eir father's and business
associates to take part in the anniversary observance in July, 1913.
With regret, I was about to decline when my good friend Henry Michaels,
a State Guard associate, who had become the head of the leading house in
drugs and medicines with which Brizard and his sons had extensively
dealt, came in and urged me to join him in motoring to Humboldt. He
wanted to go, but would not go alone and the double delight of his
company and joining in the anniversary led to prompt acceptance of his
generous proposal. There followed one of the most enjoyable outings of
my life. I had never compassed the overland trip to Humboldt, and while
I naturally expected much the realization far exceeded my anticipations.

From the fine highway following the main ridge the various branches of
the Eel River were clearly outlined, and when we penetrated the
world-famous redwood belt and approached the coast our enjoyment seemed
almost impious, as though we were motoring through a cathedral.

We found Arcata bedecked for the coming anniversary. The whole community
felt its significance. When the hour came every store in town closed.
Seemingly the whole population assembled in and around the Brizard
store, anxious to express kindly memory and approval of those who so
well sustained the traditions of the elders. The oldest son made a
brief, manly address and introduced a few of the many who could have
borne tribute. It was a happy occasion in which good-will was made very
evident. A ball in the evening concluded the festivities, and it was
with positive regret that we turned from the delightful atmosphere and
retraced our steps to home and duty.

CHAPTER XII

OCCASIONAL VERSE

BOSTON
(After Bret Harte)

On the south fork of Yuba, in May, fifty-two,
An old cabin stood on the hill,
Where the road to Grass Valley lay clear to the view,
And a ditch that ran down to Buck's Mill.

It was owned by a party that lately had come
To discover what fate held in store;
He was working for Brigham, and prospecting some,
While the clothes were well cut that he wore.

He had spruced up the cabin, and by it would stay,
For he never could bear a hotel.
He refused to drink whiskey or poker to play,
But was jolly and used the boys well.

In the long winter evenings he started a club,
To discuss the affairs of the day.
He was up in the classics--a scholarly cub--
And the bes