We were all soon on board and off for home. At that time the

steamers touched at San Diego, Acapulco, and Panama. Our

passage down the coast was unusually pleasant. Arrived at

Panama, we hired mules and rode across to Gorgona, on the

Cruces River, where we hired a boat and paddled down to the

mouth of the river, off which lay the steamer Crescent City. It

usually took four days to cross the isthmus, every passenger taking

care of himself, and it was really funny to watch the efforts of

women and men unaccustomed to mules. It was an old song to us, and

the trip across was easy and interesting. In due time we were rowed

off to the Crescent City, rolling back and forth in the swell, and

we scrambled aboard by a "Jacob's ladder" from the stern. Some of

the women had to be hoisted aboard by lowering a tub from the end

of a boom; fun to us who looked on, but awkward enough to the poor

women, especially to a very fat one, who attracted much notice.

General Fremont, wife and child (Lillie) were passengers with us

down from San Francisco; but Mrs. Fremont not being well, they

remained over one trip at Panama.

Senator Gwin was one of our passengers, and went through to New

York. We reached New York about the close of January, after a safe

and pleasant trip. Our party, composed of Ord, A. J. Smith, and

Rucker, with the two boys, Antonio and Porfirio, put up at

Delmonico's, on Bowling Green; and, as soon as we had cleaned up

somewhat, I took a carriage, went to General Scott's office in

Ninth Street, delivered my dispatches, was ordered to dine with him

next day, and then went forth to hunt up my old friends and

relations, the Scotts, Hoyts, etc., etc.

On reaching New York, most of us had rough soldier's clothing, but

we soon got a new outfit, and I dined with General Scott's family,

Mrs. Scott being present, and also their son-in-law and daughter

(Colonel and Mrs. H. L. Scott). The general questioned me pretty

closely in regard to things on the Pacific coast, especially the

politics, and startled me with the assertion that "our country was

on the eve of a terrible civil war." He interested me by anecdotes

of my old army comrades in his recent battles around the city of

Mexico, and I felt deeply the fact that our country had passed

through a foreign war, that my comrades had fought great battles,

and yet I had not heard a hostile shot. Of course, I thought it

the last and only chance in my day, and that my career as a soldier

was at an end. After some four or five days spent in New York, I

was, by an order of General Scott, sent to Washington, to lay

before the Secretary of War (Crawford, of Georgia) the dispatches

which I had brought from California. On reaching Washington, I

found that Mr. Ewing was Secretary of the Interior, and I at once

became a member of his family. The family occupied the house of

Mr. Blair, on Pennsylvania Avenue, directly in front of the War

Department. I immediately repaired to the War Department, and

placed my dispatches in the hands of Mr. Crawford, who questioned

me somewhat about California, but seemed little interested in the

subject, except so far as it related to slavery and the routes

through Texas. I then went to call on the President at the White

House. I found Major Bliss, who had been my teacher in mathematics

at West Point, and was then General Taylor's son-in-law and private

secretary. He took me into the room, now used by the President's

private secretaries, where President Taylor was. I had never seen

him before, though I had served under him in Florida in 1840-'41,

and was most agreeably surprised at his fine personal appearance,

and his pleasant, easy manners. He received me with great

kindness, told me that Colonel Mason had mentioned my name with

praise, and that he would be pleased to do me any act of favor. We

were with him nearly an hour, talking about California generally,

and of his personal friends, Persifer Smith, Riley, Canby, and

others: Although General Scott was generally regarded by the army

as the most accomplished soldier of the Mexican War, yet General

Taylor had that blunt, honest, and stern character, that endeared

him to the masses of the people, and made him President. Bliss,

too, had gained a large fame by his marked skill and intelligence

as an adjutant-general and military adviser. His manner was very

unmilitary, and in his talk he stammered and hesitated, so as to

make an unfavorable impression on a stranger; but he was

wonderfully accurate and skillful with his pen, and his orders and

letters form a model of military precision and clearness.

CHAPTER IV.

MISSOURI, LOUISIANA, AND CALIFORNIA

1850-1855.

Having returned from California in January, 1850, with dispatches

for the War Department, and having delivered them in person first

to General Scott in New York City, and afterward to the Secretary

of War (Crawford) in Washington City, I applied for and received a

leave of absence for six months. I first visited my mother, then

living at Mansfield, Ohio, and returned to Washington, where, on

the 1st day of May, 1850, I was married to Miss Ellen Boyle Ewing,

daughter of the Hon. Thomas Ewing, Secretary of the Interior. The

marriage ceremony was attended by a large and distinguished

company, embracing Daniel Webster, Henry Clay, T. H. Benton,

President Taylor, and all his cabinet. This occurred at the house

of Mr. Ewing, the same now owned and occupied by Mr. F. P. Blair,

senior, on Pennsylvania Avenue, opposite the War Department. We

made a wedding tour to Baltimore, New York, Niagara, and Ohio, and

returned to Washington by the 1st of July. General Taylor

participated in the celebration of the Fourth of July, a very hot

day, by hearing a long speech from the Hon. Henry S. Foote, at the

base of the Washington Monument. Returning from the celebration

much heated and fatigued, he partook too freely of his favorite

iced milk with cherries, and during that night was seized with a

severe colic, which by morning had quite prostrated him. It was

said that he sent for his son-in-law, Surgeon Wood, United States

Army, stationed in Baltimore, and declined medical assistance from

anybody else. Mr. Ewing visited him several times, and was

manifestly uneasy and anxious, as was also his son-in-law, Major

Bliss, then of the army, and his confidential secretary. He

rapidly grew worse, and died in about four days.

At that time there was a high state of political feeling pervading

the country, on account of the questions growing out of the new

Territories just acquired from Mexico by the war. Congress was in

session, and General Taylor's sudden death evidently created great

alarm. I was present in the Senate-gallery, and saw the oath of

office administered to the Vice-President, Mr. Fillmore, a man of

splendid physical proportions and commanding appearance; but on the

faces of Senators and people could easily be read the feelings of

doubt and uncertainty that prevailed. All knew that a change in

the cabinet and general policy was likely to result, but at the

time it was supposed that Mr. Fillmore, whose home was in Buffalo,

would be less liberal than General Taylor to the politicians of the

South, who feared, or pretended to fear, a crusade against slavery;

or, as was the political cry of the day, that slavery would be

prohibited in the Territories and in the places exclusively under

the jurisdiction of the United States. Events, however, proved the

contrary.

I attended General Taylor's funeral as a sort of aide-decamp, at

the request of the Adjutant-General of the army, Roger Jones, whose

brother, a militia-general, commanded the escort, composed of

militia and some regulars. Among the regulars I recall the names

of Captains John Sedgwick and W. F. Barry.

Hardly was General Taylor decently buried in the Congressional

Cemetery when the political struggle recommenced, and it became

manifest that Mr. Fillmore favored the general compromise then

known as Henry Clay's "Omnibus Bill," and that a general change of

cabinet would at once occur: Webster was to succeed Mr. Clayton as

Secretary of State, Corwin to succeed Mr. Meredith as Secretary of

the Treasury, and A. H. H. Stuart to succeed Mr. Ewing as Secretary

of the Interior. Mr. Ewing, however, was immediately appointed by

the Governor of the State to succeed Corwin in the Senate.

These changes made it necessary for Mr. Ewing to discontinue

house-keeping, and Mr. Corwin took his home and furniture off his

hands. I escorted the family out to their home in Lancaster, Ohio;

but, before this had occurred, some most interesting debates took

place in the Senate, which I regularly attended, and heard Clay,

Benton, Foots, King of Alabama, Dayton, and the many real orators of

that day. Mr. Calhoun was in his seat, but he was evidently

approaching his end, for he was pale and feeble in the extreme. I

heard Mr. Webster's last speech on the floor of the Senate, under

circumstances that warrant a description. It was publicly known

that he was to leave the Senate, and enter the new cabinet of Mr.

Fillmore, as his Secretary of State, and that prior to leaving he

was to make a great speech on the "Omnibus Bill." Resolved to hear

it, I went up to the Capitol on the day named, an hour or so

earlier than usual. The speech was to be delivered in the old

Senate-chamber, now used by the Supreme Court. The galleries were

much smaller than at present, and I found them full to overflowing,

with a dense crowd about the door, struggling to reach the stairs. I

could not get near, and then tried the reporters' gallery, but found

it equally crowded; so I feared I should lose the only possible

opportunity to hear Mr. Webster.

I had only a limited personal acquaintance with any of the

Senators, but had met Mr. Corwin quite often at Mr. Ewing's house,

and I also knew that he had been extremely friendly to my father in

his lifetime; so I ventured to send in to him my card, "W. T. S.,

First-Lieutenant, Third Artillery." He came to the door promptly,

when I said, "Mr. Corwin, I believe Mr. Webster is to speak

to-day." His answer was, "Yes, he has the floor at one o'clock."

I then added that I was extremely anxious to hear him. "Well,"

said he, "why don't you go into the gallery?" I explained that it

was full, and I had tried every access, but found all jammed with

people. "Well," said he, "what do you want of me?" I explained

that I would like him to take me on the floor of the Senate; that I

had often seen from the gallery persons on the floor, no better

entitled to it than I. He then asked in his quizzical way, "Are

you a foreign embassador?" "No." "Are you the Governor of a

State?" "No." "Are you a member of the other House?" "Certainly

not" "Have you ever had a vote of thanks by name?" "No!" "Well,

these are the only privileged members." I then told him he knew

well enough who I was, and that if he chose he could take me in.

He then said, "Have you any impudence?" I told him, "A reasonable

amount if occasion called for it." "Do you think you could become

so interested in my conversation as not to notice the door-keeper?"

(pointing to him). I told him that there was not the least doubt

of it, if he would tell me one of his funny stories. He then took

my arm, and led me a turn in the vestibule, talking about some

indifferent matter, but all the time directing my looks to his left

hand, toward which he was gesticulating with his right; and thus we

approached the door-keeper, who began asking me, "Foreign

ambassador? Governor of a State? Member of Congress?" etc.; but I

caught Corwin's eye, which said plainly, "Don't mind him, pay

attention to me," and in this way we entered the Senate-chamber by

a side-door. Once in, Corwin said, "Now you can take care of

yourself," and I thanked him cordially.

I found a seat close behind Mr. Webster, and near General Scott,

and heard the whole of the speech. It was heavy in the extreme,

and I confess that I was disappointed and tired long before it was

finished. No doubt the speech was full of fact and argument, but

it had none of the fire of oratory, or intensity of feeling, that

marked all of Mr. Clay's efforts.

Toward the end of July, as before stated, all the family went home

to Lancaster. Congress was still in session, and the bill adding

four captains to the Commissary Department had not passed, but was

reasonably certain to, and I was equally sure of being one of them.

At that time my name was on the muster-roll of (Light) Company C,

Third Artillery (Bragg's), stationed at Jefferson Barracks, near

St. Louis. But, as there was cholera at St. Louis, on application,

I was permitted to delay joining my company until September. Early

in that month, I proceeded to Cincinnati, and thence by steamboat

to St. Louis, and then to Jefferson Barracks, where I reported

for duty to Captain and Brevet-Colonel Braxton Bragg, commanding

(Light) Company C, Third Artillery. The other officers of the

company were First-Lieutenant James A. Hardie, and afterward

Haekaliah Brown. New horses had just been purchased for the

battery, and we were preparing for work, when the mail brought the

orders announcing the passage of the bill increasing the Commissary

Department by four captains, to which were promoted Captains

Shiras, Blair, Sherman, and Bowen. I was ordered to take post at

St. Louis, and to relieve Captain A. J. Smith, First Dragoons, who

had been acting in that capacity for some months. My commission

bore date September 27,1850. I proceeded forthwith to the city,

relieved Captain Smith, and entered on the discharge of the duties

of the office.

Colonel N. S. Clarke, Sixth Infantry, commanded the department;

Major D. C. Buell was adjutant-general, and Captain W. S. Hancock

was regimental quartermaster; Colonel Thomas Swords was the depot

quartermaster, and we had our offices in the same building, on the

corner of Washington Avenue and Second. Subsequently Major S. Van

Vliet relieved Colonel Swords. I remained at the Planters' House

until my family arrived, when we occupied a house on Chouteau

Avenue, near Twelfth.

During the spring and summer of 1851, Mr. Ewing and Mr. Henry

Stoddard, of Dayton, Ohio, a cousin of my father, were much in St.

Louis, on business connected with the estate of Major Amos

Stoddard, who was of the old army, as early as the beginning of

this century. He was stationed at the village of St. Louis at the

time of the Louisiana purchase, and when Lewis and Clarke made

their famous expedition across the continent to the Columbia River.

Major Stoddard at that early day had purchased a small farm back of

the village, of some Spaniard or Frenchman, but, as he was a

bachelor, and was killed at Fort Meigs, Ohio, during the War of

1812, the title was for many years lost sight of, and the farm was

covered over by other claims and by occupants. As St. Louis began

to grow, his brothers and sisters, and their descendants, concluded

to look up the property. After much and fruitless litigation, they

at last retained Mr. Stoddard, of Dayton, who in turn employed Mr.

Ewing, and these, after many years of labor, established the title,

and in the summer of 1851 they were put in possession by the United

States marshal. The ground was laid off, the city survey extended

over it, and the whole was sold in partition. I made some

purchases, and acquired an interest, which I have retained more or

less ever since.

We continued to reside in St. Louis throughout the year 1851, and

in the spring of 1852 I had occasion to visit Fort Leavenworth on

duty, partly to inspect a lot of cattle which a Mr. Gordon, of Cass

County, had contracted to deliver in New Mexico, to enable Colonel

Sumner to attempt his scheme of making the soldiers in New Mexico

self-supporting, by raising their own meat, and in a measure their

own vegetables. I found Fort Leavenworth then, as now, a most

beautiful spot, but in the midst of a wild Indian country. There

were no whites settled in what is now the State of Kansas. Weston,

in Missouri, was the great town, and speculation in town-lots there

and thereabout burnt the fingers of some of the army-officers, who

wanted to plant their scanty dollars in a fruitful soil. I rode on

horseback over to Gordon's farm, saw the cattle, concluded the

bargain, and returned by way of Independence, Missouri. At

Independence I found F. X. Aubrey, a noted man of that day, who had

just made a celebrated ride of six hundred miles in six days. That

spring the United States quartermaster, Major L. C. Easton, at Fort

Union, New Mexico, had occasion to send some message east by a

certain date, and contracted with Aubrey to carry it to the nearest

post-office (then Independence, Missouri), making his compensation

conditional on the time consumed. He was supplied with a good

horse, and an order on the outgoing trains for an exchange. Though

the whole route was infested with hostile Indians, and not a house

on it, Aubrey started alone with his rifle. He was fortunate in

meeting several outward-bound trains, and there, by made frequent

changes of horses, some four or five, and reached Independence in

six days, having hardly rested or slept the whole way. Of course,

he was extremely fatigued, and said there was an opinion among the

wild Indians that if a man "sleeps out his sleep," after such

extreme exhaustion, he will never awake; and, accordingly, he

instructed his landlord to wake him up after eight hours of sleep.

When aroused at last, he saw by the clock that he had been asleep

twenty hours, and he was dreadfully angry, threatened to murder his

landlord, who protested he had tried in every way to get him up,

but found it impossible, and had let him "sleep it out" Aubrey, in

describing his sensations to me, said he took it for granted he was

a dead man; but in fact he sustained no ill effects, and was off

again in a few days. I met him afterward often in California, and

always esteemed him one of the best samples of that bold race of

men who had grown up on the Plains, along with the Indians, in the

service of the fur companies. He was afterward, in 1856, killed by

R. C. Weightman, in a bar-room row, at Santa Fe, New Mexico, where

he had just arrived from California.

In going from Independence to Fort Leavenworth, I had to swim Milk

Creek, and sleep all night in a Shawnee camp. The next day I

crossed the Kaw or Kansas River in a ferry boat, maintained by the

blacksmith of the tribe, and reached the fort in the evening. At

that day the whole region was unsettled, where now exist many rich

counties, highly cultivated, embracing several cities of from ten

to forty thousand inhabitants. From Fort Leavenworth I returned by

steamboat to St. Louis.

In the summer of 1852, my family went to Lancaster, Ohio; but I

remained at my post. Late in the season, it was rumored that I was

to be transferred to New Orleans, and in due time I learned the

cause. During a part of the Mexican War, Major Seawell, of the

Seventh Infantry, had been acting commissary of subsistence at New

Orleans, then the great depot of supplies for the troops in Texas,

and of those operating beyond the Rio Grande. Commissaries at that

time were allowed to purchase in open market, and were not

restricted to advertising and awarding contracts to the lowest

bidders. It was reported that Major Seawell had purchased largely

of the house of Perry Seawell & Co., Mr. Seawell being a relative

of his. When he was relieved in his duties by Major Waggman, of

the regular Commissary Department, the latter found Perry Seawell &

Co. so prompt and satisfactory that he continued the patronage;

for which there was a good reason, because stores for the use of

the troops at remote posts had to be packed in a particular way, to

bear transportation in wagons, or even on pack-mules; and this firm

had made extraordinary preparations for this exclusive purpose.

Some time about 1849, a brother of Major Waggaman, who had been

clerk to Captain Casey, commissary of subsistence, at Tampa Bay,

Florida, was thrown out of office by the death of the captain, and

he naturally applied to his brother in New Orleans for employment;

and he, in turn, referred him to his friends, Messrs. Perry

Seawell & Co. These first employed him as a clerk, and afterward

admitted him as a partner. Thus it resulted, in fact, that Major

Waggaman was dealing largely, if not exclusively, with a firm of

which his brother was a partner.

One day, as General Twiggs was coming across Lake Pontchartrain, he

fell in with one of his old cronies, who was an extensive grocer.

This gentleman gradually led the conversation to the downward

tendency of the times since he and Twiggs were young, saying that,

in former years, all the merchants of New Orleans had a chance at

government patronage; but now, in order to sell to the army

commissary, one had to take a brother in as a partner. General

Twiggs resented this, but the merchant again affirmed it, and gave

names. As soon as General Twiggs reached his office, he instructed

his adjutant-general, Colonel Bliss--who told me this--to address a

categorical note of inquiry to Major Waggaman. The major very

frankly stated the facts as they had arisen, and insisted that the

firm of Perry Seawell & Co. had enjoyed a large patronage, but

deserved it richly by reason of their promptness, fairness, and

fidelity. The correspondence was sent to Washington, and the

result was, that Major Waggaman was ordered to St. Louis, and I was

ordered to New Orleans.

I went down to New Orleans in a steamboat in the month of

September, 1852, taking with me a clerk, and, on arrival, assumed

the office, in a bank-building facing Lafayette Square, in which

were the offices of all the army departments. General D. Twiggs

was in command of the department, with Colonel W. W. S. Bliss

(son-in-law of General Taylor) as his adjutant-general. Colonel A.

C. Myers was quartermaster, Captain John F. Reynolds aide-de-camp,

and Colonel A. J. Coffee paymaster. I took rooms at the St. Louis

Hotel, kept by a most excellent gentleman, Colonel Mudge.

Mr. Perry Seawell came to me in person, soliciting a continuance of

the custom which he had theretofore enjoyed; but I told him frankly

that a change was necessary, and I never saw or heard of him

afterward. I simply purchased in open market, arranged for the

proper packing of the stores, and had not the least difficulty in

supplying the troops and satisfying the head of the department in

Washington.

About Christmas, I had notice that my family, consisting of Mrs.

Sherman, two children, and nurse, with my sister Fanny (now Mrs.

Moulton, of Cincinnati, Ohio), were en route for New Orleans by

steam-packet; so I hired a house on Magazine Street, and furnished

it. Almost at the moment of their arrival, also came from St.

Louis my personal friend Major Turner, with a parcel of documents,

which, on examination, proved to be articles of copartnership for a

bank in California under the title of "Lucas, Turner & Co.," in

which my name was embraced as a partner. Major Turner was, at the

time, actually en route for New York, to embark for San Francisco,

to inaugurate the bank, in the nature of a branch of the firm

already existing at St. Louis under the name of "Lucas & Symonds."

We discussed the matter very fully, and he left with me the papers

for reflection, and went on to New York and California.

Shortly after arrived James H. Lucas, Esq., the principal of the

banking-firm in St. Louis, a most honorable and wealthy gentleman.

He further explained the full programme of the branch in

California; that my name had been included at the insistence of

Major Turner, who was a man of family and property in St. Louis,

unwilling to remain long in San Francisco, and who wanted me to

succeed him there. He offered me a very tempting income, with an

interest that would accumulate and grow. He also disclosed to me

that, in establishing a branch in California, he was influenced by

the apparent prosperity of Page, Bacon & Co., and further that he

had received the principal data, on which he had founded the

scheme, from B. R. Nisbet, who was then a teller in the firm of

Page, Bacon & Co., of San Francisco; that he also was to be taken

in as a partner, and was fully competent to manage all the details

of the business; but, as Nisbet was comparatively young, Mr. Lucas

wanted me to reside in San Francisco permanently, as the head of

the firm. All these matters were fully discussed, and I agreed to

apply for a six months' leave of absence, go to San Francisco, see

for myself, and be governed by appearances there. I accordingly,

with General Twiggs's approval, applied to the adjutant-general for

a six months' leave, which was granted; and Captain John F.

Reynolds was named to perform my duties during my absence.

During the stay of my family in New Orleans, we enjoyed the society

of the families of General Twiggs, Colonel Myers, and Colonel

Bliss, as also of many citizens, among whom was the wife of Mr.

Day, sister to my brother-in-law, Judge Bartley. General Twiggs

was then one of the oldest officers of the army. His history

extended back to the War of 1812, and he had served in early days

with General Jackson in Florida and in the Creek campaigns. He had

fine powers of description, and often entertained us, at his

office, with accounts of his experiences in the earlier settlements

of the Southwest. Colonel Bliss had been General Taylor's adjutant

in the Mexican War, and was universally regarded as one of the most

finished and accomplished scholars in the army, and his wife was a

most agreeable and accomplished lady.

Late in February, I dispatched my family up to Ohio in the

steamboat Tecumseh (Captain Pearce); disposed of my house and

furniture; turned over to Major Reynolds the funds, property, and

records of the office; and took passage in a small steamer for

Nicaragua, en route for California. We embarked early in March,

and in seven days reached Greytown, where we united with the

passengers from New York, and proceeded, by the Nicaragua River and

Lake, for the Pacific Ocean. The river was low, and the little

steam canal-boats, four in number, grounded often, so that the

passengers had to get into the water, to help them over the bare.

In all there were about six hundred passengers, of whom about sixty

were women and children. In four days we reached Castillo, where

there is a decided fall, passed by a short railway, and above this

fall we were transferred to a larger boat, which carried us up the

rest of the river, and across the beautiful lake Nicaragua, studded

with volcanic islands. Landing at Virgin Bay, we rode on mules

across to San Juan del Sur, where lay at anchor the propeller S. S.

Lewis (Captain Partridge, I think). Passengers were carried

through the surf by natives to small boats, and rowed off to the

Lewis. The weather was very hot, and quite a scramble followed for

state-rooms, especially for those on deck. I succeeded in reaching

the purser's office, got my ticket for a berth in one of the best

state-rooms on deck, and, just as I was turning from the window, a

lady who was a fellow-passenger from New Orleans, a Mrs. D-, called

to me to secure her and her lady friend berths on deck, saying that

those below were unendurable. I spoke to the purser, who, at the

moment perplexed by the crowd and clamor, answered: "I must put

their names down for the other two berths of your state-room; but,

as soon as the confusion is over, I will make some change whereby

you shall not suffer." As soon as these two women were assigned to

a state-room, they took possession, and I was left out. Their

names were recorded as "Captain Sherman and ladies." As soon as

things were quieted down I remonstrated with the purser, who at

last gave me a lower berth in another and larger state-room on

deck, with five others, so that my two ladies had the state-room

all to themselves. At every meal the steward would come to me, and

say, "Captain Sherman, will you bring your ladies to the table?"

and we had the best seats in the ship.

This continued throughout the voyage, and I assert that "my ladies"

were of the most modest and best-behaved in the ship; but some time

after we had reached San Francisco one of our fellow-passengers

came to me and inquired if I personally knew Mrs. D---, with flaxen

tresses, who sang so sweetly for us, and who had come out under my

especial escort. I replied I did not, more than the chance

acquaintance of the voyage, and what she herself had told me, viz.,

that she expected to meet her husband, who lived about Mokelumne

Hill. He then informed me that she was a woman of the town.

Society in California was then decidedly mixed. In due season the

steamship Lewis got under weigh. She was a wooden ship, long and

narrow, bark-rigged, and a propeller; very slow, moving not over

eight miles an hour. We stopped at Acapulco, and, in eighteen

days, passed in sight of Point Pinoa at Monterey, and at the speed

we were traveling expected to reach San Francisco at 4 A. M. the

next day. The cabin passengers, as was usual, bought of the

steward some champagne and cigars, and we had a sort of ovation for

the captain, purser, and surgeon of the ship, who were all very

clever fellows, though they had a slow and poor ship. Late at

night all the passengers went to bed, expecting to enter the port

at daylight. I did not undress, as I thought the captain could and

would run in at night, and I lay down with my clothes on. About 4

A. M. I was awakened by a bump and sort of grating of the vessel,

which I thought was our arrival at the wharf in San Francisco; but

instantly the ship struck heavily; the engines stopped, and the

running to and fro on deck showed that something was wrong. In a

moment I was out of my state-room, at the bulwark, holding fast to

a stanchion, and looking over the side at the white and seething

water caused by her sudden and violent stoppage. The sea was

comparatively smooth, the night pitch-dark, and the fog deep and

impenetrable; the ship would rise with the swell, and come down

with a bump and quiver that was decidedly unpleasant. Soon the

passengers were out of their rooms, undressed, calling for help,

and praying as though the ship were going to sink immediately. Of

course she could not sink, being already on the bottom, and the

only question was as to the strength of hull to stand the bumping

and straining. Great confusion for a time prevailed, but soon I

realized that the captain had taken all proper precautions to

secure his boats, of which there were six at the davits. These are

the first things that steerage-passengers make for in case of

shipwreck, and right over my head I heard the captain's voice say

in a low tone, but quite decided: "Let go that falls, or, damn you,

I'll blow your head off!" This seemingly harsh language gave me

great comfort at the time, and on saying so to the captain

afterward, he explained that it was addressed to a passenger who

attempted to lower one of the boats. Guards, composed of the crew,

were soon posted to prevent any interference with the boats, and

the officers circulated among the passengers the report that there

was no immediate danger; that, fortunately, the sea was smooth;

that we were simply aground, and must quietly await daylight.

They advised the passengers to keep quiet, and the ladies and

children to dress and sit at the doors of their state-rooms, there

to await the advice and action of the officers of the ship, who

were perfectly cool and self-possessed. Meantime the ship was

working over a reef-for a time I feared she would break in two;

but, as the water gradually rose inside to a level with the sea

outside, the ship swung broadside to the swell, and all her keel

seemed to rest on the rock or sand. At no time did the sea break

over the deck--but the water below drove all the people up to the

main-deck and to the promenade-deck, and thus we remained for about

three hours, when daylight came; but there was a fog so thick that

nothing but water could be seen. The captain caused a boat to be

carefully lowered, put in her a trustworthy officer with a

boat-compass, and we saw her depart into the fog. During her

absence the ship's bell was kept tolling. Then the fires were all

out, the ship full of water, and gradually breaking up, wriggling

with every swell like a willow basket--the sea all round us full of

the floating fragments of her sheeting, twisted and torn into a

spongy condition. In less than an hour the boat returned, saying

that the beach was quite near, not more than a mile away, and had a

good place for landing. All the boats were then carefully lowered,

and manned by crews belonging to the ship; a piece of the gangway,

on the leeward side, was cut away, and all the women, and a few of

the worst-scared men, were lowered into the boats, which pulled for

shore. In a comparatively short time the boats returned, took new

loads, and the debarkation was afterward carried on quietly and

systematically. No baggage was allowed to go on shore except bags

or parcels carried in the hands of passengers. At times the fog

lifted so that we could see from the wreck the tops of the hills,

and the outline of the shore; and I remember sitting on, the upper

or hurricane deck with the captain, who had his maps and compass

before him, and was trying to make out where the ship was. I

thought I recognized the outline of the hills below the mission of

Dolores, and so stated to him; but he called my attention to the

fact that the general line of hills bore northwest, whereas the

coast south of San Francisco bears due north and south. He

therefore concluded that the ship had overrun her reckoning, and

was then to the north of San Francisco. He also explained that,

the passage up being longer than usual, viz., eighteen days, the

coal was short; that at the time the firemen were using some cut-up

spars along with the slack of coal, and that this fuel had made

more than usual steam, so that the ship must have glided along

faster than reckoned. This proved to be the actual case, for, in

fact, the steamship Lewis was wrecked April 9, 1853, on "Duckworth

Reef," Baulinas Bay, about eighteen miles above the entrance to San

Francisco.

The captain had sent ashore the purser in the first boat, with

orders to work his way to the city as soon as possible, to report

the loss of his vessel, and to bring back help. I remained on the

wreck till among the last of the passengers, managing to get a can

of crackers and some sardines out of the submerged pantry, a thing

the rest of the passengers did not have, and then I went quietly

ashore in one of the boats. The passengers were all on the beach,

under a steep bluff; had built fires to dry their clothes, but had

seen no human being, and had no idea where they were. Taking along

with me a fellow-passenger, a young chap about eighteen years old,

I scrambled up the bluff, and walked back toward the hills, in

hopes to get a good view of some known object. It was then the

month of April, and the hills were covered with the beautiful

grasses and flowers of that season of the year. We soon found

horse paths and tracks, and following them we came upon a drove of

horses grazing at large, some of which had saddle-marks. At about

two miles from the beach we found a corral; and thence, following

one of the strongest-marked paths, in about a mile more we

descended into a valley, and, on turning a sharp point, reached a

board shanty, with a horse picketed near by. Four men were inside

eating a meal. I inquired if any of the Lewis's people had been

there; they did not seem to understand what I meant when I

explained to them that about three miles from them, and beyond the

old corral, the steamer Lewis was wrecked, and her passengers were

on the beach. I inquired where we were, and they answered, "At

Baulinas Creek;" that they were employed at a saw-mill just above,

and were engaged in shipping lumber to San Francisco; that a

schooner loaded with lumber was then about two miles down the

creek, waiting for the tide to get out, and doubtless if we would

walk down they would take us on board.

I wrote a few words back to the captain, telling him where he was,

and that I would hurry to the city to send him help. My companion

and I their went on down the creek, and soon descried the schooner

anchored out in the stream. On being hailed, a small boat came in

and took us on board. The "captain" willingly agreed for a small

sum to carry us down to San Francisco; and, as his whole crew

consisted of a small boy about twelve years old, we helped him to

get up his anchor and pole the schooner down the creek and out over

the bar on a high tide. This must have been about 2 P.M. Once over

the bar, the sails were hoisted, and we glided along rapidly with a

strong, fair, northwest wind. The fog had lifted, so we could see

the shores plainly, and the entrance to the bay. In a couple of

hours we were entering the bay, and running "wing-and-wing."

Outside the wind was simply the usual strong breeze; but, as it

passes through the head of the Golden Gate, it increases, and

there, too, we met a strong ebb-tide.

The schooner was loaded with lumber, much of which was on deck,

lashed down to ring bolts with raw-hide thongs. The captain was

steering, and I was reclining on the lumber, looking at the

familiar shore, as we approached Fort Point, when I heard a sort of

cry, and felt the schooner going over. As we got into the throat

of the "Heads," the force of the wind, meeting a strong ebb-tide,

drove the nose of the schooner under water; she dove like a duck,

went over on her side, and began, to drift out with the tide. I

found myself in the water, mixed up with pieces of plank and ropes;

struck out, swam round to the stern, got on the keel, and clambered

up on the side. Satisfied that she could not sink, by reason of

her cargo, I was not in the least alarmed, but thought two

shipwrecks in one day not a good beginning for a new, peaceful

career. Nobody was drowned, however; the captain and crew were

busy in securing such articles as were liable to float off, and I

looked out for some passing boat or vessel to pick us up. We were

drifting steadily out to sea, while I was signaling to a boat about

three miles off, toward Saucelito, and saw her tack and stand

toward us. I was busy watching this sail-boat, when I heard a

Yankee's voice, close behind, saying, "This is a nice mess you've

got yourselves into," and looking about I saw a man in a small

boat, who had seen us upset, and had rowed out to us from a

schooner anchored close under the fort. Some explanations were

made, and when the sail-boat coming from Saucelito was near enough

to be spoken to, and the captain had engaged her to help his

schooner, we bade him good by, and got the man in the small boat-to

carry us ashore, and land us at the foot of the bluff, just below

the fort. Once there, I was at home, and we footed it up to the

Presidio. Of the sentinel I inquired who was in command of the

post, and was answered, "Major Merchant." He was not then in, but

his adjutant, Lieutenant Gardner, was. I sent my card to him; he

came out, and was much surprised to find me covered with sand, and

dripping with water, a good specimen of a shipwrecked mariner. A

few words of explanation sufficed; horses were provided, and we

rode hastily into the city, reaching the office of the Nicaragua

Steamship Company (C. K. Garrison, agent) about dark, just as the

purser had arrived; by a totally different route. It was too late

to send relief that night, but by daylight next morning two

steamers were en route for and reached the place of wreck in time

to relieve the passengers and bring them, and most of the baggage.

I lost my carpet-bag, but saved my trunk. The Lewis went to pieces

the night after we got off, and, had there been an average sea

during the night of our shipwreck, none of us probably would have

escaped. That evening in San Francisco I hunted up Major Turner,

whom I found boarding, in company with General E. A. Hitchcock, at

a Mrs. Ross's, on Clay Street, near Powell. I took quarters with

them, and began to make my studies, with a view to a decision

whether it was best to undertake this new and untried scheme of

banking, or to return to New Orleans and hold on to what I then

had, a good army commission.

At the time of my arrival, San Francisco was an the top wave of

speculation and prosperity. Major Turner had rented at six hundred

dollars a month the office formerly used and then owned by Adams &

Co., on the east side of Montgomery Street, between Sacramento and

California Streets. B. R. Nisbet was the active partner, and James

Reilly the teller. Already the bank of Lucas, Turner & Co. was

established, and was engaged in selling bills of exchange,

receiving deposits, and loaning money at three per cent. a month.

Page, Bacon & Co., and Adams & Co., were in full blast across the

street, in Parrott's new granite building, and other bankers were

doing seemingly a prosperous business, among them Wells, Fargo &

Co.; Drexel, Sather & Church; Burgoyne & Co.; James King of Win.;

Sanders & Brenham; Davidson & Co.; Palmer, Cook & Co., and others.

Turner and I had rooms at Mrs. Ross's, and took our meals at

restaurants down-town, mostly at a Frenchman's named Martin, on the

southwest corner of Montgomery and California Streets. General

Hitchcock, of the army, commanding the Department of California,

usually messed with us; also a Captain Mason, and Lieutenant

Whiting, of the Engineer Corps. We soon secured a small share of

business, and became satisfied there was room for profit.

Everybody seemed to be making money fast; the city was being

rapidly extended and improved; people paid their three per cent. a

month interest without fail, and without deeming it excessive.

Turner, Nisbet, and I, daily discussed the prospects, and gradually

settled down to the conviction that with two hundred thousand

dollars capital, and a credit of fifty thousand dollars in New

York, we could build up a business that would help the St. Louis

house, and at the same time pay expenses in California, with a

reasonable profit. Of course, Turner never designed to remain long

in California, and I consented to go back to St. Louis, confer with

Mr. Lucas and Captain Simonds, agree upon further details, and then

return permanently.

I have no memoranda by me now by which to determine the fact, but

think I returned to New York in July, 1853, by the Nicaragua route,

and thence to St. Louis by way of Lancaster, Ohio, where my family

still was. Mr. Lucas promptly agreed to the terms proposed, and

further consented, on the expiration of the lease of the Adams &

Co. office, to erect a new banking-house in San Francisco, to cost

fifty thousand dollars. I then returned to Lancaster, explained to

Mr. Ewing and Mrs. Sherman all the details of our agreement, and,

meeting their approval, I sent to the Adjutant-General of the army

my letter of resignation, to take effect at the end of the six

months' leave, and the resignation was accepted, to take effect

September 6, 1853. Being then a citizen, I engaged a passage out

to California by the Nicaragua route, in the steamer leaving New

York September 20th, for myself and family, and accordingly

proceeded to New York, where I had a conference with Mr. Meigs,

cashier of the American Exchange Bank, and with Messrs. Wadsworth

& Sheldon, bankers, who were our New York correspondents; and on

the 20th embarked for San Juan del Norte, with the family, composed

of Mrs. Sherman, Lizzie, then less than a year old, and her nurse,

Mary Lynch. Our passage down was uneventful, and, on the boats up

the Nicaragua River, pretty much the same as before. On reaching

Virgin Bay, I engaged a native with three mules to carry us across

to the Pacific, and as usual the trip partook of the ludicrous

--Mrs. Sherman mounted on a donkey about as large as a Newfoundland

dog; Mary Lynch on another, trying to carry Lizzie on a pillow

before her, but her mule had a fashion of lying down, which scared

her, till I exchanged mules, and my California spurs kept that mule

on his legs. I carried Lizzie some time till she was fast asleep,

when I got our native man to carry her awhile. The child woke up,

and, finding herself in the hands of a dark-visaged man, she yelled

most lustily till I got her away. At the summit of the pass, there

was a clear-running brook, where we rested an hour, and bathed

Lizzie in its sweet waters. We then continued to the end of our

journey, and, without going to the tavern at San Juan del Sur, we

passed directly to the vessel, then at anchor about two miles out.

To reach her we engaged a native boat, which had to be kept outside

the surf. Mrs. Sherman was first taken in the arms of two stout

natives; Mary Lynch, carrying Lizzie, was carried by two others;

and I followed, mounted on the back of a strapping fellow, while

fifty or a hundred others were running to and fro, cackling like

geese.

Mary Lynch got scared at the surf, and began screaming like a fool,

when Lizzie became convulsed with fear, and one of the natives

rushed to her, caught her out of Mary's arms, and carried her

swiftly to Mrs. Sherman, who, by that time, was in the boat, but

Lizzie had fainted with fear, and for a long time sobbed as though

permanently injured. For years she showed symptoms that made us

believe she had never entirely recovered from the effects of the

scare. In due time we reached the steamer Sierra Nevada, and got a

good state-room. Our passage up the coast was pleasant enough; we

reached San Francisco; on the 15th of October, and took quarters at

an hotel on Stockton Street, near Broadway.

Major Turner remained till some time in November, when he also

departed for the East, leaving me and Nisbet to manage the bank. I

endeavored to make myself familiar with the business, but of course

Nisbet kept the books, and gave his personal attention to the

loans, discounts, and drafts, which yielded the profits. I soon

saw, however, that the three per cent. charged as premium on bills

of exchange was not all profit, but out of this had to come one and

a fourth to one and a half for freight, one and a third for

insurance, with some indefinite promise of a return premium; then,

the cost of blanks, boxing of the bullion, etc., etc. Indeed, I

saw no margin for profit at all. Nisbet, however, who had long

been familiar with the business, insisted there was a profit, in

the fact that the gold-dust or bullion shipped was more valuable

than its cost to us. We, of course, had to remit bullion to meet

our bills on New York, and bought crude gold-dust, or bars refined

by Kellogg & Humbert or E. Justh & Co., for at that time the United

States Mint was not in operation. But, as the reports of our

shipments came back from New York, I discovered that I was right,

and Nisbet was wrong; and, although we could not help selling our

checks on New York and St. Louis at the same price as other

bankers, I discovered that, at all events, the exchange business in

San Francisco was rather a losing business than profitable. The

same as to loans. We could loan, at three per cent. a month, all

our own money, say two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and a

part of our deposit account. This latter account in California was

decidedly uncertain. The balance due depositors would run down to

a mere nominal sum on steamer-days, which were the 1st and 15th of

each month, and then would increase till the next steamer-day, so

that we could not make use of any reasonable part of this balance

for loans beyond the next steamer-day; or, in other words, we had

an expensive bank, with expensive clerks, and all the machinery for

taking care of other people's money for their benefit, without

corresponding profit. I also saw that loans were attended with

risk commensurate with the rate; nevertheless, I could not attempt

to reform the rules and customs established by others before me,

and had to drift along with the rest toward that Niagara that none

foresaw at the time.

Shortly after arriving out in 1853, we looked around for a site for

the new bank, and the only place then available on Montgomery

Street, the Wall Street of San Francisco, was a lot at the corner

of Jackson Street, facing Montgomery, with an alley on the north,

belonging to James Lick. The ground was sixty by sixty-two feet,

and I had to pay for it thirty-two thousand dollars. I then made a

contract with the builders, Keyser, & Brown, to erect a three-story

brick building, with finished basement, for about fifty thousand

dollars. This made eighty-two thousand instead of fifty thousand

dollars, but I thought Mr. Lucas could stand it and would approve,

which he did, though it resulted in loss to him. After the civil

war, he told me he had sold the building for forty thousand

dollars, about half its cost, but luckily gold was then at 250, so

that he could use the forty thousand dollars gold as the equivalent

of one hundred thousand dollars currency. The building was

erected; I gave it my personal supervision, and it was strongly and

thoroughly built, for I saw it two years ago, when several

earthquakes had made no impression on it; still, the choice of site

was unfortunate, for the city drifted in the opposite direction,

viz., toward Market Street. I then thought that all the heavy

business would remain toward the foot of Broadway and Jackson

Street, because there were the deepest water and best wharves, but

in this I made a mistake. Nevertheless, in the spring of 1854, the

new bank was finished, and we removed to it, paying rents

thereafter to our Mr. Lucas instead of to Adams & Co. A man named

Wright, during the same season, built a still finer building just

across the street from us; Pioche, Bayerque & Co. were already

established on another corner of Jackson Street, and the new

Metropolitan Theatre was in progress diagonally opposite us.

During the whole of 1854 our business steadily grew, our average

deposits going up to half a million, and our sales of exchange and

consequent shipment of bullion averaging two hundred thousand

dollars per steamer. I signed all bills of exchange, and insisted

on Nisbet consulting me on loans and discounts. Spite of every

caution, however, we lost occasionally by bad loans, and worse by

the steady depreciation of real estate. The city of San Francisco

was then extending her streets, sewering them, and planking them,

with three-inch lumber. In payment for the lumber and the work of

contractors, the city authorities paid scrip in even sums of one

hundred, five hundred, one thousand, and five thousand dollars.

These formed a favorite collateral for loans at from fifty to sixty

cents on the dollar, and no one doubted their ultimate value,

either by redemption or by being converted into city bonds.

The notes also of H. Meiggs, Neeley Thompson & Co., etc.,

lumber-dealers, were favorite notes, for they paid their interest

promptly, and lodged large margins of these street-improvement

warrants as collateral. At that time, Meiggs was a prominent man,

lived in style in a large house on Broadway, was a member of the

City Council, and owned large saw-mills up the coast about

Mendocino. In him Nisbet had unbounded faith, but, for some

reason, I feared or mistrusted him, and remember that I cautioned

Nisbet not to extend his credit, but to gradually contract his

loans. On looking over our bills receivable, then about six

hundred thousand dollars, I found Meiggs, as principal or indorser,

owed us about eighty thousand dollars--all, however, secured by

city warrants; still, he kept bank accounts elsewhere, and was

generally a borrower. I instructed Nisbet to insist on his

reducing his line as the notes matured, and, as he found it

indelicate to speak to Meiggs, I instructed him to refer him to me;

accordingly, when, on the next steamer-day, Meiggs appealed at the

counter for a draft on Philadelphia, of about twenty thousand

dollars, for which he offered his note and collateral, he was

referred to me, and I explained to him that our draft was the same

as money; that he could have it for cash, but that we were already

in advance to him some seventy-five or eighty thousand dollars, and

that instead of increasing the amount I must insist on its

reduction. He inquired if I mistrusted his ability, etc. I

explained, certainly not, but that our duty was to assist those who

did all their business with us, and, as our means were necessarily

limited, I must restrict him to some reasonable sum, say,

twenty-five thousand dollars. Meiggs invited me to go with him to a

rich mercantile house on Clay Street, whose partners belonged in

Hamburg, and there, in the presence of the principals of the house,

he demonstrated, as clearly as a proposition in mathematics, that

his business at Mendocino was based on calculations that could not

fail. The bill of exchange which he wanted, he said would make the

last payment on a propeller already built in Philadelphia, which

would be sent to San Francisco, to tow into and out of port the

schooners and brigs that were bringing his lumber down the coast. I

admitted all he said, but renewed my determination to limit his

credit to twenty-five thousand dollars. The Hamburg firm then

agreed to accept for him the payment of all his debt to us, except

the twenty-five thousand dollars, payable in equal parts for the

next three steamer-days. Accordingly, Meiggs went back with me to

our bank, wrote his note for twenty-five thousand dollars, and

secured it by mortgage on real estate and city warrants, and

substituted the three acceptances of the Hamburg firm for the

overplus. I surrendered to him all his former notes, except one for

which he was indorser. The three acceptances duly matured and were

paid; one morning Meiggs and family were missing, and it was

discovered they had embarked in a sailing-vessel for South America.

This was the beginning of a series of failures in San Francisco,

that extended through the next two years. As soon as it was known

that Meiggs had fled, the town was full of rumors, and everybody was

running to and fro to secure his money. His debts amounted to

nearly a million dollars. The Hamburg house which, had been

humbugged, were heavy losers and failed, I think. I took possession

of Meiggs's dwelling-house and other property for which I held his

mortgage, and in the city warrants thought I had an overplus; but it

transpired that Meiggs, being in the City Council, had issued

various quantities of street scrip, which was adjudged a forgery,

though, beyond doubt, most of it, if not all, was properly signed,

but fraudulently issued. On this city scrip our bank must have lost

about ten thousand dollars. Meiggs subsequently turned up in Chili,

where again he rose to wealth and has paid much of his San Francisco

debts, but none to us. He is now in Peru, living like a prince.

With Meiggs fell all the lumber-dealers, and many persons dealing in

city scrip. Compared with others, our loss was a trifle. In a

short time things in San Francisco resumed their wonted course, and

we generally laughed at the escapade of Meiggs, and the cursing of

his deluded creditors.

Shortly after our arrival in San Francisco, I rented of a Mr.

Marryat, son of the English Captain Marryat, the author, a small

frame-house on Stockton Street, near Green, buying of him his

furniture, and we removed to it about December 1,1853. Close by,

around on Green Street, a man named Dickey was building two small

brick-houses, on ground which he had leased of Nicholson. I bought

one of these houses, subject to the ground-rent, and moved into it

as soon as finished. Lieutenant T. H. Stevens, of the United

States Navy, with his family, rented the other; we lived in this

house throughout the year 1854, and up to April 17, 1855.

CHAPTER V.

CALIFORNIA

1855-1857

During the winter of 1854-'55, I received frequent intimations in

my letters from the St. Louis house, that the bank of Page, Bacon &

Co. was in trouble, growing out of their relations to the Ohio &

Mississippi Railroad, to the contractors for building which they

had made large advances, to secure which they had been compelled to

take, as it were, an assignment of the contract itself, and finally

to assume all the liabilities of the contractors. Then they had to

borrow money in New York, and raise other money from time to time,

in the purchase of iron and materials for the road, and to pay the

hands. The firm in St. Louis and that in San Francisco were

different, having different partners, and the St. Louis house

naturally pressed the San Francisco firm to ship largely of

"gold-dust," which gave them a great name; also to keep as large a

balance as possible in New York to sustain their credit. Mr. Page

was a very wealthy man, but his wealth consisted mostly of land and

property in St. Louis. He was an old man, and a good one; had been

a baker, and knew little of banking as a business. This part of

his general business was managed exclusively by his son-in-law,

Henry D. Bacon, who was young, handsome, and generally popular.

How he was drawn into that affair of the Ohio & Mississippi road I

have no means of knowing, except by hearsay. Their business in New

York was done through the American Exchange Bank, and through

Duncan, Sherman & Co. As we were rival houses, the St. Louis

partners removed our account from the American Exchange Bank to the

Metropolitan Bank; and, as Wadsworth & Sheldon had failed, I was

instructed to deal in time bills, and in European exchange, with

Schnchardt & Gebhard, bankers in Nassau Street.

In California the house of Page, Bacon & Co. was composed of the

same partners as in St. Louis, with the addition of Henry Haight,

Judge Chambers, and young Frank Page. The latter had charge of the

"branch" in Sacramento. Haight was the real head-man, but he was

too fond of lager-beer to be in trusted with so large a business.

Beyond all comparison, Page, Bacon & Co. were the most prominent

bankers in California in 1853-'55. Though I had notice of danger

in that quarter, from our partners in St. Louis, nobody in

California doubted their wealth and stability. They must have had,

during that winter, an average deposit account of nearly two

million dollars, of which seven hundred thousand dollars was in

"certificates of deposit," the most stable of all accounts in a

bank. Thousands of miners invested their earnings in such

certificates, which they converted into drafts on New York, when

they were ready to go home or wanted to send their "pile" to their

families. Adams & Co. were next in order, because of their

numerous offices scattered throughout the mining country. A

gentleman named Haskell had been in charge of Adams & Co. in San

Francisco, but in the winter of 1854-'55 some changes were made,

and the banking department had been transferred to a magnificent

office in Halleck's new Metropolitan Block. James King of Wm. had

discontinued business on his own account, and been employed by

Adams & Co. as their cashier and banker, and Isaiah C. Wood had

succeeded Haskell in chief control of the express department.

Wells, Fargo & Co. were also bankers as well as expressmen, and

William J. Pardee was the resident partner.

As the mail-steamer came in on February 17, 1855, according to her

custom, she ran close to the Long Wharf (Meiggs's) on North Beach,

to throw ashore the express-parcels of news for speedy delivery.

Some passenger on deck called to a man of his acquaintance standing

on the wharf, that Page & Bacon had failed in New York. The news

spread like wild-fire, but soon it was met by the newspaper

accounts to the effect that some particular acceptances of Page &

Bacon, of St. Louis, in the hands of Duncan, Sherman & Co., in New

York, had gone to protest. All who had balances at Page, Bacon &

Co.'s, or held certificates of deposit, were more or less alarmed,

wanted to secure their money, and a general excitement pervaded the

whole community. Word was soon passed round that the matter

admitted of explanation, viz., that the two houses were distinct

and separate concerns, that every draft of the California house had

been paid in New York, and would continue to be paid. It was

expected that this assertion would quiet the fears of the

California creditors, but for the next three days there was a

steady "run" on that bank. Page, Bacon & Co. stood the first day's

run very well, and, as I afterward learned, paid out about six

hundred thousand dollars in gold coin. On the 20th of February

Henry Height came to our bank, to see what help we were willing to

give him; but I was out, and Nisbet could not answer positively for

the firm. Our condition was then very strong. The deposit account

was about six hundred thousand dollars, and we had in our vault

about five hundred thousand dollars in coin and bullion, besides an

equal amount of good bills receivable. Still I did not like to

weaken ourselves to help others; but in a most friendly spirit,

that night after bank-hours, I went down to Page, Bacon & Co., and

entered their office from the rear. I found in the cashier's room

Folsom, Parrott, Dewey and Payne, Captain Ritchie, Donohue, and

others, citizens and friends of the house, who had been called in

for consultation. Passing into the main office, where all the

book-keepers, tellers, etc., with gas-lights, were busy writing up

the day's work, I found Mr. Page, Henry Height, and Judge Chambers.

I spoke to Height, saying that I was sorry I had been out when he

called at our bank, and had now come to see him in the most

friendly spirit. Height had evidently been drinking, and said

abruptly that "all the banks would break," that "no bank could

instantly pay all its obligations," etc. I answered he could speak

for himself, but not for me; that I had come to offer to buy with

cash a fair proportion of his bullion, notes, and bills; but, if

they were going to fail, I would not be drawn in. Height's manner

was extremely offensive, but Mr. Page tried to smooth it over,

saying they had had a bad day's run, and could not answer for the

result till their books were written up.

I passed back again into the room where the before-named gentlemen

were discussing some paper which lay before them, and was going to

pass out, when Captain Folsom, who was an officer of the army, a

class-mate and intimate friend of mine, handed me the paper the

contents of which they were discussing. It was very short, and in

Henry Haight's handwriting, pretty much in these terms: "We, the

undersigned property-holders of San Francisco, having personally

examined the books, papers, etc., of Page, Bacon & Co., do hereby

certify that the house is solvent and able to pay all its debts,"

etc. Height had drawn up and asked them to sign this paper, with

the intention to publish it in the next morning's papers, for

effect. While I was talking with Captain Folsom, Height came into

the room to listen. I admitted that the effect of such a

publication would surely be good, and would probably stave off

immediate demand till their assets could be in part converted or

realized; but I naturally inquired of Folsom, "Have you personally

examined the accounts, as herein recited, and the assets, enough to

warrant your signature to this paper?" for, "thereby you in effect

become indorsers." Folsom said they had not, when Height turned

on me rudely and said, "Do you think the affairs of such a house as

Page, Bacon & Co. can be critically examined in an hour?" I

answered: "These gentlemen can do what they please, but they have

twelve hours before the bank will open on the morrow, and if the

ledger is written up" (as I believed it was or could be by

midnight), "they can (by counting the coin, bullion on hand, and

notes or stocks of immediate realization) approximate near enough

for them to indorse for the remainder." But Height pooh-poohed me,

and I left. Folsom followed me out, told me he could not afford to

imperil all he had, and asked my advice. I explained to him that

my partner Nisbet had been educated and trained in that very house

of Page, Bacon & Co.; that we kept our books exactly as they did;

that every day the ledger was written up, so that from it one could

see exactly how much actual money was due the depositors and

certificates; and then by counting the money in the vault,

estimating the bullion on hand, which, though not actual money,

could easily be converted into coin, and supplementing these

amounts by "bills receivable," they ought to arrive at an

approximate-result. After Folsom had left me, John Parrott also

stopped and talked with me to the same effect. Next morning I

looked out for the notice, but no such notice appeared in the

morning papers, and I afterward learned that, on Parrott and Folsom

demanding an actual count of the money in the vault, Haight angrily

refused unless they would accept his word for it, when one after

the other declined to sign his paper.

The run on Page, Bacon & Co. therefore continued throughout the

21st, and I expected all day to get an invitation to close our bank

for the next day, February 22, which we could have made a holiday

by concerted action; but each banker waited for Page, Bacon & Co.

to ask for it, and, no such circular coming, in the then state of

feeling no other banker was willing to take the initiative. On the

morning of February 22, 1855, everybody was startled by receiving a

small slip of paper, delivered at all the houses, on which was

printed a short notice that, for "want of coin," Page, Bacon & Co.

found it necessary to close their bank for a short time. Of

course, we all knew the consequences, and that every other bank in

San Francisco would be tried. During the 22d we all kept open, and

watched our depositors closely; but the day was generally observed

by the people as a holiday, and the firemen paraded the streets of

San Francisco in unusual strength. But, on writing up our books

that night, we found that our deposit account had diminished about

sixty-five thousand dollars. Still, there was no run on us, or any

other of the banks, that day; yet, observing little knots of men on

the street, discussing the state of the banks generally, and

overhearing Haight's expression quoted, that, in case of the

failure of Page, Bacon & Co., "all the other banks would break," I

deemed it prudent to make ready. For some days we had refused all

loans and renewals, and we tried, without, success, some of our

call-loans; but, like Hotspur's spirits, they would not come.

Our financial condition on that day (February 22, 1855) was: Due

depositors and demand certificates, five hundred and twenty

thousand dollars; to meet which, we had in the vault: coin, three

hundred and eighty thousand dollars; bullion, seventy-five thousand

dollars; and bills receivable, about six hundred thousand dollars.

Of these, at least one hundred thousand dollars were on demand,

with stock collaterals. Therefore, for the extent of our business,

we were stronger than the Bank of England, or any bank in New York

City.

Before daylight next morning, our door-bell was rung, and I was

called down-stairs by E. Casserly, Esq. (an eminent lawyer of the

day, since United States Senator), who informed me he had just come

up from the office of Adams & Co., to tell me that their affairs

were in such condition that they would not open that morning at

all; and that this, added to the suspension of Page, Bacon & Co.,

announced the day before, would surely cause a general run on all

the banks. I informed him that I expected as much, and was

prepared for it.

In going down to the bank that morning, I found Montgomery Street

full; but, punctually to the minute, the bank opened, and in rushed

the crowd. As usual, the most noisy and clamorous were men and

women who held small certificates; still, others with larger

accounts were in the crowd, pushing forward for their balances.

All were promptly met and paid. Several gentlemen of my personal

acquaintance merely asked my word of honor that their money was

safe, and went away; others, who had large balances, and no

immediate use for coin, gladly accepted gold-bars, whereby we paid

out the seventy-five thousand dollars of bullion, relieving the

coin to that amount.

Meantime, rumors from the street came pouring in that Wright & Co.

had failed; then Wells, Fargo & Co.; then Palmer, Cook & Co., and

indeed all, or nearly all, the banks of the city; and I was told

that parties on the street were betting high, first, that we would

close our doors at eleven o'clock; then twelve, and so on; but we

did not, till the usual hour that night. We had paid every demand,

and still had a respectable amount left.

This run on the bank (the only one I ever experienced) presented

all the features, serious and comical, usual to such occasions. At

our counter happened that identical case, narrated of others, of

the Frenchman, who was nearly squeezed to death in getting to the

counter, and, when he received his money, did not know what to do

with it. "If you got the money, I no want him; but if you no got

him, I want it like the devil!"

Toward the close of the day, some of our customers deposited,

rather ostentatiously, small amounts, not aggregating more than

eight or ten thousand dollars. Book-keepers and tellers were kept

at work to write up the books; and these showed:

Due depositors and certificates, about one hundred and twenty

thousand dollars, for which remained of coin about fifty thousand

dollars. I resolved not to sleep until I had collected from those

owing the bank a part of their debts; for I was angry with them

that they had stood back and allowed the panic to fall on the banks

alone. Among these were Captain Folsom, who owed us twenty-five

thousand dollars, secured by a mortgage on the American Theatre and

Tehama Hotel; James Smiley, contractor for building the

Custom-House, who owed us two notes of twenty thousand and sixteen

thousand dollars, for which we held, as collateral, two acceptances

of the collector of the port, Major R. P. Hammond, for twenty

thousand dollars each; besides other private parties that I need

not name. The acceptances given to Smiley were for work done on

the Custom-House, but could not be paid until the work was actually

laid in the walls, and certified by Major Tower, United States

Engineers; but Smiley had an immense amount of granite, brick,

iron, etc., on the ground, in advance of construction, and these

acceptances were given him expressly that he might raise money

thereon for the payment of such materials.

Therefore, as soon as I got my dinner, I took my saddle-horse, and

rode to Captain Folsom's house, where I found him in great pain and

distress, mental and physical. He was sitting in a chair, and

bathing his head with a sponge. I explained to him the object of

my visit, and he said he had expected it, and had already sent his

agent, Van Winkle, down-town, with instructions to raise what money

he could at any cost; but he did not succeed in raising a cent. So

great was the shock to public confidence, that men slept on their

money, and would not loan it for ten per cent. a week, on any

security whatever--even on mint certificates, which were as good as

gold, and only required about ten days to be paid in coin by the

United States Mint. I then rode up to Hammond's house, on Rincon

Hill, and found him there. I explained to him exactly Smiley's

affairs, and only asked him to pay one of his acceptances. He

inquired, "Why not both?" I answered that was so much the better;

it would put me under still greater obligations. He then agreed to

meet me at our bank at 10 P.M. I sent word to others that I

demanded them to pay what they could on their paper, and then

returned to the bank, to meet Hammond. In due time, he came down

with Palmer (of Palmer, Cook & Co.), and there he met Smiley, who

was, of course, very anxious to retire his notes. We there

discussed the matter fully, when Hammond said, "Sherman, give me up

my two acceptances, and I will substitute therefor my check of

forty thousand dollars," with "the distinct understanding that, if

the money is not needed by you, it shall be returned to me, and the

transaction then to remain statu quo." To this there was a general

assent. Nisbet handed him his two acceptances, and he handed me

his check, signed as collector of the port, on Major J. R. Snyder,

United States Treasurer, for forty thousand dollars. I afterward

rode out, that night, to Major Snyder's house on North Beach, saw

him, and he agreed to meet me at 8 a.m. next day, at the United

States Mint, and to pay the check, so that I could have the money

before the bank opened. The next morning, as agreed on, we met,

and he paid me the check in two sealed bags of gold-coin, each

marked twenty thousand dollars, which I had carried to the bank,

but never opened them, or even broke the seals.

That morning our bank opened as usual, but there was no appearance

of a continuation of the "run;" on the contrary, money began to

come back on deposit, so that by night we had a considerable

increase, and this went on from day to day, till nearly the old

condition of things returned. After about three days, finding I

had no use for the money obtained on Hammond's check, I took the

identical two bags back to the cashier of the Custom-House, and

recovered the two acceptances which had been surrendered as

described; and Smiley's two notes were afterward paid in their due

course, out of the cash received on those identical acceptances.

But, years afterward, on settling with Hammond for the Custom-House

contract when completed, there was a difference, and Smiley sued

Lucas, Turner & Co. for money had and received for his benefit,

being the identical forty thousand dollars herein explained, but he

lost his case. Hammond, too, was afterward removed from office,

and indicted in part for this transaction. He was tried before the

United States Circuit Court, Judge McAlister presiding, for a

violation of the sub-Treasury Act, but was acquitted. Our bank,

having thus passed so well through the crisis, took at once a first

rank; but these bank failures had caused so many mercantile losses,

and had led to such an utter downfall in the value of real estate,

that everybody lost more or less money by bad debts, by

depreciation of stocks and collaterals, that became unsalable, if

not worthless.

About this time (viz., February, 1855) I had exchanged my house on

Green, street, with Mr. Sloat, for the half of a fifty-vara lot on

Harrison Street, between Fremont and First, on which there was a

small cottage, and I had contracted for the building of a new

frame-house thereon, at six thousand dollars. This house was

finished on the 9th of April, and my family moved into it at once.

For some time Mrs. Sherman had been anxious to go home to

Lancaster, Ohio, where we had left our daughter Minnie, with her

grandparents, and we arranged that S. M. Bowman, Esq., and wife,

should move into our new house and board us, viz., Lizzie, Willie

with the nurse Biddy, and myself, for a fair consideration. It so

happened that two of my personal friends, Messrs. Winters and

Cunningham of Marysville, and a young fellow named Eagan, now a

captain in the Commissary Department, were going East in the

steamer of the middle of April, and that Mr.. William H.

Aspinwall, of New York, and Mr. Chauncey, of Philadelphia, were

also going back; and they all offered to look to the personal

comfort of Mrs. Sherman on the voyage. They took passage in the

steamer Golden Age (Commodore Watkins), which sailed on April 17,

1855. Their passage down the coast was very pleasant till within a

day's distance of Panama, when one bright moonlit night, April

29th, the ship, running at full speed, between the Islands Quibo

and Quicara, struck on a sunken reef, tore out a streak in her

bottom, and at once began to fill with water. Fortunately she did

not sink fast, but swung off into deep water, and Commodore Watkins

happening to be on deck at the moment, walking with Mr. Aspinwall,

learning that the water was rushing in with great rapidity, gave

orders for a full head of steam, and turned the vessel's bow

straight for the Island Quicara. The water rose rapidly in the

hold, the passengers were all assembled, fearful of going down, the

fires were out, and the last revolution of the wheels made, when

her bow touched gently on the beach, and the vessel's stern sank in

deep water. Lines were got out, and the ship held in an upright

position, so that the passengers were safe, and but little

incommoded. I have often heard Mrs. Sherman tell of the boy Eagan,

then about fourteen years old, coming to her state-room, and

telling to her not to be afraid, as he was a good swimmer; but on

coming out into the cabin, partially dressed, she felt more

confidence in the cool manner, bearing, and greater strength of Mr.

Winters. There must have been nearly a thousand souls on board at

the time, few of whom could have been saved had the steamer gone

down in mid-channel, which surely would have resulted, had not

Commodore Watkins been on deck, or had he been less prompt in his

determination to beach his ship. A sailboat was dispatched toward

Panama, which luckily met the steamer John T. Stephens, just coming

out of the bay, loaded with about a thousand passengers bound for

San Francisco, and she at once proceeded to the relief of the

Golden Age. Her passengers were transferred in small boats to the

Stephens, which vessel, with her two thousand people crowded

together with hardly standing-room, returned to Panama, whence the

passengers for the East proceeded to their destination without

further delay. Luckily for Mrs. Sherman, Purser Goddard, an old

Ohio friend of ours, was on the Stephens, and most kindly gave up

his own room to her, and such lady friends as she included in her

party. The Golden Age was afterward partially repaired at Quicara,

pumped out, and steamed to Panama, when, after further repairs, she

resumed her place in the line. I think she is still in existence,

but Commodore Watkins afterward lost his life in China, by falling

down a hatchway.

Mrs. Sherman returned in the latter part of November of the same

year, when Mr. and Mrs. Bowman, who meantime had bought a lot next

to us and erected a house thereon, removed to it, and we thus

continued close neighbors and friends until we left the country for

good in 1857.

During the summer of 1856, in San Francisco, occurred one of those

unhappy events, too common to new countries, in which I became

involved in spite of myself.

William Neely Johnson was Governor of California, and resided at

Sacramento City; General John E. Wool commanded the Department of

California, having succeeded General Hitchcock, and had his

headquarters at Benicia; and a Mr. Van Ness was mayor of the city.

Politics had become a regular and profitable business, and

politicians were more than suspected of being corrupt. It was

reported and currently believed that the sheriff (Scannell) had

been required to pay the Democratic Central Committee a hundred

thousand dollars for his nomination, which was equivalent to an

election, for an office of the nominal salary of twelve thousand

dollars a year for four years. In the election all sorts of

dishonesty were charged and believed, especially of "ballot-box

stuffing," and too generally the better classes avoided the

elections and dodged jury-duty, so that the affairs of the city

government necessarily passed into the hands of a low set of

professional politicians. Among them was a man named James Casey,

who edited a small paper, the printing office of which was in a

room on the third floor of our banking office. I hardly knew him

by sight, and rarely if ever saw his paper; but one day Mr. Sather,

of the excellent banking firm of Drexel, Sather & Church, came to

me, and called my attention to an article in Casey's paper so full

of falsehood and malice, that we construed it as an effort to

black-mail the banks generally. At that time we were all laboring

to restore confidence, which had been so rudely shaken by the

panic, and I went up-stairs, found Casey, and pointed out to him

the objectionable nature of his article, told him plainly that I

could not tolerate his attempt to print and circulate slanders in

our building, and, if he repeated it, I would cause him and his

press to be thrown out of the windows. He took the hint and moved

to more friendly quarters. I mention this fact, to show my

estimate of the man, who became a figure in the drama I am about to

describe. James King of Wm., as before explained, was in 1853 a

banker on his own account, but some time in 1854 he had closed out

his business, and engaged with Adams & Co. as cashier. When this

firm failed, he, in common with all the employees, was thrown out

of employment, and had to look around for something else. He

settled down to the publication of an evening paper, called the

Bulletin, and, being a man of fine manners and address, he at once

constituted himself the champion of society against the public and

private characters whom he saw fit to arraign.

As might have been expected, this soon brought him into the usual

newspaper war with other editors, and especially with Casey, and

epithets a la "Eatanswill" were soon bandying back and forth

between them. One evening of May, 1856, King published, in the

Bulletin, copies of papers procured from New York, to show that

Casey had once been sentenced to the State penitentiary at Sing

Sing. Casey took mortal offense, and called at the Bulletin

office, on the corner of Montgomery and Merchant Streets, where he

found King, and violent words passed between them, resulting in

Casey giving King notice that he would shoot him on sight. King

remained in his office till about 5 or 6 p.m., when he started

toward his home on Stockton Street, and, as he neared the corner of

Washington, Casey approached him from the opposite direction,

called to him, and began firing. King had on a short cloak, and in

his breast-pocket a small pistol, which he did not use. One of

Casey's shots struck him high up in the breast, from which he

reeled, was caught by some passing friend, and carried into the

express-office on the corner, where he was laid on the counter; and

a surgeon sent for. Casey escaped up Washington Street, went to

the City Hall, and delivered himself to the sheriff (Scannell), who

conveyed him to jail and locked him in a cell. Meantime, the news

spread like wildfire, and all the city was in commotion, for grog

was very popular. Nisbet, who boarded with us on Harrison Street,

had been delayed at the bank later than usual, so that he happened

to be near at the time, and, when he came out to dinner, he brought

me the news of this affair, and said that there was every

appearance of a riot down-town that night. This occurred toward

the evening of May 14, 1856.

It so happened that, on the urgent solicitation of Van Winkle and

of Governor Johnson; I had only a few days before agreed to accept

the commission of major-general of the Second Division of Militia,

embracing San Francisco. I had received the commission, but

had not as yet formally accepted it, or even put myself in

communication with the volunteer companies of the city. Of these,

at that moment of time, there was a company of artillery with four

guns, commanded by a Captain Johns, formerly of the army, and two

or three uniformed companies of infantry. After dinner I went down

town to see what was going on; found that King had been removed to

a room in the Metropolitan Block; that his life was in great peril;

that Casey was safe in jail, and the sheriff had called to his

assistance a posse of the city police, some citizens, and one of

the militia companies. The people were gathered in groups on the

streets, and the words "Vigilance Committee" were freely spoken,

but I saw no signs of immediate violence. The next morning, I

again went to the jail, and found all things quiet, but the militia

had withdrawn. I then went to the City Hall, saw the mayor, Van

Ness, and some of the city officials, agreed to do what I could to

maintain order with such militia as were on hand, and then formally

accepted the commission, and took the "oath."

In 1851 (when I was not in California) there had been a Vigilance

Committee, and it was understood that its organization still

existed. All the newspapers took ground in favor of the Vigilance

Committee, except the Herald (John Nugent, editor), and nearly all

the best people favored that means of redress. I could see they

were organizing, hiring rendezvous, collecting arms, etc., without

concealment. It was soon manifest that the companies of volunteers

would go with the "committee," and that the public authorities

could not rely on them for aid or defense. Still, there were a

good many citizens who contended that, if the civil authorities

were properly sustained by the people at large, they could and

would execute the law. But the papers inflamed the public mind,

and the controversy spread to the country. About the third day

after the shooting of King, Governor Johnson telegraphed me that he

would be down in the evening boat, and asked me to meet him on

arrival for consultation. I got C. H. Garrison to go with me, and

we met the Governor and his brother on the wharf, and walked up to

the International Hotel on Jackson Street, above Montgomery. We

discussed the state of affairs fully; and Johnson, on learning that

his particular friend, William T. Coleman, was the president of the

Vigilance Committee, proposed to go and see him. En route we

stopped at King's room, ascertained that he was slowly sinking, and

could not live long; and then near midnight we walked to the

Turnverein Hall, where the committee was known to be sitting in

consultation. This hall was on Bush Street, at about the

intersection of Stockton. It was all lighted up within, but the

door was locked. The Governor knocked at the door, and on inquiry

from inside "Who's there?"--gave his name. After some delay we

were admitted into a sort of vestibule, beyond which was a large

hall, and we could hear the suppressed voices of a multitude. We

were shown into a bar-room to the right, when the Governor asked to

see Coleman. The man left us, went into the main hall, and soon

returned with Coleman, who was pale and agitated. After shaking

hands all round, the Governor said, "Coleman, what the devil is the

matter here?" Coleman said, "Governor, it is time this shooting on

our streets should stop." The Governor replied, "I agree with you

perfectly, and have come down, from Sacramento to assist." Coleman

rejoined that "the people were tired of it, and had no faith in the

officers of the law." A general conversation then followed, in

which it was admitted that King would die, and that Casey must be

executed; but the manner of execution was the thing to be settled,

Coleman contending that the people would do it without trusting the

courts or the sheriff. It so happened that at that time Judge

Norton was on the bench of the court having jurisdiction, and he

was universally recognized as an able and upright man, whom no one

could or did mistrust; and it also happened that a grand-jury was

then in session. Johnson argued that the time had passed in

California for mobs and vigilance committees, and said if Coleman

and associates would use their influence to support the law, he

(the Governor) would undertake that, as soon as King died, the

grand-jury should indict, that Judge Norton would try the murderer,

and the whole proceeding should be as speedy as decency would

allow. Then Coleman said "the people had no confidence in

Scannell, the sheriff," who was, he said, in collusion with the

rowdy element of San Francisco. Johnson then offered to be

personally responsible that Casey should be safely guarded, and

should be forthcoming for trial and execution at the proper time.

I remember very well Johnson's assertion that he had no right to

make these stipulations, and maybe no power to fulfill them; but he

did it to save the city and state from the disgrace of a mob.

Coleman disclaimed that the vigilance organization was a "mob,"

admitted that the proposition of the Governor was fair, and all he

or any one should ask; and added, if we would wait awhile, he would

submit it to the council, and bring back an answer.

We waited nearly an hour, and could hear the hum of voices

in the hall, but no words, when Coleman came back, accompanied by a

committee, of which I think the two brothers Arrington, Thomas

Smiley the auctioneer, Seymour, Truett, and others, were members.

The whole conversation was gone over again, and the Governor's

proposition was positively agreed to, with this further condition,

that the Vigilance Committee should send into the jail a small

force of their own men, to make certain that Casey should not be

carried off or allowed to escape.

The Governor, his brother William, Garrison, and I, then went up to

the jail, where we found the sheriff and his posse comitatus of

police and citizens. These were styled the "Law-and-Order party,"

and some of them took offense that the Governor should have held

communication with the "damned rebels," and several of them left

the jail; but the sheriff seemed to agree with the Governor that

what he had done was right and best; and, while we were there, some

eight or ten armed men arrived from the Vigilance Committee, and

were received by the sheriff (Scannell) as a part of his regular

posse.

The Governor then, near daylight, went to his hotel, and I to my

house for a short sleep. Next day I was at the bank, as usual,

when, about noon the Governor called, and asked me to walk with him

down-street He said he had just received a message from the

Vigilance Committee to the effect that they were not bound by

Coleman's promise not to do any thing till the regular trial by

jury should be had, etc. He was with reason furious, and asked me

to go with him to Truett's store, over which the Executive

Committee was said to be in session. We were admitted to a

front-room up-stairs, and heard voices in the back-room. The

Governor inquired for Coleman, but he was not forthcoming. Another

of the committee, Seymour, met us, denied in toto the promise of

the night before, and the Governor openly accused him of treachery

and falsehood.

The quarrel became public, and the newspapers took it up, both

parties turning on the Governor; one, the Vigilantes, denying the

promise made by Coleman, their president; and the other, the

"Law-and-Order party," refusing any farther assistance, because

Johnson had stooped to make terms with rebels. At all events, he

was powerless, and had to let matters drift to a conclusion.

King died about Friday, May 20th, and the funeral was appointed for

the next Sunday. Early on that day the Governor sent for me at my

house. I found him on the roof of the International, from which we

looked down on the whole city, and more especially the face of

Telegraph Hill, which was already covered with a crowd of people,

while others were moving toward the jail on Broadway. Parties of

armed men, in good order, were marching by platoons in the same

direction; and formed in line along Broadway, facing the jail-door.

Soon a small party was seen to advance to this door, and knock; a

parley ensued, the doors were opened, and Casey was led out. In a

few minutes another prisoner was brought out, who, proved to be

Cora, a man who had once been tried for killing Richardson, the

United States Marshal, when the jury disagreed, and he was awaiting

a new trial. These prisoners were placed in carriages, and

escorted by the armed force down to the rooms of the Vigilance

Committee, through the principal streets of the city. The day was

exceedingly beautiful, and the whole proceeding was orderly in the

extreme. I was under the impression that Casey and Cora were

hanged that same Sunday, but was probably in error; but in a very

few days they were hanged by the neck--dead--suspended from beams

projecting from the windows of the committee's rooms, without other

trial than could be given in secret, and by night.

We all thought the matter had ended there, and accordingly the

Governor returned to Sacramento in disgust, and I went about my

business. But it soon became manifest that the Vigilance Committee

had no intention to surrender the power thus usurped. They took a

building on Clay Street, near Front, fortified it, employed guards

and armed sentinels, sat in midnight council, issued writs of

arrest and banishment, and utterly ignored all authority but their

own. A good many men were banished and forced to leave the

country, but they were of that class we could well spare. Yankee

Sullivan, a prisoner in their custody, committed suicide, and a

feeling of general insecurity pervaded the city. Business was

deranged; and the Bulletin, then under control of Tom King, a

brother of James, poured out its abuse on some of our best men, as

well as the worst. Governor Johnson, being again appealed to,

concluded to go to work regularly, and telegraphed me about the 1st

of June to meet him at General Wool's headquarters at Benicia that

night. I went up, and we met at the hotel where General Wool was

boarding. Johnson had with him his Secretary of State. We

discussed the state of the country generally, and I had agreed that

if Wool would give us arms and ammunition out of the United States

Arsenal at Benicia, and if Commodore Farragat, of the navy,

commanding the navy-yard on Mare Island, would give us a ship, I

would call out volunteers, and, when a sufficient number had

responded, I would have the arms come down from Benicia in the

ship, arm my men, take possession of a thirty-two-pound-gun battery

at the Marine Hospital on Rincon Point, thence command a dispersion

of the unlawfully-armed force of the Vigilance Committee, and

arrest some of the leaders.

We played cards that night, carrying on a conversation, in which

Wool insisted on a proclamation commanding the Vigilance Committee

to disperse, etc., and he told us how he had on some occasion, as

far back as 1814, suppressed a mutiny on the Northern frontier. I

did not understand him to make any distinct promise of assistance

that night, but he invited us to accompany him on an inspection of

the arsenal the next day, which we did. On handling some rifled

muskets in the arsenal storehouse he asked me how they would answer

our purpose. I said they were the very things, and that we did not

want cartridge boxes or belts, but that I would have the cartridges

carried in the breeches-pockets, and the caps in the vestpockets.

I knew that there were stored in that arsenal four thousand

muskets, for I recognized the boxes which we had carried out in the

Lexington around Cape Horn in 1846. Afterward we all met at the

quarters of Captain D. R. Jones of the army, and I saw the

Secretary of State, D. F. Douglass, Esq., walk out with General

Wool in earnest conversation, and this Secretary of State afterward

asserted that Wool there and then promised us the arms and

ammunition, provided the Governor would make his proclamation for

the committee to disperse, and that I should afterward call out the

militia, etc. On the way back to the hotel at Benicia, General

Wool, Captain Callendar of the arsenal, and I, were walking side by

side, and I was telling him (General Wool) that I would also need

some ammunition for the thirty-two-pound guns then in position at

Rineon Point, when Wool turned to Callendar and inquired, "Did I

not order those guns to be brought away?" Callendar said "Yes,

general. I made a requisition on the quartermaster for

transportation, but his schooner has been so busy that the guns are

still there." Then said Wool: "Let them remain; we may have use for

them." I therefrom inferred, of course, that it was all agreed to

so far as he was concerned.

Soon after we had reached the hotel, we ordered a buggy, and

Governor Johnson and I drove to Vallejo, six miles, crossed over to

Mare Island, and walked up to the commandant's house, where we

found Commodore Farragut and his family. We stated our business

fairly, but the commodore answered very frankly that he had no

authority, without orders from his department, to take any part in

civil broils; he doubted the wisdom of the attempt; said he had no

ship available except the John Adams, Captain Boutwell, and that

she needed repairs. But he assented at last, to the proposition to

let the sloop John Adams drop down abreast of the city after

certain repairs, to lie off there for moral effect, which afterward

actually occurred.

We then returned to Benicia, and Wool's first question was, "What

luck?" We answered, "Not much," and explained what Commodore

Farragut could and would do, and that, instead of having a naval

vessel, we would seize and use one of the Pacific Mail Company's

steamers, lying at their dock in Benicia, to carry down to San

Francisco the arms and munitions when the time came.

As the time was then near at hand for the arrival of the evening

boats, we all walked down to the wharf together, where I told

Johnson that he could not be too careful; that I had not heard

General Wool make a positive promise of assistance.

Upon this, Johnson called General Wool to one side, and we three

drew together. Johnson said: "General Wool, General Sherman is

very particular, and wants to know exactly what you propose to do."

Wool answered: "I understand, Governor, that in the first place a

writ of Habeas corpus will be issued commanding the jailers of the

Vigilance Committee to produce the body of some one of the

prisoners held by them (which, of course, will be refused); that

you then issue your proclamation commanding them to disperse, and,

failing this, you will call out the militia, and command General

Sherman with it to suppress the Vigilance Committee as an unlawful

body;" to which the Governor responded, "Yes." "Then," said Wool,

"on General Sherman's making his requisition, approved by you, I

will order the issue of the necessary arms and ammunition." I

remember well that I said, emphatically: "That is all I want.

--Now, Governor, you may go ahead." We soon parted; Johnson and

Douglas taking the boat to Sacramento, and I to San Francisco.

The Chief-Justice, Terry, came to San Francisco the next day,

issued a writ of habeas corpus for the body of one Maloney, which

writ was resisted, as we expected. The Governor then issued his

proclamation, and I published my orders, dated June 4, 1855. The

Quartermaster-General of the State, General Kibbe, also came to San

Francisco, took an office in the City Hall, engaged several rooms

for armories, and soon the men began to enroll into companies. In

my general orders calling out the militia, I used the expression,

"When a sufficient number of men are enrolled, arms and ammunition

will be supplied." Some of the best men of the "Vigilantes" came

to me and remonstrated, saying that collision would surely result;

that it would be terrible, etc. All I could say in reply was, that

it was for them to get out of the way. "Remove your fort; cease

your midnight councils; and prevent your armed bodies from

patrolling the streets." They inquired where I was to get arms,

and I answered that I had them certain. But personally I went

right along with my business at the bank, conscious that at any

moment we might have trouble. Another committee of citizens, a

conciliatory body, was formed to prevent collision if possible, and

the newspapers boiled over with vehement vituperation. This second

committee was composed of such men as Crockett, Ritchie, Thornton,

Bailey Peyton, Foote, Donohue, Kelly, and others, a class of the

most intelligent and wealthy men of the city, who earnestly and

honestly desired to prevent bloodshed. They also came to me, and I

told them that our men were enrolling very fast, and that, when I

deemed the right moment had come, the Vigilance Committee must

disperse, else bloodshed and destruction of property would

inevitably follow. They also had discovered that the better men of

the Vigilance Committee itself were getting tired of the business,

and thought that in the execution of Casey and Cora, and the

banishment of a dozen or more rowdies, they had done enough, and

were then willing to stop. It was suggested that, if our

Law-and-Order party would not arm, by a certain day near at hand

the committee would disperse, and some of their leaders would

submit to an indictment and trial by a jury of citizens, which they

knew would acquit them of crime. One day in the bank a man called

me to the counter and said, "If you expect to get arms of General

Wool, you will be mistaken, for I was at Benicia yesterday, and

heard him say he would not give them." This person was known to me

to be a man of truth, and I immediately wrote to General Wool a

letter telling him what I had heard, and how any hesitation on his

part would compromise me as a man of truth and honor; adding that I

did not believe we should ever need the arms, but only the promise

of them, for "the committee was letting down, and would soon

disperse and submit to the law," etc. I further asked him to

answer me categorically that very night, by the Stockton boat,

which would pass Benicia on its way down about midnight, and I

would sit up and wait for his answer. I did wait for his letter,

but it did not come, and the next day I got a telegraphic dispatch

from Governor Johnson, who, at Sacramento, had also heard of

General Wool's "back-down," asking me to meet him again at Benicia

that night.

I went up in the evening boat, and found General Wool's

aide-de-camp, Captain Arnold, of the army, on the wharf, with a

letter in his hand, which he said was for me. I asked for it, but

he said he knew its importance, and preferred we should go to

General Wool's room together, and the general could hand it to me in

person. We did go right up to General Wool's, who took the sealed

parcel and laid it aside, saying that it was literally a copy of one

he had sent to Governor Johnson, who would doubtless give me a copy;

but I insisted that I had made a written communication, and was

entitled to a written answer.

At that moment several gentlemen of the "Conciliation party," who

had come up in the same steamer with me, asked for admission and

came in. I recall the names of Crockett, Foote, Bailey Peyton,

Judge Thornton, Donohue, etc., and the conversation became general,

Wool trying to explain away the effect of our misunderstanding,

taking good pains not to deny his promise made to me personally on

the wharf. I renewed my application for the letter addressed to

me, then lying on his table. On my statement of the case, Bailey

Peyton said, "General Wool, I think General Sherman has a right to

a written answer from you, for he is surely compromised." Upon

this Wool handed me the letter. I opened and read it, and it

denied any promise of arms, but otherwise was extremely evasive and

non-committal. I had heard of the arrival at the wharf of the

Governor and party, and was expecting them at Wool's room, but,

instead of stopping at the hotel where we were, they passed to

another hotel on the block above. I went up and found there, in a

room on the second floor over the bar-room, Governor Johnson,

Chief-Justice Terry, Jones, of Palmer, Cooke & Co., E. D. Baker,

Volney E. Howard, and one or two others. All were talking

furiously against Wool, denouncing him as a d---d liar, and not

sparing the severest terms. I showed the Governor General Wool's

letter to me, which he said was in effect the same as the one

addressed to and received by him at Sacramento. He was so offended

that he would not even call on General Wool, and said he would

never again recognize him as an officer or gentleman. We discussed

matters generally, and Judge Terry said that the Vigilance

Committee were a set of d---d pork-merchants; that they were

getting scared, and that General Wool was in collusion with them to

bring the State into contempt, etc. I explained that there were no

arms in the State except what General Wool had, or what were in the

hands of the Vigilance Committee of San Francisco, and that the

part of wisdom for us was to be patient and cautious. About that

time Crockett and his associates sent up their cards, but Terry and

the more violent of the Governor's followers denounced them as no

better than "Vigilantes," and wanted the Governor to refuse even to

receive them. I explained that they were not "Vigilantes," that

Judge Thornton was a "Law-and-Order" man, was one of the first to

respond to the call of the sheriff, and that he went actually to

the jail with his one arm the night we expected the first attempt

at rescue, etc. Johnson then sent word for them to reduce their

business to writing. They simply sent in a written request for an

audience, and they were then promptly admitted. After some general

conversation, the Governor said he was prepared to hear them, when

Mr. Crockett rose and made a prepared speech embracing a clear and

fair statement of the condition of things in San Francisco,

concluding with the assertion of the willingness of the committee

to disband and submit to trial after a certain date not very

remote. All the time Crockett was speaking, Terry sat with his hat

on, drawn over his eyes, and with his feet on a table. As soon as

Crockett was through, they were dismissed, and Johnson began to

prepare a written answer. This was scratched, altered, and

amended, to suit the notions of his counselors, and at last was

copied and sent. This answer amounted to little or nothing.

Seeing that we were powerless for good, and that violent counsels

would prevail under the influence of Terry and others, I sat down

at the table, and wrote my resignation, which Johnson accepted in a

complimentary note on the spot, and at the same time he appointed

to my place General Volney E. Howard, then present, a lawyer who

had once been a member of Congress from Texas, and who was expected

to drive the d---d pork-merchants into the bay at short notice. I

went soon after to General Wool's room, where I found Crockett and

the rest of his party; told them that I was out of the fight,

having resigned my commission; that I had neglected business that

had been intrusted to me by my St. Louis partners; and that I would

thenceforward mind my own business, and leave public affairs

severely alone. We all returned to San Francisco that night by the

Stockton boat, and I never after-ward had any thing to do with

politics in California, perfectly satisfied with that short

experience. Johnson and Wool fought out their quarrel of veracity

in the newspapers and on paper. But, in my opinion, there is not a

shadow of doubt that General Wool did deliberately deceive us; that

he had authority to issue arms, and that, had he adhered to his

promise, we could have checked the committee before it became a

fixed institution, and a part of the common law of California.

Major-General Volney E. Howard came to San Francisco soon after;

continued the organization of militia which I had begun; succeeded

in getting a few arms from the country; but one day the Vigilance

Committee sallied from their armories, captured the arms of the

"Law-and-Order party," put some of their men into prison, while

General Howard, with others, escaped to the country; after which

the Vigilance Committee had it all their own way. Subsequently, in

July, 1856, they arrested Chief-Justice Terry, and tried him for

stabbing one of their constables, but he managed to escape at

night, and took refuge on the John Adams. In August, they hanged

Hetherington and Brace in broad daylight, without any jury-trial;

and, soon after, they quietly disbanded. As they controlled the

press, they wrote their own history, and the world generally gives

them the credit of having purged San Francisco of rowdies and

roughs; but their success has given great stimulus to a dangerous

principle, that would at any time justify the mob in seizing all

the power of government; and who is to say that the Vigilance

Committee may not be composed of the worst, instead of the best,

elements of a community? Indeed, in San Francisco, as soon as it

was demonstrated that the real power had passed from the City Hall

to the committee room, the same set of bailiffs, constables, and

rowdies that had infested the City Hall were found in the

employment of the "Vigilantes;" and, after three months

experience, the better class of people became tired of the midnight

sessions and left the business and power of the committee in the

hands of a court, of which a Sydney man was reported to be the head

or chief-justice.

During the winter of 1855-'56, and indeed throughout the year 1856,

all kinds of business became unsettled in California. The mines

continued to yield about fifty millions of gold a year; but little

attention was paid to agriculture or to any business other than

that of "mining," and, as the placer-gold was becoming worked out,

the miners were restless and uneasy, and were shifting about from

place to place, impelled by rumors put afloat for speculative

purposes. A great many extensive enterprises by joint-stock

companies had been begun, in the way of water-ditches, to bring

water from the head of the mountain-streams down to the richer

alluvial deposits, and nearly all of these companies became

embarrassed or bankrupt. Foreign capital, also, which had been

attracted to California by reason of the high rates of interest,

was being withdrawn, or was tied up in property which could not be

sold; and, although our bank's having withstood the panic gave us

great credit, still the community itself was shaken, and loans of

money were risky in the extreme. A great many merchants, of the

highest name, availed themselves of the extremely liberal bankrupt

law to get discharged of their old debts, without sacrificing much,

if any, of their stocks of goods on hand, except a lawyer's fee;

thus realizing Martin Burke's saying that "many a clever fellow had

been ruined by paying his debts." The merchants and business-men

of San Francisco did not intend to be ruined by such a course. I

raised the rate of exchange from three to three and a half, while

others kept on at the old rate; and I labored hard to collect old

debts, and strove, in making new loans, to be on the safe side.

The State and city both denied much of their public debt; in fact,

repudiated it; and real estate, which the year before had been

first-class security, became utterly unsalable.

The office labor and confinement, and the anxiety attending the

business, aggravated my asthma to such an extent that at times it

deprived me of sleep, and threatened to become chronic and serious;

and I was also conscious that the first and original cause which

had induced Mr. Lucas to establish the bank in California had

ceased. I so reported to him, and that I really believed that he

could use his money more safely and to better advantage in St.

Louis. This met his prompt approval, and he instructed me

gradually to draw out, preparatory to a removal to New York City.

Accordingly, early in April, 1857, I published an advertisement in

the San Francisco papers, notifying our customers that, on the 1st

day of May, we would discontinue business and remove East,

requiring all to withdraw their accounts, and declaring that,

if any remained on that day of May, their balances would be

transferred to the banking-house of Parrott & Co. Punctually to the

day, this was done, and the business of Lucas, Turner & Co., of San

Francisco, was discontinued, except the more difficult and

disagreeable part of collecting their own moneys and selling the

real estate, to which the firm had succeeded by purchase or

foreclosure. One of the partners, B. R. Nisbet, assisted by our

attorney, S. M. Bowman, Esq., remained behind to close up the

business of the bank.

CHAPTER VI.

CALIFORNIA, NEW YORK, AND KANSAS.

1857-1859.

Having closed the bank at San Francisco on the 1st day of May,

1857, accompanied by my family I embarked in the steamer Sonora for

Panama, crossed the isthmus, and sailed to New York, whence we

proceeded to Lancaster, Ohio, where Mrs. Sherman and the family

stopped, and I went on to St. Louis. I found there that some

changes had been made in the parent, house, that Mr. Lucas had

bought out his partner, Captain Symonds, and that the firm's name

had been changed to that of James H. Lucas & Co.

It had also been arranged that an office or branch was to be

established in New York City, of which I was to have charge, on

pretty much the same terms and conditions as in the previous San

Francisco firm.

Mr. Lucas, Major Turner, and I, agreed to meet in New York, soon

after the 4th of July. We met accordingly at the Metropolitan

Hotel, selected an office, No. 12 Pall Street, purchased the

necessary furniture, and engaged a teller, bookkeeper, and porter.

The new firm was to bear the same title of Lucas, Turner & Co.,

with about the same partners in interest, but the nature of the

business was totally different. We opened our office on the 21st

of July, 1857, and at once began to receive accounts from the West

and from California, but our chief business was as the resident

agents of the St. Louis firm of James H. Lucas & Co. Personally I

took rooms at No. 100 Prince Street, in which house were also

quartered Major J. G. Barnard, and Lieutenant J. B. McPherson,

United States Engineers, both of whom afterward attained great fame

in the civil war.

My business relations in New York were with the Metropolitan Bank

and Bank of America; and with the very wealthy and most respectable

firm of Schuchhardt & Gebhard, of Nassau Street. Every thing went

along swimmingly till the 21st of August, when all Wall Street was

thrown into a spasm by the failure of the Ohio Life and Trust

Company, and the panic so resembled that in San Francisco, that,

having nothing seemingly at stake, I felt amused. But it soon

became a serious matter even to me. Western stocks and securities

tumbled to such a figure, that all Western banks that held such

securities, and had procured advances thereon, were compelled to

pay up or substitute increased collaterals. Our own house was

not a borrower in New York at all, but many of our Western

correspondents were, and it taxed my tune to watch their interests.

In September, the panic extended so as to threaten the safety of

even some of the New York banks not connected with the West; and

the alarm became general, and at last universal.

In the very midst of this panic came the news that the steamer

Central America, formerly the George Law, with six hundred

passengers and about sixteen hundred thousand dollars of treasure,

coming from Aspinwall, had foundered at sea, off the coast of

Georgia, and that about sixty of the passengers had been

providentially picked up by a Swedish bark, and brought into

Savannah. The absolute loss of this treasure went to swell the

confusion and panic of the day.

A few days after, I was standing in the vestibule of the

Metropolitan Hotel, and heard the captain of the Swedish bark tell

his singular story of the rescue of these passengers. He was a

short, sailor-like-looking man, with a strong German or Swedish

accent. He said that he was sailing from some port in Honduras for

Sweden, running down the Gulf Stream off Savannah. The weather had

been heavy for some days, and, about nightfall, as he paced his

deck, he observed a man-of-war hawk circle about his vessel,

gradually lowering, until the bird was as it were aiming at him.

He jerked out a belaying-pin, struck at the bird, missed it, when

the hawk again rose high in the air, and a second time began to

descend, contract his circle, and make at him again. The second

time he hit the bird, and struck it to the deck.... This strange

fact made him uneasy, and he thought it betokened danger; he went

to the binnacle, saw the course he was steering, and without any

particular reason he ordered the steersman to alter the course one

point to the east.

After this it became quite dark, and he continued to promenade the

deck, and had settled into a drowsy state, when as in a dream he

thought he heard voices all round his ship. Waking up, he ran to

the side of the ship, saw something struggling in the water, and

heard clearly cries for help. Instantly heaving his ship to, and

lowering all his boats, he managed to pick up sixty or more persons

who were floating about on skylights, doors, spare, and whatever

fragments remained of the Central America. Had he not changed the

course of his vessel by reason of the mysterious conduct of that

man-of-war hawk, not a soul would probably have survived the night.

It was stated by the rescued passengers, among whom was Billy

Birch, that the Central America had sailed from Aspinwall with the

passengers and freight which left San Francisco on the 1st of

September, and encountered the gale in the Gulf Stream somewhere

off Savannah, in which she sprung a leak, filled rapidly, and went

down. The passengers who were saved had clung to doors, skylights,

and such floating objects as they could reach, and were thus

rescued; all the rest, some five hundred in number, had gone down

with the ship.

The panic grew worse and worse, and about the end of September

there was a general suspension of the banks of New York, and a

money crisis extended all over the country. In New York, Lucas,

Turner & Co. had nothing at risk. We had large cash balances in

the Metropolitan Bank and in the Bank of America, all safe, and we

held, for the account of the St. Louis house, at least two hundred

thousand dollars, of St. Louis city and county bonds, and of

acceptances falling due right along, none extending beyond ninety

days. I was advised from St. Louis that money matters were

extremely tight; but I did not dream of any danger in that quarter.

I knew well that Mr. Lucas was worth two or three million dollars

in the best real estate, and inferred from the large balances to

their credit with me that no mere panic could shake his credit;

but, early on the morning of October 7th, my cousin, James M. Hoyt,

came to me in bed, and read me a paragraph in the morning paper, to

the effect that James H. Lucas & Co., of St. Louis, had suspended.

I was, of course, surprised, but not sorry; for I had always

contended that a man of so much visible wealth as Mr. Lucas should

not be engaged in a business subject to such vicissitudes. I

hurried down to the office, where I received the same information

officially, by telegraph, with instructions to make proper

disposition of the affairs of the bank, and to come out to St.

Louis, with such assets as would be available there. I transferred

the funds belonging to all our correspondents, with lists of

outstanding checks, to one or other of our bankers, and with the

cash balance of the St. Louis house and their available assets

started for St. Louis. I may say with confidence that no man lost

a cent by either of the banking firms of Lucas, Turner & Co., of

San Francisco or New York; but, as usual, those who owed us were

not always as just. I reached St. Louis October 17th, and found

the partners engaged in liquidating the balances due depositors as

fast as collections could be forced; and, as the panic began to

subside, this process became quite rapid, and Mr. Lucas, by making

a loan in Philadelphia, was enabled to close out all accounts

without having made any serious sacrifices, Of course, no person

ever lost a cent by him: he has recently died, leaving an estate of

eight million dollars. During his lifetime, I had opportunities to

know him well, and take much pleasure in bearing testimony to his

great worth and personal kindness. On the failure of his bank, he

assumed personally all the liabilities, released his partners of

all responsibility, and offered to assist me to engage in business,

which he supposed was due to me because I had resigned my army

commission. I remained in St. Louis till the 17th of December,

1857, assisting in collecting for the bank, and in controlling all

matters which came from the New York and San Francisco branches.

B. R. Nisbet was still in San Francisco, but had married a Miss

Thornton, and was coming home. There still remained in California

a good deal of real estate, and notes, valued at about two hundred

thousand dollars in the aggregate; so that, at Mr. Lucas's request,

I agreed to go out again, to bring matters, if possible, nearer a

final settlement. I accordingly left St. Louis, reached Lancaster,

where my family was, on the 10th, staid there till after Christmas,

and then went to New York, where I remained till January 5th, when

I embarked on the steamer Moles Taylor (Captain McGowan) for

Aspinwall; caught the Golden Gate (Captain Whiting) at Panama,

January 15, 1858; and reached San Francisco on the 28th of January.

I found that Nisbet and wife had gone to St. Louis, and that we had

passed each other at sea. He had carried the ledger and books to

St. Louis, but left a schedule, notes, etc., in the hands of S. M.

Bowman, Esq., who passed them over to me.

On the 30th of January I published a notice of the dissolution of

the partnership, and called on all who were still indebted to the

firm of Lucas, Turner & Co. to pay up, or the notes would be sold

at auction. I also advertised that all the real property, was for

sale.

Business had somewhat changed since 1857. Parrott & Co.; Garrison,

Fritz & Ralston; Wells, Fargo & Co.; Drexel, Sather & Church, and

Tallant & Wilde, were the principal bankers. Property continued

almost unsalable, and prices were less than a half of what they

had been in 1853-'54. William Blending, Esq., had rented my house

on Harrison Street; so I occupied a room in the bank, No. 11, and

boarded at the Meiggs House, corner of Broadway and Montgomery,

which we owned. Having reduced expenses to a minimum, I proceeded,

with all possible dispatch, to collect outstanding debts, in some

instances making sacrifices and compromises. I made some few

sales, and generally aimed to put matters in such a shape that time

would bring the best result. Some of our heaviest creditors were

John M. Rhodes & Co., of Sacramento and Shasta; Langton & Co., of

Downieville; and E. M. Stranger of Murphy's. In trying to put

these debts in course of settlement, I made some arrangement in

Downieville with the law-firm of Spears & Thornton, to collect, by

suit, a certain note of Green & Purdy for twelve thousand dollars.

Early in April, I learned that Spears had collected three thousand

seven hundred dollars in money, had appropriated it to his own use,

and had pledged another good note taken in part payment of three

thousand and fifty-three dollars. He pretended to be insane. I

had to make two visits to Downieville on this business, and there,

made the acquaintance of Mr. Stewart, now a Senator from Nevada.

He was married to a daughter of Governor Foote; was living in a

small frame house on the bar just below the town; and his little

daughter was playing about the door in the sand. Stewart was then

a lawyer in Downieville, in good practice; afterward, by some lucky

stroke, became part owner of a valuable silver-mine in Nevada, and

is now accounted a millionaire. I managed to save something out of

Spears, and more out of his partner Thornton. This affair of

Spears ruined him, because his insanity was manifestly feigned.

I remained in San Francisco till July 3d, when, having collected

and remitted every cent that I could raise, and got all the

property in the best shape possible, hearing from St. Louis

that business had revived, and that there was no need of

further sacrifice; I put all the papers, with a full letter of

instructions, and power of attorney, in the hands of William

Blending, Esq., and took passage on the good steamer Golden Gate,

Captain Whiting, for Panama and home. I reached Lancaster on July

28, 1858, and found all the family well. I was then perfectly

unhampered, but the serious and greater question remained, what was

I to do to support my family, consisting of a wife and four

children, all accustomed to more than the average comforts of life?

I remained at Lancaster all of August, 1858, during which time I

was discussing with Mr. Ewing and others what to do next. Major

Turner and Mr. Lucas, in St. Louis, were willing to do any thing to

aid me, but I thought best to keep independent. Mr. Ewing had

property at Chauncey, consisting of salt-wells and coal-mines, but

for that part of Ohio I had no fancy. Two of his sons, Hugh and T.

E., Jr., had established themselves at Leavenworth, Kansas, where

they and their father had bought a good deal of land, some near the

town, and some back in the country. Mr. Ewing offered to confide

to me the general management of his share of interest, and Hugh and

T. E., Jr., offered me an equal copartnership in their law-firm.

Accordingly, about the 1st of September, I started for Kansas,

stopping a couple of weeks in St. Louis, and reached Leavenworth.

I found about two miles below the fort, on the river-bank, where in

1851 was a tangled thicket, quite a handsome and thriving city,

growing rapidly in rivalry with Kansas City, and St. Joseph,

Missouri. After looking about and consulting with friends, among

them my classmate Major Stewart Van Vliet, quartermaster at the

fort, I concluded to accept the proposition of Mr. Ewing, and

accordingly the firm of Sherman & Ewing was duly announced, and our

services to the public offered as attorneys-at-law. We had an

office on Main Street, between Shawnee and Delaware, on the second

floor, over the office of Hampton Denman, Esq., mayor of the city.

This building was a mere shell, and our office was reached by a

stairway on the outside. Although in the course of my military

reading I had studied a few of the ordinary law-books, such as

Blackstone, Kent, Starkie, etc., I did not presume to be a lawyer;

but our agreement was that Thomas Ewing, Jr., a good and thorough

lawyer, should manage all business in the courts, while I gave

attention to collections, agencies for houses and lands, and such

business as my experience in banking had qualified me for. Yet, as

my name was embraced in a law-firm, it seemed to me proper to take

out a license. Accordingly, one day when United States Judge

Lecompte was in our office, I mentioned the matter to him; he told

me to go down to the clerk of his court, and he would give me the

license. I inquired what examination I would have to submit to,

and he replied, "None at all;" he would admit me on the ground of

general intelligence.

During that summer we got our share of the business of the

profession, then represented by several eminent law-firms,

embracing names that have since flourished in the Senate, and in

the higher courts of the country. But the most lucrative single

case was given me by my friend Major Van Vliet, who employed me to

go to Fort Riley, one hundred and thirty-six miles west of Fort

Leavenworth, to superintend the repairs to the military road. For

this purpose he supplied me with a four-mule ambulance and driver.

The country was then sparsely settled, and quite as many Indians

were along the road as white people; still there were embryo towns

all along the route, and a few farms sprinkled over the beautiful

prairies. On reaching Indianola, near Topeka, I found everybody

down with the chills and fever. My own driver became so shaky that

I had to act as driver and cook. But in due season I reconnoitred

the road, and made contracts for repairing some bridges, and for

cutting such parts of the road as needed it. I then returned to

Fort Leavenworth, and reported, receiving a fair compensation. On

my way up I met Colonel Sumner's column, returning from their

summer scout on the plains, and spent the night with the officers,

among whom were Captains Sackett, Sturgis, etc. Also at Fort Riley

I was cordially received and entertained by some old army-friends,

among them Major Sedgwick, Captains Totted, Eli Long, etc.