as foreign to his nature; so he
was thought devoid of spirit and strength. But occasion brought out the
unsuspected. There had been a long and trying Indian war in and around
Humboldt. The feeling against the red men was very bitter. It culminated
in a wanton and cowardly attack on a tribe of peaceful Indians encamped
on an island opposite Eureka, and men, women, and children were
ruthlessly killed. Harte was temporarily in charge of the paper and he
denounced the outrage in unmeasured terms. The better part of the
community sustained him, but a violent minority resented his strictures
and he was seriously threatened and in no little danger. Happily he
escaped, but the incident resulted in his return to San Francisco. The
massacre occurred on February 5, 1860, which fixes the approximate time
of Harte's becoming identified with San Francisco.

His experience was of great advantage to him in that he had learned to
do something for which there was a demand. He could not earn much as a
compositor, but his wants were simple and he could earn something. He
soon secured a place on the _Golden Era_, and it became the doorway to
his career. He was soon transferred to the editorial department and
contributed freely.

For four years he continued on the _Golden Era_. These were years of
growth and increasing accomplishment. He did good work and made good
friends. Among those whose interest he awakened were Mrs. Jessie Benton
Fremont and Thomas Starr King. Both befriended and encouraged him. In
the critical days when California hung in the balance between the North
and the South, and Starr King, by his eloquence, fervor, and magnetism,
seemed to turn the scale, Bret Harte did his part in support of the
friend he loved. Lincoln had called for a hundred thousand volunteers,
and at a mass meeting Harte contributed a noble poem, "The Reveille,"
which thrillingly read by Starr King brought the mighty audience to its
feet with cheers for the Union. He wrote many virile patriotic poems at
this period.

In March, 1864, Starr King, of the glowing heart and golden tongue,
preacher, patriot, and hero, fell at his post, and San Francisco mourned
him and honored him as seldom falls to the lot of man. At his funeral
the Federal authorities ordered the firing of a salute from the forts in
the harbor, an honor, so far as I know, never before accorded a private
citizen.

Bret Harte wrote a poem of rare beauty in expression of his profound
grie