BILL BURNES LYNCHING THE COLORED MAN--DICK ARNOLD--THE
MINING REGIONS--THE OLD-TIMERS DISPERSE--THE PHANTOMS OF THE
FORTY-NINERS--FORTY YEARS HAVE PASSED--THE ARGONAUTS’ SOLILOQUY--THE
GREAT CHANGES--THE FLIGHT OF TIME--THE NUMBER OF PIONEERS NOW LIVING.
“Oh, say, Pike, do you remember when Bill Burnes and his crowd of
border ruffians undertook to hang that colored chap, Bartlett, over on
Weaver Creek in ’51?” asked Tennessee.
“Oh, yaas, indeed,” answered Pike, “for you know I was right thar and
seen it all.”
“Well,” Yank continued, “when I was down there to the Bay there was
an article about that affair published in the _Argonaut_. But wasn’t
that little Providence chap, Dick Arnold, clear grit, though? But,
pshaw, who would want to run the risk of his life just to save a darky,
anyhow? You remember that I asked him afterwards how he could run such
a risk for a colored man, and a stranger, too.
“‘Oh, well,’ says the little black-eyed cuss, ‘if it had been a yellow
dog I would have done it all the same upon general principles, jest to
show that crowd that they couldn’t run this country any longer.
“‘Why, you remember that ’twas this same crowd, the Bill Burnes’
gang, who undertook to make trouble when we voted upon the adoption
of the constitution at Colonel Backus’ hotel; said they didn’t want
any constitution, governor, or law and order, anyhow, out here in
California, and they gave us to understand that if we Yanks undertook
that sort of business they would clean us out. At the meeting they
tried to scare us out, but found we didn’t scare worth a cent. So you
see, boys, when they started in to lynch the darky, Bartlett, me and my
pard concluded that they jest shouldn’t do anything of the kind. But,
pshaw, we didn’t run so much risk as you think, for we knew that kind
of a crowd. Why, when they see me running over on top of their heads,
with my knife in between my teeth to cut the rope, they knew right off
that some of them derned Yanks were around and they had better take
keer, and they did, too.’”
“But the best of it was,” said Pike, “to see old Schowton, the sheriff,
and the whole crowd jest go for the brush when Burnes throwed the rope
over the darkey’s head, and then jerked him up into the top of the oak
tree. Yes, and the judge, jury, sheriff and all hands ran a race to see
who would get into the brush first.”
“Well, but where were you and Yank all this time?” asked another.
“Well, I reckon’ we made for the brush, too, and I jest thought there
was agoin’ to be some shootin’, sure, for there was more than thirty of
that crowd along with Burnes, but when they seen them two little chaps
comin’ up the hill agin with the darkey, one on each side of him, with
their guns in their hands, they jest wilted.”
“Do you remember the chap, Joe Hart, who had that rich claim in White
Rock cañon, up near Hangtown,” Yank asked. “It was in ’50 that they
said he had $60,000 worth of dust salted down at that time. Well,
blamed if I didn’t meet him on Market street, in San Francisco, with a
back-load of brooms. He was peddling brooms, and told me that he could
make a very good living, that is if he wern’t very particular about how
good he lived. And one day I was riding in one of the street cars, and
who in thunder do you s’pose was driving it? Why, old Varmount, as we
used to call the little chap who had such a big claim at Forest Hill
in ’56. He went in some kind of business down thar, and when his money
gave out his business followed suit, and he got a job of car driving
for a living. I tell you it isn’t any use for an old miner to go down
there with his dust to go into business among strangers. There are lots
of chaps down there who are just laying for that kind of game. They had
better keep their dust up here, and help build up and improve the old
worn-out and deserted mining regions.
“For I tell you what it is: up here among these old hills is just going
to be the garden spot of California. No finer climate in the world, or
soil that is any better for raising fruit, grape vines, or kids either.
I just reckon that we old Forty-niners will live to see the time when
all these old hills, flats and ravines where we used to
[Illustration: DICK ARNOLD RESCUING BARTLETT.]
mine, which we have tramped over for so many years prospecting, will
all be levelled off, fenced in, and planted with vines and fruit trees.
Yes, they will sure; for people are just now coming from the East, and
it won’t be long before you will see railroads running up into all
these old deserted mining regions, just as there is soon going to be
up into old Hangtown. Just imagine the bell ringing, and the engine
whistling as it flies up through the ravines among the hills where we
mined in early days. Why, boys, suppose when we were up there to work
forty years ago, some of the boys had said that the time would come,
and we would live to see it, when these hills and flats would be fenced
in, covered with fruit trees and vines, and with nice pleasant homes
around in among them, and that a railroad would be built, and a train
of cars would be seen rolling up into old Hangtown, too. Why, they
would have been called crazy, and the preachers would have been sent
for to come and hold an inquest over them.”
As it was now getting late in the day, a few of the old miners who had
fruit ranches near by were soon compelled to leave. The five old-timers
were making preparations to start for other mining localities. Jeff was
on his way to Arizona, having heard of the new mines there. Yank was
about starting for the Yukon. Jersey was headed for the Cœur D’Alene
silver region, where he was interested in a galena and silver mine,
from which he was expecting to realize an immense fortune, whilst
Tennessee and Jim had concluded to examine the Kootenai country, in
British Columbia. Jeff remarked:
“Well, now, boys, we are soon to part again, each to go his own way,
but all determined to continue in the old business of prospecting to
the end, unless we strike a pile in time to enjoy a few years before we
go, relief from our labor in quiet and comfort down in the big city by
the sea.”
“Yes,” says Yank, “and we will continue in this business for all time.
And just let the present generation hand it down to their children,
and to their children’s children, as well as to all future generations
who will make their dwelling places throughout the old mining regions,
that those phantoms that are occasionally seen wandering about among
the ravines and cañons in the dead hours of night, carrying upon their
backs rolls of blankets, as well as an old tin pan, pick and shovel,
are only the restless spirits of a few old miners who are, from force
of habit, hunting for some spot
[Illustration: WALLACE, IDAHO TERRITORY.
(See page 302)]
where they can get a few colors to the pan, and find the bed rock
pitching. They are the spirits of Jeff, Yank, Old Pike, Tennessee,
Jersey and Jim, the old Forty-niners.”
It is now forty years since a few thousands of hardy adventurers sailed
out upon the broad ocean from the various sea ports on the Atlantic
coast, and also about an equal number of thousands crossed the barren
plains in that eventful and long-to-be-remembered year of 1849, to
follow upon the trail of the Star of the Westward-bound Empire, which,
tradition said, was coursing across the continent, and which was
supposed to have finally set somewhere upon the Pacific Coast. And what
a transformation has taken place since their arrival upon the shores of
California! Here, where we first landed, where all appeared like a vast
army encampment, with the sand hills dotted with tents, we now find,
in place of those primitive and original conditions, a great city, the
foundations of which were laid by those original tent-dwellers, and
which has in a few short years sprung into existence as if impelled by
some magical-hidden subterranean influence in the mountain regions. And
it is this magical influence, more potent than the lamp of Aladdin,
which has accomplished such wonderful transformations in so short a
space of time that we have come thousands of miles by sea, as well
as across barren sands and deserts, to seek for the widely scattered
fragments of the once richly paved streets of the “New Jerusalem.”
These wonderful transformations are not, however, confined to the few
large cities of the plains, or to those the foundations of which are
laid by the sea, but are visible over the entire country, for even
among the hills and mountains ranges, as well as in the broad and rich
valley bottoms, can now be seen the pleasant homes and residences of
the farmer, the fruit, and the vine grower. There can also be seen
occasionally the homes of those who are yet engaged in the mining
industry. There can yet be seen, also, among the deep ravines, upon the
level spots of the steep sides of the cañons, and in other localities,
the ruins of the once pleasant homes of the old Forty-niners; but
these have, in the great majority of cases, like the greater number
of their once happy and energetic occupants, gone to decay. Many of
them, however, yet exist in form, and to all outward appearances, from
a distance, have an air of usefulness and solidity; but upon a nearer
approach it will be
[Illustration: PHANTOM PROSPECTORS.]
found that the foundation only remains; the bark upon the old logs has
rotted and fallen off, and the decayed logs have a seedy, antiquated
appearance. The once palatial residences of the old-timers, which have
withstood the storms and battled with the elements for nearly forty
years, are now, like many of their former occupants, existing only
in form. They have fought the fight and have won, and many of them
are yet in existence, roaming upon various portions of the earth’s
surface, resembling in their seedy and antiquated appearance the old
logs of their ancient castles among the mountain ranges, and like these
requiring but a slight push or a gentle breeze to throw them from their
foundations into the ravine below.
Yet there is, after all, among the old Forty-niners a great
satisfaction when, from a commanding eminence or standing upon the
rugged cliff of some mountain peak, the Argonaut can take a view of
the surrounding country spread out before him below, and see the
pleasant homes upon the flats, among the ravines and sunny slopes of
the hillsides of the once thickly populated mining region. The country
that once was dreary and desolate, now covered with extensive forests
of fruits and vineyards; and away further back among the hills, where
formerly dwelt the grizzly and other wild animals, can now be seen the
cabins of the herders with their immense droves of cattle and flocks
of sheep. In the valleys below he can see fields of waving grain,
and the railroad trains rushing through them in various directions,
filled with travelers from all parts of the world who have come to view
this wonderful transformation scene. He includes, also, in the view
the great cities beyond, which have risen during this brief period,
and are now filled with a busy crowd, all engaged in fierce warfare,
endeavoring to see who will get there first, and in which none are
anticipating that they will get left.
All this the old-timer views from his lofty perch upon the mountain
summit, and with these thoughts running in his mind:
“Although I am not at present in a suitable condition or circumstances
to take an active part in the busy scene, or even to mingle with the
well-dressed crowds that are promenading the streets of the great
cities (for the stylish plug hat that I sported in my early mining
days has long since been jammed and knocked out of shape by my mining
acquaintances, my store clothes are in tatters, and my biled shirt
and fancy necktie also have long since faded and gone), yet there is
consolation in the thought that I assisted by my labor to lay the
foundation of all this grand panorama, in motion below me. And amid the
solid rocks which form the foundation, and beneath the corner-stone
upon which the whole fabric rests, will be found the results of my
labor, cheerfully contributed towards the erection of this grand and
noble structure.”
To an old-timer, the wonderful changes and transformations which have
taken place within, apparently, so short a space of time are hard
to realize; and one who has followed the business of mining, more
particularly for many years, finds it difficult, even, to grasp the
fact that so many long years have come and gone since he first landed
upon the shores of the country.
But why does life seem so short to the miner, and why do the years
seem to crowd so quickly upon each other, and to pass in such rapid
succession? That such, however, is the case, and that we grow up amid
the excitement of such conditions unconscious of the existence of time,
all old miners can testify to. We find that before we are aware of it
our hair is tinged with gray; our children grown up around us; they,
in their turn are married, and lo, and behold, we, the old-timers, who
have remained unconscious of the fact that time will not even wait for
a Forty-niner, are to our astonishment informed that we have attained
at last to that period of our existence when we can adopt the title of
father with the grand in front of it. But why does time pass so rapidly
with those who are engaged in mining? Is it in the climate? No, but
in the industry which we follow. We read in Pope that man never is,
but always to be, blessed, and this applies to the business of mining
with full force; for the miner never has yet, but always is just going
to strike it. It is always just a little ahead, and so it continues
to the miner, for but a small proportion of them ever reach it. Yet
the continuation of daily, weekly and yearly anticipations, as yet
unrealized, but which are soon to be, causes time to pass unobserved,
and the old Forty-niner, who, in his imagination, has been here but a
few short years, finds to his astonishment, when the little ones are
climbing over him, pulling his whiskers and calling him “Grandpa,” when
he comes to think of it, as old Pike would say, that he has been here a
right smart chance.
But the old miner might ask if this is not true of all other kinds of
business, or of human affairs in general, as well as the business of
mining? No, only to a limited extent, although, ’tis true enough, as
observation and experience shows us, that the continual expectation of
the satisfaction of our desires is the fundamental base of all human
action; the one great incentive to exertion. We find, however, that
whilst a reasonable length of time in which to satisfy our desires is
allowed and expected in all other kinds of business, in mining the
case is reversed. And it was for this reason that thousands left their
Eastern homes, upon the discovery of gold in California, believing
it possible that gold in large quantities could be scraped up from
the surface of the earth in a very short space of time. If a proper
knowledge of gold mining had been as well understood at that time as
has since been acquired by dearly-bought experience, and that only
about the same proportion of persons would have succeeded in it as was
possible in any other business requiring the same space of time for its
development, the emigration to this Coast would have been much less
in early days. The amount extracted from the mines would, no doubt,
have been the same and with similar effects, perhaps. At any rate, the
expectations of the early pioneers would have been more reasonable, and
disappointments in the business of mining would have been less, since
they would have corresponded with such expectations.
In view of the fact that forty years have now elapsed since the
exciting news was wafted across the continent that gold had been
discovered upon the Pacific Coast, it would be of great interest to
know what has become of this vast army of gold seekers, the Argonauts,
who left their friends and homes in the year ’49.
The estimate has been made that the number of vessels which sailed from
the Atlantic seaports of the United States in the year ’49, including
steamers bound for California, was something near 400. The number of
persons, including the emigration across the plains in ’49, therefore,
who left their Eastern homes in the year ’49 to seek their fortunes
upon this side of the continent, must have been nearly 60,000. Taking
an estimate of those who are now living, and of those who joined the
various Pioneer Associations, it would be safe to conclude that there
are living at present of that vast multitude, at least 15,000. About
8,000 of them are living upon the Pacific Coast, while the greater
portion of the remainder are scattered
[Illustration: THE FLIGHT OF TIME.]
throughout the United States from Bangor, Maine, to New Orleans on the
south, and to Colorado in a westerly direction.
The greater portion of the Argonauts are making their homes in the
towns and cities, where very many of them are yet engaged in active
business; while a journey throughout the agricultural districts of the
Pacific Coast will discover the fact that large numbers are engaged
in farming in all its various branches of grain, fruit and stock
raising. In some of the mining counties will be found, also, many of
the old-timers who have abandoned the business of mining, and are now
engaged in the fruit industry, and in many cases, too, in the very
same localities where they mined long years ago. They have filled up
the deep shafts, levelled off the piles of rocks and tailings, and by
means of brush dams have restored again to their original condition the
barren and stony places which were washed out in the search for gold.
A visit to some of the now deserted mining camps throughout the mining
regions, will bring to light many of the old pioneers who are yet
lingering around the spot where they first located upon their arrival,
loath to break away from their first and earliest associations, and
content to remain and live over again, in imagination, the early mining
days, with their pleasing incidents and associations. Of the Argonauts
who are at present engaged in mining the number would be found small,
not exceeding, perhaps, 500. But they are scattered throughout the
length and breath of the Pacific Coast, wherever there is a prospect of
new mining discoveries, from Mexico to the Arctic Ocean, and a few of
them will be found in every mining camp of any importance.
[Illustration: “HOW DO YOU DO, WILLIAM?”]