did not include that of St. Francis, founder and patron of the Franciscan Order.

"If San Francisco wants a mission," replied the Spanish royal inspector-general, Don Jose de Galvez, "let him cause his port to be discovered, and it will be placed there.'

Thus it was that the heart of the loyal Padre Junipero overflowed with satisfaction when Gaspar de Portola came upon the great bay and transferred to it the name of San Francisco, which, in the accounts of the sixteenth century Spanish voyagers, had been given to the cove in the crook of Point Reyes. The Padre at once began to press the foundation of the mission which would fittingly head the chain of Franciscan establishments in California with one under the patronage of St. Francis of Assisi.

So the Mission de San Francisco de Asis, commonly called Mission Dolores, was founded on June 29, 1776. It derived its popular name of Mission Dolores from the lagoon of that name which once spread out before the mission over all that portion of San Francisco now between Guerrero and Howard and Fifteenth and Twentieth streets. The Laguna de los Dolores, filled in many decades ago and now forgotten probably by even the oldest inhabitant, was joined with the bay by a creek of which Channel street is the sole remaining vestige. So San Francisco received its name.

The military establishment of the Presidio took place on September 17th, and with the Feast of the Stigmata of St. Francis, the official foundation of San Francisco as a Spanish town was celebrated. A solemn high mass was sung by the priests, and when it was ended the royal standard was run up, and note was taken in due form that the Presidio of San Francisco was henceforth a part of the domain of King Charles III of Spain and the Indies. The official founding of the Mission bears date from October 8th of the same year.

The ceremonies took place in the afternoon. Padre Palou and his associates, Comandante Moraga and his soldiers, all the male colonists, and the crew of the San Carlos, assisted at the solemn function. A procession was formed headed by Padre Palou. With firing of musketry, the procession marched from the Presidio to the Mission site, where Padre Palou chanted a mass, and delivered a sermon upon the life and character of San Francisco de Assisi, the patron saint of the Fort, the Presidio, and the Mission, after which

feasting took place in the refectory. This was the beginning of San Francisco.

Of the original buildings in the Presidio, no trace remains, though the site is the original one. A history of the old Presidio of San Francisco would form a large part of the history of California, for it was among the earliest of the Spanish establishments in this State, and its Comandantes governed a large part of its territory. Its inception was military, as has been its entire history. Three flags have waved over it, the flags of Spain, Mexico and the United States. Among the ancient guns that formerly served as posts was one that bore the date of 1673, and the following inscription, which, although of cabalistic appearance, is readily decipherable:

GOVERNAN

DOLOSSENO

RESDELARE

ALAUDIEN

CIADELIMA

The original mission building, undisturbed by the many tempests of earth and air, still stands, the sole landmark of San Francisco. The tangled, vine-covered old graveyard adjoins, in which it is said ten thousand of our early population have been buried. The Mission has undergone some restoration, but the original adobe building as founded by Padre Palou remains almost unchanged and carefully conserved. The venerable padre died in Mexico about 1790, at the age of 70. He was the author of a life of Padre Serra and chronicler of the early history of California that is claimed to have been practically the source of all that has ever been written on California mission history down to 1784, but his achievements along with those of other members of the Franciscan Order are hallowed in the monuments to their indefatigable spirit.

A Sanctuary of Books'

CHARLES A. INGRAHAM, M. D., CAMBRIDGE, N. Y.

HROUGHOUT my career books have exercised upon me a very great influence, compared with which other inducements have been of small account. From almost

my earliest recollection I have entertained for them a real affection, not only for their instructions and inspirations, but I love to take them fondly in my hands and to study their material construction and, if possible, to admire and rejoice in any elements of external grace or beauty which they may possess. In return for my loyalty and love, books have steadily ministered to me of hope and courage in the battle of life and have afforded solace in many a day of gloom and dejection. And they offer only the best they have of their respective authors; they do not obtrude and insist upon being heard; modest and patient they remain in their places awaiting the convenience and call of their owner. From books vast quantities of chaff have been winnowed, and only the substantial merits of the author's character and ideas remain, so that we have in them the disembodied spirits of the wise, the great and the good, and the inspired of all the past ages of the world.

As I stand in the door leading into my study, which I call my sanctuary, I feel almost like prostrating myself in the presence of so much erudition, art, poetry, spiritual beauty and power. Here, indeed, is a university of scholarship, a collection of authorities in every branch of learning beyond the ability of any college to afford -even of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, alone, it has been well said, that were all the knowledge of the earth to perish except that mighty compend, there would be little lost to learning. Upon my shelves is no trash, but little fiction and that of the first order, while the best class of English literature prevails. Law, Medicine, The

*Dr. Ingraham has been so long and favorably known to readers of Americana, and his researches and studies have been such important factors in its work, that we have felt that the friends he has made through the printed page would enjoy a visit with him in the place he calls his sanctuary. We have read his article with much pleasure as the experience of a man who, though his profession is not that of books, has made them a large part of his life.

ology and American History are represented, for in each of these four departments I have studied, being a practitioner of medicine, a lay preacher, a contributor of many historical papers, while legal affairs have become somewhat familiar to me though having served many years as a Notary Public. It is to this, my study, that I retreat when burdened with a sense of the dullness and rudeness so frequently met along the paths of our common life, and here I invariably enjoy a ready welcome, and in communion with the noble and sympathetic souls which are present night and day to greet me, I forget the bitterness of haunting, disquieting memories and live in unity with the imortal bards, philosophers and saints of all time.

My books have been gradually accumulated through obtaining and preserving every volume which appealed to me; some of them have come as gifts; others have been appropriated from persons and places where they were not valued, and considered as mere rubbish, were likely to be thrown away or destroyed. Many have been bought at second-hand book stores, and in this way I have become possessed of rare and interesting volumes, out-of-print books to be obtained from no other source. My books generally, perhaps, would not appeal to the most of readers, on account of their thoughtful, conservative character, and of this I am assured from the fact that concerning some of them, obtained second hand, I have found by the fresh and sometimes uncut pages that they have not been perused, though their bindings may be shelf-worn and indicate much handling.

The slow and attentive reading of many books has made me critical of printed matter and I long ago found that works which had been highly recommended failed to come up to the standard of what I had expected; and I must admit that outside of the Bible, which I consider as literature alone the greatest the world has to offer, there are few if any books, from my viewpoint, which can be claimed as extraordinary. I have many times been disappointed in my reading of highly lauded works. On the other hand, I have found under unheralded names what seemed to me the highest excellences of literature, and yet with the authors remaining little known to the world. In connection with my devotion to books I would say that I sometimes have the thought presenting itself to me that while I was not a great success in the recitation room, disliking heartily to attend the regular sessions at school, that in later

years I have found that many or most of those who liked study and excelled in examinations, in after life seemed to have no real fondness for books, while I have made them my chief concern and have continued a student always.

To go over the catalogue of my library, even cursorily, would prove uninteresting, but I would like to take the reader around the room with me and to pause with a few of the works which I consider specially worthy of mention as being rare, or old, or as having been particularly interesting or helpful to me.

Caxtoniana, (1864) by Bulwer Lytton, is a little-known but highly valuable volume of essays. It contains a multitude of entertaining and suggestive ideas, as is shown by the profusion of my markings. I have a confirmed habit of thus indicating all striking parts of the books I read, which, though somewhat disfiguring a work, renders it easy thereafter to quickly obtain the essentials of it.

The institution of slavery, as it once existed in the United States, will ever remain a subject of interest, and a classic contribution of its literature is The Seaboard Slave States, (1856) by Frederick Law Olmsted. Referring to this work, Mr. George Haven Putnam says:

"This book gave an account of a trip taken on horseback by an intelligent Yankee farmer from Virginia along the coast to Jacksonville. Olmsted's descriptions of the condition of the South just before the war have often been compared to those given by Arthur Young in his Travels in France, written a year or two before the outbreak of the Revolution of 1783." Olmsted pursued his journey to New Orleans, continuing the enlightening and practical observations which appear in the book.

In connection with this subject I would mention the book, Solomon Northup: Twelve Years a Slave, (1853) his own narrative, though edited by David Wilson. It is a most absorbing story of the kidnapping at Saratoga Springs of a colored man of this (Washington) county, northern New York, and of his subsequent sale as a slave, his fearful experiences and final rescue and liberation. The book appeared in the same year that Mrs. Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin was published, and though not having so large a sale, was yet widely read and proved an important factor in the achieving of emancipation.