upon us. They declared their perfect conviction of his innocence, and
the latter remarked that if any one would accompany him he would walk
up to the spot and examine the hole from whence the culprit affirmed
that he had taken his money only three days ago, as he very naturally
supposed that it would still exhibit signs of having been recently
opened. It was finally agreed that the victim, who had never described
the place to the Squire, should give a minute description of it,
unheard by His Honor, to F., and afterwards should lead the former,
accompanied by his counsel, (no one else could be persuaded to make
such martyrs of themselves,) to the much-talked-of spot. And, will you
believe it, M.? those two obstinate men actually persevered, although
it was nearly dark, and a very cold, raw, windy night, in walking half
a mile up one of the steepest hills on what the rest thought a perfect
fool's errand! To be sure, they have triumphed for the moment, for the
Squire's description, on their return, tallied exactly with that
previously given to F. But, alas! the infidels remained infidels still.
Then W. bet an oyster-supper for the whole party, which F. took up,
that Miller, on his return, would confirm his client's statement. For
fear of accidents, we had the oysters that night, and very nice they
were, I assure you. This morning the hero of the last three days
vanished to parts unknown. And thus endeth the Squire's first attempt
to sit in judgment in a criminal case. I regret his failure very much,
as do many others. Whether any one else could have succeeded better, I
cannot say. But I am sure that no person could more sincerely _desire_
and _try_ to act for the best good of the community than the Squire.
I suppose that I should be as firm a believer in John's innocence as
any one, had he not said to F. and others that if he had taken the
money they could not _prove_ it against him, and many other similar
things, which seem to me totally incompatible with innocence.
LETTER _the_ TENTH
[_The_ PIONEER, _November_, 1854]
AMATEUR MINING--HAIRBREADTH 'SCAPES, &C.
SYNOPSIS
Three dollars and twenty-five cents in gold-dust. Sorry she learned the
trade. The resulting losses and suffering. Secret of the brilliant
successes of former gold-washeresses. Salting the ground by miners in
order to deceive their fair visitors. Erroneous ideas of richness of
auriferous dirt resulting therefrom. Rarity of lucky strikes. Claim
yielding ten dollars a day considered valuable. Consternation and
near-disaster in the author's cabin. Trunk of forest giant rolls down
hill. Force broken by rock near cabin. Terror of careless woodman.
Another narrow escape at Smith's Bar. Pursuit and escape of woodman.
Two sudden deaths at Indian Bar. Inquest in the open. Cosmopolitan
gathering thereat. Wife of one of the deceased an advanced bloomer.
Animadversions on strong-minded bloomers seeking their rights.
California pheasant, gallina del campo of the Spaniards. Pines and dies
in captivity. Smart, harmless earthquake-shocks.
Letter _the_ Tenth
AMATEUR MINING-HAIRBREADTH 'SCAPES, &C.
_From our Log Cabin_, INDIAN BAR,
_November_ 25, 1851.
Nothing of importance has happened since I last wrote you, except that
I have become a _mineress_, that is, if the having washed a pan of dirt
with my own hands, and procured therefrom three dollars and twenty-five
cents in gold-dust, which I shall inclose in this letter, will entitle
me to the name. I can truly say, with the blacksmith's apprentice at
the close of his first day's work at the anvil, that I am sorry I
learned the trade, for I wet my feet, tore my dress, spoilt a pair of
new gloves, nearly froze my fingers, got an awful headache, took cold,
and lost a valuable breastpin, in this my labor of love. After such
melancholy self-sacrifice on my part, I trust you will duly prize my
gift. I can assure you that it is the last golden handiwork you will
ever receive from Dame Shirley.
Apropos of lady gold-washers in general, it is a common habit with
people residing in towns in the vicinity of the diggings to make up
pleasure-parties to those places. Each woman of the company will
exhibit, on her return, at least twenty dollars of the oro, which she
will gravely inform you she has just panned out from a single basinful
of the soil. This, of course, gives strangers a very erroneous idea of
the average richness of auriferous dirt. I myself thought (now, don't
laugh) that one had but to saunter gracefully along romantic streamlets
on sunny afternoons, with a parasol and white kid gloves perhaps, and
to stop now and then to admire the scenery, and carelessly rinse out a
small panful of yellow sand (without detriment to the white kids,
however, so easy did I fancy the whole process to be), in order to fill
one's work-bag with the most beautiful and rare specimens of the
precious mineral. Since I have been here I have discovered my mistake,
and also the secret of the brilliant success of former gold-washeresses.
The miners are in the habit of flattering the vanity of their fair
visitors by scattering a handful of "salt" (which, strange to say, is
_exactly_ the color of gold-dust, and has the remarkable property of
often bringing to light very curious lumps of the ore) through the dirt
before the dainty fingers touch it, and the dear creatures go home with
their treasures, firmly believing that mining is the prettiest pastime
in the world.
I had no idea of permitting such a costly joke to be played upon me; so
I said but little of my desire to "go through the motions" of
gold-washing, until one day, when, as I passed a deep hole in which
several men were at work, my companion requested the owner to fill a
small pan, which I had in my hand, with dirt from the bed-rock. This
request was, of course, granted, and the treasure having been conveyed
to the edge of the river, I succeeded, after much awkward maneuvering
on my own part, and considerable assistance from friend H., an
experienced miner, in gathering together the above-specified sum. All
the diggers of our acquaintance say that it is an excellent "prospect,"
even to come from the bed-rock, where, naturally, the richest dirt is
found. To be sure, there are, now and then, "lucky strikes," such, for
instance, as that mentioned in a former letter, where a person took out
of a single basinful of soil two hundred and fifty-six dollars. But
such luck is as rare as the winning of a hundred-thousand-dollar prize
in a lottery. We are acquainted with many here whose gains have _never_
amounted to much more than wages, that is, from six to eight dollars a
day. And a claim which yields a man a steady income of ten dollars _per
diem_ is considered as very valuable.
I received an immense fright the other morning. I was sitting by the
fire, quietly reading "Lewis Arundel," which had just fallen into my
hands, when a great shout and trampling of feet outside attracted my
attention. Naturally enough, my first impulse was to run to the door,
but scarcely had I risen to my feet for that purpose, when a mighty
crash against the side of the cabin, shaking it to the foundation,
threw me suddenly upon my knees. So violent was the shock that for a
moment I thought the staunch old logs, mossed with the pale verdure of
ages, were falling in confusion around me. As soon as I could collect
my scattered senses, I looked about to see what had happened. Several
stones had fallen from the back of the chimney, mortar from the latter
covered the hearth, the cloth over-head was twisted into the funniest
possible wrinkles, the couch had jumped two feet from the side of the
house, the little table lay on its back, holding up _four_ legs instead
of _one_, the chessmen were rolling merrily about in every direction,
the dishes had all left their usual places, the door, which, ever
since, has obstinately refused to let itself be shut, was thrown
violently open, while an odd-looking pile of articles lay in the middle
of the room, which, upon investigation, was found to consist of a pail,
a broom, a bell, some candlesticks, a pack of cards, a loaf of bread, a
pair of boots, a bunch of cigars, and some clay pipes (the only things,
by the way, rendered utterly _hors de combat_ in the assault). But one
piece of furniture retained its attitude, and that was the elephantine
bedstead, which nothing short of an earthquake could move. Almost at
the same moment several acquaintances rushed in, begging me not to be
alarmed, as the danger was past.
"But what has happened?" I eagerly inquired.
"O, a large tree, which was felled this morning, has rolled down from
the brow of the hill." And its having struck a rock a few feet from the
house, losing thereby the most of its force, had alone saved us from
utter destruction.
I grew sick with terror when I understood the awful fate from which
Providence had preserved me, and even now my heart leaps painfully with
mingled fear and gratitude when I think how closely that pale
death-shadow glided by me, and of the loving care which forbade it to
linger upon our threshold.
Every one who saw the forest giant descending the hill with the force
of a mighty torrent expected to see the cabin instantly prostrated to
the earth. As it was, they all say that it swayed from the
perpendicular more than six inches.
Poor W., whom you may remember my having mentioned in a former letter
as having had a leg amputated a few weeks ago, and who was visiting us
at the time, (he had been brought from the Empire in a rocking-chair,)
looked like a marble statue of resignation. He possesses a face of
uncommon beauty, and his large, dark eyes have always, I fancy, a
sorrowful expression. Although he knew from the first shout what was
about to happen, and was sitting on the couch which stood at that side
of the cabin where the log must necessarily strike, and in his
mutilated condition had, as he has since said, not the faintest hope of
escape, yet the rich color for which he is remarkable paled not a shade
during the whole affair.
The woodman who came so near causing a catastrophe was, I believe,
infinitely more frightened than his might-have-been victims. He is a
good-natured, stupid creature, and did not dare to descend the hill
until some time after the excitement had subsided. The ludicrous
expression of terror which his countenance wore when he came in to see
what damage had been done, and to ask pardon for his carelessness, made
us all laugh heartily.
W. related the almost miraculous escape of two persons from a similar
danger last winter. The cabin, which was on Smith's Bar, was crushed
into a mass of ruins almost in an instant, while an old man and his
daughter, who were at dinner within its walls, remained sitting in the
midst of the fallen logs, entirely unhurt. The father immediately
seized a gun and ran after the careless woodman, swearing that he would
shoot him. Fortunately for the latter (for there is no doubt that in
the first moments of his rage the old man would have slain him), his
younger legs enabled him to make his escape, and he did not dare to
return to the settlement for some days.
It has heretofore been a source of great interest to me to listen to
the ringing sound of the ax, and the solemn crash of those majestic
sentinels of the hills as they bow their green foreheads to the dust,
but now I fear that I shall always hear them with a feeling of
apprehension mingling with my former awe, although every one tells us
that there is no danger of a repetition of the accident.
Last week there was a post-mortem examination of two men who died very
suddenly in the neighborhood. Perhaps it will sound rather barbarous
when I tell you that as there was no building upon the Bar which
admitted light enough for the purpose, it was found necessary to
conduct the examination in the open air, to the intense interest of the
Kanakas, Indians, French, Spanish, English, Irish, and Yankees, who had
gathered eagerly about the spot. Paganini Ned, with an anxious desire
that Mrs. ---- should be _amused_ as much as possible in her
mountain-home, rushed up from the kitchen, his dusky face radiant with
excitement, to inform me that I could see both the bodies by just
looking out of the window! I really frightened the poor fellow by the
abrupt and vehement manner in which I declined taking advantage of his
kindly hint.
One of the deceased was the husband of an American lady lecturess of
the most intense description; and a strong-minded bloomer on the
broadest principles.
Apropos, how _can_ women, many of whom, I am told, are _really_
interesting and intelligent,--how _can_ they spoil their pretty mouths
and ruin their beautiful complexions by demanding with Xanthippian
_fervor_, in the presence, often, of a vulgar, irreverent mob, what the
gentle creatures are pleased to call their "rights"? How _can_ they
wish to soil the delicate texture of their airy fancies by pondering
over the wearying stupidities of Presidential elections, or the
bewildering mystifications of rabid metaphysicians? And, above all, how
_can_ they so far forget the sweet, shy coquetries of shrinking
womanhood as to don those horrid bloomers? As for me, although a
_wife_, I never wear the--well, you know what they call them when they
wish to quiz henpecked husbands--even in the strictest privacy of life.
I confess to an almost religious veneration for trailing drapery, and I
pin my vestural faith with unflinching obstinacy to sweeping
petticoats.
I knew a strong-minded bloomer at home, of some talent, and who was
possessed, in a certain sense, of an excellent education. One day,
after having flatteringly informed me that I really _had_ a "soul above
buttons" and the nursery, she gravely proposed that I should improve my
_mind_ by poring six hours a day over the metaphysical subtleties of
Kant, Cousin, etc., and I remember that she called me a "piece of
fashionable insipidity," and taunted me with not daring to go out of
the beaten track, because I _truly_ thought (for in those days I was an
humble little thing enough, and sincerely desirous of walking in the
right path as straitly as my feeble judgment would permit) that there
were other authors more congenial to the flowerlike delicacy of the
feminine intellect than her pet writers.
When will our sex appreciate the exquisite philosophy and truth of
Lowell's remark upon the habits of Lady Redbreast and her esposo Robin,
as illustrating the beautifully varied spheres of man and woman?--
He sings to the wide world, she to her nest;
In the nice ear of Nature, which song is the best?
Speaking of birds reminds me of a misfortune that I have lately
experienced, which, in a life where there is so little to amuse and
interest one, has been to me a subject of real grief. About three weeks
ago, F. saw on the hill a California pheasant, which he chased into a
coyote-hole and captured. Knowing how fond I am of pets, he brought it
home and proposed that I should try to tame it. Now, from earliest
childhood I have resolutely refused to keep _wild_ birds, and when I
have had them given to me (which has happened several times in this
country,--young bluebirds, etc.), I have invariably set them free, and
I proposed doing the same with the pretty pheasant, but as they are the
most delicately exquisite in flavor of all game, F. said that if I did
not wish to keep it he would wring its neck and have it served up for
dinner. With the cruelty of kindness--often more disastrous than that
of real malice--I shrank from having it killed, and consented to let it
run about the cabin.
It was a beautiful bird, a little larger than the domestic hen. Its
slender neck, which it curved with haughty elegance, was tinted with
various shades of a shining steel color. The large, bright eye glanced
with the prettiest shyness at its captors, and the cluster of feathers
forming its tail drooped with the rare grace of an ostrich-plume. The
colors of the body were of a subdued brilliancy, reminding one of a
rich but somber mosaic.
As it seemed very quiet, I really believed that in time we should be
able to tame it. Still, it _would_ remain constantly under the sofa or
bedstead. So F. concluded to place it in a cage for a few hours of each
day, in order that it might become gradually accustomed to our
presence. This was done, the bird appearing as well as ever, and after
closing the door of its temporary prison one day I left it and returned
to my seat by the fire. In less than two minutes afterwards, a slight
struggle in the cage attracted my attention. I ran hastily back, and
you may imagine my distress when I found the beautiful pheasant lying
lifeless upon the ground. It never breathed or showed the faintest sign
of life afterwards.
You may laugh at me if you please, but I firmly believe that it died of
homesickness. What wonder that the free, beautiful, happy creature of
God, torn from the sight of the broad blue sky, the smiling river, and
the fresh, fragrant fir-trees of its mountain-home, and shut up in a
dark, gloomy cabin, should have broken in twain its haughty little
heart? Yes, you may laugh, call me sentimental, etc., but I shall never
forgive myself for having killed, by inches, in my selfish and cruel
kindness, that pretty creature.
Many people here call this bird a grouse, and those who have crossed
the plains say that it is very much like the prairie-hen. The Spanish
name is gallina del campo, literally, hen of the field. Since the death
of my poor little victim, I have been told that it is utterly
impossible to tame one of these birds, and it is said that if you put
their eggs under a domestic fowl, the young, almost as soon as hatched,
will instinctively run away to the beloved solitudes of their congenial
homes, so passionately beats for liberty each pulse of their free and
wild natures.
Among the noteworthy events which have occurred since my last, I don't
know how I came to forget until the close of my letter two smart shocks
of an earthquake to which we were treated a week ago. They were
awe-inspiring, but, after all, were nothing in comparison to the
timber-quake, an account of which I have given you above. But as F. is
about to leave for the top of the Butte Mountains with a party of Rich
Barians, and as I have much to do to prepare him for the journey, I
must close.
LETTER _the_ ELEVENTH
[_The_ PIONEER, _December_, 1854]
ROBBERY, TRIAL, EXECUTION--MORE TRAGEDY
SYNOPSIS
Theft of gold-dust. Arrest of two suspected miners. Trial and acquittal
at miners' meeting. Robbed persons still believe accused guilty.
Suspects leave mountains. One returns, and plan for his detection is
successful. Confronted with evidence of guilt, discloses, on promise of
immunity from prosecution, hiding-place of gold-dust. Miners, however,
try him, and on conviction he is sentenced to be hanged one hour
thereafter. Miners' mode of trial. Respite of three hours. Bungling
execution. Drunken miner's proposal for sign of guilt or innocence.
Corpse "enwrapped in white shroud of feathery snowflakes". Execution
the work of the more reckless. Not generally approved. The Squire,
disregarded, protested. Miners' procedure compared with the moderation
of the first Vigilance Committee of San Francisco. Singular disappearance
of body of miner. Returning to the States with his savings, his two
companions report their leaving him in dying condition. Arrest and
fruitless investigation. An unlikely bequest of money. Trial and
acquittal of the miner's companions. Their story improbable, their
actions like actual murder.
Letter _the_ Eleventh
ROBBERY, TRIAL, EXECUTION--MORE TRAGEDY
_From our Log Cabin_, INDIAN BAR,
_December_ 15, 1851.
I little thought, dear M., that here, with the "green watching hills"
as witnesses, amid a solitude so grand and lofty that it seems as if
the faintest whisper of passion must be hushed by its holy stillness, I
should have to relate the perpetration of one of those fearful deeds
which, were it for no other peculiarity than its startling suddenness,
so utterly at variance with all _civilized_ law, must make our
beautiful California appear to strangers rather as a hideous phantom
than the flower-wreathed reality which she is.
Whether the life which a few men, in the impertinent intoxication of
power, have dared to crush out was worth that of a fly, I do not
know,--perhaps not,--though God alone, methinks, can judge of the value
of the soul upon which he has breathed. But certainly the effect upon
the hearts of those who played the principal parts in the revolting
scene referred to--a tragedy, in my simple judgment, so utterly
useless--must be demoralizing in the extreme.
The facts in this sad case are as follows. Last fall, two men were
arrested by their partners on suspicion of having stolen from them
eighteen hundred dollars in gold-dust. The evidence was not sufficient
to convict them, and they were acquitted. They were tried before a
meeting of the miners, as at that time the law did not even _pretend_
to wave its scepter over this place.
The prosecutors still believed them guilty, and fancied that the gold
was hidden in a coyote-hole near the camp from which it had been taken.
They therefore watched the place narrowly while the suspected men
remained on the Bar. They made no discoveries, however, and soon after
the trial the acquitted persons left the mountains for Marysville.
A few weeks ago, one of these men returned, and has spent most of the
time since his arrival in loafing about the different barrooms upon the
river. He is said to have been constantly intoxicated. As soon as the
losers of the gold heard of his return, they bethought themselves of
the coyote-hole, and placed about its entrance some brushwood and
stones in such a manner that no one could go into it without disturbing
the arrangement of them. In the mean while the thief settled at Rich
Bar, and pretended that he was in search of some gravel-ground for
mining purposes.
A few mornings ago he returned to his boarding-place, which he had left
some hour earlier, with a spade in his hand, and, as he laid it down,
carelessly observed that he had been out prospecting. The losers of the
gold went, immediately after breakfast, as they had been in the habit
of doing, to see if all was right at the coyote-hole. On this fatal day
they saw that the entrance had been disturbed, and going in, they found
upon the ground a money-belt which had apparently just been cut open.
Armed with this evidence of guilt, they confronted the suspected person
and sternly accused him of having the gold in his possession.
Singularly enough, he did not attempt a denial, but said that if they
would not bring him to a trial (which of course they promised) he would
give it up immediately. He then informed them that they would find it
beneath the blankets of his bunk, as those queer shelves on which
miners sleep, ranged one above another somewhat like the berths of a
ship, are generally called. There, sure enough, were six hundred
dollars of the missing money, and the unfortunate wretch declared that
his partner had taken the remainder to the States.
By this time the exciting news had spread all over the Bar. A meeting
of the miners was immediately convened, the unhappy man taken into
custody, a jury chosen, and a judge, lawyer, etc., appointed. Whether
the men who had just regained a portion of their missing property made
any objections to the proceedings which followed, I know not. If they
had done so, however, it would have made no difference, as the _people_
had taken the matter entirely out of their hands.
At one o'clock, so rapidly was the trial conducted, the judge charged
the jury, and gently insinuated that they could do no less than to
bring in with their verdict of guilty a sentence of _death!_ Perhaps
you know that when a trial is conducted without the majesty of the law,
the jury are compelled to decide not only upon the guilt of the
prisoner, but the mode of his punishment also. After a few minutes'
absence, the twelve men, who had consented to burden their souls with a
responsibility so fearful, returned, and the foreman handed to the
judge a paper, from which he read the will of the _people_, as follows:
That William Brown, convicted of stealing, etc., should, in _one hour_
from that time, be hung by the neck until he was dead.
By the persuasions of some men more mildly disposed, they granted him a
respite of _three hours_ to prepare for his sudden entrance into
eternity. He employed the time in writing, in his native language (he
is a Swede), to some friends in Stockholm. God help them when that
fatal post shall arrive, for, no doubt, _he_ also, although a criminal,
was fondly garnered in many a loving heart.
He had exhibited, during the trial, the utmost recklessness and
nonchalance, had drank many times in the course of the day, and when
the rope was placed about his neck, was evidently much intoxicated. All
at once, however, he seemed startled into a consciousness of the awful
reality of his position, and requested a few moments for prayer.