in Ohio in 1839 and graduated from the Cleveland High School
and from Kenyon College. He served in the Civil War and came to
California in 1866. He was a fellow-worker with Bret Harte in the Mint,
and also on the _Overland Monthly_, contributing "Favoring Female
Conventualism" to the first number. He was a sound lawyer, but hid with
his elders until 1872, when he opened his own office. He was not a
pusher, but his associates respected and loved him, so that when in 1883
the governor was called upon to appoint a judge, and, embarrassed by the
number of candidates, he called upon the Bar Association to recommend
someone, they took a vote and two-thirds of them named Rearden. He
served on the bench for eight years.

He was a favorite member of the Chit-Chat Club for many years and wrote
many brilliant essays, a volume of which was printed in 1893. The first
two he gave were "Francis Petrarch" and "Burning Sappho." Among the most
charming was "Ballads and Lyrics," which was illustrated by the equally
charming singing of representative selections by Mrs. Ida Norton, the
only time in its history when the club was invaded by a woman. Its
outside repetition was clamored for, and as the Judge found a good
excuse in his position and its requirements, he loaned the paper and I
had the pleasure of substituting for him.

When I was a candidate for the legislature he issued a card that was a
departure from political methods. It was during the time when all the
names were submitted on the ballot and voters crossed off those they did
not want to win. He sent his friends a neat card, as follows:

CHARLES A. MURDOCK
(_Of C.A. Murdock & Co., 532 Clay Street_)
IS ONE OF THE REPUBLICAN CANDIDATES
FOR THE ASSEMBLY FROM THE TENTH
SENATORIAL DISTRICT

If you prefer any candidate on any other ticket, scratch Murdock.

If you require any pledge other than that he will vote according to
his honest convictions, scratch Murdock.

His friend, Ambrose Bierce, spoke of him as the most scholarly man on
the Pacific Coast. He was surely among the most modest and affectionate.
He had remarkable poetic gifts. In 1892 the Thomas Post of the Grand
Army of the Republic held a memorial service, and he contributed a poem
beginning:

"Life's fevered day declines; its purple twilight falling
Draws length'ning shadows from the broken flanks;
And from the column's head a viewless chief is calling:
'Guide