That voice had never failed to cheer and comfort me, and it failed not now. That kind Providence had ever blessed me, and I could trust on, and hope ever!

The gold-digger may not stand still. No stone must be left unturned—the treasure may lie beneath the next. This is the miner’s work: he must spend his efforts and his years in rolling over stones, even though his heart is sick with hope deferred—it may be under the next.

I had cooked my dinner with my breakfast—some venison and bread, with a dish of beans and a dipper of coffee. Going to take my dinner, I found the whole gone—eaten clean and the coffee drank, probably by some miner more hungry than myself. I acknowledged myself indebted to some one, as, by taking my thoughts from myself, and giving me employment, he did me a kindness.

The next day I came up into the mountains to join my companions at Rattlesnake Creek. It was late at night when I reached their camp, which was a wild spot beneath some trees. A camp-fire, dimly burning, lighted me to the place. The pure mountain air and my long mountain ramble gave me a good appetite, for which the kindness of my friends provided most amply. Our prospect of success here is good. Some miners have done very well. We have been engaged for a few days in turning the water of the creek, that we may work in the channel. We lead here a strangely wild life. As we had no mules to bring our provisions, implements for cooking and labor, &c., we were obliged to bring them ourselves. We therefore left behind us every thing which could by any possibility be dispensed with. An iron pan, which we use for washing gold, serves also for boiling our coffee. A frying-pan is our only cooking utensil. In this one of the company—who leaves work before the others for the purpose—fries some pork, which is rancid, and then, in the fat, fries some flour batter. After it is done on one side, he tosses it whirling up, catching it as it comes down upon the other side, which is then fried in turn. We have neither knife, fork, spoon, nor plate. A spade answers very well for a plate. We use coffee without sugar, bread without salt, salad without vinegar.

Our prospects so far are not favorable. Four of us were at work, when a pretty vein of gold was discovered, passing down the channel and into the bank. We have to-day made $18 25 each.

June 2d. The vein has run up into the bank, and all our efforts to find it are in vain. This wild mountain creek is fast filling up with miners. Some considerable sums have been taken out. Along the whole length of the creek are closely scattered groups of Mexicans, Chilinos, Indians, Europeans, Americans. At the head of the creek, upon an extensive plain, several large lumps of gold have been found, and a company has been organized to drain and work the lower part of the plain.

June 5th. We are still at work at the old place—still hoping somewhere to find the lost vein. We have sunk several holes at some distance from the channel, in the bank, thinking thus to intercept the treasure we have lost. While thus engaged, a messenger arrived from the head of the creek—a settlement named “Big Oak,” located upon the plain I have mentioned—calling for all the men and guns, as the Indians had attacked them. Not having any inclination to join in the fight, I remained at the camp. One American and a few Indians were killed, and several Indians severely wounded. The quarrel arose between the chief of the Indians and an American, who were both drunk. After the flight of the Indians, their encampment was robbed, and it was with difficulty that a few humane persons present interfered to prevent the cruel treatment of some aged and sick females left behind.

June 8th. For several days the Indians have kept us in a state of alarm. All the white men upon the creek were summoned to meet at a log house, which they fortified, to guard against a night attack. It was said that fifty Indian warriors from the Mercedes were on the way to attack us. During the next day the excitement was increased by the rumor that the attack was to take place during that night. Nearly all left for the lower settlements, or assembled at the log house. We remained quietly at our camp, only taking the precaution to extinguish our camp-fires.

June 9th. The Indians have to-day manifested their desire of peace by returning to the settlement, digging up and burning, according to their custom, the bodies of their chief and the other Indians who had been killed. All is quiet, and the miners are returning in crowds. Mr. S., the Georgia miner, having heard that six Mexicans had made seventy-five pounds of gold in ten days, in a ravine near us, went over to-day to see the place. He found every foot of it occupied. There is much sickness at the mines. Many whose cases would yield to a little kind nursing, if they were promptly attended, become desperately ill, and often die from neglect of the early symptoms. We often hear of instances of success in mining, some of them most remarkable.

At Sullivan’s Camp, a few miles from us, a Dutchman followed a vein of gold down to a large rock, which continually became richer as he progressed. Aided by some friends, he succeeded in removing the rock, and in two hours’ time took out forty pounds of the precious ore.

Dividend to each of five members, $89 40; average per day to each one, $11 17.

The Sabbath is generally observed as a day of physical rest by the miners. There are few who engage in mining upon this day. But all find it indispensable to give attention to some necessary personal business. In every encampment are found those who improve the day in reading the Bible and other books, and in singing the songs of home in a strange land. Still, it must be confessed, there is more gambling and drinking upon that day than upon all the other days of the week. When there is preaching at the mines, which is rarely the case, it is well attended, and listened to with respect.

July 29th. We continued at Rattlesnake Creek till the 3d of July, but without much success. On that day we came down from the high mountains, to attend the meeting of the Hart’s Bar Company on the 4th. On our way down, an old Californian showed us the valuable medicinal plants “Buena herba” and “Canchalagua.” We found much alarm prevailing at Jacksonville on account of the many murders recently committed in the vicinity. A nightly patrol has been kept up. The river was very high. Several have been drowned in attempting to cross. On the morning of the 4th we endeavored to cross at the ferry. There were nine persons in a boat of the ordinary size. Before putting out into the current, which runs very rapidly by, we passed by a cluster of young trees and bushes in the water. One of the passengers unguardedly caught at one of the bushes, which caused the boat immediately to sway about and dip water. It was instantly half full, and five of the passengers had jumped out, and were clinging to the bushes. The others of us made our way as soon as possible to the shore, and then contrived to rescue our companions from their dangerous situation.

On that day dined with my kind friend A. from Philadelphia, on the bank of the river, near Hawkinsville—a sort of pic-nic, with “porter for two.” While in the village, I was introduced to a miner from Virginia, whose brief history while at the mines is interesting. On his arrival at San Francisco, about a year previous, he purchased a good supply of provisions, which he packed upon mules, and with a muleteer he started for Deer Creek. Not meeting with any person to direct him, he crossed the creek, not knowing that it was such. Going on for some distance, he came suddenly, and to his great alarm, to a settlement of Indians, who, however, through his Mexican muleteer, expressed friendship and a desire to trade. He was induced to pitch his tent, and remain with them. The business proved so profitable, that he returned to Stockton for a larger supply. In a short time he had many Indians working for him, and in a few weeks was able to send home $17,000, retaining $3000 for his future operations. Since that time he has had no success; had sunk the fund he had retained, and was now working as a hired laborer for the means to take him to his family.

On our way back we met the mail agent, who had letters for me. He declines taking gold-dust to San Francisco, on account of the danger. Remarked that he traveled feeling that he might be shot at any moment, and that the assassin might be concealed behind the next bush. Twelve murders have been committed within a week in and near Sonora. There is so much alarm that a volunteer company has been organized, till a regiment of dragoons can be ordered here. This state of things is no doubt owing, in part, to the heavy tax imposed upon foreigners, which deprives many of them of employment. In consequence, they become desperate, often being destitute of the means with which to purchase their daily supplies. They are accordingly driven to steal and to murder.

The river being yet too high to allow us to commence our work upon Hart’s Bar, we postponed our meeting for a week, and returned to the mountains, hoping to find another vein of gold; but our efforts were not rewarded.

On the 9th instant we came down to Hart’s Bar to attend a company meeting; but the river being still too high for profitable labor, we returned again to the mountains, where, and at Woods’s Creek, we have worked till this time, not averaging 50 cents a day.

To-day we have come down to Hart’s Bar, to make all necessary arrangements—lay in our provisions, purchase mining tools, pitch our tents, erect brush arbors—before we begin the work. I have selected a spot for my arbor-home, a little above the bar, on a gentle rise, and at a short distance from the encampment of my companions, which consists of a picturesque group of tents and arbors on the bar below. Just behind me the mountain ascends abrupt and steep. I am making my arbor beneath a large pine, the only tree upon the bar. It is called the “medicine-tree,” because its pitch is used as a balsam for all burns and bruises. This tree forms one of the supporters of my arbor. Driving into the ground three posts, and putting poles across these, supported also by branches of the pine, I have covered the frame thus formed with brush and boughs, throwing them on the top, and interweaving them into the sides. This forms for me a cool, shaded room, about ten feet square, where I may find a shelter from the intense heat of the sun, which is to-day 113° in the shade. Between a pin driven into the tree and a post at the back of the arbor I have swung my hammock, in which, dressing myself and creeping into the bag, as I have already described, I shall spread my blankets over me. I can fancy this will be a sort of magnetic telegraph office, whence, as soon as I am asleep, I shall be transported home with lightning speed, and spend many a sweet hour with my distant family. On a post in the middle of the arbor, which supports also the poles and boughs overhead, I have left the short prongs, upon which I hang my clothes, bags, &c., excepting the small bag containing my letters and Daguerreotypes, which hangs upon the post at the head of my hammock. My provisions are stored in the back part of my arbor, while my kitchen is all out doors.

July 30th. We have to-day commenced our labors. So much has been said of the mining operations upon the rivers, especially upon the Tuolumne, which is believed to be very rich, that I am led, for the information of my readers, to go more into detail in describing this, the closing portion of my mining life. The gold is often found, in rich deposits, in the channels of these rivers. To be obtained, the river must first be turned by dam and canal. As this is an operation requiring the united labor of many individuals, it is customary to form companies, which elect their officers, form their laws, and mutually share the expense and labor of the preparatory work, and also divide equally the profits.

The Hart’s Bar Draining and Mining Company was organized in May. The following Articles of Agreement were adopted in July, at a meeting of the company, when twenty-one entered their names as members, and elected their officers. It should be remarked that mining associations enjoy all the privileges and immunities of corporate bodies; their just claims and rights are sacredly regarded; and any violence done to these rights would be visited by the vengeance of all the miners for miles around. No code of laws or staff of police could more fully establish a miner in the possession of his ten feet square. No well-drawn writing, from the royal charter down to the simple deed of conveyance, could be a surer guarantee. He would not be obliged to wait a tedious process at law, or pay his last dollar for a bill of ejectment. The work of restitution and retribution at the mines is speedy, summary, and effective.

I have received into my arbor, as a camp-mate, my valued friend M. He is a young sailor—a man with a brave heart in danger, but with a kind heart to those he loves—rough or gentle, like the ocean he has navigated. He has to-day made a bed-frame, nailing some bags on the bottom for sacking; also, some camp-stools, while the company’s carpenter has made me a table; so that our mining home presents an unusual air of comfort. We have sent to Stockton for a supply of provisions. M. is a first-rate cook, and many of the dishes he can furnish would be relished in any place where there are good appetites. The living at the mines is much better than it has been. We have more vegetables, better flour, and a greater variety of provisions generally. Provisions are also cheaper than they have been at any time previous.

The work before us is truly an arduous one, made doubly so by the limited means we have of prosecuting it. The clay for the construction of our canal must be carried in hand-barrows, borne between two persons, from the side of the hill down a steep bank, then along over a stony path to the canal, a distance varying from one eighth to one sixth of a mile; and this must be done day after day for weeks. Then the lumber for the aqueduct is to be sawed by hand, from logs cut and rolled from the tops and sides of the mountains, with whip-saws. This part of the business is under the direction of a master architect from London.

Sept. 24th, 1851. We prosecuted both parts of our work at the same time. A part were employed in carrying the clay to the canal. An account was kept one day, and it was ascertained that each barrow was carried, during the day, fourteen miles. Since my last date I have carried such a barrow four hundred and twenty miles. The clay was put in large heaps, where we could easily obtain it when it should be wanted in the making of the canal. This was a most arduous undertaking. Sometimes it must pass through a solid ledge of hard asbestos rock, and then through deep holes in the river, where it has washed into the banks. In such a case, a heavy wall, filled with clay, must be made. When completed, the canal was six hundred and thirty-eight feet in length, and sixteen in width. Making the aqueduct to convey the water from the canal, which passed through Paine’s Bar, above us, was the most difficult task. The logs, which were cut upon the mountain, were rolled to the pits, and then sawed by hand. Piers were constructed by making crates of logs, which were firmly pinned together, then sunk in their places by being filled with large stones. Another large pier was made by rolling and carrying stones into the river a distance of thirty feet. The sleepers of the aqueduct were laid upon this and the laden crates. When it was finished, it was a handsome piece of workmanship, of which we were justly proud. It was one hundred and two feet in length, and twelve wide. This kind of labor—yielding no remuneration, only being preparatory to the more exciting, though laborious process of gold-digging—was prosecuted from July the 30th to this date, Sept. 24th. We were awakened at dawn by the second director, who came out before his tent, and sang, in a loud, clear voice, “Up in the morning early, boys!” That song, which often brought me out of my dreams, to this day I carry back into my dreams. After a short time allowed for taking breakfast, the roll was called, and we went to our daily labor. And oh! when night came again, how sweet, after a bath in the river, was “the rest of the laboring man!” On the 20th of September the pleasure was ours of seeing the whole channel of the river opposite our bar laid bare for our operations. It was ours, after contending with difficulties, privations, and hardships innumerable, and of no ordinary kind, and which have deprived of health many of our company. It was all ours, with the joyous anticipation of soon receiving the reward of our efforts, and returning home with at least a competence. About two weeks since—it was the 6th instant—we were alarmed by a considerable rise of the river. While at breakfast upon that day, the water of the river became suddenly muddy. Soon after we perceived this, intelligence was brought down to us from the Jacksonville company that they were expecting to see their dam washed away. The river continued gradually to rise for an hour, when there was a sudden freshet, caused by the giving way of some dam above us. We hastened, with the aid of other companies, to open the head of the canal, and to roll heavy stones into the aqueduct. The water came up to the floor, then a few inches above it. We looked on, expecting to see all our works, which we had spent weeks in completing, at once destroyed. But the water ceased to rise, then slowly subsided, showing behind it the wet ground and the line of foam, chips and dirt marking the limits of the encroachment. Soon we were able to return to our labor with lightened spirits, and some with other kinds. Many cradles, buckets, and other things floated past us in the river.

The shares of the company immediately advanced several hundred dollars. One share was sold for $1200, while $2500 was refused for another.

Two days since we commenced making a ditch under the wall of the canal, to carry off the water which leaked through its embankments. Two cradles were set, and the dirt from the bed of the ditch was washed through, and in three hours there was deposited in the treasury $176.

Yesterday we continued to work upon the ditch, adding two more cradles, and during the day made $415 75. At midnight, and in the rain, we were called out to repair the walls of the canal, and stop several leaks. The river was very high, and slowly rising. After several hours’ night-labor, we succeeded in stopping every leak but one. In one place the water rushed through in a torrent.

This morning—Sept. 24th—the water was rising in its might. Notwithstanding our aqueduct and canal, the bed of the river was nearly full. We hastened to remove all our mining implements. Slowly, but surely, the freshet came, till the destruction of all our works seemed inevitable.

We thought not of hunger, though we had been laboring hard much of the night and all the morning. About ten o’clock there was a pause of fearful suspense. The rising seemed arrested—might it not be on the turn? For a short time there was hope; the pendulum vibrated each moment between our hopes and our fears. We hastened up the hill side—after all had been done which could be—to a spot commanding a view of the whole, to see our hopes or our fears realized. We perceived at once that the existence of all our works depended upon the Paine’s Bar dam above us. Would that stand the torrent? Should that maintain its position, we were safe; let that go, all would be swept away! As we kept our eyes fixed upon this—it was a quarter of a mile above us—the black line of wall was suddenly broken, and the torrent poured through a small opening forced in the dam, and in a few seconds the river ran foaming over the entire length of the wall, which bowed and sank before the irresistible force. Then and there was heard a sound new and strangely startling to me. It was caused by large stones rushing and grinding under water, borne on by the tremendous power of the current. It might be imagined that the thousand submerged chariots and cars of Pharaoh’s host were driving impetuously over that river channel. As soon as the dam above us gave way, the water rose with great rapidity—two, three, four, six, eight feet—till it poured over the top of the aqueduct. Still it nobly stood, held in its place by the immense weight of the water which poured through it from the canal above. It was indeed surprising to see a thing so light resisting that mad and mighty force. It was but a moment! Gently and gracefully it yielded, swayed forward, and moved away with the ease and rapidity of a thing of life. Thus, in one moment, we saw the work of one thousand and twenty-nine days done by the company swept away and rendered useless. Within five minutes of the time when the aqueduct disappeared around the bend of the river, a meeting of the company was called, and a resolution presented to proceed with our work by means of wing-dams.

Oct. 8th. From the time of the freshet to the 30th of Sept., the river was too high to permit us to commence our new operations. On that day—Monday—the directors led the way, shuddering, and actually shrieking, from the sudden chill, into the cold stream. A line was formed, extending out to the middle of the river, those at the end of the line working in four feet water, where the current was so strong that our feet would often be forced from under us, and we would be whirled away down the current, to scrabble on shore as we could. To appreciate the difficulties of our arduous and dangerous task, and to understand the kind of work which was to be done, let my reader imagine himself standing by me, and looking at what is going on below us, while I describe the scene to him. The whole force of the company, aided by some thirty Mexicans we have employed to work for us, is concentrated upon the wall which is to be the head of the dam. This is to run from the shore out to the middle of the river, or about forty feet. Two walls are thrown up parallel to each other, and about two feet apart. The difficulty of this is almost inconceivable. We must roll the stones and adjust them where there is a rapid current four feet in depth. Sometimes a whole section of this will be swept off at once, and must be done all over again. After the walls are completed, strong cloth is spread down against the lower wall, and over its whole surface. The space is then filled up with small twigs, sand, and clay. After the wall is carried thus to the middle of the river, it must turn, forming a right angle, and run down through the middle of the river, parallel to the shore, a distance of two hundred and fifty feet, till it passes over some falls, by which means the water is partially drained from a portion of the channel. This portion so drained is then divided off into pens, which are surrounded by small walls, so made as to exclude the water, which is then bailed out, and all the space within the walls of the pens is thus worked. The cradles are set just over the walls, on the outer side, and some six or eight of them are sometimes being rocked at the same time, supplied with dirt by the dozen or twenty miners in the pens. It is a busy scene. It will be seen that this work is not only laborious, but in an extreme degree exposing. At times nearly all the company may be seen working together, waist deep, in the water, which, coming from the Sierra Nevada, is very cold. This we must endure, while a burning sun is shining hotly down upon the head.

There are two servants, belonging to members of the company, at work with the rest, and right hard-working men they are. One of them, who is from Mississippi, is as athletic and vigorous a man as I have ever seen. If any work is to be done which requires great strength, he is called upon; and he always engages in it singing some merry song. The other servant is an old man, named Allen, belonging to our president, who tells me he shall give him free papers when he leaves the country.

Direct your attention once again to the interesting tableau in the river below us. Among the group of Mexicans and Americans—black, brown, and white—is one remarkable person. He is a tall, stout man, having the appearance of one accustomed to command, and some of the severity of one who has commanded those who never dared dispute his authority. He had been a boatman upon the Mississippi. He was our chief director; and, though he ruled with unquestioned sway, he was light-hearted, jovial, and free. He was known among us by the name of “Red,” from the fact that, whenever there was any fighting to be done, or when he was “going upon a spree,” he put on a red flannel shirt. By our “Articles of Agreement,” in the absence of the president, the duty of presiding over the meetings devolved upon him, as chief director. At a meeting which was called at the regular time of work, the president being absent, the chair was to be taken—speaking figuratively, for such a thing as a chair was unknown at the mines—by this remarkable individual. The thought that he was so far to submit his own opinion to the decision of others as to permit them an opportunity of expressing dissent even by their votes, did not seem to enter into his calculations. The meeting had been called to decide whether or not we should work on that Saturday afternoon. Under the circumstances, most were in favor of adjourning work till Monday morning. What was the dismay of those who had anticipated no difficulty in carrying the question in the affirmative, and who came prepared to talk down or to talk out all opposition, if they had to talk till night, when Red entered with the air of one who is for deeds, and not words. He was strongly opposed to the proposed measure. “Boys,” he said, as he came by, spade in hand, as if on his way to labor, impatient of any delay, and waving all ceremony—“Boys, I say, go to work. All who are in favor say ‘Ay!’” One emphatic “Ay!” by himself, was the only response. “Those who are opposed,” he continued, at the same time starting on his way, “say nothing, and go to work!” In five minutes every man was at his post, wondering how it had happened. I was desirous, for one, to have the afternoon to myself, as I had promised to preach on the morrow, and wanted the time to arrange my thoughts. As it was, I selected my subject, studied and arranged my plan, while at work in the canal. Early the next day—Sunday—I stepped to the entrance of my brush arbor, and to a post driven into the ground, upon the top of which was nailed a chip, hewed flat for the purpose, which served for a reading-desk. My audience were already seated about, some upon rude stools, and most upon the ground.

This afternoon, our wall being completed, and two pens, twelve feet square, inclosed, we set our cradles, and commenced “rocking.” The books of the treasurer exhibit the following results to Nov. 9th, when river mining was generally suspended for the season:

Dividend to each of twenty-one members of the company, $647 42. Average per day, from July 30th to Nov. 9th, 1850, $7 28.

A large amount of gold came into the treasury, the care of which was somewhat burdensome. It puzzled me to know what to do with it. There was no lock and key in the place. My arbor was upon the hill, retired from the rest of the settlement. There were many Mexicans and strangers constantly upon the bar, and it was dangerous to have a large amount of gold in possession. As a means of security for myself, I changed my quarters every night; and to secure the gold, I tied the various packages into one bundle, to which I attached one end of a string, tying the other end about my wrist. The bundle, so secured, I folded within my coat, placing the whole beneath my head as a pillow. Any attempt to take this from me would have been instantly detected.

It will be seen, by reference to the dates, that the company labored at mining on one Sabbath. When it was decided, at a meeting on Saturday, the 12th of October, to work the next day, I was allowed to enter my protest, which still remains upon the records; and I was also excused from manual labor. By noon of that Sunday, all had left work, and it was never even proposed again.

During the last weeks of our labors, we hired many Americans, and more than fifty Mexicans. The heavy tax upon foreigners has driven them to seek employment from companies. They may be hired at $4 and $6 a day. These Mexicans, who speak imperfect Spanish, are generally very indolent, and must be closely watched. Many times in the day, whatever may be the business, they will stop, take out a small, square piece of white paper, and putting upon it a small pinch of loose tobacco, roll it into a cigarito, and lighting it with a piece of punk or a match, smoke with apparent relish. The women are as fond of their cigaritos as the men.

A few nights before I left the mines, I accepted an invitation from “Red” to accompany him on a night fishing expedition. He carried in his hand a long and peculiarly pointed spear, with a spring barb, which opened as it entered the flesh of the fish, and prevented his escape. Several others bore torches made of light wood, which, while they dazzled the fish, showed the spear-man where to strike. After two hours’ fishing on the banks of the river, we returned, rewarded for our toil with several large salmon.

A remarkable instance of an attack made by a bear upon the inmates of a tent occurred lately near us. He was no doubt attracted by the smell of the fresh meat which was being cooked. Infuriated by the resistance which he met, he made a most violent attack upon his assailants, killing two men and one woman, who was cooking. One of the men and the bear lay dead side by side.

A bird of very large size has frequently flown over us, soaring very high in the air, which we have supposed was the California eagle; but one, coming within the range of the rifle, was shot, and fell at our feet upon the bar. It proves to be a species of the vulture, and measures, between the tips of its wings, eight feet and eleven inches. The quill which I now have is of great size.

There was upon the bar a case of delirium tremens, that most fearful display of the Divine displeasure against intemperance. The young man was from England—had been an officer in the British army. Soon after he came to the mines, he gave himself up to intemperate habits. He was suddenly attacked in the night, imagining himself pursued by horrible fiends, which came to torture him. At midnight he came rushing into my tent, and almost knocked me out of my hammock as he crept under it, to conceal himself from his enemies. He would then dart through the side of my arbor, densely interwoven with brush and boughs, and into a tent near by, where he narrowly escaped being shot as a robber. In the day he would sit near the bank of the river, and converse by the hour with imaginary persons on the hill opposite. He carried on a curious courtship with a woman who was dancing over the river, surrounded by her fifty children. He requested me to marry him to this woman of his imagination; and then, soon after, came in trembling, and told me that the husband was alive, and in his jealous rage was seeking to kill him.

There was much sickness upon the bar during the latter part of the season. Much of this was the result of the fearful exposures to which we were subject. The sickness at length assumed a malignant and dangerous form. It commenced in a violent attack of diarrhœa, running into symptoms resembling the cholera, which was then fatally prevalent in the cities of California. The first person attacked was a vigorous and strong German sailor. Nothing could be learned of him or his friends—even his name was unknown to us. We buried him deep in the sand, on the banks of the Tuolumne; and while the burial services were being performed, a crowd—not, however, of our own members—surrounded the gambling-table on the bar. At this time there were three or four gambling companies with us, called into life by the short-lived success of our mining operations.

Poor Charlie! would it lessen the loneliness of your last resting-place to know that you “sleep your last sleep” by the side of the gifted and noble-hearted friend who watched over you night and day in your sickness, and who thus contracted his own death malady? Alas! how sad and overpowering are my thoughts, as I stand, for the last time before leaving for my own far-distant home, by the grave of Franklin H. Ridout, of Annapolis, Maryland! Soon after the death of Charlie, he was prostrated by a most violent attack of the same disease. During his short sickness, every possible attention and assistance was rendered him by a few devoted friends; but how often he must have felt the want of the attentions of his own happy home—the home of piety and refinement! After he had received from his physician the intelligence that there was no hope in his case—intelligence to which he listened with Christian resignation—he sent for me. It was the 21st of October, and so warm and genial was the weather that the dying man was outside his tent, lying beneath its shade. That conversation, and others which followed, I shall never forget. I was the learner, and he the teacher. His quiet Christian resignment to the will of the Supreme Being, while it was very affecting, was also consoling to our feelings. But one thing he seemed to wish different. “If I might die at home,” he said, “it would be so sweet!” The last sentence he spoke contained the dear and sacred name “mother!” His last thought was of her. A short time before his death, the sacrament of the holy communion was administered to him, at which a large number of persons were present. A meeting of the company was called in the evening, and the following resolutions were passed:

Several were dangerously ill at the time of Mr. Ridout’s death, and, soon after, our worthy president was at once prostrated by a similar attack. For many hours we watched over him, endeavoring to cheer and comfort him. At the last, he came to the conclusion that he must die. Sending for me, he made me promise to visit his family on Red River, and be the bearer to them of the sad intelligence; also of many messages, which he delivered with the fortitude of a Christian philosopher; but once, when speaking of his wife, his voice was choked, and the strong man turned aside his head to weep. To my earnest entreaty that he would postpone the subject till he was better—indeed, my own feelings were so much overcome, that I feared I should lose control of myself in his presence—he replied that he must finish, and then his mind would be at rest. He feared not to die, but he would have desired to be at home, if it had been the will of God; but he could not complain. He gave me, for his family, his journal, a few articles of value, and his bag of gold. His tent, clothing, tools, &c., he gave to his servant, old Allen, to whom he had promised his freedom when he should leave the country, and to whom he requested me to give free papers in the event of his death. He told me, in conclusion, where he wished to be buried, and the mode of his burial. Hearing that my valued friend, Dr. Candee, of Park Place, New York, was in the neighborhood, I sent to him, urgently requesting him to visit Dr. Hotchkiss. To my great relief, he was soon at his side, and his prescriptions were blessed to his recovery.

These cases of sickness very much hastened the breaking up of our mining operations for the season. Many of the company left for the mountains, to be ready for the winter diggings.

Nov. 9th. This is my last day at the mines. We removed our cradles this morning to the portion of the channel from which we had taken out the largest amount of gold, hoping that we might find the vein again. There were favorable indications close under the centre wall; but the vein dipped below the wall, and we worked on, at every step undermining it, and still led on by the hope of reaching one of those rare deposits in which thousands are found. We were more encouraged in this idea by learning, on good evidence, that from one small spot near us, in the same channel, one miner, the last year, took $17,000. Why might not we strike it also? Every appearance encouraged us, when we were aroused by a sudden and loud call from one of the directors, who had discovered two leaks in the dam, a few feet apart. In an instant we all rushed, with our spades and barrows of dirt, to the breaches, which each moment gaped wider, and presented a more hopeless appearance. All our efforts would have been vain, and the dam swept away, but for the aid of another company near us. There was no more work, however, to be done that day, every thing being under the water. That was the last of my gold-digging.

Nov. 10th. For the last time, I have just climbed the mountain above Hart’s Bar. On looking back, below me is spread out the narrow, winding valley, between its two mountains, widening at that point into an extensive bar, through which, on account of the many dams, canals, and other obstructions, the tortured river seems to have infinite difficulty in forcing its way. There is also the collection of tents, and the miners engaged in cooking, and collected in small groups about their camp-fires, for it is a cool morning. There stand the wrecks of our aqueduct and canal; the bare half channel of the river, and the surface of the bar scarred and pitted over. There is the scene of my labors for long months. There is my own arbor, and its last fire still smoking; and there our place of worship; and lower down is where our company meetings were held. And there are the graves of our lost companions. But I must break from these scenes of disappointment and sadness—of broken hopes and broken hearts—and, invoking the blessing of a kind and gracious Father in heaven upon myself and those left behind, direct my steps to San Francisco.

On the road, where before there were only tents or rude arbors, are now some frame buildings. And it was cause of surprise to see the great number of wagons and mule-trains, heavily laden for the mines. Where were to be found consumers for all this? Then came the news-man, with almost a mule-load of New York Heralds. I had come alone, and entirely unarmed, and it was a source of amusement to me to meet the emigrants on their way to the mines, completely armed. A mile out from Stockton, I met a Frenchman, armed with a double hunting-gun, pistols, dirk, &c., who came up to me, looking carefully on this side and on that, and inquired anxiously, “Is there any danger about the bear?” He seemed surprised when I told him I had come down from the mines alone and unarmed; that on my way across the plain I had seen a few elk and deer, and immense herds of antelope.

At Stockton I received letters from home of three months’ later date; and the same evening left, in one of the river steamers, for San Francisco, where I arrived early the next morning.

CHAPTER VI.

SAN FRANCISCO.

GENERAL ESTIMATE OF GAINS—RETURN TO PHILADELPHIA.

San Francisco, which has already been several times burned down, and as often, Phœnix-like, arisen from its ashes, seems to be improved by each conflagration. A new edition, revised and improved, has just been issued. I should not have known the city. Indeed, there was little there—excepting the land, and that cut down and changed—which had been there when I left. The city of tents and sheds was changed to one of substantial edifices, while some blocks of very respectable brick houses had been built. One could not pass through the city without being impressed with the sentiment which seems to describe the whole thing, “Enterprise run mad.”[B] Each one of the vast throng hastens on, busy in his own plans and pursuits. Nothing can so well give the idea, by a single image, of San Francisco, as naming it a moral whirlpool. A mysterious, but all-pervading and powerful attraction, emanating from this wonderful point, has been felt in the remotest parts of the earth. Civilized, semi-barbarous, and savage—American, European, Asiatic, and African—feel it. The missionary and the gambler, the praying and the profane man, have all felt it. Drawn from the pulpit, the farm, the forum, the bench, they all rush—giddy, mazed—into this one vortex. Happy the few who escape unharmed!

To give such a sketch of society in San Francisco as could be understood and appreciated—