I remember very well, soon after our arrival, that we were all

invited to witness a play called "Adam and Eve." Eve was

personated by a pretty young girl known as Dolores Gomez, who,

however, was dressed very unlike Eve, for she was covered with a

petticoat and spangles. Adam was personated by her brother--the

same who has since become somewhat famous as the person on whom is

founded the McGarrahan claim. God Almighty was personated, and

heaven's occupants seemed very human. Yet the play was pretty,

interesting, and elicited universal applause. All the month of

February we were by day preparing for our long stay in the country,

and at night making the most of the balls and parties of the most

primitive kind, picking up a smattering of Spanish, and extending

our acquaintance with the people and the costumbrea del pais. I

can well recall that Ord and I, impatient to look inland, got

permission and started for the Mission of San Juan Bautista.

Mounted on horses, and with our carbines, we took the road by El

Toro, quite a prominent hill, around which passes the road to the

south, following the Saunas or Monterey River. After about twenty

miles over a sandy country covered with oak-bushes and scrub, we

entered quite a pretty valley in which there was a ranch at the

foot of the Toro. Resting there a while and getting some

information, we again started in the direction of a mountain to the

north of the Saunas, called the Gavillano. It was quite dark when

we reached the Saunas River, which we attempted to pass at several

points, but found it full of water, and the quicksands were bad.

Hearing the bark of a dog, we changed our course in that direction,

and, on hailing, were answered by voices which directed us where to

cross. Our knowledge of the language was limited, but we managed

to understand, and to founder through the sand and water, and

reached a small adobe-house on the banks of the Salinas, where we

spent the night: The house was a single room, without floor or

glass; only a rude door, and window with bars. Not a particle of

food but meat, yet the man and woman entertained us with the

language of lords put themselves, their house, and every thing, at

our "disposition," and made little barefoot children dance for our

entertainment. We made our supper of beef, and slept on a

bullock's hide on the dirt-floor. In the morning we crossed the

Salinas Plain, about fifteen miles of level ground, taking a shot

occasionally at wild-geese, which abounded there, and entering the

well-wooded valley that comes out from the foot of the Gavillano.

We had cruised about all day, and it was almost dark when we

reached the house of a Senor Gomez, father of those who at Monterey

had performed the parts of Adam and Eve. His house was a two-story

adobe, and had a fence in front. It was situated well up among the

foot-hills of the Gavillano, and could not be seen until within a

few yards. We hitched our horses to the fence and went in just as

Gomez was about to sit down to a tempting supper of stewed hare and

tortillas. We were officers and caballeros and could not be

ignored. After turning our horses to grass, at his invitation we

joined him at supper. The allowance, though ample for one, was

rather short for three, and I thought the Spanish grandiloquent

politeness of Gomez, who was fat and old, was not over-cordial.

However, down we sat, and I was helped to a dish of rabbit, with

what I thought to be an abundant sauce of tomato. Taking a good

mouthful, I felt as though I had taken liquid fire; the tomato was

chile colorado, or red pepper, of the purest kind. It nearly

killed me, and I saw Gomez's eyes twinkle, for he saw that his

share of supper was increased.--I contented myself with bits of

the meat, and an abundant supply of tortillas. Ord was better

case-hardened, and stood it better. We staid at Gomez's that

night, sleeping, as all did, on the ground, and the next morning we

crossed the hill by the bridle-path to the old Mission of San Juan

Bautista. The Mission was in a beautiful valley, very level, and

bounded on all sides by hills. The plain was covered with

wild-grasses and mustard, and had abundant water. Cattle and

horses were seen in all directions, and it was manifest that the

priests who first occupied the country were good judges of land.

It was Sunday, and all the people, about, a hundred, had come to

church from the country round about. Ord was somewhat of a

Catholic, and entered the church with his clanking spars and

kneeled down, attracting the attention of all, for he had on the

uniform of an American officer. As soon as church was out, all

rushed to the various sports. I saw the priest, with his gray

robes tucked up, playing at billiards, others were cock fighting,

and some at horse-racing. My horse had become lame, and I resolved

to buy another. As soon as it was known that I wanted a horse,

several came for me, and displayed their horses by dashing past and

hauling them up short. There was a fine black stallion that

attracted my notice, and, after trying him myself, I concluded a

purchase. I left with the seller my own lame horse, which he was

to bring to me at Monterey, when I was to pay him ten dollars for

the other. The Mission of San Juan bore the marks of high

prosperity at a former period, and had a good pear-orchard just

under the plateau where stood the church. After spending the day,

Ord and I returned to Monterey, about thirty-five miles, by a

shorter route, Thus passed the month of February, and, though there

were no mails or regular expresses, we heard occasionally from

Yerba Buena and Sutter's Fort to the north, and from the army and

navy about Los Angeles at the south. We also knew that a quarrel

had grown up at Los Angeles, between General Kearney, Colonel

Fremont, and Commodore Stockton, as to the right to control affairs

in California. Kearney had with him only the fragments of the two

companies of dragoons, which had come across from New Mexico with

him, and had been handled very roughly by Don Andreas Pico, at San

Pascual, in which engagement Captains Moore and Johnson, and

Lieutenant Hammond, were killed, and Kearney himself wounded.

There remained with him Colonel Swords, quartermaster; Captain H.

S. Turner, First Dragoons; Captains Emory and Warner, Topographical

Engineers; Assistant Surgeon Griffin, and Lieutenant J. W.

Davidson. Fremont had marched down from the north with a battalion

of volunteers; Commodore Stockton had marched up from San Diego to

Los Angeles, with General Kearney, his dragoons, and a battalion of

sailors and marines, and was soon joined there by Fremont, and they

jointly received the surrender of the insurgents under Andreas

Pico. We also knew that General R. B. Mason had been ordered to

California; that Colonel John D. Stevenson was coming out to

California with a regiment of New York Volunteers; that Commodore

Shubrick had orders also from the Navy Department to control

matters afloat; that General Kearney, by virtue of his rank, had

the right to control all the land-forces in the service of the

United States; and that Fremont claimed the same right by virtue of

a letter he had received from Colonel Benton, then a Senator, and a

man of great influence with Polk's Administration. So that among

the younger officers the query was very natural, "Who the devil is

Governor of California?" One day I was on board the Independence

frigate, dining with the ward-room officers, when a war-vessel was

reported in the offing, which in due time was made out to be the

Cyane, Captain DuPont. After dinner we were all on deck to watch

the new arrival, the ships meanwhile exchanging signals, which were

interpreted that General Kearney was on board. As the Cyane

approached, a boat was sent to meet her, with Commodore Shubrick's

flag-officer, Lieutenant Lewis, to carry the usual messages, and to

invite General Kearney to come on board the Independence as the

guest of Commodore Shubrick. Quite a number of officers were on

deck, among them Lieutenants Wise, Montgomery Lewis, William

Chapman, and others, noted wits and wags of the navy. In due time

the Cyane anchored close by, and our boat was seen returning with a

stranger in the stern-sheets, clothed in army blue. As the boat

came nearer, we saw that it was General Kearney with an old dragoon

coat on, and an army-cap, to which the general had added the broad

vizor, cut from a full-dress hat, to shade his face and eyes

against the glaring sun of the Gila region. Chapman exclaimed:

"Fellows, the problem is solved; there is the grand-vizier (visor)

by G-d! He is Governor of California."

All hands received the general with great heartiness, and he soon

passed out of our sight into the commodore's cabin. Between

Commodore Shubrick and General Kearney existed from that time

forward the greatest harmony and good feeling, and no further

trouble existed as to the controlling power on the Pacific coast.

General Kearney had dispatched from San Diego his quartermaster,

Colonel Swords, to the Sandwich Islands, to purchase clothing and

stores for his men, and had come up to Monterey, bringing with him

Turner and Warner, leaving Emory and the company of dragoons below.

He was delighted to find a full strong company of artillery,

subject to his orders, well supplied with clothing and money in all

respects, and, much to the disgust of our Captain Tompkins, he took

half of his company clothing and part of the money held by me for

the relief of his worn-out and almost naked dragoons left behind at

Los Angeles. In a few days he moved on shore, took up his quarters

at Larkin's house, and established his headquarters, with Captain

Turner as his adjutant general. One day Turner and Warner were at

my tent, and, seeing a store-bag full of socks, drawers, and calico

shirts, of which I had laid in a three years' supply, and of which

they had none, made known to me their wants, and I told them to

help themselves, which Turner and Warner did. The latter, however,

insisted on paying me the cost, and from that date to this Turner

and I have been close friends. Warner, poor fellow, was afterward

killed by Indians. Things gradually came into shape, a

semi-monthly courier line was established from Yerba Buena to San

Diego, and we were thus enabled to keep pace with events throughout

the country. In March Stevenson's regiment arrived. Colonel Mason

also arrived by sea from Callao in the store-ship Erie, and P. St.

George Cooke's battalion of Mormons reached San Luis Rey. A. J.

Smith and George Stoneman were with him, and were assigned to the

company of dragoons at Los Angeles. All these troops and the navy

regarded General Kearney as the rightful commander, though Fremont

still remained at Los Angeles, styling himself as Governor, issuing

orders and holding his battalion of California Volunteers in

apparent defiance of General Kearney. Colonel Mason and Major

Turner were sent down by sea with a paymaster, with muster-rolls and

orders to muster this battalion into the service of the United

States, to pay and then to muster them out; but on their reaching

Los Angeles Fremont would not consent to it, and the controversy

became so angry that a challenge was believed to have passed between

Mason and Fremont, but the duel never came about. Turner rode up by

land in four or five days, and Fremont, becoming alarmed, followed

him, as we supposed, to overtake him, but he did not succeed. On

Fremont's arrival at Monterey, he camped in a tent about a mile out

of town and called on General Kearney, and it was reported that the

latter threatened him very severely and ordered him back to Los

Angeles immediately, to disband his volunteers, and to cease the

exercise of authority of any kind in the country. Feeling a natural

curiosity to see Fremont, who was then quite famous by reason of his

recent explorations and the still more recent conflicts with Kearney

and Mason, I rode out to his camp, and found him in a conical tent

with one Captain Owens, who was a mountaineer, trapper, etc., but

originally from Zanesville, Ohio. I spent an hour or so with Fremont

in his tent, took some tea with him, and left, without being much

impressed with him. In due time Colonel Swords returned from the

Sandwich Islands and relieved me as quartermaster. Captain William

G. Marcy, son of the Secretary of War, had also come out in one of

Stevenson's ships as an assistant commissary of subsistence, and was

stationed at Monterey and relieved me as commissary, so that I

reverted to the condition of a company-officer. While acting as a

staff officer I had lived at the custom-house in Monterey, but when

relieved I took a tent in line with the other company-officers on

the hill, where we had a mess.

Stevenson'a regiment reached San Francisco Bay early in March,

1847. Three companies were stationed at the Presidio under Major

James A. Hardier one company (Brackett's) at Sonoma; three, under

Colonel Stevenson, at Monterey; and three, under Lieutenant-Colonel

Burton, at Santa Barbara. One day I was down at the headquarters

at Larkin's horse, when General Kearney remarked to me that he was

going down to Los Angeles in the ship Lexington, and wanted me to

go along as his aide. Of course this was most agreeable to me.

Two of Stevenson's companies, with the headquarters and the

colonel, were to go also. They embarked, and early in May we

sailed for San Pedro. Before embarking, the United States

line-of-battle-ship Columbus had reached the coast from China with

Commodore Biddle, whose rank gave him the supreme command of the

navy on the coast. He was busy in calling in--"lassooing "--from

the land-service the various naval officers who under Stockton had

been doing all sorts of military and civil service on shore.

Knowing that I was to go down the coast with General Kearney, he

sent for me and handed me two unsealed parcels addressed to

Lieutenant Wilson, United States Navy, and Major Gillespie, United

States Marines, at Los Angeles. These were written orders pretty

much in these words: "On receipt of this order you will repair at

once on board the United States ship Lexington at San Pedro, and on

reaching Monterey you will report to the undersigned.-JAMES

BIDDLE." Of course, I executed my part to the letter, and these

officers were duly "lassooed." We sailed down the coast with a

fair wind, and anchored inside the kelp, abreast of Johnson's

house. Messages were forthwith dispatched up to Los Angeles,

twenty miles off, and preparations for horses made for us to ride

up. We landed, and, as Kearney held to my arm in ascending the

steep path up the bluff, he remarked to himself, rather than to me,

that it was strange that Fremont did not want to return north by

the Lexington on account of sea-sickness, but preferred to go by

land over five hundred miles. The younger officers had been

discussing what the general would do with Fremont, who was supposed

to be in a state of mutiny. Some, thought he would be tried and

shot, some that he would be carried back in irons; and all agreed

that if any one else than Fremont had put on such airs, and had

acted as he had done, Kearney would have shown him no mercy, for he

was regarded as the strictest sort of a disciplinarian. We had a

pleasant ride across the plain which lies between the seashore and

Los Angeles, which we reached in about three hours, the infantry

following on foot. We found Colonel P. St. George Cooke living at

the house of a Mr. Pryor, and the company of dragoons, with A. J.

Smith, Davidson, Stoneman, and Dr. Griffin, quartered in an

adobe-house close by. Fremont held his court in the only two-story

frame-house in the place. After sometime spent at Pryor's house,

General Kearney ordered me to call on Fremont to notify him of his

arrival, and that he desired to see him. I walked round to the

house which had been pointed out to me as his, inquired of a man at

the door if the colonel was in, was answered "Yea," and was

conducted to a large room on the second floor, where very soon

Fremont came in, and I delivered my message. As I was on the point

of leaving, he inquired where I was going to, and I answered that I

was going back to Pryor's house, where the general was, when he

remarked that if I would wait a moment he would go along. Of

course I waited, and he soon joined me, dressed much as a

Californian, with the peculiar high, broad-brimmed hat, with a

fancy cord, and we walked together back to Pryor's, where I left

him with General Kearney. We spent several days very pleasantly at

Los Angeles, then, as now, the chief pueblo of the south, famous

for its grapes, fruits, and wines. There was a hill close to the

town, from which we had a perfect view of the place. The

surrounding country is level, utterly devoid of trees, except the

willows and cotton-woods that line the Los Angeles Creek and the

acequias, or ditches, which lead from it. The space of ground

cultivated in vineyards seemed about five miles by one, embracing

the town. Every house had its inclosure of vineyard, which

resembled a miniature orchard, the vines being very old, ranged in

rows, trimmed very close, with irrigating ditches so arranged that

a stream of water could be diverted between each row of vines. The

Los Angeles and San Gabriel Rivers are fed by melting snows from a

range of mountains to the east, and the quantity of cultivated land

depends upon the amount of water. This did not seem to be very

large; but the San Gabriel River, close by, was represented to

contain a larger volume of water, affording the means of greatly

enlarging the space for cultivation. The climate was so moderate

that oranges, figs, pomegranates, etc.... were generally to be

found in every yard or inclosure.

At the time of our visit, General Kearney was making his

preparations to return overland to the United States, and he

arranged to secure a volunteer escort out of the battalion of

Mormons that was then stationed at San Luis Rey, under Colonel

Cooke and a Major Hunt. This battalion was only enlisted for one

year, and the time for their discharge was approaching, and it was

generally understood that the majority of the men wanted to be

discharged so as to join the Mormons who had halted at Salt Lake,

but a lieutenant and about forty men volunteered to return to

Missouri as the escort of General Kearney. These were mounted on

mules and horses, and I was appointed to conduct them to Monterey

by land. Leaving the party at Los Angeles to follow by sea in the

Lexington, I started with the Mormon detachment and traveled by

land. We averaged about thirty miles a day, stopped one day at

Santa Barbara, where I saw Colonel Burton, and so on by the usually

traveled road to Monterey, reaching it in about fifteen days,

arriving some days in advance of the Lexington. This gave me the

best kind of an opportunity for seeing the country, which was very

sparsely populated indeed, except by a few families at the various

Missions. We had no wheeled vehicles, but packed our food and

clothing on mules driven ahead, and we slept on the ground in the

open air, the rainy season having passed. Fremont followed me by

land in a few days, and, by the end of May, General Kearney was all

ready at Monterey to take his departure, leaving to succeed him in

command Colonel R. B. Mason, First Dragoons. Our Captain

(Tompkins), too, had become discontented at his separation from his

family, tendered his resignation to General Kearney, and availed

himself of a sailing-vessel bound for Callao to reach the East.

Colonel Mason selected me as his adjutant-general; and on the very

last day of May General Kearney, with his Mormon escort, with

Colonel Cooke, Colonel Swords (quartermaster), Captain Turner, and

a naval officer, Captain Radford, took his departure for the East

overland, leaving us in full possession of California and its fate.

Fremont also left California with General Kearney, and with him

departed all cause of confusion and disorder in the country. From

that time forth no one could dispute the authority of Colonel Mason

as in command of all the United States forces on shore, while the

senior naval officer had a like control afloat. This was Commodore

James Biddle, who had reached the station from China in the

Columbus, and he in turn was succeeded by Commodore T. Ap Catesby

Jones in the line-of-battle-ship Ohio. At that time Monterey was

our headquarters, and the naval commander for a time remained

there, but subsequently San Francisco Bay became the chief naval

rendezvous.

Colonel R. B. Mason, First Dragoons, was an officer of great

experience, of stern character, deemed by some harsh and severe,

but in all my intercourse with him he was kind and agreeable. He

had a large fund of good sense, and, during our long period of

service together, I enjoyed his unlimited confidence. He had been

in his day a splendid shot and hunter, and often entertained me

with characteristic anecdotes of Taylor, Twiggs, Worth, Harvey,

Martin Scott, etc., etc, who were then in Mexico, gaining a

national fame. California had settled down to a condition of

absolute repose, and we naturally repined at our fate in being

so remote from the war in Mexico, where our comrades were

reaping large honors. Mason dwelt in a house not far from the

Custom-House, with Captain Lanman, United States Navy; I had a small

adobe-house back of Larkin's. Halleck and Dr. Murray had a small

log-house not far off. The company of artillery was still on the

hill, under the command of Lieutenant Ord, engaged in building a

fort whereon to mount the guns we had brought out in the Lexington,

and also in constructing quarters out of hewn pine-logs for the men.

Lieutenant Minor, a very clever young officer, had taken violently

sick and died about the time I got back from Los Angeles, leaving

Lieutenants Ord and Loeser alone with the company, with

Assistant-Surgeon Robert Murray. Captain William G. Marcy was the

quartermaster and commissary. Naglee's company of Stevenson's

regiment had been mounted and was sent out against the Indians in

the San Joaquin Valley, and Shannon's company occupied the barracks.

Shortly after General Kearney had gone East, we found an order of

his on record, removing one Mr. Nash, the Alcalde of Sonoma, and

appointing to his place ex-Governor L. W. Boggs. A letter came to

Colonel and Governor Mason from Boggs, whom he had personally known

in Missouri, complaining that, though he had been appointed alcalde,

the then incumbent (Nash) utterly denied Kearney's right to remove

him, because he had been elected by the people under the

proclamation of Commodore Sloat, and refused to surrender his office

or to account for his acts as alcalde. Such a proclamation had been

made by Commodore Sloat shortly after the first occupation of

California, announcing that the people were free and enlightened

American citizens, entitled to all the rights and privileges as

such, and among them the right to elect their own officers, etc.

The people of Sonoma town and valley, some forty or fifty immigrants

from the United States, and very few native Californians, had

elected Mr. Nash, and, as stated, he refused to recognize the right

of a mere military commander to eject him and to appoint another to

his place. Neither General Kearney nor Mason had much respect for

this land of "buncombe," but assumed the true doctrine that

California was yet a Mexican province, held by right of conquest,

that the military commander was held responsible to the country, and

that the province should be held in statu quo until a treaty of

peace. This letter of Boggs was therefore referred to Captain

Brackett, whose company was stationed at Sonoma, with orders to

notify Nash that Boggs was the rightful alcalde; that he must

quietly surrender his office, with the books and records thereof,

and that he must account for any moneys received from the sale of

town-lots, etc., etc.; and in the event of refusal he (Captain

Brackett) must compel him by the use of force. In due time we got

Brackett's answer, saying that the little community of Sonoma was in

a dangerous state of effervescence caused by his orders; that Nash

was backed by most of the Americans there who had come across from

Missouri with American ideas; that as he (Brackett) was a volunteer

officer, likely to be soon discharged, and as he designed to settle

there, he asked in consequence to be excused from the execution of

this (to him) unpleasant duty. Such a request, coming to an old

soldier like Colonel Mason, aroused his wrath, and he would have

proceeded rough-shod against Brackett, who, by-the-way, was a West

Point graduate, and ought to have known better; but I suggested to

the colonel that, the case being a test one, he had better send me

up to Sonoma, and I would settle it quick enough. He then gave me

an order to go to Sonoma to carry out the instructions already given

to Brackett.

I took one soldier with me, Private Barnes, with four horses, two

of which we rode, and the other two we drove ahead. The first day

we reached Gilroy's and camped by a stream near three or four

adobe-huts known as Gilroy's ranch. The next day we passed

Murphy's, San Jose, and Santa Clara Mission, camping some four

miles beyond, where a kind of hole had been dug in the ground for

water. The whole of this distance, now so beautifully improved and

settled, was then scarcely occupied, except by poor ranches

producing horses and cattle. The pueblo of San Jose was a string

of low adobe-houses festooned with red peppers and garlic; and the

Mission of Santa Clara was a dilapidated concern, with its church

and orchard. The long line of poplar-trees lining the road from

San Jose to Santa Clara bespoke a former period when the priests

had ruled the land. Just about dark I was lying on the ground near

the well, and my soldier Barnes had watered our horses and picketed

them to grass, when we heard a horse crushing his way through the

high mustard-bushes which filled the plain, and soon a man came to

us to inquire if we had seen a saddle-horse pass up the road. We

explained to him what we had heard, and he went off in pursuit of

his horse. Before dark he came back unsuccessful, and gave his

name as Bidwell, the same gentleman who has since been a member of

Congress, who is married to Miss Kennedy, of Washington City, and

now lives in princely style at Chico, California.

He explained that he was a surveyor, and had been in the lower

country engaged in surveying land; that the horse had escaped him

with his saddle-bags containing all his notes and papers, and some

six hundred dollars in money, all the money he had earned. He

spent the night with us on the ground, and the next morning we left

him there to continue the search for his horse, and I afterward

heard that he had found his saddle-bags all right, but never

recovered the horse. The next day toward night we approached the

Mission of San Francisco, and the village of Yerba Buena, tired and

weary--the wind as usual blowing a perfect hurricane, and a more

desolate region it was impossible to conceive of. Leaving Barnes

to work his way into the town as best he could with the tired

animals, I took the freshest horse and rode forward. I fell in

with Lieutenant Fabius Stanley, United States Navy, and we rode

into Yerba Buena together about an hour before sundown, there being

nothing but a path from the Mission into the town, deep and heavy

with drift-sand. My horse could hardly drag one foot after the

other when we reached the old Hudson Bay Company's house, which was

then the store of Howard and Mellus. There I learned where Captain

Folsom, the quartermaster, was to be found. He was staying with a

family of the name of Grimes, who had a small horse back of

Howard's store, which must have been near where Sacramento Street

now crosses Kearney. Folsom was a classmate of mine, had come out

with Stevenson's regiment as quartermaster, and was at the time the

chief-quartermaster of the department. His office was in the old

custom-horse standing at the northwest corner of the Plaza. He had

hired two warehouses, the only ones there at the time, of one

Liedsdorff, the principal man of Yerba Buena, who also owned the

only public-house, or tavern, called the City Hotel, on Kearney

Street, at the southeast corner of the Plaza. I stopped with

Folsom at Mrs. Grimes's, and he sent my horse, as also the other

three when Barnes had got in after dark, to a coral where he had a

little barley, but no hay. At that time nobody fed a horse, but he

was usually turned out to pick such scanty grass as he could find

on the side-hills. The few government horses used in town were

usually sent out to the Presidio, where the grass was somewhat

better. At that time (July, 1847), what is now called San

Francisco was called Yerba Buena. A naval officer, Lieutenant

Washington A. Bartlett, its first alcalde, had caused it to be

surveyed and laid out into blocks and lots, which were being sold

at sixteen dollars a lot of fifty vuras square; the understanding

being that no single person could purchase of the alcalde more than

one in-lot of fifty varas, and one out-lot of a hundred varas.

Folsom, however, had got his clerks, orderlies, etc., to buy lots,

and they, for a small consideration, conveyed them to him, so that

he was nominally the owner of a good many lots. Lieutenant Halleck

had bought one of each kind, and so had Warner. Many naval

officers had also invested, and Captain Folsom advised me to buy

some, but I felt actually insulted that he should think me such a

fool as to pay money for property in such a horrid place as Yerba

Buena, especially ridiculing his quarter of the city, then called

Happy Valley. At that day Montgomery Street was, as now, the

business street, extending from Jackson to Sacramento, the water of

the bay leaving barely room for a few houses on its east side, and

the public warehouses were on a sandy beach about where the Bank of

California now stands, viz., near the intersection of Sansome and

California, Streets. Along Montgomery Street were the stores of

Howard & Mellus, Frank Ward, Sherman & Ruckel, Ross & Co., and it

may be one or two others. Around the Plaza were a few houses,

among them the City Hotel and the Custom-House, single-story adobes

with tiled roofs, and they were by far the most substantial and

best houses in the place. The population was estimated at about

four hundred, of whom Kanakas (natives of the Sandwich Islands)

formed the bulk.

At the foot of Clay Street was a small wharf which small boats

could reach at high tide; but the principal landing-place was where

some stones had fallen into the water, about where Broadway now

intersects Battery Street. On the steep bluff above had been

excavated, by the navy, during the year before, a bench, wherein

were mounted a couple of navy-guns, styled the battery, which, I

suppose, gave name to the street. I explained to Folsom the object

of my visit, and learned from him that he had no boat in which to

send me to Sonoma, and that the only, chance to get there was to

borrow a boat from the navy. The line-of-battle-ship Columbus was

then lying at anchor off the town, and he said if I would get up

early the next morning I could go off to her in one of the

market-boats.

Accordingly, I was up bright and early, down at the wharf, found a

boat, and went off to the Columbus to see Commodore Biddle. On

reaching the ship and stating to the officer of the deck my

business, I was shown into the commodore's cabin, and soon made

known to him my object. Biddle was a small-sized man, but

vivacious in the extreme. He had a perfect contempt for all

humbug, and at once entered into the business with extreme

alacrity. I was somewhat amused at the importance he attached to

the step. He had a chaplain, and a private secretary, in a small

room latticed off from his cabin, and he first called on them to go

out, and, when we were alone, he enlarged on the folly of Sloat's

proclamation, giving the people the right to elect their own

officers, and commended Kearney and Mason for nipping that idea in

the bud, and keeping the power in their own hands. He then sent

for the first lieutenant (Drayton), and inquired if there were

among the officers on board any who had ever been in the Upper Bay,

and learning that there was a midshipman (Whittaker) he was sent

for. It so happened that this midshipman had been on a frolic on

shore a few nights before, and was accordingly much frightened when

summoned into the commodore's presence, but as soon as he was

questioned as to his knowledge of the bay, he was sensibly

relieved, and professed to know every thing about it.

Accordingly, the long boat was ordered with this midshipman and

eight sailors, prepared with water and provisions for several days

absence. Biddle then asked me if I knew any of his own officers,

and which one of them I would prefer to accompany me. I knew most

of them, and we settled down on Louis McLane. He was sent for, and

it was settled that McLane and I were to conduct this important

mission, and the commodore enjoined on us complete secrecy, so as

to insure success, and he especially cautioned us against being

pumped by his ward-room officers, Chapman, Lewis, Wise, etc., while

on board his ship. With this injunction I was dismissed to the

wardroom, where I found Chapman, Lewis, and Wise, dreadfully

exercised at our profound secrecy. The fact that McLane and I had

been closeted with the commodore for an hour, that orders for the

boat and stores had been made, that the chaplain and clerk had been

sent out of the cabin, etc., etc., all excited their curiosity; but

McLane and I kept our secret well. The general impression was,

that we had some knowledge about the fate of Captain Montgomery's

two sons and the crew that had been lost the year before. In 1846

Captain Montgomery commanded at Yerba Buena, on board the St. Mary

sloop-of-war, and he had a detachment of men stationed up at

Sonoma. Occasionally a boat was sent up with provisions or

intelligence to them. Montgomery had two sons on board his ship,

one a midshipman, the other his secretary. Having occasion to send

some money up to Sonoma, he sent his two sons with a good boat and

crew. The boat started with a strong breeze and a very large sail,

was watched from the deck until she was out of sight, and has never

been heard of since. There was, of coarse, much speculation as to

their fate, some contending that the boat must have been capsized

in San Pablo Bay, and that all were lost; others contending that

the crew had murdered the officers for the money, and then escaped;

but, so far as I know, not a man of that crew has ever been seen or

heard of since. When at last the boat was ready for us, we

started, leaving all hands, save the commodore, impressed with the

belief that we were going on some errand connected with the loss of

the missing boat and crew of the St. Mary. We sailed directly

north, up the bay and across San Pablo, reached the month of Sonoma

Creek about dark, and during the night worked up the creek some

twelve miles by means of the tide, to a landing called the

Embarcadero. To maintain the secrecy which the commodore had

enjoined on us, McLane and I agreed to keep up the delusion by

pretending to be on a marketing expedition to pick up chickens,

pigs, etc., for the mess of the Columbus, soon to depart for home.

Leaving the midshipman and four sailors to guard the boat, we

started on foot with the other four for Sonoma Town, which we soon

reached. It was a simple open square, around which were some

adobe-houses, that of General Vallejo occupying one side. On

another was an unfinished two-story adobe building, occupied as a

barrack by Bracken's company. We soon found Captain Brackett, and

I told him that I intended to take Nash a prisoner and convey him

back to Monterey to answer for his mutinous behavior. I got an old

sergeant of his company, whom I had known in the Third Artillery,

quietly to ascertain the whereabouts of Nash, who was a bachelor,

stopping with the family of a lawyer named Green. The sergeant

soon returned, saying that Nash had gone over to Napa, but would be

back that evening; so McLane and I went up to a farm of some

pretensions, occupied by one Andreas Hoepner, with a pretty Sitka

wife, who lived a couple of miles above Sonoma, and we bought of

him some chickens, pigs, etc. We then visited Governor Boggs's

family and that of General Vallejo, who was then, as now, one of

the most prominent and influential natives of California. About

dark I learned that Nash had come back, and then, giving Brackett

orders to have a cart ready at the corner of the plaza, McLane and

I went to the house of Green. Posting an armed sailor on each side

of the house, we knocked at the door and walked in. We found

Green, Nash, and two women, at supper. I inquired if Nash were in,

and was first answered "No," but one of the women soon pointed to

him, and he rose. We were armed with pistols, and the family was

evidently alarmed. I walked up to him and took his arm, and told

him to come along with me. He asked me, "Where?" and I said,

"Monterey." "Why?" I would explain that more at leisure. Green

put himself between me and the door, and demanded, in theatrical

style, why I dared arrest a peaceable citizen in his house. I

simply pointed to my pistol, and told him to get out of the way,

which he did. Nash asked to get some clothing, but I told him he

should want for nothing. We passed out, Green following us with

loud words, which brought the four sailors to the front-door, when

I told him to hush up or I would take him prisoner also. About

that time one of the sailors, handling his pistol carelessly,

discharged it, and Green disappeared very suddenly. We took Nash

to the cart, put him in, and proceeded back to our boat. The next

morning we were gone.

Nash being out of the way, Boggs entered on his office, and the

right to appoint or remove from civil office was never again

questioned in California during the military regime. Nash was an

old man, and was very much alarmed for his personal safety. He had

come across the Plains, and had never yet seen the sea. While on

our way down the bay, I explained fully to him the state of things

in California, and he admitted he had never looked on it in that

light before, and professed a willingness to surrender his office;

but, having gone so far, I thought it best to take him to Monterey.

On our way down the bay the wind was so strong, as we approached

the Columbus, that we had to take refuge behind Yerba Buena Island,

then called Goat Island, where we landed, and I killed a gray seal.

The next morning, the wind being comparatively light, we got out

and worked our way up to the Columbus, where I left my prisoner on

board, and went on shore to find Commodore Biddle, who had gone to

dine with Frank Ward. I found him there, and committed Nash to his

charge, with the request that he would send him down to Monterey,

which he did in the sloop-of-war Dale, Captain Selfridge

commanding. I then returned to Monterey by land, and, when the

Dale arrived, Colonel Mason and I went on board, found poor old Mr.

Nash half dead with sea-sickness and fear, lest Colonel Mason would

treat him with extreme military rigor. But, on the contrary, the

colonel spoke to him kindly, released him as a prisoner on his

promise to go back to Sonoma, surrender his office to Boggs, and

account to him for his acts while in office. He afterward came on

shore, was provided with clothing and a horse, returned to Sonoma,

and I never have seen him since.

Matters and things settled down in Upper California, and all moved

along with peace and harmony. The war still continued in Mexico,

and the navy authorities resolved to employ their time with the

capture of Mazatlan and Guaymas. Lower California had already been

occupied by two companies of Stevenson's regiment, under

Lieutenant-Colonel Burton, who had taken post at La Paz, and a

small party of sailors was on shore at San Josef, near Cape San

Lucas, detached from the Lexington, Lieutenant-Commander Bailey.

The orders for this occupation were made by General Kearney before

he left, in pursuance of instructions from the War Department,

merely to subserve a political end, for there were few or no people

in Lower California, which is a miserable, wretched, dried-up

peninsula. I remember the proclamation made by Burton and Captain

Bailey, in taking possession, which was in the usual florid style.

Bailey signed his name as the senior naval officer at the station,

but, as it was necessary to put it into Spanish to reach the

inhabitants of the newly-acquired country, it was interpreted, "El

mas antiguo de todos los oficiales de la marina," etc., which,

literally, is "the most ancient of all the naval officers," etc.,

a translation at which we made some fun.

The expedition to Mazatlan was, however, for a different purpose,

viz., to get possession of the ports of Mazatlan and Guaymas, as a

part of the war against Mexico, and not for permanent conquest.

Commodore Shubrick commanded this expedition, and took Halleck

along as his engineer-officer. They captured Mazatlan and Guaymas,

and then called on Colonel Mason to send soldiers down to hold

possession, but he had none to spare, and it was found impossible

to raise other volunteers either in California or Oregon, and the

navy held these places by detachments of sailors and marines till

the end of the war. Burton also called for reenforcements, and

Naglee'a company was sent to him from Monterey, and these three

companies occupied Lower California at the end of the Mexican War.

Major Hardie still commanded at San Francisco and above; Company F,

Third Artillery, and Shannon's company of volunteers, were at

Monterey; Lippett's company at Santa Barbara; Colonel Stevenson,

with one company of his regiment, and the company of the First

Dragoons, was at Los Angeles; and a company of Mormons, reenlisted

out of the Mormon Battalion, garrisoned San Diego--and thus matters

went along throughout 1847 into 1848. I had occasion to make

several trips to Yerba Buena and back, and in the spring of 1848

Colonel Mason and I went down to Santa Barbara in the sloop-of-war

Dale.

I spent much time in hunting deer and bear in the mountains back of

the Carmel Mission, and ducks and geese in the plains of the

Salinas. As soon as the fall rains set in, the young oats would

sprout up, and myriads of ducks, brant, and geese, made their

appearance. In a single day, or rather in the evening of one day

and the morning of the next, I could load a pack-mule with geese

and ducks. They had grown somewhat wild from the increased number

of hunters, yet, by marking well the place where a flock lighted, I

could, by taking advantage of gullies or the shape of the ground,

creep up within range; and, giving one barrel on the ground, and

the other as they rose, I have secured as many as nine at one

discharge. Colonel Mason on one occasion killed eleven geese by

one discharge of small shot. The seasons in California are well

marked. About October and November the rains begin, and the whole

country, plains and mountains, becomes covered with a bright-green

grass, with endless flowers. The intervals between the rains give

the finest weather possible. These rains are less frequent in

March, and cease altogether in April and May, when gradually the

grass dies and the whole aspect of things changes, first to yellow,

then to brown, and by midsummer all is burnt up and dry as an

ashheap.

When General Kearney first departed we took his office at Larkin's;

but shortly afterward we had a broad stairway constructed to lead

from the outside to the upper front porch of the barracks. By

cutting a large door through the adobe-wall, we made the upper room

in the centre our office; and another side-room, connected with it

by a door, was Colonel Mason's private office.

I had a single clerk, a soldier named Baden; and William E. P.

Hartnell, citizen, also had a table in the same room. He was the

government interpreter, and had charge of the civil archives.

After Halleck's return from Mazatlan, he was, by Colonel Mason,

made Secretary of State; and he then had charge of the civil

archives, including the land-titles, of which Fremont first had

possession, but which had reverted to us when he left the country.

I remember one day, in the spring of 1848, that two men, Americans,

came into the office and inquired for the Governor. I asked their

business, and one answered that they had just come down from

Captain Sutter on special business, and they wanted to see Governor

Mason in person. I took them in to the colonel, and left them

together. After some time the colonel came to his door and called

to me. I went in, and my attention was directed to a series of

papers unfolded on his table, in which lay about half an ounce of

placer gold. Mason said to me, "What is that?" I touched it and

examined one or two of the larger pieces, and asked, "Is it gold?"

Mason asked me if I had ever seen native gold. I answered that, in

1844, I was in Upper Georgia, and there saw some native gold, but

it was much finer than this, and that it was in phials, or in

transparent quills; but I said that, if this were gold, it could be

easily tested, first, by its malleability, and next by acids. I

took a piece in my teeth, and the metallic lustre was perfect. I

then called to the clerk, Baden, to bring an axe and hatchet from

the backyard. When these were brought, I took the largest piece

and beat it out flat, and beyond doubt it was metal, and a pure

metal. Still, we attached little importance to the fact, for gold

was known to exist at San Fernando, at the south, and yet was not

considered of much value. Colonel Mason then handed me a letter

from Captain Sutter, addressed to him, stating that he (Sutter) was

engaged in erecting a saw-mill at Coloma, about forty miles up the

American Fork, above his fort at New Helvetia, for the general

benefit of the settlers in that vicinity; that he had incurred

considerable expense, and wanted a "preemption" to the

quarter-section of land on which the mill was located, embracing the

tail-race in which this particular gold had been found. Mason

instructed me to prepare a letter, in answer, for his signature. I

wrote off a letter, reciting that California was yet a Mexican

province, simply held by us as a conquest; that no laws of the

United States yet applied to it, much less the land laws or

preemption laws, which could only apply after a public survey.

Therefore it was impossible for the Governor to promise him (Sutter)

a title to the land; yet, as there were no settlements within forty

miles, he was not likely to be disturbed by trespassers. Colonel

Mason signed the letter, handed it to one of the gentlemen who had

brought the sample of gold, and they departed. That gold was the

first discovered in the Sierra Nevada, which soon revolutionized the

whole country, and actually moved the whole civilized world. About

this time (May and June, 1848), far more importance was attached to

quicksilver. One mine, the New Almaden, twelve miles south of San

Jose, was well known, and was in possession of the agent of a Scotch

gentleman named Forties, who at the time was British consul at

Tepic, Mexico. Mr. Forties came up from San Blas in a small brig,

which proved to be a Mexican vessel; the vessel was seized,

condemned, and actually sold, but Forties was wealthy, and bought

her in. His title to the quicksilver-mine was, however, never

disputed, as he had bought it regularly, before our conquest of the

country, from another British subject, also named Forties, a

resident of Santa Clara Mission, who had purchased it of the

discoverer, a priest; but the boundaries of the land attached to the

mine were even then in dispute. Other men were in search of

quicksilver; and the whole range of mountains near the New Almaden

mine was stained with the brilliant red of the sulphuret of mercury

(cinnabar). A company composed of T. O. Larkin, J. R. Snyder, and

others, among them one John Ricord (who was quite a character), also

claimed a valuable mine near by. Ricord was a lawyer from about

Buffalo, and by some means had got to the Sandwich Islands, where he

became a great favorite of the king, Kamehameha; was his

attorney-general, and got into a difficulty with the Rev. Mr. Judd,

who was a kind of prime-minister to his majesty. One or the other

had to go, and Ricord left for San Francisco, where he arrived while

Colonel Mason and I were there on some business connected with the

customs. Ricord at once made a dead set at Mason with flattery, and

all sorts of spurious arguments, to convince him that our military

government was too simple in its forms for the new state of facts,

and that he was the man to remodel it. I had heard a good deal to

his prejudice, and did all I could to prevent Mason taking him, into

his confidence. We then started back for Monterey. Ricord was

along, and night and day he was harping on his scheme; but he

disgusted Colonel Mason with his flattery, and, on reaching

Monterey, he opened what he called a law-office, but there were

neither courts nor clients, so necessity forced him to turn his

thoughts to something else, and quicksilver became his hobby. In

the spring of 1848 an appeal came to our office from San Jose, which

compelled the Governor to go up in person. Lieutenant Loeser and I,

with a couple of soldiers, went along. At San Jose the Governor

held some kind of a court, in which Ricord and the alcalde had a

warm dispute about a certain mine which Ricord, as a member of the

Larkin Company, had opened within the limits claimed by the New

Almaden Company. On our way up we had visited the ground, and were

therefore better prepared to understand the controversy. We had

found at New Almaden Mr. Walkinshaw, a fine Scotch gentleman, the

resident agent of Mr. Forbes. He had built in the valley, near a

small stream, a few board-houses, and some four or five furnaces for

the distillation of the mercury. These were very simple in their

structure, being composed of whalers' kettles, set in masonry.

These kettles were filled with broken ore about the size of

McAdam-stone, mingled with lime. Another kettle, reversed, formed

the lid, and the seam was luted with clay. On applying heat, the

mercury was volatilized and carried into a chimney-stack, where it

condensed and flowed back into a reservoir, and then was led in

pipes into another kettle outside. After witnessing this process,

we visited the mine itself, which outcropped near the apex of the

hill, about a thousand feet above the furnaces. We found wagons

hauling the mineral down the hill and returning empty, and in the

mines quite a number of Sonora miners were blasting and driving for

the beautiful ore (cinnabar). It was then, and is now, a most

valuable mine. The adit of the mine was at the apex of the hill,

which drooped off to the north. We rode along this hill, and saw

where many openings had been begun, but these, proving of little or

no value, had been abandoned. Three miles beyond, on the west face

of the bill, we came to the opening of the "Larkin Company." There

was evidence of a good deal of work, but the mine itself was filled

up by what seemed a land-slide. The question involved in the

lawsuit before the alcalde at San Jose was, first, whether the mine

was or was not on the land belonging to the New Almaden property;

and, next, whether the company had complied with all the conditions

of the mite laws of Mexico, which were construed to be still in

force in California.

These laws required that any one who discovered a valuable mine on

private land should first file with the alcalde, or judge of the

district, a notice and claim for the benefits of such discovery;

then the mine was to be opened and followed for a distance of at

least one hundred feet within a specified time, and the claimants

must take out samples of the mineral and deposit the same with the

alcalde, who was then required to inspect personally the mine, to

see that it fulfilled all the conditions of the law, before he

could give a written title. In this case the alcalde had been to

the mine and had possession of samples of the ore; but, as the

mouth of the mine was closed up, as alleged, from the act of God,

by a land-slide, it was contended by Ricord and his associates that

it was competent to prove by good witnesses that the mine had been

opened into the hill one hundred feet, and that, by no negligence

of theirs, it had caved in. It was generally understood that

Robert J. Walker, United States Secretary of the Treasury, was then

a partner in this mining company; and a vessel, the bark Gray

Eagle, was ready at San Francisco to sail for New York with the

title-papers on which to base a joint-stock company for speculative

uses. I think the alcalde was satisfied that the law had been

complied with, that he had given the necessary papers, and, as at

that time there was nothing developed to show fraud, the Governor

(Mason) did not interfere. At that date there was no public house

or tavern in San Jose where we could stop, so we started toward

Santa Cruz and encamped about ten miles out, to the west of the

town, where we fell in with another party of explorers, of whom

Ruckel, of San Francisco, was the head; and after supper, as we sat

around the camp-fire, the conversation turned on quicksilver in

general, and the result of the contest in San Jose in particular.

Mason was relating to Ruckel the points and the arguments of

Ricord, that the company should not suffer from an act of God,

viz., the caving in of the mouth of the mine, when a man named

Cash, a fellow who had once been in the quartermaster's employ as a

teamster, spoke up: "Governor Mason, did Judge Ricord say that?"

"Yes," said the Governor; and then Cash related how he and another

man, whose name he gave, had been employed by Ricord to undermine a

heavy rock that rested above the mouth of the mine, so that it

tumbled down, carrying with it a large quantity of earth, and

completely filled it up, as we had seen; "and," said Cash, "it took

us three days of the hardest kind of work." This was the act of

God, and on the papers procured from the alcalde at that time, I

understand, was built a huge speculation, by which thousands of

dollars changed hands in the United States and were lost. This

happened long before the celebrated McGarrahan claim, which has

produced so much noise, and which still is being prosecuted in the

courts and in Congress.

On the next day we crossed over the Santa Cruz Mountains, from

which we had sublime views of the scenery, first looking east

toward the lower Bay of San Francisco, with the bright plains of

Santa Clara and San Jose, and then to the west upon the ocean, the

town of Monterey being visible sixty miles off. If my memory is

correct, we beheld from that mountain the firing of a salute from

the battery at Monterey, and counted the number of guns from the

white puffs of smoke, but could not hear the sound. That night we

slept on piles of wheat in a mill at Soquel, near Santa Cruz, and,

our supplies being short, I advised that we should make an early

start next morning, so as to reach the ranch of Don Juan Antonio

Vallejo, a particular friend, who had a large and valuable

cattle-ranch on the Pajaro River, about twenty miles on our way to

Monterey. Accordingly, we were off by the first light of day, and

by nine o'clock we had reached the ranch. It was on a high point

of the plateau, overlooking the plain of the Pajaro, on which were

grazing numbers of horses and cattle. The house was of adobe, with

a long range of adobe-huts occupied by the semi-civilized Indians,

who at that time did all the labor of a ranch, the herding and

marking of cattle, breaking of horses, and cultivating the little

patches of wheat and vegetables which constituted all the farming

of that day. Every thing about the house looked deserted, and,

seeing a small Indian boy leaning up against a post, I approached

him and asked him in Spanish, "Where is the master?" "Gone to the

Presidio" (Monterey). "Is anybody in the house?" "No." "Is it

locked up?" "Yes." "Is no one about who can get in?" "No."

"Have you any meat?" "No." "Any flour or grain?" "No." "Any

chickens?" "No." "Any eggs?" "No." "What do you live on?"

"Nada" (nothing). The utter indifference of this boy, and the

tone of his answer "Nada," attracted the attention of Colonel

Mason, who had been listening to our conversation, and who

knew enough of Spanish to catch the meaning, and he exclaimed

with some feeling, "So we get nada for our breakfast." I felt

mortified, for I had held out the prospect of a splendid

breakfast of meat and tortillas with rice, chickens, eggs, etc., at

the ranch of my friend Josh Antonio, as a justification for

taking the Governor, a man of sixty years of age, more than

twenty miles at a full canter for his breakfast. But there was

no help for it, and we accordingly went a short distance to a

pond, where we unpacked our mules and made a slim breakfast; on

some scraps of hard bread and a bone of pork that remained in our

alforjas. This was no uncommon thing in those days, when many

a ranchero with his eleven leagues of land, his hundreds of

horses and thousands of cattle, would receive us with all the

grandiloquence of a Spanish lord, and confess that he had nothing

in his house to eat except the carcass of a beef hung up, from

which the stranger might cut and cook, without money or price, what

he needed. That night we slept on Salinas Plain, and the next

morning reached Monterey. All the missions and houses at that

period were alive with fleas, which the natives looked on as

pleasant titillators, but they so tortured me that I always gave

them a wide berth, and slept on a saddle-blanket, with the saddle

for a pillow and the serape, or blanket, for a cover. We never

feared rain except in winter. As the spring and summer of 1848

advanced, the reports came faster and faster from the gold-mines at

Sutter's saw-mill. Stories reached us of fabulous discoveries, and

spread throughout the land. Everybody was talking of "Gold!

gold!" until it assumed the character of a fever. Some of our

soldiers began to desert; citizens were fitting out trains of

wagons and packmules to go to the mines. We heard of men earning

fifty, five hundred, and thousands of dollars per day, and for a

time it seemed as though somebody would reach solid gold. Some of

this gold began to come to Yerba Buena in trade, and to disturb the

value of merchandise, particularly of mules, horses, tin pans, and

articles used in mining: I of course could not escape the

infection, and at last convinced Colonel Mason that it was our duty

to go up and see with our own eyes, that we might report the truth

to our Government. As yet we had no regular mail to any part of

the United States, but mails had come to us at long intervals,

around Cape Horn, and one or two overland. I well remember the

first overland mail. It was brought by Kit Carson in saddle-bags

from Taos in New Mexico. We heard of his arrival at Los Angeles,

and waited patiently for his arrival at headquarters. His fame

then was at its height, from the publication of Fremont's books,

and I was very anxious to see a man who had achieved such feats of

daring among the wild animals of the Rocky Mountains, and still

wilder Indians of the Plains. At last his arrival was reported at

the tavern at Monterey, and I hurried to hunt him up. I cannot

express my surprise at beholding a small, stoop-shouldered man,

with reddish hair, freckled face, soft blue eyes, and nothing to

indicate extraordinary courage or daring. He spoke but little, and

answered questions in monosyllables. I asked for his mail, and he

picked up his light saddle-bags containing the great overland mail,

and we walked together to headquarters, where he delivered his

parcel into Colonel Mason's own hands. He spent some days in

Monterey, during which time we extracted with difficulty some items

of his personal history. He was then by commission a lieutenant in

the regiment of Mounted Rifles serving in Mexico under Colonel

Sumner, and, as he could not reach his regiment from California,

Colonel Mason ordered that for a time he should be assigned to duty

with A. J. Smith's company, First Dragoons, at Los Angeles. He

remained at Los Angeles some months, and was then sent back to the

United Staten with dispatches, traveling two thousand miles almost

alone, in preference to being encumbered by a large party.

Toward the close of June, 1848, the gold-fever being at its height,

by Colonel Mason's orders I made preparations for his trip to the

newly-discovered gold-mines at Sutter's Fort. I selected four good

soldiers, with Aaron, Colonel Mason's black servant, and a good

outfit of horses and pack-mules, we started by the usually traveled

route for Yerba Buena. There Captain Fulsom and two citizens

joined our party. The first difficulty was to cross the bay to

Saucelito. Folsom, as quartermaster, had a sort of scow with a

large sail, with which to discharge the cargoes of ships, that

could not come within a mile of the shore. It took nearly the

whole day to get the old scow up to the only wharf there, and then

the water was so shallow that the scow, with its load of horses,

would not float at the first high tide, but by infinite labor on

the next tide she was got off and safely crossed over to Saucelito.

We followed in a more comfortable schooner. Having safely landed

our horses and mules, we picked up and rode to San Rafael Mission,

stopping with Don Timoteo Murphy. The next day's journey took us

to Bodega, where lived a man named Stephen Smith, who had the only

steam saw-mill in California. He had a Peruvian wife, and employed

a number of absolutely naked Indians in making adobes. We spent a

day very pleasantly with him, and learned that he had come to

California some years before, at the personal advice of Daniel

Webster, who had informed him that sooner or later the United

States would be in possession of California, and that in

consequence it would become a great country. From Bodega we

traveled to Sonoma, by way of Petaluma, and spent a day with

General Vallejo. I had been there before, as related, in the

business of the alcalde Nash. From Sonoma we crossed over by way

of Napa, Suisun, and Vaca's ranch, to the Puta. In the rainy

season, the plain between the Puta and Sacramento Rivers is

impassable, but in July the waters dry up; and we passed without

trouble, by the trail for Sutter's Embarcadero. We reached the

Sacramento River, then full of water, with a deep, clear current.

The only means of crossing over was by an Indian dugout canoe. We

began by carrying across our packs and saddles, and then our

people. When all things were ready, the horses were driven into

the water, one being guided ahead by a man in the canoe. Of

course, the horses and mules at first refused to take to the water,

and it was nearly a day's work to get them across, and even then

some of our animals after crossing escaped into the woods and

undergrowth that lined the river, but we secured enough of them to

reach Sutter's Fort, three miles back from the embcarcadero, where

we encamped at the old slough, or pond, near the fort. On

application, Captain Butter sent some Indians back into the bushes,

who recovered and brought in all our animals. At that time there

was not the sign of a habitation there or thereabouts, except the

fort, and an old adobe-house, east of the fort, known as the

hospital. The fort itself was one of adobe-walls, about twenty

feet high, rectangular in form, with two-story block houses at

diagonal corners. The entrance was by a large gate, open by day

and closed at night, with two iron ship's guns near at hand.

Inside there was a large house, with a good shingle-roof, used as a

storehouse, and all round the walls were ranged rooms, the fort

wall being the outer wall of the house. The inner wall also was of

adobe. These rooms were used by Captain Sutter himself and by his

people. He had a blacksmith's shop, carpenter's shop, etc., and

other rooms where the women made blankets. Sutter was monarch of

all he surveyed, and had authority to inflict punishment even unto

death, a power he did not fail to use. He had horses, cattle, and

sheep, and of these he gave liberally and without price to all in

need. He caused to be driven into our camp a beef and some sheep,

which were slaughtered for our use. Already the goldmines were

beginning to be felt. Many people were then encamped, some going

and some coming, all full of gold-stories, and each surpassing the

other. We found preparations in progress for celebrating the

Fourth of July, then close at hand, and we agreed to remain over to

assist on the occasion; of course, being the high officials, we

were the honored guests. People came from a great distance to

attend this celebration of the Fourth of July, and the tables were

laid in the large room inside the storehouse of the fort. A man of

some note, named Sinclair, presided, and after a substantial meal

and a reasonable supply of aguardiente we began the toasts. All

that I remember is that Folsom and I spoke for our party; others,

Captain Sutter included, made speeches, and before the celebration

was over Sutter was enthusiastic, and many others showed the

effects of the aguardiente. The next day (namely, July 5, 1848) we

resumed our journey toward the mines, and, in twenty-five miles of

as hot and dusty a ride as possible, we reached Mormon Island. I

have heretofore stated that the gold was first found in the

tail-race of the stew-mill at Coloma, forty miles above Sutter's

Fort, or fifteen above Mormon Island, in the bed of the American

Fork of the Sacramento River. It seems that Sutter had employed an

American named Marshall, a sort of millwright, to do this work for

him, but Marshall afterward claimed that in the matter of the

saw-mill they were copartners. At all events, Marshall and the

family of Mr. Wimmer were living at Coloma, where the pine-trees

afforded the best material for lumber. He had under him four white

men, Mormons, who had been discharged from Cooke's battalion, and

some Indians. These were engaged in hewing logs, building a

mill-dam, and putting up a saw-mill. Marshall, as the architect,

had made the "tub-wheel," and had set it in motion, and had also

furnished some of the rude parts of machinery necessary for an

ordinary up-and-down saw-mill.

Labor was very scarce, expensive, and had to be economized. The

mill was built over a dry channel of the river which was calculated

to be the tail-race. After arranging his head-race, dam and

tub-wheel, he let on the water to test the goodness of his

machinery. It worked very well until it was found that the

tail-race did not carry off the water fast enough, so he put his

men to work in a rude way to clear out the tail-race. They

scratched a kind of ditch down the middle of the dry channel,

throwing the coarser stones to one side; then, letting on the water

again, it would run with velocity down the channel, washing away

the dirt, thus saving labor. This course of action was repeated

several times, acting exactly like the long Tom afterward resorted

to by the miners. As Marshall himself was working in this ditch,

he observed particles of yellow metal which he gathered up in his

hand, when it seemed to have suddenly flashed across his mind that

it was gold. After picking up about an ounce, he hurried down to

the fort to report to Captain Sutter his discovery. Captain Sutter

himself related to me Marshall's account, saying that, as he sat in

his room at the fort one day in February or March, 1848, a knock

was heard at his door, and he called out, "Come in." In walked

Marshall, who was a half-crazy man at best, but then looked

strangely wild. "What is the matter, Marshall!" Marshall

inquired if any one was within hearing, and began to peer about the

room, and look under the bed, when Sutter, fearing that some

calamity had befallen the party up at the saw-mill, and that

Marshall was really crazy, began to make his way to the door,

demanding of Marshall to explain what was the matter. At last he

revealed his discovery, and laid before Captain Sutter the

pellicles of gold he had picked up in the ditch. At first, Sutter

attached little or no importance to the discovery, and told

Marshall to go back to the mill, and say nothing of what he had

seen to Mr. Wimmer, or any one else. Yet, as it might add value to

the location, he dispatched to our headquarters at Monterey, as I

have already related, the two men with a written application for a

preemption to the quarter-section of land at Coloma. Marshall

returned to the mill, but could not keep out of his wonderful

ditch, and by some means the other men employed there learned his

secret. They then wanted to gather the gold, and Marshall

threatened to shoot them if they attempted it; but these men had

sense enough to know that if "placer"-gold existed at Coloma, it

would also be found farther down-stream, and they gradually

"prospected" until they reached Mormon Island, fifteen miles below,

where they discovered one of the richest placers on earth. These

men revealed the fact to some other Mormons who were employed by

Captain Sutter at a grist-mill he was building still lower down the

American Fork, and six miles above his fort. All of them struck

for higher wages, to which Sutter yielded, until they asked ten

dollars a day, which he refused, and the two mills on which he had

spent so much money were never built, and fell into decay.

In my opinion, when the Mormons were driven from Nauvoo, Illinois,

in 1844, they cast about for a land where they would not be

disturbed again, and fixed on California. In the year 1845 a ship,

the Brooklyn, sailed from New York for California, with a colony of

Mormons, of which Sam Brannan was the leader, and we found them

there on our arrival in January, 1847. When General Kearney, at

Fort Leavenworth, was collecting volunteers early in 1846, for the

Mexican War, he, through the instrumentality of Captain James

Allen, brother to our quartermaster, General Robert Allen, raised

the battalion of Mormons at Kanesville, Iowa, now Council Bluffs,

on the express understanding that it would facilitate their

migration to California. But when the Mormons reached Salt Lake,

in 1846, they learned that they had been forestalled by the United

States forces in California, and they then determined to settle

down where they were. Therefore, when this battalion of five

companies of Mormons (raised by Allen, who died on the way, and was

succeeded by Cooke) was discharged at Los Angeles, California, in

the early summer of 1847, most of the men went to their people at

Salt Lake, with all the money received, as pay from the United

States, invested in cattle and breeding-horses; one company

reenlisted for another year, and the remainder sought work in the

country. As soon as the fame of the gold discovery spread through

California, the Mormons naturally turned to Mormon Island, so that

in July, 1848, we found about three hundred of them there at work.

Sam Brannan was on hand as the high-priest, collecting the tithes.

Clark, of Clark's Point, an early pioneer, was there also, and

nearly all the Mormons who had come out in the Brooklyn, or who had

staid in California after the discharge of their battalion, had

collected there. I recall the scene as perfectly to-day as though

it were yesterday. In the midst of a broken country, all parched

and dried by the hot sun of July, sparsely wooded with live-oaks

and straggling pines, lay the valley of the American River, with

its bold mountain-stream coming out of the Snowy Mountains to the

east. In this valley is a fiat, or gravel-bed, which in high water

is an island, or is overflown, but at the time of our visit was

simply a level gravel-bed of the river. On its edges men were

digging, and filling buckets with the finer earth and gravel, which

was carried to a machine made like a baby's cradle, open at the

foot, and at the head a plate of sheet-iron or zinc, punctured full

of holes. On this metallic plate was emptied the earth, and water

was then poured on it from buckets, while one man shook the cradle

with violent rocking by a handle. On the bottom were nailed cleats

of wood. With this rude machine four men could earn from forty to

one hundred dollars a day, averaging sixteen dollars, or a gold

ounce, per man per day. While the' sun blazed down on the heads of

the miners with tropical heat, the water was bitter cold, and all

hands were either standing in the water or had their clothes wet

all the time; yet there were no complaints of rheumatism or cold.

We made our camp on a small knoll, a little below the island, and

from it could overlook the busy scene. A few bush-huts near by

served as stores, boardinghouses, and for sleeping; but all hands

slept on the ground, with pine-leaves and blankets for bedding. As

soon as the news spread that the Governor was there, persons came

to see us, and volunteered all kinds of information, illustrating

it by samples of the gold, which was of a uniform kind,

"scale-gold," bright and beautiful. A large variety, of every

conceivable shape and form, was found in the smaller gulches round

about, but the gold in the river-bed was uniformly "scale-gold." I

remember that Mr. Clark was in camp, talking to Colonel Mason about

matters and things generally, when he inquired, "Governor, what

business has Sam Brannan to collect the tithes here?" Clark

admitted that Brannan was the head of the Mormon church in

California, and he was simply questioning as to Brannan's right, as

high-priest, to compel the Mormons to pay him the regular tithes.

Colonel Mason answered, "Brannan has a perfect right to collect the

tax, if you Mormons are fools enough to pay it." "Then," said

Clark, "I for one won't pay it any longer." Colonel Mason added:

"This is public land, and the gold is the property of the United

States; all of you here are trespassers, but, as the Government is

benefited by your getting out the gold, I do not intend to

interfere." I understood, afterward, that from that time the

payment of the tithes ceased, but Brannan had already collected

enough money wherewith to hire Sutter's hospital, and to open a

store there, in which he made more money than any merchant in

California, during that summer and fall. The understanding was, that

the money collected by him as tithes was the foundation of his

fortune, which is still very large in San Francisco. That evening

we all mingled freely with the miners, and witnessed the process of

cleaning up and "panning" out, which is the last process for

separating the pure gold from the fine dirt and black sand.

The next day we continued our journey up the valley of the American

Fork, stopping at various camps, where mining was in progress; and

about noon we reached Coloma, the place where gold had been first

discovered. The hills were higher, and the timber of better

quality. The river was narrower and bolder, and but few miners

were at work there, by reason of Marshall's and Sutter's claim to

the site. There stood the sawmill unfinished, the dam and

tail-race just as they were left when the Mormons ceased work.

Marshall and Wimmer's family of wife and half a dozen children were

there, guarding their supposed treasure; living in a house made of

clapboards. Here also we were shown many specimens of gold, of a

coarser grain than that found at Mormon Island. The next day we

crossed the American River to its north side, and visited many

small camps of men, in what were called the "dry diggings." Little

pools of water stood in the beds of the streams, and these were

used to wash the dirt; and there the gold was in every conceivable

shape and size, some of the specimens weighing several ounces.

Some of these "diggings" were extremely rich, but as a whole they

were more precarious in results than at the river. Sometimes a

lucky fellow would hit on a "pocket," and collect several thousand

dollars in a few days, and then again he would be shifting about

from place to place, "prospecting," and spending all he had made.

Little stores were being opened at every point, where flour, bacon,

etc., were sold; every thing being a dollar a pound, and a meal

usually costing three dollars. Nobody paid for a bed, for he slept

on the ground, without fear of cold or rain. We spent nearly a

week in that region, and were quite bewildered by the fabulous

tales of recent discoveries, which at the time were confined to the

several forks of the American and Yuba Rivers.' All this time our

horses had nothing to eat but the sparse grass in that region, and

we were forced to work our way down toward the Sacramento Valley,

or to see our animals perish. Still we contemplated a visit to the

Yuba and Feather Rivers, from which we had heard of more wonderful

"diggings;" but met a courier, who announced the arrival of a ship

at Monterey, with dispatches of great importance from Mazatlan. We

accordingly turned our horses back to Sutter's Fort. Crossing the

Sacramento again by swimming our horses, and ferrying their loads

in that solitary canoe, we took our back track as far as the Napa,

and then turned to Benicia, on Carquinez Straits. We found there a

solitary adobe-house, occupied by Mr. Hastings and his family,

embracing Dr. Semple, the proprietor of the ferry. This ferry was

a ship's-boat, with a latteen-sail, which could carry across at one

time six or eight horses.

It took us several days to cross over, and during that time we got

well acquainted with the doctor, who was quite a character. He had

come to California from Illinois, and was brother to Senator

Semple. He was about seven feet high, and very intelligent. When

we first reached Monterey, he had a printing-press, which belonged

to the United States, having been captured at the custom-house, and

had been used to print custom-house blanks. With this Dr. Semple,

as editor, published the Californian, a small sheet of news, once a

week; and it was a curiosity in its line, using two v's for a w,

and other combinations of letters, made necessary by want of type.

After some time he removed to Yerba Buena with his paper, and it

grew up to be the Alta California of today. Foreseeing, as he

thought, the growth of a great city somewhere on the Bay of San

Francisco, he selected Carquinez Straits as its location, and

obtained from General Vallejo a title to a league of land, on

condition of building up a city thereon to bear the name of

Vallejo's wife. This was Francisca Benicia; accordingly, the new

city was named "Francisca." At this time, the town near the mouth

of the bay was known universally as Yerba Buena; but that name was

not known abroad, although San Francisco was familiar to the whole

civilized world. Now, some of the chief men of Yerba Buena,

Folsom, Howard, Leidesdorf, and others, knowing the importance of a

name, saw their danger, and, by some action of the ayuntamiento, or

town council, changed the name of Yerba Buena to "San Francisco."

Dr. Semple was outraged at their changing the name to one so like

his of Francisca, and he in turn changed his town to the other name

of Mrs. Vallejo, viz., "Benicia;" and Benicia it has remained to

this day. I am convinced that this little circumstance was big

with consequences. That Benicia has the best natural site for a

commercial city, I am, satisfied; and had half the money and half

the labor since bestowed upon San Francisco been expended at

Benicia, we should have at this day a city of palaces on the

Carquinez Straits. The name of "San Francisco," however, fixed the

city where it now is; for every ship in 1848-'49, which cleared

from any part of the world, knew the name of San Francisco, but not

Yerba Buena or Benicia; and, accordingly, ships consigned to

California came pouring in with their contents, and were anchored

in front of Yerba Buena, the first town. Captains and crews

deserted for the gold-mines, and now half the city in front of

Montgomery Street is built over the hulks thus abandoned. But Dr.

Semple, at that time, was all there was of Benicia; he was captain

and crew of his ferry boat, and managed to pass our party to the

south side of Carquinez Straits in about two days.

Thence we proceeded up Amador Valley to Alameda Creek, and so on to

the old mission of San Jose; thence to the pueblo of San Jose,

where Folsom and those belonging in Yerba Buena went in that

direction, and we continued on to Monterey, our party all the way

giving official sanction to the news from the gold-mines, and

adding new force to the "fever."

On reaching Monterey, we found dispatches from Commodore Shubrick,

at Mazatlan, which gave almost positive assurance that the war with

Mexico was over; that hostilities had ceased, and commissioners

were arranging the terms of peace at Guadalupe Hidalgo. It was

well that this news reached California at that critical time; for

so contagious had become the "gold-fever" that everybody was

bound to go and try his fortune, and the volunteer regiment of

Stevenson's would have deserted en masse, had the men not been

assured that they would very soon be entitled to an honorable

discharge.

Many of our regulars did desert, among them the very men who had

escorted us faithfully to the mines and back. Our servants also

left us, and nothing less than three hundred dollars a month would

hire a man in California; Colonel Mason's black boy, Aaron, alone

of all our then servants proving faithful. We were forced to

resort to all manner of shifts to live. First, we had a mess with

a black fellow we called Bustamente as cook; but he got the fever,

and had to go. We next took a soldier, but he deserted, and

carried off my double-barreled shot-gun, which I prized very

highly. To meet this condition of facts, Colonel Mason ordered

that liberal furloughs should be given to the soldiers, and

promises to all in turn, and he allowed all the officers to draw

their rations in kind. As the actual valve of the ration was very

large, this enabled us to live. Halleck, Murray, Ord, and I,

boarded with Dona Augustias, and turned in our rations as pay for

our board.

Some time in September, 1848, the official news of the treaty of

peace reached us, and the Mexican War was over. This treaty was

signed in May, and came to us all the way by land by a courier from

Lower California, sent from La Paz by Lieutenant-Colonel Burton.

On its receipt, orders were at once made for the muster-out of all

of Stevenson's regiment, and our military forces were thus reduced

to the single company of dragoons at Los Angeles, and the one

company of artillery at Monterey. Nearly all business had ceased,

except that connected with gold; and, during that fall, Colonel

Mason, Captain Warner, and I, made another trip up to Sutter's

Fort, going also to the newly-discovered mines on the Stanislaus,

called "Sonora," named from the miners of Sonora, Mexico, who had

first discovered them. We found there pretty much the same state

of facts as before existed at Mormon Island and Coloma, and we

daily received intelligence of the opening of still other mines

north and south.

But I have passed over a very interesting fact. As soon as we had

returned from our first visit to the gold-mines, it became

important to send home positive knowledge of this valuable

discovery. The means of communication with the United States were

very precarious, and I suggested to Colonel Mason that a special

courier ought to be sent; that Second-Lieutenant Loeser had been

promoted to first-lieutenant, and was entitled to go home. He was

accordingly detailed to carry the news. I prepared with great care

the letter to the adjutant-general of August 17, 1848, which

Colonel Mason modified in a few Particulars; and, as it was

important to send not only the specimens which had been presented

to us along our route of travel, I advised the colonel to allow

Captain Folsom to purchase and send to Washington a large sample of

the commercial gold in general use, and to pay for the same out of

the money in his hands known as the "civil fund," arising from

duties collected at the several ports in California. He consented

to this, and Captain Folsom bought an oyster-can full at ten

dollars the ounce, which was the rate of value at which it was then

received at the custom house. Folsom was instructed further to

contract with some vessel to carry the messenger to South America,

where he could take the English steamers as far east as Jamaica,

with a conditional charter giving increased payment if the vessel

could catch the October steamer. Folsom chartered the bark La

Lambayecana, owned and navigated by Henry D. Cooke, who has since

been the Governor of the District of Columbia. In due time this

vessel reached Monterey, and Lieutenant Loeser, with his report and

specimens of gold, embarked and sailed. He reached the South

American Continent at Payta, Peru, in time; took the English

steamer of October to Panama, and thence went on to Kingston,

Jamaica, where he found a sailing vessel bound for New Orleans. On

reaching New Orleans, he telegraphed to the War Department his

arrival; but so many delays had occurred that he did not reach

Washington in time to have the matter embraced in the President's

regular message of 1848, as we had calculated. Still, the

President made it the subject of a special message, and thus became

"official" what had before only reached the world in a very

indefinite shape. Then began that wonderful development, and the

great emigration to California, by land and by sea, of 1849 and

1850.

As before narrated, Mason, Warner, and I, made a second visit to

the mines in September and October, 1848. As the winter season

approached, Colonel Mason returned to Monterey, and I remained for

a time at Sutter's Fort. In order to share somewhat in the riches

of the land, we formed a partnership in a store at Coloma, in

charge of Norman S. Bestor, who had been Warner's clerk. We

supplied the necessary money, fifteen hundred dollars (five hundred

dollars each), and Bestor carried on the store at Coloma for his

share. Out of this investment, each of us realized a profit of

about fifteen hundred dollars. Warner also got a regular leave of

absence, and contracted with Captain Sutter for surveying and

locating the town of Sacramento. He received for this sixteen

dollars per day for his services as surveyor; and Sutter paid all

the hands engaged in the work. The town was laid off mostly up

about the fort, but a few streets were staked off along the river

bank, and one or two leading to it. Captain Sutter always

contended, however, that no town could possibly exist on the

immediate bank of the river, because the spring freshets rose over

the bank, and frequently it was necessary to swim a horse to reach

the boat-landing. Nevertheless, from the very beginning the town

began to be built on the very river-bank, viz., First, Second, and

Third Streets, with J and K Streets leading back. Among the

principal merchants and traders of that winter, at Sacramento, were

Sam Brannan and Hensley, Reading & Co. For several years the site

was annually flooded; but the people have persevered in building

the levees, and afterward in raising all the streets, so that

Sacramento is now a fine city, the capital of the State, and stands

where, in 1848, was nothing but a dense mass of bushes, vines, and

submerged land. The old fort has disappeared altogether.

During the fall of 1848, Warner, Ord, and I, camped on the bank of

the American River, abreast of the fort, at what was known as the

"Old Tan-Yard." I was cook, Ord cleaned up the dishes, and Warner

looked after the horses; but Ord was deposed as scullion because he

would only wipe the tin plates with a tuft of grass, according to

the custom of the country, whereas Warner insisted on having them

washed after each meal with hot water. Warner was in consequence

promoted to scullion, and Ord became the hostler. We drew our

rations in kind from the commissary at San Francisco, who sent them

up to us by a boat; and we were thus enabled to dispense a generous

hospitality to many a poor devil who otherwise would have had

nothing to eat.

The winter of 1848 '49 was a period of intense activity throughout

California. The rainy season was unfavorable to the operations of

gold-mining, and was very hard upon the thousands of houseless men

and women who dwelt in the mountains, and even in the towns. Most

of the natives and old inhabitants had returned to their ranches

and houses; yet there were not roofs enough in the country to

shelter the thousands who had arrived by sea and by land. The news

had gone forth to the whole civilized world that gold in fabulous

quantities was to be had for the mere digging, and adventurers came

pouring in blindly to seek their fortunes, without a thought of

house or food. Yerba Buena had been converted into San Francisco.

Sacramento City had been laid out, lots were being rapidly sold,

and the town was being built up as an entrepot to the mines.

Stockton also had been chosen as a convenient point for trading

with the lower or southern mines. Captain Sutter was the sole

proprietor of the former, and Captain Charles Weber was the owner

of the site of Stockton, which was as yet known as "French Camp."

CHAPTER III.

EARLY RECOLLECTIONS OF CALIFORNIA--(CONTINUED).

1849-1850.

The department headquarters still remained at Monterey, but, with

the few soldiers, we had next to nothing to do. In midwinter we

heard of the approach of a battalion of the Second Dragoons, under

Major Lawrence Pike Graham, with Captains Rucker, Coutts, Campbell,

and others, along. So exhausted were they by their long march from

Upper Mexico that we had to send relief to meet them as they

approached. When this command reached Los Angeles, it was left

there as the garrison, and Captain A. J. Smith's company of the

First Dragoons was brought up to San Francisco. We were also

advised that the Second Infantry, Colonel B. Riley, would be sent

out around Cape Horn in sailing-ships; that the Mounted Rifles,

under Lieutenant-Colonel Loring, would march overland to Oregon;

and that Brigadier-General Persifer F. Smith would come out in

chief command on the Pacific coast. It was also known that a

contract had been entered into with parties in New York and New

Orleans for a monthly line of steamers from those cities to

California, via Panama. Lieutenant-Colonel Burton had come up from

Lower California, and, as captain of the Third Artillery, he was

assigned to command Company F, Third Artillery, at Monterey.

Captain Warner remained at Sacramento, surveying; and Halleck,

Murray, Ord, and I, boarded with Dona Augustias. The season was

unusually rainy and severe, but we passed the time with the usual

round of dances and parties. The time fixed for the arrival of the

mail-steamer was understood to be about January 1, 1849, but the

day came and went without any tidings of her. Orders were given to

Captain Burton to announce her arrival by firing a national

salute, and each morning we listened for the guns from the fort.

The month of January passed, and the greater part of February, too.

As was usual, the army officers celebrated the 22d of February with

a grand ball, given in the new stone school-house, which Alcalde

Walter Colton had built. It was the largest and best hall then in

California. The ball was really a handsome affair, and we kept it

up nearly all night. The next morning we were at breakfast:

present, Dona Augustias, and Manuelita, Halleck, Murray, and

myself. We were dull and stupid enough until a gun from the fort

aroused us, then another and another. "The steamer" exclaimed all,

and, without waiting for hats or any thing, off we dashed. I

reached the wharf hatless, but the dona sent my cap after me by a

servant. The white puffs of smoke hung around the fort, mingled

with the dense fog, which hid all the water of the bay, and well

out to sea could be seen the black spars of some unknown vessel.

At the wharf I found a group of soldiers and a small row-boat,

which belonged to a brig at anchor in the bay. Hastily ordering a

couple of willing soldiers to get in and take the oars, and Mr.

Larkin and Mr. Hartnell asking to go along, we jumped in and pushed

off. Steering our boat toward the spars, which loomed up above the

fog clear and distinct, in about a mile we came to the black hull

of the strange monster, the long-expected and most welcome steamer

California. Her wheels were barely moving, for her pilot could not

see the shore-line distinctly, though the hills and Point of Pines

could be clearly made out over the fog, and occasionally a glimpse

of some white walls showed where the town lay. A "Jacob's ladder"

was lowered for us from the steamer, and in a minute I scrambled up

on deck, followed by Larkin and Hartnell, and we found ourselves

in the midst of many old friends. There was Canby, the

adjutant-general, who was to take my place; Charley Hoyt, my cousin;

General Persifer F. Smith and wife; Gibbs, his aide-de-camp; Major

Ogden, of the Engineers, and wife; and, indeed, many old

Californians, among them Alfred Robinson, and Frank Ward with his

pretty bride. By the time the ship was fairly at anchor we had

answered a million of questions about gold and the state of the

country; and, learning that the ship was out of fuel, had informed

the captain (Marshall) that there was abundance of pine-wood, but no

willing hands to cut it; that no man could be hired at less than an

ounce of gold a day, unless the soldiers would volunteer to do it

for some agreed-upon price. As for coal, there was not a pound in

Monterey, or anywhere else in California. Vessels with coal were

known to be en route around Cape Horn, but none had yet reached

California.

The arrival of this steamer was the beginning of a new epoch on the

Pacific coast; yet there she lay, helpless, without coal or fuel.

The native Californians, who had never seen a steamship, stood for

days on the beach looking at her, with the universal exclamation,

"Tan feo!"--how ugly!--and she was truly ugly when compared with

the clean, well-sparred frigates and sloops-of-war that had

hitherto been seen on the North Pacific coast. It was first

supposed it would take ten days to get wood enough to prosecute her

voyage, and therefore all the passengers who could took up their

quarters on shore. Major Canby relieved me, and took the place I

had held so long as adjutant-general of the Department of

California. The time seemed most opportune for me to leave the

service, as I had several splendid offers of employment and of

partnership, and, accordingly, I made my written resignation; but

General Smith put his veto upon it, saying that he was to command

the Division of the Pacific, while General Riley was to have the

Department of California, and Colonel Loring that of Oregon. He

wanted me as his adjutant-general, because of my familiarity with

the country, and knowledge of its then condition: At the time, he

had on his staff Gibbs as aide-de-camp, and Fitzgerald as

quartermaster. He also had along with him quite a retinue of

servants, hired with a clear contract to serve him for a whole year

after reaching California, every one of whom deserted, except a

young black fellow named Isaac. Mrs. Smith, a pleasant but

delicate Louisiana lady, had a white maid-servant, in whose

fidelity she had unbounded confidence; but this girl was married to

a perfect stranger, and off before she had even landed in San

Francisco. It was, therefore, finally arranged that, on the

California, I was to accompany General Smith to San Francisco as

his adjutant-general. I accordingly sold some of my horses, and

arranged for others to go up by land; and from that time I became

fairly enlisted in the military family of General Persifer F.

Smith.

I parted with my old commander, Colonel Mason, with sincere regret.

To me he had ever been kind and considerate, and, while stern,

honest to a fault, he was the very embodiment of the principle of

fidelity to the interests of the General Government. He possessed

a native strong intellect, and far more knowledge of the principles

of civil government and law than he got credit for. In private and

public expenditures he was extremely economical, but not penurious.

In cases where the officers had to contribute money for parties and

entertainments, he always gave a double share, because of his

allowance of double rations. During our frequent journeys, I was

always caterer, and paid all the bills. In settling with him he

required a written statement of the items of account, but never

disputed one of them. During our time, California was, as now,

full of a bold, enterprising, and speculative set of men, who were

engaged in every sort of game to make money. I know that

Colonel-Mason was beset by them to use his position to make a

fortune for himself and his friends; but he never bought land or

town-lots, because, he said, it was his place to hold the public

estate for the Government as free and unencumbered by claims as

possible; and when I wanted him to stop the public-land sales in San

Francisco, San Jose, etc., he would not; for, although he did not

believe the titles given by the alcaldes worth a cent, yet they

aided to settle the towns and public lands, and he thought, on the

whole, the Government would be benefited thereby. The same thing

occurred as to the gold-mines. He never took a title to a town lot,

unless it was one, of no real value, from Alcalde Colton, in

Monterey, of which I have never heard since. He did take a share in

the store which Warner, Beator, and I, opened at Coloma, paid his

share of the capital, five hundred dollars, and received his share

of the profits, fifteen hundred dollars. I think also he took a

share in a venture to China with Larkin and others; but, on leaving

California, he was glad to sell out without profit or loss. In the

stern discharge of his duty he made some bitter enemies, among them

Henry M. Naglee, who, in the newspapers of the day, endeavored to

damage his fair name. But, knowing him intimately, I am certain

that he is entitled to all praise for having so controlled the

affairs of the country that, when his successor arrived, all things

were so disposed that a civil form of government was an easy matter

of adjustment. Colonel Mason was relieved by General Riley some

time in April, and left California in the steamer of the 1st May for

Washington and St. Louis, where he died of cholera in the summer of

1850, and his body is buried in Bellefontaine Cemetery. His widow

afterward married Major (since General) Don Carlos Buell, and is now

living in Kentucky.

In overhauling the hold of the steamer California, as she lay at

anchor in Monterey Bay, a considerable amount of coal was found

under some heavy duplicate machinery. With this, and such wood as

had been gathered, she was able to renew her voyage. The usual

signal was made, and we all went on board. About the 1st of March

we entered the Heads, and anchored off San Francisco, near the

United States line-of-battle-ship Ohio, Commodore T. Catesby Jones.

As was the universal custom of the day, the crew of the California

deserted her; and she lay for months unable to make a trip back to

Panama, as was expected of her. As soon as we reached San

Francisco, the first thing was to secure an office and a house to

live in. The weather was rainy and stormy, and snow even lay on

the hills back of the Mission. Captain Folsom, the quartermaster,

agreed to surrender for our office the old adobe custom house, on

the upper corner of the plaza, as soon as he could remove his

papers and effects down to one of his warehouses on the beach; and

he also rented for us as quarters the old Hudson Bay Company house

on Montgomery Street, which had been used by Howard & Mellua as a

store, and at that very time they were moving their goods into a

larger brick building just completed for them. As these changes

would take some time, General Smith and Colonel Ogden, with their

wives, accepted the hospitality offered by Commodore Jones on board

the Ohio. I opened the office at the custom house, and Gibbs,

Fitzgerald, and some others of us, slept in the loft of the Hudson

Bay Company house until the lower part was cleared of Howard's

store, after which General Smith and the ladies moved in. There we

had a general mess, and the efforts at house-keeping were simply

ludicrous. One servant after another, whom General Smith had

brought from New Orleans, with a solemn promise to stand by him for

one whole year, deserted without a word of notice or explanation,

and in a few days none remained but little Isaac. The ladies had

no maid or attendants; and the general, commanding all the mighty

forces of the United States on the Pacific coast, had to scratch to

get one good meal a day for his family! He was a gentleman of fine

social qualities, genial and gentle, and joked at every thing.

Poor Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Ogden did not bear it so philosophically.

Gibbs, Fitzgerald, and I, could cruise around and find a meal,

which cost three dollars, at some of the many restaurants which had

sprung up out of red-wood boards and cotton lining; but the general

and ladies could not go out, for ladies were rara aves at that day

in California. Isaac was cook, chamber-maid, and everything,

thoughtless of himself, and struggling, out of the slimmest means,

to compound a breakfast for a large and hungry family. Breakfast

would be announced any time between ten and twelve, and dinner

according to circumstances. Many a time have I seen General Smith,

with a can of preserved meat in his hands, going toward the house,

take off his hat on meeting a negro, and, on being asked the reason

of his politeness, he would answer that they were the only real

gentlemen in California. I confess that the fidelity of Colonel

Mason's boy "Aaron," and of General Smith's boy "Isaac," at a time

when every white man laughed at promises as something made to be

broken, has given me a kindly feeling of respect for the negroes,

and makes me hope that they will find an honorable "status" in the

jumble of affairs in which we now live.

That was a dull hard winter in San Francisco; the rains were heavy,

and the mud fearful. I have seen mules stumble in the street, and

drown in the liquid mud! Montgomery Street had been filled up with

brush and clay, and I always dreaded to ride on horseback along it,

because the mud was so deep that a horse's legs would become

entangled in the bushes below, and the rider was likely to be

thrown and drowned in the mud. The only sidewalks were made of

stepping-stones of empty boxes, and here and there a few planks

with barrel-staves nailed on. All the town lay along Montgomery

Street, from Sacramento to Jackson, and about the plaza. Gambling

was the chief occupation of the people. While they were waiting

for the cessation of the rainy season, and for the beginning of

spring, all sorts of houses were being put up, but of the most

flimsy kind, and all were stores, restaurants, or gambling

-saloons. Any room twenty by sixty feet would rent for a thousand

dollars a month. I had, as my pay, seventy dollars a month, and no

one would even try to hire a servant under three hundred dollars.

Had it not been for the fifteen hundred dollars I had made in the

store at Coloma, I could not have lived through the winter. About

the 1st of April arrived the steamer Oregon; but her captain

(Pearson) knew what was the state of affairs on shore, and ran his

steamer alongside the line-of-battle-ship Ohio at Saucelito, and

obtained the privilege of leaving his crew on board as "prisoners"

until he was ready to return to sea. Then, discharging his

passengers and getting coal out of some of the ships which had

arrived, he retook his crew out of limbo and carried the first

regular mail back to Panama early in April. In regular order

arrived the third steamer, the Panama; and, as the vessels were

arriving with coal, The California was enabled to hire a crew and

get off. From that time forward these three ships constituted the

regular line of mail-steamers, which has been kept up ever since.

By the steamer Oregon arrived out Major R. P. Hammond, J. M.

Williams, James Blair, and others; also the gentlemen who, with

Major Ogden, were to compose a joint commission to select the sites

for the permanent forts and navyyard of California. This

commission was composed of Majors Ogden, Smith, and Leadbetter, of,

the army, and Captains Goldsborough, Van Brunt, and Blunt, of the

navy. These officers, after a most careful study of the whole

subject, selected Mare Island for the navy-yard, and "Benicia" for

the storehouses and arsenals of the army. The Pacific Mail

Steamship Company also selected Benicia as their depot. Thus was

again revived the old struggle for supremacy of these two points

as the site of the future city of the Pacific. Meantime, however,

San Francisco had secured the name. About six hundred ships were

anchored there without crews, and could not get away; and there the

city was, and had to be.

Nevertheless, General Smith, being disinterested and unprejudiced,

decided on Benicia as the point where the city ought to be, and

where the army headquarters should be. By the Oregon there arrived

at San Francisco a man who deserves mention here--Baron

Steinberger. He had been a great cattle-dealer in the United

States, and boasted that he had helped to break the United States

Bank, by being indebted to it five million dollars! At all events,

he was a splendid looking fellow, and brought with him from

Washington a letter to General Smith and another for Commodore

Jones, to the effect that he was a man of enlarged experience in

beef; that the authorities in Washington knew that there existed in

California large herds of cattle, which were only valuable for

their hides and tallow; that it was of great importance to the

Government that this beef should be cured and salted so as to be of

use to the army and navy, obviating the necessity of shipping

salt-beef around Cape Horn. I know he had such a letter from the

Secretary of War, Marcy, to General Smith, for it passed into my

custody, and I happened to be in Commodore Jones's cabin when the

baron presented the one for him from the Secretary of the Navy.

The baron was anxious to pitch in at once, and said that all he

needed to start with were salt and barrels. After some inquiries

of his purser, the commodore promised to let him have the barrels

with their salt, as fast as they were emptied by the crew. Then

the baron explained that he could get a nice lot of cattle from Don

Timoteo Murphy, at the Mission of San Rafael, on the north aide of

the bay, but he could not get a boat and crew to handle them.

Under the authority from the Secretary of the Navy, the commodore

then promised him the use of a boat and crew, until he (the baron)

could find and purchase a suitable one for himself. Then the baron

opened the first regular butcher-shop in San Francisco, on the

wharf about the foot of Broadway or Pacific Street, where we could

buy at twenty-five or fifty cents a pound the best roasts, steaks,

and cuts of beef, which had cost him nothing, for he never paid

anybody if he could help it, and he soon cleaned poor Don Timoteo

out. At first, every boat of his, in coming down from the San

Rafael, touched at the Ohio, and left the best beefsteaks and

roasts for the commodore, but soon the baron had enough money to

dispense with the borrowed boat, and set up for himself, and from

this small beginning, step by step, he rose in a few months to be

one of the richest and most influential men in San Francisco; but

in his wild speculations he was at last caught, and became

helplessly bankrupt. He followed General Fremont to St. Louis in

1861, where I saw him, but soon afterward he died a pauper in one

of the hospitals. When General Smith had his headquarters in San

Francisco, in the spring of 1849, Steinberger gave dinners worthy

any baron of old; and when, in after-years, I was a banker there,

he used to borrow of me small sums of money in repayment for my

share of these feasts; and somewhere among my old packages I hold

one of his confidential notes for two hundred dollars, but on the

whole I got off easily. I have no doubt that, if this man's

history could be written out, it would present phases as wonderful

as any of romance; but in my judgment he was a dangerous man,

without any true-sense of honor or honesty.

Little by little the rains of that season grew less and less, and

the hills once more became green and covered with flowers. It

became perfectly evident that no family could live in San Francisco

on such a salary as Uncle Sam allowed his most favored officials;

so General Smith and Major Ogden concluded to send their families

back to the United States, and afterward we men-folks could take to

camp and live on our rations. The Second Infantry had arrived, and

had been distributed, four companies to Monterey, and the rest

somewhat as Stevenson's regiment had been. A. J. Smith's company

of dragoons was sent up to Sonoma, whither General Smith had

resolved to move our headquarters. On the steamer which sailed

about May 1st (I think the California), we embarked, the ladies for

home and we for Monterey. At Monterey we went on shore, and

Colonel Mason, who meantime had been relieved by General Riley,

went on board, and the steamer departed for Panama. Of all that

party I alone am alive.

General Riley had, with his family, taken the house which Colonel

Mason had formerly used, and Major Canby and wife had secured rooms

at Alvarado's. Captain Bane was quartermaster, and had his family

in the house of a man named Garner, near the redoubt. Burton and

Company F were still at the fort; the four companies of the Second

Infantry were quartered in the barracks, the same building in which

we had had our headquarters; and the company officers were

quartered in hired buildings near by. General Smith and his aide,

Captain Gibbs, went to Larkin's house, and I was at my old rooms at

Dona Augustias. As we intended to go back to San Francisco by land

and afterward to travel a good deal, General Smith gave me the

necessary authority to fit out the party. There happened to be

several trains of horses and mules in town, so I purchased about a

dozen horses and mules at two hundred dollars a head, on account of

the Quartermaster's Department, and we had them kept under guard in

the quartermaster's corral.

I remember one night being in the quarters of Lieutenant Alfred

Sully, where nearly all the officers of the garrison were

assembled, listening to Sully's stories. Lieutenant Derby,

"Squibob," was one of the number, as also Fred Steele, "Neighbor"

Jones, and others, when, just after "tattoo," the orderly-sergeants

came to report the result of "tattoo" roll-call; one reported five

men absent, another eight, and so on, until it became certain that

twenty-eight men had deserted; and they were so bold and open in

their behavior that it amounted to defiance. They had deliberately

slung their knapsacks and started for the gold-mines. Dr. Murray

and I were the only ones present who were familiar with the

country, and I explained how easy they could all be taken by a

party going out at once to Salinas Plain, where the country was so

open and level that a rabbit could not cross without being seen;

that the deserters could not go to the mines without crossing that

plain, and could not reach it before daylight. All agreed that the

whole regiment would desert if these men were not brought back.

Several officers volunteered on the spot to go after them; and, as

the soldiers could not be trusted, it was useless to send any but

officers in pursuit. Some one went to report the affair to the

adjutant-general, Canby, and he to General Riley. I waited some

time, and, as the thing grew cold, I thought it was given up, and

went to my room and to bed.

About midnight I was called up and informed that there were seven

officers willing to go, but the difficulty was to get horses and

saddles. I went down to Larkin's house and got General Smith to

consent that we might take the horses I had bought for our trip.

It was nearly three o'clock a.m. before we were all mounted and

ready. I had a musket which I used for hunting. With this I led

off at a canter, followed by the others. About six miles out, by

the faint moon, I saw ahead of us in the sandy road some blue

coats, and, fearing lest they might resist or escape into the dense

bushes which lined the road, I halted and found with me Paymaster

Hill, Captain N. H. Davis, and Lieutenant John Hamilton. We waited

some time for the others, viz., Canby, Murray, Gibbs, and Sully, to

come up, but as they were not in sight we made a dash up the road

and captured six of the deserters, who were Germans, with heavy

knapsacks on, trudging along the deep, sandy road. They had not

expected pursuit, had not heard our horses, and were accordingly

easily taken. Finding myself the senior officer present, I ordered

Lieutenant Hamilton to search the men and then to march them back

to Monterey, suspecting, as was the fact, that the rest of our

party had taken a road that branched off a couple of miles back.

Daylight broke as we reached the Saunas River, twelve miles out,

and there the trail was broad and fresh leading directly out on the

Saunas Plain. This plain is about five miles wide, and then the

ground becomes somewhat broken. The trail continued very plain,

and I rode on at a gallop to where there was an old adobe-ranch on

the left of the road, with the head of a lagoon, or pond, close by.

I saw one or two of the soldiers getting water at the pond, and

others up near the house. I had the best horse and was

considerably ahead, but on looking back could see Hill and Davis

coming up behind at a gallop. I motioned to them to hurry forward,

and turned my horse across the head of the pond, knowing the ground

well, as it was a favorite place for shooting geese and ducks.

Approaching the house, I ordered the men who were outside to go in.

They did not know me personally, and exchanged glances, but I had

my musket cocked, and, as the two had seen Davis and Hill coming up

pretty fast, they obeyed. Dismounting, I found the house full of

deserters, and there was no escape for them. They naturally

supposed that I had a strong party with me, and when I ordered them

to "fall in" they obeyed from habit. By the time Hill and Davis

came up I had them formed in two ranks, the front rank facing

about, and I was taking away their bayonets, pistols, etc. We

disarmed them, destroying a musket and several pistols, and, on

counting them, we found that we three had taken eighteen, which,

added to the six first captured, made twenty-four. We made them

sling their knapsacks and begin their homeward march. It was near

night when we got back, so that these deserters had traveled nearly

forty miles since "tattoo" of the night before. The other party

had captured three, so that only one man had escaped. I doubt not

this prevented the desertion of the bulk of the Second Infantry

that spring, for at that time so demoralizing was the effect of the

gold-mines that everybody not in the military service justified

desertion, because a soldier, if free, could earn more money in a

day than he received per month. Not only did soldiers and sailors

desert, but captains and masters of ships actually abandoned their

vessels and cargoes to try their luck at the mines. Preachers

and professors forgot their creeds and took to trade, and

even to keeping gambling-houses. I remember that one of our

regular soldiers, named Reese, in deserting stole a favorite

double-barreled gun of mine, and when the orderly-sergeant of the

company, Carson, was going on furlough, I asked him when he came

across Reese to try and get my gun back. When he returned he told

me that he had found Reese and offered him a hundred dollars for my

gun, but Reese sent me word that he liked the gun, and would not

take a hundred dollars for it. Soldiers or sailors who could reach

the mines were universally shielded by the miners, so that it was

next to useless to attempt their recapture. In due season General

Persifer Smith, Gibbs, and I, with some hired packers, started back

for San Francisco, and soon after we transferred our headquarters to

Sonoma. About this time Major Joseph Hooker arrived from the East

--the regular adjutant-general of the division--relieved me, and I

became thereafter one of General Smith's regular aides-de-camp.

As there was very little to do, General Smith encouraged us to go

into any business that would enable us to make money. R. P.

Hammond, James Blair, and I, made a contract to survey for Colonel

J. D. Stevenson his newly-projected city of "New York of the

Pacific," situated at the month of the San Joaquin River. The

contract embraced, also, the making of soundings and the marking

out of a channel through Suisun Bay. We hired, in San Francisco, a

small metallic boat, with a sail, laid in some stores, and

proceeded to the United States ship Ohio, anchored at Saucelito,

where we borrowed a sailor-boy and lead-lines with which to sound

the channel. We sailed up to Benicia, and, at General Smith's

request, we surveyed and marked the line dividing the city of

Benicia from the government reserve. We then sounded the bay back

and forth, and staked out the best channel up Suisun Bay, from

which Blair made out sailing directions. We then made the

preliminary surveys of the city of "New York of the Pacific," all

of which were duly plotted; and for this work we each received from

Stevenson five hundred dollars and ten or fifteen lots. I sold

enough lots to make up another five hundred dollars, and let the

balance go; for the city of "New York of the Pacific" never came to

any thing. Indeed, cities at the time were being projected by

speculators all round the bay and all over the country.

While we were surveying at "New York of the Pacific," occurred one

of those little events that showed the force of the gold-fever. We

had a sailor-boy with us, about seventeen years old, who cooked our

meals and helped work the boat. Onshore, we had the sail spread so

as to shelter us against the wind and dew. One morning I awoke

about daylight, and looked out to see if our sailor-boy was at work

getting breakfast; but he was not at the fire at all. Getting up,

I discovered that he had converted a tule-bolsa into a sail boat,

and was sailing for the gold-mines. He was astride this bolsa,

with a small parcel of bread and meat done up in a piece of

cloth; another piece of cloth, such as we used for making our

signal-stations, he had fixed into a sail; and with a paddle he was

directing his precarious craft right out into the broad bay, to

follow the general direction of the schooners and boats that he

knew were ascending the Sacramento River. He was about a hundred

yards from the shore. I jerked up my gun, and hailed him to come

back. After a moment's hesitation, he let go his sheet and began

to paddle back. This bolsa was nothing but a bundle of tule, or

bullrush, bound together with grass-ropes in the shape of a cigar,

about ten feet long and about two feet through the butt. With

these the California Indiana cross streams of considerable size.

When he came ashore, I gave him a good overhauling for attempting

to desert, and put him to work getting breakfast. In due time we

returned him to his ship, the Ohio. Subsequently, I made a bargain

with Mr. Hartnell to survey his ranch at Cosnmnes River, Sacramento

Valley. Ord and a young citizen, named Seton, were associated with

me in this. I bought of Rodman M. Price a surveyor's compass,

chain, etc., and, in San Francisco, a small wagon and harness.

Availing ourselves of a schooner, chartered to carry Major Miller

and two companies of the Second Infantry from San Francisco to

Stockton, we got up to our destination at little cost. I recall an

occurrence that happened when the schooner was anchored in

Carquinez Straits, opposite the soldiers' camp on shore. We were

waiting for daylight and a fair wind; the schooner lay anchored at

an ebb-tide, and about daylight Ord and I had gone ashore for

something. Just as we were pulling off from shore, we heard the

loud shouts of the men, and saw them all running down toward the

water. Our attention thus drawn, we saw something swimming in the

water, and pulled toward it, thinking it a coyote; but we soon

recognized a large grizzly bear, swimming directly across the

channel. Not having any weapon, we hurriedly pulled for the

schooner, calling out, as we neared it, "A bear! a bear!" It so

happened that Major Miller was on deck, washing his face and hands.

He ran rapidly to the bow of the vessel, took the musket from the

hands of the sentinel, and fired at the bear, as he passed but a

short distance ahead of the schooner. The bear rose, made a growl

or howl, but continued his course. As we scrambled up the

port-aide to get our guns, the mate, with a crew, happened to have

a boat on the starboard-aide, and, armed only with a hatchet, they

pulled up alongside the bear, and the mate struck him in the head

with the hatchet. The bear turned, tried to get into the boat, but

the mate struck his claws with repeated blows, and made him let go.

After several passes with him, the mate actually killed the bear,

got a rope round him, and towed him alongside the schooner, where

he was hoisted on deck. The carcass weighed over six hundred

pounds. It was found that Major Miller's shot had struck the bear

in the lower jaw, and thus disabled him. Had it not been for this,

the bear would certainly have upset the boat and drowned all in it.

As it was, however, his meat served us a good turn in our trip up

to Stockton. At Stockton we disembarked our wagon, provisions, and

instruments. There I bought two fine mules at three hundred

dollars each, and we hitched up and started for the Coaumnes River.

About twelve miles off was the Mokelumne, a wide, bold stream, with

a canoe as a ferry-boat. We took our wagon to pieces, and ferried

it and its contents across, and then drove our mules into the

water. In crossing, one mule became entangled in the rope of the

other, and for a time we thought he was a gone mule; but at last he

revived and we hitched up. The mules were both pack-animals;

neither had ever before seen a wagon. Young Seton also was about

as green, and had never handled a mule. We put on the harness, and

began to hitch them in, when one of the mules turned his head, saw

the wagon, and started. We held on tight, but the beast did not

stop until he had shivered the tongue-pole into a dozen fragments.

The fact was, that Seton had hitched the traces before he had put

on the blind-bridle. There was considerable swearing done, but

that would not mend the pole. There was no place nearer than

Sutter's Fort to repair damages, so we were put to our wits' end.

We first sent back a mile or so, and bought a raw-hide. Gathering

up the fragments of the pole and cutting the hide into strips, we

finished it in the rudest manner. As long as the hide was green, the

pole was very shaky; but gradually the sun dried the hide,

tightened it, and the pole actually held for about a month. This

cost us nearly a day of delay; but, when damages were repaired, we

harnessed up again, and reached the crossing of the Cosumnes, where

our survey was to begin. The expediente, or title-papers, of the

ranch described it as containing nine or eleven leagues on the

Cosumnes, south side, and between the San Joaquin River and Sierra

Nevada Mountains. We began at the place where the road crosses the

Cosumnes, and laid down a line four miles south, perpendicular to

the general direction of the stream; then, surveying up the stream,

we marked each mile so as to admit of a subdivision of one mile by

four. The land was dry and very poor, with the exception of here

and there some small pieces of bottom land, the great bulk of the

bottom-land occurring on the north side of the stream. We

continued the survey up some twenty miles into the hills above the

mill of Dailor and Sheldon. It took about a month to make this

survey, which, when finished, was duly plotted; and for it we

received one-tenth of the land, or two subdivisions. Ord and I

took the land, and we paid Seton for his labor in cash. By the

sale of my share of the land, subsequently, I realized three

thousand dollars. After finishing Hartnell's survey, we crossed

over to Dailor's, and did some work for him at five hundred dollars

a day for the party. Having finished our work on the Cosumnes, we

proceeded to Sacramento, where Captain Sutter employed us to

connect the survey of Sacramento City, made by Lieutenant Warner,

and that of Sutterville, three miles below, which was then being

surveyed by Lieutenant J. W. Davidson, of the First Dragoons. At

Sutterville, the plateau of the Sacramento approached quite near

the river, and it would have made a better site for a town than the

low, submerged land where the city now stands; but it seems to be a

law of growth that all natural advantages are disregarded wherever

once business chooses a location. Old Sutter's embarcadero became

Sacramento City, simply because it was the first point used for

unloading boats for Sutter's Fort, just as the site for San

Francisco was fixed by the use of Yerba Buena as the hide-landing

for the Mission of "San Francisco de Asis."

I invested my earnings in this survey in three lots in Sacramento

City, on which I made a fair profit by a sale to one McNulty, of

Mansfield, Ohio. I only had a two months' leave of absence, during

which General Smith, his staff, and a retinue of civil friends,

were making a tour of the gold-mines, and hearing that he was en

route back to his headquarters at Sonoma, I knocked off my work,

sold my instruments, and left my wagon and mules with my cousin

Charley Hoyt, who had a store in Sacramento, and was on the point

of moving up to a ranch, for which he had bargained, on Bear Creek,

on which was afterward established Camp "Far West." He afterward

sold the mules, wagon, etc., for me, and on the whole I think I

cleared, by those two months' work, about six thousand dollars. I

then returned to headquarters at Sonoma, in time to attend my

fellow aide-de-camp Gibbs through a long and dangerous sickness,

during which he was on board a store-ship, guarded by Captain

George Johnson, who now resides in San Francisco. General Smith

had agreed that on the first good opportunity he would send me to

the United States as a bearer of dispatches, but this he could not

do until he had made the examination of Oregon, which was also in

his command. During the summer of 1849 there continued to pour

into California a perfect stream of people. Steamers came, and a

line was established from San Francisco to Sacramento, of which the

Senator was the pioneer, charging sixteen dollars a passage, and

actually coining money. Other boats were built, out of materials

which had either come around Cape Horn or were brought from the

Sandwich Islands. Wharves were built, houses were springing up

as if by magic, and the Bay of San Francisco presented as busy a

scene of life as any part of the world. Major Allen, of the

Quartermaster's Department, who had come out as chief-quartermaster

of the division, was building a large warehouse at Benicia, with a

row of quarters, out of lumber at one hundred dollars per thousand

feet, and the work was done by men at sixteen dollars a day. I

have seen a detailed soldier, who got only his monthly pay of eight

dollars a month, and twenty cents a day for extra duty, nailing on

weather-boards and shingles, alongside a citizen who was paid

sixteen dollars a day. This was a real injustice, made the

soldiers discontented, and it was hardly to be wondered at that so

many deserted.

While the mass of people were busy at gold and in mammoth

speculations, a set of busy politicians were at work to secure the

prizes of civil government. Gwin and Fremont were there, and T.

Butler King, of Georgia, had come out from the East, scheming for

office. He staid with us at Sonoma, and was generally regarded as

the Government candidate for United States Senator. General Riley

as Governor, and Captain Halleck as Secretary of State, had issued

a proclamation for the election of a convention to frame a State

constitution. In due time the elections were held, and the

convention was assembled at Monterey. Dr. Semple was elected

president; and Gwin, Sutter, Halleck, Butler King, Sherwood,

Gilbert, Shannon, and others, were members. General Smith took no

part in this convention, but sent me down to watch the proceedings,

and report to him. The only subject of interest was the slavery

question. There were no slaves then in California, save a few who

had come out as servants, but the Southern people at that time

claimed their share of territory, out of that acquired by the

common labors of all sections of the Union in the war with Mexico.

Still, in California there was little feeling on the subject. I

never heard General Smith, who was a Louisianian, express any

opinion about it. Nor did Butler King, of Georgia, ever manifest

any particular interest in the matter. A committee was named to

draft a constitution, which in due time was reported, with the

usual clause, then known as the Wilmot Proviso, excluding slavery;

and during the debate which ensued very little opposition was made

to this clause, which was finally adopted by a large majority,

although the convention was made up in large part of men from our

Southern States. This matter of California being a free State,

afterward, in the national Congress, gave rise to angry debates,

which at one time threatened civil war. The result of the

convention was the election of State officers, and of the

Legislature which sat in San Jose in October and November, 1849,

and which elected Fremont and Gwin as the first United States

Senators in Congress from the Pacific coast.

Shortly after returning from Monterey, I was sent by General Smith

up to Sacramento City to instruct Lieutenants Warner and

Williamson, of the Engineers, to push their surveys of the Sierra

Nevada Mountains, for the purpose of ascertaining the possibility

of passing that range by a railroad, a subject that then elicited

universal interest. It was generally assumed that such a road

could not be made along any of the immigrant roads then in use, and

Warner's orders were to look farther north up the Feather River, or

some one of its tributaries. Warner was engaged in this survey

during the summer and fall of 1849, and had explored, to the very

end of Goose Lake, the source of Feather River. Then, leaving

Williamson with the baggage and part of the men, he took about ten

men and a first-rate guide, crossed the summit to the east, and had

turned south, having the range of mountains on his right hand, with

the intention of regaining his camp by another pass in the

mountain. The party was strung out, single file, with wide spaces

between, Warner ahead. He had just crossed a small valley and

ascended one of the spurs covered with sage-brush and rocks, when a

band of Indians rose up and poured in a shower of arrows. The mule

turned and ran back to the valley, where Warner fell off dead,

punctured by five arrows. The mule also died. The guide, who was

near to Warner, was mortally wounded; and one or two men had arrows

in their bodies, but recovered. The party gathered about Warner's

body, in sight of the Indians, who whooped and yelled, but did not

venture away from their cover of rocks. This party of men remained

there all day without burying the bodies, and at night, by a wide

circuit, passed the mountain, and reached Williamson's camp. The

news of Warner's death cast a gloom over all the old Californians,

who knew him well. He was a careful, prudent, and honest officer,

well qualified for his business, and extremely accurate in all his

work. He and I had been intimately associated during our four

years together in California, and I felt his loss deeply. The

season was then too far advanced to attempt to avenge his death,

and it was not until the next spring that a party was sent out to

gather up and bury his scattered bones.

As winter approached, the immigrants overland came pouring into

California, dusty and worn with their two thousand miles of weary

travel across the plains and mountains. Those who arrived in

October and November reported thousands still behind them, with

oxen perishing, and short of food. Appeals were made for help, and

General Smith resolved to attempt relief. Major Rucker, who had

come across with Pike. Graham's Battalion of Dragoons, had

exchanged with Major Fitzgerald, of the Quartermaster's Department,

and was detailed to conduct this relief. General Smith ordered him

to be supplied with one hundred thousand dollars out of the civil

fund, subject to his control, and with this to purchase at

Sacramento flour, bacon, etc., and to hire men and mules to send

out and meet the immigrants. Major Rucker fulfilled this duty

perfectly, sending out pack-trains loaded with food by the many

routes by which the immigrants were known to be approaching, went

out himself with one of these trains, and remained in the mountains

until the last immigrant had got in. No doubt this expedition

saved many a life which has since been most useful to the country.

I remained at Sacramento a good part of the fall of 1849,

recognizing among the immigrants many of my old personal

friends--John C. Fall, William King, Sam Stambaugh, Hugh Ewing,

Hampton Denman, etc. I got Rucker to give these last two employment

along with the train for the relief of the immigrants. They had

proposed to begin a ranch on my land on the Cosumnes, but afterward

changed their minds, and went out with Rucker.

While I was at Sacramento General Smith had gone on his

contemplated trip to Oregon, and promised that he would be back in

December, when he would send me home with dispatches. Accordingly,

as the winter and rainy season was at hand, I went to San

Francisco, and spent some time at the Presidio, waiting patiently

for General Smith's return. About Christmas a vessel arrived from

Oregon with the dispatches, and an order for me to deliver them in

person to General Winfield Scott, in New York City. General Smith

had sent them down, remaining in Oregon for a time. Of course I

was all ready, and others of our set were going home by the same

conveyance, viz., Rucker, Ord, A. J. Smith--some under orders, and

the others on leave. Wanting to see my old friends in Monterey, I

arranged for my passage in the steamer of January 1, 1850, paying

six hundred dollars for passage to New York, and went down to

Monterey by land, Rucker accompanying me. The weather was

unusually rainy, and all the plain about Santa Clara was under

water; but we reached Monterey in time. I again was welcomed by my

friends, Dona Augustias, Manuelita, and the family, and it was

resolved that I should take two of the boys home with me and put

them at Georgetown College for education, viz., Antonio and

Porfirio, thirteen and eleven years old. The dona gave me a bag of

gold-dust to pay for their passage and to deposit at the college.

On the 2d day of January punctually appeared the steamer Oregon.