Flour, saw, and
grist mills are provided. Every luxury is already on the way from
Liverpool, Bordeaux, Havre, Hamburg, Genoa, and Glasgow. These
vessels bring swarms of natives of every clime. They hasten to a
land where all are on an equal footing of open adventure, a land
where gold is under every foot.
Without class, aristocracy, history, or social past, California's
"golden days" are of the future.
Strange that in thirty years' residence of the sly Muscovites at
Fort Ross, in the long, idle leisure of the employees of the Hudson
Bay station at Yerba Buena Cove from 1836 to 1846, even with the
astute Swiss Captain Sutter at New Helvetia, all capacities of
the fruitful land have been so strangely ignored.
The slumber of two hundred and fifty years is over. Frenchman,
Russian, Englishman, what opiate's drowsy charms dulled your eager
eyes so long here? Thousands of miles of virgin lands, countless
millions of treasures, royal forests and hills yet to grow under
harvest of olive and vine--all this the mole-like eyes of the olden
days have never seen.
Even the Mormons acted with the supine ignorance of the foreigners.
They scorned to pick this jewel up. Judicious Brigham Young from
the Great Salt Lake finally sends emissaries to spy and report.
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