In Tamal Land

IN TAMAL LAND

but a few days previously, was unloading and we were thus fortunate enough to see the evolution of the codfish from the time it leaves the hold of the ship until it is packed in neat boxes ready for shipment.
   There were four hundred tons, or one hundred and seventy thousand fish on the vessel. When one thinks that each fish is caught by hook and line, the amount of work represented seems enormous, but this is a mere bagatelle compared to the process following.
   On leaving the hold they are first thrown into vats of brine for rinsing, then loaded on small cars operated on a track and run into the building; from thence they are laid on immense racks in the sun to dry. If not for immediate shipment they are stored in huge vats of brine.
   In one large room there were many men at long tables, engaged in skinning and boning the fish, and the celerity and

UNLOADING CODFISH.

IN TAMAL LAND

skill with which this was accomplished ore marvelous to watch. The refuse, which formerly was discarded as being useless, is now utilized, the bones being made into fertilizer, while the skins are used for glue.
   There are seventy-five men employed in this establishment, and the order and cleanliness of the place testify to its able management.
   Owing to the inclemency of the weather during the winter months, a steam-drying apparatus was in the course of construction by which the fish can be dried with safety in the rainy season.
   Leaving Tiburon, a short ride on the California Northwestern Railway brought us to Greenbrae, a small station, uninteresting in itself and unimportant save as the place from which is reached that huge institution known as the state prison, San Quentin.

DRYING CODFISH.

IN TAMAL LAND

Situated on Point San Quentin, which extends into upper San Francisco Bay, with round guard towers perched on the hill overlooking it, and a twenty-foot wall enclosing its eight acres, the prison would seem impregnable and unpropitious for an outbreak.
The high somber buildings, which are of red brick, have been added to and remodeled at intervals without any given plan,

SAN QUENTIN.

and thus they form an irregular mass, interspersed with paved courts and narrow cells.
A large, square plot is devoted to grass and flowers and lends a cheering tone to the grim structures surrounding it. One of these, a tall edifice with a succession of iron doors opening on to small, long balconies, reached by narrow steps, is called the Tanks.
The average cell in this building is eight by twelve feet in dimensions. In each of these five men are stowed--one could not say accommodated for the narrow bunks placed in tiers, with a still narrower passageway between, vividly suggested the over-