It was now the beginning of winter, but the weather continued mild
and favourable. The nights were cold, and the ground in the morning
sometimes covered with frost; but our tent was always abundantly warm,
and the sun no sooner rose above the hills than the whole atmosphere
became of a most delightful temperature. The change was equally sudden
at night, the disappearance of the sun being followed by an instant
chill, that seemed to settle down upon the earth like a mantle, and
drove us from our work at an early hour. During rainy weather the wind
was invariably warm from the south-east.
Our life now moved on with great regularity. We rose at daybreak.
The fire, which usually kept alive all night, was soon wide awake,
and the coffee-pot sung cheerily on the stove. A little practice
had enabled us to acquire a very tolerable proficiency in the noble
and primitive art of cooking. A few weeks before, we had smacked
our lips over certain flapjacks of the most amazing toughness and
solidity, every one of which seemed to say, "Let me sit heavy on thy
soul to-morrow," and seldom failed to attain its aspirations. They
were made of unleavened flour, with a plentiful admixture of rice,
the latter substance alone affording any reasonable hope of a speedy
digestion. Yet even Mowbray condescended to express his approbation
of them, and once manifested considerable curiosity to learn the
secret of their composition. But they were only my first essay, as
inferior to my subsequent productions as the first feeble rhymes of
a fledgling poet to his maturer efforts, and I felt vexed that he
should have gone away with such an inadequate estimate of my powers as
these crude conceptions were calculated to produce. In the mean time,
I extended my researches in every direction. Our little frying-pan
was no longer large enough for the purpose. It answered very well for
those earlier cakes, as round and thick as the shield of Ajax, but
required too much time for the delicate, almost transparent wafers
that now alone satisfied our refined palates. In going to and from our
work, I had often passed an old Dutch oven, that, having a large hole
in one side, was no longer fit for its legitimate purpose. One day
a happy idea seized me. I took possession of the oven, and carrying
it home, knocked off the remaining sides, and having cleaned it with
fire, converted the bottom into a very commodious griddle.
Robinson Crusoe could have felt no greater pride and exultation when
he drew his first rude crockery from the expiring embers. I now
knew that nothing was too hard for me--frying pork, that had once
seemed the summit of attainable excellence, no longer affected my
imagination--the mysteries of beef and venison, of which we had at
this time a satiety, became palpable and commonplace, and I found,
like Newton, the circle of scientific discovery continually widen as I
advanced.
My next achievement surpassed all that had preceded it. For several
days I had been unusually silent and abstracted. My companions
attributed this change to a constitutional melancholy with which I am
at times afflicted, but it was really owing to the pains of travail
in which my genius now laboured. It was on the eventful morning of
the 13th of December, that I first took from the top of the stove,
where they had reposed all night under a polished cheesebox, a tin pan
of undeniable baked beans, the classic time-honoured dish of old New
England. Such a thing had never before been known in the diggings,
where indeed stewed beans--procul procul à nobis--were plenty with
their pale watery complexions, but baked beans never, with their rich
brown, almost golden, hue. My triumph was complete. Oldbuck and the
doctor, between whom and ourselves there had long existed a kind of
rivalry, began to cavil and detract, but were convinced and silenced
at the first mouthful.
After this I went no farther. Amazed and almost terrified by the
boldness of my conceptions, I felt how impossible it was ever again
to equal them. I rested my claims upon this single effort, with the
same calm assurance with which Columbus rested on his discovery of
America--to surpass either, one must needs "find out new heavens, new
earth."
Having eaten our breakfast of savoury fritters, or less pleasing
ship-biscuit, molasses, and fried pork, and thoroughly warmed our
inner man with a pint of coffee, black as night, we sallied forth to
our work, leaving our tent and all its contents in perfect security,
even if we should be gone for weeks. In no country in the world were
life and property ever more secure than at that time in the mines of
California. We had now moved someway down the river, and were at work
among huge toppling rocks, where in the intervening crevices we found
a scanty proportion of black vegetable mould that, according to the
prevailing theory, should have contained no gold, but actually paid
sometimes as much as thirty cents to the bucket. In fact I never saw
any description of earth in California that did not, in some situation
or other, afford the miner a very fair return.
Our labour was by no means hard for one in health, and if our success
had equalled our expectations, would have been in the highest degree
agreeable. But continued disappointment disposed us to regard
everything in the least favourable light. We were glad when it was
noon, and still more pleased when the sun, "wheeling his broad disc"
behind the opposing hills, warned us to bring our day's labour to a
close. The large pan beneath the rocker was usually by this time half
full of black sand and gravel, the successive accumulations of our
afternoon's washings. To wash or float out these baser substances,
leaving the gold nearly unmixed in the pan, was a long and tedious
process, with the mysteries of which, however, I suppose the reader is
already sufficiently familiar. While one is thus occupied, the other,
first removing the cradle from the edge of the river to a place of
greater security, hurries home to make the necessary preparations for
supper, followed in due time by his companion, whose walk, heavy and
slow, or erect and springing, affords a very fair index of the success
they have met with. Arrived at home, the pan is placed a few minutes
over the fire to dry the small quantity of black sand still remaining,
which is then blown out by the breath, leaving nothing but the pure
bright yellow. The pan is now passed from one to another, that each
may express his opinion of its value.
"Humph," says the first, scanning the gold curiously out of one corner
of his eye, as a hen takes the dimensions of a worm or a grasshopper,
"is that all? I thought we should have had at least an ounce apiece.
If our hole is agoing to retort out at that rate, it's high time to be
looking about for something else; but if I know where to go, I hope to
be swowed."
"Here," cries another, "let me have a squint at it;" and after a
careful examination, "Well, I don know; that ain't so bad; there's
hard on to forty dollars, and we should ha' thought that pretty good
day's wages in the States."
But it is astonishing what a glow a little gleam of success throws
over the whole party--their stoop disappears--they have actually
grown an inch taller; while every one has some merry quip fit for
the occasion. They are unwilling to let the gold out of their
hands--they slide it back and forth across the pan, making it assume
every grotesque and pleasing variety of form. Hardly any sight can be
more delightfully suggestive--gold coin is nothing to it, dull heavy
slave that it is! If I were required to name those hours when I have
enjoyed the greatest happiness, next to that arising from inward and
inexplicable sources, I should fix upon such an evening in the mines,
when each one has a hundred dollars for his day's labour. If there is
anything better, it is when he has two hundred, with the added hope of
getting as much more to-morrow.
In our particular instance a much smaller amount was sufficient to
produce a general hilarity. When each had guessed its weight, it was
slid carefully into the scales, thence transferred to sundry vials
or tin boxes, and the amount duly registered in a book kept for the
purpose. By this time supper was ready; we drew our kegs and boxes
up to the table, and fell to work on the fried beef or venison with
hearty good will. This was by far the pleasantest meal of the day; we
lingered over our coffee, and dwelt with prolonged relish on every
mouthful, ere we reluctantly dismissed it down our expectant throats;
and thought how much we should enjoy the surprise, if some of our
friends at home could suddenly pop in upon us.
After supper our pipes were lighted--we stretched ourselves on our
beds, and conversed at intervals of the day's work, of what we should
do next summer, and of going home. Number Four, whose spirits never
flagged, hummed some old-time airs, or breathed them through that
simple and classic instrument styled the harmonicon. It was pleasant
in stormy weather to lie and listen to the rain pattering on the
well-stretched canvass, and watch the sides of the tent flapping
and bellying like sails at sea; while occasionally, in the pauses
of the tempest, we caught brief snatches of the doctor's melancholy
sounding strange and unearthly like the wail of a departing spirit.
We could hear the wind apparently coming for miles up the river. A
short lull would be succeeded by a faint, almost inaudible murmur
like the distant tramp of an army--it came nearer and louder--now it
had reached the village--we heard it hurtling through the trees at
the foot of our hill, and the same moment it rushed by with headlong
speed, holding us breathless with excitement, and rolled away up the
valley.
Never before had I so fully realized the winds of the heathen
poets--the names which had seemed so unmeaning, now impressed me as
actual existences; and Notus, Eurus, and Auster, with ten thousand of
lesser degree, seemed "now fighting on firm ground a standing fight,
then soaring on main wing tormented all the air."
We thought ourselves very fortunate whenever we succeeded in borrowing
a book from any of our neighbours, but were still more interested in
the papers that we obtained usually as often as once a month. We read
them through, advertisements and all, often two and three times; and I
have not yet lost the relish thus acquired for that sort of reading.
Oldbuck and the doctor used sometimes to come in and spend the evening
in singing, gossiping, and telling stories. When conversation flagged,
"Come, Browne!" Oldbuck would cry, "suppose you run down cellar, and
fetch a basket of apples and a pitcher of cider;" and the conceit
never failed to give general satisfaction, though he might as well
have asked for a roc's egg, or the dome of St. Peter's.
"Apples and cider!" repeated the doctor, "Jerusha, don't I wish I
had some?" and then a pause ensued, while each thought himself again
at home, basket in hand, cautiously descending the rickety cellar
stairs, groping his way along to the bin or barrel, and, as he filled
his basket, reserving the finest for the pleasant voice calling after
him encouragingly from the upper air. But there are no cellars in
California, and no apples to put in them;
And _thee_, aye me! the seas and sounding shores
Hold far away.
There were half a dozen tents in our immediate neighbourhood, and
in the course of the winter we became somewhat intimate with their
occupants. We remained however a long time ignorant of their names,
and were consequently obliged to return to the ancient custom of
designating an individual from some natural or acquired peculiarity,
as Blackbeard, Greybeard, Brushhouse, and California Hat.
Brushhouse was a stumpy little fellow, not more than five feet high,
who obtained his name from living most of the winter under a pile of
pine branches, into which he crept like a wild beast into its den.
I thought when I first saw him that he was a Bohemian or gipsy, but
afterwards learned that he was from the north of Ireland. It was
impossible to determine his age with any certainty, as he knew nothing
about it himself, and his face showed only that he was somewhere
between twenty-five and fifty;--and though his various adventures
seemed to confirm the latter supposition, his beardless face, high
squeaking voice, rapid utterance, and almost childish simplicity, were
as much in favour of the former. His geographical knowledge was by no
means contemptible--he had heard of Australia, which he believed to
be in Bombay and to belong to Austria; and when, in answer to some
inquiry, I had assured him that Brazil was independent, "Oh yes," he
cried, "I know--Independent Tartary."
One day, when he had come into our tent to thaw his fingers at the
stove, I asked him where he was working.
"Oh! I been't working anywhere now," he replied, in his peculiar
rapid manner, which had about it such a winning, supplicating air
as would melt the heart of a stone. "I had a hole up here in the
ravine, and there was two other men working by the side of me, and
they kept working so" (here he illustrated his words by putting his
two forefingers together at an acute angle), "and bimeby I hadn't any
hole, and they gave me an ounce not to say anything about it, and I
thought I had better take the ounce, though the hole was worth a good
deal more than the ounce."
Poor fellow! we could not help laughing at his simplicity, though we
condemned the selfish cunning that would stoop to take advantage of
it. In the spring, Brushhouse joined himself to two Dutchmen to go up
into the mountains, and the three together bought a mule to transport
their luggage. But just before reaching Coloma the wary mynheers
demanded of him a certain sum for freight, and because he had nothing
to pay, having exhausted his all in his previous preparations, they
took his share of the mule and departed, leaving the unlucky dwarf
sitting by the roadside, trying in vain to find out how it happened
that he had to buy a mule and then pay freight besides.
Greybeard, who was "a good portly man i' faith, and a corpulent, his
age some fifty, or by'r lady inclining to three-score," used often
to come in on a rainy afternoon, on which occasions the following
conversation invariably took place:
"Well, sir, and how do you feel to-day?" one of us would say, with a
full assurance of what was to follow.
"Oh! I don't know," he would reply, with a long-drawn sigh, and
placing his hand on his heart; "I feel so weak about here, it seems
as if I could hardly breathe. I shall never be any better as long as
I stay in the mines. I was never sick before in my life. When I left
the ship I weighed a hundred and eighty, now I don't weigh a hundred
and fifty. I can't sleep more'n half the night, and there's that
Glass--he'll lie there and snooze--he don't care, and I took him in.
The whole tent and everything in it is mine. I knew his father, at
home; he's a nice likely man, but none of his boys take after him.
He was sick a long time and couldn't help himself, and I had to take
the whole care of him. I had a claim at the time that was paying
more'n an ounce a day, and I lost it; and now he's got well, he won't
do a thing. He made some soup t'other day, and 'twas all burnt so't
I couldn't taste a mouthful. How much room you seem to have here! I
declare I don't see how 'tis, our tent is a'most as big as yours, and
we've hardly room to turn round. But there's that Glass--I told him,
when he was fixing his bed, 'toughtn't to be way out in the middle--I
should ha' fixed things different, but there's that Glass--I could
chop faster when I wan't more'n ten years old, but he don't know
nothing--his father's a nice likely man, but none of his sons take
after him. Your stove seems to work first-rate--ours smokes awfully.
I knew 'twould;--but there's that Glass"--and here he had to stop for
want of breath.
The effect of this long series of anathemas was infinitely enhanced by
that artful dropping of the last syllable, by which his indignation
seemed to be condensed and compressed into tenfold bitterness. If he
had simply said, "There's that Glassford," it would have been nothing;
but there's that Glass, was positively awful. It at once curtailed
the unfortunate object of his spleen of half his fair proportions,
and reduced him to a minim of a man. It was as good as conjuring.
It reminded me of some scene in Arabian story where a fairy first
transformed her enemy into a monkey, and then slew him with a bodkin.
"There's that Glass" at length became with us a household word, which
was constantly applied when any one attempted to shift the burden of
his own remissness on to the shoulders of another.
Other sources of amusement were not wanting. A checkerboard, made on
a box-cover with chalk and charcoal, wiled away many a heavy hour;
and Tertium now and then passed nearly a whole day tramping over
the hills in search of deer, and was sometimes so fortunate as to
catch a glimpse of their tails as they went whisking past. The keen
sportsmanlike zest with which he used to enlarge upon his success,
reminded me of that devoutest of anglers who, after waiting patiently
in one spot from morn till noon, from noon to dewy eve, was at last
rewarded by a glorious nibble.
But there were places at no great distance from the island where more
skilful hunters had little difficulty in securing their game. A
regular business was carried on in this way, and for several months
our market was supplied with an abundance of venison, which was
usually sold for forty cents a pound. Now and then a deer, ignorant
of the changes a single year had wrought in his hitherto undisturbed
domain, came boldly to drink in the same river where he and his
fathers had quenched their thirst for centuries; but now found every
pass guarded by lurking foes. A fine buck ran one morning directly
before our door: he had evidently been hard pressed by the hunters,
and his heavy sobs confessed his fatigue; but a hundred enemies
starting up on every side compelled him once more to plunge into his
native solitudes.
* * * * *
There was so little to distinguish Sunday from other days in the
week that I sometimes thought we should have to resort to the same
expedient practised by Crusoe, and notch the time upon a post. Most
of the miners, it is true, ceased on that day from their ordinary
labours, but it was far from being on that account a day of rest. The
stores were all open, and three times as busy as usual. The gambling
houses were thronged--the bars drained dry--the week's wages wasted
in a day's debauch. Those who avoided these vices, filled up the time
with a great variety of occupations. First, their clothes were to be
washed, but this was speedily accomplished, as all they had to do was
to tie them to a rope, and let them swim half a day in the river. Then
there were letters to write, tools to mend, walking, hunting, and
prospecting, for which last many considered the day especially lucky.
If there were several rainy days during the week, some of the more
skilful casuists among the miners counted them as Sunday, and went to
work on that day without scruple. Others who would not have made this
transfer wittingly, were sometimes betrayed into it through ignorance.
Walking one Sunday half a mile up the river, I found our little friend
Brushhouse hard at work in a small ravine.
"What!" said I, in affected surprise, for I really didn't suppose the
poor fellow had any more notion of religion than a Hottentot, "do you
work Sunday?"
"Why!" piped he, innocently, "is this Sunday? I thought yesterday was
Sunday, and I didn't do any work at all."
I afterwards made a similar blunder, though I was so far out of the
way as to mistake Sunday for Friday; nor was I convinced of my error
till I had referred the vexed question to all our neighbours.
So, easily our days slipt away, like skaters on a frozen river. Ah,
gay and gaudy time! and shall I ever grow too old for thee? Shall
those rose-coloured recollections, with wings softer than the softest
cloud, ever cease to rise in my soul? As I sit and gaze steadfastly
into the past, all those well-known scenes sweep like a fairy pageant
across my aching sight. Now waves of slow and stately music fill the
air, floating faintly from that distant shore. Oh for some charm
to make the spell perpetual! But I know 'twas no such thing. This
pleasant dream is all a delusion--that life that now seems so fair was
then weary, dreary--then as now, walking in the cold shadow, I saw the
distant prospect, behind and before, rioting in the golden light.
Yet sing me that well known air once more,
For thoughts of youth still haunt its strain,
Like dreams of some far fairy shore,
I never shall see again.