*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 69412 ***

               [Illustration: WHERE THE GOLD COMES FROM.

                          F. MARRYAT DEL^{T}]





                            [Illustration:

                        MOUNTAINS AND MOLEHILLS
                          OR RECOLLECTIONS OF
                           A BURNT JOURNAL]

                           BY.FRANK.MARRYAT.

            AUTHOR OF “BORNEO AND THE EASTERN ARCHIPELAGO.”

                   WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR.

                                LONDON:
                 LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, AND LONGMANS.
                                 1855.


                                LONDON:
              BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.




PREFACE.


Nothing that I can say here will blind the reader to the deficiency of
these pages; they are in truth, as their title expresses, the
recollections of a “Journal burnt,” and I present here but an outline of
what I have seen or heard during three years of my life; and if I am
wanting in figures and statistics and anything of weight as regards the
country written of, it is certainly because I recalled this Journal
unexpectedly, and far from the scenes it once depicted.

I may have remembered too little, but that is preferable to remembering
too much.

I have tried to confine myself to what is most pleasant, and it may be
that a rambling truthful story is the best, if to make the work
elaborate one must have recourse to fiction.

It is right that a man should submit anything he does modestly, yet for
all that a preface need not be an apology; for I look on a tale written
as a tale told, with this advantage to the reader, that if the tale
written please him not, he can close the book and have done with it. I
am no button-holder, and would rather, sir, that you would desert me at
my second chapter, than that you should wade wearily through this
volume, and then, because we do not suit each other, say that I have
bored you.

In these days, when new discoveries of Nature’s gifts, and increased
facilities of communication with them invite man to roam, any record of
travel should possess some interest for the adventurous.

I have proved to myself, what these pages may not show, that a man with
health may plant himself in any country in the world, and by the
exercise of those reasonable faculties that are denied to few, may there
live well and happily.

It is nothing, perhaps, to state this for a fact, but I would have each
emigrant hug it to his breast as a warm hope that will uphold him in the
hours of adversity and trial that will meet him in the path he pioneers
for himself in a new country.

Reader, these pages are so much black and white, and will pass as nearly
all such matter does, rapidly to oblivion; but if they bring no smile to
you, nor help momentarily to efface a care, I would ask that they should
bring no frown, for they are written earnestly, and with a good
intention, even though from first to last they stand against me as
printed errors, to cause regret in later years.

FRANK MARRYAT.

_December 1st, 1854._

NOTE.--As my sketches were destroyed by fire, I have been unable to
illustrate the scenery of California, but in the accompanying drawings I
have endeavoured to be faithful to the characteristics of the people.




CONTENTS.


CHAPTER I.

                                                                    PAGE

Chagres River--Curiosity--Isthmus of Panama--Washington Hotel--Ants--A
Native of Virginia--Gold Train--Robbery--Panama Bells--An
Emigrant Ship--An Affecting Preacher--San Francisco                    1


CHAPTER II.

A Great Country--Improvement--Adventurers--Drinking-Saloons--The
Old Judge--Banks--Mine Speculators--Gambling Houses--“Don’t
Shoot”--Climate--High and Dry                                         21


CHAPTER III.

Benicia--Barnes--A Mad Bloodhound--His Death--Grasshoppers--Don
Raymond--A Blessed City--Wicked Mules--“Camping Out”--Napa--Fourth
of July--Agriculturists--Sonoma--Competition--An
Irascible Bull                                                        39


CHAPTER IV.

Spanish Grants--Squatters--Squatter Fights--A Spanish Ranche--Good
Quarters--Fleas--Vanity--Vaccaros--Quilp--English
Saddles--Antelope Hunt--Rattle-Snakes--Quilp Waltzes--Californian
Horses--Saddles--Horse-Breaking--A Tame Horse                         58


CHAPTER V.

Spanish Priests--Indians--Quilp forgets himself--Habits of Native
Californians--Father Bartoleméo--The Lasso--Good Riders--Cattle
Branding--Raymond provides Mules--Russian River--We
Encamp--Saw-mill--I propose to “Squat”                                78


CHAPTER VI.

The Little Valley--Three Martyrs--Mountain Life--The Poor Does--Castor-oil--A
Sick Dog--The Carpentaro--Grey Squirrel--Digger
Indians--Red-wood Tree--American Rifles--Grizzly Bear Hunt--Sheldon
Wounded--Difficulty in Killing the Bear--Habits of the
Bear--A Thief                                                         97


CHAPTER VII.

Deer Hunting--Wild Bulls--Wild Fowl--A Duck Gun--Driving an
Ox-Team--I Reflect--An Estampede--The Tiger Cat--Rainy
Season--Indian Fires--Wasps--We are Robbed by the Indians--I
kill a Bear--Crossing a Swollen River                                122


CHAPTER VIII.

Quilp departs for the South--San Luis--Ramsey--I am left for
Dead--The Early History of California--Discovery of San Francisco--Spanish
Missions--A Digression--Digression, continued--A
Rainy Season--A Little Crab                                          144


CHAPTER IX.

The Old Crab-Catcher--Mr. Warren--American Friendship--The
American Press--Education in America--Americans Good Colonists--Californian
Correspondence                                                       164


CHAPTER X.

Long Wharf--Clipper Ships--Chinese Emigrants--The May Fire--An
Exciting Scene--Iron Houses--Vallejo--The Coyote--Wild Geese         180


CHAPTER XI.

Coyote Hunting--My Dominions are Invaded--Thomas kills a _Bear_--A
Trial of Strength--Rowe’s “Lot”--Choctaw--Elk--A Butchery--Rough
Life--Fertility of the Soil                                          197


CHAPTER XII.

Another Fire--My Geological Friend--“Burnt Out”--Sacramento--Levee--
Hulks--Rats--Vigilance Committee--Start for Volcano--Crocket--“Right
Side Up”                                                             216


CHAPTER XIII.

An Old She-goat--Our Mineralogist--Gold Diggers--Murderer’s Bar--The
Theorist puzzled--Mining Laws--Jumping Claims--The
Miner’s Life--“Let her slide”--Hostile Indians--We are disgusted--Fire-proof
Houses                                                               231


CHAPTER XIV.

Joe Bellow--Stockton--A Bear Trapper--Bear and Bull Fights--An
Uneasy Bear--Californian Inns--Natural Roads--Good Driving--I
Kill a Flea--Sonora--The Evening commences--French Emigrants--A
Drinking Bar--Number Eighty--A Corral and a Moral                    248


CHAPTER XV.

The Gold Mine--The Innocence of Sonora--Sunday in Sonora--Selling
a Horse--Carrying Weapons--Bob--We leave Vallejo--We are
“Bound to go”--The Shadow of a Crow                                  269


CHAPTER XVI.

I explain to the Patient Reader--Pioneers--A Lady’s Boot--Mainspring--Mexican
Robbers--Victims of Prejudice--Works on
America--Two Pigs--Power of the Human Will                           286


CHAPTER XVII.

Yield of Gold--Its Duration--Mormon Gulch--The Distribution of
Gold--Tunnelling--Damming Rivers--Holden’s Garden--Energy
in the Mines--Quartz Mines--Quartz Mining successful--The
Author gets out of his Depth                                         304


CHAPTER XVIII.

Transport Machinery to the Mine--The Carpenter Judge, and Constable
Rowe--Cut-throat Jack--Greasers--French Miners--John
Chinaman--Chinese Ferocity--The Feast of Lanterns--Chinese
Despotism--False Sympathy                                            323


CHAPTER XIX.

The Firemen of San Francisco--“We strive to Save”--A Barber’s
Saloon--Oysters--Places of Amusement--A Pickled Head--Shooting
on Sight                                                             341


CHAPTER XX.

Rat-Catchers--Drays--Crested Partridge--A Marvellous Story--Sailors
in the Mines--A Verdict--The Quartz has the best of it--I
leave Tuttle-town                                                    356


CHAPTER XXI.

Advice to Emigrants--Gold Countries--Self-Doctoring--Advice continued--I
arrive at Stockton                                                   373


CHAPTER XXII.

Elections--Executions--Reforms--Exiles--“Know Nothings”--Testimonials--Speaking
Trumpets--Ocean Steamers--Life-Buoys--Air-Boats--Confidence
necessary--Fitting a Raft--A Suggestion                              387


CHAPTER XXIII.

“Hercules” fails--Land Crabs--Mr. Bobbins--Rushing the Ship--New
York                                                                 406


CHAPTER XXIV.

Yellow Fever--A Wooden Head--Hard Times--A Gale--We Spring
a Leak--Acapulco--Smuggling--Cholera--Conclusion                     417


APPENDIX                                                             433




ERRATUM.

Page 204, fifteenth line, _for_ “Athletes,” _read_ “Athletæ.”
[Corrected by ebook transcriber.]




LIST OF PLATES.

DRAWN ON STONE BY MESSRS. HANHART, FROM DESIGNS BY FRANK MARRYAT.


                                                                    PAGE

WHERE THE GOLD COMES FROM                                  _Frontispiece_

HIGH AND DRY                                                          37

CHAGRES RIVER                                                         92

WINTER OF 1849                                                       162

BAR ROOM AT SONORA                                                   224

HORSE AUCTION                                                        274

SAN FRANCISCO--A FIREMAN’S FUNERAL                                   344

CROSSING THE ISTHMUS                                                 406




LIST OF WOODCUTS.

DRAWN ON WOOD BY MR. L. C. MARTIN, FROM DESIGNS BY FRANK MARRYAT.


                                                                    PAGE

VACCARO AND INDIAN                                                    67

QUILP                                                                 74

CAMPING OUT                                                           95

THE THREE MARTYRS                                                    101

THE SHOOTING BOX                                                     103

ROWE’S LOT                                                           208

A PROSPECTER                                                         232

THE SONORA STAGE                                                     259

THE UMBRELLA                                                         282

OLD SOLDIER AND CHOCKTAW                                             283

THE LADY’S BOOT                                                      292

THE CARPENTER JUDGE                                                  328

FRENCH MINER                                                         330

JOHN CHINAMAN                                                        333

FEAST OF LANTERNS                                                    335

THE MINER’S GRAVE                                                    365

DRAWING STRAWS                                                       367

MR. BOBBINS                                                          411




[Illustration]

MOUNTAINS AND MOLEHILLS;

OR,

RECOLLECTIONS OF A BURNT JOURNAL.




CHAPTER I.

     CHAGRES RIVER--CURIOSITY--ISTHMUS OF PANAMA--WASHINGTON
     HOTEL--ANTS--A NATIVE OF VIRGINIA--GOLD TRAIN--ROBBERY--PANAMA
     BELLS--AN EMIGRANT SHIP--AN AFFECTING PREACHER--SAN FRANCISCO.


_April, 1850._

At eight A.M., Chagres was reported in sight, and as we neared the land,
it presented an appearance far from inviting.

The American steamer, “Cherokee,” ran into the anchorage with us, and
immediately disgorged five hundred American citizens in red and blue
shirts.

I landed with as much expedition as possible, and commenced at once to
bargain for a canoe to take me up the river. This I at last effected at
an exorbitant price, and on the express condition that we should not
start until sunset. A few months back the native Indians of this place
considered themselves amply repaid with a few dollars for a week’s work,
but since the Californian emigration has lined their pockets with
American eagles, they have assumed American independence: and now the
civilised traveller, instead of kicking the naked aborigine into his
canoe, or out of it as his humour prompts, has to bargain with a
“padrone,” as he calls himself, dressed in a coloured muslin shirt and a
Panama hat, with a large cigar in his still larger mouth; and has not
only to pay him his price, but has to wait his leisure and convenience.

The town of Chagres deserves notice, inasmuch as it is the birthplace of
a malignant fever, that became excessively popular among the Californian
emigrants, many of whom have acknowledged the superiority of this malady
by giving up the ghost, a very few hours after landing. Most towns are
famous for some particular manufacture, and it is the fashion for
visitors to carry away a specimen of the handicraft; so it is with
Chagres. It is composed of about fifty huts, each of which raises its
head from the midst of its own private malaria, occasioned by the heaps
of filth and offal, which putrefying under the rays of a vertical sun,
choke up the very doorway.

On the thresholds of the doors, in the huts themselves,--fish,
bullock’s heads, hides, and carrion, are strewed all in a state of
decomposition; whilst in the rear is the jungle, and a lake of stagnant
water, with a delicate bordering of greasy blue mud. As I had with me my
man Barnes and three large blood-hounds, I hired a boat of extra size
capable of containing us all, together with the baggage, this being
preferable to making a swifter passage with two smaller canoes and
running the risk of separation. At about three we started, the
“Cherokees” in boats containing from ten to a dozen each. All was noise
and excitement,--cries for lost baggage, adieus, cheers, a parting
strain on a cornet-à-piston, a round dozen at least of different
tongues, each in its owner’s own peculiar fashion murdering Spanish, a
few discharges from rifles and revolvers, rendered the scene ludicrous,
and had the good effect of sending us on the first step of a toilsome
journey in a good humour. So up the river we went, and as Chagres
disappeared behind us, we rejoiced in a purer air. There is an absence
of variety in the scenery of the Chagres river, as throughout its whole
length the banks are lined to the water’s edge with vegetation. But the
rich bright green at all times charms the beholder, and the eye does not
become wearied with the thick masses of luxuriant foliage, for they are
ever blended in grace and harmony, now towering in the air in bold
relief against the sky, now drooping in graceful festoons from the bank,
kissing their own reflections in the stream beneath.

Every growing thing clings to and embraces its neighbour most lovingly;
here is a bunch of tangled parasites that bind a palm tree by a thousand
bands to a majestic teak, and having shown their power, as it were, the
parasites ascend the topmost branch of the teak, and devote the rest of
their existence to embellishing with rich festoons of their bright red
flowers, the pair they have thus united.

The teak, which is here a very bald tree, is much improved by the
addition of these parasites, which give him quite a juvenile appearance,
and form, in fact, a kind of wig, to hide the infirmities of age. Here
is a dead and well bleached sycamore tree, half thrown across the river,
but still holding to the bank by its sinewy roots; and at its extremity
is an ants’ nest, about the size of a beehive, and along the trunk and
branches green leaves are seen to move about at a prodigious rate, under
which ants are discovered on inspection.

Immediately under the ants’ nest are some glorious water-lilies, and
close to these, by way of contrast, floats an alligator who has been
dead some time, and hasn’t kept well, and on the top of him sit two
black cormorants, which having, evidently, over-eaten themselves, are
shot on the spot and die lazily. So we ascend the river; a-head, astern,
on every side are canoes; here, surmounting a pyramid of luggage, is a
party of western men in red shirts and jack boots, questioning everybody
with the curiosity peculiar to their race. Presently it is my turn.--

“Whar bound to, stranger?”

“California.”

“Come along! Whar d’ye head from?”

“England.”

“Come along! Whar did yer get them dogs?”

“No whar,” I had a mind to reply, but at this stage I relapsed into
dogged silence, well knowing that there are some lanes which have no
turning, and among these is a western man’s curiosity. The padrone of my
canoe, who steered the boat, had brought his wife with him, and she sat
with us in the stern sheets, laughing, chattering, and smoking a cigar.

I could find no heart to object to this increase of our live freight,
and indeed so far benefitted by her presence as to be able to practise
Spanish, and before we arrived at the anchorage I had relieved her of
the false impressions she laboured under, that my dogs were “tigers,”
and that some cherry brandy I produced was poison. At night, having
reached a small village on the river, out jumped the lady, who scrambled
up the bank followed by the boatmen, and I scrambled after them as fast
as I could, to ascertain the meaning of this sudden desertion; but quick
as I was, by the time I reached the huts that constituted the “pueblo,”
I found my padrone already seated as banker at a well-lighted monte
table, surrounded by an anxious crowd of boatmen, natives, and American
passengers, his pretty wife looking over his shoulder watching the game.

The short time he took to change his profession was very characteristic
of the gambling habits of these Central Americans.

I slept in the canoe, and at daylight the boatmen returned, having made
a night of it. The monte banker had been lucky, he informed me, and had
left his wife behind, to which I was ungallantly indifferent. Another
day on the river, and another night spent at a hut, and on the third
morning we arrived at Gorgona, from whence we had to take mules to
Panama.

The bargaining for mules at Gorgona was in every respect similar to the
canoe transaction at Chagres; and after passing a day in the sun, and
accomplishing in the evening what might, but for the vacillation of the
natives, have been done at once, we started for Panama in company with
the baggage, Barnes walking from choice with the dogs. With our mules in
a string we plunged at once into a narrow rocky path in the forest,
where palm trees and creepers shut the light out overhead;--splashing
through gurgling muddy streams, that concealed loose and treacherous
stones--stumbling over fallen trees that lay across our road--burying
ourselves to the mules’ girths in filthy swamps, where on either side
dead and putrid mules were lying--amidst lightning, thunder, and
incessant rain, we went at a foot pace on the road to Panama. The
thunder-storm changed the twilight of our covered path to darkness, and
one of my mules missing his footing on the red greasy clay, falls down
under his heavy load. When he gets up he has to be unpacked amidst the
curses of the muleteer, and packed again, and thus losing half an hour
in the pelting storm, file after file passes us, until, ready once more
to start, we find ourselves the last upon the road. At Gorgona a flaming
advertisement had informed us that half way on the road to Panama the
“Washington Hotel” would accommodate travellers with “forty beds.”
Anxious to secure a resting-place for my own party, I left the luggage
train under the charge of Barnes, and pressed forward on the bridle
road.

At nightfall I reached the “Washington Hotel,” a log hut perched on the
top of a partially cleared hill; an immense amount of fluttering calico
proclaimed that meals could be procured, but a glance at the interior
was sufficient to destroy all appetite. Round it, and stretching for
yards, there were mules, drivers, and passengers, clustered and
clamorous as bees without a hive. To my surprise the crowd consisted for
the most part of homeward bound Californians--emigrants from the land of
promise, who had two days before arrived at Panama in a steamer. Some
were returning rich in gold dust and scales, but the greater part were
far poorer than when first they started to realise their golden dreams.

And these latter were as drunken and as reckless a set of villains as
one could see anywhere. Stamped with vice and intemperance, without
baggage or money, they were fit for robbery and murder to any extent;
many of them I doubt not were used to it, and had found it convenient to
leave a country where Judge Lynch strings up such fellows rather quicker
than they like sometimes. They foretold with a savage joy the miseries
and disappointment that awaited all who landed there, forgetting that
there travelled on the same road with them those who had in a very
short space of time secured to themselves a competency by the exercise
of industry, patience, and temperance. The Yankee owner of the
Washington was “realising some,” judging from the prices he charged, and
that every eatable had been consumed long before my arrival. The “forty
beds” respecting which we had met so many advertisements on the road,
consisted of frames of wood five feet long, over which were simply
stretched pieces of much soiled canvas--they were in three tiers, and
altogether occupied about the same space as would two fourposters--they
were all occupied.

Wet with the thunderstorm, I took up my station on a dead tree near the
door, and as night closed in and the moon rose, awaited the arrival of
my man and dogs with impatience. Hours passed, and I felt convinced at
last that fatigue had compelled Barnes to pass the night at a rancheria
I had seen a few miles back. Rising to stretch my limbs, I became
instantly aware of a succession of sharp stings in every part of my
body; these became aggravated as I stamped and shook myself. In sitting
on the dead tree I had invaded the territory of a nest of ants of
enormous size--larger than earwigs; they bit hard, and had sufficiently
punished my intrusion before I managed to get rid of them. During the
night file upon file of mules arrived from Panama. These were unloaded
and turned adrift to seek their supper where they could; and travellers,
muleteers, and luggage were spread in every direction round a large fire
that had been lit in the early part of the evening. Deserting my
inhospitable tree, I found myself comfortable enough among a heap of
pack saddles, buried in which I slept till morning. With the first
streak of day everything was moving, luggage was replaced on kicking
mules; the sallow, wayworn, unwashed tenants of the “Washington,” with
what baggage they had on their backs, started for Gorgona on foot. The
morning oath came out fresh and racy from the lips of these disappointed
gentlemen; nor could the bright and glorious sun reflect any beauty from
their sunken bloodshot eyes; when they disappeared in the winding road
leading to Gorgona, it was quite a comfort to me to reflect that we were
not about to honour the same country with our presence. In less than an
hour I found myself alone at the half-way house; the crowd had dispersed
on either road, but as yet my baggage had not arrived. When it did come
up at last we were all very hungry, but as there was nothing left
eatable at the “Washington,” we started for Panama without breaking our
fast.

Through a tortuous path, which had been burrowed through the forest, we
stumbled on at the rate of a mile and a half an hour; at times the space
between the rocks on either side is too narrow to allow the mules to
pass; in these instances all our efforts are directed to the mule that
is _jammed_; heaven knows how we get her clear--several shouts, some
kicking, a plunge or two, a crash, and, the mule being free, proceeds on
her path, whilst you stop to pick up the lid of your trunk, which has
been ground off against the rock, as also the few trifles that tumble
out from time to time in consequence. And shortly afterwards we meet
more travellers homeward bound, some on foot, with a stout buckthorn
stick and bundle, and others on mules, with shouldered rifles. Each one,
as I passed, asked me what state I was from, and if I came in the
“Cherokee” steamer. I had been questioned so much after this manner at
the “Washington” that I began to think that to belong to a state and to
arrive in the “Cherokee” would save me much trouble in answering
questions, for my reply in the negative invariably led to the direct
query of Where did I come from? So along the road I surrendered myself
invariably as a “Cherokee” passenger and a native of Virginia, and was
allowed to pass on in peace. At last the country becomes more open,
huts appear occasionally, and the worst part of the journey is well
over. Still the human tide flows on to Gorgona, for another California
steamer has arrived at Panama; and now we meet some California patients
carried in hammocks slung upon men’s shoulders, travelling painfully
towards a home that some of them will not live to see. Trains of unladen
mules are going down to meet the emigration, some with cargoes of
provisions for the Washington Hotel perhaps.

Pass on filth, squalor, and poverty, and make way as you should for
wealth, for here, with tinkling bells and gay caparisons, comes a train
of mules laden with gold--pure gold from Peru; as each mule bears his
massive bars uncovered, glittering beneath the cordage which secures
them to the saddle, you can touch the metal as they pass. Twenty of
these file by as we draw on one side, and after them, guarding so much
wealth, are half a dozen armed natives with rusty muskets slung lazily
on their backs; but behind them, on an ambling jennet, is a well “got
up” Don, with muslin shirt and polished jack-boots, richly-mounted
pistols in his holsters, and massive silver spurs on his heels, smoking
his cigarette with as much pomposity as if the gold belonged to him, and
he had plenty more at home. This gentleman, however, is in reality a
clerk in an English house at Panama, and when he returns to that city,
after shipping the gold on board the English steamer, and getting a
receipt, he will change this picturesque costume for a plaid
shooting-coat and continuations, and be a Don no longer. As the gold
train passed, I thought, in contrast to its insecurity, of the villains
I had parted from in the morning, all of whom were armed. Then followed
a train much larger than the first, and just as little guarded, carrying
silver. For years these specie trains have travelled in this unguarded
state unmolested, _not_ from the _primitive honesty_ of the natives, for
a greater set of villains never existed, but from the simple difficulty
of turning a BAR of gold to any account when once it has been taken into
the jungle. Since the time of which I am writing many attempts have been
made to rob the gold trains, but, when pursuit has been active, the bars
have invariably been discovered in the jungle a short distance from the
scene of the robbery.

The country became more open as we approached Panama, and when the town
appeared in the distance, we had no shelter from the sun, and the dogs,
panting and footsore, dragged on very slowly. Here I found a man by the
roadside attacked with fever, shivering with ague, and helpless. He was
going to Gorgona, but as he had no mule, he wished to return to Panama.
I hoisted him on to mine, and we proceeded; he was very ill, wandered in
his speech, and shook like a leaf; and before we got into Panama, he
died from exhaustion. As I did not know what to do with him, I planted
him by the road-side, and on my arrival at the town, I informed the
authorities, and I presume they buried him. Weary and sunburnt, we
arrived at the gates of the town, outside of which we found a large
American encampment, in the midst of which we pitched our tent. Every
bed in the town had long before been pre-engaged, and these cribs, after
the fashion of the “Washington,” were packed from fifty to a hundred in
a room. We slept comfortably that night under one of Edgington’s tents,
the baggage inside, and the dogs picquetted round us.

Since Panama has become the half-way resting-place of Californian
emigration, the old ruin has assumed quite a lively aspect. Never were
modern improvements so suddenly and so effectually applied to a
dilapidated relic of former grandeur as here. The streets present a
vista of enormous sign-boards, and American flags droop from every
house.

The main street is composed almost entirely of hotels, eating-houses,
and “hells.” The old ruined houses have been patched up with whitewash
and paint, and nothing remains unaltered but the cathedral. This
building is in what I believe is called the “early Spanish style,” which
in the Colonies is more remarkable for the tenacity with which mud
bricks hold together, than for any architectural advantages. The
principal features in connection with these ancient churches are the
brass bells they contain, many of which are of handsome design; and
these bells are forced on the notice of the visitor to Panama, inasmuch
as being now all cracked, they emit a sound like that of a concert of
tin-pots and saucepans. At the corner of every street is a little
turretted tower, from the top of which a small boy commences at sunrise
to batter one of these discordant instruments, whilst from the belfries
of the cathedral there issues a peal, to which, comparatively speaking,
the din of a boiler manufactory is a treat. If those bells fail to bring
the people to church, at all events they allow them no peace out of it.
The streets are crowded day and night, for there are several thousand
emigrants, waiting a passage to California. Most of these people are of
the lower class, and are not prepossessing under their present aspect;
and many of them, having exhausted their means in the expenses of their
detention, are leading a precarious life, which neither improves their
manners or their personal appearance. Long gaunt fellows, armed to the
teeth, line the streets on either side, or lounge about the drinking
bars and gambling saloons; and among these there is quarrelling and
stabbing, and probably murder, before the night is out. The more
peaceably disposed are encamped outside the town, and avoid these
ruffians as they would the plague; but the end of this, to the
evil-disposed, is _delirium tremens_, fever, and a dog’s burial. With a
good tent and canteen, an abundant market close at hand, and plenty of
books, the time passed pleasantly enough, until I had arranged for my
conveyance to California, which I shortly succeeded in doing, in a small
English barque.

It is nothing new to say that the Central Americans are an inert race,
and that the inhabitants of New Grenada, of Spanish blood, seem to
assimilate in habits with the famous military garrison of Port Mahon,
the members of which were too lazy to eat;--for these people are too
indolent to make money when it can be done with great rapidity and very
little trouble, consequently, the advantages of the Californian
emigration are entirely reaped by foreigners. Not a _permanent_
improvement has been added to the town, and if this route was abandoned
altogether, the _city_ would be little the richer for the millions of
dollars that have been left there during the last few years. The sole
exception, almost, is that of a native firm, which has amassed much
wealth by contracting for mules for transportation. The projected
railroad will be undoubtedly carried out, and will give a vast
importance to the isthmus: but it is built with American money and for
American purposes. The new town of Aspinwall, in Navy Bay, is American;
it is in its infancy at present, and likely always to remain rather
“thin,” for the reason that the marshes that surround it render it
unhealthy. I cannot see what the New Grenadians are to gain by all this
exercise of energy and capital; some day or other, perhaps, the brass
guns on the ramparts of Panama may be remounted, and the breaches in the
walls will be repaired, but by the time these events occur, I think the
flag that will float from the citadel will not be that of New Grenada.

       *       *       *       *       *

I must confess I felt great delight when we made the mountains at the
entrance of San Francisco Bay; I had been cooped up for forty-five days
on board a small barque, in company with one hundred and seventy-five
passengers, of whom one hundred and sixty were noisy, quarrelsome,
discontented, and dirty in the extreme. I had secured, in company with
two or three gentlemen, the after-cabin, and so far I was fortunate. We
had also bargained for the poop as a promenade, but those fellows would
not go off it; so there would some of them sit all day, spitting tobacco
juice, and picking their teeth with their knives. Occasionally they
became mutinous, and complained of the provisions, or insisted upon
having more water to drink; but the captain knew his men, and on these
occasions would hoist out of the hold a small cask of sugar, and
knocking off the head, place it in the middle of the deck, and
immediately the mutinous symptoms would subside, and the jack-knives
would cease to pick teeth, and diving into the sugar cask would convey
the sweetness thereof to their owners’ mouths!

Quarrels were of daily occurrence; there was a great deal of
knife-drawing and threatening, but no _bloodshed_, and this was probably
attributable to the fact that there was no spirit on board.

It requires a dram or two even for these ferocious gentry to conquer
their natural repugnance to a contest with cold steel; and I may remark
here that on first finding himself amongst a swaggering set of bullies
armed to the teeth, the traveller is apt to imagine that he is
surrounded by those who acknowledge no law, have no fear of personal
danger, and who will resent all interference; but a closer acquaintance
dispels this illusion, and the observing voyager soon finds that he can
resent a man’s treading on his toes none the less that the aggressor
carries a jack-knife and revolver. One Sunday during our voyage we were
addressed spiritually by a minister who dissented from every known
doctrine, and whose discourses were of that nature that rob sacred
subjects of their gravity.

He shed tears on these occasions with remarkable facility; but under
ordinary circumstances, I should imagine him not to have been sensitive
in this respect, as I overheard him during the voyage threaten to “rip
up the ship’s cook’s guts,” and he carried a knife with him in every way
adapted for the contemplated operation. Under all circumstances I was
very glad when the land about San Francisco Bay appeared in sight. The
morning was lovely; and it needs, by the way, a little sunshine to give
a cheerful look to the rugged cliffs and round gravelly grassless hills
that extend on either side of the bay;--in foggy weather their
appearance is quite disheartening to the stranger, and causes him to
sail up to the anchorage with misgivings in general respecting the
country. Quarrels were now forgotten, and each heart beat high with
expectation, for now was in sight that for which many had left wives and
children, farms and homesteads, in hopes of course of something better
in a land so favoured as undoubtedly was this before us. But hope as we
will our best, fear and doubt will creep in; and who knows what blanches
the cheek of yonder man! Is it the exhilaration consequent on reaching a
goal where certain reward awaits him? or is it a lurking fear that all
may _prove illusion_?

It is a more intense feeling, perhaps, than that of the man who sees
before him the card which carries on its downward side his ruin or his
fortune; for the gambler cannot if he would find any stake against which
to risk the happiness of wife and children, the affections of a
well-loved home, and the _chance_ of misery and speedy death in an
unknown land. Such the emigrant knows to have been the lot of thousands
who have gone before him; but he has also heard of rich “pockets” and
“great strikes,” of fortunes made in a month--a week--a day: who shall
then say which of these emotions blanches his cheek, as we now fly
rapidly past the “Golden Gate” rocks that guard the harbour’s mouth?

As we open the bay, we observe dense masses of smoke rolling to leeward;
the town and shipping are almost undistinguishable, for we have arrived
at the moment of the great June Fire of 1850, and San Francisco is again
in ashes!




CHAPTER II.

     A GREAT COUNTRY--IMPROVEMENT--ADVENTURERS--DRINKING-SALOONS--THE
     OLD JUDGE--BANKS--MINE SPECULATORS--GAMBLING HOUSES--“DON’T
     SHOOT”--CLIMATE--HIGH AND DRY.


_June, 1850._

The fire was fast subsiding; and as the embers died away, and the heavy
smoke rolled off to leeward, the site of the conflagration was plainly
marked out to the spectator like a great black chart. There is nothing
particularly impressive in the scene, for although four hundred houses
have been destroyed, they were but of wood, or thin sheet iron, and the
“devouring element” has made a clean sweep of everything, except a few
brick chimneys and iron pots. Everybody seems in good humour, and there
is no reason why the stranger, who has lost nothing by the calamity,
should allow himself to be plunged into melancholy reflections! Planks
and lumber are already being carted in all directions, and so soon as
the embers cool, the work of rebuilding will commence.

I found it amusing next day to walk over the ground and observe the
effects of the intense heat on the articles which were strewed around.
Gun-barrels were twisted and knotted like snakes; there were tons of
nails welded together by the heat, standing in the shape of the kegs
which had contained them; small lakes of molten glass of all the colours
of the rainbow; tools of all descriptions, from which the wood-work had
disappeared, and pitch-pots filled with melted lead and glass. Here was
an iron house that had collapsed with the heat, and an iron fireproof
safe that had burst under the same influence; spoons, knives, forks, and
crockery were melted up together in heaps; crucibles even had cracked;
preserved meats had been unable to stand this second cooking, and had
exploded in every direction. The loss was very great by this fire, as
the houses destroyed had been for the most part filled with merchandise;
but there was little time wasted in lamentation, the energy of the
people showed itself at once in action, and in forty-eight hours after
the fire the whole district resounded to the din of busy workmen.

On the “lot” where I had observed the remains of gun-barrels and nails,
stands its late proprietor, Mr. Jones, who is giving directions to a
master carpenter, or “boss,” for the rebuilding of a new store, the
materials for which are already on the spot. The carpenter promises to
get everything “fixed right off,” and have the store ready in two days.
At this juncture passes Mr. Smith, also in company with a cargo of
building materials; he was the owner of the iron house; he says to Jones
interrogatively,--

“_Burnt_ out?”

JONES.--“Yes, and _burst up_.”

SMITH.--“Flat?”

JONES.--“Flat as a d--d pancake!”

SMITH.--“It’s a great country.”

JONES.--“It’s nothing shorter.”

And in a couple of days both Smith and Jones are on their legs again,
and with a little help from their friends live to grow rich perhaps, and
build brick buildings that withstand the flames.

This fire was attributed to incendiarism, but when the general
carelessness that existed is considered, it is quite as probable that it
resulted from accident. It is much to be regretted that these fires did
not sweep off the gambling houses; but these buildings were now
constructed of brick, and were tolerably well secured against all risk.
When the burnt portion of the city was again covered with buildings, I
had an opportunity of judging of the enormous strides the place had made
since two years back, when it was, by all accounts, a settlement of
tents. Three fires had checked its growth in this short space; but a
daring confidence had laughed as it were at these obstacles, and any one
who knew human nature might see, that so long as that spirit of energy
animated every breast, the city would increase in size and wealth, in
spite even of conflagrations so calamitous. For though many individually
are ruined by the flames, and are forced to retire from the field, yet
in a small community where all are armed with strong determination, the
vacant ranks are soon filled up again, and shoulder to shoulder all
march on in unity of purpose, and gain the victory at last, though at
ever so great a sacrifice. Twelve months back there was little else but
canvass tents here, and a small, shifting, restless, gambling,
population: who was it then, when all looked _uncertain in the future_,
that sent away so many thousand miles for steam excavators, and
tramways, and railway trucks? who were those, again, who sent from this
hamlet of shanties for all the material for large foundries of iron and
brass, for blocks of granite, bricks and mortar, for pile-drivers and
steam-boats? I don’t know,--but these things all arrived; and now, in
eighteen hundred and fifty, the sand-hills tumble down as if by magic,
and are carried to the water’s edge on a railroad where the
pile-drivers are at work, and confine them to the new position assigned
them on a water lot. The clang of foundries is heard on all sides, as
machinery is manufactured for the mines,--brick buildings are springing
up in the principal thoroughfares, steamers crowd the rivers, and
thousands of men are blasting out huge masses of rock to make space for
the rapid strides of this ambitious young city. The better portion of
the population of San Francisco in eighteen hundred and fifty, may be
said to have consisted of adventurers; these were of all nations, the
Americans being in the proportion of about one-third. Many people object
to the term adventurer, as one that has been generally associated with a
class who travel with scanty purses and easy consciences. But Johnson
defines an adventurer as “one who hazards a chance;” and when we
consider that the population here have to a man almost made sacrifices
elsewhere, in hopes of the speedier reward held out by the vicinity of
these vast gold-fields, the term is not misapplied. Neither is it one
that should ever carry opprobrium; while fresh countries remain to be
explored, and facilities of communication are daily increasing, I have
no objection to call myself an adventurer, and wish that I had been one
of those fortunate ones who conferred a vast benefit upon mankind (and
secured _moderate advantages for themselves_) by the discovery of the
gold-fields of California and Australia. The most successful merchants
of San Francisco were needy men, who by chance were on the spot when
first the gold was discovered. The colossal fortunes that a few of these
have reaped, sprung only from the chances that were open to all. Sam
Brannan is probably the wealthiest of these speculators, and he
commenced, they say, by levying a tax on the profits of a party of
Mormons whom he piloted to the diggings. When the Mormons declined to
pay the tax any longer, he called them a parcel of fools for having paid
it so long, and then speculated in building-lots and real estate in San
Francisco and other cities. The rapid rise in the value of this property
elevated Sam to the top round of the ladder of fortune, where he will
probably hold on as long as he can.

The stranger in San Francisco at this time is at once impressed with the
feverish state of excitement that pervades the whole population; there
is no attention paid to dress, and everyone is hurried and incoherent in
manner. Clubs, reading-rooms, and the society of women are unknown; and
from the harassing duties of the day’s business, there is nothing to
turn to for recreation but the drinking-saloons and gambling-houses,
and here nightly all the population meet. Where the commerce engaged in
fluctuates with every hour, and profit and loss are not matters of
calculation, but chance--where all have hung their fortunes on a die,
and few are of that class who bring strong principles to bear upon
conduct that society does not condemn--the gambling-tables are well
supported, and the merchant and his clerk, and perhaps his cook, jostle
in the crowd together, and stake their ounces at the same table.

Drinking is carried on to an incredible extent here; not that there is
much drunkenness, but a vast quantity of liquor is daily consumed.

From the time the habitual drinker in San Francisco takes his morning
gin-cocktail to stimulate an appetite for breakfast, he supplies himself
at intervals throughout the day with an indefinite number of racy little
spirituous compounds that have the effect of keeping him always more or
less primed. And where saloons line the streets, and you cannot meet a
friend, or make a new acquaintance, or strike a bargain, without an
invitation to drink, which amounts to a command; and when the days are
hot, and you see men issuing from the saloons licking their lips after
their iced mint juleps; and where Brown, who has a party with him, meets
you as he enters the saloon, and says, “Join us!” and where it is the
fashion to accept such invitations, and rude to refuse them;--what can a
thirsty man do? The better description of drinking-bars are fitted up
with great taste, and at enormous expense. Order and quiet are preserved
within them during the day; they are generally supplied with periodicals
and newspapers, and business assignations are made and held in them at
all hours. Everybody in the place is generous and lavish of money; and
perhaps one reason for so many drinks being consumed is in the fact that
there is ever some liberal soul who is not content until he has ranged
some twenty of his acquaintances at the bar, and when each one is
supplied with a “drink,” he says, “My respects gentlemen!” and the
twenty heads being simultaneously thrown back, down go “straight
brandies,” “Queen-Charlottes,” “stone-fences,” “Champagne-cocktails,”
and “sulky sangarees,” whilst the liberal entertainer discharges the
score, and each one hurries off to his business. There is no one in such
a hurry as a Californian, but he has always time to take a drink. There
is generally a sprinkling of idlers hanging about these saloons, waiting
for any chance that may turn up to their benefit, and particularly that
of being included in the general invitation of “drinks for the crowd,”
which is from time to time extended by some elated gentleman during the
day. These hangers-on are called “loafers.” There is a story told of an
old judge in the southern part of the country, who was an habitual
frequenter of the bar-room, and who with his rich mellow voice would
exclaim, “Come, let’s all take a drink!” Gladly the loafers would
surround the bar, and each would call for his favourite beverage; but
when all was finished, the judge would observe, “_And now let’s all pay
for it!_” which the loafers would sorrowfully do, and then retire wiser
men.

       *       *       *       *       *

Perhaps in no other community so limited could one find so many
well-informed and clever men--men of all nations, who have added the
advantages of travelling to natural abilities and a liberal education.
Most of these are young, and are among the most reckless, perhaps, just
now; but by-and-by, when this fever of dissipation has given way to
better impulses, these men will gladly abjure a life which has been
entailed more upon them by circumstance than choice, and will be the
first to help to elevate society to a standard adapted to their real
qualities--and tastes.

The banks of San Francisco are naturally important, as being the
depositories of the wealth that thousands are hourly accumulating on the
rich “placer” fields. These buildings are of brick, and have fire-proof
cellars; and although at the time they were erected the outlay was
enormous, both for material and labour, it was a mere trifle in
comparison with the profits of their owners. The banks line one side of
Montgomery Street, the principal thoroughfare of the city; and as the
space on all sides has been entirely cleared for some distance by the
fire, this row of buildings stands alone just now and solitary, like the
speculative “Terrace” with “extensive marine view” that fronts an
unpopular watering-place in England. At the corner of a street is
Burgoyne’s Bank; you enter and find it very crowded and full of
tobacco-smoke; instead of the chinking of money, you hear a succession
of thumps on the counter, as the large leathern bags of gold-dust come
down on it. Some of the clerks are weighing dust, some are extracting
the black sand with a magnet, and others are packing it in bags and
boxes. The depositors are, generally speaking, miners who have come down
from the diggings, fellows with long beards and jack-boots, and of an
unwashed appearance for the most part. However, many of these are not by
any means what they seem; they have just arrived, perhaps, from a
toilsome dusty journey, and deposit their gold as a first precaution;
and before the evening they will have been metamorphosed into very
respectable-looking members of society, and will remain so until they
return again to the diggings. Large blocks of quartz lie about the room,
in all of which are rich veins of gold. These have been sent down from
the mountains to be assayed; and the rich yield that these solitary
specimens afforded led some time afterwards to a great deal of very
ruinous speculation, for it had been represented that these specimens
were average samples of great veins, and it was only when money had been
expended in large sums that it was discovered that these rich morsels
were merely accidental deposits of gold, and by no means indicated the
value of the veins. A few rich lumps were brought to England, and, by a
little judicious handling and a few public dinners, were turned to good
account; and nothing but the bungling stupidity of some of those who
were sent here to _pull the wires_ prevented the consummation of some of
the greatest swindles that ever were imposed upon the English public. I
feel sore upon this point, for the dishonesty thus practised produced an
ill feeling against the country which was undeserved, and the stigma of
fraud and dishonesty was unjustly cast upon the whole population.

There are no public lamps in the town at this time, so that the greater
part of it is admirably adapted for that portion of the population who
gain their livelihood by robbery, and _murder_ in those cases where
people object to being robbed. But Commercial Street, which is composed
entirely of saloons, is a blaze of light, and resounds with music from
one end to the other. No expense is spared to attract custom, the
bar-keepers are “artists” in their profession; rich soft velvet sofas
and rocking-chairs invite the lounger; but popular feeling runs
strongest in favour of the saloon that contains a pretty woman to attend
the bar. Women are rarities here; and the population flock in crowds and
receive drinks from the fair hands of the female dispenser, whilst the
fortunate proprietor of the saloon realises a fortune in a week--and
only has that time to do it in, for at the end of that period the
charmer is married! A French ship arrived during my stay, and brought as
passengers a large number of very respectable girls, most of whom were
tolerably well looking; they were soon caught up by the saloon
proprietors as waiting-women at salaries of about 50_l._ each per month,
and after this influx the public became gradually inured to female
attendance, and looked upon it as a matter of no moment.

Near the centre of the town is a square, which, in common with many
other things in the country, retains its Spanish appellation, and is
called the “Plaza;” two sides of this are occupied by brick buildings,
devoted solely to gambling. We have the “Verandah,” “Eldorado,” “Parker
House,” “Empire,” “Rendez-vous,” and “Bella Union,” in one row. Most of
these establishments belong to companies, for the amount of capital
required is very large. One or two of the houses are under French
superintendence; companies having been formed in Paris, who openly
avowed their object in the prospectus they issued. On entering one of
these saloons the eye is dazzled almost by the brilliancy of chandeliers
and mirrors. The roof, rich with gilt-work, is supported by pillars of
glass; and the walls are hung with French paintings of great merit, but
of which female nudity forms alone the subject. The crowd of Mexicans,
Miners, Niggers, and Irish bricklayers, through which with difficulty
you force a way, look dirtier (although there is no need of this) from
contrast with the brilliant decorations. Green tables are scattered over
the room, at each of which sit two “monte” dealers surrounded by a
betting crowd. The centres of the tables are covered with gold ounces
and rich specimens from the diggings, and these heaps accumulate very
rapidly in the course of the evening, for “monte,” as played by these
dexterous dealers, leaves little chance for the staker to win. The thin
Spanish cards alone are used, and although the dealer is intently
watched by a hundred eyes, whose owners, in revenge for having lost,
would gladly detect a cheat, and fall upon him and tear him to pieces,
yet are these eyes no match for his dexterous fingers, and the savage
scrutiny with which he is assailed as his partner rakes in the stakes
produces no emotion on his pale unimpassioned face. The duty of a
“monte” dealer is one of great difficulty; although surrounded by a
clamorous crowd, and the clang of music, his head is occupied by
intricate calculations, his eyes are watchfully (though apparently
carelessly) scanning the faces that surround his table, yet they appear
to be rivetted to his cards; he has, in the presence of vigilant
observers, to execute feats, the detection of which would cost him his
life;--nightly almost he draws his revolver in self-defence;--and
through all this he must never change a muscle of his face, and must be
ready at all times to exercise a determined courage in resenting the
mere suspicion of dishonesty on his part, if such is expressed
incautiously by those about him.

There is no limit to the introductions one is subjected to in a
Californian crowd;--if the “monte” dealer rises from his chair, you
will probably be introduced to him, and I had the honour of shaking
hands with a murderer quite fresh from his work, who had been acquitted
a day or two previously by bribing the judge, jury, and the witnesses
against him. I should have declined the honour had I learnt his
profession with his name, but custom insists on your shaking hands on
being introduced to a fellow-mortal; and to refuse to do so is tacitly
to deny one of the great principles of the model republic, which holds
that “one man is as good as another;” and, as I heard a democratic
Irishman observe, “_a d--d sight better_!”

Amidst all the din and turmoil of the crowd, and the noisy music that
issues from every corner, two or three reports of a pistol will
occasionally startle the stranger, particularly if they should happen to
be in his immediate vicinity, and a bullet should (as is not uncommon)
whistle past his head and crack the mirror on the other side of him.
There is a general row for a few moments, spectators secure themselves
behind pillars and under the bar; there is a general exclamation of
“don’t shoot,” which means of course “don’t shoot till we get out of the
way;” but after the first discharges the excitement settles down, and
the suspended games are resumed. A wounded man is carried out, but
whether it is a “monte” dealer who has shot a player, or one gentleman
who has drawn on another gentleman, in the heat of altercation, one does
not learn that night, but it will appear in the morning paper; if the
former it will be headed “_Murderous affray_,” if the latter,
“Unfortunate _difficulty_.” There are different names for the same
thing, even in a democratic colony! The climate of California is very
healthy;--there is a tendency in it to intermittent fever and ague in
some parts of the mountains; but in the mines, sickness has generally
resulted from imprudent exposure, and the drinking of the worst possible
description of ardent spirits. On the sea coast and at San Francisco,
the weather is very changeable during the summer months. When the sun
rises and clears away the fog that hangs over the Bay, the air is as
pure and transparent as that of Naples; by noon the glass is at 90°, and
then the sea breeze sets in, and would be welcome, but that it does not
fan one gently like other sea breezes, but bursts on you with the force
of a hurricane, blows off a bit of the roof of your house, and sends the
fine dust in whirling clouds along the street, in such a way that the
people would profit by lying down flat on their stomachs, as they do in
a regular Simoom! As the sun goes down the “doctor” subsides, after
having done a great deal of good in

[Illustration: HIGH AND DRY.]

airing the town, which as yet is unprovided with sewers. Then there
creeps in steadily a heavy, fat fog, which takes up its quarters in the
Bay every night, and disappears as before mentioned when the sun
rises--under whose influence it does’nt melt like other fogs, but goes
out to sea, and watches the town gloomily, until it is time to come in
again.

These varieties of temperature during some months are methodically
regular, but are not productive of sickness of any kind. The front of
the city is extending rapidly into the sea, as water-lots are filled up
with the sand-hills which the steam excavators remove. This has left
many of the old ships, that a year ago were beached as storehouses, in a
curious position; for the filled-up space that surrounds them has been
built on for some distance, and new streets run between them and the
sea, so that a stranger puzzles himself for some time to ascertain how
the “Apollo” and “Niantic” became perched in the middle of a street, for
although he has heard of ships being thrown up “high and dry,” he has
probably sufficient nautical experience to observe that the degree of
“height” and “dryness” enjoyed by the “Apollo” and “Niantic” resulted
from some other cause than the “fury of the gale.” Leaving San Francisco
for the present to return to it again by-and-by and watch its growth
and improvement, I got all ready for a start for Benicia, a little town
on the Bay, from whence I intended to travel leisurely to Russian River.
I had chosen this district as it abounded in game; and was in quite an
opposite direction to the diggings--a visit to which I postponed until
the ensuing summer, my object for the present being to encamp myself in
some snug place in the mountains, and there live upon my gun, in all the
enjoyment of a free life and the pleasures of the chase.




CHAPTER III.

     BENICIA--BARNES--A MAD BLOODHOUND--HIS DEATH--GRASSHOPPERS--DON
     RAYMOND--A BLESSED CITY--WICKED MULES--“CAMPING OUT”--NAPA--FOURTH
     OF JULY--AGRICULTURISTS--SONOMA--COMPETITION--AN IRASCIBLE BULL.


_July, 1850._

Great labour and capital have been expended on the wharves of San
Francisco; there is little space left between these, and ships ride at
their sides, and discharge their cargoes with as much rapidity and
comfort as if they were in dock. The central wharf is nearly a mile in
length, and from the end of this the river steamboats take their
departure every day at four o’clock. At these times the wharf is always
densely crowded, and it has always seemed strange to me that this
every-day occurrence attracts a crowd without fail, although directly
the boats are off, every man runs back to the city as if he had
forgotten something. Perhaps they come down on the chance of an
explosion, in which they are occasionally gratified; whether or no,
there must be some great attraction, for these curious people have to
walk a mile to get there, and run a mile to get back! The “Senator” was
our boat, and with one leg on board of her and the other buried in this
observing crowd, I had to work briskly to get my provender on
board--sacks of potatoes and flour, dogs, rifles, shovels, and pickaxes,
were handed in with astonishing celerity, considering that I was not
born a porter, and as the ship’s bell ceased tolling we cast off from
the wharf and threading the shipping at full speed, were soon steaming
up the Bay. The “Senator” is a fine boat, but no description of her is
requisite, as much finer have been described by travellers who have
sailed up the Mississippi River. She came round the Horn, and being the
first boat to arrive in the Bay, she realised most incredible sums of
money for her owners.

In two hours we arrived at Benicia, and the steamer ran alongside of an
old hulk connected by a gang-way with the shore. Through the unusual
degree of Yankee nautical smartness shown on this occasion, I lost some
bags of potatoes, for the boat had scarcely touched the hulk, than we
were driven out of it carrying all we could, and the word was given to
“go a-head” again, the gang-board was hauled in, our potatoes were still
on board, there was no time for expostulation, and away steamed the
“Senator,” whilst we gazed dreamily at her receding hull, wrapt in
admiration at the general smartness that evidently surrounded us.
Benicia is a city in embryo, there is ample room for building, for in
every direction extend undulating hills, covered with wild oats, but
unobstructed by timber, of which none can be found within many miles.
But the natural advantages of this spot have not been embraced by the
public, for one reason, that the opposite town of Martinez is more
fortunately planted among groves of trees, and for another, that no one
requires a town in this particular part of the world. So Benicia is a
failure just now; and instead of raising an imposing front, in evidence
of man’s progress, it hides its diminished little head, among the few
huts that stand in commemoration of its failure. I pitched my tent at a
short distance from the beach, and as I afterwards discovered on
reference to the “plan of Benicia,” on the exact spot that had been
selected as the site of the “Public Botanical Gardens” of that
flourishing city. Our party consisted of three men and three dogs.
Besides Barnes, I had with me Mr. Alexander Thomas, the son of an old
friend of my father, who had come out to join the staff of a colossal
mercantile house, but the house had unfortunately exploded, staff and
all, before his arrival in the country.

Barnes had been a desperate poacher, but for years past had
distinguished himself equally as a keeper on my father’s estate. He was
a good-natured, willing fellow, possessed of enormous physical strength,
and could throw a stone with such force and precision, that he had been
equally avoided by the keepers when he was a poacher, and by the
poachers when he deserted their ranks, which he did as many others
would, the moment the chance was offered him of making his bread
honestly. My dogs consisted of two blood-hounds of the breed of Mr.
Hammond of Norfolk--Prince and Birkham--the latter was of great beauty,
but of very uncertain temper. A large half-bred Scotch slot-hound,
called Cromer, completed the list--this latter had an unfailing nose and
great intelligence, and was a perfect retriever in or out of water. An
introductory note to an American gentleman who resided in one of the
wooden houses that straggled over the hills, ensured me much civility,
and enabled me to procure the mules I required for carrying the tent and
baggage. During the interval that elapsed we had time to try the range
of the rifles at a target, and get our “hands in” ready for the
mountains. A distressing incident occurred very shortly after arriving
at Benicia. We had been practising at a target, and were returning to
our camp with our rifles unloaded--the heat was intense--the dogs were
with us, and I was suddenly struck by the conduct of Birkham the
bloodhound. For some time he hung back in the rear as if afraid of us,
and as I advanced to caress him he retreated. There being evidently
something wrong, I conjectured that he was about to have an epileptic
fit, with one of which he had been attacked at San Francisco, but
suddenly he lifted up his massive head in the air, and delivered that
deep prolonged howl that only a bloodhound has at command, and which is
so distressing to hear; he then started at full speed away from us
towards the hills, howling and leaping in the air as if in pursuit of
something, and I had no doubt then that he was mad. Barnes and Thomas
now loaded their rifles to be prepared for his return, I had expended my
bullets in target firing. We had lost sight of him in the long wild oats
which here grow to a great height, and scarcely expected him back, at
least for some time; I was coupling Prince and Cromer together as a
precaution, when suddenly Barnes exclaimed “Here he is, sir,” and I had
just time to seize my rifle and swing it round, bringing the butt down
on his head, as he passed within a foot of me.

I never witnessed any sight so dreadful as this dog when he turned now
and deliberately attacked us, his whole appearance was changed, and the
saliva frothed in his mouth. He might have done much mischief, now that
he was in the humour for it, had he made a rapid dash at us; but as he
stopped short to give a howl, Barnes shot him in the shoulder, and
Thomas’s ball entered his head. It required two more shots to finish
him, and painful as it was to have to kill the poor beast, even in
self-defence, we could not but congratulate ourselves on having
experienced a fortunate escape. Birkham was a dog of enormous power, and
one grip of his jaw on a man’s throat would probably be quite sufficient
to cause death; he had shown symptoms of uncertain temper immediately
upon arriving in a warm latitude, and had twice bitten me in the arm
during the passage out. Barnes was a famous man for savage dogs, being
both severe yet temperate, but he always had his “doubts,” as he said,
respecting Birkham, whose great crime consisted in showing his teeth to
his master, a misdemeanour that required, and always received
punishment. This consisted of one blow with a short dog-whip, and only
one, but that was remembered, particularly by Birkham, who would lie
down and place his great head on the ground, wrinkle his forehead, and
sulk all day, refusing his dinner and taking no notice of anything that
passed around him. Such a dog is never safe, and had these qualities
been developed during the time he was in my possession in England, I
never should have brought him away from that country.

Immense quantities of grasshoppers are to be found in the vicinity of
Benicia at this season; as you walk through the wild oats and disturb
them, they hop up to an immense height, in every direction, and like
other insects they aim at your eyes, which they hit with unerring
certainty and great force, and as they are as hard as little pebbles,
they get the best of it altogether. The dogs are much puzzled with them,
and as they get knocked about the head, they give short snaps in the air
with their eyes shut.

I had great difficulty in procuring the mules I required for my journey,
and these I could only hire, as a report of the discovery of a “Gold
Lake” somewhere in the mining districts had taken deep root, and all the
Benicia mules had been called into requisition. A fine dashing-looking
Spaniard rode up to my tent one day in company with the gentleman who
had interested himself to get me mules;[1] he was introduced as Don
Raymond Carrillo, a native of California, and owner of a ranche, or
farm, at Santa Rosa Valley, about forty miles in the interior.

Many of the native Californians whose ancestors emigrated from Mexico,
have good Spanish blood in their veins, they are a robust and
well-favoured race, and probably in this respect have much improved the
original breed, which is all blood and bone. Don Raymond was a
striking-looking fellow, well built and muscular, with regular features,
half concealed by his long black hair and beard. The loose Spanish
dress, the heavy iron spurs, the lasso hanging from the saddle, and the
gaunt but fiery colt on which he was mounted, were all for work and
little for show; probably the whole turn-out, including the horse, was
not worth twenty dollars; but he was more picturesque in his mountain
costume, than the best Andalusian that ever got himself up in gold lace
and silver buttons for “bolero” or “bull-fight.” Don Raymond not only
offered to send mules to convey ourselves and baggage to Santa Rosa, but
most hospitably invited us to remain at his “ranche” until we could with
his assistance purchase the animals we required. Whilst we were at
Benicia the fourth of July, the anniversary of American Independence,
came round; had Benicia been the city it was intended to be, what an
opportunity would there not have been for the celebration of this day.
Looking at the plan now before me, I can imagine the _Botanical
Gardens_ thronged with holiday people, whilst the mayor and corporation
having reviewed the troops in front of the _City Hall_, are now
inspecting the _Infirmary for the Blind_, which (in the plan) occupies a
position to the extreme right; fireworks echo in the “plaza,” whilst the
theatre opens its doors to an eager crowd, and the town pump is
surrounded by little boys: but unfortunately Benicia is not far enough
advanced to enable us to realise this scene. “The gardens” produce as
yet but wild oats; the theatre is one unchanging scene of parched-up
desolation; the town pump _is_ not, and of the “plaza” no one knows the
limits, for some of the oldest inhabitants, in happy ignorance of the
fate of those who “remove their neighbour’s landmarks,” have pulled up
the surveyor’s pegs, and basely used them for firewood; but they say
that Benicia will do better by-and-by. The _plan_ is named after the
wife of General Vallejo, and signifies “Blessed,” and rather
appropriately, as under present circumstances the proprietors are
incorporated among those who are spoken of as being blessed if they
expect nothing. Shortly afterwards, there arrived from Don Raymond eight
mules, in charge of a young Californian “Vaccaro”[2] or cattle-driver;
the mules were accompanied by an old white mare with a bell hung on to
her neck. It is usual to accustom the mules to follow a leader of this
kind, and without the old lady leads the way they become very
intractable.

Don Raymond had stated frankly that he had no pack mules that had not
been turned out for a time with the wild horses, and those he had sent
us, though fine strong beasts, were undoubtedly very little tamer than
fresh-caught zebras. The first mule having been brought forward with
some difficulty, a cloth was tied round his eyes, and he remained
perfectly still whilst the loading was performed with great dexterity
and expedition by the “vaccaro” and one or two assistants. When all were
packed, the blinds were taken from the mules’ eyes, and without any
hesitation, and perfectly regardless of the white mare, who walked
quietly towards home, away they scampered through the long grass,
kicking and screaming; here goes a tin kettle, there a ham, now a bag of
flour falls out and bursts, and the place is strewed with the relics of
our commissariat stores. Two mules, followed by the “vaccaro,” have
disappeared behind the hills, where the sun is disappearing also. Number
three is motionless, for, not having succeeded in kicking the tent off
his back, he has lain down with it in a small pond; whilst number four,
having divested himself of every thing with which he was entrusted,
including the pack-saddle, is making his supper off wild oats, under the
full impression that he has performed his day’s work meritoriously and
deserves repose. We employed the daylight that remained in collecting
our traps; and as our “vaccaro” soon returned with the missing mules and
assistance, after a few more refractory attempts we got off shortly
after dark, and took the trail that led towards a village called Napa.

When about twelve miles from Benicia we halted to encamp for the night
at a clump of trees, the first we had seen since landing. We had “carte
blanche” to shoot a calf whenever our necessities required, from among
the droves of tame cattle with which the plains on our route were well
stocked. Our first object on halting was to avail ourselves of this
permission, and it being too dark to kill with the rifle, our “vaccaro”
brought in a calf with his lasso, as soon as the mules had been unpacked
and turned off to feed. We had no occasion for the tent, the night air
was so pure and mild, so we sat half buried in the tall soft grass, a
bed of down from which nothing could have roused us but the grateful
smell of the calf’s ribs as they roasted by our bright camp fire. As
long as it lasted, our sleep was delicious, but it was interrupted most
unseasonably, about the middle of the night, by the yells of a pack of
“coyotes,” (a kind of jackal,) that had collected round the remains of
the calf.

These beasts had the audacity to approach us within a few yards. We
killed some, wounded many, and the dogs drove them away in every
direction, still they always congregated somewhere and sent forth their
hideous yell in chorus, first from one side of us, then from another,
and not until dawn appeared would these brutes allow us to rest; then
they disappeared, and I congratulated myself on being able to resume my
slumbers; but almost immediately after the “coyotes” had gone, the sun
appeared, and there was an end of the luxuries of an oat-straw bed
al-fresco, for that night at least. The mules submitted more readily to
be loaded this morning, and followed quietly in the steps of the white
mare.

On approaching Napa, which is distant from Benicia about twenty miles,
we entered a very beautiful valley about three miles in breadth, studded
with oak trees, and bounded on either side by mountains that rose
abruptly from the plain, and whose summits were crested with heavy
masses of the red-wood tree and white pine. As yet there was no sign of
cultivation or enclosure, nor did we see a dwelling-house until the
village of Napa appeared in sight; but the whole of this rich and
fertile valley was shortly to be made productive, and it was to supply
the wants of the many settlers, who were now on the eve of improving
this wild tract, that the little bunch of houses called “Napa City” had
sprung into existence.

We had to cross a small stream in a ferry-boat to enter Napa, and we
found the little place in a very lively state. Music was playing, the
stars and stripes were waving from each house, whilst the street was
thronged with people. The outside settlers had come in to celebrate
their fourth of July, it was now the fifth, and they were in the thick
of it, and there was to be a “ball” in the evening. At twelve o’clock
they prepared to fire a salute from three old honeycombed cannons that
had probably been fished up out of the river; whether or no, a serious
accident immediately occurred--the first gun fired exploded like a
shell, blowing off the arm of one man and destroying the sight of
another, besides peppering the spectators more or less seriously. This
damped temporarily the pleasure of the afternoon, but the public dinner,
which took place under an enormous booth, seemed to restore
cheerfulness. The settlers were nearly all “Western people,” small
farmers from Missouri, and other Western states, who emigrated with a
wife and half-a-dozen children to California in search of good land; on
this they _squat_ until the land-claims are decided, and with their
thrifty habits make money, not only more surely and comfortably, but
faster than the miners, whose wants they supply.

The soil here is admirably adapted for the growth of wheat, barley, and
potatoes; and although the price of labour is so great that these
immigratory agriculturists, having little or no capital, can only till a
patch of land at first, yet so rare a luxury as yet is a vegetable, that
large profits attend their earliest efforts, and the settler of these
valleys, if prudent, is a rising man from the moment his spade first
raises the virgin sod.

During the day a Mexican tight-rope dancer performed to the crowd: I
considered him rather a bungler at his work, but my opinion was not
shared by the spectators, one of whom, an old farmer, “kinder, reckoned
it was _supernatural_,” in which he was supported by an old
back-woodsman, who said “It warn’t nothing else.” I left these good
folks in the height of enjoyment, and should not perhaps have said so
much about them, but that having all very lately come from the United
States across the plains, they had brought with them, and as yet
retained, the simple manners and wants of a rural population. These
people form the most valuable portion of the emigration, for they come
as permanent settlers, and they continue permanent improvers. Under
their hands forests are cleared, and valleys enclosed, grain is raised
and mills are erected, the country no longer relies on foreign ventures
for its chief wants, and monopolising flour companies cease to fatten at
the expense of a hard-working population.

I did not wait for the “ball,” as I wished to reach Sonoma that night,
the luggage having gone on. On our first arrival at the Creek, the
ferryman, who was an American, had refused all toll on the strength of
the “Anniversary.” We could not but admire such a striking instance of
real charity, as it enabled many of the surrounding farmers to cross
over with their numerous families, which at the rate of one dollar for
each person they could not have afforded to do. But there was nothing
said about going back for nothing, and our Yankee friend having
succeeded in filling the village gratis, had now the satisfaction of
emptying it at a dollar a-head. So there they were like the nephew of
“Gil Perez,” caught like a rat in a trap. The scenery still improves in
beauty as we approach Sonoma, the valleys are here sprinkled with oak
trees, and it seems ever as if we were about to enter a forest which we
never reach, for in the distance the oaks, though really far apart,
appear to grow in dark and heavy masses. Sonoma was one of the points
selected by the early Spanish priests for a mission; the remains of the
mud church and other buildings used by the priests still exist. It has
been chosen as a military station, and about a couple of dozen United
States dragoons are quartered here.

General Vallejo, a native Californian, who is owner of a large portion
of the surrounding valley, resides at Sonoma; he took part in some
skirmishing which occurred, previous to the cession of California to the
United States, between the natives and a handful of adventurers, who
hoisted a flag with a Grizzly Bear on it, and took the field under that
standard. The General was also on one occasion taken prisoner, and
perhaps it was during his term of incarceration that he designed a tall
square building, which he afterwards erected here, of mud bricks, and
which is now the principal feature of the place; as the General informs
his friends that this was intended for a fortress, they take his word
for it, though it has neither guns or embrasures. Overlooked by the
fortress is a quadrangle of mud huts, these are now converted into
stores intended to supply the farmers who are fast settling on the
surrounding plains.

But there are too many stores in Sonoma; there are so many people in
California who can only live by keeping small retail shops, that
directly a good opening for making money in this way appears, there is a
regular rush of small speculators in soap and candles, who all arrive at
the desired spot about the same time, each one undoubtedly
congratulating himself that _he alone_ has been struck with the bright
idea. A man who came to the country in 1848, told me that he managed
with great toil and at great expense to get a large cask of whiskey to
some rich diggings on the banks of the Yuba, where he commenced
retailing it at immense profits; but on the second day his customers
fell off, and he found that another Yankee had also rolled up a cask and
was underselling him higher up the river. So he moved higher up again by
a circuitous route, until again supplanted; and these two continued
“cutting each other out,” and living a life of uncertainty until they
formed a junction, with the intention of jointly reaping the profits
that attend a monopoly of the article in demand. But almost as soon as
the new concern was started, up went a canvass house by the side of
them, and out went a board on which was written, “Liquor Store.” So with
every opening where the chances of large profits are held out, where
there are so many calculating speculative people, competition steps in
and monopoly is destroyed. This is partly the reason why the San
Francisco markets are so uneven and fluctuating.

Brown is a clever fellow, and says to himself, Coals will be very scarce
next fall, I’ll write for coals; every one else, being as clever as
Brown, writes for coals from the same motives, and the spring sees coals
tumbling in on all sides: or Brown says, everybody will be writing for
coals for the spring, I shall advise my correspondents not to ship;
every one else thinks as Brown thinks, no one writes for coals, and next
spring coals can’t be had at any price.

We pitched our tents outside the fortress, and the only event that
occurred worthy of notice was in the fact of an enormous bull making a
clean bolt at it, about the middle of the night. The moon was up, and I
presume its reflection on the white canvass annoyed him; he annoyed us
excessively, for he not only tore down the tent, but we narrowly escaped
being trodden upon. As he stood in the bright moonlight pawing the
ground at a short distance, meditating another charge at us, I shot him
in the head, and he fell, never again to rouse honest gentlemen from
their sleep in the dead of night, or wantonly to destroy private
property for the gratification of a senseless animosity.




CHAPTER IV.

     SPANISH GRANTS--SQUATTERS--SQUATTER FIGHTS--A SPANISH RANCHE--GOOD
     QUARTERS--FLEAS--VANITY--VACCAROS--QUILP--ENGLISH SADDLES--ANTELOPE
     HUNT--RATTLE-SNAKES--QUILP WALTZES--CALIFORNIAN
     HORSES--SADDLES--HORSE-BREAKING--A TAME HORSE.


_August, 1850._

Leaving Sonoma at daylight, we passed through the Sonoma Valley, which
in many places, but a few hundred yards in width and studded with groups
of oaks and flowering evergreens, has all the appearance of a private
park bounded by mountains--the herds of deer, of which now and then we
catch a glimpse, strengthening this resemblance. After following the
trail for fifteen miles, we ascended a rise from which we had a view of
Santa Rosa Valley. It was a continuation of that we had traversed, and
was divided from it only by a small stream, which marked the boundary of
either. From our elevation, the twenty miles of well timbered land, of
which Don Raymond was owner, lay stretched before us: large herds of
cattle were grazing on the plain, and near the mountains which bounded
the ranche, “mañadas” of wild horses could be perceived, with here and
there a drove of elk or antelopes.

Previous to the occupation of this country by the Americans, its fertile
plains had been granted away by the Mexican government, to such as chose
to settle here and stock the land. The terms on which these grants were
to be held, easy as they were, were for the most part evaded, and after
a new settler had portioned out for himself so many square leagues of a
fat valley, and had sent the record of his property to head quarters, he
built himself a house, bought a few head of cattle and horses, which
were turned off to breed, and he became from that time a “ranchero.”
Cattle increased and multiplied, and at last were killed for their
hides, which were sent down occasionally to San Francisco, and there
placed on board ship.

By the treaty formed between the United States and Mexico previous to
the occupation of California, the original Spanish grants of land were
guaranteed to the native settlers in all cases where the claim could be
properly established. A commission to enquire into these land claims was
appointed by the United States government, and its labours still
continue. The Americans therefore on their arrival in the country had
the mortification to discover that nearly every foot of arable land was
private property, and that there remained nothing but barren hills and
swamps to settle on and improve, under the pre-emption laws of the
United States. They therefore _squatted_ where they pleased on the
Spanish ranches, under the plea that the land commissioners _might_
decide the grant on which they were to be illegal; but in reality
because each man wanted a piece of land and was determined to have it,
the Spanish owners being powerless to dispossess them of the part they
chose to select. The consequence is, that even now in “eighteen hundred
and fifty-four,” when most of the land-claims have been confirmed by the
commissioners, the Spanish owner of a ranche may cast his eye over the
property that was but the other day a waving tract of wild grass, and
behold, it is parcelled out and enclosed, and cultivated from end to
end, and from squatters’ huts curls the smoke on every side. Armed with
the law, the Spanish owner says “Vamos usted,” (be off); armed with his
rifle the squatter says something much ruder, but to the purpose, and
remains. Already have there been serious squatter fights; the papers
daily record “Squatter difficulties,” in which men fight, and shed each
other’s blood savagely, over a patch of soil, which in many instances
belongs to neither of them. So that one of the wisest and most
beneficent laws of the United States, is here productive of evil to
society.

The squatters in the vicinity of Sacramento city organised themselves
into a banditti, and fought “en masse” in defence of their stolen
property; but they had made the great mistake of squatting on land that
belonged to Americans; these latter sallied from the city with the mayor
at their head, and the squatters were defeated and retired with loss,
leaving some dead on the field--not however without riddling the mayor,
who behaved with great courage, and who must have been much damaged, as
the cost of repairing him, when sent in to government by his medical
attendant, amounted to about two thousand pounds sterling. But as there
are reasonable men among all classes, so among the squatters are to be
found many who are willing to purchase their claims, conditionally on
the owner’s grant being eventually found to be valid; still taken
altogether the subject will be one of endless strife, if not bloodshed.

Hundreds have settled down quietly on land from which the present owners
are unwilling or unable to dislodge them. These men will raise around
them permanent improvements, and will look to the few acres of land they
have enclosed for a livelihood for themselves and families; a year or
two hence, perhaps, the land they have appropriated will change hands,
and the new purchaser will ask his belligerent friends down, as I have
witnessed more than once, to stay at his house and help him to “_turn
off the squatters_.” Down go the friends and take their fire-arms, as
coolly as if they were accepting an invitation to a week’s partridge
shooting. Occasionally when the proprietor and his friends, armed to the
teeth, present themselves at the door of a squatter’s log-hut, they find
the owner surrounded by _his_ friends, prepared to resist intrusion.
Sometimes the rival parties exchange shots, but I have always found that
in these cases, the owner of the property has walked quietly back again,
and the squatter has remained.

       *       *       *       *       *

We dismounted at the door of a long low “adobe”[3] house, where we were
met and hospitably greeted by Don Raymond. Having much refreshed
ourselves by bathing in the rivulet which ran past the house, we were
rejoiced to find that our host had prepared a dinner, for of this we
were in need; and whilst we eat, a couple of Indian girls tickled our
ears and noses with long green boughs, with the intention of keeping off
the flies. We cheerfully acknowledged the merit not only of the Mexican
cookery, but of the native wine of the south, which our host brought out
for the occasion. We were then introduced to his wife and two sisters;
these latter were young, with handsome sunburnt faces. My knowledge of
Spanish was very limited, but I always prefaced my remarks by a
statement of this fact, thus I relieved myself from the necessity of
paying those unmeaning compliments which, particularly when delivered in
bad Spanish, must be highly amusing to Mexican ladies. As there was an
absence of ceremony, and an evident wish on the part of the family to
set us at our ease, before night we were on excellent terms, and whilst
one of the “vaccaros” played the guitar we waltzed. Don Raymond produced
more wine of the south and “cigarittas” in abundance; and when the
ladies retired and Don Raymond showed me to my quarters, I determined on
not hurrying myself respecting the purchase of mules so long as the
hours could be made to pass so agreeably; as for Thomas, into whose head
the wine of the south had mounted, it was with the greatest difficulty
he could be prevented from embracing Don Raymond in the warmth of his
satisfaction. Our host then left us, and we were immediately attacked by
the fleas with a vigour that was perfectly astonishing.

In the course of my experience I have been tortured by sand-flies in the
Eastern Archipelago, and have made acquaintance with every kind of
mosquito, from Malta to Acapulco, including of course the famous “tiger”
breed, against which there is no resource but flight. I remember that,
when sick at Hong Kong, I was crammed into the cabin of an old
store-ship so full of cockroaches, and these so ravenous, that they kept
my toe-nails quite close every night, and would even try the flavour of
the top of my head, and, when they found that to be all bone, they eat
my hair and whiskers, the last circumstance being very annoying, from
the fact that whiskers were scarce with me in those days; but I would
have preferred any of these annoyances to the attack of those Santa Rosa
fleas. On lighting a candle we found the place alive with them; unlike,
both in appearance and manner, the modest flea of ordinary life, that
seeks concealment as soon as by accident it is unearthed, these insects,
reared in the rough school of a wild bullock’s hide, boldly faced as
they attacked us. We discovered the next day that the room, the floor
and walls of which were of earth, had contained hides, and had been
cleared out for the purpose of our accommodation.

But, as a general rule, the Californian houses are alive with fleas,
they thrive in the cracks of the mudbrick walls and in the hides with
which these places are always strewed. No pains are taken to eject them,
and Don Raymond remarked, on our mentioning the fact, that we should get
used to them; he and his family never gave the little “malditos” a
thought.

After an early breakfast of “tortillas” and fresh milk we commenced at
once to look up our shooting gear. Close to us, on one side, was a marsh
full of wild fowl, and, stretching for miles round, was the wooded
plain, covered with grass, in some places as tall as ourselves. This
plain, our host assured us, abounded with deer, elk, and antelope. For a
reason, which afterwards appeared, Don Raymond was very anxious that
Thomas and I should mount two of his horses, and, in company with some
of his Spanish friends, ride over the ranche; we were to take our rifles
and shoot all that came in our way. I should of course have preferred to
have been allowed to go out on foot and seek my venison in a more
sportsman-like manner, than in the company of a dozen clattering,
jingling “Caballeros;” but I could not do otherwise than accept the
invitation, particularly as it suggested itself to me that Don Raymond’s
main object in mounting us was that we should at once appreciate the
beauty and extent of the Santa Rosa Ranche.

So that even among these most primitive of agriculturists vanity of
possession stands uppermost in all its vulgarity; what has this man, I
thought, to show me but a tract of land, rich certainly in nature’s
gifts, but in which his only pride consists that _he owns_ it? I could
have seen it much better by myself when walking over it, but to please
his egotism I must admire it _his way_ and sacrifice my own pleasure;
but how I hugged myself when I considered that here at least were no fat
pigs, no model styes, with which to bore one; no oatcake-fed bullocks to
be measured with a cambric pocket-handkerchief and praised, whilst you
held your nose; not even a heap of “compo-manure” to sit and gloat over.
At the worst it was but a pleasant gallop over the wild oats, in a pure
air, and through a lovely country.

In front of the house was a court-yard of considerable extent, and part
of this was sheltered by a porch. Here, when the “vaccaros” have nothing
to call them to the field, they pass the day, looking like retainers of
a rude court. A dozen wild, vicious little horses, with rough wooden
saddles on their backs, stand ever ready for work; whilst lounging
about, the “vaccaros” smoke, play the guitar, or twist up a new
“riatta”[4] of hide or horse-hair. When the sun gets warm they go to
sleep in the shade, whilst the little

[Illustration]

horses, who remain in the sunshine, do the same apparently, for they
shut their eyes and never stir. Presently a “vaccaro,” judging the time
by the sun, gets up and yawns, and staggering lazily towards his horse,
gathers up his “riatta” and twists it round the animals neck; the
others, awakened, rise and do the same, all yawning with their eyes half
open, looking as lazy a set as ever were seen, as indeed they are when
on foot. Huppa!--Anda!--away they all go in a cloud of dust, splashing
through the river, waving their lassos round their heads with a wild
shout, and disappearing from the sight almost as soon as mounted. The
“vaccaro” wants at all times to ride furiously, and the little horses’
eyes are opened wide enough before they receive the second dig of their
rider’s iron spurs.

We found great bustle and preparation going on in the court-yard when we
rose; it was full of horses and “vaccaros,” and some neighbouring ranche
owners having arrived, their horses, which were handsome and of large
size, were standing near the house, champing their bits. The saddles and
bridles of these were ornamented with silver, and the stirrup-leathers
were covered with bear skins in such a way as to form a very secure
armour for the legs against the attacks of wild cattle.

Breakfast over, the Spanish guests were introduced; they were all fine
dashing looking fellows, with the exception of one, a short stout man;
from the first moment of our meeting war was tacitly declared between us
and this gentleman; we found that he was a suitor for the hand of the
eldest sister, who, by the way, owned a part of the ranche, and I
suppose he imagined it was our intention to contest this prize with him;
for he commenced at once to show his disapprobation of our presence; we
called this fellow Quilp. Each of the party had his horse waiting in
readiness--ours had yet to be selected from a drove of about a hundred,
which were enclosed in a “corral,” or circular enclosure, that was close
by the house. The wild horses of the country generally are small, of
these I shall speak by and bye; but Don Raymond, who took the lead among
the _fast_ Californians, prided himself on the possession of a “mañada”
of horses of a superior breed; these he had pointed out to me the day
before, and among them I had observed, all rough as they were, some fine
beasts. A few steps brought us to the “corral;” Quilp in the foreground,
muttering something which we took for granted was insidious advice to
Raymond to pick us out “wild ones.”

“You English ride?” asked Raymond. I replied modestly, that we rode a
little sometimes, as I knew that the slightest approach to assurance on
my part would be the signal for a wild stallion being selected for my
accommodation. However, Raymond picked us out two high-spirited, but
broken-in beasts, that seemed about as well behaved as any that were
there. When they were brought into the court, and blinded as usual,
Thomas and I produced, and girthed up, our English saddles, on which we
had ridden up from Benicia; we were immediately surrounded by the whole
crowd of guests and “vaccaros;” bah! those were not saddles--there was
no horn to which to fasten the lasso--the stirrups did not protect the
foot and leg when the horse fell down and rolled over you! I did not
know Spanish enough to answer them, and perhaps it was as well, for I
should most certainly have addressed myself to Quilp most strongly on
the subject, as the instant he saw my “pigskin” he made a point of
turning up what nose Providence had endowed him with, and that was not
much. But I observed with pleasure that their observations were directed
principally to the fact of the flat smooth surface of our saddles as
compared with their “demi-peaks,” from which the body receives support
on every side. Thomas had a fine seat on a horse, and both of us had had
some practice in rough riding both at home and abroad, or otherwise I
should have remonstrated with Raymond respecting the wish so evidently
expressed by his friends of amusing themselves at our expense.

I had but one rifle I could carry on horseback, so slinging that on my
back, away we went, and as the horses warmed under their exercise, and
we shook ourselves into our seats, I observed with pleasure that Thomas
was both sitting and handling his horse well, and took the fallen timber
that came in our way in capital style. However, to shorten this part of
the story, the Spaniards soon became less bumptious on the subject, and
we flew over the plain at great speed.

Before long we saw a herd of antelope grazing at some distance, and the
Spaniards pulled up and prepared their lassos. The antelope at this time
of the year are very fat, and comparatively speaking do not run, or
bound rather, fast through the long grass, so that if headed there is a
_chance_ for an expert horseman to catch one with the “riatta,” and it
was with the intention of showing me if possible this feat, that our
host had made up the party. I had no sooner unslung my rifle than I was
satisfied that there was no possibility of shooting from the saddle, for
my beast, who would have been quiet as a lamb had I whirled a lasso
round his head, became unmanageable at the presence of the rifle. We
were to ride round and head the antelope whilst the “vaccaros” drove
them towards us. As we galloped through the long grass towards the
position chosen, I told Thomas to keep close to me and prepare to hold
my horse, for I felt it would be excessively annoying if such a fellow
as Quilp for instance should catch an antelope with his bit of rope, and
I be debarred from even a shot at the herd.

When we were well ahead of them, the drove started at the sight of the
“vaccaros,” and a few strides of our horses brought some of us right in
the line they were taking; my foot had scarcely left the stirrup when
they flew past with rapid bounds. Don Raymond spurred at the headmost
bucks, but his lasso fell short; three does brought up the rear; at one
of these I fired and wounded it, but it plunged into the thicket with
the rest. Seeing that nothing had fallen to the report of the rifle, the
Spaniards now went slowly homewards; whilst I searched the thicket and
found my doe dying within a few hundred yards. Raymond returned for us,
and leaving the venison in charge of the “vaccaros,” we rode home. On
the way I succeeded in explaining to Raymond that we preferred hunting
the deer on foot not only for the advantages of exercise, but of the
cover which was afforded by the long grass.

Raymond now, for the first time, pointed out to me that the rattlesnakes
were very abundant in the valley, and this we afterwards discovered to
be true. It destroyed in a great measure the pleasure of our sport, for
we lost many a good shot from looking on the ground--which men are apt
to do occasionally when once satisfied of the existence of a venomous
reptile, the bite of which is by all accounts mortal. The rattlesnake is
seldom seen, it glides away through the long grass on the approach of
man or beast, and for this reason cattle are seldom bitten by it. But it
allows you to approach very closely before it moves, and the rattle of
its tail even in retreat is very unpleasant to hear. Higher up the
country we afterwards killed one or two young ones; but we soon
exercised such precautions as insured our not being brought too
frequently in contact with them. I have heard of many remedies for
rattlesnake bites, and of many fatal cases; but had any of my party been
unfortunate enough to have been bitten very seriously it was agreed
between us that the unbitten ones should immediately apply a red-hot
iron to the part affected, and then give the victim a powerful dose of
castor oil, and leave him to repose; but I doubt if the complete cautery
would have been carried out!

Before we arrived at the house Quilp had got scent of the antelope, and
had departed.

From this time we found ample employment for our guns, and soon
succeeded in bringing in some black-tailed deer. Hares were in abundance
close to the house, whilst in the marshes wild fowl were plentiful, so
that we kept our host’s larder well stored, and Quilp (who returned and
made himself quite at home) became quite sleek from good living.

As we were always tired with our day’s work, and had moreover our guns
to clean, we left Quilp to do all the waltzing; and when he had enjoyed
this pastime until he panted like an over-driven prize ox, he would sit
down on a stool in the porch, and throwing one leg over the other,
would twang the old guitar and accompany it with a Spanish hymn to the
Virgin, which, being delivered in a dismal falsetto, bore much
resemblance to the noise of a wheelbarrow that requires greasing, and
was about as musical.

[Illustration]

The small native horses of the country are remarkable for sureness of
foot and great powers of endurance; half-starved, unshod, and
overweighted, these ponies will perform long journies at great speed,
with great courage; but, alas! for them, in a country where horseflesh
is so cheap and riders are so merciless, the noble qualities of this
animal meet no reward; and the long day’s journey bravely accomplished,
the “vaccaro” takes his saddle off the panting beast, and turns him off
to die or not, according to his constitution.

The Californian saddle is very rough in appearance, being formed simply
of wood and hide, but great care is bestowed both on the material and
form, and for the duties required of them they are admirable. The
“vaccaro” is in his saddle all day, and it forms his pillow by night;
when once he gets a good “saddle-tree” nothing can induce him to part
with it, and you may see a dozen of these “vaccaros” standing round a
rusty-looking saddle, listening to its owner’s praises as he points out
its beauties. These saddles are also well adapted for long journies,
affording, as they do, so much support to the body.

When the tame horses attached to a ranche begin to be “used up” with
hard work, and the stud requires replenishing, the “vaccaros” start for
the mountains, and return shortly driving before them a band of wild
colts, which, with some difficulty, they force into the corral, where
they are enclosed. The “vaccaros” now enter to select the likely colts,
the mad herd fly round the corral, but the unerring lasso arrests the
career of the selected victim, who is dragged, with his fore feet firmly
planted in the ground, half-strangled, to the court yard, where a strong
leather blind is at once placed over his eyes; at this he hangs his
head, and remains quite still, his fore feet still planted in the ground
ready to resist any forward movement. Then the “vaccaro,” always keeping
his eye on the horse’s heels and mouth, places a folded blanket on his
back, and on that the saddle, divested of all incumbrances, this he
girths up with all his power; the bridle is on in an instant, so simple
is its construction; how free from ornament is the bit, how plain and
unpretending is that rusty iron prong, which, at the least pressure on
the rein, will enter the _roof of the horse’s mouth_. Now the “vaccaro”
is seated, and nothing remains but to remove the blind; this is done by
an assisting “vaccaro,” who gets bit on the shoulder for his trouble,
and the work begins. Single jumps, buck jumps, stiff-legged jumps;
double kicks; amalgamated jumps and kicks, aided by a twist of the back
bone; plunges and rears; these constitute his first efforts to dislodge
the “vaccaro,” who meets each movement with a dig of his long iron
spurs: then the horse stands still and tries to shake his burden off,
finally he gives a few mad plunges in the air, and then falls down on
his side.

It is now that the formation of the Californian saddle and the large
wooden stirrups protect the rider: a small bar lashed crossways to the
peak of the saddle prevents the horse from rolling over, and when he
rises his tormentor rises with him unhurt; finding all efforts useless,
he bounds into the plain, to return in a few hours sobbing, panting, but
mastered. The blind is again put on, the saddle and bridle removed,
several buckets of cold water are thrown over his reeking sides, and he
is turned into the “corral,” an astonished horse, to await the morrow,
when his lesson will proceed, and receive less opposition from him! In
three days he is considered broken, and is called a “manzo,” or tame
horse, but admirably as docility has been inculcated in this short
period, he is not yet by any means the sort of horse that would suit
those elderly gentlemen who advertise in the “Times” for a “quiet cob,”
nor indeed is he fit for any one but a Californian “vaccaro.”




CHAPTER V.

     SPANISH PRIESTS--INDIANS--QUILP FORGETS HIMSELF--HABITS OF NATIVE
     CALIFORNIANS--FATHER BARTOLEMÉO--THE LASSO--GOOD RIDERS--CATTLE
     BRANDING--RAYMOND PROVIDES MULES--RUSSIAN RIVER--WE
     ENCAMP--SAW-MILL--I PROPOSE TO “SQUAT.”


_August, 1850._

The capabilities of Santa Rosa Valley had not been overlooked by the
early missionaries, and the house now occupied by Don Raymond had been
built by them. The object of these priests had been, first, to encourage
the wild Indians of the country to settle near their mission-houses, and
then gradually to domesticate them and employ them in bringing the land
under cultivation; but in the northern portion of the country, their
efforts seem on all sides to have been unattended with success, for with
the exception of the existence here and there of a few bands of
“Manzos,” or tame Indians, nothing remains in evidence of the exertions
of these early colonists. In the southern portion of the country, where
the climate is better adapted for the growth of fruit-trees and vines,
signs of improvement everywhere mark the presence of the land-loving
Jesuit. The missions there consist of several houses, part of the
surrounding country is producing grain; a breed of small sheep has been
introduced; and the Indians having been made available for agricultural
purposes, large quantities of vines are reared, from which an excellent
wine, to which I have already alluded, is produced. For this more genial
clime the northern valleys had been abandoned, but a band of
domesticated Indians remained attached, like cats, to the mud building,
where first they made acquaintance with the white man. The Indians of
the country are called Diggers, from the fact of their subsisting on
roots and acorns. Filthy and degraded in their habits, not one ennobling
trait is to be found in them; whether domesticated, or in a primitive
state, they are ever the most debased of tribes, morally and physically.
It might have been from this that the process of civilising these beings
was abandoned by the priests, for so thankless a task might damp the
energy even of a Jesuit.

The tribe in question occupied a few huts not far from the house, and
Raymond had, with a spirit a little in advance of his fellow colonists,
employed these Indians in enclosing a few acres of land, which were now
sown with barley and peas. Every week a bullock was killed for the
Indians, the whole of which, including entrails, they devoured on the
instant. Of an evening they made a great disturbance, by indulging in
what they intended for a dance; this consisted in crowding together in
uncouth attitudes, and stamping on the ground to the accompaniment of
primitive whistles, of which each man had one in his mouth, whilst the
women howled and shrieked in chorus.

Business required Raymond’s presence at Sacramento for a few days, and
from that time Quilp’s influence worked strongly to our disadvantage. We
were no longer summoned to the early breakfast of fresh milk and
“tortillas,” and those meals that were prepared for us consisted for the
most part of stewed beans. We reminded the ladies, whom now we seldom
met, that we had deposited game in the kitchen but the day before;
“Possibly,” they replied, “the gatos (cats) had destroyed it.” The idea
of palming this dreadful story on an Englishman was rather too good. We
were now therefore often compelled to shift for ourselves, and although
it was no great trouble to light a fire whilst out shooting, and roast a
hare or wild duck, we felt our position to be very awkward, having
promised Raymond not to depart before his return, an event we awaited
with impatience. Not far from the house lived a “squatter” of the name
of Elliot, he had been settled for some time in the country and had
planted a small garden of vegetables; we found that he was always
supplied with venison, and on this discovery we soon made an arrangement
with him that relieved the people of the ranche from all trouble
respecting our meals. When we returned at night, Quilp would be found as
usual twanging his guitar, but on one occasion, emboldened by our silent
contempt, which he mistook perhaps for fear, he ventured on a liberty
which, but for my interference, might have been very summarily punished.
Returned one evening from shooting, my dog, Cromer, went up
inquisitively to Quilp as he sat in the porch, and this gentleman,
perhaps to please the group of vaccaros who shared his dislike of us,
undertook to kick the animal with his heavy spurred heel. Barnes’
powerful grip was on his shoulder in an instant, and so long as it
remained there, Quilp was held to his chair as if in a vice. I ordered
Barnes at once to desist, and once released, Quilp drew a knife from his
boot and swore, “Madre de Dios!” that all the English that ever lived
should die under the application of that piece of cutlery; but as his
eye wandered down the barrel of the rifle that Barnes now brought in
close proximity with his head, he evidently deferred his sanguinary
intentions for the time being, and retired pale and trembling into the
house. It was some time before the excitement died away, and I was not
sorry when I had reduced Barnes to a calm state of mind, for he was by
no means the right sort of person to “muddle,” to use his own
expression.

Whilst out on the ensuing day we came across a beautiful little animal
of the size of a racoon, striped black and white. This was a species of
skunk, that emitted an odour so overpowering, that the animal’s instinct
did not even induce it to attempt to run from the dogs, who flew at
first to worry it, but surrendered at once to the poisonous smell, and
refused to approach. We left the skunk in full possession of the field,
and returned to find Quilp and a newly arrived party of Spaniards,
enjoying themselves in-doors, drinking the “wine of the south” and
cracking jokes, probably at our expense. I had paid little attention to
the fact of Barnes having lagged behind us as we came home, and I was in
the porch awaiting his return, when he suddenly appeared on the
threshold of the door from which the merriment proceeded, and with the
laconic remark of “D--n you, take that,” before I was aware of his
purpose he chucked the skunk into the middle of the party of Spaniards,
where it alighted amidst the screams of the ladies and the oaths of the
men. In a few moments the room was cleared, and the men soon afterwards,
amidst many vows of vengeance, mounted their horses and rode swearing
away. Quilp went with them, and we never saw him again.

Raymond returned, next day, and having explained to him as much as was
necessary to account for the estranged terms on which he found us with
his family, and apologised for my servant’s inexcusable rudeness, I
insisted upon being at once permitted to terminate my visit; and the
same day I erected my tent on the plain.

Raymond, who entertained much good feeling towards us, felt very sore to
find on inquiry that we had been inhospitably treated during his
absence; but unable to persuade me to remain longer as his guest, he
requested that we would wait and witness his annual “cattle-branding,”
then about to take place, and he would then procure us mules to pursue
our journey.

No life is so thoroughly lazy as that of a Californian family, who,
totally uneducated, can neither read or write; and whilst there are no
domestic duties on which to employ the women, the men leave to their
vaccaros the little superintendence the cattle on a ranche require. Nor,
as far as the women are concerned, does the care of their children seem
by any means to engross their leisure; for the rising off-shoots are
allowed, like the young cattle, to grow unassisted and unembellished to
maturity, though undoubtedly the naked little urchins benefit physically
by the freedom their young limbs enjoy. Raymond had but one child, of
about four years of age, and this little fellow, with no covering but a
scanty shirt, strutted about the yard all day, practising with a
miniature lasso at the cocks and hens.

The Californian idea of religion is rather sketchy and undefined. It is
well known that the Spanish Roman Catholic missionaries were never prone
to waste much time in expounding the tenets of their faith; the great
principle was, in all instances, to _convert_, and to increase the “army
of the Faithful.” I remember that in the islands of Batan in the China
Sea, the process was excessively simple. So soon as a nigger was
caught--and in a small island he had not much chance of escape from a
Jesuit--a tin cross was hung round his neck, and he was turned off
again, like one of Raymond’s branded steers, one being as wise as the
other as to whom the new allegiance was owing. The Californians have,
however, learnt enough to know that every one not of their faith, is a
heretic, and the Carrillo family asked us point-blank if we belonged to
that unhappy class, and received gravely our modest reply, that we
believed we had that misfortune. The Spaniards and their priests, are
not only inveterate card-players, but practised cheats. One of these
sleight-of-hand Padres, I was told, displayed great fervour in
attempting to convert a heretic who lived near him, and who happened to
be an English master of a merchant vessel, who had settled in the
country; as the story goes, the old Salt defended himself from the
theological attacks of Father Bartoleméo on the score that he never
could understand the principal articles of his new creed. “How so?”
exclaims the Padre, “with faith, and the help of the Virgin, all
obstacles will melt like snow before the sun.” “Then,” observed the
captain, as he produced a pack of Spanish monté cards, “how do you turn
up the Jack when the seven and Jack are laid out and an open bet is made
on the seven?” “Toe-nails of St. Ignatius! what has this to do with the
tenets of the true faith?” roars the father. “This,” says the other, in
reply, “is the first tenet of _your faith_, teach me this and I embrace
the rest.” It is easy to imagine the wrath and indignation of the holy
father when he thus heard his religion insulted, and, sympathising with
him in his warmth, we are the less prepared to hear that he not only
controlled his feelings, but sat down and inducted the master into the
art of turning up the Jack, too happy at so small a sacrifice to gain
ANOTHER convert to his faith.

Where so much ignorance exists, a proportionate amount of superstition
will of course be found, and in horse-racing, which is their passion,
the Californians are regulated by a code of rules affecting the colours
of horses and the hours at which they must start to ensure victory.
Sailors used to dislike a Friday, but there is no day of the week that
is not unlucky for something in California.

At Santa Cruz (in the south) some time ago, the “Virgin” was intreated
for rain, and the hat being sent round, a sufficient amount was
collected to back the request in the substantial manner that the priests
point out as being acceptable. An old heretical American settler, who
had a farm on the high land above the valley, declined either to
contribute or to pray; but, from his elevated position, his crops soon
throve under genial showers, whilst the valley below as yet received no
relief; this unequal distribution of favour on the part of the saint
astonished the occupants of the valley: and we will presume that fresh
appeals brought down retribution on the heretic, for, in a very short
time, his crops were set on fire, and he saved his house from
destruction with some difficulty.

The dress of the vaccaro consists of a broad-brimmed hat, always secured
under the chin, a loose shirt and jacket, and buckskin breeches; round
the leg is wound a square piece of leather, this is secured at the knee,
and is a protection against falls or the attacks of cattle; in one of
these leggings he carries his knife; his spurs, serapa, and lasso,
complete his costume; under his saddle he has a blanket, and thus
lightly equipped is independent of everything. The lasso is generally
constructed of twisted hide, and is made with great care. In the hands
of a good vaccaro the noose is thrown carelessly, but with unerring
precision; it is a formidable weapon of attack, and in the guerilla
warfare, which preceded the occupation of the country, it was not only
used successfully, but horrible cruelties were practised by the
Spaniards on those whom by chance they cut off in this manner.

The Californians are perfect riders--graceful, active, and courageous;
they ride with a straight leg when in the saddle, and this latter, when
properly made, gives great support to the body and legs; how otherwise
could they endure, for hours together, the shock of bringing up _all
standing_ wild cattle running at full speed?

When I first seated myself in a Californian saddle belonging to
Raymond, and found the lower part of my body deeply imbedded in the soft
skins which covered it, I was led into an error which I dare say has
been shared by many others; I thought at the time that riders accustomed
to so much assistance were less dependent on the muscles of the body;
and I have no doubt in those valuable papers, since lost, I recorded a
hasty opinion that their crack riders would make a poor show on an
English saddle over a steeple-chase country; but this is only another
proof of the danger of trusting to first impressions. The Californian
will ride a bare-backed horse at speed and bring him on his haunches
with a seat undisturbed: but what more particularly arrests the critical
eye of an Englishman is their beautiful handling of the horse’s mouth;
with a bit, the slightest pressure on which arrests the horse, they
ride, in all the excitement of the cattle chase, with a lightness of
hand that is truly admirable. In the hunting counties, where by chance
some black-coated stranger takes and keeps a forward position throughout
the day, it is a matter of duty after dinner for all legitimate
red-coats to depreciate the arrogant unknown; but when no fault can be
found either with his seat or his style of riding, there is always some
one who clinches the matter by remarking sagely--“The fellow rides well
enough, but he has got no ‘hands!’” Now the Californians have both
seats and “hands,” and may defy the criticism even of the ill-natured.

Once a year it was customary to drive up all the cattle on a ranche to
brand the young steers. On these occasions the vaccaros are in their
glory, crack riders volunteer their assistance, and ranche owners
congregate from far and wide to point out and take away such of their
own beasts as have strayed and become mixed with those on the ranche.
For a week previously, the vaccaros scour the mountains and plains, and
collect the wild herds, and these are at once enclosed in the “corrals.”

The proprietor of the ranche keeps open house, whilst the vaccaros adorn
themselves in all the finery they can muster, which is not much, and
they are specially mounted for the occasion. Fires are lighted near the
corral, and in these the branding-irons are kept heated. The work is
commenced leisurely, a few vaccaros enter the corral, the gate of which
is formed of a bar of wood, easily withdrawn, to allow egress to the
cattle. The first lasso is thrown over the horns of a steer, and as the
bar is withdrawn he rushes out with the vaccaro at his side; on the
instant a second lasso catches the hind leg and he falls on his side, as
if shot. The two lassos are then kept tight by the horses to which they
are attached, who are admirably trained to throw their whole weight on
the rope; the brand is then applied. A shake of the lasso disengages it,
and the steer after a wild look at the assembled company, rushes
smarting with pain to the mountains, where he is soon joined by his
fellows in a similar unfortunate predicament.

The corral becomes gradually thinned, and more vaccaros enter the lists,
and as the large beasts are kept until the last, and become maddened by
being driven round in the heat, and noise, and dust, every opportunity
is afforded for a display of good riding. Savage-looking cows show fight
from every quarter, and make fierce charges at the horsemen, who
experience much more danger, and have more work to do, than the armed
“torredores” of a bull-fight. The dust and excitement increase rapidly
now, and the cattle thump the ground with their ribs on every side, as
their legs fly from under them. A groan, a hiss, and a smell of roast
meat, as the hot brand touches them, and away they go, tail on end.

But occasionally the scene is diversified by some cantankerous young
bull, who having received the impression of his master’s initials, makes
a rush at the crowd that surround the corral, with the intention of
revenging an insult never intended. This wayward conduct subjects him to
increased punishment, for he is now brought down on his side again,
until at last he thinks better of it, and makes the best of his way to
some lonely spot on the plain, where he revenges himself by praiseworthy
but unsuccessful attempts to gore the largest oak-tree he can find.

The work is now carried on with great rapidity, the vaccaros have
renewed their horses many times, and under the influence of brandy,
which is freely served to them, they begin to get as mad as the cattle.
All ends at dusk, and the evening is devoted to a “fandango;” but the
men are all so drunk and tired, that this amusement always terminates
early, and generally seriously; for among so many boasting and
quarrelsome riders, knives are soon produced, and the dispute, which
always has reference to the _capacity_ of some horse, is terminated for
the time being by the letting of a little blood.

It is the nature of man to boast of his horse in all countries, and how
unfortunate it is that these Spaniards are not sufficiently civilised to
settle their disputes with a bet; then the only blood drawn would be
from the horse’s flanks, when he was called upon by his master to
perform the feat in question, and the whole would be decided in a
_gentlemanly manner_!

Shortly after the “cattle-branding,” Raymond provided me with four
handsome mules and a horse. I have already mentioned that the management
of wild mules was a matter of great difficulty; to us it was an
impossibility, and we found it requisite to hire the services of a
vaccaro. We started for Russian River after bidding adieu to Raymond,
who had behaved to us throughout with great hospitality and kindness.
Our road led through another plain, oak-timbered like the valleys, and
that there may be at least one good remark in my book, I shall borrow a
description from Sterne, who says, “There is nothing more pleasing to a
traveller or more terrible to travel-writers, than a large rich plain,
especially if it is without great rivers or bridges, and presents to the
eye but one unvaried picture of plenty; for, after they have once told
you that it is delicious or delightful (as the case happens), that the
soil was grateful, and that nature pours out all her abundance, &c.,
they have then a large plain upon their hands, which they know not what
to do with.”--_Tristram Shandy_, vol. ii., p. 123. The reader will then
please to consider that my party has reached in safety the banks of the
Russian River.

This is a broad stream, and in the summer months when the water becomes
low, it runs sluggishly; but high among the branches of the alder-trees
that line the banks, are accumulations of sticks and rubbish that mark
the height to which the river rises when the mountain snow begins to
melt, and it changes its present lazy rippling pace for the turbulent
roar of a cataract, and overflows the adjacent plains.

Being nightfall, we encamped without crossing, and at daylight we were
dismayed at discovering that our beasts had been stolen; we had no
reason to suspect the vaccaro, who at all events acted surprise to
perfection, if guilty of connivance; but mules and horses were gone, and
the riattas with them. Some expert thieves had tracked us, and as we
were in ignorance as to who they were, we laid the whole matter at
Quilp’s door. I have since discovered by experience, that if a band of
Mexicans are determined to have your horses, they generally manage it by
some means, in spite of the utmost vigilance; with our inexperience and
the possible connivance of the vaccaro (of which, however, there was not
a shadow of proof) the task was easy. I discharged the vaccaro, and we
crossed the river on foot, taking off our clothes and carrying them in a
bundle on our heads. The water was so refreshing, that the task of
taking over our baggage piecemeal, was one of pleasure, and helped
wonderfully to counterbalance

[Illustration: CHAGRES RIVER.]

the annoyance I felt at the loss of my mules--a loss which entirely
precluded my further advance into the country. Leaving Barnes with the
baggage and dogs, Thomas and I proceeded in search of a back-woodsman’s
hut, which we had been informed existed in this direction; after
following the river for some time, we ascended a steep hill, from the
summit of which was presented the most lovely panorama--beneath us the
thickly wooded plain extended for miles--on one side bounded by
mountains, on the other, melting away in a blue hazy distance;--the
windings of the Russian River were marked distinctly in contrast with
the dark rocks and foliage that lined its banks, whilst immediately
beneath us was a forest of firs and red-wood trees, over which the
vultures wheeled incessantly, and not even the sound of an insect
disturbed the silence of the scene.

From this hill we discovered the hut of which we were in search,
situated near a running stream and surrounded by towering red-wood
trees. We found the occupant at home; he was a tall sinewy man, a
Missourian of the name of March, and he at once cheerfully assisted us.
He lent us his mule to bring up our baggage, and by nightfall we were
encamped within a few yards of his hut. There were two other
backwoodsmen living with March, and these three

[Illustration]

had just completed unaided a saw-mill, to which they had applied the
power of the stream, by means of an over-shot wheel. The heavy beams
that formed the mill-frame, the dam and race, had all been constructed
from the adjacent forest trees, and now that the work was completed,
wanting only the saw, for which they intended to go to San Francisco, it
seemed incredible that so large a frame could be put together by so
small a number of men. This saw-mill erected in the forest and of the
forest, raising its long beams from the midst of the romantic scenery
that surrounded it, was a glorious instance of what energy will
accomplish, and of the rapidity with which each man in an American
colony contributes towards the development of the new country’s
resources.

And it contrasts strangely with the languid inertness of those
communities, who with equal brains and hands _ponder_ and _dream_ over
the means of supplying wants, even when they have long been felt; to see
that here even the uneducated backwoodsman devotes his time and energy
to preparing for the wants _to come_; buoyed up by an admirable
confidence in the rapid growth and prosperity of his country, which
confidence is part of his education, and one great secret of his
success. If the Americans go a-head, it is principally because they
“look a-head.” March when he planned his mill and felled his first tree
in this solitary forest, ranked with those who wrote from the tents of
San Francisco for steam-engines and foundries. Now as I write, these
latter are performing their daily work in the city, and have become
essential to its wants, whilst March’s mill, seemingly so out of place
where I first saw it, can now barely supply the wants of the numerous
agricultural population that is settling round about it. March and his
companions lived entirely on game, which he assured me abounded; and as
for the present at all events I could not proceed, I determined at his
advice to walk over the hills and look at a valley on which he strongly
recommended me to “squat;” we therefore started the next morning in
search of it, following the directions that March had given us for our
guidance to the spot.




CHAPTER VI.

     THE LITTLE VALLEY--THREE MARTYRS--MOUNTAIN LIFE--THE POOR
     DOES--CASTOR-OIL--A SICK DOG--THE CARPENTARO--GREY SQUIRREL--DIGGER
     INDIANS--RED-WOOD TREE--AMERICAN RIFLES--GRIZZLY BEAR HUNT--SHELDON
     WOUNDED--DIFFICULTY IN KILLING THE BEAR--HABITS OF THE BEAR--A
     THIEF.


_September, 1850._

The country which we now traversed consisted of a series of small
round-topped hills, uniform in size but varying in feature. The whole
had been long since subjected to violent volcanic action, so whilst one
hill was crowned with a grotesque mass of rock and cinder, round which
the tall wild oats waved desolately, the next enchanted the eye with a
profusion of evergreen oaks and flowering arbutus. These hills altered
in character as they had been subjected to, or had escaped from the
volcanic shower; thus whilst on one side was a huge mound of lava
destitute of all vegetation, on the other was a dense mass of rich
underwood, from which rose groups of the stately red-wood tree.

We saw several old craters, and the cindery desolation that encircled
them for some distance yielded suddenly to the encroachment of
vegetation; a strife for mastery between these two had existed, and you
may believe, if you please, as I do, the volcanic agency to have been
under the management of an evil gnome, the wild vines and arbutus to
have been protected by a good fay, and that after numerous fierce
engagements, a lasting peace had been concluded and the territory
equally divided.

We put up several hares and covies of partridges, whose parents had
never been shot at, and we fully satisfied ourselves as to the existence
in abundance of both bears and deer.

Arrived at the summit of a hill, the little valley we were in search of
lay at our feet. It was scarcely twenty acres in extent, level as a
table, bounded on one side by masses of red-wood trees, and on the other
by a fine stream, whose banks were shaded with alders and wild vines.
The valley itself was free from shrub or tree, excepting that from the
centre there rose a clump of seven gigantic red-woods, which growing in
a circle, and meeting at the roots, formed a natural chamber to which
there was but one inlet.

As the land we were on belonged to the United States government, I
determined to take March’s advice, and _squat_ on this valley, for I
became at once enchanted with it, as indeed were my companions: I
therefore affixed to the red-wood trees a paper I had long prepared and
kept in my knapsack for immediate use, and which ordered all men to take
notice that F. M. claimed, under the laws of pre-emption, one hundred
and fifty acres of land measuring from that spot, and that he intended
to defend his right by force of arms, &c. &c.

Considering that, saving the wild Indians, human foot had probably never
crossed the spot, the notice scarcely seemed necessary, and the Indians
did not respect it, as I shall have occasion to show hereafter.

By the time we had walked thoroughly over the property and discovered
fresh advantages, and had drunk of the stream and found the water
excellent, it was dusk, and not being sufficiently satisfied with our
landmarks, to try our way back to our camp that night, we determined on
passing it in the red-wood clump; the fire was soon stacked and
lighted--that jolly camp-fire that on the instant suffuses everything
around it with its cheerful ruddy glow, and sends its sharp crackle
merrily up through the air, throwing a charm over the most inhospitable
desert, and giving a zest to the hunter’s meal be it ever so homely.
How naturally as we sit around it we recall the memory of wet seasons,
When benighted, damp, chilly, and tired, we selected amidst the falling
mist, the driest and most sheltered spot in the wet brushwood; how we
laugh now at the vain attempt to kindle damp leaves and undergrowth; the
partial success that engendered hope, only to render the failure of the
last match more intolerable; the dark long night, dreary, drizzling,
with one of us on guard for danger, and all unable to sleep, watching
impatiently for the morning, with the first dull streak of which we
stretch our half stiffened limbs, and shouldering the dead game, that no
camp-fire over night converted into a well-earned and needful supper,
seek some sheltered spot elsewhere, and make a breakfast of it. The
recollection of nights like these--and they fall to the lot of every
hunter--causes one to contemplate the blazing embers with a simple
gratitude, that is not always engendered elsewhere by the possession of
the comforts of this world.

We had a leash of hares, which being skinned and cleaned were impaled on
withers and placed at the fire to roast, where they looked like three
martyrs flayed alive, and staked. Whilst they were cooking we filled the
red-wood clump with several armfuls of long oat-straw from the adjacent
hill.

[Illustration]

After worrying the three hares, we lighted our pipes, and picquetting
the dogs round us, we gave ourselves up to the pleasures of a comparison
of the happiness of our position as compared with that of other men, and
then I sunk into a gentle slumber (of course), while my companions
snored in unison with the dogs.

We rose with the sun; and properly speaking, I should take advantage of
that fact to inform the reader what part of the surrounding scenery was
first bathed in yellow light, and what remained in obscurity; what the
deep blue of the distant mountains contrasted with, and what completed
the picture in the foreground: but these things are to be found better
described in any book of travels of the day; and moreover, at the time
of which I am writing, I was not gazing at the landscape, but was
proceeding rather unpoetically to bathe in the river, munching on my way
the leg of a cold martyr.

In the course of the day we moved our baggage from March’s Mill to our
new possession, where I determined on passing the winter.

I decided upon enclosing the valley and rendering it fit for
agricultural purposes, but as the winter was approaching, I saw that the
first thing requisite was to send for a quantity of useful articles that
I had stored in readiness at Sonoma, and which consisted of carpenter’s
tools, blankets, powder and shot, books, and a small quantity of
groceries. For these I despatched Thomas, and the red-wood clump having
been perfected in its internal accommodations, by the addition of a
boarded floor, a brushwood roof, with a convenient rack for the rifles,
and a secure magazine for the powder, Barnes commenced laying his axe to
the red-wood trees on the other side of the stream, whilst I shouldered
my rifle and supplied the larder.

There is but one species of deer here--the black-tailed--and the
venison, though generally fat, is insipid, owing perhaps to the fact
that the dry season parches up every blade of green stuff, and the deer
live on the long self-made hay, which in some parts is very plentiful,
but not nutritious. The deer are generally found in herds of from five
to seven, and it requires great caution to “bag them.”

[Illustration]

As the wind at this season of the year blows with little variation from
the same point, my ground was almost always of the same nature, the
river being in my rear, and the mountains before me. Stalking was out of
the question, for from the peculiar formation of the country, which
consisted of a series of undulations, no extended view could be procured
of a herd, and the long grass which afforded them cover abounded with
rattle-snakes. The only plan in such a country is to keep your eyes
about you, not forgetting the ground, and walk the deer up, against the
wind of course, taking advantage of any cover that may be in your path,
in the shape of a rock, and using great caution in showing yourself over
the rising ground. The herd will probably then start up with a bound
from the long oat-straw at your feet, but seldom afford a fine shot, as
they plunge away half concealed by it; now you throw yourself down, and
see, the herd has stopped within a hundred yards of you; and here a buck
advances chivalrously in defence of his harem--five paces--ten--now he
is troubled; for although there is pride in his nostrils, and anger in
his stamping hoof, there is indecision in those working ears, and by his
eye you may read that if anything very ugly appears, he will run away.
But a doe advances; this nerves her lord to a few paces more;--now you
may fire;--full at the shoulder;--crash--poor buck! Now load again, and
then rush up and cut his throat, he is stone dead; rattle, tattle,
tattle, tattle,--mind the snake! Now flay him, if you want the skin, or
quarter him if you don’t: this done you can carry home a haunch, the
skin, the antlers, the tongue and the brains, and these, with your
accoutrements and the hot sun, will probably tire you before you get
home. In the evening the poor does, with their soft hearts still
palpitating, from the nasty noise your rifle made, and the very ugly
appearance of yourself generally, will stand in a group, and turn their
wistful eyes in the direction where last they saw their master, and
wonder--poor innocents--why he is not there as usual to lead them
proudly down to the stream, and take his station on the bank to ward off
any danger whilst they drink. Night comes, but he does not appear; then
they wander about, and cry and pass a miserable night, whilst you are
making a good supper off the buck, and are speaking jocularly of him as
a “fat old rascal.”

The deer is very inquisitive, and if when you have walked up a herd, and
have thrown yourself down, in the long grass, you extend your loading
rod above your head, with a piece of rag attached to it, the bucks will,
even though they wind you, generally approach within killing distance,
which, when shooting as I was, for subsistence, should not be more than
_seventy yards_ if possible. It is always better to make this rule when
shooting for the “larder.” Where game is thin, fire at nothing that you
don’t think certain, until the day wanes, and necessity and an empty
stomach oblige you to shoot at everything you see. Where game is wild
and difficult to approach, and you are living on your gun, too much
precaution cannot be taken to insure, if possible, the bagging of
everything you hit; for if anything makes sporting cruel, it is the
habit that some have of trying long shots, and sending poor brutes away
to die a lingering death in the brush. Moreover, I was much in the
position of a man with a preserve, and that not overstocked. I could not
afford to drive my game, by careless shooting, out of my own beat, and
the nature of my country was such that the want of cover in the
undulating hills rendered the deer very alert whilst feeding there, and
when they took to the mountains in alarm they were lost to the hunter,
if alone, so far as this, that they invariably managed to keep a large
sized hill between him and themselves; for the Russian River deer are
actually _cunning_, and never did I see one take to a ravine, or lay
himself open in any way when once he ascended the steep. I have often
killed before I have left the house twenty minutes, but far more
frequently have walked the whole day without seeing a deer.

We recovered some wounded deer with the assistance of the blood-hound,
Prince; but just as he became useful, he was attacked by a distemper
peculiar to the country, which affects the hindquarters with paralysis,
and generally kills. I think I saved Prince’s life by administering a
tremendous dose of castor-oil on the first appearance of his symptoms,
but he was a very sick dog for a long time, and staggered like a three
days’ old calf. Having mentioned castor-oil, I wish to do justice to its
invaluable qualities, which would not perhaps have been so thoroughly
tested by us were it not that our sole stock of medicine consisted of
two quart bottles of it. It was successfully applied to both man and
beast in every complaint, and acted with a little tobacco-leaf, as a
balm for all outward wounds.

Barnes, who was a famous axe-man and was possessed of unusual physical
strength and endurance, soon felled a large number of the giant
red-woods in the rear of our valley, in order to split them and convert
them into rails for enclosing the farm. If we should speak well of the
bridge that carries us over, we should also speak well of the tree that
roofs us in for the winter, but the red-wood tree (Arbor Vitæ) deserves
especial notice on its own merits, which I shall proceed to detail. The
size and height attained by the red-wood in California are very
wonderful, and faithful accounts of these trees have been received with
incredulity. The average size of the full-grown trees may be quoted at
from five to six feet in diameter, and about 150 feet in height. This
tree maintains in some instances so perfect a perpendicular, that in
felling it on a calm day, if one is cut towards the centre, a very small
portion of the heart will sustain the immense trunk. The largest tree we
discovered at Russian River was not far from the house. Measuring it six
feet above the ground, its circumference was 40 feet, and its height
about 200 feet. But in Calaveras county, a group of trees exists which
measure respectively, 27 feet, 20 feet, 23 feet, 18 feet, and 16 feet in
diameter, and from 200 feet to 250 feet in height. The largest of these
was felled and the bark removed to San Francisco, where it was erected
in its original position, and formed a capacious room.

The timber of the red-wood is very durable, and is so easily worked that
a man needs but an axe, a betel and a few wedges, to convert the largest
of them, provided they are free from knots, into planks, rails or
clap-boards, and I have seen Barnes fell a huge fellow, and in less than
a fortnight he has carried it all away but the boughs and the bark. It
is a fine sight to watch one of these trees fall to the axe; leaving the
perpendicular at first so leisurely; then gathering impetus as it nears
the ground, crushing all it meets, making the earth vibrate with its
shock, and sending forth a booming echo, that startles the game far and
wide. The bark of the red-wood is perforated in every direction, and
with great regularity, by a kind of starling, called, from this
peculiarity, _carpentaro_, or carpenter. These birds form cells in the
tree with great assiduity, and deposit therein acorns, which fit very
tightly. They are very quaint and noisy, and employ themselves
continually, when not fighting, in depositing acorns in the red-woods.
You may see a dozen of them clinging to the bark of one tree in the most
uncomfortable positions, pecking away, each at a hole. But the
carpentaros work for the more lazy portion of creation, and one of their
enemies is the beautiful grey squirrel which abounds here. I have often
watched a grey squirrel ascend a red-wood; for the birds work in the
upper part of the tree. He is immediately surrounded by carpentaros,
who, knowing him of old, are at no loss to divine his object, but the
open day robber, nothing daunted, at once extracts an acorn, and popping
it in his mouth, he turns his head from side to side in the quaintest
manner possible, as if to say to the birds that chatter around him,
“Pray go on, don’t mind my feelings.” Then down he comes whisking his
beautiful silvery tail. Then the carpentaros assemble round the pillaged
hole, and scream over the matter so much that you may imagine them to be
abusing the squirrel in their choicest slang; and presently up comes
grey squirrel again for another acorn, having found the first so good;
and then, fresh carpentaros having arrived, the noise becomes so
intolerable, that the most enthusiastic of naturalists would walk off
with his fingers in his ears. The grizzly bear also takes advantage of
the exposed condition of the carpentaro’s winter provision, and climbs
the red-wood in much the same fashion as the grey squirrel, though less
gracefully; so they say: I never saw a bear in this position, and if
unarmed I should not wait to study his habits, if I did; for although
naturalists tell us that the bear is graminivorous, there is no doubt
that the grizzly would sacrifice all the acorns that grow for a juicy
piece of the calf of one’s leg.

The carpentaro has a more destructive enemy than even the squirrel or
the bear, and a greater beast than either--the Digger Indian. These
miserable specimens of humanity will light a fire at the root of a
well-stocked red-wood tree until it falls; they then extract the
carpentaro’s acorns and fill many baskets full, which they carry away.

“Eat as much as you like, but pocket none,” the justly indignant
carpentaros might say.

The red-wood tree is the main-stay of California. The supply is
inexhaustible, but nature has been sufficiently capricious to make them
most abundant in very inaccessible spots, whilst the level plains are
covered with a short-grained dwarf oak, serviceable only for firewood.
But, however steep the mountains, the Californian red-wood has to fall
and to be fashioned to the use of man, and when a steam saw-mill gets
perched upon a mountain-top the romance of the forest is gone; its
silent grandeur no longer awes the mind; and the trees, whose size and
beauty caused such deep impressions and such grave reflections, fall
into insignificance as you see them torn into planks and packed on
waggons, whilst the once still forest resounds to the sound of the axe
and the shrill whistle of the steam-engine. I have been very
disappointed at finding these sudden changes in revisiting some of my
old hunting-grounds.

Thomas now arrived with our stores, which we unpacked with great
pleasure, as they had not seen the light since we had boxed them up
ourselves in England, and every article was associated with home. We set
to work, and in a fortnight had completed a two-roomed house, close to
the red-wood clump: we then converted that apartment into a larder and
storehouse.

It is not my intention to dwell very much upon the subject of
deer-shooting, as, even could I say what has not been said before by
mightier hunters than I, the subject has interest for sporting men
alone.

I have mentioned in the early part of this chapter, that bears were said
to be plentiful in the country I had chosen for my sojourn. The
Californian hunter holds the grizzly bear in great respect; and not
without reason, when we consider that this animal is difficult to kill,
that he is a relentless pursuer when wounded, and that he can run and
climb under ordinary circumstances, with more agility than his
assailant. On this account, and from the fact that you must, from the
nature of his haunts, attack him on foot, a wounded grizzly bear is a
worse enemy to encounter than a tiger. March had promised to make up a
bear hunt for us, and in a day or two he came over to the farm with two
hunters of the name of Sheldon and Carter; both hard-looking fellows,
carrying nothing but their rifles, a knife, and a Colt’s revolver, which
latter is invaluable in all kinds of hunting.

The Americans carried rifles of their own make; capital make too, though
too weak in the lock on account of the cheap price at which they are
supplied. The bore of their rifles seemed small for bear-shooting,
carrying a half-ounce ball, but they seemed to consider that their
skill in shooting counter-balanced this deficiency. I carried the only
rifle that I ever used of those I took out, one of German make, carrying
a ball of an ounce and a half. I should say here that our rifles were
often the subject of discussion with these honest fellows. I had two
Rigby’s with an accumulation of sights, which were perfectly useless for
my work, although they were beautifully finished weapons; and Barnes’s
friendly disputes concerning the relative merits of the American barrel,
with its enormous weight of metal and long point-blank range, and the
English lock, with its wholesome click, and the American stock, with its
carved butt, that gives so much steadiness to the muscles of the body
when you aim, resulted in a combination that was highly approved of by
all parties; for all these good qualities were amalgamated by the
construction of a new stock, and thus a rifle was produced that amongst
ourselves enjoyed great celebrity, and this rifle March has probably in
his possession to this day.

The German rifle, to which I have alluded, was rather too short, but
very true within a hundred yards, and its qualities were expressed by
its name, “shoulder-breaker,” engraved on the stock. It is a rare thing
to get a good rifle carrying a heavy ball.

We started at once in search of our bear--six in number--and accompanied
by a small dog belonging to Sheldon. It was not until the afternoon that
we struck upon a fresh bear sign, of which March had had previous
knowledge. The sign led into thick underwood in which the bear seeks
shade, but which is the worst of all places for killing him. March
disposed us in couples; we then spread and entered the thicket at a
partially cleared part. Almost immediately I heard a crash, and an angry
roar, and then a shot was fired to the left. It was necessary for us to
retrace our steps, on account of intervening jungle, to rejoin our
party, which done, the bear was in view. I was astonished at his size;
standing on his hind-legs with his mouth open like a thirsty dog, and
working himself up and down, he indicated that he felt the inconvenience
of the pellet that March had intended for his heart, but which had
lodged in his alimentary canal. However, in an instant, and as if by a
sudden impulse, he again assumed the position of a quadruped and bounded
towards March and Sheldon, clearing as much ground at each stride--for
he was as big as an ox--as would have done credit to the winner of the
Liverpool steeplechase. A shot from the right altered his course again
in that direction, for the grizzly bear will turn to the last
assailant, and this enforces the necessity of bear-hunters supporting
each other.

A momentary uncertainty on his part gave me an opportunity of troubling
him with one of my 1½ oz. balls, but this only elicited a grunt and a
rush in my direction. I confess that, as soon as my rifle was
discharged, I felt great inclination to disregard March’s directions,
which were, not to use my revolver, but if possible to _reload my rifle
directly I had fired_, under _all circumstances_. Whilst in a curious
state of uncertainty on this point, though loading, the bear swerved
suddenly on one side in chase of the little high-couraged dog that
belonged to Sheldon.

This dog had been in other bear-hunts and was generally very useful, for
the grizzly has a great suspicion of anything behind him, and if a dog
can be trained to worry his hams, the bear will turn round and round and
afford much facility to the hunters.

I fancy the dog must have got hurt or lost his pluck, for he now rushed
straight to his master, and the bear followed; Sheldon fired as the
grizzly approached, but without effect, and the next moment poor Sheldon
was down bathed in blood, one blow had carried away the flesh entirely
from one side of his face, fracturing his jaw-bone in the most
frightful manner.

The bear disappeared, and probably retired to die, whilst we carried
Sheldon home, with what feelings of grief I need not say. We sent him on
to Sonoma as soon as possible, and he afterwards recovered, though
dreadfully disfigured, and with the loss of an eye. It was perhaps on
account of this accident that we made up no more parties for the express
purpose of bear-hunting, but left it to chance to meet them, and as it
happened, accident threw very few in our way.

The chief difficulty in killing the grizzly bear arises from the
formation of his head, which is convex. The ball generally glances off
sufficiently to avoid the brain; you have in fact but three vital parts,
the back of the ear, the spine, and the heart; and it is said that the
grizzly bear will live long enough after being shot in the latter part
to do much mischief. He is always in motion, and I think the steadiest
of hunters will allow that his conduct when wounded is not calculated to
improve one’s aim. The very fact of finding that you hit him so often
without effect, destroys confidence, and the sudden rushes that the bear
makes at his assailant is a great trial to the hunter’s nerve. There are
many accidents of the description I witnessed on record, although I
know one or two instances of bears being killed at the first shot.

It appears to me that a recorder of travels has a difficulty to
surmount, which falls to the lot of no other writer, for whilst duty
admonishes him to give a strictly veracious account of everything that
comes before his notice (and of a great deal that does not), inclination
and the publisher prompt him to avoid prosiness, for this very good
reason, that if he enters into details he bores his readers; but then,
on the other hand, if he is not sufficiently specific, he is pronounced
a “superficial observer.”

This observation is induced by the necessity of my introducing, at all
costs, further accounts respecting the grizzly bear.

When we consider the weight of the grizzly, which often reaches fifteen
hundred pounds, the enormous strength of which he is possessed, as
evidenced by the limbs of trees which he will wrench from the trunk, and
his extraordinary speed and activity, we have reason (speaking as one
who lives in his vicinity) for congratulation that the animal is of
inoffensive habits, and avoids the presence of man. The sole instance to
the contrary is that in which you are unfortunate enough to invade the
domestic circle of the she-bear when accompanied by her cubs: she
invariably gives chase the instant she sees the intruder, who, if he is
wise, will “draw a bee-line” in an opposite direction. In running[5]
from a bear, the best plan is to turn round the side of a hill, for the
bear having then as it were two short legs and two long ones, can’t,
under such circumstances, run very fast. There is but one sized tree
that you can climb in safety in escaping from a bear, and you may run a
long way before you find it. It must be just too small for your pursuer
to climb up after you, and just too large for it to pull down, a nice
point to hit. The she-bear is invariably irascible when nursing, and
perhaps this accounts for the fact that the male-bear is seldom found in
her company; to her he leaves the education and support of their
progeny, whilst he seeks amusement elsewhere--I might say at his club,
for it is the habit of bears to congregate in threes or fours under a
tree for hours, and dance on their hams in a very ludicrous manner, with
no apparent ostensible object but that of passing the time away and
getting away from their wives.

I have heard many anecdotes related of grizzly bears. I choose the
following as characteristic of a well-established fact that the bear,
even when infuriated, not only acts from the instinct of
self-preservation, but seems loth to kill and mangle what it attacks.

In the hills round San José, an unarmed negro came suddenly on a she
grizzly with cubs. She pursued him, and fortunately for him struck him
on the head, which knocked him down, but did not of course (he being a
nigger) inflict any serious damage on the part assailed. The man wisely
remained perfectly still, whilst the bear, who knowing nothing about
“darkies’” heads, supposed she had gained the day by a _coup de main_,
retired for a short distance. After remaining quiet, as he supposed,
sufficiently long, the negro thought of getting up, but his first
movement was arrested by a crack on the other side of his head, and down
he went again, and the bear retired to watch over his interests. It was
a long time before the negro again attempted to rise (for more reasons
than one), and this was not until the bear had quitted the spot,
apparently satisfied; but no sooner was Quashy up to look about him,
than the bear darted out from another quarter, and this time she did
poor Darky great injury: she tore his back and knocked him senseless,
and then half covered him up with leaves. After this she was quite
satisfied, and the negro was shortly afterwards discovered and
resuscitated, and felt quite unwell all the next day; but told this
story long afterwards to me with great satisfaction, and, I need not
add, with unimpeachable veracity.

I have mentioned the dexterity with which the Spaniard throws the lasso,
and the weapon has been successfully employed in entrapping the bear.
The noose is thrown over him when he is near a tree, and by riding in a
circle he is secured by a dozen thongs. This is one of the feats which
the Spaniards assure you they _can_ do.

Although the grizzly’s natural food consists probably of roots and
acorns, I suppose he must be ranked as omnivorous, for he certainly
crunches a bone with great gusto. The bears cleared off any bones that
were lying round our hut; and, in one instance, we shot at a couple that
came close to our door at night and stole the bones from under the noses
of the dogs. One bear walked away with a large piece of meat and the
iron hook on which it hung, but whether he swallowed the hook with the
bait, or pulled it out with his fingers, we never ascertained; he never
brought it back again, so we indulge in the hope that it sticks in his
jaws to this day, and that he has found out “qu’il n’y a point de roses
sans des épines.”

Bear meat is eatable, but very devoid of flavour, and I think the
grizzly indulges in too much gymnastic exercise to qualify him for the
table of the epicure. He figures in the bill-of-fare at all Californian
Restaurants, and, as a great number of the common black bears are caught
alive in traps, the San Francisco hairdresser has no difficulty in
“sacrificing, on any occasion, a real animal for the benefit of his
customers.”




CHAPTER VII.

     DEER HUNTING--WILD BULLS--WILD FOWL--A DUCK GUN--DRIVING AN
     OX-TEAM--I REFLECT--AN ESTAMPEDE--THE TIGER CAT--RAINY
     SEASON--INDIAN FIRES--WASPS--WE ARE ROBBED BY THE INDIANS--I KILL A
     BEAR--CROSSING A SWOLLEN RIVER.


_Christmas, 1850._

To render agreeable a life where men are thrown entirely on their own
resources, the chief point is to ensure contentment, and nothing
conduces more to this end than to apportion to each one of the party an
equal and strictly-defined share of work. Forest life, in my case, never
altered the relations that existed between myself and those in my
employment, nor will real respect ever vanish under the familiar contact
which such a life imposes.

I gave Barnes the woods and forests, which was not such a sinecure as it
is here, as he had full employment for the winter in felling the
red-woods, and splitting them into rails for enclosing the farm. Thomas
undertook the “hewing and drawing,” the cooking, and the internal
cleanliness of the house; and this latter is very essential in mountain
life. Take everything out of your hut daily and hang it in the sun;
then, water well the floor; this drives away the vermin, which abound in
the deer and hare skins; it also ensures you against scorpions and
centipedes, which are apt to introduce themselves into the firewood. It
devolved on me to supply the larder, and the amount of exertion required
for this duty varied considerably. One day an easy walk would bring me
to a marsh, and a few shots from my double-barreled gun would secure as
many wild-ducks as we required, but on another I might be doomed, after
a long journey, to extend myself over the carcase of a buck, and then,
exposed to a glaring sun, unaided, flay my quarry and disembowel him,
quarter him, and carry him home piece by piece, over four or five miles
of successive cindery hills. I had no stout little pony with a shaggy
mane and tail, such as one sees carrying home the deer in Landseer’s
splendid pictures. I had to take as much meat as I could “pick-a-back,”
or else leave it to the coyotes, who would appear in sight whilst I was
yet at work on the carcase. If this part of a hunter’s duty was entailed
upon our fashionable deer-stalkers, many of the deer would reap the
benefit, not so much by being flayed and carried home by members of the
aristocracy, as in being left alone.

The monotony of this life was varied by excursions into the adjacent
country, and these would last two or three days; during which time we
left the hut to take care of itself; and, carrying each a rifle and a
blanket, with a few other necessaries, we passed our nights by the camp
fire, and in the day discovered wonders of nature that amply repaid us
for our journey. The first object that attracted our attention was an
immense hill of sulphur, and we discovered hot springs strongly
impregnated with this mineral in its immediate vicinity. Round one of
the springs was an apparently hard crust of sulphur, but this was
treacherous, as Thomas found out, for it was the cause of his tumbling
in and getting a medicated bath; and, although he soon dried, he smelt
so strongly of lucifer matches for some days afterwards as to be almost
unbearable. We brought some of the sulphur, which was very pure, away
with us. We also discovered large craters, and igneous rocks, piled in
such vast confusion as indicated the blind fury with which the earth had
torn and rent itself on some former great occasion. The whole of
California has been subjected to more than ordinary violent
disturbances, but the vegetation of thousands of years has decomposed
since then, and the huge rocks that were once hurled, red-hot, I dare
say, into the air, are now deeply-embedded in the surrounding soil.

These excursions opened a new field for our rifles, for, whilst taking a
bird’s-eye view one morning from the elevation on which we had encamped,
our attention was arrested by the appearance of a herd of wild cattle.
Having observed the direction in which they were grazing, and finding
that, unfortunately, the direction of the wind prevented our heading
them, I adopted a plan which proved successful. Carefully keeping them
in sight from the rear, as I knew that water was not immediately ahead
of them, I foresaw that towards sunset they would alter their course,
and, guided by their instinct, graze towards the nearest spring. This
they did in the afternoon; and having now a side wind, we hastened to
look for cover in their line of march, glad to exchange the slip-shod
pace at which for hours we had followed their movements, for a brisk
double in the other direction. As soon as we had hit our line, I sent
Barnes out to reconnoitre, and he immediately returned, having
discovered the spring and a good cover a little in advance of it. We
soon took up our positions, and before long the herd appeared in view:
five black bulls, one a young one. They were most beautiful beasts,
with sleek and glossy coats; thin in the flank, broad in the chest, and
rather short of horn. They evinced uneasiness at once when within shot,
and stared in our direction, snuffing the air and pawing the ground. As
the young one presented his broadside, he fell on his knees to
“shoulder-breaker” and, tail on end, went the rest of the herd at a long
trot over the hills. We walked up to our friend to give the “coup de
grâce,” but, through a want of caution, not usual with him, Barnes got a
bad bruise, for the bull, by a sudden exertion, rose and plunged at him,
catching him full in the chest, and knocking him down, then fell down
himself, never to rise again. Barnes felt some pain for a day or two,
which we allayed with the infallible castor oil: but I rather suspect
his chief annoyance was caused by having been floored by a young bull,
for whom, under ordinary circumstances, I think he was a match in
physical strength.

Although wild cattle are not described as being indigenous to the
country, I have no doubt, from their appearance, that these were so, and
that their cows were not many miles away. It is vexatious to be obliged
to leave a fine carcase to the wolves and vultures; but as a bullock is
too much for three men, and we were far from home, we cut out the best
part of it and returned to camp; and the coyotes made a fine noise,
during the night, over what remained.

The wild fowl now came over in heavy flights and settled in our
vicinity. The geese were in incredible numbers; white and grey geese and
brant. Of ducks we had several varieties, many of them quite unknown to
me, and I regret that I failed, from want of materials, in my endeavours
to preserve specimens of them. The geese are very easily shot when first
they arrive, but soon become very wary. The easiest and best plan is to
construct little huts of green stuff near the marshes they frequent, and
you are sure of good flight shooting at daylight. I had a large duck-gun
that I had used in punt-shooting in Norfolk, but it was very rebellious,
and kicked so, when used from the shoulder without a rest, that I placed
it under Barnes’s especial charge; and whenever he felt in particularly
good health, he went out with it, and you might see him returning with
geese and ducks suspended from every part of his body; his face wreathed
in smiles at his good fortune; but the next morning would disclose a
bruise on his right shoulder of about the size and colour of a certain
popular green dessert plate. Herons and curlew were plentiful, and very
tender, jack-snipe in great abundance, but I never disturbed them, for
I am a bad snipe shot, and the first rule in the mountains is to spare
your powder. Hares and partridges were in abundance, yet were also
spared, as we wished them about the place; but rabbits were rather
scarce and very small. If the love of sport, therefore, was sufficient
to chain one to this spot, the above enumeration will show that we had
not only ample occupation, but variety; yet I determined on adding
farming to my other amusements, and although it recurred to me that when
I gave up “gentleman farming” in England, I registered a vow to leave
such things to those who better understood them, I thought there could
be no danger in trying “an acre of maiden soil.”

It was our custom of an evening, after our supper was over, the fire
piled up with blazing oak logs, and each man had lighted his pipe and
received a noggin of schnappes, after the fatigues of the day, to
congregate in one room and there, after lighting a candle, one of us
would read a book aloud. I had a good stock of books, though they
travelled in a small compass, and as they were, for the most, by
Fielding, Smollett, De Foe, Le Sage, Goldsmith, and that class of
writers, they all bore reading twice, and more than twice; so that our
evenings were passed very sociably. Barnes, too, who was an uneducated
man, was taking instructions in writing from Thomas, and began to learn
in this wild spot what they never tried to teach him in the Christian
village where he first saw the light. One evening these amusements were
set aside for the discussion of the subject of the cultivation of a
piece of the farm. Onions were at this time commanding fabulous prices
in San Francisco; and a very simple calculation proved, as distinctly as
possible, _on paper_, that one acre planted with onions would realise an
enormous profit, provided the onions came up. To ensure this last
important point, I engineered a ditch, which was to convey water for
their irrigation from our stream; and leaving the others to carry out
these works, I started on foot for San Luis, where I arrived, after two
days, very footsore. I procured a plough, a waggon, a yoke of strong
American oxen, and a fresh supply of groceries, and I then paid a flying
visit to San Francisco in a small fishing-boat, and returned to Sonoma
with seeds of all kinds, a box of horse-radish roots, which came in very
well afterwards with wild bull, and about 500 fine young fruit-trees.
The difficulty now was to get my ox-team up to Russian River, for I knew
nothing of driving oxen. However, I took lessons from an American
teamster; and, as there are but two words of command, and each one, when
delivered, is accompanied by a crack on the head of the ox nearest to
you, I found the beasts soon recognised my voice and style of hitting.
But I had several rather impetuous streams to pass, some of which were
scarcely fordable, for the rain had set in; I was doubtful, therefore,
as to the method to be adopted in forcing my team through these. This,
my instructor informed me, could only be accomplished by “talking freely
to the oxen;” and, to my demand for a specimen, he jumped on the waggon,
and working himself into a state of apparent phrenzy, he stamped and
swore, and beat them, and cracked his whip, and execrated them until
they both broke into a round trot. I profited by his advice, and got
through my gulches in safety, and I can only hope that the “freedom of
speech” I indulged in was justified by the circumstances of the case.

I started alone, and as oxen travel very slowly, I was three days and a
half getting to the farm. On my way I met a good-looking fellow with
black beard and moustaches, who asked me in French the way to the
nearest log hut. I entered into conversation with him, and found that he
was a Normandy man of the name of Lebret. He had a gun, and a game bag,
and gaiters on; in fact, he was a “Frenchman out shooting” all over,
with nothing in his game-bag. I found that he was hard up and wanted
employment, so I told him where I was going, offered him a berth, and
with an “Eh bien!” up he jumped, and after crossing Russian River, for
which we were just in time, as it was much swollen, I landed my cargo
and Frenchman safe and sound at the farm, which, after my temporary
absence, seemed home in every sense. And it was so. The very dogs knew
it for a happy place as they bounded out to bid me welcome back. Home
speaks in the grip of Barnes’s bony hand; in the studied polish that my
rifle bears as it hangs above my bed; and home speaks in the eager faces
that group around the fire and listen to my brief recital of what befel
me since we parted.

       *       *       *       *       *

I had a favourite little spot on my hunting ground that I always
selected for my halt; it was a little clump of sheltered rocks, and,
after poking about with my loading-rod, to turn out any rattlesnake that
might be there, I would sit down and enjoy the luxury of the cool shade
and a pipe. All good sportsmen agree, and with great truth, in the
impropriety of smoking whilst working up to game; but, after walking a
few hours in the hot sun, a pipe is a great luxury, and I was always
glad to reach this cover where I could indulge my propensity without
fear of tainting the surrounding atmosphere.

I have often mused, as I have sat in this little den, on the life I was
leading, and reflected with regret that its charms must some day succumb
to use, and that, in time, even deer hunting would pall on the taste,
and the excitement of a wild life become monotonous. With health beating
in every pulse, with God’s best gifts strewed round him in profusion,
and intellect to fashion them to use, a man acknowledges instinctively
the infinite wisdom of the Creator, and feels a proportionate gratitude
for His gifts.

It is easy to be grateful when one has health, strength, and freedom,
and easy to flatter oneself into the belief that a life so primitive is
more natural than one more civilised; but it is but the lazy gratitude
of one who has nothing else to live for but himself, and who is freed,
not alone from the conventionalities which a more civilised state
imposes, but from all claim upon his self-denial. Freed in fact from the
presence of all evils which beset man elsewhere, and tax his fortitude,
his courage, and his virtue; living but for himself, with himself alone
to study, he indulges in selfishness, and is happy. And this is the
great foundation-stone of the charms we hear associated with a wild free
life.

One night a herd of deer jumped our railings, and passing close to the
hut, crossed the river at great speed, evidently under the influence of
fear. We listened, and shortly afterwards heard a pack of wolves, giving
tongue in the distance. The next morning the ground, which was soft,
gave evidence that there had been an _estampede_ the night before. Herds
of deer had crossed and recrossed in every direction until they had
forded the stream, when they made a clean bolt for the mountains. Not a
hare was to be seen; and for several days we had an empty
larder,--living during that time on wheat cakes, for, unfortunately, we
had expended all our small shot. I imagine that wolves are very uncommon
in the country, from the facts of the game becoming so much excited at
their presence, and that we never heard their bark again. We did not see
a wolf, but their “sign” was unmistakeable. One day we observed the
trail of a panther near the brook, and searched for him without success;
but Barnes bagged him next day to his own gun. He was up a tree when
Barnes saw him, and came down with great rapidity on being shot through
the skull. He was a heavy beast, a male, and of a tawny colour. This
animal is called in the country the Californian lion.

The tiger cat is a beautiful animal, and very ferocious for its size;
we saw two or three of these, about the size of a wild cat, and
beautifully marked in the coat. I shot but one, and it was with the
greatest difficulty that I could induce him to resign his life without
having his skin spoilt. I was agreeably surprised, on my return one day
to the hut, to find a horse, saddled and bridled, attached to our
railing, and I ascertained that its owner was a countryman of mine who
had been “prospecting” the surrounding country, and had been directed by
March to our camp. They say we are a stiff and formal people: perhaps
so; but in the mountains, an Englishman needs no further introduction
than to know a man for a countryman to place the best he has at the
stranger’s service. You show him the river and give him a towel: you
supply him with a tin plate and spoon, and he helps himself from your
smoking pot: you produce a bottle of whiskey in his honour, and after
placing the tobacco cannister at his elbow, and pointing out the bundle
of blankets that will form his bed, you enter into social conversation.
When you part from the man the next morning, you feel quite sorry, and
hope to see him again, although there is little probability of that, for
these are chance meetings. It is my belief that there is an honest
purpose in the hearty wring of the hand that such a stray visitor gives
you as he mounts his horse to depart. Whether or no, he can’t go away
and say your rooms are _damp_, and your claret is _sour_, that your wife
is a _fright_, and your pictures are _trash_, as people _sometimes_ do
in more civilised countries, after enjoying the hospitality of their
friends. Our guest produced from his pocket, a number of Punch, and one
of the Illustrated News--about five months old. I had had opportunities
of reading these publications in a great many out-of-the-way parts of
the globe, but I never expected that they would reach my log hut. But
English periodicals creep in everywhere; and I remember that the first
indication I received of some family news of importance was when, at a
pic-nic at Mount Lebanon, I picked up a scrap of newspaper which had
contained the mustard of some party who had preceded us, and casually
glanced at its contents.

The rainy season was now approaching, and the heat became occasionally
intense. At times the Indians would fire the surrounding plains, the
long oat-straw of which would ignite for miles. The flames would advance
with great rapidity, leaving everything behind them black and charred.
At these times a dense smoke would hang over the atmosphere for two or
three days, increasing the heat until it became insupportable. I had a
thermometer with me during the whole of my stay in California, and could
produce an elaborate[6] meteorological table; but as people say you
should write as you talk, I shall dismiss the subject of the temperature
of Russian River by remarking that in summer it was sometimes as warm as
Hong Kong, and in the rainy season it was as cold as an average English
winter. We have an officer of scientific renown in our naval service,
who is selected by the Admiralty to explore the least known portions of
the globe; of which parts, when he returns, he publishes an account,
which would be interesting in the extreme, but, that, alas! his
scientific knowledge oozes out in every line, and the reader, after
hopelessly following him through a maze of figures, which are
particularly addressed to, and understood only by, the Geographical
Society, shuts the book in despair, and remains for life in ignorance of
the habits of the Chow-chow Islanders.

The Digger Indians burn the grass to enable them to get at roots and
wasps’ nests; young wasps being a luxury with them. These fires have the
good effect of destroying immense quantities of snakes and vermin; and
one can scarcely imagine the extent to which these might multiply were
they not occasionally “burnt out.” The wasps are so numerous here in
summer, as to destroy with rapidity everything they attack. Fleas not
only abound in the skins of every beast you kill, but even live on the
ground, like little herds of wild cattle; and ants are of all shapes and
sizes, and stand up savagely on their hind legs and open their mouths,
if you only look at them. The wasps attack any meat that may be hanging
up, and commence at once cutting out small pieces, which they carry
home, and it is astonishing the quantity they will carry away with them.
What they do with it when they get home, I never ascertained; but I
presumed that they “jerked” it for winter use, as the Spaniards do.

It was hard work at dinner-time, to know who the meat belonged to, for
these wasps used to sting on the slightest provocation; and it was the
worst part of Thomas’s duty to take a hare down from a peg and cut it
up.

But neither ants nor fleas ever troubled our persons; the skins were
always sent down to the river whilst yet warm, and the common
precautions I adopted in-doors insured us against all annoyance.

It now commenced to rain very heavily, but not before I had,
fortunately, completed a shed, and laid in a stock of fire-wood, and had
also erected an additional room for drying wet clothes, &c., and for
sheltering the dogs. The first rain lasted for four days without
cessation; and here again I am unable to state, scientifically, the
quantity of water that fell in inches, but on the fourth day the water
laid on our valley of such a depth that it just plummed the top of a
pair of Cording’s fishing-boots, which came up to about my knees. All
the fruit trees and garden seeds were in the ground; and as we had no
immediate use for our oxen, and they were up to their bellies in water,
we let them run over the hills. Shortly after this the weather cleared
up, and we were much distressed at missing my slot-hound. Many days
elapsed before we gained any clue to his fate, until, beating up some
new ground one day, I came upon what remained of the poor old
fellow,--his skin and bones. He had broken away and indulged in a
midnight ramble, and had evidently been attacked and overpowered by
coyotes, of which two carcasses lay near him. We all felt much regret
for the old fellow, for he was a good staunch dog, and had been a great
favourite of my late father. We buried his remains and erected a mark to
his memory; but, although I experienced the same feeling of regret that
most men do when they lose a favourite and faithful hound, I shall
refrain from inflicting upon the reader the doleful stanzas which are
generally addressed “To my Dog,” on these occasions.

_January 1._ For two months we had alternate rain and sunshine, and
nothing of moment occurred. The farm was by this time entirely enclosed,
and the _onions_ with which Barnes had planted an acre, began to appear
above the ground. We had also large patches of vegetables for home
consumption.

When returning one day from an excursion, we found that the Indians had
paid our valley a visit, and rifled our house of everything they thought
valuable; cooking utensils, blankets, clothes, and tools had
disappeared,--but we had taken the precaution of depositing our powder
in a secret place which they did not discover. Our rifles, and one
blanket each, we had with us on our excursion. The two principal
annoyances that resulted from this were, firstly, that the nights being
very cold indeed now, and our house very thin, our blankets were a
serious loss; secondly, they had stolen _all our candles_. They also
stole our skins; not that I ever intended to bring these trophies away
for the benefit of the public, for with the exception of the puma-skin,
and some of wild cats, they were of that mild description which are only
exhibited in tailors’ shop-fronts, where they assume the form of
gentlemen’s hunting inexpressibles. The Indians, it afterwards
appeared, were in the habit of annually following the course of our
stream to gather the wild grapes which grew on its banks. These people
will eat anything, but how they manage the wild grapes is a mystery, for
these grapes never ripen, and green gooseberries give no conception of
their acidity. In pursuit of these luxuries, however, they came upon our
camp, and took away whatever they thought they understood the use of,
but evidently departed in a great hurry. I never saw an Indian during
the whole of my stay in that part of the country; but, after this
robbery, had any ever come within rifle range either of my hut or
March’s, he would have been shot like a coyote; for once let an Indian
think he can steal with impunity, he will soon attempt to murder you for
the clothes on your back.

Although I had determined, after Sheldon’s casualty, upon following no
more bears into the bush, which is here too thick for the use of the
rifle, I still hoped to kill a bear during the winter, trusting to a
chance meeting under favourable circumstances; and in this respect I was
gratified, inasmuch as I killed a bear to my own gun. Now, in writing
from memory, one might almost be excused for a little inaccuracy in
point of size and weight; and I must confess that I have an almost
irresistible temptation to forget the real dimensions of the animal
that surrendered life on this occasion, and, calling it simply a _bear_,
leave its weight and ferocity to be conjectured from my general
description of the species. In fact, it was a cub, that I once found
playing by itself among some rocks. I should have liked to have taken
him home alive, but although his movements were excessively infantine
and playful to behold, I have no doubt that had I attempted to capture
him, he would not only have bitten me until I had let him go, but would
have hallooed for his parents, and brought those amiable persons to the
rescue. So I shot him; and I had quite enough to do to carry him home
dead, for he was very fat. I must mention here, that although we walked
this country for nearly nine months, and continually alighted on the
fresh “sign” of bear, with the exception of those that visited our hut
at night, and the others above mentioned, our party saw but three bears,
two of which were wounded, but escaped; and this is probably
attributable to the fact that the bear’s sense of hearing enables him to
follow up his natural impulse of avoiding the hunter.

A Colt’s revolver is invaluable to the deer-hunter, both for
self-defence and killing wounded game. Perhaps the best praise I can
award to this weapon is in saying that I have had mine for four years,
during which time it has been much used and _more abused_, but at this
moment it is perfect in every respect, and has never required repair.

We searched, or “prospected” the adjacent hills on many occasions, to
discover if gold existed in the surface soil, but without success. It is
worthy of remark, that this district of country is similar in every
respect to that of the mining regions. Here, as there, is a succession
of red gravelly hills, interspersed with veins of quartz, all of which
have been subjected to volcanic agency that would long ago have ejected
the gold from the quartz had there been any in it. But the mountain in
labour here brought forth a mouse; whilst a few miles further south it
has produced results of a much more satisfactory description. We,
however, did discover a peculiar blue quartz, which, upon assay by
fusion, was found to contain a large quantity of gold. The presence of
silver in small quantities was also evident in another rock we
discovered. But, with these exceptions, we found no trace of any
description of metal but iron.

It was now spring, and I started alone, on foot, for San Francisco,
where business required my presence. On arriving at Russian River I
found the stream much swollen, but I struck a part of the river where I
knew one of the hunters had a log-hut and a dug-out, or canoe. I reached
the hut and found no one at home, but the dug-out was hauled up and the
paddle was in it.

It was easy to launch the dug-out, which was very long and thin; so,
seating myself in the stern, I was at once in the current. I need not
say that I should never have dreamt of paddling myself over a swollen
river in a canoe, had I not accustomed myself to them when in the Borneo
rivers; but when I reached the middle of the stream I found the eddies
made the dug-out so unmanageable, and the current was so much stronger
than I imagined, and the water hissed and bubbled about me to such an
extent that I had to keep the dug-out’s head nearly straight up stream,
and I began to get quite giddy and bewildered, and wished I was safe on
shore. I did effect a landing, an hour afterwards, about a mile lower
down the river; I had just strength enough to land, and just sense
enough to feel excessively grateful for not having been carried out to
sea, or, what is more probable, capsized in the eddies of the stream.




CHAPTER VIII.

     QUILP DEPARTS FOR THE SOUTH--SAN LUIS--RAMSEY--I AM LEFT FOR
     DEAD--THE EARLY HISTORY OF CALIFORNIA--DISCOVERY OF SAN
     FRANCISCO--SPANISH MISSIONS--A DIGRESSION--DIGRESSION, CONTINUED--A
     RAINY SEASON--A LITTLE CRAB.


_April, 1851._

It was long after dark when I arrived at Santa Rosa Valley, perfectly
“knocked up.” Englishmen are generally good pedestrians; but there is a
great difference between walking on the level in well-made shoes, and
dragging through deep sloughs and acres of thick clayey mud in heavy
ill-fitting jack-boots, particularly when the boots appear unwilling to
proceed in your society, and one or other of them is continually
disengaging itself, as if wishing to be left behind regardless of
expense.

I found that the Carillo family had left Santa Rosa, and the valley had
been purchased by Americans for the purpose of cultivating grain, for
which many parts of it were well adapted. The Carillos had departed,
with horses, dogs, Indians, and Quilp, for the south, _where the wine
came from_, where the temperature was better adapted to their
“far-niente” dispositions, and where in particular Quilp was likely to
enjoy a longer lease of life than his undisguised hatred of Americans
would probably have permitted had he remained much longer at the valley.
As slothfulness and ignorance stepped out, intelligence and industry
usurped their place, and on the rich plain the wild waving oats fell to
the ruthless scythe, whilst the plough upturned the maiden soil on every
side.

And so must other lands and other people of this continent succumb to
the increasing wants of Anglo-Saxon man. As the red-Indian retires
before the pale-face, so will inert bigotry in the new world disappear
before the march of energy; and the bounteous riches with which the
Creator has strewed this portion of the globe must some day be under a
rule that will admit of these benefits being extended to mankind, no
longer to be closed to the world, through the petty warfares or
restrictive seclusion of a people too inert to seize the advantages
around them, and (with a full sense of this) too jealous to admit others
to do so.

       *       *       *       *       *

About five miles from Sonoma is an “embarcadero,” or landing place,
situated on a mud creek, which is navigable for small boats, and
communicates with the bay of San Francisco. Here are three houses,
which conjointly represent the town of San Luis; opposite the town some
fishing-boats lay at anchor, and in one of these I bargained for a
passage to San Francisco, in company with eight live bullocks, that were
now lying on the strand, bound neck and heels together, moaning
piteously, as if impatient to get to the butcher’s and have it all over.

With the exception of the owners of the three houses, the population of
San Luis was a particularly floating one, being represented for the most
part by the crews of the fishing-smacks, of which there were at times a
great number in port.

From the centre house there proceeded the sound of a fiddle, and, as no
one could be perceived outside, it became evident that the floating
population had here assembled to wile away the hours until the tide
served to enable the boats to leave.

I entered the house and found it to consist of a store and drinking-shop
combined; and, in virtue of its latter attraction, it was filled, as I
had anticipated, by the men belonging to the boats, who, already half
drunk, were tossing off champagne,[7] out of tin pannikins, and drinking
to a speedy voyage across the bay. The proprietor of the establishment
was not only an Englishman, but he was one of those plump, rosy-cheeked,
good-natured-looking fellows that attract the eye at once, and whose
smile is sympathetic; he was a gentleman, that is to say, he had been
educated as one, and had lived as one, and was none the less one (as I
found afterwards), now that he kept a grog-shop. I shall call him
Ramsey; he was one of those men who never make money, for they cannot
save; so that when Ramsey left, as he did, a high and very remunerative
position of trust on the Pacific coast, and came up to San Francisco
with a cargo of flour, in the expectation of making a fortune; and when
he determined on taking the flour up the river Sacramento, and the flour
was caught in a squall in the bay and went down, Ramsey found that he
had done a very foolish thing. However, all smiles and good-humour, he
took the grog-shop and store at San Luis, where I found him.

Ramsey had related these adventures to me before we had been an hour
acquainted; and on my presenting myself as a countryman (for there was
no mistaking his Anglo-Saxon physiognomy), he had immediately relapsed
into beaming smiles, and placing a bottle of champagne under each arm,
he had ushered me into his little bed-room, leaving his assistant to
attend to the wants of the freshwater sailors.

Understanding from him that he had lost all his personal effects when
his cargo disappeared, I was surprised to find so many evidences in his
bed-room of an English establishment;--a well-browned hunting-saddle and
bridle, the stalk of a whip and a pair of spurs, a double-barrelled gun
and fishing-rod, with some pairs of “cords,” were observable about the
little pig-sty he called his room. In answer to my inquiring look, he
said he had just had time to save _these only_ from his wreck, and that
they were pleasant things to have about one as reminiscences of old
England and happy days spent in fishing and hunting there; the smile
forsook his face, as it did mine, when he said this, but it soon
returned again to both of us, and as we chatted away I found much to
like in my new acquaintance, who was not only intelligent and
well-informed, but very humorous. There was to be a ball that night at
Sonoma, at the house of one Judge White, and as the boatmen had (from
the effects of the champagne) delayed their departure until the next
morning, I agreed to accompany Ramsey, who had been especially invited,
to this festivity.

At the ball everything appeared to be conducted with great propriety;
but the company was composed of honest mechanics, who, with the best
intentions, danced quadrilles on a peculiar principle, inasmuch as they
cut capers to such an extent as obliged the spectator, however
disinclined, to smile. In no uncomplimentary spirit I made a remark in
French to Ramsey on the subject, and this being overheard and but half
understood, was retaliated in the following manner.

During a pause in the dances, a small gentleman, who had overheard my
remark, and who was one of the most active of the _chassez-croisez_
dancers, and was a blacksmith, though apparently small for his
profession, informed me audibly, with fire in his eyes, “that if I did
not like the company, I might leave it, and that d--d soon.” To this I
could only bow my assent, and shortly afterwards, being unable to find
Ramsey, I left the room, intending to wait for him at our hotel, that
was close by. I had not proceeded very far, when I was suddenly attacked
by the small blacksmith and three other gentlemen--blacksmiths, too, I
presume; if so, they evidently mistook my head for an anvil, for they so
belaboured it with bludgeons and other weapons that they almost killed
me, and left me for dead, before I had time to strike a blow in
defence.

When I recovered my senses, I found myself alone on the grass, and I
then managed to crawl to the hotel, where I found Ramsey awaiting me,
quite unsuspicious of the cause of my detention. I returned with him to
San Luis, and soon found that, further than having been stunned, I had
not suffered any material damage. This delayed, however, my departure
for San Francisco; and during this time a circumstance occurred which is
characteristic of the easy state of the law in the provincial districts
at this time. The house next to Ramsey’s was occupied by a choleric old
fellow, who also dispensed “notions.” This old rascal coolly shot a man
over his bar on the most trifling provocation; the man died, and the
murderer was taken before Judge White (who also kept a store, by the by,
and gave his ball with an eye to business); the Judge not only (good,
merciful fellow!) refused to detain the prisoner, but discharged him
without bail, which, he said, was not requisite; and this was all that
justice ever exacted at the hands of this cold-blooded villain.

I started at last, with fair wind and tide, for San Francisco, in a
small yawl, with a crew of three men, who were not only half-drunk, but
were about the greatest lubbers that ever went afloat. Before we reached
the mouth of the creek, they managed to run the boat on the bank, where
the ebb tide soon left her high and dry.

Under these circumstances, I cannot do better than introduce a sketch of
the early history of California, which, however uninteresting, must be
brought in somewhere; and there is no better place, I think, for
imposing it on the reader, than whilst we are waiting for the flood tide
to take us off, and are spitefully pelting, out of a bag of beans, the
muddy little crabs that surround our stranded bark.

It was about the middle of the sixteenth century that stories of the
existence of untold wealth first inflamed the minds and excited the
ardour of the Mexicans and Spaniards. The expedition of Hernando de
Alarcon and Francisco de Ulloa had returned in safety to Mexico, after
having visited the river Colorado, and the Pacific coast as high as 30°
North. Many and wondrous were the tales these bold adventurers related
of precious stones, and gold and pearls; of Amazons, and wealthy cities;
so that naturally the attention of the adventurous was turned in one
direction only; and the dream of the young, the ambition of the aged,
was to discover this Cibola--this undeveloped El-Dorado. The Viceroy of
Mexico at this period was one Mendoza, a jealous opponent of the
renowned Cortes. This man was sufficiently sagacious to perceive the
advantages of obtaining, if possible, possession of the reported gold
regions, and fitted out an expedition in the port of Natividad,
consisting of two vessels, which were placed under the command of Juan
Rodriguez Cabrillo, who had with him as lieutenant Bartolomé Ferrelo.

It is no honour to the viceroy that this expedition was set on foot by
him, for in those days the discovery of new lands, as is well known,
conferred large benefits and rewards on the potentates under whose rule
the expeditions originated; whilst the brave fellows who risked their
lives in carrying out the work were not only unrewarded then, but in few
instances have been considered worthy even of a _name_ in the history of
the countries they have discovered. It was no slight proof of courage to
undertake this voyage, for it will be remembered that not only were the
vessels in use of such a class that the wonder now is that they ever
rode out a gale; but the impression was strong in the minds of the
mariners of that day, that the world was square, and that to arrive at
its limits would bring down the punishment of Heaven for their
presumption, even if they did not tumble over the edge. Nor need we
wonder that such a belief existed in those superstitious days. Are there
not many now among the civilised and enlightened who refuse to
investigate the palpable evidences of the power of animal magnetism,
from the fixed belief that there should be a limit to man’s inquiry into
the mysteries of nature?

The expedition sailed, it appears, in 1542, jogging on at the rate of
about ten miles a day. Cabrillo discovered in succession the southern
ports of California. At some of these he touched, and found the
inhabitants to consist of a half-civilised tribe of Indians, who treated
him with kindness. The existence of these Indians is confirmed by later
writers. Vizcaino, who visited these shores in 1602, mentions having
discovered idolatrous temples on the island of Catalina.

The surveys of this expedition are not of much value to the present age,
as the nautical instruments of that period were not very true; but
Cabrillo’s explorations none the less assisted those who came after him,
who, with instruments equally defective, hit his points with tolerable
accuracy, although there was generally an error in _his_ latitude by
observation of about a hundred miles.

Cabrillo at last worked up towards San Francisco, but the heavy surf and
iron-bound coast, together with the thick fogs that hang about the bay,
no doubt prevented his entering, and he resolved on returning and
awaiting a more favourable season; but anchoring for repairs in one of
the harbours of the Santa Barbara Islands, the old sailor died, probably
from fatigue and exposure to the damps and north-west winds.

The command of the expedition then devolved upon Ferrelo, who bravely
made another attempt; but failing in effecting a landing, he returned to
Natividad, after a voyage of 283 days. Sir Francis Drake next visited
California in 1579; Juan de Fuca in 1595, and Sebastian Vizcaino in
1602. This latter entered the bay of San Francisco, though probably he
was not its discoverer, and proceeded in boats as far as where Benicia
now stands.

In 1769 the settlement of Upper California was commenced by Spanish
priests at San Diego, and several small expeditions followed in
succession until 1776, when the Roman Catholic missionaries Palou and
Cambon landed in San Francisco, and established their head-quarters in
that place. The settlement at this period was known by the name of Yerba
Buena, from the presence of a medicinal herb which abounded in the
neighbourhood, and which was held in high estimation by the Indians.
Here the missionaries erected a church and other buildings, of “adobes,”
or sun-dried bricks. The Mission flourished rapidly. The Indians soon
learnt, under the tuition of the Padres, the advantages of cultivating
the earth; and those of them that embraced the Catholic religion began
to drink rum, and value beads, as is usual with converted savage tribes.
Mexican settlers also made their appearance, and the richest portions of
the country were soon appropriated by them. Gradually cattle and sheep
were introduced, which in their wild state increased rapidly without
much trouble to their owners, who, having nothing to do but to kill
their meat and eat it, basked in the sun like lazy dogs as they were,
and thought themselves the happiest of men;--and it is difficult for any
one to prove they were not.

By the year 1831, the number of Christian baptisms amounted to about
7000. After this period, the Indians, from some cause or other, perhaps
from a scarcity of rum, altered their minds on the subject; and although
a fresh supply of priests arrived, the number of converts rapidly
decreased, so much so that in the eight years preceding the discovery of
gold, only 400 savages were caught and converted. And if one may judge
from the specimens of converted Indians that are to be found here and
there in California at the present date, one has no reason to regret
that the efforts of the priests were unattended with success; for,
however we may deplore the abject misery and degradation of the
aboriginal tribes, it is not by the mummery of a form that such souls
can be redeemed, or such unhappy natures be remodeled. On the contrary,
their small glimpses of civilisation offer to their view both virtues
and vices equally unknown before; then, left untrammeled to choose
between the two, we see the baptised savage follow his impulses until he
sinks so low in the scale of men, that his original degradation stands
out almost as virtue beside him.

A holy task is that of the missionary, and bravely carried out. Let him
still strive to reclaim the savage, and bring his soul to God; but yet
take heed that the work be finished, for I have seen in my day converted
tribes that were a mockery on all that sanctifies the missionary work,
and had better, one would think, have eaten each other’s bodies in
primeval irresponsibility, than, having been only _half_ awakened to a
sense of right, but fully so to a knowledge of all that is wrong, have
been left to grovel in the vices that most debase humanity. How much
more care does it not require to avert the steps of the _converted
savage_ from crime, than that of others of your flock!--is he not
naturally more debased, more prone to adopt the broad and easy path that
ever lies plain and palpably before him? Can you take a young tiger
from the jungle, and having caged him, soften his natural propensities
easily? You can do so only by unceasing watchfulness and coercion; cease
these, and your tiger is a tiger again, as nature asserts her sway.
Somewhat so it is with the savage you allure from the freedom of his
hunting-ground; you show him the advantages of domestic life, and the
means of applying to his benefit the soil around him; you adapt to his
comprehension the simple outlines of religion, by pointing out to him
that, to live in brotherhood and amity is good (and beneficial); that to
wage war and hate and eat one’s enemy is bad (and detrimental); that a
good Supreme Being, who can reward or punish, has said so, and that the
evidence of this Supreme Being reigns, as even a savage can see, in all
around. The simple aborigine accords you his belief; regretfully,
perhaps, he leaves his wild prairie and the baked heads of his enemies,
and will worship the “Great Spirit,” whose presence the poetry of his
nature enables him to understand; sooner or later you baptise him, and
you have your savage in the first stage of Christianity. But now you
have a savage nature on your hand; you have implanted innocently what
with his impulses may grow to avarice if you leave him to himself; for
if he cultivates the land among the _civilised_ he will cheat--if
cheat, wrangle--if wrangle, murder; for the steps to crime are rapid in
such a constitution; but if he drinks, the savage ever becomes too
brutalised for reclamation.

In what does this fault lie? Not so much that the man is so constituted
that he must thus err, but that, like the tiger I have used for
illustration, his propensities must be ever _watched_ and _guided_. The
converted savage is never so alienated from his natural impulses that he
can be left;--yet he _is_ left.

If there is fault in this, it is not, I know, on the part of those who
_work_; but to those who direct these things it might be said that it is
better to convert a few, and _in reality increase Christ’s fold_, than
sign a million with His holy symbol, yet bring their souls no nearer
heaven. Yet how fruitlessly one may argue. To whom is the reproach, that
while we _may_ add our mite to aid the propagation of the Gospel abroad,
we dare not relieve gaunt misery in the street at home, for fear of
encouraging systematic mendicity; as if, forsooth, the blame of this
belonged by right alone to those who practised it.

There are black missionaries who work as faithfully as white, and it is
a startling fact to find that many of these, leaving their coloured
brethren at home to the care of our white missionaries, are in our
midst, attempting to alleviate, by God’s help, the misery and ignorance
that exist in our great towns; and if the most festering wounds have the
first claim upon the surgeon’s skill, the place of these black
missionaries is here, God knows!

Why shall it still be said, and said again of us who are not loth to
_relieve_, that our aims are misdirected from want of judgment and from
ill-government? And why are the talents and energies of so many
churchmen, whose beck and nod the charitable, to a great extent, obey,
still turned to the Propagation of the Gospel abroad, when it requires
but the opening of a proper channel at home to rid us of this great
reproach?

We may condemn the love of political power, that in the main actuated
the Jesuits in their efforts to propagate their faith; but how much has
not the love of power, equally reprehensible, been a bar to the cure of
our evils at home? Would the young and energetic of our young clergy
seek a field abroad in which to work, with little reward and great
privation, if the field at home was open to them?

       *       *       *       *       *

About the year 1845, some Americans began to congregate at Yerba Buena,
and these increased so rapidly, that San Francisco was in fact an
American settlement before California became a territory of the United
States.

During the war that broke out between the United States and Mexico in
1846, the settlement appears to have increased in population and
prosperity, although the exportation of hides never seems at any time to
have been of much importance. In 1847, the population of San Francisco
amounted to eight hundred, and everything gave promise that the country
would soon be sought for its agricultural advantages; the attention of
the Californian settlers was directed towards the supposed mineral
wealth of the country, but gold was the last metal thought of.
Quicksilver had already been found and worked at San Jose; and the
reported existence of veins of copper, silver, coal, and limestone,
caused a feverish excitement to disturb this small community.

The first discovery of gold was made in December, 1847, when some of the
labourers employed at Sutter’s Mill, near Sacramento, discovered some
flakes whilst constructing a ditch; ample evidence soon existed of the
truth of the first reports, and the whole population flocked to the gold
fields, and shortly afterwards the country became the property of the
United States. Events now followed one another with great rapidity:
adventurers poured in from all quarters of the globe, and ships arrived
in harbour freighted with merchandise which realised tremendous profits.

The rainy season of California commences about November, and the winter
of 1849 was more than ordinarily wet. It is said that nine inches of
water fell on the night of the 6th of November; the whole town, which
had now become important in extent, was a perfect quagmire; all rubbish
and hard materials that could be procured were thrown into the streets
to form a pathway, but to no purpose, for owing to the peculiar soil of
the place, the mud was unfathomable. The streets were impassable to
mules, for there were mud-holes large enough to drown them; in those
streets which had been connected by means of a pathway of bales of
damaged merchandise, it was necessary to exercise great caution in
crossing, for one false step would precipitate the unwary passenger into
a slough on either side, in which he stood a chance of meeting a muddy
grave.

The amount of rain that fell in this winter was undoubtedly so great,
that it is much to be regretted no careful record was kept, by some of
those who now so eloquently narrate their adventures in connection with
it.

The first of the conflagrations for which San Francisco has become so
famous, occurred in December, 1849. By this, fifty houses and an immense
quantity of merchandise were destroyed. Another occurred a month
afterwards, causing an almost equal amount of damage.

The great fire of the fourth of May, 1850, commenced at four in the
morning, in a drinking-house, and spreading with great rapidity, was not
arrested until it had consumed three hundred houses, and about a million
sterling of property.

These were hard blows for the young city, but nothing daunted, the
citizens renewed their exertions, and in a few weeks the burnt district
was again covered with buildings. Every effort was now made to secure
the city against future similar calamities; many brick houses were
erected, fire companies on a large scale were organised, and reservoirs
for water were constructed in different parts of the town. But on the
14th of June, fate again was relentless, and a fourth conflagration,
aided by a high wind, razed three hundred houses to the ground, and
scattered three million dollars of property to the winds. It was whilst
this fire was raging that (as the reader may remember) I arrived at San
Francisco; so here ends my digest of the early history of this brave
young city, and as the flood-tide is coming in, I take

[Illustration: THE WINTER OF 1849.]

a parting shot at a little crab that has not taken his eyes off me since
we arrived, and wonders, I suppose, why I don’t pelt one of my own size,
and gliding off our mud bank, we make sail for San Francisco.




CHAPTER IX.

     THE OLD CRAB-CATCHER--MR. WARREN--AMERICAN FRIENDSHIP--THE AMERICAN
     PRESS--EDUCATION IN AMERICA--AMERICANS GOOD COLONISTS--CALIFORNIAN
     CORRESPONDENCE.


_April, 1851._

At daylight the next morning we found ourselves among the shipping that
lay moored in crowds in front of San Francisco. Whilst threading our way
to the wharf, we narrowly escaped being swamped by one of the Stockton
river steamboats, which, in fact, did graze our stern. The Yankee
freshwater skippers of those days expected everything to get out of
their way, regardless of any difficulties that might prevent a small
boat doing so; but one of these go-ahead commanders received, to my
knowledge, a check. A fisherman of the bay had his smack damaged, and
his trawling apparatus unnecessarily carried away by one of the river
boats. His application to the captain for compensation was met with the
remark, that the next time he got in the way he would swamp him. But
might did not so easily triumph over right, and for this reason. The
small river-boats are very low in the hull, and as the steering
apparatus leads forward, the helmsman stands prominently (under a booby
hatch) near the bow of the boat. The old smack, as usual, was bobbing
about with her trawls and lines out, when down comes the steamboat one
day, the fishing-boat evidently directly in her course, and showing no
disposition to move. “D--n that old crab-catcher!” said the Captain.
“I’ll give him a close shave this time.” But the “old crab-catcher,”
standing up in his boat, levelled a long wicked-looking Kentucky rifle,
and “drew a bead” on the Captain, who, having taken the helm, formed a
splendid target. Upon this, that brave sailor thought better of it, and
not only dispensed with the close shave, but “concluded” to allow the
small smack to bob about in peace from that time forth.

On landing at San Francisco, I found so many changes on every side, that
my knowledge of locality was at fault; wharves extended on all sides
into the sea, and the spot where I last had landed was scarcely
recognisable, it was now so far inland; the steam-paddy had worked
incessantly, and the front of the town still advanced into the bay.

The winter had been (compared with that of 1849) a dry one, and some of
the streets having been graded and planked, the town was under the
worst circumstances navigable for jack-boots.

What first struck me, among the many changes of a few months, was that
the inhabitants generally were less eccentric in dress. When first I
arrived, the people were most capricious in this respect; they wore, in
fact, whatever pleased them, long hair and beards included; sobered down
by circumstances, however, they had now quietly relapsed into the habits
of ordinary mortals.

Places of rational amusement had sprung up, and replaced in a great
measure the gambling saloons, whose fortunes were rather on the wane
from over competition. There were clubs, reading-rooms, and a small
theatre, called the Dramatic Museum. This last was sadly in want of
actors, and as my time hung very heavily on my hands (I was awaiting the
arrival of a vessel from England) I gave way to a vicious propensity
that had long been my bane, and joined the company as a volunteer. For
about a month, under an assumed name, I nightly “Used Up” and “Jeremy
Diddlered” my Californian audiences, who never having fortunately seen
Charles Matthews, did not, therefore, stone me to death for my
presumptuous attempts to personate that unrivalled actor’s characters.

I became, at last, so used to seeing my “last appearance but one”
displayed on the advertising posters, that I began to associate myself
with the profession altogether, and to believe my name _was_ Warren; and
what with the excitement of acting in leading parts, and the pleasant
parties, and picnics, with our troupe, I forgot all about Russian River
Farm, and became a very slave to the buskin.

The dreadful experience of the place had made people so nervous
respecting fire, that the sound of the fire-bell would cause every man
to rush to his house, and get ready for the defence of his property; and
as small fires on the outskirts of the town were of continual
occurrence, there was scarcely a night but the deep-toned bell would
keep the citizens on the alert. On these occasions the theatre would be
deserted rapidly, whilst every other man would vociferate fire, but
almost immediately the leading columns would return, with cries of “all
over!” and “all out!” and the theatre would refill, and the performances
proceed, until the “fire-bell” took them off again, which occasionally
it would in ten minutes.

The market at this time was so overstocked with merchandise, that goods
sold at auction at less than cost-price. Ready-made clothing, in
particular, was cheaper in San Francisco than it was in New York or
London. So that the storehouses being everywhere crammed with goods,
great depression in trade existed. The city of San Francisco at this
time was in debt, about a million of dollars, and the Treasury being
empty, scrip was issued bearing the ruinous interest of thirty-six per
cent. per annum. But this state of affairs was remedied by funding the
debt, and issuing bonds payable in twenty years, bearing interest at ten
per cent. The citizens cooperated in this movement, and submitted to a
heavy tax, and thus, in spite of repeated conflagrations following on a
state of apparently hopeless bankruptcy, the energy of the San
Franciscans not only enabled the municipality to redeem annually a
portion of their bonds, but placed the credit of the city on a firm and
secure basis.

There were seven or eight churches already in San Francisco, all of
different denominations--these were well attended on Sundays, but the
price of pews was very exorbitant, reaching as high, sometimes, as ten
pounds a month. Some of these churches were built entirely in a spirit
of speculation, and on asking an acquaintance once what security he had
for some money he had lent, he told me, so many shares in ---- Church;
and the same building was afterwards sold, I think, by auction, to
satisfy its creditors. Now that ladies begin to flock into California so
rapidly, the churches are crammed to overflowing on a Sunday. The
Americans are rather strict observers of congregational worship, which
has this drawback, however, that it here imposes the necessity of so
many becoming hypocrites on the Sabbath, for as regards the amount of
religious feeling that exists at this time, one can neither judge of it
by the attendance or the absence of the people from public worship. But
I will say this for them, that as a nation they are most charitable, and
that they are true friends to one another in adversity; _once_ your
friend, the American will share all he has with you, and risk his life
in defence of your honour and name--more, he will not even permit
merited censure to be passed upon you in his presence, and however
suspicious of others worldly contact may have made him, he will repose
his confidence in you like a child. And so common are these friendships,
that the true generosity which cements them forms a prominent feature of
the American character; but whether it springs from deep religious
feeling or not is a question I do not care to argue. A great portion of
the working-classes of America are Methodists, or of somewhat similar
persuasions; they have their camp-meetings, read their Bible very
generally, are given to psalm-singing, and have the appearance of being
a religious people.

I attended one of these camp-meetings. My old friend of the English
Barque, who wished to “rip up the cook,” was officiating with “tears in
his eyes.” There was a great deal of excited praying, but the greater
proportion of the people seemed to have come out for any purpose but
that of worship--in fact, the scene was very lively, and if it had not
been for the weeping priest, it would have been a merry pic-nic.

       *       *       *       *       *

There are now seven daily papers at San Francisco, and each mining town
of importance in the country publishes its weekly sheet. If the
Americans were not thirsty people for news, warm party politicians, and
all able to read, so great a number of periodicals could never be
supported.

There is an independence about American journalism in strict accordance
with the character of the institutions of the country, but which, in my
opinion, detracts greatly from the value of the press. As, for instance,
many journals of wide circulation, conducted by men of ability, enforce
injudicious opinions that not only closely affect the vital interests of
the state, but, to a great extent, the passions of the people. For this
reason the American press has not so much weight with the highest class
of Americans, and there is no leading journal of sufficient influence to
direct and _admonish_ them; or which, from its impartiality and
justness, can give a healthy tone to the thousands of minnows that
follow in its track--none, in fact, that occupies the position of the
“Times” with us.

The Americans are prone to throw in our teeth that we are led by the
“Times,” and form no opinion for ourselves; but they forget that our
faith in the practical essays of that journal is not the result of a
blind adherence to custom, but of the confidence that, among the
rational, will ever cling to opinions that are seldom proved, under the
strongest test, to be fallacious. _Socially_, the “Times” is our
expounder and monitor, and if, in this respect, it leads us, it leads us
by conviction, as we should be led, and when you hear a man say that “he
doesn’t care what the ‘Times’ says on this or that subject,” he is
generally one not open to conviction, or not sufficiently noble to
surrender to it his own false impressions. In political matters the
“Times” may be strategical, as great statesmen have been.

The press of England has not hitherto been widely disseminated among the
working classes (fault we will say of their narrow means and education)
nor were it so, would they, as in America, be so influenced politically
by its tone; but that _which is_ disseminated either takes its tone
from the “Times,” so far as to echo weekly the strictures which that
journal passes on our _home abuses_, or otherwise is conducted in the
same spirit. Therefore there is an unanimity of opinion in the English
press, and as its expositions are by no means flattering, as a general
rule, to the public, and meet no contradiction, we may presume, from
that fact alone, that the principles it inculcates on these matters are
sound. Putting aside the slave question, the great proportion of the
American press by no means devotes itself to the exposure of abuses: in
the first place, the Americans are not fond of having their faults
pointed out, and an editor is naturally anxious to place before his
readers only what is palatable. Therefore the press declines to
admonish, and following no just and truthful leader, each provincial
journal disseminates its own doctrine, whatever that may be; and thus,
in a country where all read, the press exercises its power to excite the
passions, but seldom to control them. For instance, at the time I write
the press of California upholds strongly the doctrine of forcible
annexation; some of these journals inform the public (many of whom, by
the way, are ripe for novel enterprise) that the Sandwich Islands _must_
become subject to the United States; whilst the more ambitious point to
Mexico on one side, and British Oregon on the other--undecided only,
which first should bow to American rule. The higher classes, it will be
said, disregard these “fillibustering” doctrines; but of the 200,000
souls in California how large a proportion does not foster them until a
spirit is diffused that can never be countenanced even by the warmest
admirers of the “Munro Doctrine.”

For although one may admit it to be probable that in time the American
people will add to their dominions the Sandwich Islands and the sickly
independencies of South America, they will do so, it is to be hoped,
only as becomes a great nation, and not through piracy or intimidation.
In fact, to sum up, I think a great part of the press of the United
States studies the foibles of the people instead of correcting them,
when they most need correction, which leads to this result, that the
Americans hear of their faults through the press of other countries, and
attribute those strictures to a feeling of injustice and envy.

An American gentleman of great intelligence assured me that the good
feeling which now exists (and I trust ever will) between the two
countries, would have been induced long previous had the “Times” (I use
his own expression) been _less silent_ on the subject of America.

“What,” he asked, “did your leading journal ever say _in our favour_
fifteen years ago, when this country was making the most unexampled
strides towards prosperity? Were we ever written of but with an open
allusion to the Pennsylvanian debt? Was anything connected with us
thought worthy of record but our steam-boat explosions and Lynch law?”

There is great truth in this--the press of Europe _has_ treated America
until latterly with silence if not contempt, and it is no wonder that
the Americans, who are the first to feel a slight, should retain some
bitterness on this score.

But this has passed away, the superficial travels of prejudiced
Englishmen (and women) no longer regulate our judgment of this country,
which indeed, even if their views were correct, has long outgrown, in
its rapid prosperity, the features they depicted.

The American newspapers are conducted with talent, and warmly encourage
and keep alive the spirit of energy and progress, from which the
country’s greatness springs; their moral tone generally is good, and the
amount of useful information they disseminate renders them of great
value to the greater proportion of readers; but it is to be deplored
that so many are connected with the press, whose feelings prompt them to
keep alive a jealousy and hatred of the mother country. The best of us
need at times to have the scales removed from our eyes, and the
fallacies we hug so stubbornly must be made to fall before conviction.
Therefore, with so large a mass of readers of the lower class dependent
almost on the press for information; among a people of warm blood and
quick impulses, but a people, whom it is as easy to mould to think
calmly and dispassionately as to inflame and excite until the judgment
falls before the power of doctrines flattering to national vanity; is it
not to be lamented that that portion of the press to which the bone and
sinew of the country looks naturally for guidance and advice, should in
few instances be directed by a wise and sound policy, principally from
the absence of leading journals sufficiently courageous to _chastise_?

       *       *       *       *       *

There is nothing more pleasant than to revert to the good traits of a
country, particularly after having recorded what in one’s judgment
appears an infirmity. I allude therefore with pleasure to the
educational system of the Americans, honourable as it is to the good
feeling of the country, although it must be remembered I am speaking of
the Americans as _colonists_. The base of the American system of
education is simply to educate everybody, and to develope the natural
faculties; thus the way is opened to all to raise themselves by
assiduity and talent to independence and mayhap renown. How is it that
great and wise countries in the matter of education discuss so much and
so idly the manner of the doing; leaving the patient unrelieved whilst
the wise doctors disagree? Or how is it that it requires a Bishop and
his staff to plant a school in certain colonies, and why is so much fuss
made about the matter when the Bishop comes home and informs the public,
as bishops always do at some meeting or other, of the glorious success
that has attended his labours, and how he has called together
twenty-five small Carribean children in a wooden building forty feet by
twelve, as if a sacrifice had been offered up to Heaven, the incense of
which should diffuse itself gratefully over the whole land?

Now if one turns to the accounts of San Francisco in 1848, they will be
found to convey a tolerably truthful account of the society of that then
city of tents. It was scarcely a fortuitous commencement for a colony,
that its earlier inhabitants were for the most part maddened to excess
by the easy acquisition of wealth; and that under the influence of an
all-absorbing pursuit (such as few of us, I venture to say, could under
such circumstances entirely have resisted); the worst passions were
exercised without control, and _selfishness_, as is natural, reigned
paramount; what idea of the intellectual or moral cultivation of the
young would be expected to intrude itself on the thoughts of a community
occupied solely in the pursuit of selfish gratifications?

Yet in _this_ year a public school was opened in San Francisco supported
by the people, and this school was shortly placed in the charge of an
intelligent clergyman. What better illustration can we find in proof
that the Americans stand out in strong colours on this point? what
better proof that they are good colonists, when under such adverse
circumstances, in the midst of riot, dissipation, and ungodliness, the
first and only approach to a sense of responsibility was shown in a
fostering care of the young and helpless children _not their own_.

There were no bishops here, no staff, nor was the school organised by
reverend men; it owed its foundation and support to the one sense of
duty that no circumstances could erase from the American mind; and in
this earnest desire to open to all the path to future prosperity, the
grand principle of equality is better carried out than by any other
feature of the people of America. If this feeling exists, as I believe
throughout the United States, what stronger foundation-stone, speaking
in a worldly point of view, can a people naturally intelligent lay down
as a basis for increased prosperity? for, putting aside religion, with
this education is inculcated self-reliance; self-reliance in a nation
leads to mutual support and unity, and this in colonists overcomes
difficulties apparently insurmountable, as ants united move the dead
body of a lizard from the doorway of their home, or sailors par-buckle a
gun up some apparently impracticable mountain.

The proportion of children in California was naturally small as compared
with the population, yet I find that in 1853 the City of San Francisco
expended the monthly sum of seven hundred and fifty pounds on its
schools, in which were educated fourteen hundred children; and excellent
institutions now exist there, also, for the relief of orphans and the
sick and destitute. It will be remembered that the city is already
deeply in debt, and that the population are averse to taxes, which
render the maintenance of these establishments a burden.

       *       *       *       *       *

The book stores of San Francisco drive a thriving trade after the
arrival of each mail, but the importations consist for the most part of
novels, which are greedily bought up, and find a ready sale in the
mining regions.

Apparently, every Californian can read, and judging from the fact that
the mails take an average of fifty thousand letters to the United States
every fortnight, we may presume that there are few among them that
cannot write.




CHAPTER X.

     LONG WHARF--CLIPPER SHIPS--CHINESE EMIGRANTS--THE MAY FIRE--AN
     EXCITING SCENE--IRON HOUSES--VALLEJO--THE COYOTE--WILD GEESE.


_May, 1851._

The Central Wharf of San Francisco, which is nearly a mile in length, is
for some distance occupied on either side by Jew slopsellers; and, as
these indefatigable gentlemen insist all over the world upon exposing
their wares outside their shops, the first glance down Central Wharf
impresses you with the idea that the inhabitants of the district have
hung their clothes out to dry after a shower of rain. Scattered among
the Jew shops are markets for vegetables and poultry, fishmongers,
candy-sellers, (the Long Wharfers are very fond of sugar-plums),
gambling-houses of the worst repute, and drinking-shops innumerable.
Being narrow and crowded, and full of loaded drays, drunken sailors,
empty packing-cases, run-away horses, rotten cabbages, excited
steam-boat runners, stinking fish, Chinese porters, gaping strangers,
and large holes in the planks, through which you may perceive the water,
it is best to be careful in walking down Long Wharf, and to turn neither
to the right nor to the left.

This busy street terminates at the city front; and from thence the
wharf, which extends for half a mile into the sea, is flanked on either
side by ships discharging their cargoes with great order and rapidity.

Here may be seen a fleet of those clippers to which the Californian
trade gave rise. The “Queen of the Clippers” is one of the finest and
largest of these ships, and is a beautiful model; she is extremely sharp
at either end, and, “bows on,” she has the appearance of a wedge. Her
accommodations are as perfect as those of a first-class ocean steamer,
and are as handsomely decorated; and, as it is worthy of remark that
great attention has been paid to the comfort of the crew, the sooner
some of our shipowners copy that part of her construction the better.
Nor should they overlook any longer that the Americans have long
economised in ship labour very materially by the use of patent blocks,
patent trusses, and more particularly in patent steering-gear.

It gives cause for reflection to observe how on board these mammoth
clippers, one man, comfortably protected from the weather by a
wheel-house, can steer the ship with ease in any weather, and to recall
recollections of big English ships beating up against the monsoon, with
three and even four men at the helm, tugging to get it up, or
pulley-hauling to get it down, exposed on the deck in heavy sou’-westers
and painted canvass frocks, while their faces are cut to pieces by the
salt spray that the wind sends drifting along the deck. Yet
comparatively few of our merchant vessel owners have availed themselves
of these improvements. Scotland, as far as we are concerned, has most
distinguished herself in the production of clippers, and the small
class, similar to the “Marco Polo” and “Stornaway” stand first as
specimens of mercantile naval architecture.

The building of clippers, if not originated by, was encouraged by the
discovery of gold in California, for the valuable market that was so
shortly afterwards opened to the United States afforded a field for the
employment of ships that could perform a journey round the Horn in a
space of time that would enable them to land a cargo, not only clean and
in good order, but with a certain degree of regularity as regarded time.
The ships that have sailed from English ports for San Francisco have
been selected from a particularly inferior class of tubs, principally
from the erroneous supposition that anything was good enough for the
diggings. Then observe the mistake! The expensive dashing clipper leaves
New York, and, after a three months’ passage, lands her cargo clean and
dry in San Francisco (where the sale of packages depends very much on
their outward as well as internal appearance); the English ship, which
false economy has picked from about the worst in dock, after a passage
of from eight to ten months, arrives in San Francisco, with _her_ cargo.
The market has not only gone by for the articles she brings, but these,
from long confinement, and her unseaworthy qualities, are landed in such
an unprepossessing state as to be almost unsaleable. Nor is this
all--the clipper ship having discharged, sails for China, and takes home
the first teas at a high rate of freight, discharges at London, and
returns again to New York, full; having accomplished a rapid voyage
round the world, and, in all probability, cleared a large portion of her
first cost in her first voyage. But our English clunbungy can find no
cargo to take home from San Francisco, there being no export; she knows
better than to present herself in China as a candidate for teas, there
is little chance of her getting guano, so she either goes home empty at
a great expense, or, as is more often the case, is knocked down by
auction for less than her value, and is converted into a floating
store-ship.[8]

It was said, I remember, when these clippers first attracted attention,
and before Australia had been found to be auriferous, that we had no
field for the employment of such vessels, and that our own “A 1 for
thirteen-year” ships were better adapted for our trade; that they were
stronger and more _lasting_. Where we enjoy a monopoly of
ship-transport, as for many years in some places we have done, the
argument of “let well alone” is excellently prudent.

That our vessels are strong no one will deny who ever saw a teak-built
ship with her heavy beams and prodigious wooden knees; that they are
_lasting_ follows as a matter of course, but this very qualification is
at this moment our drawback to improvement. We are something like a man
who has determined not to get a suit of clothes adapted for the dog-days
until he has worn out his old winter garments, and has been unfortunate
enough to have had these made of that imperishable article known as
corduroy.

It is plain enough that we shall have comparatively few clipper ships
until our enormous mercantile navy is worn out; and all we have now to
regret is the stubbornness of that heart of oak whose durability we
have been wont to laud in speech and song. In the meantime, unless
Aberdeen and other ports work cheerily, the Californian clippers will
bid for the carriage of the teas, and take the bread literally from
between our teeth; and, what is still more galling, the Yankee clippers
will take our Australian trade, if they have not already done so. We
have a bold competitor on the waters now, and I regret to see that
almost at the moment that the projected Panama and Sydney steam-line is
withdrawn for want of _government support_, measures are being taken by
the American government to connect San Francisco and China, and thus
complete the first steam communication round the world; whilst the
“Sovereign of the Seas” and “Golden Age” are conveying our emigrants
from Liverpool to Australia. On the other hand, the spirit of
speculation in building clipper ships in America has been so far
overdone as to cause many of them to be too hastily “run up,” and a few
of these have arrived in San Francisco, and in London, much strained and
with damaged cargoes.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Chinese have emigrated to California in great numbers. Those in San
Francisco are mostly engaged in mercantile pursuits, and supply their
countrymen at the mines with necessaries. There has been great outcry
in the gold regions here respecting the rapidly-increasing numbers of
the Chinese miners, and it was proposed forcibly to stop their
immigration; it was argued, rather dog-in-the-mangerly, that they
collected vast quantities of gold from the soil that of right belonged
to the Americans only, and that they carried their gold-dust to their
own country to spend. The last objection had some justice in it, for
undoubtedly it is contrary to the spirit of a young colony to encourage
the immigration of a class of people who bring their own rice with them,
and impoverish the auriferous soil without leaving a “_pice_” behind
them for the permanent improvement of the country.

I believe there are few men who have been thrown much among the Chinese
who believe that many honest ones can be found among them; old Whampoa
of Singapore, who gives champagne dinners in a most orthodox manner, may
be one; but I confess, for my part, that from the Emperor down to the
fellow in the blue shirt who begs in Piccadilly, and looks as if butter
wouldn’t melt in his mouth, I don’t believe in them. They are a people
whose natural propensities lead them to cheat, and whose natural cunning
aids this object most materially.

A short time ago it was discovered that a clique existed in San
Francisco composed of a few of the wealthiest Chinese, and that these
self-constituted mandarins exercised so much influence over the Chinese
population of the country as to subject them to fines and bastinado, and
they even went to the length of shipping some of them back to their own
country; this, however, having been brought to light by the police, was
temporarily checked, as these punishments were applied only for the
purpose of extortion.

The Chinese themselves are so used to this kind of despotic rule that
they made no effort to resist it even when it was assumed by those not
in authority; but they behaved better under the infliction of fines than
they would otherwise have done, and indeed I am puzzled to know what
such a race would become, with their natural cunning, under a freer
government than that they enjoy.

       *       *       *       *       *

On the 3rd of May, at eleven in the evening, the fire-bell again
startled us; but on this occasion the first glance at the lurid glare
and heavy mass of smoke that rolled towards the bay evidenced that the
fire had already a firm grip on the city. The wind was unusually high,
and the flames spread in a broad sheet over the town. All efforts to
arrest them were useless; houses were blown up and torn down in
attempts to cut off communication; but the engines were driven back step
by step, while some of the brave firemen fell victims to their
determined opposition. As the wind increased to a gale, the fire became
beyond control; the brick buildings in Montgomery Street crumbled before
it; and before it was arrested, over one thousand houses, many of which
were filled with merchandise, were left in ashes. Many lives were lost,
and the amount of property destroyed was estimated at two millions and a
half sterling.

No conception can be formed of the grandeur of the scene; for at one
time the burning district was covered by one vast sheet of flame that
extended half a mile in length. But when the excitement of such a night
as this has passed by, one scarcely can recall the scene. The memory is
confused in the recollection of the shouts of the excited populace--the
crash of falling timbers--the yells of the burnt and injured--the clank
of the fire-brakes--the hoarse orders delivered through
speaking-trumpets--maddened horses released from burning livery-stables
plunging through the streets--helpless patients being carried from some
hospital, and dying on the spot, as the swaying crowd, forced back by
the flames, tramples all before it--explosions of houses blown up by
gunpowder--showers of burning splinters that fall around on every
side--the thunder of brick buildings as they fall into a heap of
ruin--and the blinding glare of ignited spirits. Amidst heat that
scorches, let you go where you will--smoke that strikes the eyes as if
they had been pricked by needles--water that, thrown off the heated
walls, falls on you in a shower of scalding steam--you throw your coat
away and help to work the engine-brakes, as calls are made for more men.

At daylight you plod home, half-blind, half-drowned, half-scorched,
half-stunned, and quite bewildered; and from that time you never care to
recall one half of the horrors you have witnessed on the night of the
conflagration of the 3rd of May.

The Dramatic Museum was “burnt out” on this occasion; and about the same
time the ship I had awaited arrived. I had expected to receive an iron
house in her, but as this tenement (which I had taken great pains to
have constructed in England) was landed in the shape of several bundles
of bent and rusty iron plates, and irrecognisable rotten planks, I
deserted the property, and allowed the owners of the wharf to throw it
overboard, which they eventually did after six months’ reflection.

Iron houses under most circumstances are a failure, and I write from
experience in the matter. I have sat in churches made of iron, and have
been glad to get out of them for that reason. I have thrown down my
billiard-cue in disgust in iron club-houses, have paid my bill
incontinently and left iron hotels, and have lived in misery in an iron
shooting-box of my own, which was supposed to be _very complete_.

I could live comfortably at all times in my little log hut at the “farm”
but never could I endure myself inside my iron house. When the sun shone
it was too hot; as night advanced it cooled too suddenly, and at
daylight I shivered. When it was too warm the hot iron, with its
anti-corrosive paint, emitted a sickening smell; and when the rain came
down on the roof it sounded like a shower of small shot.[9] I lined it
with wood throughout, that is to say, I built a _wooden house_ inside my
iron one, and then it was only bearable. But it would have been cheaper,
it seemed to me, to have built the wooden house first, and then have put
the iron on if it was wanted, which it was not.

In this age, when so many of our countrymen are emigrating, it becomes
almost the duty of a traveller to recount any experience that may tend
to the benefit of those who go after him; and therefore I trust that in
remarks similar to the foregoing, which may or may not affect a peculiar
branch of trade, I may be exonerated from any other intention than that
of benefiting others by my experience. I have seen so many metal and
wooden houses thrown away (I have seen in one heap of rubbish the value
of ten thousand pounds), that I would recommend to the emigrant of
moderate means not to purchase either the one or the other. If new gold
fields are discovered, as most probably they will be, and reports are
rife of house room commanding enormous prices there, never for all that
let him take his shell out, snail-like, on his back; let him take the
money that would buy the house--the cash will be the scarcest article
there, and will find him house-room and a profit too. Perhaps nowhere
has my argument been better proved than in California. Large numbers of
iron houses were shipped to that country when first reports arrived of
the scarcity of building materials. Had they been capable of resisting
fire they would perhaps have been less generally condemned, but of those
that were erected, not only did the thin corrugated houses first expand
and then collapse, and tumble down with astonishing rapidity before the
flames, but in the fire I have just recorded the American iron house of
Taeffe and M’Cahill, of which the plates were nearly an inch in
thickness, and the castings of apparently unnecessary weight, collapsed
like a preserved-meat can, and destroyed six persons, who, believing it
to be fire-proof, remained inside. And, in connection with this subject,
it is worthy of mention that when these houses arrived in California
there was no one to be found who could put them together; not but that
the method is very simple, but simple things, as we all know, present
great difficulties at times in their solution.

A friend of mine employed a man for a long time at four pounds a day,
merely to superintend the erection of an iron hotel; it was completed at
last, and, although it had a somewhat lopsided appearance it looked
pretty well under the influence of light-green paint; but the fire came
and it “caved in,” as the Americans say.

This discussion on iron buildings would have found no place here, had
not these cheerless tenements been connected with a speculation into
which I was at this time induced to enter: nor would the speculation
have been alluded to, particularly as it turned out a failure, were it
not again inseparably connected with a peculiar feature of the country.

It appeared that the state was looking about at this time for a site on
which to erect a capital, where, free from the busy hum of men, the
representatives of the people might meet and do their country’s work.
Upon the condition that General Vallejo would expend a large amount in
the erection of public buildings, a part of this gentleman’s property
was selected by the then Governor as the “seat of government,” and upon
that, a few scrubby-looking hills that bordered on the bay, were
surveyed and staked off, and there was your town of “Vallejo.”

About this time a store-ship, laden with iron houses, belonging to a
friend of mine, sunk at her moorings during a heavy gale. When raised
she was so full of mud, clay, and small crabs that there was no
possibility of rendering her cargo fit for sale at San Francisco. The
bright idea occurred to me of landing these muddy materials at Vallejo,
and, after allowing the tide to clean them, to convert them to some use
in assisting to erect this capital that was to be “made to order.”
Landing my cargo on Vallejo beach at low water mark, Canute-like, I
ordered the tide to complete the very dirty work I had set before it,
which it did, and, to finish the story here, in the course of six months
I erected a very handsome hotel out of the materials. I felt rather
pleased when it was finished, and painted, and handsomely furnished, to
think what a butterfly I had turned out of the very dirty grub I had
found in the hold of the old hulk. But the moral of the story lies in
the fact that at this juncture the government altered their minds
relative to the site of the capital, and selected Benicia in preference.

The city “made to order” was then pulled down and sold for old
materials, to the great delight, as may be imagined, of myself and the
other speculators who had worked so assiduously to raise it, and who had
received no compensation. It is quite like the story of the Enchanted
City, that was up one day and down the next; but somehow I don’t find so
much pleasure in recalling the history of Vallejo as I did as a boy in
reading the fairy tale.

The hills of Vallejo are destitute of game, but abound in coyotes, who
lead a predatory life, not altogether, I suspect, free from care or
anxiety, as, excepting in the calving season, they are dependent for
food on the chance carcase of some poor mired bull or over-driven mule;
and, as these casualties are not of very frequent occurrence, I feel
satisfied that hunger and the coyote know each other. And indeed he has,
in a great measure, himself alone to blame that his stomach is always
either too empty or too full; for this fellow, when he gets a meal,
raises such a hue and cry in the dead of night as effectually warns all
savoury animals to avoid his presence.

In the calving season the coyotes are in clover, and the little veals
fall an easy prey to a pack of these nocturnal robbers. In winter, when
the wild geese cover the hills, I doubt if the coyote gains much
permanent benefit, judging from the fact that I have seldom found
feathers. The geese encamp in vast armies, and at times perhaps outlying
picquets and sentries asleep on their post get cut off by the enemy; but
the wild goose, fool as he may be, has just so much keen relish for a
good joke as to allow the coyote to reach a point where expectation has
resolved itself into certainty, and then the goose decamps, harassed
undoubtedly, but whole in body. The coyote has more of the dog than the
fox in his composition, and is a bungling poacher at any time; one
feature alone of his character proves this, inasmuch that, when suddenly
disturbed, he runs but a few yards, then stops, turns round and looks at
you. A Norfolk poaching lurcher knows better than that, _he_ would never
turn his face to you for fear you should _identify him_, at least so
Barnes tells me, and he ought to know; but the most satisfactory proof
that the coyote is a weak forager exists in the conclusive fact that you
seldom shoot one that has anything in his stomach.

As, therefore, there was no employment for my rifle at Benicia, I was
thrown on my resources for amusement. Fortune again favoured me;
fortune, by the way, always has favoured me when I have been in pursuit
of amusement, but she snubs me amazingly whenever my designs are in the
least degree mercenary, which leads me to infer that that divinity is of
rather a jovial disposition than otherwise.

In one day’s search I secured two horses, one gig, three well-formed
Australian kangaroo dogs, and three blood-hound whelps, just arrived
from Hobart Town; these being shipped in a small schooner, in company
with my iron shooting box, I started for San Luis, and called on Ramsey,
who had probably forgotten me. I urged him at once to come and be a
Vallejo-ite; he demurred at first, but, alas, we are all mortal;
pointing with one hand to his buckskins and hunting saddle, rotting from
disuse, with the other I directed his attention to my greyhounds, then I
uttered one word, “coyotes,” and Ramsey struck his flag in passive
submission to his destiny--and followed me.




CHAPTER XI.

     COYOTE HUNTING--MY DOMINIONS ARE INVADED--THOMAS KILLS A BEAR--A
     TRIAL OF STRENGTH--ROWE’S “LOT”--CHOCTAW ELK--A BUTCHERY--ROUGH
     LIFE--FERTILITY OF THE SOIL.


_June, 1851._

Our first duty, on arriving at Vallejo, was to erect a temporary shanty,
and before we had been long there the materials for about fifty houses
were scattered over the ground by various speculators. Ramsey laid the
foundation of a small village on his own account, and built a
dwelling-house, a livery stable, and another grog-shop, in which his
champagne and tin pannikins were soon rattling away, as of old, to the
sound of the fiddle.

As soon as I had erected the iron house, to which I have already alluded
in terms of bitterness, we tried the projected coyote hunt. I had two
horses; one was an old grey “Texian Ranger,” who had seen so much hard
service that, when once adrift, he was neither to be caught with chaff
or the best of oats, but had to be lassoed and dragged home by main
force; once assured, by means of spurs, and bottles of water broken on
his head when he reared, and sticks broken on his side when he
buck-jumped, that he was “bound to go,” as they say here, “the Old
Soldier” (for so I named him) proved an animal of great speed and
endurance, and afterwards performed his eighty miles in a day with me
without flinching. The other was a handsome bay that I had bought from a
retiring watchmaker, and he retained the name his last master had
bestowed in honour of his shop, “Main Spring.”

My Australian Kangaroo dogs were a cross between the bull-dog or
bull-mastiff and the greyhound; like the generality of cross-bred
greyhounds, they differed only from the thoroughbreds in increased size,
muscle, and breadth of chest; they ran of course from sight, but were
not devoid of nose.

Of the three I had procured but two proved of any value, Tiger and
Bevis, and these I coupled for an experimental hunt. I trust I may be
excused from the charge of egotism in thus mentioning these animals in
detail; they were my companions up to the very day I left the country;
and being associated with the adventures I am sketching they will appear
in my narrative from time to time. With all his faults I owe a debt of
gratitude to the “Old Soldier.”

Stealing quietly away to the surrounding hills, with Ramsey on the “Old
Soldier,” we soon found a coyote, and I slipped the dogs; he made a
straight run, but there was no chance for him, and in less than five
hundred yards he was caught and worried without a fight, and I whipped
the dogs off. I was disappointed; I had hoped that the coyote would not
only run well, but would make some kind of stand at the finish; but we
found him invariably devoid of any pluck. Some that we afterwards saw
would make an excellent start and then turn round and attempt to
fraternise with the dogs, and these, after a time, began to recognise
something of the nature of the cur in this conduct, and, after rolling
the coyote over, would turn back without injuring him.[10] So that our
coursing was deferred until we reached the hare country, where the dogs
showed to better advantage, and generally killed, the hare of the
country being rather a fool than otherwise.

It became necessary now for me to return to Russian River, and, as
Ramsey and a Mr. Bottomly were anxious to accompany me, we made up a
four-in-hand out of a pair of Ramsey’s horses and mine, and, throwing
our blankets into the old waggon that constituted our drag, we put
Tiger and Bevis inside to save their feet, and started.

We arrived without accident at the river, and I found that now the rains
were over, settlers were flocking in from all sides. The river was still
very high owing to the melting snow at its source; and when the waggon
floated for a minute or two as we crossed the centre of the ford, and
then filled to my companions’ knees, they evidently viewed with great
interest this, to them, novel feature in “tooling a four in hand.”

The sun was intensely hot, and when we had reached the opposite bank of
the river, we pulled up in the shade to dine, the provisions having been
secured against all injury in crossing the river. Ramsey insisted on
drinking an immense quantity of the river, which, however, he qualified
with brandy; and after having in consequence expended a large amount of
second-hand poetry on the surrounding scenery, nothing would please him
but he must alter the tails of his two Canadian switch tail ponies, to
make them match with those of Mainspring and the Old Soldier, which were
banged. I remonstrated with him on the folly of spoiling two valuable
animals, whose chief beauty consisted in their manes and tails, but he
would do it; and having cut one tail about a foot shorter than the
other with a blunt table knife, he left them pretty objects. Imagine my
disgust when the fellow remarked, after gravely contemplating them,
“Sh’no consequence, s’hey don’t b’long to me.” I got into trouble about
them afterwards, as will be seen.

In the cool of the evening we arrived at the farm, where I found
everybody well, and glad to see me back. As I had foreseen, settlers
were beginning even to invade _my_ dominions, and not only was the
romance of the place destroyed, but the game was retiring very rapidly,
and it required a long day’s walk to find venison. This of itself would
have determined me to leave the valley, but other causes hastened my
decision--firstly, _the onions were a failure_; they had come up, but
the ground squirrels had proved so numerous as to destroy all vestige of
the young plants; secondly, I had on one occasion disclosed at March’s
not only that I was _not_ a naturalised American, but that I had no
intention of bringing myself into contempt by deserting my own country
from interested motives, as too many I regret to say have done. This had
become known among the crowd of settlers that were now hunting for
pre-emption claims; they also knew, as of course there were a few
Philadelphia lawyers among them, that as an alien I had no right to the
valley. Some of them called upon me to tell me so, but these left
however quicker than they came. Under all the circumstances, and
particularly as I never could have resided among such a set as were now
“locating” themselves about the place, I made a virtue of necessity, and
gave the farm as it stood (excepting the cattle and my books and
shooting materials) to one of the backwoodsmen I had known there for
some time.

During this last visit to the old place, however, we enjoyed ourselves;
the green peas had arrived at perfection, and the young fawns were
excellent substitutes for lamb. Tiger and Bevis afforded us some
coursing, and Ramsey found out for the first time in his life what it
was to stand knee deep in a running stream and wash a flannel shirt
without soap.

Whilst we were absent one night on an excursion, Thomas, who remained at
home, distinguished himself by shooting a valuable milch cow, that had
been brought up by one of the new settlers, and which, having strayed
near the house, he mistook in the dark for a wild bull or a bear. When
we returned in the morning, Thomas, in great trepidation, had just
completed burying the carcase near the house, and we were still laughing
over the matter, when a tall settler appeared amongst us and inquired if
we had seen “e’er a cow,” to which Thomas, knowing that the settler had
followed his cow’s trail, fortunately replied in the affirmative, and
suggested a distant hill as a celebrated rendezvous for strayed cows in
general, on account of the fine quality of its spring water; thither the
settler wended his way, after satisfying himself with a few rapid and
suspicious glances that we had venison hanging about instead of beef,
and that no symptom of cow was stamped about the place. As he turned
once more to call three wiry-looking, gamboge-coloured curs, that he had
brought with him, and which had been sniffing about, I observed with
horror that the brutes were on the cow’s grave, scratching away
bravely--“Seize them, Tiger! At them, Prince! Bevis!” and these
disturbers of the dead flew for their lives, and as I called the dogs
off, evidenced no disposition to return, although my brave defenders
immediately had a battle royal over the dainty morsel which had thus
been brought to light.

I have already alluded to Barnes’s physical strength; in Norfolk he was
always an expert axeman, even with the stupid broad-headed Flemish axe,
that we still adhere to in England, but his six months’ training at the
farm with the American axe had so improved on his former strike and
natural powers of endurance, that he was induced one night to boast of
his prowess whilst in company with some backwoodsmen at March’s shanty.
It had already been proved that no one of the party was a match for him,
as I had given him permission to fell for March’s saw-mill in his
leisure hours, (at which work I may mention he often made his thirty
shillings a day,) March therefore undertook to bring a man called
Alexander, to take “the shine out of Barnes,” and during our stay this
man arrived. He was a Hercules in muscle though spare, and when, a tree
having been selected, the men “stripped for work” as _Bell’s Life_ would
say, there was little to choose between them in appearance, though I
thought I saw an advantage on Barnes’s side in point of loins. To me it
is delightful to witness a fair trial of skill and dexterity between two
picked athletæ, where, as in this instance, the pleasure is unalloyed by
any brutal exhibition of inflicted punishment. Our party and that of the
Americans were equally excited, but no bets were made, and there was no
boastful confidence in the issue on either side. I have mentioned
elsewhere that the red-wood tree retains in its growth sometimes so
perfect a perpendicular that it may be cut round its centre, and yet
remains erect on a calm day, supported but by a few inches of the heart.
A tree having therefore been selected of about eight feet diameter, as
nearly as I can recollect, the men were placed on either side, and a few
straight lines for their guidance having been chalked on the bark, they
commenced work, the man on whose side the tree fell, to be declared the
winner, as he of course would have cut the deepest. For the first part
of the day the champions worked manfully stroke for stroke, and the
issue seemed to the last doubtful, but at length the strokes became
weaker and slower, and then Barnes seemed to have kept something back
for the finish, for after a few vigorous drives, the huge tree fell over
on his side, and came thundering to the ground. It was a touch and go
victory; and caused no ill feeling; but Barnes on returning home was
very unwell from over exertion, and during the night he wandered in his
head; the next day, however, he was quite well; but the “shine” was
taken out of him although he won.

I bade farewell to the little valley before its charms had so palled
upon me by use as to render me indifferent to its possession, but its
great charm of seclusion that first bound me to it was lost, and in my
eyes it was as much “cut up” by the presence of fresh settlers, as is
your country villa, sir, when a rushing railway, marking out its track
directly through your favourite clump of weeping willows, sends its hot
cinders on to the very lawn in front of you; but you were compensated
for your villa being smoke-begrimed, and sold it, moreover, on good
terms to Styles, who likes living near a railway, and being hourly
reminded that his country is making “giant strides,” whilst I, equally a
victim to the march of improvement, walked out without any other
reflection than that I had gone to a great deal of trouble for the sole
benefit of an utter stranger.

We arrived at Vallejo without accident. The appearance of the tailless
Canadian horses brought forward their indignant owner, who demanded of
me, as conductor of the expedition, an exorbitant sum, which I of course
refused to pay, upon which he went to law; and about the time that the
hotel was completed, an execution was put on it by the sheriff for the
amount claimed for two horses’ tails that I never touched.

We had very little sport at Vallejo; a few wild-fowl hung about the
marshes, but were very hard to secure; snipe and curlew also were
tolerably plentiful; but the sun was hot, and the yellow treeless hills
dazzled the eyes too much for shooting. Our guns therefore were shelved
for the present; but I found another source of amusement by fortunately
making the acquaintance of a young Englishman of the name of Rowe.

Rowe was a surveying engineer of good ability, and had, previous to
leaving England, scarified that country to a considerable extent in the
shape of tunnels and cuttings on railways. His present business in
Vallejo consisted in surveying and laying out the plan of that city,
which having completed, he was now transferring to a gorgeous map, on
which the Botanical Gardens, Orphan Asylums, and _Schools for the
Indigent Blind_ were already traced and lettered.

Rowe possessed about a dozen small Californian and Indian horses, and as
these brutes were not only now wild, but were of that peculiar breed
that can neither be tamed or fattened, I could not at first conceive
what object Rowe had in keeping them, especially as they were all small,
gaunt, and painfully ugly. I perceived that almost daily my new
acquaintance, dressed in Californian spurs and leggings, would mount the
horse that he generally kept by him (with the saddle always on), and
proceed in search of the others which he had turned out to graze on the
hills the night previous.

In the evening he would return as usual, driving his ill-looking pack
before him, and these, after being enclosed for a short time, would be
again turned out. On my suggesting that his animals seemed to cause him
more trouble than they were worth, he at once elucidated the mystery.

It appeared that he had received these scarecrows from time to time in
payment of bad debts, contracted for surveys of the surrounding farms;
they cost nothing to keep, as they lived on the wild oats, and the
reason he turned them out and brought them home each day, was for the
pleasure of hunting and catching them with the lasso when he could. I
soon joined him in this diversion, and the sport was most exciting. His
band, as soon as they saw us coming, would have an appearance similar to
this:--

[Illustration]

They would stand in a crowd together, looking at us out of the corners
of their eyes; then as we approached they would go over the hills and
gulches, whilst we rode after them, shouting and heading them back
whenever we could.

After two or three hours of this exercise, they would allow themselves
to be driven without much trouble into Rowe’s corral. I believe they
liked the sport; whether or no, they got it every day, and as it was all
they had to do, they were better off than most of their race. In fact,
the Old Soldier did the same work with me on his back, and liked it so
much that I could not hold him at last when once he got sight of these
scarecrows. He tried to catch them one day when in the gig, because they
suddenly appeared in sight, and if it had not been for a deep gulch that
brought us all up with a smash, I believe he would have “corralled” them
on his own account.

Rowe had an Indian pony of great power and endurance; it was named
“Chocktaw,” after the American Indian tribe, to which of right it
belonged. He had a head like a wedge of wood, and although tolerably
quiet under a severe Spanish bit, he had the habit of never taking his
eyes off you. He was always suspicious, if you walked round him, and
would follow you with his wild colt’s eye.

Chocktaw combined the sure-footedness of the mule, with the speed of
the horse, and the capability of the donkey of living and doing well
upon comparatively nothing, which was so far fortunate for him as he was
occasionally locked up and forgotten for a day or two, during which
periods of trial he generally munched shavings, and upon being
remembered and released became more suspicious than ever.

Chocktaw and the Old Soldier became fast friends, so much so, that the
latter kicked other horses on Chocktaw’s account, and took him under his
protection generally, even to the length of eating Chocktaw’s oats
(which he got on Sundays), for fear, no doubt, they should disagree with
his Indian stomach; whether this made him more suspicious or not, I
don’t know, but Chocktaw never took his eyes off his friend for all
their affection.

The unhappy Chocktaw is typical of a class of men who live continually
in the torment of half-confirmed suspicions--innocents, who, stopping
half-way in their study of the world, are ever doubting and fearing, yet
never learning, force the lesson on them as you will;--“Chocktaws” to
whom “Old Soldiers” are necessary--these latter cheating them, yet
preventing others from doing so; finding brains for them; kicking other
horses for them, but eating _their oats as recompense_. Unhappy then the
Chocktaw who wriggles, as it were, in the half-consciousness of being
outwitted, and torments himself with vain suspicions. Far more to be
envied he who can clap his persecuting protector on the back, and own
him to be “necessary but expensive;” his mind is at ease from that time
forth; he can pay his bully as he does his income-tax, and get more for
his money.

News was brought in one day that a band of elk had been seen near the
place, and upon this the whole population turned out. Independently of
the fact that I feared being shot by some of the party, among whom were
several boys, armed with rifles, I knew that the Elk does were heavy at
this season, and I had no mind to assist in a butchery. The drove was
headed about nightfall in marshy ground, and about _eighteen does_ were
killed.

I was sorry to have lost the chance of hitting the slot of these beasts,
for the bucks might easily have been secured with care, whereas,
approached as they were, whilst drinking in marshy and treacherous
ground, the bucks being on the outskirts made for the hills, whilst the
poor frightened does became quagmired, and fell an easy prey.

About this time I received a visit from Sir Henry Huntly, and we started
on an exploring expedition, but losing our way, found ourselves at
length near Napa. Pulling up temporarily at a small house at the side
of the creek to enquire the road, we found it occupied by half-a-dozen
fine-looking fellows, who were sitting over their supper. The invitation
to join them was too heartily offered to refuse, and Sir Henry and
myself being armed each with a cast-iron knife and tin platter, attacked
the provisions as men do who lose their way, and fall happily and
unexpectedly on a savoury stew of antelope. We were glad enough also to
be so kindly invited to pass the night there, for a day passed in the
hot sun is very fatiguing, and once down, a man has to be kicked up
again, particularly after a surfeit of antelope stew. So we lit our
pipes, and then, as a matter of course, we allowed gradually to leak out
who and what we were. Our entertainers consisted of four Americans and
two Englishmen. These latter were army-men, who had thrown up their
commissions in Canada to seek a rough and adventurous life in exchange
for the dull routine of barracks. So far as roughness went, they had it
in perfection, and they stood it well; but the _roughest_ roughness
palls, and an adventurous life, with its fevers and privations, and hard
toil in the blistering sun, soon loses its charms, and then comes the
yearning for home, and it is best then to have something _to fall back
upon_.

There are few after all to whom either roughness or adventurous life
comes aptly, although the proud man scorns to _own_ he feels the
privation he has sought as it were; but few of those who have sacrificed
position, comforts, and friends elsewhere, for the pursuit of freedom
and adventure, with wealth of course appearing in the distance, have
realised their dreams, or have done otherwise in the long run than own
their folly, and mourn it secretly. Some men are born for a wild and
careless life--a happy liveliness of disposition, knowledge of the
world, physical health, recklessness of personal safety, indifference to
social position and home comfort, all fit them for it; their creed is to
do as no one else does, (and they do _none_ the worse for this); these
men are few in number, and they can live when others starve. Observe the
man in a hunting-field, who strikes out his own line of country, and
that a new one to him; each fence may conceal a marl-pit, but he faces
bravely all obstacles, and comes in right at last. Rash fool! says Jones
as he opens a gate. Stupid ass! echoes Brown as he creeps through a gap!
But no! Brown and Jones would be both fools and asses if they tried to
do it, but to this man such work comes naturally.

As a rule the fate of the minnows who will pursue an unbeaten track is
certain enough. It is generally a _great mistake_ when men throw up on
their own account a certain means of livelihood, to seek adventure and
fortune in new gold countries. It is generally a _great mistake_ when
fathers with spendthrift sons, stupid sons, or lazy sons, say, “John,
you are doing no good for yourself, here are five hundred pounds, go and
try your luck in the diggings.” It was a _great mistake_ when a party of
gentlemen left England in 1849 for California in a yacht of their own,
and having arrived at the diggings got disgusted, and returned very much
out at elbows, with most melancholy reports respecting the goldfields.
And these are great mistakes, for this reason, that patience under
disappointment, and a disposition that can ever look sanguinely into the
future, are as requisite for “_rough life_,” as strong _hands, witting
hearts and_ sound health.

Our entertainers occupied themselves in market-gardening, which is a
peaceful and unexciting profession; and as the whole party were animated
with a strong love of adventure, and were anxious for something more
soul-stirring than weeding and watering beds of cabbages, soon after I
last saw them they disbanded and dispersed, nor have I heard of them
since.

Vegetables attain an unusual size in California, owing to the rich
qualities of the maiden soil; but I have observed an insipidity in
everything that has thus rapidly matured, and size is attained at the
expense of loss of flavour. Onions and tomatas as large as cheese plates
are common. Melons have attained the weight of fifty pounds. Wheat and
oats grow to the height of eight and ten feet, and are very prolific in
the ear; potatoes reach dimensions unheard of elsewhere, and the
diameter of a cabbage is sometimes so large that the cabbage has to be
seen to be believed in.

A brutal murder had been committed at Napa previous to our arrival; the
murderer had been sentenced to death, and without any ostensible reason,
a free pardon for this felon was granted by the governor of the state.
During our stay here some of the most determined of the citizens of Napa
frustrated this act of ill-timed mercy, and the murderer was found hung
in his cell. No further notice was taken of the matter; but this act
cannot be justified under any circumstances, for as the people elected
the governor, and armed him with the right, had he so chosen, of setting
free every convicted felon in the state, their election was a farce if
his decision was not binding in the pardon he dispensed to the Napa
murderer.




CHAPTER XII.

     ANOTHER FIRE--MY GEOLOGICAL FRIEND--“BURNT
     OUT”--SACRAMENTO--LEVEE--HULKS--RATS--VIGILANCE COMMITTEE--START
     FOR VOLCANO--CROCKETT--“RIGHT SIDE UP.”


_June, 1851._

Shortly after my return to Vallejo, a bright glare in the direction of
San Francisco indicated too surely that the city was again in flames.
The wind was very high, and we had every reason to believe that the
conflagration was general. Having roused out the Old Soldier to his
intense disgust, I reached Benicia in time to take a passage to San
Francisco in the last returning Stockton boat. We met steamers going up
river crowded, that stopped and confirmed our worst fears; mine in
particular, for I had felt anxious respecting the property of a friend
who had shown me unceasing kindness since my arrival in the country. I
learnt that his stores had already fallen, and knew that he was ruined.
It was with great difficulty we landed, for the fire had extended to the
water’s edge, and in many places the wharves had been disconnected;
everywhere deep holes had been burnt in them, and some were drowned
that night from this cause.

The ruins of the fire were quite deserted, the inhabitants had sought
the suburbs, sorrowfully no doubt, for a night’s rest; and the bright
moon looked calmer than ever in contrast to the red angry embers which
smouldered on every side.

I found myself alone after I had scrambled up a small hill that
commanded a view of the fallen city, and I never remember feeling so
solitary in my life. Small columns of red-tinted smoke rose lazily in
every direction, the blackened shells of brick warehouses stood out here
and there in bold relief against the moonlight, whilst every crevice and
window in them was fantastically lighted by the glowing embers that
still burnt within. Over the ruins of large drug stores ghostly lights
of blue and green flickered in a supernatural manner. Where the fire had
already been extinguished, dark pits seemed to yawn, and open wells, and
deep cisterns, stood ready on all sides, their coverings being burnt, to
trap the unwary adventurer who might be led to explore those regions.
Not a sound broke the stillness of the night, and as the moon was
overshadowed by a passing cloud, I turned and stumbled on what was
either a very dead man or a very drunken one, and having seen all there
was to see, I descended the hill and rejoined my companions.

Lodgings were scarce enough that night, as may be imagined, nor was
there a sufficient number of houses standing to accommodate the
burnt-out citizens. I was fortunate enough to meet an Hungarian
geologist, who was probably the poorest man in San Francisco, for the
science he professed could not at this time be put to much account in
California. Were it not for the respect in which I hold a learned
society at home before which “papers” are read, and by which laws are
made for the better regulation of geology, I should say that the reason
why the votaries of this science did not succeed in California, arose
from the fact, that this eccentric country, had for ages past acted in
defiance of the fundamental rules of the society in question: whether or
no, whenever my friend set out in search of gold on scientific
principles, he generally left that metal farther behind him at every
step.

Wherever you go now you will meet a few Hungarians, and I have ever
found them a superior class of men--quiet and unobtrusive in their
habits, and of very liberal education. My geological friend had a small
hut built among the sand-hills. As we walked towards it we were called
on to deliver by three gentlemen of the road, but as, happening to be
both armed, we made the usual demonstration in such cases, we went on
our way without molestation. Not but what it would have been a kindness
to have robbed the Hungarian, for though he had no money in his pocket,
and his clothes were valueless, he was staggering through the deep sand
under the weight of an enormous bag of quartz he had collected, every
ounce of which I foresaw was destined to be pulverised in a hand mortar
and tested, involving a great amount of labour but _no profit_. I tossed
up with my friend who should have his bed, and having won it I was soon
asleep, it being now nearly daylight; when I awoke he was gone, and I
was at no loss to conjecture that he had sought elsewhere a softer couch
than the heap of rocks and fossils that had fallen to his lot.

When I reached the burnt city all was again animation, and on every side
preparations were being made for rebuilding it of brick and stone.

I have alluded to a friend; it was with sorrow that I viewed the wreck
of the noble warehouses that had been his: but yesterday, as it were, he
had pointed to these buildings with pride as evidencing his successful
efforts, though never forgetful to whom success was owing, while to-day
a heap of ashes marks the emptiness of human calculation. A week ago
and his glorious hospitality assembled hundreds to commemorate the
completion of a stately warehouse,--to-day the firm is hopelessly and
irretrievably ruined.

He lies now in the cemetery outside San Francisco, and those who have
not forgotten the warm grasp of a hand that was ever ready to
succour--now that that hand is cold, will recognise this sketch, and
will not blame me for recording this slight tribute to his memory.

After a diligent search I was directed by the appearance of sundry steel
buttons to the ashes of what had been my wardrobe; everything had been
destroyed, and among the papers I had lost were the notes and sketches
of the country that I had collected to this date, which notes, after
three years, I am rewriting from memory.

After contemplating mournfully the whitened remains of two little dogs
that lay side by side, with the blackened ashes of my dress coat and
patent leather boots, I turned from the spot, and shortly afterwards
encountered Sir Henry Huntly, who in an equally melancholy frame of
mind, had just completed a survey of his “ashes;” we agreed to pay a
visit to the northern mines, and made preparations for a start.

The wooden wharves had for the most part been converted into charcoal,
and the steamer was crowded with those who like ourselves were anxious
to leave behind them so much desolation.

The mail steamer had come in from Panama, and ladies who had just
arrived to find their husbands, houseless and ruined, were hurrying
careworn from their toilsome journey sorrowfully to seek a temporary
shelter in Sacramento. There were troupes of actors, who, forgetting all
rivalry in their common adversity, felt the reality of tragedy. The fire
bell had arrested their performances, and though they worked ever so
manfully at the breaks, the temples of Thespis had been swept away in
the storm, and with them their wardrobes and arrears of pay. There were
professional gamblers for whom the losing card had now turned up, who,
burnt out of their tinsel saloons, were starting for the mines, to
commence life again in a thimble-rigging tent, until growing prosperous
they could work gradually back again to San Francisco, where the tinsel
saloons were already being rebuilt.

There were speculators who had a “snug lot” of flour or pork up country,
and who were off to fetch it down and lock it up in store-ships, until
the wants of the community should make it worth its weight in gold
almost. There were small traders, whose debtor and creditor accounts had
been, fortunately for them, buried in oblivion by the general ruin, and
who talked furiously of their losses, and bespattered their hard fate
with curses of the loudest and deepest character. And there were many
who like myself had come to satisfy their curiosity, just as we go to
the sea-shore and view the wreck of a noble ship; and these grew
hilarious upon the strength of having lost nothing, and returned to
their homes in famous good humour with themselves and all the world.

Passing Benicia we entered Suisun Bay, on the shores of which a city was
attempted--New York by name--but failed. There is something to admire in
the audacity of speculators, who finding themselves possessed of a few
acres of swamp, wave their wands and order a city to appear. The working
human tide of California ebbed and flowed past New York with great
regularity, but all commands to arrest it, and direct it from its
natural course were futile as regarded that city, which really presented
no advantage that I could see. It is now dusk, and we enter the
Sacramento river. Presently we pass a large steamboat going down, who
gives us a close shave, and complimentarily strikes three bells, upon
which we strike three bells; and in a few minutes we pass a small
steamboat also going down, who gives us a closer shave, and shrieks
three times out of something connected with her steam-pipe, upon which
we groan three times out of something connected with our steam-pipe.
These salutes are invariably observed, and the greater the rivalry
between the boats, the louder they scream at each other.

The banks of the river are for the most part marshy, but in the fading
light we catch glimpses here and there of small cultivated enclosures,
with comfortable-looking shanties peeping between the oak trees. After
supper everybody turns in, and at daylight we arrive at Sacramento.

Sacramento is built on the banks of the river, from the encroachments of
which it is as often drowned as its sister city is burnt. The houses are
gaily painted, and the American flag waves in every direction; the
streets are wide, and some trees that have been left standing in the
town give it a cheerful appearance.

It is an American town at the first glance; an immense quantity of
sign-boards stare at you in every direction, and if anything would
induce a man to purchase “Hay and Grain,” “Gallego Flour,” “Goshen
Butter,” or any other article for which he has no want, it would be the
astounding size of the capital letters, in which these good things are
forced upon his notice.

Every other house is an hotel or boarding-house, for with few exceptions
every one is put out to “livery,” as it were, in Sacramento; and in
hard times, when cash is scarce, one half of the population may be said
to feed the other half gratuitously, or on credit, which often amounts
to the same thing, thus affording a beautiful illustration of mutual
support and confidence.

Sacramento is terribly dusty; the great traffic to and from the mines
grinds three or four inches of the top soil into a red powder, that
distributes itself everywhere; it is the dirtiest dust I ever saw, and
is never visited by a shower until the rainy season sets in, and
suddenly converts it into a thick mud.

I was introduced to a club of Sacramento gentlemen, who had formed
themselves into what they called a literary society. In their rooms was
to be found what in those days was scarce, a tolerable collection of
books and the periodicals of the day. They were very jovial fellows,
well-informed, not so literary as I expected, and certainly quite free
from pedantry. The most important ceremony at their meetings consisted
in the members standing in a circle, upon which a Chinese hat of
teetotum shape was spun in the centre, and the “literary savant,” who
was indicated by a black mark on the hat when it ceased to spin, stood
“drinks for the crowd.”

The weather was oppressively warm, and the iced

[Illustration: Bar Room at Sonora]

“drinks”[11] were necessary even to a literary society;--so much so,
that the hat was kept continually spinning by public acclamation. There
was no lack of sensible and entertaining conversation, and the evenings
passed with these gentlemen were to my thinking none the less pleasant,
although perhaps less literary, for the twirling of the Chinese hat.

A levée, or sea-wall, has been built in front of the city, to protect it
from the river when it rises with the high spring tides; but the river
generally undermines these works, and flows over the surrounding plain
as it has been wont to do for ages past.

A large number of old dismantled hulks, now converted into floating
houses, are moored along the front of the levée, and it is from these
probably the rats first landed that are now so distinguished at
Sacramento for their size and audacity. These animals come out after
dark in strong gangs, as if the town belonged to them, and attack
anything that may happen to have been left on the wharf during the
night; being very numerous, the destruction they cause to merchandise is
a serious loss.

Ten thousand dollars were offered, I was told, to the man who should
clear the town, and seduced by this bribe, some one in the rat-catching
line volunteered to draw all the rats into the country, and there
enclose them in a paddock, to be publicly exposed previous to a
massacre; but whether the rats thought it best to leave well alone, and
be content with the comfortable quarters and nice pine-apple cheeses
they enjoyed in the city, or whether they objected to country air, does
not appear; but they never went out to the paddock, except one, who is
reported to have approached within a reasonable distance of the
vain-glorious rat-catcher, and then standing on his hind legs, after the
manner of rats, and scratching the tip of his nose contemplatively with
his paw, he turned tail for the city, causing grievous disappointment to
five terrier dogs, who ineffectually chevied him in.

The conflagrations of San Francisco had been attributed to
incendiarists, and as many attempts to fire the town had been
frustrated, it is probable that this was the case. A Volunteer-Guard,
therefore, patrolled the city of Sacramento at night, to guard against
this evil, and to protect the inhabitants from the wholesale plunder of
organised bands of burglars. Crime had increased so rapidly of late in
San Francisco, and robbers and incendiarists had become so emboldened by
the impotence and venality of the justiciary, that the citizens
organised a society styled the Vigilance Committee, for the purpose of
affording the protection to life and property that the law would not
bestow.

So far was well; but this society, composed of men who _smarted under
personal loss_, attributed _perhaps unjustly_ to incendiarism, took upon
themselves the dispensation of life and death.

Men detected, as was supposed, in the act of _felony only_, were tried,
sentenced, and executed, without defence, in the same night.

It is useless now to dwell on the summary executions that were put in
force in half a dozen cases by the Vigilance Committee; no one would
defend their acts, and they met with opposition at the time from the
better class of citizens; the memory of them may pass away, but they
certainly had the effect at the time of ridding the country of a set of
desperate men, and of restoring a degree of security to the inhabitants
of San Francisco that had never previously been enjoyed.

Colonel D----, a friend of Sir Henry’s, had control of a quartz vein at
a place called Volcano, in the northern mines, and we determined upon an
inspection of this vein, which was reported to be highly auriferous.

We started at daybreak, in a light spring waggon, and, taking with us
our blankets, we were soon five miles from Sacramento, and pulled up at
the young town of Brighton.

Colonel D---- appeared to be the owner of Brighton; and, being a
sporting man, he had constructed a race-course here; with the exception
of the race-course, and one or two stables, there was not much of the
town developed as yet; but being really advantageously situated, I have
no doubt that it is well populated by this time.

The road was straight and level, and on either side, enclosed by fences,
were well-cultivated farms; numerous dwelling-houses lined the road, and
it was difficult to believe that the signs of civilisation and industry,
that met us on all sides, were the result of two years’ occupation of
the country by gold hunters.

As we left Brighton we overtook long lines of waggons, heavily laden
with stores for the mines; and these, drawn by innumerable oxen,
ploughed up the deep dust to such an extent as obliged us to cover our
faces as we passed them. We met waggons coming in, containing miners, on
whom, to judge by their appearance generally, a bath, a shave, and a new
suit of clothes would not be thrown away; and I have no doubt they
indulged in these luxuries on their arrival at Sacramento.

We stopped to breakfast at a house of entertainment kept by one
Crockett, who had a very pretty wife; but the possession of this luxury,
so far from humanising Crockett, appeared to keep him in a continual
fever of irritation; for he was jealous, poor fellow, and used to worry
himself because there was ever a dozen or two of hairy miners gazing in
a bewildered manner at Mrs. C.; but, if report speaks truly, the bonnet
and boots of a “female” had been successfully exhibited in this region
at a dollar a head, (a glimpse of them being thought cheap even at that
price) surely therefore Crockett might have excused the poor miners for
regarding attentively the original article when presented gratis in the
shape of a pretty woman.

Crockett carried a revolver of disproportionate size, he not being a
large man, and this instrument he occasionally used upon provocation. A
great number of miners had looked at Mrs. Crockett on the morning of our
arrival, and her husband had not quite finished foaming at the mouth in
consequence, when we entered the house. It was some time before he
condescended to be civil; but having at length informed us that he was
“so riled that his skin cracked,” he added that he was a “devilish good
fellow when he was ‘_right side up_,’” and commanded us to drink with
him. After this he procured us a most excellent breakfast, and, on the
strength of our respectable appearance, allowed Mrs. Crockett to preside
at this repast, which she did in a nervous manner, as if momentarily
under the expectation of being shot.

We left our host “right side up,” and, proceeding on our way, we soon
lost sight of the cultivated country and began to traverse undulating
plains studded with the dwarf oak. The road now gradually becomes worse,
and has long ceased to be level; we pass road-side houses, whose names
indicate the localities in which they are placed: “Rolling Hills,”
“Willow Springs,” “Red Mountain,” and so forth.

After travelling twenty miles we ascend the first range of hills; the
pine-tree appears, and here and there we catch glimpses of the American
Fork River. As we leave the plain, and ascend the wooded hills, trails
may be observed indicated by blazed trees, leading to mountain gorges,
where diggers are at work. Flowers clothe the hills in the richest
profusion, and most conspicuous is the yellow poppy, which lightens up
these desolate red hills for a few weeks each spring; growing in rich
masses that, in contrast to the bleak and stunted herbage, are like
sunbeams, and like sunbeams leave every spot they cheer more gloomy,
when, under the influence of the first hot summer wind, they droop in a
night and pass away.




CHAPTER XIII.

     AN OLD SHE-GOAT--OUR MINERALOGIST--GOLD DIGGERS--MURDERER’S
     BAR--THE THEORIST PUZZLED--MINING LAWS--JUMPING CLAIMS--THE MINER’S
     LIFE--“LET HER SLIDE”--HOSTILE INDIANS--WE ARE
     DISGUSTED--FIRE-PROOF HOUSES.


_July, 1851._

We reached the Salmon Fall diggings about noon, and, without halting,
crossed a wooden bridge that had been built here on the north fork of
the American River; we paid five dollars toll to its enterprising owner,
and ascended the opposite hill. The road here became so uneven that we
got out of the waggon in preference to being pitched out, and we were
kept very busy in locking the wheels when it went down hill, and pushing
behind when it went up. We passed no houses now, but trails led off on
either side, whilst occasionally we encountered solitary miners
“prospecting” near the road. “Prospecting” is the term applied to a
pursuit of knowledge under difficulties, that is, searching for gold
where no trace of it is apparent on the surface.[12] There are plenty
of “prospectors” in the mines, but the profession scarcely pays, for
the “prospector” is the jackall who must search for many days, and, when
he has found, the lion, in the shape of the old miner, steps in and
reaps the benefit. So that there is something to be learnt in the
diggings, for undoubtedly one of the first principles in life is to look
on while others work, and then step in and cry “halves.”

[Illustration]

We stopped at dusk at a house a little off the trail, and, having had
supper, we spread our blankets on the ground, and being tired were soon
asleep; but we soon awoke again, for, separated from us by a canvas
screen, was a young goat, whose dismal bleatings made “night hideous:”
vain were the imprecations that were showered on the goat’s head;
daylight discovered him still crying, and us awake and unrefreshed.

As we prepared to start, in rather a sullen humour, what was our
astonishment when our host accosted us smilingly thus: “I had an
addition to my family last evening, gentlemen, and as fine a boy as ever
you saw!” So he must be, thought we, to have a voice like a goat; and,
as we went on our way, we recalled the compliments with which, during
the night, we had greeted the new-born babe, under the innocent
impression that it was a kid; and conjectured to ourselves the feelings
of the mother when she heard herself alluded to as an old she-goat!

As the waggon followed the trail, we walked through the forest at the
side; the botanist of our party had now ample employment, and tortured a
new flower at each step; whilst our mineralogist pocketed specimens with
such fervour that their accumulated weight began at last to tell
severely on his frame, upon which he discharged his gleanings
surreptitiously, to our great amusement, for we insisted that he had
dropped them by accident, and made him pocket them again. If the people
of this world had but to carry their hobbies up a dusty mountain, under
a hot sun, in the shape of a bag of quartz, how soon they’d cast them
off!

At noon, having reached the ridge of the mountain, we had an extended
view of the gold country as it stretched away for miles beyond us in a
succession of steep red hills; through these the American Fork rushed
impetuously, and huge masses of red-woods clothed the highest mountains;
while, in the distance, the white peaks of the Sierra Nevada were
perceptible; those famous mountains of which the reputed wealth is still
as much the Dorado of the Californian diggers, as were the placer fields
before me once the dream of the Mexicans of the sixteenth century.
“Prospectors” visit these cheerless snows never to return; but, like the
discontented squirrel of the fable, who would ascend the sun-lit hills
that looked so much like gold, reach them, utter a moral and die.

A turn of the road presented a scene of mining life, as perfect in its
details as it was novel in its features. Immediately beneath us the
swift river glided tranquilly, though foaming still from the great
battle which, a few yards higher up, it had fought with a mass of black
obstructing rocks. On the banks was a village of canvas that the winter
rains had bleached to perfection, and round it the miners were at work
at every point. Many were waist-deep in the water, toiling in bands to
construct a race and dam to turn the river’s course; others were
entrenched in holes, like grave-diggers, working down to the “bed rock.”
Some were on the brink of the stream washing out “prospects” from tin
pans or wooden “batteas;” and others worked in company with the
long-tom, by means of water-sluices artfully conveyed from the river.
Many were coyote-ing in subterranean holes, from which from time to time
their heads popped out, like those of squirrels, to take a look at the
world; and a few with drills, dissatisfied with nature’s work, were
preparing to remove large rocks with gunpowder. All was life, merriment,
vigour, and determination, as this part of the earth was being turned
inside out to see what it was made of.

The air was so still and clear that the voices rose to us with startling
distinctness, and when a head appeared from a distant pit, and its owner
vociferated, “How are you, Frank?” I thought at first he meant me, and
was on the point of replying, “Well and hearty, thank him. How was he?”

Small patches of garden surrounded the village, which bore so palpably
the stamp of cheerfulness and happy industry, that I was disappointed on
learning that its name was “Murderer’s Bar;” though the appellation was
justly conferred in memory of a brutal murder that had been committed
amongst its earliest settlers.

Had all the diggings been named in accordance with the circumstances
that ushered them individually into public notice, there would be more
Murderer’s Bars than the traveller would well know what to do with,
unless they were numerically arranged like the John Smiths in the
muster-roll of a marching regiment.

The name is unpleasantly candid; there are plenty of “diggings” that can
record their tales of blood much more forcibly than Murderer’s Bar, but
under such peaceful titles as “Diamond Springs,” or “Happy Valley,” they
bring no shudder to the traveller. So that we learn another thing at the
diggings, which is, that it is ridiculous to be a Publican and make a
clean breast of it to every stranger, when such great immunity is gained
under the garb of the Pharisee.

One would ask how it is that Murderer’s Bar, despite its name, is a
peaceable village, where each man’s wealth, in the shape of ten feet
square of soil, is virtuously respected by his neighbour; it is not
because there is enough for all, for every paying claim has long ago
been appropriated, and the next comer must go further on. There is a
justice of the peace (up to his arms in the river just at present), and
there is a constable (who has been “prospecting” a bag of earth from the
hill, and been rewarded with a gold flake of the value of three cents);
these two, one would suppose, could scarcely control two or three
hundred men, with rude passions and quick tempers, each of whom, as you
observe, carries his revolver even while at work. But these armed,
rough-looking fellows themselves elected their judge and constable, and
stand, ever ready, as “specials,” to support them.

If a man wanted a pickaxe or a shovel, and thought to help himself to
one of those that lie about at all times at Murderer’s Bar, he would
find it inconvenient if discovered; for, as there is no extenuating
clause of hunger or misery in the diggings, theft is held to be a great
crime; in all probability the offender would be whipped at the tree; and
this brings us again to the perplexing subject of Lynch law as relating
to the miners.

I venture to say that it will puzzle the theorist to determine how far
the roving population of the mining regions in California have been
justified in taking measures to eject the bad and worthless from among
them; for all rules and precedents fall before the strong argument of
self-preservation. When Christian and his shipmates landed at Pitcairn’s
Island and made laws for the regulation of their small colony (happily
little needed) they acted as much upon the principle of Lynch law as did
the miners; for these latter were equally without the reach of the laws
under which they had been born. Where, after all, was the great
difference in the first trial by jury and the Lynch execution among a
colony of men living far from civilisation? Was the peace of a community
of honest men to be disturbed by crime and bloodshed, unpunished, when,
from circumstances, the law of their country was unable to protect them?
These and similar questions would form the basis of the argument in
defence of Lynch law in the mountains.

On the other hand, the opponent would point to the fearful instances on
record of men being hurried to eternity without preparation--victims to
the overwrought feelings of an excited mob. The defence of
self-constituted law is untenable, yet there are instances in which
small communities have seemed to me justified in enforcing, by the only
means at their command, the order so necessary in such a state of
society as that of the mountain gorges of California.

But when we see this law “subverting law” in a city like San Francisco,
then we are forced sweepingly to condemn, once and for all, all that
bears the name of Lynch, and we feel loth to admit that in any case the
end can ever justify the means. Still it is a question, taken from first
to last, that one may split straws on, when we see how peacefully
Murderer’s Bar progresses, not under the _execution_, but under the
_fear_ of Lynch law. In most mining villages public indignation has been
confined to ordering men to “leave the camp” in twenty-four hours, or
otherwise take the consequences; and after being thus warned, the
nefarious digger invariably “slopes.”

The mining population have been allowed to constitute their own laws
relative to the appointment of “claims,” and it is astonishing how well
this system works. Had the Legislature, in ignorance of the miner’s
wants, interfered and decided that a man should have so much, and no
more, of the soil to work on, all would have been anarchy and confusion.

Whereas now, every “digging” has its fixed rules and by-laws, and all
disputes are submitted to a jury of the resident miners; excepting in
those instances where twenty men or so are met by twenty men, and in
these cases there is first a grand demonstration with fire-arms, and
eventually an appeal to the district court. The by-laws of each district
are recorded in the Recorder’s Office of the county, and these laws are
stringent although self-constituted; ill-defined at first, and varying
as they did, they were conflicting and troublesome, but though they have
been jumbled as it were in a bag, they have come out like Mr. Crockett,
“right side up.”

I have had my claim in the digging more than once, of ten feet square;
if a man “jumped” it, and encroached on my boundaries, and I did’nt
knock him on the head with a pickaxe, being a Christian, I appealed to
the “crowd,” and my claim being carefully measured from my stake and
found to be correct, the “jumper” would be ordered to confine himself to
his own territory, which of course he would do with many oaths.

It is customary to leave your mining tools in your claim, to indicate to
all new comers that it is occupied, and as this rule is recognised it
saves a great deal of unnecessary explanation; but it has often struck
me that if in the quiet and virtuous hamlet of Little Pedlington, a
market-gardener were to leave his spade outside as a sign of occupancy,
he would not detect that implement in the morning, spite of the
vigilance of the one policeman, who guards that blissful retreat.

We descended the cliff by a short cut; the mineralogist took a shorter,
for a ledge of earth gave way beneath his weight, and enabled him to
reach the base about three minutes before us.

Gongs sounded at this moment, and the red clayey population flocked in
to dine, looking disproportionately dirty in contrast with their white
houses: I did not see a woman in the “camp.” But these things are being
better ordered now, and I can foresee the day when the traveller from
Murderer’s Bar shall speak of anxious mothers rushing from the white
tents with soap-sud arms to rescue embryo miners from the gutter; and
when flaxen-headed urchins shall gaze suspiciously at the approach of
such as I, and running back to their parents, will exclaim, “Oh! daddy,
here’s a Britisher!”

The gold is found here in coarse flakes, and the bank washings, from all
accounts, average five or six dollars a day per man.

The days had passed when diggings were abandoned, so soon as they ceased
to reward a day’s toil with less than an ounce or two of gold, and
“chunks” and “big strikes”[13] were now exceptions to the rule; but the
days had passed, also, when to obtain these prizes men laboured
painfully under the influence of fever, produced by bad food and
poisonous spirits, to die at last, perhaps, disgorging every hard-earned
flake of gold to some attendant quack.

Much happier the miner, when, as at Murderer’s Bar, his toil is
regularly rewarded with a smaller gain, for his health is no longer
impaired by feverish excitement and drink, and the necessaries of life
are placed within his reach, at prices that enable him to save his gold
scales as well as his constitution, for the “rainy day,” that in one
form or the other comes to all at last.

Leaving the village and passing some hills, the sides of which were
overgrown with the white azalia, we reached another part of the river,
where was a ferry-boat, and here we found our waggon. On the opposite
side of the river the ascent was very steep, and would have been
impracticable for waggons, had not the owner of the ferry excavated a
portion of the mountain, and otherwise constructed a road.

For this outlay of capital the ferryman was reaping a rich harvest;
having thus opened the only practicable trail at this time to the more
northern mines, he had secured to himself the toll of every waggon
passing to or from those regions, and these tolls amounted in one year
to sixty thousand dollars (12,000_l._). The original capital was, I
understood, the result of successful digging; and I mention this
circumstance as it proves two things, first, that fortunes in the mines
are not dependent on the discovery of little nests of gold, as some
suppose, but on the judicious application in a new country of the small
capital which a little steady work with the pickaxe will ensure to any
industrious and healthy man; and, secondly, that a large portion of the
gold amassed in mining regions is expended upon the permanent
improvement of the country; so that the export of the “dust” is no
criterion of the yield.

Bridges, ferries, roads, watercourses, dams, hotels, and stage coaches,
have nearly all been started by means of the capital obtained from the
soil over which they run, or on which they are constructed. No one knows
what a waggon will undergo, until he has mastered Californian trails and
gulches. The worst places are the steep descents that skirt the base of
a mountain, where the road has an inclination of about thirty degrees
towards the precipice beneath.

In such places you may fasten a rope to the axle of the waggon, and
passing the other end round a tree or rock as a check, you may let her
“slide,” which she will do without any further trouble on your part.

We were now approaching a spot where a few days previously the Indians
had made some successful descents upon mining parties, cutting off some
of their number. The Indians of this region promise to be a great
annoyance, for they are mounted and brave, and are gradually becoming
possessed of rifles.

There is an Indian commission in the country, and portions of
territory, called “Indian Reserves,” have been marked out as in other
states, and presented to the Indians from their good father, the
President. These “Reservations” the Indians accept and occupy, but the
lurking idea still remains, that the rest of the country is theirs also,
and in the mean time they “lift hair,”[14] from time to time, to keep
their hands in.

When Indians, labouring under the ridiculous notion that anything can
belong to them that the white man wants, become troublesome, it is
customary to drive them back; but the Indians of this region when so
driven, will find their revenge in carrying on an exterminating warfare
against the overland emigration--at least so it appears to me.

Still, the policy of conciliation pursued by the “Commissioners” is the
only one that lies open, and if they can persuade these savages “that
half a loaf is better than no bread,” they will have carried out their
diplomatic mission to its full extent. But it is easier to lull Indian
suspicions than to eradicate them; and unfortunately for all parties,
these aborigines cherish morbid ideas relative to the “graves of their
fathers,” from which, under the influence of diplomacy, they have been
induced to retire: and certainly in those cases, where their progenitors
have been buried in auriferous soil, their remains are not more
religiously respected than would they have been had their fate consigned
them to some of our intramural burying grounds. For although, in a
civilised country, one’s great grandmother’s skull may be thrown up with
impunity, when her lease of the grave is out, these Indians cling to the
absurd superstition that the great “Manitou” looks wrathfully on those
who wilfully disturb the dead!

We ascended hill after hill, and by noon, being hot, tired, and dusty,
the scenery had no longer charms for our eyes; we passed gigantic
red-woods only to sneer at them; we pooh-pooh’d cascades that fell from
masses of black basaltic rock; the honeysuckles that lent their
sweetness to the air around us, were pronounced disgusting; and even the
botanist reproached the yellow poppies with being “stinking,” as if _he_
couldn’t have borne with them.

But when we pulled up at “Smith’s ranche” and bathed and dined, we
dismissed these unhealthy feelings, and took the honeysuckles to our
bosoms again. We now began to experience the change of air consequent on
our increased elevation, and the ascent was so rapid here, that thirty
miles ahead of us the snow was reported to be lying fifteen feet in
depth.

Where we now were, the main trail was little worn, but at a certain
point we struck off to the right through the forest, and following the
“blazed trees” we suddenly emerged on a clear and rocky ledge on the
side of the mountain. Here was the quartz vein we had come to see, and
its thirteen American owners lived upon the spot in a couple of log
huts.

We were received with great hospitality, although this was of less
substantial kind than it would have been, had not our entertainers been
“out of everything” but flour, water, and tea. We had fortunately
brought some provisions with us, otherwise we might have indulged in the
luxury of a mountain appetite longer than was conducive to comfort.
During two days we inspected the quartz mine, and having to the best of
our ability satisfied ourselves of its wealth, we retraced our road to
Sacramento, taking care to avoid the residence of the “old she goat,”
but calling on Crockett, whom we again found with his “skin cracking” at
some imaginary insult to his wife.

When we reached San Francisco we found that preparations were going on,
on all sides, for erecting brick and stone buildings in lieu of
combustible shanties.

The style of architecture in vogue was less remarkable for cunning
design than for its sturdy fireproof qualities; and although the square
houses, with their thick walls and double doors, and shutters of strong
iron, and bomb-proof cellars underground, added little towards the
embellishment of the city, it was no time to think of elegant façades or
imposing friezes when the first object was the security of life and
property. Each building, then, was intended to assume the character of a
fortress to resist the common enemy of the place; and from that day to
this, this end has been fortunately carried out, and the heart of the
city is impervious to fire.




CHAPTER XIV.

     JOE BELLOW--STOCKTON--A BEAR TRAPPER--BEAR AND BULL FIGHTS--AN
     UNEASY BEAR--CALIFORNIAN INNS--NATURAL ROADS--GOOD DRIVING--I KILL
     A FLEA--SONORA--THE EVENING COMMENCES--FRENCH EMIGRANTS--A DRINKING
     BAR--NUMBER EIGHTY--A CORRAL AND A MORAL.


_September, 1851._

So many reports had reached San Francisco at this time of the discovery,
in various parts of the mining regions, of auriferous veins of quartz of
immense wealth, that all that portion of the population who were in
waiting for something to turn up had already departed for the mountains
in search of gold rock.

Although not exactly belonging to this class, it was my destiny to hear
from one Joe Bellow an account of a certain mineral district, a portion
of which, it appeared, had been showered by Fortune into his lap. His
description was resistless. His natural volubility, trained as it had
been by his professional duties as an auctioneer, overcame all obstacles
that I could raise, and I succumbed to his earnest entreaty that I
would visit the mine in question and feast my eyes, as he had feasted
his, on the glittering wealth which nature had here exposed to view, and
of which he extracted a specimen from his pocket of the most
satisfactory description.

The mine was situated in the vicinity of Sonora, the chief town of the
southern mines; and as, independently of my curiosity to inspect it, I
wished to visit that section of the country, we started at four o’clock
one evening in a small river boat called the “Jenny Lind,” bound to
Stockton, a town situated on the San Joaquin River.

On starting from San Francisco for the mines, it was but natural to bid
adieu to cleanliness and comfort for the time being, and, having so
fortified myself, I was better able to withstand the intolerable filth
of the “Jenny Lind.” She has since “blown up,” which is about the only
thing that could have purified her.

At daylight we arrived at Stockton, which I shall allude to more fully
by and by, and at once landed and secured our places in the stage then
about to start for the town of Sonora.

The stage coach was of American manufacture, and of the class known as
“Concord” coaches. It carried nine inside and two out. Our driver was a
colonel, and his name was Reed. He was one of the best of whips, and,
as proprietor of the line by which we were now travelling, he was making
money very fast. Having been forestalled in the box seat by a very hairy
miner, I completed, in company with Mr. Joe Bellow, the complement
inside, after paying the gallant colonel an “ounce” for passage money.
This was a “reduced fare,” occasioned by an opposition having lately
made its appearance on the Sonora road; the bare mention of this
emulative vehicle raised the colonel’s “dander.” With a crack of the
whip we started at a good pace, behind four well-built, active beasts,
not over-groomed, or “turned out” very expensively as to harness, but
famous goers, and good for ten miles an hour over the plain.

Lines of stages now traverse the country in every direction, and there
is scarcely a canvass mining village that is debarred from communication
in this way with the principal towns. The horses used by these lines are
of the best quality, for a Yankee stage driver knows wherein true
economy lies; but the capital required to start a line is very
considerable, and as soon as the profits begin to “tumble in pretty
freely,” as Colonel Reed remarked, up starts an opposition; for
stage-driving is a favourite speculation! Our inside passengers
consisted of a young Canadian woman, who travelled under the protection
of an ill-looking dog, a kind of Irish Yankee, who was very quarrelsome
and bumptious, and carried his revolver in a very prominent position. We
had two or three miners, who, as a matter of course, brought their
rifles and blankets with them into the coach, and who squirted their
juice at passing objects on the road with astonishing accuracy. We had,
however, one decided character. This was a man who, as he gratuitously
informed us, was professionally a bear hunter, bear trapper, and bear
fighter; who, in fact, dealt generally in grizzly bears. When he shot
bears--and it appeared he lived in the mountains--he sold the meat and
cured the skins; but when he was fortunate enough to trap a fine grizzly
alive, a rich harvest generally awaited him. The grizzly was immediately
transferred, bound head and foot, to a large and strong cage; and this,
being mounted on the bed of a waggon, the animal was despatched to some
large mining town in the vicinity, where notice was given, by means of
handbills and posters, that “on the Sunday following the famous grizzly
bear, ‘America,’ would fight a wild bull, &c., &c. Admission, five
dollars.”

A bull and bear fight is, of all exhibitions of this description, the
most cruel and senseless. The bear, cramped in his limbs by the strict
confinement that his strength and ferocity have rendered necessary, is
placed in the arena; and attached to him by a rope is a bull, generally
of fine shape and courage, and fresh from the mountains. Neither animal
has fair play, and indeed, in most instances, each one avoids the other.
The bull’s power of attack is weakened by the shortness of the tether,
whilst the bear, as above mentioned, has scarcely the free use of his
muscles.

The bull invariably commences the attack, and the immense power of the
bear’s fore-arm is then exemplified; for, raising himself on his hams,
he meets the coming shock by literally boxing the bull’s ears; but this
open-handed blow saves his entrails, and the bull swerves half stunned,
whilst his horns graze Bruin’s skin. But if the bull approaches in a
snuffing, inquisitive kind of manner, the bear will very probably seize
his enemy’s nose and half suffocate him in his grip. The fight generally
ends without much damage on either side, for the simple reason that
neither of the combatants means mischief.

I was sleeping one night at Campo Seco, a mining village in the southern
mines, the houses of which were, for the most part, composed of canvass,
the “balance,” as they say here, being of muslin. The camp was very
full, as on the day previous, Sunday, a long-expected fight had come off
between a grizzly bear and a cinnamon bear. I had heard that, after an
uninterrupted embrace between the two of about four hours, the grizzly
had been declared the victor, which was not so extraordinary,
considering that he weighed about 1200 lbs., and that you could not have
driven a tenpenny nail through his hide, whilst the cinnamon’s weight
was quoted at 400 lbs. I was “putting up” with an acquaintance who kept
a store in a small canvass house, and he having, with true mining
generosity, opened a bale of new red blankets for my temporary
accommodation, I was soon asleep. About daylight I was awoke by what I
imagined to be the moaning of a man in pain, and the occasional
disturbance of the canvass wall nearest my sleeping-place satisfied me
as to the locality. The moaning soon became deeper, and occasionally the
canvass yielded to some heavy weight that pressed against it. Presently
was heard a smash of crockery and a tremendous roar; upon which my host
started up, and, placing a revolver in my hand and seizing his rifle, he
rushed out of the tent, vociferating, “Come on.” Following him into the
adjoining room, which formed his kitchen and occasionally a stable for
his old mule, my eyes at once lit upon the cinnamon bear, whom my host
had provided with lodging at the nightly charge of one dollar. The bear
was fortunately chained to a strong stake in the centre of the hut,
otherwise, “all smarting, with his wounds being cold,” he looked,
judging from as much of his eyes as one could distinguish in his swollen
face, as if it would be grateful to him to set-to with something as much
smaller than himself as he was smaller than his late antagonist. Upon an
after inspection of his chain I ascertained that its length would have
admitted his gratifying this desire on my carcase, had he tumbled
through the canvass partition which had separated us for the night.

The weather being at this time fine and the roads in good order, we
passed, throughout the whole length of our journey, innumerable waggons
laden with winter provisions for the mines; and droves of mules--patient
little brutes, some as small as donkeys, staggering under barrels of
liquor and cases as big as themselves; each drove led, as a matter of
course, by an old white mare with a bell.

As we neared the Stanislaus River, distant thirty miles from Stockton,
every one inside became sociable, except the Irishman, whose jealousy
had been aroused to a fearful pitch by J. Bellow, who entertained the
fair Canadian in French, a language unknown to her protector. During
our journey J. B. had not been inactive, having already disposed,
conditionally, of sundry bags of sugar to the miners, and a box or two
of German cigars to the bear hunter; samples of these articles having
been extracted from his capacious pocket. Crossing the river Stanislaus
at a fordable spot, we pulled up at a large wooden house, and alighted
to dine and wash off the dust with which we were covered.

The immense traffic carried on on the roads that lead to the mining
regions affords an extensive field for the profitable management of
houses of entertainment. These may be encountered at almost every mile
throughout the whole country, and they vary in size from a wooden
two-story house to the very smallest kind of canvass shanty.

There seems to be a certain hour of the day for every traveller in
California to breakfast, dine, or sup; and should he not arrive at a
roadside house at one of these specified hours, he will get no meal; and
could the traveller by any possibility be present at each and every
hostel at the same moment, he would find a stereotyped bill of fare,
consisting, with little variation, of a tough beefsteak, boiled
potatoes, stewed beans, a nasty compound of dried apples, and a _jug of
molasses_. He would then sit down at the summons of a bell in company
with all the tagrag and bobtail of the road who might have congregated
for the repast in question: and, if inclined to follow the custom of the
country, he would, with the point of his knife, (made blunt for this
purpose) taste of the various condiments, butter included, that were
ranged before him, and, selecting as many of these as were suited to his
taste, he would pile them on his plate, demolish them with relish, and
depart on his way in peace. Travel where you will in California, you may
rest assured that of the foregoing will your meal be composed, and in
nearly such a manner must you eat it.

Dinner over, we mounted a strong spring waggon in exchange for our
covered coach, which had too much top hamper for the mountain trail we
had before us. We had now six horses, all American, good sound cattle,
that had come to California across the plains, and were well broken in
to crossing gulches and mud-holes. We were soon in a different style of
country. Hitherto we had been crossing a level track across the Stockton
plain, interrupted by an occasional dive into a dry gulch; now we
commenced at once to ascend the hilly country which first indicates the
approach to the mining regions. The road to Sonora, as indeed to most
places in this country, has never been laid out by Government, but is,
in fact, a natural trail or path marked out by the first pioneer waggons
that passed that way, deviated from, from time to time, as experience
indicated a shorter cut; receiving no assistance from the hand of man,
and encountering a vast number of obstacles from the hand of nature.

For instance, we arrive at a part, that, skirting the base of a hill,
presents a rapid declination to the left, which is a very hard and
rocky-looking ravine. Colonel Reed exclaims, as he places his foot on
the break, which works from the box, “Hard up to the right!” upon which
the insiders loll their heads and bodies out on that side of the vehicle
to preserve its equilibrium. We had to “hard up” a great many times
either to one side or the other, during which time J. Bellow always
considered it necessary to assist the fair Canadian; whereupon the
Irishman looked fierce and talked large, but finally one of the miners
told him, in a quiet but unmistakeable manner, that “if he didn’t ‘dry
up’ he’d chuck him out of the stage.” Whereupon the Irishman did dry up
for the rest of the journey; and shortly after arriving at Sonora we
heard of his being detected attempting to pass off _bogus_, or imitation
gold dust, and he narrowly escaped being lynched by the mob. In the
course of the afternoon I obtained the box seat, and engaging the
colonel at once on the subject of horseflesh, I soon obtained from him a
great amount of useful knowledge on the subject of American stock, of
which I am a great admirer. As we neared Sonora, the colonel’s attention
was almost entirely occupied by his team, for in many places the trail
led through deep gulches, into which previous volcanic eruptions had
showered an infinity of small cindery rocks, which, close enough
together to prevent wheels getting through them, were just sufficiently
high to capsize the cart if the wheels went over them. We arrived at the
summit of a “used up” crater, and, having a long descent of this
description before us, the inside passengers were ordered out; the break
was put on, worked by the colonel’s leg on the box. I held on according
to orders. We slided down in famous style, first over on one side then
the other, the colonel occasionally addressing his team with “D---- you,
don’t touch one of them!” meaning the rocks, through which we were
picking our way. But, near the bottom of the hill, we got our off-wheels
into a _mud-hole_ and declined gently on that side, a fine specimen of
volcanic formation preventing the waggon from going over altogether. The
colonel, without hesitation, made all his passengers hang their weights
to the near side of the waggon, and, sitting on my lap, with a crack of
the whip he started the whole concern, and sent it flying and swaying
from side to side to the bottom of the hill. Here we pulled up, and the
colonel, relieving me from his weight, observed, in extenuation of what
might otherwise have appeared a liberty, “that he was obliged to be a
little _sarcy_ on this road.”

[Illustration]

Fleas are very prevalent in the southern mines, and my first
introduction to the species was in this wise. The colonel turned
suddenly to me, his hands being occupied with his ribbons, with “I
guess there’s a flea on my neck;” and I perceived on the instant that
there was a large, broad-shouldered insect, refreshing himself on the
place indicated, in apparent oblivion of all around. As in duty bound as
box seat, I pulled him off and put him to death, the colonel remarking
as he nodded his thanks, that he generally had three or four of the
“darned cattle put through” in that fashion during the journey.

With so many teams and waggons on so narrow a trail, there is
occasionally much disputing for the right of way. Men carry arms on the
road as a general rule; but very seldom use any worse weapon than their
tongues in these disputes. In a very awkward descent we found the road
entirely and unnecessarily blocked up by a waggon, drawn by eight yoke
of oxen. The Colonel at a glance recognised a teamster with whom he had
previously had many words on the same subject, and he opened fire by
ordering him to his own side of the road; to which the teamster sulkily
acquiesced after some delay, our driver, as he passed, threatening him
with a “lamming” on the next convenient occasion; to which the teamster
replied by a promise of blowing the top of the colonel’s head off; which
so incensed the colonel, that he forgot himself, and rising in his
seat, solemnly assured the driver of the ox team, that at some future
period nothing should deter him from “spiking” him; to which the driver
replied with such a shout of derision, that, believing as I do in the
colonel, I have no doubt that before this the teamster has met his fate,
and is a _spiked_ man. The colonel felt very “ugly” for some minutes
after this, but soon recovered his equanimity of temper. And here I
shall take leave of him, for we now approach Sonora; the sun was
disappearing behind the red wood trees that capped the surrounding
mountains; we began to pass rapidly through mining villages and mining
populations, of which more anon, and after dashing through several bad
places, in which, as the colonel remarked, the best driver might get
_mired_, or stuck in the mud, the town of Sonora appeared in sight; and
dashing in at full gallop, we pulled up at the principal hotel.

It was dark when we entered Sonora; and as the habits of the people here
are nocturnal, the evening may be said to have commenced as we alighted.
It certainly had commenced, for Greenwich Fair might be spoken of as a
sober picture of domestic life, compared to the din and clamour that
resounded through the main street of Sonora. On either side were
gambling houses of large dimensions, but very fragile structure, built
of a fashion to invite conflagration, though offering little of value to
the devouring element when the invitation was accepted, which it was
about every other night or so. In most of these booths and barns the
internal decorations were very glittering; chandeliers threw a brilliant
light on the heaps of gold that lay piled on each monté table, whilst
the drinking bars held forth inducements that nothing mortal is supposed
to be able to resist. On a raised platform is a band of music, or
perhaps some Ethiopian serenaders, or if it is a Mexican saloon, a
quartet of guitars; and in one house, and that the largest, is a piano,
and a lady in black velvet who sings in Italian and accompanies herself,
and who elicits great admiration and applause on account of the scarcity
of the fair sex in this region.

Each gambling house is full; some are crowded, and the streets are full
also, for it is Saturday, a night on which the miners flock into Sonora,
with the avowed intention of purchasing necessaries for the ensuing
week, and returning the same night; but, seduced by the city’s
blandishments, they seldom extricate themselves from its temples of
pleasure until very early on the ensuing Monday morning, when they
return to their _camps_ and _long toms_,[15] and soothe their racking
headaches by the discovery of chunks of gold.

The Mexican population preponderates in Sonora and its vicinity, and
nearly everything is stamped with their nationality. The gambling tables
are surrounded by them; and, dirty fellows as they are, they are very
picturesque at a distance with their slouch hats and long serapes. The
American population, between whom and the Mexicans a rooted hatred
exists, call the latter “greasers,” which is scarcely a complimentary
sobriquet, although the term “greaser camp,” as applied to a Mexican
encampment, is truthfully suggestive of the filth and squalor the
passing traveller will observe there. Sonora has a large French
population, and to this Gallic immigration is attributable the city’s
greatest advantages; for where Frenchmen are, a man can dine, which is
very important. The “_Trois Frères Provençaux_,” has its namesake here,
where good cooking and excellent light wines are at all times to be
relied on; but where Frenchmen are, there are also good bakers; and
there is, moreover, a great deal of singing and gaiety, and good humour,
which is a pleasant contrast to the coarser hilarity of a generally very
drunken population.

The long bar of a saloon is always actively engaged, and the bar-keeper
must be prepared for all demands in all languages. Here he serves a
Mexican group with _agua diente_; now he allays a Frenchman’s thirst
with _absinthe_, in the pouring out of which he displays much art; again
he attends with rapidity to the demands of four Americans, whose
_orders_ embrace respectively, a “gin-cocktail,” a “brandy-straight,” a
“claret sangaree,” and a “Queen Charlotte;” these supplied, he must
respond with alacrity to the call of a cockney miner, whose demand is
heard even above the surrounding din:

“Hain’t you got no hale hor porter?”[16]

J. Bellow expounded a great deal more than I have attempted to describe,
before we had been many minutes at Sonora. As soon as we had bathed and
freed ourselves from the dust with which we were covered, and which,
perhaps from its having been ground off an auriferous soil, resembled a
fine rich plate powder, we dined at a French restaurant and commenced
our perambulations: not before J. B. had conducted me to his residence.
This was situated in the main street, and was a small canvas house
rather ostentatiously placed between two glittering saloons. The
interior consisted of one large room, filled with stores and
provisions, and another very small apartment in which J. B. slept. The
front of the house was entirely occupied by black letters, more than a
foot in length, which, so soon as you got far enough off to read them
all at once, informed you that Joseph Bellow carried on the business of
auctioneer. In one of the saloons, a very interesting and well-looking
young girl was attending at a part of the bar where confectionary was
sold. I should not have supposed her to have had black blood in her
veins; but J. B. assured me that she had been a slave, and had been once
sold at New Orleans at a very high price, which he mentioned, and I
ascertained this to be true; she was free now, but freedom had come too
late, I suspect, to bring much value with it to her. J. B. knew every
miner in the place, and to each he had something to say, and with most
he took something to drink. It was, “Well, Jones, how did those pickles
suit you?” and if Jones disparaged the condiments in question, as he
probably did, it was, “Well, let’s have a drink: allow me to introduce
my friend, Mr. M----,” and if I had not managed to elude him, I should
have had to shake hands with every man in Sonora on the first night of
my arrival.

I had been directed to a place called Holden’s Hotel as a sleeping
place. The lower floor formed the gambling saloon, in which were the
Ethiopian serenaders already alluded to; the upper being converted, as I
had understood, into sleeping apartments. On applying at the bar for a
bed, I was requested to pay a dollar and enter my name on a slate
opposite a vacant number; 80 it was. I wished to go to bed, and was
directed to mount the staircase and find No. 80 for myself. On reaching
the second storey, I found myself in a long and dimly lighted room of
the same dimensions as that below, and round and about which were ranged
about a hundred wooden stretchers, covered with canvas, and furnished
each with one dark-blue blanket, and a small bag of hay to represent a
pillow. It is satisfactory to me to remember, that, so far from
expressing surprise, I displayed a stoicism that would have brought the
blush through the vermilioned cheek of a Pawnee warrior; I wound my way
through the settees, most of which were occupied, until I arrived at one
on the head of which was a card bearing my number. A glance assured me
that the bag of hay that rightfully belonged to me was there, but that
the blanket was not. A momentary inspection further developed the fact,
that on all the occupied stretchers were two or more blankets, whilst
the unoccupied beds had been denuded of this covering. Having been
educated as a midshipman, it is needless to say that to be in possession
of _three_ blankets, for it was cold, and an extra bag of hay, was the
work of a moment; and making myself as snug as I could in No. 80, I was
soon asleep, notwithstanding that the chinking of the monté-bankers, and
the noise of the crowd below, and the calls for brandy-smashes, and the
chorus of the serenaders, were by no means “fainter in the distance;”
and no wonder, for close to No. 80 there was a chink between two planks,
so wide that I could see “Bones” lolling out his tongue at the public,
as he accompanied the chorus to the popular song of “Charlestown Races.”

I awoke about daylight, very chilly, and found that my blankets had
disappeared. The law of reprisal had been fairly enforced, and one
cannot always be _wide-awake_. It was a comfort to me to reflect, that
he who took the blankets, took the fleas that belonged to them; and as
these creatures feed about daylight, _I had the best of it after all_.
It was a capital idea of the landlord’s, to have all the blankets of the
same colour, for as every man deposited his revolver under his head
before retiring for the night, it prevented all possibility of the joke
becoming serious.

As I have already observed, the Spaniards enclose their wild horses in
a “corral.” Here, closely packed, the best horse kicks himself into the
best place, and keeps it. These wholesale human dormitories are also
called corrals, and the principle is much the same as regards the
occupant; you must kick or get kicked--and indeed for that matter the
whole world is conducted on much the same principle.




CHAPTER XV.

     THE GOLD MINE--THE INNOCENCE OF SONORA--SUNDAY IN SONORA--SELLING A
     HORSE--CARRYING WEAPONS--BOB--WE LEAVE VALLEJO--WE ARE “BOUND TO
     GO”--THE SHADOW OF A CROW.


_September 1851._

Early the next morning I proceeded on horseback with Joe Bellow and an
engineer to the mine, which was situated near a mining village called
Tuttle-Town. To reach this spot we had to cross a table mountain, so
covered with the débris of former volcanic eruptions, that it was a
perfect cinder-heap upon a large scale. The ground reverberated as we
passed over concealed craters, and for two or three miles we were
confined to a foot pace, as we picked our way through the rough boulders
that lay half buried in the earth, like a field of winter turnips.

The Tuttletonians were not actively employed at the time of our arrival,
principally from the fact that the diggings had “given out.”

The quartz vein, however, was there, and after a day’s inspection, I was
satisfied that in external appearance at least it bore out the report
that Joe Bellow had given of it. To the man who wants more money than he
has (and few of us are free from that craving), the sight of massive
veins of rock, peppered with specks of gold, is a trying spectacle.

As he sits upon a boulder on the outcrop, and extracts a piece of pure
metal with the point of a knife, he is subject to a thrill which I am
afraid is indicative of the sordid ideas of his nature;--when he
descends the shaft, and by the aid of a candle still beholds the specks
of gold, he draws a long breath, in mental contemplation of the wondrous
wealth before him; then when the wealthy seam is placed at his service,
on terms so easy that it appears quite thrown away, in all probability
he will do as I did, swallow the bait, hook and all. The opinion of the
engineer was highly satisfactory, as engineers’ opinions generally are;
we therefore returned to Sonora, where I plunged at once into the
subject of mining statistics. I remember now how ridiculously plain the
whole matter appeared; here was the gold,--you could see it and feel
it,--well, all you had to do was to get it out! Argument would have been
wasted upon any thick-headed fellow who looked upon the matter
in any other light. But none such existed,--all Sonora was
quartz-mine-mad,--and although no machinery had as yet reached this
region, shafts were being sunk, and adits cut, in every hill around the
town. One mine, which extended from the rear of the principal hotel, was
owned entirely by Cornish miners; these had sunk two deep shafts, and
connected them by a gallery, by which means two or three hundred yards
of the vein were laid bare.

This vein was called the “Englishmen’s mine,” and it had not only the
merit of being sufficiently rich to all appearance to justify the
erection of machinery, but it was about the only lode that had been
scientifically opened by miners, and which was ready without further
expense to supply any amount of ore. But up to the time of my leaving
the country, the owners of this vein, although Englishmen, had not been
able to exert sufficient interest to get it “looked at,” and if this
incident should be read by any victim who has had two and twopence
returned to him in exchange for the sovereign he invested in California
Mining Companies, let him not as he contemplates his “small returns” lay
the blame on the quartz rock of the country, for I assure him that the
cause of failure is much nearer home; but of this I shall speak in its
proper place.

Sonora is dependent for existence on the surrounding mining population;
it is a town with a resident population of about three thousand souls,
but with accommodation on the corral principle for about ten thousand
more. Sonora is advantageously situated in one respect, inasmuch as it
is irresponsible for the morals and conduct of its floating population;
if Sunday is desecrated in Sonora by five thousand pleasure-seeking
miners, Sonora washes its hands of that.

Sonora is one large house of entertainment for bonâ-fide travellers; and
although nearly every one makes a point of travelling thither on a
Saturday, to have a “burst” on Sunday, and return in penitence on
Monday, Sonora washes its hands of that,--otherwise I should say that
Sonora in 1851 was as loose a community as was that of San Francisco in
1849.

No church bells here usher in the Sabbath; but auction bells arouse the
inhabitants equally to a full sense of the duties before them,--the sun
shines for Sonora on this day alone, and in accordance with wise maxims,
the population commences early to make hay.

The miners prefer buying everything at auction, and although I imagine
the purchasers suffer in the long run by this principle, the “loafers”
gain by it; for (supposing you are a loafer) you have only to mix with
the crowd of bidders, and take out your clasp-knife; you can then make
an excellent meal from the samples exposed to view, presuming always
that your constitution will stand a mixture of salt butter, Chinese
sugar, pickles, and bad brandy. Joe Bellow was an auctioneer, and
certainly he understood his business. Long before his sale commenced he
would place a keg of butter, or a bag of dried apples, outside his
store, and the miners would surround these luxuries like flies. Joe
Bellow’s object was to get a “crowd” and this accomplished, the auction
would commence in this style:--

Joe Bellow takes his stand on a cask in the midst of his samples, and
startles you suddenly with “And I’m only bid one dollar for a dozen of
mixed pickles; one dollar, one dollar, one doll--try them, gentlemen.”
In the meantime Joe nods to an imaginary bidder in the distance, and
rattles on, “One and a half, one and a half, one and h--” “Doo,” says a
Dutchman, with his mouth full of pickled gherkin. “Two dollars I’m
offered for a dozen of mixed pickles.” “Dos y medio,” says a Spaniard,
under the influence of a green bean. “Ah! Senor Don Pacheco,” says Joe,
“son los escabéches d’Inghelterra, muy buenos, muy finos!”

“Have I any advance on two dollars and a half?” “Trois piastres,” says a
French restaurateur. “Three dollars I am bid for a dozen of pickles that
cost five dollars in the States, Tenez! Monsieur Leon voici des
cornichons comme il faut. Three dollars, three doll’s, three
doll’s”--“Dree-and-a-half,” says the Dutchman, to whom they are finally
knocked down, just as an old miner observes that “darn him if his knife
aint turned blue with the darned vitrol juice.” No description, however,
can do justice to the rapidity with which Joe Bellow knocks down his
lots, or to the easy impudence with which he meets all disparaging
remarks from his tasters; and such is human nature, that even in the
mines, where few simpletons are to be found, there was no butter so
rancid but Joe Bellow could dispose of it on a Sunday by means of his
volubility and soft-sawder! I heard a Dutchman enquiring very anxiously
one day for some one in Sonora whose name he did not know;--“What is he
like?” said one, but the Dutchman was apparently not apt at description,
and no clue could be gained; at last he spluttered out, “Tyfel! I mean
dat man dat cries always ‘bickel, bickel, bickel,’” and everybody knew
at once that Joe Bellow was the individual required, and directed the
Dutchman accordingly.

The auction extending as it does across the street will be interrupted
most probably by a Mexican funeral procession, headed by a brass band,
playing dolefully; scarcely has this filed by when the same

[Illustration: HORSE MARKET--SONORA.]

band will return to an inspiriting tune, accompanied by merry-andrews
and torredores, who proclaim the day’s amusement in the bull arena. A
man goes rapidly by on a lean horse he is selling at auction; he is bid
twenty dollars for a flea-bitten roan, “Will anybody say twenty-five?”
Half-an-hour elapses, and back he comes, will anybody advance on thirty
dollars?--By-and-by he is seen tearing through the street, scattering
Joe Bellow’s pickle-eaters to the right and left, and sending the mud
flying into the sample keg of butter,--going for forty dollars, going
for--and as he does not appear again upon the scene, it is presumed that
the animal has either been sold, or withdrawn until the ensuing Sunday.

The horses that are sold this way are not very showy, nor do they fetch
much, but it may be remarked that if the high-priced horses that are
occasionally sold with us on account of their owners “going abroad,”
were first subjected to a four hours’ galop, over a stony road, in
presence of the bidders, many of them would be “knocked down” for even
less than are these Californian ponies.

For these animals have at least the advantage of possessing four sound
legs, and unless my experience much misleads me, three are as many as
you can reasonably expect in any animal whose pedigree will admit of a
gentleman mounting him. Civilisation has done for horses, what in some
instances it has for their masters, improved their exteriors at the
expense of a ruined constitution. I wonder what Choctaw would think, if
he could be made to comprehend the fact, that there were horses of twice
his size and strength who couldn’t “feed” without the aid of gentian,
just as their masters take a glass of “vermeuthe” before dinner to
“gammon an appetite.”

In Sonora, every man carried arms, generally a Colt’s revolver, buckled
behind, with no attempt at concealment. In countries where men have no
protection from the law, and the vicious preponderate, this is
necessary. And although it is much to be deplored, that this necessity
did exist, its consequences were less deleterious to society than would
have been expected. For the fear of the law, in the best regulated
community is not so strong as the fear of sudden death; and if quarrels
and assassinations were rare, comparatively, in the mountains, it was
owing to the fact that every man was able to protect himself. It is
generally inferred, as a matter of course, that where all men carry
arms, blood is shed on the first passionate impulse, and life is not
safe. This is not so; it is where all carry arms that quarrels are less
rare, and bullying less known than elsewhere, although the population
may be more vitiated and intemperate than that of other countries.

From the fact of all men being armed, robberies are less frequent in the
mines than would be expected, and in most cases where murders have been
perpetrated, the victims have been unarmed.

There are many countries where the carrying of defensive weapons is
imperative as a preventative against outrage, but to those who from
choice or necessity visit such places, this Californian rule may be of
some value:--

“Never draw your pistol unless you intend to use it.”

Previous to the last San Francisco fire I have recorded, burglaries were
so common, that it became necessary to carry fire-arms after dark, more
particularly as the streets were not lighted. An acquaintance of mine
was walking late one night through a street which was apparently
deserted, and in which one dim light alone shed a sickly ray from over
the door of a closed restaurant. As he reached this spot, a man started
from the obscurity, and requested with the politeness of a Claude Duval
to know the time. With equal civility, my friend presented the dial of
his watch to the light, and allowing the muzzle of his revolver to rest
gracefully upon the turnip, he invited the stranger to inspect for
himself. Slowly the latter advanced, and the sickly ray gleamed likewise
on the barrel of his “six-shooter,” as with some difficulty he satisfied
himself respecting the time.

Both then prepared to depart, and for the first time the light fell on
their faces; then these desperate fellows discovered that they were no
burglars, but old acquaintances, who had dined in company on that very
evening.

But this is not the only part of the world where it is prudent to look
on every man as a rogue until you know him to be honest.

Having completed my mining calculations to my entire satisfaction
(unfortunately), I returned to Vallejo, and on my arrival there
discovered that the order for this young city had been countermanded by
the government. Everybody was preparing for departure, and as the place
owned a justice of the peace, writs were being served in every
direction. My hotel[17] was placed under execution on account of the
two horsetails, before-mentioned; the law was arrayed against me, but as
in Vallejo the law’s authority was represented by one man, and the
individual supposed to be amenable was represented by another, the law
did not always get the best of it, and as far as my own case was
concerned, it consisted in requesting the sheriff to leave the premises,
which he did gladly enough, having business of his own to look after.
Many of those who come overland to California, bring one or two young
blacks from the plantations with them; these of course if not previously
freed, become so on their arrival, but they are in all cases much
attached to their masters, and are very useful servants, so much so,
that they assume great importance and begin to think that nothing can be
done without them. I was amused one day at overhearing one of these
young niggers, who being aroused from his sweet slumber, under a waggon,
by his master’s reiterated cries of “Bob,” drew himself slowly out and
muttered, “Bob here, Bob there, Bob everywhere; b’lieve, by Gad, you
could’t come to California without Bob.” “What’s that you say, sir,”
said his master, who unluckily heard the last part of the speech. There
was no reply, but Bob made for the hills there and then, and his guilty
conscience would not permit him to appear for three days, when he
returned very thin, but set himself to work so assiduously, that it
really did appear as if nothing could be done without him.

I paid a short visit to San Francisco, and returned with such stores as
I thought necessary, and with these, Barnes and Thomas started at once
for Tuttle Town.

Among these stores was a bale of canvas, of which I determined my next
Californian house should be built, and a barrel of gunpowder, with which
I contemplated disturbing the bowels of the earth.

Rowe had decided upon accompanying me, a circumstance which I shall
never regret, for he was in every respect an excellent companion to the
day I parted with him. In mountain life, a friend whose tastes are
congenial to your own is indeed an acquisition; for each happiness is
doubled then, and let misfortune come as it will, its sting is ever
allayed by the sympathy of one true heart beside you.

With the “Old Soldier,” “Choctaw,” “Tiger,” and “Bevis,” we embarked
late one evening on board a Stockton steam-boat; this latter was
naturally a slow boat, but she managed to perform her journey in as
good time as the rest, for her engineer was a famous fellow, who held
life cheap, and maintained as his creed that “she was bound to go
anyhow;” so she went anyhow, trembling fore and aft, with an engine-room
full of steam, and a blaze from her funnel that lit up the banks of the
river on either side. There were few passengers on board, which was
fortunate, as there were few sleeping bunks.

It is not customary to undress when seeking repose in these bunks; in
fact, decency forbids you doing so; for they are openly exposed on
either side of the saloon, and this latter is generally filled up, for
the best part of the night, by card-players.

A placard informs you that “gentlemen are requested not to go to bed in
their boots;” but as the proprietors do not guarantee that your boots
shall not be stolen if you take them off, this request is seldom
complied with. I remember attending a political meeting in a little
church at Benicia; in each pew was a poster, which requested that you
would neither cut the wood-work, nor spit on the floor, but the
authorities had provided no spittoons, so, as a gentleman observed to me
whilst inside the sacred edifice, “what the something was a man to do
who chewed”?

At daylight we were at Stockton, and landing our horses we were soon in
the saddle and making the most of the cooler part of the day. Nothing
worthy of mention occurred on our journey, excepting that at the end of
forty miles our animals were as fresh as when they started. We pulled up
to dine at the Stanislaus, which river we crossed in a ferry. An
acquaintance of mine once crossed at this spot under peculiar
circumstances. He was proceeding from one digging to another, and had
three quarters of a pound of gold dust sown up in his pantaloons; he was
an Englishman, and after the manner of many of his countrymen, he
carried an umbrella, which nothing could induce him to part with.

There was no ferry in those days, and when he arrived at the banks of
the river, he determined to swim across; but then his clothes and the
_umbrella_, how was he to get these across, and how could he go over
without them? He was seized with an idea, and at once acted upon it;
extending his umbrella, he placed his clothes inside, and fastened a
line to the handle; with one end of this in his mouth, he plunged into
the current, and struck out manfully with his boat in tow for the
opposite bank. But the gingham, like most experimental vessels, leaked
so much on her first cruise, that when the centre of the stream was

[Illustration]

reached, nothing could be seen above water but the vessel’s mast head,
which was represented by an ivory hand clasping a round ruler. Now the
order of things became reversed, for the current was strong, and having
taken firm hold of the umbrella, the question was whether to go down the
stream with it or let it go. The latter course was adopted, not on
account of the gold dust or the clothes, but from a pure and unshaken
attachment to the parachute itself. After some effort, not unattended
with danger, “gingham” was safely brought into port, but on beaching it,
the cargo had vanished. Madam, our adventurer had a straw hat on his
head with a very narrow brim, and with this article of attire and his
umbrella, he proceeded for about seven miles without encountering a
soul, when he reached what had been an encampment. The diggers had left,
but there was as much second-hand clothing lying about as would have
furnished a regiment. Selecting the best of this and washing it, my
friend was soon equipped, and went on his way rejoicing; rejoicing for
this reason, that although gold dust and clothes had gone to the bottom,
he had not only saved his precious umbrella, but had newly equipped
himself from a “ready-made clothing mart,” with no bill to pay.

[Illustration]

The road was very dusty and the heat intense, but nothing seemed to tire
our beasts. The last part of our journey consisted of a gradual ascent,
and in many places the ground was covered with small round rocks, that
would materially have impeded the progress of most horses; but Choctaw
allowed no obstacle to arrest his long swinging “lope,” and the Old
Soldier, with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, followed his protégé
unflinchingly. I have sketched these two worthies; the Old Soldier, it
will be perceived (to show that he has still a kick left in him) is
expressing his disgust at the shadow of a crow that is thrown on the
road, whilst Choctaw, still suspicious, plants his Indian legs among the
loose rocks with an accuracy really marvellous. Before night we arrived
at Sonora, having by a circuit that we purposely made, completed a
journey of nearly seventy miles.




CHAPTER XVI.

     I EXPLAIN TO THE PATIENT READER--PIONEERS--A LADY’S
     BOOT--MAINSPRING--MEXICAN ROBBERS--VICTIMS OF PREJUDICE--WORKS ON
     AMERICA--TWO PIGS--POWER OF THE HUMAN WILL.


_Sept. 1851._

In less than a fortnight we had a couple of canvas houses erected at
Tuttle Town; each of these had a large fire-place and chimney, built of
mud and stones, and surmounted by an empty barrel for a chimney-pot,
after the popular architecture of the mines. Rowe and I occupied the
small shanty, whilst in the larger one I had Barnes, Thomas, and a
couple of English miners.

Our houses faced the main street of Tuttle Town; this at the time was
indicated by stakes, there being as yet but three buildings in the
place. Higher up the hill and near the main shaft were eight Mexican
miners, whom I had hired for the purpose of quarrying the ore; having
supplied these with about twenty yards of canvas, half a dozen raw
bullock hides, an unlimited quantity of beans and a frying-pan, they
made themselves very comfortable in their own way. I must not omit to
mention that I had a canvas stable for our four horses, not that these
required any shelter during the warm dry nights, but simply because I
wished to avoid the inconvenience of losing twelve of my party at once,
and finding some morning that my four horses and eight Mexicans had
departed in company. Most of the Mexicans of California are from
Sonora,[18] and horse-stealing is a characteristic weakness of that
country. These people become such adepts at this trade, that I dare say
if a party of them were to visit New York, they would steal the woolly
colt out of Barnum’s Museum, although to lure a dead horse from a man of
that gentleman’s acuteness, would require a great amount of ingenuity
and patience.

Having now established myself at the mines, it is incumbent on me to
explain to the patient reader my exact position there, as otherwise I
shall be accused of having attempted to accomplish that for which I was
incapacitated, a censure which I do not wish to be applied to me
otherwise than as an author, in which quality I must perforce admit its
truth.

My object at Tuttle Town was to test the value of the quartz vein
there, and if with the assistance of such miners as I had engaged, I
could satisfy myself that the vein held out sufficient promise of
remuneration, it had been agreed between myself and a friend at San
Francisco (he whose death I have recorded) that sufficient machinery
should be erected to give the ore a fair experimental trial.

Amateur performances are seldom successful; and whether he wishes to
fatten short-horn bullocks for an agricultural show, or take the helm of
his yacht in a race for the cup, your amateur in one way or the other,
generally “comes out wrong.” “Chacun a son metier,” is a motto more
generally applicable than we are willing to admit, although there are
few of us who have not tried something that we had no business with.
Still man is emulous and vain, and until the end of the world fat
Muggins will waltz, ignorant Foodle will talk, and travellers like
myself will appear in print, and let us appear ever so ridiculous to
others, we cannot, and will not, acknowledge that “every one to his
trade” applies in any degree to us. But where a new course is opened for
emulation, all may start in the race, and former experience bore so
little on the subject of the quartz mines of California, and the means
of extracting the gold therefrom, that I entered upon my new employment
with no more difficulties to contend against than others in the same
field. And this, be it understood, should always give courage and
confidence in a new country, for although a little more retiring modesty
would become both Muggins and Foodle (not forgetting myself in a
literary capacity), the same diffidence in the mines of California would
act as a bar to the research and experience so necessary for that
country. And however we may fail in our exertions we ought not on that
account, as is too often the case, to be ridiculed, for the failure of
one brings experience to the many, and some one must “pioneer” the road.
The prudent wait until the track is clear and the way is easy, and when
every tree is blazed and every obstacle removed, they advance chuckling,
of course, as the miner does who follows the prospecter; thus the
pioneer and his follower resemble two boys, one of whom will not enter
the river until his companion has tested the temperature of the water
and the depth of the stream.

The quartz mines of California were discovered and opened almost
entirely by men who had no previous knowledge of gold mining, therefore
in many respects they worked in the dark, and from want of capital their
hard bought experience served only to benefit others.

But the more fortunate of these bands of pioneers are now receiving an
ample compensation for the privation they suffered, the toil they
underwent, and the ridicule with which they were assailed. Auriferous
quartz has been found in numerous cases to yield a rich return, even to
the unscientific miner in California; how great then must be the wealth
amassed, one would suppose, by those experienced gentlemen, who, with
capital at their command, have been deputed by English companies to do
the same work on a larger scale. Yet experience has proved that the
great mining captains of the age have nothing to laugh at, even in the
unsuccessful efforts of such a worm as I.

Unity and goodwill had been so long established amongst my little party,
that we were soon comfortable in every respect, and actively employed.
The vein extended for about half a mile, and the three spots I selected
for exploration had each its band of men sinking a “prospecting” shaft.

Rowe and I had ample employment in superintending the operations, and
testing the samples of ore that were daily selected from each pit; so
with windlasses and buckets, crowbars and drills, gunpowder and fuze
matches, pestles, mortars, retorts, and quicksilver, we each of us had
our occupation, and were happy as the day was long. The quartz was
sharp and cut like glass, so we wore deer-skin “trowserloons,” our
beards grew, our muscles increased to an alarming extent, our manners
were less toned down than was usual, in fact they were _swaggering_, our
appetites were very large, but for all that we were so happy that even
the pleasures of the “little valley” fell into insignificance before
those of our Tuttletonian life; and this arose in a great measure from
the fact that we all entertained a strong belief, that one day or other
our labour would be rewarded.

Who talks of hope and disappointment in the same breath? Shall a day of
the one efface or tarnish the recollection of a year’s happiness
brightened by the other?--Not with me whilst I live. “See here, now,
boys,” said a Tuttletonian miner, one day, as he held up to an admiring
crowd a small and well-constructed lady’s boot. “The chunk aint found
that can buy this boot; ’taint for sale, _no-how_!”

A lady’s boot to you, or I, reader, is not much unless we are married
and have to pay for a pair occasionally; but so long as we can associate
our hopes of earthly happiness for the future with some emblem held out
to us even at arm’s length, as was the miner’s “lady’s boot,” we may go
on our way to work as did his gratified spectators more cheerfully and
light of heart.

[Illustration]

When a man recals some sensation with more than ordinary pleasure, it is
very usual for him, particularly if he is a writer of travels, to ask
you if you have experienced the same. Says one “reader, did you ever
witness a sun-set from Chimborazo?” Says the other “reader, did you ever
eat a mangostein?” Unfortunately the reader is unable to reply until the
description of these wonders has been perpetrated. I have alluded to
this custom in excuse for asking the reader if he ever groomed his own
horse and derived pleasure from it? If not, I recommend him after he
has managed Chimborazo and the mangostein to try it. Mainspring’s coat
was daily rubbed by me, when my own coat hung neglected on a peg; but
the fact is, he was a very handsome horse, and in the mines such a
rarity is a passport. With the natural vanity of man, I found that
Mainspring attracted more attention than I did, so I allowed my beard to
run to seed, and bestowed all my pains in beautifying the dumb animal.

You, madam, who have viewed with pleasure the envious glances that have
been cast on the lovely bonnet you wore at Chiswick, will understand the
emotions I felt when miners left their pits and claims to pronounce with
less spleen upon the beauties of my steed.

The Old Soldier and Choctaw were seldom groomed; the mud in which, of
course, they wallowed, was generally removed from their coats with a
spade, and on grand occasions they were finished off with a broom. Rowe
had a cream-coloured mare that was considered by the miners “some
pumpkins,” an expression which indicates great merit, and is equally
applied to a chew of tobacco, or the President of the United States.

We generally rode into Sonora of an evening, for we were always in want
of something, and our drills and pickaxes, in particular, soon became
blunted by the hard quartz, and had to be tempered again by the Sonora
blacksmith. We would return by moonlight, and had always to pass through
a camp of Mexicans of the worst character; these fellows not only cast
their covetous glances on our horses in open daylight, but on more than
one occasion they attempted at night to entrap us into a position that
would have left us unable to defend either our lives or our beasts. They
had a quantity of curs in their camp, and these, as we rode through in
the moonlight, would rush out, being set upon us, and worry us on all
sides with their yelping; they would follow us, howling, for some
distance, and our natural impulse was to shoot them with our revolvers,
for they were like wolves, but we were soon wise enough to refrain from
discharging our fire-arms, for we should thus have left ourselves
defenceless, against the half-dozen mounted ruffians we would encounter
higher up the road, waiting, undoubtedly, for this result.

Two armed white men need fear little interruption from Mexicans provided
a proper amount of caution is exercised, and no sign of trepidation is
evinced. But their first principle is to attempt to throw you off your
guard, therefore the best rule in meeting such men is to insist at once
that they do not approach within the distance at which they can throw
their deadly lasso, a weapon more formidable in the dark than fire-arms.
Whenever, singly or with Rowe, I met a party of mounted Mexicans in the
mines, I drew up on one side of the road until they passed, and after
dusk I took the precaution of warning them to a respectful distance, nor
was this unnecessary, for the Mexicans encamped round Tuttle Town
committed many murders, and my horse alone was sufficient inducement for
them, independent of the sums of money that the necessities of my party
often required me to carry of a night.

One morning on entering the canvas stable that adjoined my hut, I
discovered that Mainspring was gone; his halter had been cut, and there
was no doubt that he had been stolen. Fortunately a drizzly rain was
falling sufficient to moisten the ground, and this had probably set in
about an hour after the thieves had removed the horse at the risk of
their lives. Without some knowledge of Mexican cunning, it would have
been useless to have attempted to track a stolen horse of Mainspring’s
fleetness. We presumed at starting that he had been taken over the table
mountain in our rear, as his foot prints could leave no trace behind for
some miles in that direction.

Rowe and I then started on the search, and after crossing the mountain
we halted at a gulch. With some trouble we discovered at last that the
horse had crossed here, for he had one cutting shoe, the heel of which
left a slight imprint; from the gulch we traced him to a tree, and here
the ground being covered with dead leaves and brushwood, all sign was
lost. Accident favoured us, for a few miles further on we again hit his
trail at another gulch, but here he appeared to be returning. A close
inspection, however, proved that his shoes had been turned, for the heel
of the cutting shoe was on the wrong side, still we lost him again among
the trees, and as evening advanced we began to despair. But soon we
arrived at a Mexican encampment, and here by some stupid oversight on
the part of the thieves, Mainspring’s rug was left lying exposed on the
ground. All had protested their ignorance of the matter on our arrival,
but now with the blanket staring them in the face, they soon produced
the horse from a distant tent in the bushes, and assured us that a man
had left it there that morning, and had gone on his way.

But a Mexican who was sleeping in a tent in mud-splashed clothes was the
thief, I knew: he started when I roused him up suddenly and held the
blanket before his eyes: but he swaggered out in apparent unconcern,
and lighting a cigarito with admirable sang-froid, he began to play at
cards with one of the others. I was too glad to recover Mainspring, to
care about troubling myself by taking the Mexican back to Tuttle Town on
suspicion, and I dare say he was not sorry when Rowe and I departed, for
a horse thief in the mines has not much chance of his life when
detected, and of this he is fully aware. It has ever puzzled me on
reflection, that where so much pains had been taken to remove all trace
of the horse, the glaring evidence of the theft should be left forgotten
in open daylight, and I am inclined to think that the horse thieves
considered themselves safe from pursuit, and were rather surprised at
our appearance. From that day our horses were chained and padlocked
every night.

The American residents of our mining village were very sociable and
kind, and the good feeling they evinced towards us added materially to
our comfort.

Englishmen and Americans are for the most part the victims of prejudice,
and when they meet, too often each one expects to find in the other one
who is prepared to depreciate and misunderstand him and his country.
They approach each other like two strange dogs who stand head and tail,
with bristling hairs, rubbing their ribs together with an angry scowl,
for no reason on earth except that they are two dogs.

It may have been my fortune to have effaced some false impressions
respecting my countrymen from American minds; but, at all events, I have
had an opportunity of divesting myself of much prejudice by a social
intercourse with them.

It is asserted that the Americans are great boasters, and I grant that
retiring modesty is not the chief characteristic of the race; but it is
right to remember, that for a long period, the Americans have been
rather depreciated than otherwise, and unmerited depreciation will
probably induce a habit of boasting more than anything else. When we
tell our friend reprovingly not to blow his own trumpet, we presume that
such merit as he possesses will be fully acknowledged. Public opinion
has not until latterly dealt fairly with the Americans in all respects,
and it is perhaps for this reason that they sound their own praises with
stentorian lungs; if they have not been justified in doing so they have
at least practically overturned that old saw of our revered ancestors,
that “those who _talk_ most _do_ least.”

American character is necessarily very varied, and nowhere is this more
clearly perceived than in California, where all classes, freed in a
great measure from conventional restrictions, appear in their true
garbs. I do not presume to write of American character, I can only
record my experience of individuals as I have seen them in the shifting
scenes of colonial life; but I think that I have had sufficient
intercourse with Americans of all grades to warrant my asserting that
foreign historians have too often unfairly paraded their faults, whilst
their own writers have in many instances erred equally on the side of
their virtues; I believe therefore that there is ample room on our
bookshelves for one fair unprejudiced work on the people of the United
States of America. Man is ordained to be charitable, and authors are
not, that I am aware of, exempted from this command; if, therefore, in
writing of a people, a little more pains were taken to discover their
virtues, and a less wholesale principle was adopted in regard to the
record of their vices, great good might be done to the nation written of
and no harm that I know of would accrue to the author. The man who can
kindle a warmer feeling in one nation towards another by displacing,
with a little judicious reasoning, the prejudices that may affect the
latter, waves a stronger wand than the most bitter satirist that ever
lived and wrote.

Our vices are generally uppermost; this was exemplified in the “Old
Soldier,” for your first acquaintance with that animal might possibly be
cemented, as it were, by a kick in the ribs, or a bite on the shoulder;
but, recovered from this shock, the longer you knew him the better you
liked him; and the old fellow, when once satisfied that you were _his_
friend, would appear to you in a very different light than when under
the influence of suspicion, justified, I’ll be bound, by the experience
of his life, he attempted to do you a mischief.

I do not wish to compare this poor beast with a man, much less a nation,
but the simile serves me so far as to illustrate the fallacy of first
impressions as applied either to man or horse; yet, while all
acknowledge this for a truism, we find that half the books of travels
that analyse so fearlessly the character of the people visited are
valueless as commentaries on them, either from hastiness or unfairness
of opinion, on the one side, or laboriously-studied partiality on the
other. But seldom does the work of an alien run into this latter fault,
and most books on America remind me of a volume of Veterinary Surgery,
of which, open what page you will, you are met with a description of a
curb or a splint, a spavin or a ring-bone, with the author’s directions
for a complete cure!

       *       *       *       *       *

How small a trifle will disturb, at times, the even current of one’s
life; let me recal the sole drawback to our otherwise complete
contentment at Tuttle Town.

One of our neighbours had two pigs, and these, like all four-footed
animals in the mines, had a roving commission, and lived by nocturnal
plunder. This practice we could bear with, as much from our reverence
for pork, as from the fact that it was a free country for man or pig.
But these wretches took a fancy to scratching themselves, in the dead of
night, against the canvas shanty that Rowe and I inhabited; there were
plenty of posts, but they preferred a shanty; now, as the only hard
substances they could find were our recumbent bodies, as we pressed
against the canvas wall, the pigs scratched themselves against us, and
as this occurred for about four hours every night, accompanied by the
satisfactory grunts which the temporary alleviation of cutaneous disease
elicits from the pig, our rest was continually being broken upon. We
kept water boiling, and waking up suddenly we would scald them, we
harpooned them with crowbars, damaged the vertebræ of their backs with
the sharp edges of spades, fired blank cartridges under their noses, and
scarified them with a deadly fire of broken bottles; but to no purpose,
they would come back and rub us out of bed again regardless of any
injury we could do them. The owner of them was absent, and there was no
“pound,” honour forbade our shooting them, and we never could catch them
to “corral” them. So, for the best part of a twelvemonth, we were
nightly roused up by these intruders, who itched so badly that they
rubbed our frail tenement out of the perpendicular. Soon they had a
litter, and then, while they still rubbed, the little pigs would get
under the house and squeal, and although we kept a long pole with a
steel fork attached to it, with which we tried to “grain” them, as we do
dolphins at sea, yet it was to no purpose, and they did as they liked
with us up to the day we left. At first we used to set the dogs at them,
but, being savage combatant pigs, rendered reckless by a free life, they
would stand at bay with their sterns bulging against our tent, which
they evidently mistook for the rock which was “to fly from its firm base
as soon as they,” which it nearly did on one or two occasions; moreover,
the dogs had enough to do to keep off six donkeys and about a dozen
curs, who were generally very musical when the moon was up.

I mention this circumstance because we hear so much of the power of the
human will, and I am satisfied that a pig’s will is stronger; and it is,
moreover, not only a traveller’s duty to record a fact, but he is
expected likewise to discover something new.




CHAPTER XVII.

     YIELD OF GOLD--ITS DURATION--MORMON GULCH--THE DISTRIBUTION OF
     GOLD--TUNNELLING--DAMMING RIVERS--HOLDEN’S GARDEN--ENERGY IN THE
     MINES--QUARTZ-MINES--QUARTZ MINING SUCCESSFUL--THE AUTHOR GETS OUT
     OF HIS DEPTH.


_October, 1851._

The diggings in our immediate vicinity were not actively worked, as
there was not sufficient water for the purpose; this, however, was
shortly to be remedied, for companies composed of miners were at work in
every direction, conducting water from the rivers to the dry diggings;
and at this moment new plots of auriferous soil are daily being added to
the area of “paying ground” in the mines by the artificial introduction
of the water which nature has denied to them. Most of these companies
have received handsome returns; the charge to each miner supplied with
water being about two shillings a day.

This affords another instance of the successful employment of capital
originally procured by gold digging; and if you wanted a few shares in
one of these young companies, you could procure them without money, for
by taking your coat off and helping to cut the ditch, you could in six
months work yourself into a very respectable stockholder. I suppose each
traveller who returns to his home from California, whether he is an
Englishman or a Sandwich Islander, is questioned on all sides as to
whether the “diggings” are nearly exhausted? This is easy to answer in
the negative, but then follows a query far more difficult to reply to,
viz., “when will they be?” Conjecture must necessarily have much weight
in determining this problem, statistics of the past or present yield of
the placers being almost valueless for that purpose. Yet this should be
a question of very great financial importance, and not alone as regards
the probable duration of the twelve million sterling now annually
exported from California. For we must consider how far we are sustained
by facts in presuming that the present yield of this country will be
doubled, nay, quadrupled annually before the surface-soil is left again
as once no doubt it was, valueless in gold. Of course, the gold mines
must some day be exhausted; let us see then how far we are justified in
supposing this day to be, comparatively speaking, distant, as regards
California. I offer the following remarks with the avowal that they are
of worth only as the crude opinions of one who has had nearly all that
practically bears upon the subject brought before his notice, but as
they will necessarily be dull and heavy as a blue book, I recommend the
generality of those who have followed me thus far, to skip this chapter,
which they probably will do with all the rest of the book.

For you, reader, who have sent to the circulating library for the
“Newcomes,” and have had this book forwarded you as a “new work,” (the
“Newcomes” being out,) can scarcely be expected to peruse in your
present state of disgust, a chapter on gold mines: I therefore dedicate
this “paper” to two individuals, one of whom shall be the gold mine
victim before alluded to, as contemplating the two and twopence he
received for his invested sovereign, and the other is that unknown man,
who, in the _ennui_ of a long sea voyage, shall peruse, mayhap, as I
have done before to-day, the pages with which his trunk is lined.

Mormon Gulch was the name of a ravine that was about a hundred yards
from my tent, it was reported to have been the wealthiest digging in the
mines, and according to rumour, half an hour’s work with a clasp knife
or tin spoon, had invariably enriched any of the fortunate Mormons who
first discovered it in 1848. Since those days, however, the earth, or
stones rather, for these preponderate, had been turned over again and
again, each time yielding less, until the soil ceased to return
sufficient remuneration to the only process of labour that could be at
that time applied to it. But before now water has been conducted there,
and by the more wholesale process of sluice-washing, the gulch claims
are again up in the market.

By-and-by we shall hear of the sluice-washing companies having deserted
the gulch, and perhaps for a short period the red stony gravel will lie
idle; but soon steam-engines and some process of securing the gold by
amalgamation with quicksilver, will brighten up old Mormon Gulch again,
and there is no knowing how remote the day is, when its red banks shall
for once and all, finally and for the twentieth time, be reported to
have “given out.”

The history of Mormon Gulch, and the future I have sketched for it, is
applicable to every ravine in the country, so far as this, that each
auriferous flat or gulch will be subjected to certain processes, until
at last the appliances of steam and science shall have robbed every
square foot of earth of the treasure it contains.

Now, if all the gold territory of this country had been seized upon and
worked at the time that Mormon Gulch was first discovered, we might form
some estimate of the time when machinery should be brought to bear
generally upon the placers; but as yet we cannot ascertain the amount of
gold-bearing soil that exists; for not only are fresh diggings still
brought to light, in the vicinity of the original discoveries, but we
have ample proof that plenty lies beyond in the direction of the Sierra
Nevada, which now, from the presence of hostile Indians, cannot be
disturbed, and indeed, for the present, is not wanted.

The number of those who are now actually collecting gold by mining in
California, may be computed at about one hundred and forty thousand men.

The obstacles that are alike presented by the extremes of the wet and
dry seasons, will not admit, probably, of these miners working for more
than two hundred days in the year, and the average daily sum amassed by
each man, may be fairly quoted at three and a half dollars, or fifteen
shillings.

This will give an annual yield of twenty-one millions sterling from
California, and I have no reason to doubt that this sum is obtained,
although it does not (for many reasons) appear in the reported exports
of specie from the country.

Now, if this sum can be annually realised by the exertions of
comparatively so small a body of men, who have even at the latest dates
no better plan of securing the gold than by a rude system of washing,
what may we expect when machinery is employed, and labour concentrated?

Those portions of the placer fields that would reward manual labour with
less than one or two dollars a day, are as yet unmolested, for as yet
the ruling rates of wages in the mines is higher, being guided by the
average yield. Therefore it is difficult to place a limit on the amount
of auriferous earth that now, rejected by the miner, will, by the proper
application of machinery and the reduction of labour, eventually produce
a vast return. There is scarcely a hill-side but gives evidence of the
existence of gold, but although this soil will not at present repay
manual labour, no one can suppose that the metal will be allowed to rest
there undisturbed.

The distribution of gold in the soil is most eccentric, and this is
attributable probably to three causes:[19] firstly, that for the most
part it was disintegrated from the matrix during the stupendous volcanic
action to which all the gold territory of California has been subjected;
secondly, that it has been carried to and fro by vast masses of water,
the result of heavy rains, or more probably of heavy falls of snow in
the mountains, that have suddenly melted and carried all before them;
finally, from the land-slips and accumulations of upper soil that must
necessarily result where steep hills of gravel have been for ages
subjected to the sudden transitions of wet and dry seasons.

I tread very carefully whenever I find myself on the geologist’s ground,
bearing in mind my scientific friend at Murderer’s Bar, who reached the
bottom so much quicker than he desired; therefore I can only suggest;
and the two readers to whom this discourse is dedicated, whilst they
deplore the ignorance which prevents me leading them through a labyrinth
of formations and stratas, must place something to my credit on the
score of modesty.

Wherever gold is discovered in California, particles of quartz are found
adhering to it more or less; this quartz, even when found at great
depths, is generally rounded by the action of water, for quartz, when
detached by violent action, is naturally angular, and inclined to
splinter, and from its hardness it must require ages to give it the form
of a pebble, by the slow process of grinding it receives in a
comparatively dry mountain gorge. This, taken in conjunction with the
facts that the gold is found now on the surface, and now low down
resting on the bed rock, here forced into clefts of granite, and again
in clusters of small pear-shaped nuggets, as if the metal had been
ejected by intense heat, and had dripped from the volcanic boulders that
lie scattered around; tends to bear out the supposition that
disintegrated gold has been cast into places that time and accident
alone can reveal, and that the original opinion that the gold was on the
surface only no longer holds good.

Tunnelling has already been applied to rich hills in the mines with
great success, and this fact alone is of great importance, in so far
that it leaves us powerless to place a limit on the amount of auriferous
soil that is imbedded in the small round hillocks that extend over a
space of nearly four hundred miles, north and south.

Where ingenuity aided by science is at fault, a very slight clue will
often accidentally lead to the solution of a problem; thus much capital
has already been devoted to the damming of those streams in California,
of which the banks were found to be wealthy; but in few instances
hitherto have the beds been found to be productive: yet they must be so
at some point, unless we are to imagine, what is improbable, that gold
has been carried by rain water to the verge of a swift stream, and then
has been arrested there without any apparent obstacle.

There is something capricious about this metal in its released state; a
search for it, even where evidence of its existence has been shown, is
seldom attended with success, yet every day almost chance brings to
light some fresh gold field.

I remember a gentleman who, taking an early Sunday walk among the hills
that surround the town of Sonora, struck his foot against a stone. He
should have found a sermon in it, for he was not likely to find one
anywhere else, but in the agony of a mutilated great toe, he turned and
apostrophised the rock in unbecoming language; but he suddenly checked
his impetuous feelings, and we will hope from a good motive; whether or
no, the offending quartz was so richly coated with the dross that we
make a point of despising when we can’t get enough of it, that he took
it home. It was found to contain more gold than quartz, and yet within a
few hundred yards of a populous city, it had protruded itself
ostentatiously without notice for two or three years.

It is difficult to understand why gold remained so long undiscovered in
California, considering that so much of it was on the surface, even in
those parts of the country already inhabited by whites. The Indians,
who will search assiduously for the flints they require for arrow-heads,
do not seem to have been aware of the existence of gold on the plains,
although the savages of the as yet unexplored mountain districts, are
found with gold in their possession. The early Spanish priests evidently
sought for it without success, judging from the old shafts that have
been sunk, on part of the banks of the Stanislaus River; and yet these
explorations were ineffectually made in the centre of a rich district,
and by a class of gentlemen who were never in the habit of overlooking a
good thing. Some of the best diggings have been discovered by
market-gardeners, who have chosen some apparently valueless tract for
the purpose of cabbage growing, and it is a fact that one man with more
energy than agricultural experience, who was abusing the earth for
producing cabbages that were all stalk, found on rooting up one very
lengthy specimen, that a piece of gold adhered to the roots.

Holden’s garden, near Sonora, is a case in point; this was found to be
so rich, that the gamblers of the town sallied out to take possession of
it, and a fight occurred, in which one or two lives were lost before the
“claims” could be adjusted.

For four years Holden’s acre of cabbage ground has been worked with
great profit, pieces of gold of many pounds weight each have been taken
from it, and to this day it is a rich digging, as times go.

It is possible that both my readers have heard of a certain Irish pig
that could only be induced to go in one direction by being at the onset
driven in another; it is somewhat this way with the search for
gold.--Start on a voyage of discovery for copper or coal, and you will
probably, if in a gold region, tumble down and break your nose over a
nugget as large as a paving stone; but if you give chase to the
seductive metal itself, the toil of a lifetime will very likely not
counterbalance the first week’s privation.

In respect to gold-fields, even if our argument leads to no definite
conclusion, it is something gained if we can determine that no sign of
diminution of yield is as yet apparent,--as regards the future, the
wisest can only record an opinion. I believe for my part that the
gold-fields of California will certainly yield in an equivalent
proportion to their present produce for many years, even if the diggers
are left to their own resources;--what may be done with the soil
eventually, when capital shall increase in the mines and _from the
mines_, is a question as impossible to solve as that of the advance of
science in other respects within the next half century.

The miners of California are a highly intelligent and determined race,
possessed of a degree of _mechanical genius_ that surprises me; they
have before them a large area of soil, which they, equally with myself,
believe still to be most wealthy. They may by-and-by have the advantages
of foreign capital to help them; but if not, the capital that their
sinews can accumulate ounce by ounce from the gold soil will, in the
long run, so far answer the end, that the hills will be burrowed and the
streams turned, until the wealth is sifted from them, and then they have
a gold territory, as yet partially explored, to fall back upon--the
first range of the Sierra Nevada.

Now, like enterprising farmers, they sow again perhaps one half of the
year’s harvest, until each fertile spot shall be in cultivation,
multiplying and fruitful; and so long as we see that the gold from the
soil is turned against the soil in the all-powerful form of capital,
aided by science; and so long as we know that what is separated to-day
by the “long tom” may to-morrow be devoted to the erection of
steam-engines and the sinking of vast tunnels; we know that a great
system of improvement is being carried out independent of _all external
aid_: and in the facts that on every side attest the strong faith the
miners hold themselves in respect of the inexhaustible nature of the
soil, and in the evidences of success that meet us at all points, where
fresh inventions are applied, we have the best guarantee that the
“placers” of California are in a state of progressive improvement.

The reader will better understand this when I state that the miners of
California have many of them had six years experience, are naturally men
of ability, and are now in positions of independence, though still
miners. The popular opinion respecting gold miners, is that of a body of
rough, vagabond, long-haired men, who work one day with a tin pan and
get drunk the next; this is perhaps what they were, to some extent; and
San Francisco, which owes existence to the mines, was then a canvas
village, given up to dissipation; but the tents have disappeared from
Yerba Buena, and we have in their room a large and substantially-built
city; equally have the mines changed, and the “vagabond population”
stands forth in the shape of engineers, excavators, mechanics, and
cunning inventors, and, better still, organised bands of labourers, who,
under the guidance of these first, bring profit to themselves and
benefit to the country generally.

The quartz mines of California must now be reviewed, for, in connection
with the probable future yield of gold, they occupy a prominent
position.

In that column of the “Times” which is expressly devoted to a review of
the Share Markets, some half-dozen Californian quartz mine operations
will be found daily recorded; these, for the most part, are in a very
sickly state. Why they are so is no business of mine; but the fact is no
criterion of the value of the quartz lodes of California.

The quartz formation stretches in one great vein across the country for
nearly three hundred miles in a north-westerly direction, and this main
lode is throughout more or less impregnated with gold, excepting where
it has been disturbed by volcanic eruption. From the main vein
tributaries branch out on either side, throughout its length, and many
of these possess undoubtedly sufficient wealth to repay labour, if this
is properly applied. I say this cautiously, for I know something now of
the traps and pit-falls that beset the path of the quartz miner. These
are among them: you have rich and partially decomposed lodes that enrich
you with a nest of gold on the onset, but lead you a wild-goose chase
into the bowels of the earth before you find another; you have broad
lodes white as alabaster, speckled in parts with gold, but from which
you must quarry more valueless quartz than the “paying seam” will
compensate for; and you have lodes that are liberally and evenly
diffused with gold, but contain so many properties antagonistic to
amalgamation by quicksilver that the metal you seek can only be secured
by a most expensive process. These are the lodes that do not pay; and by
this time probably the mining community here know as much of them as I
do.

But a great number of veins, worked unostentatiously by American
companies, are giving very satisfactory results; a _larger_ number are
paying their expenses only, but with good prospects of improvement. But
I must direct attention to this fact; the amount of profit derived from
quartz-mine speculations is not of so much importance to my argument as
the number of quartz mines being worked. If many of the lodes now open
in California are bringing at present a smaller percentage to their
owners than was anticipated, fault perhaps of imperfect machinery and
false economy, they are none the less of importance as affecting the
question of the yield of gold. For although the hundred ounces per day
that pass through the stamping-mill may scarcely leave a profit on the
expenses, the hundred ounces are none the less added to the gross daily
yield of the country. Palpably plain as this is, I mention it because we
are apt, when speaking of gold quartz mining as comparatively profitless
to speculators, to forget that the gold is for all that compressed from
the rock; and it is with this alone I have to do.

But as it may be observed that operations that combine so much risk of
failure will shortly be abandoned, particularly in a country where money
commands so high a rate of interest, I must mention these facts.

In the first place, many American mining companies are already paying
handsome dividends, and those which are least successful have, in most
instances, their machinery to blame more than the vein, on which it is
erected; but everything is in favour even of those who are thus
situated, for improvements in machinery start up on every side, labour
and the expense of living is diminishing rapidly, whilst fresh
developments bring new aspirants continually into the field. For there
is something about quartz mining that is seductive; fail as you will, as
long as some are successful around you there is a “never-say-die”
feeling which ever prompts to fresh exertion in the same field.

I shall not attempt to draw conclusions from an estimate of the number
of veins that are now being profitably worked, or the amount of gold
that may be derived from them in California, as that country is still in
a state of transition, and not yet ripe for figured calculations. I can
only fall back again upon my belief, that where gold exists ready to
man’s hand, as it does in the great veins of California, the people of
that region are not likely to allow it to remain slumbering.

Having now shown that the material, the capital, and the energy exist to
warrant a belief amounting almost to a certainty, that an amount of gold
will yet be produced from California that will throw into the shade the
millions that have already been acquired, I leave it to others to argue
how far the same facts apply to Australia, Oregon, and other gold-fields
as yet less perfectly developed. I scarcely dare guess at the sum that
the next ten years will see produced from California, but call attention
to this fact, that seven years have elapsed since the discovery of gold,
and as yet no apparent sign of exhaustion is manifest, although all
predicted, from the first, that the auriferous soil was but superficial.
Had this prophecy been borne out to any degree by experience we might
have made a calculation; as matters stand, all tends to the belief that
the best is yet to come. Nor should it be overlooked that the price of
labour in California is still slightly _higher_ than in Australia, one
country being four years older (in gold discovery) than the other, and
both necessarily regulating wages by the profits of the gold-field.

When I have stated that twenty millions sterling are annually produced
from California, and that as yet no probability is apparent of a less
yield for some years, I have said as much as comes within the province
of my narrative.

How far gold may be eventually permanently depreciated by the addition
of five hundred millions, to the specie currency of the world, is a
question for financiers, and those who have gold enough to care about
the value of it; but ten years of successful work in the gold-fields
already discovered, may produce that sum, and in all probability will.

There is but one question more: is gold already depreciated in value? As
measured by labour and property undoubtedly it is; for it matters not
whether in speaking of a gold country, we say that gold is cheap, or
labour is dear: as affecting the question the terms are equivalent. Like
a stone thrown in the water, the effects of a gold country spread from
it in widening circles; the increased value of labour there is diffused
to places more remote, and consequently the depreciation of gold is
diffused also. If the farmer here, affected by the extending influence
of the gold-field, already pays more for his labour, he may individually
counterbalance this loss by receiving a higher price for his wheat:
still his gold (supposing these effects to be perceived) represents
less labour on the one hand, and less property on the other. But it will
be argued that such a depreciation is caused by the indirect means of
emigration, and that this is temporary. Granted: but if it is a
depreciation, may it not last, in a temporary way, as fresh gold-fields
are discovered, until it is supplanted by the permanent depreciation
which will arise when the vast influx of precious metal shall first make
itself felt throughout the world?

Already out of my depth, I leave the foregoing remarks as they stand,
and the reader will observe that they are only suggestive. If I have
allowed myself to plunge from a firm bank of facts into a small puddle
of conjecture, with which I had no business, all I can say is that I am
very sorry for it, and will wade out of it as fast as I can.




CHAPTER XVIII.

     TRANSPORT MACHINERY TO THE MINE--THE CARPENTER JUDGE, AND CONSTABLE
     ROWE--CUT-THROAT JACK--GREASERS--FRENCH MINERS--JOHN
     CHINAMAN--CHINESE FEROCITY--THE FEAST OF LANTERNS--CHINESE
     DESPOTISM--FALSE SYMPATHY.


_November, 1851._

In the course of three months we had collected two or three hundred tons
of ore, and as the tests we daily made still bore out our preconceived
opinions of the value of the mine, I proceeded to San Francisco for the
purpose of procuring the steam power and machinery requisite for a trial
of the metal we had quarried.

The life of the quartz miner at this date was tortured by doubts; he was
ever in doubt as to the value of his rock; he was ever in doubt as to
the depth of his vein; and he was ever in doubt as to the machinery best
adapted for securing gold; nor is his position, taken generally, much
happier in these respects at the present time; and I will be bound, sir,
that the directors who led to your victimization,[20] and the
subordinates that they employed, are as much trammelled by these doubts
as any quartz miners I could mention.

I was profoundly meditative on the subject of machinery as I jogged
along on the Old Soldier to Stockton. I recalled to mind that for
pulverising the rock we had stampers, rollers, grinders, and
triturators, which you pleased; that for amalgamating the gold with
quicksilver we had “trapiches,” “erasteros,” wooden tubs, and iron
basins, which you pleased also. That we had design No. 1, that had been
so successfully employed by Professor A, in the Ural Mountains; design
No. 2, that Professor B had made his fortune with (by selling the patent
though), and which had never failed in the Swiss Cantons, where gold was
rather scarce than otherwise; and design No. 3, an infallible invention
by Professor C, an American gentleman, who hadn’t sold his patent yet,
but was quite ready to part with it for a consideration. All this I
knew, but I was also aware that none of these plans had been attended
with complete success; some were too simple in construction and too
slow, others were too complicated in mechanism and too fast and furious.

One machine would catch every metal the quartz contained except the
gold; another would allow everything to give it the go by, except the
refuse tailings that were not wanted; none secured the gold but those
which required _more manual labour_ than it would have been profitable
to employ.

When, therefore, I arrived at San Francisco I determined on trying a
newly invented machine which had not yet been proved in the mines, but
which looked very promising for my experimental work; with this, and an
eight horse power steam engine, I returned to Tuttle Town.

It was hard work to get the boiler of the engine over the mountains, for
the rains had commenced to fall, and in many places the mud was very
deep. Three or four days’ rain entirely change the character of the
Sonora road; and wherever there is a hollow in which the water can
accumulate, there, throughout the winter, you have a quagmire which
becomes deeper as each fresh waggon or mule passes through it, until at
last having become impassable, it is avoided by a circuit, which one
traveller having made every other traveller from that day follows.

Although I had given the boiler two or three days’ start, I found it on
arriving at Table Mountain, with the worst part of the journey still
before it; however, we had sixteen yoke of oxen, and after a couple of
days of great trouble, the machinery was at length safely planted in
Tuttle Town. Its arrival created great sensation, and the town increased
in size and importance on the strength of it. A French baker and a
butcher established themselves in our main street; and at the first
general election a justice of the peace and constable were legally
elected; the former was a worthy carpenter of good education; the latter
post was filled by Rowe. Whenever we saw Rowe buckling on his pistols in
a decisive manner preparatory to a start, we knew that he was proceeding
to collect a debt due to some Tuttletonian, and this active constable
invariably brought back either the money or the man. And although our
own small population was very peaceful, our justice of the peace had
ample employment from the surrounding miners, and dispensed a great
amount of justice in a very firm but off-hand manner; and so much
respect was felt for the sagacity and impartiality of our carpenter,
that his decisions in those disputes that came before his notice were
invariably received with satisfaction on all sides. The following
incident will illustrate the summary process by which one judge and one
constable could force obedience to the law amongst an armed population
in the mountains. One evening as our “judge” was putting the finishing
touch to a shanty he had been engaged in repairing, a messenger
informed him that a murder had just been committed at an adjacent
digging; the judge thereupon threw down his hammer, and, after taking
the depositions, issued a warrant for the arrest of the murderer, who
was a well-known desperado. Constable Rowe was to serve this warrant and
capture the delinquent; consequently, the whole population of Tuttle
Town (about fifteen) armed themselves to protect constable Rowe, and
accompanied him to the diggings in question. Arrived there, the accused
was found to have entrenched himself in his house, with desperate
intentions of firing his revolver at the law in whatever form it might
summon him. I was not sorry to find on our arrival that he abandoned
this design and surrendered himself at discretion, so we marched him off
to Tuttle Town. The judge heard all that was to be said, and that was
sufficient for the committal of the prisoner to the jail at Sonora to
await a trial; so we mounted our horses, took him at once into the town,
and had him locked up. Whatever became of him afterwards I don’t know,
but he never returned to our vicinity, and this was the way that the law
was put in force in every case that came under the authority of our
carpenter judge.

A Sonorian was found one day in possession of a mule not his own.
Whilst the culprit quakes in the grip of our constable, our judge
exhorts the villain to be more honest in his dealings. I have this scene
before me so vividly that I’ll place it on the wood at once before I
write another line.

[Illustration]

So! now if there is less benevolence beaming from the eyes of our
carpenter than I would have you believe existed in his heart, the fault
is in the spectacles.

We rid ourselves about this time of a bad character. There was a fierce
brute of a man who often visited our camp, who was known to have
committed a cold-blooded murder, although the law had acquitted him. He
was called “Cut-throat Jack,” nor did he object to the appellation; he
was more feared in the mines than I should have supposed any man to have
been, but he was always in a reckless, half-drunken state, and those who
preferred to avoid a deadly quarrel would leave any house he entered. He
was invariably armed, and always boastful.

One night as Thomas was watching a stack-fire near the tents, in which a
mass of quartz was being purposely brought to a white heat for
experimental purposes, Cut-throat Jack swaggered up to him, and informed
him that he intended to pass the night in our shanty (Rowe and I being
at Sonora). To this Thomas objected, upon which Cut-throat made such a
warlike demonstration that Thomas very properly knocked him down. “Jack”
unfortunately fell on the red-hot quartz, and the sensation was so new
to him that, as soon as he could withdraw himself, he drew neither
pistol nor knife, but was instantly lost to sight in the surrounding
gloom, and never swaggered into our camp again from that night forth.

[Illustration]

In our immediate neighbourhood we had three classes of miners, Mexicans,
French, and Chinese, and their peculiarities of race were so marked that
I shall record them.

The “Greasers,” which term includes all Spanish Americans, will pass the
night and early morning in working at their claims, and then devote the
day to gambling and sleeping, and the evening to a Fandango or a
horse-stealing excursion; a Mexican in the mines has no idea of saving
money, but, like the water-carrier of Bagdad, he will work one half of
the day that he may spend the other half in indulgence.

The French, among whom are many Parisians, will work in a quiet and
tolerably steady manner if nothing unusual occurs to disturb them; but,
if by chance a strange Frenchman should arrive in their camp, or an old
copy of the “Moniteur” should reach them, the picks and spades are
relinquished for the day, and all devote themselves to discussion. Often
I have passed some solitary Frenchman at a gulch, who, whilst elevating
a tin pannikin of vin ordinaire, would be shouting out “L’Amour et la
Patrie.” Probably some of his countrymen had that day passed on the
road, something of course had been said in allusion to the beautiful
France, and the poor fellow was as happy under the influence of
reawakened associations, as if he had already reached his native
vineyards to settle there for life, with a well-lined purse.

The Chinese are a strong contrast to the thriftless Mexicans and joyous
Gauls.

The Celestial digger, with a grave, elongated face, is up with the dawn
and at work, forgetting to perform his ablutions in his hurry. No laugh
proceeds from his lantern jaws, but his thoughts are steadily bent on
the pursuit before him; if ever he chuckles, it must be inwardly, to
think how fast he is putting by the nice gold, and how cheaply he is
living every day upon six pennyworth of rice and salt worms, whilst
those around him are gambling away their substance. But the Chinaman is
none the less a gambler, the only difference is that he plays for a
small stake, and is, in fact, a good economist, for as he watches the
wavering fortunes of his farthing, he enjoys pleasurable excitement if
he wins, and is not materially damaged if he loses. Hundreds of these
gambling houses are to be found in the Chinese “quartier” of San
Francisco, and there is one or more at every Chinese digging, but with
the exception of an occasional silver dollar, I never saw any thing
change hands in them but the copper _pice_ the Chinese bring with them
to the country.

These people must feel very happy whilst daily fingering the Californian
soil, where they acquire more gold in a week, than at home they would
see in a year. John Chinaman knows the value of a dollar so well, that
he will do anything rather than be without it: to gain so much, then, at
such little trouble must indeed be a treat.

[Illustration]

When a couple of Chinese dispute over the right to a claim, the noise
and gesticulations are frightful; arms (corporeal) are elevated on all
sides; fingers are extended in indication of numbers, days, or dates,
whilst each disputant being supported by his friends, all talk at once
so rapidly, that the wonder is how they can sustain the altercation, and
it is only when breath is exhausted on all sides, that the argument is
at last made comprehensible. Chinamen are a long time coming to blows,
and I have seen them at Amoy and other towns, stand almost nose to nose,
with arms extended, as if preparatory to a deadly struggle that was to
end only with life; but, further than making a dreadful uproar, no harm
came of these rencontres.

A real fight, accompanied by loss of life, occurred in a Chinese digging
in the north, but this was attributable principally to the fact, that a
small party of Tartars compelled a larger body of Chinese, either to
fight or relinquish the gold field, and this was driving poor “John”
into a corner indeed.

Many of the Chinese at the mines have abolished tails, and when their
hair has grown in its natural manner, it is astonishing how villanous an
appearance they present. Their hair grows low down on the forehead, and
is invariably straight.

An ordinary Chinaman, in his loose dress, with his head shaved and hair
drawn back, is rather an intellectual looking being, at the first
glance, but take the same man, and allow his hair to grow, and divest
him of a picturesque costume, and in place of an apparent mild
benevolence, you are struck at once with the small cunning-looking eyes
and low forehead, which in the other garb escaped notice.

A Chinaman is supposed to regard his tail in a religious light, but
those who have dispensed voluntarily with them in California, do not
seem by any means to have placed themselves without the pale of
society.

[Illustration]

Some of them adopt the European costume, and patronise patent leather
boots and gold watch-chains. I remember a very beautiful drawing, I
think by Allom, of the “Feast of Lanterns” in China; the same festive
day is observed at San Francisco, and if the accompanying sketch of two
Americo-Chinese, celebrating this fête, on hired hacks, is less
picturesque than the drawing alluded to, it is none the less a faithful
delineation of the appearance of civilised Celestials.

All the Chinamen of San Francisco are fond of riding out on these feast
days, and in whatever costume they may be, they invariably pursue one
mode of horsemanship, that is, to ride at full gallop, shouting or
screaming, and then to tumble off into the sand or mud, the last act
being involuntary. There is no doubt that these people are excellent
colonists as regards their own interests, for they have learnt the first
art of colonisation, a systematic obedience to a chief, and wherever
they go, they quietly submit to the code of discipline established among
themselves, and submit even when this authority is abused, by the
imposition of taxes and extortions, by their own head men. Part of
Sacramento Street is entirely occupied by Chinese retail merchants, and
it is similar in appearance to the Old Bazaar at Hong-Kong. Immediately
a ship arrives in port with Chinese emigrants, these are taken in charge
by the head men, and are supplied with stores and packed off to the
mines, with great precision and regularity, there to pay a tax to these
self-constituted chiefs as long as they are in the mines.

I have already alluded to the existence of a combination of three or
four of the most powerful of the Chinese merchants, which being
discovered, was interfered with ineffectually by the police. Now I have
no doubt that this clique of wealthy Chinese not only supply the Chinese
emigrants, as aforesaid, looking to their labour in the mines for a
profit, but that they also invest money in chartering ships to bring the
poorer classes of their nation to California, thus exercising a monopoly
in the gold fields.

Much has been said and argued relative to checking by law the Chinese
emigration to California, and believing, as I do, from such facts as I
could gather, that this system of private taxation is on the increase, I
wonder at the forbearance that has hitherto been shown by the
authorities. “Live, and let live,” is a capital creed, properly carried
out, but when the mines of California are overrun with bands of poor
fishermen, whose profits serve to enrich a clique, and these latter
remove the money from the country as fast as they collect it, the
principle is an unfair one, injurious to the country, and antagonistic
to the principles which have made it a free state as regards black
slavery.

An instance of the power these head men attempt to exercise came under
my notice, for whilst staying with an English friend in the suburbs of
San Francisco, there arrived one day a carriage, from which a gorgeously
dressed “John” emerged. He stated in tolerable English that he was a
“lawyer,” and that he had come for a Chinese woman who, for many years,
had been in my friend’s service, and who, he said, had complained of
being confined against her will. The woman had saved a large sum in
wages, and could speak no language but her own, but she resolutely
declined to go when an interpreter was procured. The Celestial lawyer
was consequently well kicked for his pains, and departed, but we had no
doubt that all that was wanted of the old woman was the money she had
saved, and it was fortunate for her, that her master was a Hong Kong
merchant, and knew something of the wiles of John Chinaman.

Much has been said, also, at home here, relative to the conversion of
the Chinese, and no one would more gladly see this brought about than
myself, provided it is done with _Chinese money_.

The Chinaman is highly intelligent, inventive, laborious and patient, be
he where he will, but he is ever avaricious; it may or may not be that
those are right who, knowing something of his character, hold that he
would worship any god if thereby he can better worship mammon;[21] but I
confine my opinion to this, that it is time enough to build colleges for
the Chinese, when we have suitably provided for the instruction of our
own ignorant poor, and until this is done, I humbly submit, with every
respect for the Missionaries among the Heathen, that every sixpence that
leaves our country for the conversion of the Chinese, is an injustice to
those at home, whose claims upon our charity ring daily in our ears,
with a truth that ought to be more forcible than the energetic appeals
that are raised for John Chinaman, but which unfortunately is not always
so.

Never doubting that it is our first duty as a Christian nation to
disseminate those truths that come from an inspired source, why should
we, under the influence of a false sympathy, strive to do for the
Chinese what so many of our own people yet require. The Chinese have an
advantage over many of our lower classes; they are intelligent and
reflective, and have Confucian maxims daily brought even in the highways
before their notice, that enjoin most of the social duties that render
man’s life more in accordance with the Divine wish. _Morally_ at least,
the Chinaman is cared for; and although a heathen, ignorant in this
respect he cannot be said to be. Let him therefore, for the present,
study from gilded sign-posts the Confucian maxims that ordain him to be
charitable, honest, and reverent to his parents; and let us first instil
these commands given from a holier source to those around us who have
never heard them, who could not read them if they were written up, and
who are too ignorant, too poverty-stricken, and too much at war with the
life that has entailed nothing but misery upon them, to accept them
even as truths, until they first see charity in a more substantial
form. This done,[22] we may build colleges for the Chinese, in a full
hope that He who has ordained us to love our brother, may bless the work
of CONVERSION.




CHAPTER XIX.

     THE FIREMEN OF SAN FRANCISCO--“WE STRIVE TO SAVE”--A BARBER’S
     SALOON--OYSTERS--PLACES OF AMUSEMENT--A PICKLED HEAD--SHOOTING ON
     SIGHT.


_Christmas, 1851._

The machinery was at length in its place, and we got the steam up for a
trial; our engineer was one of the same school as he of the Stockton
boat, and considered that engines were “bound to go,” whether on sea or
land; and when I remarked to him that ninety pounds of steam was about
double the pressure the boiler ought to bear, he asked very naturally
“of what use was an eight horse power engine if you couldn’t make her
work up to a _twelve_?”

Having started the machinery, we awaited in a great state of excitement
the result; this came soon enough, for in a few minutes the crusher
broke down irremediably, and like some unfortunate two-year-old horse,
ran its first and last race at the same time.

I returned, therefore, to San Francisco, meditatingly as before, and on
my arrival there, I gave my mind to the preparation of machinery that
should grind and scrunch with a vigour that nothing could resist, and
which should give ample employment to the four extra horses which my
engineer managed to extract from the steam engine. The city presented a
much improved appearance, the small sand-hills had now nearly all
disappeared, and having been thrown into the bay, a level site was being
rapidly extended on either side, where before was a shelving sandy
beach, the least adapted in the world for building a large and
substantial city. It is worthy of remark, that sand thrown into mud has
not proved a bad foundation even in a country subject to heavy rains.
The first brick building erected on this artificial foundation was the
American theatre, this, on the first night it was opened, settled bodily
two or three inches, but afterwards remained steady.

I found the people of San Francisco still very nervous about fire; and
though the dreadful experience of the past had caused extraordinary
precautions to be taken for preventing the recurrence of another general
conflagration, still night after night as the warning bell hurriedly
announced some fire in the suburbs, the whole population would turn out,
and follow the engines “en masse” to the scene of conflagration. Not a
night passed but one or more alarms were pealed forth by that dreadful
bell, of which the tone was so familiar, and so associated with
misfortune, and a shanty or two would generally be consumed in the
wooden portion of the city. Sometimes an hotel or hospital would blaze
and furnish a famous night’s work for the firemen, but these were so
active and vigilant, that the flames were always confined to a small
space, and it was evident that the days of general conflagrations were
over. The highest praise that I can accord to the San Francisco firemen,
is to record the simple truth of them, and say that they are zealous and
intrepid, and that their services are gratuitous. The fire department of
San Francisco now numbers about fifteen hundred members and twenty
engines. It is divided into companies, each of which is formed on a
military principle, chooses its own name and uniform, and bears all its
own expenses.

The companies are distinguished by such names as the “Monumental,” the
“Empire,” the “Washington,” and to see them in their smart dresses, as
they tarn out in procession on a gala day, one would not suppose that
there was so much real work concealed beneath so much show.

There are also two or three “hook and ladder” companies, who do ample
service in blowing up and tearing down buildings when necessary. Many
of these young firemen occupy the best positions in San Francisco; and
it strikes a stranger as somewhat novel, if when the fire-bell is
sounded in the day time, he sees the junior partner in the house of
Mivins and Co. rush out of his office with a helmet on his head, and
proceed at full speed to his engine house.

Sometimes some poor fellow loses his life in his exertions to perform
his self-imposed duty, and then his brother firemen, in unassumed grief,
pay him the last tribute of respect by following his body to the
cemetery.

I have introduced such a scene in the sketch of San Francisco, and would
draw attention simply to the deep significance of the motto on the
banner that is lying low, emblematical of him they are burying--“We
strive to save.”

There is no boast, no ostentation in these words, no vainglorious
confidence in what shall be done, no allusion to victories gained or
deeds performed. Look on the motto, “We strive to save;” now look on the
coffin that contains all that is mortal of one who under that banner has
found a death as worthy of the laurel as any soldier who at once brings
pride and sorrow to the nation in whose cause fighting inch by inch he
yields up life.

You and I, reader, can sleep comfortably in our

[Illustration]

beds, and have no cause each night to be drenched by water and scorched
by heat, no bell summons us to duty, nor need we risk life or limb when
the glare ascends from a blazing manufactory, but turning comfortably
over, we can again court sleep with the intention of reading of the fire
over our breakfast table.

But you will agree with me, perhaps, that be we where we will, be our
powers what they may, if we look around us we shall find no better
standard to rally round and be faithful to than that which bears the
fireman’s motto, “We strive to _save_.”

       *       *       *       *       *

Gorgeous decoration is characteristic of San Francisco; the people pay
high prices for the necessaries of life, so velvet and gilt work is
thrown into the bargain. In the “shaving-saloons” this system of
internal decoration is carried out in great force, and the accommodation
these establishments afford is indispensable to a Californian public.

Let me suppose myself to have arrived at San Francisco from the mines
early one morning. Having travelled down on the Old Soldier, I have no
carpet bag of course, and I enter a shaving-saloon. At a counter I
purchase any quantity of linen I may require for the moment, and with
this I proceed to the bath-room; when I return from my ablutions, I am
asked if I would like my head “shampoo-ed.” With a reckless feeling in
respect of shampooing, the result of an intimate acquaintance with
Turkish baths, I submit to this operation.

Seating myself on an easy chair of velvet, and placing my legs on an
easy stool, also of velvet, I become drowsy under the influence of the
fingers and thumbs of the operator, as they are passed over my skull, as
if with a view to making a phrenological chart, and which produce a
feeling at last as if hundreds of fingers and thumbs were at work, and
the whole force of the establishment were scratching my head.

I am conducted to a marble washstand, and a tap of cold water is turned
on me. I thought I had washed my head in the bath, but it appears not,
judging by the colour of the water. My head is dried by hard labour,
then it is wetted again by a shower of eau de Cologne and water, thrown
at me when least expected. “Will I be shaved, sir?” Of course I will!
“Take a seat.” I sink into the velvet chair, and contemplate my dirty
boots, that for days have not known blacking, but have known mud, as
they contrast with the crimson pile velvet on which they rest. The back
of the chair is raised by means of a screw, until my head is in the
proper position for operation. First I have hot water on my chin, and a
finger and thumb (generally the property of a coloured gentleman) feels
for my beard in a dreamy way with a view to softening the stubble. Then
comes the lather, and shave the first, and I am about to get up, when I
am stopped by more lather, and shave the second; this is conducted in a
slow methodical manner, the finger and thumb wandering about in search
of any stray hairs, like gleaners after the harvest.

The operator says not a word to me, San Francisco barbers are not
loquacious, but his eyes wander to the open door, and suddenly he leaves
me with a rush, and apostrophising some one passing in the street, he
says, “Say, how about that sugar?” The reply is inaudible, but I observe
that the barber produces a sample of cigars from his pocket, and says,
“See here! fifty dollars a thousand for these won’t hurt you;” and so,
having failed to make a “trade;” he comes back, and, as he “finishes”
me, he observes, in a general way, that “Damn him if that (the gentleman
in the street) wasn’t the meanest man in all creation!” I am then
released, and this was a San Francisco shaving-saloon in 1852. From the
barber’s I proceeded to a boot-blacking saloon kept by Frenchmen. I
seat myself on a comfortable fauteuil, two Gauls are at my feet, each
Gaul has two brushes, and such a friction is commenced that my feet are
being shampooed as much as my head was. The morning paper has been
handed to me, and I have scarcely settled to the leading article when
“V’la M’sieur,” announces that all is over. What a change! my boots
rival that famous effigy of Day and Martin, whose polish is ever
exciting the ire of a contemplative cat; I pay the money with pleasure,
one shilling, not before I am brushed though. Shall I exchange my
battered wide-awake for a beaver hat? Certainly; and now reader I don’t
think you would believe, if you saw me, that I had just returned from
Tuttle Town, and from a life of leather breeches and self-inflicted
horse grooming. It is eight o’clock now, and, in an instinctive search
for breakfast, I enter the Jackson House. Here are a hundred small
tables nearly all occupied, I secure one and peruse the bill of fare. I
could have wished for fresh eggs, but these were marked at two shillings
each, and in the then uncertain state of the mine I considered economy a
duty. “Fricassée de Lapin,” that sounded well, so I ordered it; I didn’t
tell the waiter, when he brought it, that it was not rabbit but grey
squirrel, but I knew it from the experience I had had in the anatomy of
that sagacious animal. It was very good, however, and if it had been a
fat Sacramento rat I daresay that, under the circumstances, I should not
have turned my nose up at it; for I have eaten many things in my time
that are not found on the “carte” at Verrey’s; and when a man has once
dined off monkey soup and has ladled a human-looking head out of the pot
and has eaten still, regardless of that piteous parboiled look, he can
stomach anything in reason ever after.

But the San Francisco bills of fare present at all seasons great
variety, and no one has a right to complain who has but to choose from
bear, elk, deer, antelope, turtle, hares, partridges, quails, wild
geese, brant, numerous kinds of ducks, snipe, plover, curlew, cranes,
salmon, trout, and other fish, and _oysters_.

It is not until you have been a long time without an oyster that you
find how indispensable to your complete happiness this bivalve is; so
soon as the want of it was generally expressed by the inhabitants of San
Francisco, some enterprising individual gave his attention to the
subject, and, after an adventurous voyage of discovery along the coast,
he found a bed, and returned with a cargo of natives in triumph. This
cargo, however, was not to be vinegared and peppered that year, but was
transferred to a bed prepared for its reception in the bay; here the
oysters were left to fatten on bran and other luxuries, and by next
year the young colony had increased sufficiently to supply a small
quantity to the restaurateurs. They were very small innocent oysters at
first, and tasted like a teaspoon-full of salt water, they also cost
sixpence a piece, which was about their weight in silver; but they were
oysters; a victory had been gained; an imperious want had been supplied:
we thought of this as we swallowed them, and were grateful for them even
at the price. Since then the submarine colony has thrived so well that
oysters in San Francisco are not only large, but comparatively cheap, so
that many of the inhabitants gratuitously supply the city with pavement
by throwing the shells out into the street as oyster-venders do in every
city in the world where the law permits. And, by the way, it is not
inappropriate that the law should wink at hecatombs of obstructive
oyster shells, if, as they say, that part of the fish alone falls to the
share of the public; and indeed it strikes me that any man who has been
unfortunate enough to inherit a chancery suit in this country, should be
allowed to pile his oyster shells before his door, for in this way he
would denote the number of shells that, figuratively speaking, had been
returned to him, and might thus exemplify the _certainty_ of the law of
equity in a manner suited to the meanest capacity.

Places of amusement were springing up rapidly in San Francisco, and
these were of a better character than would have been supposed. It was
pleasant to observe that gambling houses, and those low haunts which in
every country minister to degrading appetites, were rapidly being swept
away in this young country, and giving place to rational recreations.
Theatres, reading rooms, and gymnasiums; these are good sources of
amusement, be you where you will; read for the improvement of your mind,
exercise the clubs and dumb-bells for the benefit of your body, laugh or
cry over a good play, and in a colony you are safe for a cheerful, and
perhaps grateful man.

My old schoolmaster, I remember, was wont to characterise the theatre as
the house of the devil; if so, this personage is a very temporary
lodger, for often when the devil is in a man, the merriment a farce
excites, or the moral a drama displays, will drive it out of him; and
perhaps before to-day a comedy has done more for a man, in the way of
correction, than the best sermon that ever was preached to his
inattentive ears. For, when you can interest a man, his feelings and
judgment are open to your appeal, and I dare say a great many of my
readers have, like myself, felt deeply moved at a drama, the moral of
which would have been unheeded in a sermon, as inapplicable to our own
cases or positions in life; just as, when children, we can only stomach
a powder when it is presented to us in the fascinating shape of jam.

Some representations of poses plastiques that were exhibited about this
time found no favour, and were cried down, but the enterprising manager
of them, who was really a clever fellow, shifted his ground from the
study of the human frame to that of the human head, and gave
phrenological disquisitions on the sculls of Jenkins, Stewart, and
others, who had been executed by the Vigilance Committee. As the bump of
acquisitiveness had probably been the cause of the execution of these
men, the lecturer had some difficulty in avoiding personalities, for
this bump was largely developed in the craniums of his audience.
However, he had an advantage over most lecturers on the same subject,
for he could prove two distinct facts: first, that the subjects of his
dissertation had been hung, and secondly, that many of his audience had
helped to hang them.

Since that date, a famous Mexican robber, Joaquin Carrillo by name, has
with much trouble and loss of life been caught and decapitated. When I
left San Francisco his head was to be seen by the curious preserved in
spirits of wine; and however revolting such a spectacle may be, it is a
punishment that one would think would deter the reflective from crime.
Fancy one’s features distorted by the convulsive throes of a violent
death, staring whitened and ghastly from a glass bottle, turned from
with horror by the gaping crowd, and then deposited for all ages,
growing more hideous with each year on the shelves of a surgical museum!

To take one’s head as in olden times, and place it on a pole until it
became a whitened scull, is a benevolent act as compared with the glass
bottle and aqua fortis that hand distorted features down to posterity.
For my own part I can contemplate with calmness my bones bleaching, as
they may do, perhaps, in a desert, but the mere thought that a diseased
liver or brain of mine should ever be labelled and ticketted in the
museum of the College of Surgeons, excites a disgust that makes me think
burning or drowning preferable to a quiet death-bed and a _post mortem_
examination; for your operative surgeons always find something in their
subjects worth pocketing, and if robbing the dead of their valuables is
sacrilegious, robbing the dead of their liver and lights is equally so.

But still every scruple must fall before the necessities of science; and
I remember exhuming a Malay rajah who had been buried about a week
without the slightest compulsion, simply because science required the
skeleton of a Malay rajah. I felt it was the duty of every man to aid
science, and the only remorse I felt was when I found no jewels in the
coffin--not even a ring: it was a shabby burial the rajah had!

The practice of carrying fire-arms in San Francisco was still popular
among a large proportion of the citizens; but the arguments by which I
have sought to justify this habit in a mountain population are not
applicable to the inhabitants of the city, for life and property were
safe, and a proper police force had been instituted. Cases of shooting
therefore were still very common, and duelling in particular became
quite the rage. Taking up the newspaper one day, I observed a
conspicuous advertisement, in which one gentleman gave notice to the
public that another gentleman “was a scoundrel, liar, villain, and
poltroon,” and signed his name to the announcement. The next day it was
understood that the gentleman with the unenviable titles intended to
shoot his traducer “on sight,”--that is to say, as soon as he could see
him, without any of the preliminary formula of a hostile meeting. When I
reached the Plaza, I found a large concourse of people already assembled
to see the sport; and it was such a novel and delicious excitement to
stand in a circle and see two men inside of you exchange six shots
a-piece, that had the matter been more generally known, I do not think
there would have been room for them to fight! I declined waiting to
stand and be shot at; but it appeared afterwards that the two gentlemen,
attended by their friends, soon made their appearance on opposite sides
of the square, and that then they commenced walking about the square as
if they did not know each other, and when within shot, one said to the
other, “Draw and defend yourself!” which the latter did by sending a
bullet through the assailant’s arm. The fire then became warm; six shots
were exchanged in rapid succession, and both combatants were taken
wounded from the field--not mortally, however, for they recovered, and
arranged a regular meeting, where after exchanging half-a-dozen shots
one was seriously wounded; since when, I believe, no more powder has
been burnt in the cause.




CHAPTER XX.

     RAT-CATCHERS--DRAYS--CRESTED PARTRIDGE--A MARVELLOUS STORY--SAILORS
     IN THE MINES--A VERDICT--THE QUARTZ HAS THE BEST OF IT--I LEAVE
     TUTTLE-TOWN.


_January, 1852._

Rats are very numerous in San Francisco, as also are ratting-dogs. The
roughest Skyes and most ferocious bull-dogs seem to have congregated in
that city; and so much interest do the people take in the destruction of
the common enemy, that a crowd is instantly collected if by chance a
Scotch terrier, arrested by the flavour of a rat, wags his tail over a
heap of shavings. You will one day see a crowd in the street, dense and
excited; you try in vain to obtain a glimpse of what is going on in the
centre; from expressions that reach you, you feel certain that a horrid
murder is being perpetrated, and this opinion is confirmed as you hear
re-echoed the cry, “He is dead!--all over!” As the crowd disperses,
there issues from it the rejoicing owner of two young prize-fighting
quadrupeds, and in his hand is a large rat, now all tail and teeth,
“the balance,” as the owner remarks, having been “considerably chawed
up.”

Great risk and expense attend the shipment of these little dogs to
California; and I was so unfortunate as not to land one of four very
useful brutes that I shipped from the London Docks for that country. A
good horse or dog is a treasure to a Californian; and he will look upon
one or the other as his friend, and treat it with great kindness.

An immense quantity of drays are required in the city for the transport
of goods, and the stranger will be at once struck with the superiority
of breed of the horses, and the high condition in which they are kept.
It has not been worth while of late to send anything commonplace to San
Francisco; the horses therefore that are driven across the plains are
generally strong and showy animals. “Draying” has paid very well here,
and many of the proprietors of these vehicles, although they drive for
themselves, are well to do. The dray harness is often mounted in German
silver; and you may see any day a respectable-looking quiet man in
spectacles carting a load of hay or lumber, with a handsome four-in-hand
team, well groomed, and ornamented with bear-skin trappings.

The new machinery being completed, I again started for the mines, and
arrived at Tuttle-town without accident.

We had tolerable hunting ground in our vicinity, but the game was wild
from having been too much shot at. The deer lived in the mountains, and
to reach them required much walking, as the reader will understand if he
glances at the background of the sketch that forms my frontispiece. The
earth on the side of the red-wood hills is generally friable, and as it
gives way to the pressure of the foot, the toil of ascending is very
great, when the glass is at ninety.

There was, however, ample employment for the shot-gun, as the crested
partridge abounded in our neighbourhood. I have not yet mentioned this
bird; it is smaller than our partridge, and has all its habits, with
this exception, that it will fly to trees when disturbed. This I imagine
arises from an instinctive fear of vermin, with which the country
abounds, the silver grey fox being very destructive,--not to speak of
coyotes, snakes, and birds of prey. There is also little cover on the
ground, with the exception of stones, and when the partridge is
undisturbed, it will busk among these. The call of the male is similar
to that of the English bird. The crested partridge is hard to put up,
being a great runner; harder still to shoot flying, for it is
particularly strong on the wing, and flies low on a ground of much its
own colour. When shot and cooked it is white, dry, and insipid; still it
is a partridge, and as such is much relished.

I will mention a circumstance here in connection with shooting, which
has so much of the marvellous in it that I had determined to omit it.

Whilst encamped at Santa Rosa Valley, after leaving Carrillo’s house, we
were visited one morning by some Sonorians (probably those who
afterwards stole our cattle). As they requested us to fire a few shots
with our rifles at a mark, we consented willingly enough, and being in
good practice and in good luck, we fired with success at dollars and
other small targets.

An hour or two afterwards, the three of us proceeded in search of
venison; it was about mid-day, the sun was very powerful and the sky
cloudless. Making for a shady thicket where we hoped to find, we
unexpectedly started a doe from the long grass; she was out of shot
before we could raise a gun, but there still remained a fawn. Pretty
innocent! there it stood gazing at us wondrously, and I warrant had
there been meat in our larder at home not one of us would have touched a
trigger; but lamb is innocent, and yet you eat it, Madam, and the only
difference between us is that you have a butcher to take life, and I
had not.

The fawn stood motionless as I advanced a few paces and took, as I
imagined, deadly aim. I missed, and still it did not move: the others
fired, and missed also. From the same distance (about seventy-five
yards), we fired each four bullets without success; still the fawn moved
but a pace or two, and our rifle ammunition was exhausted. I then crept
up to the fawn, and within twenty paces I fired twice at it with my
pistol; it then, unharmed, quietly walked away in search of its mother.
We looked at each other in some doubt after this, and for a long time I
was puzzled to conjecture how to account for this apparently charmed
life.

At last I solved the problem in this way, as I thought. The sun was
intensely powerful, and had been reflected back to us from the yellow
grass on which we had kept our eyes throughout a long walk; either this
glare or the rarefaction of the air had, probably, caused an optical
delusion, and the fawn appearing nearer to us than in reality it was, we
fired under it. Had this struck me at the time, I would have searched in
the long grass for the place where the bullets struck, and I have no
doubt, considering the practice we were in, that they would all have
been found in the same range, and short; but on account of the height of
the grass, we were unable to see whilst firing where our balls fell. And
this is the sole way I can account for this curious adventure.

This is the sole marvellous story I have to tell, and is a fact; but so
capricious is reading man, that I dare say many a one who would have
believed me had I related the destruction in one long shot of three
buffaloes, two coyotes, and a digger Indian, will smile incredulously at
my party firing fourteen barrels within seventy paces of a motionless
deer! So be it--and annotators of circulating library books will write
“Gammon!” in black-lead pencil on the margin, and I must grin whilst I
writhe under this infliction.

About three miles from our camp was the Stanislaus River; and crossing
this in a ferry-boat, we would be at once in the vicinity of a famous
digging, “Carson’s Hill,” by name. All that we read of that is bright
and fairy-like, in connection with reported gold discoveries, has been
presented as a Gradgrind fact at Carson’s Hill.

The rivers produced, the hills produced, and even the quartz[23]
produced, having previously been rotted by nature, that man might pick
the gold out with his penknife. “Rich nests,” “tall pockets,” “big
strikes,” lumps and chunks, were the reward of labour at Carson’s Hill;
whilst the miserable population elsewhere were content with ounces of
gold, or, at the best, pounds.

No one knows how many fortunes have been made at Carson’s Hill, nor how
many bloody battles have been fought there for the rich earth--but a
great many. Two small armies met once on the brow of the hill, and
parleyed, weapons in hand and with savage looks, for as much quartz as
you might carry away in a fish-cart.

Mr. James Carson, the discoverer of these diggings, asserts that in 1848
the man who would work could make from fifty to one hundred pounds
sterling a day, and I have no doubt of the truth of this.

At the time when this digging was first yielding such immense profits,
strict honesty was the characteristic of the miners; and a man need have
no fear then, as he has now, relative to keeping his dust after he had
found it, for all had enough, and it is astonishing how virtuous we
become under such circumstances. A sailor once asked his chum if a
bishop was a good man? “He ought for to be,” replies the other, “for he
has nothing to do but to eat, drink, and sleep, and altogether he has a
deuced fine berth of it!” and Jack hit the truth in his own way.

And sailors are, perhaps, after their manner, tolerable Christians
themselves; certainly they swear a little, and are said to devour in a
sandwich the banknote that would serve to enrich a hospital, as from
Bill Bobstay, Esq.; but whenever there is sickness or poverty among
sailors, there Jack is found at the bedside the tenderest of nurses, and
sharing--honest heart!--his last copper with a comrade. A sailor in the
mines is at best a rough and uncomely fellow to the sight; but will you
show me anything more pleasing to contemplate than that sturdy fellow
there who plies his pickaxe to the tune of “Oh, Sally Brown!” that he
may take at night to his sick friend in the tent hard by the luxuries he
needs? The sailors in the mines have been ever distinguished for
self-denial; and whenever I see “prim goodness” frown at the rough,
careless sailor’s oath that will mingle now and then with his “ye-ho!” I
think to myself, “Take out your heart, ‘prim goodness,’ and lay it by
the side of Jack’s and offer me the choice of the two, and maybe it
won’t be yours I’ll take, for all that you are faultless to the world’s
eye.”

Liberality was so great in those days, that if a stranger came to the
mines and had but the appearance of one who would work, he had no
difficulty in borrowing from any one all that was required for starting
him, his muscles and sinews being the sole guarantee for repayment.

It was near Carson’s Hill that poor Boyd worked with a gang of men,
though with what success I do not know. Boyd was an English gentleman of
independence; and in his yacht, the “Wanderer,” he had visited nearly
every place on the globe. He was fitted in every respect for the roving
life he had chosen, and was equally at home whether he roughed it in the
mountains or played the host on board the “Wanderer.” Shortly after he
left San Francisco, he landed at Solomon’s Island to shoot wild fowl,
and there was cruelly murdered by the natives. None who knew him heard
of his fate without regret; and as a finale to the life of this
adventurous man, the “Wanderer” soon after went ashore and was lost.

A gulch which branches off from Carson’s, and which proved very rich,
was discovered under circumstances of great solemnity, and I am indebted
to Mr. Carson for the anecdote.

One of the miners died, and having been much respected, it was
determined to give him a regular funeral. A digger in the vicinity, who,
report said,

[Illustration]

had once been a powerful preacher in the United States, was called upon
to officiate; and after “drinks all round,” the party proceeded, with
becoming gravity, to the grave, which had been dug at a distance of a
hundred yards from the camp. When this spot was reached, the officiating
minister commenced with an extempore prayer, during which all knelt
round the grave. So far was well; but the prayer was unnecessarily long,
and at last some of those who knelt, began, in an abstracted way, to
finger the loose earth that had been thrown up from the grave. It was
thick with gold; and an excitement was immediately apparent in the
kneeling crowd. Upon this, the preacher stopped, and inquiringly said,
“Boys, what’s that? Gold!” he continued, “and the richest kind of
diggings,--the congregation are dismissed!” The poor miner was taken
from his auriferous grave and was buried elsewhere, whilst the funeral
party, with the parson at their head, lost no time in prospecting the
new digging.

The population of the diggings, in 1848, was as varied as can be well
imagined; every nation and calling was represented there, from an
ex-governor to a digger Indian. But amongst this motley crew lawyers
predominated; and if we may judge by the fees they received, and the
quality of the law they exchanged for them, they had brought their
forensic knowledge to a fine market. As magistrates and other officers
were required in the different mining districts, they were elected by a
majority of the miners, and formed a court of law.

All mining disputes were submitted to these courts, and whatever might
be the decision given, _that_ was considered the law, which saved all
trouble of appeal. The following incident will convey some idea of law
in the diggings at this time.

Two Spaniards, who had amassed a large quantity of gold dust by
successful digging, quarrelled over the possession of an old mule that
was scarcely worth her keep, and applied to the alcalde or magistrate
to

[Illustration]

settle the dispute. Before a word was said, however, each “greaser” had
to pay three ounces of dust for expenses of the court; and then, both
speaking at once, each related his own tale in Spanish, which was a
language unintelligible to the court. After this, they were informed by
his Honour, through an interpreter, that they had better leave the case
to the decision of a jury. To this they agreed, and having paid two
ounces more in advance to the sheriff, that officer summoned a jury from
the adjacent diggings. After hearing their statements, which were very
contradictory, the jury retired, and returned with a verdict that the
costs should be shared by the plaintiff and defendant; and as there was
not evidence to show who the mule really belonged to, they were to _draw
straws_ for her!

The bill of costs amounted to twenty ounces,--the _liquor bill_ to three
ounces more. This sum the Spaniards paid, and then they went out to cut
for the animal; but some other Spaniard had already settled the dispute,
for whilst all were inside he had mounted the mule and rode off with it,
nor did it ever, to my knowledge, turn up again. But for the comparative
insignificance of the fees, this trial might have taken place, judging
by the result, in our own Court of Chancery.

A few digger Indians worked occasionally in our vicinity, having
discovered that gold would purchase fine clothes and rum, which was all
they cared for. The outfits they procured with their dust varied
according to taste. One would prefer half a-dozen shirts, and wear them
all at once; another would be content with a gaudy Mexican hat and a
pair of jack boots; so that their partial adoption of civilised costume
only served to render the uncovered parts of their bodies ridiculously
conspicuous.

The Indians of California have a tradition among them which points to
the days when volcanic eruptions devastated the country, and destroyed
all living things but Indians. No traces of an earlier race are to be
found, however, as yet, in Upper California; nor have the Indians the
faintest knowledge of pictorial signs or symbols. I am inclined,
therefore, to think that the present tribes have been migratory.

It is a peculiarity of California, that although it is so rich in
flowers, the wild bee is never found there, nor did I ever hear a
singing-bird. Digging in the mines is suspended by general accord on the
Sabbath, and that day is usually spent very quietly in camp,
particularly as the more boisterous characters go to the nearest town to
amuse themselves. A walk over the mountains, rifle in hand, with an eye
to business in the shape of “prospecting,” is often the employment of
the more sedate; and if the miner sometimes finds on a Sunday what
serves him for an honest livelihood on week days, he is, mayhap, no
worse, sir, than you whose thoughts, even in a church, are not always
separate from the pounds shillings and pence you require for the
engagements of the coming week.

During this time the work at the mines progressed steadily; and the new
machinery being ready, we started it, fully confident of success.[24]
Again was our engine placed under contribution for four horses’ more
power than it was built for, and again did our machinery turn out a
signal failure: in fact we had iron only where we should have had the
hardest of steel, and in consequence, instead of our mill grinding the
quartz, the quartz had the best of it and ground the mill; and as it was
gold I wanted, and not iron filings, I determined for the present to
abandon my third profitless speculation.

Agriculturally, architecturally, and mineralogically, I had been sported
with by fate,--and the plough in the north, the steam-engine in the
south, and the hotel in the middle, had each been accompanied by
pecuniary loss. Yet the days I had passed had been very happy, and
Philosophy said: “You have had health, and contentment, and warm
friendship; and if these were purchasable, many would buy them of you
for twenty times what you have lost in money!” To which I replied, “Very
true, oh Philosophy! but had I taken my steam-engine to Russian River,
and there applied its power to sawing red-woods, and had I with my
plough turned up the fertile hills and valleys at Vallejo, and further,
had I erected my hotel at Sonora, where it was much wanted, I might have
still had the unpurchasable articles you allude to, and the money too.”
Upon which Philosophy, seeing me thus unreasonable, retired from the
contest.

Close upon this disaster there arrived a batch of letters for me. My
friend in San Francisco had died, and letters from home rendered my
return to England necessary. To return again, though--and to
Tuttle-town--on that point I was determined, “wind and weather
permitting,” as we say afloat.

I sold my steam-engine to some wretched favourites of fortune, who took
it to a gulch and made money there and then. I sold Mainspring, and
Tiger, and Bevis, with grief. I might have given them away, but I know
that a man will often give more care and kindness to the animal he has
paid for, than to that he gets for nothing! and many a one who cares
little for the comfort of a horse, is mightily particular in respect of
the hundred guineas the animal is worth!

The tools and houses I left with Rowe, Barnes, and Thomas. The Mexicans
I discharged, and presented them with the bullock hides, and frying-pan,
so that they were not altogether homeless; then I bade farewell to my
mining village, but not yet to the Virginia men, the carpenter Judge or
constable Rowe, for these good fellows accompanied me for the first
thirty miles of my journey. Then we parted, and I firmly believe with
equal regret on either side--why not? there had never been an unkind
word between us in a year of mountain life, and as I reiterated at the
last, “I’ll soon be back, boys!” they knew full well that my resolution
would be upheld by the memory of kindnesses received from them.

Again I plod down on the “Old Soldier,” who has seen the last of
Choctaw, although he does not know it. Is it a wonder that I was
sorrowful when I left behind me so much that had contributed to render
my life happy? But I should have been more so had I known then that I
had seen the last of Tuttle Town and its inhabitants!




CHAPTER XXI.

     ADVICE TO EMIGRANTS--GOLD COUNTRIES--SELF-DOCTORING--ADVICE
     CONTINUED--I ARRIVE AT STOCKTON.


_January, 1852._

We know that the militia of the United States is very numerous, inasmuch
as it consists of every man capable of bearing arms; but it certainly
would appear that all the officers have emigrated to California, so
universal are the military titles there. Now as I proceed to Stockton I
meet here and there old mining acquaintances working at the gulches that
I have to cross. I am startled by a voice from a deep hole with, “How
are you, Captain?” (I rank as Captain in California, being _nothing_; if
I was a real Captain I should of course be a General there). I turn then
and at once recognise a familiar face, spite of the mud with which it is
plastered. “Ah, Colonel,” I reply, “what luck? How does the gulch pay?”
“Pison bad,” replies the soldier, and as I depart he shouts, “You’ll see
the judge at Cock-a-doodle Creek, and the Major with him, working on
shares, and they’re the two meanest,”--the rest is lost to me, as the
Colonel again disappears in his subterranean coyote digging.

Further on I encounter the Judge and Major at work at a “long tom” and
“How are you, Captain?” I am asked again. “Did you see the Colonel?”
says the Judge, I answer in the affirmative. “He’s considerable of a
snake,” says the Major. “He’s nothing shorter,” adds the Judge. “He’s
small potatoes[25] any how,” remarks the Major. I back these opinions
being out of shot of the Colonel’s revolver. “Will you trade that
horse?” asks the Judge. “He’s not for sale,” I answer, and ride off. He
was for sale though, but not to carry gravel from the hill side for
Judges and Majors to make money from, whilst the “Old Soldier” picked a
scanty subsistence from the brushwood on the mountains. When I leave
these worthies behind me, I have seen the last of the diggings.

I have written favourably, it will be perceived, as regards the reward
held out by the gold-fields of California, to those who _having arrived
there_ have seized properly the advantages that surrounded them, and I
have no hesitation in saying, that to the industrious, healthy, and
temperate man, a comfortable livelihood is certain; beyond this much
will depend upon his energy and ability, and as regards grand results, I
may add _speculative feeling_. I find it impossible to place in proper
shape any remarks that could be adapted to the intending emigrant, but I
will attempt to lay down a few broad facts that will apply equally to
all gold countries.

It has appeared to me that a great number of those who fail, must
attribute their ill success to not having previous to starting laid down
the course they intended to pursue.

The emigrant, of whatever class, should have something definite in view;
for, like a ship of discovery, he has before him, as it were, an
unnavigated sea, and unknown rocks and shoals will cause him often to
deviate from his track, but it should be only to return by a circuitous
route to the prosecution of his journey. But if he leaves home on the
broad principle of “trying his luck,” he will not only be the easier
cast down by adverse circumstances, but he will stand the least chance
of any of becoming eventually successful. The truth of this was
exemplified in the case of the English officers whom I found watering
cabbages at Napa; they had not even decided then what they should do, or
how they should turn their ability to account.

It is a great drawback to the labouring emigrant to a gold country that
he generally lands without capital and is obliged at once to work, where
and how he may. This, however, may be said to him--that Californian
experience shows that, in the long run, the man does best who, having
prudently amassed some money at the diggings, turns his capital and
abilities to the channel into which they were originally directed at
home: thus, if he has been an agricultural labourer, let him farm so
soon as he has saved something; if a tailor, let him turn back to the
mining city, with his nuggets in his pockets, and there set up in trade:
for the diggings will be replenished by new comers, and high prices,
whether for potatoes or trowsers, will still (unless peculiarly affected
by over-shipment) be maintained in a fair proportion to the yield of
gold; and it stands to reason that, if all labour in the diggings is
compensated proportionately with that of the digger, it is better for a
working man to labour at the trade he understands. The uncertainty of
the miner’s life is thus avoided, and if the profits are sometimes
smaller, that is more than compensated for by regularity; for it is an
extraordinary fact that, let the diggings fall off as they will, the
miners will still require _bread_ and _breeches_, and will find the
money to pay for them.

When gold-fields are first discovered the profits of professional labour
are proportionately great with the rate of wages, and it would appear,
at the first glance, that a fine field was opened at these times for the
emigration of professional young men; but I find that those occupations
which combine at first large profits with comparatively easy labour,
have soon so many aspirants that the markets become glutted, and the
large profits are short-lived. Thus, in California the proportion of
lawyers is very great, and it would be a sad thing for that country if
every legal man there could live by his profession. Therefore it would
seem that a man of education should more than all shape his course
before he starts; and I think it would be wise for every emigrant, let
his ability be what it may, to consider what he is fit for, to _fall
back upon_ in event of his finding his profession profitless.

It is requisite for an emigrant of superior class that he should possess
at least three qualifications independent of his abilities; viz., a
small amount of capital, a good constitution, and an absence of all
pride but that which nerves a man to accomplish all that he undertakes
honestly, be it what it may! Such a man is an acquisition to a colony,
and if his fortunes are adverse he is an exception to the rule.

The reader may observe that my own failures scarcely bear out this
remark, and this is true; but my efforts were of an experimental nature,
and, as I observed elsewhere, Fortune has ever snubbed me, but the jade
does it so gently that I forgive her.

The emigrating reader may try farming, house-building, or quartz-mining
with perfect security for all that bears upon the case in my experience,
unless indeed my narrative serves to point out to him the folly of
embarking in what one does not understand; and I would rather, if he
pleases, attribute my failures to that cause, for I thereby bring to his
notice a golden rule he can never keep too much in view. But this much
is borne out by the histories of California and Australia, that gold
countries increase permanently in wealth and prosperity; therefore the
emigrant need not be downcast by present misfortune, he has but still to
strive, and, in common with all, he will reap eventually the fruits of
the great blessings which the Creator has been pleased to shower on
these lands. He needs no better assurance than that he carries health,
industry, and patience to a colony that is in a state of rapidly
progressing improvement; and if, in those countries he may visit, as
much care has been taken as in California to provide hospitals for the
sick, and asylums for the destitute, _free of charge_, why he may land,
if it so happens, shattered in mind and body, and be yet turned out a
good man and true, to aid by his pickaxe or his plough the general
prosperity of the state that provides with so much forethought for the
casualties that may beset him.

Something has been said already, and with good purpose, to aid the
emigrant in preserving his health under the influence of a new climate,
and I will introduce a few remarks that have resulted from my own
experience, which has not been confined entirely to the adventures
herein related.

I would strongly advise every man to wear flannel or woven stuff next
his skin, and let him never remove that which encases the upper part of
the body but of a morning, when he bathes himself from head to foot;
flannel on the chest and abdomen is more requisite perhaps by night than
by day to those who are subjected to exposures.

Dispense with what is termed a medicine-chest, but which is, generally
speaking, a box of rubbish, and even if well fitted is a dangerous thing
to have by you.

Certain merchant vessels, which do not carry “an experienced surgeon,”
are supplied with medicine-chests and an accompanying book of reference.
It is related that one tarry fellow once applied to his captain for
relief; his complaint was “that he had something on his stomach.” Under
these circumstances the skipper turned over his pharmacopœia, and at
once prescribed two teaspoonfuls of No. 15 (the drugs being numerically
arranged); on an inspection of the “chest” it was found that No. 15 had
“given out,” and for the moment it seemed that Jack was likely to die
from want of medical assistance; but the skipper had a forethought.
There was plenty of No. 8--plenty of No. 7; seven and eight make
fifteen, says the captain, and Jack, to whom this calculation seemed
quite natural, took two teaspoonfuls of the joint mixture, and with so
much benefit as this, that whatever _was_ “on his stomach” came up with
a rapidity that would have astonished the Royal College of Surgeons.
Although the intelligent emigrant would not make so great a blunder as
this, he might make a greater, and kill himself, even whilst strictly
following out his medicine book. For self-doctoring becomes a mania,
and, as with some men, you must keep the bottle away if you would have
them sober, so with others, you must deprive them of calomel and opium
if you would have them healthy. I have met many infatuated fellows, who,
on the first symptom of fever, have salivated themselves, from an
inherent faith in the efficacy of mercury; and to see a man in the
rainy season in a canvass tent, lying on a damp floor and in damp
blankets, bolting calomel pills, is a sight that soon becomes very sad,
and yet is very common. American emigrants are very prone to carry with
them a preparation of mercury, called “blue mass;” fortunately for them
there is more clay and rubbish than anything else in the composition. I
shall carry with me, when I next start for a region where doctors are
not, half a gallon of castor-oil in a tin bottle, a few trifles for the
cure of wounds, mustard, and _quinine_; if the emigrant can afford it,
this latter should always form part of his stock.

As regards castor-oil, I can only say that it was the sole medicine I
took when attacked by malignant yellow fever, and that I was the only
survivor of the passengers of the steamer “Dee” that were attacked.

When first arrived at his new home the emigrant should avoid exposure to
the mid-day sun, or night air; but if he be a digger in the gold-fields,
let him make this rule, that so soon as he feels the first symptom of
illness, he will _lay by_ for twenty-four hours. Premonitory fever can
be arrested very easily by rest and quiet, but in nearly every instance
it is aggravated to a dangerous pitch, by a feeling of pride that will
not allow a man to surrender; and the fear of the jeers of his healthier
companions will often cause a man to continue work, when prudence would
dictate an opposite course. When headache and sickness attack you,
_then_ you may give in. A dose of medicine and a little rest will
restore you, and shortly you will become acclimated; but if you fight
against feverish symptoms, you may recover, but will probably be a wreck
for life. There is an inclination to bathe when fever first appears;
avoid that. I became very ill from bathing in the Chagres river one
evening, to relieve, as I thought, the headache consequent on exposure
to the heat, and Barnes nearly succumbed to a fever produced by the same
cause; and although they are not mentioned in this narrative in their
proper places, several cases of intermittent fever have from time to
time appeared among my party, otherwise I should not presume to lay down
any rule for the guidance of others; nor would I now, but that I have
seen so many lose their lives from a want of the most ordinary
precaution. I would advise the emigrant to the gold-fields to encumber
himself as little as possible with what is called an “outfit.” Flannel
clothing, thick socks, and the best highlows that can be made for money,
he should select with care. Let him take also good blankets. There is no
better protection for a man in wet seasons than a blanket with a hole
cut in the middle for his head to come through: the body is free, the
perspiration is unconfined, and you can’t wear the blanket out.
India-rubber I cannot recommend; it is, I believe, more productive of
ague than anything else, for it confines the perspiration, and subjects
the wearer to a sudden check, when it is removed. An India-rubber
counter-pane is useful, but should be placed over, not under, for it
absorbs the moisture at all seasons, and makes a point of sending the
rheumatism into your back if you lie on it.[26] An India-rubber cap,
with a curtain to protect the neck, is very useful in rainy weather, but
should be lined with flannel or felt. (See sketch on page 95.) If you
intend to dig, have one or two pickaxes and crowbars made under your own
supervision; exported tools are too often made of very inferior iron,
and it is money well spent to pay something over the market price for a
pickaxe that won’t turn its nose up at you the instant you drive it into
the hill-side.

After one of the San Francisco fires an intelligent blacksmith bought up
a quantity of “burnt-out” gun-barrels; these were filled up to give
weight, and the breach of each was fashioned to the shape of a crowbar.
These instruments sold very well, but if ever there is a calendar of
saints in California, that enterprising blacksmith will not be one of
them! or if he is, he will have been sworn at more than a saint by right
should be.

I have said all that occurs to me would be of service to the emigrant:
it is little enough, and may have been said before; but if it only
corroborates the experience of others, it answers fully the end I have
in view. And I have no hesitation in submitting these remarks, for the
great advantage of one man falling into a pit is that he can show
thousands how to avoid it. I have plunged headlong into many such holes,
and as I would myself avoid them for the future, so I would that others
should. And although in the form that this is published it will not
probably meet the eye of the poor man, still if those who through the
journals they conduct so bravely cheer and assist the emigrant, see
anything in these remarks that may save him from unnecessary expense or
sickness, they will, I know, too gladly in their own way extend the aid
which I intend. Above all, I would that the emigrant who has a little
money should be impressed with the necessity of carrying as much of his
fund out with him as he can. The best ten pounds a poor man can spend is
that which enables him on his arrival in a new country to look about
him for a day or two before he begins his work.

When I arrived at Stockton, I found the streets of that city so cut up
by the traffic of the winter, that in many parts of the public
thoroughfare there were mud holes that it was necessary to avoid. The
spectators on the pathway became quite interested as I plunged through
the main street on the Old Soldier, and one would have thought that I
was a steamboat on the point of explosion by the crowd that followed my
movements. I was already deep over my saddle-girths, but the Old
Soldier, maddened by the jeers of the inhabitants, made short work of
it, and landed at last, “blown,” on comparatively dry ground. It
appeared afterwards that I had entered Stockton by a street that had for
the last month been considered impassable, and was so to any but a
high-couraged animal; but as the Old Soldier’s feet were nearly as large
as soup-plates, he had an advantage over most beasts in getting through
dirt.

I slept that night in a Stockton Hotel, and waking at dawn, I started
out of bed and raised a shout; it was but the force of habit; but
although the Tuttle-tonian pigs were nearly a degree of longitude away,
I had mechanically armed myself with the water-jug before I remembered
the fact.

The next morning I started for San Francisco in a very small steamboat,
and seeing the San Joaquin river for the first time by daylight, I
observed that it was very ugly; it only required alligators to make it
perfect in this respect. There was but one wheel to our boat, and that
was astern, and as the accommodation part of the vessel was built to a
great height, it was something like a small wheelbarrow with a large
trunk on it, going the wrong way. We passed Benicia with a fair tide,
and after stemming a stiff breeze, of which the Old Soldier got the full
benefit, as he was in the stem of the boat, and formed a temporary
figure-head, we arrived at San Francisco about dusk. I was fortunate in
getting a kind master for the old horse, and I have seen him since,
fatter than ever he was with me, carrying vegetables about the town with
no more pride than if he was a common animal.




CHAPTER XXII.

     ELECTIONS--EXECUTIONS--REFORMS--EXILES--“KNOW
     NOTHINGS”--TESTIMONIALS--SPEAKING TRUMPETS--OCEAN
     STEAMERS--LIFE-BUOYS--AIR-BOATS--CONFIDENCE NECESSARY--FITTING A
     RAFT--A SUGGESTION.


_March, 1852._

When I arrived at San Francisco, I found the authorities very busy
altering the grades of the streets, and covering them with planks.

As the rear of the town had been built on sand, at an elevation of some
twenty feet above the new grade, the houses there had soon the
appearance of being built on the edge of a dry ravine, into which most
of them tumbled one by one. These house-slips would generally take place
by night, but as the buildings were of the band-box style of
architecture no harm was done when one of them rolled down the hill,
further than an awful smashing of the domestic crockery. Those tenements
that outlived this trying season, were seized with a panic, and changed
their quarters.

Some were raised bodily by means of lever screws, and being placed on
rollers, were pushed and hauled into a position of safety, whilst the
very small ones were removed down the ravine by the help of half-a-dozen
yoke of oxen, and were planted somewhere else; but the appearance of
these was so far marred by this operation, that they presented ever
afterwards a crushed appearance, and the two front windows seemed to
squint.

The Americans are very clever at raising houses and removing them; I
have often seen one prised from one side of the street to the other
without injury, and a house that I have since inhabited in San
Francisco, was raised bodily four feet, to correspond with the new
grade, without in any way interfering with our internal arrangements.
Brick houses have thus been raised and a new basement built under them;
but one peculiarity is apparent after all is completed, that the doors
and windows that have been left open cannot be afterwards shut, and
those that have been shut cannot, by the same rule, be opened.

I was present at more than one of the general elections at San
Francisco, and in connection with this ceremony lies one of the greatest
drawbacks of the country.

Setting aside the means by which governors and legislators are brought
into office by a majority of votes, I will take the case alone of the
elected judges of the state of California. Many who have barely a
knowledge of common law, here come forward for the office of judge, and
are elected--how, it matters not--but such men have been elevated to the
bench, and once there, have detracted as much from its dignity as men
well could. Murderers passed and re-passed before them unpunished, and
this in part gave rise to the actions of the Vigilance Committee.

It has been unfortunate for California that the elections have been long
controlled by a dishonest class, the least likely to support such
candidates as would place a check upon crime; however, the press of the
country and the people, are fully alive to the existence of this
evil,[27] and it is possible that before long, the Judiciary will be
appointed by the governor and senate, when good men, of whom there are
plenty, will come forward for office.

It has been very difficult to get a jury to convict a murderer in this
country; I am puzzled to say why, for self-interest would dictate an
unusual degree of severity--still the fact stands, that in twelve
hundred murders, but two men have been publicly executed. One man
acting under jealousy, ill-founded as it appeared on trial, walked up
behind his victim in the street, and then and there blew his brains out;
yet the jury would not convict this man, and he was sentenced to a
year’s imprisonment only.

The judge should not have been bound by such a verdict, for either the
man was guilty of cold-blooded murder, or was altogether innocent.

The press,[28] which has vastly improved in California, has taken a firm
stand in opposition to this evil, and before long I have no doubt that
the criminal law will be wholesomely administered there. We must not
expect perfection in a self-regulated colony of six years’ growth,
particularly when we remember that law reform and integrity of election
occupy attention in older countries.

When once the seed of reform is implanted in California, it grows with
great rapidity. It may be that the greatest sinners make the greatest
saints, but certainly, the most carelessly dissipated community that
ever was brought together, have already, in their new position, enacted
laws for the complete overthrow of many of those so called “necessary
evils” that are borne with in cities of older growth, and more
self-assumed wisdom, and infinitely greater professions of sanctity.

It is said that one surfeit of raspberry-tarts will produce, in the
pastrycook’s boy, a permanent nausea for these luscious things; thus
with Californians, they have seen vice and debauchery in so awful a
shape, that in the reaction of feeling more good is being done to the
country as regards sweeping reform, than would have happened in twenty
times the time had the early colonists been at the first but ordinarily
virtuous. The thorn is extracted at once, and there is an end of
temporising and preaching, which lead to nothing at times, as any one
may see who will visit some of our cathedral cities, and learn something
of the statistics of the immorality which exists within them, and the
number of divines who are there to raise their voices against it.

One of the Irish convicts who had escaped by breaking his parole,
arrived in San Francisco about this time, and was feasted and made much
of by a certain class who are to be found in many parts of the United
States, and are monomaniacs on the subject of America opening her arms
and welcoming to her soil the political exiles of other countries.

The free hospitality which America extends to exiles of all classes, is
to be admired; what a pity, then, to detract from its dignity by a
vulgar “émeute,” which, after all, is extended as much to a singer or
fiddler, as to a (so-called) champion of liberty. But the exiles
generally do not seem to improve on acquaintance, and the days of
triumphal entry are passed for them, and no wonder; for they are not
always grateful.

Take the case of one who, being welcomed to the United States, at once
devotes his energies to the production of a journal which will not only
arouse political bitterness on the spot, but carefully keeps alive what
remnant of bigotted hostility to England yet slumbers in the country.
Now, as the man who sows discord between this country and America, is an
enemy as much of the latter as of the former, is it not inconsistent
that such a one should be be-speeched and be-dinnered on his arrival?
However, a man may be bowed obsequiously into a house, only to be kicked
on acquaintance ignominiously out of it, and I imagine that more than
one political refugee in America will live to experience a similar
reverse of fortune.

The “Know Nothings” it would appear have set their faces against
foreigners holding office in the United States. If this political sect
would exert their influence to prevent rabid runaway rebels, who land
among them, from revenging themselves by exciting animosity against the
country that has cast them off, they would do a great deal of good to
the United States.

And indeed, as regards the exclusion of naturalised subjects from
office, the “Know Nothings” are, in my opinion, right to a certain
extent; for if we divide those who swear allegiance to the United States
into two classes, we have firstly the poor emigrants who leave an
over-populated country to spread themselves, in obedience as it were to
a law of nature, over the vast unpeopled forests and plains of a new
continent, and secondly the educated class who can do well at home but
can _do better_ by forsaking one flag to cling (as long as it suits
them) to another. This class are known as “Whitewashed Yankees,” a term
that may be complimentary, but does not sound like it. It is from this
educated class of naturalised subjects that the aspirants for office
step forward, and under all the circumstances, I am not surprised that a
large sect of Americans now oppose them. For it appears to me, that a
man who has felt so little patriotism for his native land as to abjure
it formally from interested motives, is not likely to remain faithful to
the new country he adopts, any longer than suits his purpose. His
motives are at the best, based on self, and he is consequently not the
best qualified either to hold office or to conduct the public press.[29]

There is a disproportionate number of jewellers and goldsmiths in San
Francisco, yet all drive a flourishing business. Two articles are in
great demand, viz., gold watches, and silver speaking-trumpets. Nearly
every one in California has a gold watch--every nigger has, I am sure,
and very much dignity does a “coloured person” exhibit whenever he draws
out his ponderous gold turnip, the chain of which is nearly as large as
the cable of a ten-gun brig.

The speaking-trumpets, of which so many may be seen in the jewellers’
shop fronts, are accounted for by the habit the San Franciscans have of
presenting a testimonial to the Captain of any ship who may have brought
them safely into port. This testimonial is almost invariably a
speaking-trumpet, which is tendered to the skipper, with a request that
he will blow it, from the undersigned, &c., &c. This mania became so
strong at one time, that if the captain of any Oregon schooner with a
cargo of lumber arrived in safety with two passengers and a dog, there
was no knowing what honours awaited him; at least a letter of thanks
from the passengers and dog, but probably a speaking-trumpet; so that
soon there was more ridicule than honour attached to these testimonials.

When nearing San Francisco one day in a noble steam-ship, whereof the
captain had done his duty by piloting the ship in safety and attending
to the comforts of his passengers, a gentleman arose towards the close
of our last dinner on board, and amidst profound silence, commenced
eulogising our skipper. I sat next to this latter, and when the orator
continued, “therefore gentlemen it has been moved and carried by a
committee of the passengers, that to mark the high sense they
entertain,” the poor skipper turned to me with anguish in his eyes, and
whispered, “By G--d, they’re going to give me a speaking-trumpet.” He
was right, too, and got a tremendous one; however, I whispered comfort
to him, and showed him how, by putting a bottom to the large end of the
trumpet, and a handle at the top, it would make a splendid claret jug,
capable of holding a gallon at least, and then suggested I, “you might
erase the inscription, and say you won it at a steeplechase.” Whether he
followed this wholesome advice or not I never heard.

I secured my passage on board the “Northerner,” and started on my way to
England, in company with about two hundred and fifty passengers. The
weather was delightful, and the wharf was crowded with friends who had
come down to see us off: the partings were not very heart-rending; in
fact, the great joke seemed to consist in those who were on the wharf
pelting us with oranges and cheap novels as we cast off.

As we steamed out of the bay and lost sight of the busy city at last, we
could not but think of the changes and reverses that all of us had been
witness to, and most of us had shared. I for my part, as I recalled the
noble courage with which misfortune had been borne with by the people,
echoed the remark that Smith and Jones had made conjointly on the ruins
of the first fire.

SMITH. It’s a great country!

JONES. It’s nothing shorter!

We were very comfortable on board, and arrived at Panama, so much
pleased with the ship and the voyage, that it was lucky for the captain
that there were no speaking-trumpets to be purchased at Panama; as it
was, we did not let him off without a letter of thanks--and our thanks
in one form or the other he certainly deserved; his name was Isham.
Captains of ocean steamers do not always perform their duty, many are
apt to forget that more devolves upon them than mere seamanship, some
forget even this.

In the great points, of cleanliness as regards the ship, attention to
the real wants of the passengers, and a judicious arbitration of such
little outbreaks as will occur in crowded vessels, the commanders of the
Pacific Mail Steam Ship Line (to which the “Northerner” belonged)
deservedly enjoy a reputation. The ocean steamers on this line, as also
on the opposition, which takes the Nicaragua route, are magnificent
vessels. Many of them are over three thousand tons burden, and are very
fast and beautifully found. Ventilated with open ports two feet square
between each state-room, they are comfortable and wholesome even when
carrying eight hundred passengers; and it is the want of ventilation
that makes a crowded ship unbearable anywhere, and in the tropics
unhealthy.

A large proportion of ocean steamers are wretchedly off in this respect,
and travellers in the East or West Indies are often limited when under
hatches to such air as can penetrate through a scuttle hole about the
size of a saucer.

One American steam ship, the “George Law,” possesses what I have never
met with in any other boat; she has not only life-boats[30] suspended
from her davits on all sides, but she has two metal air-boats elevated
on deck, that can be launched _immediately under any circumstances_.
Besides these boats there are on board several hundred life-buoys, one
of these being suspended to each bunk throughout the ship. These
life-buoys are formed of cork and painted canvas, and have straps to
fasten them under the arms. As I recall the fearful and unnecessary loss
of life that has been recorded in the last two years, I have scarcely
patience when I reflect how much of it might have been avoided had each
passenger, as on board the “George Law,” been provided with ten
shillings worth of cork and canvas. I was ten days on board the “George
Law,” and each night as I went to bed, my eyes were arrested by my
life-buoy. It said plainly to me, did this life-buoy, (not knowing that
I was a sailor by profession) “Collisions will take place, spontaneous
combustion will break out, and sunken wrecks and rocks and sand-banks
will be run upon; should any of these occur, will you not quietly buckle
me on, being _prepared by your daily contemplation of me for any such
emergency_, and will you not then calmly assist wherever you are wanted,
in the full confidence that even if the ship sinks under you, you can
float without exertion until you are picked up by the life-boats?”
Certainly the contemplation of a life-buoy by one’s bed-side, will bring
such thoughts to mind, and by keeping the danger before each man night
and day, prepares him when the hour comes, to act coolly and
reflectively. But we may look farther even than this; if the presence of
life-buoys accustoms passengers to contemplate danger, and to meet it
calmly when it comes, does it not stand to reason that the captain and
crew of a sinking vessel are better able to exert themselves for the
safety of the vessel, or otherwise the lowering and _provisioning_ of
boats, when the passengers, confident in their cork and canvas, are
calmly awaiting the _order_ to jump overboard, instead of at once
plunging into the waves, only to struggle and call piteously for help,
thus unmanning some and rendering others unable to assist them. How many
boats have been successfully lowered from a sinking ship, but being
overloaded too suddenly, have turned over and drowned all that could not
swim: would this be so if all had life-buoys? How many boats have left a
ship in the dark night but half full, fearing the impetuous rush which a
panic-struck crowd would make at it if again it touched the ship’s
sides? Yet the cost of such a buoy is but ten shillings, and that of a
life-boat thirty pounds.

It may be said that every passenger can carry his own life-preserver,
and that most do so: this is nothing; it gives me no increased
confidence to know that Muggins who sleeps next to me has an
India-rubber bag that he can blow out each night before turning in. The
advantage of disposing life-buoys throughout the ship, as in the “George
Law,” is in the general confidence which their presence gives to all,
and when the moment of danger comes, that ten shillings’ worth of cork
and canvas will enable those who cannot swim to keep above water, and
those who can swim to double their exertions to form a raft and save the
helpless. There is not, to my knowledge, an ocean steamer that leaves
England that is properly found in this respect, nor will there be until
government inspectors are appointed to see that they are supplied with
life-boats that can be lowered in all weather, and do not necessarily
swamp if a “fall” gives way, or bilge as they surge against the vessel’s
side. And captains of vessels should be made to keep their boats clear,
so far as this, that falls should be kept clear for running, and
lashings and gripes so secured as _easily to be cast off_, precautions
which are seldom taken.

Judging not only by the details we receive from the survivors of lost
ships, but from what actually comes before our notice as we travel to
and fro, it appears as a fact indisputable, that not only are steamboats
ill supplied with the requisites for saving life in case of shipwreck,
but that what they have are seldom of use when wanted. With long boats
on board that can only be hoisted out under favourable circumstances,
cutters and gigs at the davits lashed and secured, and covered with
tarpaulin, filled with hay perhaps, or vegetables, containing neither
oars, compass, or tow-rope, is it a wonder that in nearly every case of
shipwreck we find the loss of life aggravated by the confusion and
mismanagement which accompanies the lowering of boats, or the attempted
construction of a raft? A few hundred pounds would amply supply every
ship with the requisites for preservation of life in addition to those
they already possess, and of what account is this sum in the grand total
of the cost of a steam-ship? Air-boats, or life-buoys, are by no means
perishable or costly articles, but how much less sad would have been the
history of sinking and burning troop-ships, had they been supplied with
them?[31]

Of what avail is the splendid discipline and admirable courage that is
displayed by soldiers in burning and sinking ships, when each man has
but to wait the hour when he must go overboard and drown helplessly. I
would not only have each soldier in a troop-ship provided with a
life-buoy, but I would also that each man, previous to sailing, should
be made to go once into deep water with the life-buoy on, so that he
might be convinced in smooth water that the cork would uphold his
weight--a fact more difficult to believe when the trial has to take
place in a hurricane, and from a sinking ship.

Each vessel carries (or rather should carry) a sufficient number of
spare spars to replace those that may be carried away; there is seldom a
call for the largest of these in a well-managed ship, yet they form part
of her furniture, and are generally lashed on deck or under the chains.

By a little management these spare topmasts and yards might be so
fitted, without impairing their utility, as to form a raft, in
conjunction with casks, in a very short time. The crew might be
practised shortly after leaving port at launching these spars and
connecting them; the passengers would be instructed equally with the
crew; and in emigrant and troop ships those who could swim might at once
be sent overboard (with their life-buoys) to assist in the construction
of the raft.[32]

To make this more plain, let us suppose a ship, whether carrying troops,
emigrants or passengers, to be twenty-four hours out of port; an order
is posted up that all hands are to muster on deck with their life-buoys
at a given hour, when the fire-bell will be sounded. The ship or steamer
is hove to, the spars are unlashed, launched, and the raft is put
together, the boats are lowered, and the passengers then see at least
that the means of safety are provided for them. Those that can swim can
go overboard if they please and lend a hand. Hoist everything on board,
and you have lost perhaps three hours of your passage time, but a vast
deal has been accomplished towards saving life, if the ship that night
should run upon a rock and perish. Everything would be in its place, and
all that could be done would be done.

I fear that there would be much opposition to such a plan on board
passenger ships, for when danger is far off there is little disposition
to submit to any arbitrary regulations, even though adopted for their
own safety; but in emigrant and troop ships the practice might be
enforced. I would have troops and emigrants mustered regularly with
their life-buoys on, and the swimmers formed into a squad with a
certain duty appointed for them. Each man should know his station in the
hour of danger, and the fire-bell be sounded once a week for practice. A
little ingenuity in the formation of buoys, adapted to the peculiarities
of the frame of the raft, would so secure a large body of men in the
frame that, even if they perished from exposure or starvation, they
would still be found there floating, and although suspense might have
made death more terrible to them, this would be preferable to their
being washed off one by one, after vain attempts to cling to rolling
casks, and spars, and hen-coops, lashed together, with no more system
than the urgency of the moment suggested to the few who, under ordinary
circumstances, are prepared, in case of shipwreck, to make a rational
effort for the preservation of their lives; for the want of a lashing,
or an axe, or a tow-rope for a boat at such times will peril the lives
of all; but, when all is provided, confidence and courage are there
also, and life may be saved.

They say drowning men will catch at a straw; let us give our brave
soldiers something to catch at, in the hour of emergency, that will
serve to keep them at least a short time above water; and let our “Royal
Mail lines” take some precautions of this nature for their passengers,
and charge for it extra, if they like, in the passage money.

Shortly after the loss of the “Amazon” I was taking a passage in one of
the West India boats, and I observed that, in the ship’s fire bill,
which was exposed, the crew and officers only had been stationed. I
ventured to suggest to the captain that an extra clause might be
inserted, to the effect that those passengers who chose to render
assistance in case of fire should assemble with their blankets in some
part of the ship specified, there to be placed under the charge of one
of the ship’s officers; for it seemed to me that, daily perusing such a
regulation, a hundred able-bodied passengers would be found, at the
sound of the fire-bell, ready with their blankets, which, under the
direction of an officer, they would proceed to wet if necessary. This
plan, I thought, would not only render the passengers useful, but would
keep them away from the boats, and, being prepared to act as a
disciplined body in case of danger, the silence so necessary in these
cases would be observed among them. The captain did not agree with me;
but, as he did not inform me how I was in error, I was led to believe
that captains of large boats get testy sometimes from serving in the
Tropics, and object to passengers having any opinion in matters
connected with their own safety.




CHAPTER XXIII.

     “HERCULES” FAILS--LAND CRABS--MR. BOBBINS--“RUSHING” THE SHIP--NEW
     YORK.


_May, 1852._

The weather being fine, the roads were in tolerable order when we
arrived at Panama; we made light, therefore, of the journey, and, having
arrived at Gorgona, we dismounted from our mules, and, taking boats,
went swiftly down the rapid river, landing at the village of Barbacoes,
to which point the railway was now completed.

The station-house consisted of a large shed, in which hundreds of fowls
and thousands of eggs were being cooked, eaten, and paid for with
astonishing rapidity. I observed, among other things, that the coffee
was just as weak and scalding hot at Barbacoes, as at Wolverhampton, or
any other refreshment station.

There was no time-table here at this period; but the line had this
advantage over most others, that the

[Illustration]

train started at the time specified by the authorities; for they waited
until it suited them, and then gave the order to “let her slide.”

On this eventful day, however, we had not “slid” above two miles when
the train stopped. Returning Californians are of a vivacious temperament
generally, and are seldom at their ease when sitting down inactive;
therefore, the instant the train stopped, every man jumped out to see
what was the matter. The cause was soon apparent; we were ascending an
inclined plane, and the little engine--which, Hercules by name, was not
Hercules by nature--had declined to proceed any further. In vain the
sooty stoker emptied his oil-can into the fire to induce if possible
more steam; the little engine, as it ineffectually tried a fresh start,
looked piteous, and seemed to say, “How can you expect a little chap
like me to pull nine hundred of these big fellows up a hill like this?
Let ’em get out and shove me over.” This argument seemed to strike the
conductor, for, without further preface, he said, “Now, lads, heave
together,” and at once we all set our shoulders to the concern, and got
more speed out of it than “Hercules” had done from the start. There was
but one line of rails laid down, and, although the authorities were not
particular with regard to the time of starting, we had the comfort of
knowing that a collision with the other train could not be very serious.
I wonder what we should have done had we been met by an up-train; one of
us would have had to retire, for “Hercules” could not have taken us
back, and it was not likely we were going to shove ourselves back to
Barbacoes.

The scene would have been splendid, for like the two goats that met on
the narrow bridge, one train would have tried to force the other back,
and in this contest of personal strength I think the nine hundred
returning Californians would most probably have won the day, and entered
Aspinwall in triumph.

Having reached the top of the hill, we all got in, and Hercules making
the most of the descent ran away with us for three miles, when we got
out again, and so on. The road lay through a thick jungle of splendid
teaks, and palms, and ferns of every variety; the rich epiphytes brushed
against our carriage windows, and the air was suffused with that sweet
fragrance which is alone known in a tropical forest after rain has
fallen. Myriads of little land-crabs of a turquoise colour lined the
banks, and as the time had now arrived when we might discharge our
revolvers and put them away, the blue land-crabs had the advantage of
several hundred bullets, and whilst Hercules rushed impetuously through
the jungle, pop, pop, pop, went the “six-shooters,” and as the land
crabs turned over on their blue backs to die, they presented to the
astonished beholder yellow bellies and green eyes.

In a pouring rain we arrived at Aspinwall, and this being the terminus,
we proceeded at once on board the steamers that were waiting to convey
us to New York. There happened to be an unusual number of opposition
boats in the bay, so that fares were so reduced that the roughest fellow
there could take a first-class berth. This was very unfair to those of
us who had booked our places through at the office of the Mail Line in
San Francisco, for we had paid a certain price for a certain degree of
comfort and room, and this was denied to us so soon as the price of the
saloon fare rendered it so overcrowded that the tables had to be laid
_twelve times_ each day to accommodate the first-class passengers with
first-class fare.

Thus the saloon was continually occupied, and each moment it was, “Sound
the gong”--“Hurry up the soup,” and down rushed the “next lot,” as an
auctioneer would say, leaving a hecatomb of Californian hats at the foot
of the companion ladder. We had on board the junior partner of some
English house, who was returning from a business visit he had made to
some part of South America. He gave himself great airs, and being
dressed with the extreme taste which characterises your fast city man,
he threw us all into the shade, for we as yet were not fashionably
attired, nor had we put razors to our chins.

One day at dinner this fellow, being affronted at some negligence on the
part of the waiter, said, “Aw! do you take me for a returned
Californian?”

This remark being audible above the din of knives and forks produced a
sudden silence, and, for a moment I thought that Mr. Bobbins’s ears
would have been taken off with a carving knife. Fortunately, for him,
however, each one was in high spirits at the thought of reaching home,
and being very hungry continued his dinner without waiting to resent the
impertinence.

There was a man on board who had brought with him from the mines two
young grizzly bear cubs, who were just getting large enough to be
dangerous, and that evening, as Mr. Bobbins was dreamily enjoying a
cigar on deck, he was aroused from the contemplation of his patent
leather boots by moonlight with, “Sir, allow me to introduce to you two
returned Californians.” Ursa major, thereupon, being held up, scratched
Bobbins’s face, whilst ursa minor attacked the patent leathers, which he
forcibly removed, together with a toe-nail or so, with his teeth.

[Illustration]

Whilst one miner held a screeching, biting, ring-tailed monkey over Mr.
Bobbins’s head, another produced a savage bull-terrier, who, having done
his duty at the mines dogfully, seemed very anxious indeed to make the
acquaintance of Mr. Bobbins’s throat.

It was some time before the “returned Californians” could tear
themselves away from their new acquaintance, and when they did, they
tore away more of his cross-barred trousers and cut-away coat than any
tailor could repair.

The next day we arrived at Havannah, and Mr. Bobbins was wise enough to
leave the ship and await a passage in another vessel, and I only wish
that every travelling “gent” who, puffed out with conceit, causes his
countrymen to blush for his ignorance and vulgarity, may get as durable
a lesson as that which Mr. Bobbins received from the four-footed
“returned Californians.”

At Havannah we found that Americans were in bad odour, on account of the
fillibustering expeditions which had but lately been repulsed. As we
steamed out of the harbour, an intelligent miner observed to me, “I
guess that place will soon belong to our people.”

“Do you think Spain will sell it?” I asked.

“Our people will take it,” he replied.

“But,” said I, “suppose England and France should interfere.”

“Whip them,” was the laconic reply, and he turned on his heel.

I mention this, because a large portion of the people of the United
States, remembering only the successful frigate actions in which, during
the last war, they reaped laurels, are ignorant respecting the real
strength of their navy at this moment.

As our captain wished to arrive at New York before the opposition boats,
all steam was carried that the boilers could bear, and a little more, I
suspect. In fact we were to “rush the ship,” and she so trembled fore
and aft with the work, that it was almost impossible to read a book in
any part of her. The bearings of the engines became so hot that they
were pumped upon day and night.

She was a beautiful boat, built for the most part of pine, I believe,
and there was no difficulty in placing, under favourable circumstances,
three hundred and fifty miles a day on her log board, independent of any
favourable current.

Soon, however, we were in the Gulf stream, and were met by signs of a
south-easter; first it “clouded up,” as a miner remarked, and then it
“breezed up considerable,” after which night came on and with it the
gale. These south-easters have a way of chopping round when at their
height, and by this eccentric conduct many vessels are lost. One of the
officers informed me that a short time previously a brig called the John
Hill, was taken aback in this way, and her cargo of molasses shifted and
burst the decks, upon which, “John Hill” became water-logged. Two days
after the mate was taken off the wreck with two legs and an arm broken;
and, concluded my informant, the captain was found two miles off “in
good shape” floating on a hen-coop--the rest of the crew were lost. Fine
weather succeeded the gale, doubly fine by contrast, and as we passed
Sandy Hook, and steamed up New York Bay, the shores on either side,
white with snow, shone brilliantly in the winter’s sun; and the leafless
trees that grew in copses here and there in naked desolation, had more
charm for us, being nearer home, than ever had the vivid green of the
palms and ferns that ten days back we had seen at Panama.

Thus is our appreciation of the beautiful ever dependant on association;
and to me the white cliffs of my own country, whether I am casting the
last glance on leaving them, or straining my eyes as I first catch a
glimpse of them as I return, these ugly chalky cliffs have more actual
charm for my eye than all that I have ever seen elsewhere of nature’s
rarest gifts.

       *       *       *       *       *

There is nothing left for me to say of New York, others having recorded
more than I could learn of it in a week’s sojourn there. Having visited
many places of note, that have been already accurately described, I
turned into Barnum’s Museum to see the woolly horse, but I could not
find it; being disappointed in the natural history department, I stopped
to witness the theatrical performance, and this so impressed me that I
subjoin for the benefit of the reader a bill of performance, which I
extracted from an American journal:--

     Just opened, with 100,000 Curiosities, and performance in
     Lecter-Room; among witch may be found

                      TWO LIVE BOAR CONSTRICTERS,
                           Mail and Femail.
                                ALSO!!
                       A STRIPED ALGEBRA, STUFT.
                               BESIDES!!
          A PAIR OF SHUTTLE COCKS AND ONE SHUTTLE HEN--alive!
                                 THE!
              SWORD WITCH GEN. WELLINGTON FIT WITH AT THE
             BATTEL OF WATERLOO! whom is six feet long and
                         broad in proportion.
                                WITH!!!
            A ENORMOUS RATTLETAIL SNAKE--a regular wopper!
                                 AND!
                     THE TUSHES OF A HIPPOTENUSE!
                            Together with!
                   A BENGALL TIGER: SPOTTED LEPROSY!

                  *       *       *       *       *

              GREAT MORAL SPECTACLE OF ‘MOUNT VESUVIUS!’

                               PART ONE.

     Seen opens. Distant Moon. View of Bey of Napels. A thin smoke
     rises. _It is the Beginning of the Eruction!_ The Napels folks
     begin to travel. Yaller fire, follered by silent thunder. Awful
     consternation. _Suthin rumbles!_ It is the Mounting preparin’ to
     Vomic! They call upon the Fire Department. _It’s no use!_ Flight of
     stool-pidgeons. A cloud of impenetrable smoke hang over the fated
     city, through witch the Naplers are seen makin’ tracks. Awful
     explosion of bulbs, kurbs, forniquets, pin weels, serpentiles, and
     fourbillon spirals! The Moulting Laver begins to squash out!

     End of Part One.

                              COMIC SONG.

            The Parochial Beedle             Mr. Mullet.

            LIVE INJUN ON THE SLACK WIRE.
            Live Injun                       Mr. Mullet.

               OBLIGATIONS ON THE CORNUCOPIA, BY SIGNOR
                              VERMICELLI.
            Signor Vermicelli                Mr. Mullet.

     In the course of the evening will be an exhibishun of Exileratin’
     Gas! upon a Laffin Highena!

        Laffin Highena                        Mr. Mullet.

                               PART TWO.

     Bey of Napels ’luminated by Bendola Lites. The lava gushes down.
     Through the smoke is seen the city in a state of conflagration. The
     last family! “_Whar is our parents?_” A red hot stone of eleving
     tuns weight falls onto ’em. The bearheaded father falls scentless
     before the statoo of the Virgin! _Denumong!!_

                      The hole to conclude with a
              GRAND SHAKSPEARING PYROLIGNEOUS DISPLAY OF
                              FIREWURX!!

     Maroon Bulbs, changing to a spiral weel, witch changes to the Star
     of our Union: after, to butiful p’ints of red lites; to finish with
     busting into a Brilliant Perspiration!

     During the performance a No. of Popular Airs will be performed on
     the Scotch Fiddle and Bag-pipes, by a real Highlander.

        Real Highlander                              Mr. Mullet.

     Any boy making a muss, will be injected to once’t.

     As the Museum is Temperance, no drinkin’ aloud, but anyone will
     find the best of lickers in the Sloon below.

Could I have witnessed such an entertainment as this, together with the
woolly horse, my chapter on New York would have been swelled both in
size and importance.




CHAPTER XXIV.

     YELLOW FEVER--A WOODEN HEAD--HARD TIMES--A GALE--WE SPRING A
     LEAK--ACAPULCO--SMUGGLING--CHOLERA--CONCLUSION.


_Christmas, 1852._

“I’ll soon be back, boys,” was my last remark, it will be remembered, as
I parted from the Tuttletonians on the road; consequently, in the winter
of 1852 I found myself at the Island of St. Thomas, on my way back to
the scrofulous pigs, the Carpenter Judge, and Constable Rowe. I had made
up my mind that for the time being I would have no more to do with
quartz mining. I saw that there was much respecting it that would remain
enigmatical until the application of capital and science had produced
results; so as the English Mining Companies appeared to possess both
capital and science in abundance, I determined to wait and learn
something from their operations, and for that matter I am waiting still.
As my wife accompanied me I had made up my mind to jog on by easy
stages to San Francisco, and when arrived there, visit either Southern
California or the Great Salt Desert. Having had a rough passage out we
were resting for a few days at St. Thomas, when the yellow fever broke
out with great violence; soon the ships in harbour lost all their crews,
and the population ashore became panic-struck with the virulence and
suddenness of the disease. I was glad when the Company’s steamer, Dee,
arrived to take us on to Aspinwall; and as this ship was considered
healthy, we congratulated ourselves as we left the anchorage on having
left Yellow Jack behind us; but, unfortunately, we had embarked on board
the very ship that was doomed to suffer the most of all the steamers of
the mail line. We had scarcely been forty-eight hours out, when the
funeral service was read over nine of the ship’s crew; arriving next day
at Carthagena, we landed there about a dozen hopeless cases. The day
after, my servant died in great agony.

The features of the yellow fever, as then exemplified, were very
horrible. I shall not, therefore, describe them, but merely mention that
the disease commenced with a bleeding from the nose and gums, and this
hemorrhage in many cases could not be checked whilst life remained.

We had about twelve passengers on board, all English but one; five of
them were sturdy Cornish miners proceeding to California. The first
passenger attacked was Mr. Adams, an American, and as we were then in
sight of Aspinwall, we hoped to land in an hour or two, and fly from the
epidemic, which had not as yet appeared on the Isthmus. We left Mr.
Adams bleeding profusely from the nose, and we afterwards heard of his
death. There was a vague fear among us that we were not quite safe, so
we hurried on to Gorgona, which village we reached that night. The rain
descended without cessation, and we had arrived at the close of one of
the heaviest wet seasons that had been known for years. The roads were
described as being in many places impassable, and such mules as we could
hire were so worn out by the winter’s work that they could scarcely bear
our weight when we mounted. The luggage was charged at the rate of a
shilling a pound, and the muleteers would not engage to take it through
in safety. Much trouble there was, I believe, in starting from Gorgona
in the early morning; much falling of mules and immersion of riders in
thick ponds of mud, ere our party had proceeded a mile on the road. The
rain, I believe, fell as if it would blind one, and as the thunder
reverberated through the dark forest of palm trees, the lightning made
the darkness of the black covered road before us more horrible.

Had not the yellow fever been behind us, our party would, I believe,
have turned back to spare the women such a fearful trial. I say,
believe, for the night before I had been attacked by yellow fever, and
now as we stumbled and slid, and scrambled and swam through the red fat
mud, I knew nothing.

My head was of wood, as it were, or lead, and if any one had chopped it
off I should not have known it, but have gone on quite as comfortably. I
had but one fixed idea, and that was that I wanted water; sometimes I
got it, oftener it was not to be had, and I have no doubt that I
pondered dreamily over this circumstance as something remarkable.

Of course I tumbled off a great many times, but not so often as was
expected; a habit of riding enabled me to keep a certain kind of seat
even under such trying circumstances. I cared little for tumbling off,
but was roused to anger at being lifted on again; however, my wife did
the best she could for me, and by night-fall we arrived at a hut on the
side of the road to sleep. There was no Californian traffic on the road
at this period, and our party consisted but of three men and two women,
the Cornish miners having proceeded on foot the day previously. They
placed us in a small loft, through the chinks of which could be
perceived some half dozen ruffian-looking armed natives, who had
congregated below. I suppose they did not murder us because they thought
we had no money, otherwise they would have done so, unless they made an
exception in our favour over other unarmed passengers who got benighted
at these seasons. It rained still as we plodded on next day, and we
passed a slough where, a day or two before, a woman had fallen off her
mule and was suffocated before assistance reached her. My head was, if
possible, more wooden than ever, and I became much distressed at one
place where I lost my boots in the mud; for the moment I argued quite
reasonably on this subject, but soon becoming unmanned, I burst into
tears, and proceeded on my way, stolid, stupid, and bootless. Our party
arrived at Panama half dead with fatigue, draggled with mud, and
shivering in the torn clothes that for nearly sixty hours had been
drenched in rain. I was placed in bed; the other male passengers--all of
whom had arrived in good health--made themselves comfortable, and
thought no more of the Dee, or the rain, or the mud. In less than ten
days _they all died of yellow fever but one_, and I alone of those
attacked recovered.

Of the whole party a Mr. Mears alone, who was travelling with his wife,
escaped unharmed.

The hotel we had selected was undergoing a complete restoration, and was
very merry with the noise of whistling carpenters, who kept time with
their hammers.

The best accommodation we could procure was a small whitewashed room at
the furthest end of the courtyard; in this room were two small stretcher
beds, without mattresses or covering of any kind, and as times went, we
were fortunate in procuring these, for Panama was very full. There were
no servants in the hotel; there was seldom anything to eat, and when
there was, the cooks were drunk and mutinous and refused to cook. After
six o’clock the fires were put out, and the cooks went away altogether
until the next morning, when they would stroll in early or late, just as
suited them.

I was laid on a stretcher bed, and fortunately for me the doctor who
attended me was clever in his profession, and gave me no medicine. After
a day or two I commenced bleeding at the mouth as the others had done,
and a sad time my wife must have had, as she sat by my bedside and wiped
away the hot blood as drop by drop it trickled from my lips, watching me
die, as all thought then I should do.

During this time I felt no pain, and although I never lost my
consciousness, I was in that dreamy state in which I could embrace no
fixed idea; my reflective faculties were lost to me, I never thought
whether I was to get up again or die. I wished to be left alone in that
undisturbed enjoyment which one can fancy a dog feels as he lies in the
sun winking and blinking at humanity.

When at last I recovered and could sit up, I found that all my
companions of the Dee had died. I soon got ravenously hungry, and then
came the worst part, for I was restricted to a very small allowance of
food. I was so yellow that I became quite vain on the subject, and my
chief delight for a long time was to contemplate myself in the glass. It
is customary to say of a man with the jaundice, that he is as yellow as
an orange; an orange paled by my side, and my skin was of so bright a
hue, that to have given me a coat of gamboge would have been to paint
the lily.[33]

It seemed that we had brought the yellow fever with us to Panama, or
rather it appeared at the time of our arrival, and it was now spreading
with great rapidity. Cholera also broke out, and deaths from one or the
other of these causes became very numerous.

The people being panic-struck, a great rush was made for the Californian
boats, of which there happened, at this time, to be very few.

So soon as I was able to move, there was but one small screw steamer in
port, and as the place was daily becoming more unhealthy, I secured, by
great favour, a cabin in her.

Nothing could excuse the state in which this ship put to sea, not even
the panic; for she was not only ill-found in every respect, but was so
crowded with passengers, that it was not until it was ascertained that
there was scarcely standing-room for those on board that she tripped her
anchor.

I had secured a dog-hole of a cabin, and was no sooner on board than my
wife, worn out by fatigue and anxiety, was attacked by violent fever.
There were two young doctors on board, but both were attacked shortly
after we started. Then the epidemic (an aggravated intermittent fever)
broke out among the passengers, who--crowded in the hold as thick as
blacks in a slaver--gave way to fear, and could not be moved from the
lower deck, and so lay weltering in their filth.

During this time, I could get no medicine or attendance, and my wife was
in the last stage of prostration.

The epidemic raged, and from the scuttle-hole of our small cabin we
could hear the splash of the bodies as they were tossed overboard with
very little ceremony. There was little to eat on board but ham and
biscuit, and it was hard work to get enough of that. On the fifth day
out, there sprang up a gale, a heavy one too, for all it was the Pacific
Ocean. Our overladen screw steamer could make but five or six knots at
the best of times, but now she could make no headway against the storm,
and she pitched so heavily in the long seas with which we were met, that
she sprung a leak and made water fast.

When we commenced to work the pumps they were found to be useless, for
the coal had started and the pumps became choked. This new danger drove
the epidemic out of the passengers’ heads, and they at once proceeded to
throw overboard the cargo (and with it my luggage), and then they baled
by means of tubs and buckets.

For two days and nights we were in suspense as gang relieved gang at the
buckets, and the old “screw” pitched heavily in the trough of the sea.
All were black and filthy with the coal dust, which now mixed with the
water in the hold, and as they howled and shouted over the work, these
fellows looked like devils. They worked bravely though and coolly, and
when the carpenter hallooed from the hold, “Hurrah, lads, it’s gaining
on us;” there was no wincing on the part of those who worked, but a more
steady application to the bucket ropes and falls. Then the gale broke,
and as the ship became easier, the leak gave way before the exertions of
the coal-begrimed passengers; we steamed into Acapulco, still baling out
the black water from the hold, and felt ourselves safe, at least, from
shipwreck. A favourable change had taken place in my wife’s health, and
I determined on remaining at Acapulco, until I could procure a passage
in some safer and more commodious vessel.

I forbear to mention the name of this steamer, as the captain of her was
a good sailor, and behaved nobly, and it was no fault of his that the
agents at Panama had so cruelly risked the lives of so many people.

The British consul at Acapulco was kind enough to interest himself in
our behalf, and through his influence we procured a large room in the
house of a Mexican family of note. With the exception of a few chairs
there was no furniture in this room, but it was clean and well
ventilated, and “looked out” upon a court-yard of fragrant orange trees
which were now heavily laden with fruit.

Nor have the natives of Acapulco much need of furniture, for they seldom
live in their houses, preferring to hang their hammocks in the porch,
where they swing lazily to and fro, and enjoy the cool breeze. The
principal apartment is used occasionally as a reception room, but it is
not considered requisite to employ more decoration on this than other
parts of the house, which is a lamentable proof of the ignorance which
exists here of the usages of polite society in those countries of which
the inhabitants do not consider what is good enough for themselves good
enough for their visitors.

The Custom-house officers of Acapulco were very suspicious, and such of
my baggage as had not been thrown overboard was subjected to a very
severe scrutiny. There is a heavy duty on the exportation of specie and
playing cards in this part of Mexico, and the manufacture of the latter
is monopolised by the Government, and gives rise to a great deal of
smuggling. As many invalids had been landed at Acapulco from the
Californian steamers, and had there died, it was not unnatural that an
occasional victim should be enclosed in a shell, and be reshipped for
interment in another country. During a season in which Acapulco air
rather accelerated death than aided recovery, so large a quantity of
“remains” were hermetically sealed and addressed to distant friends,
that the commandant became suspicious, and insisted one day on opening a
coffin. No corpse was there, but in its place was the devil; that is to
say, as far as a good cargo of playing cards and doubloons can represent
that functionary! Since then the dead man who goes out is searched
equally with the live one who comes in.

There had been an earthquake at Acapulco immediately before our arrival,
and the best proof of the severity of the shock was in the fact that
numerous adobe buildings were lying crest-fallen on all sides. A Spanish
mud-built house has a strong constitution, and is built with a view to
earthquakes, but, like us poor mortals, it is built of dirt, and must
crumble to dirt again, as the Fates direct.

The mosquitos at Acapulco were as numerous as any I remember to have
seen, and, in certain constitutions, every bite produced a sore, which
was aggravated by the climate. We are accustomed to look jocularly on
the attacks of these, or any other hungry insects, but to an invalid
their bites are often productive of most serious consequences.

I was enabled at last to secure a passage in a large steamer, which
touched at Acapulco on her voyage to San Francisco. She was a
magnificent boat, but, having eight hundred passengers on board, it was
with difficulty we could procure accommodation. We secured, however, a
couple of sofas in the main saloon, and, two bags of bones as we were,
we managed to find either sofa much too big for us.

Asiatic cholera broke out on the day we left Acapulco, and I began to
think that we brought ill luck with our presence. It was sad to hear the
groans of the dying passengers in the cabins right and left, but perhaps
less so to us than to others, for we had seen so much sickness on our
voyage that we had come to look upon it in a stolid sort of way, and
were free from those fears and anxieties which the more robust about us
experienced. We arrived at San Francisco with a loss in one week of
fifty passengers, and if we did not thank God for his mercy in
preserving us we were surely the most ungrateful of his creatures.

I would gladly have been spared this record of a very miserable voyage,
and yet without it my narrative would have been incomplete, as
presenting but one side of the picture. At the same time I can assure
the reader that I have not described one half its horrors.

As we glide swiftly down the stream one day without a care, so, on the
next perhaps, with the pole to our breast, we must sturdily stem the
rushing current to arrive at our goal with a fainting frame and panting
heart, if God so wills; or otherwise, with broken oar and shattered
bark, meet our destruction in the cruel eddies of the swollen river.

       *       *       *       *       *

During my absence the State of California had progressed in the
seven-leagued-boots manner which had characterised it from the first.

The vast blocks of brick houses that had risen on every side in San
Francisco looked so very new and red that, the streets being filled with
empty packing-cases, it seemed as if the city had been sent out
piecemeal, packed in shavings, and put together like a box of toys.

Let us take one final glimpse at this colony of six years’ growth.

The wharves of the city still grow, and the clipper ships appear to grow
proportionately; each “Flying Dragon,” “Flying Fish,” or “Flying Cloud,”
that arrives requires more room for her pinions than those that have
come before her.

Theatres have sprung up like mushrooms, and actors are so plentiful and
good that I think of the days of the little “Dramatic” and Mr. Warren’s
“last appearance but one” in fear and trembling, lest any one should
recognise that individual in me.--Concerts and Balls, Fancy fairs and
Picnics!--A planked road that leads to a sweet nook in the country,
where, in spring time, the hills are bright with wild flowers, and the
air fragrant with their odour.--A planked road that leads to the wild
and rugged cliffs outside the bay, where the rollers break in one
continued foam, as they lash themselves angrily against the massive wall
that dares to check their course; and where, in the midst of fog and
mist and the spray of struggling waters, sea lions live on lonely rocks,
barking joyfully as the heavy surge sweeps over their oily backs.--A
pleasant road that leads to a quiet lake, where you may dine at the
hotel and enjoy, as it may suit you, the fragrance of the flowers, or
the invigorating salt sea-air.--Horses and carriages; country villas and
country inns; libraries and debating societies; ladies in plenty,
children in plenty, and pleasant society, are here.--Steamers running to
the Sandwich Islands, steamers running to China, steamers running to
Panama and Australia, are here.--There are electric telegraphs
throughout the country, and soon they say there will be a railroad that
will connect San Francisco with the Atlantic States of America.

There is grain enough sown for the consumption of the country; there are
brick-fields, stone quarries, lime works, and saw mills enough to
supply fifty cities.

There are foundries, and steam flour-mills, ship-yards, and docks.

And in the mines:--where shall I stop if I begin to tell of the towns
and villages that have sprung up there, of the bridges and roads, the
aqueducts and tunnels, that meet one on every side?

And not least, the Press has taken a firm tone, and devotes itself to
the eradication of existing evils.

       *       *       *       *       *

Again I am leaving San Francisco on a bright Sunday morning. As we glide
past the hills, the sound of bells from twenty churches is borne to us
over the calm bay; we can see artisans strolling in groups with their
families, and schools of children on their way to church, who merrily
wave us an adieu.

Soon the bells are heard no more, and now having passed the Heads, we
meet the fat fog which the sun has turned out of the bay.

As we plunge boldly into this, we say farewell to California.




APPENDIX.


EXTRACTS from a work by Dr. J. B. TRASK, (U. S.) on the Geology of
California.


SOILS OF THE VALLEY SANTA CLARA AND SHORES OF SAN FRANCISCO BAY.

The soils on the Bay San Francisco differ much on its eastern and
western sides; both borders of the bay present the tertiary series, but
both do not present the trapean rocks to the same degree of development;
this, then, of course, will cause a distinctive and marked difference in
the productive capabilities of either shore. It will be found in all the
soils which have been derived in whole, or in part, from rocks more
recent than the tertiary group, that a more extensive and varied
adaptation to agricultural purposes will be present; this will be
particularly manifest in those sections where the tertiaries, containing
organic remains, enter somewhat largely into the components of the soil
produced from such sources.

Under a proper course of treatment these lands will be made available
for the purposes of the agriculturist, and our already large domain of
arable lands thus much increased. The situation of these lands in the
interior is such that they may be easily reclaimed should they ever fall
within the jurisdiction of the State, which undoubtedly they will, under
the law regulating “saline lands.” In the counties of San Francisco,
Santa Clara, and Alameda, the wet land that may be made available by
drainage is about seventy square miles, exclusive of the “saline lands”
at the southern part of the county of Santa Clara.

Most of the valley sections of this range of country is arable land, and
that which is not can easily be made so when required; the agents for
bringing this about being found in the adjoining hills to the east. The
character of the soil and climate adapts it to all the productions of
temperate climates, and where local position modifies the climate of any
section, it is found capable of producing plants of the tropical
latitudes.

The extreme south-eastern part of this valley would be adapted to the
growth of foreign fruits and other products, but it must be beyond the
influence of the cold sea-wind that passes inland across the range of
lower hills which divides the Salinas, Pajaro, and Santa Clara valleys,
the effect of which would be to blight the fruit, though the plant or
tree might continue to thrive.

The low hills that flank the east side of the valley contain all the
elements required for the culture of tropical plants and fruits; the
climate and soil will be found adapted, and the only agent that appears
in the least to be wanting is water sufficient to supply the demands of
those plants. From the appearance of small lagoons and rivulets at
different elevations it is presumable that a sufficient quantity of this
agent may be found a short distance below the surface.

As a general rule the mountains lying upon the east border of the valley
Santa Clara are covered with a soil superior to that of the plains, and
of much greater depth. I have measured the depths of these soils in many
places, and where it is well developed have found it varying from four
to eleven feet for miles continuous: its extreme fertility produces
heavy crops of the native grains and grasses, which annually contribute
to its increase by their decomposition.

Although these lands are situated within the reach of the sea breeze
from the Bay of San Francisco, they are protected from its cold by the
slope of the hills and the modifications of its temperature acquired in
its passage down the bay before reaching the northern portion of the
valley. So much is the temperature increased that an addition of ten
degrees is often acquired in its transit from San Francisco to the head
of the valley, a distance little rising fifty miles. This increase of
temperature in the air is accompanied with an increase in its capacity
for moisture, hence it is usual to find a slight aqueous haze, which
results from the condensation of its moisture, hanging about this entire
range of hills during the summer months, and is usually seen early in
the morning.


THE STRUCTURE OF THE VALLEYS OF SACRAMENTO AND SAN JOAQUIN.

These valleys form a “single geographical formation,” stretching from
the terminal spurs of the Cascade Mountains at the north to the junction
of the Sierra Nevada with the southern terminus of the Monte Diablo
range with the thirty-fourth parallel of north latitude. The length of
the valley is about three hundred and eighty miles in length on an air
line, with a breadth of fifty miles at its widest point.

The general appearance of the valley is that of an extended plain
composed of alluvium, and this opinion would obtain in the mind of any
person whose line of travel would lead him over the lower terraces of
the plain, or what is denominated its bottom lands. It is only by making
a transverse section of this plain that we should be able to arrive at
any correct conclusions of its structure and peculiarities of its
formation; by pursuing this course, very distinctive and marked features
are observable of different periods of elevation to which this portion
of the country has been subjected subsequent to its emergence above the
level of the sea.

The character of the soil in many parts of this valley will render it
of little importance as an agricultural district, unless water in ample
quantities for irrigation can be obtained. (These remarks apply
particularly to the upper terrace of the valley on each side of the
river.) And we hope that attention may be called to this very important
subject of making the extensive areas of the arid districts of the basin
available for market and agricultural purposes.

Experience has demonstrated the almost certainty of obtaining water, and
in sufficient quantities, for agricultural and other purposes, in all
valleys resting upon sedimentary formations, and having a basin-shaped
structure, and where the different beds have a degree of uniformity or
regularity in their position, and are of a texture that will admit the
free percolation of water through the superior beds, and sufficiently
firm to prevent its escape in those below.

These conditions are all fulfilled in the basin of the Sacramento, and
from the united testimony of different observers, we have ample evidence
that the sedimentary formations of one side are the same as those upon
the other, with the exception, perhaps, of the conglomerate.

The report, after classifying the rocks of the coast, mountains, &c.,
goes on to describe their order and more recent volcanic rocks. In
relation to the discovery of coal, the author says:--

From a careful examination of this part of the country, with this object
in view, I feel no hesitation in saying that coal will not be found in
any part of the coast mountains south of the thirty-fifth parallel of
north latitude; what there may be north of this point, I know nothing,
having never visited it.

It is not unfrequent, in passing over the country, to hear of beds of
mineral coal; during the past season I have visited four such
localities, and, as was anticipated, each of them proved to be merely
small beds of lignite, and two of them hardly deserving that name. One
of these deposits proved to be but a bed of leaves, having a thickness
of about three inches, resting upon a tertiary sandstone containing
marine shells, and covered with twelve feet of a sandy alluvium. This is
one of those coal beds which has figured so largely in the public prints
of the State during the past year, and has induced several gentlemen to
pay the locality a visit, and to return as deeply disappointed as their
previous anticipations were elevated.

The report of coal veins in the Coast Mountains must be received with
many grains of allowance, and, at the best, none but tertiary deposits
will be found, and these, even should they exist, would be capable of
supplying but a limited demand, and that usually of an inferior
quality.[34]


MINERAL RESOURCES OF THE COAST MOUNTAINS.

The minerals of these mountains are widely dispersed throughout their
entire extent; they consist principally of copper, iron, lead, silver,
gold, nickel, and antimony, with agates, chalcedony, and many others,
too numerous to mention here.

SILVER.--In the county of Monterey this metal occurs in the form of
argentiferous galena (or lead and silver), and this mineral is found in
the primitive and transition limestone abounding in this section; it is
found in small veins and disseminated; the range in which it occurs
extends from the Gabilan peak to the Chapedero on the south, a distance
of twelve miles inclusive.

IRON.--This metal is found in almost every variety of form, from one end
of the Coast Mountains to the other; the prevailing mineral, however, is
the peroxide and protoxide of this metal; the latter is often found in
the form of hydrate, and when occurring in proximity to serpentine
rocks, often found to be more or less auriferous. This mineral is
largely developed in some parts of the auriferous district of Mariposa
County, and forms one of the most valuable receptacles of gold among the
gold-bearing rocks of that section.

SULPHATE OF IRON.--This article, known in commerce under the name of
“copperas,” is found native in large quantities near the town of Santa
Cruz. Its principle had occurred a short distance west of the house of
Mr. Medor, in a gulch running from the mountains through the low hills
to the coast. I followed the course of the ravine from where it enters
the high hill near the crossing of the road north-west of the town to
near the sea. The average depth of its banks varies from fifteen to
thirty feet, its length from the hill to the coast being about two
miles.

MAGNETIC IRON.--At the distance of two miles north-west of the above
locality, an extensive bed of magnetic iron occurs, running down to the
coast, at which point it crops out and exhibits a depth of several feet.

GYPSUM.--Sulphate of lime is reported to abound in the northern part of
Santa Cruz, and in the vicinity of the Palo de los Yeska, some six miles
from the mission. It was frequently spoken of by the inhabitants of this
place, but I was unable to learn its precise locality.

CINNABAR is also reported to exist in this locality.

NICKEL.--The ores of this metal are found from Contra Costa on the
north, to the utmost southern limit reached in the Coast Mountains. It
occurs in the primitive rocks, associated with chronic iron in almost
every case where the latter may be obtained. It appears as a bright
green mineral on the fractured surface of the other ores, and is known
in technical language as “nickel green.” The scarcity of this metal
renders the discovery of its ores in this country an object of some
importance, and its wide distribution leads to the belief that it exists
in sufficient quantities to warrant investment for its extraction from
other ores, at no distant day. It is extensively used in the
manufacture of German silver for wares and household utensils.

GOLD.--This metal has been found in the Coast Mountains, from the county
San Francisco on the north to Luis Obispo on the south. The slates and
serpentine formations which have been previously noticed in this report,
are found to be receptacles of gold here as in the Sierra Nevada; the
rocks are extensive in the Coast Mountains, often comprising an entire
ridge for miles; they are usually flanked by the granite. During the
past summer, the placers in the county Santa Cruz were much worked; the
gold found there was principally on the San Lorenzo and its tributaries;
it was fine, and much resembled that found in the Coyote Hill, near
Nevada; under the glass it had all the appearance of having suffered but
little from attrition by water, the surface of the grains being rough,
as though just detached from their original matrix. The slates and
serpentine rocks occur on both sides of this creek, with small veins of
quartz running through them; and, from what we know of auriferous
districts of this and other countries, the presumption is that gold in
_situ_ exists here almost to a certainty.

On the upper portions of the Carmello, in the county of Monterey, gold
is also found, in the immediate vicinity of the rancho Tulecita. Farther
to the south-east, near the head waters of the creek, it is also found
on the tributaries of the main stream that flow from the western ridge
of these mountains. On the Francisquito, a tributary of the Carmello,
coming from the south-west, and twelve miles from the coast, it is also
found near the house of Barondo. Three or four Mexicans were working
with the battea at the time I passed that ranche. The serpentine rocks
are largely developed on the east flanks of the granite ridges, and from
their course they may be considered as forming the northern part of a
series which occurs at the Mission San Antonio, fifty miles south.

The district of country in the Coast Mountains in which the auriferous
deposits are now known to occur, is about eighty miles in length, and
thus far is confined to the counties of Santa Clara, Monterey, and the
north part of Luis Obispo. This is a material addition to the already
known area in which this metal is found, and its location in what has
heretofore been considered the agricultural districts of the State, will
in time exert a beneficial influence in the permanent settlement of
those sections.

ANTIMONY.--The common sulphuret of this metal is very abundant in the
Monte Diablo range; at Mount Oso it is found in large masses, also at
various other points throughout these mountains; it occurs in
considerable quantities in some parts of the county of Santa Barbara.
This mineral is deserving of attention, as it often contains a notable
quantity of silver, though as yet no specimens which have been found in
this country contain a large per centage of this metal.

BITUMEN.--Bituminous springs abound through the Coast Mountains, and in
some places is much used in the construction of buildings and walks in
front of buildings; for the latter purpose it is admirably adapted in
situations where the sun will not have too powerful an effect upon it,
as in such cases it is apt to become soft. In the counties of Santa
Clara, Santa Cruz, and Monterey, several of these springs occur, and
further south, are found more abundant. Information has been received of
an extensive deposit of bitumen in Contra Costa, some six miles from the
shores of the bay, but at what point I have as yet been unable to learn.
This article has been used of late in the manufacture of gas, for
illumination, and it possesses some advantages over the common oil or
resin gas in general use; a sufficient quantity for the illumination of
the country may be easily obtained, and at low rates, when required for
this purpose.


PLACER MINING.

The writer enters into a long treatise on this branch of mining, and
represents its progress as being very extensive during the last two
years.

It is now ascertained to a certainty that the placer ranges extend to
the east, within ten or fifteen miles of the “summit ridge,” so called,
of the Sierra Nevada; and the condition in which it is found at these
points is similar in all respects to that in the older or more western
sections, with, perhaps, one exception, and that the relative age of
both. There are evidences which clearly indicate a deposit of gold older
than the diluvial drift of the lower or western diggings, (which latter
is often confounded with the drift deposits of the tertiary periods in
this country,) the character of which differs in almost every respect
from any other deposit yet observed in this country, except in this
particular range.

Its direction has been traced for about seventy miles, and is found to
extend through the counties of Butte, the eastern part of Yuba, Sierra
Nevada, Placer and El Dorado; it appears to have an average breadth of
about four miles, with an elevation of four thousand feet above the sea
for the greatest part of its length.


QUARTZ MINING.

After a few preliminary remarks upon the permanency of the gold mines of
this State, the author proceeds to an elaborate consideration of the
geological position which the quartz veins hold to the rocks with which
they are connected. Under the head of “Character and positions of the
older veins below the surface,” he concludes thus:--

From what testimony we have in our possession relative to these veins,
it seems but reasonable to conclude that their integrity is perfect, or
as nearly so as can be reasonably expected considering the short period
which has been employed in developing their true character, and that the
confidence which they formerly possessed was well grounded; all
subsequent examinations have only tended to confirm this belief in the
minds of those who have carefully and diligently studied this subject.
The present condition of our gold mines, their flourishing state and
prospective value, based on facts as now developed, most clearly
indicate their importance as an industrial pursuit, and one destined ere
long to form one of the leading interests in the economy of the State;
and as such it would seem that all prudent measures to develop farther
their extent and value, and place them upon that footing before the
world which that value and importance demand, should be used; either
through the State or general government, and through them promote such
measures as will prove an inducement to more extensive and permanent
operations than has yet been done.

In concluding this part of the report, and in connection with the
magnitude and importance of perhaps a somewhat exciting principle in
relation to it, I would beg leave to call your attention to a point on
which there has heretofore existed much diversity of opinion, which not
unfrequently has engendered angry discussion and belligerent feeling in
a large proportion of our mining population. The experience of the last
three years has elucidated the fact most clearly that the two mining
interests of this State cannot be governed by the same rule of law in
all cases, and prove alike advantageous to both; it is therefore
suggested whether some method more congenial to this interest may not be
adopted, that will favour the occupancy and improvement of the metallic
veins of this State, giving at the same time the widest scope and
protection to all at present engaged, and those who may wish hereafter
to enter upon those pursuits.

       *       *       *       *       *

The mines of this State are of a character and value which, if placed
in a proper position, will invite investment from abroad to an amount
little less than twenty millions of dollars within the next eight years.
This presumption is founded on the fact that more than one-sixth of that
amount is at the present time in active operation in this country, and
its largest proportion has been derived from American sources during a
portion of that period when public confidence had been shaken in regard
to their value. Negotiations are now pending which involve nearly one
million more of capital investment in this branch of mining, nearly one
half of which is in the cities of Boston and New York.

Considering the disadvantages that now surround them, as shown from the
facts relating thereto, they can but be regarded as the prolific sources
of wealth in this country; and every inducement consistent with the
liberal policy adopted in the government of the placers, is equally
applicable, and should be extended to them.

Dr. Trask concludes his very able report by briefly reviewing the
operations of the following mines, viz.: Lafayette and Helvetia, Gold
Hill, Osborne Hill, Wyoming, Gold Tunnel, Illinois, Jones and Davis
Mine, Calaveras county; Spring Hill, Amadore Company, Ranchoree,
Keystone, and Eureka Mine, Calaveras County, all of which he represents
in a prosperous condition.


THE END.


BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.


FOOTNOTES:

[1] Captain J. B. Frisbie.

[2] From Vacca or Vaca--cow.

[3] Sun-dried brick.

[4] Lasso.

[5] I am supposing the case of an unarmed person suddenly meeting a
she-bear, a not unusual occurrence in California.

[6] Query:--(Printer’s Devil.)

[7] As it would be inferred from this that champagne must have been
cheap, I may mention that at this period the prices ranged from 2_l._
to 4_l._ the bottle, and the quality was execrable.

[8] This fact alone proves the truth of my remarks.

[9] The intelligent reader will observe that this was not the same
house that was thrown overboard.

[10] In which it will be observed they were more merciful than I was;
but the “coyote” comes under the head of vermin.

[11] “Drinks” are not necessarily composed of intoxicating liquors: on
the contrary, the principal ingredients are ice, syrup, and herbs. I
mention this, because _we_ mean by a man who “drinks,” a drunkard, or
the next thing to it.

[12] Looking, in fact, for new diggings.

[13] Deposits of Gold.

[14] Scalp.

[15] Gold washers.

[16] But when a couple of Chinamen make a demand for sam-schou, then
the bar-keeper is puzzled.

[17] The reader will observe, if he pleases, that in erecting this
hotel I had no view to becoming its landlord: had I taken any situation
in it, it would have been in the capacity of “boots,” which berth a
“handy young man” can turn to better account in this country than even
the head cook. That a cook’s situation, with or without tea and sugar
is lucrative, the following anecdote will attest:--In ’49 the captain
of a merchant brig at San Francisco having engaged a crew, regardless
of expense, in lieu of that which had run away, regardless of their
contracts and arrears of pay, found himself still in want of a cook.
Meeting a negro on the beach he offered him the situation, and to the
enquiry of the latter respecting salary, the captain said he could
give but two pounds a day. Having cocked his hat, folded his arms and
adjusted his legs as niggers do, this fellow laughed musically and
said, “dat if de capten wish to hire heseff out for five pounds a day
to fill dat occupation, jes walk up to the restaurant and he would set
him to work _immediently_.”

[18] In Mexico.

[19] Independent of the probability of there having been more than one
formation.--See Appendix.

[20] Obsolete term revived.

[21] A converted Budhist will address his prayers to our God if he
thinks he can obtain any temporal benefit by so doing; but if not he
would be just as likely to pray to Budha or to the devil.--Baker’s
“Rifle and Hound in Ceylon,” page 85.

[22] If the reader will refer to the “Times” of the 29th of September,
1854, he will perceive that a liberal collection was made at St.
James’s, Piccadilly, for the Borneo Mission. In the same journal, three
days earlier, the police magistrates express their regret that want of
funds compels them to deny assistance to surviving sufferers from the
cholera! All have, of course, a right to do as they like with their
money; but after the hat had passed round at St. James’s, I should
have liked to have seen its liberal contents transferred at once to
Bermondsey instead of to Kuchin. And for this reason, that I know, from
personal experience, that my old friends the Dyaks are as fat and sleek
a people as any in the world, well fed, well housed, and free from
disease, whilst the stomachs of those at Spitalfields, charitable sir,
are aching with the hunger that drives man to _crime_!

[23] Rich deposits were discovered, but I am not aware of the value of
the quartz generally at Carson’s Creek.

[24] Our object was still only to experimentalise.

[25] The reader will perceive the bitter irony conveyed in this
expression as contrasted with the complimentary one of “some pumpkins.”

[26] The best use to which an India-rubber sheet can be put, is to
protect during the day that part of the ground on which you sleep at
night.

[27] Since this was written, an election has taken place, calculated to
give satisfaction to the Reform Party.

[28] A little paper called the “Sun” deserves great credit for the
courage with which it has attacked existing abuses!

[29] I beg to forestall the remark that may here be applied to me, that
I am myself a _know nothing_, and defend the sect from fellow-feeling.

[30] Air-boats with life lines and floats suspended from their gunwales.

[31] As this goes to press I add a few extracts from a report in the
“Times” of December 8, 1854, of the loss of the troop ship “Charlotte”
and 117 lives in Algoa Bay, September 20th:--

“*** On the life-boat coming alongside it was found that every one on
board was completely _paralysed_, or overcome by the calamity. ***
Three separate times the life-boat pulled alongside, but there was no
one in a position even to cast a line to it. *** A great number _threw
themselves overboard_. Some were fortunate enough to reach the shore,
but the majority were drowned.”

This ship was apparently in a position favourable for the preservation
of life, had _confidence_ existed.

[32] These remarks were written previous to the loss of the “Arctic.”

[33] I trust the reader will understand that if I omit to write
seriously of my feelings on recovery from a death-bed, it is because I
consider a work like this no place for them.

[34] Extensive fields of good serviceable coal have been discovered in
Southern Oregon.--AUTHOR.



Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:

that encirled them => that encircled them {pg 98}

must be re-remembered=> must be remembered {pg 175}

thet he was induced=> that he was induced {pg 204}

It is generallly inferred=> It is generally inferred {pg 276}

the valley is is about=> the valley is about {pg 435}

I shall speak by and and bye=> I shall speak by and bye {pg 68}

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