Chapter IV · SOUTHERN MINES.

Having made our preparations, and engaged passage on board a schooner for Stockton, on the 19th day of October we started. Our company was made up chiefly of young gentlemen from Boston. Our sail up the bays and the San Joaquin River was accomplished in six days. We furnished our own provisions, which, owing to the length of our journey, proved insufficient. Notwithstanding the very heavy dews, we were compelled to sleep on deck. In consequence, one of our company took so severe a cold that he returned to San Francisco from Stockton, abandoning mining; while another, a young man from Uxbridge—alas! will disregard all the earnest advice of his friends to return, and will go on, a doomed man—will reach the mines, and we shall there leave him in his grave. Poor C., may his sad story be a warning to multitudes of young men, having good business and good prospects at home, to remain there, contented with small, but steady and sure gains! Sad, sad was his fate to be, for we were soon to bury him, in sight, and within a few yards of those rich deposits, the exaggerated accounts of which are now luring him, and will lure so many others to their ruin! Poor friend! even the hardened muleteers, having charge of our provisions, pity his sorrows, and walk themselves, that they may supply a mule for his faltering and fainting steps. All see death in his haggard countenance and sunken eyes, yet he sees it not. Never shall I forget my interview with him, while I walked by the mule on which he was riding, a few days only before his death. He was telling me of the bright and happy future before him. Taking from his vest pocket a daguerreotype, he placed it in my hands, requesting me to open it. What simplicity, what truth were portrayed in that lovely countenance! Well might he think his future a happy one. I could hardly conceal from him my emotion as I returned his priceless treasure, and thought, never will you take to your bosom the loving and the loved! In a few days I communicated to his friends the intelligence of his death.

Stockton, Oct. 25th. An escape so remarkable occurred to-day that it should not be omitted. Calling at the store of Paige & Webster to purchase provisions, I stood conversing with the clerk, the bag containing the supplies lying at my feet. Thinking the string was loose, I stooped over to examine it. At that very moment there was the sharp crack of a pistol in the store adjoining, and separated only by a cloth partition. On rising hastily, I perceived that the bullet had passed through the tent directly in range of my body. Without moving, I took the measurement, and found that, had I not moved the very second I did, the ball must have gone directly through my heart. It passed within an inch or two of my spine. A little crowd were instantly upon the spot, wondering at this almost miraculous escape.

Our journey from Stockton to Marepoosa, a distance of one hundred and twenty miles, was accomplished between Oct. 27th and Nov. 15th. We took our own provisions and cooking utensils with us, there being few eating tents on the way. After three days’ travel the rainy season set in, and we found it necessary to pitch our tents—sometimes doing this in the mud, spreading down our blankets upon the wet and cold ground, there to remain for two or three days. After we had crossed the plain of the San Joaquin and entered among the mountains, we had fine scenery and beautiful sunsets. Our guide was endeavoring to take us by a new track to the mines, and on our march, Nov. 2d, we were lost among the mountains. After a consultation, the guide and muleteers concluded to cross a high mountain, without a path and very steep. In ascending, two of the mules missed their footing, rolling over and over, down the precipitous sides of the hill, till arrested uninjured by some rock or stump. By the time we had reached the summit of the mountain, and passed across an extent of table-land to an abrupt bluff, at the foot of which was to be seen the beautiful Tuolumne, night had crept upon us. With the night came torrents of rain, driving through our thin canvas roof in a shower of large drops. During the night I was conscious of a sensation of coldness which had completely benumbed me. When sufficiently awake to ascertain the cause, I found that, owing to the unevenness of the ground, I had slid down till my feet were immersed in a cold bath outside the tent. All the next day we kept our tent, amusing ourselves by reading, sewing, and conversing. The morning after, the clouds had disappeared, and the sun rose in splendor. The birds sang their most enlivening songs. It was like our May at home. On walking out of our tents, we perceived the huge foot-prints of the grisly bear at just twenty-six paces distant, and there were the holes where he had scratched up the ground in pursuit of the ants and bugs, which he devours with avidity. The centipedes and tarantulas occasioned us no little apprehension and uneasiness. After the rain commenced, we frequently found them between and under our blankets.

On one of the mornings of our march, my feet being lame, I started in advance of the train, that I might take time to rest, not expecting to see the party again till they overtook me at the end of the day’s march. When I left, all preparations for a start had been made, and the muleteers had gone out for their mules. Two of them, however, were missing, and so much of the day was spent before they were found, that the guide concluded to remain in camp till the next morning. Upon reaching the spring where I supposed we were to encamp, and having quenched my thirst, hungry and weary, I went to a large and shady tree a short distance from the path, and sat down to await my companions. For some time I occupied my mind with reading the “Pilgrim’s Progress,” which I had in my pocket. Soon, however, Bunyan’s dream began to mingle with my own, and I fell into a long, deep sleep. When I awoke, bewildered and confused, it was near night, and nowhere were my companions to be seen. Had they passed me during the day, and gone on to the next encampment, or had some accident delayed them, were becoming anxious questions to me. I perceived, by new tracks, that several trains had passed while I was asleep. Was mine one of them? I determined—why, I hardly know—to retrace my morning steps. But soon a new source of anxiety arose. My course in the morning had been across a plain at the foot of the mountains, till at length it brought me up among them. As I descended the last steeps of these, and saw the plain extended out below me, far in the distance, and very far from the trail I had come, I saw a mule-train which I thought must be mine, and concluded that I had been all this time wandering out of my way. Fixing their direction in my mind before descending upon the plain, and while the sun was setting, I struck across, leaving my path, and hoping to intersect theirs by the time they should come into camp. If I could not effect this, I must spend the night without food, or water, or blankets, with also the prospect of being lost among the mountains. This, in my situation, would be attended with much inconvenience and some danger. Several have been lost in this manner, and never seen again. At length I succeeded in reaching the train, and found it was not mine; but I had the satisfaction of hearing from my companions, and that they were still at their last night’s camp. At about ten o’clock I reached our encampment. Tired and hungry as I was, I stood for some time struck with the scene before me. In addition to the usual camp-fires, giving to every thing a wild, gipsy-like air, my friends had cut down a large tree, and, piling up all the branches and a quantity of dry fuel, had made a grand bonfire. The whole country about was lighted up. Hastening to the camp, I first snatched up the coffee-pot, and, finding it half full, began to drink heartily of the contents, too thirsty to judge of its quality. When I joined the cheerful party around the blazing fire, I was appealed to to decide a question which they had been and still were eagerly discussing. The subject was one which, being brought up under our circumstances, and at such a distance from home, was calculated to awaken a lively interest. It was respecting the comparative merits of the Boston Common and the New York Battery, and was agitated by young miners from those cities.

As we approach the mines, accounts vary greatly as to the prospects of the miners. Those who are, like ourselves, going toward the Marepoosa diggings, hear a thousand exasperated stories of success; but the multitude who are already leaving this region for other mines bring back the most discouraging reports. As we have found it elsewhere, so it is here; at a distance—in Stockton, in San Francisco, in the States, the Marepoosa diggings are regarded as very rich, and are thought by some to be the ancient Ophir. Now that we are within a few miles, the enchantment which distance lends has vanished. It is found that, in general, the miners are not making a living. At the River Mercedes we saw some Indians, called Savage’s Indians, from an American with that name, who shot the chief and took his place in the tribe. He was formerly a companion of Colonel Fremont. These Indians were fishing for salmon, at which business they are very expert and successful. All the Indians in the country are openly friendly, but their friendship is not to be trusted. They have acquired a growing distrust of the emigrant miners, so often are they made the subjects of the most cruel and barbarous impositions. To me their whole deportment appears threatening. Even when they come into our camps with presents or to trade, their conduct says plainly, “We bide our time!” It may be delayed, but the time will come when they will seek revenge; and woe be to those who are among these wild mountain fastnesses when that fearful time comes!

I have seen but few birds among the mountains of California. The large French woodpecker is the most common. It feeds upon the acorn, of which it lays up immense supplies after they have fallen from the trees. It can not put its stores in the ground, for the bears and squirrels would scratch them up and devour them. They pick a hole in the bark of the tree, of such a size that the acorn will exactly fit into it; then they fly down, and, taking one in the bill, drive it deep into the hole. There are thousands of these acorns sometimes in a single tree, which have the appearance of so many bullets shot into it. There is a singular species of the frog, similar to the “horned frog” of Texas. It is as large as the common frog, but covered with scales, with two of the same scales, but larger, protruding out from its head. There are abundance of elk, deer, and antelope; but the most remarkable animal is the grisly bear. This animal is eight to eleven feet in length, and four to six in girth. It is of a dark brown color, with long, shaggy hair. It possesses wonderful strength, and a single blow of its iron-clawed paw would fell an ox; yet it rarely attacks unless provoked. It never lies in wait for its prey. It is dangerous to attack him. Few persons have the hardihood, when alone, to fire upon him, and then look for a tree to which they may retreat.

We passed, on our way, through “Fremont’s camp,” where, a year since, the colonel had a large number of Indians working for him. It is now quite a settlement; and the very day we passed through, a company of sixty men was organized to pursue and punish the Indians for various depredations lately committed. Finding so little which was favorable in our prospect, we started for Sherlock’s diggings, led by new stories of wonderful success. The two brothers Sherlock, who discovered this place, are said to have taken out $30,000 from a small square spot of ground. They went to Monterey to deposit their money and make preparations to continue their profitable labors. While there, in an unguarded manner, one day, they let fall some hints concerning their success. These were not lost upon two sailors belonging to a man-of-war then lying in the bay, and who happened to be present. They returned on board, asked and obtained a furlough for seven weeks, made their preparations, and when the Sherlocks started, they started also. It was not long before the Sherlocks suspected the purpose of the sailors, and, to elude them, very quietly arose at midnight, packed their mules, and silently proceeded on their way. What was their surprise in the morning to find their pursuers still following them. Every means was resorted to in order to avoid them or mislead their search, but all in vain. They were always there. Seeing that they were “in for it,” they made a virtue of necessity, took the sailors with them, gave them valuable instructions, and every assistance in their power. A few weeks since, and before the expiration of their furlough, the two sailors returned on board with ninety pounds of gold.

Here we encountered severe hardships, camping in leaky tents, upon wet and muddy ground, from which we raised ourselves only by spreading down pine boughs beneath us, being chilled with the cold rain and snow. Yesterday a friend was seated by me upon a log at the opening of the tent. “Oh!” said he, “let me be at home with my wife and little daughter, and I will live on one meal a day. I have often wondered,” he continued, “how the poor Irish could live in their hovels, but look here at our home! Their situation is Paradise compared to ours! My wife would cry herself to death if she could see what I suffer!”

Nov. 16th. To-day we commenced our labors at Sherlock’s, contracting to pay $5 a day for an old cradle, while the sum total of our first day’s labor has been one dollar. One of my companions amused us by telling us, while speaking of the wrong ideas those form of the mines who have never seen them, the advice his father gave him. He told him not to work too hard, but to buy a low chair and a small iron rake, and, taking his seat, to rake over the sand, and, picking up the pieces of gold as they came to view, to put them in a box.

Nov. 17th. The sum total made to-day is 25 cents; and this when provisions are selling at $1 25 a pound, with the prospect of being still higher. We returned this evening to our camp tired and hungry, and, finding very little here to eat, have put on a kettle of acorns to boil, upon which, with a little venison, we shall make our supper. There are many depredations committed by the Indians. Mules are stolen, and driven away to be eaten.

Nov. 19th. To-day we have made 50 cents each. This evening, as I was passing through the village on my way to the trading-tent, I perceived an old, drunken sailor cooking some nice steaks from the grisly bear. I had never yet tasted the meat, and when I expressed a curiosity to do this, a tin plate, with a generous slice of the savory meat, was placed before me on the ground, with a bottle of brandy. The latter I eschewed, while the former I chewed, and found it delicious—similar to young pork. While we were enjoying the feast, the old sailor related to me a remarkable instance of success in his own case a few days before. His account was corroborated by others, who gave me some particulars which he withheld. He was walking, or rather staggering, for he had been drinking pretty deeply, upon the bank, below which the miners were hard at work. As he was thus proceeding, singing as he went, he kicked his foot against a stone, causing it to roll over. Turning around, and at the same time raising his clinched fist, he began to curse the stone, when his attention and oaths were all arrested together, for he saw at the bottom of the hole from which the stone was displaced something yellow and bright. In an instant he was upon his knees, knife in hand, and soon held up a beautiful lump of nearly pure gold, valued at $500. In one week he had drank and gambled the whole away. Such instances as this have given rise to the opinion among the miners that the worthless, drinking, and gambling characters have better success than the sober and persevering laborer.

Nov. 21st. It is now about seven months since my last letter from my family. My feelings may then be imagined when, late yesterday afternoon, I heard there were letters for me at Fremont’s camp, eight miles distant, over the mountain. Although suffering greatly from blistered feet, I started early this morning, after passing a sleepless night. Alas! what was my disappointment at finding my letters were from San Francisco, soliciting the votes and influence of our company in favor of the election of a candidate to some office! Indeed, it is not surprising that, amid such trials and hardships, so many become disheartened, and resort to forbidden and fatal pleasures and stimulants.

Dec. 1st. Finding all our efforts unavailing, and that none around us were succeeding, we visited Aqua Frio some days since, and have now removed here. There does not appear to be much doing here, but it is a larger settlement, but few now remaining at Sherlock’s. It is, on this account, more safe from the encroachments of the Indians, and provisions are more easily obtained. These are, however, constantly rising. Each dash of rain adds one or two shillings a pound to the price of every article. This is owing to the fact that, as the rains render the roads worse, the price for transportation proportionally increases. We are now paying $1 50 a pound for provisions. The price of a barrel of flour here would go far toward supporting a family at home for a year. Four pounds of hard, moldy bread for our mule cost us about $6. And yet, with these high prices, the miners in the best diggings in the region do not average $1 50 a day. We have not done this.

Dec. 3d. Lying awake in my tent last night, I overheard three miners, who had come in partially intoxicated at midnight to their tent, within a few feet of us, talking over their plans. It seemed that one of them had just weighed the gold they had made that day, and found it nine ounces. They were to be up early, and start for the same place again. I conformed my movements to theirs the next forenoon, with an experienced miner for a companion. With our picks and spades, we soon reached the place where they were at work. They were in the middle of the channel, having turned the stream from its course, up to their knees in the mud and water, while one of their number was constantly employed in “bailing out.” We prospected near them for a few hours, as they told us many others had done, unsuccessfully. They did not themselves expect to find employment for more than two days, the deposit already beginning to fail.

Dec. 4th. There was a large fall of snow last night, which pressed so heavily upon our tent that it fell in upon us; but we kept our beds till morning, the bank of snow above us adding not a little to the warmth of our blankets. I went down, after breakfast, to the diggings, and brushing away the snow, and breaking the ice, attempted to wash out some gold in a pan; but I made nothing. Becoming thoroughly chilled, with my hands and feet frost-bitten, I returned to my tent; but here it is almost as bad. The canvas, of which our tent is made, is under the snow, our provisions scarce, the fire out, and the day very cold. Two of my companions, feeling the pressure of hunger, went to the tent of an acquaintance, where they found some venison steaks and bread, which had been left at breakfast. They made their dinner from these, being comforted by the thought that some ciote or stray dog would bear the blame. What renders our situation more deplorable is the want of proper clothing. Good boots are so scarce that $96 are readily given for a pair.

A miner related in my hearing to-day the manner in which he employed others to work for him. He marked off a claim ten feet square, and commenced digging in one corner of it. Finding it likely to be a more serious job than he anticipated, and being tired of it, and yet not willing to abandon it without knowing what lay at the bottom, he concealed several pieces of gold, one weighing two ounces, in a corner of his claim. Watching his opportunity when several persons were near, he artfully uncovered one of the lumps, seeming, at the same time, anxious to conceal it. In a few moments several spectators were eyeing his movements. Soon he turned up two or three more small pieces, and then the larger one. In ten minutes the ground all about him was marked off, and many picks and shovels were employed in prospecting for him, while he went back to his tent, pleased with the success of his maneuver. Several good offers were made him for his claim, and, had he been so disposed, he might have made a good bargain; but he was satisfied with the amount of labor he thus procured. In many cases the grossest impositions have been practiced. Persons have scattered gold in the dirt of a claim they held, then have offered it for a high price, exhibiting a pan full of the rich soil as a specimen. We have now spent many days at Aqua Frio without finding any prospect of success; on the contrary, being involved in debt; and have determined to break up our camp, and, disposing of our tents, cooking utensils, &c., to retrace our steps toward Stockton. One of our company is disposed a little longer to try his fortunes—or rather his misfortunes—at the Marepoosa mines. Another remains in his lonely grave. All the others, excepting myself, intend to return to San Francisco, and, as soon as they are able, to leave for home.

On Monday, Dec. 10th, we started with a mule-train bound for Stockton, which took a few pounds of freight for us, while I packed twenty pounds upon my back. The first day we traveled fifteen miles over the mountains, and saw hundreds going to and from the mines. Burns’s tent was so filled with travelers that we were compelled to sleep out in the open air, which was so severely cold that the water froze by our side. The next night we slept at Montgomery’s ranch, after walking twenty-three miles. Spreading our blankets down upon the ground, beneath a canvas roof, we slept so closely packed that no person could have stepped between us. For breakfast we had tea, hard bread, beans, and pork, and a few pickles, for all which we paid $2 each. The following day we traveled in the rain twenty-five miles, fording the Tuolumne. My companions had all dropped behind, half frozen and tired out, seeking shelter and rest in some trading or eating tents we had passed. I pushed on with the mule-train, hoping at night to reach a comfortable shelter; but night found us completely exhausted, and far from any settlement. The company traveling with the mule-train had a tent, but there was no spare room which they could offer me. I had to make up my mind to spend the night alone in the drenching rain, and it was a night I shall never forget. A large log-fire was burning, by which I sat till a late hour, when I happened to remember that I had seen a large hollow tree by the road side, at some little distance from our camp. Taking a blazing brand, I went and examined the tree, and found that the hollow would afford my body a shelter by sitting upright, and leaving my feet exposed to the rain. I kindled a fire, collecting some brush and bark with which to replenish it during the night. Then, with the ax I had borrowed, I removed a quantity of dead leaves and filthy rubbish accumulated at the bottom of my cavern. To my alarm, I found among this rubbish fresh marks of a large bear, which had lately found refuge here from a storm such as now drove me to its shelter. But there seemed no alternative, and I thought, besides, that my fire would be a protection against wild beasts; so I wrapped my blankets about me, and, sinking down into my novel bed, with my feet in a cold bath, I listened to the pattering of the rain, thinking of those far away. Soon my fire began to fail, and I had placed the last piece of bark upon it, and fallen asleep. When I awoke it was pouring in torrents, and my fire was entirely out. Then came thoughts of the bear, and I instinctively drew in my legs, not wishing to place temptation within his reach, should he be prowling about me. It would not do; I was nearly frozen; the water began to find its way into my bed, which I apprehended I should soon be compelled to share with old Bruin. Then it was so dark. I got up, took my blankets over my arm, and started to return to the log-fire, which I saw dimly burning in the distance. In my haste, I forgot that there was a bend in the bank of the stream below us, making it necessary for me to take a circuit round in order to reach my companions. I soon found myself lodged among the bushes and stones at the bottom of the bank. Then came over me a nervous feeling like a nightmare, and I could already feel myself in the grasp of the grisly bear—his claws and teeth were in my flesh. Dropping my ax, and every thing but my blankets, and losing one of my shoes, I began an imaginary scramble and flight from my imaginary pursuer. The remainder of the night I passed, wrapped up in my blankets, by the log-fire. A walk of twelve miles the day following brought me to the Stanislaus, where I was to separate from my companions, who had not yet come up—they going on to Stockton, and I to the Stanislaus diggings. The rain continued to pour down. Little dreamed our friends at home of our situation then! With scarcely a dollar in our pockets, a long journey before us, cold, hungry, and wet, our oppressed hearts were ready to sink. Alas! little did I anticipate what a gloomy future was before two of those companions! One of them was the only and the idolized son of his parents, and tenderly and dearly loved by his sisters. His home possessed every comfort and convenience. He had come far from his father’s house to perish with hunger. He resolved, “I will arise and go to my father.” But that father and that heart-broken mother he was no more to see. A year after we parted—and oh! what a year of suffering and privation must that have been—with that companion of his boyhood and youth, he reached Chagres in most destitute circumstances. To raise money enough to take him home, he engaged as a boatman on the river, took the fever, and died. In consequence of my recent exposure, I had a severe cold, and was entirely unable to travel; yet I had no means of paying my expenses at a ranch. Under these circumstances, I crossed the Stanislaus, went to the ranch of Mr. George Islip, a gentleman from Canada, and told him my situation. “Give yourself no uneasiness,” he said; “you are welcome as long as you choose to remain with us; all I request of you is that you will feel yourself at home.” I passed a very pleasant week with this noble-hearted man, and was treated as a brother. The wind had blown down his house, and torn the canvas roof to ribbons, and we were without shelter from the pelting rain; but warm fires, kept up in the middle of the temporary shelter, made us comfortable. To protect my body from the rain, I would creep under the table, managing to keep my feet near the fire. After a week of interesting and wild adventure, I was set over the river by my friend, and started for the mines again. The roads were very muddy, and the streams forded with difficulty. In my first day’s walk I passed three wagons which were mired—a common occurrence at this season of the year. There were many dead animals by the road side. My Christmas eve I spent most cheerlessly at Green Spring, and the next day reached Woods’s diggings. On the 26th Dec. I visited Sullivan’s diggings, Jamestown, Yorktown, and Curtis’s Creek. A residence in this portion of the mines was, in every way, more desirable than in the more distant mines at this season. Provisions were cheaper, and there was less danger of attacks from the Indians. All the places I have mentioned, together with the Chinese diggings, Mormon Gulch, Sonora, and others, were a cluster of mines lying near to each other, and between the Stanislaus and Tuolumne Rivers. At each of these places were trading tents and dwellings of the miners, chiefly of canvas, with some log and hide houses, and one or two frame buildings. Sonora is the principal of these, the residence chiefly of Mexicans and Chilinos, of whom there are some twelve thousand. Here are furnished provisions, clothing, tools, &c., at almost as low rates as at Stockton. Its hotels, restaurants, and trading tents presented a very busy appearance; and there is no place in the mines where gambling is so much the business. Some comfortable houses have been erected here. After visiting all the mines, and finding but indifferent prospects at any of them, I located myself at Curtis’s Creek, to labor in the winter diggings. I was without a companion, and had heard of a gentleman from New England who was desirous of sharing his tent and provisions with some one. He had been out of health, but was supposed to be improving. My name had been mentioned to him by a friend before I arrived, and he had expressed a desire to enter into such an arrangement as might be of mutual advantage. He was considered a man of great intelligence and worth; and it was partly with the hope of having him as a mining companion that I had visited Curtis’s. His tent was a mile from the settlement. Taking my roll of blankets, I walked over to see him. Judge of my surprise, on reaching his tent, and raising the curtains at the entrance, and stepping in, to find myself standing before a corpse, laid out upon a hammock! I learned from a colored man, who soon came in, that Mr. H. had died half an hour before. He was alone, and seemed to have just been reaching from his bed for something. The last sentiment to which he gave utterance was, “I believe I left home a moral and a religious man; I have brought morality and religion with me, and, with God’s assistance, I will keep them to the last.” Neither he nor others supposed that he was dangerously sick. With the black man, I went out, and we selected a spot beneath a large tree, and there we dug his grave. The noon of the next day was the time named for the funeral, and notice accordingly was sent to the various mines near by. It being impracticable to provide a coffin, the body was wrapped in several blankets, and a quantity of pine boughs spread at the bottom of the grave. At the time appointed for the burial, most of the miners might be seen leaving their various employments, and slowly walking in small groups toward the grave. Another group—the bearers and friends—met them, and all proceeded together on the way. How solemn and impressive, under those circumstances, “the burial service” of the Church, which was then performed. An appropriate hymn was sung, and the body laid in its last repose, then covered with pine boughs, and the grave was filled up. Having purchased the tent and a part of the provisions, I spent the two following days, assisted by a friend—young Dr. R., of New Jersey—in removing the tent, and preparing for the labors of mining. On the Sunday following—the 30th Dec.—I was requested to go over to Woods’s diggings and attend the funeral of a young man from Philadelphia. We had formerly both listened together to the faithful preaching of the Rev. Mr. Fowles. Could it have been anticipated, as I fixed my eye upon that healthy, intelligent countenance at the close of the services, that in the wilds of California I should so soon be called to pronounce over him the solemn sentence—in this case sadly solemn—“Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust!” The brother of young A. was with him at the mines, but he died alone. The next morning, the last of the year, Dr. R. and myself started upon a prospecting excursion; and we returned at night as wise, as rich, and a little more tired than we were when we left in the morning.

Jan. 1st, 1850. It has rained hard all day. Engaged in washing and mending clothes, cooking, writing, and reading. Before we separated for the night, my friend, Dr. R., requested me to conduct “family worship.” It was a simple request and a simple act, like every act of faith, and appropriate to our situation and to the day, being the first of the year. Only those who have experienced it, especially in a situation like ours, know of the refreshing fountain of comfort which springs up in the soul while kneeling before the throne of “our Father in heaven.” It was family prayer; and we realized the delightful import of this expression. The Being to whom we addressed our prayers was at that moment looking with an eye of love upon each member of our dear families at home, and our prayers would bring peace, protection, and blessings to them. It was family prayer; and at that moment we felt the privilege of being united with the great and happy family that worship the glorious and good Being who loves and cares for all.

Jan. 2d. During the last night there was a robbery in the settlement, which caused great excitement. A miner, formerly from Ohio, but who had been many years in Oregon, where he had a pleasant home, had been induced, by the hope of making a rapid fortune, to sell his valuable property, and, taking his large family, to remove to the mines. There, by hard labor and trading, he had laid up about $4000. Most of this sum was in a trunk at the foot of the bed in their tent. During the night this trunk was taken, and the next morning was found at some distance, broken open, and the money gone. A boarder was immediately arrested on suspicion, but, after a well-conducted trial, was released. We have made 37 cents each.

Jan. 3d. It has rained hard most of the day, and there was some thunder, a very unusual occurrence in California. Spent a part of the day and all the evening with Dr. R., singing, reading, &c. At the close of our pleasant interview, again we “lifted the heart and bent the knee” in prayer to Almighty God. In our visits to each other on these rainy days, like the ladies at home, we often take our sewing with us. To-day I took a pair of stockings to darn, one of my shoes to mend, and the “Democratic Review” to read. While we plied our needles, our tongues were equally busy speaking of mutual friends and hopes.

Jan. 4th. It has been clear to-day, but, owing to the high state of the water, we could do but little. I have been favored with an introduction to Captain Wadsworth, of Connecticut, a descendant of the captain of the same name who is famous for having concealed the charter of the colony in the Charter Oak. He cordially invited me to share with him a pleasant house which he had spent some weeks in building, and which was more comfortable than any thing I had seen in the mines. The house was about ten feet square, inclosed by split rails, driven into the ground perpendicularly side by side, and filled in with clay, the whole covered with a tight canvas roof stretched over the rafters. The chimney was large, and, when well filled with blazing wood, imparted an air of comfort to every thing. We enjoyed luxuries uncommon in the mines—a table and chairs. I soon found myself at home here.

Jan. 5th. It rained again; but we could not afford to be idle, though we made a mere trifle by severe and exposing labor. To-night we have weighed our week’s earnings, and find that they amount to $1 80. It is more trying to the miner to be compelled to spend a day in idleness than to engage in the most severe labor, even though that labor be unprofitable. I have often been driven out by my own anxious thoughts to work in a severe rain.

Jan. 6th, Sunday. A cloudy, unpleasant day. This forenoon, made a “duff;” but what was to be done for a string with which to tie the bag? I looked every where, but in vain. At last I thought of my shoe-string, which I used for this purpose. When all was ready, I found that the duff was too large for the kettle, so I boiled one end first, and then turned the other, and boiled that.

Jan. 7th. Prospected with Captain Wadsworth at the Chilian diggings. This is an open, level field, through which a stream formerly ran, but which now has so little water that many of the miners take the dirt to the river to be washed. Here was a large settlement of Chilinos, who have come from their own gold mines to try their fortune here. They often bring their families with them. I saw one family, the father of which, assisted by the older children, was “panning out” gold on a stream near his rude home made of hides. The mother was washing clothes, while the infant was swinging in a basket made fast to the branches overhead. An interesting girl of five years, with a tiny pick and spade, was digging in a hole, already sunk two feet, and putting the dirt in a pan, which she would take to the stream and wash, putting the scale or two of gold into a dipper a little larger than a thimble. A heavy rain drove us home, wet and cold. It continued to rain, with a few intervals, during the remainder of the week; but a trunk of valuable books, owned by Captain Wadsworth, served to occupy our minds. These employments, with the writing of letters, singing, roasting our coffee, cooking, visiting, &c., filled up the hours of these rainy days. We have made, the whole week, $3 each.

I must again remind my reader that, if these details are uninteresting, they are yet necessary as the filling up of a miner’s life. The bright and glowing pictures presented to the public—the “news from California”—“$2,000,000 in gold-dust”—“rich discoveries”—“new diggings,” &c., must all be filled up with a back-ground of cloudy days, of rainy weeks, broken hopes, privations, sickness, many a gloomy death-scene, and many a lonely grave. With how much surprise, and often indignation, do the miners read the “accounts from the mines,” which come back to them in the newspapers from home! And with how much satisfaction do they read the few truthful descriptions which they meet.

Jan. 13th, Sunday. The roads were so impassable to-day, from the late rains, that I was unable to preach a funeral sermon at Woods’s, as I had promised. There was preaching at Curtis’s in the forenoon, by a Methodist, who gave us a good sermon, its only fault being its great length. At the close, he invited all so disposed to attend a class-meeting. Among others, a German, having an imperfect acquaintance with our language, was called upon for his “experience.” With some reluctance and hesitation, he arose, and said these few words: “I find religion good when I do my duty; and when I don’t do my duty, I find religion bad; but I shall try to try!” In the afternoon I selected for my reading-desk and pulpit the stump of a tree which had been cut down, on a level spot, in the midst of the settlement. The logs and large branches of this tree had not yet been removed for fire-wood, and furnished seats for my congregation. Our worship was very primitive, and the whole scene would have been impressive to one of our assemblies at home; but we remembered, to our edification, that God looks not upon the outward appearance, but upon the heart. The singing was excellent, conducted by a professor from the Boston Academy. After the preaching, I invited all who wished to join a choir for mutual improvement in singing to remain. A good number were present, and the professor was duly elected chorister. Our arrangement was to meet before worship on Sunday, and on Wednesday evenings, and devote two hours to this delightful employment. Those hours I shall not soon forget. Sometimes, when some old familiar tune was sung, which brought each one’s home circle before his mind, silent but eloquent tears would start in many eyes.

Jan. 14th. In company with Captain W. and Dr. R., selected a spot where a mountain ravine opens into the river, and a few yards below the place where a company of Frenchmen took out, a few months since, a large amount of gold. Our best prospect was in the channel of this mountain stream. We spent some hours in diverting the stream from its course by a dam and a canal on a small scale. Then, by bailing, we succeeded in opening the channel. Most of the upper soil, with the stones, must be removed, nearly to the primitive rock below, often a distance of some feet, always ankle or knee deep in the mud. We were greatly encouraged, in the present instance, by an indication of gold rarely presented. About four inches from the surface of the ground, and in the loose upper soil, I found a lump of gold weighing nearly three pennyweights. Greatly cheered by this circumstance, we worked away with spade and pick, with cradle and pan, hour after hour, and were rewarded by finding in our treasury at night a few bright scales of gold, amounting to 25 cents.

Jan. 15th. This morning, notwithstanding the rain, we were again at our work. We must work. In sunshine and rain, in warm and cold, in sickness and health, successful or not successful, early and late, it is work, work, WORK! Work or perish! All around us, above and below, on mountain side and stream, the rain falling fast upon them, are the miners at work—not for gold, but for bread. Lawyers, doctors, clergymen, farmers, soldiers, deserters, good and bad, from England, from America, from China, from the Islands, from every country but Russia and Japan—all, all at work at their cradles. From morning to night is heard the incessant rock, rock, rock! Over the whole mines, in streamlet, in creek, and in river, down torrent and through the valley, ever rushes on the muddy sediment from ten thousand busy rockers. Cheerful words are seldom heard, more seldom the boisterous shout and laugh which indicate success, and which, when heard, sink to a lower ebb the spirits of the unsuccessful. We have made 50 cents each.

Jan. 16th. A friend put into my hands to-day a copy of the Boston Journal. We laid it aside to read in the evening. But how was this to be accomplished? The luxury of a candle we could not afford. Our method was this: we cut and piled up a quantity of dry brush in a corner near the fire, and after supper, while one put on the brush and kept up the blaze, the other would read; and as the blaze died away, so would the voice of the reader. Our work to-day has amounted to 80 cents each.

Jan. 17th. A very rainy, cold day. As Captain W. is sorely afflicted with an eruption, which covers his whole body, probably the effects of having handled the “poison oak,” which grows over the whole country, we conclude to remain in, and finish the paper. Cutaneous diseases are cured by the use of the soap-plant—amole. Captain W. has tried it to-day, and been greatly benefited. We use it in bathing, washing clothes, dishes, &c.

Jan. 18th. It has continued to rain. There has been some excitement in a ravine near where we were at work. A company of six men found a place from which they have taken out $18 to each every day through the week. The place is now thronged. Every foot is taken up; and yet, of the hundreds there, not five have made more than their living. Some only made 12½ cents. We have worked there to-day, and made $2 each. This evening we have had a pleasant meeting of our choir.

Jan. 19th. A fine day. We have made $1 each. Upon the bank of Curtis’s Creek, two men to-day opened a rich deposit, and have brought to their tent $105, while two others, hearing of their success, commenced just above, and a company of five more below them. Those above in a short time took out $64, and those below, $112. These instances of success, being talked of at noon, created a great excitement. This afternoon the bar presented a busy scene, and before night every foot of the lower part of the bar was marked off and claimed.

Jan. 20th, Sunday. The singing and religious services were held to-day in the trading-tent of Mr. Capps. My reading-desk was a brandy-cask; and perhaps this might be said in favor of the change—it had long enough been appropriated to the service of Satan, and its conversion to a better cause was not undesirable.

Jan. 21st. The report of the success on the bar below on Saturday has gone abroad and done its work. Many miners, much excited by the rumors, greatly exaggerated by passing through the mouths of the traders, have begun to come in. New tents are springing up, and new faces are seen; but success through the day has been confined to the one deposit, which proves to have run in a rich vein for some sixty feet, occasionally disappearing, but always coming up again in the same line. A company of six miners, from Illinois, made over four pounds of gold last week, then gave up their claim, supposing it exhausted, to some friends, who made three pounds more from it to-day.

Jan. 22d. In company with several experienced and successful miners, went to some of the tributaries of the Tuolumne. We had gone three miles from home, and were prospecting some of the higher ravines, the lower being too full of water. It had been cloudy when we started, but we were so accustomed to the rains of this country that we felt no concern; but about noon a severe, cold wind sprung up, driving before it a storm of snow. It came cutting and freezing into our faces. It was one of those evils which must be met. I carried a spade in one hand, and a crow-bar in the other; and that piece of cold iron penetrated into my soul. I thought I had never before experienced the sensation of pure, unrelieved cold. The ice-water into which I plunged my hands half an hour since, on my return, felt warm. We were not at all prepared for such an event. Ah! this mountain ramble, the heavy snow-flakes and hail pelting in our faces, our hands and feet almost frozen, have gone far toward curing us of any slight remains of the “yellow fever” which may have been clinging to us!

Jan. 23d. A clear and cold day. The ground is covered with snow. Alone I went to my cold and cheerless work. Those who are counting their bright yellow coins think little of the privations which have been undergone, the agonies which have been endured—think not of the living death, the dying life it has cost to draw from the mines their golden eagles. Made to-day 75 cents.

Jan. 24th. Last night it was intensely cold, and near morning commenced snowing, which it has continued to do the whole day. A mail-agent has come in to-day, and still no letters for me. It is now thirty-nine weeks since my last letter from home was dated. I would purchase one line from my wife with all the gold I have made during those thirty-nine weeks.

To-day, while a friend was seated by me, before Captain W.’s blazing fire, we were speaking of the great number of persons who come to the mines, and, after working a few days, become discouraged, and abandon mining. He related the following instance, which he knows to have taken place. A merchant from New York recently came up with high expectations, having made all his arrangements and preparations to carry on mining for one season. The fascinating interest which invests this whole subject at a distance had drawn him on. Being a strong and vigorous man, blessed with the grace of perseverance, he attributed the want of success, of which so many complained, to their indolence or want of energy. The question he frequently put, on his way to the mines, was, “How much may be made by hard and persevering labor?” as if he thought that such labor must succeed. He reached the mines—saw, on the bar below him, some miners hard at work. As he watched them, he thought, “That, indeed, is hard work, and here is an opportunity to judge for myself.” He directed the muleteer to wait while he went down to the bar. There he saw the preparations which had been made for washing, the stones and dirt which had been removed before the gold could be reached. He saw the men at the bottom of the pit, knee deep in mud, filling the buckets. He followed those buckets to the cradle, watched the operation of washing the dirt through, the cradle. As they prepared to wash down in pans, he inquired, “How many buckets of dirt have been washed to procure the gold now in the machine?” “Twenty-five,” was the reply. “And how many buckets can be washed out in a day?” “Sometimes more and sometimes less; we wash out one hundred and fifty.” “How many men in your company?” “Four.” “While these inquiries were going on, one of the company was panning down the gold, and brought it to where they were seated upon some rocks. “How much gold is there in that pan?” he eagerly inquired. One said there was $2, while the others thought there was not so much. It was weighed, and found to be $1 62. He could make his own calculations of their day’s labor. The sum total was $9 72; for each of the four men, $2 43. He looked about him. There was all that pile of rubbish to be removed—enough to employ them the whole day—before they could wash the gold at all. “Where are your tents?” he asked. “We have none.” “Where are your provisions?” “This money is to purchase them.” “You had better purchase mine, which can be done cheap, as I shall be on my way to San Francisco in ten minutes.” And to San Francisco he returned, and in three weeks was established in a commission auction store.

Jan. 28th. Since my last date it has rained constantly, and some of the time in torrents; but little work has been done. Yesterday a miner was tried for stealing a small amount of gold, and, upon conviction, was sentenced to receive five lashes, and to leave the mines in five days. Reports have been circulating among us of some large lumps of gold having been found at Sonora, one of which, it is asserted, weighs seventy pounds.

Jan. 29th. It is a lovely spring morning, but the water is so high it is impossible to work. The notes of the robin, the thrush, and the American nightingale are heard, bringing back thoughts of the homes we have left. The miners are beginning to talk of the summer diggings upon the rivers. Many parties have gone on exploring expeditions, and it is said that thousands of miners have all their provisions purchased, and but await the melting of the snow from the mountains to cross over and take possession of the real El Dorado. Very little is doing here. We are not averaging a dollar a day on the whole creek. A gentleman from New England has just been telling me that he left a business, when he came from home, which enabled him to lay up $500 a year; but that, since he left home, which is now over a year, he has not made $200. Surely not enough to support him. A newspaper, which has strayed into the mines to-day, brings the astounding intelligence of the murder of Dr. Parkman, and the arrest and trial of Professor Webster as the murderer.

Feb. 2d. Prospected to-day with Mr. L., of Livingston Manor, upon the Hudson River. Mr. L. has a quiet, easy way, as he is seated upon some rock, examining the dirt, and turning over the stones at the bottom of some hole, which gives the impression to any one who may happen to be looking on from a distance that he is picking up pieces of gold. We were thus seated to-day, and he was scraping the clay from a stone, and showed me several small scales, when two miners, who had been working all day above us, hurried down, and eagerly asked what we had found. They would not believe when we told them, but sat there an hour, watching every movement, ready, on the appearance of the lumps, to take possession of the next claim. Miners practice many arts to deceive others with regard to what they may be doing. Especially is this the case if they are doing well, when they generally say they are doing nothing, reasoning as did Sir Walter Scott after he had published “Waverley,” and wishing to conceal his authorship. People had no right to ask if he was the author, and therefore it was right for him to deceive them. I found it was better to tell the truth. The very purpose of concealment was thus better accomplished, for, speak as you might, you were sure not to be believed, and you were thus spared the sin of a falsehood. The only indication by which I came to judge that miners were doing well in any place was to find them early and late, and constantly, at their work. Our prospecting gave us 25 cents each.

Feb. 4th. This is a day to be remembered. Letters from home! If any one would learn the full significance of these words, let him pass ten months in California without one word from his loved ones, an unhappy exile from his own family. They may be sick, suffering, dying, and he who should be near them, to care for, and protect, and comfort them, is far away, and knows not their condition. It is an era in the mines—the arrival of the mail-agent. How cheerfully are our two dollars a letter paid. It was like receiving back my family from the dead—those letters, after so long and weary a silence. I am happy, and I am miserable! I am calm, and I am fearfully excited! It is an era in the miner’s life when such, although tardy, messengers reach him. I have been present when many of these have given up to their owners their treasures of love or their burden of wretchedness. One has just opened his letter, and bursts into immoderate weeping. I inquire the cause. “My wife and child are both dead!” A physician of one of the hospitals told me that they dared not give their letters from home to those who were very sick; that in several instances they had seen persons in this condition, upon reading their letters, turn over and die.

A party of individuals, from the ranches on the plains below, passed us on their way to the headwaters of the Tuolumne, in pursuit of Indians who had stolen some of their mules. They were joined by numbers of the miners.

Feb. 5th. There is some excitement with regard to a bar one mile above us. Captain W. and myself have spent the day there, and have made $5 37 each. The lump of gold found at Sonora, and which, it was said, weighs seventy pounds, weighs only twenty-two pounds. The miner through whom I received my information had a claim next to the one in which this lump was found. It lay within two inches of the very spot where he was at work. One blow of his pick would have given him possession of it.

Feb. 6th. We have to-day made 75 cents each.

An interesting instance of success happened recently in a gulch upon the Stanislaus in our vicinity. Two young men, on their way to the mines, heard of this gulch, and concluded to commence their mining at that place; but, when they arrived there, they found the whole ground, considered favorable, occupied. Not knowing what to do or where to go, they made their first essay in a small ravine, across which a log was thrown for the convenience of the crowd constantly passing. In this ravine, and by the side of that log, they dug their hole. They came to a crevice in the rock, and saw opened before them a sight which makes the miner’s heart glad—pounds of pure virgin gold, lying in lumps and scales, but awaiting their slightest effort to transfer it to their own pockets.

Feb. 7th. This forenoon my share was 25 cents. In the afternoon visited Yorktown. The diggings here are at a distance from any stream, upon the plain; but it is probable the stream once ran over the ground where the gold is now found. Before the gold can be taken out, excavations must be made, from twelve to twenty feet in depth. One cup showed about eight ounces of beautiful gold taken out in five hours; but it must be remembered that three men had been hard at work “clearing off” for seven days, during which time no gold had been made. This work is so severe and exposing that many at Yorktown are sick with rheumatism.

Feb. 8th. We divide to-day 12 cents to each man.

The party previously mentioned, who went out in pursuit of the Indians, returned late last night, having with them the scalp of one Indian, which they had taken after decoying him into ambush. They had mutilated the body, and then dragged it about with ropes, made fast to the pummel of the saddle. They rode through the settlement, almost too drunk to keep their seats, firing their guns and pistols, while from their mouths issued volleys of shrieks and imprecations. It must be mentioned, in justice to several who started with this party, that, becoming disgusted with the proceedings of their companions, they left them, and consequently must not share in the disgrace of these transactions.

Feb. 9th. We visited a wild mountain ravine, and made $4 10 each to-day.

Feb. 11th, Monday. In the same place, we have made to each $5 62.

Feb. 12th. Have made 15 cents.

Feb. 13th. I must place a cipher against all our labors to-day. How expressive the miner’s phrase, “Worked out!” Others may go after him and make pounds of gold; but, do what he can, labor as he may, become discouraged and leave, then return again and again, for him it is “worked out,” and with “longing, lingering looks,” he at length abandons it as a hopeless task.

Feb. 14th, Mormon Gulch. The rainy season seems to have passed. To-day, in company with several companions, who purpose trying the ravine and dry diggings with me, came to this place. This is a settlement about four miles from Curtis’s. We found considerable excitement existing at Woods’s as we came through. A miner, who was well known and esteemed, was found near that settlement murdered. He started yesterday, with considerable gold, intending to establish himself in some business in Stockton. His life was taken for his money.

A quartz mountain near Woods’s, rising abruptly from the valley, and showing its glittering white crest at its summit, drew our attention. Some experiments have been made here to obtain gold from the rock, but thus far without success.

All the winter encampments are breaking up. The miners are on the move. The log and stone houses, and sometimes the tents, are deserted. Within a short distance, we saw over three hundred pack-mules, moving about in every direction.

Feb. 18th. Have spent the time since my last date in collecting the statistics of winter mining from numerous miners in the various encampments near me, and in writing to those at a greater distance. Have brought over our effects to Mormon Gulch, and selected a spot upon which to pitch our tent, at the foot of a mountain torrent, which descends here almost at once—sometimes playfully, sometimes angrily—into the valley. The mountains on both sides are high and precipitous. Directly at the foot of the cascade, it widens out into a kind of bar. Upon this we have selected a spot for our home. It is altogether one of the most romantic spots I have ever seen. From this place we have a view of a picturesque valley below and a wild cascade above us. When the stream is swollen after a heavy rain, the cascade loses its beauty, but becomes madly wild. Before we had erected our tent, the clouds, which had been lowering over us, began to pour down their contents upon us. We were all unprepared. Our provisions, clothing, and blankets were all wet. We find—too late, alas!—that we have committed the same kind of error with Cowper’s birds, who anticipated pairing time, and built their nests too early. We had thought the winter over and gone, and the rainy season past, and, leaving our winter homes, had only a small and leaky tent for our shelter. There are four of us in company. Two of these are young friends, like brothers, who left home, and have since remained together, industrious, sober, and worthy young men, formerly in the employ of one of the Lawrence manufacturing companies. The third is a sailor—noble-hearted, sincere, frank, and full of fun and glee, yet a most persevering and hard-working miner.

Feb. 20th. Our first day’s labor has given to each of us 45 cents. We have worked in a loose, talcose slate, on the edges of the stream. The gold is here coarser than in the rivers.

Feb. 21st. Have to-day made $1 each. Finding a place which seemed favorable, lying upon the bed of the stream, we began to dig down and throw off the top soil. We were soon interrupted by some persons, who said we could not work there, as they claimed it. We inquired why they had not left their pick or spade there, according to the custom. They replied that all the miners there were bound to stand by each other in maintaining their claims, which were known to each other. We find that most of the ground is held in this way, without being marked off or designated. The present alcalde, it is said, holds thirty of these claims.

Feb. 22d. Two of the company went over to the Stanislaus to prospect. In the place of gold, they brought back with them a bouquet of wild flowers, which would have graced the centre-table of any parlor. Our day’s labor gave $1 12 to each. We have been ejected from two claims to-day, after working some time upon them. It seems that comparatively a few persons have undertaken to monopolize most of the gold soil in the gulch. They have driven off a large number of French miners from what is called “French Bar,” and have likewise taken possession of that.

Feb. 23d. We have to-day divided our forces. Two of us commenced sinking a hole upon French Bar, while the others went to a small stream running through an extent of table-land on the top of the mountain. Those on the bar below, of course, labored without present remuneration, as a deep excavation must be made, requiring our united efforts for a week or ten days. Those on the hill have made enough to divide $5 10 to each of us.

Feb. 25th. Those from the mountain have brought home $5 60 to each. We have been delayed in our work in the valley by the caving in of the dirt upon us, owing to the rain. At last we were compelled to abandon it for the present.

During the last night we had a violent snow-storm, which broke down our tent over our heads.

Feb. 26th. We commenced working upon another claim, but were again driven from it. Appealed to the alcalde, who decided against us, but at the same time pointed to another place, farther from the stream, where he advised us to work. We had spent two hours in digging here, when two miners laid claim to the ground, and soon brought the alcalde, who said it was a misunderstanding, and that he had intended to give us another place, upon which he then stood. There was then no doubt, and we worked all the afternoon upon that place. From the mountain we received $1. 87 each. To our joy, we have found a plant which makes an excellent salad. It grows abundantly about us. We have lived so long without vegetables that this is a luxury.

Feb. 27th. It has been a cold day, with occasional dashes of snow. On reaching our claim in the valley, we found a miner in possession. On appealing to the alcalde, who had so decidedly given us the place only yesterday, to our surprise he again decided against us. Those upon the mountain made $6 62 to each of us. We all abandoned the valley, only retaining our claim upon the French Bar, where we left our crow-bar as our legal representative.

Feb. 28th. We had barely reached our place of labor this morning, upon the mountain, when it came on to rain so violently as to drive us home. We have spent the day in our tent, reading, writing, cooking, and sleeping.

March 4th, Monday evening. We have been kept from work for several days by the rain. Improved the time in prospecting upon the Stanislaus. Heard of a ravine near the Green Springs where much gold has been found. In the fall, when I was at Mr. Islip’s, I met an eccentric man named Texas Jack. He told me that, early in the spring previous, while passing to the Stanislaus mines by a nearer path across the mountains, he had prospected in a ravine, and from one pan full of dirt had taken nearly a pound of gold. I took the direction to the place, but, having learned not to be led by such wonderful stories, I never visited the spot. Some miners, a few weeks since, happened upon this very place, and, before their secret was discovered, had made $8000. Several others had done well there.

March 5th. We have all worked together upon the mountain to-day. During the forenoon the vein ran out, and was nowhere to be found again. We made many trials, but without success. Made $2 06 each.

March 6th. We worked in a ravine where a few rich deposits have been found. One of our number, while working with his knife, in a few moments took out three lumps, which together were worth $21 75; but, during the whole of the day, the others of the company did not make 25 cents. The fields and the mountain sides begin to be clothed with the most beautiful and variegated flowers. I had heard and read much of the flowers of California, but they far surpass my highest anticipations. They spring up at the close of the rainy season, thrive amid frost and snow, live a short life of exceeding beauty, and soon die, cut down by the heat of the dry season.

March 7th. We were driven in by the rain this afternoon, after having made $1 25 each.

March 16th, Saturday. Since my last date, more than a week since, we have dug to the bottom of our claim, though it caved in several times upon us. We were so deep in the ground that we could not throw out the dirt, and were compelled to throw it up upon a platform, and then from the hole. After digging down eighteen feet, we were troubled with water, which came in upon us so fast as to require one to be kept bailing much of the time. At last we reached the bottom, washed the gold-dirt carefully, and, as the result of a week’s labor for four of us, we shared the sum of $1 87. We have had severe and continued rains. Every thing is completely drenched. Our clothes, our blankets, our provisions, are all wet and moldy. Our fire is extinguished. The water stands in puddles under the pine boughs beneath our blankets. We were compelled to cut small drains from the middle of the tent to the large drain which surrounds it, and throw away the wet boughs, which Jack calls our feathers. Then we kindled a large fire in the tent to dry it. The playful stream, which lately ran by us so harmless, now roars and rages, and is yet rising. The miners are pitching their tents farther up the hill.

March 17th, Sunday. It was a beautiful morning. The sun shone out clear and bright. We hung out our clothes and blankets to dry. The birds sang their sweetest notes. All things seemed to be filled with grateful love to the Creator and Preserver of all. Surely our hearts should not be less disposed to devout praise and adoration. It was pleasant to follow in the services of worship, as we thought it was being conducted at home, and to make a sanctuary of our own hearts. By allowing a difference of about three hours between the time at home and here, we could enjoy this pleasure, and, at the same time with friends so far from us, be engaged in the duties of worship. These were the meetings of the heart—the reunions of faith; and they strengthened us, and led us to trust more sincerely in the good promises of our Father.

March 18th. Formed, to-day, a company for trading purposes. Three of us gave each $100. With this $300, one of our number has gone down to Stockton to purchase goods. The rest of us went over, this morning, to the Stanislaus, to prospect. During the ramble, I had collected twenty-nine varieties of flowers, some of them most beautiful.

April 1st. During the remainder of the month, and in the absence of our companion at Stockton, we made but $4 28 each. The weather became moderate, and the dry season seemed to be setting in. The wind kept steady from the dry quarter. The peculiarities of a Frenchman working near us have amused us. Rain or shine, he is always seen without his hat. He carries his rifle over his shoulder, and several pistols and his knife in his belt. When he reaches his claim, he puts down a pistol on each side of him, and his hole resembles a fort, of which he is the undisputed owner. He came from New York with his son. He was doing a business there worth $2000 a year to him, and gave $5000 for their outfit. In the ten months since he left home, he has made nothing.

There is a company here from York county, Pennsylvania, numbering fourteen strong, hard-working men. They have made but $50 the last four weeks, or an average of 14 cents a day to each one. During this time we have been exposed, every or every other day, to severe rains or snows, the ice being sometimes half an inch thick. Crowds of miners still flock in here, attracted by the fabulous reports of the richness of these mines. Some have done well—a few very well—while the miners generally have not made enough to support them.

Our trading operation did not amount to any thing. The expenses of traveling, transportation of goods, time, &c., ate up the profits. I have to-day received a letter from some friends and traveling companions from Philadelphia, inviting me to visit them with reference to some mining operations for the summer. They are living at Jacksonville, on the Tuolumne River, some miles distant from us.

April 2d. To-day have walked over to Jacksonville, where I was greeted with a cordial welcome. This is quite a settlement. There are some comfortable houses here. As in every other settlement, the houses are of every possible variety, according to the taste or means of the miner. Most of these, even in winter, are tents. Some throw up logs a few feet high, filling up with clay between the logs. The tent is then stretched above, forming a roof. When a large company are to be accommodated with room, or a trading depot is to be erected, a large frame is made, and canvas is spread over this. Those who have more regard to their own comfort or health, erect log or stone houses, covering them with thatch or shingles. I have seen some very good houses at Aqua Frio made and roofed with slate. Some comfortable wigwams are made of pine boughs thrown up in a conical form, and are quite dry. Many only spread a piece of canvas, or a blanket, over some stakes above them, while not a few make holes in the ground, where they burrow like foxes. The covers of these sometimes extend above ground, and are roofed with a plaster of clay, looking like so many tombs. The Mexicans and Chilinos put up rude frames, which they cover with hides. In two cases I have seen a kind of basket, looking like a large nest, made fast among the branches, high up in the trees. These may have been used by the Californians to guard against wild beasts. The huts of the Indians are of various kinds, always rude in their construction. They are similar to the wigwams of the wild Indians found in the Western States. There is one house, however, which deserves a passing notice. It is named Tamascal. It is made under ground, in the vicinity of the Indian settlement. In this the sick and infirm are sweated. This is a barbarous custom, and often ends the life of the poor patient.

We have spent much of the night in conversing on our plans, and I have determined to remove to this place. My friend, Mr. A., invites me to share with him his tent. He offers also to accompany me to Mormon Gulch to-morrow for my provisions, &c.

April 4th. Yesterday we walked over to the Gulch, where I made my few arrangements, received from my companions there the exact amount which I had deposited with them for trading purposes, and, having taken leave this morning, we returned, bringing sixty pounds between us, to Jacksonville.