and constituted a reservation protected
by Fort Gaston and a garrison. It was my pleasure to revisit the scene
of my boyhood experience and assist in the transfer largely conducted
through the leadership of Austin Wiley, the editor and owner of the
_Humboldt Times_. He was subsequently made Superintendent of Indian
Affairs for the state of California, and as his clerk I helped in the
administration. When I visited the Smith River reservation, to which the
Bay Indians had been sent, I was hailed with joy as "Major's pappoose,"
whom they remembered of old. (My father was always called Major.)

Among the warm friendships formed at this time two stand out. Two boys
of about my age were to achieve brilliant careers. Very early I became
intimate with Alexander Brizard, a clerk in the store of F. Roskill, a
Russian. He was my companion in the adventure of following the Indian
marauders, and my associate in the church choir and the debating club.
In 1863 he joined a fellow clerk in establishing a modest business
concern, the firm being known as A. Brizard & Co.; the unnamed partner
was James Alexander Campbell Van Rossum, a Hollander. They prospered
amazingly. Van Rossum died early, Brizard became the leading merchant of
northern California, and his sons still continue the chain of stores
that grew from the small beginning. He was a strong, fine character.

The other boy, very near to me, was John J. DeHaven, who was first a
printer, then a lawyer, then a State Senator, then a Congressman, and
finally a U.S. District Judge. He was very able and distinguished
himself in every place in life to which he advanced.

In 1861, when my father had become superintendent of a Nevada County
gold mine, he left me to run the post-office, cut the timothy hay, and
manage a logging-camp. It was wartime and I had a longing to enlist. One
day I received a letter from him, and as I tore it open a startling
sentence caught my eye, "Your commission will come by the next steamer."
I caught my breath and south particulars. It informed me that Senator
Sargent, his close friend, had secured for me the appointment of
Register of the Land Office at Humboldt.

[Illustration: Presidential Commission as Registrar of the Land Office
at Humboldt, California]

There had been a vacancy for some time, resulting from reduction in the
pay from $3000 in gold to $500 in greenbacks, together with commissions,
which were few. My father thought it would be good exp