_built_, stood the cooking-stove, in which they burnt nothing but
pitch-pine wood. As the room was not lined, and the boards very loosely
put together, the soot sifted through in large quantities and covered
us from head to foot, and though I bathed so often that my hands were
dreadfully chapped, and bled profusely from having them so much in the
water, yet, in spite of my efforts, I looked like a chimney-sweep
masquerading in women's clothes.
As it was very cold at this time, the damp ground upon which we were
living gave me a severe cough, and I suffered so much from chillness
that at last I betook myself to Rob Roy shawls and india-rubbers, and
for the rest of the time walked about, a mere bundle of gum elastic and
Scotch plaid. My first move in the morning was to go out and sit upon
an old traveling wagon which stood in front of my room, in order, like
an old beggar-woman, to gather a little warmth from the sun.
Mrs. ---- said, "The Bostonians were horror-stricken because the poor
Irish, who had never known any other mode of living, had no floors in
their cabins, and were getting up all sorts of Howard benevolent
societies to supply unfortunate Pat with what is to him an unwished-for
luxury." She thought that they would be much better employed in
organizing associations for ameliorating the condition of those
wretched women in California who were so mad as to leave their
comfortable homes in the mines to go a-pleasuring in the valleys.
My poor husband suffered even more than I did, for though he had a
nominal share in my luxurious bed with its accompanying
pocket-handkerchief, yet, as Mrs. ---- took it into her head to pay me
a visit, he was obliged to resign it to her and betake himself to the
barroom, and as every bunk and all the blankets were engaged, he was
compelled to lie on the bar-floor (thank Heaven, there was a civilized
floor there, of real boards), with his boots for a pillow.
But I am sure you must be tired of this long letter, for I am, and I
reserve the rest of my adventures in the American Valley until another
time.
LETTER _the_ TWENTY-SECOND
[_The_ PIONEER, _November_, 1855]
_The_ OVERLAND TIDE _of_ IMMIGRATION
SYNOPSIS
Exoneration of landlords for conditions at Greenwood's Rancho. The
American Valley. Prospective summer resort. Prodigious vegetables. New
England scenery compared with that of California. Greenwood's Rancho.
Place of origin of quartz hoax. Beautiful stones. Recruiting-place of
overland immigrants. Haggard immigrant women. Death and speedy burial
on the plains. Handsome young widow immigrant. Aspirants to matrimony
candidates for her hand. Interesting stories of adventures on the
plains. Four women, sisters or sisters-in-law, and their thirty-six
children. Accomplished men. Infant prodigies. A widow with eight sons
and one daughter. Primitive laundering, but generous patrons. The
bloomer costume appropriate for overland journey. Dances in barroom.
Unwilling female partners. Some illiterate immigrants. Many intelligent
and well-bred women. The journey back to Indian Bar. The tame frog in
the rancho barroom. The dining-table a bed at night. Elation of the
author on arriving at her own log cabin.
Letter _the_ Twenty-second
_The_ OVERLAND TIDE _of_ IMMIGRATION
_From our Log Cabin_, INDIAN BAR,
_October_ 27, 1852.
In my last epistle, my dear M., I left myself safely ensconced at
Greenwood's Rancho, in about as uncomfortable a position as a person
could well be, where board was fourteen dollars a week. Now, you must
not think that the proprietors were at all to blame for our miserable
condition. They were, I assure you, very gentlemanly and intelligent
men, and I owe them a thousand thanks for the many acts of kindness and
the friendly efforts which they made to amuse and interest me while I
was in their house. They said from the first that they were utterly
unprepared to receive ladies, and it was only after some persuasion,
and as a favor to me, that they consented to let me come. They intend
soon to build a handsome house, for it is thought that this valley will
be a favorite summer resort for people from the cities below.
The American Valley is one of the most beautiful in all California. It
is seven miles long and three or four wide, with the Feather River
wending its quiet way through it, unmolested by flumes and undisturbed
by wing-dams. It is a superb farming country, everything growing in the
greatest luxuriance. I saw turnips there which measured larger round
than my waist, and all other vegetables in the same proportion. There
are beautiful rides in every direction, though I was too unwell during
my stay there to explore them as I wished. There is one drawback upon
the beauty of these valleys, and it is one peculiar to all the scenery
in this part of California, and that is, the monotonous tone of the
foliage, nearly all the trees being firs. One misses that infinite
variety of waving forms, and those endless shades of verdure, which
make New England forest scenery so exquisitely lovely. And then that
gorgeous autumnal phenomenon, witnessed, I believe, nowhere but in the
Northern States of the Union, one never sees here. How often, in my
far-away Yankee home, have I laid me down at eve, with the whole earth
looking so freshly green, to rise in the morning and behold the
wilderness blossoming, not only like the rose, but like all other
flowers besides, and glittering as if a shower of butterflies had
fallen upon it during the silent watches of the night. I have a vague
idea that I "hooked" that butterfly comparison from somebody. If so, I
beg the injured person's pardon, and he or she may have a hundred of
_mine_ to pay for it.
It was at Greenwood's Rancho that the famous quartz hoax originated
last winter, which so completely gulled our good miners on the river. I
visited the spot, which has been excavated to some extent. The stone is
very beautiful, being lined and streaked and splashed with crimson,
purple, green, orange, and black. There was one large white block,
veined with stripes of a magnificent blood-red color, and partly
covered with a dark mass, which was the handsomest thing of the kind I
ever saw. Some of the crystallizations were wonderfully perfect. I had
a piece of the bed-rock given me, completely covered with natural
prisms varying in size from an inch down to those not larger than the
head of a pin.
Much of the immigration from across the plains, on its way to the
cities below, stops here for a while to recruit. I always had a strange
fancy for that nomadic way of coming to California. To lie down under
starry skies, hundreds of miles from any human habitation, and to rise
up on dewy mornings to pursue our way through a strange country, so
wildly beautiful, seeing each day something new and wonderful, seemed
to me truly enchanting. But cruel reality strips _everything_ of its
rose tints. The poor women arrive looking as haggard as so many
Endorian witches, burnt to the color of a hazelnut, with their hair cut
short, and its gloss entirely destroyed by the alkali, whole plains of
which they are compelled to cross on the way. You will hardly find a
family that has not left some beloved one buried upon the plains. And
they are fearful funerals, those. A person dies, and they stop just
long enough to dig his grave and lay him in it as decently as
circumstances will permit, and the long train hurries onward, leaving
its healthy companion of yesterday, perhaps, in this boundless city of
the dead. On this hazardous journey they dare not linger.
I was acquainted with a young widow of twenty, whose husband died of
cholera when they were but five weeks on their journey. He was a judge
in one of the Western States, and a man of some eminence in his
profession. She is a pretty little creature, and all the aspirants to
matrimony are candidates for her hand.
One day a party of immigrant women came into my room, which was also
the parlor of the establishment. Some observation was made, which led
me to inquire of one of them if her husband was with her.
"She hain't got no husband," fairly _chuckled_ one of her companions.
"She came with _me_, and her feller died of cholera on the plains."
At this startling and brutal announcement the poor girl herself gave a
hysteric giggle, which I at first thought proceeded from heartlessness,
but I was told afterwards, by the person under whose immediate
protection she came out, and who was a sister of her betrothed, that
the tender woman's heart received such a fearful shock at the sudden
death of her lover, that for several weeks her life was despaired of.
I spent a great deal of time calling at the different encampments, for
nothing enchanted me half so much as to hear about this strange exodus
from the States. I never weary of listening to stories of adventures on
the plains, and some of the family histories are deeply interesting.
I was acquainted with four women, all sisters or sisters-in-law, who
had among them thirty-six children, the entire number of which had
arrived thus far in perfect health. They could, of themselves, form
quite a respectable village.
The immigration this year contained many intelligent and truly elegant
persons, who, having caught the fashionable epidemic, had left
luxurious homes in the States to come to California. Among others,
there was a young gentleman of nineteen, the son of a United States
Senator, who, having just graduated, felt adventurous, and determined
to cross the plains. Like the rest, he arrived in a somewhat
dilapidated condition, with elbows out, and a hat the very counterpart
of Sam Weller' s "gossamer ventilation," which, if you remember,
"though _not_ a very handsome 'un to look at, was an astonishin' good
'un to wear!" I must confess that he became ragged clothes the best of
any one I ever saw, and made me think of the picturesque beggar boys in
Murillo's paintings of Spanish life.
Then there was a person who used to sing in public with Ossian Dodge.
He had a voice of remarkable purity and sweetness, which he was kind
enough to permit us to hear now and then. I hardly know of what nation
he claimed to be. His father was an Englishman, his mother an Italian.
He was born in Poland, and had lived nearly all his life in the United
States. He was not the only musical genius that we had among us. There
was a little girl at one of the tents who had taught herself to play on
the accordion on the way out. She was really quite a prodigy, singing
very sweetly, and accompanying herself with much skill upon the
instrument.
There was another child, whom I used to go to look at as I would go to
examine a picture. She had, without exception, the most beautiful face
I ever saw. Even the alkali had not been able to mar the golden glory
of the curls which clustered around that splendid little head. She had
soft brown eyes, which shone from beneath their silken lashes like "a
tremulous evening star"; a mouth which made you think of a string of
pearls threaded on scarlet; and a complexion of the waxen purity of the
japonica, with the exception of a band of brownest freckles, which,
extending from the tip of each cheek straight across the prettiest
possible nose, added, I used to fancy, a new beauty to her enchanting
face. She was very fond of me, and used to bring me wild cherries which
her brothers had gathered for her. Many a morning I have raised my eyes
from my book, startled by that vision of infant loveliness--for her
step had the still grace of a snow-flake--standing in beautiful silence
by my side.
But the most interesting of all my pets was a widow whom we used to
call the "long woman." When but a few weeks on the journey, she had
buried her husband, who died of cholera after about six hours' illness.
She had come on; for what else could she do? No one was willing to
guide her back to her old home in the States, and when I knew her she
was living under a large tree a few rods from the rancho, and sleeping
at night, with all her family, in her one covered wagon. God only knows
where they all stowed themselves away, for she was a modern Mrs.
Rogers, with "nine small children and one at the breast." Indeed, of
this catechismal number the oldest was but fifteen years of age, and
the youngest a nursing babe of six months. She had eight sons and one
daughter. Just fancy how dreadful! Only one girl to all that boy!
People used to wonder what took me so often to her encampment, and at
the interest with which I listened to what they called her stupid talk.
Certainly there was nothing poetical about the woman. Leigh Hunt's
friend could not have elevated _her_ commonplace into the sublime. She
was immensely tall, and had a hard, weather-beaten face, surmounted by
a dreadful horn comb and a heavy twist of hay-colored hair, which,
before it was cut, and its gloss all destroyed by the alkali, must,
from its luxuriance, have been very handsome. But what really
interested me so much in her was the dogged and determined way in which
she had set that stern, wrinkled face of hers against poverty. She
owned nothing in the world but her team, and yet she planned all sorts
of successful ways to get food for her small, or rather large, family.
She used to wash shirts, and iron them on a chair, in the open air of
course, and you can fancy with what success. But the gentlemen were too
generous to be critical, and as they paid her three or four times as
much as she asked, she accumulated quite a handsome sum in a few days.
She made me think of a long-legged very thin hen scratching for dear
life to feed her never-to-be-satisfied brood. Poor woman! She told me
that she was compelled to allowance _her_ young ones, and that she
seldom gave them as much as they could eat at any one meal. She was
worse off than the
old woman who lived in a shoe,
And had so many children she didn't know what to do.
To some she gave butter, to some she gave bread,
And to some she gave whippings, and sent them to bed.
Now, _my_ old woman had no butter, and very little bread; and she was
so naturally economical that even whippings were sparingly
administered. But, after all their privations, they were, with the
exception of the eldest hope, as healthy-looking a set of ragged little
wretches as ever I saw. The aforesaid "hope" was the longest, the
leanest, and the bob-sidedest specimen of a Yankee that it is possible
to imagine. He wore a white face, whiter eyes, and whitest hair, and
walked about looking as if existence was the merest burden and he
wished somebody would have the goodness to take it off his hands. He
seemed always to be in the act of yoking up a pair of oxen, and ringing
every change of which the English alphabet is capable upon the one
single Yankee execration, "Darnation!" which he scattered, in all its
comical varieties, upon the tow head of his young brother, a piece of
chubby giggle, who was forever trying to hold up a dreadful yoke, which
_wouldn't_ "stay put," in spite of all the efforts of those fat dirty
little hands of his. The "long woman," mother-like, excused him by
saying that he had been sick, though once, when the "Darned fools" flew
thicker than usual, she gently observed that he had forgotten that he
was a child himself once. He certainly retained no trace of having
enjoyed that delightful state of existence, and though one would not be
so rude as to call him an old boy, yet, being always clad in a
middle-aged habit, an elderly coat, and adult pantaloons, one would as
little fancy him a _young_ man. Perhaps the fact of his wearing his
father's wardrobe in all its unaltered amplitude might help to confuse
one's ideas on the subject.
There was another dear old lady to whom I took the largest kind of a
liking, she was so exquisitely neat. Although she too had no floor, her
babe always had on a clean white dress, and face to match. She was
about four feet high, and had a perfect passion for wearing those
frightful frontpieces of false hair with which the young women of L.
were once in the habit of covering their abundant tresses. She used to
send me little pots of fresh butter,--the first that I had tasted since
I left the States,--beautifully stamped, and looking like ingots of
virgin gold. I, of course, made a dead-set at the frontpiece, though I
do believe that to this distorted taste, and its accompanying horror of
a cap, she owed the preservation of her own beautiful hair. To please
me she laid it aside, but I am convinced that it was restored to its
proud eminence as soon as I left the valley, for she evidently had a
"sneaking kindness" for it that nothing could destroy. I have sometimes
thought that she wore it from religious principle, thinking it her duty
to look as old as possible, for she appeared fifteen years younger when
she took it off. She told me that in crossing the plains she used to
stop on Saturdays, and taking everything out of the wagons, wash them
in strong lye, to which precaution she attributed the perfect health
which they all enjoyed (the _family_, not the wagons) during the whole
journey.
There is one thing for which the immigrants deserve high praise, and
that is, for having adopted the bloomer dress (frightful as it is on
all other occasions) in crossing the plains. For such an excursion it
is just the thing.
I ought to say a word about the dances which we used to have in the
barroom, a place so low that a _very_ tall man could not have stood
upright in it. One side was fitted up as a store, and another side with
bunks for lodgers. These bunks were elegantly draperied with red
calico, through which we caught dim glimpses of blue blankets. If they
could only have had sheets, they would have fairly been enveloped in
the American colors. By the way, I wonder if there is anything
_national_ in this eternal passion for blue blankets and red calico. On
ball-nights the bar was closed, and everything was very quiet and
respectable. To be sure, there was some danger of being swept away in a
flood of tobacco-juice, but luckily the floor was uneven, and it lay
around in puddles, which with care one could avoid, merely running the
minor risk of falling prostrate upon the wet boards in the midst of a
galopade.
Of course the company was made up principally of the immigrants. Such
dancing, such dressing, and such conversation, surely was never heard
or seen before. The gentlemen generally were compelled to have a
regular fight with their fair partners before they could drag them onto
the floor. I am happy to say that almost always the stronger vessel won
the day, or rather night, except in the case of certain timid youths,
who, after one or two attacks, gave up the battle in despair.
I thought that I had had some experience in bad grammar since I came to
California, but these good people were the first that I had ever heard
use right royal _we_ instead of _us_. Do not imagine that all, or even
the larger part, of the company were of this description. There were
many intelligent and well-bred women, whose acquaintance I made with
extreme pleasure.
After reading the description of the inconveniences and discomforts
which we suffered in the American Valley,--and I can assure you that I
have not at all exaggerated them,--you may imagine my joy when two of
our friends arrived from Indian Bar for the purpose of accompanying us
home. We took two days for our return, and thus I was not at all
fatigued. The weather was beautiful, our friends amusing, and F. well
and happy. We stopped at night at a rancho where they had a tame frog.
You cannot think how comic it looked hopping about the bar, quite as
much at home as a tame squirrel would have been. I had a bed made up
for me at this place, on one end of a long dining-table. It was very
comfortable, with the trifling drawback that I had to rise earlier than
I wished, in order that what had been a bed at night might become a
table by day.
We stopped at the top of the hill and set fire to some fir-trees. Oh,
how splendidly they looked, with the flames leaping and curling amid
the dark green foliage like a golden snake fiercely beautiful. The
shriek which the fire gave as it sprang upon its verdant prey made me
think of the hiss of some furious reptile about to wrap in its burning
folds its helpless victim.
With what perfect delight did I re-enter my beloved log cabin. One of
our good neighbors had swept and put it in order before my arrival, and
everything was as clean and neat as possible. How grateful to my feet
felt the thick warm carpet; how perfect appeared the floor, which I had
once reviled (I begged its pardon on the spot) because it was not
exactly even; how cozy the old faded-calico couch; how thoroughly
comfortable the four chairs (two of them had been thoroughly rebottomed
with brown sail-cloth, tastefully put on, with a border of
carpet-tacks); how truly elegant the closet-case toilet-table, with the
doll's looking-glass hanging above, which showed my face (the first
time that I had seen it since I left home) some six shades darker than
usual; how convenient the trunk, which did duty as a wash-stand, with
its vegetable-dish instead of a bowl (at the rancho I had a pint tin
pan when it was not in use in the kitchen); but, above and beyond all,
how superbly luxurious the magnificent bedstead, with its splendid hair
mattress, its clean, wide linen sheets, its nice square pillows, and
its large, generous blankets and quilts. And then the cozy little
supper, arrayed on a table-cloth, and the long, delightful evening
afterwards, by a fragrant fire of beech and pine, when we talked over
our past sufferings. Oh, it was delicious as a dream, and almost made
amends for the three dreadful weeks of pleasuring in the American
Valley.
LETTER _the_ TWENTY-THIRD
[_The_ PIONEER, _December_, 1855]
MINING FAILURES--DEPARTURE _from_ INDIAN BAR
SYNOPSIS
Dread of spending another winter at Indian Bar. Failure of nearly all
the fluming companies. Official report of one company. Incidental
failure of business people. The author's preparations to depart.
Prediction of early rains. High prices cause of dealers' failure to lay
in supply of provisions. Probable fatal results to families unable to
leave Bar. Rain and snow. The Squire a poor weather prophet. Pack-mule
trains with provisions fail to arrive. Amusement found in petty
litigation. Legal acumen of the Squire. He wins golden opinions. The
judgment all the prevailing party gets. What the constable got in
effort to collect judgment. Why Dr. C.'s fee was not paid. A
prescription of "calumny and other pizen doctor's stuff". A wonderful
gold specimen in the form of a basket. "Weighs about two dollars and a
half". How little it takes to make people comfortable. A log-cabin meal
and its table-service. The author departs on horseback from Indian Bar.
Her regrets upon leaving the mountains. "Feeble, half-dying invalid not
recognizable in your now perfectly healthy sister."
Letter _the_ Twenty-third
MINING FAILURES--DEPARTURE _from_ INDIAN BAR
_From our Log Cabin_, INDIAN BAR,
_November_ 21, 1852.
I suppose, Molly dear,--at least, I flatter myself,--that you have been
wondering and fretting a good deal for the last few weeks at not
hearing from Dame Shirley. The truth is, that I have been wondering and
fretting _myself_ almost into a fever at the dreadful prospect of being
compelled to spend the winter here, which, on every account, is
undesirable.
To our unbounded surprise, we found, on our return from the American
Valley, that nearly all the fluming companies had failed. Contrary to
every expectation, on arriving at the bed-rock no gold made its
appearance. But a short history of the rise, progress, and final fate
of one of these associations, given me in writing by its own secretary,
conveys a pretty correct idea of the result of the majority of the
remainder.
"The thirteen men, of which the American Fluming Company consisted,
commenced getting out timber in February. On the 5th of July they
began to lay the flume. A thousand dollars were paid for lumber
which they were compelled to buy. They built a dam six feet high
and three hundred feet in length, upon which thirty men labored
nine days and a half. The cost of said dam was estimated at two
thousand dollars. This company left off working on the
twenty-fourth day of September, having taken out, in _all_,
gold-dust to the amount of forty-one dollars and seventy cents!
Their lumber and tools, sold at auction, brought about two hundred
dollars."