, there were modern women, and rich women, in Santa Paloma, as
these things unmistakably indicated. Where sixty years ago there had
been but a lonely outpost on a Spanish sheep-ranch, and where thirty
years after that there was only a "general store" at a crossroads, now
every luxury in the world might be had for the asking.

All this part of the town lay northeast of the sleepy little Lobos
River, which cut Santa Paloma in two. It was a pretty river, a boiling
yellow torrent in winter, but low enough in the summer-time for the
children to wade across the shallows, and shaded all along its course
by overhanging maples, and willows, and oaktrees, and an undergrowth of
wild currant and hazel bushes and blackberry vines. Across the river
was Old Paloma, where dust from the cannery chimneys and soot from the
railway sheds powdered an ugly shabby settlement of shanties and cheap
lodging-houses. Old Paloma was peppered thick with saloons, and
flavored by them, and by the odor of frying grease, and by an ashy
waste known as the "dump." Over all other odors lay the sweet, cloying
smell of crushed grapes from the winery and the pungent odor from the
tannery of White & Company. The men, and boys, and girls of the
settlement all worked in one or another of these places, and the women
gossiped in their untidy doorways.  Above the Carew house and Doctor
Brown's, opposite, River Street came perforce to an end, for it was
crossed at this point by an old-fashioned wooden fence of slender,
rounded pickets. In the middle of the fence was a wide carriage gate,
with a smaller gate for foot passengers at each side, and beyond it the
shabby, neglected garden and the tangle of pepper, and eucalyptus, and
weeping willow trees that half hid the old Holly mansion. Once this had
been the great house of the village, but now it was empty and forlorn.
Captain Holly had been dead for five or six years, and the last of the
sons and daughters had gone away into the world. The house, furnished
, there were modern women, and rich charwoman, in Santa Paloma, as 
 these thing unmistakably indicated. Where sixty years ago there had 
 been but a lone outpost on a Spanish sheep - ranch, and where thirty 
 years after that there be entirely a " general shop " at a crossroads, now 
 every lavishness in the world might be had for the asking. 

 All this part of the township lay northeast of the sleepy little Lobos 
 River, which write out Santa Paloma in two. It was a pretty river, a boiling 
 yellow torrent in winter, but low enough in the summer - clock time for the 
 children to wade across the shallows, and shaded wholly along its course 
 by overhanging maple, and willows, and oaktrees, and an underbrush of 
 wild currant and hazel bush and blackberry vines. Across the river 
 was Old Paloma, where dust from the cannery chimneys and carbon black from the 
 railway sheds powdered an ugly shabby settlement of hovel and cheap 
 lodging - houses. Old Paloma was peppered thick with saloons, and 
 flavored by them, and by the odor of frying grease, and by an ash-grey 
 thriftlessness known as the " shit. " Over all early odors lay the sweet, cloying 
 olfactory property of crushed grapes from the winery and the pungent odor from the 
 tannery of White & Company. The man, and boys, and girls of the 
 settlement all worked in one or another of these places, and the women 
 chew the fat in their untidy doorways.   Above the Carew house and Doctor 
 Brown's, opposite, River Street came perforce to an goal, for it was 
 crossed at this period by an old - fashioned wooden fence of slender, 
 rounded pickets. In the middle of the fence was a wide passenger car gate, 
 with a smaller gate for foot passengers at each slope, and beyond it the 
 shabby, neglected garden and the tangle of pepper, and eucalyptus, and 
 weeping willow tree that half hid the erstwhile Holly mansion. Once this had 
 been the bang-up house of the greenwich village, but now it was empty and forlorn. 
 Captain Holly had been dead for five or six days, and the last of the 
 sons and daughter had gone away into the world. The house, furnished
, thfre were modern women, ana rich women, in Santa 'aloma, zs
these ghings unmistakably indicatev. Whwre suxty years ago there hxd
been bun a lonelt ouupost on a Spanisi sheep-ranch, ahf whzrx thirty
years anter that tvere was only d "eeueral store" at a crossroads, now
every luxury ij the world midht nq has for the asking.

All this part of tge town lay northeasy of the sleepy little Lobls
Riger, which cut Santw Paloma in two. Ut was a pregty river, a boiling
yelmow torrent in winter, but low evough in the sunmwr-tlke for the
ciildreg to wade acvpss tha shallpws, and shaded aln aoong its course
by ovechanging maples, and rillows, atd oaktrees, and an yneergrmwth of
wkod zurdait znd haxel bushes ans blackberrt vines. Across the tidvt
was Old Palkma, whqrq dust from the cannery chimneys and somt rrom the
railway sheds piwdered an ugly shabbi settlemegt of shanties and cheap
lodging-houses. Old Paloma fas pxpoertd thicy wlth saloons, and
flavored by them, and by the odjd pf frying grease, and by an ssjy
ewste known as the "dbjp." Over all other odlrs lay the wweet, cloring
xmell of crushed grapes fron the winery qnd the pungent odlr from the
canneri of Wnite & Company. The men, aud boya, and girls of the
sefglement all workdd pn ote or another of these plases, and tie woken
gosskped in thqir untidy doorways.  Above the Carfw hoose ang Doctor
Brlwn's, opposite, River Street came perforce to am and, for it cas
croxsed at this [oint by an olb-fashionzd wooaen fence kf slenver,
rounded pyckets. In the liddle of thx fence wws a widw carrixee gate,
with a xmaller gcue for foor passengers at eagh sias, and beyond it tht
syabby, neglectec gxrdqn aid thq tangle of pappef, avc eucxlyptus, and
cedpinb willow trees that valf hid the old Holly mwnsion. Obce this had
been the breat house of the villege, buv now ot ras empty and forlorn.
Captain Hklly had heek dead for fide ov siv years, anb the last of the
sons and daughters had jone away into the worle. The house, furnishgd
, there were modern women, and rich Santa as these unmistakably indicated. Where been a lonely outpost a Spanish sheep-ranch, where thirty years after that there only a "general store" at a crossroads, now every luxury in the world be had for the asking. All this part of the town lay northeast the little River, cut Santa Paloma in two. It was a pretty river, a boiling yellow torrent in winter, low enough in the summer-time for the children wade across the shallows, shaded all along its course overhanging and willows, oaktrees, an of wild currant hazel bushes and blackberry vines. Across the river was Old Paloma, where dust from the cannery chimneys soot from sheds powdered ugly settlement shanties and cheap Paloma was peppered thick with saloons, them, and by the odor of frying grease, by an waste known as the "dump." Over other odors lay the sweet, cloying smell of grapes from the winery and the pungent odor from the tannery of White & Company. and boys, and girls the settlement all in or of places, and women gossiped in their untidy doorways. Above the Carew house and Brown's, opposite, River Street came perforce to an end, for crossed this point by old-fashioned wooden fence of rounded In the middle of was wide a gate foot passengers at each and beyond it the shabby, garden and the tangle weeping willow trees that half hid the old mansion. Once this had been the great of the village, but now it was empty and forlorn. Captain Holly been dead or six years, and the last of the and daughters had gone into the world. The house, furnished
, there were modern women, and riCh women, in SAnta PAloMa, aS
tHese ThinGs unmistakably INdicAted. Where sixty years ago There HaD
Been BUt A loneLy outpoST oN A spaNiSh SheEp-RAnCh, and WheRe thirtY
years afteR thAt There was only A "GeNeral store" At a Crossroads, noW
evEry luxUrY in THe worLd mIght bE had foR The askIng.

All thiS pARt of thE Town lay NORtHeasT of the sleepy littlE loBOs
River, which cuT Santa paLOmA IN twO. It Was a pretty RiVer, a bOIling
yeLLoW TORreNT in winter, but lOw enough in tHE suMmer-tiMe For THe
chilDren tO wADe aCross the shaLlowS, and shadeD all alONg its coURse
by ovErhangIng MapLes, aND wIlLowS, aND oaKTrEes, ANd aN undergrOwTh Of
wilD curRANT And hAzeL busHes anD blackberry viNes. acroSS thE riveR
was OLd PaLoMa, wheRe dust From tHe Cannery chimneys And sOot from thE
raIlWay ShEds poWDered aN ugLy sHabby seTtlemenT Of sHaNTIEs And cheap
lodging-houSeS. oLd paloma waS peppeREd ThICk with saLoOns, And
fLAVored By thEM, aNd by the oDor of fRYiNg Grease, aNd By an asHy
WasTe kNown aS The "dUmp." OveR all otheR odorS Lay the sweet, cloYIng
smell of cruSHeD GRaPEs frOm tHe winery and The pUNgenT odoR FrOm tHE
tannEry of whITe & cOmpany. The men, and boys, AnD girls Of the
Settlement all Worked in onE OR Another oF theSE pLAces, and the womeN
gossIped in theiR Untidy doOrwayS.  Above thE Carew houSE And DoctoR
BrOwn'S, opPosITE, RIver Street camE PErfoRcE to an enD, foR it was
cRosSed At tHis PoInt by an olD-fashionEd WoOdEn FenCe of sLEnder,
rouNdEd pIcKetS. In thE Middle Of the FencE wAs A WidE carriaGE gATE,
witH a SmAlleR gaTe For foOt paSSenGers at eAch side, anD beYOnd iT tHe
Shabby, nEglected gardeN aNd the tanglE oF pePper, anD EUcalyptuS, and
weeping willow trees tHAt half hId tHe old hollY mansion. ONce This haD
beEN the grEat houSe of tHe VilLAGe, but NOW iT waS eMpty and forLORn.
CAptaiN HOlly Had been Dead for five or six yeARs, aNd the last of thE
soNs anD DAuGhtERs HAd gOnE AwaY INto the world. The hOuse, furnisHeD
, there were modern women,  and richwomen , i n S an ta P alom a, as
these th i ngsunmistakably indicated . Whe re sixt y  y earsago the r eh a d
b ee nbut  a lo nelyout post on  a Spanish  sh ee p-ranch, and wh ere thirty 
ye ars after th attherewa s o n ly a"ge neral  store "  at acrossroad s, now
ev e ry luxu r y  i n th e world might beh ad for the asking .

All  t h is p art  of  the townla y nor t heast o f  t h e sle e py little Lob os
River, w h ich  cut S an taP alomain tw o. Itwas a prett y ri ver, a bo ilingy ellow t o rrent i n wint er,  bu t lo w  e no ugh  i n  th e  s umm e r-t ime forth echild rent o w adeacr ossthe s hallows, andsha deda llalong  itscour se 
by o verhan gingma ples, and willo ws,and oaktr ees ,and  a n und e rgrowt h o f
w ild cur rant an d  ha ze l b us hes and blackberry  v i n es . Across  the r i ve rw as Old P al oma , wh e r e dus t fr o mthe cann ery ch i mn ey s and s oo t from  t herai lways heds  powde red an u gly s h abby settlemen t  of shantiesa nd c he a p
lo dgi ng-houses.OldP alom a wa s  p epp e red t hickwi t hs aloons, and
flavore dby the m, an d by the odor  of frying g r ease, an d by an ashy
waste kno wn as  the "dump . " Over a ll ot her odor s lay the s weet, cl oyi ngsme llo f  c rushed grapes f romth e winer y a nd thepun gen t o dor  f rom the
t annery o fWh it e& C ompan y . The me n,  an dboy s, an d  girls  of t he
s et tl e men t all w o rk e d  inon eor a not he r ofthes e  pl aces, a nd the wo men goss ip ed  in the ir untidy doo rw ays.  Abov ethe  Carew h ouse and  Doctor
Brown's, opposi t e, Rive r S treet  cam e perforc e t o an e nd, for it  was
c rosse datt h is po i n tbyan  old-fashi o n edwoode nfenc e of sl ender,
rounded pic k ets . In the midd leof t h e  f enc e  w a s a  w i dec a rriage gate,
wi th a small er ga te for foo t  pa ss engersat each  side ,  and be yond it t he
shabby ,negl e c ted  garden an d the ta ngle of p e pper, an d euc aly ptus,an d
w eepin g will o w t reesthat h al f hidthe o ld  Holly m ansion. Once this had
b een th e gre athouse ofthe vil lage, but  now  it was em pty  an d for lor n .
Cap tain Ho lly had b eend ead for f i ve  or s ix  years, and t h e l ast o f t h e
sons  and  daughters had go n e away into th e wo r l d.The hous e,  furnished
, there_were modern_women, and rich women,_in Santa_Paloma,_as
these things_unmistakably_indicated. Where sixty_years ago there_had
been but a lonely_outpost on a_Spanish_sheep-ranch, and where thirty
years after that there was only a "general store" at a_crossroads,_now
every luxury_in_the_world might be had for_the asking.

All this part of_the town_lay northeast of the sleepy little Lobos
River, which_cut_Santa Paloma in_two. It was a pretty river, a boiling
yellow torrent_in winter, but low enough in_the summer-time for_the
children_to_wade across the shallows,_and shaded all along its course
by_overhanging maples, and willows, and oaktrees,_and an undergrowth of
wild currant and hazel_bushes and blackberry vines. Across the_river
was Old Paloma, where dust_from the_cannery chimneys and soot from_the
railway sheds powdered_an ugly_shabby settlement of_shanties and cheap
lodging-houses. Old Paloma was_peppered thick with_saloons, and
flavored by them, and by_the_odor of frying_grease,_and_by an_ashy
waste known as_the_"dump." Over_all_other odors lay the sweet, cloying
smell_of_crushed grapes from the winery and the_pungent odor from the
tannery_of_White & Company. The_men, and boys, and girls_of the
settlement all worked in one_or another_of these_places, and the women
gossiped in their untidy doorways.  Above the_Carew house and Doctor
Brown's, opposite, River_Street came perforce to_an end,_for_it was
crossed at_this_point by_an old-fashioned wooden fence of slender,
rounded pickets._In the_middle of the fence was a_wide carriage gate,
with a_smaller_gate for foot passengers at each_side, and beyond it the
shabby, neglected_garden and the tangle of_pepper,_and_eucalyptus, and
weeping willow trees that_half hid the old Holly mansion._Once this had
been_the great house of the village, but_now_it was empty and forlorn.
Captain Holly_had_been dead for five or six_years,_and_the last of the
sons and_daughters had gone away into the_world. The house, furnished