on his way.  Personally, Mr. Gillis never met Bret Harte but he had seen Mark Twain on a number of Occasions.  I got the distinct impression that Stephen Gillis disliked the notoriety his brother had gained, through the fact that his name had become indissolubly linked with the “Truthful James” of Bret Harte’s verses.  Be that as it may, I later on met several men who had known “Jim” Gillis intimately and they all agreed that he possessed a keen sense of humor and had at command a practically inexhaustible stock of stories, upon which he drew at will.  Whether Bret Harte derived any inspiration from “Jim” Gillis may perhaps always remain in doubt; but that Mark Twain did, there cannot, I think, be any question.

In a recent life of Bret Harte, by Henry Childs Merwin, it is stated (page 21) that in 1858 Bret Harte acted as tutor in a private family at Alamo, in the San Ramon valley, which lies at the foot of Mount Diablo.  On, page 50, however, we read:  “In 1858 or thereabouts, Bret Harte was teaching school at Tuttletown, a few miles north of Sonora.”  It would seem that this statement is erroneous, apart from the fact that it conflicts with the prior date in reference to Alamo.

Mrs. Swerer, who has lived continuously at Tuttletown since 1850, coming there at the age of ten, told me she received her education at the Tuttletown public school, as did her children and her children’s children — she is now a great-grandmother!  She said most positively that she never saw Bret Harte in her life, but had frequently seen “Dan de Quille” and Mark Twain.  The latter, she said, made periodic visits to Tuttletown, and always stayed with “Jim” Gillis — called by Twain, the “Sage of Jackass Hill.”

Mrs. Gross, who keeps the Tuttletown Hotel and whose husband owned a store across the way, built of stone but now in ruins, was born in Tuttletown.  She asserted she never heard of Bret Harte being in Tuttletown and feels it to be impossible he ever taught school there.  At this ancient hostelry, built of wood and dating back to the early fifties, I dined in company with an old miner, who told me he came across “Jim” Gillis in Alaska.  He said:  “Gillis was a great josher.  For the life of me, I could never tell from his stories whether he had been to the Klondike or not.”

Chapter III

Tuolumne to Placerville.  Charm of Sonora and Fascination of San Andreas and Mokelumne Hill

Sonora is nine miles distant from Tuttletown, and I reached it in the early afternoon.  Perhaps of all the old mining towns, Sonora is the most fascinating, on account of the exceeding beauty of the surrounding country.  No matter from what direction you approach it, Sonora seems to lie basking in the sun, buried in a wealth of greenery, through which gleam white walls and roofs of houses.  Even its winding streets are so shaded by graceful old trees that buildings are half hidden.  The bustle and excitement of the mining days are passed forever, in all probability, for old Sonora; but in their place have come the peace and quiet that accompany the tillage of the soil; for Sonora is now the center of a prosperous agricultural district and the town maintains a steady and continuous growth.