SOUTHERN MINES.
Having made our preparations, and engaged passage on board a schooner
for Stockton, on the 19th day of October we started. Our company was
made up chiefly of young gentlemen from Boston. Our sail up the bays and
the San Joaquin River was accomplished in six days. We furnished our own
provisions, which, owing to the length of our journey, proved
insufficient. Notwithstanding the very heavy dews, we were compelled to
sleep on deck. In consequence, one of our company took so severe a cold
that he returned to San Francisco from Stockton, abandoning mining;
while another, a young man from Uxbridge--alas! will disregard all the
earnest advice of his friends to return, and will go on, a doomed
man--will reach the mines, and we shall there leave him in his grave.
Poor C., may his sad story be a warning to multitudes of young men,
having good business and good prospects at home, to remain there,
contented with small, but steady and sure gains! Sad, sad was his fate
to be, for we were soon to bury him, in sight, and within a few yards of
those rich deposits, the exaggerated accounts of which are now luring
him, and will lure so many others to their ruin! Poor friend! even the
hardened muleteers, having charge of our provisions, pity his sorrows,
and walk themselves, that they may supply a mule for his faltering and
fainting steps. All see death in his haggard countenance and sunken
eyes, yet _he sees it not_. Never shall I forget my interview with him,
while I walked by the mule on which he was riding, a few days only
before his death. He was telling me of the bright and happy future
before him. Taking from his vest pocket a daguerreotype, he placed it in
my hands, requesting me to open it. What simplicity, what truth were
portrayed in that lovely countenance! Well might he think his future a
happy one. I could hardly conceal from him my emotion as I returned his
priceless treasure, and thought, never will you take to your bosom the
loving and the loved! In a few days I communicated to his friends the
intelligence of his death.
Stockton, Oct. 25th. An escape so remarkable occurred to-day that it
should not be omitted. Calling at the store of Paige & Webster to
purchase provisions, I stood conversing with the clerk, the bag
containing the supplies lying at my feet. Thinking the string was loose,
I stooped over to examine it. At that very moment there was the sharp
crack of a pistol in the store adjoining, and separated only by a cloth
partition. On rising hastily, I perceived that the bullet had passed
through the tent directly in range of my body. Without moving, I took
the measurement, and found that, had I not moved the _very second_ I
did, the ball must have gone directly through my heart. It passed within
an inch or two of my spine. A little crowd were instantly upon the spot,
wondering at this almost miraculous escape.
Our journey from Stockton to Marepoosa, a distance of one hundred and
twenty miles, was accomplished between Oct. 27th and Nov. 15th. We took
our own provisions and cooking utensils with us, there being few eating
tents on the way. After three days’ travel the rainy season set in, and
we found it necessary to pitch our tents--sometimes doing this in the
mud, spreading down our blankets upon the wet and cold ground, there to
remain for two or three days. After we had crossed the plain of the San
Joaquin and entered among the mountains, we had fine scenery and
beautiful sunsets. Our guide was endeavoring to take us by a new track
to the mines, and on our march, Nov. 2d, we were lost among the
mountains. After a consultation, the guide and muleteers concluded to
cross a high mountain, without a path and very steep. In ascending, two
of the mules missed their footing, rolling over and over, down the
precipitous sides of the hill, till arrested uninjured by some rock or
stump. By the time we had reached the summit of the mountain, and passed
across an extent of table-land to an abrupt bluff, at the foot of which
was to be seen the beautiful Tuolumne, night had crept upon us. With the
night came torrents of rain, driving through our thin canvas roof in a
shower of large drops. During the night I was conscious of a sensation
of coldness which had completely benumbed me. When sufficiently awake to
ascertain the cause, I found that, owing to the unevenness of the
ground, I had slid down till my feet were immersed in a cold bath
outside the tent. All the next day we kept our tent, amusing ourselves
by reading, sewing, and conversing. The morning after, the clouds had
disappeared, and the sun rose in splendor. The birds sang their most
enlivening songs. It was like our May at home. On walking out of our
tents, we perceived the huge foot-prints of the grisly bear at just
twenty-six paces distant, and there were the holes where he had
scratched up the ground in pursuit of the ants and bugs, which he
devours with avidity. The centipedes and tarantulas occasioned us no
little apprehension and uneasiness. After the rain commenced, we
frequently found them between and under our blankets.
On one of the mornings of our march, my feet being lame, I started in
advance of the train, that I might take time to rest, not expecting to
see the party again till they overtook me at the end of the day’s march.
When I left, all preparations for a start had been made, and the
muleteers had gone out for their mules. Two of them, however, were
missing, and so much of the day was spent before they were found, that
the guide concluded to remain in camp till the next morning. Upon
reaching the spring where I supposed we were to encamp, and having
quenched my thirst, hungry and weary, I went to a large and shady tree a
short distance from the path, and sat down to await my companions. For
some time I occupied my mind with reading the “Pilgrim’s Progress,”
which I had in my pocket. Soon, however, Bunyan’s dream began to mingle
with my own, and I fell into a long, deep sleep. When I awoke,
bewildered and confused, it was near night, and nowhere were my
companions to be seen. Had they passed me during the day, and gone on to
the next encampment, or had some accident delayed them, were becoming
anxious questions to me. I perceived, by new tracks, that several trains
had passed while I was asleep. Was mine one of them? I determined--why,
I hardly know--to retrace my morning steps. But soon a new source of
anxiety arose. My course in the morning had been across a plain at the
foot of the mountains, till at length it brought me up among them. As I
descended the last steeps of these, and saw the plain extended out below
me, far in the distance, and very far from the trail I had come, I saw a
mule-train which I thought must be mine, and concluded that I had been
all this time wandering out of my way. Fixing their direction in my mind
before descending upon the plain, and while the sun was setting, I
struck across, leaving my path, and hoping to intersect theirs by the
time they should come into camp. If I could not effect this, I must
spend the night without food, or water, or blankets, with also the
prospect of being _lost_ among the mountains. This, in my situation,
would be attended with much inconvenience and some danger. Several have
been lost in this manner, and never seen again. At length I succeeded in
reaching the train, and found it was not mine; but I had the
satisfaction of hearing from my companions, and that they were still at
their last night’s camp. At about ten o’clock I reached our encampment.
Tired and hungry as I was, I stood for some time struck with the scene
before me. In addition to the usual camp-fires, giving to every thing a
wild, gipsy-like air, my friends had cut down a large tree, and, piling
up all the branches and a quantity of dry fuel, had made a grand
bonfire. The whole country about was lighted up. Hastening to the camp,
I first snatched up the coffee-pot, and, finding it half full, began to
drink heartily of the contents, too thirsty to judge of its quality.
When I joined the cheerful party around the blazing fire, I was appealed
to to decide a question which they had been and still were eagerly
discussing. The subject was one which, being brought up under our
circumstances, and at such a distance from home, was calculated to
awaken a lively interest. It was respecting the comparative merits of
the Boston Common and the New York Battery, and was agitated by young
miners from those cities.
As we approach the mines, accounts vary greatly as to the prospects of
the miners. Those who are, like ourselves, going toward the Marepoosa
diggings, hear a thousand exasperated stories of success; but the
multitude who are already leaving this region for other mines bring back
the most discouraging reports. As we have found it elsewhere, so it is
here; at a distance--in Stockton, in San Francisco, in the States, the
Marepoosa diggings are regarded as very rich, and are thought by some to
be the ancient Ophir. Now that we are within a few miles, the
enchantment which distance lends has vanished. It is found that, in
general, the miners are not making a living. At the River Mercedes we
saw some Indians, called Savage’s Indians, from an American with that
name, who shot the chief and took his place in the tribe. He was
formerly a companion of Colonel Fremont. These Indians were fishing for
salmon, at which business they are very expert and successful. All the
Indians in the country are _openly_ friendly, but their friendship is
not to be trusted. They have acquired a growing distrust of the emigrant
miners, so often are they made the subjects of the most cruel and
barbarous impositions. To me their whole deportment appears threatening.
Even when they come into our camps with presents or to trade, their
conduct says plainly, “We bide our time!” It may be delayed, but the
time will come when they will seek revenge; and woe be to those who are
among these wild mountain fastnesses when that fearful time comes!
I have seen but few birds among the mountains of California. The large
French woodpecker is the most common. It feeds upon the acorn, of which
it lays up immense supplies after they have fallen from the trees. It
can not put its stores in the ground, for the bears and squirrels would
scratch them up and devour them. They pick a hole in the bark of the
tree, of such a size that the acorn will exactly fit into it; then they
fly down, and, taking one in the bill, drive it deep into the hole.
There are thousands of these acorns sometimes in a single tree, which
have the appearance of so many bullets shot into it. There is a singular
species of the frog, similar to the “horned frog” of Texas. It is as
large as the common frog, but covered with scales, with two of the same
scales, but larger, protruding out from its head. There are abundance
of elk, deer, and antelope; but the most remarkable animal is the grisly
bear. This animal is eight to eleven feet in length, and four to six in
girth. It is of a dark brown color, with long, shaggy hair. It possesses
wonderful strength, and a single blow of its iron-clawed paw would fell
an ox; yet it rarely attacks unless provoked. It never lies in wait for
its prey. It is dangerous to attack him. Few persons have the hardihood,
when alone, to fire upon him, and then look for a tree to which they may
retreat.
We passed, on our way, through “Fremont’s camp,” where, a year since,
the colonel had a large number of Indians working for him. It is now
quite a settlement; and the very day we passed through, a company of
sixty men was organized to pursue and punish the Indians for various
depredations lately committed. Finding so little which was favorable in
our prospect, we started for Sherlock’s diggings, led by new stories of
wonderful success. The two brothers Sherlock, who discovered this place,
are said to have taken out $30,000 from a small square spot of ground.
They went to Monterey to deposit their money and make preparations to
continue their profitable labors. While there, in an unguarded manner,
one day, they let fall some hints concerning their success. These were
not lost upon two sailors belonging to a man-of-war then lying in the
bay, and who happened to be present. They returned on board, asked and
obtained a furlough for seven weeks, made their preparations, and when
the Sherlocks started, they started also. It was not long before the
Sherlocks suspected the purpose of the sailors, and, to elude them, very
quietly arose at midnight, packed their mules, and silently proceeded on
their way. What was their surprise in the morning to find their pursuers
still following them. Every means was resorted to in order to avoid them
or mislead their search, but all in vain. They were always _there_.
Seeing that they were “in for it,” they made a virtue of necessity, took
the sailors with them, gave them valuable instructions, and every
assistance in their power. A few weeks since, and before the expiration
of their furlough, the two sailors returned on board with ninety pounds
of gold.
Here we encountered severe hardships, camping in leaky tents, upon wet
and muddy ground, from which we raised ourselves only by spreading down
pine boughs beneath us, being chilled with the cold rain and snow.
Yesterday a friend was seated by me upon a log at the opening of the
tent. “Oh!” said he, “let me be at home with my wife and little
daughter, and I will live on one meal a day. I have often wondered,” he
continued, “how the poor Irish _could live_ in their hovels, but look
here at _our home_! Their situation is Paradise compared to ours! My
wife would cry herself to death if she could see what I suffer!”
Nov. 16th. To-day we commenced our labors at Sherlock’s, contracting to
pay $5 a day for an old cradle, while the sum total of our first day’s
labor has been one dollar. One of my companions amused us by telling us,
while speaking of the wrong ideas those form of the mines who have never
seen them, the advice his father gave him. He told him not to work too
hard, but to buy a low chair and a small iron rake, and, taking his
seat, to rake over the sand, and, picking up the pieces of gold as they
came to view, to put them in a box.
Nov. 17th. The sum total made to-day is 25 cents; and this when
provisions are selling at $1 25 a pound, with the prospect of being
still higher. We returned this evening to our camp tired and hungry,
and, finding very little here to eat, have put on a kettle of acorns to
boil, upon which, with a little venison, we shall make our supper. There
are many depredations committed by the Indians. Mules are stolen, and
driven away to be eaten.
Nov. 19th. To-day we have made 50 cents each. This evening, as I was
passing through the village on my way to the trading-tent, I perceived
an old, drunken sailor cooking some nice steaks from the grisly bear. I
had never yet tasted the meat, and when I expressed a curiosity to do
this, a tin plate, with a generous slice of the savory meat, was placed
before me on the ground, with a bottle of brandy. The latter I eschewed,
while the former I chewed, and found it delicious--similar to young
pork. While we were enjoying the feast, the old sailor related to me a
remarkable instance of success in his own case a few days before. His
account was corroborated by others, who gave me some particulars which
he withheld. He was walking, or rather staggering, for he had been
drinking pretty deeply, upon the bank, below which the miners were hard
at work. As he was thus proceeding, singing as he went, he kicked his
foot against a stone, causing it to roll over. Turning around, and at
the same time raising his clinched fist, he began to curse the stone,
when his attention and oaths were all arrested together, for he saw at
the bottom of the hole from which the stone was displaced something
yellow and bright. In an instant he was upon his knees, knife in hand,
and soon held up a beautiful lump of nearly pure gold, valued at $500.
In one week he had drank and gambled the whole away. Such instances as
this have given rise to the opinion among the miners that the worthless,
drinking, and gambling characters have better success than the sober and
persevering laborer.
Nov. 21st. It is now about seven months since my last letter from my
family. My feelings may then be imagined when, late yesterday afternoon,
I heard there were letters for me at Fremont’s camp, eight miles
distant, over the mountain. Although suffering greatly from blistered
feet, I started early this morning, after passing a sleepless night.
Alas! what was my disappointment at finding my letters were from San
Francisco, soliciting the votes and influence of our company in favor of
the election of a candidate to some office! Indeed, it is not surprising
that, amid such trials and hardships, so many become disheartened, and
resort to forbidden and fatal pleasures and stimulants.
Dec. 1st. Finding all our efforts unavailing, and that none around us
were succeeding, we visited Aqua Frio some days since, and have now
removed here. There does not appear to be much doing here, but it is a
larger settlement, but few now remaining at Sherlock’s. It is, on this
account, more safe from the encroachments of the Indians, and provisions
are more easily obtained. These are, however, constantly rising. Each
dash of rain adds one or two shillings a pound to the price of every
article. This is owing to the fact that, as the rains render the roads
worse, the price for transportation proportionally increases. We are now
paying $1 50 a pound for provisions. The price of a barrel of flour here
would go far toward supporting a family at home for a year. Four pounds
of hard, moldy bread for our mule cost us about $6. And yet, with these
high prices, the miners in the best diggings in the region do not
average $1 50 a day. We have not done this.
Dec. 3d. Lying awake in my tent last night, I overheard three miners,
who had come in partially intoxicated at midnight to their tent, within
a few feet of us, talking over their plans. It seemed that one of them
had just weighed the gold they had made that day, and found it nine
ounces. They were to be up early, and start for the same place again. I
conformed my movements to theirs the next forenoon, with an experienced
miner for a companion. With our picks and spades, we soon reached the
place where they were at work. They were in the middle of the channel,
having turned the stream from its course, up to their knees in the mud
and water, while one of their number was constantly employed in “bailing
out.” We prospected near them for a few hours, as they told us many
others had done, unsuccessfully. They did not themselves expect to find
employment for more than two days, the deposit already beginning to
fail.
Dec. 4th. There was a large fall of snow last night, which pressed so
heavily upon our tent that it fell in upon us; but we kept our beds till
morning, the bank of snow above us adding not a little to the warmth of
our blankets. I went down, after breakfast, to the diggings, and
brushing away the snow, and breaking the ice, attempted to wash out some
gold in a pan; but I made nothing. Becoming thoroughly chilled, with my
hands and feet frost-bitten, I returned to my tent; but here it is
almost as bad. The canvas, of which our tent is made, is under the snow,
our provisions _scarce_, the fire out, and the day very cold. Two of my
companions, feeling the pressure of hunger, went to the tent of an
acquaintance, where they found some venison steaks and bread, which had
been left at breakfast. They made their dinner from these, being
comforted by the thought that some ciote or stray dog would bear the
blame. What renders our situation more deplorable is the want of proper
clothing. Good boots are so scarce that $96 are readily given for a
pair.
A miner related in my hearing to-day the manner in which he employed
others to work for him. He marked off a claim ten feet square, and
commenced digging in one corner of it. Finding it likely to be a more
serious job than he anticipated, and being tired of it, and yet not
willing to abandon it without knowing what lay at the bottom, he
concealed several pieces of gold, one weighing two ounces, in a corner
of his claim. Watching his opportunity when several persons were near,
he artfully uncovered one of the lumps, seeming, at the same time,
anxious to conceal it. In a few moments several spectators were eyeing
his movements. Soon he turned up two or three more small pieces, and
then the larger one. In ten minutes the ground all about him was marked
off, and many picks and shovels were employed in prospecting for him,
while he went back to his tent, pleased with the success of his
maneuver. Several good offers were made him for his claim, and, had he
been so disposed, he might have made a good bargain; but he was
satisfied with the amount of labor he thus procured. In many cases the
grossest impositions have been practiced. Persons have scattered gold in
the dirt of a claim they held, then have offered it for a high price,
exhibiting a pan full of the rich soil as a specimen. We have now spent
many days at Aqua Frio without finding any prospect of success; on the
contrary, being involved in debt; and have determined to break up our
camp, and, disposing of our tents, cooking utensils, &c., to retrace our
steps toward Stockton. One of our company is disposed a little longer to
try his fortunes--or rather his misfortunes--at the Marepoosa mines.
Another remains in his lonely grave. All the others, excepting myself,
intend to return to San Francisco, and, as soon as they are able, to
leave for home.
On Monday, Dec. 10th, we started with a mule-train bound for Stockton,
which took a few pounds of freight for us, while I packed twenty pounds
upon my back. The first day we traveled fifteen miles over the
mountains, and saw hundreds going to and from the mines. Burns’s tent
was so filled with travelers that we were compelled to sleep out in the
open air, which was so severely cold that the water froze by our side.
The next night we slept at Montgomery’s ranch, after walking
twenty-three miles. Spreading our blankets down upon the ground, beneath
a canvas roof, we slept so closely packed that no person could have
stepped between us. For breakfast we had tea, hard bread, beans, and
pork, and a few pickles, for all which we paid $2 each. The following
day we traveled in the rain twenty-five miles, fording the Tuolumne. My
companions had all dropped behind, half frozen and tired out, seeking
shelter and rest in some trading or eating tents we had passed. I pushed
on with the mule-train, hoping at night to reach a comfortable shelter;
but night found us completely exhausted, and far from any settlement.
The company traveling with the mule-train had a tent, but there was no
spare room which they could offer me. I had to make up my mind to spend
the night alone in the drenching rain, and it was a night I shall never
forget. A large log-fire was burning, by which I sat till a late hour,
when I happened to remember that I had seen a large hollow tree by the
road side, at some little distance from our camp. Taking a blazing
brand, I went and examined the tree, and found that the hollow would
afford my body a shelter by sitting upright, and leaving my feet exposed
to the rain. I kindled a fire, collecting some brush and bark with which
to replenish it during the night. Then, with the ax I had borrowed, I
removed a quantity of dead leaves and filthy rubbish accumulated at the
bottom of my cavern. To my alarm, I found among this rubbish fresh marks
of a large bear, which had lately found refuge here from a storm such as
now drove me to its shelter. But there seemed no alternative, and I
thought, besides, that my fire would be a protection against wild
beasts; so I wrapped my blankets about me, and, sinking down into my
novel bed, with my feet in a cold bath, I listened to the pattering of
the rain, thinking of those far away. Soon my fire began to fail, and I
had placed the last piece of bark upon it, and fallen asleep. When I
awoke it was pouring in torrents, and my fire was entirely out. Then
came thoughts of the bear, and I instinctively drew in my legs, not
wishing to place temptation within his reach, should he be prowling
about me. It would not do; I was nearly frozen; the water began to find
its way into my bed, which I apprehended I should soon be compelled to
share with old Bruin. Then it was so dark. I got up, took my blankets
over my arm, and started to return to the log-fire, which I saw dimly
burning in the distance. In my haste, I forgot that there was a bend in
the bank of the stream below us, making it necessary for me to take a
circuit round in order to reach my companions. I soon found myself
lodged among the bushes and stones at the bottom of the bank. Then came
over me a nervous feeling like a nightmare, and I could already feel
myself in the grasp of the grisly bear--his claws and teeth were in my
flesh. Dropping my ax, and every thing but my blankets, and losing one
of my shoes, I began an imaginary scramble and flight from my imaginary
pursuer. The remainder of the night I passed, wrapped up in my blankets,
by the log-fire. A walk of twelve miles the day following brought me to
the Stanislaus, where I was to separate from my companions, who had not
yet come up--they going on to Stockton, and I to the Stanislaus
diggings. The rain continued to pour down. Little dreamed our friends at
home of our situation then! With scarcely a dollar in our pockets, a
long journey before us, cold, hungry, and wet, our oppressed hearts were
ready to sink. Alas! little did I anticipate what a gloomy future was
before two of those companions! One of them was the only and the
idolized son of his parents, and tenderly and dearly loved by his
sisters. His home possessed every comfort and convenience. He had come
far from his father’s house to perish with hunger. He resolved, “I will
arise and go to my father.” But that father and that heart-broken mother
he was no more to see. A year after we parted--and oh! what a year of
suffering and privation must that have been--with that companion of his
boyhood and youth, he reached Chagres in most destitute circumstances.
To raise money enough to take him home, he engaged as a boatman on the
river, took the fever, and died. In consequence of my recent exposure, I
had a severe cold, and was entirely unable to travel; yet I had no means
of paying my expenses at a ranch. Under these circumstances, I crossed
the Stanislaus, went to the ranch of Mr. George Islip, a gentleman from
Canada, and told him my situation. “Give yourself no uneasiness,” he
said; “you are welcome as long as you choose to remain with us; all I
request of you is that you will feel yourself at home.” I passed a very
pleasant week with this noble-hearted man, and was treated as a brother.
The wind had blown down his house, and torn the canvas roof to ribbons,
and we were without shelter from the pelting rain; but warm fires, kept
up in the middle of the temporary shelter, made us comfortable. To
protect my body from the rain, I would creep under the table, managing
to keep my feet near the fire. After a week of interesting and wild
adventure, I was set over the river by my friend, and started for the
mines again. The roads were very muddy, and the streams forded with
difficulty. In my first day’s walk I passed three wagons which were
mired--a common occurrence at this season of the year. There were many
dead animals by the road side. My Christmas eve I spent most cheerlessly
at Green Spring, and the next day reached Woods’s diggings. On the 26th
Dec. I visited Sullivan’s diggings, Jamestown, Yorktown, and Curtis’s
Creek. A residence in this portion of the mines was, in every way, more
desirable than in the more distant mines at this season. Provisions were
cheaper, and there was less danger of attacks from the Indians. All the
places I have mentioned, together with the Chinese diggings, Mormon
Gulch, Sonora, and others, were a cluster of mines lying near to each
other, and between the Stanislaus and Tuolumne Rivers. At each of these
places were trading tents and dwellings of the miners, chiefly of
canvas, with some log and hide houses, and one or two frame buildings.
Sonora is the principal of these, the residence chiefly of Mexicans and
Chilinos, of whom there are some twelve thousand. Here are furnished
provisions, clothing, tools, &c., at almost as low rates as at Stockton.
Its hotels, restaurants, and trading tents presented a very busy
appearance; and there is no place in the mines where gambling is so much
_the business_. Some comfortable houses have been erected here. After
visiting all the mines, and finding but indifferent prospects at any of
them, I located myself at Curtis’s Creek, to labor in the winter
diggings. I was without a companion, and had heard of a gentleman from
New England who was desirous of sharing his tent and provisions with
some one. He had been out of health, but was supposed to be improving.
My name had been mentioned to him by a friend before I arrived, and he
had expressed a desire to enter into such an arrangement as might be of
mutual advantage. He was considered a man of great intelligence and
worth; and it was partly with the hope of having him as a mining
companion that I had visited Curtis’s. His tent was a mile from the
settlement. Taking my roll of blankets, I walked over to see him. Judge
of my surprise, on reaching his tent, and raising the curtains at the
entrance, and stepping in, to find myself standing before a _corpse_,
laid out upon a hammock! I learned from a colored man, who soon came in,
that Mr. H. had died half an hour before. He was alone, and seemed to
have just been reaching from his bed for something. The last sentiment
to which he gave utterance was, “I believe I left home a moral and a
religious man; I have brought morality and religion with me, and, with
God’s assistance, I will keep them to the last.” Neither he nor others
supposed that he was dangerously sick. With the black man, I went out,
and we selected a spot beneath a large tree, and there we dug his grave.
The noon of the next day was the time named for the funeral, and notice
accordingly was sent to the various mines near by. It being
impracticable to provide a coffin, the body was wrapped in several
blankets, and a quantity of pine boughs spread at the bottom of the
grave. At the time appointed for the burial, most of the miners might be
seen leaving their various employments, and slowly walking in small
groups toward the grave. Another group--the bearers and friends--met
them, and all proceeded together on the way. How solemn and impressive,
under those circumstances, “the burial service” of the Church, which was
then performed. An appropriate hymn was sung, and the body laid in its
last repose, then covered with pine boughs, and the grave was filled up.
Having purchased the tent and a part of the provisions, I spent the two
following days, assisted by a friend--young Dr. R., of New Jersey--in
removing the tent, and preparing for the labors of mining. On the Sunday
following--the 30th Dec.--I was requested to go over to Woods’s diggings
and attend the funeral of a young man from Philadelphia. We had formerly
both listened together to the faithful preaching of the Rev. Mr. Fowles.
Could it have been anticipated, as I fixed my eye upon that healthy,
intelligent countenance at the close of the services, that in the wilds
of California I should so soon be called to pronounce over him the
solemn sentence--in this case sadly solemn--“_Earth to earth, ashes to
ashes, dust to dust!_” The brother of young A. was with him at the
mines, but he died alone. The next morning, the last of the year, Dr. R.
and myself started upon a prospecting excursion; and we returned at
night as wise, as rich, and a little more tired than we were when we
left in the morning.
Jan. 1st, 1850. It has rained hard all day. Engaged in washing and
mending clothes, cooking, writing, and reading. Before we separated for
the night, my friend, Dr. R., requested me to conduct “family worship.”
It was a simple request and a simple act, like every act of faith, and
appropriate to our situation and to the day, being the first of the
year. Only those who have experienced it, especially in a situation like
ours, know of the refreshing fountain of comfort which springs up in the
soul while kneeling before the throne of “our Father in heaven.” It was
family prayer; and we realized the delightful import of this expression.
The Being to whom we addressed our prayers was at that moment looking
with an eye of love upon each member of our dear families at home, and
our prayers would bring peace, protection, and blessings to them. It was
family prayer; and at that moment we felt the privilege of being united
with the great and happy family that worship the glorious and good Being
who loves and cares for all.
Jan. 2d. During the last night there was a robbery in the settlement,
which caused great excitement. A miner, formerly from Ohio, but who had
been many years in Oregon, where he had a pleasant home, had been
induced, by the hope of making a rapid fortune, to sell his valuable
property, and, taking his large family, to remove to the mines. There,
by hard labor and trading, he had laid up about $4000. Most of this sum
was in a trunk at the foot of the bed in their tent. During the night
this trunk was taken, and the next morning was found at some distance,
broken open, and the money gone. A boarder was immediately arrested on
suspicion, but, after a well-conducted trial, was released. We have made
37 cents each.
Jan. 3d. It has rained hard most of the day, and there was some thunder,
a very unusual occurrence in California. Spent a part of the day and all
the evening with Dr. R., singing, reading, &c. At the close of our
pleasant interview, again we “lifted the heart and bent the knee” in
prayer to Almighty God. In our visits to each other on these rainy days,
like the ladies at home, we often take our sewing with us. To-day I took
a pair of stockings to darn, one of my shoes to mend, and the
“Democratic Review” to read. While we plied our needles, our tongues
were equally busy speaking of mutual friends and hopes.
Jan. 4th. It has been clear to-day, but, owing to the high state of the
water, we could do but little. I have been favored with an introduction
to Captain Wadsworth, of Connecticut, a descendant of the captain of the
same name who is famous for having concealed the charter of the colony
in the Charter Oak. He cordially invited me to share with him a
pleasant house which he had spent some weeks in building, and which was
more comfortable than any thing I had seen in the mines. The house was
about ten feet square, inclosed by split rails, driven into the ground
perpendicularly side by side, and filled in with clay, the whole covered
with a tight canvas roof stretched over the rafters. The chimney was
large, and, when well filled with blazing wood, imparted an air of
comfort to every thing. We enjoyed luxuries uncommon in the mines--a
table and chairs. I soon found myself at home here.
Jan. 5th. It rained again; but we could not afford to be idle, though we
made a mere trifle by severe and exposing labor. To-night we have
weighed our week’s earnings, and find that they amount to $1 80. It is
more trying to the miner to be compelled to spend a day in idleness than
to engage in the most severe labor, even though that labor be
unprofitable. I have often been driven out by my own anxious thoughts to
work in a severe rain.
Jan. 6th, Sunday. A cloudy, unpleasant day. This forenoon, made a
“duff;” but what was to be done for a string with which to tie the bag?
I looked every where, but in vain. At last I thought of my shoe-string,
which I used for this purpose. When all was ready, I found that the duff
was too large for the kettle, so I boiled one end first, and then turned
the other, and boiled that.
Jan. 7th. Prospected with Captain Wadsworth at the Chilian diggings.
This is an open, level field, through which a stream formerly ran, but
which now has so little water that many of the miners take the dirt to
the river to be washed. Here was a large settlement of Chilinos, who
have come from their own gold mines to try their fortune here. They
often bring their families with them. I saw one family, the father of
which, assisted by the older children, was “panning out” gold on a
stream near his rude home made of hides. The mother was washing clothes,
while the infant was swinging in a basket made fast to the branches
overhead. An interesting girl of five years, with a tiny pick and spade,
was digging in a hole, already sunk two feet, and putting the dirt in a
pan, which she would take to the stream and wash, putting the scale or
two of gold into a dipper a little larger than a thimble. A heavy rain
drove us home, wet and cold. It continued to rain, with a few intervals,
during the remainder of the week; but a trunk of valuable books, owned
by Captain Wadsworth, served to occupy our minds. These employments,
with the writing of letters, singing, roasting our coffee, cooking,
visiting, &c., filled up the hours of these rainy days. We have made,
the whole week, $3 each.
I must again remind my reader that, if these details are uninteresting,
they are yet necessary as the filling up of a miner’s life. The bright
and glowing pictures presented to the public--the “news from
California”--“$2,000,000 in gold-dust”--“rich discoveries”--“new
diggings,” &c., must all be filled up with a back-ground of cloudy days,
of rainy weeks, broken hopes, privations, sickness, many a gloomy
death-scene, and many a lonely grave. With how much surprise, and often
indignation, do the miners read the “accounts from the mines,” which
come back to them in the newspapers from home! And with how much
satisfaction do they read the few truthful descriptions which they meet.
Jan. 13th, Sunday. The roads were so impassable to-day, from the late
rains, that I was unable to preach a funeral sermon at Woods’s, as I had
promised. There was preaching at Curtis’s in the forenoon, by a
Methodist, who gave us a good sermon, its only fault being its great
length. At the close, he invited all so disposed to attend a
class-meeting. Among others, a German, having an imperfect acquaintance
with our language, was called upon for his “experience.” With some
reluctance and hesitation, he arose, and said these few words: “I find
religion good when I do my duty; and when I don’t do my duty, I find
religion bad; but _I shall try to try_!” In the afternoon I selected for
my reading-desk and pulpit the stump of a tree which had been cut down,
on a level spot, in the midst of the settlement. The logs and large
branches of this tree had not yet been removed for fire-wood, and
furnished seats for my congregation. Our worship was very primitive, and
the whole scene would have been impressive to one of our assemblies at
home; but we remembered, to our edification, that God looks not upon the
outward appearance, but upon the heart. The singing was excellent,
conducted by a professor from the Boston Academy. After the preaching, I
invited all who wished to join a choir for mutual improvement in singing
to remain. A good number were present, and the professor was duly
elected chorister. Our arrangement was to meet before worship on Sunday,
and on Wednesday evenings, and devote two hours to this delightful
employment. Those hours I shall not soon forget. Sometimes, when some
old familiar tune was sung, which brought each one’s home circle before
his mind, silent but eloquent tears would start in many eyes.
Jan. 14th. In company with Captain W. and Dr. R., selected a spot where
a mountain ravine opens into the river, and a few yards below the place
where a company of Frenchmen took out, a few months since, a large
amount of gold. Our best prospect was in the channel of this mountain
stream. We spent some hours in diverting the stream from its course by a
dam and a canal on a small scale. Then, by bailing, we succeeded in
opening the channel. Most of the upper soil, with the stones, must be
removed, nearly to the primitive rock below, often a distance of some
feet, always ankle or knee deep in the mud. We were greatly encouraged,
in the present instance, by an indication of gold rarely presented.
About four inches from the surface of the ground, and in the loose upper
soil, I found a lump of gold weighing nearly three pennyweights. Greatly
cheered by this circumstance, we worked away with spade and pick, with
cradle and pan, hour after hour, and were rewarded by finding in our
treasury at night a few bright scales of gold, amounting to 25 cents.
Jan. 15th. This morning, notwithstanding the rain, we were again at our
work. We _must_ work. In sunshine and rain, in warm and cold, in
sickness and health, successful or not successful, early and late, it
is work, _work_, WORK! _Work or perish!_ All around us, above and below,
on mountain side and stream, the rain falling fast upon them, are the
miners at work--not for _gold_, but for _bread_. Lawyers, doctors,
clergymen, farmers, soldiers, deserters, good and bad, from England,
from America, from China, from the Islands, from every country but
Russia and Japan--all, all at work at their cradles. From morning to
night is heard the incessant rock, rock, rock! Over the whole mines, in
streamlet, in creek, and in river, down torrent and through the valley,
ever rushes on the muddy sediment from ten thousand busy rockers.
Cheerful words are seldom heard, more seldom the boisterous shout and
laugh which indicate success, and which, when heard, sink to a lower ebb
the spirits of the unsuccessful. We have made 50 cents each.
Jan. 16th. A friend put into my hands to-day a copy of the Boston
Journal. We laid it aside to read in the evening. But how was this to be
accomplished? The luxury of a candle we could not afford. Our method was
this: we cut and piled up a quantity of dry brush in a corner near the
fire, and after supper, while one put on the brush and kept up the
blaze, the other would read; and as the blaze died away, so would the
voice of the reader. Our work to-day has amounted to 80 cents each.
Jan. 17th. A very rainy, cold day. As Captain W. is sorely afflicted
with an eruption, which covers his whole body, probably the effects of
having handled the “poison oak,” which grows over the whole country, we
conclude to remain in, and finish the paper. Cutaneous diseases are
cured by the use of the soap-plant--_amole_. Captain W. has tried it
to-day, and been greatly benefited. We use it in bathing, washing
clothes, dishes, &c.
Jan. 18th. It has continued to rain. There has been some excitement in a
ravine near where we were at work. A company of six men found a place
from which they have taken out $18 to each every day through the week.
The place is now thronged. Every foot is taken up; and yet, of the
hundreds there, not five have made more than their living. Some only
made 12½ cents. We have worked there to-day, and made $2 each. This
evening we have had a pleasant meeting of our choir.
Jan. 19th. A fine day. We have made $1 each. Upon the bank of Curtis’s
Creek, two men to-day opened a rich deposit, and have brought to their
tent $105, while two others, hearing of their success, commenced just
above, and a company of five more below them. Those above in a short
time took out $64, and those below, $112. These instances of success,
being talked of at noon, created a great excitement. This afternoon the
bar presented a busy scene, and before night every foot of the lower
part of the bar was marked off and claimed.
Jan. 20th, Sunday. The singing and religious services were held to-day
in the trading-tent of Mr. Capps. My reading-desk was a brandy-cask; and
perhaps this might be said in favor of the change--it had long enough
been appropriated to the service of Satan, and its conversion to a
better cause was not undesirable.
Jan. 21st. The report of the success on the bar below on Saturday has
gone abroad and done its work. Many miners, much excited by the rumors,
greatly exaggerated by passing through the mouths of the traders, have
begun to come in. New tents are springing up, and new faces are seen;
but success through the day has been confined to the one deposit, which
proves to have run in a rich vein for some sixty feet, occasionally
disappearing, but always coming up again in the same line. A company of
six miners, from Illinois, made over four pounds of gold last week, then
gave up their claim, supposing it exhausted, to some friends, who made
three pounds more from it to-day.
Jan. 22d. In company with several experienced and successful miners,
went to some of the tributaries of the Tuolumne. We had gone three miles
from home, and were prospecting some of the higher ravines, the lower
being too full of water. It had been cloudy when we started, but we were
so accustomed to the rains of this country that we felt no concern; but
about noon a severe, cold wind sprung up, driving before it a storm of
snow. It came cutting and freezing into our faces. It was one of those
evils which must be met. I carried a spade in one hand, and a crow-bar
in the other; and that piece of cold iron penetrated into my soul. I
thought I had never before experienced the sensation of pure, unrelieved
_cold_. The ice-water into which I plunged my hands half an hour since,
on my return, felt warm. We were not at all prepared for such an event.
Ah! this mountain ramble, the heavy snow-flakes and hail pelting in our
faces, our hands and feet almost frozen, have gone far toward curing us
of any slight remains of the “yellow fever” which may have been clinging
to us!
Jan. 23d. A clear and cold day. The ground is covered with snow. Alone I
went to my cold and cheerless work. Those who are counting their bright
yellow coins think little of the privations which have been undergone,
the agonies which have been endured--think not of the living death, the
dying life it has cost to draw from the mines their golden eagles. Made
to-day 75 cents.
Jan. 24th. Last night it was intensely cold, and near morning commenced
snowing, which it has continued to do the whole day. A mail-agent has
come in to-day, and still no letters for me. It is now thirty-nine weeks
since my last letter from home was dated. I would purchase one line from
my wife with all the gold I have made during those thirty-nine weeks.
To-day, while a friend was seated by me, before Captain W.’s blazing
fire, we were speaking of the great number of persons who come to the
mines, and, after working a few days, become discouraged, and abandon
mining. He related the following instance, which he knows to have taken
place. A merchant from New York recently came up with high expectations,
having made all his arrangements and preparations to carry on mining for
one season. The fascinating interest which invests this whole subject at
a distance had drawn him on. Being a strong and vigorous man, blessed
with the grace of perseverance, he attributed the want of success, of
which so many complained, to their indolence or want of energy. The
question he frequently put, on his way to the mines, was, “How much may
be made by _hard and persevering_ labor?” as if he thought that _such_
labor must succeed. He reached the mines--saw, on the bar below him,
some miners _hard_ at work. As he watched them, he thought, “That,
indeed, is hard work, and here is an opportunity to judge for myself.”
He directed the muleteer to wait while he went down to the bar. There he
saw the preparations which had been made for washing, the stones and
dirt which had been removed before the gold could be reached. He saw the
men at the bottom of the pit, knee deep in mud, filling the buckets. He
followed those buckets to the cradle, watched the operation of washing
the dirt through, the cradle. As they prepared to wash down in pans, he
inquired, “How many buckets of dirt have been washed to procure the gold
now in the machine?” “Twenty-five,” was the reply. “And how many buckets
can be washed out in a day?” “Sometimes more and sometimes less; we wash
out one hundred and fifty.” “How many men in your company?” “Four.”
“While these inquiries were going on, one of the company was panning
down the gold, and brought it to where they were seated upon some rocks.
“How much gold is there in that pan?” he eagerly inquired. One said
there was $2, while the others thought there was not so much. It was
weighed, and found to be $1 62. He could make his own calculations of
their day’s labor. The sum total was $9 72; for each of the four men,
$2 43. He looked about him. There was all that pile of rubbish to be
removed--enough to employ them the whole day--before they could wash the
gold at all. “Where are your tents?” he asked. “We have none.” “Where
are your provisions?” “This money is to purchase them.” “You had better
purchase mine, which can be done cheap, as I shall be on my way to San
Francisco in ten minutes.” And to San Francisco he returned, and in
three weeks was established in a commission auction store.
Jan. 28th. Since my last date it has rained constantly, and some of the
time in torrents; but little work has been done. Yesterday a miner was
tried for stealing a small amount of gold, and, upon conviction, was
sentenced to receive five lashes, and to leave the mines in five days.
Reports have been circulating among us of some large lumps of gold
having been found at Sonora, one of which, it is asserted, weighs
seventy pounds.
Jan. 29th. It is a lovely spring morning, but the water is so high it is
impossible to work. The notes of the robin, the thrush, and the American
nightingale are heard, bringing back thoughts of the homes we have left.
The miners are beginning to talk of the summer diggings upon the rivers.
Many parties have gone on exploring expeditions, and it is said that
thousands of miners have all their provisions purchased, and but await
the melting of the snow from the mountains to cross over and take
possession of the _real_ El Dorado. Very little is doing here. We are
not averaging a dollar a day on the whole creek. A gentleman from New
England has just been telling me that he left a business, when he came
from home, which enabled him to lay up $500 a year; but that, since he
left home, which is now over a year, he has not made $200. Surely not
enough to support him. A newspaper, which has strayed into the mines
to-day, brings the astounding intelligence of the murder of Dr. Parkman,
and the arrest and trial of Professor Webster as the murderer.
Feb. 2d. Prospected to-day with Mr. L., of Livingston Manor, upon the
Hudson River. Mr. L. has a quiet, easy way, as he is seated upon some
rock, examining the dirt, and turning over the stones at the bottom of
some hole, which gives the impression to any one who may happen to be
looking on from a distance that he is picking up pieces of gold. We were
thus seated to-day, and he was scraping the clay from a stone, and
showed me several small scales, when two miners, who had been working
all day above us, hurried down, and eagerly asked what we _had_ found.
They would not believe when we told them, but sat there an hour,
watching every movement, ready, on the appearance of the lumps, to take
possession of the next claim. Miners practice many arts to deceive
others with regard to what they may be doing. Especially is this the
case if they are doing well, when they generally say they are doing
nothing, reasoning as did Sir Walter Scott after he had published
“Waverley,” and wishing to conceal his authorship. People had no right
to ask if he was the author, and therefore it was right for him to
deceive them. I found it was better to tell the truth. The very purpose
of concealment was thus better accomplished, for, speak as you might,
you were sure not to be believed, and you were thus spared the sin of a
falsehood. The only indication by which I came to judge that miners were
doing well in any place was to find them early and late, and constantly,
at their work. Our prospecting gave us 25 cents each.
Feb. 4th. This is a day to be remembered. _Letters from home!_ If any
one would learn the full significance of these words, let him pass ten
months in California without one word from his loved ones, an unhappy
exile from his own family. They may be sick, suffering, dying, and he
who should be near them, to care for, and protect, and comfort them, is
far away, and knows not their condition. It is an era in the mines--the
arrival of the mail-agent. How cheerfully are our two dollars a letter
paid. It was like receiving back my family from the _dead_--those
letters, after so _long_ and _weary a silence_. I am _happy_, and I am
_miserable_! I am _calm_, and I am _fearfully excited_! It is an era in
the miner’s life when such, although tardy, messengers reach him. I have
been present when many of these have given up to their owners their
treasures of love or their burden of wretchedness. One has just opened
his letter, and bursts into immoderate weeping. I inquire the cause. “My
wife and child are both dead!” A physician of one of the hospitals told
me that they dared not give their letters from home to those who were
very sick; that in several instances they had seen persons in this
condition, upon reading their letters, turn over and die.
A party of individuals, from the ranches on the plains below, passed us
on their way to the headwaters of the Tuolumne, in pursuit of Indians
who had stolen some of their mules. They were joined by numbers of the
miners.
Feb. 5th. There is some excitement with regard to a bar one mile above
us. Captain W. and myself have spent the day there, and have made $5 37
each. The lump of gold found at Sonora, and which, it was said, weighs
seventy pounds, weighs only twenty-two pounds. The miner through whom I
received my information had a claim next to the one in which this lump
was found. It lay within two inches of the very spot where he was at
work. One blow of his pick would have given him possession of it.
Feb. 6th. We have to-day made 75 cents each.
An interesting instance of success happened recently in a gulch upon the
Stanislaus in our vicinity. Two young men, on their way to the mines,
heard of this gulch, and concluded to commence their mining at that
place; but, when they arrived there, they found the whole ground,
considered favorable, occupied. Not knowing what to do or where to go,
they made their first essay in a small ravine, across which a log was
thrown for the convenience of the crowd constantly passing. In this
ravine, and by the side of that log, they dug their hole. They came to a
crevice in the rock, and saw opened before them a sight which makes the
miner’s heart glad--pounds of pure virgin gold, lying in lumps and
scales, but awaiting their slightest effort to transfer it to their own
pockets.
Feb. 7th. This forenoon my share was 25 cents. In the afternoon visited
Yorktown. The diggings here are at a distance from any stream, upon the
plain; but it is probable the stream once ran over the ground where the
gold is now found. Before the gold can be taken out, excavations must be
made, from twelve to twenty feet in depth. One cup showed about eight
ounces of beautiful gold taken out in five hours; but it must be
remembered that three men had been hard at work “clearing off” for seven
days, during which time no gold had been made. This work is so severe
and exposing that many at Yorktown are sick with rheumatism.
Feb. 8th. We divide to-day 12 cents to each man.
The party previously mentioned, who went out in pursuit of the Indians,
returned late last night, having with them the scalp of one Indian,
which they had taken after decoying him into ambush. They had mutilated
the body, and then dragged it about with ropes, made fast to the pummel
of the saddle. They rode through the settlement, almost too drunk to
keep their seats, firing their guns and pistols, while from their mouths
issued volleys of shrieks and imprecations. It must be mentioned, in
justice to several who started with this party, that, becoming disgusted
with the proceedings of their companions, they left them, and
consequently must not share in the disgrace of these transactions.
Feb. 9th. We visited a wild mountain ravine, and made $4 10 each to-day.
Feb. 11th, Monday. In the same place, we have made to each $5 62.
Feb. 12th. Have made 15 cents.
Feb. 13th. I must place a cipher against all our labors to-day. How
expressive the miner’s phrase, “Worked out!” Others may go after him and
make pounds of gold; but, do what he can, labor as he may, become
discouraged and leave, then return again and again, for him it is
“_worked out_,” and with “longing, lingering looks,” he at length
abandons it as a hopeless task.
Feb. 14th, Mormon Gulch. The rainy season seems to have passed. To-day,
in company with several companions, who purpose trying the ravine and
dry diggings with me, came to this place. This is a settlement about
four miles from Curtis’s. We found considerable excitement existing at
Woods’s as we came through. A miner, who was well known and esteemed,
was found near that settlement murdered. He started yesterday, with
considerable gold, intending to establish himself in some business in
Stockton. His life was taken for his money.
A quartz mountain near Woods’s, rising abruptly from the valley, and
showing its glittering white crest at its summit, drew our attention.
Some experiments have been made here to obtain gold from the rock, but
thus far without success.
All the winter encampments are breaking up. The miners are on the move.
The log and stone houses, and sometimes the tents, are deserted. Within
a short distance, we saw over three hundred pack-mules, moving about in
every direction.
Feb. 18th. Have spent the time since my last date in collecting the
statistics of winter mining from numerous miners in the various
encampments near me, and in writing to those at a greater distance. Have
brought over our effects to Mormon Gulch, and selected a spot upon which
to pitch our tent, at the foot of a mountain torrent, which descends
here almost at once--sometimes playfully, sometimes angrily--into the
valley. The mountains on both sides are high and precipitous. Directly
at the foot of the cascade, it widens out into a kind of bar. Upon this
we have selected a spot for our home. It is altogether one of the most
romantic spots I have ever seen. From this place we have a view of a
picturesque valley below and a wild cascade above us. When the stream is
swollen after a heavy rain, the cascade loses its beauty, but becomes
madly wild. Before we had erected our tent, the clouds, which had been
lowering over us, began to pour down their contents upon us. We were all
unprepared. Our provisions, clothing, and blankets were all wet. We
find--too late, alas!--that we have committed the same kind of error
with Cowper’s birds, who anticipated pairing time, and built their nests
too early. We had thought the winter over and gone, and the rainy season
past, and, leaving our winter homes, had only a small and leaky tent for
our shelter. There are four of us in company. Two of these are young
friends, like brothers, who left home, and have since remained together,
industrious, sober, and worthy young men, formerly in the employ of one
of the Lawrence manufacturing companies. The third is a
sailor--noble-hearted, sincere, frank, and full of fun and glee, yet a
most persevering and hard-working miner.
Feb. 20th. Our first day’s labor has given to each of us 45 cents. We
have worked in a loose, talcose slate, on the edges of the stream. The
gold is here coarser than in the rivers.
Feb. 21st. Have to-day made $1 each. Finding a place which seemed
favorable, lying upon the bed of the stream, we began to dig down and
throw off the top soil. We were soon interrupted by some persons, who
said we could not work there, as they claimed it. We inquired why they
had not left their pick or spade there, according to the custom. They
replied that all the miners there were bound to stand by each other in
maintaining their claims, which were known to each other. We find that
most of the ground is held in this way, without being marked off or
designated. The present alcalde, it is said, holds thirty of these
claims.
Feb. 22d. Two of the company went over to the Stanislaus to prospect. In
the place of gold, they brought back with them a bouquet of wild
flowers, which would have graced the centre-table of any parlor. Our
day’s labor gave $1 12 to each. We have been ejected from two claims
to-day, after working some time upon them. It seems that comparatively a
few persons have undertaken to monopolize most of the gold soil in the
gulch. They have driven off a large number of French miners from what is
called “French Bar,” and have likewise taken possession of that.
Feb. 23d. We have to-day divided our forces. Two of us commenced sinking
a hole upon French Bar, while the others went to a small stream running
through an extent of table-land on the top of the mountain. Those on the
bar below, of course, labored without present remuneration, as a deep
excavation must be made, requiring our united efforts for a week or ten
days. Those on the hill have made enough to divide $5 10 to each of us.
Feb. 25th. Those from the mountain have brought home $5 60 to each. We
have been delayed in our work in the valley by the caving in of the dirt
upon us, owing to the rain. At last we were compelled to abandon it for
the present.
During the last night we had a violent snow-storm, which broke down our
tent over our heads.
Feb. 26th. We commenced working upon another claim, but were again
driven from it. Appealed to the alcalde, who decided against us, but at
the same time pointed to another place, farther from the stream, where
he advised us to work. We had spent two hours in digging here, when two
miners laid claim to the ground, and soon brought the alcalde, who said
it was a misunderstanding, and that he had intended to give us another
place, upon which he then stood. There was then no doubt, and we worked
all the afternoon upon that place. From the mountain we received $1. 87
each. To our joy, we have found a plant which makes an excellent salad.
It grows abundantly about us. We have lived so long without vegetables
that this is a luxury.
Feb. 27th. It has been a cold day, with occasional dashes of snow. On
reaching our claim in the valley, we found a miner in possession. On
appealing to the alcalde, who had so decidedly given us the place only
yesterday, to our surprise he again decided against us. Those upon the
mountain made $6 62 to each of us. We all abandoned the valley, only
retaining our claim upon the French Bar, where we left our crow-bar as
our legal representative.
Feb. 28th. We had barely reached our place of labor this morning, upon
the mountain, when it came on to rain so violently as to drive us home.
We have spent the day in our tent, reading, writing, cooking, and
sleeping.
March 4th, Monday evening. We have been kept from work for several days
by the rain. Improved the time in prospecting upon the Stanislaus. Heard
of a ravine near the Green Springs where much gold has been found. In
the fall, when I was at Mr. Islip’s, I met an eccentric man named Texas
Jack. He told me that, early in the spring previous, while passing to
the Stanislaus mines by a nearer path across the mountains, he had
prospected in a ravine, and from one pan full of dirt had taken nearly a
pound of gold. I took the direction to the place, but, having learned
not to be led by such wonderful stories, I never visited the spot. Some
miners, a few weeks since, happened upon this very place, and, before
their secret was discovered, had made $8000. Several others had done
well there.
March 5th. We have all worked together upon the mountain to-day. During
the forenoon the vein ran out, and was nowhere to be found again. We
made many trials, but without success. Made $2 06 each.
March 6th. We worked in a ravine where a few rich deposits have been
found. One of our number, while working with his knife, in a few
moments took out three lumps, which together were worth $21 75; but,
during the whole of the day, the others of the company did not make 25
cents. The fields and the mountain sides begin to be clothed with the
most beautiful and variegated flowers. I had heard and read much of the
flowers of California, but they far surpass my highest anticipations.
They spring up at the close of the rainy season, thrive amid frost and
snow, live a short life of exceeding beauty, and soon die, cut down by
the heat of the dry season.
March 7th. We were driven in by the rain this afternoon, after having
made $1 25 each.
March 16th, Saturday. Since my last date, more than a week since, we
have dug to the bottom of our claim, though it caved in several times
upon us. We were so deep in the ground that we could not throw out the
dirt, and were compelled to throw it up upon a platform, and then from
the hole. After digging down eighteen feet, we were troubled with water,
which came in upon us so fast as to require one to be kept bailing much
of the time. At last we reached the bottom, washed the gold-dirt
carefully, and, as the result of a week’s labor for four of us, we
shared the sum of $1 87. We have had severe and continued rains. Every
thing is completely drenched. Our clothes, our blankets, our provisions,
are all wet and moldy. Our fire is extinguished. The water stands in
puddles under the pine boughs beneath our blankets. We were compelled to
cut small drains from the middle of the tent to the large drain which
surrounds it, and throw away the wet boughs, which Jack calls our
feathers. Then we kindled a large fire in the tent to dry it. The
playful stream, which lately ran by us so harmless, now roars and rages,
and is yet rising. The miners are pitching their tents farther up the
hill.
March 17th, Sunday. It was a beautiful morning. The sun shone out clear
and bright. We hung out our clothes and blankets to dry. The birds sang
their sweetest notes. All things seemed to be filled with grateful love
to the Creator and Preserver of all. Surely our hearts should not be
less disposed to devout praise and adoration. It was pleasant to follow
in the services of worship, as we thought it was being conducted at
home, and to make a sanctuary of our own hearts. By allowing a
difference of about three hours between the time at home and here, we
could enjoy this pleasure, and, at the same time with friends so far
from us, be engaged in the duties of worship. These were the meetings of
the heart--the reunions of faith; and they strengthened us, and led us
to trust more sincerely in the good promises of our Father.
March 18th. Formed, to-day, a company for trading purposes. Three of us
gave each $100. With this $300, one of our number has gone down to
Stockton to purchase goods. The rest of us went over, this morning, to
the Stanislaus, to prospect. During the ramble, I had collected
twenty-nine varieties of flowers, some of them most beautiful.
April 1st. During the remainder of the month, and in the absence of our
companion at Stockton, we made but $4 28 each. The weather became
moderate, and the dry season seemed to be setting in. The wind kept
steady from the dry quarter. The peculiarities of a Frenchman working
near us have amused us. Rain or shine, he is always seen without his
hat. He carries his rifle over his shoulder, and several pistols and his
knife in his belt. When he reaches his claim, he puts down a pistol on
each side of him, and his hole resembles a fort, of which he is the
undisputed owner. He came from New York with his son. He was doing a
business there worth $2000 a year to him, and gave $5000 for their
outfit. In the ten months since he left home, he has made nothing.
There is a company here from York county, Pennsylvania, numbering
fourteen strong, hard-working men. They have made but $50 the last four
weeks, or an average of 14 cents a day to each one. During this time we
have been exposed, every or every other day, to severe rains or snows,
the ice being sometimes half an inch thick. Crowds of miners still flock
in here, attracted by the fabulous reports of the richness of these
mines. Some have done well--a few very well--while the miners generally
have not made enough to support them.
Our trading operation did not amount to any thing. The expenses of
traveling, transportation of goods, time, &c., ate up the profits. I
have to-day received a letter from some friends and traveling companions
from Philadelphia, inviting me to visit them with reference to some
mining operations for the summer. They are living at Jacksonville, on
the Tuolumne River, some miles distant from us.
April 2d. To-day have walked over to Jacksonville, where I was greeted
with a cordial welcome. This is quite a settlement. There are some
comfortable houses here. As in every other settlement, the houses are of
every possible variety, according to the taste or means of the miner.
Most of these, even in winter, are tents. Some throw up logs a few feet
high, filling up with clay between the logs. The tent is then stretched
above, forming a roof. When a large company are to be accommodated with
room, or a trading depot is to be erected, a large frame is made, and
canvas is spread over this. Those who have more regard to their own
comfort or health, erect log or stone houses, covering them with thatch
or shingles. I have seen some very good houses at Aqua Frio made and
roofed with slate. Some comfortable wigwams are made of pine boughs
thrown up in a conical form, and are quite dry. Many only spread a piece
of canvas, or a blanket, over some stakes above them, while not a few
make holes in the ground, where they burrow like foxes. The covers of
these sometimes extend above ground, and are roofed with a plaster of
clay, looking like so many tombs. The Mexicans and Chilinos put up rude
frames, which they cover with hides. In two cases I have seen a kind of
basket, looking like a large nest, made fast among the branches, high up
in the trees. These may have been used by the Californians to guard
against wild beasts. The huts of the Indians are of various kinds,
always rude in their construction. They are similar to the wigwams of
the wild Indians found in the Western States. There is one house,
however, which deserves a passing notice. It is named _Tamascal_. It is
made under ground, in the vicinity of the Indian settlement. In this the
sick and infirm are sweated. This is a barbarous custom, and often ends
the life of the poor patient.
We have spent much of the night in conversing on our plans, and I have
determined to remove to this place. My friend, Mr. A., invites me to
share with him his tent. He offers also to accompany me to Mormon Gulch
to-morrow for my provisions, &c.
April 4th. Yesterday we walked over to the Gulch, where I made my few
arrangements, received from my companions there the exact amount which I
had deposited with them for trading purposes, and, having taken leave
this morning, we returned, bringing sixty pounds between us, to
Jacksonville.