Daily national Democrat., 1860-06-05
The Old Pioneer's..
"HocK FARM" Sunday, June Sd, '0o

CLOCK FARM" Sunday, June Sd, go
EDIroR DEMOCRATS Here l am, for the
first time in my life on the enchanted grounds
surrounding the home ofthe "brave old Gen.
Sutter" "Some are born great, some achieve
greatness. and some have greatness thrust
upon them" And whot if the General does
belong to this latter class? He is not the less
renowned To the uttermost ends of the
civilized world has the name of this veteran
hero been borne. The historian has extolled,
the poet has sung it and my Imagination has
clothed it with attributes which, perhaps
ah, well Here am, atany rate, idly sitting
with an idler companion, beneath the wine
and fig tree which his Industrious hand has
planted and underneath whose cool
ing shades the weary wayfarer shall rest and
refresh himself, and bless the name of G en-.
Sutter long, long after those of many of us
shall have been forgotten
Surely, no woman has realized her first
dream of California, till, with the husband of
her early youth-who foolishly left her, to
realize his golden dream-(and got disap-
pointed, of course) she stands, again united,
on this Eden spot of the "sunset State" l
hope all the lady readers of the DEMOCRAT,
(of the Express and Appeal too, for anght |
care) may bear themselves kindly and gently
towards their spouses and hope those same
spouses will reward them-as mine did me-
| by taking them some sweet, sunshiny day to
"Hock Farm" And when there, review the
last ten years of your lives, oh, sisters dear,
and tell me if you are not compensated for
all you have sacrificed to this, our Golden
State.
While sit thus, scribblng nonsense, which
no one will read of course my companion
lies idly by, as said before-looking dreami
ly up into the blue sky, ever and anon re
peating from the "Corn-law Poet" these
lines:
"Broom gow'd IN the valley,
For William and Sally"
Now, know exactly what suggests these
lines All around us, burdening the air with
its sweet perfume, blooms the Scotch broom
And what more natural than that my com
panion who, if he was not very practical
man might be a very poetical one. should re-
peat and repeat and continue to repeat
Broom glow'd in the valley,
For William and Sally"
But now, with a sigh, and with an almoft
inaudible whisper, he repeats those other
lines:
"Poor Sally was bonny
But Mary had money"
My name is not Maryland 1 never had
any money-then wherefore should the soft
and gentle breathing of these lines, on this
calm and summery day, away off here on the
shores of the Pacific, have power to disturb
me? Oh, pshaw it is all nonsense. Come,
let us go home
Well, here am, finishing this letter, dated
at "Hock Farm" in Marysville. 1 have
brought with me the finest boquet that
ever possessed-made up principally of choice
California plants and presented to me by the
gentleman, the business of whose life it is to
make the visits of ladies to these gardens, de-
lightful. declare, on looking at my flowers
again, am almost tempted to usurp the
Editors prerogative, and puff Mr.. Levinson.
BY the way, saw your little humming
bird. She still sits on her little nest on the
rose tw:g "mang the dewy weet." l wa!
tempted to take her in my hands and squees,
her little life out for uerV lore.
Adeu, IDLENEss.