who would seek a quiet cordiality of relation, free from hostilities and misunderstandings. What with self-interest, and what