“ The heat had been terrible for a long time, for there had been but little wind to hurry the fire on. Bessie and Mr. Riordan would emerge from under their blankets at intervals, and throw water over them again, not forgetting to treat the trembling and wild-eyed horse in the same way, as he stood to his knees in the brook. Sometimes burning cinders would fall upon him, and for a moment stick and burn; then he would give the fearful cry of agony and terror that once heard is not forgotten. "Yes," said Mrs. Riordan, "we are all saved but the cow; even Peter and the cat. ”
Summary
The Overland Monthly, an 19th-century periodical published in San Francisco, explores themes of westward expansion, cultural conflict, and the rugged landscapes of the American frontier. Its narratives, ranging from intimate domestic struggles—such as Bessie’s survival in a fire—to vivid portrayals of Indigenous encounters and the harsh realities of migration, reflect the tensions between civilization and wilderness.
The magazine’s diverse content, including historical reflections, travelogues, and critiques of social hierarchies, underscores its role as a lens for documenting the era’s transformative challenges and the evolving identity of the American West.
Quotes from The Overland Monthly ()
“ Peter, for such was his name, soon found a warm place in Bessie's affections, but she could never induce him to leave off a bad habit of swearing. He connected that manner of expression with Mason's presence alone, and evidently had an unforgiving heart under his brilliant feathers. Life and time slipped quickly by in the uneventful monotony of the little village, interested only in its own small affairs, and cut off from the whirl of the outside world. The next two years came and went by Humphrey Mason, with nothing consciously to mark them in his memory except the changes in the weather. ”
“ THE TERROR OF THE SMUGGLERS!THE KING OF REVENUE OFFICERS!ALONE HE VISITS THE CAMP OF THECHINAMEN AT PERIL OF HIS LIFE! I looked through the leaves, what did I see? A party of Indians! harmless Siwashes; nothing more; nothing less. Gnashing my teeth in rage, I sneaked back into the brush; hurried off down the road, and started in afresh to find a more formidable camp. As I rushed along, making great strides in the direction of the deer trail I had left earlier in the day, I heard footsteps approaching, and not wishing to be seen, I again crawled into the woods. ”
