Three years in California [1851-54]

the amusement, informed me that this was “the finest fight ever fit in the country.”

The second bull was equally handsome as the first, and in as good condition. On entering the arena, and looking around him, he seemed to understand the state of affairs at once. Glancing from the bear lying on the ground to the other bull standing at the opposite side of the ring, with drooping head and bloody nose, he seemed to divine at once that the bear was their common enemy, and rushed at him full tilt. The bear, as usual, pinned him by the nose; but this bull did not take such treatment so quietly as the other: struggling violently, he soon freed himself, and, wheeling round as he did so, he caught the bear on the hind-quarters and knocked him over; while the other bull, who had been quietly watching the proceedings, thought this a good opportunity to pitch in also, and rushing up, he gave the bear a dig in the ribs on the other side before he had time to recover himself. The poor General between the two did not know what to do, but struck out blindly with his fore-paws with such a suppliant pitiable look that I thought this the most disgusting part of the whole exhibition.

After another round or two with the fresh bull, it was evident that he was no match for the bear, and it was agreed to conclude the performances. The bulls were then shot to put them out of pain, and the company dispersed, all apparently satisfied that it had been a very splendid fight.

The reader can form his own opinion as to the character of an exhibition such as I have endeavoured to describe. For my own part, I did not at first find the actual spectacle so disgusting as I had expected I should; for as long as the animals fought with spirit, they might have been supposed to be following their natural instincts; but when the bull had to be urged and goaded on to return to the charge, the cruelty of the whole proceeding was too apparent; and when the two bulls at once were let in upon the bear, all idea of sport or fair play was at an end, and it became a scene which one would rather have prevented than witnessed.

In these bull-and-bear fights the bull sometimes kills the bear at the first charge, by plunging his horns between the ribs, and striking a vital part. Such was the fate of General Scott in the next battle he fought, a few weeks afterwards; but it is seldom that the bear kills the bull outright, his misery being in most cases ended by a rifle-ball when he can no longer maintain the combat.

I took a sketch of the General the day after the battle. He was in the middle of the now deserted arena, and was in a particularly savage humour. He seemed to consider my intrusion on his solitude as a personal insult, for he growled most savagely, and stormed about in his cage, even pulling at the iron bars in his efforts to get out. I could not help thinking what a pretty mess he would have made of me if he had succeeded in doing so; but I regarded with peculiar satisfaction the massive architecture of his abode; and, taking a seat a few feet from him, I lighted my pipe, and waited till he should quiet down into an attitude, which he soon did, though very sulkily, when he saw that he could not help himself.

He did not seem to be much the worse of the battle, having but one wound, and that appeared to be only skin deep.

Such a bear as this, alive, was worth about fifteen hundred dollars. The method of capturing them is a service of considerable danger, and requires a great deal of labour and constant watching.

A spot is chosen in some remote part of the mountains, where it has been ascertained that bears are pretty numerous. Here a species of cage is built, about twelve feet square and six feet high, constructed of pine logs, and fastened after the manner of a log-cabin. This is suspended between two trees, six or seven feet from the ground, and inside is hung a huge piece of beef, communicating by a string with a trigger, so contrived that the slightest tug at the beef draws the trigger, and down comes the trap, which has more the appearance of a log-cabin suspended in the air than anything else. A regular locomotive cage, lined with iron, has also to be taken to the spot, to be kept in readiness for bruin’s accommodation, for the pine-log trap would not hold him long; he would soon eat and tear his way out of it. The enterprising bear-catchers have therefore to remain in the neighbourhood, and keep a sharp look-out.

Removing the bear from the trap to the cage is the most dangerous part of the business. One side of the trap is so contrived as to admit of being opened or removed, and the cage is drawn up alongside, with the door also open, when the bear has to be persuaded to step into his new abode, in which he travels down to the more populous parts of the country, to fight bulls for the amusement of the public.

CHAPTER XX.

The want of water was the great obstacle in the way of mining at Moquelumne Hill. As it stood so much higher than the surrounding country, there were no streams which could be introduced, and the only means of getting a constant supply was to bring the water from the Moquelumne River, which flowed past, three or four thousand feet below the diggings. In order to get the requisite elevation to raise the waters so far above their natural channel, it was found necessary to commence the canal some fifty or sixty miles up the river. The idea had been projected, but the execution of such a piece of work required more capital than could be raised at the moment; but the diggings at Moquelumne Hill were known to be so rich, as was also the tract of country through which the canal would pass, that the speculation was considered sure to be successful; and a company was not long after formed for the purpose of carrying out the undertaking, which amply repaid those embarked in it, and opened up a vast extent of new field for mining operations, by supplying water in places which otherwise could only have been worked for two or three months of the year.

This was only one of many such undertakings in California, some of which were even on a larger scale. The engineering difficulties were very great, from the rocky and mountainous nature of the country through which the canals were brought. Hollows and valleys were spanned at a great height by aqueducts, supported on graceful scaffoldings of pine-logs, and precipitous mountains were girded by wooden flumes projecting from their rocky sides. Throughout the course of a canal, wherever water was wanted by miners, it was supplied to them at so much an inch, a sufficient quantity for a party of five or six men costing about seven dollars a-day.

I remained a few days at Moquelumne Hill in a holey old canvass hotel, which freely admitted both wind and water; but in this respect it was not much worse than its neighbours. A French physician resided on the opposite side of the street in a tent not much larger than a sentry-box, on the front of which appeared the following promiscuous announcement, in letters as large as the space admitted of—

“Pharmacien de Paris.
Drugs and Medicines.
Botica.
Doctor—Dentiste.
Cold Cream.
Destruction to Rats.
Mort aux Souris.”

From Moquelumne I went to Volcano Diggings, a distance of eighteen miles, but which I lengthened to nearly thirty by losing my way in crossing an unfrequented part of the country where the trails were very indistinct.

The principal diggings at Volcano are in the banks of a gulch, called Soldiers’ Gulch, from its having been first worked by United States’ soldiers, and were of a peculiar nature, differing from any other diggings I had seen, inasmuch as, though they had been worked to a depth of forty or fifty feet from the surface, they had been equally rich from top to bottom, and as yet no bed-rock had been reached. It was seldom such a depth of pay-dirt was found. The gold was usually only found within a few feet of the bottom, but in this case the stiff clay soil may have retained the gold, and prevented its settling down so readily as through sand or gravel. The clay was so stiff that it was with difficulty it could be washed, and lately the miners had taken to boiling it in large boilers, which was found to dissolve it very quickly.

To mineralogists I should think that this is the most interesting spot in the mines, from the great variety of curious stones found in large quantities in the diggings. One kind is found, about the size of a man’s head, which when broken appears veined with successive brightly-coloured layers round a beautifully-crystallised cavity in the centre, the whole being enveloped in a rough outside crust an inch in thickness. The colours are more various and the veins closer together than those of a Scotch pebble, and the stone itself is more flinty and opaque. Quantities of lava were also found here, and masses of limestone rock appeared above the surface of the ground.

This place lay north of Moquelumne Hill, and might be called the most southern point of the northern mines.

Between the scenery of the northern mines and that of the south there is a very marked difference, both in the exterior formation of the country, and in the kind of trees with which it is wooded. In both the surface of the country is smooth—that is to say, there is an absence of ruggedness of detail—the mountains appear to have been smoothed down by the action of water; but, both north and south, the country, as a whole, is rough in the extreme, the mountain-sides, as well as the table-lands, being covered with swellings, and deeply indented by ravines. An acre of level land is hardly to be found. The difference, however, exists in this, that in the north the mountains themselves, and every little swelling upon them, are of a conical form, while in the south they are all more circular. The mountains spread themselves out in hemispherical projections one beyond another; and in many parts of the country are found groups of eminences of the same form, and as symmetrical as if they had been shaped by artificial means.

There is just as much symmetry in the conical forms of the northern mines, but they appear more natural, and the pyramidal tops of the pine-trees are quite in keeping with the outlines of the country which they cover; and it is remarkable that where the conical formation ceases, there also the pine ceases to be the principal tree of the country. There are pines, and plenty of them, in the southern mines, but the country is chiefly wooded with various kinds of oaks, and other trees of still more rounded shape, with only here and there a solitary pine towering above them to break the monotony of the curvilinear outline.

As might be expected from this circular formation, the rivers in the south do not follow such a sharp zigzag course as in the north; they take wider sweeps: the mountains are not so steep, and the country generally is not so rough. In fact, there is scarcely any camp in the southern mines which is not accessible by wheeled vehicles.

Besides this great change in the appearance of the country, one could not fail to observe also, in travelling south, the equally marked difference in the inhabitants. In the north, one saw occasionally some straggling Frenchmen and other European foreigners, here and there a party of Chinamen, and a few Mexicans engaged in driving mules, but the total number of foreigners was very small: the population was almost entirely composed of Americans, and of these the Missourians and other western men formed a large proportion.

The southern mines, however, were full of all sorts of people. There were many villages peopled nearly altogether by Mexicans, others by Frenchmen; in some places there were parties of two or three hundred Chilians forming a community of their own. The Chinese camps were very numerous; and besides all such distinct colonies of foreigners, every town of the southern mines contained a very large foreign population. The Americans, however, were of course greatly the majority, but even among them one remarked the comparatively small number of Missourians and such men, who are so conspicuous in the north.

There was still another difference in a very important feature—in fact, the most important of all—the gold. The gold of the northern mines is generally flaky, in exceedingly small thin scales; that of the south is coarse gold, round and “chunky.” The rivers of the north afford very rich diggings, while in the south they are comparatively poor, and the richest deposits are found in the flats and other surface-diggings on the highlands.

In the north there were no such canvass towns as Moquelumne Hill. Log-cabins and frame-houses were the rule, and canvass the exception; while in the southern mines the reverse was the case, excepting in some of the larger towns.

It is singular that the State should be thus divided by nature into two sections of country so unlike in many important points; and that the people inhabiting them should help to heighten the contrast is equally curious, though it may possibly be accounted for by supposing that Frenchmen, Mexicans, and other foreigners, preferred the less wild-looking country and more temperate winters of the southern mines, while the absence of the Western backwoodsmen in the south was owing to the fact that they came to the country across the plains by a route which entered the State near Placerville. Their natural instinct would have led them to continue on a westward course, but this would have brought them down on the plains of the Sacramento Valley, where there is no gold; so, thinking that sunset was more north than south, and knowing also there was more western land in that direction, they spread all over the northern part of the State, till they connected themselves with the settlements in Oregon.

In the neighbourhood of Volcano there is a curious cave, which I went to visit with two or three miners. The entrance to it is among some large rocks on the bank of the creek, and is a hole in the ground just large enough to admit of a man’s dropping himself into it lengthways. The descent is perpendicular between masses of rock for about twenty feet, and is accomplished by means of a rope; the passage then takes a slanting direction for the same distance, and lands one in a chamber thirty or forty feet wide, the roof and sides of which are composed of groups of immense stalactites. The height varies very much, some of the stalactites reaching within four or five feet of the ground; and there are several small openings in the walls, just large enough to creep through, which lead into similar chambers. We brought a number of pieces of candle with us, with which we lighted up the whole place. The effect was very fine; the stalactites, being tinged with pale blue, pink, and green, were grouped in all manner of grotesque forms, in one corner giving an exact representation of a small petrified waterfall.

Coming down into the cave was easy enough, the force of gravity being the only motive power, but to get out again we found rather a difficult operation. The sides of the passage were smooth, offering no resting-place for the foot; and the only means of progression was to haul oneself up by the rope hand over hand—rather hard work in the inclined part of the passage, which was so confined that one could hardly use one’s arms.

At the hotel I stayed at here I found very agreeable company; most of the party were Texans, and were doctors and lawyers by profession, though miners by practice. For the first time since I had been in the mines I here saw whist played, the more favourite games being poker, eucre, and all-fours, or “seven up,” as it is there called. There were also some enthusiastic chess-players among the party, who had manufactured a set of men with their bowie-knives; so what with whist and chess every night, I fancied I had got into a civilised country.

The day before I had intended leaving this village, some Mexicans came into the camp with a lot of mules, which they sold so cheap as to excite suspicions that they had not come by them honestly. In the evening it was discovered that they were stolen animals, and several men started in pursuit of the Mexicans; but they had already been gone some hours, and there was little chance of their being overtaken. I waited a day, in hopes of seeing them brought back and hung by process of Lynch law, which would certainly have been their fate had they been caught; but, fortunately for them, they succeeded in making good their escape. The men who had gone in chase returned empty-handed, so I set out again for Moquelumne Hill on my way south.

I was put upon a shorter trail than the one by which I had come from there; and though it was very dim and little travelled, I managed to keep it: and passing on my way through a small camp called Clinton, inhabited principally by Chilians and Frenchmen, I struck the Moquelumne River at a point several miles above the bridge where I had crossed it before.

The river was still much swollen with the rains and snow of winter, and the mode of crossing was not by any means inviting. Two very small canoes lashed together served as a ferry-boat, in which the passenger hauled himself across the river by means of a rope made fast to a tree on either bank, the force of the current keeping the canoes bow on. When I arrived here, this contrivance happened to be on the opposite side, where I saw a solitary tent which seemed to be inhabited, but I hallooed in vain for some one to make his appearance and act as ferryman. There seemed to be a trail from the tent leading up the river; so, following that direction for about half a mile, I found a party of miners at work on the other side—one of whom, in the obliging spirit universally met with in the mines, immediately left his work and came down to ferry me across.

On the side I was on was an old race about eighteen feet wide, through which the waters rushed rapidly past. A pile of rocks prevented the boat from crossing this, so there was nothing for it but to wade. Some stones had been thrown in, forming a sort of submarine stepping-stones, and lessening the depth to about three feet; but they were smooth and slippery, and the water was so intensely cold, and the current so strong, that I found the long pole which the man told me to take a very necessary assistance in making the passage. On reaching the canoes, and being duly enjoined to be careful in getting in and to keep perfectly still, we crossed the main body of the river; and very ticklish work it was, for the waves ran high, and the utmost care was required to avoid being swamped. We got across safe enough, when my friend put me under additional obligations by producing a bottle of brandy from his tent and asking me to “liquor,” which I did with a great deal of pleasure, as the water was still gurgling and squeaking in my boots, and was so cold that I felt as if I were half immersed in ice-cream.

After climbing the steep mountain-side and walking a few miles farther, I arrived at Moquelumne Hill, having, in the course of my day’s journey, gradually passed from the pine-tree country into such scenery as I have already described as characterising the southern mines.

I went on the next morning to San Andres by a road which winded through beautiful little valleys, still fresh and green, and covered with large patches of flowers. In one long gulch through which I passed, about two hundred Chilians were at work washing the dirt, panful by panful, in their large flat wooden dishes. This is a very tedious process, and a most unprofitable expenditure of labour; but Mexicans, Chilians, and other Spanish Americans, most obstinately adhered to their old-fashioned primitive style, although they had the example before them of all the rest of the world continually making improvements in the method of abstracting the gold, whereby time was saved and labour rendered tenfold more effective.

I soon after met a troop of forty or fifty Indians galloping along the road, most of them riding double—the gentlemen having their squaws seated behind them. They were dressed in the most grotesque style, and the clothing seemed to be pretty generally diffused throughout the crowd. One man wore a coat, another had the remains of a shirt and one boot, while another was fully equipped in an old hat and a waistcoat: but the most conspicuous and generally worn articles of costume were the coloured cotton handkerchiefs with which they bandaged up their heads. As they passed they looked down upon me with an air of patronising condescension, saluting me with the usual “wally wally,” in just such a tone that I could imagine them saying to themselves at the same time, “Poor devil! he’s only a white man.”

They all had their bows and arrows, and some were armed besides with old guns and rifles, but they were doubtless only going to pay a friendly visit to some neighbouring tribe. They were evidently anticipating a pleasant time, for I never before saw Indians exhibiting such boisterous good-humour.

A few miles in from San Andres I crossed the Calaveras, which is here a wide river, though not very deep. There was neither bridge nor ferry, but fortunately some Mexicans had camped with a train of pack-mules not far from the place, and from them I got an animal to take me across.

CHAPTER XXI.

The Mexicans formed by far the most numerous part of the population. The streets—for there were two streets at right angles to each other—and the gambling-rooms were crowded with them, loafing about in their blankets doing nothing. There were three gambling-rooms in the village, all within a few steps of each other, and in each of them was a Mexican band playing guitars, harps, and flutes. Of course, one heard them all three at once, and as each played a different tune, the effect, as may be supposed, was very pleasing.

The sleeping apartments in the hotel itself were all full, and I had to take a cot in a tent on the other side of the street, which was a sort of colony of the parent establishment. It was situated between two gambling-houses, one of which was kept by a Frenchman, who, whenever his musicians stopped to take breath or brandy, began a series of doleful airs on an old barrel-organ. Till how late in the morning they kept it up I cannot say, but whenever I happened to awake in the middle of the night, my ears were still greeted by these sweet sounds.

There was one canvass structure, differing but little in appearance from the rest, excepting that a small wooden cross surmounted the roof over the door. This was a Roman Catholic church. The only fitting up of any kind in the interior was the altar, which occupied the farther end from the door, and was decorated with as much display as circumstances admitted, being draped with the commonest kind of coloured cotton cloths, and covered with candlesticks, some brass, some of wood, but most of them regular California candlesticks—old claret and champagne bottles, arranged with due regard to the numbers and grouping of those bearing the different ornamental labels of St Julien, Medoc, and other favourite brands.

I went in on Sunday morning while service was going on, and found a number of Mexican women occupying the space nearest the altar, the rest of the church being filled with Mexicans, who all maintained an appearance of respectful devotion. Two or three Americans, who were present out of curiosity, naturally kept in the background near the door, excepting two great hulking fellows who came swaggering in, and jostled their way through the crowd of Mexicans, making it evident, from their demeanour, that their only object was to show their supreme contempt for the congregation, and for the whole proceedings. Presently, however, the entire congregation went down on their knees, leaving these two awkward louts standing in the middle of the church as sheepish-looking a pair of asses as one could wish to see. They were hemmed in by the crowd of kneeling Mexicans—there was no retreat for them, and it was extremely gratifying to see how quickly their bullying impudence was taken out of them, and that it brought upon them a punishment which they evidently felt so acutely. The officiating priest, who was a Frenchman, afterwards gave a short sermon in Spanish, which was listened to attentively, and the people then dispersed to spend the remainder of the day in the gambling-rooms.

The same afternoon a drove of wild California cattle passed through the camp, and as several head were being drafted out, I had an opportunity of witnessing a specimen of the extraordinary skill of the Mexican in throwing the lasso. Galloping in among the herd, and swinging the reatu round his head, he singles out the animal he wishes to secure, and, seldom missing his aim, he throws his lasso so as to encircle its horns. As soon as he sees that he has accomplished this, he immediately wheels round his horse, who equally well understands his part of the business, and stands prepared to receive the shock when the bull shall have reached the length of the rope. In his endeavours to escape, the bull then gallops round in a circle, of which the centre is the horse, moving slowly round, and leaning over with one of his fore-feet planted well out, so as to enable him to hold his own in the struggle. An animal, if he is not very wild, may be taken along in this way, but generally another man rides up behind him, and throws his lasso so as to catch him by the hind-leg. This requires great dexterity and precision, as the lasso has to be thrown in such a way that the bull shall put his foot into the noose before it reaches the ground. Having an animal secured by the horns and a hind-foot, they have him completely under command; one man drags him along by the horns, while the other steers him by the hind-leg. If he gets at all obstreperous, however, they throw him, and drag him along the ground.

The lasso is about twenty yards long, made of strips of raw hide plaited, and the end is made fast to the high horn which sticks up in front of the Mexican saddle; the strain is all upon the saddle, and the girth, which is consequently immensely strong, and lashed up very tight. The Mexican saddles are well adapted for this sort of work, and the Mexicans are unquestionably splendid horsemen, though they ride too long for English ideas, the knee being hardly bent at all.

Two of the Vigilance Committee rode over from Moquelumne Hill next morning, to get the Padre to return with them to confess a Mexican whom they were going to hang that afternoon, for having cut into a tent and stolen several hundred dollars. I unfortunately did not know anything about it till it was so late that had I gone there I should not have been in time to see the execution: not that I cared for the mere spectacle of a poor wretch hanging by the neck, but I was extremely desirous of witnessing the ceremonies of an execution by Judge Lynch; and though I was two or three years cruising about in the mines, I never had the luck to be present on such an occasion. I particularly regretted having missed this one, as, from the accounts I afterwards heard of it, it must have been well worth seeing.

The Mexican was at first suspected of the robbery, from his own folly in going the very next morning to several stores, and spending an unusual amount of money on clothes, revolvers, and so on. When once suspected, he was seized without ceremony, and on his person was found a quantity of gold specimens and coin, along with the purse itself, all of which were identified by the man who had been robbed. With such evidence, of course, he was very soon convicted, and was sentenced to be hung. On being told of the decision of the jury, and that he was to be hung the next day, he received the information as a piece of news which no way concerned him, merely shrugging his shoulders and saying, “’stá bueno,” in the tone of utter indifference in which the Mexicans generally use the expression, requesting at the same time that the priest might be sent for.

When he was led out to be hanged, he walked along with as much nonchalance as any of the crowd, and when told at the place of execution that he might say whatever he had to say, he gracefully took off his hat, and blowing a farewell whiff of smoke through his nostrils, he threw away the cigarita he had been smoking, and, addressing the crowd, he asked forgiveness for the numerous acts of villany to which he had already confessed, and politely took leave of the world with “Adios, caballeros.” He was then run up to a butcher’s derrick by the Vigilance Committee, all the members having hold of the rope, and thus sharing the responsibility of the act.

A very few days after I left San Andres, a man was lynched for a robbery committed very much in the same manner. But if stringent measures were wanted in one part of the country more than another, it was in such flimsy canvass towns as these two places, where there was such a population of worthless Mexican canaille, who were too lazy to work for an honest livelihood.

I went on in a few days to Angel’s Camp, a village some miles farther south, composed of well-built wooden houses, and altogether a more respectable and civilised-looking place than San Andres. The inhabitants were nearly all Americans, which no doubt accounted for the circumstance.

While walking round the diggings in the afternoon, I came upon a Chinese camp in a gulch near the village. About a hundred Chinamen had here pitched their tents on a rocky eminence by the side of their diggings. When I passed they were at dinner or supper, and had all the curious little pots and pans and other “fixins” which I had seen in every Chinese camp, and were eating the same dubious-looking articles which excite in the mind of an outside barbarian a certain degree of curiosity to know what they are composed of, but not the slightest desire to gratify it by the sense of taste. I was very hospitably asked to partake of the good things, which I declined; but as I would not eat, they insisted on my drinking, and poured me out a pannikin full of brandy, which they seemed rather surprised I did not empty. They also gave me some of their cigaritas, the tobacco of which is aromatic, and very pleasant to smoke, though wrapped up in too much paper.

The Chinese invariably treated in the same hospitable manner any one who visited their camps, and seemed rather pleased than otherwise at the interest and curiosity excited by their domestic arrangements.

In the evening, a ball took place at the hotel I was staying at, where, though none of the fair sex were present, dancing was kept up with great spirit for several hours. For music the company were indebted to two amateurs, one of whom played the fiddle and the other the flute. It is customary in the mines for the fiddler to take the responsibility of keeping the dancers all right. He goes through the dance orally, and at the proper intervals his voice is heard above the music and the conversation, shouting loudly his directions to the dancers, “Lady’s chain,” “Set to your partner,” with other dancing-school words of command; and after all the legitimate figures of the dance had been performed, out of consideration for the thirsty appetites of the dancers, and for the good of the house, he always announced, in a louder voice than usual, the supplementary finale of “Promenade to the bar, and treat your partners.” This injunction, as may be supposed, was most rigorously obeyed, and the “ladies,” after their fatigues, tossed off their cocktails and lighted their pipes just as in more polished circles they eat ice-creams and sip lemonade.

It was a strange sight to see a party of long-bearded men, in heavy boots and flannel shirts, going through all the steps and figures of the dance with so much spirit, and often with a great deal of grace, hearty enjoyment depicted on their dried-up sunburned faces, and revolvers and bowie-knives glancing in their belts; while a crowd of the same rough-looking customers stood around, cheering them

on to greater efforts, and occasionally dancing a step or two quietly on their own account. Dancing parties such as these were very common, especially in small camps where there was no such general resort as the gambling-saloons of the larger towns. Wherever a fiddler could be found to play, a dance was got up. Waltzes and polkas were not so much in fashion as the “Lancers” which appeared to be very generally known, and, besides, gave plenty of exercise to the light fantastic toes of the dancers; for here men danced, as they did everything else, with all their might; and to go through the “Lancers” in such company was a very severe gymnastic exercise. The absence of ladies was a difficulty which was very easily overcome, by a simple arrangement whereby it was understood that every gentleman who had a patch on a certain part of his inexpressibles should be considered a lady for the time being. These patches were rather fashionable, and were usually large squares of canvass, showing brightly on a dark ground, so that the “ladies” of the party were as conspicuous as if they had been surrounded by the usual quantity of white muslin.

A pas seul sometimes varied the entertainment. I was present on one occasion at a dance at Foster’s Bar, when, after several sets of the “Lancers” had been danced, a young Scotch boy, who was probably a runaway apprentice from a Scotch ship—for the sailor-boy air was easily seen through the thick coating of flour which he had acquired in his present occupation in the employment of a French baker—was requested to dance the Highland Fling for the amusement of the company. The music was good, and he certainly did justice to it; dancing most vigorously for about a quarter of an hour, shouting and yelling as he was cheered by the crowd, and going into it with all the fury of a wild savage in a war-dance. The spectators were uproarious in their applause. I daresay many of them never saw such an exhibition before. The youngster was looked upon as a perfect prodigy, and if he had drank with all the men who then sought the honour of “treating” him, he would never have lived to tread another measure.

CHAPTER XXII.

Every place in the mines had its traditions of wonderful events which had occurred in the olden times; that is to say, as far back as “’49”—for three years in such a fast country were equal to a century; and at this place the tradition was, that, when the quartz vein was first worked, the method adopted was to put in a blast, and, after the explosion, to go round with handbaskets and pick up the pieces. I believe this was only a slight exaggeration of the truth, for at this particular part of the vein there had been found what is there called a “pocket,” a spot not more than a few feet in extent, where lumps of gold in unusual quantities lie imbedded in the rock. No systematic plan had been followed in opening the mine with a view to the proper working of it; but several irregular excavations had been made in the rock wherever the miners had found the gold most plentiful. For nearly a year it had not been worked at all, in consequence of several disputes as to the ownership of the claims; and in the mean time the lawyers were the only parties who were making anything out of it.

On the other side of the hill, however, was a claim on the same vein, which was in undisputed possession of a company of Americans, who employed a number of Mexicans to work it, under the direction of an experienced old Mexican miner. They had three shafts sunk in the solid rock, in a line with each other, to the depth of two hundred feet, from which galleries extended at different points, where the gold-bearing quartz was found in the greatest abundance. No ropes or windlasses were used for descending the shafts; but at every thirty feet or so there was a sort of step or platform, resting on which was a pole with a number of notches cut all down one side of it; and the rock excavated in the various parts of the mine was brought up in leathern sacks on men’s shoulders, who had to make the ascent by climbing a succession of these poles. The quartz was then conveyed on pack-mules down to the river by a circuitous trail, which had been cut on the steep side of the mountain, and was there ground in the primitive Mexican style in “rasters.” The whole operation seemed to be conducted at a most unnecessary expenditure of labour; but the mine was rich, and, even worked in this way, it yielded largely to the owners.

Numerous small wooden crosses were placed throughout the mine, in niches cut in the rock for their reception, and each separate part of the mine was named after a saint who was supposed to take those working in it under his immediate protection. The day before I visited the place had been some saint’s day, and the Mexicans, who of course had made a holiday of it, had employed themselves in erecting, on the side of the hill over the mine, a large cross, about ten feet high, and had completely clothed it with the beautiful wildflowers which grew around in the greatest profusion. In fact, it was a gigantic cruciform nosegay, the various colours of which were arranged with a great deal of taste.

This mine is on the great quartz vein which traverses the whole State of California. It has a direction north-east and south-west, perfectly true by compass; and from many points where an extensive view of the country is obtained, it can be distinctly traced for a great distance as it “crops out” here and there, running up a hill-side like a colossal stonewall, and then disappearing for many miles, till, true to its course, it again shows itself crowning the summit of some conical-shaped mountain, and appearing in the distant view like so many short white strokes, all forming parts of the same straight line.

The general belief was that at one time all the gold in the country had been imbedded in quartz, which, being decomposed by the action of the elements, had set the gold at liberty, to be washed away with other debris, and to find a resting-place for itself. Rich diggings were frequently found in the neighbourhood of quartz veins, but not invariably so, for different local causes must have operated to assist the gold in travelling from its original starting-point.

As a general rule, the richest diggings seemed to be in the rivers at those points where the eddies gave the gold an opportunity of settling down instead of being borne further along by the current, or in those places on the high-lands where, owing to the flatness of the surface or the want of egress, the debris had been retained while the water ran off; for the first idea one formed from the appearance of the mountains was, that they had been very severely washed down, but that there had been sufficient earth and debris to cover their nakedness, and to modify the sharp angularity of their formation.

I crossed the Stanislaus—a large river, which does not at any part of its course afford very rich diggings—by a ferry which was the property of two or three Englishmen, who had lived for many years in the Sandwich Islands. The force of the current was here very strong, and by an ingenious contrivance was made available for working the ferry. A stout cable was stretched across the river, and traversing on this were two blocks, to which were made fast the head and stern of a large scow. By lengthening the stern line, the scow assumed a diagonal position, and, under the influence of the current and of the opposing force of the cable, she travelled rapidly across the river, very much on the same principle on which a ship holds her course with the wind a-beam.

Ferries or bridges, on much-travelled roads, were very valuable property. They were erected at those points on the rivers where the mountain on each side offered a tolerably easy ascent, and where, in consequence, a line of travel had commenced. But very frequently more easy routes were found than the one first adopted; opposition ferries were then started, and the public got the full benefit of the competition between the rival proprietors, who sought to secure the travelling custom by improving the roads which led to their respective ferries.

In opposition to this ferry on the Stanislaus, another had been started a few miles down the river; so the Englishmen, in order to keep up the value of their property and maintain the superiority of their route, had made a good waggon-road, more than a mile in length, from the river to the summit of the mountain.

After ascending by this road and travelling five or six miles over a rolling country covered with magnificent oak trees, and in many places fenced in and under cultivation, I arrived at Sonora, the largest town of the southern mines. It consisted of a single street, extending for upwards of a mile along a sort of hollow between gently sloping hills. Most of the houses were of wood, a few were of canvass, and one or two were solid buildings of sun-dried bricks. The lower end of the town was very peculiar in appearance as compared with the prevailing style of California architecture. Ornament seemed to have been as much consulted as utility, and the different tastes of the French and Mexican builders were very plainly seen in the high-peaked overhanging roofs, the staircases outside the houses, the corridors round each storey, and other peculiarities; giving the houses—which were painted, moreover, buff and pale blue—quite an old-fashioned air alongside of the staring white rectangular fronts of the American houses. There was less pretence and more honesty about them than about the American houses, for many of the latter were all front, and gave the idea of a much better house than the small rickety clapboard or canvass concern which was concealed behind it. But these façades were useful as well as ornamental, and were intended to support the large signs, which conveyed an immense deal of useful information. Some small stores, in fact, seemed bursting with intelligence, and were broken out all over with short spasmodic sentences in English, French, Spanish, and German, covering all the available space save the door, and presenting to the passer-by a large amount of desultory reading as to the nature of the property within and the price at which it could be bought. This, however, was not by any means peculiar to Sonora—it was the general style of thing throughout the country.

The Mexicans and the French also were very numerous, and there was an extensive assortment of other Europeans from all quarters, all of whom, save French, English, and “Eyetalians,” are in California classed under the general denomination of Dutchmen, or more frequently “d—d Dutchmen,” merely for the sake of euphony.

Sonora is situated in the centre of an extremely rich mining country, more densely populated than any other part of the mines. In the neighbourhood are a number of large villages, one of which, Columbia, only two or three miles distant, was not much inferior in size to Sonora itself. The place took its name from the men who first struck the diggings and camped on the spot—a party of miners from the state of Sonora in Mexico. The Mexicans discovered many of the richest diggings in the country—not altogether, perhaps, through good luck, for they had been gold-hunters all their lives, and may be supposed to have derived some benefit from their experience. They seldom, however, remained long in possession of rich diggings; never working with any vigour, they spent most of their time in the passive enjoyment of their cigaritas, or in playing monte, and were consequently very soon run over and driven off the field by the rush of more industrious and resolute men.

There were a considerable number of Mexicans to be seen at work round Sonora, but the most of those living in the town seemed to do nothing but bask in the sun and loaf about the gambling-rooms. How they managed to live was not very apparent, but they can live where another man would starve. I have no doubt they could subsist on cigaritas alone for several days at a time.

I got very comfortable quarters in one of the French hotels, of which there were several in the town, besides a number of good American houses, German restaurants, where lager-bier was drunk by the gallon; Mexican fondas, which had an exceedingly greasy look about them; and also a Chinese house, where everything was most scrupulously clean. In this latter place a Chinese woman, dressed in European style, sat behind the bar and served out drinkables to thirsty outside barbarians, while three Chinamen entertained them with celestial music from a drum something like the top of a skull covered with parchment, and stuck upon three sticks, a guitar like a long stick with a knob at the end of it, and a sort of fiddle with two strings. I asked the Chinese landlord, who spoke a little English, if the woman was his wife. “Oh, no,” he said, very indignantly, “only hired woman—China woman; hired her for show—that’s all.” Some of these Chinamen are pretty smart fellows, and this was one of them. The novelty of the “show,” however, wore off in a few days, and the Chinawoman disappeared—probably went to show herself in other diggings.

One could live here in a way which seemed perfectly luxurious after cruising about the mountains among the small out-of-the-way camps; for, besides having a choice of good hotels, one could enjoy most of the comforts and conveniences of ordinary life; even ice-creams and sherry-cobblers were to be had, for snow was packed in on mules thirty or forty miles from the Sierra Nevada, and no one took even a cocktail without its being iced. But what struck me most as a sign of civilisation, was seeing a drunken man, who was kicking up a row in the street, deliberately collared and walked off to the lock-up by a policeman. I never saw such a thing before in the mines, where the spectacle of drunken men rolling about the streets unmolested had become so familiar to me that I was almost inclined to think it an infringement of the individual liberty of the subject—or of the citizen, I should say—not to allow this hog of a fellow to sober himself in the gutter, or to drink himself into a state of quiescence if he felt so inclined. This policeman represented the whole police force in his own proper person, and truly he had no sinecure. He was not exactly like one of our own blue-bottles; he was not such a stoical observer of passing events, nor so shut out from all social intercourse with his fellow-men. There was nothing to distinguish him from other citizens, except perhaps the unusual size of his revolver and bowie-knife; and his official dignity did not prevent him from mixing with the crowd and taking part in whatever amusement was going on.

The people here dressed better than was usual in other parts of the mines. On Sundays especially, when the town was thronged with miners, it was quite gay with the bright colours of the various costumes. There were numerous specimens of the genuine old miner to be met with—the miner of ’49, whose pride it was to be clothed in rags and patches; but the prevailing fashion was to dress well; indeed there was a degree of foppery about many of the swells, who were got up in a most gorgeous manner. The weather was much too hot for any one to think of wearing a coat, but the usual style of dress was such as to appear quite complete without it; in fact, a coat would have concealed the most showy article of dress, which was a rich silk handkerchief, scarlet, crimson, orange, or some bright hue, tied loosely across the breast, and hanging over one shoulder like a shoulder-belt. Some men wore flowers, feathers, or squirrel’s tails in their hats; occasionally the beard was worn plaited and coiled up like a twist of tobacco, or was divided into three tails hanging down to the waist. One man, of original ideas, who had very long hair, brought it down on each side of the face, and tied it in a large bow-knot under his chin; and many other eccentricities of this sort were indulged in. The numbers of Mexican women with their white dresses and sparkling black eyes were by no means an unpleasing addition to the crowd, of which the Mexicans themselves formed a conspicuous part in their variegated blankets and broad-brimmed hats. There were men in bonnets rouges and bonnets bleus, the cut of whose mustache and beard was of itself sufficient to distinguish them as Frenchmen; while here and there some forlorn individual exhibited himself in a black coat and a stove-pipe hat, looking like a bird of evil omen among a flock of such gay plumage.

CHAPTER XXIII.