The scene that follows beggars description and hurls us back amid the darkest days of Indian atrocity and savage cruelty. A savage seizd the blanket upon which the suffering Mrs. Whitman lay, and hurld her groaning and struggling into the mud. The brutal hand that gave her the first wound through the window, now seizd her by the hair of the head, crying out “you bad woman,” gave her several blows in the face with his whip, amid the deafning yells, the shouts and the dancing of crowds of women and children and men, who seemd to vie with each other in pouring the greatest possible amount of suffering and pain into the bosoms of their dying victims. Some attempted to force their horses over the bodies, while others with whips or clubs seemd to take fiendish delight in beating their faces every time they struggld or groand.
The night came on and removd the savage demons from this scene of torturing, to the house where the captive women and children were collecting to become for weeks the sport of their brutal passions, the victims of their savage cruelties. But these bleeding, suffering lambs of Christ, although piercd with many balls and horribly beaten, lingerd on till in the night. Their dying groans were distinctly heard by Mrs. Osborn. The voice of Mrs. Whitman and Francis died away about the same time, soon after dark. But Mr. Rogers continud longer, his voice becoming fainter. His last words were, “come Lord Jesus, come quickly.” Soon after this, Mr. Osborn and family left the Indian room, and passd on partly over the body of Francis which appeard to be lifeless. And it is hopd that very soon after their voices ceasd, these victims of savage cruelties found themselves at rest sweetly in the bosom of the Saviour, their labors, their fears, their pains ended, and their joys, unending joys, begun.
Mr. Kimble with the three sick children, also Catharine and I believe Miss Bewley, continud in the chamber through the night. Catharine tore up a sheet and bound up the broken arm of Mr. Kimble. After Francis was shot, and while the multitude were engagd in feasting their fiendish passions on the dying agonies of Mr. Rogers, Mrs. Whitman and Francis, Ups, Moolpool, (Walla-walla Indians in the employ of the doctor,) collected the other children in the buttery and attempted to comfort them. About dark they were taken over to the Mansion.
The first firing commencd at half-past one. Brother Rogers and sister Whitman left the chamber about sundown.
It appears the attack was simultaneous upon the different points. Mr. Gillan was shot upon his bench, the ball entering his breast and coming out at his back. He was assisted by Mrs. Saunders into another room, and expird about midnight. Mr. Marsh was shot at the mill, ran a little distance in the direction of the doctor’s house, and fell. Mr. Saunders, hearing the guns, rushd to the door of the school-room, where he was seizd by several Indians who threw him upon the ground amid a shower of balls and tomahawks. Being a very active man, he gaind his feet and ran in the direction of his house, and although he was thrown down several times and doubtless receivd many wounds, he gaind the end of the field near the mansion some twenty rods from the school-room, when overpowerd by numbers, he fell to rise no more.
Mr. Hall was seen struggling with a single Indian for a gun which had missd fire—he wrenchd it from the Indian and rushd to the bushes wounded in the face, and during the afternoon and night found his way to Walla-walla, 25 miles distant. It appears from Mr. Osborn’s statement, that Mr. Hall remaind at Walla-walla during Tuesday, determind not to leave, but hearing the women and children were slaughterd, in despair he consented to be put over the river at night, and started for the lower country.
This corresponds with the statement which the Indians said was given to them at the fort, and reachd my place by a Nez Perce, the next Monday, the day before I arrivd at home. I know it has been publishd that he could not be persuaded to remain. But is it natural to suppose a man would willingly leave a fort well armd and defended, and expose himself for three hundred miles through a country swarming with savages who murderd his countrymen, and from whose hands he had barely escapd? Mr. Hall never reachd the settlements. Indian report says he was murderd by the Indians in the vicinity of John Day’s river. Another report says he was drownd in the Columbia river while attempting to pass a rapid in a canoe. The three men at the beef found themselves suddenly in the midst of a storm of balls and flaming powder, dischargd from a forest of muskets and pistols at their very bosoms. All three were wounded, but neither of them fell. They fled each as he could see an opening through the crowds. Mr. Kimble with a broken arm rushd into the doctor’s house and chamber as stated above. Mr. Camfield ran by the blacksmith shop, seizd his youngest child and calld to his family to follow him. They ran into the mansion, and he rushd into the chamber, and from a small window had a clear view of the awful scene without. Mr. Saunders was about being cut down. Mr. Hoffman was yet falling and rising and struggling with overpowering numbers, in the midst of clowds of burning powder, the roar of guns, the clash of war-clubs, and the screams and yells of the savages. He had first taken the direction of the mill, defending himself with a single knife. The crowd was now making toward the house and he in the midst, when two horsemen having finishd their work at some other point, with tomahawks streaming with blood rushd upon him, and he fell, literally cut to pieces. He was cut open through the back, and his heart and liver taken out and found by his side on the ground, by my daughter, two days after, who replacd them and sewd a sheet around the body before it was, with the others, taken to the pit.
Neither of the Catholics were in any way molested. Jo Lewis was one with the murderers. Finley’s lodge was near the mill, where the murderers held frequent councils during the massacre. Jo Stanfield was told by Telaukait to put his property by itself, that the Indians might know what was his and not molest it. He was seen to pass among the Indians as tho’ nothing was going on. He told three of the women, two of whose husbands were slain, that he knew the murder was going to take place before he went after the beef, as appears from their testimony before Judge Wheeler. He told the widow Hayse that day, if she would become his wife the Indians would not molest her.
When the massacre commencd, the two sons of Mr. Manson, and David, the doctor’s half-breed Spanish boy some nine years old, were separated from the other school children, and taken to Finley’s lodge, whence they were taken to Fort Walla-walla. The selecting of David from the other children in the doctor’s family, was a nice distinction, and could not have happend by chance. Two other half-breed children were left, but their fathers were Americans. David’s father was a Catholic, but his mother was an Indian woman, who when her child was young, had cast it into a pit and left it to die. The doctor learning the fact, went to the place, took out the child and adopted it as his own, had educated and bestowd much labor and care upon the child, and he had become a promising boy. His father before his death had bound him to the doctor. I am sorry to say the boy is retaind at Walla-walla, probably by the priests, notwithstanding my remonstrance. As well might any other of the doctor’s children have been retaind.
Mr. Camfield remaind in the chamber till some time after dark, when the Indians became quiet. He furnishd himself with a buffalo robe and some provisions and bid farewell to his family, not daring to hope that they might ever again meet in this world. He could be of no service to them by remaining and exposing his life, which would be taken the moment one of the murderers should discover him.
As yet none of the male children and none of the women but Mrs. Whitman had been killd, and the chief Telaukaikt had said they should not be injurd. True there was but a faint hope that Mr. C. could escape from the Indian country to a place of safety. But the most hazardous undertaking is cheerfully espousd when life is at stake. Mr. C. took the direction of my place, although a perfect stranger to the country and the route. He went some four miles and secreted himself in the brush to await a horse which Stanfield was to bring to him the next morning if he could do it unobservd. He remaind secreted most of the day (Tuesday)—saw Indians pass near and heard several guns in the direction of the station, and of course had the most intense fears for the women and children.
As I was expected from the Utilla that day, he supposd that I had very probably fallen. But the victims were Mr. Kimble and the young Mr. Young,—the latter had come down from the saw-mill with lumber and was to return immediately with provisions for the families. He had arrivd within half a mile of the house, when the Indians met and shot him about 2 P. M.—about the time the priest arrivd in the camp. The team was turnd loose except one ox which attempted to hook and was shot.
Mr. Kimble remaind in the chamber through the night, suffering the most excruciating pain from his broken arm, still more distress of soul from the cries and moaning of the 3 sick children, not having it in his power to relieve their sufferings.
In the morning he resolvd to procure water for the dying children. He made his way to the bank of the stream, where he was discoverd by an Indian and shot at. He fell as if dead, remaind a short time and then secreted himself in the brush. While lying on the bank, a friendly Indian made known the fact to his wife, but advisd her not to go to him as it would discover him to the murderers. How intense must have been her feelings.
About sundown Mr. Kimble left his retreat with the apparent intention of going in to his family. He reachd the corner of the garden fence some five rods from his door, where he was shot by Frank Askaloom, who afterwards took his daughter, the amiable Miss Kimble, for a wife. He claimd her as a right for having killd her father, of which he would often speak, to her with the air and appearance of one who had done her an invaluable favor.
Who can attempt to measure the deep horror and anguish of soul, of a young woman in such hands! May kind Heaven prevent a like affliction to any of his sinful children. Her bitter weeping whenever the Indian spoke of killing her father had the effect only to induce him to propose to exchange her to another Indian who held another of the captive young women as a wife.
Why Mr. Kimble did not attempt to make his escape on Monday night, or why, after having livd out the day on Tuesday, he did not remain in his retreat till dark and then escape, is not known. He was heard to say on Monday night, “It matters but little when we die if we are but prepard.” Perhaps the pain of his arm took away the strength of resolution. Perhaps he chose rather to die in the bosom of his family, than to make the uncertain attempt to save his life, which could only be a living death while wife and children remaind captives in the hands of the murderers, the sport of their beastly passions, the victims of their cruelty. For a stranger to reach my place one hundred and twenty miles, traveling nights, there was no reasonable hope, and if he could, he might end the nights of travel and pain and days of watching and hunger only to mingle his own with the dead bodies of the slain of that station—for what mind could divine where the work of superstition would end, which had no power to fear, and many inducements to go forward?
The Dalls were equally hopeless for like reasons.
Fort Walla-walla could afford a safe retreat, but unfortunately it was in the hands of Papists, for whom Mr. K. had the strongest fears as he expresd himself to me the week before his death—for no other reason can we account for his not fleeing to that fort Monday night. Had he done so, it is not probable the fate of poor Mr. Hall would have stood alone upon the page of history, to teach our children that Romanism is in practice what it is in theory, UNCHANGEABLE.
No horse arriving, Mr. Camfield left his hiding-place, and wound his way up the narrow skirt of brush till he came to what he supposd to be the trail to my place, about dark. In a country cut up with trails, Providence directed his feet to the right one, which he pursued that night and the next day, when Wednesday night found him in the deep valley of the Taka-nan, where he slept.
Thursday he followd the fresh tracks of cattle, which brought him at night to the brink of Snake River bluffs, some miles below the regular route.
Friday morning he came to the river, and having no fear from the Nez Perces, he calld to their camp on the opposite side and was crossd over. The Indian driving the cattle conducted Mr. C. to my house upon one of his horses, for which he requird his buffalo robe. That night they staid in a camp on the Clear Water, nine miles below my house.
Intelligence of the massacre had not yet reachd the Nez Perces, and Mr. C. was careful to avoid any intimation. Had it been known in any of these camps, he would have been killd.
Saturday late in the afternoon, Mr. C. reachd my house and communicated to Mrs. Spalding the horrible intelligence of the massacre, aggravated by the probability that the body of her husband had been added to the slain, as he supposd, from the report of the guns on Tuesday. If not slain at that time, there was no human probability that I could escape. Five days had already elapsd and I had not arrivd, which made it quite certain that I had been killd.
The case, of itself sufficient to overwhelm the stoutest soul, was greatly aggravated by the fact, that her daughter was a captive in the hands of the murderers of her husband, who would proceed immediately to that defenseless station, to add her brother and the other Americans at the station, to the number of the dead, and herself and remaining children, to the already long catalogue of living victims of the savage cruelties.
There was scarcely the shadow of protection in the few Americans at the place, and she was too well acquainted with the close relationship existing between the Cayuse and Nez Perces, and the treachery of the Indian character, to place any confidence in the Indians of the place, except motives of self-interest should appear.
But she was entirely in their hands. There was no other alternative, and with the self possession and calmness of mind peculiarly her own, in moments of imminent peril, she resolvd to make known the awful fact, and cast herself and children into the hands of the principal men of the place. Mr. Camfield begd of her not to do so, but evidently it was the salvation of all at the station. Had the people of the place remaind ignorant of the awful deed, till the report was brought by Indians—doubtless the bloody scenes of the Waiilatpu would have been repeated at Clear Water. The first Indian arrivd with the intelligence of the massacre, on Monday, a Nez Perces,—doubtless a participator in the bloody crime. But he was accompanied by a band of Nez Perces from the camp, at which Mr. Camfield staid Friday night, with the avowd purpose of plundering the station of all the property, which, of course,—would have ended in killing the men, and perhaps Mrs. Spalding, and captivating Miss Johnson and the children. They were prevented by the chiefs, and their people of the place, to whom Mrs. S. had committed herself.
On the arrival of Mr. Camfield, Mr. Hart, the brother of Mrs. S. was not at the house. Providentially Jacob and Shakantai, (Eagle,) two principal chiefs, were at the house, to whom Mrs. S. communicated the astounding intelligence. While one communicated the news to the camp, the other carrid a hasty note to Mr. Craig, living ten miles up the branch. The Indians immediately flew to the protection of Mr. S. and the house.
Among those who showd themselves friendly were Luke and his two brothers, members of our church, Jacob, about to be receivd into the church, James, a Catholic, but particularly friendly to myself and family, and most of their people. Some of old James’ people, united with the robbers, and took considerable property.
The Indians decided that Mrs. S. with her effects, must be removd to Mr. Craig’s, where they were taking up their winter quarters, on account of wood. They judgd that the Cayuse would be there without delay, and they could not protect the family, so far from their camp. Mrs. S. proposd to remain quiet over the Sabbath. James and one or two others remaind as a guard. The rest retird. Mr. Craig came down late at night. Mrs. S. endeavord to start an express to Tishimakair, the station of bros. Walker and Eells, but no Indian could be inducd to go. She next besought the Indians to send an express for her daughter, if found alive, and to learn the fate of her husband.—They objected, alleging that the women and children were without doubt all killd. She finally told them she was jealous of every one of them, and could not feel that she had a friend among them. It had the desird effect. The Eagle consented to undertake it, still others threw difficulties in his way, and it was near night the next day, before he started.
Mr. Camfield’s wound was much inflamd, by wading the streams, and traveling. He receivd a shot in his side from a pistol, the ball still remaining in the flesh.
Mr. Jackson, it will be recollected, accompanied me to Waiilatpu, and was waiting my return from the Utilla, till Monday forenoon, when a slight circumstance inducd him to leave for Clear Water, about three hours before the massacre commencd. He reachd Mr. Craig’s Tuesday night, ignorant of what had taken place, and of his own narrow escape.
There was another band of Indians encampd in the same valley, some ten miles from my station, headed by Joseph,—a principal chief, in the absence of Ellis.
Joseph was one of the first natives who gave evidence of a change of heart, and united with the church 8 years ago, and had, up to this time, with the exception of two or three slight deviations, exhibited a good Christian character.
Many of Joseph’s people were campd with him, and cultivated extensively in the valley, and had for the last four or five years, constituted a good portion of the Sabbath congregation—and the school. Seven of them were members of the church, and had ever appeard friendly to the mission.
Their present movements however, were very suspicious.—Almost daily, Joseph with many of his people, had been in the habit of visiting the house. But after the arrival of the news of the massacre, neither Joseph nor any of his people showd themselves till Monday morning, when many of the latter, and among them, Joseph’s brother-in-law, and from the same fire—showd themselves with the robbers, and were foremost in plundering the buildings.
Here was an opportunity for religion to show itself, if there was any. Never before had temptation come to Joseph and his native brethren, in the ch. in this dress. But now it came, and his fall, as I regard it, and that of some others, has given to the Christian world a lesson that should be well studied, before it again places the lives and property of missionaries at the mercy of lawless savages, without a military force to keep them in awe.
THINGS IN OREGON.
CHAPTER XVI.
Arrival of Gov. Lane—Description of Port Astoria and vicinity—Narrow escape from Shipwreck.
March 8th, 1849.—I am quietly stowd away in a private family in Oregon city, after having roamd up and down the valley, in pursuit of information.
All is commotion here. Gov. Lane, from Indiana, arrivd in town the first of this month, bringing the new government with him in his pocket up the Willamet river in a skiff, over the Clackamas rapids. As to whether he got out and helpd to pull the boat over the rapids or not, I have not been informd. The big men of the place are brushing up their boots and putting on their best clothes, as the Governor passes the streets, hoping as he passes along, that his eye may fall upon them placidly. I do not very well know what such things mean, though I suppose that politicians do.
April 7th.—The first public mail arrivd in Oregon city, from the U. States, by the mail steamer of San Francisco, to-day. This country begins to be alive to maritime business—the first vessel ever built at the Willamet falls in Oregon, is now on the stocks. Her owners say her tunnage will be from 50 to 60 tuns burden.
After having staid in Oregon nearly seven months, I take my departure from Oregon city, the 10th of April, for San Francisco, by way of the ocean.
Port Astoria, 26th.—To-day embarkd on board ship for San Francisco bay, after having staid nearly two weeks at Astoria, waiting for the ship to be in readiness to leave. My stay at this place has given me an opportunity of learning something of this part of the country, the difficulty of navigating the river at this part of it, and the prices of some articles of produce, as sold here in these times of great excitement.
* * * * * * * *
Port Astoria is situated about 15 miles from the mouth of the Columbia river, on the south side of it. The place has not been improvd since its first establishment. There are only five or six houses in the place that have been built by the whites, excepting a storehouse or two built by the Hudson Bay Company. The country here and around Astoria, is rugged and unpleasant, heavily coverd with fir and hemlock, some of which is of giant size.
About 25 miles of the river from its mouth, is indented with bays by various names, making a width of from 7 to 10 or 12 miles.
At the mouth of the river, on the north, is Cape Disappointment.
Eight miles distant, on the opposite side, is Clatsap point, sometimes calld Point Adams.
Cape Disappointment, by its projection from the main land, forms a little cove, calld Baker’s bay. Here ships may lie in perfect safety.
On the south side, higher up, at the entrance of Young into the Lewis and Clark’s river, is Young’s bay.
At the mouth of the Columbia river, between Cape Disappointment and Clatsap point, is an extensive sand-bar, which renders an entrance to the river difficult, except by experiencd navigators of the river.
The first 15 or 20 miles of the entrance of the river, has a channel so crooked that almost every point of compass is traversd, which makes navigation by sail ships slow and dangerous. At every new point, ships are obligd oftentimes to stop several days and sometimes weeks for a change of wind. The only successful and speedy mode of traversing the river will ultimately be by steam vessels.
Amongst other things that have fallen within my notice whilst at Astoria, was the price of a few articles of produce brought to this place to sell to passengers, whilst waiting for the readiness of the ship. Potatoes were sold at one dollar per bushel, eggs at $1 per dozen, butter at $1 per pound. Flour a little more moderate—its price per barrel was only $10. During my stay at Astoria, a beef was killd at Clatsap and brought here, and sold at 12 cents for the fore, and 15 for the hind quarters, per pound.
27th.—On leaving Astoria, our ship was thrown on the beach, where she remaind during the day, occasiond by the drunkenness of our pilot.
Thursday, May 3d, we left Baker’s bay for the broad ocean, with a fair wind and high hopes of crossing the sand-bar with pleasantness and safety. The number of souls on board was about 130. We proceeded gently along for three-fourths of an hour, when we arrivd near the place where the ships Shark, Vancouver and Maine were wreckd, and the wind nearly ceasd to blow. Our ship became unmanageable, drifting by the strong tide which was then unfavorable, and likely in a few minutes to carry us from the channel and place us upon the sands, where the ship must inevitably have become a wreck.
In this critical situation, with only 18 feet of water for a ship drawing 15, and the tide yet falling—by the energetic movement of our officers and crew, they were enabld to stay the ship by immediately casting anchor. After waiting more than 2 hours in this perilous situation, the wind became of sufficient strength to justify an attempt to make our escape by parting anchor.
During this time of extreme anxiety, soundings were constantly kept up both on ship and at a distance around.
When all things were ready on board for the attempt, orders were given and instantly the anchor with 180 feet of chain were severd from the ship, and she under way in a retrograde course towards Cape Disappointment. We continud our retrograde course till we arrivd as near the cape as practicable, in consequence of a bar which projected a short distance from it, at which point we changd our course to the south-west, and in less than one hour we were in the broad ocean, and over all danger from sand-bars.
Monday evening, 9 o’clock, May 7th.—Safely anchord in San Francisco bay. Our passage from the time we were relievd at the Columbia bar, may be reckond at 96 hours’ sailing. More than 12 of this was under extremely moderate wind, though in a favorable direction. The remainder of the way, was under a very strong breeze. It would seem then, that the distance may be saild, with a strong wind, in about 3½ days, which is about 560 miles, by the way of the ocean.
To my great astonishment, on looking about on the morning of the 8th, I counted about 60 vessels of various sizes lying in the bay, most of which were inactive for want of men to work them, they having left for the mines. On passing up the St. Waukeen, the course of my first visit to the mines, I saw scatterd along at different points, many more vessels of various sizes.
The present head of navigation for sail ships, is a little cloth town calld Stocton. Here were 8 or 10 more vessels lying disrobd of their sails to make cloth houses of. This town is more than 100 miles up from San Francisco. At this place, supplies are deposited for the mines, which are carrid by wagons and pack animals, to the mining district, a distance of 70 or 80 miles further, upon the tributaries of the Saint Waukeen.
GOLD MANIA,
Or Yellow Fever, as some call it.
CHAPTER XVII.
Excitement in Oregon, relative to the discovery of Gold in California.
The discovery of the Gold District in California, has producd the greatest excitement of any thing of a similar nature in modern days.
The first commencement of the excitement in Oregon was about the middle of August, 1848, and within one month’s time, nearly 2000 persons left Oregon for that place.
The district is said to be the richest ever known. Though it is questionable whether the gold obtaind by Solomon was not found equally abundant, since among so great a number of citizens as Jerusalem furnishd, the abundance of gold in that place had reducd the value of silver to almost nothing.
When the news of gold in California reachd Oregon, the wheat harvest was not yet ended, and so great was the delirium when the news arrivd, that many of the farmers left their fields unfinishd, giving them up gratuitously to any one who might be disposd to harvest them, or let them waste upon the ground.
As late as the 10th of March, 1849, the fever continud with unabated fury, increasing in its sanguinary features as the warm season approachd, preying upon the heart and vitals of every human being in Oregon.
From the 13th of Sept. last, which was the time I arrivd at Oregon city, to the 10th of March following, not one day passd, Sundays not excepted, without the mention by some one in my presence, of the gold speculation.
During the remainder of my stay in Oregon city, tools of various kinds were invented and being made at that place, ready for departure to the mines, so soon as they might be profitably worked, on the opening of the warm season.
The following description of the Gold Mania is taken from the Oregon Spectator, as quoted from the Californian—
GOLD MINES OF CALIFORNIA.
In our paper of August 16, we devoted considerable space to the subject of the gold mines, stating some facts in regard to their discovery, and the manner in which the ore was collected. So well was the article receivd by the public—then on the qui vive for information about the mines—and consequently so great the demand for our paper, that in a few hours after publication the entire edition was disposd of. Since then we have receivd many and urgent demands for that number of the Californian, and this week, at the solicitation of a number of our patrons, we repeat the substance of our former article, with some additional particulars.
It appears that in the first part of February last, Messrs. Marshall and Bennett were engagd with a party in erecting a saw-mill for Capt. J. A. Sutter, on the American fork of the Sacramento river, about 40 miles above its mouth. In excavating the tail-race, they removd the rock during the day, and let in the water during the night, in order to wash out the loose dirt and sand. On the morning of the 10th, after shutting off the water, Mr. Marshall discoverd the first gold, lying upon decomposd granite, in the bottom of the race.
It would seem that but little doubt was entertaind of its being the real simon pure, for operations immediately ceasd on the mill, and all hands commencd searching for gold. It was soon found that gold abounded along the American fork for a distance of 30 miles. For a time the discoverers were the only ones aware of the fact, but the news finally spread through the settlements. But little credit however was gaind by the report, though occasionally a solitary “gold hunter” might be seen stealing down to a launch with a pick and shovel, more than half ashamd of his credulity.
Some time during the month of May, a number of credible persons arrivd in town from the scene of operations, bringing specimens of the ore, and stating that those engagd in collecting the precious metal were making from $3 to $10 per day.
Then commencd the grand rush!
The inhabitants throughout the territory were in commotion. Large companies of men, women and children could be seen on every road leading to the mines, their wagons loaded down with tools for digging, provisions, &c. Launch after launch left the wharves of our city, crowded with passengers and freight for the Sacramento.
Mechanical operations of every kind ceasd—whole streets, that were but a week before alive with a busy population, were entirely deserted, and the place wore the appearance of a city that had been suddenly visited by a devastating plague. To cap the climax, newspapers were obligd to stop printing for want of readers.
Meantime our mercantile friends were doing an unusual “stroke” of business. Every arrival from the mining district brought more or less gold dust, the major part of which immediately passd into the hands of the merchants for goods, &c. Immense quantities of merchandize were conveyd to the mines, until it became a matter of astonishment where so much could be disposd of. During the first eight weeks of the “golden times” the receipts at this place in gold dust amounted to $250,000. For the eight weeks ending at this date, they were $600,000.
The number of persons now engagd in gold hunting, will probably exceed 6000, including Indians, and one ounce per day, is the lowest average we can put for each person, while many collect their hundreds of dollars, for a number of days in succession, and instances have been known where one individual has collected from $1500, to $1800 worth of pure gold in a day.
Explorations have been progressing, and it is now fully ascertaind that gold exists on both sides of the Sierra Nevada from lat. 41 North, to as far South, as the head waters of the San Joaquin river, a distance of 400 miles in length, and 100 in breadth. Farther than this has not been explord, but from the nature of the country beyond the sources of the San Joaquin, we doubt not gold will also be found there in equal abundance. The gold region already known, is however sufficiently extensive to give profitable employment to 100,000 persons for generations to come. The ore is in a virgin state, disseminated in small doses, and is found in three distinct deposits,—sand and graveld beds, on decomposd granite, and intermixd with a kind of slate.
For a long time subsequent to the discovery of the mines,—the only implements usd in washing the gold, were large tin pans, or Indian baskets. Latterly, ‘machines were usd—at first, a rough log hollowd out (in some, instances,) by burning and scraping with a butcher knife—afterwards, more finishd ones made their appearance, built of red wood boards, in the shape of an ordinary trough, about ten feet long, and two feet wide at the top, with a riddle or sive at one end to catch the larger gravel, and three or four small bars at the bottom, about ½ an inch high, to keep the gold from going out with the dirt and water at the lower end. This machine is set upon rockers,—which gives a half rotary motion to the dirt and water inside.’—Four men are requisite to work one of these machines properly.
Within the past month, many sick persons from the mines have arrivd at this place, and scarcely a launch comes down the Sacramento, without more or less sick persons on board,—while some die on the river. The very natural inference drawn from this, by those who have never been at the mines, is, that they lie in a sickly section of the country, and those at work there, are in daily expectation of being sick. In our opinion,—however, nothing can be farther from the truth. As far as our experience goes, it is on the large rivers only, where disease prevails, and in passing up and down upon them, the person not in perfect health is almost invariably the one to become sick.—We have observd but few, very few cases of sickness in the immediate neighborhood of the mines, but such as we believe would have occurd under similar circumstances in any other climate. Let the miner pass the Sacramento safely, (and we would almost insure any person’s doing so that was perfectly regular and temperate in all his habits,)—let him not, when he arrives at the mines, work as though he was privilegd to operate for a limited time only, but poco poco, resting at proper intervals,—let him abstain from the free use of intoxicating drinks, living upon wholesome food,—avoiding, for instance, half baked bread—let him sleep under the shelter of a tent, with warm bedding,—and if, after following our advice in all these particulars, the gold hunter becomes sick, why—we do not know anything about the matter.
CALIFORNIA GOLD MINES DESCRIBED.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Geography of the Gold District of Alta California.
From recent searches for gold in Northern California, it appears that the present gold district is comprisd, nearly all of it, within the following boundary. It lies on the western declivity of the Sierra Neveda range of mountains, and gold is sought for along the tributaries of the great Sacramento river in the northern, and the St. Waukeen river in the southern part of Northern or Upper California.
The names of the tributaries of the St. Waukeen, beginning with the most northern one, are as follows. Makelemas, which unites with the Saint Waukeen, near its confluence with the Sacramento. Next south, is Calaveras. South of this, is Stanislaus. The next important river, is Twalamy. Still farther south, a distance of 20 or 25 miles, is a considerable stream, calld Merced, or River of Mercy. South of Merced, is another, calld Mereposa, though I believe this is dry part of the year. These constitute the principal mountain streams, tributary to the St. Waukeen.
The names of the rivers in the northern mining district, tributaries to the Sacramento, are, first and nearest the confluence of the Sacramento with the St. Waukeen, the Cosumnes. Next northward, the American river, the largest tributary to the Sacramento. It has several forks, calld North, South and Middle forks of the American river. Next, Rio de los Plumos or Feather river. Still farther north, are Bear, Quesnels and Sycamore rivers.
The length from north to south, of the present gold district, cannot well be computed at more than 400 miles, lying within the latitudes of 36 and 42 deg. north. In its width, which is mostly containd within a distance of from 20 to 30 miles, it traverses the middle portion of the western declivity of the aforementiond range of mountains, though miners assert that gold has been found sparingly, high up some of the mountain streams, toward its axis.
The whole surface of the gold district presents one continud scene of uneven country. Much of it, the hills soar far above the intervening valleys below—and along some of the principal tributaries, for miles in length, very deep kanions are formd.
The water of the large streams is very pure and healthy, being mostly from the melted snows of the mountain. During the summer season it seldom rains, and the rivers continue to fall, till quite along into the winter season. After the rainy season commences, which is most powerful toward the summit of the mountains, floods are often witnessd low down the streams, where not a single drop of water has fallen for months. These floods descend with a mighty rush, and often surprise the miner before he is able to remove his mining implements from the bed of a stream.
The mining district is coverd with a thin growth of scrub oaks and yellow pine. The earth is divested of soil, except sparingly in some of the valleys, being of a reddish color, by the decomposition of rocks containing iron.
The climate is so dry during summer, that little grass grows in any part of the mines. Nauseous exhalations are therefore excluded, and the atmosphere is quite healthy. In some parts of the mines the miners become sick, but it is mostly attributable to their treatment with themselves. Through the summer months, the days are warm but the nights are cool, and but few nights occur in which a man does not need considerable night clothing toward morning.
CHAPTER XIX.
The Geology of the Gold District of California, with the probable cause of the production of Gold to the surface of the earth.
The rocks of Golden California, in common with the whole western declivity of the Sierra Neveda mountains, are principally composd of primary, stratified, slate rocks. Some of these rocks are talcose slate. Others are more silicious, approaching even to coarsish sandstone slate, of various colors.
Before confining the reader expressly to the gold district, a few remarks relative to that portion of California lying west of the Neveda mountains to the valley of the great Sacramento and St. Waukeen, may afford some light on the subject of that part of the western declivity lying within the seat of mining operations. The slate rock on the western side of the mountain range, from its axis to its base, is tilted up a little more than perpendicularly outward from the axis of the mountain, a distance of more than 60 miles in width, and traverses the whole range, as far north and south as the present mines extend, in lines parallel to the course of the mountain’s axis.
At the base of the mountain, commences a tertiary deposit of about 20 miles in width, which, with an alluvial deposit of about 20 more in width, to the great rivers of the valley, hides from sight the remaining portion of tilted rocks, so that the entire width of the tilted strata can never exactly be ascertaind. But if a mountain range like the one under consideration, is formd by the furrowd and ridgd condition of the earth’s crust, by conforming to a diminishd molten nucleus within, from refrigeration of its heat, it may be expected that the whole declivity, from its axis or highest point to its lowest or mid valley, may be all of it tilted up in the same manner as that portion which is presented to sight. If this be fact, we are then apprizd that a portion of the earth’s crust must have had a thickness of full 100 miles, by measuring across the tilted rocks, from the central valley, to the top of the mountain, eastward,—a fact not hitherto believd by geologists, from experiments made upon the increase of downward heat, to where the crust must necessarily become molten.
As so many and various opinions of the tilted condition of primary stratified rocks have been advancd among the visitants of the gold district of California, a few conflicting opinions may serve in some degree to satisfy the mind of the curious.
It is the belief of some, that rocks cannot have become tilted without the expansive powr of volcanic agency. Hence, on viewing the country around, they imagine they see successions of craters, formd all over the western declivity of the Neveda mountains, and in some places, profusions of scoria bestrewing the ground. For my own part, I must confess that I have seen nothing in my ramblings to justify a belief that volcanic agency any where has existed so as to produce the present appearance of those rocks.
Those persons imagining volcanic agency in those parts, are not aware that intense heat destroys stratification, for in the middle of the craters of some of their imaginary volcanoes, the stratification is as perfect as in any other portion of the tilted district, and they are not apprizd that in such case a discrepancy must therefore exist.
After the tilting of those rocks had occurd, it would not be improbable, with such an enormous crust resting entirely upon a liquid, molten nucleus, that many undulations in it should occur, and in many instances the crust should become weakend and even sunderd apart by the severe strain. Into fissures so formd, granite, sandstone and conglomerated rocks, may have subsequently been intruded, presenting, therefore, to persons unacquainted with such rocks, the appearances of craters, scoria, &c. In some parts of New England, primary stratified rocks are tilted up confusedly, having no regular line of strike. In some cases, the dynamics employd may have been volcanic, or they may have been paroxysmal, acting from time to time, till those rocks were thrown into their present condition. But tilted rocks that have a regular line of strike, must have a regular agency to place them in such condition. Hence, then, considering the perfect parallelism of the tilted rocks of Golden California with the mountain axis, it seems to follow, that an exceedingly slow and regular movement of the tilting of those rocks must have occurd.
Another consideration of the western declivity of the Neveda mountains, is in relation to the formation of its rivers.
Almost invariably, the rivers of Oregon were formd by an expansive force from beneath, but the rivers of California were formd by undulations in the earth’s crust, which is well proven by the entire passage of unbroken strata across the beds of streams. Such condition of its rocks, is also another proof against volcanic agency in those parts.
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The inquiring mind may now be led to the subject of Quartz Rock, containd among the slate rock of the gold district.
The quartz rock of the gold region is mostly white, though some of it is of the carnelian order, whilst some is translucent, and other specimens are entirely transparent. The carnelian appearance of some of the quartz seems to have been nothing more than the circulation of water containing the red oxide of iron, through the cracks of the broken quartz, till the rock became tingd with it. The transparent variety is crystalizd, and is found only sparingly.
Quartz is found interstratified amongst the tilted slate, varying from less than one quarter of an inch in thickness to several feet, and in some places even to rods, penetrating the slate indefinitely downward.
Although quartz is mostly seen lying in a position parallel with the stratified slate rock, yet in some instances it is found crossing it diagonally.
To account for the formation of quartz and its occupying its present position in the gold district, is to account also for the formation and production of gold to the surface of the earth, as is satisfactorily believd by all. It is hard to account for much of the works of nature. If it be considerd, that the quartz veins of the gold district be of aqueous origin, that is, formd by infiltration, or the percolation of silicious water into unoccupied spaces, till they are completely filld with silicious sediment, so as to become rock, we then have to account for its existing there in a friable state, which is hard to conceive, since a formation by aqueous agency would most likely produce solid rock.
It is equally hard to see how gold can be found imbedded in solid masses in those quartz veins, since, if by the percolation of the water, quartz was producd there, so also must the gold have been producd by infiltration—and in such case, it must have been disseminated through the whole rock, giving hues of various shades, as is the case with iron in a soluble state.
Another objection to the formation of the quartz of the gold district by infiltration, is, that it is not generally transparent, since the percolation of silicious water through cold and silent places will most naturally produce such result. It is most probable that the crystalizd portion of those rocks was formd from silicious water, after the original deposit.
It has been asserted by some miners, that they have seen gold in a state of formation, by the percolation of water over quartz rock. Those men are probably such as believe that quartz is the mother of gold—and by the way, I should like to have them tell me also what the father was. They say that the yellow appearance of the mud and other sedimentary matter, which they have seen passing through quartz veins, is gold in a state of formation. Perhaps they might allow of a correction in their minds on that subject, if they were told that the yellow appearance they saw was nothing more than decomposd iron—probably the chromate of it.
Another view of the subject may be taken, somewhat like the following. It may be considerd that the quartz of the gold district was formd previous to the tilting up of the slate rock, by alternations of tabular masses with the slate.
Some objections to this mode also naturally arise. One objection is, that there are instances of quartz veins traversing the stratified slate rock diagonally. Another is, that it cannot well be conceivd that so thin layers, as is the case with some of the quartz rock, can well be formd in a tabular way. And if the quartz had been formd by alternate layers with the stratified slate, it must of necessity have been of aqueous origin, and also the gold.
The last view I shall take of the quartz, as found interstratified with the slate rock, is, that the slate rock is of aqueous origin, and the quartz rock of igneous origin, intruded from beneath after the tilting up of the slate.