One bright morning, toward the latter part of the month of September, I
left Marysville for a drive to General Sutler’s residence, situated
about eight miles below Marysville. You cross Feather River at Yuba
city, and follow the banks of this lovely stream, the scene varied and
beautified by nature’s incomparable adornments, until the picturesque
mansion of the affable and dignified general greets the eye. The road
leads to the back entrance of the spacious, square court-yard, which is
surrounded by a range of buildings on three sides. Several large and
stately trees rear their umbrageous branches far above the roofs of the
adobe buildings, which, from their sylvan retreat, peep out a ready
welcome to the tired stranger. The grounds around the dwelling are
tastefully and beautifully adorned with numerous parterres, some of
which are inclosed with hedges of cactus. Here I saw the first
cultivated rose that had greeted my eye since leaving New England. How
the sight of those roses carried me back to the neat New England homes,
embowered with honey-suckle and roses! It was actually fragrant with
home, and home associations. On one side of the gardens extended a
flourishing vineyard, the products of which amply repaid the labor
expended thereon.
We were invited by the general to enter his pleasant-looking domicile,
which invitation we cheerfully accepted. We were regaled with grapes, as
luscious, I dare say, as the forbidden fruit which tempted the occupants
of paradise. The wines proffered,--the produce of the vines of
California,--having attained age, were pronounced of an excellent
quality in substance and flavor. Sweet music, discoursed by one of the
general’s sons, enhanced the pleasure of this often-remembered visit.
The Indians in the immediate vicinity are devoted to the general’s
service; while the only remuneration they ask or expect is their food.
His house servants are all the female Diggers. The general’s family
carriage is drawn by two sleek-looking mules; and the driver’s box is
occupied by a Digger Indian, in costume á la fancy. Mrs. Sutter
generally denies herself to all visitors; but the regret generated by
her absence speedily vanishes in the presence of the affable, courteous
general, who ever welcomes his visitors with a cordiality inseparable
from the man, whose integrity never bent to wrong or pusillanimous
expediency, and who, armed intellectually with the panoply of justice,
has courage to sustain it, under all and any circumstances.
We arrived back to Marysville just as the red orb of day touched the rim
of the western horizon, covering it all with crimson and gold, and
filling the world with a flood of evening glory.
I was often amused, while sojourning at the Tremont, by witnessing the
transformations effected by a change of apparel on the inhabitants of
the mountains, when they made temporary visits to the valleys. One day,
a weary and care-worn-looking miner entered the bar-room of the hotel.
Nought of his countenance was visible save his eyes and nose; for over
his brow was drawn a soiled Kossuth hat; while the lower part of his
face was entirely concealed by an abundant growth of hair. He deposited
his blankets upon the floor, advanced to the bar-keeper, and inquired
for the proprietor of the house. To him this soiled and
travelled-stained miner delivered up thousands for safe keeping. He
seated himself in the gentlemen’s parlor, eyeing intently for some
moments an open piano. Upon his advancing toward it, and seating himself
upon the music-stool, a smile, bordering on derision, involuntarily
passed from one to another of the occupants of the room. The smile,
however, was speedily changed to looks of astonishment, when, after
running his fingers hastily over the keys, music such as we sometimes
hear in our dreams, but _very_ seldom in every-day life, gushed upon
their astonished senses. The air was “Sweet Home.” He accompanied the
instrument with a voice of surpassing melody, which penetrated to the
ladies’ rooms, and brought them en masse to the stairs, where they
remained almost spell-bound, while he played and sang piece after piece,
seemingly engrossed by heart-awakening memories of other days and other
lands, and wholly unconscious of the presence of listeners who had
gathered around him. As he was about midway in the execution of that
plaintive song, “Katy Darling,” he suddenly ceased, became aware of the
attention he was attracting, caught up his old, greasy hat, and vamosed.
When next he appeared in their midst, the metamorphosis was so complete
as to utterly prevent recognition, had he not again seated himself at
the piano. He remained several weeks at the hotel, and often delighted
us with specimens of his musical talent. He was considered by
connoisseurs as the greatest performer upon the piano in all California.
I never saw a miner without thinking how little one could judge, by the
present appearance, of his origin or past life, for there were those
laboring in the gold mines of California who had held important offices
of trust in the Atlantic states. The sons of wealthy southern planters,
too, were there, laboring as hard as their fathers’ slaves at home, but
reaping a far richer harvest of gold. People who at home never performed
any manual labor, there would not hesitate to stand in water up to their
knees for days and weeks together, if, by so doing, they could heap high
their coffers.
The good fortune of a lady in California, which came under my especial
observation, I will here record. Upon the arrival at Marysville of one
of the up-river boats, a fine-looking lady, whose age might perhaps be
thirty or thereabouts, came to the Tremont Hotel, and desired an
interview with the proprietor. She informed him she was entirely
destitute of funds, as the journey from New York had been more expensive
than she had expected, and begged, as a favor, the loan of twenty
dollars. Could she obtain that amount, she intended to pursue her way to
Downieville, where she hoped and expected to find a friend and relative.
The proprietor accordingly proffered the required sum, although somewhat
doubtful of receiving it again, or even of seeing the recipient. The
next morning she resumed her journey; and the remembrance of this
fine-looking widow was obliterated by the occurrence of other and more
important affairs. Five or six weeks had elapsed, when, one day, she
astonished us all by appearing in our midst. Upon meeting the
proprietor, “Oh,” said she, “I have been _so_ successful! and now I have
come to liquidate old debts.” The nature of the success was this: She
arrived at Downieville, found the one of whom she was in pursuit, and he
built her a canvas house, procured her a cooking-stove, a long board
table, and some wooden benches, and she commenced keeping a
boarding-house. She soon had thirty or forty boarders, for each of which
she received twelve dollars per week. One day, as she was sweeping her
floor,--which, by the way, was nothing but the earth,--she saw something
glitter. Upon examination, it proved to be a lump of gold. She searched
farther, and found the earth was full of particles of gold. She
instantly summoned to her presence the friend who had assisted her in
locating herself in such rich diggings. They removed the table, benches,
and stove. Upon the last-named utensil a dinner was in progress; but who
would think of preparing a dinner, even if it were near the dinner
hour, should they suddenly find themselves in possession of such rich
diggings. This land, which she had appropriated to her own use, was
situated in a central part of the town of Downieville. It had never been
prospected, for the very reason that its appearance betokened nought to
impress the beholder with the idea that gold existed there in such
quantities.
That day they two took from the kitchen floor, as she termed it, five
hundred dollars, mostly in lumps. Every day witnessed similar success.
As soon as she could think of leaving her treasures for two days, she
hastened to Marysville to cancel her debts. Afterwards she became a
frequent visitor at the house. I became very well acquainted with her;
and one day she related the cause of her leaving home alone, to seek a
home in California. She was married very young, and in opposition to the
wishes of her parents. Unfortunately, her married life proved miserable
in the extreme. After a lapse of years, she returned penniless, with one
child, to the home of her youth, where she received a hearty welcome
from her father; but the gentle, loving mother, whom she had forsaken,
had gone long since to the spirit-land, and her place in the family
circle was occupied by another. That other regretted the daughter’s
return, and manifested her disapproval by unkindness to the child. At
one time, when the child was suffering intensely from sickness,
child-like he refused to take his medicine, whereupon the grandmother
struck him. In twenty-four hours after that, the boy was a corpse. After
the burial of her boy, the daughter never looked upon the step-mother
again. She told her father, that, if he would furnish her with means,
she would seek her fortune in California; and she did, in the manner
above related. She acquired a fortune; but the recollection of her boy,
at times, would come floating over the ocean of memory, overshadowing
all the bright hopes and sunny feelings of her heart.
It was a novel sight to me to watch the emigrant wagons, as they passed
through Marysville to their different destinations. How dusty and
travel-stained they appeared, after a four and five months’ journey
across those almost boundless prairies, after fording those mighty
streams, whose waters had been navigated by nought save the red man’s
canoe, effecting a passage through lonely cañons and over towering
mountains, enduring almost every hardship the human frame is capable of
sustaining, and finally had reached the desired goal!
How emaciated the cattle looked; and no wonder, for how many long and
weary miles they had travelled! I almost fancied those old oxen actually
smiled for joy at arriving at their destination; yet many of their
number had given out on the way, and their bones lay bleaching in the
sun.
A lady who had travelled across the plains told me how sad it made her
feel when she saw the cattle giving out on the way. Said she, “Those
dumb beasts would express so much sorrow in their faces when they began
to falter in their pace, they would look so wishfully into the face of
the teamster, and low so mournfully, I knew they understood their
situation.”
Notwithstanding the sufferings and hardships those emigrants endure
while on their “winding way,” all is forgotten when they reach the
settlements. Their swarthy, sun-burned faces are radiant with joy as
they pass along.
It is astonishing how much one of those wagons will hold. I saw one
passing with eight holes cut in the canvas on one side, and a child’s
face peeping out at every one of these holes. Besides the children it
contained, there were cats, dogs, beds and bedding, cooking-stove, tin
pans, and kettles.
Two emigrant wagons passed through town one day, each driven by two
beautiful-looking girls--beautiful, although browned by exposure to the
weather. In their hands they carried one of those tremendous, long
ox-whips, which, by great exertion, they flourished, to the evident
admiration of all beholders. Their surpassing beauty gained for them the
appellation of the “belles of the plains.” In two weeks from the time
they attracted so much attention, driving each three yoke of oxen
through town, they were married to gentlemen whom they had never seen
until they arrived in California, and who had never seen them until they
beheld them as teamsters.
I often saw ladies at the hotel who had resided eight and twelve months
at different bars far up in the mountains, where they were the only
females, and during all this time would not see a lady to speak to. You
can imagine how fast they would talk, upon getting where there were
plenty of their own sex.
I was quite amused at an incident related by one of those ladies, who
had been for eight months thus isolated from all society. Her husband
kept a boarding-house, where he accommodated about thirty miners, which
were all that worked at that place. A short time previous to the
occurrence of the scene here related, these miners had had some trouble
with a tribe of Indians whose rancheria was not far distant. They had
heard several times that they meditated an attack upon all the whites in
their vicinity, and for some time they had been upon their guard; but,
as they heard nothing from them, they had relaxed their watchfulness.
One day, when they were all at work in the mines, and this lady alone in
the house, instantaneously a deafening war-whoop rang in her ears. She
ran to the door, and saw, at a little distance from the house, about two
hundred painted Indians, armed with bows, arrows, and hatchets,
advancing at a rapid pace. She rushed from the house, frightened half to
death, (as she expressed her feelings,) and ran, screaming, to the spot
where the men were at work. They, hearing the war-whoop and her screams,
and seeing the whole tribe making such a rapid descent, naturally
supposed they were coming to exterminate them; and if so, flight was out
of the question. There was no alternative but to meet the foe, and fight
with picks and shovels; for their fire-arms were in the house, and the
Indians were between the house and where they were. They directed
Mrs.---- to flee across the river and into the woods on the opposite
side, and secrete herself as quickly as possible. The river was so deep,
the water so wild and dark-looking, and spanned by so narrow a timber,
that, upon any ordinary occasion, she would have hesitated a long time
before venturing across; but now, with the velocity of the wind almost,
she crossed the timber, and rushed with headlong speed for the woods.
Before reaching it, however, she passed several large excavations in the
earth; and, thinking one of these would afford her a grand hiding-place,
she jumped into it, and crouched down to await her fate. Said she, “It
would be impossible to describe my feelings while in this hole. I
expected every moment to see a dozen dark-skinned savages, glaring at me
with their murderous, blood-thirsty eyes. I could endure it no longer: I
must crawl out, and rush on. After great exertion, I got out, and, not
once daring to look around, made all haste for the woods.
“Reaching it, I would hide myself for a few moments, and then think,
‘They will surely find me here; I must find a better place than this;’
and then leave it in search of another. In this way I hid myself a dozen
times. Finally, I climbed up into the branches of a large tree, and
there remained, for how long I could not tell--the time seemed
interminable. Then I heard some one shouting. I was so terrified, I
could scarcely retain my seat. Soon I heard my own name called, and
recognized my husband’s voice. _He_ was alive, then, and all the others
were murdered! When he appeared in sight, he was laughing. I thought him
insane. Said he, “Come down from the tree; it is all right. I thought I
should never find you. I have been hunting these two hours.”
It seemed these Indians had started, in honor of some great occasion, to
visit a neighboring tribe. They had painted and armed themselves, as
they ever do when they start upon a journey to celebrate any great
event. Their object in raising such a war-whoop was, doubtless, a
sportive one; for they passed the miners with their countenances
illumined with a broad grin.
The lady, who was from the New England States, returned to her house
with some idea of the sufferings of the early New England settlers. It
was days before she recovered her usual equanimity.
Another lady told me that she was the first who arrived at Cañon Creek,
situated a hundred miles from Marysville, in the Sierra Nevada
Mountains; and that, when she arrived at the top of the mountain which
overlooked the ravine in which the miners were at work, they desisted
from their labors, gave three hearty cheers, and came to the place where
she was seated on a mule. Their delight was so great at seeing a live
woman in their midst, that they actually lifted the mule upon which she
was riding from his feet, and carried them both down the mountain. Those
miners, who had lived so long in their little cabins, secluded from the
world, deprived of the cheering presence of woman, knew then, if they
had never before known, how to appreciate the opposite sex.
As a specimen of the sort of accommodations a traveller is likely to
meet with in a journey through the more unsettled parts of the
mountains, I will describe a public-house on the trail (as it was
called) that I once had occasion to stop at. It was a little log shanty,
kept by a woman--of what color I was unable to determine, on account of
the dirt upon her person. She hailed from out West, somewhere. I think
it must have been far West, where the cleansing properties of soap and
water were not often tested. There was no floor in this shanty but the
earth, and even that looked as if it had never been swept. How could I
stay, and eat, and sleep in so much dirt? There was no alternative;
night was close at hand, and no other _public-house_ within many miles.
She prepared us a _good supper_, as she termed it, in which, I presume,
there was a good supply of dirt, although I did not stop to scrutinize
it very closely. After we had partaken of the cheer set before us, she
washed the dishes, turned round, and dashed the dish-water up in one
corner of the apartment, wiped her hands upon her dirty apology for a
dress, and sat down for a smoke. For sleeping accommodations, there were
berths built up against the side of this shanty. I wrapped my own
blankets around me, and crawled into one of them, where I remained until
daylight. Right glad was I when it appeared, and I hoped to leave her
domicile without being encumbered with any of her live stock; but in
this I was disappointed.
At one time there came down from the mountains the most comical-looking
old couple I ever beheld. They were English, and had emigrated to the
Western States ten years previous to the date of my story. They had been
in California two years, during which time they had never left the
mines. She worked mining with her husband. It was the commencement of
the rainy season when they left the mines; and all she had on, to
protect her from the weather, was a thin, faded calico gown--one which
she had brought from England ten years before; and it was the best
garment she possessed. Over her shoulders she wore a calico jacket, and
on her head an apology for a sun-bonnet. Her husband wore a Mackintosh,
which reached to his heels, and on his head an old hat, and oh, what a
hat! Altogether, they were the most forlorn-looking couple one would
wish to see. They carried penury in their very countenances. I pitied
her so, I gave her a gentleman’s dressing-gown, which had been left at
the hotel. It was rather soiled, to be sure; but then it was better than
anything which she had. When she went away, she wore it off. They had
started home to England, by the way of New York. When the bar-keeper
requested him to register his name, he made a cross; and she was as
ignorant as he. At night she asked me if I would give her a room with
good fastenings to the doors and windows, as they had a good deal of
gold dust with them. I inquired to know where it was, as they brought no
baggage with them, except a little bag, which she carried on her arm.
She said it was in belts around their waists. I told her, if it were
much, she had better deliver it up to the proprietor of the house for
safe keeping. Said she, “Oh, no, I would not lose sight of it for
anything! I have five thousand dollars in my belt, and my husband has
the same.” I advised her to send it by express to New York, as they
might be robbed on the way. She said they could not afford to pay the
percentage for its transportation, when they could carry it, and save
that money. So they started for New York by the way of Nicaragua.
I often thought of them after they left, and felt assured in my own mind
that they would lose their money before they arrived home. They were two
very simple people, and betrayed by their looks evident signs of fear of
robbery. The next news I heard of them was, that they were both drowned
at Virgin Bay, while going from the shore in a boat to get on board the
steamer. The particulars were these: The boat was loaded with
passengers; and, it being rather rough, they became frightened, and all
rushed to one side, and capsized her. This old couple, having so much
gold about their persons, sank immediately; while those who were not
burdened with gold were quickly picked up by other boats. Thus these two
old people, who had lived in poverty all their days, died rich,
clutching the treasures for which they had toiled so hard, and to obtain
which, they had denied themselves the comforts of life. The school of
poverty in which they had passed the greater part of their lives, had
fostered the spirit of covetousness to such a degree, that it was
finally the means of their losing their lives.