When Alvin Mulrady announced his intention of growing potatoes and garden "truck"on the green slopes of Los Gatos,the mining community of that region,and the adjacent hamlet of "Rough-and-Ready,"regarded it with the contemptuous indifference usually shown by those adventurers towards all bucolic pursuits.There was certainly no active objection to the occupation of two hillsides,which gave so little promise to the prospector for gold that it was currently reported that a single prospector,called "Slinn,"had once gone mad or imbecile through repeated failures.The only opposition came,incongruously enough,from the original pastoral owner of the soil,one Don Ramon Alvarado,whose claim for seven leagues of hill and valley,including the now prosperous towns of Rough-and-Ready and Red Dog,was met with simple derision from the squatters and miners."Looks ez ef we woz goin'to travel three thousand miles to open up his d--d old wilderness,and then pay for the increased valoo we give it--don't it?Oh,yes,certainly!"was their ironical commentary.Mulrady might have been pardoned for adopting this popular opinion;but by an equally incongruous sentiment,peculiar,however,to the man,he called upon Don Ramon,and actually offered to purchase the land,or "go shares"with him in the agricultural profits.It was alleged that the Don was so struck with this concession that he not only granted the land,but struck up a quaint reserved friendship for the simple-minded agriculturist and his family.It is scarcely necessary to add that this intimacy was viewed by the miners with the contempt that it deserved.They would have been more contemptuous,however,had they known the opinion that Don Ramon entertained of their particular vocation,and which he early confided to Mulrady.
"They are savages who expect to reap where they have not sown;to take out of the earth without returning anything to it but their precious carcasses;heathens,who worship the mere stones they dig up.""And was there no Spaniard who ever dug gold?"asked Mulrady,simply."Ah,there are Spaniards and Moors,"responded Don Ramon,sententiously."Gold has been dug,and by caballeros;but no good ever came of it.There were Alvarados in Sonora,look you,who had mines of SILVER,and worked them with peons and mules,and lost their money--a gold mine to work a silver one--like gentlemen!But this grubbing in the dirt with one's fingers,that a little gold may stick to them,is not for caballeros.And then,one says nothing of the curse.""The curse!"echoed Mary Mulrady,with youthful feminine superstition."What is that?""You knew not,friend Mulrady,that when these lands were given to my ancestors by Charles V.,the Bishop of Monterey laid a curse upon any who should desecrate them.Good!Let us see!Of the three Americanos who founded yonder town,one was shot,another died of a fever--poisoned,you understand,by the soil--and the last got himself crazy of aguardiente.Even the scientifico,who came here years ago and spied into the trees and the herbs:he was afterwards punished for his profanation,and died of an accident in other lands.But,"added Don Ramon,with grave courtesy,"this touches not yourself.Through me,YOU are of the soil."Don Ramon probably alluded to the eminent naturalist Douglas,who visited California before the gold excitement,and died of an accident in the Sandwich Islands.
Indeed,it would seem as if a secure if not a rapid prosperity was the result of Don Ramon's manorial patronage.The potato patch and market garden flourished exceedingly;the rich soil responded with magnificent vagaries of growth;the even sunshine set the seasons at defiance with extraordinary and premature crops.The salt pork and biscuit consuming settlers did not allow their contempt of Mulrady's occupation to prevent their profiting by this opportunity for changing their diet.The gold they had taken from the soil presently began to flow into his pockets in exchange for his more modest treasures.The little cabin,which barely sheltered his family--a wife,son,and daughter--was enlarged,extended,and refitted,but in turn abandoned for a more pretentious house on the opposite hill.A whitewashed fence replaced the rudely-split rails,which had kept out the wilderness.By degrees,the first evidences of cultivation--the gashes of red soil,the piles of brush and undergrowth,the bared boulders,and heaps of stone--melted away,and were lost under a carpet of lighter green,which made an oasis in the tawny desert of wild oats on the hillside.
