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第5章

the silverado squatters-第5章

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proud anxiety。  I tasted all。  I tasted every variety and 

shade of Schramberger; red and white Schramberger; Burgundy 

Schramberger; Schramberger Hock; Schramberger Golden 

Chasselas; the latter with a notable bouquet; and I fear to 

think how many more。  Much of it goes to London … most; I 

think; and Mr。 Schram has a great notion of the English 

taste。



In this wild spot; I did not feel the sacredness of ancient 

cultivation。  It was still raw; it was no Marathon; and no 

Johannisberg; yet the stirring sunlight; and the growing 

vines; and the vats and bottles in the cavern; made a 

pleasant music for the mind。  Here; also; earth's cream was 

being skimmed and garnered; and the London customers can 

taste; such as it is; the tang of the earth in this green 

valley。  So local; so quintessential is a wine; that it seems 

the very birds in the verandah might communicate a flavour; 

and that romantic cellar influence the bottle next to be 

uncorked in Pimlico; and the smile of jolly Mr。 Schram might 

mantle in the glass。



But these are but experiments。  All things in this new land 

are moving farther on:  the wine…vats and the miner's 

blasting tools but picket for a night; like Bedouin 

pavillions; and to…morrow; to fresh woods!  This stir of 

change and these perpetual echoes of the moving footfall; 

haunt the land。  Men move eternally; still chasing Fortune; 

and; fortune found; still wander。  As we drove back to 

Calistoga; the road lay empty of mere passengers; but its 

green side was dotted with the camps of travelling families:  

one cumbered with a great waggonful of household stuff; 

settlers going to occupy a ranche they had taken up in 

Mendocino; or perhaps Tehama County; another; a party in dust 

coats; men and women; whom we found camped in a grove on the 

roadside; all on pleasure bent; with a Chinaman to cook for 

them; and who waved their hands to us as we drove by。







CHAPTER IV … THE SCOT ABROAD







A FEW pages back; I wrote that a man belonged; in these days; 

to a variety of countries; but the old land is still the true 

love; the others are but pleasant infidelities。  Scotland is 

indefinable; it has no unity except upon the map。  Two 

languages; many dialects; innumerable forms of piety; and 

countless local patriotisms and prejudices; part us among 

ourselves more widely than the extreme east and west of that 

great continent of America。  When I am at home; I feel a man 

from Glasgow to be something like a rival; a man from Barra 

to be more than half a foreigner。  Yet let us meet in some 

far country; and; whether we hail from the braes of Manor or 

the braes of Mar; some ready…made affection joins us on the 

instant。  It is not race。  Look at us。  One is Norse; one 

Celtic; and another Saxon。  It is not community of tongue。  

We have it not among ourselves; and we have it almost to 

perfection; with English; or Irish; or American。  It is no 

tie of faith; for we detest each other's errors。  And yet 

somewhere; deep down in the heart of each one of us; 

something yearns for the old land; and the old kindly people。



Of all mysteries of the human heart; this is perhaps the most 

inscrutable。  There is no special loveliness in that gray 

country; with its rainy; sea…beat archipelago; its fields of 

dark mountains; its unsightly places; black with coal; its 

treeless; sour; unfriendly looking corn…lands; its quaint; 

gray; castled city; where the bells clash of a Sunday; and 

the wind squalls; and the salt showers fly and beat。  I do 

not even know if I desire to live there; but let me hear; in 

some far land; a kindred voice sing out; 〃Oh; why left I my 

hame?〃 and it seems at once as if no beauty under the kind 

heavens; and no society of the wise and good; can repay me 

for my absence from my country。  And though I think I would 

rather die elsewhere; yet in my heart of hearts I long to be 

buried among good Scots clods。  I will say it fairly; it 

grows on me with every year:  there are no stars so lovely as 

Edinburgh street…lamps。  When I forget thee; auld Reekie; may 

my right hand forget its cunning!



The happiest lot on earth is to be born a Scotchman。  You 

must pay for it in many ways; as for all other advantages on 

earth。  You have to learn the paraphrases and the shorter 

catechism; you generally take to drink; your youth; as far as 

I can find out; is a time of louder war against society; of 

more outcry and tears and turmoil; than if you had been born; 

for instance; in England。  But somehow life is warmer and 

closer; the hearth burns more redly; the lights of home shine 

softer on the rainy street; the very names; endeared in verse 

and music; cling nearer round our hearts。  An Englishman may 

meet an Englishman to…morrow; upon Chimborazo; and neither of 

them care; but when the Scotch wine…grower told me of Mons 

Meg; it was like magic。





〃From the dim shieling on the misty island

Mountains divide us; and a world of seas;

Yet still our hearts are true; our hearts are Highland;

And we; in dreams; behold the Hebrides。〃





And; Highland and Lowland; all our hearts are Scotch。



Only a few days after I had seen M'Eckron; a message reached 

me in my cottage。  It was a Scotchman who had come down a 

long way from the hills to market。  He had heard there was a 

countryman in Calistoga; and came round to the hotel to see 

him。  We said a few words to each other; we had not much to 

say … should never have seen each other had we stayed at 

home; separated alike in space and in society; and then we 

shook hands; and he went his way again to his ranche among 

the hills; and that was all。



Another Scotchman there was; a resident; who for the more 

love of the common country; douce; serious; religious man; 

drove me all about the valley; and took as much interest in 

me as if I had been his son:  more; perhaps; for the son has 

faults too keenly felt; while the abstract countryman is 

perfect … like a whiff of peats。



And there was yet another。  Upon him I came suddenly; as he 

was calmly entering my cottage; his mind quite evidently bent 

on plunder:  a man of about fifty; filthy; ragged; roguish; 

with a chimney…pot hat and a tail coat; and a pursing of his 

mouth that might have been envied by an elder of the kirk。  

He had just such a face as I have seen a dozen times behind 

the plate。



〃Hullo; sir!〃 I cried。  〃Where are you going?〃



He turned round without a quiver。



〃You're a Scotchman; sir?〃 he said gravely。  〃So am I; I come 

from Aberdeen。  This is my card;〃 presenting me with a piece 

of pasteboard which he had raked out of some gutter in the 

period of the rains。  〃I was just examining this palm;〃 he 

continued; indicating the misbegotten plant before our door; 

〃which is the largest spAcimen I have yet observed in 

Califoarnia。〃



There were four or five larger within sight。  But where was 

the use of argument?  He produced a tape…line; made me help 

him to measure the tree at the level of the ground; and 

entered the figures in a large and filthy pocket…book; all 

with the gravity of Solomon。  He then thanked me profusely; 

remarking that such little services were due between 

countrymen; shook hands with me; 〃for add lang syne;〃 as he 

said; and took himself solemnly away; radiating dirt and 

humbug as he went。



A month or two after this encounter of mine; there came a 

Scot to Sacramento … perhaps from Aberdeen。  Anyway; there 

never was any one more Scotch in this wide world。  He could 

sing and dance; and drink; I presume; and he played the pipes 

with vigour and success。  All the Scotch in Sacramento became 

infatuated with him; and spent their spare time and money; 

driving him about in an open cab; between drinks; while he 

blew himself scarlet at the pipes。  This is a very sad story。  

After he had borrowed money from ever

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