He is a veteran
ranger.
As yet the lands yield no regular harvests. The ten-leagues-square
tract produces less fruit, garden produce, and edibles, than
a ten-acre Pennsylvania field in the Wyoming. But the revenue is
large from the cattle and horses. The cattle are as wild as deer.
The horses are embodiments of assorted "original sin," and as agile
as mountain goats. Valois knows, however, the income will be ample
for general improvements.
His policy matures. He encourages the settlement of Southerners.
He rents in subdivisions his spare lands.
The Creole, now a landlord, hears the wails of short-sighted men.
They mourn the green summers, the showery months of the East.
Moping in idleness, they assert that California will produce neither
cereal crops, fruits, nor vegetables. Prophets, indeed! The golden
hills look bare and drear to strangers' eyes. The brown plains
please not.
In the great realm, apples, potatoes, wheat, corn, the general
cereals and root crops are supposed to be impossible productions.
Gold, wild cattle, and wilder mustangs are the returns of El Dorado.
Cultivation is in its infancy.
The master departs with the dark-eyed bride. She timidly follows
his every wish.
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