I had supplied myself with abundance of provisions, a pair of good

blankets, and every needful mining implement. Being in what is called

surface diggings, that is, on a spot where the gold lies near the

surface of the earth, I could perform all the necessary manipulations

myself. I noticed that those around did not delve deeper than from three

to four feet in this place. It did not pay to go lower; and whether it

paid to dig at all, will be seen hereafter. My implements consisted of a

pick, a spade, a pan, a bucket, a cradle and a wheelbarrow. The

_cradle_, though rudely made and of rude material, was a very good one,

and I have since regretted that I did not keep it and bring it with me,

as it would have answered a domestic purpose quite as well as a more

costly one. The modus operandi of single-handed mining may be described

in a few words. The earth is loosened with the pick, thrown into the

wheelbarrow with the spade, rolled to the river, emptied into the

cradle, washed by pouring water over it from the bucket, and carefully

rocked until the gold is separated from the dirt. The clods of earth,

during this process of washing, slowly dissolve, or are suspended in the

water, whereupon the gold, (if there is any,) being heaviest, sinks to

the bottom. All the contents of the cradle are then turned out, except a

thin layer at the bottom, which is supposed to contain the precious

metal. The next and last process is to scoop this layer into the pan,

and wash and rewash it until the dirt is entirely separated from the

gold. A sieve, or rather a piece of punctured or perforated sheet-iron,

which catches the larger stones and other insoluble substances, is fixed

about midway the depth of the cradle. The gold is generally found in

small particles about the size of grains of sand, sometimes not half so

large, sometimes much larger. The size of the grains, as well as the

quantity, depends very much upon the locality. No lumps larger than a

small pea were obtained from this bar.

Fearing that I might make a fortune immediately, and return to the city

without learning how the gold gleaners live, I determined not to

commence operations until I had scrutinized the whole bar, tents,

miners, mining and all. Indeed it was necessary for me to converse with

some of the miners, in order to acquaint myself with their laws

respecting claims, dams and water. All surface diggings, when marked

out, or laid off in small plats, are called bars; and these bars are

known by distinctive names, as, for instance, Rocky Bar, Steep Bar,

Sandy Bar, &c. The name is not always derived from a peculiarity of the

place. Frequently they are called by the names of the men who first

discovered gold on them, as Brown’s Bar, Hall’s Bar, Drake’s Bar; and

sometimes they take their names from an important event that occurred at

or near them at the time they were opened, as Highwayman’s Bar, Rioter’s

Bar, Murderer’s Bar. Among the more fanciful names that designate

localities in various parts of the mines are the following: Whiskey Bar,

Humbug Creek, One Horse Town, Mississippi Quarters, Mad Ox Ravine, Mad

Mule Canon, Skunk Flat, Woodpecker Hill, Jesus Maria, Yankee Jim’s

Diggings, Death Pass, Ignis Fatuus Placer, Devil’s Retreat, Bloody Bend,

Jackass Gulch, Hell’s Half Acre.

Every Bar is governed by such laws as the majority of the miners see fit

to enact, not by written or published documents, but by verbal

understanding. All the mines are public property, that is, they belong

to the United States government, which, in its suicidal liberality,

exercises comparatively no jurisdiction over them. So far as the general

government is concerned, Chinese marauders and foreign cut-throats have

the same rights and privileges guaranteed to them, in this matter, as

American citizens. Besides the enormous sums of money that the federal

government paid for California, it did a great deal of hard fighting,

and now has to keep a body of troops stationed there to prevent the

Indians from desolating the country; but aliens, who bear no part of the

burden, and who refuse to become permanent settlers or citizens, are

permitted, nay, encouraged, to come in on an equal footing. No tax is

levied upon them. They are protected from the Indians by our soldiery,

and share all the benefits with the native citizens; yet they are not

required to aid in defraying the common expenses. It can hardly be

doubted that this is bad policy? Would it not be bad management in a

father, after having bought a farm, to let strangers come in and carry

off the fruits of the soil, to the detriment and impoverishment of his

own children? If so, then our government, as a general mother, is doubly

culpable.

Almost every Bar is governed by a different code of laws, and the sizes

of the claims vary according to locality. In one place a man may hold

twice, thrice, or even quadruple the number of feet that are allowed him

in another. One fourth of an acre is an average-sized claim. The

discoverer of new diggings is awarded a double or triple share, or only

an equal part, as a majority of those on the ground shall determine. Two

claims cannot be held by one person at the same time, except by

purchase. If a man lets his claim go unworked a certain number of days,

say five, eight or ten, he forfeits it, and any other person is at

liberty to take possession of it. When a miner wishes to quit his claim

only for a few days, he stacks his tools upon it, notifies two or three

adjoining neighbors of his intention, and goes where he pleases. If he

returns within the time prescribed by the laws of the Bar, he is

entitled to resume his claim; but if he is absent a day longer, it falls

to the first person, without a claim, who may happen to find it. There

is more real honesty and fairness among the miners than any other class

of people in California. Taken as a body, they are a plain,

straight-forward, hard-working set of men, who attend to their own

business without meddling in the affairs of others; and I have found as

guileless hearts amongst them as ever throbbed in mortal bosom. Genuine

magnanimity or nobleness of soul, when found at all in California, must

be sought among the miners--especially among those who are farthest

removed from the contaminating influences of idlers and gamblers.

Drones and sluggards--things in the shape of men, who are too lazy to

work for an honest living--are the chief authors of the horrible crimes

that have rendered this country so odious and despicable. They are the

persons who are always creating disturbances; cheating, robbing and

murdering; and there is such a legion of them that no place is exempt

from their presence. Wherever there is money they may be seen skulking

around it; and if they cannot filch it from the rightful owner by

intrigue or artifice, they will do it by more violent measures. They

lurk behind the poor drudging miner, even in the farthest gorges of the

mountains, and there butcher him, that they may avail themselves of his

hard-earned treasures. An incident of this nature, which terminated most

admirably, occurred near this place but a few days before my arrival. A

highwayman met a miner in an unfrequented place, and, with a cocked

pistol pointing towards him, demanded, “Your gold this instant, sir, or

your life!” “Hold! you shall have it,” exclaimed the miner, when quickly

thrusting his hand into his breast pocket, as if feeling for his purse,

he drew his own revolver and shot the would-be assassin dead upon the

spot.

While reconnoitering the bar, I made excuses to call on several miners

who happened to be in their tents. As for the tents themselves, though

nearly all of the same size, they differ very much in appearance and

quality. A great many are made of duck or white canvas; while others are

built of stunted saplings, which grow sparsely throughout the mining

region. Those constructed of the latter material are about the size and

shape of a common hog-pen, with a stick and mud chimney, which very

frequently has a headless whiskey barrel stuck in the top for a funnel.

These are the best and most comfortable domicils about the mines; and it

is only when miners, or a combination of miners, have large claims,

which afford them steady employment for a considerable length of time,

that they are enabled to build them. There being no planks, boards,

slabs, nor other sawn or hewn timbers, the poles are covered with brush

or coarse cloth, and sometimes with raw-hides. The ground is the floor

in all cases. No chimney nor whiskey-barrel flue graces the gable-end of

the canvas tent; it is merely a temporary shelter from the scorching

rays of the sun and the chilling dews of the night. Until the miner is

successful enough to secure a good claim and build himself a hovel, of

course he is compelled to sleep under the roof which canopied Adam and

Eve, and he must take his chances of the tarantula and of the assassin.

The interior of the miner’s tent corresponds to its exterior. Spread

upon the ground, on one side, we see a pair of rumpled blankets, upon

which he sleeps. They are thoroughly saturated with mud and dust, and

have never been shaken, switched nor sunned since their place was

assigned them. Scattered here and there, about the edges of the

blankets, lie several of Paul de Kock’s and Eugene Sue’s yellow-backed

novels, whose soiled margins and dog-eared leaves give evidence that

they are not allowed to go unread. Something less than half a dozen

packs of cards are within reach, while three or four old stumps or

chunks of wood, employed as substitutes for chairs, occupy random

positions about the floor. In one corner is a keg of brandy or whiskey,

and in another the cooking apparatus and provisions. As for tables,

delft-ware, knives and forks, or any thing of that kind, there are none.

The miner always carries his pistol and bowie knife by his side day and

night, and with the latter weapon, aided by his fingers, he reduces his

food to convenient morsels.

His cooking utensils consist of a frying-pan and a pot, neither of

which, except in rare instances, is ever washed. The pot is mostly used

for boiling pork and beans, and the old scum and scales that accumulate

on the inside from one ebullition serve as seasoning to the next. Pork

and beans are two of the principal articles of diet with miners, partly

because they are comparatively cheaper than other provisions, and partly

on account of their being so nutritious and wholesome. The beans,

especially, are very fine; they are imported from Chili, and are

superior to any I ever saw in the Atlantic States. By boiling as much at

one time as the pot will hold, the miner generally saves himself the

trouble of preparing these articles of food oftener than twice a week.

When cooked to suit him, he sets the pot on one side, leaving the

contents in it uncovered; this is his pantry, and out of it he makes his

meals from time to time, until all is consumed, when he replenishes it

with a fresh supply of the same kind. Flap-jacks are very frequently

used in lieu of bread. They are a combination of flour and water, fried

in such grease as can be extracted from the pork; or, if the miner has

no pork, he bakes them as he would other thin cakes of dough. If he is

not too far removed from a depot of general provisions, he will probably

keep a bottle of molasses, which may be seen by the side of the

frying-pan, unstopped, and containing an amount of flies and ants nearly

equal to that of the saccharine juice. These entrapped insects do not

seem to come within the scope of his observation, as he never attempts

to clear his bottle of them. He is not very squeamish about his diet.

It is but seldom that the miner suspends labor on Sunday if his claim is

a rich one; but if it is poor, he usually lets it rest on that day,

while he does his washing and mending. I have already said that he

carries his bowie-knife and revolver with him day and night. There is

scarcely an exception to this rule; ninety-nine out of every hundred are

thus armed, and this accounts for the fatal result of almost every

altercation. No matter what it is that occasions disputes between men,

whether slight misunderstandings or grave difficulties, few words are

bandied before they appeal to their weapons, and the life of one or the

other is sure to be lost in the fracas,--sometimes both are killed. This

barbarous practice of carrying deadly weapons is not alone confined to

the miners; you rarely find a merchant, mechanic, lawyer doctor, or man

of any other calling in California, who does not keep them concealed

about him. By a calculation, based upon fair estimates, I learn that

since California opened her mines to the world, she has invested upwards

of six millions of dollars in bowie-knives and pistols--pretty

playthings to give to her children!

Having surveyed and examined the bar, and all that pertained to it, to

my satisfaction, I constructed a small canvas tent, and the next day

began to search the earth in quest of gold. Though I was not reared in

idleness, this was my first lesson in real hard labor. Here, in the

summer season, the thermometer ranging from 90 to 105 degrees of

Fahrenheit in the shade, mining, when diligently and assiduously

prosecuted, is certainly the most toilsome employment in the world. I

imagine that the tillage of sugar-fields is pastime compared with it,

and that the African slaves who gather coffee in Brazil, have no

adequate conception of hardwork.

For three months I applied myself to my tools and claim with all the

energy of my nature--digging, shoveling and rocking, with the snarls of

grizzly hears to lull me to sleep at night, and the howls of hungry

wolves to regale my ears at the break of day. With all this wear and

tear of body and mind, my account-current of proceeds and expenditures

stood, at the expiration of that time, giving myself no credit for

either loss of time or physical exhaustion, just ninety-three and

three-quarter cents--balance on hand! This was building a palace with a

vengeance! A net profit of ninety-three and a quarter cents in three

months, being “two and six-pence” per month, or a fraction over a cent a

day.

Hope, however, did not forsake me, and besides that, (shall I confess

it?) I felt a sort of malignant satisfaction that I was not alone in my

disappointments. I found consolation in the misfortune of others! When I

looked around me, and saw scores of dirty, hungry, ragged, long-haired

miners, who had toiled and labored like plantation negroes, on this and

other bars, for more than two years, and who could not command as much

as five dollars to save their lives, it buoyed me up, and made me better

satisfied with my own ill-luck. The feeling that thus manifested itself

may have been worthy of censure, but I am sure it was natural, for no

energetic or enterprising man likes to see his neighbor out-do him, or

surpass him in the acquisition of wealth--especially if their chances

and opportunities have always been the same. If I had not been

unsuccessful myself, I should not have chuckled over the corresponding

misfortunes of others; but, to be candid, feeling that my devotion and

application to business entitled me to a reasonable share of prosperity,

I had but little sympathy for my fellow-miners, who, being no more

worthy of reward than myself, failed in their efforts to excel me. I

said I had but little sympathy for them. I had some. It grieved me to

see so many stout, athletic men undergoing so many privations and

discomforts, wasting their time in unprofitable schemes, only to be at

last subjected to the most galling disappointments.

The time had now come, however, for other thoughts and considerations. A

change of location seemed to be necessary. The profits of mining did not

warrant longer continuance at this place. It occurred to me that the sum

of ninety-three and three-quarter cents was but indifferent remuneration

for three months’ herculean labor. I wished to have nothing to do with

this lying equivalent, so handing it over, with my compliments, to a

poor, needy, hungry-looking neighbor, I shook the dust from my feet and

departed, after the manner of Lot when he left Sodom, not deigning to

look behind--not for fear, however, of being turned into a pillar of

gold.

CHAPTER XIII.

STOCKTON AND SONORA.

I have perambulated the streets of San Francisco, Sacramento, Marysville

and Stockton; but of all the California cities, after San Francisco,

Stockton is my choice. It is named in honor of Commodore R. F. Stockton,

and is situated on a tributary of the San Joaquin river, which empties

into the Suisun Bay, opening into the Bay of San Francisco. Being but a

little over one hundred miles to the east of San Francisco, it enjoys

the advantages of daily steamboat communication with that place; but

owing to the narrow banks of the stream and the shallowness of the

water, the vessels are much smaller than those employed upon the

Sacramento. It contains from six to seven thousand inhabitants. Though

only the fourth city in the State in population, it is the third in

business. All the residents of the southern mines draw their supplies

from it; and as it is blessed with a mild climate, it is frequently

resorted to by those who seek pastime or recreation.

The San Joaquin valley, in the midst of which this city is situated,

would probably be the best agricultural land in the State, if the water

could be drained from it; but in its present low and boggy condition, it

is utterly unfit for cultivation. It takes its name from the low-banked

river which meanders through it, and is as level as a garden. No

vegetable production is found upon it, except the tule, a tall, pithy

species of rush or calamus, which bears a more striking resemblance to

the flag than to any thing else of Atlantic growth. This tule, which

grows as thick as it can stand, and from six to eight foot in height, is

an annual plant; and in the fall of the year, if fire be communicated to

it during the night, when there is a light breeze stirring, it burns

with an indescribable splendor. I have said that this aquatic weed is

the only natural product of the valley; this is true, as regards all

that part which is perfectly level, and which presents the appearance of

a vast meadow; but as we approach the Coast Range on the south-west, or

the Sierra Nevadas on the north-east, we come to slightly elevated

knolls, upon which we find clumps of gnarled oaks. These trees all lean

towards the east, as if bowing their heads in adoration, having grown in

this reverential posture while under the influence of the winds from the

west.

This valley affords another evidence of the unfavorable condition of the

country. It shows conclusively that even the most valuable parts of the

State are encumbered with insurmountable impediments. The bottom lands,

which are mainly relied upon for agricultural purposes, are too wet to

till, and too low to drain; while the uplands are so dry and sterile

that neither grains, plants nor fruits can be raised upon them. There is

either too much moisture or none at all. It is a land of mountains and

mud-holes. Still, there are some extensive plains and valleys which

might be successfully cultivated, if the seasons were adapted to them;

but the absence of rain during the summer renders them of little or no

value to the farmer. It is very probable, however, that in the progress

of time, as the other members of the confederacy become burdened with

population, the more eligible parts of this State will be settled and,

by means of irrigation, made tolerably productive; but when California

is thus peopled and converted into a place of permanent habitation, it

will be by the force of destiny, rather than by any attractions it can

offer to immigrants. They may make it their home as a dernier resort,

but they will not do it as a matter of choice. So long as there is any

unappropriated territory in other parts of the Union, California will

not be in demand.

We shall find but few things deserving attention in the city of

Stockton, having already examined its archetypes, San Francisco and

Sacramento. It is due to this place to remark that, notwithstanding all

its Peter Funk and Cheap John establishments, it sustains a better

character than any other city in the State. Though it has its share of

groggeries and gambling-houses, and is, in most respects, fitted out in

true California style, it is not infested with so many drones and

desperadoes as are usually met with in neighboring towns. I am well

acquainted with many of its citizens and know them to be estimable

men--not too lazy to work, nor too sour to laugh at a merry thing.

Sonora is an inland town, situated in the midst of one of the richest

mineral regions in the southern part of the State. A stage-coach affords

the most convenient and expeditious means of reaching this place, which

lies about fifty miles to the south-east. Starting early in the morning,

we travel as last as a dare-devil driver can make four horses convey

us--frequently meeting and overtaking numerous pack trains, pedestrians

and ox-teams, passing to and fro between the mines and Stockton. A part

of the country over which our road leads us, is a somewhat elevated

plain, which, being entirely destitute of trees and other vegetable

products, presents a most dreary and uninviting prospect. We see nothing

around us but the naked earth. There is no accommodation for either bird

or beast--no resting-place for the one, nor food for the other. The

pack-trains, pedestrians and ox-teams, constitute the only animal life

in view; and as we see them plodding along over this barren waste, our

memories are refreshed with vivid recollections of those stories, which

we read in former days, of caravans crossing the great desert of Sahara.

It is a fact worthy of being here recorded, as illustrative of the

success of the miners, that we shall observe a larger number returning

on foot than we find going. I was amused one day, while on my way to the

regions of hidden treasure, when meeting a ragged, hairy, Esau-looking

pedestrian, he hailed me with “Hallo.” “How are you?” answered I. “Which

way?” asked he. “To the mines,” replied I. “Well, my friend,” said he,

“you will excuse me for speaking plainly; this is a free country and I

presume you are at liberty to go to the mines or to the d--l, just as

you please; but, mark my words, if you are going to the mines to dig,

I’ll be d--d if you don’t rue the act.” “May-be not,” remarked I. “Very

well,” he added, “you’ll see. By the time you delve and toil two long

years, under the broiling sun as I have done, and have seen others do,

without making a decent living, you’ll perceive the truth of what I tell

you.”

Steadily pursuing our course, about twelve o’clock we came to the

Stanislaus River, a small tributary stream of the San Joaquin. Here we

stop to change horses and get dinner, there being a sort of bastard

hotel near the brink of the river. Numerous Indians, naked and hungry,

could be seen prowling about this place, or seated in squads, partaking

of a mess of worms, young wasps, grasshoppers, or any other similar

dainty to which their good stars may lead them. It was a long time

before the savage creatures would tolerate the presence of the white man

amongst them; but they have been so repeatedly routed in battle, that

they have now given up open hostility and are comparatively peaceable;

still they secretly cherish the most implacable enmity to our race, and

improve every opportunity to dispatch us when they can do so without

being detected. They gain nothing, however, by these covert misdeeds;

for our people, understanding their insidious conduct, retaliate by

deliberately shooting them down whenever they come in their way. What

the white man’s life is valued at by the Indian, is probably not known;

but the white man hurls the Indian into eternity with as much

nonchalance as though he were a squirrel.

Having appeased our appetites and secured the services of a fresh team,

we cross the river and resume our journey. As we advance towards the

place of our destination, the face of the country changes, from level

plains to rugged slopes and woodlands. In the forenoon our road, though

disagreeably dusty, was both smooth and straight, but now it winds over

rocky glades, hills and gullies; and as the wheels of our vehicle mount

and descend the rough impediments, we are jarred and shaken without

mercy. Approaching still nearer the end of our journey, we have to

contend with a more difficult and uneven surface; but being in charge of

a very skillful driver, we are drawn safely over every rock and crag.

Arriving in Sonora between sundown and dark, we repair to a public

house, and bespeak supper and lodgings for the night. The best hotel in

the place is a one-story structure, built of unhewn saplings, covered

with canvas and floored with dirt. It consists of one undivided room, in

which the tables, berths and benches are all arranged. Here we sleep,

eat and drink. Four or five tiers of berths or bunks, one directly above

another, are built against the walls of the cabin, by means of upright

posts and cross-pieces, fastened with thongs of raw-hide. The bedding is

composed of a small straw mattress about two feet wide, an uncased

pillow stuffed with the same material, and a single blanket. When we

creep into one of these nests, it is optional with us whether we unboot

or uncoat ourselves; but it would be looked upon as an act of

ill-breeding, even in California, to go to bed with one’s hat on. Having

once resigned ourselves into the arms of Morpheus, we are not likely to

be disturbed by the drunken yells and vociferations of night-brawlers,

now that we have become accustomed to such things. The noisy curses of

the rabble will have no more effect upon us than the roaring water-fall

or the mill-wheel has upon the miller. Night glides away, morning dawns,

and we rise from our bunks to battle with another day. On the outside of

the tavern, whither we betake ourselves to wash, are a tub of water, a

basin and a towel, for all the guests; but as only one person can

perform his ablutions at a time, it will be necessary for us to form

ourselves in a line, and take our turn--the first comers being entitled

to the front places. We are now ready to replenish the inner man. The

bar is convenient for those who wish to imbibe. Breakfast is announced.

We seat ourselves at the table. Before us is a reasonable quantity of

beans, pork and flapjacks, served up in tin plates. Pea tea, which the

landlord calls coffee with a bold emphasis, is handed to us, and we help

ourselves to such other things as may be within reach.

No matter what kinds or qualities of viands are set before us, so that

there be sufficient, for our stomachs have become so well tempered by

this time that we feast upon them with as much gusto as if we were

dining in a French restaurant. Neither spices, sauces nor seasonings are

necessary to accommodate them to the palate. Our appetites need no

nursing. Honest hunger disdains such dyspeptic accompaniments as the

contents of cruets and casters. The richest condiments are the poorest

provisions.

Our fast is broken--we are satisfied. The proprietor of the hotel, with

his two male assistants, begins to clear off the table. Women have no

hand in these domestic affairs. There is not a female about the

establishment. All the guests, owners and employees are men. The dishes

are washed, the blankets straightened in the berths; and while the cook

is preparing dinner, some of the tavern-loungers seat themselves around

the table, to take a friendly game of euchre, whist, seven-up,

laugh-and-lay-down, old-maid, commerce or matrimony, while others

saunter off to the gambling houses, of which there are about half a

dozen in the place, to play at roulette, monte, faro, poker, twenty-one,

all-fours or lansquenet. Such is hotel life in California, especially in

the country towns and throughout the mining region.

Frequently several of the guests are fuddled, and as there are no

partitions or apartments in the building, by which one person or set of

persons may be separated from another, they are a most prolific source

of annoyance to their sober neighbors. I recollect one occasion

particularly, when, fatigued by a long day’s journey, I stopped at one

of these mountain taverns in the hope of enjoying a comfortable night’s

rest. Soon after eating my supper, which consisted of the standard

dish, pork and beans, I crept into one of the farthest bunks, annoyed by

the blackguardism and segar fumes of a group of drunken card-players,

who occupied a table near the centre of the room. These swaggering

inebriates, noisy as they were, did not prevent me from sleeping, as I

had become habituated to witnessing such nocturnal carousals; but

towards midnight, in came a wild, blustering lunatic, who had lost his

reason about a week before, yelling and screaming as if a legion of

fiends were after him. He was bare-footed, bare-headed and bare-legged,

having no clothing upon his person, except a shirt; and I understood

afterwards that he had been roaming about the place four or five days

and nights in this condition. Making some inquiry concerning his

history, I learned that he was a lawyer by profession, that he had

formerly figured as an able and influential member of the Maine

Legislature, and that, becoming embarrassed in his financial affairs, he

left his family and emigrated hither in the hope of retrieving his

fortune. Shortly after his arrival, not finding employment for his

talent as a counselor, he determined to seek the favor of the mines; but

his efforts in that quarter proved unavailing. For nearly a year he had

toiled vigorously and incessantly, but to no purpose. He could not

discover the hidden treasure which he sought. Disappointed and

chagrined at the result, he resigned himself to the bottle. The

remembrance of his dependent and far distant family, coupled with the

mischievous influence of ardent spirits, increased and sharpened his

mental suffering; his mind began to vacillate--his reason lost its

equilibrium, and we now find him a raving maniac. More than half naked,

friendless and forlorn, he wanders about the streets and through the

woods, day and night--a poor, miserable, crazy vagabond. Why, it may be

asked, was there not some public provision made for the removal and

security of this pitiable nuisance? Simply because it was in California.

Here, where there is nothing as it should be, this unhappy man was

allowed to run at large. No one cared for him. He was supposed to be

harmless, and was, therefore, permitted to live. If he had inflicted any

bodily injury upon any one, he would probably have been shot or stabbed,

and that would have been the end of the drama. Cases of this or a

similar character are to be met with almost every day. I only mention

this as a single instance.

To give a faint idea of the precocity and waywardness of youth in this

country, I will relate a bloody incident which occurred at another

hotel, where I had put up for a night’s lodging. In this case the

landlord, a short, lean Massachusetts Yankee, was married and had his

family with him. His eldest son, Ned, had not seen his ninth year.

Nevertheless, this boy had learned to gamble. Whether his father or

mother had instructed him in the art, or whether he had been tutored by

the blacklegs frequenting the hotel, I am unable to say; but it was very

evident that his parents cared very little about the matter, for they

permitted him to play cards in their own house, and seemed to pride

themselves upon his proficiency. Indeed, he was so dexterous in his

manner of shuffling and dealing, and so quick to perceive the course and

probable result of the game, that he was known throughout the

neighborhood as the gambling prodigy. It may be questioned whether Hoyle

himself was so conversant with diamonds, hearts, clubs and spades at so

early an age.

Supper was now over, and the tables were surrounded with players. Little

Ned had his place amongst them. I watched him more than an hour. He

handled the cards with so much grace, skill and agility, and seemed to

be so perfectly familiar with every branch of the game, that I could not

withhold my admiration. As the night advanced, the parties became

involved in a quarrel. Some one accused Ned of unfairness in changing

the position of certain cards. Violent oaths and maledictions followed

this accusation. Inflamed with anger, and assuming a menacing attitude,

Ned denounced his accuser (a full grown man, three times as large and

four times as old as himself,) as “a pusillanimous liar and scoundrel,”

and added, “G-d d--n you, I’ll shoot you!” By this time the excitement

had reached a high pitch. Things began to wear an alarming aspect.

Several persons took sides in the matter, some for Ned and some against

him. A general row seemed to be inevitable. Ned had the largest number

of friends; but his enemies were clamorous and obstinate in their

assertions that he had departed from the rules of the game, and declared

in positive terms that he was a disciplined cheat.

Finally, however, Ned’s friends took upon themselves all the

responsibility of his behaviour, and the war of loud invectives and

imprecations was now waged more by the adherents of the original

disputants than by those disputants themselves. The bandying of gross

epithets attracted the attention of a large crowd. Serious consequences

were apprehended. The occasion was pregnant with mischief. One of the

desperadoes jerked a bowie-knife from his pocket, and was about to

plunge it into the body of his antagonist, when another drew a revolver

and shot him. A few struggles--a few groans, and the fallen man had

ceased to live. But the injury was not confined to him alone. As the

ball passed through the breast of the man at whom it was aimed, it

lodged in the shoulder of an innocent spectator, inflicting a severe

but not mortal wound. And now was enacted one of those awful scenes of

retribution for which California is so notorious. The man who had just

committed the homicide was seized by the mob, and, amid loud cries of

“hang him! hang him!” led out to a tree and there summarily executed

according to the prompt sentence of the excited multitude. It was a

season of dreadful uproar and commotion. The man who was shot had not

been dead half an hour before his murderer was suspended by the neck

between heaven and earth. Thus we have seen the blood of two men shed in

the quarrel of a stripling, who had not attained half the age of

manhood, but who already was a reckless and abandoned little gambler. If

we deemed it necessary, we might cite other instances of a similar

character. Suffice it to say that this boy, Ned, may be taken as a fair

sample of the rising generation in California. Of course, they are not

all exactly like him, any more than two persons are exactly alike any

where else; but the same unlimited freedom is extended to them all: they

are allowed to do just as they please. What else can be expected? Is it

to be supposed that parents who put no restraint upon themselves will

govern their children with propriety? If the father is an habitual

gambler, drunkard and desperado, will not the son be so too?

The truth is, there is no attention paid to the moral, mental or

physical discipline of youth in this country. They are left to their own

will and inclination, to grow up, like the plants and weeds in a

neglected garden, without culture or training. Surrounded as they are

with so many examples of depravity, what sort of men and women are they

likely to he? It is probable that the world has never reared such a

horde of accomplished scamps and vagabonds, male and female, as will

soon emerge from the adolescent population of the Eureka State. The

signs of the times warrant this conclusion. How can it be otherwise when

they are familiar with every vice, and strangers to every virtue? It

matters not how strict or careful the parents themselves may be, it is

impossible for them to shield their children from the baneful influences

of the neighborhood; and a man might as well think of raising a healthy

and stalwart family in the midst of a malarious swamp, as to think of

rearing decent sons and daughters in California. The boys persuade

themselves that they are men before they are half matured; and their

superiors are either too little concerned about it, or too deeply

engrossed in business to teach them better. As a consequence of this

precocious manliness, they give themselves up to all the pernicious

habits and indulgences of older reprobates.

A few words now in regard to this town of Sonora. It is built upon the

slope of a long hill, and contains about four thousand inhabitants. Only

one street traverses it. Unlike most other towns, its length is very

much disproportioned to its breadth. As well as I remember, it is

something over a mile long, and only about one hundred yards wide; so

that the single street which passes through it affords an ample avenue

for the intercourse and business operations of the people. The houses,

or, more properly speaking, the shanties, are built close together, and

open on the street, in city style. Indeed, it is here called a city, and

is governed by a mayor and common council. In fact, every collection of

houses in this country, every hamlet, every village, every town, is

called a city. No matter if there be only half a dozen houses in a

place, it is termed a city, always taking the name of the locality upon

which it is built, as Collusi city, Stanislaus city, Marin city. I have

visited two or three of these California “cities” that contained but a

couple of frail tenements each, and four or five old bachelor

inhabitants.

Before it was ascertained which were the natural or most suitable and

convenient parts of the State for city sites and trading posts, there

was a wonderful deal of finesse practiced by a set of land-speculators.

Scattering themselves over the country, they laid claim to certain

eligible plats, which, according to their stories, Nature had formed

expressly for capitals and queen cities. Large maps, margined with

laudatory remarks, setting forth the peerless advantages of this place

and that, were committed to oily-tongued agents for general circulation.

The people were informed that such a place was destined to become a

metropolis, that all the surrounding mountains, hills, valleys and

plains were bound to become tributary to it, that the great system and

machinery of the world could not move on harmoniously without it, and

that those who secured the first choice of lots would at once be in

possession of a lordly fortune. This, as a matter of course, was all

sheer humbug; nevertheless, in California, where humbug mingles with

every transaction of life, and where people are ever ready to lay hold

of any scheme that promises money, it had the desired effect.

Many persons had confidence in these projects, and made investments in

them. Besides several individual cases of which I might speak, I am

acquainted with a company of men who laid out more than one hundred and

fifty thousand dollars in this questionable species of property;--to-day

their investment is not worth two cents on the dollar. It was perfectly

amusing sometimes to witness the working of these bastard enterprises.

The authors and agents of the plan, having their topographic charts and

every thing in readiness, would bustle about among the people, pointing

out and explaining the favorable and commanding situation of the place,

assuring them that the attention of the whole country was now directed

to it, and giving the most exasperated accounts of the demand for lots.

In this way they would soon get up a great excitement, (it requires but

a small matter to excite the people in California.) In a few instances,

as many as seventy or eighty persons have been known to purchase

interests in one of these bubble cities, and, laying aside all other

business, flock to it without delay. Three weeks afterwards, there would

probably be only one or two men on the ground, and no marks or vestiges

of a city, except, perhaps, a few deserted cloth tents. It must be

admitted that the projectors of these ephemeral cities made money at the

expense of their victims.

The Americans were the principal operators in these speculative

movements; but I know several Germans, who, though proverbially cautious

in the matter of dollars and cents, were likewise drawn into them. In

one particular case, two worthy representatives of the _Faderland_

bought four lots, each forty-five by one hundred and thirty-seven feet,

for thirteen thousand dollars, which they afterwards offered to me at

ninety-five per cent. discount! I would not have taken the whole or any

part of the plot at the rate of six dollars an acre.

I have alluded, parenthetically, to the excitability of the

Californians. This is a remarkable trait in their character. The least

thing of unusual occurrence fires their fancy and sets them in motion.

If a terrier catches a rat, or if a big turnip is brought to market, the

people cluster together and scramble for a sight with as much eagerness

and impetuosity as a party of children would scramble after a handful of

sweetmeats. If, in these hasty gatherings, one man happens to tread on

the toes of another, it only requires one minute for the injured party

to shoot the offender, two minutes for some body else to stab the

shooter, and three minutes for the whole crowd to hang the stabber.

While in and about Sonora, we may have an opportunity of inspecting all

the various systems of mining that are carried on in California. The

whole earth, for some distance around, is literally turned upside down,

or inside out. On the left, they are using the common single-hand

rocker; on the right, sluicing; and in another place, sinking deep

shafts. We shall here find a great many Mexican miners, who make deep

pits and excavations in the hills, and who are generally very successful

in their operations. These delving countrymen of Santa Anna seem to have

a peculiar tact for discovering the veins of gold. But they do not

confine themselves much to surface diggings. They have a greater

propensity for holes. Sometimes they will go forty or fifty feet into

the earth without finding an atom of the precious metal; but it is very

seldom that they mistake their ground; they keep going, either in a

perpendicular, horizontal or meandering direction, until they strike the

ore. Except in working quartz veins, machinery has been but little

employed, as yet, in developing the mineral resources of the State; but

I am inclined to the opinion that it might be advantageously applied in

gathering the gold in whatever form it may exist.

A part of the preceding chapter was devoted to observations upon the

habits of life and personal appearance of the miner; but I neglected to

mention his peculiar characteristic or appendage: this is the long hair

upon his head and face. He neither shaves nor shears; he has no use for

either razors or scissors. The tonsorial art is, in his estimation, a

most reprehensible and unmanly innovation. Looking upon it as one of the

fashionable foibles of society, he disavows all connection with it. He

believes that Nature is not apt to make mistakes, that all things were

created about right, that hair was placed upon man’s head and face to

harmonize with the other organs of his body, that it has its distinct

and peculiar offices to perform, and that if it is cut, the whole animal

economy will be more or less enervated. Such is something of the faith

of the miner upon this interesting subject, which has of late been such

a theme of discussion among the mustachioed and non-mustachioed world.

I confess myself, in fact, a convert to his notions. To say that the

whiskers or the hair should never be trimmed, would be as much as to say

that the finger-nails should never be pared; while to say that the beard

or the hair should be cut close to the skin, would be the same as saying

that the finger-nails should be pulled out by the roots. If we shave the

chin and the cheeks, why not the head, the hands and the arms? How comes

it that hair is less tolerable on the side of the face than on the back

of the hand? The Chinaman shaves his head all over, except a small spot

on the crown, about twice the size of a dollar, and we laugh at him for

doing so; but may it not be questioned which is the greater object of

derision, a bald head or a beardless face? We are also in the habit of

ridiculing young ladies because they lace or compress their waists, but

would it not be equally becoming in them to sneer at us for disfiguring

our faces? What would we think of the belles, if they were to get in the

habit of wearing false whiskers? Would we not characterize the

introduction of such a fashion as a silly and whimsical innovation? But

is it any more ridiculous or censurable in a woman to make her face

masculine, than it is in a man to make his feminine?

That the beard is a protection against sore throats, coughs, colds,

asthma, and other ailments, every California miner will be willing to

testify. It is said that the English colliers, who have long suffered

from hemorrhage of the lungs, have evaded the disease altogether by

discontinuing the use of the razor. Yet the newspapers inform us that

the clerks in the Bank of England are not allowed to wear mustachios,

under penalty of dismission.

As I have heretofore remarked, mining in California is one of the most

precarious of all occupations. Yet it is the country’s only source of

wealth, and if the laborer fails in it, he cannot betake himself to

other pursuits. If he cannot make money by digging, shoveling and

rocking, he cannot make it at all. Now and then, it is true, the miner

meets with unanticipated good luck; but when such a thing occurs it is

blazoned from Dan to Beersheba, whereas no mention is ever made of the

thousands of unfortunate, poverty-stricken dupes, who, though equally

industrious and deserving, scarcely defray their expenses.

I may refer to the case of an old man, who, for some time, was engaged

in mining operations at this place, and with whom I became acquainted

soon after my arrival here. Sixty years had left their traces upon his

face, and his snowy beard and silver locks increased his venerable air.

For a man of his age, he was remarkably vigorous; and as he was somewhat

above the usual height, and well proportioned, with a kind heart that

beamed through his intelligent features, he must have been, in his

younger days, a noble specimen of a man. Even at the time of which we

speak, he was a fine looking man, old in years but young in spirit,

whole-souled, free from every species of hypocrisy, plain-spoken, full

of courage and resolution, yet sincere and guileless as a child. Though

I never saw him have on a clean shirt, though his whole garb was

besmeared with mud and soiled with perspiration; though his hoary locks

hung about his breast and shoulders in unrestrained length and unlimited

profusion; and though he was nothing now but a poor, penniless old

miner--yet, convinced that he had those excellent qualities within,

which constitute the great and good man, I should have felt proud to

call him father.

We will let this venerable sexagenarian tell his own story. I indite his

own words, as nearly as I recollect them. Said he, during conversation

one evening, after we had both quit work, “Some men would esteem

themselves wealthy, if they were worth as much money as I was deprived

of by bad legislation in Congress, a while previous to my departure for

this country. Soon after the enactment of the tariff law of 1842, one

of my neighbors and myself invested eighty thousand dollars in the

manufacture of iron, in the State of Pennsylvania. Our business

succeeded beyond our expectations; and in order to supply the increasing

demands for our products, we found it necessary to employ additional

force and capital, build new forges, and otherwise enlarge the sphere of

our operations. Every examination of our affairs developed new evidences

of prosperity, and our hearts glowed with gratitude to those sterling

patriots and sagacious statesmen, Clay, Webster and others, through

whose eloquent influence we were then harvesting the fruits of a

protective tariff. But this thriving state of things was not of long

continuance. In 1846 the tariff act of ’42 was repealed; and that repeal

was the death-blow to our manufacturing interests. The duty on iron was

reduced so low that it was impossible for us to compete with the

importations from Europe. We became embarrassed, made an assignment, and

finally, by sacrificing every thing we had in the shape of property,

extricated ourselves from all liabilities. After this stroke of

misfortune, having a wife and three daughters, who were partly dependent

upon me for support, I concluded to come to California, believing, from

the flattering accounts which I had seen published, that money was more

easily accumulated here than in the Atlantic States. It is now almost

two years since I arrived in San Francisco. Going to the northern mines

first, I worked there something over twelve months; but finding it a

difficult matter to pay expenses, I came south, and settled at this

place. I fear I have not bettered my condition. During the last seven or

eight months I have labored faithfully upon this bar, but have not been

in possession of as much as twenty-five dollars clear money at any one

time. I confess I am utterly disappointed in California. It has been

grossly, shamefully misrepresented. I have tried it to my satisfaction.

Now I would be glad to return to my home in Pennsylvania, but I have no

means to convey me. And there is my poor family, my beloved wife and

daughters--what will become of them? May heaven provide for them, for I

am unable.”

As the good old man uttered these last words, the tears trickled down

his cheeks, and he could say no more. Had it not been that I disdained

to moisten California soil with such precious drops, I believe my eyes

would have rained too; for the clouds began to gather about them, and I

had to use no little precaution to keep them dry. It was certainly no

sign of a white-livered man, to shed tears in a case of this kind; on

the contrary, it was, at least in my opinion, a mark of goodness; and my

estimation of the old gentleman was heightened, on account of the

tender regard he manifested towards his family. He had lately received

a most soothing and affectionate letter from one of his daughters,

urging him by all means to return home on the first opportunity, and

promising to exert herself to the utmost to make him happy. Handing the

letter to me, he remarked that I might read it if I felt so disposed. A

peculiar thrill electrified my whole system as I laid hold of the

delicately penned missive. I was but little acquainted with that kind of

literature, yet there was a charm about it, and I devoured its contents

with avidity. It was a rare souvenir--beautifully written, well worded,

and faultless in orthography.

CHAPTER XIV.

VOYAGE TO CALIFORNIA VIA CAPE HORN.

Among our readers there may be some who are contemplating a trip to

California, and may be hesitating between the two routes commonly

traveled. For their sakes, I have violated the chronological order of my

adventures, that I might introduce a description of the outward and

return trip, in immediate juxtaposition for the greater convenience of

comparison.

From the pier of Wall street, New York, on Friday, January 31st, seven

passengers, myself amongst the number, embarked for San Francisco, on

board the clipper ship Stag-Hound, under command of Capt. Josiah

Richardson. The wind blowing from the north-east afforded us a favorable

opportunity for standing out from land; of this, however, we did not

avail ourselves until about 4 o’clock in the afternoon; for, although

our vessel was towed out early in the morning, and every thing seemed to

be in readiness for our final departure, yet, through some unavoidably

delay, we were obliged to cast anchor off Staten Island, where it became

necessary for us to remain until the time above mentioned. We then

weighed anchor, set sail, and in a few minutes our noble ship was

gliding over the blue waves with swan-like grace.

It was truly a magnificent sight, as we headed off so smoothly and so

majestically from the shore, and made our way out farther and farther

upon the dark blue deep; we spent the greater part of the evening

promenading the quarter-deck, and admiring the enchanting scene. But our

reverie and conversation were not altogether undisturbed by melancholy

thought. We had just started upon a long, uncertain and monotonous

voyage. Old associations had been broken up. We had bid adieu to our

native homes, our nearest relations and dearest friends, probably for

three or four years--possibly for ever. All before us then was an

unknown world--an untrodden path, and phantom-faces of doubt and fear

would loom up from the obscurity of the future.

The next morning I began to feel symptoms of that most intolerable of

all sensations, seasickness. Of this malady I had some little experience

once before, while on my way from Philadelphia to New York via Cape May;

but I never entertained the least idea that it was half so depressing as

I now found it. For three weeks and more I could scarcely eat a

mouthful. It really seemed to me at times that eating was the most

abominable occupation men could engage in; and when I looked upon

dishes of which I had often freely partaken before coming on board the

vessel, I either found it difficult to reconcile myself to the opinion

that I was not dreaming, or came well nigh detesting myself for having

ever been addicted to so gross a habit.

The monotony of our daily life was without variety for the next four or

five days. The wind had been somewhat favorable, and we were making good

progress until the evening of the fifth day, when suddenly the wind

changed and we shortly after found ourselves in the midst of as nice a

hurricane as ever sunk a ship or leveled a forest. The wind howled and

shrieked in such a manner that I could compare it with nothing earthly;

the sea, too, had assumed, by this time, a most formidable appearance;

the rain was falling in perfect torrents--the lightning flashed

incessantly, and such deafening thunder-peals mortal man never heard

before. It appeared as if the elements, for the last five days or so,

had been nursing their wrath for this particular occasion, and were

determined that we, poor devils of passengers, should be made thoroughly

acquainted with the comforts of a crowded ship in a tornado at sea.

The poor affrighted passengers (myself among the rest) despaired of the

ship long before the severest part of the tempest was felt, and prayers

and promises were offered up without stint for our salvation, by many

that never prayed before and I suppose have never done so since. When

morning dawned it seemed as if the fury of the storm increased--sea and

sky were apparently as one; every thing, and every body appeared

helpless, hopeless, panic-stricken. Most of our canvas had been taken in

or closely furled, yet the ship dashed along with the speed of a

race-horse. Things that were not well secured rolled about in the

greatest disorder and confusion. The heavy seas which she had already

shipped, and the still heavier ones she was then shipping, increased, if

possible, the consternation inspired by the awful scene. In fact, things

began to wear such a threatening aspect, that a speedy change of some

sort was looked forward to with the greatest anxiety, not only by the

passengers, but by the captain and crew, when, to complete our terrors,

topgallant-masts, royals, and main-top-mast, with their appendages, came

down with a crash that was heard above the howling of the storm. By this

time the day had been spent, and night considerably advanced,--with fear

and trembling we retired to our state-rooms, doubting whether we should

ever be permitted to see the light of another day. For myself, I suppose

I was quite as indifferent about the matter as any one else; for, when a

person gets to be as much under the influence of nausea as I was at the

time, any change is desirable, even though it carry him to the bottom of

the deep. The night passed, and we found that the storm was beginning to

abate, so that, in about forty-eight hours thereafter, its violence had

entirely ceased, and fine weather attended us across the equator.

The loss of our masts, in this severe gale, at once threw a damper on

our high hopes of a quick passage; but, fortunately for us, we had extra

masts on board; and, through the indefatigable exertions and

perseverance of our vigilant captain, we succeeded in getting all the

wreck cleared away and jury-masts rigged. The shattered timbers and torn

sails opened an unusually large field of labor for our carpenter and

sail-maker. We kept on our course, which had been very nearly south-east

ever since we started, until we passed the Cape Verde Islands, about

four degrees to the west, when we steered due south, and crossed the

equator between twenty-nine and thirty degrees west longitude.

The next interesting event that happened to us occurred off the coast of

Brazil, in latitude 22° 25´--longitude 38° 29´, Sunday, March 2d. It was

about six o’clock in the morning, and I had just left my state-room and

gone on deck to take a bath, when a sailor by my side, pointing over the

starboard bow, cried out, “Boat ahoy! boat ahoy! with men in it.” In an

instant, as if by electricity, the news was conveyed to every ear on

board, and, at the same time, the starboard rail was lined fore and aft

with anxious sailors and half-dressed passengers. As we drew near them,

(they had been rowing towards us all the while as hard as they could

pull,) they commenced waving their hands and handkerchiefs, beckoning to

us and calling out in an unintelligible language, as if imploring us to

receive them on board. At the time, the sea was running moderately high,

and we were gliding along at the rate of five or six knots per hour, so

that in a few minutes we had them directly astern of us; but we were not

so destitute of humanity as to pass them by and leave them to certain

death. Our sympathies were quickly and enthusiastically aroused in their

behalf, and as soon as our captain could get his ship under proper

command, he hove her to and waited for them to row along side. Pretty

soon they came close under the lee of our vessel, and their

weather-beaten features and nautical garb at once gave evidence that

they were not unacquainted with the life of sea-faring men.

A rope was thrown to them and they were all able to pull themselves on

board by it, except one, whom we afterwards ascertained to be their

captain,--he, poor fellow, was so much exhausted that he could not help

himself, and we were obliged to hoist him in. Their story was the next

thing to be learned; for, as yet, not a word they said had been

understood. This difficulty was removed, however, as soon as we got our

men collected; for, among our polyglot assemblage of men, representing

nearly forty different nations, we quickly found an interpreter in the

person of an old Swede, whose translation of their story was, in

substance, as follows:--They were Swedes and belonged to the Russian

brig Sylphide, which had been to Rio and taken in a cargo of eighteen

hundred and twenty-five bags of coffee, with which they had set sail for

Helsingfors, Finland,--when five days out from Rio, a severe storm, or

rather squall, came upon them, and so completely and suddenly wrecked

their vessel, that they had barely time to escape in one of the little

boats with their lives--not even having an opportunity to procure so

much as a bottle of water or a mouthful of food. So precipitate and

unexpected was the calamity which thus overtook them, that they had to

quit their brig without any preparation whatever, and abandon their

carpenter, who happened to be in his berth sick at the time, to a watery

grave.

They had been out three days and nights in this condition, with nothing

to eat or drink, save the legs of their captain’s boots, which they said

they had been chewing to sustain life. Exposed as they were to the

burning rays of a tropical sun, without any thing to eat or drink, it is

not reasonable to suppose that they would have lived more than three

days longer at farthest, if we had not picked them up, or if they had

not been otherwise providentially relieved. We received the captain in

our own cabin, and at our own table, and entertained him as hospitably

and agreeably in every way as it was possible for us to do. His men went

before the mast, and proved a very acceptable addition to our crew,

especially in doubling Cape Horn, for they could endure the cold much

better than our own seamen. That day, in commendation of the act we had

performed in the morning, our captain,--who, by the by, was a very

exemplary and devout scion of an orthodox Yankee house,--read, during

divine service, the parable of the Good Samaritan.

About three o’clock in the afternoon of the same day, a little

circumstance came under my observation, which, though it may seem quite

a trivial affair in the eyes of many, may nevertheless serve to

illustrate in some degree the barbarity of man and his utter

indifference in regard to the lives of inferior animals. The subject of

the incident was a small land bird, very much resembling our hedge

sparrow, which was discovered resting upon one of the larboard main

braces. A gust or blast of wind had probably driven it out to sea, and

it could not find its way back to the shore. It was so weak that it

could scarcely fly, and looked as if it was almost dead. On seeing it, I

ran below and got a few crumbs of bread and strewed them along over the

life-boat nearest to it. But just at that moment, the Swedish captain,

who had now begun to resuscitate, came up on deck; and spying the

distressed little wanderer, he walked up as boldly and deliberately to

the rope upon which it was sitting, as if it had been some noxious

intruder, and shook it violently. Thus frightened, the bird flew off

some distance from the ship, but soon returned and alighted in the very

same place; again the captain shook the rope as he had done at first,

and again the bird did just as it had done before. This same thing was

repeated for the third time, when the wearied little creature,

apparently disgusted with the brutality of the man, who but a few hours

before was himself in a forlorn and helpless condition, dropped down

upon the water, and was seen no more.

Keeping along down the South American coast, we passed between Patagonia

and the Falkland Islands; and on the morning of the 21st of March were

within twenty miles of Staten Land. This was the first land we had seen

since leaving home, and we feasted our eyes upon it, until our ship bore

us so far distant that it had dwindled down to a mere speck. When we

were near enough to Staten Land, I could see with the aid of the

captain’s spy-glass nothing but rugged and sterile mountains, the

highest peaks of which were covered with snow, and presented quite a

picturesque appearance. No vegetation nor living thing of any kind could

be discerned. But a young Bostonian, whom we afterwards saw in

Valparaiso, told us he passed so near the shore of some of the land

lying at the southern extremity of Patagonia, that he could see the

natives, who, he said, were a gigantic people, about eight feet high! He

also said they ran along on the shore abreast of his vessel, whooping

and yelling at him like a set of ferocious savages. On Sunday following

we saw Cape Horn, the most notorious of all places upon the high seas

for rough weather and contrary winds.

Up to this time we had been congratulating ourselves upon the auspicious

season in which we had happened to reach the Cape, and upon the quick

run we were going to make around it. Delightful weather and favorable

winds had cheered us since leaving the latitude of the La Plata river,

and we were in high hopes that we had just hit upon the right time to

sail safely round the dangerous Cape in one or two days, instead of

being kept there six or eight weeks, as is sometimes the case. But we

were doomed to sad disappointment. Towards night that terror of all

navigators, a downright Cape Horn tempest, assailed us, and for seven

successive days and nights kept us almost completely submerged. During

the whole of this time, the wind, which was so intolerably cold and

piercing that it seemed to be charged with isicles, blew right in our

teeth, and brought hail, sleet, rain or snow with it every hour. Owing

to this hard and continued blowing of the wind, the size and power of

the waves became perfectly appalling; indeed they ran so heavy and so

high that each one looked like a little ocean of itself, and frequently

they would strike the ship with such tremendous force that she quivered

and groaned as if she were going to pieces; in fact, I often expected to

see her shivered into fragments, and could hardly believe otherwise than

that we were all destined to become food for the fierce monsters of the

deep. We succeeded, however, in getting fairly around the Cape, much to

the gratification of all, and especially to the relief of our worn-out

seamen, who had been up working with all their might, day and night, for

a whole week.

While in the neighborhood of the Cape, we saw great numbers of the

albatross, gull, petrel, and other birds; by means of a fish-hook tied

to the end of a long line, and baited with a piece of fat bacon, which

we let out some eight or ten rods from the stern of the vessel, we

caught several of a species which the sailors called the Cape Hen. On

measuring one of them from the tip of its right wing to the tip of its

left, I found it to be seven feet across. The albatross is about twice

as large as the Cape Hen. Here, too, while in this latitude, we had our

fairest views of the great Southern Cross and the Magellan Clouds,

constellations of as much notoriety in the southern hemisphere, as the

Pleiades and Belt of Orion are in the northern.

It seems that the Atlantic and Pacific oceans are ever at war with each

other off Cape Horn, where their waters are continually coming into mad

collision, as if no friendship existed between them. But we will now bid

adieu to this aquatic battle field, this bleak, dreary region of storms

and hurricanes, and look forward to a more congenial clime.

Finding our water was now beginning to give out, and that we should have

to procure a fresh supply before we could reach San Francisco, we bent

our course towards Valparaiso, upon the coast of Chili, south of the

city and harbor to which we were then bound; and as we passed along up

the shore, we had a most magnificent view, not only of its own long

range of barren hills, but also of the lofty and towering heights of the

Andes at the distance of one hundred and forty-five miles in the

interior. To add to the grandeur of this spectacle on land, another now

presented itself on the ocean around us, in the form of great

whales--the first we had seen. We saw many of these huge creatures that

day and the next; one of them came within two or three rods of the stern

of the ship, and spouted the water with a noise something like that of a

high pressure Mississippi steamboat.

We had scarcely dropped our anchor in the harbor of Valparaiso before we

were surrounded with little boats filled with natives and foreigners,

who had come out, as they said, to talk with us and to see our ship.

From these men we learned that four days previously a severe earthquake

had been felt, and that all the houses in the city had been more or less

injured--a part of the city completely destroyed, and some few persons

killed. It was also reported by some of them, that it had laid a great

portion of Santiago, the capital, in ruins; but, as yet, no definite

news had been received from any of the inland cities or towns; and it

was not positively ascertained what amount of damage had been sustained

in any place, save only here. Late that evening, about half an hour

before sundown, we passengers made our entrance into the city; but it

was then too late in the day to see or learn any thing of interest, so

we returned directly to our own quarters aboard the ship, and waited in

suspense for the coming morn.

Immediately after an early breakfast, Wednesday morning, we put off in a

small boat for the shore, and were not a little surprised on arriving

there to find every thing so new and so different from what we had

supposed. Crowds of the natives, dressed in their peculiar costume, were

collected upon the wharves, and were making a great hubbub with their

clamorous tongues and noisy actions. They appeared to be an inoffensive,

simple-hearted sort of people; but they were inexcusably ignorant, and

abominably filthy.

Scarcely had we been in the city half an hour that morning, when I

stepped into a barbershop to have the superfluous hair removed from my

head and face. While in the very act of shaving me, the barber very

suddenly sprang aghast from me towards the door; and the first thing I

knew, the whole earth, houses and every thing around me, were quivering

in the most terrific manner; but, fortunately for the timid, helpless

creatures, the vacillation continued but a few seconds, and no very

serious consequences resulted from it. Just at the moment the rumbling

and quaking commenced, I could not for my life think what it was; but

the barber seemed to understand it immediately, for he had been the

unwilling spectator of a much more destructive earthquake only five days

before; and consequently, he knew well enough what the matter was. On

retiring from the shop, just as I entered the street, a similar shock

was experienced, and instantaneously the whole population rushed

headlong out of their houses into the thoroughfares, apparently in the

greatest distress, and frightened half out of their wits. I observed

several of the women particularly, who, upon running into the streets,

immediately placed themselves in an attitude of prayer, by falling upon

their knees, crossing their hands upon their breasts, and casting their

eyes towards heaven. There was something really beautiful and touching

in the unfeigned humility with which these awe-struck mortals resigned

themselves to the will of Him who alone is able to convulse worlds, or

command tranquillity throughout the universe.

Both of these tremors were slight, and neither did much mischief. But

the one that occurred four days previous to our arrival came very near

laying the whole city in ruins. The custom house, churches, stores, and

nearly all the principal buildings were cracked so badly that many of

them were considered dangerous. The people were engaged in pulling down

some entirely, and repairing others as best they could. The ground was

terribly rent in many places; and while on a stroll beyond the limits of

the city, I saw one crevasse which was about five inches in width, and

so long and so deep that I could find neither end nor bottom to it. We

remained in Valparaiso till the afternoon of Saturday, but did not feel

any other shock. For myself, I was satisfied with what I saw then, and

having been since shaken by them two or three times during my sojourn in

California, I hope I shall never feel another.

As for the city itself, we saw nothing that was really beautiful about

it. The majority of the residences were built of mud and straw, and

covered with tiles; and were, I think, upon the whole, rather inferior

to the negro huts upon a southern plantation. The immense sterile hills

all round, about, and through the city, presented quite a dreary and

desolate appearance, and prevented us from seeing more than half the

number of its buildings at the same time. One of the merchants, a New

Orleans man, informed me that the population was estimated at from

60,000 to 65,000. Speaking of this merchant reminds me of a remarkable

instance of stupidity which came under my observation one morning while

visiting his store. He had just received fifty barrels of pork, which

the drayman had left before his door, and which he wished to have stowed

in his cellar. His regular porter being sick, he hired two doltish

countrymen to perform the job. It was stipulated that they should

receive a certain sum of money for removing the pork from the street

into the cellar; and the bargain being fairly understood on both sides,

they began to fulfil their part of the contract, by _lifting_ the

barrels instead of rolling them. We allowed them to pursue this toilsome

system of labor until they had finished about one fifth of their task,

when we interposed and explained to them the easier method of

accomplishing it. It is a fact, according to their own confession, that

they had not sense enough to avail themselves of the rotundity of the

barrels.

Valparaiso surpasses San Francisco in the abruptness of its surface and

the barrenness of its soil. There is no plant within sight of the town,

except here and there in the little vales and hollows. The inhabitants

have to bring all their supplies from beyond the coast range, a distance

of nine or ten miles; and as the hills are so large and so steep that

they cannot be traversed with vehicles, every thing must be transported

upon the backs of mules. The interior of Chili is represented to be a

very beautiful and productive country; and, to use the language of her

historian, “all the fruits of the earth grow there in the greatest

abundance.” Towards noon that day, we chartered some donkeys and rode

out about two miles, to a garden called the Vale of Paradise, in the

upper part of the city. This was one of the most charming spots I ever

beheld, and, with the exception of two or three other little places like

it, the only level and fertile piece of ground we saw during the whole

time we were there. Here, on the 9th of April, we got apples, pears,

peaches, pomegranates, pine apples, quinces, oranges, lemons, figs,

bananas, mangoes and melons, to our hearts’ content.

On Thursday, having wandered from my comrades, I began to perambulate

the streets alone, determined to see and learn as much of the city as

practicable. At last I found I had wandered very nearly to its northern

outskirts, when I came to a little winding path, which I followed up

till it led me to the opened gate of a beautiful, palisaded inclosure.

Upon looking in I observed a long, clean, level walk in the midst of the

most delectable garden I ever saw. All the way overhead, from one end of

the walk to the other, there were large, luscious clusters of grapes,

hanging down in the richest profusion; while on either side there seemed

to be an actual rivalry in growth and luxuriance between the various

fruits and vegetables. About half way up the walk, in a well shaded

place, two middle-aged men, dressed in long robes, and with books in

their hands, were sitting on a bench, reading. Still I continued to

stand at the gate, admiring the fascinating scenery before me, being

seen by nobody, and seeing no one myself, except the two gownsmen, whose

attention seemed to be wholly absorbed by their books. To go in I feared

would not only be an interruption to the quietude and serenity which

pervaded those elysian grounds, but also an intrusion upon the privacy

of gentlemen whom I had no right to disturb. However, hoping to frame a

reasonable excuse by offering to purchase some fruit, I stepped in, and

slowly approaching the literary group, inquired, “Do you speak English?”

Scarcely had the words fallen from my tongue, when the one who sat

farthest from me arose, and having replied in the affirmative, extended

his hand towards me in a very cordial manner, and then asked me a long

question in Latin, not a word of which I understood except the

termination, which was “St. Patrick?” Manifesting by my looks, as well

as I could, my ignorance of his ecclesiastical salutation,

interrogation, or whatever it was, he immediately dropped his classical

lore, and conversed with me freely in English--both of us, in the

meantime, promenading up and down the lovely arbor. From him I learned

that the adjoining buildings were occupied as a Roman Catholic college,

and that this garden was exclusively for the use and benefit of the

priests, of whom he was one, as well as a professor in the institution.

He informed me that it was the largest and most popular college in

Chili, and that they had students from nearly all the republics and

provinces of the continent. He himself was a native of Belgium, but had

emigrated to South America as a missionary some fifteen years prior to

the time I saw him. The book he then held in his hand was a Spanish

history of the United States; and as he asked me a great many questions

concerning our country, I inferred that he felt a good deal of interest

in it. Upon the whole, he appeared to be a very kindhearted and

well-disposed man. Just before leaving, he presented me with a mammoth

bunch of delicious grapes, and at parting, gave my hand a courteous and

sincere shake.

At this place we parted with the wrecked crew we had picked up five

weeks before, leaving them in the hands of the Russian consul. But

before bidding a final adieu to the captain, we purchased a gold ring

and inclosed it in a sympathizing epistle to his wife, condoling with

her in her husband’s misfortunes. When we committed the letter and

little keepsake to his charge, he seemed to be very much affected, and

acknowledged himself under a thousand obligations to us.

Little occurred on our passage from Valparaiso to San Francisco worthy

of note, except the myriads of fish of various kinds which we saw

between the tropics, the sublime sunrises and sunsets, the enchanting

moonlight evenings, and the phosphorescent phenomena of the ocean at

night. The Pacific far surpasses the Atlantic in beauty and diversity of

ocean scenery. Its gentle gales and placid waves inexpressibly charm

the heart of the sailor. Almost every species of fish, from the tiny

pilchard to the monstrous whale may be found in its waters; while

countless numbers of aquatic birds, from the diminutive petrel to the

ponderous albatross, swim lazily upon its bosom.

Six days after leaving Valparaiso we passed within a short distance of

the St. Felix Islands, which rise alone out of the world of water. We

could see nothing that had life in it about them, nor any thing that was

inviting or pleasing to the eye. On the morning of the 5th May, we again

crossed the equator, in longitude 114°.

This voyage afforded us an excellent opportunity for reading; but it may

well be supposed that, in traveling seventeen thousand miles upon the

water, we were sometimes overcome with ennui. As a refuge from this

monotony of “life on the ocean wave,” we betook ourselves to games of

euchre, whist, chess, backgammon and solitaire. Our ship being very

large, perfectly new, beautifully and comfortably finished, and

furnished with the very best accommodations, eatables and drinkables, we

enjoyed ourselves remarkably well, except while sea-sick, or when dashed

and beaten about by ill-bred storms and hurricanes. As there were only

six passengers besides myself, we had abundance of room; and being

together so long, and secluded from all other society, we became as

sociable and familiar as if we had all been members of the same

household. A very amiable and estimable young lady, the sister of a

passenger, and the only female on board, contributed in an eminent

degree to the pleasure of the trip.

We arrived in San Francisco on the 25th of May, having made the passage

in one hundred and thirteen days from New York. This was a very quick

run, considering the misfortunes we met with off the Bermudas. If we had

not been dismasted, we would probably have reached our destination

twelve or fifteen days earlier. The Flying Cloud, clipper-modeled, and

built almost exactly like the Stag Hound, ran from New York to San

Francisco in eighty-nine days, which is the shortest voyage that has yet

been made by a sailing vessel between the two ports. Many of the

old-fashioned ships crawl along for seven or eight months: and I know

one blunt, tub-like carac which consumed three hundred and seventy days

in the passage.

CHAPTER XV.

VOYAGE FROM CALIFORNIA VIA NICARAGUA.

About six hundred homeward-bound passengers, myself included, left San

Francisco on the 16th of March, in the splendid steamship Cortes, under

command of Captain Cropper. It being our intention to reach the

Caribbean sea by the Nicaragua route, we bent our course towards San

Juan del Sur. Wind and wave both favored our movements, and we made

rapid progress. Stray thoughts occupied my mind as my eyes rested for

the last time upon the barren hills of California. There I had witnessed

many strange sights and incidents. Should I ever see them again? Was it

probable that I would stop to renew my acquaintance with them while on

my way to Japan and China in 1875, by the great Atlantic and Pacific

railway? My mind, however, was occupied but a little while in the

consideration of these matters. There was before me a country which

engendered a brighter train of thoughts than that which I was leaving

behind. I began to think of greeting the good old folks at home; of

joining long-parted hands, and of roaming over the glades and glens

which first supported my tottering steps.

Our gallant ship continued to glide bravely on towards the place of her

destination. Neither accident nor rough weather happened to us, and we

should have enjoyed ourselves finely if there had not been so many

persons on board. The crowd was too large for a pleasure party at sea.

There were too many months to feed, too many berths to adjust, and too

many complaints to be heard. Somebody was always in the way of somebody

else. We were too much pent up. There was an abundance of room all

around us, above and below us; but it was not adapted to our purposes.

The Cortez was our only foothold; and it was necessary that we should

cling to her as the only means of reaching terra firma.

But I imagine those of us who had state-rooms on the cabin-deck would

not have felt any disposition to murmur, if we had known how much better

we fared than the other passengers. Only about one hundred and fifty

enjoyed this advantage; all the others were huddled together in the

steerage. Is it reasonable to suppose that any considerable number of

these four hundred and fifty persons would have engaged such

uncomfortable and unwholesome passage, if they could have done better?

No. They could scarcely have been hired to pass through the torrid zone

in the steerage, if they had possessed money enough to pay for a

cabin-passage. It is a well-known fact that the steamers bring a much

larger number of steerage passengers from California than they take

there. The majority of those that go to California take passage in the

cabin; but more than two-thirds of those who return occupy the steerage.

As a matter of course, there was no communication between the cabin and

steerage passengers; at least those in the steerage were not allowed to

come abaft the ship; but I do not think our privileges were

circumscribed in this respect, for I went forward of the bulkhead

several times, as did many others who belonged in the cabin, and the

officers said nothing to us.

There was quite a medley of characters in the cabin. Bishop Soule, of

the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, may be placed at the head. He is

a stout, fine-looking old gentleman, about seventy years of age; and I

sincerely believe he was the best man aboard the vessel. He had been

stirring up the sinners in California for some time, and was now

returning to his home in Georgia. Next came the Rev. Dr. Boring and

three or four other clergymen, one of whom had formerly been a

missionary in Brazil. The Secretary of Utah Territory, a downright jolly

fellow, dressed in a suit of buckskin, and who, while on the Isthmus,

manifested a most ardent passion for parrots, was also on board. Besides

these, there were eight colonels, seven majors, five captains, three

professors, six doctors, ten quacks, five lawyers, eight pettifoggers,

a score of blacklegs, six or eight ladies, a dozen other adult females,

and fifteen or twenty children. We also had the company of a Polish

patriot, who was on his way to the East to join the Turkish army.

On the seventh or eighth day after our departure from San Francisco, one

of the passengers, while taking spy-glass observations, espied a

motionless object at a great distance on the water--the sea at the time

being perfectly calm and smooth. The spy-glass passed rapidly from hand

to hand, and was kept almost constantly leveled towards the object; but

nobody could determine what it was. One man thought it a ship in

distress; another inclined to the opinion that it was abandoned

altogether; while a third sighingly expressed his conviction that it was

the decaying remnant of a melancholy wreck. The captain, more

dispassionate, experienced, and capable of forming a correct judgment,

now surveyed it carefully; but it was so far off upon the larboard

quarter, that he acknowledged himself unable to give any reliable

information concerning it. What then was to be done? Should we stifle

our curiosity and continue on our course, or should we change and go to

the mysterious object? Some favored one proposition, and some the other.

Considerable betting had been going on as to the number of days we

would be occupied in making the passage, and one half of those who had

thus wagered their money were opposed to losing the time which it would

require to make the examination. But the motion to go being seconded and

sanctioned by a large majority of the passengers, the captain

immediately turned the prow of the steamer.

After sailing awhile on this new track, we discovered a large flock of

longipennate birds flying around the wreck to which we were then bound.

This was an ominous sign. What were these sea buzzards doing about a

disabled vessel, if they were not feeding on the dead bodies of seamen?

But the rapid movement of the Cortez assured us that our curiosity

should soon be allayed. With the aid of the spy-glass we could now view

the object distinctly; and on approaching still nearer, we found it was

nothing but an old empty scow! and that it was frequented by the fowls

of the sea merely because it afforded them a place to rest and to roost.

What a sore disappointment it was, not to find the carcasses of a

hundred starved sailors! A day or two after this, one of the steerage

passengers died, an old sail was wrapped around him, two pieces of

pig-iron were fastened to his feet, and he was cast overboard.

Early in the morning of the thirteenth day of our pilgrimage upon the

water, we arrived at San Juan del Sur, a miserable, good-for-nothing

little town, situated on the western coast of Nicaragua, near the

eleventh parallel of north latitude. The harbor was as mean and ugly as

the town, being very small, shallow and inconvenient. There were no

piers nor wharves, and we had to cast anchor about one hundred and fifty

yards from the shore. Large yawls were then prepared for us, and we were

conveyed as near terra firma as the depth of the harbor would allow. But

when the yawls struck bottom, I think we were still from twenty-five to

thirty yards from the water’s edge; and there were no means or

facilities of reaching the shore, except by wading, or by straddling the

shoulders of the half-breed, quarter-dressed natives, scores of whom, in

the hope of making a few shillings, were standing waist-deep in the

water all around us, and begging us to take seats on their backs, a

request with which, after some deliberation, we complied.

During this novel process of debarkation, I witnessed some most

ludicrous scenes. The Nicaraguans, generally speaking, are much more

feeble, dwarfed, and effeminate than the people of the United States. On

an average, I should think that one able-bodied Kentuckian would be

equal to four or five of these hybrid denizens of the torrid zone. It

will not, therefore, surprise the reader when I tell him that the small

man, while carrying the large one through the water, being top-heavy,

would sometimes drop his burden! Nor was this all; the ladies were yet

behind, and they had to be brought ashore in the same manner!

Among our passengers were two or three oleaginous men, of Falstaff

proportions; one of whom engaged a couple of the stoutest carriers

around the yawl to convey him to the shore. Fixing himself upon their

shoulders as well as he could, he signified to them that he was ready,

and they made for land; but before they had proceeded half a dozen

steps, he weighed them down, and all three fell flat on their backs in

the water! This little mishap created a great deal of merriment; and

several others who had just mounted and started, unable to restrain

their laughter, leaned back too far to give it vent, and down they

tumbled into the water likewise! It was necessary for the rider, or

topmost man, to keep himself in a quiet, perpendicular position; for if

he leaned backward, or forward, or sideway, he was sure to throw the

carrier off his equilibrium, in which case both of them would fall down

together.

The ladies had now arrived from the Cortez, and were ready to disembark.

There was but one way for them to get ashore, and that has already been

explained. They, too, were compelled to straddle the shoulders of the

natives; and when fairly mounted, give the signal of command, and ride

ahead boldly, like equestrian amazons in a circus. It may here be

remarked that these men were nearly naked, there being no apparel upon

them except a kind of bandage or wrapper around their loins. The manner

of mounting the carrier, whose head was almost on a level with the rim

of the yawl, was to place the right limb over his right shoulder, and

the left over his left; and when thus conveyed to the shore, it was a

very easy matter to part the limbs from his shoulders, and slide down

his back. These, then, were the means and facilities which were afforded

for the disembarkation of the ladies; and I have thus dwelt upon the

subject for the purpose of informing my fair readers, if I have any,

what they may expect upon their arrival at San Juan del Sur.

All the passengers and baggage were now landed, and after a deal of

vexation in securing checks and transit tickets, we set forward across

the country in the direction of Virgin Bay, a shabby village, situated

about fifteen miles distant, on Lake Nicaragua. We traveled this part of

the way on donkeys. The roads were in pretty fair condition, and a few

of the ladies, being well skilled in horsemanship, rode sideways, but

the majority of them having but little knowledge of equestrian

exercises, rode like men. This was my first entrance into the dismal

glories of a tropical forest. The trees pressed against each other for

room, and were clothed with the heaviest and most luxuriant foliage I

ever beheld, presenting every tint and shade of green. Coppice and

parasites filled up the interstices between them. Myriads of

gay-plumaged birds warbled upon their branches. Ten thousand times ten

thousand insects chirped beneath their limbs. Nimble monkeys ran up

their trunks, and venomous reptiles slept in their shadows.

To give an idea of the weather, I will simply say that, if I intended to

become a citizen of Nicaragua, I should advocate the immediate

construction of three public works, namely: a government bellows, a

state fan, and a great national umbrella! With the aid of these cooling

machines, I should think a person might manage to keep passably

comfortable; but without them, the heat is almost intolerable. In our

own country, the people are apt to complain of the hot days which dawn

upon them in July and August, but the caloric of the United States bears

no more comparison to that of Nicaragua than a frosty morning in

Carolina to a perpetual winter in Greenland.

We rode on, however, in spite of the fiery heat of the sun, and arrived

at Virgin Bay in good season for dinner. There were eight or ten dirty

little taverns in this despicable little town, and as it was uncertain

how long we should have to wait for our baggage, which was still

behind, and which was not expected before night, we placed ourselves in

charge of the landlords, who were highly pleased to receive such a

multitude of guests. About four o’clock in the afternoon, I went down to

the lake to bathe, having been previously assured that the alligators

did not frequent that side of the bay, except during the night.

The scenery here was grand beyond description. Lake Nicaragua itself may

be justly termed an inland sea. It is more than one hundred miles long,

and sixty miles in width. Mount Ometepe, a dormant volcano, and by far

the most beautiful elevation I ever saw, rises up out of the midst of

this lake, in the form of a sugar-loaf, to the height of seven thousand

feet. At a rough guess, I should say it was about fifty miles in

circumference at the base, or rather at the surface of the water.

A little before sunset, I returned to my hotel, and took supper. I had,

however, but little appetite for culinary preparations, for I had fed

myself on such a quantity of mangoes, oranges, bananas, and other

tropical fruits, that I was quite surfeited. Forty or fifty hammocks

were suspended in the loft of the hotel, and these were more attractive

than any other part of the entertainment.

We sat up until nearly midnight, waiting for our baggage, but it did not

come; and we were then informed that it would not arrive before

morning. The sun arose and found us still separated from our effects.

Noon came and brought the baggage with it. Thus you see we had suffered

an unnecessary delay of twenty-four hours at Virgin Bay. The steamer

Ometepe was now ready to receive us, and as we were all anxious to reach

home, we lost no time in going aboard. From this place we sailed in a

south-easterly direction until breakfast hour next morning, when we

arrived at Fort San Carlos, where we entered the San Juan river, which

conveys the waters of Lake Nicaragua into the Caribbean Sea. There was

nothing to be seen at San Carlos, except the dilapidated fort, and it

was not worth looking at. Here we had to leave the Ometepe, and embark

on a smaller boat, the river being too shallow to float a vessel of deep

draught.

Pursuing the current of the San Juan, we passed the unworthy little

village of Castillo, and again changed boats, leaving one of sorry

dimensions behind, and taking passage in a meaner one of less size, and

now came the peculiar annoyance of the route. Owing to the shoals and

sand banks in the river, we had to change ourselves and our baggage

several times; and every change we made was from bad to worse. Those of

us who had taken passage in the cabin, though we had paid more than

double the price of steerage tickets, received no extra accommodation

whatever. We were reduced to a level with the steerage passengers at

San Juan del Sur, and no manner of distinction was made between us until

we reached the opposite coast. For three days and nights we were all

crowded together in utter disorder and confusion; men, women and

children, white people and negroes, decent men and blackguards--all

fared alike. The presence of the ladies did not seem to exercise any

restraint upon the tongues of the vulgar. I am sure I had never before

been in the company of a set of human beings who were capable of giving

utterance to such an incessant volley of scurrilous and obscene language

as I heard while crossing the Isthmus.

There was not a mouthful of victuals prepared for us on board of these

miserable, rickety little steamers; nor was there any place to sleep,

except on deck, among puddles of tobacco juice. Occasionally we had an

opportunity of buying fruits and refreshments on the way; and this was

the only method we had of procuring any thing to eat. I do not think I

slept two hours out of the seventy-two which we occupied in passing the

two oceans. Indeed, the Transit Company treated us very shabbily. We had

paid them their price, and they had promised us better things.

Sometimes, to save the steamer from running aground, we had to debark,

and walk on the bank of the river. On one occasion we were compelled to

travel more than two miles in this manner, before we could find water

deep enough to carry us aboard the boat. As we neared the mouth of the

river, we met and overtook a great many adult natives, who were in the

same costume in which nature had launched them into the world. They did

not seem to be conscious of any impropriety in thus exposing their

persons.

Nicaragua can never fulfil its destiny until it introduces negro

slavery. Nothing but slave labor can ever subdue its forests or

cultivate its untimbered lands. White men may live upon its soil with an

umbrella in one hand and a fan in the other; but they can never unfold

or develop its resources. May we not safely conclude that negro slavery

will be introduced into this country before the lapse of many years? We

think so. The tendency of events fully warrants this inference.

The time may come when negro slavery will no longer be profitable in the

United States; and it is also possible that the descendants of Ham may

finally work their way beyond the present limits of our country. But if

these fated people ever do make their exodus from the hands of their

present owners, they will find themselves journeying and toiling under

the control of new masters, in the fertile wildernesses and savannas

nearer the equator. Louisiana and Texas may, at some future time--far

in the future--find it to their interest to adopt the white slavery

system of the North; but if negro slavery ever ceases to exist in the

United States, Mexico, Central America, and the countries still further

South, will have to become its outlets and receptacles.

It would be no easy task to find a more feeble and ineffective

population than that which now idles away a miserable existence in

Nicaragua. Nature is too bountiful to the inhabitants. It supplies them

with every necessary of life, and consequently there is no incentive to

exertion or emulation. Countless fruits and nuts grow and ripen

spontaneously, and they have nothing to do but to eat them. We did not

pass a single patch of ground under cultivation; nor did I see any

improvement, except the despicable little huts and shanties in which the

people lived.

On the morning of the first day of April, we arrived at San Juan del

Norte, alias Greytown, which has recently handed its name down to

history, in connection with that of commander Hollins, by whom, in

compliance with instructions from our government, it was bombarded a few

months ago. We did not go on shore, but I saw enough of the place to

convince me that it was never worth half the paper which has been

spoiled by diplomatic notes concerning it. The Americans call it

Greytown, but the original Spanish name is San Juan del Norte, which,

when Anglicized, means Saint John of the North. As we have had a good

deal to say respecting San Juan del Sur, it may not be amiss to state

that the English of it is Saint John of the South. Just before we left

the mouth of the river, we saw eight or ten full-grown alligators,

basking on an islet, thirty or forty yards from us. They were all lying

near each other, and did not seem to be frightened at our appearance. I

was well pleased to have such a fair view of these amiable lizards, but

regretted my inability to secure one for Barnum! About three hundred of

our passengers waved us an adieu at Greytown, and took passage in the

steamer Daniel Webster for New Orleans. The rest immediately set sail

for New York, in the steamer Star of the West.

We now found ourselves happily situated where we had good order, good

accommodations, and good treatment--three good things which many of us

had not been accustomed to for three long years. An air of propriety and

fitness pervaded the Star of the West fore and aft; and we felt as if we

were emerging from a vile and debased community, and entering upon the

threshold of refined society. No incident worthy of note occurred during

this part of our voyage. We were in hopes the captain would stop at

Kingston, Havana, or some other West India port; but he had no occasion

to do so. Passing on between Cuba and Yucatan, we rounded the Florida

Reefs, and then followed the Gulf stream until we reached the latitude

of Cape Hatteras, when we bore nearer the land, and ran into the harbor

of New York on Sunday, April 9th, having had a passage of twenty-four

days from San Francisco.

CHAPTER XVI.

MY LAST MINING ADVENTURE.

More than satisfied with the experience I had acquired in mining

operations in California, I found much difficulty in deciding upon my

future course. At one time I made up my mind to try what the fickle jade

fortune would do for me in Australia, and even went so far as to engage

a passage on board of a ship that would sail for Sydney within a week.

An acquaintance and friend, to whom I imparted my intentions, earnestly

persuaded me to abandon my projected voyage, and urged me to accompany

him to Columbia and take an interest in a very promising mining

adventure. My friend said “he felt quite sure that we could make an

ounce ($16) a day each with the utmost ease, provided we were favored

with sufficient rain. And as the rainy season was close at hand, he was

fully satisfied that we should have as plentiful a supply of water as

our mining operations would require.” I had heard of these diggings

frequently, and that gold was found there in great abundance, but as no

stream watered these surface mines, they could only be worked during the

rainy season. As my friend’s story was corroborated by my own knowledge

of these things, I agreed without much hesitation to abandon my voyage

to Australia, and join him in this new mining expedition--mentally

resolving, however, that it should be the last of my efforts to become

suddenly rich by delving for gold in the mines of California.