NORTHERN MINES.
Salmon Falls, South Fork of the American River, July 4th, 1849.
Here we are, at length, in the gold diggings. Seated around us, upon the
ground, beneath a large oak, are a group of wild Indians, from the tribe
called “Diggers,” so named from their living chiefly upon roots. These
Indians are of medium size, seldom more than five feet and eight or ten
inches high; are very coarse and indolent in appearance, of a dark
complexion, with long black hair which comes down over the face; are
uncivilized, and possess few of the arts of life. They weave a basket of
willow so closely as to hold water, in which they boil their mush, made
of acorns dried and pounded to a powder, or their flour, purchased at
some trading tent. You will perhaps ask how water can be boiled in a
basket without the fire’s burning it. This is done simply by heating
stones and putting them into the water, which is thus, in a short time,
raised to the boiling point. They have brought us in some salmon, one of
which weighs twenty-nine pounds. These they spear with great dexterity,
and exchange for provisions, or clothing, and ornaments of bright
colors. We are surrounded on all sides by high, steep mountains, over
which are scattered the evergreen and white oak, and which are
inhabited by the wolf and bear.[A] This will always be to us a memorable
fourth of July, as being our first day at the mines. We have spent the
day in “_prospecting_.” This term, as it designates a very important
part of the business of mining, requires explanation. I should first,
however, give some description of the bar upon which we are to labor.
This lies on both sides the river, and is covered with smooth,
brassy-looking rocks, some of which weigh many tons. It is a little
higher than the water-level; but we find, as we dig down, that the water
soon begins to flow in, and must be “baled out.” This bar, or rather
succession of bars, extends a distance of some miles up and down the
river, over which the water runs with surprising rapidity in the
freshets, which are common during the rainy season, and break up and
reduce the gold-bearing quartz, tearing it away from its primitive bed,
robbing it, in its course, of its virgin gold, and attriting it till it
is at length deposited, in greater or less abundance, within some
crevice or some water-worn hollow, or beneath some rock so formed as to
receive it. These bars vary from a few feet to several hundred yards in
width. In order to find the deposits, the ground must be “prospected.” A
spot is first selected, in the choice of which science has little and
chance every thing to do. The stones and loose upper soil, as also the
subsoil, almost down to the primitive rock, are removed. Upon or near
this rock most of the gold is found; and it is the object, in every
mining operation, to reach this, however great the labor, and even if it
lies forty, eighty, or a hundred feet beneath the surface. If, when this
strata-belt of rock is attained, it is found to present a smooth
surface, it may as well be abandoned at once; if soft and friable, or if
seamed with crevices, running at angles with the river, the prospect of
the miner is favorable. Some of the dirt is then put into a pan, and
taken to the water, and washed out with great care. The miner stoops
down by the stream, choosing a place where there is the least current,
and, dipping a quantity of water into the pan with the dirt, stirs it
about with his hands, washing and throwing out the large pebbles, till
the dirt is thoroughly wet. More water is then taken into the pan, and
the whole mass is well stirred and shaken, and the top gravel thrown off
with the fingers, while the gold, being heavier, sinks deeper into the
pan. It is then shaken about, more water being continually added, and
thrown off with a sideway motion, which carries with it the dirt at the
top, while the gold settles yet lower down. It must be often stirred
with the hands to prevent “baking,” as the hardening of the mud at the
bottom is called. When the dirt is nearly washed out, great care is
requisite to prevent the lighter scales of gold from being washed out
with the magnetic sand, which is best done by pushing back the gold, and
cleaning the sand from the edge of the pan with the thumb. At length a
ridge of gold scales, mixed with a little sand, remains in the pan, from
the quantity of which some estimate may be formed of the richness of
the place. If there are five to eight grains, it is considered that “it
will pay.” If less gold is found, the miner digs deeper or opens a new
hole, till he finds a place affording a good _prospect_. When this is
done, he sets his cradle by the side of the stream, in some convenient
place, and proceeds to wash all the dirt. This is aptly named
_prospecting_, and is the hardest part of a miner’s business. Thus have
we been employed the whole of this day, digging one hole after
another--washing out many test-pans--hoping, at every new attempt, to
find that which would reward our toil, and we have made _ten cents_
each.
July 5th. My share to-day is $1 25. These details may appear dull and
uninteresting; but the reader will bear in mind that it is the writer’s
object to give a full and true description of a miner’s life. He might
pass by all the days and months of profitless labor, and record only the
days of success; but those who have friends at the mines, and those who
purpose going there, will certainly wish to know what are the trials and
discouragements of such a life. They wish to know the _truth_.
July 6th. We have to-day removed to the opposite side of the river.
This, with pitching our tent, has occupied most of the day. Still, we
have made $4 each. I have been seated for several hours by the river
side, rocking a heavy cradle filled with dirt and stones. The working of
a cradle requires from three to five persons, according to the character
of the diggings. If there is much of the auriferous dirt, and it is
easily obtained, three are sufficient; but if there is little soil, and
this found in crevices, so as only to be obtained with the knife, five
or more can be employed in keeping the cradle in operation. One of these
gives his whole attention to working the cradle, and another takes the
dirt to be washed, in pans or buckets, from the hole to the cradle,
while one or two others supply the buckets. The cradle, so called from
its general resemblance to that article of furniture, has two rockers,
which move easily back and forth in two grooves of a frame, which is
laid down firmly on the edge of or over the water, so that the person
working it may at the same time dip up the water. It must be inclined a
few degrees forward, that the dirt may be washed gradually out, and must
be so placed that the mud may be carried off with the stream. Cleets are
nailed across the bottom of the body, over which the loose dirt passes
with the water, and behind which the magnetic sand and gold settle. An
apron is placed beneath the hopper, and conducts the water, dirt, &c.,
from that to the body below--a construction similar to that of the
common fanning-mill. The hopper, which is placed at the top of the
cradle behind, is a box, the bottom of which is a sheet of tin, zinc, or
sheet iron, perforated with holes from the size of a gold dollar up to
that of a quarter eagle. Through these the dirt, gravel, and gold are
all carried by the water upon the apron and into the body below, leaving
only the pebbles, too large to be passed through, in the hopper, which
are thrown out by raising it in the hands, and by a sudden forward, then
backward motion, depositing them on one side in a heap. To facilitate
this operation, the hopper is sometimes made with hinges, by which
means, by the raising the forward end, the dirt falls over behind. There
is generally a handle, so placed on one side that the cradle may be
rocked with the left hand, leaving it to the choice of the person
rocking whether to stand or sit while at work. The dirt taken from the
hole is turned into the hopper at the top. The person, rocking the
cradle with his left hand, at the same time uses his right in dipping up
continually ladles of water, which he dashes upon the dirt in the
hopper. Twenty-five buckets of dirt are generally washed through, the
mass in the body of the cradle being occasionally stirred up to prevent
its hardening, and thus causing the gold to slide over it and be lost.
It is then drawn off into a pan through holes at the bottom of the
cradle, and “panned out,” or washed, in the same way as in prospecting.
While this is being done by one of the company, it is common for the
others to spend the ten minutes’ interval in resting themselves. Seated
upon the rocks about their companion, they watch the ridge of gold as it
dimples brightly up amid the black sand, seeming to me always _the smile
of hope_, while many enlivening remarks and the cheering laugh go round.
At length, the washing completed, the pan passes from one to another,
while each one gives his opinion as to the quantity. The holes in the
bottom of the cradle are stopped, more dirt is thrown into the hopper,
and again the grating, scraping sounds are heard which are peculiar to
the rocking of the cradle, and which, years hence, will accompany our
dreams of the mines.
July 7th. This morning witnessed an instance of that remarkable success
in mining which rarely occurs, but which, when it takes place, turns the
heads of so many. I might aptly quote Virgil’s figurative description of
Rumor, and apply it to these gold stories. They go out quite respectable
in appearance, furnished with hat and cane at the start, but, as they
proceed, they suddenly expand to the proportions of Hercules, with his
trunk of a tree for a club. We met this story long afterward, after it
had returned from its voyage to the States and to Europe, and, but for
its having claimed Salmon Falls as its birth-place, it could not have
been recognized at all. The facts were simply these: Two Irishmen
followed the “lead” of the Jordan brothers, who had made their gold by
penetrating into a bank which had evidently been detached from the
mountains behind in some convulsion of nature, and pushed forward over
the bar. They commenced in the bank at the edge of the bar, and when
they reached the line in which the Jordans had found their vein, they
were so fortunate as to find it again. This vein is about seven inches
wide, and ten feet below the surface of the bank, and is imbedded in a
stratum of hard clay, through which the fine scale gold is richly
sprinkled. The vein runs, in a compact body, diagonally across the
claims which have been and are being “worked out,” and so on, in a
straight line, to the edge of the bar, where it is broken, scattered,
and lost by its descent. At this remarkable place, these two men, before
breakfast this morning, took out $422. As I witnessed their success, for
we are working within three yards of them, and when I held a large
bottle, nearly full of the beautiful gold, in my hands, I was at first
conscious of feelings of elation and hope. This has given place, this
evening, to temporary despondency, for I have been compelled to contrast
our own small operations with their brilliant success. Poor Jemmie, one
of these Irishmen, and who had never before been the owner of a
sovereign, said to me to-day, “Every body is talking about my good luck,
but, I don’t know how it is, I can’t feel so; and, faith, I think _a
sovereign looks to me more!_” Our company have been engaged to-day in
“prospecting,” and preparing for work. The last washings, near night,
gave us fifty cents to the pan, which is considered encouraging.
July 8th, Sunday. All the miners upon the bar, with the exception of one
man, who is working by himself below, have laid aside their labors for
the day. This is, partly at least, owing to a regard for its sacredness.
And when may we be so much sustained by the encouragements, cheered by
the promises, or influenced by the restraints of religion, as in the
circumstances in which we are now placed? Religion--Heaven’s most
precious gift to man--comes and offers to lead us, and to be with us in
all our weary exile from home.
July 9th. To-day we have made $20 each. One of the conclusions at which
we are rapidly arriving is, that the chances of our making a fortune in
the gold mines are about the same as those in favor of our drawing a
prize in a lottery. No kind of work is so uncertain. A miner may happen
upon a good location in his very first attempt, and in a very few days
make his hundreds or thousands, while the old miners about him may do
nothing. Two foreigners, who had been some time in the mines, began to
work their respective claims, leaving a small space between them. The
question arose to which of them this space belonged. As they could not
amicably settle the dispute, they agreed to leave it to the decision of
an American who happened by, and who had not yet done an hour’s work in
the mines. He measured off ten feet--which is allowed by custom--to each
of the claimants, taking for his trouble the narrow strip of land lying
between them. In a few hours, the larger claims, belonging to the old
miners, were abandoned as useless, while the new miner discovered a
deposit which yielded him $7435.
July 10th. We made $3 each to-day. This life of severe hardship and
exposure has affected my health. Our diet consists of hard bread, flour,
which we eat half cooked, and salt pork, with occasionally a salmon
which we purchase of the Indians. Vegetables are not to be procured. Our
feet are wet all day, while a hot sun shines down upon our heads, and
the very air parches the skin like the hot air of an oven. Our drinking
water comes down to us thoroughly impregnated with the mineral
substances washed through the thousand cradles above us. After our days
of labor, exhausted and faint, we _retire_--if this word may be applied
to the simple act of lying down in our clothes--robbing our feet of
their boots to make a pillow of them, and wrapping our blankets about
us, on a bed of pine boughs, or on the ground, beneath the clear,
bright stars of night. Near morning there is always a change in the
temperature of the air, and several blankets become necessary. Then the
feet and the hands of the novice in this business become blistered and
lame, and the limbs are stiff. Besides all these causes of sickness, the
anxieties and cares which wear away the life of so many men who leave
their families to come to this land of gold, contribute, in no small
degree, to this same result. It may with truth be said, “the whole head
is sick, and the whole heart faint.” I have to-day removed to the top of
the hill above the encampment, and beneath a large oak-tree, for the
benefit of a cooler air and shade during the intense heat of noon.
Aug. 20th. After my last date I was prostrated at once by the
acclimating disease of the country, and rendered as helpless as a child.
All day and all night long I was alone under my oak, and without those
kind attentions so necessary in sickness, and which can not be had here.
I was reduced to a very low state, with but little hope, under the
circumstances, of recovery. It did seem hard to lie down to die there,
and to think that I was no more to see my beloved family. Yet I feared
not to die. Indeed, I marked off the spot under the oak where my grave
should be, and prayed for submission to God’s righteous will, and that
his love would protect and bless those dear to me.
The lines of an Englishman, addressed, as he was dying at the mines, “to
a gold coin,” vividly described my feelings at that time:
“For thee, for thee, vile yellow slave,
I left a heart that loved me true!
I crossed the tedious ocean-wave,
To roam in climes unkind and new.
The cold wind of the stranger blew
Chill on my withered heart--the grave
Dark and untimely met my view--
And all for thee, vile yellow slave!”
At this critical time, a gentleman from New Orleans, hearing of my case,
came up to see me, and gave me a few pills, which, fortunately, he had
with him. They checked the disease, and after a few hours I could eat a
bird shot and cooked for me by a kind friend. Not soon shall I forget
this noble-hearted friend, B. Rough as a grisly bear, he was yet one of
nature’s noblemen. At home he filled, at one time, the office of
sheriff. He said that the office cost him too much, and was making him
poor. If he was sent to seize a destitute woman’s effects for rent, he
would be sure to pay that rent, and then would send her a bag of flour
from his own farm. Thus we learn that many of the most valuable traits
of character and excellencies of heart lie, like the purest gold,
concealed beneath a rough surface.
Not thinking it best, in the feeble state of my health, to return to
mining immediately, as soon as I was strong enough, with my blankets
upon my back, I walked to “Sutter’s Mill,” now named Coloma. When I
first reached the country, a school had been offered me in this place at
a stipulated compensation of $16 a day. After spending a few days with
Mr. W., one of the two who discovered the first gold, while engaged in
digging a mill-race for Mr. Sutter, a spot now regarded with peculiar
interest, my health was so much improved that I concluded to return to
the mines.
On reaching Salmon Falls, to my surprise I found Mr. C., a French
gentleman, and who had formerly had the charge of the French classes in
my seminary, and who was now waiting to invite me to join himself and a
friend, a dentist from Philadelphia, in a prospecting tour upon the
north and middle forks. We spent two weeks in this exploring tour, and
on our return to Salmon Falls spent several days in mining there. When
all our expenses were paid and a dividend made, we had $2 each, the
result of three weeks of hard toil.
Hearing of good diggings at Weaver’s Creek, I proposed to my companions
to go over, and, after prospecting, send them word. One of them
accompanied me on my way as far as Coloma. As he was leaving me to
return, after spending the night together in an emigrant’s wagon we
found by the roadside, a miner who had just arrived, after a long and
dangerous journey across the plains, rode up to me. He told me he was
without money, and without provisions or tools for mining, having
exhausted his means on his long journey. This miner, named W., had been
a Texas Ranger. When he told me his condition, I went with him into
Coloma, and succeeded in procuring all he wanted on a credit of a few
days. He manifested his gratitude by offering to pack my provisions with
his own upon his mule, and to accompany me wherever I was going. After
traveling three miles, we stopped under a tree to cook slap-jacks--a
fried batter--and pork, and wait for the cool of the evening. About four
o’clock we again started for the diggings on Weaver’s Creek, five miles
distant. Taking the wrong trail, we lost our way, and wandered on six
miles till it was too dark to see the path. We were in a wild gorge of
the mountain, hungry and tired, with no means of kindling a fire, and my
feet badly blistered. But our most serious want was that of water, our
thirst having become intolerable. We tied a rope to the neck of our
mule, keeping one end of it in our hands, hoping that his instinct would
lead him to water; but we were disappointed; and hungry, thirsty, and
tired, we laid us down where we could feel a place in the dark which was
smooth enough.
In the morning we found, to our surprise, that we had been sleeping in
the middle of the road, and within a few yards of us was a fine spring
of water. Yesterday morning we reached Weaver’s Creek, and, after
prospecting some hours, located ourselves on the spot where we now are
at work, with some good prospect of success. Just below us is a Georgia
miner, who showed me to-day nine pounds of gold he made last week with
the assistance of two hired men. The mountains here are very precipitous
and abrupt, hanging over our heads in wild grandeur. The creek is only
accessible through wild ravines and over steep mountains. Owing to their
great depth, and their being shut up on all sides by mountains so lofty
that the sun rises two hours later, and sets two hours earlier than upon
the plains, the heat is most intense. We have spent our first day in
making preparations for our work. W. is now putting up a brush arbor, to
guard us more effectually against the heat of the sun. Beneath the same
large and wide-spreading tree are two other companies of miners. In one
of these companies is a Missourian, shivering beneath the hot sun with a
violent attack of fever and ague. For several days I have remonstrated
with him against going into the cold water when heated, and standing
there while washing out the gold. To-day he became much heated, and in
this state repeated the experiment, and in ten minutes was seen creeping
into his blankets. In a little time he sent for me. His look was very
wild and wandering as I went to his side, and he said, looking up
shivering into the tree above him, “Woods, if you don’t remove this
tree, my fever never _will_ break.”
Weaver’s Creek, Aug. 21st. Our mining company has been to-day increased,
two others having joined us, making our number five. One of these has
been engaged in walling in a spring where we obtain our
drinking-water--another is making a cradle. The others have been
employed in removing the stones and top soil, and carrying the
auriferous dirt on hand-barrows, made of hides, down to the edge of the
water, ready to be washed. From every indication, we have “struck a rich
lead.” We find much gold on the rocks: on one I counted twenty-five
scales.
Aug. 22d. We have finished our cradle, and washed a little dirt this
forenoon, which yielded us about $10 in all. Our hopes are bright for
the morrow.
Aug. 23d. How is “the gold become dim!” After all our preparations and
hopes, our toil early and late, toil of the most laborious kind, digging
down in the channel of the river till the water was up to our knees,
giving ourselves barely time to eat, we have made but $4 each. We sat
down upon the rocks, and looked at the small ridge of gold in the pan,
and then at each other. One fell to swearing, another to laughing; I
tried to say some encouraging things. Our way indeed is dark, and great
are our difficulties, and oft-repeated our failures, and we experience
the bitterness of the “hope deferred which maketh the heart sick,” but
our motto must be _press on_. The motives which induced us to come here
were good--our object is good--then, trusting in God’s merciful
providence, let us _persevere_.
One young man near us has just died. He was without companion or
friend--alone in his tent. Not even his name could be discovered. We
buried him, tied down his tent, leaving his effects within. Thus is a
home made doubly desolate. Years will pass, and that loved son, or
brother, or husband still be expected, and the question still repeated,
Why don’t he come? Right below me, upon a root of our wide-spreading
oak, is seated an old man of three-score and ten years. He left a wife
and seven children at home, whose memory he cherishes with a kind of
devotion unheard of before. He says when he is home-sick he can not cry,
but it makes him sick at his stomach. He is an industrious old man, but
has not made enough to buy his provisions, and we have given him a
helping hand. Is it surprising that many fly to gambling, and more to
drink, to drown their disappointments? To-day I have weighed my little
store of gold, after paying all expenses, and find it amounts, after
over six weeks of hard labor, to $35.
Aug. 25th. Yesterday I returned to Salmon Falls, and am again encamped
beneath the old oak upon the hill, Mr. C. and his friend being with me.
They have slung their hammocks up among the branches, where they sleep
comfortably, protected from the ants and vermin. My bed is, as usual,
upon the ground, where even my night-bag does not guard me from the
annoying attacks of the ants and lizards. Last night, after I had fallen
asleep, my companions were aroused by hearing a ciote barking near us,
and soon they saw him come and smell of my hands and face, seeming to
doubt whether he could take a bite without being detected.
A company of nineteen have just commenced damming the river at the head
of an island above the falls, nearly a mile in length, by which they
expect to lay bare the channel, on one side, the whole length of the
island. The proceedings of a meeting of the company to-day, with
reference to my admission, were truly Californian. It was first resolved
that I should be admitted, and then, as they had been at work two days,
that I should furnish the company five bottles of brandy as the
condition of my membership. The brandy was bought and drank, and then a
committee waited upon me to notify me that I was a member, and that the
trader had furnished them brandy to the amount of $10 on my account. As
they knew that there was no other way by which they could obtain a
“treat” from me, it was bought and drank before I was informed of the
transaction.
On my way from Weaver’s Creek yesterday, I made the acquaintance of an
intelligent gentleman from Washington City, who had held there a
profitable office under government, and had left a family behind him. He
came hoping to better a good condition. A few days labor in the mines
was sufficient to convince him that it would have been better to “let
well enough alone.” His is not a solitary case. The mines are full of
such. The wonderful instances of success which those at home are made to
believe are common, are about in the proportion of one to a thousand. Of
the nine hundred and ninety-nine cases of failure, or at least of
limited success, those at a distance know nothing--nothing of the
privations and discouragements, trials, dangers, and deaths.
Aug. 26th. On my way to the place for preaching to-day, I stepped into a
hornet’s nest, and was badly stung on my hand. These hornets, called
“yellow jackets,” live around and in our tents, and share our
provisions. I have had twenty of them on my plate at once. My hand was
much swollen, and I feared I should be unable to fulfill my engagement
with the company by preaching to them. The kindness of the wife of one
of the miners, who brought a bottle of hartshorn from the tent, and
bathed my hand with it, soon relieved me. Our church was “God’s first
temple.” My audience were seated upon the grass on the river bank,
beneath a cluster of pine trees. There they were, from all the
states--from Europe, from Africa, from Oceanica. Such hours of worship
on God’s holy day, spent with my mining companions, or with some beloved
Christian brother who remained “steadfast, unmoveable” in his integrity
amid the corrupting vices of the mines, will never be forgotten. When we
could not walk to the house of God in company, we sometimes walked upon
the mountains, and there together sang the songs of Zion, and prayed to
the Father ever merciful and good in a strange land. I take pleasure in
recalling to my mind such a noble-hearted Christian, who had devoted one
fourth of all his anticipated earnings in California to religious
charities. It was my pleasure afterward, when in San Francisco, to send
him, through the Secretary of the American Bible Society, a quantity of
Bibles, hymn-books, and sermons, his purpose being to form a Bible class
among the miners. He wished them to be sent as early as possible, as “he
hoped,” he said, “to get possession of the ground, and thus keep out the
gambling table and the brandy bottle.”
Sept. 3d. We are yet at work throwing a dam over the river. It would be
thought, from the manner in which some members of the company talk about
what they “know must be” in the channel of the river, that they expect
to do no more work after this. A perfect Mohammedan heaven, with its
tree bearing every luxury, its beautiful treasures, its arbors where no
care or trouble exist, seem ready to be revealed as soon as the water
which curtains them over shall be drawn aside. An interesting incident
occurred to-day. A young Englishman in our company, from the Society
Islands, was returning to his tent during the interval at noon for
lunch and rest. On his way, one of the many strangers he met inquired
the way to certain mines below. From this they fell into a conversation
upon some indifferent topic, and both being wearied, they sat down, side
by side, upon a rock, little thinking what an interesting and beautiful
revelation was about to be made to them. In the conversation, one
incidentally inquired of the other where he was from. “From the Society
Islands,” was the reply. With an awakened interest in his manner, he
inquired, “Which island?” “Tahiti,” was the answer. He looked into the
face of the other with a searching gaze, and with deep emotion inquired,
“What is your name?” “ H.,” he said, “_You are my brother!_” And they
were locked in each other’s arms. There they are, on the bar below me,
walking arm in arm, and conversing with intense interest. I afterward
learned more of these brothers from a lady, whose father was the first
missionary to Tahiti.
Sept. 8th. Our damming operation has been an entire failure. We spent
many days in constructing the dam, which, when completed, drained a
large portion of the river. When this was done, we thoroughly prospected
the whole, and found nothing. The banks and bars of the river were rich
in some places, but there was not a grain of gold in the channel.
Sept. 9th. Attended preaching at Mormon Island to-day. Being late out, I
called to spend the night with a company of gentlemen from Cincinnati,
who are encamped in a solitary place some two miles below Salmon Falls,
upon the river. We had just finished our supper an hour since, during
which they were relating to me some difficulties they had with the
Indians, who had stolen $200 from them. After this theft, and the
measures which had been resorted to for the recovery of the money, the
Indians would frequently come after dark and throw stones across the
river into their camp.
Sept. 15th. Upon a bar above our dam some miners lately met with some
success. Rumors of this success, but much exaggerated, were circulated.
Ounces were reported pounds. The change at once was magical. Trading
tents, the signs of rival physicians, eating and gambling booths have
sprung up, and the noise and confusion of a large village are heard.
More than a hundred men are at work upon the bar. The auriferous dirt
must be taken a quarter of a mile to the river to be washed. Some do
this by packing the dirt in bags upon mules, and some pack this upon
their own backs. One company, from Hartford, gave us a surprise this
morning. They had with them a quantity of hose, and by this means
brought the water from the river upon the bar, thus saving the labor of
packing the dirt. The gold is chiefly found in one vein, running in
nearly a direct line at right angles to the river. The few who have
found this vein have done comparatively well. All the rest “spend their
labor for that which is not bread.” A company of Cincinnati miners have
invited me to work with them a “claim” upon this bar. They have just
told me that the Indians came last night in large numbers, and made an
attack upon their camp, which they were compelled to abandon at
midnight, and, swimming the river, to take refuge with a company of New
York miners.
Sept. 18th. There is but little dirt upon this bar, and it is now
regarded as “worked out,” and the miners are leaving as fast as they
came. Our company have made upon the bar $65 each. I have been now three
months in the mines, and have made $390. There is much sickness here.
One half of the whole population are sick. I have to-day been informed
of the mournful death of a merchant from Philadelphia, a fellow-voyager
from Cape San Lucas. He was the object of anxious solicitude to his
friends soon after his arrival at San Francisco. He had come on with
bright hopes, which were sadly disappointed. To drown his sorrows and
disappointments, he had given himself up to drink. Many times had they
expostulated with him, but in vain. He died at San Francisco.
Sept. 30th. Left Salmon Falls on Wednesday last for San Francisco. My
object in taking this journey was to get my letters from home. On my
arrival in the country I had received letters, but it is now five months
since my last were dated. My anxiety to hear from my family had become
very great. A friend offered me the use of a vicious mule for the
journey to Sacramento. No bridle could be borrowed, and, besides, I was
to be mounted upon a pack-saddle without stirrups. Imagine me, then, as
thus starting off, my hair and beard of truly patriarchal length, all
unshorn and unshaven. Such superfluities as coat, vest, collar, cravat,
&c., were only remembered with the other comforts once enjoyed. My red
flannel garments gave me a rather warlike appearance. Thus habited and
mounted, a rope’s end was tied around my mule’s neck, which passed in a
running noose over his nose, while I checked his movements by the other
end, which I held in my hand. He did his best several times to run with
me and to throw me, and my companions enjoyed their sport at my expense.
The mule had a most ludicrous way of throwing up his head and braying as
he was about starting to run. From this circumstance I named him
“Roaring Lion.” They were compelled to acknowledge that in these trials
of strength I had the “upper hand.”
At Sacramento I inquired for a bag of clothing which I supposed had been
stored in the place, and, after a long search, it was pointed out to me
hanging in a tree-top in the town. The friend with whom I left it in
charge to store had put his own clothing in it, and, to avoid paying the
exorbitant price charged for storage, had deposited it where found. On
reaching San Francisco, after a tedious voyage of five days, I hastened
at once to the office of Livingston & Co. to get my letters. When I
inquired for them, I was told there were a number for me, but, on
looking for them, it was found that they had been forwarded, only the
day before, to the mines. My disappointment was great. All the other
privations and trials to which I had been subject were truly light
compared with this. But, like them all, it had this good effect: it led
me to set a higher and more true estimate upon the blessings of our
native land. How priceless, when thus deprived of them, become our
homes--better than fine gold! On turning away from the office, oppressed
with anxiety and disappointment, I was walking slowly up the street,
when the lively notes of a piano struck my ear. I stopped to listen. It
was a favorite home song--“We have lived and loved together.” My
feelings were moved with emotions of inexpressible tenderness and
sorrow.
San Francisco, Oct. 19th. Have spent nearly three weeks in this city,
waiting for letters. Col. Moore, post-master, kindly interested himself
in the recall of those sent to the mountains, but they have not been
received. Two mail steamers have arrived since I have been here, and,
though three mails were due, have brought none. Not only one gulf, but
parts of two oceans and one continent, are between me and my family,
while the only comfort which reaches me is the thought that those I love
are under the protecting care of an Almighty Friend.
There is much sickness now in this city. Many come down sick from the
mines. The situation of such is desperate indeed. There is a heartless
unconcern in the community generally to the sufferings and wants of the
many who are dying wretched deaths in the midst of them. It may not,
perhaps, be possible that it should be otherwise. Every man is too much
occupied with his own concerns to be able to search out objects of
charity; and there are so many such cases constantly recurring, as to
induce a feeling of indifference, the result of familiarity with the
sufferings of others. I was present at a religious meeting when this
subject was mentioned, and means were suggested for some systematic and
efficient relief. Some cases were related which called for immediate
aid. The case of one young man, in particular, awakened my sympathy, and
I devoted the next forenoon to an effort to find him. I was at length
directed to a large open lot bordering upon the shore, and covered with
bales, boxes, and barrels of goods of all descriptions. After walking up
and down over this lot, I could discover no object of distress, or no
place where he could have found a resting-place, and gave up the
pursuit. Three days afterward, as I was standing at the door of a store
opposite this lot, a small crowd gathered there, and were looking at
some object with intense interest. I crossed over, and there, beneath a
hide stretched over two boxes, and crouched down between these boxes,
was the corpse of the poor man I had sought, who had died there
unfriended and alone. His head was leaning upon his hand, placed upon an
edge of the box. No one could have supposed that a human body was
concealed there. I had twice passed by that very spot in my search for
him. The least groan could have been heard from the street. At the
religious meeting I have mentioned, held beneath the tent chapel of the
Presbyterian church, it was stated that there had been lately twelve
cases of suicide in San Francisco. Yesterday a young man from New
England left his tent in “Happy Valley,” and went to a retired place,
untied his cravat and hung it upon the bushes, took a razor from its
case, and put the case upon his cravat, and then deliberately cut his
own throat. Pecuniary losses, it is supposed, was the cause.
The house in which I have passed my time since I came to the city is one
occupied by Rev. Mr. W., in the suburbs--soon to be the heart of the
city. Across the street from us are some canvas tents, and below these a
shed-house, in which is kept a restaurant; then comes a house made of
hides stretched over a frame, and still lower down are more tents, adobe
and frame houses, containing men, women, and children from all parts of
the world. And there below me extends, far away, the noble bay, covered
with its ships from all nations, to which new arrivals are daily added.
Throngs of people, horses, wagons, oxen, carts, and mules, are ever
passing. And this moment there goes toward the “Presidio” a heavy piece
of ordnance. Here follow two merry young Americans on horseback, each
with a gayly-dressed sigñorita before him, both without bonnets, and
laughing merrily; and hear those glad and happy shouts of children!
Stretched away before me is the world of San Francisco--and what a
world! How the tide of human life flows and dashes upon its shores!
Crowds every day arrive, and other crowds every day leave. Old friends
meet, exchange a few words, and hasten on to the shrine of _Mammon_.
Multitudes die, the waves close over them, and they are forgotten. It
can hardly be supposed that people come to California _to live_, since
they are here only _preparing to live_--much less do they come here _to
die_. I pray that my life may be spared till I return to a land of
friends, and where man is united to man by the sympathies of life!
The indifference of a class of the population here even to the lives of
others, was illustrated by the grave-digger, who has generally to dig
eight or more graves in a day, but yesterday only having three ordered,
he cursed the Yankees for cheating him out of half his day’s earnings.
Last evening I walked around to about fifty of the gambling tables. A
volume could not describe their splendor or their fatal attractions. The
halls themselves are vast and magnificent, spread over with tables and
implements for gambling. The pictures which decorate them no pen of mine
shall describe. The bar-rooms are furnished with the most expensive
liquors, no care or attention being spared in the _compounding and
coloring_ of them. The music is performed often by professors, and is of
the best kind. The tables are sometimes graced, or disgraced, by
females, who came at first masked, and who are employed to deal the
cards, or who come to play on their own account. “The Bank” consists of
a solid pile of silver coin, surmounted by the golden currency of as
many countries as there are dupes about the table. Often a sack or two
of bullion, which has cost the poor miner months of labor, is placed
upon the top of all. Sufficient money to send one home independent
changed owners during my short stay. A boy of ten years came to one of
the tables with a few dollars. His “run of luck” was surprising, and to
him bewildering. In ten minutes he was the owner of a _pile_ of silver,
with some gold. In one minute more he was without a dollar. Thinking by
one turn of the cards to double his profits, he lost the whole. The
instances of great good luck on the part of the players are very rare.
But they sometimes occur. A lawyer of this city recently swept three
tables in one evening. A young man came from the States in one of the
last steamers, and was preparing to go to the mines. He borrowed ten
dollars, and went to one of the faro banks. During the night and a part
of the next forenoon, he had won $7000, when he made a resolution never
to play more, and returned home in the next steamer. Mr. Davidson, the
agent of the Rothschilds, says that some of the professed gamblers send
home by him to England the average sum of $17,000 a month. Many tricks
are resorted to in order to bring persons to the table. An eye-witness
assures me that he has seen the president of the bank slip secretly into
the hand of some one, employed for the purpose of decoying others, a
quantity of coin. On receiving this, he would leave the room, but soon
return, and present himself in a noisy manner at the table, and boldly
“plank down” the very money he had received. In five minutes the table
would be surrounded by eager players.
There are but few women yet in California. Several merchants, and others
who intend to spend some years in the country, send for their families.
But the situation of these ladies is not the most comfortable, owing to
the want of society, and to the utter impossibility of procuring
servants in the family. By the death of their husbands, the condition of
the wives would be pitiable, though there seem to be enough who would
persuade them to change their solitary life as soon as possible. A lady
now in this city, soon after her arrival here lost her husband. Before
he had been dead a week, she received three proposals of marriage.
The price of labor is yet very high, though not as high as it was in the
spring. Good carpenters and masons command their $8 a day. The citizens
frequently send their clothes to the Sandwich and Society Islands, and
even to Valparaiso, and other places on the coast, to be washed, to
avoid the great expense for washing here. All kinds of goods are lower
than they were a few months since. Coal, which was $100, is now $9 a
ton. Vegetables have fallen from $1 to 25 cts. a lb. Eggs maintain their
high price, selling at $20 a dozen.
After much inquiry, we have determined to go, for our next mining
season, to the southern mines. We are led to this determination chiefly
on account of the better health enjoyed there.