I’VE TIME FOR LUNCH.
down that grade, he replied that he was a little behindhand for lunch, that was all.
There were other stage-drivers also who drove upon this mountain road, although not so well known perhaps as Monk, yet who had high reputations as expert drivers. Among them were Watson and Nelson. There was another one, who, if not so expert as a driver, and possibly did not acquire so great a notoriety in the business as others, at least when alive, created a greater astonishment at death, and this was Charley, the noted stage-driver who had followed the business of stage driving for some years upon various roads throughout the State, and upon whose death, which occurred only recently, it was discovered that the noted stage-driver was a woman.
It could hardly be expected that a well-traveled road like this, over which so much treasure was being transported, and where so many teamsters were returning with their freight money about them, should be free from the inquisitive eye of the road agent, although it was for a while. The temptation, however, in a short time became too great, and the unusual facilities for operating this species of industry rendered the conditions such that it followed from necessity. The business of certain classes of the sporting fraternity among the small towns of the mining regions, had at this time become almost entirely destroyed, and many of them in their desperation had actually gone to work. But with the opening of this new road, with its immense travel and unusual facilities, other opportunities of a little better nature than hard work were brought into existence; and the result was that many availed themselves of them. Teamsters were robbed of their well-earned freight money; travelers on foot, on horseback, and under all conditions, were relieved of their surplus at all points, and at all hours of the day or night.
It was often amusing, as well as very instructive, to stop by chance at some large hotel where a number of travelers and teamsters had put up for the night, and hear their stories of how they were ordered to stop and pungle by these knights of the road.
It happened upon one occasion that I stopped for the night at Yank’s Hotel in Lake Valley. There were about forty teamsters stopping over for the night, and they commenced relating their experiences. Several had been relieved of their freight money quite recently, and they explained, in very graphic language, just where, when, and how it was done. One teamster present was called by his
CHARLEY, THE FEMALE STAGE-DRIVER.
brother teamsters “Big George,” and well he merited the name, for he was a large, powerful man, and drove a twelve-mule bell team. He made it his boast that these chaps on the road knew enough to let him alone, for up to this time he had never been troubled by them; but, singularly enough, upon his return from this very trip he was robbed of his freight money, amounting to something over $500. On his way home he took the Dutch Flat road, and was robbed within half a mile of the town of Marysville.
By coincidence, about two weeks later the same crowd of teamsters, including “Big George,” I being present also, met again at the same hotel in Lake Valley for the night, and now the remark of “Ah, George, they know enough to let me alone!” would be heard from various ones. After hearing this repeated a number of times, George said that he would give up, they were too much for him, and upon request he gave a very graphic description of the whole affair. He stated that when he was within sight of the town, which was visible a short distance ahead, it was about sundown and he was seated away up in his accustomed place upon his sheepskin, and that just as the wagon was opposite a great boulder which had slid down from the bank above partly obstructing the road, a little bit of a black-eyed cuss, who wasn’t much bigger than a good sized cud of tobacco, jumped from behind it, and placing his foot upon the hub of the forward wheel, at the same time pointing the muzzle of an immense revolver up towards George, commanded him to stop the team.
“Well, boys, I stopped them,” said George, “but at the same time I put my hand upon my revolver, which was lying all cocked and ready for business right under the sheepskin. He knew pretty well what I was going down there after, you bet, so he jumped on the hub of the wheel and shoved his howitzer close up to my eyes and right down into the barrel I could see the big leaden balls. They appeared to me to be as big as my fist, and just squirming to get at me. Says he, ‘Take your hand off of that,’ and I did. Then the little cuss, says he, ‘Put your purse into my hand.’ At the same time extending it up towards me.”
“Well, George, what did you do then?” some one asked.
“I just kept my eye down in the barrel of that six pounder, took out my purse from under the sheepskin carefully and tenderly, for I did hate to give it up to such a little insignificant squib as he
BIG GEORGE AND THE LITTLE ROAD AGENT.
was, but ’twas no use. I just reached over and laid it gently into his hand, like a little man. He jumped down, thanked me kindly, and remarked as it was getting late I had better hurry up or I would lose my supper.”
Many were the incidents related by these teamsters of their various experiences with the road agents and how they escaped, for at this time many, for fear of robbery, would express their money over, or take in its stead a check which they would have cashed in San Francisco or in Sacramento City upon their return home.
A gentleman was driving a buggy on his way from Dutch Flat to Virginia City, when, near his destination, he was stopped by a man; a pistol was presented, and the usual formalities were gone through with as is necessary in such cases. The gentleman handed over a $20 gold piece, at the same time remarking that he was very sorry, but that was all he happened to have with him. He noticed in handing it over to the road agent that the latter appeared to be very nervous and frightened, and he remarked to him that he believed he was new to the business. The agent answered that he was and that it was his first offense, and that he only did it from absolute necessity. Upon being further questioned, he stated that he had worked for a whole year in a livery stable as hostler in a town not far away; that the livery stable keeper failed, and he never received a single dollar. Upon further inquiry it was learned that he had a young wife and two small children living in the State of Ohio.
“They are really suffering, and, by George,” he said, “I was determined to raise money somehow to send them.”
The gentleman then informed him that he himself kept a livery stable, and promised to give him a good job if he would get into the buggy with him. After some persuasion he did so, and it was afterwards stated that he proved to be a faithful and competent man, remaining there in the Samaritan’s employ for nearly four years, and the gentleman never stated the facts of the case until after the hostler had returned to his family in the East.
There were numerous incidents of a similar character constantly occurring on this road.
A tall, lean and lank specimen of a Downeaster, who was engaged in mining, was very leisurely walking along the road one Sunday afternoon on his way home.
THE ROAD AGENT OUTWITTED.
He had been out visiting among some of his lady acquaintances and was dressed in the regulation store-clothes style; in place of a collar, however, he wore a plain white handkerchief for a necktie. In consequence of a close resemblance to a certain minister of the gospel who frequently visited that part of the country, he was called by all his acquaintances “the parson.” All at once one of these polite road agents stepped out from behind a tree, and, presenting his weapon, demanded the “parson’s” money instantly, or off would come the top of his head. Now, the parson was totally unprepared for such an encounter, and as he had in his pocket a purse containing about $250, which he didn’t like to part with without a struggle, the question suggested itself at once as to how he could save it. An idea occurred to him, and the fact of his being called a parson could now be made good use of, since he was well aware that he very much resembled one. Especially was this true when dressed up with his old-fashioned black coat and his white necktie, and they saved him. He replied to the demand in a drawling tone, that unfortunately the profession in which he was engaged didn’t enable him to carry about much money, but that he had a prayer-book which might be sold for a trifle, at the same time putting his hand into his coat pocket for the book. The agent, orderinghim to take his hand from his pocket, again repeated his demand, or off would come his head and at once, if he didn’t hand over. Then says the parson, in his drawling style:
“If I must go hence, first let me pray, won’t ye?” at the same time kneeling down in the proper attitude.
The road agent, being now satisfied that he had sure enough struck a genuine parson, turned in disgust and remarked as he went away:
“Oh, pray away all night, if you like, and be d—— d!”
But this little incident, like many others which often occur among the parsons, has a sequel.
Some four years later, in Sacramento City, the parson and some of his acquaintances were enjoying themselves as miners usually do when visiting the large cities in the barroom of one of the hotels. During the course of the evening, a well-dressed man, who seemed to be serving in some capacity in the hotel, took him by the arm to one side, and asked him if he ever lived up on the toll-road a few miles above Placerville. The parson replied that he did, and that his residence was in a cañon near the road, where he was at present mining. The man then asked:
“You were a minister some four or five years ago, were you not?”
“Why, no, I wern’t at all; they only called me parson because I looked so much like one. But say, stranger, why do you ask me these questions?”
“Well, because when that road agent demanded your money, you remember you said you were a preacher, and got right down in the dust to pray.”
“Yaas, I know that; but you see that chap got the drop on me, and as I had no weapon with me I was bound to save about $250 that I had in my pocket.”
“Well,” says the man, “and you did it well, too.”
“Why,” Yank asks.
“Why? because I was the chap who was concerned in that little funny business.”
“The h—l you was! why, you don’t say so! really though?”
“Yes, sure. You see I was on the way home from the other side and was dead broke, and I just thought to myself, now here is a good chance. It was my first and last trial in the business, for the ideaof robbing a country preacher broke me all up. Do you notice that I am now bald-headed?”
“Why, yes,” answered the parson; “what’s the matter?”
The man replied. “I was so disgusted with myself that I shed my hair all out on the way home.”
“Well, I’ll be doll garned!” exclaimed the parson. “Let’s go and take suthin’.”
And, by the way, this reminds me of another incident of a similar nature, where the principal actor could not resist good chance.
The robberies or attempts to rob became so frequent within a few miles of town, that it was very evident that the men engaged in the business were a part of the sporting class, with which the town at this time was filled. They would go up the road, leaving town late at night, and return before daylight. Many were suspected, but for want of evidence they could not be arrested. The sheriff, equal to the emergency, employed a man who had himself been in that business in some other quarter of the globe but who had reformed, to act as a spy or stool pigeon; to go out upon the road at night and endeavor to recognize some of these sporting chaps.
On the day following, an old gentleman complained at the sheriff’s office of having been stopped upon the road and robbed of quite a sum of money, and remarked that he believed that he could recognize the chap if he could see him, as it was not a very dark night. Just at this moment our stool pigeon, or highway detective, entered the door. The old gentleman took a good, square look at him, and exclaimed:
“There! There! That’s the chap who robbed me!”
The sheriff said to him:
“Tom, did you rob this man?”
“Oh, yes,” he replied, “and here is the money,” at the same time throwing the purse upon the table.
When asked why he did it he replied,
“Well, it was such a good chance that I really couldn’t help it.”
The murder and robbery of Capt. Harmon of Smith’s Flat, a mining camp a few miles above Placerville, is worth mentioning, for there is one very mysterious circumstance in connection with this man which is difficult of explanation.
The captain had been a seafaring man for many years, and, having become tired of the sea, he came up to this mining camp in thespring of ’57 and opened a small store. It was noticed by many, in fact it was well known among all who had made his acquaintance, that he was almost daily in the habit of seating himself in the back part of his store and holding a conversation, as he very earnestly maintained, with his wife who had been dead about seventeen years, and with a daughter also who had been dead but a few years.
It was useless to argue or to reason with him in relation to the matter, for he maintained most positively that such was really the case, and they often conversed upon their family affairs and of events which had occurred in early life. It was the general opinion among all that the captain was of course insane upon that subject, and for this reason but little was ever said about it. Spiritualism, at this early day, at least in this part of the country, had not yet been invented, although at the East it was being developed gradually, having at this date progressed as far as table-tipping and other similar phenomena. For this reason, when the captain maintained that he was conversing with the spirits of his wife and daughter, it could not be accepted.
If I am not mistaken, I think that he had been in the camp about eighteen months, when, one day, he made known to a number of his customers that he had been informed the day before by his wife that he was soon to leave all earthly affairs and live with his family in the other world. He said that his wife did not inform him just when he should die, or by what means, and she had refused to enlighten him any further, only insisting that he would soon be with them. The news seemed to make him feel rather down-hearted; not, as he said, from a knowledge of the fact of his going, but the means which would be used to take his life. He had no enemies that he knew of, and was, furthermore, in very good health. The boys tried to laugh him out of the thought of such a thing, but it was of no use. He received the news from his wife upon a Sunday, and on the morning of the Thursday following he was found upon his bed dead, having been killed with an axe by a Mexican. The safe was broken open and robbed also. The axe was soon found in a shaft, and the Mexican who owned it was arrested, tried and executed.
Another instance in which two courageous and bright specimens of young America took a very active part, occurred in Eldorado County, some time during the year ’63.
HUNTING JAIL BIRDS.
These two boys, about 12 years of age, with their shot guns started out one pleasant morning on a hunt, and in passing the cabin of a miner, they saw coming from it a strange, suspicious looking character, who was loaded down with plunder. Being satisfied that the man was a thief, they ordered him to return the goods to the cabin, which he did. With their guns in readiness, they then ordered him to walk in the trail ahead of them, and in this manner they marched the fellow into Placerville, a distance of nearly three miles, into the hospitable arms of Sheriff Rogers, who gave him a very cordial reception. Upon investigation, he proved to be an ex-convict, and a very dangerous man, but unfortunately for him and very fortunately for the boys, too, at this time he was unarmed.
On the way to town, he tried every means to prevail upon the boys to lay down their guns. He offered to bet them five dollars that they could not kill a bird perched upon a bush near the trail. One of the boys remarked that “Them wasn’t the kind of birds we’re huntin’ for; we’re huntin’ only for jail birds.” He promised them in case they would just lay their guns down in the grass for a minute or so, he would give each of ’em a great many shares of stock in one of the richest mines in the Comstock.
They politely informed him that the only kind of stock they cared about just then was gun stock, and that they had shares enough of that to go round.
One of the most laughable cases of highway robbery occurred a few years later in Sonoma County, the agent in the affair being a youth about fourteen years of age. Commencing in fun, he unfortunately ended his joke in dead earnest.
This young man was walking out upon the road one evening, and hearing the stage coming behind him, in order to avoid being run over, climbed upon the bank alongside of the road. The latter was very narrow and sandy at this point, and the horses were walking.
Now, near to the edge of the bank where the boy was standing was a picket fence, and to keep from falling he was obliged to hug rather closely to it. In doing so one of the pickets became loose, just as the stage had got opposite to him. In a spirit of fun, without calculating upon the effect of the movement, he pointed his loose picket toward the driver of the stage, and in a coarse professional tone demanded him to stop; and, to his astonishment, thedriver stopped the team. To carry out the joke, he then ordered the driver to throw out Wells & Fargo’s treasure box; and he was again astonished to see the order promptly obeyed and the treasure box fall near him upon the bank. It now became necessary, in order to continue the joke to a favorable termination, to give one more peremptory order, and to hesitate was to be lost. So he commanded the driver to “Go on!”
THE PICKET GUARD.
The stage with its load of passengers started onward, leaving the treasure in care of the picket guard. Now came the crisis in the affair; the last act in the drama which was to determine the future destiny of a bright specimen of Young America.
The boy seated himself upon the box and rubbed his eyes and scratched his head to satisfy himself ’twas not all a dream. He said to himself:
“Now here is an opportunity come to me that I never dreamed or thought of before. Is it my destiny? Now shall I be a good little boy, take back the box and tell ’em that I only done it for fun, or shall I keep on jest as them bank cashiers and other fellers dosometimes, and make the most of such opportunities that come without huntin’ for um?”
He concluded that if it was only done for a joke, he had carried it a little too far, but if it was done in dead earnest, he hadn’t quite finished the job. While thus meditating between the two opposite courses and upon the future possibilities, he finally decided that he would finish the job, and adopt the profession of a road agent, conscious of the ability to make it a complete success, and even rival Black Bart himself in the profession of a stage inspector. He also thought how he could jest make Jime Hume hump himself a-trying to follow his trail.
The boy was, perhaps, justified in this conclusion by what he had accomplished with the aid of a single picket, and therefore judged of what he might be able to do if backed by an entire fence. With such thoughts running through his mind, and which, no doubt, he had acquired from the perusal of certain papers published exclusively for the benefit of such boys, giving very graphic accounts of the exploits of “Three-Fingered Jack,” “The Bandit’s Bride,” as well as others of a similar character, and with such bright visions of future notoriety looming up before him, he wrestled with the treasure box for a few minutes, the latter soon looking as though it had been chasing a cyclone, and had caught it. By means of a big rock he had turned the box wrong side out, and the golden coin was scattered about among the grass, glistening in the starlight. But unfortunately for our infant hero his career was short, and for the same reasons, perhaps, that other great enterprises often end in failure; he had engaged in a profession that he had not the capacity, experience, or the necessary qualities to fill, and it therefore ended by his being locked up.
It was about the year ’66 that an Irishman drove ahead of him into the town of Placerville a road agent, whom he had captured out on the toll-road a few miles above.
When asked by Mr. Griffith, the sheriff, how he had managed to capture such a man, who, by the way, was much the larger as well as the younger of the two, Pat replied:
“Indade, thin, I was jist a thraveling along the road alone by meself, do yez moind; attinding to me own business and havin’ no thought of harum at all, whin, all to onct, this dirthy spallpeen came out from behoind a bush, and, pinting his gun at me hid, saysto me, ‘An’ will yez plase be afther handing me ther kine that yez are carryin’ about with yez, and be hasty about it, too, or darmed if Oi don’t blow the hid off av yez.’
“GO AN’ SAY ME AGENT.”
“Says Oi: ‘Yez will, thin?’ Says he: ‘Indeed thin Oi will.’ ‘But hold aisy, now,’ says Oi, ‘divil a bit will yez do that same,’ and I comminced to fale about in me pockets to say if Oi cud sthrike some kine, but divil a bit cud Oi sthrike ther color of it at all at all. An’ so says Oi: ‘Bad luck to it, thin, but Oi have left me purse with me agent in town.’ ‘An’ who’s yer agent in town,’ says he. ‘Indade, thin, would yez loike to make his acquaintance?’ says Oi. ‘Oi would,’ says he. ‘An’ yez shall, thin,’ says Oi. An’ jist at this pint, do yez moind, Oi extinded out me lift hand an’ saized his gun, an’ thin yez cud say nothin’ at all fer the dust that was afther continually risin’ from the ground, begorrah. An’ be jabers it seemed to me that two of thim cyclones had met at ther spot, and was afther havin’ a wrestlin’ match, do yez see? Prisintly there was a dull sound, do yez moind, and thin all was quiet. The dust clared away, and jist there in front of me, be jabers, was sthanding ther chap who wanted me kine. But phawt was Oi adoin’ mesilf dooring the toime, do yez ask? Indade, thin, it was doorin’ ther great commotion of the illimints, do yez moid, thet Oi succaded in turnin’ his right flank, be jabers, an’ gittin’ aroun’ to ther rear of me inimy and climbin’ up over his shoulder to ther top av him, do yez see. Oi was jist afther holding him at bay, and wid dee phunny end of me gun jist a swaiping the flois from his oibrows, do yez see. Thin says Oi: ’ ’Tis me agent yez would loike to see?’ ‘No, not to-day,’ says he, ‘for Oi’m busy.’ ‘Indade, thin, but Oi’m sure thet yez do,’ says Oi, ‘an’ we’ll be afther thraveling to*-gither to say Mr. Griffith, me agent in town, sor. He is a foine gintleman, and the latch-sthring av his hotel is continually hangin’ handy to raich for ther loikes of yez. He’ll be afther tinderin’ to yez the hospitality av his foine manshun, an’ indade, thin, it will not cost yez a cent. Now forward, march, and Oi’ll follow yez, an’ ’twill be an honor to yez, too, to be sane thraveling the road wid an honest gintleman loike meself a followin’ afther yez, as a varlet o’ chamber, begorra.’”
Where are the Pioneers?—The Overland Stage—Pony Express—The Sound of War—A Wet Winter—The Hotel on the Road—The Railroad.
Where are the Pioneers?—The Overland Stage—Pony Express—The Sound of War—A Wet Winter—The Hotel on the Road—The Railroad.
UPWARDS of ten years had now elapsed since our arrival in California. The excitement in relation to gold mining has somewhat subsided, and all human affairs seem to have become established upon a more permanent basis. All residents, with but few exceptions, are now well pleased with their adopted home, and intend to remain and grow up with the country.
But how about the pioneers at this time? They were very numerous throughout this portion of the mining region. In December, ’59, they numbered in this county at least 25,000, a small portion of them only, however, engaged in mining. And now, at the expiration only ten years, I find upon investigation that there are not to exceed 600 in the county remaining. A few are yet engaged in mining; many have left for their Eastern homes, and some have crossed to the other side, while many have fenced in tracts of land and are engaged in fruit raising. But the great majority have scattered throughout the length and breadth of the Pacific Slope, some to engage in agriculture or in stock raising in the valleys below, and others entering into business of various kinds in the Cities of San Francisco and Sacramento.
With the discovery of the silver mines in Nevada there ensues another very important event: The overland stage, a boon to old-timers, for they can now communicate with their friends in the East much quicker and oftener than by water, is established, and which again in its turn, as a means of rapid communication with the East, is superseded by the pony express. The first arrival of the pony express occurred, I think, in the fall of ’59. The wild mustang was ridden by Harry Rolf, now a resident of Oakland, and he came flying through the city of Placerville, on his way to Sacramento City, amid the waving of flags, the firing of guns, and the hurrah of the multitude which lined the sides of the road to witness the important event. But although we were occupying a new and as yet an unsettled portion of the earth which we had only recently occupied, yet the progressive spirit of the age, for which our nation is noted, was not wanting, for in a very short time these primitive means of transit and of communication with the East were again in their turn thrust aside and superseded by the iron horse and the telegraph. Soon came, also, the sound of war and strife between the North and the South, and now the very important question which had agitated the country for nearly a century was to be decided for all time, viz., should the whole country be for freedom or for slavery? There were many throughout the State who believed the latter to be possible, but the sentiment was almost universal that we in California would prevent, by all possible means, any attempt upon the part of either side to involve the residents of the State in the conflict, and all such attempts, therefore, were very effectually suppressed and peace and quietness reigned throughout the State. There was, however, a stage robbery which occurred upon the Virginia City road, a few miles above Placerville. A large amount of silver bullion was stolen, and in effecting the capture of the robbers one of the officers was killed, his name being T. G. Caples. In their defense the robbers claimed that they were commissioned officers, acting under orders from their commanders of the Confederate Government; they were, consequently, not outlaws or robbers, and demanded the rights and usages due to prisoners of war. But unfortunately for them our judges did not take that view of the case, and they were found guilty of highway robbery. One of them (Poole) was found guilty also of murder and executed in Placerville in the fall of ’63, if I am not mistaken.
The winter of ’61-’62 was a very wet one, and water therefore was abundant throughout the mining regions, enabling the miners to work and ground-sluice many good paying claims located above the ditches which furnished the water for mining purposes below. Sacramento felt the effects of this unusually rainy winter, for twice during the season was the city flooded, causing great damage and loss.
A little incident resulting upon this flood in Sacramento is perhaps worth relating, as it illustrates not only the uncertainty of
FROM THE FRYING PAN INTO THE FIRE.
things generally, but also that each and every locality is subject in its own way to certain events peculiar to the surrounding conditions.
A certain emigrant from the Fatherland, who lost all his earthly possessions during the flood in Sacramento City, came to the conclusion that he would in future make his dwelling place in some more elevated locality, above the reach of the raging floods and at high water mark. He therefore, in the fall of ’63, in accordance with this desire, bought an old station or wayside hotel, located in the toll road a few miles above Placerville. During the succeeding winter, our German friend, with his family and a few others, were sitting around the big stove one afternoon. It was storming heavily outside, and the landlord was congratulating himself upon the fact that he was far above all danger from the floods and earthquakes below, and that he had found at last a safe home for his family. Just at this moment his wife jumped from her chair, and exclaimed:
“Mine Gott! vat vas dat noise I hear?”
They all jumped to their feet, and none too soon, for at this instant, the rear end of the room in which they were sitting fell in with a crash, and a huge boulder went crashing through the house, taking in its flight the stove, and, smashing through the front of the building into the road, rolled away into the creek, some seventy-five yards below.
To say that our German friend and the rest of them were astonished, or astounded would hardly express it, for they were simply paralyzed. After recovering his senses, he exclaimed, in the most solemn accents:
“Ach mine Gott! mine Gott! How vas dot den? Oh! mine grashus, vere ve go next! I vas most drowned out mit dose vaters in Sagramento, vas shaked all to bieces by dem earthquakes at San Francisco, und den I vas gone up here, vare dem earthquakes or dem waters do not come at all, vid mine family, und, but up here, mine grashus, dem mountains shust come right through mine house und smash dem all to bieces. Mine Gott, vare ve goes now to py oursellufs?”
His wife suggested that they had better go to San Francisco.
“Oh, mine grashus, no no. Dem earthquakes down dere vill shust shakes mine head off righd avay, und gife mine families theshakes all ofer. No I tink ve vill go pack to Shairmany, for we can find no blace to life here in dot strange country. By von blace you vas shake all to bieces by dem earthquake; den you go to anudder blace, und der vater come und vash you all avay; den you vas find anudder blace, vare you don’t see dem shakes or dem vaters, und den, py shiminy, dem hills is all loose, und dey shust dumble down right ofer on to mine house. I goes to Shairmany, mine frent, pooty quick; now don’t it?”
An event was now about to take place which was to change to a great extent the future condition of our new home upon the Pacific Coast. For although all were apparently content and well satisfied with our relative position, yet there was a certain feeling of disconnection, an impassable barrier between us and our old homesteads with the pleasing associations connected with them; there were between us high and lofty ranges of rugged mountains and barren plains that to many were absolutely impassable, while yet by water the voyage to visit friends and our Eastern friends was a long and tedious one; under such circumstances it was evident that something yet was wanting which would enable us to enjoy to the fullest extent the favorable conditions afforded by a residence here in California, and this something which all felt the necessity of was a rapid means of communication with our former Eastern homes. The great event, therefore, to which I alluded was the commencement, by a few energetic old-timers, of a railroad across the mountains. In early days the possibility of a railroad across the continent was often talked of among the miners, and those who had traveled and prospected among the deep cañons and rugged cliffs of the mountains were very strongly impressed with the conviction that the building of a railroad across and over them would be a physical impossibility; consequently, when all preparations were made for the purpose, it was the general opinion among them that it was the wild fancy of a few lunatics who were ignorant of railroads in general, or what natural barriers and obstacles were to be encountered in the building of this railroad in particular. Notwithstanding the protest and prophetic warnings of the old mountaineers, the work was formally commenced in Sacramento City in ’63, and the last (golden) spike driven in ’68, which formed the connecting link between the two roads, making a continuous line between the Atlantic and the Pacific Coasts. The effect of this connection was atonce apparent, for we now felt as though we formed a part of the nation and under its protection; but whether the iron rails had any effect upon the electric conditions of the country (as was maintained by certain ones), causing atmospheric changes here, is immaterial; at any rate, social conditions, which heretofore had been unbalanced, were now properly adjusted, for, instead of dwelling away off in some remote corner of the universe, in a foreign land, as we imagined, separated entirely from intercourse with higher conditions of existence by mountain ranges and barren deserts, the iron rails had now broken down the barriers, and from this point in our history we felt more at home. But what said the old miners who had predicted all sorts of troubles, disasters, and failure of the lunatics, the originators of the undertaking, after its successful completion? “Well” (as one of them expressed himself—an Englishman), “give a company of Americans the right of way and a subsidy, and blast me yies if they wouldn’t run a tunnel through the earth and build a railroad to China, yer know.”
An observation of Nature’s works shows us that the wise Creator, in scattering upon the surface of our planet his treasures in the form of gems and rich mineral ores, decided it best to give to such portions of the surface as were the most barren and desolate, the most rugged and mountainous, as well as the least attractive and unfit for cultivation or civilization, the greatest amount of treasures in the form of precious stones or valuable mineral ores as some compensation for such defects, and an investigation of the earth’s surface shows us that this is almost universally the case. But in the case of California however, for some wise purpose, he saw fit to make one grand exception; for although containing, as it does, some of the richest mines in the world, yet it contains also some of the richest and most valuable farming lands, the low, red hills in the mining regions, the best adapted for the cultivation of the vine and all other varieties of fruit. It contains, also, the largest trees, as well as the highest waterfall in the world, the grandest scenery and the finest climate, as well as many other advantages possessed by no other country. The effects of this railroad connection with the East was to enable thousands to make their homes here in this favored country, or to travel through it for observation, with a design at some future time of again returning to dwell amidst the orange groves, and to breathe the pure air of this favored country,and, furthermore, to enable many of the old pioneers, who had abandoned all hopes of ever being able to visit the familiar scenes of their early days, to once more journey towards the rising sun; to visit their early homes in the East without fear of Indians, or starvation upon the desert plains, or of shipwreck upon the water.
The Forty-niner—Syd at the North Pole—The Homes of the Old-timers—The Remains of the Cabins of the Forty-niners—Panning Out the Old Cabins.
The Forty-niner—Syd at the North Pole—The Homes of the Old-timers—The Remains of the Cabins of the Forty-niners—Panning Out the Old Cabins.
IN all mining excitements which have occurred upon the coast when new discoveries have been made, the forty-niner was as a general rule the first to be afflicted with the fever, and they would invariably be found in advance, leading their friends to victory or to ruin.
Great numbers caught the fever and stampeded during the Frazier River excitement, as well as of the Salmon River, Gold Bluff, Caribo, Alder Gulch and other occasions, but returned again from their useless search for new fields, not in despair, however, but only to make good preparations for the next occasion that should offer in some other section of the country. Many are at present trying their fortunes in Montana and among the rugged cliffs of the Coeur d’Alene silver regions, in the hope of yet being able to strike at least a paying mine of some kind, if it is nothing more than pewter, sheet-iron, soap, paint or putty, at any rate a paying mine, which will enable them to do once more, before they depart for that happy land where prospecting is an unnecessary business, a full suit of store clothes and a biled shirt, including the usual accompaniments known to civilized society. It is this incentive that gives energy to the old forty-niner, that gives strength and elasticity to his limbs, and which enables him to wander forth through deep and rocky cañons; to climb the steep and rugged cliffs of the mountain ranges, in many cases where younger prospectors are unable to follow, to discover if possible, some location where he can get several colors to pan, and find the bed rock pitching. But the old-timer, however, desires something more than this; for it is not altogether the discovery of a fair prospect, and with the bed rock pitching, that he wants. Not at all. But as Old Syd the Badger, as he was titled,remarked after his return from one of his excursions away north, at the time of the Frazier River excitement:
SYD’S LAST PROSPECT.
“Oh, yaas! Thar is gold along up thar, but dogearn it, a feller can’t go nowhar to prospect now, but that he will find that some sneaking tender-foot has been thar a little ahead of him; darned ifI don’t hunt for some spot to prospect whar no miner’s pick was ever struck yet.”
When it was suggested to him that there was but one spot where no miner has ever prospected yet, and that that was at the North Pole, he remarked that he’d be dogearned if he didn’t go thar, then, and it was afterwards supposed that he did, for, some years afterwards, some miners upon the Yukon saw the apparition of an old veteran miner packing upon his back an immense roll of blankets, cooking utensils and mining tools, going in the direction of the Pole, and at a distance, the apparition, when seen through the fog, resembled in appearance to a native the huge form of a mastodon wandering in the forests. We have therefore every reason to believe that the first expedition which succeeds in reaching the Pole will find the remains of Old Syd, the Forty-niner, seated comfortably upon the top of the Pole upon which he has put his mining notice, and with his glass carefully examining a piece of it which he has broken off, to see if it contains mineral. The idea seems almost universal among the residents of the State, and in fact the coast, that the remnants of the Advance Guard of gold seekers, the Forty-niners, are at present the poorest class of men of any upon the coast; but this is a mistaken idea, for an investigation as to the facts of the case show conclusively that many of our wealthiest men were Forty-niners, although the great majority of them are now poor. That they were energetic and restless, as well as adventurous is evident, for it was the possession of these traits which made them Forty-niners; for without them, they would certainly have waited for others to take the lead. It is for these reasons that we now find them roaming around upon various portions of the coast for new mines, not that they care so much for the wealth buried there, but this restless spirit of adventure to find wealth is from force of habit, that others who follow them may enjoy the full benefit of it. And for these adventures they were always ready, and at the first alarm when there was wafted through the mining regions a bare suspicion that new diggings had been found somewhere, the blankets were bound up at once with all the necessary paraphernalia, ready at a moment’s notice; and in some cases, they (the blankets) had been so accustomed to be bound up, that (like the chickens of the man who was constantly moving with his family from place to place, whenever they saw the old familiar wagon at the door, would invariably lie down and cross their legs to be tied), upon the first appearance of any unusual noise or confusion, they would immediately roll up, the rope would wiggle and twist itself into a knot around them, and the old coffee-pot, the fry-pan, as well as the pick, pan and shovel from beneath the bunk, would all begin to crawl towards their accustomed place upon the top of the blankets, ready to be tied.
FORCE OF HABIT.
It is remarked throughout the mining regions that these ancientrelics of a former period are a tough and a hardy race, healthy and vigorous, and are capable of standing as much fatigue and severe labor as the great majority of younger men; the reasons for this, of course, are that those who remain of that great multitude who first arrived here, took better care of themselves, as a rule; for if they had not, they would not now be here. This fact, therefore, is a fair illustration of the truth of the Darwinian theory of the survival of the fittest.
To an old-timer of this day, it is pleasant to wander amid the old scenes where we mined so many long years ago with the pan and cradle. The ravines and gulches have somewhat changed, it is true; for we find where once the ground was clear and free from trees is now a dense forest of thrifty pines. Yet the old localities have a familiar look, and sitting upon a large boulder, which we well remember working around and of panning from beneath it quite a respectable amount of gold, we can almost in imagination go back in time to work over again the events and scenes as they occurred in the past. In traveling among the ravines and cañons at this late day in some portions of the mining regions, the rambler will occasionally come across a log cabin hidden in some recess, or upon the side of the hills among the forest trees, and occupied by an old-timer. They once lived in camp or nearer to the town, but such changes in course of time occurred—the old-timers having scattered, whilst their places were occupied by strangers—that in a few years those old-timers who remained, and who still continued to linger around their old familiar haunts, were now in consequence of these changes dwelling among strangers. This was disagreeable, and could not be thought of. They therefore made their homes in these out-of-way places, and seldom visit the towns or villages, but hermit-like pass their time in company with their favorite cat or dog.
But a short time since, an old-timer having occasion to visit the mining region, traveled through a section of the country where he mined in early days, but which is now a lonely and desolate region. He was therefore greatly astonished to find two log cabins which were occupied in this deserted region; but he was much more surprised to find that the occupants of both of them were old-timers with whom he had been acquainted many long years before, and both were supposed to be dead. They seem to enjoy life. Theycultivate small gardens, and by the use of a cradle, are enabled to find gold enough to furnish them with all the necessaries of life, which, as one of them stated, consisted of one part flour, two parts potatoes, two of bacon, and the balance in whiskey, as far as their claim would stand it; which meant of course about ninety-five parts of whiskey, with occasionally a dish of beans for variety.
It was with the greatest pleasure that I wandered a few years ago among the old ravines, across the flats, and through the cañons where we used to mine, and to visit the old cabins or the places where they used to stand, for the greater portion of them have gone to decay; but there upon that point under the big oak tree you can yet see a few decayed logs, all that now remains of a large cabin once occupied by a company of boys from Philadelphia, who came around Cape Horn in the good ship “Susan G. Owens;” while over there upon that bench above are the remains of a cabin that was occupied in the fall of ’49 by a French Count. He never spoke to anyone; neither did I ever see him smile; but he worked hard in the ravine below and was always dressed in real Paris style with plug hat, black dress coat buttoned up to his chin, and wearing upon his feet a pair of cloth gaiters.
Around upon that flat yonder, by the spring, you can still see the outlines of a miner’s cabin. The lower part of the chimney is yet standing, and that great flat stone was the door step. That cabin was occupied in ’49 by a company of young men from Providence, R. I., who came around the Horn in the bark “Floyd.”
There at the foot of the hill, you can now see the remains of an old cabin built by some boys from New York City; while a little further down you can see the remains of an old chimney which was built of flat stones. This was occupied by the Russell, Chase and Gibbs boys, a delegation from Nantucket. Crossing the creek, and going up that ravine, you will see the remains of numerous cabins; the first one perched upon that bluff above was occupied by a few boys from Maine; another one further up, was the home of a company from Massachusetts. The latter came through the Straits of Magellan in a small schooner named the “Emily Bourne,” and the Captain was taken prisoner by the Indians at Patagonia, but finally escaped. The sites formerly occupied by the cabins of the old Forty-niners are undergoing great changes, for the grounds where many of them once stood are now being covered with fruit trees and vineyards.
Up on that rocky point now covered with grape vines was the site of a cabin occupied by Tompkins and three others, who were passengers in the ship “Areatas” from Boston. Just below them was located a cabin occupied by Rowland, Hayden and Moore, passengers in the schooner “John Alyne,” from Massachusetts. A walk up Oregon Ravine would bring to view upon the flat to the right, and upon the side hill beyond, the remains of numerous castles, built and occupied by the Forty-niners. One in particular, at the time of my visit among them, was yet standing; and for nearly twenty years this ancient edifice, erected at a great sacrifice of mental energy, and occupied by the writer and three others, passengers of the ship “America,” was desecrated to fowl purposes, being used for a hen roost.
Down there, below the spring near the creek, you can yet see the remains of an old chimney and a level spot, where in ’49 stood a cabin in which were domiciled three or four passengers who came from Panama in the good ship “Niantic,” the old hull of which is now lying beneath a large building at the corner of Clay and Sansome streets, San Francisco. A little further down on that gravel bench stood the cabin of a few of the boys who came out in the bark “Diamond,” the old hull of which was moored to the levee in Sacramento City for more than twenty years subsequently and used for a storehouse.
If you would follow that trail for a short distance up the ravine, you would see the remains of the chimneys, and a few old, decayed logs, all that now remain of two cabins, one sheltering a few young men from the State of Kentucky, the occupants of the other hailing from Indiana, and all of them fought under Taylor in the Mexican War. They came across the plains, arriving in Hangtown in September, ’49.
You see yonder, on that rocky point among the trees, the few decayed logs of an old cabin. You observe also that a portion of the old chimney is yet standing, for ’twas built of rocks, through which the nimble flap-jack often flew, to be caught again at the door. This cabin was occupied by a number of Boston boys who came around the Horn in ’49 in the staunch ship “Capital.”
A walk up through that cañon beyond will show you also the ruins of many pleasant homes, but in many cases only the sites which theyoccupied are visible. These were all occupied by gold seekers from the New England States, who had come around the Horn.