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JULY, 1856, TO JUNE, 1857. 




Entered according to Act of Congress, In the jeers 1866-7, 


In the Clerk** Office, of the District Court of the Northern District of the State of California. 






DOL1AN HARP , 259 












t SIGN 6* 









\u-ifobnia a great country ,. 120 

ulifornia in 1671 ,... 108 

ulifornia shrubbery— the ceanothus 13 

Capital in California 130 





N iXTBIBUTORS TO 94, 138, 189, 239, 288, 336, 384, 431, 479, 527, 576 




fICKOBY HICKLEBERRY, Adtsvtuus of. 25, 66, 1 13, 186, 205, 267, 325, 369,452, 513 


*E_ DOTIT-DOWN'S NOTES 36, 90, 112, 183, 225, 276, 329, 374, 56* 


Breams— a reverie i6i 


fcXA BOBB 355 




•^ tea <si 




13. Farallone Islands, South-east View. 49 

14. Delightful Prospect Off the Bar. ... 50 

15. Sea Lions 51 

1 6. Cooking Beans on Disputed Territory 52 

17. Murre, or Foolish Guillemot 53 

18. Murre's Egg 54 

19. Tufted Puffin 64 

20. Farallone Islands from West End. . 55 

21. Farallone Islands from Big Rookery 56 

22. Farallone Islands from NorthLanding 57 
28. Horned Toad 58 

24. Horned Toad's Eggs 58 

25. Grocey Sore 1 65 

26. Entrance to Quicksilver Mine of New 

Almaden 97 

27. General View of the Works 99 

28. Smelting Furnace 100 

29. Mexicans Weighing Quicksilver. . . 101 
80. Shrine of Senora de Guadalupe. ... 102 
31. Mtneros at Work in the Mine 103 

82. Tenateros Carrying the Ore from the 

Mine 104 

83. Grizzly Bear 106 

84. Before Shaking Up 144 

85. After Shaking Up 144 

36. Branch Mint of San Francisco, Front 

View 145 

37. Assaying the Chips 146 

38. Making the Granulations 147 

89. Drawing Off the Acid 148 

40. Running the Gold into Ingots. • • . 149 

41. Rolling and Cutting Room 150 

42. Adjusting Room 151 

43. Milling the Planchets 152 

44. Cleaning the Planchets 152 

45. Stamping into Coin 153 

46. A Miners Cabin 193 

47. Onion Valley and Pilot Peak 164 

48. Nelson's Point 195 

49. Gibsonville 196 

80. Kanaka Creek 197 

51. Fluming Scene on Scott River 198 

52. Scene on Mokelumne River 199 

68. View on the Cosummes River 200 

84. Road Runner of California 201 

55. Large Pear. 205 

66. Pack Train in Motion 241 

67. Fastening on the Pack 242 

68. In Trouble 243 

59. Unpacking Without Assistance. . . . 243 

60. Accidents Sometimes Happen 244 

61. Pack Train in a Snow Storm 245 

62. Has a Will of His Own 247 

63. In Danger 247 

64. Arriving in the Mines 248 

65. Camping Scene by Moonlight 249 

66. Merry Christmas, Happy New Year. 289 

67. The Feast 290 

68. Riffle-box Waterfall on Deer Creek 292 

69. Hair Seal of the Pacific 293 

70. Head of Seal 294 

71. Jacksonville, O. T 295 

72. Caves of Calaveras County— Hotel. 296 
78. Entrance to the Cave 297 

74. Bridal Chamber 298 

75. Grave Under the Pine Tree 304 

76. Juvenile Department r 329 

77. The Good for Nothing 329 

78. The World in California 337 

79. The Indian 338 

80. The Pioneer 339 

81. The Miner 340 

82. The Englishman 341 

83. The Irishman 342 

84. The Jew 343 

85. The Negro 344 

86. The Hybrid 345 

87. The Sandwich Islander 346 

88. Indian Water Bottle 347 

89. Norwegian Snow Skates 349 

90. Chinese — Male and Female 385 

91. Chilians 387 

92. Hindoo 388 

93. Mexicans 389 

94. German 390 

95. Prussian 891 

96. Loafers 392 

97. Italian 398 

98. White Breasted Squirrel Hawk 894 

99. Table Mountain from Green Springs, 

Tuolumne County 397 

00. First Night's Camping on the Plains 398 

01. Court House Rock 400 

02. Attacking the Whale 433 

03. Whaling Implements 435 

04. The Chase 489 

05. Cutting in 441 

06. Sperm Whale 442 

07. Trying Out of Whale Blubber 443 

08. Dangers of Whaling 444 

09. Homeward Bound 445 

10. Worm Eaten Timber 448 

11. Timber Worm of California 448 

12. Chimney Rock 449 

13. Scott's Bluffs 451 

14. Sugar Refinery 466 

15. Way-side Shade and Watering Place 481 

16. View of Mount Shasta 483 

17.Dog "Jerry." 485 

18. Natural Bridge of Calaveras, Upper 

Side of Upper Bridge 488 

19. Natural Bridge of Calaveras, Upper 

Side of Lower Bridge 489 

20. Natural Bridge of Calaveras, Lower 

Side of Lower Bridge 490 

21. Poison Oak 491 

22. Effects of Poison Oak 491 

23. After a Bath of Three Hours 492 

24. Cured 492 

25. Sacramento Valley & Lassen's Butte 498 

26. Laramie Peak 497 

27. Devil's Gate 498 

28. Waterfall on Feather River 529 

29. The Indians " Guide " us ! 331 

30. A short Voyage in an Indian Canoe 532 

31. A slight Back-set to Comfort 533 

32. Lassen's Butte and Meadows 534 

33. Honey Lake Valley— Noble's Pass. 535 

34. The last Flap-Jack is Fried 536 

35. We have seen our Course 537 

36. Diagram of a Comet's Orbit 541 

37. View of Table Mountain 544 



No. I -JULY, 1856 -Vol. I. 



this is tbc first 
of our greeting 
and acquaint- 
ance. We hope, 
with, your ap- 
proval! to spend 
many pleasant 
hours in company with each other. It is our 
hope, as it will be our aim, to make our 
monthly visit to your fireside as welcome as 
the cheerful countenance and social con- 
verse of some dear old friend, who just drops 
in, in a friendly way, to spend the evening. 
We wish to picture California, and Cali- 
fornia life : to portray its beautiful scenery 
and curiosities ; to speak of its mineral and 
agricultural products ; to tell of its wonder- 
ful resources and commercial advantages ; 
and to give utterance to the inner life and 
experience of its people, in their aspirations, 
hopes, disappointments and successes-— the 
lights and shadows of daily life. 

Whatever is noble, manly, useful, intel- 
lectual, amusing and refining, we shall wel- 
come to our columns. 
It will ever be our pride and pleasure to 

be on the side of virtue, morality, religion 
and progress. 

We shall admit nothing that is partizan 
in politics or sectarian in religion ; but, 
claiming the right to please ourselves, we 
shall accord to the reader the same privi- 

Whatever we believe to be for the per- 
manent prosperity of California, we shall 
fearlessly advocate, in any way that suits 

We have no expectation^ pleasing every 
one ; nor, that perfection will be written 
upon every page of its contents, for the sim- 
ple reason that we are human ; but we shall 
do our best, continually, and those who do 
not like the magazine are not required to 
— buy it. 

We have commenced its publication with 
the hope of filling a void-— humbly it may 
be— in the wants of California, and the in- 
telligent reader will see at a glance that the 
costly manner in which it is gotten up, and 
the price at which it is sold, the publishers 
rely upon a wide circulation for their pecu- 
niary reward ,• but they are confident that 
altho' placed within the reach of those who 
could only take one per month, that others 
will be tempted to take a dozen. 

Therefore, placing ourselves in the hands 
of a generous public, we make our bow, and 
introduce to your kindly notice the first 
number of Hutching*' California Maga- 




There ore bnt few lands that possess more 
of the beautiful and picturesque than Cali- 
fornia. Its towering and pine covered 
mountains ; its wide-spread Tallies, carpeted 
with flowers ; its leaping waterfalls ; its 
foaming cataracts ; its rnahtng rivers ; its 
placid lakes ; its evergreen forests ; tg 
gently rolling hills, with shrubs and trees 
and flowers, make this a garden of loveli- 
ness, and a pride to her enterprising sons. 

Whether one sits with religions venera- 
tion at the foot of Mount Shasta ; or cools 
himself in the refreshing shade or the natu- 
ral caves and bridges ; or walks beneath 
the giant shadows of the mammoth trees of 
Calaveras; or stands in awe, looking upon 
the frowning and pine-covered heights ofthe 
Valley of the Yo-Ham-i-te— he feels that 

'■ A Ihlni or bwotj l> > joy tert-tr." 

and that the Californiun's home may com- 
pare in picturesque magnificence with that 
of any other land. 

Among the moat remarkable may 
classed the T o-Ham-i-te Valley — surround- 

ed as it is by lofty granite mountains, ex- 
ceeding thre ethoosaod feet in height, of the 
most fantastic shapes ; now in appearance 
like a vast projecting tower ; new, standing 
boldly out like an immense chimney or 
column ; then, like two giant domes ; yon- 
der, a water-fall of two thousand five hun- 
dred feet ; and, as it rolls over the edge of 
the precipice, its quivering spray is gilded 
with the colors of the rain-bow, when the 
son-light falls upon it. 

From the perpendicnlar sides of that 
mountain a stunted pine is straggling to live, 
alone — a mere speck' upon the landscape. 
Every craggy height is surrounded by shrubs 
or trees — and every spot has its contrast of 
color and appearance. Upon the moun- 
tain's summit is a dense forest of lofty 
pines — that by distance, look only as weeds 
or shrubs. In the valley, placidly glides 
the transparent stream ; now impinging the 
mountain's base ; now winding its serpent- 
like course np the fertile valley ; its margin 
fringed with willows and flowers, that are 


1 grass that w fiver 

On deaendiag the mountain, towards the 
valley, tho first object that attracts your 
notice, and invitea your wondering admira- 
tion, is -The Giant's Tower," standing on 
the left, an immense mountain of perpendic- 
ular granite, and is three thousand one hun- 
dred feet in height, from the surface of the 
rivtT, to its outer edge — and nearly three 
thousand five hundred feet to the highest 
place upon it. On the right side of this 
view, is a water-fall, of nine hundred and 
twenty-eight feet, and named " The Cascade 
of the Bain bow." 

Before yon is spread the beautiful green 
valley, nearly covered with trees, with the 
bright river gleaming and glistening out 
from among them. 

About two miles above the " Qiant's 
Toaer," on the same side, is the great Yo- 
Hiro-ite Falls — two thousand five hundred 
feet in height. The upper or main 
portion of this full is one thousand 
five bondred feet— the second, or 
middle, is four hundred feet — and 
the third, or lowest mil. is six hun- 
dred feet, all of them perpendic- 
ular. This is the highest water-fall 
in the world. 

Col. G. W. Whitman, in the 
•pring of 1B50, when in search of 
stock stolen by Indians from around 
Sooora, stood at the top of these 
fills, and on looking down into the 
deep abyss, the idea snggested to 
bis mind was,—' Is this the bottom 
le* pit!'— and as the deep stream 
rolled its volumes over the edge of 
the precipice, be gazed with awe 
and admiration at the terrific chasm 
Wore him. 

Advancing np the Valley, and 
•breading yonr way among the trees; 
"»» standing beneath the shadowy 
noontaiu ; or now crossing the riv- 
■t every few steps presents a change 
rf «eoj, or some variety of shade 
»d beatty. 

At the upper end of the valley stand the 
' Twin Domes ' — two immense mountains, 
domt shaped, and distinct from any of the 
surrounding ones. The one at the right of 
the engraving can be seen at a distance of 
forty miles, and is three thousand two hun- 
dred and fifty feet in height, Part of this 
dome has fallen away, and blocking up the 
course of the north branch of this stream, 
has formed a beautiful lake, and 11 called 
Indian Lake, being a favorite resort of the 
Indians, for ensnaring the speckled trout, 
of which there are vast numbers in its clear, 
deep waters. 

About five miles above the lake, and on 
the same stream, there is another water-fall 
of three hundred feet, and which, owing to 
masses of rock, and bushes, is port of the 
way rather difficult of access. 

About three miles from the head of the 
valley, on the middle and main branch of 
this river, there are two other water-falls, 




the first of which is about four hundred 
feet. The other is reached with difficulty, 
but its hoarse roaring invites the attempt ; 
and climbing a tree, you secure safe footing, 
and reach the top, — to witness another mag- 
nificent fall, of six hundred feet. 

About twenty-five miles above this fall, 
is the lake spoken of below. 

On the east fork, there is another water- 
fall of several hundred feet, the elevation of 
which has not as yet been ascertained. 

The principal altitudes of the different 
objects of wonder and interest in this val- 
ley, were taken by Mr. G. K. Peterson, en- 
gineer of the Yo-Semity and Mariposa 
Water Company, and are doubtless very 
correct ; and, although the stupendous 
height of these water-falls could scarcely be 
realized, they have, by actual measurement, 
exceeded the estimates given. They now 
stand forth as realities, which invite the 
spontaneous admiration of every lover of 
the sublime and beautiful, who may visit 
the deep solitude of this interesting and 
remarkable valley. 

It is situated upon the middle fork of 
the river Merced, Mariposa county, about 
fifty miles from the town of Mariposa; and 
about the same distance from Coulters ville. 

Until the past year this remarkable val- 
ley has been comparatively unknown, altho' 
Major James D. Savage visited it as early 
as 1848, and was perhaps the first white 
man that ever entered it. 

It appears that Major S., while living 
with a tribe of Indians inhabiting the lower 
valleys of the Merced and Tuolumne riv- 
ers, accompanied them on an expedition to 
the Yo-Ham-i-te country for the purpose 
of making war with them. A large party 
met them near the summit of the mountain, 
now crossed by visitors on their way to the 
valley, where a desperate fight ensued, and 
the Major with his party, finding the Yo- 
Ham-i-tes too much for Ahem, had to make 
a hasty retreat in>the best way they could 
without the much prized trophies of Indian 
warfare — the Indian women — and which is 

almost invariably the only cause of 
among themselves, and with the whites. 

Women are considered the most val table 
property the Indian can possess ; and, for the 
sole purpose of capturing this desirable pro* 
perty, they invade each other's territory, and 
make war, that the young men of the victo- 
rious party may take them home in triumph, 
to support their new and lazy husband. 

Nothing in particular occurred from that 
time until the winter of 1850, as they sel- 
dom came down among the miners, except 
at night, to steal horses, mules and cattle ; 
nor could they be induced to adopt our 
manners, dress, or customs, as did most of 
the other tribes. In that winter the Yo- 
Ham-i-tes declared war against the whites, 
and were joined by most of the surrounding 

A volunteer batallion was soon raised 
for the protection of the mining settlements, 
and Major Savage was chosen commander. 
After a short but vigorous campaign, and 
by the influence of Major S., the Indians 
were induced to make treaties of peace, en- 
ter the Reservation, and learn the invi- 
gorating art of agriculture. Contrary to 
expectations, they were dissatisfied, and be- 
gan committing depredations almost daily. 
From the intimate knowledge of Indian 
character, the Major was not long in trac- 
ing out the aggressors. He immediately 
fitted out an expedition ; and, accompanied 
by Oapt. John Boling's command, and a 
tew friendly Indians, paid the Yo Ham-i-tes 
another visit, in March, 1851. After swim- 
ming the South fork of the Merced and 
passing through snow from two to eight 

feet deep, and encountering all the hardships 
and privations incident to a winter cam- 
paign in the mountains of California, final- 
ly succeeded in reaching the Yo-Ham-i-te 
valley, where they found about six hundred 
of the Indians encamped ; who would have 
fled, could they have ascended the almost 
perpendicular mountain walls that hedged 
them in on every side. There are nar- 
row ledges of rock, that look very sma 11 


from below, bat, nre nevertheless Urge 
enough Tor an Indian to walk apou, care- 
fully, when not excited ; but would be pre- 
sent destruction to himself and hia valuable 
property — his wives — to attempt it in haste, 
ai one slight slip would precipitate them 
thousands of feet below, and thus hasten 
their departure to the Spirit Land before 
they might desire to take such a journey. 

Finding that they were caught, their 
discretion, taught them that " the better 
part of valor" would be to surrender with a 
good grace, which they did ; when they were 
taken as prisoners to the Reservation farm 
on the Frezno river. 

After a week's residence on the farm, they 
agreed to enter into a treaty of peace, on 
condition that they were allowed to return 
to their mountain home on a short visit, to 
gather up the remaining portion of their 
tribe, and the plunder they were so uncere- 
moniously required to leave behind, which, 
appearing to be very reasonable, they were 
allowed to go for that purpose. 

Soon after their departure, the whole 
country around the Reservation was thrown 

into a state of excitement by the constant 
reports of robberies and murders, commit- 
ted by the To-Ham-i-tea. Major S. then 
fitted out another expedition against them, 
composed of about twenty volunteers, and 
about an equal number of friendly Indians, 
taken from tbe farm. This party reached 
the valley about the 15th of May, (1851,) 
and, after erecting their encampment, they 
sent out small scooting parties, in different 
directions. The Indians, however, having 
seen them, had moved their encampment to 
tbe shores of a beautiful lake, some thirty 
miles above, lying in a north-east direction 
from the valley, and near to the head-waters 
of the middle and main fork of the Mer- 

The information was immediately taken 
to camp, by one of the small scouting par- 
ties that discovered them, and the whole 
command marched against them ; and, by 
stratagem, surrounded the Indians, before 
they became aware of their presence. After 
killing a few, the whole party of Indians 
begged for mercy, and surrendered. They 
were again removed down to the farm, and 


there kept as prisoners until the crops were 
all gathered in. 

Their great chief, Je-ne-a-eh, was among 
the prisoners. He was a man of about 
sixty-five or seventy years of age ; and, as 
he cast a lingering look upon the home of 
his childhood — perhaps for the last time — 
to spend his days among strangers — appa- 
rently his enemies — his rage knew no 
bounds ; and drawing his manly form to 
its full height, his eyes seemed flashing with 
fire; and with his nostrils distended, and 
his chest heaving, through his interpreter 
he gave, in substance, the following ad- 
dress: — 

"White men, you are a bad people. 
You have invaded my country. You have 
killed my people, and my own dear son, 
simply because we have stolen a few 
horses — a privilege granted to us by the 
Great Spirit — to steal all that we want, 
wherever we can find it. We steal that we 
may live — every tribe does it. 1 know 
very well that you all steal. You steal 
among yourselves, that you may be rich : 
we steal something to eat. You come and 
steal my country. You steal me and my 
people from my hunting-grounds. These were 
given to me and to my people exclusively, 
by the Great Spirit, that we might hunt 
and eat ; and we have lived here undisturbed 
for many hundred moons. Yes : when these 
mountains, now so high, were but little 
hills, this was our country ; and now you 
come and take us away, that we may look 
upon them no more. I am astonished at 
your impudence and presumption." 

" When we arrived at the spot," writes 
Mr. John D. Hunt, late partner of Major 
Savage, and who accompanied the expedi- 
tion, — " from whence we saw the valley for 
the last time, on our way home, his passion 
arose to its greatest height ; and walking 
up to Capt. Boling, in a voice almost 
choked with rage, he begged that he might 
be shot, saying, 'I had rather leave my 
ashes here, in the hunting-ground of my 
fathers, than to be a slave to the white 
man, who has ever been the mortal foe of 

me and mine.' Then, laying his band upon 
his breast, he exclaimed, 'Shoot me! kill 
me! murder me ! and the echo of my voice 
shall be heard resounding among these 
mountains of my native home, for many 
years afterwards; and my spirit — which 
you cannot tame — instead of taking its 
flight to the spirit-land, shall linger around 
these old gray granite hills, and haunt you 
and your posterity, as long as there is one 
of you or your tribe remaining/ Finding 
that his pleadings were of no avail, he bade 
the hunting-ground of his fathers an affect- 
ing adieu ; and, in moody silence, marched 
on, with a heavy heart, to spend, as he sup- 
posed and felt, the remnant of his days 
among his and his people's enemies. 

" We arrived in safety at the Reserva- 
tion, where he, with the others, were kept 
as prisoners. 

'* The canker-worm of grief was busy at 
the old man's heart, and his fast-declining 
health, united to his constant entreaties, 
aroused the sympathies of the Commission- 
ers ; and he was allowed once more to go 
free, when he immediately returned to his 
favored valley, and joined the remnant of 
his tribe, that had been left behind. 

" The poor old Indian soon found a grave, 
and his ashes were placed at the side of his 
fathers. Degraded in his own estimation, 
the shock was too much for him ; and he 
died broken-hearted/' 

Nothing in particular occurred after 
poor Je-ne-a-eh's death, until about the 
middle of May, 1852, when a party of 
miners, from Coarse Gold Gulch— a tribu- 
tary of the Frezno — started for the upper 
Sierras, on a prospecting trip. They had 
scarcely entered the valley, when a large 
party of Indians, that had been lying in 
ambush, came suddenly upon them, and 
killed two of their number — one named 
Rose, the other Shurbon — and wounding a 
third, named Tudor. 

As this was altogether unexpected, and 
being overpowered by numbers, they sought 
refuge in flight. The Indians hotly pursued 
them, when luckily, on ascending the moun- 


tains, they came upon ■ luge overhanging 
rock, from which they could receive pro- 
tection, ud see and fire upon their asaail- 
ants. Nothing conld have been more pro- 
vidential, nor any place better adapted Tor 

Bravely did this little party straggle for 
their lives, and one by one did their savage 
asttOanta bite the dust, from the unerring 
aim of the rifle and revolver. Finding they 
were losing many of their number, and 
among tbem their best chief, without even 
wounding the defenders, they changed their 
plan of assault; and, climbing the mountain 
above, commenced rolling down hnge rocks, 
to try to drive tbem from their secure re- 
treat ; bnt in vain. When night was ad- 
vancing, black and heavily charged clouds 
began to roll among the mountain-tops ; 
and before the darkness had set in, the In- 
dians seemed disposed to postpone any far- 
ther straggle until the morning. Under 
cover of the darkness, that brave little band 
crept stealthily out, and set their face 
towards the settlements, where they arrived 
in safety, but nearly famished with hunger, 

having been five days without any thing to 

Their tale was soon told, and every able 
miner in camp shouldered his rifle willingly; 
and a company of forty men were soon up- 
Arriving in the valley, they found the 
dead bodies of their companions, and gave 
them burial, the Indians meanwhile shout- 
ing taunts of defiance. 

This being the season when the melting 
snows swell every mountain stream, the 
waters of the Merced river were very diffi- 
cult to cross ; and before the party conld 
reach the opposite side, the Indians had es- 
caped. After several ineffectual attempts, 
they abandoned, for the present, the pursuit, 
and returned to their homes. 

About the middle of June, Lieut. Moore, 
with a company of United States infantry, 
left Fort Miller, on the San Joaquin ; and, 
accompanied by Major Savage, in command 
of a company of volunteers, started for the 
scene of the recent murders, to establish a 
military post in the Yo-Ham-i-te valley, 
and chastise the Indians. The Yo-Hmu i tee 

tbb isdixs huat. 



have always been the most hostile of any of 
the Indians in this section ; and have always 
refused to treat with the Commissioners; 
bat stampeded, and returned to their moun- 
tain fastnesses. 

On the arrival of Lieut. Moore and Major 
Savage in the Yo-Ham-i-te valley, with 
their command, they found the Indians, 
under the redoubtable chief, 'Ptompkit,' 
had crossed the mountains, and were wan- 
dering about on the eastern side of the 
Sierras. They immediately started in pur- 
suit. Discovering a new pass at the head- 
waters of the Merced, they named it Mono 
Pass, after the Indians of that name. Al- 
though several bands of Indians were seen 
wandering about, little or nothing was ac- 
complished for their chastisement, and the 
command returned. 

Fearing an attack from the whites, the 
Yo-Ham i-tes remained as guests with the 
Monos; until the great depth ot snow, 
which fell during the winter of 1852, pre- 
vented their return to their native valley. 
Early in the spring of 1853, they left their 
hospitable entertainers, the Monos; but, 
before doing so, appropriated a large 
amount of their property to their own use. 
* Whether this was in accordance with the 
teachings of their Great Spirit, we do not 
know ; but the Monos, demurring to such 
an interpretation, thought their savage 
brethren had violated the rules of hospi- 
tality ; and they immediately raised a large 
war party, and pursued their theiving 
guests, even into their own mountain fast- 
nesses, — nearly exterminating the whole 
tribe. The few that remained, for protec- 
tion, either mingled with the other tribes, 
or lived upon any thing they could get in 
the mining camps of their so-called enemies, 
the whites. 

By the kindness of Mr. Hunt, on the 
Frezno, we were provided with Indian 
guides, which took us speedily into the val- 
ley ; and when we arrived there, scarcely 
an Indian track could be seen. The trails 
were overgrown with grass, and nothing 
remained but the whitened bones of ani- 

mals, and an old acorn-post or two, to tell 
of the once flourishing settlement, and nu- 
merous tribe of the Yo-Ham-i-tes. 

This valley is about twelve miles in 
length, and from one*to two miles in width, 
exceedingly fertile, well timbered, and 
abounding in game. Before many years 
shall have passed away, it will become fa- 
mous as a place of resort ; and, those who 
would see these water-falls in their majesty, 
should visit them when the melting snows 
of May swell every stream to its utmost 
capacity; where, in the calm solitude of 
mountain life, the excitements of business 
can be forgotten ; and, in the unbroken 
stillness of this magnificent spot, shall, with 
deep reverence, commune with the sublime 
and beautiful, and feel with Moore — 

The turf shall be mr fragrant ahrine ; 
My temple, Lord 1 that Arch of thine ; 
My censer's breath the mountain aire, 
And silent thoughts my only prayers. 

There's nothing bright, above, below. 
From flowers that bloom to stars that glow, 
But in its light my soul can see 
Some feature of the Deity : 


The one subject which has occupied the 
mind of the State during the past month, is 
the assassination of Mr. James King of 
Wm., Editor of the San Francisco Evening 
Bulletin, and the occurrences consequent 
upon that event. Mr. King had risen to a 
prominent position in the eyes of all in the 
State. In a few brief months, he had 
gained more deep and powerful influence, 
in the sphere which his labors filled, than 
is often acquired by journals in the course 
of many years. His personal qualities, his 
strong repugnance to viciousness and dis- 
honesty, his bravery, his magnanimity, his 
honor, his sympathy for the unfortunate, 
his love for the purity of domestic life and 
the beauty of childhood — all shone through 
his pages with a winning power. The prin- 
cipal immediate work which he set before 
himself, was to expose the official corrup- 
tions of public men. Never before, per- 
haps, has a city been subject to such plun- 
dering and robbery as this. Mr. King, 



with almost intuitive knowledge of men and 
their deeds, having the advantage of a long 
basines experience in the city, boldly 
charged the men with their shameless con- 
duct. Neither money could purchase his 
silence, nor the threat of brute force compel 
it The opening of the war in earnest, 
was, when parties who knew with whom 
they had to deal, came, the first week, to 
purchase an interest in Mr. King's paper. 
An interest in the paper might be bought, 
but the man was not! for sale. All know 
his course. He became, " A terror to evil 
doers and a praise to them that do well." 

His assassination was plainly the re- 
sult of a conspiracy. On Tuesday, the 
14th of May, at evening, when he had 
started for his home, Mr. King was shot. 
The murderer, James P. Casey, was hur- 
ried to prison, as to an asylum. Villainous 
men could scarce conceal their glee. As 
the news spread over the town that Mr. 
King was shot, a thousand homes were 
filled with horror. Crowds poured from 
every part of the city and gathered around 
the building in Montgomery street, in which 
he lay. It was a scene of mingled grief 
and indignation, such as we never before 
saw pervade an entire community. Exe- 
crations against the murderer were heard 
on every side. It was only too well known 
that he was powerfully guarded by those 
who rejoiced in his deed, and doubtless were 
sworn, at whatever hazard, to protect him. 
It was this conviction which called for a 
new organization of the Vigilance Com- 
mittee. The call was a spontaneous one, 
from a people outraged to the last point of 
endurance, and insulted beyond measure by 
the course of officers, who ought to have 
trembled for their own safety. For three 
days the work of enrolment progressed ; 
crowds pressing for admission. On the 
Sabbath, 1500 armed men went to the jail 
sod demanded Casey, and Cora also, the 
murderer of Richardson. Resistance, to a 
people aroused, was idle. The prisoners 
were delivered up, and taken to the rooms 


of the Committee, where they received a 
long and patient trial. 

After days of hope, and again of disap- 
pointment, Mr. King died, on Monday the 
20th of May, at twenty minutes pas* 1 
o'clock. Instantly, the bells were tolled. 
The flags of the city and harbor were 
placed at half-mast, the stores were all 
closed, and emblems of mourning draped 
the whole city. Such a spontaneous de- 
monstration of wo is seen only when the 
great and the good have fallen. His fune- 
ral was attended on Thursday, by an im- 
mense concourse. About the same time, 
in another part of the city, in the midst of 
other thousands, Casey and Cora were 
launched into eternity. 

It seems months ago — so many events 
have intervened. The Committee made 
other arrests. One man, through fear and 
remorse, committed suicide. Six others 
have been sent away from the State, and 
as many more have been ordered to leave. 
Influenced by evil advisers, the Governor 
of the State finally called for the militia 
to organize. His proclamation has been 
treated with contempt The true men of 
the State will not arm to butcher their 
fellow-citizens, for the crime of rising en 
masse against leagued and entrenched cor- 
ruption, such as perhaps never cursed any 
other city in the world. It has at times ap- 
peared that the few hundred under arms 
might be fool-hardy enough to attack our cit- 
izens ; but the voice that has come from the 
mountains and the demonstrations here of 
almost unanimous support of the Committee; 
and the five thousand armed citizens, give 
them good warning of their fate, should they 
dare shed one drop of blood. The Committee 
have published a declaration of their posi- 
tion and their intentions, which is worthy 
of being preserved as long as a self-govern- 
ing people shall inhabit these shores ; and 
which will ever be to the virtuous and good 
" like apples of gold, in pictures of silver," 
when the stirring events that have called 
them into being shall have passed away. 






For the discovery of a native silkworm 
in California, we are indebted to Dr. H. 
Behr, of this city, a German physician and 
naturalist, of high standing, both here and 
in Europe. 

Experiments are now being made by 
several gentlemen to raise the caterpillars, 
and watch the development of the cocoons. 
The Society of Naturalists of California, 
are also engaged in this interesting enter- 

Some time ago we had the pleasure of an 
introduction to Mr. EL Seyd, a gentleman 
who takes great interest in everything ap- 
pertaining to the development of the vast 
resources of California, and who is now oc- 
cupied in his experiments on the Califor- 
nia silkworm, on quite an extensive scale. 
He has erected a glass house for their cul- 
ture, in his garden, where from cocoons 
gathered from among the surrounding hills, 
are numerous butterflies, and upwards of 
ten thousand eggs, beside several hundred 
worms, now feeding upon the ceanothus 
bosh, the shrub on which they feed. 

This silkworm belongs to the class of the 
Saturnias, and is named by the discoverer, 
Saturnia-Ceanothus. The ceanothus is an 
evergreen bush, growing in great abundance 
on nearly every hillside in California, and 
is easily cultivated from the seed, although 
it is rather difficult to transplant and pre- 
serve its life. Being an evergreen, very 
busby and full of leaves/ it is often cultiva- 
ted in gardens, and cut into all sorts of or- 
namental shapes, for shades or hedges. On 
this plant the silkworm principally feeds; 
although it is also found upon the rhaumut, 
and several species of small oak. 

The cocoon of this worm is very large, 
tough and durable. It is spun in August 
or September, but the butterflies do not 
make their appearance until March or Apri ) 
of the following year. These butterflies 
are large, and of a beautiful design, as can 
be seen in the engraving — their principal 
color being of a redish brown, with white, 
black, blue and yellow spots and lines. 

As soon as the chrysalis leaves the co- 
coon and becomes a butterfly, its seeks its 
companion of the opposite 
sex, and they never leave 
each other until the male 
dies, which is generally 
about three or four days, 
and the female follows the 
example of the male shortly afterwards; 
leaving from two to three hundred eggs, 
in little clusters, similar to those shown in 
^^p the engraving. These are 
J^£E the Bize of life, and al- 
2SHS though small, very much 
Eggs. resemble the chicken egg 

in shape and in the hardness of its shell, 
and which are fastened by the female to 
branches of the shrub by a brown gum-like 

In from three to five weeks the caterpil- 
lars come out, and are about one-eighth of 
an inch in length, having a black body with 
light yellow hairs upon it A few hours 
after their birth they become altogether 
black, when they commence feed- 
ing. After a few days have elaps- HMMfe 
ed they again begin to change, and 
show bright yellow spots upon the body. 

When about fourteen days old 
jygPilfr they change 

their skins en- «|$jPflfy 
tirely, and in color, become 
of a bright golden yellow, with black hair ; 
by degrees this color again changes to a 
greenish yellow ; and, after a few days, upon 
their again changing their skin, the color 
changes to a beautiful green, with red, 
black and 
white spots. 
When the 

is fully grown, they are from two to three 
inches long and about one and a half inches 
in circumference, and are very sluggish in 
their movements, and not very inviting in 
their appearance. They now begin to spin 
their cocoons, first the outside, and then 
the inside, which generally takes from three 



to five days. The cocoons, though 
large and firm in its outside tex- 
ture has but few loose threads up- 
on its surface which is not the case 
with the silkworms of the Bombyx 
novi species. The cocoons, too, of 
the latter are spun differently to 
tbe Satnraia cesnothi, or Califor- 
nia species, inasmuch as they are 
span vertically, and the Uaturnia 
horizontally. The threads in both 
terminating at the top, or small end of the 
cocoon, leaving a closely fitted and elastic 
aperture through which the bntterfly es- 
capea with demolishing or injuring then co- 
coon, while the Bombyx mori either knows 
its way ont or by tbe aid of a fluid exhu- 
ding from its month destroys the fibre at 
the top, and thereby leaves tie cocoon use- 

The manner in which the Satnraia. cean- 
otbi spins its cocoon may in some measure 
retard tbe successful winding of the silk, 
although it is a mathemaical truth that if 
tbe worm spins a continued thread one way, 
we ought to be able to wind it off the other. 

Mr. S. has succeeded in winding off parts 

CtaiyttUi Id Cocoon. 

of cocoons but they being old gummy and 
dry, cannot be considered as a fair test of 
what can be done when the cocoons are 
fresh and new. 

Some species of the Satnraia — who all 
spin tbe same way— have recently been dis- 
covered in Asia ; and are just like ours, and 
the French have not only been successfully 
spinning those cocoons, but give a glowing 
description of the beauty, strength and du- 
rability of the silk, also they are not as 
large as ours. 

The cultivation of the silkworm In Cali- 
fornia, is a subject of importnance to oar 
yonng State, and we hope that those gen- 
tlemen now engaged in such interesting ex- 



fimenti, will, with the assistance of our 
Cbiwse population, be enabled to produce 
•ad mannfacture native silk of suchaqoality 
«>i in inch quantities, that it ma; become 
* ionree of profit, as it will be of pride, 
■tai the fair ladies of California rustle 
PM u, clad in the beautiful folds of na- 
tirt California silk. 


■me cbabothcs. 

It may not be generally known that 
there are no leas than seventeen species of 
this moat beautiful shrub known to botan- 
ists in California ; twelve of these have 
been noticed and described, and five have 
vet to be. And although they grow most 
plentifully upon the coast, they extend from 
the foot hills to the height of sii thou- 
sand feet above the sea, in the mountains 
of the Sierra Nevada. 

The following list of the names and colors 
of this shrub, will no doubt be interesting 
to our readers : 

Hub*. Color. 

Cbanothus, dentatus, deep blue. 

papillosum, do. 

cuueatus, White. 

integerrimus, Yellow-white. 

incana Lilac. 

oligauthng Pale blue. 

thrysifiorus . do. 

divaricatus, do. 

hirsutoa Bine. 

verrucosus...... do. 

prostrates Pale lilac. 

sp., not named,.... White. 

op. Blue. 

sp Bluish purple. 

sp. White. 

sp Blue. 


Seated on a pork barrel, in the store 
of a small mining town, one Saturday night 
jost after the rainy season had fairly com- 
menced, we noticed that miners came in 
with smiling countenances to see the first 
fruits of their labors for the season, and 
pay off the little debts that by reason of 
the long, long drought, had been run up 
there. Miners make it a rule almost inva- 
riably to pay their store bills with the first 
gold dost taken out. They did so now ; 
and as the little parcels, one by one, were 
cleared and weighed, their spirits soon grew 
lighter, and in pleasant chat they sat them 
down discussing topics of particular inter- 
est to themselves. " This claim looked as 
favorable as could be, and paid as well as it 



did last year ;" in " that the blae dirt seemed 
to be running oat, bat was believed to be 
deeper about ten feet from the line of the 
Bung Hole claim, and that pays big." The 
bed-rock was " rising " in one, and " pitch- 
ing " in another. " This company had a deep 
bank of dirt to clean off, and it wonld'nt 
pay the color;" " that, had struck two dollars 
to the pan, and could get it almost any 
where upon the rock, and if it would only 
last, and they could get plenty of water, 
they'd make their piles in a very little 
while." Some " would like the chance of 
making a pile 'once again* — they would — 
but that wasn't their darn'd luck ; they had 
a good claim once, and did'nt know it ; but 
as soon as they sold out " it paid like all 
sixty," and those fellows that bought it had 
made their piles and gone home. That 
was just their luck." 

One young fellow called "Pike," had 
quietly taken his seat at a small table, cov- 
ered with a blae blanket, and was busily 
shuffling an old pack of dirty cards, appa- 
rently for amusement, when a gentleman 
entered, "dressed within an inch of his 
life," and wearing what is generally called 
among miners a "stove pipe "hat. Ad- 
vancing to the table at which sat our friend 
Pike, he gracefully bowed to him and re- 
quested his attention with — 

" Mr. Pike, I want to speak to you." 

"Well, what is it?" 

"The ladies at Mr. Groggins' house, 
•down on the creek, request the pleasure of 
your attendance with your violin, to play 
them a tune for a little dance." 

" Can't come." 

" Why ? " 

" Because I ka-ant It's just my darn'd 
lack, to get an invitation and — notto-go!" 

Once upon a time— well, it was in '50 — 
I heard of rich diggings, far away in the 
mountains, to which men had been seen to 
go at night, and leave in the night, and 
were taking oat gold in pounds, when we 
could only dig it by ounces. That was the 
place to go. My cabin was sold, a mule 
was bought, and soon was packed with 

pork and picks, blankets and coffee-pots, 
dried apples and buckskin, pans and frying- 
pans, beans and shovels, and off we started ; 
but when we got there, all the claims were 
taken ! — That was just my luck. 

I was walking a pole that was lying 
across a race, when my feet slipped and in 
I went. The force of the current took me 
down, and just as I reached the wheel it hit 
me a click on the back of my head and 
soused me under, and when I came up on 
the other side I was pretty well " ducked," 
but wasn't drowned ! — Now, that was just 
my luck. 

One very hot day I was experimenting 
upon the theory, "can a man be his own 
pack mule," and had my blankets and part 
of a sack of flour at my back. The sweat 
rolled off freely without, and I believed 
that something moist within, would be wel- 
come enough, and seeing a bright, clear 
spring, bubbling up just in the shadow of a 
sluice under which I had passed, I took 
off my pack and measured my length to have 
a good long " pull " at the sparkling water ; 
but just as my lips touched the soul-cheer- 
ing element, "bat "came the sluice, right 
square on my head, and gave a deep *• cast- 
ing " at once of my " human face divine I " 
in the clayey mud underneath me ! Now, 
why could'nt that sluice have fallen some 
other time? — But, it was just my luck. 

I was once caught in a snow-storm, on 
the Trinity mountains, and to improve the 
matter, lost my way and my reckoning, and 
at last " fetched up " at a town — I mus'nt 
tell its name — but on going to the best ho- 
tel it afforded, was informed that I could be 
" taken in and done for " — which I was, in 
a double sense. 

" Landlord," said I, " let me have the best 
bed in your house. I don't care what the 
price is ; but mind, I want the best" 

" Very good, sir. What do you think of 

He had introduced me to a small room, 
just twelve feet six by nine feet— for I 
measured it — with my eye! — and, glancing 
around, I saw that this sort of " taking in " 



wis more crowding than comforting, as 
there were only ten " banks " fixed op at 
the sides of the room, like so many cheese- 

u Is that where yon wish to ' lay ' me for 
the night ?" I inquired. * 

-Well— yes— if that will snit yon." 

'• Bat it don't suit me. Haven't yon one 
room, with one, or not more than two beds 
in it, that I can have for to-night, by pay- 
ing for it ?* 

" No, indeed, we have not, sir — but just 
step this way." 

This time he led me into a room just 
eight feet square, with a stove-pipe passing 
ibroagh it 

M Now," said he, " yon will find this very 
comfortable, and there are only six beds in 
this room !" 

" Pretty well occupied," said I, " if they 
all have sleepers in them." 

As this was " the best the market afford- 
ed," I turned in to one at the top, and was 
soon feat asleep. About a couple of hours 
afterwards, I was awoke by some one — a 
Frenchman — " punching " at me, and call- 
ing oat— ^ Stranger 1 stranger ! — your bunk 
is breaking at the side: you'll soon be 
through !" 

Wasn't that hard luck? But as I did 
not feel it breaking, and as I, moreover, felt 
that if I could not get much sleep, I might 
perhaps be allowed a joke, I replied — 
" Well—let her break. I don't care,— if 
yon don't!" 

" Yes, sare ; but you will foil on top o' 



" Very well I guess that I can stand 
it, if yon can!" 
" Yes, sare ; but me no wish you fall on 

* Do you suppose that I wish it ? When 
J*» see me coming, just jump ont of the 
*»J. if you please." 

41 Sacre— damn ! zat is cool 1" 

" Not so cool as it would be for me to 
stand up all night waiting for the bunk to 

u Yes, sare ; bnt if your bunk break, you 

will be sure to hurt me when you drop 

" Well, never mind that. Ton will break 
my fall, and be much softer to mil on, than 
would be the floor 1" 

" Sacre— damn 1 zat is cool !" 

" Well, now, yon can save all the injury 
I might inflict upon you, by just jumping 
out, when you hear my bunk cracking; 
besides, if you only turn out, when I am 
turned out, I can just turn in to your bunk ; 
for if this breaks, I shall want to get an- 
other, that I may have my sleep out by 

" Well, well — sacre-— damn ! zat is cool ! 
but I no give you my bed." 

" All right, then : when this breaks, I 
must hunt up another. Will you be kind 
enongh to call me up again, when it does 
break. Good night !" 

Now the little Frenchman must take a 
look up, and noticing a laugh upon my 
countenance, he began to chuckle; and 
putting his head beneath the blankets, the 
last sounds heard were — " Well, well, zat 
is cool 1 zat is cool !" 

But as it didn't break — and as I slept 
soundly till morning, — why — 

That was just my luck! 



ADOPTED MAY IftlH, 1850. 

Whereas, it has become apparent to the 
citizens of San Francisco, that there is no 
security for life and property, either under 
the regulations of society as it at present 
exists, or under the laws as now adminis- 
tered, and that by the association together 
of bad characters, our ballot boxes have 
been stolen, and others substituted or stuff- 
ed with votes that were never polled, and 
thereby our elections nnlified— our dearest 
rights violated, and no other method left by 
which the will of the people can be mani- 

Therefore, the citizens whose names are 



hereunto attached do unite themselves into 
an association for maintenance of the peace 
and good order of society — the pretention 
and punishment of crime — the preservation 
of our lives and property, and to insure that 
our ballot boxes shall hereafter express the 
actual and unforged will of the majority of 
our citizens; and we do bind ourselves 
each unto the other, by a solemn oath, to 
do and perform every just and lawful act 
for the maintenance of law and order, and 
to sustain the laws when faithfully and 
properly rdministered. But we are deter- 
mined that no thief, burglar, incendiary, 
assassin, ballot-box staffer, or other dis- 
turber of the peace, shall escape punish- 
ment, either by the quibbles of the law, 
the insecurity of prisons, the carelessness or 
corruption of the police, or a laxity of those 
who pretend to administer justice. And to 
secure the object of thiB association, we do 
hereby agree — 

1. That the name and style of this asso- 
ciation shall be the Committee of Vigilance, 
for the protection of the ballot-box, the 
lives, liberty and property of the citizens 
and residents of the city of San Francisco. 

2. That there shall be rooms for the de- 
liberations of the Committee, at which there 
shall be some one or more members of the 
Committee, appointed for that purpose, in 
constant attendance, at all hours of the day 
and night, to receive the report of any 
member of the association, or of any other 
person or persons whatsoever, of any act of 
violence done to the person or property of 
any citizen of San Francisco ; and if, in the 
judgment of the member or members of the 
Committee present, it be such an act as 
justifies or demands the interference of this 
Committee, either in aiding in the execu- 
tion of the laws, or the prompt and sum- 
mary punishment of the offender, the Com- 
mittee shall be at once assembled for the 
purpose of taking such action as a majority 
of them, when assembled, shall determine 

3. That it shall be the duty of any mem- 
ber or members of the Committee on duty 
at the Committee Rooms, whenever a gen- 
eral assemblage of the Committee is deem- 
ed necessary, to cause a call to be made in 
such a manner as shall be found advisable. 

4. That whereas an Executive Commit- 
tea has been chosen by the General Com- 

mittee, it shall be the duty of the said Ex- 
ecutive Committee to deliberate and act 
upon all important questions, and decide 
upon the measures necessary to carry out 
the objects for which this association was 

5. That whereas this Committee has been 
organized into sub-divisions, the Executive 
Committee shall have power to call; when 
they shall so determine, upon a Board of 
Delegates, to consist of three representa- 
tives from each Division, to confer with 
them upon matters of vital importance. 

6. That all matters of details and gov- 
ernment shall be embraced in a code of By- 

7. That the actian of this body shall be 
entirely and rigorously free from all con- 
sideration of, or participation in, the merits 
or demerits, or opinion or acts, of any and 
all sects, political parties, or sectional di- 
visions in the communfty ; and every class 
of orderly citizens of whatever sect, party 
or nativity, may become members of this 
body. No discussion of political, sectional 
or sectarian snbjectsshall be allowed in the 
Rooms of the Association. 

8. That no person accused before this 
body shall be punished, until after lair and 
impartial trial and conviction. 

9. That whenever the General Commit- 
tee have assembled for deliberation, the de- 
cision of the majority upon any question 
that may be submitted to them by the Ex- 
ecutive Committee, shall be binding upon 
the whole: Provided nevertheless, that 
when the delegates are deliberating upon 
the punishment to be awarded to any crim- 
inals, no vote inflicting the death penalty 
shall be binding, unless passed by two- 
thii ds of those present and entitled to vote. 

10. That all good citizens shall be eligi- 
ble for admission to this hody, under such 
regulations as may be prescribed by a Com- 
mittee on Qualifications ; and if any un- 
worthy person gain admission, they shall 
on due proof be expelled : And believing 
ourselves to be executors of the will of the 
majority of our citizens, we pledge our sa- 
cred honor, to defend and sustain each oth- 
er in carrying out the determined action of 
this Committee at the hazards of our lives 
and our fortunes. 

A late Illinois paper contains the an- 
nouncement of the marriage of R. W. Wolf 
to Mary L. Lamb. " The wolf and the 
lamb shall lie down together, and a little 
child shall lead them," after a while. 




The marvellous sagacity of dogs is a 
subject which engages all the enthusiasm 
of the naturalist and rhapsody of the poet. 
The poor Indian, whose creed is, that — 

u Transported to nome (rental sky, 

*• UU fkithfal dog shall bear him company," 

is not singular in his belief. Its intellectual 
capacity is such as to settle at once the 
question that sagacity must have some pro- 
cess similar to human reasoning — " to ex- 
amine and decide." Indeed, so close is the 
connection, and so small the line of demar- 
cation between canine sagacity and human 
reason, that psychologists have declared 
that where human reason ends animal sa- 
gacity apparently begins. Many of the 
phenomena of the human mind, dogs seem 
to have in an especial degree. We have 
often observed, after a hard day's hunting, 
a favorite hound, in the midst of a sound 
Bleep at his master's feet, before a blazing 
fire, suddenly prick up his ears, start up, 
light up his eyes, and send forth a furious 
look and howl — the effect of some dream. 
Almost all the mental passions, too, such as 
fear, hope, joy, sorrow, anger, love, &c, are 
as strongly developed in some dogs, as they 
are in some of the human species. 

The following narratives, gathered from 
respectable authorities, exhibit the thinking 
power in such a light as to render it im- 
possible to refer its agency to any other 
source : — 

One Davis, formerly a respectable gra- 
zier of Headcorn, in Kent, wished to ex- 
change his horse at the neighboring fair, 
for a more serviceable one. As a precau- 
tion against interruption, and a safeguard 
in his beastly sin of drunkenness, he took 
his trusty dog, a Newfoundland shepherd 
dog, with him. Coming home as usual, 
dead almost with intoxication, on a wrong 
road, miles away from home on a strange 
horse, he felt to the ground as one dead. 
His dog, after four hours' travel, judging 
from the distance and time he left the cattle 
»od horse fair, was seen at the door of the 
bnn house, leading the horse with the bridle 

in his teeth, at three o'clock in the morn- 
ing, when all around was as dark as Erebus. 
The farm superintendent, at once saw the 
dog's object in bringing the horse ; and 
springing upon his back, and guided by the 
faithful animal running before, he arrived 
almost in a direct line, through hedge and 
ditch, to where the sot in a sound sleep lay, 
in the middle of a wood, and in the only 
pathway through it. 

My friend Allen, also a farmer, who lived 
sometime in a Catholic family abroad, 
where that religion, in all its feasts and 
fasts, was most rigidly observed, declares 
that the house dog, also a Newfoundland, 
knew the Sabbath day as well as the in- 
mates, and all their celebrated festivals ; and 
assures me that this knowledge was not 
arrived at by any early preparations of the 
family, but from some unknown instinct in 
the animal. On Thursday, preceding Fri- 
day, he would invariably bury his supera- 
bundant meat in a favored hole, not having 
any predilection for fish, upon which only 
the family invariably lived on that day. 

An officer in the Royal Navy, stationed 
at Plymouth, in Devonshire, purchased a 
remarkable dog from a costermongcr, who 
had been once convicted of theft, and who 
had, it appeared, returned to ways of honest 
living. This dog would follow his new 
master into the little shops of the neigh- 
borhood, hear the orders given, and fetch 
them all the next day in a basket, and al- 
ways returned with the right change. The 
instructions his master gave with regard to 
money matters were most amusing. *' Bring 
back this in money," he would say, holding 
up a piece of pencilled paper. A laugh- 
able incident respecting this creature once 
occurred while the officer was on parade. 
The dog had forgotten some sausages which 
had been written for, and on his master 
scolding him for his stupidity, he (as it was 
proved afterwards) made directly for the 
shop, and observing no one at hand, seized 
upon a long chain of them and scampered 
off with them trailing behind him, with 
cuts of all sorts following at a respectful 



distance; nor did he stop until he had 
made up to his master and laid them at his 
feet, to the infinite amusement of all on 

Another incident is worth relating. Mr. 
French's dog, a poodle, formerly the pro- 
perty of one of Astley's circus company, 
while in one of the provinces, had the mis- 
fortune, in his eagerness to lick the savory 
remnants of some soup, left in a tin pot 
to slip his head in, in such a manner that 
the animal, with all his efforts, could not 
extricate it. In vain he thumped and 
bumped upon every stone and post in his 
way, the pot still clung to his jaws. After 
several ineffectual attempts, accompanied 
by sundry expressive howls, another dog, a 
well known associate, was observed to coax 
him from the spot, pulling a part of the pot 
where he could get a hold of it towards the 
road ; some bystanders followed the pair, 
and to their astonishment they saw the 
friendly dog leading his blind companion to 
the only tinman in the village. What is 
more remarkable, there was no sign what- 
ever of this man's calling observable out- 
side of his home ; only the thump-a-tap- 
thump could signify his trade. 

How many anecdotes have been authen- 
ticated of dogs starving themselves, after 
the death of their beloved master. The 
following affecting instance of canine sym- 
pathy occurred in a friend's family : — 

Their dog, a Newioundland of gigantic 
size, quite a pet with the youngest daughter, 
always used to bring the baby's red shoes 
for her to put on before she went out to 
take her accustomed walk. This the ani- 
mal did without bidding — a strange pro- 
ceeding, otherwise unaccountable, as he only 
received several pulls and mauls by the 
little one while her shoes were being put on. 
Sometime after, the baby died, and after the 
mournful ceremonies were gradually giving 
place to things of earth, the dog was ob- 
served to be missing — no one had seen him 
for upwards of a week. After several in- 
effectual searchings, he was at last discover- 

ed in a lumber-room, where the child's cot 
had been removed by order of the physi- 
cian, lying underneath in a state of great 
exhaustion, with the two red slippers be- 
tween his paws, and which no one attempted 
to remove. The dog made this his sleeping- 
place to the day of his death, depositing 
the red slippers during the day where he 
might find them. And many proofs of the 
animal's sincerity of affection were given 
by sometimes withdrawing one or other of 
these mementoes, when the animal would 
become so restless as to make it observable 
to every one of the inmates of the house. 

" During the Reign of Terror in France, 
a gentleman in one of the northern depart- 
ments was accused of conspiring against th§ 
republic, and sent to Paris to appear before 
the revolutionary tribunal. His dog was 
with him when he was seized, and was al- 
lowed to accompany him ; but on arriving 
in the capital was refused admission to the 
prison of his master. The distress was 
mutual : the gentleman sorrowed for the 
loss of the society of his dog; the dog 
pined to get admission to the prison. — 
Living only on scraps of food picked up in 
the neighborhood, the poor dog spent most 
of his time near the door of the prison, into 
which he made repeated attempts to gain 
admittance. Such unremitting fidelity at 
length melted the feelings of the porter of 
the prison, and the dog was allowed to 
enter. His joy at seeing his master was 
unbounded ; that of his master on seeing 
his dog was not less. It was difficult to 
separate them ; but the jailor fearing for 
himself, carried the dog out of the prison. 
Every day, however, at a certain hour, he 
was allowed to repeat his visit. At these 
interviews, the affectionate animal licked 
the hands and face of his master ; looked a,t 
him again; again licked his hands; and 
whined his delight. After a few mornings, 
feeling assured of read mission, he departed 
at the call of the jailer. The day came 
when the unfortunate captive was taken be- 
fore the tribunal ; and to the surprise of 



the court there also was the dog. It had 
followed its master into the ball, and clang 
to him, as if to protect him from injury. 
One would naturally imagine that the spec- 
tacle of so much affection would have 
moved the judges, and induced them to be 
merciful. But this was a period in which 
ordinary feeling were reversed, and men 
acted in the spirit of maniacs or demons. 
Will it be credited? — the prisoner, ac- 
cused only of being an aristocrat, was 
doomed to be guillotined ; and in pronoun- 
cing sentence, the judge added, partly in 
jest and partly in earnest, that his dog 
might go with him ! The condemned man 
with his humble companion were conduct- 
ed back to prison. What were the mental 
sufferings of the unhappy gentleman it is 
needless to inquire ; the dog was happily 
unconscious of the approaching tragedy. 
Morning dawned; the hour of execution 
arrived; and the prisoner, with other vic- 
tims of revolutionary vengeance, went 
forth to the scaffold. One last caress was 
permitted ; next minute the axe fell and 
severed the head of the poor gentleman 
from his body. His dog saw the bloody 
deed perpetrated, and was frantic with 
grief. He followed the mangled corpse of 
his master to the grave. No persuasions 
could induce him to leave the spot. Night 
and day he lay on the bare ground. Food 
was offered, but he would not eat. If a 
dog's heart could be broken, the heart of 
this one surely was. Day by day his frame 
became more attenuated, his eye more 

Occasionally he uttered low moaning 
sounds. They were the expiring efforts 
of nature. One morning he was found 
stretched lifeless on the earth. Death had 
kindly put an end to his sufferings. Who 
can describe the depth of agony that this 
faithful creature had endured ? None. All 
can, however, tell how France has been 
punished for the crimes of which the above 
is only one among many thousands. And 
her punishment is not yet done .'" 


Bonnet, in his Histoire de la Musique, 
gives the following extraordinary account of 
a mathematician, mechanician, and musi- 
cian, named Alix, who lived at Aix, in 
Provence, about the middle of the seven- 
teenth century. Alix, after many years' 
study and labour, succeeded in constructing 
an automaton figure, having the shape of a 
human skeleton, which by means of a con- 
cealed mechanism, played, or had the ap- 
pearance of playing, on the guitar. The 
artist, after having tuned in perfect unison 
two guitars, placed one in the hands of the 
skeleton, in the position proper for playing, 
and on a calm summer evening, having 
thrown open the window of his apartment, 
he fixed the skeleton with the guitar in its 
hands in a position where it could be seen 
from the street. He, then taking the other 
instrument, seated himself in an obscure 
corner of the room, and commenced playing 
a piece of music, the passages of which were 
faithfully repeated or echoed by the guitar 
held by the skeleton, at the same time that 
the movement of its wooden fingers, as if 
really executing the music, completed the 
illusion. This strange musical feat drew 
crowds around the house of the ill-fated 
artist; this sentiment was soon changed in 
the minds of the ignorant multitude into the 
most superstitious dread. A rumor arose 
that Alix was a sorcerer, and in league with 
the devil. He was arrested by order of the 
parliament of Provence, and sent before 
their criminal court La Chambre de la Tour- 
nelle, to be tried on the capital charge of 
magic or witchcraft. In vain the ingenious 
but unfortunate artist sought to convince 
his judges, that the only means used to give 
apparent vitality to the fingers of the skele- 
ton were wheels, springs, pulleys, and other 
eqally unmagical contrivances, and that the 
marvellous result produced was nothing 
more criminal that the solution of a problem 
in mechanics. His explanations and de- 
monstrations were either not understood, or 



failed of convincing his stupid and bigoted 
judges, and he was condemned as a sorcerer 
and magician. This iniquitous judgment 
was confirmed by the parliament of Prov- 
ence, which sentenced him to be burned 
alive in the principal square of the city, 
together with the equally innocent automa- 
ton figure, the supposed accomplice in his 
magical practices. This infamous sen- 
tence was carried into execution in the year 
1664, to the great satisfaction and edifi- 
cation of all the faithful and devout in- 
habitants of Aix. 


I was busily engaged, tending my sluice, 
at White Rock, El Dorado Co., when a 
well built, sturdy looking man came to- 
wards me and made the following enquiry : 

" Say, stranger, whar does that ar water 
come from what runs in that mersheen ?" 

" We get it from that ditch, above." 

"I don't see nothin o' no ditch." 

" Well, you just look in this direction. 
Don't you see yonder a dark line running 
past those tree stumps, and around those 

" Wal, yes, I see that ar plain enough 

" Well, then, that is the ditch, and that is 
where we get our water from, to work our 

" But, man, how does it come thar ?" 

" Oh 1 we dug a ditch in the ground for 
about three miles, and then turned the wa- 
ter into it from a canon, and it runs around 
those hills, in the ditch, until it gets here." 

" Wal, darn me now ef that ar don't beat 
Natur' — it doos, I swow." 


There is joy in the miner's camp to-night, 
There is joy, and the miner's heart is light ; 

There is mirth and revelry, shouting and song, 
For rain has been falling all the day long. 

Hark, hark ! how it pours, pit, pit, patter, pat, 
What music to miners is equal to that ? 

It comes down in earnest, we've no need to pinch, 
As it falls by the bucketful — not the short inch. 

We'll have water plenty, and water to spare, 
Enough for each miner to have his full share ; 

The sluice will be full, and the ditch overrun, 
And the goal of our hopes will be speedily won. 

Then fly round my boys, as we need not complain, 
But don our best smiles tho' we work in the rain : — 

Such bountiful blessings now drop from the skies, — 
The water without seems to swim to our eyes. 

To wash out our gold and pay all we owe, 
Makes our hearts, like the ditches, with good overflow : — 

Then hurrah, boys, hurrah ! for such rainy weather, 
May ourselves, wives, and sweethearts, huirah altogether. 

Carrie D. 
May 26M, 1856. 




44 The extent to which water mingles with 
bodies apparently the most solid, is very 
wonder fill. The glittering opal, which 
Beauty wears as an ornament, is only flint 
and water. Of every ten hundred tons of 
earth, which a landlord has in his estate, 
four hundred are water. The snow-capped 
summits of Snowden and Ben Nevis have 
many million tons of water in a solidified 
form. In every plaster of Paris statue 
which an Italian carries through London 
streets for sale, there is one pound of water 
to every four pounds of chalk. 

The air we breath contains five grains of 
water to each cubic foot of its balk. The 
potatoes and the turnips which are boiled 
for our dinner, have, in their raw state, the 
one, seventy-five per cent., and the other 
ninety per cent, of water. If a man weigh- 
ing ten stone were squeezed flat in a hy- 
draulic press seven and a half stone of water 
would run out, and only two and a half of 
dry residue remain. A man is, chemically 
speaking, forty-five pounds of carbon and 
nitrogen, deffosed through five and a half 
pailsful of water. 

In plants we find water thus mingled no 
less wonderfully. A sun-flower evaporates 
one and a quater pints of water a day and 
a cabbage about the same quantity. A 
wheat-plant exhales in 172 days about 100,- 
000 grains of water." 


One the 29th of Nov. 1852, we left San 
Juan del Norte for Virgin Bay. During 
the whole day, we had heavy showers at in- 
tervals of about half an hour ; such show- 
ers too, as can be seen nowhere except 
in the Tropics. The sun would shine oat 
through the thick clouds occasionally, and 
glare upon us with terrible power. The 
night was rainy, but the full moon dispelled 
the gloom that would otherwise have fallen 
like a dark pall upon the five hundred pas- 
sengers crowded upon the boat. 

Not far from two o'clock in the morning, 

we arrived at Castillo Rapids, where we 
were obliged to land, and take another boat. 
Having been exposed to the rain all the 
day, we rejoiced to see the clouds pass away 
and the moon shining brightly. We were 
not then well acquainted with the whims 
of tropical weather. 

In passing through the place some three 
months before, we had noticed an old fort, 
nearly in ruins, on the summit of a hill, near 
by the boat's landing-place. As the moon 
shone out in her queenly beauty, we caught 
a sight of the old gray walls of the fort, 
festooned with the gorgeous drapery that 
that sunny clime twines so gracefully around 
tree, cottage or tower. 

We said to ourselves, how grandly mag- 
nificent that old ruin must look by moon- 
light. The thought had scarcely found a 
resting-place in the mind before we were 
ashore, ready to commence the ascent — the 
hill was very steep, and covered with a low 
shrubbery that soon interfered seriously 
with our progress. After climbing up for 
some ten minutes or more, tearing our hands 
antil the blood was trickling pretty freely, 
the summit was gained, but not the fort. 
To our dismay we found that there was a 
deep moat around the outer wails. The 
luxuriant growth of vegetation, had hidden 
the rough points so nicely, that we com- 
menced the descent fearlessly, — the bottom, 
some fifteen feet from the surface, was reach- 
ed with only a few scratches and a bruise 
or two. Now the difficulty commenced j 
for it was fifteen feet to the base of the fort. 
When near the foot of the wall, grasping a 
large bush to help in the ascent ; somehow, 
we turned a nice, and upon the whole, rath- 
er a civil monkey, out of his bed. and spoil- 
ed his morning nap. Though quite polite, 
he showed his teeth and went off berating 
de los Yankos, (for they surely mast talk 
Spanish f) for disturbing quiet, honest mon- 
keys at that time of night. 

Nothing daunted, though we must con- 
fess quite disposed to be very civil to all 
monkeys and other "varmints" that were 
disturbed by our movements, we continued 



to climb. When near the top, a atone was 
loosened from its place, and down we went 
to the bottom, rolling over rocks and bushes, 
one arm badly bruised, and many other 
contusions found upon the body. We 
thought a civil war had broken out in earn- 
est — monkeys chattering, serpents hissing, 
and macaws screaming. We had heard of 
the boa-constrictor and expected every mo- 
ment that his cold and slimy form might 
wind around us, when, oh horror of horrors, 
a dark cloud obscured the moon, and the 
rain in a moment came down in torrents. — 
The lightning leaped and flamed around us, 
the rattling and crashing thunder seemed 
enough to crush a world ; between its ter- 
rific peals it appeared as though all the wild 
beasts and birds of the country were keep- 
ing the Fourth of July on a grand scale ; 
each one going on "his own hook." The 
storm abated as all storms do ; but our ar- 
dor to see the old ruin by moonlight had 
cooled off wonderfully. The great question 
now was, how to get up from the ditch. — 
One arm was nearly useless, the hand on the 
other badly cut and torn with thorns. Af- 
ter half an hour's toil, and many falls, the 
summit was gained, in good time to receive 
a second edition of the shower, "enlarged 
and greatly improved." After wandering 
about for sometime, often crawling under 
the tangled vines, we came suddenly upon 
some twelve armed men sitting under a 
thatched roof. In a moment four muskets 
were pointed at us, — this was worse than 
the storm. We could not understand their 
Spanish ; and they would not understand 
our English. We told them plainly enough 
in good old Saxon, that we came up to see 
the fort by moonlight — "no sabe," — that is 
plain — the fort by moonligfit — "no sabe Los 
Americanos" Two others now came for- 
ward very fiercely, presented their muskets 
and cocked them. It began to look rather 
squally, for a moment'; we held a council 
of war — alone, — it resulted in the full be- 
lief of the expediency of immediate diplo- 
matic negotiations: so holding out our hand 
(the sound one, we said in the best Spanish 

we could command : "Very well, all right, 
very good." The extended hand was gras- 
ped in a friendly manner, and at the same 
moment, with the other, we slapped another 
man upon the shoulder, and gave a hearty 
laugh ; all now joined in uproarious glee, and 
we had quite a good old fashioned jollifica- 
tion together. 

After staying with them some ten min- 
utes, we carelessly, of course, inquired the 
way down to the Rio San Juan. They all 
arose and walked with us some fifteen paces 
and then pointed to the path leading to the 
river. Thanking them, and bidding them 
adieu, in ten minutes, we were on the boat ; 
having been absent over three hours. Since 
that night, we have never been very anx- 
ious to visit old ruins in the tropics by 
moonlight. J. B. 



This is the goal of hope to many travel- 
ers from the sacred spot called home, and 
where so many meet, fiom every clime and 
country under heaven. It is the hallowed 
ground of wanderers, a cherished place, 
where men of every land repair, to learn 
good tidings of their absent friends. 

Upon the arrival of the semi-monthly 
mail from the Eastern States, and long be- 
fore the busy clerks have time sufficient to 
distribute letters to their proper places, may 
be seen lines of expectant faces gathering 
in the lobby, in Indian file, each new comer 
falling into line behind, and woe to that 
man, who, through ignorance or daring, at- 
tempts an advance of his proper turn. 

Happy is he whose turn is nearest the 
window, for the line is often many hundred 
yards in length, and many, perchance are 
standing in a drenching rain. 

What an anxious looking crowd, whose 
earnest countenances too plainly tell the 
doubts and fears within despite their efforts 
to the contrary. There are no aristocratic 
feelings among them ; for "first come, first 
served," is true here. 



Now the long-watched little piece of steps he had so fondly guided in infancy, 

board is withdrawn — the mail is ready for 

The first applicant seems to be a hardy 
son of the mountains, upon whose weather- 
beaten brow I think I can trace the word 
Minsk. Ah ! there are his letters — no small 
package ; and his hand, though rough and 
firm to handle pick and shovel, trembles as 
be clasps the precious treasure — now he 
palls his hat more closely over his eyes, and 
is lost in the crowd. How one's heart longs 
to follow him and in secret, watch the tears 
— the manly tears— of joy or of sorrow 
that moisten those eyes, as he reads the lines 
from his much loved home. His feelings 
are too sacred for the profane gaze of stran- 
ger eyes — so let us pass on. 

The next one is pale and slim, see how 
his nervous and almost transparent hands 
catch at the window frame; how his fcnees 
tremble, and his weak and weary limbs al- 
most refuse to bear him up. Ah! there — 
he too has letters, 1 heard his fervent "thank 

But look at that aged man, whose silvery 
hair bespeaks the frosts of many winters. 
One almost regrets to see so old a man in 
so new a country. He reaches the window 
and bears upon his mansanita cane, for he 
needs its snpport just now : his voice is 
weak and so are his knees, as he asks the 
momentous question What ! — " no letters" 
— is there none for that poor old man — ah ! 
those words, — and no wonder — have nailed 
his aged form to the spot on which he stands. 
Be careful stranger, jostle not in haste or 
rudeoess against that venerable and disap- 
pointed fatherly old man. Have you no 
sympathy for him as those convulsive twitch- 
es come and go upon his care-worn face ? 
Yes, we know you have. Nature has come 
to relieve his agony, for the silent tear steals 
slowly down the furrows of his pallid cheek. 
As the oak is bent and torn by the tempest 
without, so is he by the tempest within. 
No letters — mark his anguish — What ! has 
that child of his heart forgotten him ? Has 
the dear distant daughter, whose tiny foot- 

and watched with such parental pride to 
blooming womanhood — has she forsaken 
him — no, oh no, it cannot be ; but, there is 
no letter. Heavy-hearted he retires to the 
solitude of his own room, where unseen, he 
may weep, or think of his beloved and ab- 
sent child. 

Watch the fate of that spicy looking 
yonng gentleman now at the window— judg- 
ing from his dandyish air of self-possession 
he must be a new importation. His hat is 
of the latest fashion, and is placed jauntily 
over hair thai is soft, sleek and curly. His 
moustache and whiskers are the objects of 
his peculiar care ; his coat and pants* are 
what we call Shanghai, and those alone — 
to say nothing of his gold spectacles, immac- 
ulate white kids and perfumed handkerchief, 
bespeak him an exquisite. He lisps an en- 
quiry for letters, and twirls his gold-headed 
cane with apparent indifference, as he awaits 
the reply. "None, sir!" — "None — what no 
letter th? impothible thir, you mutht have 
made a mithtake — I aththure you there 
mutht be letterth for Richard Livingthon, 
Ethquire." Then to hear the quiet and de- 
cided answer of the clerk, "There are no 
letters for you sir," while the impatient 
crowd around him call out "get out of the 
way there," "hustle that greenhorn off" — 
" oh my, what whiskers," " does your moth- 
er know you're absent ? " "what a nice young 
man " as he contemptuously takes his leave. 

There goes a rough-looking stranger, 
whose brawny hand tells you that he knows 
what labor is — but he is carefully opening 
the letter — he cannot wait until he gets to 
his lodgings, and, forgetful or indifferent to 
the world around him, he looks at the little 
world of love from home, and in sight, and 
must read it. One moment a tear glistens 
in his eye — the next a smile has spread over 
his face— no wonder that he has forgotten 
the scenes and the crowd around him, in the 
joy of hearing from an absent wife and dar- 
ling little ones. Who can contemplate such 
scenes unmoved ? or who tell the joy or sor- 
row given by a single letter, or express the 



heart-sickening disappointment as the omin- 
ous word none falls upon the ear. 

We will not stop at the box department, 
where can be seen mercantile men of every 
rountry, tradesmen, and others eagerly el- 
bowing their way to the boxes which belong 
to them respectively. But let us go to 


Here too, you see a long line of the stern- 
er sex, who have come on the pleasing mis- 
sion of seeking letters for their lady friends. 
There are many ladies too, who, anxious for 
the precious lines from dear ones far away, 
are making their way to the front — for they, 
by courtesy, take precedence of the gentle- 
men, and step fearlessly forward of every 
man in the ranks — but when they reach 
their own sex, are as careful of their turn 
as are the men. 

Now a consequential looking specimen of 
manhood has reached the window, and al- 
though he has no doubt heard the slight 
cough at his elbow, he passes on and asks 
for letters — the clerk calls fyis attention to a 
lady just behind him, and with an " excuse 
me, " he makes way for her in front. Look 
at her pale cheek and sable garments, and 
contrast her sorrowful countenance with 
that of the fair young girl that has just come 
up behind her — one speaks of buried hopes, 
— the other has mirth and love looking from 
her eyes, and her whole face has such an 
irresistible happiness and witchery in it 
that you can scarcely look at her without 
being affected by the merriment which 
seems to be a part of herself. They both 
have letters. The pleasant smile of grati- 
tude of the one, and the laughing, spark- 
ling, blushing gladness of the other, betray 
the contrast in their future prospects. Let 
us hope that the one gives comfort and con- 
solation to the bereaved ; inspiring her with 
renewed courage to tread alone the thorny 
path of duty : that the other precious let- 
ter, she so joyfully folds to her bosom, and 
which evidently is from the one beloved, 
may be as a fountain of living water ever 
gushing at her feet, and bringing perpetual 

green to the landscape of her young and 
earnest love. 

Oh what a place of contrasts is this. — 
At this spot congregate the rich and the 
poor, the high and the low, the aged and 
the young, the joyous and the sad, the hope- 
ful and the determined — all wanderers from 
the land that gave them birth, all seeking 
to be rich — and, thank God, there are but 
few upon whose countenance there is not 
written, Hope for the future, and content- 
ment for the present. Thus may it ever be 
with every dweller in this land of sunshine 
and of health, this land of gold and flowers, 
is ever the earnest prayer of Carrie D. 

"Lawyer Kirby, would you please to write 
me a letter to my friends?" " Certainly, Mr. 
Harris, with the greatest possible pleasure 
— where shall I address it ?" "Ah, there's 
where I am at a loss — if I knew tchere to 
address it, I could write the letter ! " 


A silent language, uttered to the eye. 

Which envious distance would In vain deny ; 
A tie to bind where circumstances part— 

A nerve of feeling stretched from heart to heart ; 
Formed to convey, like an electric chain, 

The mystic flash— the lightning of the brain, 
And bear at once, along each precious link, 

Affection's life-pulse in a drop of ink. 

Immensity of the Universe. — As a 
proof of what a vast book the visible 
heavens are, and also of the diligence of 
the student, man, in turning over its leaves, 
Dr. Nichol, in his work describing the mag- 
nitude of Lord Kosse's telescope, says that 
Lord Rosse has looked into space a distance 
so inconceivable, that light, which travels 
at the rate of 200,000 miles in one second, 
would require a period of 250,000,000 of 
solar years, each year containing about 
32,000,000 of seconds, to pass the inter- 
vening gulf between this earth and the re- 
motest point to which this telescope has 
reached. How utterly unable is the mind 
to grasp even a fraction of this immense 
period. To conceive the passing events of 
a hundred thousand years only, is an im- 
possibility, to say nothing of millions and 
hundreds of millions of years. 



The Life, Adventures, and Misadventures, 
Fortunes and Misfortunes, Scrapes, and 
Escapes, of Mr. Dickory Hicklebebry, 
sometime Brass and Tin Candlestick Ma- 
ker, m the city of London ; in his memo- 
rabU passage from the Seven Dials, Lon- 
don, to San Francisco, California ; setting 
forth why, how, when, and wliat, he got 




" Please sir, mother says, the two and 
Inp'pence you charged her for mending her 
sarcepan, don't you wish you may get it ? 
cos how, mother says, mother Barnes bor- 
rord it, mother Barnes used it, mother 
Barnes made the hole in it, mother Barnes 
broke the handle off it, and mother Barnes 
most pay for it" 

u Who's mother Barnes, gal ? " said 
Dickory Hickleberry, " and where does she 
lire r 

"Dun-no, somewhere in onr street, or 
sum'mer else," replied the animated shock- 
head of hair, just peeping above the counter, 
displaying at the same time, a marvellous 
stock of shrew Iness and low cunning, from 
one of so small a growth. 

** Oh!" said Dickory, after a short pause, 
"any thing else?" 

" No, nuffin else, on'y mother says you're 
an old cheat, and ought to be ashamed of 

" Any other compliment to add to that 
*nn V* replied Dickory. 

** No, no other, as I knows on, — good mor- 
ninV said the girl, walking off. 

It was manifest that Dickory was a little 
out of sorts that morning, something unusu- 
al had ruffled his temper, and this episode 
of the " sarsepan," and the sarse with it, 
added not a little to his discomfiture. 

M What next, I wonder," said he, snatch- 
ing hold of a dirty, well-thumbed Weekly 
Dispatch, which he never dispatched spelling 
and reading until the end of every week ; 

indeed this luxury, added to half a pint of 
porter and a pipe, for about an hour every 
evening, at the " Dog and Whistle," an op- 
position public to the " Cat and Bagpipes," 
where used to assemble the same three wits, 
to hear the same three stories, and inter- 
change the same three civilities, constituted 
pretty much the whole pleasure of his mo- 
notonous life. 

" ' It never rains but it pours ! ' What 
next, I wonder ?" Here the man of letters, 
or the " blue collar boy," as he was called by 
his friends, (the postmen), he being one of 
the trio aforesaid, made bis appearance ; and 
throwing down three letters— 

" I deal you out a tray this time, old fel- 
low !" ejaculated he, *' how goes it this morn- 
ing ?" 

u 0, very bad, surely," rejoined Dickory, 
" the missus has been kept up all night with 
the toothache and ear-ache, and little Adam 
is a cuttin* his teeth, and thinks it necessary 
that all in-doors and out-o'doors should know 
of it I ha'nt had a wink o 'sleep all this 
blessed night, but ha' been sittin' bolt up- 
right, a rockin' o* one and consolin' o' t'other 
till I'm a most worn out." 

" Some of the sweets of matrimony !" said 
that functionary, binding up his letters, and 
turning the corner abruptly, so as to cut off 
part of the last word, thereby showing a 
lamentable want of sympathy for the ordi- 
nary troubles of life. 

" Three on 'urn this time," mused Dickory, 
and eyeing the letters askant, and betraying 
a fear of their contents, — " It never rains 
but it pours." Opening one, he read thus : 

" Sir — I am desired by my client, Mr. 

to apply to you for twoyears' rent now due, 
amounting to the sum of £180, which, to- 
gether with the costs of this application, I 
request you will settle by to-morrow, in or- 
der to avoid unpleasant consequences. 

Y'rs, truly, James Short, 

Att'y at Law." 

Opening the second, thus : 

11 On H. M. Service — iSir, — You are re- 
quested, on or before the 1 7th inst. to pay iu- 
v o our office, the sum of eleven pounds thir- 
teen shillings and seven pence, three farth- 
ings ; amount of poor rates due lost March; 



or to show cause there and then, why this 
amount should not be levied on your pro- 
perty to discharge the same, &c, &c." 

The third ran thus : 

" Dear Dick — If you could send us the 
two suftrins you promised, in part payment 
of your debt, we should be obliged, as me 
and my husbun is out of work, and have 
bin a most thro' the winter. So no more 
at present from your sister-in-law, 

Deborah Do-Little. 

" So no more at present — God forbid there 
should be!" — muttered Dickory. "Oue 
trouble's enough at a time, in all conscience, 
but in this blessed country, there's one down, 
and another come on, afore you can breathe 
agin. One hundred and eighty pounds ! — 
Whew ! — Let me see ! — But the lodgers '11 
pay sixty of that; and forty for the 'prentis, 
when his indenters are signed, make a hun- 
dred ; then there's eleven pounds odd for 
taxes. Bless the Queen, but cuss her taxes, 
says I. Well, Dickory, you've got into a 
precious mess this time, and the subject next 
for consideration, of your • getting in, must 
tye of your getting out of it." Here a 
stamping noise over head was heard : — 

" Can't you keep that there child quiet a 
moment, while I get a bit o' sleep ? — What's 
the matter with him now?" — bawled his 
wife from up stairs. 

" He's smashed his nose agin the bellows, 
and is now bellowing for the loss of them, 
and the pain on it. I can't keep him quiet, 
and what's more, I won't ;" and angrily he 
turned to his paper again and read : — 
" Brutal assault upon a wife — six month's 
imprisonment with hard labor— Suicide by 
jumping off London bridge." Thus he read 
on until his heart reproached him for the 
harsh expression that he had just uttered to 
the partner of his joys and sorrows. Amidst 
all his vexations he was rarely heard to ut- 
ter an uukind expression to her, and she 
knew that there must be something unusu 
ally annoying to irritate him thus, and was 
silent always upon such occasions. "Poor 
wretch 1 muttered he to himself, after hav- 
ing spelt through the last event, — "your 
troubles are over for one while. You'll have 

no more taxes to pay: — no doubt you've 
paid all the debts you owe, by this last debt 
of natur." Tossing once more the paper 
from him, he seized his thumb-worn day- 
book ; and what a dreary account of debts 
was there arrayed before him. " I'm earning 
doubtful pence, while my expenses are cer- 
tain pounds," said he. In a sort of dogged 
humor he tossed his book from him, and in 
a fit of desperation filled his pipe, thrust 
himself down upon his three-legged stool, 
leaned his back against the wall, raised his 
legs to the height of the counter, thereon 
depopited them, and gave himself up, (now 
he had silenced his wife, and the bellows, 
his child — who had cried himself to sleep) 
to a profound reverie. But this humor did 
not last long. His mind no doubt was 
soothed, but not satisfied with the pipe, so 
snatching once more the paper, his eye, af- 
ter a time, alighted on a piece of informa- 
tion, that appeared to astound him. His 
stubble-like hair stood erect, his eyes opened 
wider and wider, and his mouth followed the 
example ; his face grew first pale, then red, 
then pale, alternately. His whole frame 
shook with wild emotion, the hand could 
scarcely hold the paper. At last he uttered, 
or rather shouted — " Why, what do I see ! 
Yes 'tis, no it is'nt ! It can't be I Yes it 
can ! Let me read again: — 

" If the heir or next akin to Jacob 
HicWeberry will apply to Messrs. Suit & 
Nabb, No. 25 Furnivals Inn, he will hear 
of something greatly to his advantage. The 
said Jacob Hickleberry, somewhere about 

the year 18 left London for New York, 

leaving behind him, in St. Martin's Work- 
house, his two sons, Dickory and David ; 
the elder, it is supposed, was drowned in the 
Paddington Canal, having run away from 
his master, a shoemaker, to whom he was 
bound apprentice. The other son, David, 
left about the same time, the workhouse 
aforesaid, and was never more heard of. 
Any party or parties in possession of infor- 
mation relative to the said family, are re- 
quested immediately to apply to our office, 
where he or they will be amply rewarded 
for their trouble." 

" Hoorah ! Hoorah ! 1 Hoorah ! I !— One ! 
Two 1 Three !— Hip ! Hip ! Hoorah 1 1 Hoo- 



rah ! ! !— Fol-lol-di-rol-o-tol-de-rol — Hi-tol- 
der-rol-o-tol-de-ra — God be praised ! Here's 
an end to all my troubles," shouted poor 
Dickory, and in the uncontrolled state of 
hisphrenzy, he leaped upon his counter, 
and commenced dancing a fandango, kick- 
ing all the pots and jars, candlesticks and 
fire-shovels, towards every point of the com- 
pass. His wife, hearing so unusual a noise, 
made her appearance in her robe-de*nnit, 
with her poor head bound up, representing 
much the appearance of an enormous Christ- 
mas pudding, clothed and ready- bound to be 
tumbled into the boiling festive pot 

** Dickory ! dear Dickory 1 " said she, in 
the kindest mood, "what is the matter 
with you ? Your many troubles have turn- 
ed your poor head and driven you mad. 
Don't Dickory, don't. You frighten me ! 
I'll not be unkind again, indeed, I won't !" 
" Don't disturb me, Doll ! I'll tell you all. 
Let me have my fling out," with this utter- 
ance, he still continued to kick and smash 
every tin utensil he could lay his hands on, 
as if to wreak his vengeance upon a busi- 
ness, that, with all his daily and unceasing 
efforts, from Ave o'clock in the morning till 
dark at night, through many dreary years, 
had scarcely afforded him an honest loaf of 

When Dickory's legs had had their full 
fling out, the wife, with tears in her eyes, 
after surveying the wholesale destruction 
and confusion around her, meekly again 
opened the enquiry, " "What's the matter ?" 
44 What's the matter ? — Nothing in the 
world's the matter, only that you're a gen- 
tleman, and I'm a lady, that's all. Read 
that!" se id Dick, pointing to the adver- 
tisement in the paper. 

M Dear Dick ! You know I can't read. 
Dear ! dear I — I wish somebody would call 
in a doctor ! " — " A what" — said Dickory ; 
- is Adam ill ? ! I had forgot your tooth- 
ache, »nd ear-ache. You shall have Sir 
Peter Testie to it, and he shall extract your 
ear, and poultice your tooth, after the most 
approved fashion of chloriform ; or in any 
other form you please, my duck 1 " 

" Dear Dicky, but what about the news" 
paper ? " enquired Dorothy, in utter amaze- 
ment, in which doubt and fear formed the 
greatest part of her excitement. "Do 
pray read it ! " — 

Dickory, thus solicited, read the para- 
graph, and if he showed much agitation, 
the wife betrayed much more; the news ap- 
peared to bereave her of her senses for a 
time, and it was doubtful whether the par- 
oxysm would end in hysterics, or hydrau- 
lics. However, the latter came abundantly 
to her relief, and crying and sobbing by 
turns, and now and then embracing her 
Dickory, the first words she uttered were — 

44 Now then, I can have the ostrich fea- 
ther to my lavender bonnet, that I have set 
my heart so long upon. Dear Hicky ! for- 
give me. I am an ungrateful wife, for with 
all your distress for money, will you believe 
it, I have hoarded up nearly a pound by odd 
farthings and ha'-peuce, without jour know- 
in' on it. Do forgive me 1 " 

" Ostrich feather, Mrs. Hickleberry ! you 
shall have a dress made of porcupine quills, 
if you like ; but don't forget now your sit- 
tivation as a lady, for as sure as you are 
born, we shall live to beat the Higginses 
holler, and right sorry they'll be that they 
have cut our acquaintance, because I had 
nothing but my old coat, and you your old 
gown, to appear in at their stuck-up Christ- 
mas party. Kiss me, Dolly, and then I'll 
go and have that infernal tooth out o' your 
head, that's ceprived us of sleep for these 
blessed three nights." 

"Dicky, believe me, it's all gone, like 
magic ; and so is my face, my ear I mean. 
Now, what will you do Dicky ? 

" Do !— What will I not do ! Why, I'll 
go first to our dear old friend Hobbs, who, 
you know, has trusted us all along for a 
whole two months, with groceries, and 
never as'd us for a blessed penny. And the 
iast time I saw him at the Dog and Whistle, 
and venter 'd on the sore pint, he squeezed 
my hand, the good old fellow did, and said, 
Hickleberry, I know you to be an honest 
man, and that's as good as payment any day 



in the week. I never lost a penny in my 
life by any honest critter, whatever might 
be appearances ; and something tells me 
that yon are sure to get oat o' my debt all 
the time yon keeps yonr courage np, and 
yonr tin hammer a goin'. Bless his heart, 
he shall go along with me, and arrange the 
business with the lawyer man. So do yon 
get the chops ready for dinner, with the 
ostrich feather money, and well have sich 
a breakfast, and sing, be joyful, for grace, 
in sich a style, as shall astonish the natives 
of Old Seven Dials." 



" I wonder what they are doing at home 
to-day," said a rough-hewn, athletic son of 
the mountains to one of his cabin-mates. 
" How I should like to be there. To-day 
is my birth day. In my mind's eye I think 
I can see father as plain as if he were be- 
fore me, just shaving himself in the little 
parlor, ready for church. Mother is stir- 
ring up the fire to air his shirt, which hangs 
before it on a chair. Sister Mary is just 
cutting off a mutton-chop and preparing it 
for breakfast. I can hear the kettle sing- 
ing. Brother George has just come in 
from feeding the pigs and poultry, bringing 
in his hand a number of fresh laid eggs. I 
can almost hear him say, I wish* Tom had 
some of these, as he proudly shows them to 
Mary ; and she answers with a sigh — ' Oh ! 
what would I give if I could but see poor 
Tom sitting down in his old chair by moth- 
er's elbow there ; I wonder what he is do- 
ing at this moment ; if we could but just 
peep in at his cabin door/ Susan keeps 
bobbing in and out, with her fiery-red cap- 
strings flying, as she passes rapidly back- 
wards and forwards, to remind them that it 
is getting late for church ; moreover, it is 
her Sunday out, and her sweetheart is wait- ' 
ing at the well-known stile, at the end of 
the long lane that leads 10 the church. 
' Father, 1 says mother, with tears in her 
eyes, ' 'tis dear Tom's birth-day.' Father 

stops stropping his razor suddenly, and 
with a trembling voice recollects that ( so 
it is.' Then follows a long pause. At last 
George interchanges the same thought — ' I 
wonder what he is about at the diggings ? 
Tis strange that we have not had a letter 
from him since last November ! ' ' Why, 
how can you expect it? ' father says ; * let- 
ters don't fly through the air like pigeons, 
and you forget he can't write himself ; God 
forgive me. Dear Tom — bow we shall re- 
member him in our prayers at church, on 
this, his birth-day.' " 

" For mercy's sake, stop dwelling on that 
picture," cries one of his mates, " unless 
you wish me to go and hang myself. I have 
bat you two friends, my dear fellows, in the 
wide world. My earliest recollections of 
home, such as it was, are misery itself. 
Born almost in a workhouse, the only faces 
that glare upon me at this moment, are the 
hard-hearted master, the surly matron, and 
the touch-me-not parson; where human 
creatures were looked upon, treated and fed 
like so many useless cattle ; or, in a worse 
light, as incumbrances on the community. 
Your picture of home maddens me by its 
contrast to mine." 

" Well, after all, to give the devil his due, 
the parish did that for you, though, which 
my parents could not do for me, with all 
their efforts — for it gave you a tolerable 
education. I wish I could say as much." 

" Talking of parish schools, Who do you 
think I saw the day before yesterday ? " 

" Aye, I intended to ask you, for such a 
hang-dog expression I never saw before in 
any man. You were in close converse to- 
gether I observed, and he turned away ra- 
ther down in the mouth I thought." 

" Well he may, tor who in the name of 
the seven wonders do you think it was ? 
And to find such a fellow here, of all the 
places in the world ;— one of the laziest 
rascals in creation." 

"I can't say." 

u No less a person, I assure you, than the 
very overseer himself of St. Martin's work- 
house, where I first drew conscious breath." 



u You don't say so?" 

" Yes, indeed. — I knew the fellow in a mo- 
ment, from his slouch, loafer walk, his dark, 
scowling, and suspecting look, and I never 
was more gratified with any interview in 
my life. Many are the blows that fellow 
caosed to be laid on my back from mere 
caprice ; aye, the very recollection left be- 
hind brings with it a shudder, and for weeks 
after those thrashings, his ugly face haunted 
me in my dreams." 

u What did he want with you now ?" 

* What should he but a job, for that with 
him meant money ; he had had no luck in 
the mines, and was nigh giving up the ghost. 
1 knew it all resulted from idle loafing, but 
I relieved his mind by giving him a five 
dollar piece; and after I had heard his 
shower of u God bless ye my fine fellow," 
" May ye have all the luck in the world," 
May it be my turn some fine day to do the 
like to ye," &c, Ac, &c. I turned sudden- 
ly round upon him, and fixing my eyes 
M&rchiogly upon him said, " I want but one 
faror from you." 

u What's that, my dear fellow, consider it 
done, if in my power ; you dont know how 
I and my daughter have suffered of late, and 
your generosity has set me up, and will make 
a man of me once more." 

" Well, then, my favor is this : — If you 
should ever be overseer of a parish poor- 
house again, don't set the example of bully- 
ing the little helpless creatures that Provi- 
nce happens to cast in your way." 

" What can you mean ?" said he, suddenly 
changing color. 

M You were overseer once of St. Martin's 
poorhouse, in London, were you not?" 

"Yes; I can't deny it." 

"Then ask yourself what I mean. — You 
tfiould have seen the fellow's expression as 
Ik sneaked off like a whipped dog, with his 
owe proud tail between his legs." 

M Is that child his daughter ?— What in 
the world could he bring that poor thing 
here for? Of all the odd things in life, 
what could induce the fellow to bring a 
yoang creature like that to the mines, with- 

out being willing, by labor, to provide her 
a living?" 

" I never saw her ; is she like him ? She 
must be a beauty if she is." 

" As like as a spinning-jenny is to a jack- 
screw. — When I lived up at Red Dog dig- 
gings, she used often to borrow little mat- 
ters, and I used to notice that while she 
stood answering my questions, she would 
turn her face in an opposite direction, with 
fear and trembling, as if she dreaded a 
beating from her father, if she answered 

" How old is she, do you think ? " 

" Oh I she is quite young — not more thaa 
twelve or so. We never could get many 
words out of her, nor know where she came 
from, nor anything about her, and every- 
body, like myself, ceased asking at last, al- 
though there was something about the girl 
that would make stupidity itself inquisi- 
tive. They say his wife died here of the 
fever, and was buried before any other per- 
son knew anything about the matter." 

" Ah ! there's a dark mystery, as yet un- 
explained, you may depend upon it. That 
girl carries a secret with her, which she is 
long wishing to disclose to some one of her 
own sex." 

"She looks it as plain as words can 
speak it. As I live, here she comes ; you 
will now have an opportunity of judging of 
the truth of my remarks, and whether there 
be any cause for my suspicions." 

" Can you tell me," said the child, upon 
coming up to us, "whether there is any 
doctor at hand, for my father is so ill I fear 
he will not live the night out. — I am fright- 
ened to be in the cabin alone with him, for 
he talkB and acts so strangely as to make 
me think he is going mad." 

" How far off does your father live ?" kind- 
ly enquired the last speaker. " I think I 
can procure him a doctor, but not in less 
than a couple of hours, if then. Suppose 
you stay in our cabin, while I go and hunt 
up somebody who knows something about 

"No; I am obliged to you. I must re- 



turn immediately. Can I trust you, kind 
sir, to get us a doctor as soon as you can ?" 
said the poor child, looking up in a confused 
manner to the one who had proffered his 

" That you may, certainly, child ; but 
point out to me first where you live, and 
my friend here will see you home, for the 
road is not safe for such young folks as you, 
at this time o' day." 

" I live at Gopher Hill, about half a 
mile beyond the Red Rose Ranch, on the 
trail leading to Coarse Gold Gulch. I am 
not afraid, sir, to go back without any one, 
for you see I am provided with a companion 
and a friend," — half disclosing at the same 
time a neat revolver, and pointing to a 
bluff and fierce dog, who had been reclining 
under a dwarf pine near the door- way, 
watching her every motion with the most 
intense anxiety. — " I thank you, sir, truly, 
for your kindness," added she; "I know 
you will not be gone long, — I shall be look- 
ing out for you. Come, Raw bones," said 
the child, "let's be off before 'tis quite 

"You decline, then, my services?" said 
the other man to the girl. 

" I had rather go home alone, sir, as my 
father perhaps would'nt like it. I assure 
you, with Rawboncs, and this loaded pistol, 
I shall be perfectly safe." 

The dog seemed to understand and de- 
vour every word the child uttered, and rose 
to depart, wagging his stump of a tail as 
if impatient of delay. They appeared a 
queer couple. The one the gentlest of her 
sex, with a sweetness of face that a stoic 
could not pass without noticing and ad- 
miring. The other, one of the ugliest of all 
his ugly species. His head was nearly as 
big as his body, and as broad as long. His 
red mouth stretched almost from ear to ear ; 
his jaws displaying immense power, and his 
formidable teeth sticking out from his under 
mandible, seemed to grow with the object 
of making himself felt in cases of emergency. 
Over these were surmounted a pair of round 
black staring wild eyes, that might cow and 

appal the most ferocious of beasts, and the 
most courageous of men. Well might the 
child look upon the brute as a safeguard ! 
however much she might esteem the pistol 
as a friend. 

" There is something in the wind about 
that old villain," said the miner, as he pre- 
pared to fulfil his promise to the child. 
" There's something there, that's about to 
be divulged, depend upon it ! Think I'd 
better bring a parson with me, as well 
as a doctor?" 

" Do so," replied the other, " and in the 
event of your not being successful, you, my 
dear fellow, are quite capable of taking a 
confession and offering dying consolation — 
so don't forget." 

A Neapolitan nobleman fought fourteen 
duels to prove that Dante was a greater 
poet than Ariosto. At his death-bed, a 
confessor, who was a great admirer of 
Ariosto, desired him to acknowledge the 
superiority of that poet. "Father," an- 
swered the dying man, " to tell the truth, I 
never read either Dante or Ariosto." 

Barnum, in a letter to the Providence 
Journal, says : " I loved to make money, 
but not better than I loved to spend it. I 
gave $20,000 per annum in charity for the 
last ten years, and, if I had not been a 
jackass, impulsive and confiding, I should 
not have been ruined." 

A note, of which the following is a ver- 
batim copy, was recently sent to the shop 
of a druggist in the neighborhood of Barns- 
ley : " Ger, — I hev a Bad Kowld and em 
Hill inmy Bow Hills and Hev lost my 
Happy Tight." 

Mr. Ferguson says there is no country 
in the world where wives are more wor 
shiped than they are in France. He re- 
grets to say, however, that all the adoration 
comes from somebody else's husband. 

The expense of one trip of an ocean 
steamship across the Atlantic, is over forty 
thousand dollars. 





When Corfu was ceded to Britain at the 
general division of spoils in 1815, the troops 
that were first sent oat to garrison the is- 
land found a melancholy destitution of all 
those little comforts and conveniences of life 
that John Ball and his wife know so little 
how to dispense with. Miserable quarters, 
every article of farnitare scarce and bad, the 
most common utensils for cookery unattain- 
able, and such wretched shops, that you left 
hope at the door when you step over the 
threshold. In short, the shifts to which 
they were put were often as ludicrous, that 
the laugh they got at their own expense was 
the only consolation they had in their misery. 
Bat of all the wants that afflicted their 
booIs, none fell so heavily on their spirits as 
the want of tea-pots ! Probably such an 
anomaly does not exist; but here there were 
three or four rigiments — Beveral hundreds 
of wretched Christians — without a tea-pot 
amongst them. But we are wrong when we 
say without a tea-pot — there was one tea- 
pot, a silver one, a piece of family-plate that 
the owner had brought out with her to be 
used oo grand occasions. But what a life 
it led I — and what a life its mistress led ! 
It was certainly a grand thing to be the 
possessor of the only tea-pot on the island 
the position was imposing ; but the glory, 
like many other glories, was onerous in the 

extreme, and many a day poor Mrs. R 

was induced to wish that she had hid her 
light under a bushel, rather than exposed 
herself to be eternally pestered for the loan 
of the tea-pot. Besides, it could not satisfy 

all wants ; when Mr*. A had it, Mrs. 

B was obliged to go with out it ; and 

when Mrs. C sent for it, she was too 

often told that Mrs. D 's maid had just 

carried it away. Then of course it only cir- 
culated amongst the officers 1 families ; the 
unfortunate soldiers' wives had not even the 
consolation of hoping to have a turn out of 
it ; they had all heard of it — they knew that 
the thing existed, bat that was all — they 
never so much as got a glimpse of it. 

Such was the condition of the community 
when, one fine morning, a small trading ves- 
sel was seen to sail into the harbour. It 
was a country vessel, as appeared by the 
rigging ; and as they seldom brought any- 
thing that was useful to the unfortunate ex- 
iles, there was not much to be hoped from 
it. However, as the smallest trifle would 
have been acceptable, as the beggars say, 
Colonel G — desired one of his sergeants to 
go down to the quay and inquire what they 
had on board. Picture to yourself, reader, 
what must have been the feelings of Sergeant 

L on being informed by the captain that 

they were freighted with tea-pots ! 

'What have you got ?' said he. 

'Tea-pots?' said the captain. 

'You'll have plenty of custom, then, my 
fine fellow/ said the sergeant, and away he 
flew to spread the news. 'It's the most 
providentialist thing,' he observed 'that ever 
happened.;' and, indeed, so thought every- 

The blessed intelligence ran like wild-fire. 
In ten minutes, every woman in the gar- 
rison, high and low, and every bachelor 
that wanted to make a comfortable cup of 
tea for himself, might be seen rushing across 
the esplanade towards the quay pell-mell, all 
hurried and anxious, pushing and driving, 
each afraid of being last, less the supply, 
being limited, should be exhausted before all 
wants were satisfied. 

' Which is the ship ?' cried a chorus of 
eager voices to Sergeant L , who, flush- 
ed with conscious importance, headed the 
procession. • 

' This is her, ' said he, as he stepped on to 
the deck of the little trader, accompanied by 
as many of his followers as could find footing, 
whilst the unfortunate candidates gathered 
to the Bide as close as they could, all with 
one voice vociferating : ' Tea-pots 1 tea-pots! 
shew us the tea-pots I ' 

' Tea-pots ! ' echoed the captain, nodding 
his head affirmatively. 

' Where are the tea pots ? we all want tea- 
pots, ' cried the English. 

' Tea-pots ! ' said the captain, with a smile 


and a bow and the crew repeated after him 
• tea-pots ! ' 

But by this time the extraordinary com- 
motion had drawn to the shore, amongst 
other spectators of the scene, a certain Ital- 
ian cook, who happening to have a smatter- 
ing both of English and Romic, stepped for- 
ward to offer his services as interpreter. 

' He says he's freighted with tea-pots, ' 

said Sergeant L ; ( do make him produce 

them. ' 

* What have yon brought ?' said the cook 
to the captain. 

' Tea-pots ! ' replied the captain. 

' Ah/ said the cook, turning to the anxious 
expectants, ' he says he bring tipotas — dat 
mean, in his language, noting ! ' 



Do you remember, my sister, 
Our home in the " Old Granite State," 

In the days ere our family circle, 
Was ruthlessly broken by fate ? 

Do you remember in spring time, 
The carpet of beautiful green, 

That was spread out before the old farm-house, 
While snow on the hill-tops was seen ? 

Do you remember our rambles, 
After sweet-scented, modest May Flowers, 

That nestled in green pasture hillocks, 
And smiled in the warm April showers ? 

Do you remember the garden, 
And apple trees branching and strong, 

Where the beautiful red-breasted robins, 
Built their nests singing all the day long ? 

Do you remember, dear sister, 
The Bible that lay on the stand, 

And how we all knelt down together 
And prayed in a family band ? 

Do you remember, one evening, 
How we knelt by our father's bedside, 

How kindly and fondly he blessed us 
Before he so peacefully died ? 

These remembrances haunt me, my sister, 
In the vales of this far off gold land 

And memory oft brings together 
The loved ones and lost of our band. 

San Francisco, May 30th } 1856. 






We all know that the spring-time and 
rammer are hailed with delight, and passed 
with pleasure, by the denizens of the moun- 
tains of California. 

Each succeeding month brings its balmy 
breezes, rosy slumbers, vigorous health, and 
rural happiness, unequalled in any other 
land. When Summer's flowery reign has 
ended, the mountaineer — like the grizzly 
monster — moves away to closer and more 
comfortable quarters, where within his cozy 
c&bin-home, he can bid defiance to the 
Winter King. 

Those who are compelled by circum- 
stances to remain, are often surrounded by 
vast fields of impassable snow — towering 
forest-pines, covered to their summits with 
the frozen mantle of the storm. In this 
deep prison solitude, one feels the loss of 
kindly converse and companionship with 
kindred spirits, and pleasant thought-ex- 
changes with mankind. Yes, even the aw- 
ful majesty without — at other times so truly 
beautiful and sublime — is looked upon in 
cold indifference, if not with disgust. 

A little California adventure of mine 
happened in the winter of 1850, high up in 
the Sierras, some twenty miles from the 
dividing ridge. All around, the mountain 
slopes descended, now gently, now abruptly 
towards the " Rio Sacramento," where that 
beautiful valley lay nestling warmly with 
its teeming thousands, at its base. The 
summer months, like their myriad flowers, 
were wasting away ; and autumn, with its 
scattering foliage and lengthening shadows, 
fuilowed in quick succession, leaving its 
trailing glories behind. Winter — stern 
winter — was hurrying at our heels, with 
but a scanty supply for its coming severity. 
Unused to a mountain life, we were igno- 
rant of the quantity that would be con- 
sumed, and consequently we were but poorly 
prep ared for it Unskilled as my pen is in 

description, I will nevertheless attempt to 
tell you how my home really looked. 

It was a neat little canvas tent, sheltered 
by a wide-spread pine, which had undoubt- 
ly withstood the pelting storms of centuries. 
Near to it was a craggy point of rocks, 
with its numerous sister pines skirting a 
little valley that opened before us. My 
tent, being only ten feet by eight, and a 
family in addition to myself being its occu- 
pants, we were compelled to do our cooking 
outside. This was done by the side of a 
roaring fire, made of dried wood, beside a 
log ; a coffee-pot, dingy with smoke ; a fry- 
ing-pan, loose at the handle ; a camp-kettle 
for bean-cooking, which sometimes were 
burnt and unsavory ; but withal we thought 
ourselves lucky to have even thus some of 
the comforts of life. And this kind of 
supper was eaten — where do you think? 
In Nature's large drawing-room — not upon 
a mahogany table ; but on a big flat stone, 
around which we sat, like so many tailors, 
to eat. Those never-to-be-forgotten days 
of beans and potatoes 1 They were con- 
sidered a luxury, which was plainly to be 
seen by the eagerness manifested by all to 
get the greatest share. And when dried 
fruit was added to this feast, each one was 
blessed with the sight, and was often tempt- 
ed to leave a spoonful, for manners' sake. 
We had our winter supply piled against 
the pine-tree that sheltered our tent. These 
supplies had been packed in over the moun- 
tains, only to be stolen by the wild savages, 
whose hideous yell is still ringing in the 
deep gorges and glens of the Sierras. They 
are a straggling remnant of the Pah-Utah 
tribe, who wander about with a mahala or 
two, in sparse settlements, for rummage and 
spoliation. They proved no friends to us, 
for they stole nearly all our winter store 
one night, as we laydreaming in fancied 
security, and were off before the first streak 
of the next morning in their winter quar- 
ters, in the defiles of the mountains. Now, 
how were we, with starvation staring us in 

the nice, to extricate ourselves from this 
dilemma, but to put the apparahoes on the 



males, and make a " pilgrim's progress " to 
the nearest mining town, which lay distant 
about thirty miles, where we might replen- 
ish oar larder ? This thieving tribe has be- 
come nearly exterminated, and we consoled 
ourselves with a wish that their death- 
struggle might be a pang or two the longer 
for stealing our camp-kettles, pork and 
beans. Our train was at last seen wending 
•its way down the mountain side. An hour 
or two soon found us beside our friends at 
home, with an adequate supply, beside a 
huge crackling fire, against a pine log, for 
special benefit, earnestly discussing the 
merits of a hearty supper, hastily prepared 
for themselves, not forgetting us. Winter, 
with its snowy blanket, already began to 
spread its covering on the distant hill-tops. 
My better half took warning by the yellow 
leaf of the willows, that hung upon the 
margin of the streamlets. The timid deer 
and antelope were seen scampering away, 
with the strong grizzly, out of the dominion 
of the winter tyrant, which went whirling, 
shrieking with its fitful blast, through the 
glen. He was to take the mules below for 
better grazing, and return in a few days to 
his sequestered home, before the trail was 
blockaded with snow ; and when I saw him 
seated on his mule, ready for departure, 
snugly ensconced in his serapa, I felt a pre- 
sentiment of coming calamities, that his 
encouraging tones could not dispel; for 
surely " coming events cast their shadows 
before," especially when the eun of comfort 
appears about to set. Mule after mule dis- 
appeared around the hill, until the last of 
him was seen, waving an adieu witkrhis 
slouched hat All now, that was dear to 
me, was gone : the merry jingle of bells in 
the train, and the loud, stentorious " Uip- 
ah! hip-ah!" that rebounded through the 
forest of tall pines, fell upon my ear like a 
funeral dirge. 

Our cabin was now nearly finished for 
my reception. The idea of once more 
having a home of my own, to shelter 
me from the inclemency of the season, en- 

grossed my whole attention ; therefore, I 
had no time for long despondency or sober 
reflection. The gray dawn of misty morn- 
ing found me wending my way to my new 
home of coming suffering. The snow-flakes 
were falling slantingly upon the frozen 
ground, obscuring the light of the morning 
sun, struggling to pierce the misty clouds 
that beset the snowy horizon. A furniture 
moving-day isnot of much importance to 
one who lives so far removed from fashion- 
able life in a populous city. My cabin was 
not unlike " Uncle Tom's ;" for it had a shake 
door, fastened with a peg, to keep out the 
bears, coyotes, and Indians. I had no 
trouble in arranging my furniture to my 
taste : it was not cumbersome nor extensive. 
It consisted of my little white-pine table, 
three or four upright stools, a fancy bed- 
stead, with the posts (large sticks) driven 
in ths ground ; for we had no floor ; and 
these poles were covered with riven shakes 
for a cord, which, covered with bushes, 
made a rude bed. My carpet was indeed 
of a curious pattern — not of bright, large 
flowers, clustering warmly together, with a 
green sprig now and then, to make the con- 
trast more strikingly perceptible; but in 
its stead, it had the genuine gunny potato- 
sacks, and which, when sewed together, and 
the ground levelled down, made us quite 
comfortable. But the first night's lodging 
we took in our cabin, was any thing but 
agreeable ; for it had no " chinking," and the 
crevioes were spacious enough to have 
thrown a good sized calf through, provided 
he went feet first. I awoke the first morn- 
ing, I remember, to find my bed with about 
two inches of snow for an outside counter- 
pane, which had been drifted by the wind 
through these "chinks." But my noble, 
generous brother, and my own ingenious 
aid, soon affected a remedy. Taking boil- 
ing water, he thawed the ground, and made 
a mortar, which I handed to him, as he 
daubed it upon and over the crevices of the 
house. We began to feel quite grand in 
our snowy location, as we sat, at night fall, 



beside a big ire, roaring in our huge cabin 
fire-place, and which reflected heat and light 
to our little household. 

I was one morning startled from a 
pleasant reverie, by a good-natured look- 
ing fellow, stamping the snow from his 
feet, at the door, who came to invite 
us to a Christmas dinner, to be given by 
a very estimable lady, who lived a mile 
distant. I felt surprised to find that Christ- 
mas had rolled around so soon. I accepted 
the invitation, and arrived in time to par- 
take of the luxuries, that were set on a few 
pine slabs before us, and which consisted of 
stuffed ducks and geese, a dish of real dried 
apples, boiled beans, some stale butter, and 
a dessert of hot biscuits — all which were 
despatched by the curious looking guests, 
without ceremoay, or fastidious airs, which, 
as every one knows, are useless commodities 
in the mountains. All the ladies in the 
hide valley were in attendance, each with 
her "bib and tucker" on. There was a 
young girl among the number, who was 
considered a little divine in those days; 
and she felt her importance, by the soft, co- 
quettish words and gestures, that no doubt 
turned the heads of the awe-struck gentle- 
men, who bent low to catch " the faintest 
murmur that fell from her parting Jips." 
This accounted for their boiled woollen 
thtrts, as they called them, looking clean- 
er ; their unshorn faces looking brighter : 
io (act, their manners were changed from 
those I had ever seen before. So much for 
woman's angelic charms, whose genial in- 
fluence is felt by the rough mountaineers, 
rar away from similar attractions of bis 
once happy home. 

Bat I must break in upon my story, to 
tell yon that our little party's cheerfulness 
was suddenly damped, by the return of a 
lew of our exiles, from, the funeral ( of one, 
who, only the day before, was shot through 
the heart, in a dispute about a claim he held 
to some land, which quarrel ended with his 
life. He was buried without ceremony, on 
the hOWde, by a few rough hands, as one 

alone, nncared for, whose grave will- never 
be watered by a tender mother's or sister's 
falling tears ; and a few stones were piled 
upon him, as a safeguard from the wild 
beasts that wander about nightly for their 
prey. This revolting scene was soon for- 
gotten by the group ; and jest and jeer, joke 
and merry song — such is life — were passed 
around ; and " all went as gleeful as a mar- 
riage bell." 

The sun, next morning, had risen in 
splendor, and fell upon the sparkling snow, 
dazzling our eyes ; but in the afternoon it 
became obscured by masses of falling snow, 
which precluded all hope of the absent one's 
return that night, from beyond the moun- 
tains ; and while I was feasting abroad, I 
afterwards learned that the coyotes were 
feasting on my two chickens at home, which 
I had brought thither from the valley be- 
low. It snowed, without cessation, for three 
weeks ; which entirely excluded us from the 
valley world below by an impenetrable 
barrier of huge snow-drifts, which lay in 
the mountain .trail, at the depth of fifty feet 
Day after day, would the sun rise behind 
purple clouds of snow, and set in misty va- 
pors. In this way, weeks rolled on, and no 
letters came, nor tidings of my own dear 
absent husband, over whom, I often imag- 
ined, the wolves might be holding a dread- 
ful carnival, in some Bnowy den. It was 
then that I felt a certain unconsciousness 
and loneliness of heart, such as I never felt 
before. How often did I invoke sleep, as 
the type of death, to still my heart's deep 
throbbings 1 

However, weeks came and went; our 
little store of provision was nearly exhaust- 
ed. Time sped on meanwhile ; I know not 
how ; for I lost the reckoning of the day of 
the week. All days were alike, tumbled 
together in agonizing bewilderment, The 
tall pines swayed to and fro upon the hill, 
by the side of our rude cot, sounding like 
wild beasts eager for their prey. I thought 
of the freezing travellers of St Bernard, 
in the frozen Alps, turning their glassy 



eyes heavenward, when 'the film of death 
was shutting the loved ones from their 
view. Such might soon be our fate ; for 
all our winter store had gone, but a few 
pounds of rice. I had not, for weeks, 
tasted a cup of coffee or tea, or any other 
civilized luxury. However, after hours and 
days of loneliness and bitter privation, 
Bpring, gentle, balmy spring, came again, 
chasing before it the ugly impediments of 
the traveller's path, making all nature look 
gay; and with it came the dear storm- 
stayed, long-wished for one, gladdening my 
heart with his wonted smiles, and my little 
home with all that I wished for to make 
life comfortable ; for he had brought with 
him a train of mules, heavily laden, — not 
even forgetting the smallest item, which I 
had commissioned him to bring. 

On looking back upon the scenes through 
which I had passed, I cannot help being 
reminded of the poet's lines : — 

" Oh, heavens I 'tis a fearful thing, 
" Beneath the tempest's beating wing, 
" To struggle on like stricken'd deer, 
( ' When swoops the monarch-bird of air : 
"To breast the loud wind's fftful spasm, 
"To brave the cloud and shun the chasm, 
"Like some poor pelted shallop's sail, 
"Between the ocean and the gale." 

Doctor Dititdovms in search of the Pictur- 
esque, Arabesque, Grotesque, and Bur- 


On my way to Ballinomuck I stumbled 
upon an odd scene — an Irish hedge school. 
It was held behind an old dilapidated 
barn ; of which, its side, and two un- 
trimmed wild hedges, formed a triangle. 
Expecting something worthy of my note 
book, I stood behind the barn unseen and 
awaited the commencement of the dominie's 
scholastic exercises. 

" Judy my darlint," said the professor, 
have ye brought the big bunch of turnips 
the mother of ye promised last week, case 
how no turnips, no goggrify. Och, does 

she think a man's brains are like the fath- 
er's blessing to be had for the axin. Get 
along with ye and bring your quid pro quo. 
Blood and tunder Paddy 'Dooly, Is that 
the way you enter the house of larnin' jump- 
ing over the hedge in that way, so as to 
knock the master off his cintre of gravity, 
as if he was no better nor a ninepin. Go 
round to the gate like a christian, and do 
your gentilities, and show the difference 
twixt a cow and a gintilman, as I taught 
ye's. Teddy Bourke, do you know ye 
spalpeen ye got a dangerons thing under 
your arum (arm) jis now; which same I 
tould you, before to-morrow, little was the 
use of it. 

" Please Sir," 'tis my book. 

"Book do ye call it ? bythe powers it re- 
quires no dissarnment, I tell it ye, to see 
'tis a dangerous thing, for the holy Pope, 
the poet says — 

"A little laming is a dangerous thirig," 
and your book as ye call it has only two 
laves, and they are only the kivers of it. 
Molly O'Flaherty come and con the letters 
child ; sure, some day if ye make sich rapid 
progress, ye'U startle the world as a man 
of letters. What's that thing that stands 
atop of the hill that leads the way like a 
straddling handpostand points to the Great 
Timple of all the Sciences ?" 

" Dun'no." 

"Dun'no" — what's dried grass what hor- 
ses eat ?" 

" Wuts ?"— (oats.) 

" Wuts — no, hay. The next in order of 

11 Dun'no." 

" What's the little thing wot stings?" . 

The girl looking up grinning, — Your 
huckle switch. 

" Och, and don't ye desarve it for your 
attempt." •' .N o," that same is B. Bee. 

The third— "Dun'no that ?" What do I 
do with my eyes ? 

"You squints." 

"Oh!" Well, if the master miss the mark 
with his eye the scholar shall see strait this 
time. Whack 1 Whack ! ! Tell the* mith- 



er when ye gets to the home, that yell 
never learn your A. B. C. case as how, yer 
D. K F. to my instruction, blazes take ye. 
Here Biddy take this ganius and ham- 
mer into her, if ye wish to be sillibrated 
as a ganius yersel, the first half-dozen of the 
alphabet. Billy OToole come tip and pro- 
Bade wid yer spellin'. Och, an ye know 
that ye know your alphabet backards, and 
forards, and sideways, and if so be aven, 
oopside doon too ye puzzler. What's that 
letter? — (Pause.) What lays eggs ? 

" Cock." 

"Cock! — Cock lay eggs 1" Did iver any 
one bear the like of that. Cock lay eggs. 
(Load laaghter by all the alumni.) Holy 
Yargin! Has your father's wife any more 
sicb son's? By the soul of St. Patrick 
there is one consolation for ye. Ye'll be 
some fine morning, if not a Solomon, the 
next door to it, a Solon. — Prosade wid the 
next — " What's that round thing with a 
hole in it?"— 

** The next — (long pause) — What grows 
over Father O'Grady's tomb in the big 
church of— no matter where?" Give us a 
brace of 'em an ye'll guess that same " 

- Can't say." 

"Yew— double yew— N. 0. W." "What's 
the next thralegg'd thing?" "M"— good 
for you, N. has two legs remimber that 
my jewel. " What's next — the thing that's 
sittiwated in the right and left centre of 
your face, somewhere between the ragion 
of he chake and the forehead ?" 


* Och honey yer in luck this day. What's 

next?" " Dun'no?"— "Try again.— Where 
will the blaggard go that stole my pig, 
whin 'twas jist the dicky to pay the rint ?" 


"Tis jist that same. Now for the foot of 
it ? The word — not the pig I mane, ye ga- 
nius ? m 

" Dun'no." 

14 Och honey, put the steam up and yell 
compliah it" 

• Dun'no." 

" Dun'no? What's wanting to the door 
that's locked when ye'd have it open in less 
than no time for the pratees ?" 

" A Kick." 

"Och murther ye've missed, when I made 
ye hit it as plain as a pick." 

"A Kay ye ninny. Does'nt a Kay lock 

the door win 'tis shut and unlock 't win it's 

open ?" 
"Now my jewel, look out for the fine 

work, put 'em all tegither every mither's 

soul o' 'em, and tell me like a mon the sum 


" M-I-L-K." 

" Good for ye, patting his head, but 
ye 're destined some of these fine dayB to be 
the historian of Ballinomuck, and all na- 
tions will bow doon to ye like old Phari of 

"Now dove-tail 'em all thegither and 

tell me, my son, the full amount of all the 
day's work ?" 

" Dun'no." 

" Dun'no. Och 1 honey ! whew ! Stars and 
bfankets yer wits are gone to look afther 
one anither. — What does the mither put 
into her tay ?" 

" Mother puts rum, father does the 

1 Och faith, that's while the cow's gone 
to grass. Well, no bad substitute for that 

"Tis Milk my son. Milk, NowlooKout 
for the next comer; but I'll tell 't ye to save 
extraordinary exartion, and to same time 
in gettin over the ground ?" The — 

" The." 

" Now by your grandfather's shillelah 
look out for squalls, here comes a poser, 
but what's that rum customer ye'd be 
afther takin' by the horns afore he'd make 
mince meat o' 'ye darlint ?" 

" Bull." 

" Good for ye now prime boy. One more 
pull, a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull 
althegither now* What's the bull's law- 
ful wife called ? Don't be afther spakin' 
afore the thinkin', seein' and heerin'. For 
ye know that ould natur' the darlint, has 



gave ye two eyes, two ears, and a peck of 
brains to on'y one tongue. For that same 
raisin ye should sae twice, hear twice, and 
think a peck o' things afore ye'U be af ther 
spakin' at all, at all — barrin the guesses. 

" Cow." 

"Och honey, ye've made the bull's eye like 
a larned marksman, as ye are, and now 
ye're in the right direction for the Great 
Timple of Fame. Tell me darlint— If a 
Back o' pratees cost as much as '11 fill up a 
pocket-hole, how many miles it's from Bal- 
linomuck to Christmas ?" 

"He ! He ! He !" 

"Whisht, by St. Bridget ye're no fool, for 
the masther can't make ye one. My blessin' 
on you Billy O'Toole. — Saints presarve us, 
ye'U be gcttin' ould Ireland out of debt, or 
be payin' off the thunderin' one of the Sis- 
ter land afore the world's awake, when ye've 
left off the boy's brogues one of these fine 

. If you are a very precise man, and wish 
to be certain of what you get, never marry 
a girl named Ann, for we have the authori- 
ty of Lindley Murray, and others, that 
" An is an indefinite article." 

Barb Wine. — A wine has been lately 
advertised under the name of Naked Sher- 
ry. If naked sherry is like naked truth, 
there can be no objection to its nudity. 
We dare say it is very good tipple ; and 
one thing seems clear, which is, that if a 
wine is really naked, it must, at least, have 
some body. — Punch. 

" Yon look like death on a pale horse," 
said a gentleman to a toper, who was pale 
and emaciated. 

"I don't know anything about that," 
said the toper, "but I'm death on pale 

" I find, Dick, that you are in the habit 
of taking my best jokes and passing them 
off as your own 1 Do you, call that gentle- 
manly conduct?" 

" To be sure I do, Tom. A true gentle- 
man will take a joke from a friend." 


Of the Vigilance Committee of San Fran- 
cisco, June 9th, 1856. 

To the People of California : The 
Committee of Vigilance, placed in the po- 
sition they now occupy by the voice and 
countenance of the vast majority of their 
fellow-citizens, as executors of their will, 
desire to define the necessity which has 
forced this people into their present organi- 

Great public emergencies demand prompt 
and vigorous remedies. The people — long 
suffering under an organized despotism, 
which has invaded their liberties, squan- 
dered their property, usurped their offices 
of trust and emolument, endangered their 
lives, prevented the expression of their will 
through the ballot-box, and corrupted the 
channels of justice, — have now arisen, in 
virtue of their inherent right and power. 
All political, religious, and sectional differ- 
ences and issues, have given way to the 
paramount necessity of a thorough and fun- 
damental reform and purification of the 
social and political body. The voice of a 
whole people has demanded union and or- 
ganization, as the only means of making our 
laws effective, and regaining the rights of 
free speech, free vote, and public safety. 

For years they have patiently waited and 
striven, in a peaceable manner, and in ac- 
cordance with the forms of law, to reform 
the abuses which have made our city a by- 
word. Fraud and violence have foiled 
every effort ; and the laws, to which the 
people looked for protection, while distorted 
and rendered effete in practice, so as to 
shield the vile, have been used as a powerful 
engine to fasten upon us tyranny and misrule. 

As Republicans, we looked to the ballot- 
box as our safeguard and sure remedy. 
But so effectually and so long was its voice 
smothered, the votes deposited in it by free- 
men so entirely outnumbered by ballots 
thrust in through fraud, at midnight, or 
nullified by the false counts of judges and 
inspectors of elections, at noonday, that 



many doubted whether the majority of the 
people were not utterly corrupt. 

Organised gangs of hired men, of all po- 
litical parties, or who assumed any particu- 
lar creed from mercenary and corrupt mo- 
tives, have parcelled out our offices among 
themselves, orseld them to the highest bid- 

Have provided themselves with conve- 
nient tools to obey their nod, as clerks, in- 
spectors, and judges of election : 

Have employed bullies and professional 
fighters to destroy tally-lists by force, and 
prevent peaceable citizens from ascertain- 
ing, in a lawful manner, the true number of 
votes polled at our elections : 

And have used cunningly contrived bal- 
lot-boxes, with false sides and bottoms, so 
prepared, that, by means of a spring or 
slide, spurious tickets, concealed there pre- 
vious to the election, could be mingled with 
genuine votes ! 

Of all this we have the most irrefragable 
proofs. Felons from other lands and States, 
and unconvicted criminals equally as bad, 
have thus controlled public funds and prop- 
erty, and have often amassed sudden for- 
tunes, without having done an honest day's 
work with head or hands. Thus the fair 
inheritance of our city has been embezzled 
and squandered; our streets and wharves 
are in ruins , and the miserable entailment 
of an enormous 'debt will bequeath sorrow 
and poverty to another generation. 

The jury-box has been tampered with, 
and our jury trials have been made to shield 
the hundreds of murderers whose red hands 
have cemented this tyranny, and silenced 
with the bowie-knife and the pistol, not 
only the free voice of an indignant press, 
but the shuddering rebuke of the outraged 

To our shame be it said, that the inhab- 
itants of distant lands already know that 
corrupt men in office, as well as gamblers, 
shoulder-strikers, and other vile tools of un- 
scrupulous leaders, beat, maim, and shoot 

down with impunity, as well peaceable and [that in the vicissitudes of after life, amid 

unoffending citizens, as those earnest re- 
formers who, at the known hazard of their 
lives, and with singleness of heart, have 
sought in a lawful manner to thwart schemes 
of public plunder, or to awaken investiga- 

Embodied in the principles of republican 
government are the truths that the majority 
should rale ; and when corrupt officials, who 
have fraudulently seized the reins of autho- 
rity, designedly thwart the execution of the 
laws, and avert punishment from the noto- 
riously guilty, the power they usurp reverts 
back to the people from whom it was 
wrested. Realizing these truths, and con- 
fident that they were carrying out the will 
of the vast majority of the citizens of this 
county, the Committee of Vigilance, under 
a solemn sense of the responsibility that 
rested upon them, have calmly and dispas- 
sionately weighed the evidence before them 
and decreed the death of some and banish- 
ment of others, who by their crimes and 
villanies had stained our fair land. With 
those that were banished, this compara- 
tively moderate punishment was chosen, 
not because ignominious death was not de- 
served, but that the error, if any, might 
surely be upon the side of mercy to the 
criminal. There are others scarcely less 
guilty, against whom the same punishment 
has been decreed; but they have been 
allowed further time to arrange for their 
final departure; and with the hope that 
permission to depart voluntarily might 
induce repentance, and repentance amend- 
ment, they have been permitted to choose, 
within limits, their own time and method 
of going. 

Thus far, and throughout their arduous 

dnties, they have been, and will be guided 
by the most conscientious convictions of 
imperative duty; and they earnestly and 
prayerfully hope, that in endeavoring to 
mete out merciful justice to the guilty, their 
counsels may be so guided by that Power 
before whose tribunal we shall all stand, 


the calm reflections of old age, and in the 
clear view of dying conscience, there may 
be found nothing we would regret, or wish 
to change. 

We have no friends to reward, no enemies 
to punish, no private ends to accomplish. 

Oar single, heart-felt aim is the public 
good — the purging from our community of 
those abandoned characters whose actions 
have been evil continually, and have finally 
forced upon us the efforts we are now 
making. We have no favoritism as a body ; 
nor shall there be evinced, in any of our acts, 
either partiality for, or prejudice against, 
any race, sect, or party. 

While thus far we have not discovered, 
on the part of our constituents, any indica- 
tion of lack of confidence, and have no rea- 
son to doubt that the great majority of the 
inhabitants of the county endorse our acts, 
and desire us to continue the work of weed- 
ing irreclaimable characters from the com- 
munity, we have, with deep regret, seen that 
some of the State authorities have felt it 
their duty to organize a force to resist us. 
It is not impossible for us to realize that 
not only those who have sought place prin- 
cipally with a view to public plunder, but 
also those gentlemen who, in accepting 
offices to which they were honestly elected, 
have sworn to support the laws of the State 
of California, find it difficult to reconcile 
their supposed duties with acquiescence in 
the acts of the Committee of Vigilance, 
since they do not reflect that, perhaps, more 
than three-fourths of the people of the en- 
tire State sympathize with and endorse our 
efforts ; and as that all law emanates from 
the people, so that, when the laws thus en- 
acted are not executed, the power returns 
to the people, and is theirs, whenever they 
may choose to exercise it. These gentle- 
men would not have hesitated to acknow- 
ledge this self-evident truth, had the people 
chosen to make their present movement a 
complete revolution, recalled all the power 
they had delegated, and re-issued it to new 
agents, under new forms. 

Now, because the people have not seen 
fit to resume all the powers they have con- 
fided to executive or legislative officers, it 
certainly does not follow that they cannot, 
in the exercise of their inherent povereign 
power, withdraw from corrupt and unfaith- 
ful servants the authority they have used 
to thwart the ends of justice. 

Those officers, whose mistaken sense of 
duty leads them to array themselves against 
the determined action of the people, whose 
servants they have become, may be respect 
ed, while their error may be regretted ; but 
none can envy the future reflections of that 
man who, whether in the heat of malignant 
passion, or with the vain hope of preserving 
by violence a position obtained through 
fraud and bribery, seeks, under the color of 
law, to enlist the outcasts of society, as a 
hireling soldiery in the service of the State, 
or urges criminals, by hopes of plunder, to 
continue, at the cost of civil war, the reign 
of ballot-box staffers, suborners of witnesses, 
and tamperers with the jury-box. 

The Committee of Vigilance believe that 
the people have entrusted to them the duty 
of gathering evidence, and, after due trial, 
expelling from the community those ruffians 
and assassins, who have so long outraged 
the peace and good order of society, violated 
the ballot-box, overridden law, and thwarted 

Beyond the duties incident to this, we 
do not desire to interfere with the details 
of government. 

We have spared and shall spare no efforts 
to avoid bloodshed or civil war, but, unde- 
terred by threats or opposing organizations, 
shall continue, peaceably if we can, forcibly 
if we must, this work of reform, to which 
we have pledged our lives, our fortunes, and 
our sacred honor. 

Our labors have been arduous, our delib- 
erations have been cautious, our determina- 
tions firm, our counsels prudent, our mo- 
tives pure ; and, while regretting the impe- 
rious necessity which called us into action, 
we are anxious that this necessity should 



exist do longer ; and when our labors shall 
have been accomplished — when the commu- 
nity shall be freed from the evils it has so 
long endured — when we have insured to our 
citizens an honest and vigorous protection 
of their rights, — then the Committee of 
Vigilance will find great pleasure in resign- 
ing their power into the hands of the people, 
from whom it was received. 

[Published by order of the Committee.] 

33, Secretary. 

r Seal of the) 
\ Committee, J 


We cannot refrain from clipping the fol- 
lowing beautiful sentiment from ' Meister 
Karl's Sketch Book,' entitled ' The Night 
of Heaven/ it is so full of touching tender- 
ness and feeling : 

4 It is dark when the honest and honora- 
ble man sees the results of long years swept 
cruelly away by the grasp of knavish, 
heartless adversity. It is dark when he 
(eels the clouds of sorrow gather around, 
and knows that the hopes and happiness of 
others are fading with his own. But in 
that hour the memory of past integrity will 
be a true consolation, and assure him, even 
here on earth, gleams of light in heaven ! 

1 It is dark, when the dear voice of that 
sweet child, once so fondly loved, is no more 
heard around in murmurs. Dark, when the 
little pattering feat no more resound with- 
out the threshbold, or ascend, step by step, 
the stairs. Dark, when some well-known 
melody recalls the strain once oft attuned 
by the childish voice, now hushed in death 1 
Darkness, indeed; but only the gloom 
which heralds the day spring of immortali 
ty and the infinite light of heaven ! 

* It is dark, when, in later life, we tread 
the scene of long-vanished pleasures — pleas- 
ures pure and innocent, whose memory has 
often thrilled our soul — whose voices, like 
those of some phantom-band, are ever sweet 
and sad ; but never sadder than when chi- 
ming with the after-echo, ' We return no 


more V Ring as ye will, sweet voices, there 
are loftier joys awaiting in the golden 
Eden-Land, which lies beyond the sunset of 
life, and is gladdened by the light above, in 
heaven ! 

1 It is dark, very dark, when the grim 
hand of sickness has passed fearfully over 
us with its deathly magnetic stroke, and 
left behind the life-enduring sorrows of 
blindness, decrepitude, or debility. It is 
dark, sadly dark, when we are neglected for 
the fair and comely, who abound in this gay 
and heartless world. Cheer up, thou poor 
sufferer ; for there be those among the an- 
gels who love thee, and thou wilt yet shine 
fair as they, when touched by the light 
above, in heaven ! 

1 It is dark in the heart of man all over 
this fair, green world. It is dark beneath 
the noon-day sky—dark in the sun-ray, the 
moon-beam, — the star-light. But for the 
true heart and trusting soul, who lives in 
the life of love and gentleness ; there beam- 
eth ever, a light of joy from Heaven 1' 

" I wonder what has become of the snuf- 
fers ? " said Mrs. Johnson, " I have been 
lookirg for them all the evening, and can't 
find them high or low." 

Nobody could give any information. 

After a while the hired Dutchman get- 
ting sleepy, commenced pulling off his boots 
preparatory to going to bed. 

« All dis day," said he, " I tink I got 
some little grable stones in my boots, I kess 
I kit 'em out now." 

He turned up his boot and poured out 
the snuffers. 

" Pa, I planted aome potatoes in our gar- 
den, and what do you think came up? " 

" Why, potatoes, of course." 

" No, sir-ee, there came up a drove of 
hogs and eat them all." 

Lost ! A lawyers conscience, somewhere 
between the court house and the post office ; 
but as it was nearly worn threadbare, no 
great reward will be paid for it. 



Away, away to duty, no longer linger now, 
Merchant leave the counting-room, Farmer leave the plow ; 

Miner drop the heavy pick, Trader leave thy wares, 
Artizan, Mechanic, now, assume your country's cares ; 

The Ballot-box is naught to thee, 'tis wrested from thy power. 
Thy fathers purchased it with blood, and left it as thy dower ; 

But villains of the darkest dye, have wrested it from thee, 
And now stand up a freeman, or forever bend the knee. 

Who fill tby posts of honor ? are they honest men and free ? 
Will they ever be found faithful to thy country or to thee ? 

Are they men of sterling wisdom ? elected by one voice ? 
The best men in the nation? the people's only choice? 

Blush now to own the truth, and hang thy head with shame, 
Thy rulers have been rowdies — and disgraced to thee thy name, 

Loafers bribed by hireling gold — knaves of a foreign shore, 
Murderers, convicts, bullies — how I blush to name them o'er. 

Freeman be up and doing, thy country calls for thee, 
No longer look discouraged, no longer bend the knee; 

Dare to assert thy rights — fight for them if ye must, 
And yield not till your life's blood is mingled with the dust ; 

Upon the pine-clad mountain, deep in the fertile vale, 
Is heard the infant orphan's cry, the widow's bitter wail : 

And villains of the darkest dye would take thy life from thee, 
But rise up now a freeman, or forever bend the knee. 

Then husbands, fathers, brothers, sons, all vigilant be now, 
For curs'd is he who would look back with hand upon the plow ; 

The work of reformation has scarcely yet begun, 
Then shrink not back from duty, till faithfully 'tis done ; 

The future of this golden west is now within thy hands, 
Wilt thou give it noble freedom ? or succumb to knavish bands : 

Wives, mothers, sisters, daughters are pleading now for thee, 
So now stand up a freeman, or forever bend the knee. 

Then away, away to duty, 'tis woman bids thee go, 
Though her soul is full of sadness — her heart with deepest woe ; 

Oh ! 'tis a fearful thing we know — we've thought it o'er and o'er, 
Yet, though we love thee dearly, we love thy honor more. 

Then come to us thou nobly brave, we'll gird thy armor on, 
And then go kneel in prayer, till the battle's lost or won : 

Tes, women will thy armor bring, and gird it on to thee, 
Then stand up now, a freeman, or forever bend the knee ! 

San Francisco, May, 1856. Carrie D. 




From advance sheets or Lloyd's forth- 
coiuitig Steamboat Directory, we see that 
lie gives the credit of the invention of the 
iteuuboat to John Fitch, and not to Rob 
ert Fulton. He produces good authority 
to sustain him in his assertions, and the 
friends of Fitch will no doubt be glad to 
tod justice will be done in this work. It 
appears that John Fitch invented and 
■ade a successful trial trip with his steam- 
boat at Philadelphia, in 1786, whjch aver 
aged nearly eight miles an hour, and that 
afterwards, while he was in Paris, trying 
to obtain aid from the French government 
to further his objects, he met Robert Ful- 
ton, who v, as there with his submarine ba t- 
tery for blowing op ships ; and Fulton, by 
pretending to take great interest in John 
Fitch, obtained plans and drawings of his 
tteamboat by giving him some milk and 
wter letters to various persons. Poor 
Fitch remained in Europe some time, try- 
in; to get capitalists to advance him funds 
to prosecute his great invention, but with- 
out success. They called him craiy, little 
fanning of the prize they were losing. 
Meantime, Robert Fulton returned to New 
York, and obtaining funds from Chancellor 
livingston, built the steamer " Clermont," 
w the North River, in 180G, using in her 
oae of Watt's improved steam engines or- 
fertd from England. This was folly twen- 
ty years after John Fitch had demonstrated 
the practicability of stemming the mighty 
Uisnssippt with the steamboat In 1811, 
Robert Fulton and Livingston claimed the 
ncltitivc privilege of navigating the Ohio 
ind Mississippi by steam. Several boats 
*ere thus tied up, but at the great trial io 
Jfew York, it was satisfactorily and con- 
dasively proved that Robert Fulton was 
not the inventor of the steamboat, but to 
John Fitch belonged the high honor of Grot 
■ming in this wonderful discovery. — Cm- 
anati Timet. 


The above interesting specimen of hu- 
manity was our next door neighbor in For- 
ty-hike : we onght, perhaps, to say that he 
lived nest door, but he never crowded life 
so mnch as to live anywhere — he merely 
staid there. His appearance generally re- 
minded yo»of a pair of sugar tongs, with 
a jacket and hat upon them, his legs having 
monopolized three-fifths of the individual ; 
moreover, he was capable of enduring a 
vast amount of ease, but his greatest enemy 
could never accuse him of being caught at 
work, for the conclusive reason that he did 
not like work well enough, even to lie down 
beside it; lest it might entrap him unawares 
to doing any. He was ooce invited to en- 
gage in it for exercise, but he gave the 
beautiful answer — "nary time, not as I ooze 

Having adesire to be rich — for that whis- 
pered of Bbady trees, on sunny days — like 
many others he resolved to try his luck at 
"monte," and to raise a stake he crept 



stealthily to his father's pockets, on a pros- 
pecting trip, while he was asleep, and took 
the money ; always leaving the industrious 
old man without any. 

A neighbor residing in the adjoining cab- 
in, after telling us the exploits of "that lazy 

cuss," wound up his story with "ef that ere 
boy b'long'd to me, I wouldn't like to kill 
the boy edzactly, but darn me if I wouldn't 
trade him for a dog, and I'd kill the dog — 

ftitaf <&Mt 


Our social chat this month will be very 
short for two reasons; first, because we 
have but little to say, and next, because we 
have but few contributors ; and they are 
our old acquaintances and friends — with 
whom we have spent many gossiping hours 
and hope to do again. We shall be happy, 
however, to increase the number, and hope 
that many will take an interest in our 
Magazine, and send us their sunny thoughts 
with which to brighten and enliven its 

We wish to make it as truly Galifornian 
as we can, in every feature. We hope that 
many of our old acquaintances in the moun- 
tains, will write us something racy, and 
terse, and good, and when they get off a 
good joke, to send it to us. When they 
have a good story, let them give ourselves 
and our readers the benefit of it. We shall 
allow the ladies to abuse the gentlemen, and 
give the gentlemen an opportunity to de- 
fend themselves, or get some lady friend to 
do it for them ; and we — with their permis- 
sion — will see fair-play. We wish to en- 
courage intellectual sport, and to scatter 
good humor freely, and, with your assist- 
ance, kind reader, we hope to make our 
Magazine as welcome to all, as would be a 
ray of sunlight on a cloudy day. 

We cordially invite contributions from 
ladies and geutlemen of literary taste and 
education, upon any and every subject in- 
teresting to Californians. And as we wish 
to present as great a variety as possible, 
we would suggest brevity — in their favors. 

To our juvenile friends, we wish to say, 
that we shall reserve a little corner for 
their compositions, as we wish to encourage 
them to cultivate a taste for writing. 

We have received the following, and in- 
sert it, by way of commencement : 


Ton pretty little beauteous things, 

I wonder if in Heaven, 

Angela wear you on their wings, 

Or but to us are given. 


We think that the thought is very pret- 
ty, Mary ; and, that by-and-by you will do 
much better. 

We would make a few suggestions to our 
young friends. Let your communications be 
short, and to the purpose. If you have but 
one thought, express it clearly, and then 
leave it — do not spin it out to make more 
of it, as that is a very bad habit — rather 
seek to add other thoughts to the one 

From our friend Sacramento, we have re- 
ceived an interesting description of a 
" Wedding Tour/' and we don't wonder 
that they enjoyed it : 

" Imagine a party of four old bachelors — 
all professional men, [we should think so, — 
but why haven't you proposed, as well as 
professed?] leaving the lively sounds of city 
life at the Capitol, on a journey of eighty or 
one hundred miles to witness — what they 
have so long sought in vain — the marriage 

" You can and will appreciate our em- 
barrassment, as you have had many years 
of experience, [don't expose us, Sac. !] in 
our way : but we bejieve you are not be 
yond redemption, as your praiseworthy un 



dertaking will, doubtless, bring you inti- 
mately with the soul-stirring constellation — 
some of the bright stars of which are known 
as ' Kattie King/ ' Jennie/ ' Bessie/ 'Stel- 
la' and a host of others, and this being 
Leap Tear there is a faint hope left us, 
[Sac ! Sac. H that we may yet be smiled 
upon ; our modesty thus far having prevent- 
ed us from making any serious demonstra- 
tion. Bat to the subject. Our party, after 
a six hour's ride on the banks and through 
the beautiful valley ol the Sacramento, ar- 
rived in the flourishing city of M , and 

here we remained for the night. 

11 At early dawn, the following morning, 
our barouche was rattling through the 
streets, and on our way to the festive scene. 
The sun soon arose in unclouded brilliancy 
above the snow-capped Sierras, and we 
continued our journey through a paradise 
of beautiful flowers ; the choral songs of 
birds giving melody, life, and joy to the oc- 

"Among our party might be classed the 
Judicial, Musical, Medical and Legislative 
departments : and as we all felt gay, the 
merry laugh, and pleasant joke, made our 
morning ride one or great pleasure and en- 

" We next find ourselves seated at break- 
fast at B., about 10 miles from M . The 

landlord and lady seemed more than usually 
attentive, the table was loaded down with 
chickens, eggs, pies, cakes and sweetmeats 
of every kind. Our city caterer was * no- 
whar.' If such was to be our reception 
eTervwbere, we only wished our friends 
would marry often. 

"We now began to thread our way 
among the craggy hills and deep canons ; 
new and varied scenery was continually 
presenting itself, until we arrived at B-ville, 
the place of our destination, here we were, 
received with equal, if not more cordiality 
by Mr. and Mrs. K., and the bridal party, 
who were ready and waiting for our arri- 
val. The trying time was at hand ; when 
we were to meet the bridal pair, (two 
couples) for the last time in a life of single 

" Now appeared the brides and bride- 
rooms, the former beautiful in appearance. 
Many regretted they had not themselves 
proposed, but it was now too late, all was 
wit ! 0! • procrastination, thief of time' 
*nd happiness ! How often have I been 
ruined by thee ! [served you right, eh !] 
We resolved to object to the ceremonies, 
1 *U was vanity,' — we were doomed to re- 
?*ui a little longer in old bachelordom, but 
it's not our fault It is Leap Tear and 

we are ready and willing to receive pro- 
posals [111] 

" The two couples were united with the 
one ceremony. They passed through it 
bravely. Next came the salutations and 
congratulations of the bridegrooms, and 
kissing the brides. This latter was de- 
clared to be the most interesting, touching, 
and satisfactory portion of the whole cere- 
mony. All was life and merriment until 
the wedding-supper, which served to in- 
crease the joy of the large company assem- 
bled. Toasts went the rounds. The great 
objects of attention were the bridal pairs. 
[We do not doubt it.] They were dressed 
in most tasteful array. 

" We all seemed enchained to our seats by 
some magnetic power, until " music arose 
with its voluptuous swell," when, with one 
unanimous bound, the spell was broken, 
and the dance began. 

"Soft eyes looked love to eyes that spake again, 

( ' And all went merry as a marriage bell. 

"On with the dance : let joy be uneonfined. 

" No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet, 

"To chase the glowing hours with flying feet" — 

was the sentiment beating in every heart. 
Each separated, believing his cup of joy 
had been filled ; and many a confirmed old 
bachelor resolved to reform this night, and 
become a man. 

" Now, dear Ed — , if you will give us an 
introduction, through your columns, to 
Bessie, Jennie, Katie, or any of those phi- 
lanthropic spirits, who have so frequently, 
through the press, thrown so many sun- 
beams into tne " social circle," you will 
greatly oblige; and I will communicate 
with you again, poco mas, upon my matri- 
monial prospects. Adieu, Sacramento." 

[We should be happy to give you an in- 
troduction through our columns, " Sacra- 
mento," to the fair ladies named — with their 
permission — but we regret to say, as yet, 
we have not had that pleasure ourselves, 
and as you are better looking than we are, 
we 'might prefer the first chance — is that 
right ?] 

Cheataoe. — This is a new word, coined 
to meet the exigencies of political parties. 
"Cheatage"is considered one of the most 
profitable perquisites of office, as well as the 
main stay in political tactics. Politicians 
cheat each other, cheat the people, and not 
unfrequently cheat — themselves. But there 
is one Old Fellow they can't cheat-he is sure 
to get his own 1 

fttartj Uofea. 

Letters to the People on Health and Happi- 
ness, by Ml8S B&BCHKR. 

Allen & Spier have kindly placed npon 
our table this instructive little volume. 
To our readers, we can cordially recommend 
it as one of the most useful books of the 
present day. It is familiar, clear, and com- 
prehensive. The lady has evidently entered 
upon her task with a desire to be useful to 
all — especially to her Bex. There is noth- 
ing tedious in it ; there is no false modesty 
about it, but its earnest teachings and 
common sense facts speak home to the bet- 
ter judgment of all. If you would have 
health in preference to sickness, beauty to 
deformity, cheerfulness to melancholy, read 
and practice the contents of this little 

To the Noisy Carrier Co., we are indebt- 
ed for a hearty laugh over 

Plu'Ri-Bus-Tah, a Song that's by no Au- 
thor — A Deed without a Name — Perpetra- 
ted by Q. K. Philander Doesticks, P. B. 

We are tempted to give the following 

extracts : 


I refuse to apologize. 

When I began this work, I assumed the 
right to distort facts, to mutilate the rec- 
ords, to belie history, to outrage common 
sense, and to speak as I should please, about 
all dignitaries, persons, places, and events, 
without the slightest regard for truth or 

I have done it. 

I intended to compose a story without 
plot, plan, or regard for the rules of grammar 

I have done it. 

I intended to write a poem in defiance of 
precedent, of prosody, and of the public. 

I have done it. 

I intended to upset all commonly received 
ideas of Chronology, and to transpose 
dates, periods, epochs and eras, to suit my 
own convenience. 

I have done it. 

I intended not only to make free with the 
heathen Gods, and to introduce some of 
them into our modern " Best Society," but 
also to invent a mythology of my own, and 
get up home-made deities to suit myself. 

I have done it. 

I intended to slaughter the American 
Eagle, cut the throat of the Goddess of 
Liberty, annihilate the Yankee nation, and 
break things generally ; and I natter my- 
self that — I have done it. 

If you are discontented with the story — 
if the beginning does not suit you — if the 
middle is not to your taste — if you are not 
pleased with the catastrophe — if you don't 
like my disposition of the characters — if 
you find fault with my imaginative facts — 
if you think the poetry is n't genuine — if, 
in fact, you are dissatisfied with the per- 
formance, you had better go to the door- 
keeper and get your money back, for, I 
repeat it, I refuse to apologize. 

What are you going to do about it ? 


Don't you ask me, whence this burlesque ; 
Whence this captious fabrication, 
With its huge attempt at satire, 
With its effort to be funny, 
With its pride in Yankee spirit, 
With its love of Yankee firmness, 
With its flings at Yankee fashions, 
With its slaps at Yankee humbug, 
With its hits at Yankee follies, 
And its scoffs at Yankee bragging, 
With its praise of all that's manly, 
All that's honest, all that's noble, 
With its bitter hate of meanness, 
Hate of pride and affectation. 
With its scorn of slavish fawning, 
Scorn of snobs, and scorn of flunkies, 
Scorn of all who cringe before the 
Dirty but " almighty dollar ?•• 

Don't you ask — for I shan't tell you, 
Lest yon, too, should be a Yankee 
And should turn and sue for libel, 
Claiming damage, God knows how much. 
In the language of " 2< ©twrt ««t*«v" we 

"Ye, who love to laugh at nonsense, 
Love the stilted lines of burlesque, 
. Want to read a song historic, 
Want to read a song prophetic, 
Want to read a mixea-up story 
Full of facta and real transactions, 
Which you know are true and life-like — 
Also full of lies and fictions, 
Full of characters of fancy 
And imaginary people, 
Buy this home-made Yankee fable ; 
Buy this song that's by no author " 

At the Noisy Carrier's. 



InoeniU lejiartmtut* 

The following examples will show our 
juvenile friends the necessity of legible wri- 
ting, correct spelling and punctuation : 

A sailor, being about to start on a voyage, 
his wife sent the following note to the cler- 
gyman : "A man going to see his wife, de- 
sires the prayers of the congregation;" 
whereas it should have been, " A man going 
to sea, his wife desires the prayers of the 


The corporation of a certain city, not 
far from the capital of the principality of 
Wales, deputed its learned clerk to write to 
a certain innkeeper to prepare a suitable 
dinner for his mare and twenty of the prin- 
cipal burglars (burghers) of the city. To 
which, in due time, answer came that said 
mare would find plenty of oats in the sta- 
ble, and said burglars lots of pistols to give 
them a warm reception. 

" When you reseve this the fust thing 
you do mind is to take the new colt I baut 
lass week and get him shot," wrote Lord 
X ***•», a notorious bad speller, to his 
groom, and to his consternation he found a 
fine animal a victim to his fine spelling, 
me+ning the word " shod " instead of "shot" 

Some Suffolk farmers sent an enormous 
turnip to George the Fourth as a present, 
who wrote back an acknowledgment; and 
mentioned that he would, in return, on a 
certain day, send them an equivalent, which 
the good clods made out to be an elephant, 
and accordingly provided! a large house and 
pasture ground for his mightiness; but 
when the gift turned out to be a small gold 
snuffbox, they thought themselves mightily 
aggrieved, and his Majesty no gentleman. 

The late Duke of Grafton's gamekeeper 
wrote to his friends: " The Duke of Grafton 
does not intend to shoot himself nor any of 
his tenants this year, owing to the rainy 
season of last year." It should have been, 

"does not intend to shoot, nor do any of 
his tenants, this year." 

A learned blacksmith wrote on a notice* 
board, "Any parson cotched on my lot 
arter this nottis, I will guv him a duke in 
the hoss pond, for this road gose nowur, an 
if you can't read inquire at the blaksmith- 


One evening when seated by the cheerful 
fireside, and surrounded by the pleasant 
family of a friend, I noticed that more than 
ordinary attention was extended to a very 
intelligent blue-eyed girl of almost nine 
years, who still sat in the circle after the 
lesser juveniles had retired for the night. 
I could conceive that she was a favorite 
with both father and mother, and, what was 
rather singular, with all of the children — 
I cannot say that I approve of " favorites" 
in a family, as it too often brings discour- 
agement and jealousy between them : but 
she was a favorite, and I must admit that 
in this family the utmost loving gentleness, 
and harmony existed. Presently she re- 
tired for the night, and as soon as the door 
had closed, her father drew his chair closer 
to mine, and pointing to the door by which 
she had left us, in a low voice he thus be- 
gan. "You noticed little Lela who has 
just given us her good-night kiss, and re- 

"Yes." Here his eyes filled with tears and 
deep feeling almost prevented his utterance. 

"She is our favorite," he continued — "our 
loving pet." — A few years ago, I had the 
misfortune to lose every dollar I possessed, 
for I had borrowed money at a high rate of 
interest and my creditor was an unrelent- 
ing, cold-hearted and immoveable man of 
iron — iron in the soul ; a man without feel- 
ing, without sympathy ; who could never 
have known the luxury of one kind act — 
or its remembrance would have pleaded for 
my family. The mortgage was foreclosed 
and I and mine became powerless, houseless,. 



and hungry wanderers. By the kindness 
of an old acquaintance, I saw them shel- 
tered in a very humble dwelling, and in the 
hope that I might save a little— if it were 
but a little, from the wreck of my fortunes, 
that I might give bread to the dear little 
ones that nightly gathered around my knee, 
I worked day and night — in vain. That 
credulous unrelenting hand took everything 

" How I loved my family, and how I suf- 
fered, no heart can ever know — but, driven 
to despair — with shame I confess it — in a 
few months I became a wandering inebriate, 
but " 

Here he sobbed deeply, and the big tears 

rolled down his manly cheek, as he con- 
tinued — 

" But, on returning home about daylight, 
one morning, after getting a little sobered 
by sleeping in a stable, I crept quietly 
within the house, and had scarcely set my 
foot, noiselessly, upon the stairs, when I 
heard a voice — her dear voice, — I listened — 
and that dear voice was nearly choked 
with Borrowful, and beseeching anguish as 
she prayed—' Oh Father, pity, oh ! pity, my 
poor dear father — oh bring my dear, dear 
. father back to us again, save my dear, dear 
father/ - 

"I could hear no more, I sunk back almost 
involuntarily upon the floor, I sobbed aloud, 
and in a few moments her dear little arms 
were around my neck, I thought my heart 
would break, and for the first time since I 
said that beautiful prayer, 'Our Father" 
at my mother's knee, I knelt beside her lit- 
tle angel form, and the father and daughter 
were together pleading forgiveness at that 
Mercy Seat, where the prayers of the op- 
pressed and penitent heart never ascend in 

" I cannot tell you all I felt in that hour of 
agony, but as soon as our humble morning 
meal — provided by the kindly sympathy of 
comparative strangers — was over, I re- 
solved, though much ashamed, to unbosom, 
my heart and seek the council and assist- 
ance of a friend." 

"He heard my story in silence ; what a 
burden of doubt was removed, when he 
took me warmly by the hand, and with 
deep feeling said : — ' You are just the very 
man: I want, to keep my books ; for yester- 
day, my clerk commenced business on his 
own account, with a very intimate friend of 
his, and I am now without one ; nothing 
could have been more opportune. 1 " 

" From that day I bacame a new roan, I 
devoted my whole attention to the interests 
of my employer ; and by a kind Provi- 
dence I have arisen step by step from a 
plerk to a business partner in the firm : and 
thank God we are doing a flourishing busi- 
ness ; we are^all happy together ; and, I be- 
lieve it almost impossible for any man to 
have his cup of joy so full to overflowing as 
is mine, and with such a pleasant family, 
and such a little angel in it, do you wonder 
that we make her ' our little pet.' " 

If children would think how much joy 
they can give their friends by their gentle 
and loving thoughtfulness, there would be 
many more " little pets," and happy fami- 
lies than there are — " Don't you think so, 
children ?" 

Vfeke the bright shell 

From its home in the sea, 
And wherever it goes 
It will sing of the sea. 

So take the fond heart 
From its home and the hearth, 

'Twill sing of the loved 
To the endB of the earth. 


In every material action of your life con- 
sider well its probable result. 

A woman's heart is a true place for a 
man's likeness; daguerreotype-like, an in- 
stant gives the impression, but an age of 
sorrow, and change, cannot efface it —Eliza 

A western editor wishes to know wheth- 
er the law recently enacted against the 
carrying of deadly weapons applies to doc- 
tors who carry pills in their pockets. 



No. IL— AUGUST, 1856— Vol. I. 


This is the name of a email group of 
rock; islands, lying in the Pacific Ocean, 
■boat twenty-seven miles west of the Golden 
Gate, and thirty-five miles from Son Fran- 
cisco. These islands have become of some 
importance, and of considerable interest, on 
account of the vast quantity of eggs that 
are then annually gathered, for the Cali- 
fornia market ; these eggs having become 
an almost indispensable article of spring 
and rammer consumption, to many persons. 
By the courtesy of the Farallone Egg 

Company, through their President, Cap- 
tain Richardson, the schooner Louise, Cap- 
tain Harlow, was placed at our service, 
for the purpose of visiting them ; and, in 
company with a small party of friends, we 
were soon upon the deep green brine, plow- 
ing oar way to these " Isles of the Ocean." 
To the dwellers of an inland eity, there 
is music in the ever restless waves, as they 
murmur and break upon the shore ; bnt, to 
sail upon the broad heaving bosom of the 
ocean, gives an impression of profoundness 
and majesty that, by contrast, becomes a 
source of peaceful pleasure ; as change be- 



comes rest to the weary. There is a vast- 
oess, around, above, beneath yon, as wave 
after wave, and swell after swell, lifts your 
tiny vessel upon its seething surface, as 
though it were a feather — a floating atom 
npon the broad expanse of waters. Then, 
to look into Its shadowy depth, and feel the 
sublime language of the Psalmist : " Lord, 
how manifold are thy works I in wisdom 
hast Thou made them all : the earth is full 
of thy riches. So is this great and wide 
sea, wherein are things creeping innumera- 
ble, both small and great beasts. There 
go the ships. There is that leviathan, 
whom Thou hast made to play therein. 
These wait all upon Thee: that Thou 
mayest give them their meat in due season. 
Thou openest thy hand, they are filleil with 
good. Thou hideat thy face, they are 
tronbled." " They that go down to the 
sea in ships, that do business in 
great waters : these see the works of the 
Lord, and hie wonders in the deep. For 
He commandeth, and raiseth the stormy 
wind, which lifteth np the waves thereof." 
" They mount up to the heavens ; they 

20 down again to the depths. He maketh 
the storm a calm, bo that the waves there 



" Oh, that men would praise the Lord for 
his goodness, for his wonderful works to tbe 
children of men!" 

Bright and beautiful slept the morning, 
as a light bretze, blowing gently from the 
mountains, filled our sails, and sped us on 
our way. Object after object became dis- 
tant and less, as we left them far, far be- 
hind us. 

" Yonder blows a whale 1'' cries one. 

" Where V 

"Just off oar larboard bow." 

"Oh I I see it— bat " 

"But! what's the matter?" 

" Oh ! I feel so seasick." 

" Well, never mind that ; look up, and 
don't think about it." 

" Oh— I can't— I must " 

Reader, were you ever seasick ? If your 
experience enables you to answer in the 
affirmative, you will sympathise somewhat 
with the poor subject of it. Yonder may 
be this beauty, and that wonder, but a 



nr nmiB bb will take a yoono c. 
* doo't-c&reiiAnui " comes over yon, and if 
til the remarkable scenes in creation were 
joat before yon, " I don't, care " is written 
upon the face, as you beseechingly seem to 
lay: "Pray don't trouble me — my hands 
an full." Whales, sea gulls, porpoises, 
and even the white, foamy spray, that is curl- 
ing over Dnxbnry Reef, are alike unheeded. 

" How are you now f* kindly asked our 
good natared Captain, of the one and 
toe other. 

" Ah 1 thank yon ; I am better." 

" Here, take a (up of nice hot coffee." 

"So; I thank yon." 

The mere mention of anything to eat or 
to drink is only the signal for a renewal of 
the sick now. 

"Thank goodness I I feel better," says 
oat, after a long spell of sickness and quiet. 

"So do I," says another; and, just as 
the " Farallones " are in sight, fortunately, 
•11 are better. 

Xowtheair is literally filled with birds- 
bods floating above us, and birds all around 


us, like bees that are swarming ; — we 
thought the whole group of islands must 
have been deserted, and that they had 
poured down in myriads, on purpose to in- 
tercept our landing, or "bluff us off;" but, 
as the dark weather beaten furrows, and 
the wave washed chasms, and the wind 
swept masses of rock, rose more defined 
and distinct before us, as we approached, 
we concluded that they must have aban- 
doned the undertaking — for upon every 
peak sat a bird, and in every hollow a 
thousand ; but, looking aronnd us again; 
the number, apparently, had increased, ra- 
ther than diminished ; and, the more there 
seemed to be upon the islands, the greater 
the increase round about us — so that we 
concluded our/tars to be entirely unfounded 1 
The anchor is dropped in a mass of float- 
ing foam, on the southeast, and sheltered 
side of the islands, and, in a small boat, we 
reach the shore ; thankful, after this short 
voyage to feel our feet standing firmly on 


Looking *t the wonders on every side, 
we were astonished that we hud beard so 
little about them ; and, that a group of 
islands like these, should lie within i 
hours sail or San Francisco, yet not be the 
resort or nearly every seeker of pleasure, 
and every lover of the wonderful. 

It is like one vast menagerie. Upon tike 
rocks adjacent to the sea, repose in easy 
difference, thousands — yes, thousands — of 
sk( lions (one species of the seal.) that 
weigh from two to Jive thotuand pounds each' 
At these made the londeat noise, and to us 
were the moxt curious, we paid them the 
first visit. When we were within a few 
yards of tbem, the majority took to the 
water, while two or three of the oldest and 
largest remained upon the rock, "star-ding 
guard" over the young calves, that were 
either at play with each other, or asleep 
at their side. As we advanced, these mass- 
es of " blubber " moved slowly and clum- 
sily towards us, with their months open, 
and showing two large tasks, that were 
standing out from their lower jaw, by 
which they gave us to understand that we 
n ad better not disturb the repose of the 

juvenile "lions," nor approach too near; 
or, we might receive more harm than we 
intended, or wished. But the moment we 
threw at them a stone, they would scamper 
off and leave the young lions to the mercy 
of their enemies. We advanced and took 
bold of one, to try if the sight of their 
yoang being taken away would tempt them 
to come to the rescue ; bnt, although they 
roared, and kept swimming close to the 
rock, they evidently thought their own 
safety of the most importance. One old 
warrior, whose head and front bore scars 
of many a hard fought battle — for they fight 
fearfnlly, among themselves — could not be 
driven from the field ; and neither rocks 
nor shouting moved him in the least, ex- 
cept to meet the enemy, as he doubtless con- 
sidered us. 

All of these animals are very jealous of 
their particular rock, where, in theaun.tbey 
take their siuta; and, although we remained 
upon some of these spots for a considerable 
length of time, while their usual tenants 
were swimming in the sea, and perhaps had 
become somewhat uneasy, they were not al- 
lowed to land on the territory of another. 




Moat of these young Beats are of a dark 
noon color, bat t,he old oiks are of a light 
ud brightisb brown about the head, and 
gradually become darker towards the ex- 
tremities, and which are about the lame 
color <■ the young calves. Host of the 
■ale and the young female seals leave these 
■land* daring the months or October or 
\ member— and generally all go at ooce — 
retaining in April or May, the following 
ipnii)i ; while the older females remain here 
Marly alone, throughout the winter — a ra- 
ther nngallant proceeding on the part of 

There are several different kinds of seal 
that pay a short visit here, at different sea- 

The Russians formerly visited these isl- 
■■rit, for the purpose of obtaining oil, and 
•tins, am! several places can be yet seen 
wane the skins were stretched and dried. 

The birds, whicb are by for the most nn- 
wrroos, and on account of their eggs, the 
nst important, are the Murre, or Fooluh 
<"uiitmot, which are found here in myriads. 

surmounting every rocky peak, and occu- 
pying every small and partially level spot 
upon the islands. Here it lays its egg, 
upon the bare rock, and never leaves it, 
unless driven off, until it is batched ; the 
male taking its torn, at incubation, with 
the female — al though the latter is most 
assiduous. One reason why this may be 
the case, perhaps, is from the fact that the 
Gull is watching every opportunity to steal 
'*> e 8K> Bnu eat it The " eggers " say that 
when they are on their way to any part 
of the island, the Gulls call to each other, 
and hover around until the Murre is dis- 
turbed by them, and, before they can pick 
up the egg, the Gull sweeps down upon it, 
and carries it off. 

When the young are old enough to emi- 
grate, the Murres take them away in the 
night, lest the Gulls should eat them ; and, 
as soon as the young reach the water, they 
swim at once. Some idea may be formed 
of the number of these birds, by tne Farra- 
lone Egg Company having, since 1850, 
brougnt to tho San Francisco market be- 
tween thret and font millions of eggs. 

On this coast these birds are numerous, 
io certain localities, from Panama to the 
Russian Possessions. On the Atlantic, 
they are found from Boston to the coast of 
Labrador ; differing but very little in color, 

It is a clumsy bird, almost helpless on 
land, but is at home on the sea, and is an 
excellent swimmer and diver, and is very 
strong in the wings. Their eggs are un- 
accountably large, for the size of the bird, 
and " afford excellent food, being highly nu- 
tritive and palatable — whether boiled, 
roasted, poached, or in omelets." No two 
eggs are in color alike. * 

The bird of most varied and beautiful 
plumage, on the. islands, is the Mormon 
cirrhatus, or Tufted Puffin; and, although 
they are rather numerous on this coast, they 
are very scarce elsewhere. 

In addition to the Murre, Puffin and 
Gull, already mentioned, there are Pigeons, 
Hatekt, Sitag, Coats, &c, which visit here 


during tbe summer, 
but — with tbe ex- 
ception of the Gull 
and Shag — do not 
remain through the 
winter. Th? horned 
billed Guillemot has 
been seep A caught 
here, but it is ex- J 
ceedingly rare. I 

Now, with the \ 
reader's permission, 
we will leave the 
birds and animals — 
at least if we can 
--^and take a walk 
up to the light- 
house, at the top of the island, three hun- 
dred and fifty-seven feet above the sea. A 
good pathway has been made, so that we 
can ascend with ease.' If you find that we 
have not left tbe birds, nor the birds lett 
us, but that, at every step we take, we dis- 
turb some, and pass others, and that thou- 


sands are flying all around us, never mind — 
when we reach the top we shall forget them, 
at least for a few moments, to strain our 
eyes in looking towards the horizon, and 
seeking to catch a glimpse of some distant 
object. Yunder, some eight milts distant. 
are the " North Farraloncs," a very small 

group of rocks, and not exceeding three 
acres in extent — but, like this, they are 
covered with birds. 

Now let us enter the lighthouse, and, un- 
der the guidance of Mr. Wines, tbe super- 
intendent, we shall find our time well spent 
in looking at the beat lighthouse on the 
Pacific coast. Everything is bright and 
clean, its machinery in beautiful order, and 
working as regular in its movements as a 

The wind blows fresh nut side, and secret- 
ly you hope the lighthouse will not blow 
over before you get out. Here, too, yon 
can see the shape of the island upon which 
you stand, mapped out upon tbe sea below. 

Let as descend, wend our way to tbe 
" West End," and pass through tlie living 
masses of birds, that stand, like regiments 
of white breasted miniature soldiers, on 
every hand ; — and it might be well to take 
the precautionary measure of closing oor 
ears to tbe perpetual roaring, and loud 
moaning, of the sea ttons, for their noise is 
almost deafening. A caravan of wild beasts) 
is nothing, iu noise, to these. 

Let us be careful, too, in every step that 
we take, or we shall place our toot upon a 
nest of young Gulls, or break eggs by the 
dozen, for they are everywhere around us. 
We soon reach the side of tin: " Jordan," 
as a small inlet is called, and across which 


we can step at low tide, bat which is thirty 
feet wide it high water. To cross it, how- 
ever, a rope and pulley is your mode of con- 
veyance ; so hold tight by your hands, and 

yon 11 soon get acroea. Safely over, let m 
make oar way Tor a glimpse of the Wat 
End View, looking East. 


This is a wild and beautiful scene. The 
■harp pointed rocks are standing boldly out 
against the sky, and covered with birds and 
sea lion*. A heavy surf is rolling in, with 
thundering hoarseness, and as the wild wa- 
ters break upon the shore, they resemble 
the low booming sound or distant thunder ; 
while the white spray carls over, and falls 
with a hissing splash upon the rocks, and 
thai returns again to its native brine ; 
white, swimming in the boiling sea, amid 
the foam and rocks, just peering above the 
water, are the beads of scores of sea lions. 
Let us watch them for a moment. Here 
cones one noble looking old fellow, who 
rises from the water, and works his way, 
■lowly and clumsily, towards the young 
which lie high and dry, sleeping in the sun, 
or are engaged lazily scratching themselves 
with their hind claws; and, although we 
an very near them, they lie quite uncon- 
cerned, and innocent of danger. Not bo 
the old gentlrmoM, who has just taken his 
position before as, as sentry. Experience 
kaa doubtless taught him that such looking 

animals as we are behave no better than 
we should do, and be knows it 1 

There are water-washed caves, and deep 
fissures, between the rocks, jnst at oar 
right ; and, in the distance, is a large arch, 
not less than sixty feet in height, its top 
and sides completely covered with birds. 
Through the arch you can see a ship which 
is just passing. 

Now let ub go to the " Big Rookery," ly- 
ing on the northwest side of the island. 

This locality derives its name from the 
island here, forming a hollow, well protect- 
ed from the winds,' and being less ahrupt 
than other places, is on that account a fa- 
vorite resort of myriads of sea fowl, who 
make this their place of abode aim where 
vast numbers of young are raised. If yon 
walk amongst them, thousands immediately 
rise, and for a few moments darken the air 
as though a heavy cloud had just crossed 
and obscured the sun light upon yonr path. 
But few persons who have not seen them 
can realize the vast numbers that make 
this their home, and which are here, there 



and everywhere, flying, sitting and even 
swimming upon the boiling and white 
tapped surge among the seals. 

Here, as elsewhere, there are thousands 
of teals, some are Buckling their calves, 
some are lazily Bleeping in the sun, others 
are fishing, some are quarreling, others are 
disputing possession, and yonder, just be- 
fore us, two large and fierce old fellows are 
engaged in direful combat with each other 

now the long tasks or the one are moving 

upwards to try to make an entrance be- 
neath the jaw of the othjr— now they are 
below — now there is a scattering among 
the swimming group that have merely been 
looking 9a to aee the sport, for the largest 
has just come np amongst them, and they 
are afraid of him. Now appears his antago- 
nist, his eyes rolling with maddened frenzy, 
they again meet, — now nnder, now over — 
fierce wages the war, hard goes the battle, 
bat at last the owner of the bead, already 
covered with soaks, has conquered, and his 
dtscomntted enemy makes his way to the 

nearest rock, and there lies panting and 
bleeding, but he may not rest here, for the 
owner of that claim is at home and has 
possession, and without any sympathy for 
his suffering and unfortunate brother, he or- 
ders him off, although " only a squatter," 
and he again taken to the sett in search of 
other quarters. 

From this point wo get an excellent view 
of the lighthouse, and the residence of the 
keepers. Everywhere there is beauty, wild- 
ness, sublimity. Let us not linger too long 
here, although weeks could be profitably 
spent in looking at the wonders around ue, 
but let as take a hasty glance at the View 
from the North Landing. 

Here there is a fine estuary, where, with 
a little improvement, small schooners can 
enter at any season of the year ; and where 
the oil and other supplies are landed, tor 
the lighthouse. Like the other views, it is 
singular and wild — each eminence covered 
with birds, each sea-washed rock occupied 
by seals, and the air almost darkened by 


» gulls. Bit ill 

ing backward and for- 

ward, like swallows, and by the rapid and 
apparently difficult Sight of the raurres. 

From this point we can get an excellent 
view or the North Faraltones, that, iu the 
dim and shadowy distance, are looming up 
their doll peaks just above the restless and 
swelling waves. From the sugar loaf 
shaped peak, and the singularly high arch, 
sod bold ragged outlines of the other rocks, 
this view has become a favorite one with the 

Upon these islands, of three hundred and 
My acres, there is not a singletree or shrub 
to relieve the" eye, by contrast, or give 
change to the barrenness of the landscape. 
A lew weeds and sprigs of wild mustard 
are the only signs of vegetable life to be 
seen npon them. To those woo reside here, 
it mast be monotonous end dull ; bat, to 
those who visit it, there is a variety of 
wild wonders, that amply repays them for 
their trouble. 

Home Italian fishermen baring supplied 
osr cook with excelled fish, let us hasten 
aboard and make sail for home. 

Before saying " good bye " to oar kind 
entertainers, and again leaving tnem to the 
solitary loneliness of a " life near the sea," 
we will congratulate them upon their use- 
ful employment, and ask them to remember 
the comforting joy they must give to the 
tempest-tossed mariner, who sees, in the 
" light afar," the welcome sentinel, ever 
standing near the gate of entrance to the 
long wished and hoped for port, where, for 
a time, in enjoyment and rest, he can re- 
cover from the hardships, and forget the 
perils, of the sea. 

Oo our left, and but a few yards from shore, 
is an isle, called Seal Rock, and where the 
sea lions have possession, and are waving 
their lubberly bodies to and fro, npon iU 
very summit ; and from whence the echoes 
of their low howling moans are heard across 
the sea, long after distance has hidden them 
from onr sight 

After a pleasant ran of five hours, with- 
out any seasickness, we were again walking 
the streets of San Francisco, abundantly 
satisfied that our trip was exceedingly pleas- 
ant and instructive. 


Sea SONG. 


Like a thing or life 

In joyous strife. 

Our ship bounds light and free: — 

As a sea gall springs 

With snowv wings 

In her coarse o'er the trackless se 

Some love to dwell 

In the quiet dell, 

Bat the scene that delights my vi< 

la » t«»pI proud, 

With her canvass cloud, 

As she sweeps the billows blue. 

Some love to go 

Where rivers flow 

Through valleys green anil fair j— 

I love the frown 

When night comes down 

'Mid the lightning's lurid glare. 

Borne love a sky 

Like a maiden's eye 

When it beamsin the starligbthoar : 

I love the waves 

When the storm king raves 

And the white seas rise in power. 

A home for me 

On the trackless sea 

In a vessel swift and free, 

Where the whistling gale 

In the swelling sail 

Is raising its ocean glee. 

.Sun Francitm, July 23, 1856. 


This singular little member of the lizard 
species is certainly a native Californian. 
Upon nearly every dry hill, or sandy plain, 
it is often found ; and, although in some 
districts of this Slate, it has become some- 
what rare, in others it isstill common. There 
are several varieties and sizes of it, and all 
perfectly harmless. It lives chiefly on flies 
and small inseels. * 

The writer had a pair of these picketed 
in front of his cabin for over three months ; 
and, one morning, the male toad committed 
suicide.' by hanging himself over a small 
twig, and the same day the female followed 
the example of the male. Upon a " pout 

mortem examination." fifteen eggs were dis- 
covered, in shape and size like those in the 
engraving below. 




M Yes 1 a voice from the stomach. Why 
shouldn't I hare a voice? Heaven knows 
that I need a voice, as loud as a fire-bell, to 
speak of abuses to which I am called to 
submit — and even then it is a question if I 
should be heard. But I will speak ; for 
the way I am treated would make the 
dumb to speak, and that 's myself. If you 
suppose I am going to stand it any longer, 
you are mistaken ; and yon '11 find you are — 
you wilL 

" I have gently hinted that this don't suit 
me, and that don't please me ; that this 
comes too late, and that too soon ; that you 
give me too little of this, and too much of 
that; and, rather than complain without 
cause, I have worked off load after load, 
time after time, until I can bear it no long- 
er—and I Won't I hate to complain, as 
mach as you hate to hear me ; but if you 
take me to be a sausage mill, and able to 
chaw up anything — from a rat to a sea 
lion ; or, from sheet iron beef steak to india 
rubber cheese — I say, again, that you are 

14 Now, I want to unburden my mind — 
and I am going to do it — and you need n't 
snigger and cough, at the idea of me— a 
stomach — having a mind, any more than at 
a miser, or a politician, not having any 
bowels — you need n't. And what is more, 
1 shall prove to you, before I have done 
with you, that I have at least as much mind 
as you have of conscience— judging from the 
way you have treated me, at any rate. 

M Now, I want to ask you, in all candor, 
what you take me to be? A stomach — 
yes, verily, a stomach — to digest food — to 
make whatever you choose to give me into 
good, healthy blood, so that you may have 
the materials for building up a vigorous 
and healthy body, and which my neighbor, 
the heart, can receive, and circulate to every 
part of it, for that purpose. 

" Now, let me ask why you — knowing 
me to be a stomach, and a stomach only — 

will impose upon me the duties of the 

" Would you like to do another's work, 
when it is quite as much as you want — and 
perhaps a little more — to do your own? 
No ; I know you would n't. Then why do 
you seek to compel me ? You don't compel 
me ? But I know you do ; at least, you 
leave me but one alternative— to digest 
whatever you like to give me, in whatever 
shape it comes, or pass it to my neighbor for 
him to work off; and, rather than do that, 
I have many times cast up my accounts, 
and thrown up the contract ; and I want 
you to understand that, if we are your ser- 
vants, we are not your slaves — or, at least, 
we ought not to be — and, as we are fellow- 
servants, we do not wish to be so mean as 
to shirk our part of the labor — to put it on 
the shoulders of the next beneath us — and 
it is your fault that the teeth do it, and they 
are not to blame. 

"You hav'n't time?' Shame on youj 
Have you time to live? time to suffer all 
the pains that we necessarily inflict upon 
you? You find time to loll about; time 
to pick your teeth ; time to smoke cigars, 1 
or chew tobacco ; in short, you find time 
to do nothing; yet everything you should n't. 

" Then, again, do you suppose that I can 
make good blood out of anything ? or eve- 
rything? or nothing? You don't suppose 
it ? One would think that you did sup- 
pose it, by the vast varieties of odds and 
ends you give me, but which, often, your 
dog would not eat 1 Do you think, for in- 
stance, that I need such hot and indigesti- 
ble things as mustard, peppers, spices, 
pickles, and fifty other things, of the same 
kind ? No, indeed ; not if I am in a healthy 
condition — and, if I am not in a healthy 
condition, then so much the worse. It is 
true, when you have been misusing and 
abusing me, by making me a distillery of 
' brandy punches,' 'gin slings,' 'rum tod- 
dies,' * egg noggs,' ' sherry cobblers,' * whis- 
ky punches,' and all that sort of thing, be- 
sides vast quantities of the ' raw material,' 
that, although I have often thrown it in 



your teeth, I have sometimes tried to bear 
it, and work it off, and the consequence has 
been, the next morning I hay 1 n't felt like 
work, and then 700 tried to coax me into 
it, by giving me all such viie trash as I have 
mentioned/ 1 

" Now, I want to be a reasonable kind of 
stomach, and a good servant, and it maybe 
possible, that, if you are willing to do what 
is right by me, I may do my best to serve 
you; and, as I do not want to be all the 
while grumbling, and giving yon headaches, 
cbolic, dyspepsia, and, in short, nearly eve- 
ry disease to which men are subject, but 
wish to lead a peaceable life, with yon, as 
well as with my neighbors, let us have a 
good understanding together, and do what 
is mutually right, and for each other's wel- 
fare and prosperity. 

"Very good 1" 

"We will premise, then, before going 
farther, that I am a good, healthy member 
of the body politic, and that you wish to 
keep me so. Is that right t" 

"Very well." 

"Let us, then,, commence with the day. 
Of course you rise early." 

"Not very." 

• "Well, then, you ought to do so ; and as 
goon as you are out of bed give me a glass 
of good water." 

"In about half an hour after that I sup- 
pose you'll want your breakfast, and I some 
work to do, as I don't believe in working 
with an empty stomach any more than you 
do, when I am well. Tou sit down then to 
breakfast, and give me something tender 
and nutritious as meat, and something light 
and wholesome as bread; and I suppose 
you would like a cup of coffee, but I don't 
need anything of that sort. Be sure to be 
very moderate. Do not, as the head of the 
firm, keep importing cargo, because there 
happens to be plenty, nor keep stowing it 
down as though the warehouse was made 
of India rubber ; be *use if you do, I have 
no alternative bit to put it in someplace 
that does not belong to me, or unship h by 

the way it came ; neither of which is very 

pleasant either to yourself or to me. 

"At dinner, also, be very moderate. 

Soup, if good, is not amiss, as I prefer this 

to cold water, for the reason that cold of 

any kind lowers my temperature, so that I 

cannot work willingly until I am warmed 

up again. 
"Then, after soup, take something that 1 

can do something with. Don't load me 
with all sorts of messes and mixtures, from all 
parts of the world, merely because you would 
appear of importance to those who may be 
on a visit to you. I am, in such a case, 
and at such a time, of much more import- 
ance to you than can possibly be your 
guest, and I wish you to remember that ; 
and the moment I begin to be felt, let no- 
thing tempt you to giving me more, for I 
have then as much as I know well what to 

do with. 
"At supper — be most careful, for as the 

day draws to a close, I, as well as other 
members of the firm, am weary with my 
day's labor, and do not like to be taxed 
with additional work when I should be at 
rest ; therefore, give me something very 
light to do, and something that does not 
want steam employed for its transit, that I 
may not torment you with horrid dreams, 
or tossing and unrefreshing sleep. What I 
have suffered from this cause no one can 
fully tell, for, will you believe it, even late 
at night, I have been obliged to bear piles 
of heavy and indigestible cake, that I could 
not dispose of in a morning, without fa- 
tiguing me with more labor than I ought 
to be called upon to perform all day. But 
that was not all : hard pork steaks are 
stuffed down, that will take, upon the best 
of healthy stomachs, at least five hours to 
digest, and, if weakly, will not digest at all. 
And then my next door neighbor Jays the 
blame at my door. If all sorts of diseases 
arise, as they do, from my being abused, do 
you not think the " time " and attention well 
employed that is bestowed upon me ?" 

"Tea, verily it is ; end when you arise 
next morning with a violent headache, and 



a month uncomfortable, with heaviness and 
kngor having possession of your whole 
body, don't you pat the blame on me, for 
ym are to blame, and you only. For, if 
you will overload and overtask, and abase 
me in all aorta of ways, by all kinds of 
things, then remember that sooner or later 
I shall serve you out — perhaps in some way 
yon don't expect me. 
"Then, again, when you — my professed 

doing comparatively nothing, 
do you suppose that I need just as much to 
supply me, and those who receive their Bap- 
plies from me, as though yon were a hard 
working man ?" 

"Certainly not" 

"Yet yon have acquired the habit of 
eating much, when, perhaps, you worked at 
the hardest kind of labor— each as mining, 
for instance — and follow the one habit — 
that of eating — after you have abolished 
the other habit — that of working. Now I 
say that you ought to be more consistent — 
you had. I most say, too, that I am al- 
ways better, healthier and stronger with a 
working man than I am with a man that 
don't work. The worker always has good, 
plain, wholesome food, (excepting some 
very heavy bread sometimes,) and as soon 
as he has finished his meal, he don't keep 
eating all sorts of foolish and indigestible 
messes, as some do. And, moreover, with 
him who labors I am always at home, for 
Au labors very much assist mine. 


u Of coarse, everybody wishes to be a 
favorite with the ladies, and I do not differ 
from others. But, I must be plain with 
the ladies, as well as with the gentlemen. 
They cannot do without me, and one would 
suppose that they would prefer a fine, bright 
and dear complexion, (without the use of 
pearl powder,) to a sickly and sallow one. 
Yet the truth is, they abase me almost be- 
yond belief. Shatopeare says : ' He that 
hath no stomach to this fight, let him de- 
part ;' and often have I wished to Heaven 
that I could depart — I know it is con- 

sidered unchristian, ' to wish to fly the com- 
pany of the lair ;' but I could wish it, as 
the conflict is more than I — a stomach — 
can bear. 

" First, I am squeezed up— I say nothing 
of other tenants — by buckram and whale- 
bone, and laced into a shape that no more 
fits my contour than my lady's hooped 
dress fits her cap or bonnet box. How 
the medical fraternity can connive at this 
monstrosity, and hypocritically go on pre- 
scribing internal remedies, for external 
mismanagement, I am at a loss to conjec- 
ture. Then, how ladies can make such a 
wide mistake, I cannot divine ; for, it is a 
fact that everybody knows — and I chal- 
lenge all the gallipots in the world to con- 
tradict it — that the natural development of 
my functions is more in accordance with 
the graceful curve of beauty, the less sad- 
den it may be. 

" Look at the lovely ' Venus de Medicis,' 
and notice the exquisite pair of harmoniz- 
ing lines that bind the sphere of my exist- 
ence. And, I tell to yon, that Pabis, a 
master in his art, and who was as hand- 
some a fellow as any auburn haired Adonis, 
and a judge of female beauty, declared that 
he would as soon marry an animated skele- 
ton, as one of these would-be beauties.' 

'Then a man cannot help supposing it pos- 
sible that the waspish figure, with which 
he may be waltzing, might, from some 
unlucky step, become two parts, and while 
he may be gracefully twirling the one half 
about the room, the other may be rolling 
on the floor 1 

u These foolish ladies, who look upon 
their Chinese sisters with compassion, at 
the unnatural practice of torturing their 
feet, in attempting to make them small, 
and by which they are condemned to ' tod- 
dle ' all their lives, yet practice the same 
tortures upon the waist, by which they be- 
come unhealthy ; and perpetuate the same 
to future generations. 

Now, this follows from abasing me, and 
expecting me to work, without allowing me 



my natural room to work in. Shame — la- 
dies—shame I 

" Then, again, only suppose a beautiful 
creature sitting down to dinner — does she 
not choose the most unwholesome of all 
viands, as if it were on purpose to annoy 
me ? Instead of dining off only two courses, 
soup and flesh, the bill of fare must include 
soup, fish, flesh, fowl, pies, puddings, sweet- 
meats, nuts, and other fruits — and, to ' cap 
the climax/ forsooth, must take a dish of 
ice cream — and, sometimes, the majority of 
these are crowded upon me at night — late 
at night. Now, what can I, a simple sto- 
mach, do, under such a load ? 

" This is not all my sorrow. To these, 
are often added pickles, of the most acrid 
kind ; and then, often, soda water, cham- 
pagne, or other wines ; and frequently, rea- 
soning that that which is good for the gan- 
der ought to be good for the goose, they 
give me brandy — yes, and sometimes whis- 
ky or other liquors. With such treatment, 
who can prosper ? 

"I know that I cannot but — I have done/' 


— Started from Oxford University, tired 
of Greek hexameters, and the everlasting 7 
o'clock bell for prayers. 

— Make arrangements for packing up. 
Garry the whole of the Bodleian Library 
to chase the blue devils, in case they should 
run up against me ; said Bodleian, consist- 
ing of 150 volumes and upwards. 

— Encumbered with hosts of presents 
from aunt's of useless forget-me-nots, white 
pocket handkerchiefs embroidered with 
learned ciphers, fit only to be used once at the 
court of crowned heads, and any quantity 
of fine linen. At Liverpool an unruly 
trunk took it into its head to part from its 
bottom, leaving me in the middle of a street 
to gather up the fragments, after affording 
foot-balls to the passers by. 

—-Slept a whole fortnight without inter- 
mission, and without once dreaming of the 
Bodleian or any thing else, and should 
have slept most probably till unshipped as 
dead cargo at Philadel'a, had not a rat and 
drunken old sea-captain, one night, broke 

through the laths of his crib, and flattened 
me into a human pancake. Saw no charm, 
though wide awake, in the poetic descrip- 
tion given by somebody, upon something 
about the wide and pathless ocean, believ- 
ing that Le had never made such an experi- 
ence as fell to my lot. 

— Just about to land at Philadelphia: 
the sun celebrating our entrance with all the 
force at his command, showering his warm 
favor* on our devoted bead, till what little 
brains were left from the somniferous influ- 
ence of the lulaby of the sea were nigh be- 
ing tile-baked. Remember kicking our 
five and twenty shilling Golgotha into the 
sea, determining never to adopt the " stove- 
pipe again. — Think the Americans ihe most 
eminently practical people in the world. 

— Get shaved, having been Beared out of 
our wits at the inhuman monster bear-like 
shape of ourself in a reflex of the side-mirror 
of a jeweller's store, made to show an end- 
less duplicate of articles. 

— Remember having been tripped up like a 
lamb, dumb before the shearer, and making 
a slight mistake, under the influence of a 
first essay of "cock-tails," of placing our 
head where our heels ought to be. 

— Put up at the Girard House — no avail- 
able accommodation — house being more 
than full. Remember being more than 
overcome, else why ! take a fancy to lie 
sentinel before the door, causing every late 
comer to tumble over ourself, by way of 
diversion on entrance. 

— Leave suddenly for New York, know 
but little about its whereabouts or wonders, 
being obliviously unconscious all the time ; 
careless of time, place, and circumstance. 
Remember splitting our skull half a 
dozen times by runuing, in our hurry for 
dinner, against a huge revolving cylinder, 
somewhere in the neighborhood of the en- 
gine. Unable to distinguish soup from tea, 
or tea from soup ; breakfast from dinner or 
dinner from breakfast. Our brain being in 
a constant whirl of confusion from internal 
and external mismanagement of ouraelt. 

— Somniferous influences again prevail, 
dream of college examinations, Indian skir- 
mishes, brandy cock-tails, cold bishops, ecol- 
lop'd oysters, lobster salads, gown and town 
rows, bowie knifing, proctor bonneting, 
Vauxhall ballooning, sea serpent, whale 
fishing, crystal palace, iceberg meeting, 
shipwreck, sea fight, police, smashing win- 
dows, breaking soda water, champagne, 
Gravesend shrimps, cider cellars, Barnum's 
show, Surrey Gardens fire works and a host 
of other incongruous subjects, with as much 



classification as if pat into the mortar of 
the brain and stirred round with a stick. 

— Awake again to renewed life, to be en- 
tertained with three small children's efforts 
to make themselves agreeable, as far as 
hooping-cough, measles and cutting teeth 
are able to elicit ; remember the agreeable 
monotony, being somewhat relieved by a 
fight between two sailors with pipes in their 
months — might as well take the pipes out. 
Endeavor to remember if our trunks came 
od board, if so, bow many we had— conjec- 
ture their whereabout, wondering if theBod- 
lekn were safe, and who had the benefit of 
the books. 

—Have a faint idea of some rapids some- 
where, named after some castle, •omehow. 
Remember denying in toto that Wellington 
ever had anything to do with them — no 
soehfool, or Nelson either — nothing but 
liver hot, liver cold, to be had — no beer, 
no wine, no anything, but bananas and 

—Land with scarcely any life at San Fran- 
cisco — which appears very much like Green- 
wich Fair, on an extensive scale. Flaunt* 
jog sign-boards, gongs booming, bells ring- 
ing, flags flying ; expecting every moment 
to see Harlequin and Pantaloon, and to 
hear the "Walk up, walk up, ladies and 
gentlemen, now's your time to see the live 
lioo stuffed with straw." " The live giant 
fifty fleet high." " The celebrated Miss Bif- 
fin witliout any fleet at all." "The lilliputian 
Dwarf wot goes thro' a ladies ring without 
squinting or flinching," Ac. Ac. &c, of the 
voluble showman. 

—Suddenly recollect, at some rather re- 
note period of our journey, having some 
trunks, one of which contained the whole 
Bodleian Library ; doubt whether it may 
not be a dream. Call on board of the 
steamer next day, find no tidings of the 
ame, threaten something to somebody 
about it. 

—Go to my lodgings, and find one trunk, 
containing half the Bodleian, but how it 
ctme there, or who brought it, must remain 
t mystery for all time. 

—Find after a week's sojourn, the bill for 
•leepiogand waking, eating and drinking, 
quite out of the pale of all rhyme and rea- 
son. Make up our mind that the Bodleian 
ought to go to support the body, and sell 
the whole Library — " at a tremendous sac- 

—Another week brings a clean sweep 

—Am amazed at the utter neglect of a 
durical education among the miners. 

Find that Latin distichs and Greek hexam ' 
eters not worth their Rait ; that the public 
care no more for Xenophon and Cicero 
than a pig for skittles. 

— Begin to think we have driven our pigs 
to a pretty market, and wish that the Pla- 
za might open, that we like a Curtius, 
might be selected to signalize and celebrate 
ourseif, and end our sorrows at one and 
the same time at all events; it being a fine 
opening for a young man under such cir- 

— Find ourseif at the Southern mines.* 
Waking up for the first time on Sunday 
morning, expecting to hear the Chapel 
bell, and find nothing but fiddling,- 
betting, horse-racing and drinking to be 
the order of the day. 

— Make our first dinner from a steak 
cooked on a shovel — putting our first pud- 
ding into a pot, and with it, our trust in 
Providence, for what it might turn out. 

— Steak rather dis-colored — pudding fair 
— no want of the hatchet to dismember it. 
So good, as to offer great encouragement to 
the culinary art. Begin to doubt, that we 
have all along mistaken our genius, and. 
calling ; and wondering, why we had not. 
essayed our talents in this department, be- 
ing assured, that a fortune would have long 
ago rewarded our ability. 

—At work eighteen months at mining ; be- 
gan with two dollars on the Cr. side of the 
ledger, and finish with a balance of Dr. 
By Board, *7. 

— Finding capita] and stock in hand, suf- 
ficent to justify the proceeding on our own 
account, commence loafer, resolving to 
adopt a more independent tone than usual, 
and instead of soliciting the patronage of 
the public, determine that ourseif shall pat- 
ronize the public without solicitation. 

— After eight and forty hours' experience 
find that our circle of acquaintance is too 
limited to ensure success, and arrive at the 
conclusion that there are arts and myste- 
ries in some professions, imperviously sealed 
against interlopers and outsiders, and that 
the nature of the beast is sui generis. 

—Come to the head of a log and take 
our seat there, as a loggerhead, for the ex- 
press purpose of an iuterview with ourseif, 
to ascertain the state of our affairs, and to 
devise means accordingly. 

— The result is the following colloquy : 
"JamteB Green, you have no experience 
in this business." " Granted." " You are 
too big for it/ 1 " What has size to do with 
it ?" " A great deal. You want too much 
to eat and drink for it. You can't even go 



without a meal without making a fuss, and 
thinking yon are going to die ; whereas, the 
followers of this profession are sometimes 
whole weeks without a skin full." " Grant- 
ed." "You are too ignorant." "Grant- 
ed." " You are not gentlemanly enough." 
" Hang it 1 that won't do I" " It must do, 
Sir. Half the loafers here are gentlemen." 
M Well, be it so. Granted. Any other ar- 
gument ?" " A thousand — incontroverti- 
bles. Ergo, let there be a nolle prosequi 
issued against you for your future well 

— Stumble upon the editor of the New 
Filibuster Enlightcner, in search of a co- 
adjutor, who engages our services, upon 
930 promise per week, paid in advance, un- 
til such time as the merits of ourself, upon 
trial, and the durability of said Filly may 

— Have doubts whether a certain article 
may meet with the favor of a generous pub- 
lic and enlightened republic, and request 
the editor to peruse it, who declines. In- 
sist that he shall give an opinion on it. 

— After some double shuffling — (through 
some defect, perhaps, in his eyesight] — find 
out the extraordinary fact that he nas ne- 
ver been able to read — only to write — and 
that the latter accomplishment is confined 
to only two words — his name. 

Gut the Filly Light, after a few cuts with 
a horse whip, having been mistaken for its 
learned projector, he having, without the 
consent of his partner, (ourself,) accused 
one of his patrons of committing an impos- 
sibility — tnat of robbing him of that which 
he never had, or in all probability never 
will have— the worth of a dozen numbers 
of the F. E. } for which he charged 93 00. 

— Commence cigar merchant — whole 
stock confined to one box of the very best 
quality, of the very best brand, of the very 
best flavor. Erect our own warehouse, wipe 
down our own counter, light one of our own 
very best cigars, take our seat, and wait 
to — wait upon our customers. 

— Find our cousupmtion out of all propor- 
tion to our customers. Suspect the head of 
the firm of being too lavish of his favors 
upon his best friend. Resolved to remon- 
strate upon his folly. 

—Smoked out like a rat, out of our own 
premises. Arrive at the conclusion that 
the bead of the firm has no head for busi- 
ness transactions, and that the soon# he 
relinquish the premises, or the premises re- 
linquish him, the better. 

— Fall in with a company prospecting, 
and agree to be one of their Go. They are 

a Scotchman, Irishman and Welshman, 
whom we will designate by their well known 
patronymics : Sawney, Faddy and Taffy ; 
which, with self, consider as fair represen- 
tatives of the talent, virtue, wealth and 
fame of the United Kingdom of Great Bri- 
tain and Ireland. 

— Think ourself this time in luck's way, 
and no mistake— making an extensive and 
agreeable acquaintance with the Long Tom, 
who appears not a bad fellow after all, if 
a good locality is selected for him to exer- 
cise his talents in. 

— Half woke up with a stifling sensation 
of heat. Drea m of being principal stoker to 
an engine of wondrously marvellous power, 
in a certain place remarkable for heat, un- 
der a most forbidding looking proprietor, 
dressed in black, with a remarkable length 
of tail behind him, and of ears of remarka- 
ble length, on either side of his remarkably 
frightful head. Boused up by the cry of 
« Fire ! Fire I ! Fire! ! ! " 

— Disposed to make many philosophical 
remarks upon the subject of fire, during the 
hurly-burly it occasions — being never more 
cool in our life— accompanied with Greek 
quotations from some of the most learned — 
no matter — 

— Alarmed at the sudden non est inventus 
of one of our Co.,Paddy the Renowned. Find 
him, after a long search, at the back of our 
shanty, some hundred yards off, fast asleep, 
he having made a feather bed in a sand 
hole, and covered himself over with the 
door of said shanty, by way of blanket, to 
avoid the mosquitoes. 

— Extraordinary and astounding discov- 
ery 1 The like never heard of —in the skies 
above, on the earth beneath, or in the wa- 
ters uuder the earth. But what that was, 
we will disclose, or not, in our next vide- 
licit, if our readers will express their plea- 
sure that it shall be known, by means of ad- 
dressing some hundreds of letters to our of- 
fice, soliciting the favor at our hands — other- 
wise, it will be forever lost to the world, 
and — you, dear reader. B. A. 

A wao meeting a very homely man, thus 

addressed him : 

" My dear friend, you ought to take saf- 

" For what ? " inquired the latter. 

" To keep the ugliness out, for if it ever 

strikes in it will surely kill you." 

Vexing. — To get up a charge of sneez- 
ing, and its refusing to go off. 




It has been asserted, that our glorious 
flae of the stars and stripes that waves so 
proudly from the dome of the Capitol of 
the United States ; that leads on and cheers 
our brave heroes to battle ; that flies at 
the mast-heads of oar clipper ships, upon 
every sea ; that floats over the places of 
our public amusements, and is borne by pol- 
iticians in every party gathering, and pro- 
cession ; is manufactured from materials 
brought from a foreign land — and even the 
thread by which it is sewed together is im- 
ported from Europe 


As stars upon the tranquil sea 

In mimic glory shine, 
80 words of kindness in the heart 

Reflect the Bource divine : 
then be kind, whoe'er thou art, 

That breathest mortal breath, 
And it shall brighten all thy life, 

And sweeten even death. 

Importance op Purs Air. — In about 
two and a half minutes, all the blood con- 
tained in the human system, amounting to 
nearly three gallons, traverses the respirato- 
ry surface. Every one, then, who breathes 
an impure atmosphere, two and a half min- 
utes, has every particle of his blood acted 
ipoo by the vitiaVing air. Every particle 
las become less vital, less capable of re- 
pairing strictures, or of carrying on func- 
tions ; and the longer such air is respired, 
the more impure does it become, and the 
Wood necessarily becomes more corrupt. 

Instead of pills, or patent medical slops, 
pot up in Urge quart bottles, pure air is 
vutly better to purify the blood than any- 
thing else. Pure air, pure water, and pure 
M. will ever keep the system in working 
order.— Water Cure Journal. 

M. Dubois, the physician to the Empress 
Eugenie, received one hundred thousand 
Mart as his fee for attending her Majesty 
°n her atcouchment. 


During the summer of 1852, some new 
mining ground was discovered in Nevada 
County, when an enterprising individual 
became desirous of supplying his fellow mi- 
ners with clothing for the outer, and food 
for the inner man, and to accomplish this 
great undertaking, he imported from below 
a few hickory shirts, two or three baes of 
potatoes, a box or two of crackers, a large 
stock of tobacco and segars, and a plentiful 
stock of bad whiskey; all these were 
carefully stowed away in a shanty of clap- 
boards, piled up rather than built, and in 
dimensions about eight feet by twelve. 
Now " to let all the world and his wife 
know" for what purpose it was intended, 
he determined to " hang out his sign/ 1 and 
being an amateur artist, he wished to 
save a dollar and "try his hand" upon 
it himself. A sign, four feet in width 
and the entire length of the ' building' — 
painted apparently with a stick, was the 
result of his artistic labors, in the following 
characters : 


&m >SEE 

W inch being translated, would read : 

Grocery Store, by J. Hall — Gall and 


t The closing hours of each day should 
bear upon them some record, as they merge 
into eternity, the evidence ot some kind 
word spoken, or some good action perform- 
ed by every mortal. 

" My good woman," said the evangelist, 
as he o%red her a tract, "have you got the 
gospel here?" 

" No, sir, we havn't, replied the old crone, 
but they've got it awfully down to New 






" The property, Mr. Dickleberry." — 
" Hickleberry, if you please." • 
"I beg pardon — the property Mr. Hickle- 
berry, consists of six houses in Broadway, 
New York, yielding on an average, the 
rental of $10,000 or about £2,000 British, 
with an nnencembered plantation in which 
the late Mr. Kickleberry." — 
"Hickleberry, if you please, sir !" 

"Hickle — Hickle-berry. Thank vou — I 
shall get it right in time — cultivated in the 
cotton-line himself, and about which we 
have as yet no positive information, as to 
its worth or annual produce, together with 
a large tract of land, he lately purchased 
in the county of Mariposa, California, about 
two hundred miles from San Francisco. 
This property, I would strongly advise 
some responsible agent to go out and look 
after, as it strikes me, it will produce a 
mine of wealth to you. Indeed, if it were 
mine, I would not hesitate to take the voy- 
age out and look after it myself. It is in 
the neighborhood ot one of the richest sold 
mining districts ; and our corresponding 
agent in New York, writes us, that he is 
receiving applications from San Francisco, 
almost every mail, for the sale of some parts 
of the property; and whose urgency leads 
to the suspicion of the discovery of gold 
already upon it" 

" I should say, Mr. Hickleberry, that 
your rent-roll, under the management of 
our legal firm, ought to bring you in at 
least, eight or ten thousand pounds per' 

" God bless my soul, you don't say so Mr. 
Suit? Wife," said Hickleberry, elated, 
" What do you think of that ere ?" 

" What shall we do with it all, Mr. Hick- 
leberry?" responded the wife. 

" Why that matter, my dear madam, I 
think will require the least of our coffidera- 
tion. Of course the banding over to you and 
your heirs this great property, will be at- 
tended with some cost. We have already ex- 
pended I may say. some hundreds in finding 
out, and tracing the right owner." 

" In course, sir, it can't a be expected 
that this here great proper-iety can fall 
into our mouths out of a hole in the clouds 
like, without a deal of expense, and I hope 
gents you will pay yourselves well out of 

" There's no doubt about that," thought 
Messrs. Nabb & Suit. 

" Now there arc some preliminaries to be 
gone thro* Mr. ." 

Hickleberry, if you please, sir." 

"Hickleberry, thank you. We want you 
to go down to Folkestone yourself immedi- 
ately, and bring up the registers, of the 
birth of Jacob Hicaberry your brother, 
and your own also, together with any other 
information you may be able to collect. 
Here is a letter addressed to our agent there, 
who will assist you in these and other mat- 
ters relating thereto. 

" Yes gents," with all respect to your 
better judgment, that's easier said than done. 
" How am I to get down to Folkestone, 
without wings or money ; I hav'nt a half- 
penny ?" 

" Bless me, I had forgotten to put this 
question to you, whether you might be in 
want of any petty cash in your present cir- 

" That's just the ticket Mr. Suit, you've 
hit the right nail on the head." 

" How much will suit your present exi- 
gencies, Mr. H ?'' 

" Well, say a ten pun note. Eh, wife?" 

"Ten pounds will do very well, Mr. Hick* 
kleberry, I should think." 

" Suppose you take fifty pounds — Mr. 

Nabb, credit Mr. H with fifty 

pounds, and if you want more, I beg you 
will do me the favor of asking for it. 

Poor Hickleberry looked unutterable 
things at his wife, aud she could not have 
exhibited more surprise, if signs of the 
world's end were at hand. 

" The Lord be our guide," said Hickle- 
berry, as he took his departure with his old 
friend the grocer and his wife from the 
door of Messrs. Suit & Nabb. 

" Amen," responded the grocer. "Mr. 
Hickleberry," said the sapient man of 
plums, breaking the thoughtful silence of 
the trio. "I shall live to see you in Par- 

" The Lord forbid," responded Hick. "I 
would'nt have it on my conscience, friend 
Hobbs, for the world." 

"Have what?" 

"The mismanagement of this great na- 
tion. The mismanagement of the poor ; 
the mismanagement of the rich ; the mis- 



management of the guilty, and the misman- 
agement of the innocent." 

44 Why Mr. Hickleberry yon are already 
coming oat as a orator, I declare." 

" Yes indeed, chimed in Mrs. Hick, you 
should a heard Mr. H. on the adultery of 
food, at St. Martin's Hall, did'nt he exton- 
ish the natives, I don't think. If you re- 
member my dear, I wore my turbot and 
feather on that ere occasion, and got it 
dripping wet a comin' home. — I remember 
we bad for supper pork chops and — " 

"Never mind my dear that ere chapter 
on the dismals, friend Hobbs heard how the 
chimney cotched fire, and you and Adam 
cotched the water from the engines, scores 
of times. Let's to business. "Friend 
Ilobbs can't you do the agreeable for once, 
and go down to Folkestone and take care 
of me on the journey, you know I'm no 

"My dear H you forget I am nailed 

as a witness on that house-breaking case." 

"Then 1 'spose I must go alone. If 
Adam had teeth enough, wife you could go? 
But that's quite now out of the question. 
Isn't it Lord Byron as says that half 
of our whole life is spent in dressin' and un- 
dressin' ourselves ? — I says, half of our 
whole miseries is gettin' teeth, and gettin' 
enough to use 'em arterwards." 

Nothing eventful occurred to our hero 
on his journey down to Folkestone, but on 
his way back to the smoky metropolis, and 
just when he was shaking off that nervous 
fear which those unaccustomed to sudden 
steam - locomotion experience, an event 
happened, that for the time, entirely oblit- 
erated all the pleasures and objects of the 

He had taken his seat in a second-class 
carriage, opposite to a comely looking dame 
invested with an indescribable cloak-wrap- 
per, shawl or rocquelaure, surmounted by a 
staring blue; bonnet, under which a face as 
round an a full-moon, with red cheeks to 
match, filled more than the space the said 
bonnet allowed. 

"A cold day this, for travelling, sir?" she 
# began addressing our traveler. 

u Wery, but 'tis wholesome, I like the 
cold for my part, queer taste marma'nt it?" 

M Not at all, sir, I too like everything 
cold, but a cold heart" 

" Ah 1 ah 1 a warm heart and a warm puss 
makes every thing wot's cold look warm." 

This was the commencement of a con- 
versation, that might have ended somewhat 
ominously, had there not been in existence 
such a being as Mr. Hickleberry, She 

thought he was the most warm-hearted man 
she had ever met with, and he in thought re- 
sponded, that she was the most pleasant- 
est woman as was. By-and-bye half a 
dozen movements at once, under the myste- 
rious cloak, betrayed the presence of anoth- 
er traveller, who, waking up from a deep 
sleep sent forth a shrill cry, as if to make 
up for the void in some part of the col- 

" Oh 1 we've another companion I see 
marm ?" 

" Yes, he's just woke up. I 'spose we're 
at Croydon now, or thereabouts?" 

" Bless your heart, no marm, not a quar- 
ter o' that yet." 

" What a fategin time." 

No compliment to me,thouffht Dickory. 

" That's not the case with me marm, I 
never enjoyed myself so much in all my life; 
thanks to your very pleasant company." 

" I'm obliged by the compliment, sir." 
" Where are we now ?" said 8ne, addressing 
one of the officers. — 

" Stop here five minutes to breakfast," 
answered that functionary, unlocking the 
doors ofthecell8 of the locomotive prisoners. 

"Do you get out here may I ask sir ?" 

" No. I have taken breakfast at 
Folkestone," replied Hickleberry. 

" May I trouble you then sir, to hold my 
babby a few minutes, while a take a cup of 

41 With all the pleasure in life, marm. 
What a fine little fellow, upon my word ?" 

The child open'd its eyes upon Poor 
Hickleberry and smiled. 

Now, sir, if you please — Time's up. 
Where are you goin' you old spooney, with 
that ere child ? Do you want the train to 
leave without you? Get in." " We're all 
a waitin' " said an officer, whistle in hand. 

" I'm looking for the 'ooman that owns 
this here babby. The 'ooman in the sky 

" I wish you were in the skies blue," said 
the officer, shutting with a bang the car- 
riage door upon Hickleberry. 

" Well, this here's a pretty go," said he 
to himself, I'm blessed. Why I shall be ta- 
ken up for kidnapping, I don't want no more 
kids, I've got auite enough to answer for. 
" Here guard, Officer, Pleaseman — some on 
ye. Here's a delikit sitivation for a spect- 
t'ble man to be in. What'll mv wife think? 
what'll Mister Hobbs think ? what'll Mis- 
ter Sint? what'll all the world think? 
Here young 'un, call out, mother for your 
life, squeak, squall, saV something, will ye ? 
Here officer 1 officer 1 1 say." 



What he did say, or would say, a twenty 
mile speed would have chopped off, leaving 
to the woods and wild?, to echo or not as 
the lymphs might please. 

" Croydon — Croydon — Croydon" resoun- 
ded through the long line of carriages, as 
the officers unlocked the doors. Hickle- 
berry taking advantage of the opportunity 
sought to be relieved of his charge. 

" Mr. Superintendent," said he address- 
a man distinguished by the collar of his 
coat embroidered in silver. "Here's a rum 
customer you didn't, calculate on, anv more 
than I, as a fellow passenger. This here 
poor little critter, was put into my hands 
to hold while its mother, in a sky blue bon- 
nit, got out to take a cup of tea. What am 
I to do with it?" 

The officer, with a smile on his counte- 
nance, replied — 

" We are up to all these dodges old fel- 
low, before to-day. Where did the woman 
get down, and what do you know about her?" 

" I'm bless'd if I 'zactly know, I was 
half asleep and half awake at the time. I 
'spose 'twas about Marden ; she had on a 
sky-blue bonnit — a stout and hardy-looking 

Well friend, from your description, I can 
take no steps to relieve you from your bur- 
den. Ton must go on to town, ask for the 
Superintendent there, and he will take you 
to the proper authorities, and if your story 
be true — " 

" If sir ? Do you doubt my word, sir ? 
Give me the lie, sir ? Do you know who I 
am, sir?" 

"No." "But! should judge you likely 
to be the father of the child, and from your 
tame story you confirm my suspicion. So 
get in if you please, or the train will leave 
you and your child behind." 

" 1 tell you man it is not my child, and 
Booner than be burdened with a charge that 
don't belong to me, I'll deposit it in this 
here basket, and leave you to post it in your 
current expenses, so take your change out 
o' that." 

u At yourperil, sir," said the other, wax- 
ing wrath. Here, the slamming of the doors 
gave warning for another start, when a 
huge goliah of a fellow, seeing at a glance 
what was the matter, suddenly jerked 
Hickleberry in, and before he had time to 
open his mouth by way of remonstrance, 
the basket with its live load was handed 
beside him, the door locked, the whistle 
sounded, and the train moved on at a spank- 
ingpace towards London." 

Poor Hickleberry found himself boxed 

up in the presence of four young city snobs 
a species of would-be-gentility, who never 
made it a practice to be out of sight of their 
property, but always wore all they were 
worth on their persons, which were usually 
adorned with a profusion of gilt chains, 
chrystal paste-diamond rings, massive hol- 
low brooches and Tommy-Cox-Savory 
watches, jew'd and jewelPd in fifty holes, 
warranted to keep Greenwich as well as 
Brumagem time. Hickleberry's appear- 
ance amongst them was a great relief, and 
seeing the basket with so unusual a load 
handed in, one began singing, — 

"Young lambs to sell, young lamb* to sell, 
"If I had as much money as I could tell, 
4 'I never would cry, young lambs to sell." 

Hickleberry beard this, yet wax'd not 
wrath. The second began — 

" I say Montague Viiliers, (each wore a 
travelling name of sounding title.) "Did 
ye ever see a male wet-nuss in your life ? 
Strike me funny, if that old gentleman 
won't be one afore the eend of his journy, if 
he has but the ornary luck of nusses in 

Hickleberry yet turned a deaf ear to their 
impertinence, he was dumb-founded with 
the cares of his new responsibilities, and 
was conjuring up in his mind the jealous 
wrath of his wife ; the bitter jokes of his 
friends, and the damage of his good charac- 
ter, should he not be able to rid him of the 
charge ere he reached home. One thing 
he had resolved upon — never again to speak, 
or hold conveise, or even be civil to any 
fat woman on a journey with a babby in her 
arms, especially if she happened to wear a 
sky-blue bonnet. 

Here our party whispered some coarse 
and low vulgarity, loud enough" for Hickle- 
berry 8 ear. His dander, it was evident to 
see was rising, yet he said nothing. As 
witA a rogue, so with impudence, give it rope 
enough, it will hang itself. 

"Will you oblige me, sir," said the third, 
"with the use of my property when you 
have done with it," (Hickleberry was sit- 
ting on the tail of the speaker's great coat.) 

M I tell you what I'll oblige you with 
young fellows, if you don't know how to • 
behave yerselves ; that is with a good punch 
of the head each, and no mistake." 

" No mistake ?" replied the first whit, 
"Strike me vertical. I think you would 
find it a very great mistake. Paterfamilias. " 

" Sooner said than done, old bu-oy," join- 
ed in the third. 

" Don't count your chickens before 
they're hatched young man, altho' you may 



be a good band at hatching, judging by the 
contents of your trunk," said the first. 

No sooner was the last word uttered, 
than Hickleberry planted with all his force 
what, in the pugilistic nomenclature, is 
called a " smasher," on the nose of the 
last speaker. The copious discbarge of 
blood from that dignified feature of the face, 
became the BtgnaT for an indiscriminate 
game, in real earnest of fisticuffs ; the blows 
resounded thick and strong, many being 
wasted on the panels of the four sides of 
the car, although there was plenty of room 
for the belligerents, they being the only oc- 
cupants of the car. In the cowardly on- 
slaught of the three against one, the basket 
with its contents upset, and the infant set 
op a yell which, blending harmoniously 
with the maddened strtfe, produced a chaos 
of sounds to be compared only to a certain 
place on a small scale — a miniature copy 
of the original. 

In the meantime the three puppies were 
getting the worot of it ; for Hickleberry, it 
appeared, had not all his life been hammer- 
ing tin candlesticks for nothing. In fact, 
his blows were so scientifically pel minis- 
tered, in tbe neighborhood of their vitali- 
ties, that be of the wet nurse profession, 
pulling down the window, had nothing to 
do for it but to shout " Pur-leese 1 pur- 
leese !*' as loud as his lungs would admit 
of. But the train, advancing at the rate 
of thirty miles an hour, gave no opportu- 
nity of any one dancing attendance on their 
gentilities. Nothing was seen but the tall 
trees dancing by, in mockery, as it were, of 
their distress. 

"Now, gents," said Hick, seating him- 
self and taking up the poor babe, that had 
been nearly trampled to death in the skrim- 
mage, " you 've received a lesson in the art 
of politeness that '11 last you all your lives, 
and a few days arter, and no mistake." 

" Montague," said the owner of the disa- 
bled nose, " won't this be a fine case for 
oar governor? I shall lay the damages at 
£50,000, and I '11 get my friend Thessiger 
to conduct it." Here the nose bled pro- 
fusely, and very opportunely ; every drop of 
which, was carefully wiped on a clean shirt, 
drawn from the coat pocket of one of the 
trio, and which constituted the whole of his 
traveling gear. 

u Tea ; this harticle," said he, holding it 
out to display the coloring to advantage, 
" will serve as a hargument, by way of in- 
creased damages, that '11 doable you up my 
fine fellow." 

44 When you've done with him I'll take 

him up. He's sprained my thumb and 
broke my watch. That 's as good as a fifty 
pound note, and law expenses." 

" And I," said the third, " will polish 
him off, when you 've done with him, to the 
tune of assault and battery with malice pre- 
pense, with six months at Brixton, as a 
rogue and vagabond." 

" Say that again," said Hickleberry, " and 
I 'll cram your teeth down your throat." 

" We shall have it all oar way, Morti- 
mer. Defendant will have no witnesses, 
and each of us has two. We '11 let him know 
how to assault gentlemen of our position 
in the commercial world." 

" Gentlemen !" said Hickleberry, " snobs 
in a comical world — perhaps swell-mob, for 
anything I knows to the contrary. As- 
sault and battery; pshaw I pshaw! Salt 
and peppery — you are too much used to 
pummelling to complain on it. Bring your 
action, gents, I have had mine, and made 
you show heavy damages, and will again if 
I am so insulted." 

" Swell-mob ! Put that down in your 
tablets, Montague." 

'* Let me alone, Coningbam ; I know how 
to make up a case before to-day." 

" Yes, swell-mob ; I say it again, and 
here's a hevidence of it," said Dickory, 
seizing bold of the flashy chain of the tablet 
writer, and jerking out a pincushion to 
which it was appended, before that gentle- 
man in the commercial world was aware of 
the proceeding. 

Whether Hickleberry saw any evidence 
of this innocent substitute for a time piece 
in the scuffle, or whether it was dictated by 
mere suspicion, the effect of the movement 
was very observable. The owner of the 
valuable, blushed crimson, and his compa- 
nions looked all sorts of unutterable things, 
as though it furnished every evidence of 
their assuming characters to which they 
were not entitled. 

By this timely manoeuvre, the trio were 
reduced to dead silence, and at the same time 
to a very respectable demeanor, insomuch 
so, that Dickory, dividing his compassion 
between them and his infant charge, asked 
them good humoredly to settle the matter 
in four stiff glasses of brandy and water, 
which he ordered at the next station, and 
they, upou mature consideration, taking in- 
to account the cold, unpromising day, and 
the hot, comfortable appearance of the li- 
quid at the window of the carriage, thought 
proper to accept it as a condition of peace. 
Indeed, such an extraordinary change 
came over their vision that they treated 




the whole as dream, and Dickory as their 
good old friend ; and even went so far, after 
the glasses had been replenished, accompa- 
nied by a large plate of sandwiches — the 
brandy and water operating congenially — 
as to accept an invitation to Dickory's 
feast, that he intended to give to celebrate 
his good fortune. 

What a pity it is that all differences can- 
not be compromised in like manner. Why 
cannot the judge in major offences fine the 
offending party in a series of good dinners, 
and by a happy gradation in the scale down 
to the least minor offence, in a glass of good 
grog, obliging both parties to be present. 
The probability is that if the enactments of 
that law were sound and practical, and strict- 
ly and stringently carried out, the parties 
would depart friends for life, instead of se- 
parating with still more resentfully unsat- 
isfied feelings towards each other than before. 



We must now introduce our readers to 
Elmore Hall, the seat of Earl Elmore. 
Everything connected with this domain was 
on a princely scale of magnificence. Its 
time honored towers, its hoary headed oaks, 
had stood unscathed the pestilence of fire 
and sword, the scythe of time and the axe 
of the innovator, from the period of the con- 
quest down to the present time. The pre- 
sent noble owner was celebrating at this time 
the anniversary of the birth of his grand- 
son, the heir presumptive of the estate. 
Vast preparations had been made for the 
festivity, to which the neighboring nobility 
and gentry were invited, and open house 
was given to the husbandmen of all the Bur- 
rounding villages and properties on the es- 
tate. This was an occasion of more than 
ordinary congratulation, for Earl Elmore's 
son, who had married almost without ask- 
ing his family's sanction, to the daughter 
of an impoverished noble house, which by 
a strange fatality bad been hostile for many 
generations, had been lately reconciled to 
his stern parent, who, forgetting the disap- 
pointment and chagrin such marriage had 
cost him, had suddenly turned round and 
received the renegades with open arms, and 
publicly acknowledged the little one of a 
year old, for his heir. 

Happy day for the parents — so thought 
all, except themselves. Some hidden sorrow 
seemed to prey upon their spirits, too poig- 

nant to be dissapated by any good fortune- 

" Clara, be cheerful. At least assume it, 
especially when in presence of my father, 
for my sake, if not for your own," said the 

" My dear lord, I will try, but these pre- 
parations remind me of a gross neglect of 
duty, and the perpetration of gross injus- 
tice. 0, if you bad but told the Earl that 
we were married at the time you asked his 
consent to marry, all had been well." 

u You know not my father, or you would 
be convinced that it were the worst act of 
my life. He would then have cast me off 
forever, and the estate, over which he has 
all but the whole control, would have been 
lost to us. Leave me, pray leave me to 
manage the matter you are always harping 
upon, without interference. Be assured, I 
am as worthy of your confidence as of your 

" You forget, Charles, that I am a mo- 
ther, and that the feelings and sympathies 
of a mother increase the more they are op- 
posed. — That horrid man that we should be 
associated with 1" 

" Clara, as you love me have done with 
this theme. It il 1 befits this occasion. Bee, 
my father is going to make a speech. Let 
us hasten to be among the audience." So 
saying, be took her arm in his, and hurried 
her across the lawn, where the rustics and 
others were assembling, to hear the Earl's 

The noble Earl was one of those charac- 
ters whose actions, good or evil, seemed to 
to be the result of the mere caprice of the 
moment. He would send a rustic to a 
three months' durance for killing a head of 
what tenant-farmers called vermin, and 
which aristocrats knew by the name of 
game, and supply his whole family for six 
months afterwards upon luxuries in food to 
which they were unaccustomed, and of 
which they scarcely knew the name. He 
would horse-whip a vagrant off his premi- 
ses, and then send one of his footmen after 
him with a sovereign, to speed him on 
his journey. He would invite a host of 
friends to dinner, and then leave word that 
he was gone to town for something that he 
had forgotten. Had he not been tie author 
of some very able pamphlets, on statistics, 
and the utterer of the best speeches in the 
upper House, upon the most important sub- 
jects, there would have been a commission 
of lunacy out against him, long ago ; but 
his actions will, m the course of this narra- 
tive, speak for themselves, and enable the 
reader to form his own opinion of him. 



After tbe Earl had delivered himself of 
his platitudes, and do end of responses and 
toasts had followed, the assemblage dis- 
persed about the grounds, to enjoy the pri- 
vilege so graciously and munificently be- 
stowed; the Earl patting condescendingly 
the heads of little urchins, and chatting fa- 
miliarly with feeble old widows, that lined 
the path to the mansion ; Lord Lovell, his 
son, with his lady on his arm, the nurse 
and baby bringing up the rear. 

As they were ascending the steps, n 
stranger, watching his opportunity, slipped 
into the bands of his lordship a little* billet, 
which, as soon as he entered the house, he 
found occasion to read privately. It ran 
thus : 

" I have matters of the utmost impor- 
tance to yourself to communicate. I put 
up at the Stag's Arms, in the village, and 
shall be there till an hour after you have 
received this. 1 need not hint that you 
must come alone, and unarmed. Fail not 
at your peril. G. L. G." 

The instant Lord Lovell read these words 
he recognized the hand, although he im- 
agined the writer had been thousands of 
miles distant. Lost in conjecture what 
could have brought this man at such a time, 
to witness such a scene, he nevertheless re- 
solved to obey the summons, bnt to disobey 
part of it, and to go armed to the teeth. 
He had suspected that he was in the hands 
of desperate characters, and ordinary pru- 
dence dictated the caution. So feigning an 
unsatisfactory excuse for his temporary ab- 
sence, he set off alone, across the fields, and 
from that time never again returned to his 
noble family, nor to any of his numerous 



u Father's dead, Sir ; you 've come too 
late," said the child mentioned in our second 

" Are you the same person who called at 
our place about' your father's illuess ?" in- 
quired one of the miners, (for both had set 
out on this errand, and were now unaccom- 
panied by a doctor, who was to follow as 
soon as he could get a horse to carry him 

- Yes, Sir." 

" How is it, then, that you are in boy's 

clothes ? I thought you were of the other 

" I did it to oblige my father. I call him 
so, but what he said while he was dying 
shows that he is not my father. I fear he 
has been a very bad man, for he said when 
he was dying that he was entrusted with 
me, to get rid of me, as I stood in the way 
of somebody — I forget the name now — but 
that he could not fiud it in his heart to do 
so, because I had been so obedient and kind 
to him, always.' 1 

" This is a queer story, Tom ; what do 
you think of it ?" said the other miner. 

" I think it is the truth. Was it his wish 
that you should assume the dress of a girl ?" 

"Yes. I have suffered very much on 
this account, and often told him how much 
1 disliked appearing in a false character. 
H>j told me that he could only be secure of 
bis life by my adopting this disguise, and 
bo I yielded to his wishes in the matter." 

" Where did you get these clothes t 
Thesfl were never made in New York, nor 

" He had kept them always packed up 
in his chest. He kept pointing to it for 
something he wanted before he died, but I 
could not make out what he wanted, for he 
was speechless." 

u Is it locked ?" 

" Yes. I tried the lid, but not knowing 
where the key was kept, I could not unlock 
it to satisfy him." 

" Where did he usually keep the key ?" 

" I never saw it, nor do I ever recollect 
seeing the chest open." 

'* Would you like that we 6hould open 

" If you please. I see no harm in doing 
so. Indeed, I should like to see it opened ; 
for I may find something that may tell me 
who I am, and who he is." — 

The boy, as we must now call him, soon 
brought in a miner's pickaxe, and after 
several fruitless attempts, the lid was se- 
vered from its hinges. 

There was nothiuj? discovered but a few 
old clothes, intermixed with books and 
newspapers, among which latter the Times 
newspapers were most conspicuous. 

" Is there any other place where he might 
keep his traps, do you think ?" 

" None that I know of," said the disap- 
pointed youth. 

44 Had he no money when he died f — How 
did you live?" 

" He always seemed to have money till 
lately. For the last month or so we have 
lived upon the money he got for the sale of 
a gold locket, with hair in it, set round with 
stones, that used to shine very much. I 



knew this by a mere chance, as the man 
called upon me in his absence, and com- 

1>ared my face with that of the one in the 
ocket, and said it was very mnch like me, 
and that 's how I knew my father, that is, 
he whom I called father, sold it." 

" Is that man in the neighborhood of our 

" I do not know. He said he would call 
again, and have some chat with Mr. Wiley 
about it, and said he would keep it for my 
sake, and never part with it." 

"For your sake?" 

" Yes ; on account, I suppose, of the like- 

" We will find him out and get him to 

{)art with it. T is strange that there is no 
etter, or scrap of paper, to tell who or 
what he is, or anything about him." 

" May I ask where you came from, and 
what brought you here?" 

" Now he is dead I will keep it no longer 
a secret. The earliest remembrance I have 
of him was in a workhouse. I remember 
that soon after he left that he kept a sort 
of school, in a retired place, called High- 
bury. He never came out by day, and 
would never trust me out of his sight. He 
had but three pupils, as he was a man of 
not much education, and read and wrote 
very imperfectly." 

44 You appear to have a decent education." 

The youth smiled, and then for a moment 
changed countenance. " My poor mother, 
that is, his wife, perhaps not my mother, 
taught me all I know. She was a woman 
who could read and write beautifully, quite 

a different sort of being to him. However* 
he was very kind to me, although he was 
very cruel to his wife sometimes. He would 
always mind me, when I begged him not to 
beat her." 

44 Have you examined that chest, Tom ? 
Sound the sides, bottom and top. It ap- 
pears to me to be of more than ordinary 
thickness ; don't it to you ? 

44 No," said the other, knocking it as he 
desired ; " there 'b no hollow here — all sub- 
stantial wood." 

" Try the bottom ; take out the things 
and try the bottom." 

They did so, and the sound gave evidence 
that it was not composed of solid wood. 
After a few raps here and there, the axe 
alighted on a concealed spring, and the 
false bottom flew open and displayed before 
their wondering eyes the following articles : 

A bundle of letters, a poignard, tarnished, 
especially the blade of it, by some liquid 
stain, an embroidered handkerchief, spotted 
and stained with stale blood, a complete 
suit of baby dress, yellow with age and neg- 
lect, a shoe, with a small yellow buckle af- 
fixed to it, on which was engraven a crest; 
a long rope at the end of which was a slip 
noose, the remains of a bottle of liquid, on 
which was written poison, and a revolver, 
loaded in four barrels. They were so dis- 
posed that when the false bottom was in its 
place none of the articles could be shaken, 
so as to betray any signs of their conceal- 
ment whatever. 

[To be Continued.] 


Oh ! 'tis not when the fairy breeze fans the green ocean, 
The safety and strength of the barque can be shown ; 
'And 'tis not in prosperity's hour — the devotion, 

The fervor and truth of a friend can be known. 


No ! the barq'ie must be proved when the tempest is howling, 
When dangers and mountain-waves close round her press, — 

The friend 1 — when the sky of adversity's scowling ; — 
For the touchstone of friendship 's the hour of distress. 

When prosperity's day-star beams pure and unclouded, 
Ten thousand will mingle their shouts round the throne ; 

But oh 1 let its light but one moment be shrouded, 
And the smiles of the faithless like shadows are gone. 

S. B. 





The " Mistress of the Seas, " as the Lon- 
don papers name the monster steamship, now 
building of iron, near London, is in the shape 
of plates, securely rivetted together. Her 
dimensions, etc., are thus described : — She 
has a doable side fore and aft, all the way 
up to within a few feet of the tafirail. She 
has also doable decks. By this means great 
buoyancy and strength are imparted to the 
vessel, as the space between the decks and 
sides is filled with air. She is built in eight 
compartments, all air and water tight. Her 
registered tonnage is 23,000 tons, with ca- 
pacity for coal in addition of from 12,000 
to 14,000 tons. Her draft of water when 
loaded will be 28 feet, and when unloaded 18 
feet Her average speed is computed at 23 
knots or miles per hour. She will be pro- 
pelled by a gigantic screw, 23 feet in diame- 
ter, four paddles, and by sails. Her number 
of mast* will be seven, three of which will be 
crossed with yards, and square-rigged, as in 
a Hne-of-battle ship, and the other masts 
will have fore and aft sails. Her number 
of boilers will be ten, five on each side, and 
each having ten furnaces. She will carry, 
in addition to a sufficient complement of 
small boats, no less than eight small screw- 
steamers, each 110 feet in length, placed 
four on each side of the vessel. These steam- 
ers, will land and embark both passengers 
and cargo. The passengers 1 berths are plac- 
ed on both sides the entire length of the ship. 
The number of decks is four, and the height 
of the principal saloons, which are in the 
centre, is 15 feet The number of passen- 
gers she will be able to carry is 600 first 
class, 1800 second class, and 10,000 troops 
with field equipments. Her length is 680 
feet, her breadth of beam, 83 feet, depth 
from deck to keel, 58 feet, aggregate length 
of saloon, 400 feet Her commander will be 
Captain Harrison, with a crew in all, includ- 
ing seamen, engineers, stokers, etc., of from 
850 to 900 men, consequently, with all on 
board, she will comprise within herself a 
population of a large town, or even oity, say 

13,000 persons. Nearly 1000 men are em" 
ployed in her construction. The contract 
price for her building is £320,000. There 
are then the expenses of her engines and the 
fittings, victualing, etc. The mere expense 
of launching her into the water, when com- 
pleted, will be no less than £40,000, as hy- 
draulic power will have to be used for the 
purpose, and the machinery employed of a 
peculiar construction. She will enter the 
water broadside on. Her deck is to be flush, 
except for cabin entrances and similar pur- 
poses, bo that a promenade more than twice 
the length of the Great Britain's deck will 
be available for the passengers. The floor 
of the ship is perfectly flat, the keel being 
turned inward and rivetted to the inner 
ship's keel.. These several skins are joined 
to each other by longitudinal webs or gird- 
ers, formed of plate and angled iron. There 
are 17 of these webs on each side of the ship , 
which run the entire length, and are placed 
at such distances as to extend upward, at 
intervals of about three feet from the keel 
to the main deck, and again close up in 
length varying from 20 to 60 feet. The 
main deck is treated in the same manner for 
20 feet on each side, and iron girders bind one 
side to the other, so that the entire vessel 
may be denominated a web of woven iron, 
the rivets forming the fastenings, and the 
webbed or honey-comb cells becoming an in- 
dissoluble structure. The compartments 
between the outer and inner skins will hold 
3000 tons of water ballast The web plates 
are of Inch iron, and the outer and inner 
skins are of three-quarter inch iron. The 
vessel will have 20 ports on the lower deck, 
each five feet square, to receive railway 
wagons. She has also 60 ports on each side 
for ventilation, and an abundantce of dead 
lights. The lower ports are 10 feet above 

the water when the ship is loaded. — Halifax 

How great a luxury comes back to the 
giver of every kind word ; and which altho' 
priceless to the one, costs nothing to the 
other. We may make a friend for life by 
one kind word. 




For obvious reasons, I am not going to 
publish who I am, where it was, and where 
it happened ; but confine myself only to the 
part of the narration, how it happened. 

I was returning early one morning, from 
a liquor house in S * * * *, endeavoring, 
as I supposed, by the little light of con- 
sciousness within me, to wend my way 
towards my little cozy apartments in the — 
we will say — Niantic. After endeavoring, 
by sundry attempts, to maintain my per- 
pendicular, and finding, as I imagine, the 
attempt about as futile, as to make a pair 
of compasses stand upon a steel plate, I 
gave up the attempt, and measured my 
length upon what appeared to me to be a 
sack of saw-dust girt round the waist, as I 
supposed, for the convenience of carriage. 
I had some idea of warmth derived from 
the same sack, and endeavored to adjust it, 
so as to derive the greatest possible com- 
fort by way of pillow. I have a glimmer- 
ing of a remembrance that it became ani- 
mated, which, in no way surprised me, in- 
asmuch as I had experienced before that 
the very lamp-posts in the street had en- 
tered into a conspiracy against me, to ob- 
struct my passage, however or wherever I 
went. I have some other idea of an anima- 
ted fight, occurring between me and that 
identical sack, that it rose up and accused 
me of something or other. I remember, or 
think I do, of having my nasal extremity 
elongated to a most inordinate degree, by 
that animated sack of shavings or saw-dust; 
that I, in return, thrust my hand, with some- 
thing in it, slashing right and left, (between 
a convulsive waking and a heavy sleeping,) 
at that huge body, which danced around 
me uttering the strangest sounds that I ever 
heard : I remembered — blood, — or some 
other liquid that looked like it, flowed all 
around me, but whether discharged from 
my unnatural sized proboscis, or from any 
part of the sack in question, I was too 
much occupied in my brain to conjecture. 

After a time, I remember distinctly enough 
that another sack, with a hat on, pommeled 
me most unmercifully ; which I could not 
stand, although lying down at it. I re- 
member that the thing I clutched, con- 
vulsively in my hand, did something, that 
soon silenced both these sacks ; which af- 
terwards fell upon me, so heavily, as to 
metamorphose them to my mind's satisfac- 
tion into paving-stone rammers. I was the 
more confirmed in this view of the case, be- 
cause they fell to the earth, making the — 
" hur" — " hur" — which paviors are known 
to make, when they, by the heavy descent, 
of their paving-rammer, jerk the breath oat 
of their body. After this, all was— chaos 
— confusion — aerial sediment — shreds and 
patches — daylight — midnight and lamp- 
light, all, as it were, stirred round with a 
stick — borrowed from Macbeth's witches, 
or with the broom on which Mother Goose 
Where am I — what's the meaning of all 

this — what business have I here — how am 
I, who am I, what am I, where am I — were 
the copious questions I incessantly poured 
out upon my phrenzied phrenological func- 
tions, but the mystery did not remain long 

Tou are brought here, said my jailor, for 
committing two of the most foulest, and 
most bloodiest murders on record ; two in- 
offensive, harmless old critters, who would'nt 
hurt a worm, have been butchered by yon 
in cold blood.. 

"How? wa-wa-wa-what?" stammered I, 

" Gome that's a good 'on, to go for to 
think, to pertend, to spose, you don't know 
nothing about it. Your a nice article 
you are for a hinsam dodger. But you've 
got the right sort o' jailor to deal with this 
time. He's a sittin' now on a — case, and 
then you'll be on the hooks. There, don't 
look so innocent — babby-like, you old 
hoary-headed viUian." 

"Hoary-headed — what! had my fine Ross's 
head of hair, turned like that of a certain 
noble lady's, gray in one night?" 



"There get in with you ; the sheriffs a 
comin' to you, and I'm only here to see you 
bound strong enough, so as to make it im- 
possible for yon to 'scape through the key- 

So saying, the brute turned the massive 
key in the lock, and left me more dumb- 
founded than ever, in almost total darkness. 
In. flitting down on the stone-bench, I found 
my hands very heavily ironed, they felt 
sticky and gummy, as of dry clotted blood. 
The thought flashed across my brain, like 
lightning, that I was in for murder. Now 
I shall know more surely, the key is turning 
in the lock, the door weighs by its weight 
open. The same brutal personage, with an 
elderly gentleman, with a compassionate 
countenance, the sight of which I caught 


Just once, as he crossed the only slanting 
narrow sunbeam, that lighted up this mis- 
erable abode. 

44 Leave me," said the gentleman, " lock 
me in, and stay without till I call aloud for 
yoo." The fellow bowed and retired. 

«H * * ♦ do you know me?" 

14 1 have not that pleasure, sir, says I." 

" Do you remember you saved me from 
drowning once, while crossing the * * * 
river, on the plains?" 

"Oh 1 I remember it well, you are T * * * 
of S * * » " 

" Just so, you know of course what you 
are here for?" 

u I have not the most remote idea, be- 
yond what the turn-key let fall in his short 

u »t is for murdering an old woman and 

her husband : you were taken raving, like 
a frantic fiend, with a huge knife in your 
hand. You have also wounded several 
others, one an officer, a favorite in this city 
very dangerously, and he is not expected 
to live, and will leave behind him a wife 
•nd a large family." 

tt Qod of heaven how could I do all this, 
and he unconscious of one atom of an item 
io the transaction.'* 

44 It is so, and the proofs are bo clear, 
that there's no escaping." 

"What ?" 

"Hanging, — but now, I come to pay a 
debt of gratitude, you saved my life at the 
hazard of your own, I will save yours at the 
risk of mine, upon that I am determined — 
come what may." 

« Dear T * * *, you have taken a load 
off my head, and a pressure off my poor 
brain of a ton weight." 

" But the how," continued the Sheriff 
violently agitated. 

" The jail is so closely guarded, above, 
below, around, and beyond, night and day, 
without intermission that I see no chance 
of escape whatever, and if you did escape 
the lives of two of my best friends — my 
own is pledged to you, and is of no conse- 
quence—would be forfeited, which I much 
regret. How could you, in the name of 
everything that's wonderful ; you, above 
all others, noted at least, when I knew you, 
for habitual temperance, so far shake off 
your own nature, and thus to implicate 

"My dear T * *, I know no more than 
you, all I remember is, that on that night, 
I indulged rather, I suppose I must have, 
too freely in drink, it must have been the 
liquid fire of hell itself to cause me to do 
such deeds." 

" Well — I have a project suggested me 
by my friend, the Surgeon, that I think 
may save you. But hanged my dear fellow 
you must be." 

"Hanged say you, hanged. Why that's 
an odd way of saving one's life." 

" Listen, my friend has been taking some 
lessons of a French artist, engaged in the 
* * * hospital, for the purpose of imita- 
tions, with ease, the progress of certain skin 
diseases. He says he will procure you a 
collar, that shall be so adjusted as to allow 
of free respiration, while you are suspended 
by the neck. This will be covered over 
with a composition, so true to nature as 
not to be discerned by the naked eye, from 
the natural skin." 

" But the weight, my dear Sir, the weight 
X *• ♦will strangle me as sure as fete, and 



I shall only have the pain of a doable death 
to undergo." 

" Not at all, be patient and hear me oat." 
W * * * * an d I will visit you, in the mid- 
dle of this very night; I will have a halter 
tied to the bar of that grate, and my friend 
-yf * # * * na3 given me his word of honor, 
that he will hang one hoar for your satis- 
faction and mine, or even longer, until our 
doubts as to its efficacy are removed, 1 ' 

" I breathed again, and the cold drops of 
sweat centering in one stream on my face, 
fell in big streams down my neck. While 
T * * * was explaining the matter, I felt 
all the sensations of strangulation, and only 
till he spoke of the Surgeon's offer, did I 
feel relieved." 

" that man I that Surgeon ! ! that con- 
centration of all science 111 I could have 
worshipped the very dust from off his feet." 

"Wonderful I wonderful ! why W * * * 
you have been hanging, I declare, upwards 
of one hour and a quarter. Do you feel 
no sensation of pressure on the brain, no 
straining of the muscles of the neck, no 
elongation of-—?" 

"None whatever, you saw I took a glass 
of water with the greatest ease." 

" Yes," and talked before and after it as 
usual. How extraordinary. 

" Do you try Sheriff, the secrets worth 
knowing ?" 

" I will in two minutes." 

The artistic springs and two connecting 
straps which I observed, passed under the 
arms were instantly released from the Sur- 
geon's neck, and the Sheriff duly invested 
with the order of the halter, in less time 
than I can narrate it The straps required 
to be placed first, and the collar when ad- 
justed fell into the sockets left for them. 
Notwithstanding the proof of its safety 
which I had experienced, I really trembled 
for the man, and feared that his enthusias- 
tic dovotion in saving my life, might be the 
means of his losing bis own, but before I 
could remonstrate, the Sheriff was tucked 
up and swung round and round, actually 
singing by way of bravado- 

Here we go, up, up, up. 

Here we go down, down, down, 
Here we go backward* and forwards, 

And here we go round, round, round. 

" I said, now dear friends let me try. In 
a few moments I was swinging in mid-air* 
enjoying in well-tried security the effect of 
this amazing invention — but to make a long 
story short, the trial came. I pleaded the 
old meaningless 'not guilty.' Witnesses 
came and went, and, although the circum- 
stances were but few to examine, yet it oc- 
cupied nearly a whole week. In the mean- 
time, the newspapers observed the culprit 
ate and drank, and appeared as unconcern- 
ed about the awful position in which he 
stood, as if he had been the merriest specta- 
tor in court. Only did the wretch, they ob- 
served, shed tears when the counsel drew 
the picture of the old man's life, thus clo- 
sing by the hand of an assassin, but they 
were glad to record that the prisoner's fam- 
ily, overwhelmed with affliction, had pro- 
vided for the family of the bereaved ones." 

u Well, I — suffered — the aw — I was just 
about to add — fui penalty of the law, but 
owing to my never to be forgotten friends, 
I can add— dience as the right syllable. I 
suffered the audience to amuse themselves 
at my expense for upwards of an hour. I 
had previously imitated (after having taken 
lessons from the good Surgeon on spasmod- 
ic affection) sundry dying shrugs, contor- 
tions, heavings of the chest, twitchings of 
the legs, &c. Ac, to perfection, and then 
was duly cut down, laid in my coffin, cover- 
ered over and screwed down in the presence 
of the Sheriff and hangman ; and when the 
crowd had dispersed, duly released from my 
confinement, and conveyed to the good Sher- 
iff's house, where an apartment in a back 
attic had been provided for my reception 
with all the secrecy of a Know-Nothing, 
only the Sheriff's wife was privy to my ex- 
istence. what gratitude could equal 
mine, when all was over, to them, and the 
giver of all good for this marvellous deliver- 
ance. But there was one circumstance not 
a little amused me, while I was suspended, 
a dirty little vender of children's lolli- 



pops kept interrupting my meditation by 
crying oat, " Here's your H * * * lollipops, 
a bit an ounce, a bit an ounce — H * * * 
bloody lollipops, by em up — by em up." 1 
really felt inclined to kick the fellow, as he 
passed under the drop, my heels almost 
touching his head as he passed me, but thi 3 
would have spoiled all. Now for the 

What in the world possessed me — to 
this very day — I know not, but come what 
may, I was resolved to follow my own fu- 
neral. For my friends, although the Sher- 
iff had turned a deal ear to their earnest en- 
treaties, wished to have the corpse dressed 
their own fashion, but he would not let them 
even see it. And many an epithet did they 
heap upon him for his unaccountable hard- 
heartednesa, it was adding misery to pain. 
It was rankling a wound, it was skinning 
a half-covered cicatrice — it was striking 
the coward's blow on those who were pros- 
trate ; nevertheless he was as deaf as a 
door-nail. The law knew no distinctions, 
and he knew no law why it should, he was 
premptory, they might follow it if they 
pleased, but, to lay hands upon it — the first 
relative who dared, should have the morti- 
fication of knowing that he was the means 
of adding ignominy to disgrace, by causing 
it to be buried without ceremony. 

Before dawn I arose, I had no sleep all 
night— I entrusted no one with the merit 
of my intention — I looked at myself in the 
glass— my black whiskers and moustache 
shall take their departure — the walnut dye 
—oh 1 here it is — now for a change — heigh 
—presto— there's the last stroke of the ra- 
«or. I am another man — I know not my- 
self— as for any living creature recognizing 
me— that's impossible. Now the cap — I 
usually wore a hat — now the seedy black — 
I never wore black, no one had ever seen me 
habited in black, and even my own brother 
at my dear father's funeral, was obliged to 
ftpeoe me into a farming man's coatee that 

he borrowed. 

The disguise— complete— unique— unap- 
proachable — inimitable. I may with per- 

fect safety sally forth, — the crowd collect. 
I open my little two-pane square, let my- 
self down by a rope, alight in the middle of 
a pig-sty surrounded by four high sides — 
make my way out. Go up the little alley 
out into the street — fall in the ranks, recog- 
nize all my brother's household walking in 
deep affliction, saying to sorrow, "Thou art 
my brother; and to consolatioo, Be ye far 
from me." I select a stranger, who held 
up his head and appeared in the walking 
part of the procession, pro forma. After a 
time I broke the ice of silence. 

"How's Mr. ?" 

" I havn't heerd this morning, he and the 
family was bad enough last night. Mrs. 
* * * has never been out of bed since her 
disappointment of not seeing the body." 

Save me from my friends thought I. 

" Odd ! of the Sheriff wasn't it? some say 
he has ceded his orthority and desarves pul- 
lin' up for 't. But 'tis a good job he's out 
of the way. He was always a cuss to his 
family I'm told." 

The deuce he was thought I. "Why I 
always thought he was of good character." 

" Then you thought wrong, I can tell 
you. There was never any woman ugly 
enough for him to let alone." H * * * 
thought I again, you'll know your own 
character if you live long enough. 

"Why what has a woman to do in this 
affair ?" 

" Don't you know, did'nt you see it sta- 
ted in the papers that jealousy was the 
cause of the murder ?" 

"0, my stars !" what next thought J. 

" What sort of a woman was this that he 
was so jealous of?" 

" Why I'll tell you how it was. The one 
wot was murdered was an old man, and he 
married a wife young enough to be his own 
darter. This here feller, wot we are a fol- 
lorin' on, went to see her in his absence 
like, and he knew nuffin at all about her be- 
ing a married ooman. Then the old one 
comes home and finds 'em both drunk to- 
gether, he begins to kuse this here one, and 




he draws his bowyer upon him, and so that's 
how it all happened." 

" I did you know him ?" 

" Him ! who ?" 

" The man we're following" ?" 

" Know'd him — aye— brought him up al- 
most from a child." 

"I had never seen the liar before to my 

" He was the gallowsest young scamp as 
ever was. He used to stick pins by the 
hour in his younger sister on purpose to 
hear her cry." 

"I never had a sister." 

"And when his brother used to scold him, 
he would seize upon him like a tiger, and 
bite what part of him came first." 

" I had got my fist up ready to strike the 
scoundrel — but — no — I forgot — I was — fol- 
lowing — his — my — no— his — no my own — 
no — the Sheriff's substitute of stones, for 
my own funeral." 

But what a void was in my heart, as 
with the mourners returning, I began to 
ponder upon the deed of blood, and the har- 
rowing convictions, that I was cowardly 
seeking to avoid its penalty as a murderer; 
— what should I do ; where should I go. 
I had escaped the gallows — but now a hard- 
er task was before me, how should I escape 
myself— the torturing retribution of con- 
science was panning me, and how shut my 
ear to the wailing of the bereaved, and the 
cry of the poor orphan my murderous hand 
had made desolate. 

A kindly hand shook me, and a gentle 
voice whispered in my ear — " Breakfast is 
ready." Thank God ; Oh how much, I 
cannot tell, for I had slept an hour longer 
than usual, and found, to my great joy, that 
it was— on/y a Dream ! 


Travelling last summer through the 
Southern mines, and coming as I supposed 
near Sonora, just as the shades of evening 
were fast closing in upon me, I felt anxious 
to know what distance I had to go to reach 

my destination. I walked to the open door 
of a small house by the roadside, and en- 
quired of a lady sitting in the room, if she 
could tell me how far it was to Sonora, 
she very pertly answered, I dcrit know. I 
asked her if she thought it was more than 
four miles, she replied, I don't know. I 
then asked her if she had a little water she 
would give me, she again said, Idon't know. 
I suggested that I thought, the weather 
very warm, and the roads very dusty, she 
said again, I don't know. Just at this mo- 
ment in came her husband, and having 
heard the conversation from the outside, he 
desired her not to reply in that manner; but 
she still persisted that she did not know, 
saying, I don't know nothing, I don't mean 
to know nothing, for I am a Know Noth- 
ing and Know Nothings never should 
know nothing ! 1 



Rest ! — Recreation ! — Welcome change, 
from the arduous duties of school room life, 
and the turmoil of the city, with its gay 
occupants and resounding streets. " God 
made the country, men made the town ;" 
and it needs no far-fetched theology, or wide 
stretch of the fancy to.define the superiority 
of the one over the other. I was not two 
minutes in determining whether I would 
go with a gay party to San Francisco and 
Napa, or accept the invitation of my kind 
friends at Columbia to spend the two weeks' 
vacation with them. 

Those who have never visited the moan- 
tains have little or no idea of their beauty 
and grandeur, or the amount of traveling 
and business, of various kinds, done in them. 
Villages of considerable growth are sprin- 
kled along the steep green hills, with a back- 
ground of lofty and rugged mountain peaks ; 
and sometimes nestling quietly at the foot 
of a range of lofty hills, half concealed in a 
I grove of immortal green, are clusters of mi- 



oere' cottages and cabins, having quite a 
rural and town-like appearance. It is diffi- 
cult for the imagination to conceive a 
more rough ( — and picturesque because 
rough — ) yet more beautiful country, than 
that between Sacramento and Columbia. 
It combines the wildest scenes. Hills piled 
on bills, raising their gigantic heads heav- 
enward, as if in adoration of the Being who 
called them forth! Here and there are 
deep gloomy caverns, seemingly a fit lair 
for beasts of prey — but, save a rabbit, 
which now and then ventured abroad, we 
saw no wild animals, much to my regret. 
An adventure with a grizzly would have 
been the heighth, depth, length and breadth 
of my ambition — at a suitable distance ! 
bat none favored us with a " call 1" 

Columbia is by no means the little, un- 
important and secluded mining town I had 
supposed it to be, but a pretty " smart 
place " — if a vast aggregation of brick and 
mortar, dust and sand, a crowded popula- 
tion, intellectual men, and beautiful women, 
tad a constant tide of vehicular and human 
movement are necessary to make one. — It is 
i city of two years' growth, for within that 
period it has been nearly destroyed by fire. 
It now contains a goodly number of fine 
fire proof buildings, two or three churches, 
a theatre, public and private schools, two 
printing offices and many handsome private 
rewdeDces—eod, by the way, the miners 
are making inroads into the business part 
of the town, and working underneath the 
buildings. The people will soon have to 
adopt the custom at Placerville — of setting 
their houses on stilts, and whenever they 
want a pan of gold ! descend to the cellar and 
bring it up ! Here I met old friends from 
home, who just petted me the whole time 
I wis with them. Never shall I forget 
their hospitality, their kindly greetings, 
and the pains they took to make the stay 
a pleasant one appreciated. I was sur- 
prised at the M bill of fare " which mine 
host of » Bird's Hotel " laid before me, with 
which the most fastidious could not but be 
pleased. I feel much indebted to him and 

his amiable lady for their kind attentions* 

during my stay at their pleasant and well 

kept house; and for the acquaintance of 

some whose friendship I shall ever esteem 

as among the choicest and most delightful 

of earth's blessings. 
I had a very great anxiety to visit the 

mines, having never seen much of mining 
operations, and my friend, Miss H., having 
invited me to a morning stroll, we found 
our way to the " diggins " of a friend, who 
kindly assisted us in washing out a small 
fortune 1 and, now I have got it, there arises 
a great query in my mind what I shall do 
with it Whether I shall invest it in bank 
or railroad stock, town lots at Granite, 
water lots on the levee, or get it made up 
into spoons or jewelry 1 I was quite as 
successful in one of my morning rambles 
at last spring. I had a perfect pas- 
sion for mining, and thought if I could but 
get the hundredth part of a grain, to send 
home to my friends, telling them that I dug 
it myself, I should be satisfied. Accord- 
ingly, I prevailed upon some young ladies 
to accompany me — assuring them if I struck 
a lead I would divide. We had the good 
fortune of falling in with a company of Hi- 
bernians and Chinese, of whom we craved 
the use of their pans. They politely offered 
them, together with their assistance ; which 
latter we declined — saying it was only for 
the pleasure of getting a few grains our- 
selves that we came. — Having divested my- 
self of bonnet, shawl and gloves, and rolled 
up my sleeves, I bend over my task with a 
fortune in prospect. Fifteen minutes of shak- 
ing and scraping, and twirling and tipping, 
and I wash down pretty near to the gold- 
bearing sand, on the bottom of the pan, and 
with eyes well strained in their sockets, and 
visions of future magnificence dancing 
through my head, I pour off the water, 
and what do you think I find? — not the 
first " color I" I am encouraged by my 
companions, who have taken possession of 
the rocker, and are enlivening their toil as 

happily as two young chatterboxes can, by 
building " air castles/' and furnisning them 



with the products of their cradles ! I in- 
sist this time on filling my own pan, and, in 
passing around the " long torn/' where the 
miners were at work, I step upon what I 
suppose to be " terra firma," but before I 
have time to think, I find myself two feet 
deep in a bed of quicksand, with a dozen 
voices shouting " don't go there /" and their 
manly owners springing to extricate me. 
Nothing disconcerted, (for I am assured it 
will all rub off when it gets dry,) I tug 
up another forty pounds of mud, and labor 
with the same success. A third — and lo ! 
two bright specks, the size of a pin head, 
appear at the bottom of the pan. 

I shout 1 rockers arc deserted ; picks and 
shovels are dropped, and a general " hilari- 
fication " succeeds. With much the same 
success I spend a couple of hours, when I 
am made painfully sensible of a dizziness in 
the head, and a weariness of the body gene- 
rally, and I conclude that my fortune is to 
be made in some other way than mining. 
My companions' share, when they came to 
divide, far exceeded mine ; but I have such 
an inherent antipathy to " rocking the cra- 
dle," that I could not be prevailed upon to 
try it, although they produce much the 
largest lumps ! 

A number of agreeable surprises, follow- 
ing each other in quick succession, made me 
feel quite as much at home among the good 
people of Columbia, as though we had been 
acquainted for years. Nothing could ex- 
ceed their generous thoughtfulness in anti- 
cipating every comfort, or in the getting up 
of little excursions to places of interest and 
amusement. I shall not soon forget the 
pleasant drives, and delicious lunches 
eaten under the green trees, and that peri- 
lous ascent on horseback, where, three thou- 
sand feet above our starting point, we could 
count no less than six villages, slumbering 
in lovely and picturesque beauty at our 
feet ; while far away to the eastward rose 
the snow-covered mountains of the Sierra 
Nevada, looming up with strange and mag- 
nificent grandeur I 

Immortal beauty invests these mountains, 
surprising the soul with sublime thoughts, 
unrecognized before ; and it is just as im- 
possible for me to forget how they look, in 
their pure robes of green and white, as not 
to think of them with awe and admiration. 

Our return was by a more circuitous and 
less rapid descent. About sundown we en- 
tered a little sylvan retreat, and town, sit- 
uated in a graceful and mountain-bound 
valley, known as Sonora, where I actually 
fell m love. Yes — " in love at last 1" I ex- 
claimed, as we rode leisurely through its 
clean wide streets, and looked with delight 
upon its neat and tasteful appearance. We 
were there again on the Fourth of July, 
and witnessed a great array of clean shirts 
and cotton umbrellas — for it was raining 
like a second deluge. The streets are crowd- 
ed with the hodge-podge of soaked humani- 
ty, for the most part convened under tbe 
insufficient shelter of dripping awnings and 
umbrellas, with here and there a noisy ex- 
ception, who, extremely wet externally, but 
awfully dry within, goes cruising round, 
glorious as a lord, perfectly indifferent to 
the drenching torrents over head. The 
"Star Spangled Banner" flaps and shud- 
ders, and dashes off little jets of wet into 
the faces of the passers by, as though it 
would snap its fingers at the actors in the 
farce, accordingly. Here come the citizen 
soldiery ! right down Main street — tramp, 
tramp, rub-a-dub, with their gallant com- 
manders, who look as if they would prefer 
a dry suit and less glory 1 And here, too, 
come the firemen — I beg their pardon — I 
should have said watermen; for, in their 
present plight, they are strongly suggestive 
of the latter element. The Masonic frater- 
nity, Odd Fellows and Sons of Temperance 
too, might, without a very extensive flight 
of imagination, be styled the " Cold Water 
Guards." But all parties seem determined 
npon a display, so the drumming and fifing 
and marching gets on bravely, all seeming 
indifferent to the drenching torrents which 
are disgorging themselves over their fine 
uniforms 1 They are afterwards refreshed 



intellectually by a Fourth of July oration, 
and temporally by a grand barbecue. Here, 
too, I form pleasant acquaintances, with 
whom, in my day dreams, I am often hold- 
ing sweet communion. 

Among many other places of interest 
which I visited in Columbia, none pleased 
me more than an exploring expedition into 
a tunnel, worked by the N. Y. Tunneling 
Co., the urbane Dr. 0. acting as my chape- 
ron. This was commenced in 1854, and 
has averaged forty days work per week, 
and as high as eight ounces to the pan has 
been taken from it. One thousand feet 
from the entrance, and about the same from 
the surface, we came across a clear running 
sprink, from which we drank, finding it ex- 
tremely refreshing. 

My next visit was to " Heslep's Falls." 
The remembrance of that ride, and a sight 
of those towering hills, are written in sun- , 
beams by memory's loving hand. j 

u Let us go to the ' Big Tree,' " said my 
friend C. f one evening, as we were enjoying 
the star light, upon the verandah ; " it is 
only thirty miles, and the scenery the most 
Wutiful in California." Of course I was 
delighted, nothing could afford me more 
pleasure. As if by magic, everything was 
arranged for the journey. By sunrise the 
following morning sundry boxes of delicious 
eatables, and very suspicious looking bot- 
tles of drinkables, find their way into the 
carriages, and everybody's spirits are a-tip- 
toe, in anticipation of coming pleasures. 
(ha road presented an ever varying phase 
of hills on hills, vales, rocky canons and 
cliffs, and for miles the solemn silence is 
only broken by the music of a clear stream, 
which crosses our path at irregular inter- 
vals, and now and then forms a most ro- 
mantic cascade. The scenery is so beauti- 
ful, so exciting and sublime, lighted up by 
the tints of the morning, and displaying 
such a variety of shadowy depth, produced 
an effect approaching near to enchantment ! 
At Abbey's Ferry, on the Stanislaus, the 
mountain heights are certainly the most 
sublime and wild my eyes ever rested on — 


throwing all I had yet seen quite in the 
shade. They were of hard granite, tower- 
ing two or three thousand feet above us, 
with almost perpendicular sides, forming 
darkened recesses, from which foams and 
tumbles the river ; and at whose base is a 
single cottage, miles away from any other 
human habitation. Ohl it was a beauti- 
ful sight — sublime and awful 1 and I could 
have gazed the livelong day ; and nothing 
could have reconciled me to leave it but 
the thought that all California is one vast 
scene of beauty, and wherever I go, there 
would be something new and wonderful. 
The new and fantastic shapes which Nature 
here puts on — bold, broken, abrupt, gloomy 
and sublime — while deep gorges, opening 
to the right and left, behind and before, 
were objects of thrilling wonder to me, and 
fraught with instruction. Our path from 
this was a pilgrim's progress, up the long, 
steep ascent, of the hill difficulty, winding 
around the mountain, a carriage-way just 
wide enough to pass. One mis-step, and we 
are lostl At noon we are entering the 
dense forest, where grow, in solemn gran- 
deur, the master-pieces of Nature — the 
mammoth trees. We drove up to a neat 
and well furnished hotel, where, after mak- 
ing our toilet, we were cheered by a dinner 
that would have done credit to any hotel 
in Sacramento or San Francisco. Our 
dining room is in the immediate proximity 
of the "Big Stump" — ninety-six feet in 
circumference — which has been used for a 
ball room, and for a stage ; though I won- 
dered very much where the audience came 
from, as there is not a house within twelve 
miles of it. The body of this tree (three 
hundred feet long) lies in the rear of the 
house ; over which is built a fine billiard 
room and bowling alley. It was cut down 
in 1852, and employed five men twenty-two 
days in boring it off, with pump-augurs, to 
fell it Withm an area of fifty arcres nine- 
ty-two of these trees are found standing, 
and without doubt are the mtost stupendous 
vegetable productions on earth. They were 
discovered in 1852, bv hunters, whose ac- 



counts seemed fabulous, until confirmed by 
actual measurement. The Father of the 
Forest is one hundred and twelve feet in 
circumference, and its estimated height, 
when standing, four hundred and fifty feet. 
The Mother of the Forest is ninety feet in cir- 
cumference and three hundred and twenty- 
seven feet high — the bark was taken off this 
tree, to send to the World's Fair, one hun- 
dred and twenty feet. The Three Graces, 
growing in beautiful proportions, the exact 
counterpart of each other, are three hun- 
dred feet high — circumference ninety feet. 
The Pioneer's Cabin is hollow at the stump, 
in which a small family might keep house 
comfortably, provided they were good na- 
tural, and were not disposed to room-in-ate 
much. I am quite amazed at their beauty, 
symmetry and grandeur, and walk round 
and round, scanning them from every point. 
I had heard the fame thereof, read of it in 
newspapers, and listened to glowing oral 
pictures, but how widely different are my 
feelings, now that faith has turned to sight. 
To describe them would be like an attempt 
to paint a strain of awe-inspiring music, or 
to mimic the echo of a tiny silver bell ! 

My companions returned to the house and 
left me to dream awhile, under their dark 
and shadowy green branches — the rich mel- 
low tints of departing day, and the soft 
twilight falling among the trembling leaves, 
makes the scene one of solemn beauty. It 
seems a very prototype of green and God- 
like Eden! 

Next morning, before sunrise, I am again 
in the forest— curiosity and excitement 
keep me in motion, and I wander on, un- 
mindful of distance, far into its gloomy 
depths. The ground is covered with a lux- 
uriant growth of underbrush, among which 
are wild gooseberries, currants, strawber- 
ries, and thousands of little berries — what 
we at home called Scotch-caps — a kind of 
raspberry. Here I found several new varie- 
ties of flowers, not seen in the valleys ; one 
a bright orange color, in shape something 
like a fascia, only not so large ; another of 
a pale blue, about the size of a half dime — 

the prettiest of any I have seen in Califor- 
nia. Two days glide away, before we are 
aware of their speedy flight, and we reluc- 
tantly quit the enchanted grounds. We 
pay our respects to our kind host and host- 
ess, Mr. and Mrs. Davis, and are wending 
our way homeward. 

Four days after, found me quietly pursu- 
ing my daily routine of duty, but my wak- 
ing day-dreams have found me revisiting 
those lovely scenes — which will ever remain 
daguerreotyped upon my mind, as the most 
sublime of Nature's astonishing wonders. 


The night was dark and dreary, 
The rain fell drizzling fast ; 

The watch-dog lone and weary, 
Howld dirge-notes to the blast. 

The winds bore sounds of wailing, 
The church-bell midnight tolPd, 
As deep shrieks of one ailing, 

On gloomy darkness roll'd. 


Ti8 nearer and more near. 
Oh ! now 'tis at the door, — 

u But good wife never fear, 
" Tig some lorn stranger poor. 

" Alas, in such a night 
" Of horrors, who can bear 

" To picture such a sight, 
" As stranger wand'ring near." 

u That wail — 'tis from a babe — 
" The infant shriek's renew'd ; 

" Perhaps some murderer's knife 
"Is doing Deeds of Blood — 

" Again, 'tis at the door, 

" Wife be not so afraid ! 
" Hand me my pistol o'er, 

" Take you my trusty blade." — 

Now terrors seize their minds, 

Their hearts go pit-a-pat, 
The door opes to the winds — 

In stalks a — huge torn cat. 




In '49 and '50 the streets of this city 
were entirely devoid of planks, and were 
not subjected to the scientific process of 
macadamization, so that pedestrians were 
taxed to the utmost of their ingenuity to 
navigate from one part of the city to anoth- 
er, to say nothing of the sand, into which 
yon sank ankle deep at every step, in many 
parts of the city. The annoyance was so 
much the worse, by the navigator having 
to take soundings of mad and water, with 
an ordinary pair of boots, and then finding 
no bottom until the tops of the aforesaid 
boots had disappeared a long way beneath 
the mire. Sometimes the pedal extremities 
of some unlucky individual would become 
so firmly embedded in the sticky clay, that 
when he had the good fortune to reach the 
bottom, the exertion reqnied to be extrica- 
ted, would be so great as utterly to destroy 
his equilibrium, when down would come his 
fall length to his entire dissatisfaction, and 
while the sufferer would give utterance to 
imprications of wrath, and call down mal- 
edictions on rhe dirty state of the streets, 
the bystanders would often indulge in a 
hearty cachination at his expense. This 
would sometimes have the effect of riling 
his temper so much that the sufferer would 
commence a series of assaults of the soft 
material upon the cachinators, who, making 
hearty exchanges in turn, would almost 
smother him before he could relieve himself. 

The writer remembers such a circum- 
stance, that happened during the month of 
January '50, near the Post Office, then lo- 
cated on the corner of Clay and Pike streets, 
a path had been made across Clay street, 
and through one or two vacant lots above 
the St Francis Hotel, towards the Post 
Office, bonnded on either side by a deep 
mud hole, where any person failing to step 
anywhere but just the precise place, would 
never fail to find himself pretty well mud- 

The mail steamer had just arrived, and 

several hundred persons were awaiting anx- 
iously and slowly marching in single file 
toward the seven inch square window of 
delivery, many expecting, and all hoping 
to get letters from different parts of the 
world. Towards evening, a colored gentle- 
man (slightly inebriated) made his appear- 
ance, bearing on his back the carcass of a 
slaughtered deer, all skinned and nicely 
dressed, and was, perhaps, making for some 
hotel to sell it. In crossing on the narrow 
path, he made a false step, and in he went, 
just at the edge of the pool, and finding 
himself sinking deeper and deeper, he made 
sundry attempts to get out, but on lifting 
his foot he found that his boot, not fitting 
very tight, had stuck fast below, and his 
foot getting about half way out, the de- 
rangement of foot and boot, so much upset 
his perpendicular, that he came near falling 
full length. However, nothing daunted, he 
tried and tried again, but found the other 
boot following the example of the first, he 
very composedly for a time, let the force of 
gravitation have its own way. Meanwhile 
the shouts and laughs of the crowd at the 
Post Office, made the air resound again, 
until some philanthropic individual (a white 
man, and some said he was " tight" but that 
must have been a malicious invention) re- 
monstrated with the crowd, and told them 
they had better help the poor man out of 
his misfortunes than to laugh at them. A 
voice from the crowd then asked him why 
he did not help him out himself. This had 
the desired effect, so he proceeds to the 
darkey, lays hold of the collar of his coat 
giving him a jerk. This did not have the 
effect intended, as the force of the pull did 
not move the darkey an inch, but caused 
him to overbalance himself and he came, 
mingling mud, darkey, deer and himself in 
one almost indistinguishable chaos. After 
wallowing and floundering about often from 
bad to worse, by some good fortune they 
were all extricated. Still the laugh did 
not end here, for darkey, deer and benefac- 
tor, after gaining "terra firma" looked more 
like animated walking mud posts, than any 



thing else ; the man of color for once as- 
suming an appearance of no color, and the 
man of no color looking like his brother of 
color, and the deer looking like the dead 
carcass of a man of all colors. 


Many wise and good men have doubted 
whether the discovery of gold in California 
would prove a substantial benefit to our 
country. It may differ widely from the 
anticipated results, in the commercial world, 
the nice calculations of old, keen and shrewd 
financiers. In a moral and religious view, 
it may be very far from what all good men 
wish ; this, however, will depend entirely 
upon the working out of the great problem 
now in the course of solution. 

That California is destined to exercise 
a commanding influence over the commer- 
cial, financial, and religious interests of our 
country, and the world, few will pretend to 
deny. Her position, her vast resources, 
her immense capabilities, all, render it mor- 
ally certain that she is surely destined to 
act a principal part in the great drama of 
the world's history. The laws that have 
governed other nations, and that have been 
potent in shaping the destinies of men, will 
prove more powerful in their operation 
here, than many suppose. 

If we regard California in her isolated 
position, anomalous though it may seem, 
as the great central point of trade, com- 
merce, and the mechanic arts, the mind 
cannot realize the accumulation of the vast 
interests and influences gathering around 
it The almost fabulorfs riches of her 
mines, the variety of her agricultural re- 
sources, and the concentration of so much 
intelligence and talent, from all lands ; and 
the certainty that that talent may at any 
and all times be combined and brought into 
action, renders still more an object of 
solicitude, the destiny of this, the young- 
est in the glorious sisterhood of States. 

California has within her domain, citizens 

of nearly every land, as well as outlaws 
from all the nations of the earth. It is the 
gathering of the various races in our midst, 
and the almost inevitable collision between 
their respective creeds, that may cause the 
upheavings of the very foundations of all 
true faith in the hallowed institutions of 
religion. To the working out of this great 
problem we would call the serious atten- 
tion of our readers. The commingling of 
so many creeds, the decided preference to 
so many rites, and the attachment to so 
many and such diverse forms of worship, all 
indicate that man is a religious being. 

The powerful influences of Christianity 
should be brought directly to bear upon 
the solution of this subject. By far the 
largest portion of our present population 
have been religiously educated, and have 
come to our shores with aspirations after 
wealth and distinction, as well as moral 
excellence. In many cases, it is greatly to 
be feared that the all-absorbing thirst for 
gold has partially smothered many early 
convictions, or thrown them to the winds ; 
and religious employments have been de- 
cided as simply foolish, and moral excel- 
lence ridiculed as worthy only of the weak 
and vulgar. 

From the judicious precepts, from the vir- 
tuous examples, from the hallowed influences 
and from interests and hopes clustering 
around the family altar, many, very many 
have departed. Arriving in our sunny 
land, they seem to have swung loose from 
all former habits, from home memories, and 
from the vigorous principles and high toned 
sentiments of morality by early teachings 
planted in their hearts, and which threw a 
broad shield around their life and charac- 
ter, at their distant dwelling place. Fear- 
lessly they have plunged into the whirling 
tide, sweeping before and around thera, and 
are borne onward amidst the scattered frag- 
ments floating from the wrecks of human 
happiness, that close around them on their 
downward way. 

Men coming from so many lands, identi- 
fied with so many interests, the centre of so 



many hopes, and the representatives of so 
many families, should surely exhibit an up- 
right and conscientious regard for the sym- 
pathy, interests and hopes of those who hold 
them as dear as their own souls. If their 
vigor of character, their talents, influence 
and perseverance could be combined, in be- 
half of virtue, California would soon be- 
come a model State, that would attract the 
admiration of the world. 

Most men, whatever their theory or prac- 
tice may now be, have moments of serious 
reflection. At such times, quicker than 
thought can blaze along the electric wires, 
does memory rush back to the scenes of 
youth, to childhood's home, and linger 
among the green spots, the sparkling and 
gushing waters, that are so refreshing in 
life's wide and arid wastes. The vacant 
chair still reserved for them, the deserted 
room, where, at the commencement of life's 
journey, the soothing tones of a mother's 
voice lulled them to quiet and peaceful 
slumbers — the aged parents bending under 
the weight of years, their locks whitened 
by the frosts and cares of many winters, 
with calm and holy resignation awaiting 
the hour of their departure ; but waiting in 
hope of seeing the dear absent one once 
more at their side before they go hence — 
the brothers and sisters, with tearful eyes 
and swelling hearts, wondering where the 
distant wanderer roams now— if alive-— or 
where his precious remains repose, if he 
has seen u the last of earth." All, all of 
these are grasped in a moment by the hand 
of an ever faithful memory, and impressed 
upon the heart with even more than their 
original vividness. 

Parents, brothers, sisters, the playmates 
of childhood, the companions of youth — 
the hearth-stone, the garden, the little spot 
called his own, where with gleeful heart, 
he saw the laughing flowers springing up, 
from tiny seeds he had planted, the exult- 
tant joy with which he plucked the first 
blossom that peeped out from the green 
leaves, and presented it to his mother or 
sister, are ever remembered. 

The restless movement of the tide of pop- 
ulation flowing in upon us — the migratory 
habits of our people, have to a very great 
extent, proved a barrier to the gathering 
of christians in our cities or even in the 
country. Yet it is astonishing to see how 
quickly men sympathize with any moral or 
religious movement, and assist to build 
school-houses and churches, in nearly every 
little mountain town. Still a majority of 
our best clergymen, instead of preaching to 
suit the tastes and sympathies of Californi- 
ans, inflict a long and very dry discourse 
upon their hearers. It is a very prevalent 
idea among our clergy, that the great mass 
of our citizens are among the most intel- 
ligent people in the world. In this they are 
right: probably no population on earth, 
can show so many well educated men, in 
proportion to their numbers, as California. 
They may not frequent the sanctuary ; the 
Sabbath may be spent in the fields, in the 
cottage, or in the cabin, to them, there may 
be reasons perfectly satisfactory, why they 
should not go to the church. Even in the 
fields they may think and commune with 
beloved friends at home, and with their own 
hearts, for rather would they go forth alone, 
beneath the lofty dome of earth's wide tem- 
ple, and there, amidst the gorgeous drapery 
of the universe, in imagination hover around 
scenes and persons, far, faraway, and which 
are to the soul, like the soothing sounds of 
distant music — the bright links of memo- 
ries chain, that binds them to the past — and 
the scenes, the day, and the affections, speak 
to man's better nature, and he goes forth a 
better man on the morrow, after these com- 
munings and aspirations. 

Now we fully believe that by far the lar- 
ger portion of our whole population is of 
this kind. It is the proper duty of the min- 
ister to speak to the hearts of the men who 
thus feel ; and make them prove the power, 
of religion a delightful charm, and the 
sanctuary, the footstool of the King of 

Kings, to his spirit. 
It is more than probable that the great 

want of success in the labors of the clergy, 



is, that they do not address the man through 
his home feelings and sympathies. If they 
wish to interest men, they mnst bring up 
the memories that will carry them back to 
early days and the scenes of childhood and 
home, and this would be the strongest in- 
ducement for him to attend the sanctuary. 
How soothing y how sacred, how august and 
solemn are such hours to the exile from his 
fond and distant home. 

Our clergy who can, and do interest the 
hearts of men, draw large crowds around 
them, which proves that we are not yet a 
God forsaken people — and that the thirst 
for gold, does not swallow up all other in- 
terests, or crowd out all other obligations. 
Let this religious element be brought out, 
and California will be an rich in the records 
of her moral triumphs, in the brilliant ex- 
amples of her high-toned piety, as in her 
golden placers, her agricultural resources — 
and her floral beauty. 

There is no shutting our eyes to the fact 
that the main reason why men do not enter 
the sacred precincts of the church, on the 
day of the christian's Sabbath, is because, 
as a whole, he is not interested. The dry 
theology of the eastern cities finds but few 
admirers in California. Many men who were 
students at the East, and loved the luxury 
of a good historical work, here have but 
little pleasure in such books, — why ? The 
reason is apparent to every observer — the 
mind is filled with exciting business thoughts 
— money made, or money lost — a perpetual 
whirl of business cares, by day and by night, 
without the invigorating influences of a 
pleasant social circle, or a cheerful home. 
They work all day— but, when evening comes, 
with its lengthening shadows, and men leave 
their business, how few have the enchant- 
ments of home, and refining intellectual pleas- 
ures to chase away their business thoughts, 
and refresh the mind by peaceful and sooth- 
ing influences, ready for the morrow. We 
do not, therefore, wonder that more than 
ordinary interest and talent is required to 
make men forget their business cares, and, 
on a Sabbath morning, when all is peace- 

ful, to wend their way to the sanctuary 
and there receive from the minister's hands, 
the bread of eternal life. 

We would suggest to some of our minis- 
ters, that to study human nature, and how 
they can the better attract and please men, 
would be a double good conferred, and a 
double advantage gained; and, whatever 
tends to make men interested, gives a power 
for good or evil to make them better, or to 
make them worse, and if the ministrations 
of the sanctuary are not interesting and in- 
viting, men will generally go elsewhere. 

We leave these thoughts with the thought- 
ful, and hope that our own California will 
yet be found among the most useful, and in 
acts the most pious of any of our sister 
States. B. 

A gentleman on board a steamboat 
with his family, was asked by his children, 
" What makes the boat go on ?" He gave 
them a very minute description of the ma- 
chinery and its principles, in the following 
words : 

"You see, my dears, this thingumbob 
here goes down through that hole, and 
fastens on the jigmaree, and that connects 
with the crinkum-crankum ; and then that 
man — he's the engineer, you know — kind o' 
stirs up the what-d'ye-call-it, with his long 
poker ; and they all shove along, and the 
boat goes ahead 1" 

A Bold Experiment. — The editor of the 
Woonsocket Patriot makes merry over the 
mistake of an old Shanghae hen of his, that 
has been " setting " for five weeks upon two 
round stones and a piece of brick. " Her 
anxiety," says he, " is no greater than ours 
to know what she will hatch. If it proves 
a brick-yard, that hen is not for sale." 

Brudder Jonsing, I congratulate you — 
Providence has really smiled upon yon late- 
ly ; as I see you married off three of your 
daughters the other day, smiled Brndder 
Sumpkins? Smiled did yon say? Why 
he snickered right out. 





By the river, by the lake, 
"Where the silver ripples break ; 
In the dark sequestered glen; 
In the crowded haunts of men ; 
In the woods from footsteps free, 
In the garden apple tree, — 
Wherever shadows flit around, 
Little singing birds abound. 

In the Northern land of storm, 
'Mid the iceberg's awful form, 
Under burning tropic skies, 
Where the verdure never dies; 
Where Siberian exiles roam, 
In the cold and cheerless home; — 
Where the Niger rolls his tide, 
Little singing birds abide. 

On Atlantic's rock-bound shore, 
Where the sullen surges roar ; 
Where Pacific's calmer strand, 
Leaves the gorgeous golden land ; 
In the lonely mountain glen,— 
Homes of hardy mining men, 
Washing gold with will so strong, 
Birds are singing all day long. 

In the valleys still and lowly. 
Where the baffling brooks move slowly; 
Where the mountain ash is waving,* 
And the pines the storms are braving; 
In the pastures spreading green, 
Where the sportive lambs are seen; 
Lights and shadows flitting round, 
little singing birds are found. 

San Francisco, July 23d, 1856. 


Those whom the various disappointments 
of the world have soured, and who are con- 
tinually ejaculating the " tadet me vita" who 
are bereft of all hope, and to whom the 
ministering angel of comfort whispers in vain 
" try again" should accompany me in the 
* » * Maison de Sante. The matron — 

yes, it is a woman whose nerves are strong 
enough to meet and encounter every phase 
of development in the physical disorganiza- 
tion of that mysterious agency, the brain. 
It is a woman, a weak woman, who presides 
over this humane establishment 0, ye on 
whom fortune has smiled, and blessed with 
a superfluity — whose every want can be 
gratified, regardless of the cost, and who 
daily lavish, it may be, large sums upon mere 
nothingness, producing no fruit, nor contri- 
buting one mite to the common weal— come 
hither, I beseech you, and ponder, and see 
how your pity 

" Is twice blessed. 
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes ; 
'T is mightiest in the mighty — it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown ."— 

" Who is that interesting creature at her 
needle, in the farthest corner of the room V 
inquired a visitor. 

" Her name is Susan Mayday. Her his- 
tory is as interesting as herself— a story of 
disappointed love — " 

" I thought so." 

Here the poor creature broke out into 
the well known strain : 

" All in the downs the fleet lay moored 
When black eyed Susan came on board— 
Oh when shall I my true love find." 

While uttering these strains, in a voice 
somewhat cultivated, the heart must have 
been hard indeed that did not sympathise 

with her sorrow. 

" She was formerly in service, in some re- 
spectable family, in England, and had saved 
up from her wages £200. Her sweetheart 
borrowed this sum to come over here and 
try his fortune in the mines. They corres- 
ponded, it seems, for a whole year, when 
his letters suddenly broke off, and after 
another year's Bilence, Susan was deter- 
mined to brave the perils of the wide waves 
and waste, and seek out her lover. The 
wretch met her by chance, and gave her an 
invitation to see his wife. She reproached 
him with but two words : ' Oh, George 1' 
and her reason took its flight forever. That 
letter she has just taken out of her bosom 
is the last letter the villain sent I have 
read it, and it paints, in the most joyous 
terms, what would be his happiness in two 



short years more, when he would come over 
to the dear old country and make her his 
wife — never more to part. She spends her 
sorrowful time in knitting him stockings, 
and reading this letter. 1 ' 

Here she broke out again in that plain- 
tive key, belonging to the tune : 

" O, when shall I my true love find !" 

I turned from her and inquired who that 
grave old man, with a white beard, of some 
seventy winters, might be. 

u Seventy," replied the matron, " he is 
barely forty years of age. He came out 
with a wife and three hearty children, and 
his wife's sister, a young woman of great 
promise, I am told, and he saw all of them 
thrown in the water, dead, with the starva- 
tion fever." 

" What have not the owners of some of 
those ill-managed transports to answer for," 
thought I, " at the great day of judgment ?" 

" The great king of Madagascar 1" cried, 
or rather shouted out a tall stout man, re- 
spectably dressed in black. 

" Who is that gentlemanly looking man 
that has just uttered that exclamation ?" 

"He is a Mr. Bond — as we call him, to 

please him; but his real name is . He 

came out here in very needy circumstances, 
and, through the most extraordinary suc- 
cess at the mines, became suddenly very 
rich. His ambition appears to be to pur- 
chase the Island of Madagascar, and be 
amuses himself in writing laws and regula- 
tions, by which he intends to govern his 
kingdom. His brother has placed him here, 
and has forwarded the most of his property 
to his family, in the States. Some of them 
are coming out to take him with them, but 
I question whether he will like the change ; 
for he has the idea that he is in a ship, on 
its way to the island, and all of us are en- 
gaged to manage the colony and kingdom 
for him. It is quite amusing to hear what 
a grand personage I am to be when we ar- 
rive there. Well, Mr. Bond, busy at your 
affairs, I see." 

"Yes, Mrs. ****. It is no work of a 

day, I assure you. Have you seen the cap- 
tain this morning ?" 

" No ; but will in the course of the day, 
I dare say." 

" Are his writings at all coherent, or con- 
sistent ?" inquired I. 

" No," said the matron ; " there is here 
and there a sane idea, but the rest are the 
vainest and silliest of puerilities. How- 
ever, poor fellow 1 he is very happy while 
thus engaged." 

" Who is this blind child ?" 

" Poor little Emma — Emma Starling. 
Well, Emma, how are you this morning, 
my dear V 1 

"Very well, I thank you, Mrs. ****. 

Shall I see my mother to-day, do you 

think ?" 
" I can't Bay, my love. Poor child !" 

said the matron, turning to me ; " she has 
asked the same question, a thousand times, 
and always finishes what she has to say with 
it. She is an orphan. She lost her father 
and mother on the Pacific side, and also saw 
them committed to the deep. She lost the 
sight of both her eyes, as the doctor said, 
through continual weeping, which brought 
on an inflammation, and by that means she 
lost her sight. A stranger, a young girl, 
about her own age, comes here every Satur- 
day morning to see her, and bring her a 
bouquet of sweet smelling flowers. You 
see her last nosegay in the little glass jar, 
in the window. She is continually smell- 
ing them, and says they remind her ' so much 
of mother's farm in the country.' " 

" Is her mind quite gone ?" 

"Utterly. She sits in the evening aa 
still as death, without speaking a word, 
until she is led by the hand to bed. Poor 
child ! every one pities her j and the gen- 
tleness and sweetness of her temper, under 
such a heavy affliction, consigning her, 
young as she is, to an endless night, is de- 
serving of all the care of the most affection- 
ate mother." 

And I am sure she finds it here. 

" Have you any very obstreperous per- 
sons here ?" 



u Bat two. One a yonng man, and ano- 
ther a very old one. The elder, I think, 
iLost have been a very bad man, as he Ls 
most violent at night, when alone. His 
ravings are fearful I have heard that he 
has killed, in duels and other quarrels, a 
dozen men. He has made fifty attempts 
upon his own life. We have a man to look 
after him ; bat no one can stand it long. 
As many as twenty, I think, in a year, have 
come and gone — and all say if they had to 
stay longer, to hear and see his ravings, 
they should go mad themselves. They say 
that he was a man naturally of a hasty and 
impetuous temper ; that he used to boast 
that he had never entered any place of wor- 
ship bat twice— once to be christened, and 
once to be married. His temper broke his 
poor wife's heart, and almost all his friends 
appear 10 have left him." 

" But what caused his madness ?" I in- 

u Why, one evening, not being more than 
just fresh, aa his only friend told me, tie 
reeled in, with a pipe in his mouth, to the 
Rev. ***#' g place of worship, and, instead 
of finding food for his quizzical vein, the 
home truths he heard there, of a retributive 
hereafter, so wrought upon his imagination, 
that he became at once an altered man ; 
and whether his sins were so great, or the 
reverend gentleman's preaching so effective, 
he had no spirit to do anything. He was 
a cooper by trade, and was earning a great 
deal of money, but be was at last obliged 
to give it up. The idea that he was a 
doomed man for eternity haunted him in- 
cessantly, till it resulted in his being sent 
here, to be looked after as a maniac/' 

M Has he any sane intervals ?" I asked. 

" No, I think not ; indeed, his madness 
becomes worse than ever every day.' 1 

u I should like to see him," said I ; " not 
from any idle motive of curiosity, but with 
a desire of being able to do him some good. 
I am accustomed to visit such unfortunates, 
so you need not fear my seeing him." 

" As you please, Sir," said the matron ; 
"here, Jones," (turning to one of the at- 

tendants,) " show this gentleman to ward 

No. 24." 
" No. 24," replied the man, " is one of 

our worst cases, Ma'am ; the gentleman's 

nervous system must be a little strong to 

stand such a visit." 

" 0, never mind my nervous system, Mr. 
Jones," I said ; I am proof against surprise 
of all kinds, almost." 

" Just so, Sir," said Mr. Jones, leading 
the way, and shortly conducted me to his 
apartment. Unlocking the door suddenly, 
I entered, and never did such sounds from 
human shape assail any one's ear as I then 

" Take me from them for the love of 1 

take me from them ! see, they are pointing 
to me from hell's torture?, as the wretch 
who sent them unprepared out of this 
world, with all their guilt upon their heads. 
See ! they are all together, and promise me 
so many hells of torment 1 They are tear- 
ing my side with red hot pincers ! They 
are pouring molten lead on my brain I 
See !" said he, making a convulsive motion 
with his arms, "they have torn out my 
heart, and yet I am bid to live I I feel — 
I feel the red hot, scalding blood, chasing 
though my veins into a new heart I It 
is n't mine, it 's a murderer's heart 1 I 'm 
not a murderer. T was all fair play. Take 
it from me I pluck it out 1 Murder ! mur- 
der 1 1 murder 1 1 !" screeched he. 

" Poor wretch 1" said I, turning to his 
keeper ; " would it not be advisable to give 
him some sedative in these paroxysms ?" 

" Why, Sir, as long as the physic works 
he is exhausted enough, but when its in- 
fluence is over his rage returns with double 
force, and his strength is more than a man's. 
He burets asunder the strongest jacket, al- 
most. The other night he bit clean through 
a pewter cup, and 'twas as much as three 
of us could do to hold him down while we 
gave him his food." 

" My head I my head !" shouted be ; " bul- 
lets, bullets are rolling in it I I cornel I 
come ! spare, 1 spare my torments 1" ut- 
tered he, in a grieving, subdued tone; 




" see !" said he, in a hoarse voice, " look — 
look — they are heating now the cauldron, 
to plunge me in 1 Tell them I cannot suf- 
fer more. Be off— off— you damned spirits ! 
Look — look at their eye-balls — Bet in fire — 
they grin, grin at me! ! in pity's sake, 
blow out my brains — stifle me — don't pray 
let them take me I Ah!" screamed he, 
" they 've got me — cauldron hisses — hisses." 
Here he was writhing in anguish, and ex- 
hibiting all the appearances of the most 
acute bodily suffering. Then came a long, 
wild shriek, indicative of his mental and 
bodily suffering, in the boiling cauldron. 
Here tears, frequent and fast, chased down 
the furrows of his woe begone cheeks, and 
we waited, in breathless silence, the end of 
the outburst. But it was not to end here. 

" 1" ejaculated he, in tones of the wild- 
est despair ; " would it were permitted me 
to undo the wrong I have done ! to be once 
more a child, with this experience — what a 
holy life would I lead! I would never 
wrong a creature — no, not a single crea- 
ture 1" 

" Poor soul 1" said I to him, in soothing 
tones ; " you are yet alive on earth." 

" Who is that who talks to me of life on 
earth ? I am not on earth ! I am in hell ! 
Hell— hell — hell before me!— hell behind 
me!— hell everywhere!" 

" It is no use saying anything to him, Sir ; 
the Rev. Mr. **** has been here Beveral 
times, and can make nothing of him." 

" I do not know, friend Jones, but that 
you are quite right," thought I, as I went 
on my way, musing, with, I hope, a grate- 
ful heart for the many blessings left to me ; 
above all that of a sane mind — the posses- 
sion of which we are too apt to undervalue. 

A Young Hopeful. — " Have you ground 
all the tools right, as I told you this morn- 
ing, when I went away ?" asked a carpen- 
ter of a rather green lad, whom he had 
taken for an apprentice. 

" All but the hand-saw, sir," replied the 
lad, promptly. "I couldn't get quite all 
the gaps out of that" 



I find the following in my note-book, 
which may not be uninteresting to your read- 
era ; but you must not imagine that I have 
left Ireland, — no, I find descriptions and 
scenes there, innumerable, crowding my 
pages, each of which would fill a volume, 
and satisfy a month's craving for the wild 
and wonderful. 

I remember, on that memorable day, the 
anniversary of your birth, my dear old friend 
Propertius, some half a century ago, I was 
traveling on my way to get a written deed 
executed by an inhabitant of that venera- 
ble old salt-watering place, Gosport. The 
roads were then execrable, and the accom- 
modation of the inns worse, if possible. It 
snowed ail the way during a hard gallop of 
mypoor hack of a horse, of some five hoars, 
I was as much fatigued as my poor brate, 
who, nevertheless, despite of all discourage- 
ment, showed a pluck that deserves an im- 
mortality of fame. In many places, I had 
to work my way through barriers of sleet 
and drifted snow, some seven feet high, and 
trample down and over, for aught I know, 
the humble habitats of many a villager. 
I remember once coming to a dead stand ; 
my horse having heedlessly plunged on be- 
fore I was aware of any danger. What 
the impediment was, whether a brick wall 
or a high bank, I had no means of judging. 
I remember I was well in for it, and desired 
to be as well out of it. So giving my poor 
beast a touch of the spur, and shutting my 
eyes to the consequences, the noble creature 
bore me up and down, and finally, after the 
space of five minutes, landed me high — bat 
not very dry — on a plain of snow; where 
nothing but snow above, snow below, snow 
on the right hand, and snow on the left, 
snow everywhere, reflected on the darkness 
of the night. Not a star was to be seen 
through the thick falling flakes, and I had 
nothing to rely upon but the judgment 
and sagacity of my noble beast Whether 
he snuffed anything out of such a chaos of 



gloom or not, I can't say, bat his increased 
pace gave an assurance that deliverance in 
some shape was at hand. After a chilling 
hour or so, a light, at what appeared to be 
the foot of the hill, just peering above 
the snow, was hailed by both of us — I can 
answer for both of us — with supreme pleas- 
ure. A smart effort brought us up to the 
door of a little country inn. It was club 
night, and the sight of a roaring fire, reflect- 
ing its delicious colored flame " lighted up 
the naked walls ;" and although the little 
room was crammed with villagers, each dis- 
cussing his pot and pipe, I doubted not but 
a hearty welcome awaited me. But to my 
surprise they looked upon my entrance with 
much unconcern, and not one had the po- 
liteness to make way for the unhappy and 
benighted traveller. I plainly saw that a 
stratagem was wanted to secure even an 
ordinary share of the rites of hospitality, 
and I bethought em of my duty, in know- 
ing better manners, to teach them. So call- 
ing oat lustily, to make my voice heard 
above the din, 1 said, 

" Hostler, put my horse in the stable, 
and give him a peck of oysters." 

" What, sir, ice-ters sir ? Did you say 
ice-ters sir ? " 

u Yes," I replied, u Oysters, I said oys- 
ters, I thought plain enough to be under- 

" What, shells and all, sir ? " 

" Yes ! shells and all 1 He'll know what 
to do with them." 

" Dash my wig if that arn't a pretty go, 
I've heerd as how, a horse can smoke a pipe, 
and drink a pot o' beer, as well as any man, 
and Tom Hodges says as how he seed one 
do it with his own eyes. What'll these 
Londoners do next ? " cries a clod-hopper. 

u Oysters I" cries another, " a horse open 
oysters? well that's a sight not to be seen 
every day." Off he walked, and at his trail 
every man followed. Even the landlord 
brought up the rear, leaving the stranger 
to help himself to whatever he chose, at the 
little bar at the end of the room. 

While the hostler was speeding on his 

way to the next village for the oysters, the 
whole neighborhood was crowding round 
the stable, waiting for the remarkable per- 

"He's been taught that at Ashley's 
Humphry There-a-ter, anybody may see," 
says another. 

In the the meantime, the traveller dries 
his clothes, and warms himself before the bla- 
zing fire, changes his linen, puts on his slip- 
pers, draws himself a jug of foaming ale, 
lights bis pipe, takes the arm chair, places 
it in the center of the room, in front of the 
red blaze, and determines to make himself 

After half an hour, or so, in comes Litter- 
down the ostler, with something like sell 
written on his lumpy cheek. 

" He knows naw-in about ice-ters, sir" 
said he, " any more than I know about the 
Moon, and he won't touch 'em 1" 

" Well then said I, bring them to me, I 
think that I know what to do with them ?" 

Here a roar of laughter from the whole 
club chimed in with the landlord's merry 
chuckle, who welcomed the joke as the very 
best thing he had heard for many a day, and 
pledged me in a flowing cup, for my wit. 

I never recollect having spent a happier 
night than this, with these honest rustics, 
and we parted the best friends imaginable. 

Among the many chaste and poetical 
allegories which occur, scattered up and 
down in the Eastern literature, is the fol- 
lowing : 

" As the dark mould sends upward and 
out of its very heart the rare Persian rose, 
so does hope grow out of evil; and the 
darker the evil, the brighter the hope; — 
as from a richer and fouler soil comes the 
more vigorous and larger flower." 

A mines lately dug up a large lump of 
pure gold, near American Plat, weighing 
upwards of four pounds, and worth nearly 
eight hundred dollars. He was showing 
the "specimen" to his friends, amongst 
whom was a Hollander, who, after examining 
it with critical wonder exclaimed, " Mine 
Got I and you get all that out of one hole 1 1 

Mn €Mt 

In feelings, as well as words, we thank 
the many kind contributors who have placed 
such a variety of intellectual food upon our 
table, for the present month's consumption. 
We hope that the dantiest epicure of litera- 
ture will find something with which he will 
be pleased; and, that those who prefer 
plain fare — as being the most wholesome — 
may " eat and be satisfied." 

" The best the market affords " we have 
placed before our reader ; and we hope, as 
the number of contributors increases, to 
present, not only a greater variety, but, if 
possible, an improved quality of mental 
aliment. We think that no country con- 
tains more material, and certainly none 
more intelligence, than California, in pro- 
portion to its size and population ; and, by 
degrees, we hope to see it cherished and 

Let every friend of literature send in 
something characteristic of our giant State 
— some generous and ennobling thought; 
some golden specimen of progress; some 
gem from the sea of mind ; some gentle 
child of his own imagination ; some life like 
and artistic pictures of men and scenes 
around us — whether of facts or figures. 

Two lady well-wishers have sent us their 
views upon fashion, for which we with 
pleasure find room in our " Table/' and al- 
low them to speak for themselves : 

Dear Sib : — Emanations from a woman's 
pen may be lightly read, ridiculed, and con- 
demned to death by criticism. It is not 
fashionable for women to be interested in 
anything beyond the last nen opera, or the 
last " fashion plates." 

Fashion does not permit us to use a style 
of dress that would be at once cleanly, com- 
fortable and becoming ; but we must wear 
our dresses an inconvenient length, and 
wipe all the pools of tobacco spittle which 

fentlemen have cast upon paths frequented 
y us. Should we commit such an unpar- 
donable indiscretion as to shorten our dress- 
es but a few inches, we would be set down 
at once as advocates for " woman's rights." 
Fashion does not permit us to wear bon- 
nets to protect our faces or screen our eyes, 

but they must be worn uselessly, on the 
back of the head. 

The new fashioned cape is another instru- 
ment of torture, designed to keep the head 
thrown unnaturally back, and the neck in a 
strained and unnatural position. 

I will not mention the torture which fa- 
shion inflicts upon us by the tightening of 
certain cords about the waist, nor the suf- 
fering which we undergo by the great 
weight of clothing upon the hips. I will 
say nothing of permanent injury inflicted 
upon the constitution by these, I had al- 
most said, errors ih dress ; but, I will say, 
that our patient suffering in the cause of 
fashion, and our great devotion to it, are 
worthy of a better cause. I may be con- 
sidered irrational and unfashionable, but I 
cannot help it. I believe that a woman's 
mind would be better employed in studying 
the winning ways of love — how she can 
make her home most happy — and the anato- 
my and physiology of a healthy body, than 
the last fashion plate. There is a higher 
sphere for woman than merely keeping up 
a fashionable style of living, and of doll- 
like dressing. Many condemn our " fashion- 
able follies," as they are called. 

The Press throws scorn and contempt 
upon our fashionable skirts, and other ab- 
surdities in dress, but it is equally feat to 
discourage and condemn a reformatory 
movement. Has one of our own sex, see- 
ing the evil, and deploring it, resolved to 
emancipate herself from this " fashionable " 
slavery, and by her example, her writings, 
and her labors, untiring, tried to awaken 
her sisters to a sense of their great evil, 
but has had the anathemas of the press 
hurled against her, and the opprobious title 
of a " woman's rights " woman ? 

I am no advocate for woman's rights, as 
that term is understood at the preseut day. 
I ask no public place for woman. Home is 
her empire, and her holy influences go forth 
from thence unseen, but not unfelt. I am 
an advocate for sufficient independence of 
character to enable us to wear such a style 
of dress as shall be healthy and agreeable 
to our own persons, without any regard 
whatever to tne remarks of the press, or of 
the world about us. There is a work to be 
performed, and we must attend to it. If 
we look to the right hand or to the left, for 
aid, we shall meet with discouragement; 
but, if we begin the work with earnest de- 
termination, we shall have the approval of 
a good conscience— and the luxury of a com- 



fortable dress, besides much better health of 
body, for oar reward. Lucy. 

We have wondered why it should be an 
unclean necessity of fashion to sweep the 
sidewalks with such expensive brooms as 
ladies' satin dresses — and, to prevent par- 
tial suffocation, have many times crossed to 
the other side of the street, as the dust was 
intolerable. Then, again, we cannot see 
why a " pretty wee foot," and neatly turned 
ancle, should be hidden from the sight alto- 

The following letter espouses the oppo- 
site side of the question : 

Saxfkancis, July 21, 1856. 
Mb, Editdr ; — Deer Sur — I 've seen 
your New Californy Magazeen, and I want 
to know how on airth you spect to pleese 
the peeple of this country, with a maga- 
zeen that hant got no fashon plate in it. 
The iadys in Calyforny are jist as fashona- 
Me as they be anywheres else ; and you 
neednt try to palm off on us a Magazeen 
without the fashons in it. Theres my dar- 
ter Huldy, Gudge Swindlems wife, she 
looked the book all through, and then, sed 
she, "What a pitty that editur hadnt 
thoQght to put in some fashon plates, in- 
Bted of them orful picture of the ' how 
mity falls,' and nasty silk wurms." Now 
I 've always been a litterary woman, and 
take a mat interest in litterary people, 
aod my darter takes arter me. ohes been 
a reglar prescriber for Godeys ladys book 
ever since she married Gudge Swindlem, 
aod t though I say it, who shouldnt say it, 
she was an orful smart gurl. When I 
come to this country, a wider, I left her a 
teoden baby, in 8quire Simson's family. 
They alays sed she was a rale smart gurl, 
ud a gurl that had an upward tendency. 
Well, youl see how it was — arter a while I 
*eat for her to come out here to me, and 
mercey me, how the gurl had grown. 1 
hardly knew her when she got here. She 
declared shod never tend no more babys, till 
the tended her own ; but bimeby she got a 
place in wun of the furst famlys, as cbara- 
tfcrmade, and wun day she cum home and 
wd to me, u Mother, I want von to let me 
hare three fine silk dresses, nonced all the 
*ay np. M Why, it skeered me— and I jist 
sed, * I ahant do no sich a thing. Why, 
tifcyd cost a hundred dollars a peace." 
" Never mind that," said she, " 111 pay you 
tak the money before long." Shed* sioh 
* coaxin way, too, that I jist let hur hav em j 

and you ort to hav seen hur when she got 
wun of them dresses on, and hur new bun- 
net, and hur silk velvet mantkiller. One 
evening, as she went out of the door of the 
house where she resided, thar was some 
gentlemen on the steps, and before my dar- 
ter got across the street she heard some one 
say, " What hevenly eys !" She stagered 
forard, and would have fell, but Gudge 
Swindlem caught hur in his arms, jist in 
time to save her black silk velvet mantkil- 
ler from the sand. Well, to make a long 
story short, hed went and fell in luv with 
my darter Huldy, at furst sight, and jist 
three weeks from that night they were mar- 
ried. Shed jist had the new dresses five 
weeks, and the Gudge has bought hur heaps 
of tine clothes, and nice things for hur house. 
She has a carrage, and a footman, and three 
majesticks in the kitchen, all the while. 
So you see she has nothin on airth to do, 
but study the fashons and ride to the dress- 
makers. I 've jist giv you this little detaile 
of our family history, to let you know as 
how peeple of our rank and litterary tastes, 
expect something more in a magazeen than 
storys about places weve never seen, nor 
hearn tell on before, and discriptions of 
nasty silk wurms, and sich things. Then 
thars them peaces about Vigilante calls, 
and so on. Gudge Swindlem says sich 
things have a very bad a feet upon week 
minds. Now you see, we cant tell by look- 
in into your book how large we should be 
round the waste, or how long in the skurt ; 
wether our bunnet .should be larger than 
burds nests or not. I hope vour next book 
will hav a cullered fashion plate in it — trill 
be sich a intelectual treet to my darter and 
her fashonable friends, and then you can put 
us down as prescribers for your magazeen, 
as long as we liv. Yours forever, 

Mrs. Mary Metwith, 

Muther-in-law to Gudge Swindlem. 

P. S. My darter has writ a beautiful 
sonit to her baby, and if your book gets 
to be fashonable and poplar, (as twill if vou 
put the fashons in it,) Bhe will let you hav 
it, to blemish your pages with. 

Mrs. Mabt Metwith. 

We are very sorry, Mrs. Metwith, that 
you don't approve of our Magazine, with- 
out the fashions ; and as you doubtless be- 
long to a very large class of fashionable 
ladies, we shall endeavor to meet your 
wants, and those of your fashionable friends, 
by consulting our artist concerning it 




Some idea may be formed of the prolific 
productiveness of the fruit trees of Califor- 
nia from the following : — We saw the 
branch of a young pear tree from San Jose, 
measuring only three feet nine inches in 
length, and which had one hundred and 
seventy-three pears upon it, of good size 
and growth. 

A gentleman who was an eye-witness has 
sent us the following characteristic mor- 

During the inauguration of Gen. Taylor, 
at Washington, D. C., March 4th, 1849, 
the police regulations, as usual, required 
that after the speech of the new President 
had commenced, the gates of the Capitol 
grounds should be closed, and no carriage of 
any kind allowed to pass, until the speech 
was finished, to prevent confusion. 

The Ministers of all the Bussias, M. Bo- 
disco was very late, and, after the speech 
had begun drove up to the gate in great 
haste, the horses covered with foam, — when 
the coachman shouted to the guard — " open 
ze gates iv yow pies" — the guard shook his 
head and stood still : — the footman next 
called out " will you open ze gate for ze 
Russian Minister?" the guard again shook 
his head, without answering a word : next, 
the grand Minister put his head out of the 
carriage window, and called to the guard, 
" open ze gates to ze gran Minister of all 
the Bussias, Minister Plenipotentiary, M. 
Bodisco, I am ze Minister." 

There was a great crowd around the gates 
within and without, and all this fuss crea- 
ted quite a stir. The guard drew himself up, 
and in a firm and pleasant manner replied, 
'If you were a free-born American Citizen, 
of these United States of America, you could 
'not pass these gates now, in a carriage" 

The crowd came very near giving three 
cheers for the guard, but better manners 
prevailed ; and M. Bodisco, stepped out 
of his elegant equipage, and entered the 
side gate, with the sovereign people; his 
carriage remaining outside until all the cer- 
emonies were over. 


Vigilantes — Is thanked for his commu- 
nication, but we cannot enter into the local 
matter, about which he writes. 

Agpies — We must decline your commu- 
nication, as it is not sufficiently condensed. 
We are persuaded you can do much better 
by some of the beautiful thoughts you doubt- 
less have expressed. 

Old Tom, — Is too much like a liquor 
known by that name, to be acceptable. 

C P. T.— What do you think we care 
about such things — send it along. 

Moonshine. — Your poetry is too much 
like the old proverb, and is nearly " all 
moon !" 

A Mother 1 s Smile — Is a theme that 
calls forth some of the sweetest of remin- 
iscences, and the holiest of thoughts, and 
we should be sorry to see so good a subject 
sacrificed to such poor poetry ; — we have 
seen mucn better in advertisements of boots 
andshoes. Declined. 

Red Shirt, — Yours is a Btrange letter, 
and something like your signature. But 
why you should suppose that " store clothes" 
or " stove-pipes " make any difference in the 
" man," we don't know. We should be as 
silly as you seem to be, if it made any dif- 
ference with us— besides, how should we 
know what the color, or the quality of your 
c lothes is, if you were not to tell us ? We've 
worked in muddy mining claims ourselves, 
and we don't entertain any such foolish no- 
tion. We think too that, however stiff your 
hand may be by grasping the pick, if you 
do not write with the tool mentioned, we 
could manage to read it. 

Emigrant — Shall be attended to. 

W. tveekes. — Will take months of culti- 
vated study before he can excel, even in tel- 
ling anecdotes if those he has sent are any 
sample, much less in "making" poetry. 

C. — Tour "Beveries under a Pine I^g" 
are not exactly suitable for our pages. Yet 
they contain many beautiful sentences, 
which, if illustrating any point, would be 
very acceptable to us. "Don't you give it 
up so, Mr. C," but try again. 

Q in a Corner. — Must produce some- 
thing a little better before we can find him 

The Three Tailors are declined. 

Skillet — Tour article reminded us of a 
story we heard about ten days ago, of a 
young gentleman who commenced inuring 
himself to hardship by making a pillow of 
a skillet Tour piece was nearly as hard 
— to read, and would be much harder to 



C. T. T. — Your piece next month. 

Farewell. — To Farewell we beg to say 
"farewell" — as a poet. 

C. A. — We cannot publish soch secta- 
rian nonsense. For ourselves we don't 
care one iota. If a man thinks he can 
serve God better by standing on his head, 
let him do it. "Who made you a judge ?" 
or us either ? It is the motive and not the 
method that we think is acceptable to God. 
Learn to be more charitable, C. A. 

California Statistics. — We shall reserve 
for next month. 

Chips send us a few more such. 

P. P., Nevada. — Don't fail to send us 
anything that is curious to California. 

John Dor. — You cannot expect to write 
anything without being a little troubled 
at first ; but never mind that ; let " excel- 
sior" be your motto, and your next attempt 
may be more successful. 

Delia. — Yours is a beautiful sketch, but 
unfortunately came too late for this month. 

A Trip across the Tules. — Was rather 
too pointless to be suitable. Why didn't 
you send us your name ? 

ttarnj JSntra 

Life of George Washington, by Washing- 
ton Irylng, in four volumes : Putnam, 

That which Washington was, as an pat- 
riot, Washington Irving is, as an author. 

To attempt to cull the excellence of this 
work, or to point out the chief objects of 
interest in it, within the small space allotted 
to us this month, would be as futile and ri- 
diculous as to endeavor to cram an elephant 
into a cigar box. It is impossible to skim 
over lightlya single page of this eventful 
history. Whether Washington be regard- 
ed as a son, a brother, a citizen, a soldier, 
a president, or a man, one cannot but be 
charmed with the manly and noble quali- 
ties of bis nature, and the clear-sighted 
brilliancy of his genius. We would say, 
let every one who can spare the means add 
these volumes to his library, and trace, 
step by step, for himself, the progress of the 
man whose every action, thought and hope, 
were for his country, and that alone. What 
a wholesome and bitter reproof is this man's 
whole life, to the dishonorable and selfish 
motives of the politician of to-day — who, 
to drop dollars into his purse, would sell 
himself to wholesale peculation— consid- 
ering the " stealings of office " as lawful 
plunder. So did not our noble Washing- 
ton. Go thou, politician, and sit in sack- 
cloth and ashes, mourning over thy base- 
ness of soul, that peradventure the spirit of 

the " Father of his Country " may visit and 
teach thee to love, honor and serve thy 
country — in preference to thyself. 

Mexico and its Religion, by R. A. Wilson : 
Harper & Bro., N. Y. 

Mr. Wilson has embodied his three years' 
experience in one of the most interesting 
countries in the world, in a comprehensive 
and descriptive volume, of 400 pages. His 
views are clear and unprejudiced, his style is 
terse and life-like, and one becomes interest- 
ed so gradually, that to rise from its perusal, 
without reading to the end, is something 
like leaving a well-furnished table before 
your dinner is half finished. This book 
contains a vast amount of very useful infor- 
mation, concerning its history, curiosities 
and wonders, and of the manners and cus- 
toms of its singular people. We can re- 
commend it cordially to our readers. 

Walker's Expedition to Nicaragua : String- 
er & Townsend. 

This is a hurriedly written book, of a 
hurriedly possessed country ; giving a high- 
ly colored description of the modus operandi 
of its possession, by William Walker and 
his comrades; and containing the official 
correspondence with the United States Go- 
vernment, &c. &c. This book is very par- 
tial, and is doubtless intended to espouse 
the cause of the Filibuster President. It 
will repay perusal. 

Strati* Deparfomtt 


"Mamma, mamma, my kitty is dead, 
quite dead," sobbed a little child of about 
eight summers. " She did not seem sick 

this morning when I went to school, but 
now she is dead. Her eyes are all shut up, 
and her teeth are bit clear through her 
tongue. Oh 1 mamma was she hungry ? If 



she would only get alive again a little 
while — I would never, never, forget to feed 
her again." 

"Did you forget to feed yomr kitty?" 
kindly enquired the mother. " Oh yes, 
mamma I did, Amy called for me to go to 
school, and I ran off in a hurry, without 
thinking of poor kitty. I left her to starve, 
and now she is dead, quite dead. Nurse 
says she is not better off like little brother 
— but all dead. Oh mamma, mamma." 

Gently the loving mother lifted the little 
one upon her lap, wiped away the falling 
tears, and smoothed back the damp flaxen 
ringlets from her face. Then in low sooth- 
ing tones she said : — " Do not cry my child, 
that will not bring kitty back, but listen 
to me, and I will tell you of the time when 
I was a little girl like you, I had a mother, 
a dear good mother, but she was always 
sick, so that she could not come to the nur- 
sery to see us, but nurse need to take me, 
and my little brother, to pay her a visit 
every day, that she was well enough to see 
us. She always told us to be very quiet — 
so I used to go on tiptoe to the bedside to 
get the kiss from her pale lips. Nurse al- 
.ways talked in whispers to us there — and 
even little brother tried to 4 whiper' as he 
called it." 

One day, when nurse took us to see 
mamma, the room was a little darker than 
usual, and mamma was too weak to talk to 
us. So nurse only let us kiss her, and said 
we might play with each other in the room 
a little while, if we would be very quiet. 
For a few moments I amused myself cut- 
ting paper ; then little brother wanted the 
scissors, and I would not give them to him, 
which caused him to cry; so nurse was 
obliged to send me from the room. Well 
do I remember, as I crossed the room, the 
sorry look of my poor mother, and how her 
mild blue eyes followed me to the door ; but 
I did not go near her for the usual good-by 
kiss. I was angry, and as I shut the door, 
I slammed it hard. I knew I was naughty 
at the time, but I would not be good. The 
next morning the house was dark and still 

— all over it Fapa walked the hall in his 
dressing-gown and slippers. Everybody 
stepped softly, and spake in whispers. I 
tried to play as usual, but I was not happy. 
I longed for nurse to come, and take us to 
see mamma, that I might tell her I would 
never be a naughty girl again, and ask her 
to kiss me. 

Pretty soon papa came and said he 
would take us to see mamma. He lifted 
little brother in his arms, while I walked 
softly beside him ; but, oh, how dark and 
changed was mamma's room ! She no long- 
er lay in the bed where we had so often 
seen her. The bed had been taken away, 
and my mother dear lay on a board — a very 
hard board — with a white cloth over it. 
She did not open her eyes, nor speak to us. 
There she lay with her thin white hands 
folded across her bosom, She had a long 
white dress on, but her cheek was as white 
as the dress. I laid my hand on hers ; it 
was as cold as ice. Mother was dead! 
The last time I saw her alive I passed by 
her in anger, and slammed the door. Now 
she was dead ; she could not hear me tell 
her that I was sorry for being so naughty. 
Her lips were cold, and closed in death. 
She could not give me the kiss which yes- 
terday 1 refused. 

So it always is, my child ; a duty neg- 
lected, or a wrong committed, may cause 
us pain for a whole lifetime. So we should 
be very careful to treat everybody and 
everything with kindness. Then if death 
takes them from us, we shall not have to 
suffer the pain of remoye for negligence 
and unkindness, as well as the pain of sep- 
eration from those we so much love. So 
think well on it. Carrie D. 

We have not received any contributions 
from our young friends this month, that are 
quite good enough for a corner — but we 
hope they will not be discouraged. " Try, 
try again." Be determined to write some 
good little pieces, and, if you are puzzled at 
first, you will find the pleasant task become 
easier and plainer, as you persevere. 




Sixty-five miles south of San Fran- 
cisco, near the head of the beautiful 
and fertile valley of San Jose, and in 
an eastern spur of the coast range of 
mountains, is the quicksilver mine of 
New Almaden. 

With your permission, kind reader, 
we will enter the stage as it waits on 
the Plaza, and as the clock strikes eight. 
Mart at once on our journey. Lucky 

for us, it is a fine brght morning, as the 
fog has cleared off and left us, (on a 
dew-making excursion no doubt, up 
the country) and as we are to be fel- 
low travellers — at least in imagina- 
tion — and wish to enjoy ourselves; 
while the stage rattles over the pave- 
ment, and rumbles on tbe wood plank- 
ing of the streets, let us say " good 
bye" to our cares, as we did to our 
friends, and leave them with the city — 
behind us. 



How refreshing to the brow is the 
breeze, and grateful to the eye is the 
beautiful green of the gardens, as we 
pass them on our way. Even the hills 
in the distance now so barren and 
drear, are dotted with the dark green 
of the live oaks, and are beautifnl by 

On, on we go, rolling over hills, 
traveling in the valley, passing farms 
and wayside houses; now watering 
horses here, then changing horses there, 
and dropping mail bags yonder, until 
we reach the flourishing old Mission 
of Santa Clara. Here, we long to lin- 
ger, and as we look upon the orchards 
now laden with their fruit, we almost 
wish to bribe the coachman to wait 
while we buy, beg, or steal, those cher- 
ry-cheeked and luscious looking pears ; 
or take a walk amid the shadows of the 
Old Mission church; but, the signal 
" ail aboard," hurries us to our seats, 
and we soon enter an avenue of old 
willow and poplar trees, that extends 
from Santa Clara to San Jose, a dis- 
tance of three miles, and which was 
planted by and for the convenience of 
the two Missions. On either side of 
this avenue at intervals, there are 
tasteful cottages, flourishing farms, 
nurseries, and gardens, which are well 
supplied with water from artesian 

Arriving in San Jose you And a 
neat and pleasant agricultural city, 
with all the temptations of fruit and 
flowers in great variety ; and but for a 
partial failure of the crops this year 
from drouth, there would have been a 
brisk business activity observable in 
each department of business. One 
thing impressed us unfavorably here, 

the large number (thirty-seven, we be- 
lieve) of members of- the legal profes- 
sion, in so small a city, we thought of 


An upper mill, and lower mill, 

Fell out about the water ; 
To war they went, that is to law, 

Resolved to give no quarter. 

A lawyer was by each engaged, 

And hotly they contended ; 
When fees grew scant, the war they waged 

They judged, twere better ended. 

The heavy costs remaining still, 
Were settled without pother ; — 

One lawyer took the upper mill, 
The lower mill the other. 

and it set us to ruminating. But, let us 
jump on the box of Baker's easy coach, 
and we shall forget all that, and have 
a very pleasant ride of fourteen miles 
upon a good road through an ever 
green grove of live oaks, and past the 
broad shading branches of the syca- 
more trees, and in a couple of hours 
find ourselves drinking heartily of the 
delicious waters of the fine cool soda 
spring at the romantic village of New 
Almaden. As we have passed through 
enough for one day, let us wait until 
morning before climbing the Btfll to 
examine the mines. 

This mine has been known for ages 
by the Indians who worked it for the 
vermillion paint that it contained, with 
which they ornamented their persons, 
and on that account had become a val- 
uable article of exchange with other 
Indians from the Gulf of California to 
the Columbia river. Its existence was 
also known among the early settlers of \ 
California, although none could esti- 
mate the character or value of the 

In 1845 a captain of cavalry in the 


Men can service, named CastiUero, 
taring met h tribe of Indians near 
Bodega, and seeing their faces painted 
with vermillion, obtained from tbem 
for a reward, the necessary information 
of its locality, when he visited it, and 
Baring made many very interesting 
experiments, and determined the char- 
acter of the metal, he registered it 
in accordance with the Mexican cus- 
tom, about the close- of that year. 

A company was immediately formed 
and the mine divided into twenty-four 
thares, when the company immediately 
commenced working it on a small 
•ale ; bat, being unable to carry it on 
for want of capital, in 1846 it was 
leased oat to an English and Mexican 
«irnpnny for the term of sixteen years ; 
the original company to receive one* 
quarter of the gross producta for that 

time. In March, 1847, the new com- 
pany commenced operations on a large 
scale, but finding that to pay one-fourth 
of the proceeds, and yet bear all the 
expenses of working the mine, would 
incur a considerable loss, they eventu- 
ally purchased out most of the original 

In June, 1850, this company had 
expended three hundred and eighty- 
seven thousand eight hundred dollars 
over and above all their receipts. Dur- 
ing that year a new process of smelting 
the ore was introduced by a black- 
smith named Baker, which succeeded 
so well that fourteen smelting furnaces 
have been erected by the company 
upon the same principle. 

The process of extracting the quick- 
silver from the cinnabar is very simple. 
The ore chamber B is filled with cin- 




of c< 

from one end of the building to the 
other, where it enters a large circular 
caldron, from which it is weighed into 
flasks, in quantities of seventy-five 
pounds. To save time, one set of fur- 
naces is generally cooling and being 
filled, while the other is burning. 

Now, let us gradually ascend to the 
patio or yard in front of the mine, a 
visit to which has been so truthfully 
and beautifully described by Mrs. S. A. 
Downer, that we are tempted to intro- 
duce the reader to such good company. 

"At the right was a deep ravine, 
through which flowed a brook, supplied 
by springs in the mountains, and which, 
in place*, was completely hid by tangled 
masses of wild-wood, among which we 
discerned willows along its edge, with 
oak, sycamore and buckeye. Although 
late in the summer, roses and convol- 
vuli, with several varieties of floss, 
were in blossom ; with sweet-brier, 

honeysuckle, and various plants, msn; 
of which were unknown to us, not the 
in bloom, and which Nature, wit 
prodigal hand, has strewn in bounteon 
profusion over every acre of the lane 
To the left of the mountain side, tb 
wild gooseberry grows in abundano 
The fruit is large and of good flara 
though of rough exterior. Wild oil 
diversified with shrubs and live-oal 
spread around us, till we reach it 
patio, nine hundred and forty fo 
above the base of the mountain. Tl 
road is something over a mile, althouj 
there are few persons who have tra 1 
eled it on foot under a burning hi 
but would be willing to make the 
affidavits it was near five. 

" Let us pause and look around u 
For a distance of many miles, nolhii 
is seen but the tops of success 
mountains; then appears the beautif 
valley of San Juan, while the Coa 
Range is lost in distance. The pat 
is an area of more than an acre in e 
tent ; and still above us, but not direct 


in view, is a Mexican settlement, com- 
posed of the families and lodging-cab- 
iv of the miners. There is a store, 
ami provisions are carried up on paek- 
mules, tor retail among the miners 
»lio may truly be said to live from 
hand to mouth. This point had been 
I'it* resort of the aborigines not only 
of' this State, but from as far as the 
Columbia river, to ob taint the paint 
I vermilion) found in the cinnabar, and 
which they used in the decoration of 
their person. How long this had been 
kunwn to them cannot be ascertained ; 
[irolvibly a long time, for they had 
wurkeil into the mountain some fifty or 
tiny feet, with what implements can 
wdj he conjectured. A quantity of 
, iwind stones, evidently from 
the brook, was found in a pass- 
age wilha number of skeletons; 
Ike destruction of life having 
been caused, undoubtedly, by 
•sudden caving in of the earth, 
burying the unskilled savages 
in the midst of their labors. 
Ii hail been supposed For some 
time that the ore possibly con- 
tuned the precious metals, 
t™i no regular assay was made 
ull in '45 ; a gentleman now 
hrgely interested, procured a' 
arrturt, not doubting that gold, * 
or at least silver, would crown _ 
hi* efforts. Its real character g 
»aa msde known by its perni- = 
cious effects upon the system of * 

f»e experimenter. The discovery was 
instantly communicated to a brother, a 
amber of a wealthy firm in Mexico, 
*to with others purchased the proper- 
ly, consisting of two leagues, held 
under a Spanish title, of the original 
"•Mr. For some years but Utile was 
"we. The ore proved both abundant 
"d rich, but required the outlay of a 
'tat amount of capital to be worked to 
■drainage; and, while Nature with 
"*""? than her usual liberality had 
furnished in the mountain itself all the 
•fcoesMriea for the successful prosecu- 
***< of her favors, man was too timid 
* Mail himself of her gifts. In 1850, 

the present company was formed. 
With untiring energy, guided by a 
liberal and enlightened policy, they 
proceeded with vigor, and at this time, 
the works being nearly completed, the 
extraction of the mercury proceeds 
without interruption. 

"In 1850 a tunnel was commenced 
in the side of the mountain in a line 
with the patio, and which has already 
been carried to the distance of 1100 
feet by ten feet wide, and ten feet high 
to the crown of the arch, which is 
strongly roofed with heavy timber 
throughout its whole length. Through 
this the rail-track passes ; the car re- 
ceiving the ore as it is brought on the 
backs of the carriers, (lenaterot) from 


the depths below, or from the heights 
above, The track being free, we will 
now take a seat on the car, and enter 
the dark space. Not an object is vis- 
ible, save the faint torch-light at the 
extreme end ; and a chilling dampness 
seizes on the frame, so suddenly bereft 
of warmth and sunshine. This sensa- 
tion does not continue as we descend 
into the subteranean caverns below ; 
and now commence the wonders, as 
well as the dangers of the undertaking. 
By the light of a torch we pass through 
a damp passage of some length, a sud- 
den turn bringing us into a sort of ves- 
tibule, where, in a niche at one side, is 


placed a rude shrine of the tutelary 
saint, or protectress of the mine — 
Nttettra Sehora de Guadalupe, before 


which lighted candles are kept coi 
slantly burning, and before entering 
upon tlii labors of the day or night 
each mail visits this shrine iu devotion. 
You descend a perpendicular ladder 
formed by notches cut into a solid log. 
You go down, perhaps twelve feet; 
you turn and pass a narrow corner, 
where a frightful gulf seems yawning 
to receive you. Carefully threading 
your way over the very narrowest of 
footholds, you turn into another pass- 
age black as night, to descend into a 
flight of steps termed in the side of 
the cave, tread over some loose stones, 
turn around, step over arches, down 
into another passage, that leads into 
many dark and intricate windings and 
descending*, or chambers supported 
but by a column of earth — now step- 
ping this way, then that, twisting 
and turning, all tending down, down 
to where, through the darkness of mid- 
night one can discern the faint glim- 
mer, which shines like Shakspeare't 
" good deed in a naughty world," and 

which it seems impossible one can 
reach. We were shown a map 
giving the subterranean topography of 
this mine; and truly, the crossings and 
re-crossings, the windings and intrica- 
cies of the labyrinthine passages could 
only be comparad to the streets of a 
dense city, while nothing short of the 
clue, furnished Theseus by Ariadne, 
would insure the safe return into day, 
of the unfortunate pilgrim who should 
enter without a guide. 

The miners have named the different 
passages after their saints, and run 
them off as readily as we do the streets 
of a city; and after exliaosting the 
names of all the saints in the calendar, 
have commenced on different animals, 
one of which is not inaptly called El 
elefante. Some idea of the extent and 
number of these passages may be 
formed, when we state that sixty 
pounds of candles are used by the 
workmen in the twenty-four hours. 
Another turn brings us upon some 
men at wtfrk.- One stands upon a 
single plank placed high above us in 
au arch, and he is drilling into the rock 
above him for the purpose of placing a 
charge of powder. It appears very 
dangerous, yet we are told that do 
lives have ever been lost, and no more 
serious accidents have occurred than 
the bruising of a hand or limb, from 
carelessness in blasting. How he can 
maintain his equilibriutn is a mystery 
to us, while with every thrust of the 
drill his strong chest heaves, and he 
gives utterance to a sound something 
between a grunt and a groan, which is 
supposed by them to facilitate their 
labor. Some six or eight men work- 
ing in one spot, each keeping up his 
agonizing sound, awaken a keen sym- 
pathy. Were it only a cheerful sing- 
song, one could stand it ; but in that 
dismal place, their wizsard-like forms 
and appearance, relieved but by the 
light of a single tallow candle stuck in 
the side of the rock, just sufficient to 
make " darkness visible," is like open- 
ing to us the shades of Tartarus; 
and the throes elicited from over- 


wrought human bone and muscle, 
found like the anguish wrung from 
infernal spirits, who hope for no escape. 

Tbeae men work in companies, one 
set by night, another by day, alternat- 
ing week about. We inquired the 
average duration of life of the men 
who work under ground, and found 
that it did not exceed that of forty -five 
years, and the diseases to which they 
are mostly subject are those of the 
chest; allowing conclusively how es- 
sential light and air 
are to animal, as well 
ax vegetable life. 
With a sigh and a 
shudder, we step 
aside to allow anoth- 
er set of laborers to 
pass. There they 
come; up, and up, 
from almost intermi- 
nable depths ; each 
one as he passes, 
panting, puffing and 
wheezing, like a high 
pressure steamboat, 
as with straining 
nerve and quivering 
muscle, he staggers 
under the load, which 
Dearly bends him 
double. These are 
the tmateroi, carry- 
ing the ore from the mine to deposit it 
in the cars ; and like the miners they are 
burdened by no superfluous clothing. 
A shirt and trowsers, or, the trowsers 
without a shirt; a pair of leathern 
sandals fastened at the ankle, with a 
frit cap, or the crown of an old hat, 
completes their costume. 

"The ore is placed in a flat leather 
bag, (talfgo) with a band two inches 
wide that passes around the forehead, 
the weight resting along the shoulders 
and spine. Two hundred pounds of 
rough ore are thus borne up, flight 
after flight, of perpendicular steps; 
now winding through deep caverns, or 
threading the most tortuous passages ; 
again ascending over earth and loose 

stones, and up places that have not 
even an apology for steps, all the while 
lost in Cimmerian darkness, but for a 
torch borne aloft, which flings its sickly 
rays over the dismal abysm, showing 
that one unwary step would plunge 
him beyond any possibility of human 
aid or succor. Not always, however, 
do they ascend ; they sometimes come 
from above; yet we should judge the 
toil and danger to be nearly as great 
in one case as in the other. Thirty 

trips will these men make in one day, 
from the lowest depths. 

For once we were disposed to quar- 
rel with the long, loose skirts, that not 
only impeded our progress, but pre- 
vented our attempt to ascend to the 
summit, -and enjoy from thence a pros- 
pect of great beauty and extent. But 
one woman, we believe, has ever ac- 
complished this feat, which severely 
tasks the strength of manhood. 

We will now follow the tmaterot, as 
they load the car with the contents of 
their sacks, and run after it into the 
open air. There they go, with shouts 
of laughter, and really, as one emerges 
into the warm sunshine, the change it) 
most inspiriting. They have reached 


the end of the track, 
and throw off the great , 
lumps of ore, without , 
an effort, as if they 
were mere cabbages. 
What capacious chests, 
and how gaily they 
work! Such gleeful ac- 
tivity we never before 
beheld. The large 
1 iimp i deposited, they 
now seize shovels and 
jumping on the cars, 
the small lumps mixed 
with earth are cleared 
off with the most as- 
tonishing celerity. Do 
but behold that fellow 
of Doric build, with 
brawny muscles, and 
who is a perfect fac 
simile of Hercules, as 
he stood engraved with 
his club, as we remem- 
ber him in Bell or 
Tooke's Pantheon I 

The ore deposited 
on the patio, anoth- 
set of laborers en- 
gage in separating Tenateros 
the large lumps and reducing them 
to the size of common paving stones, 
which are placed by themselves. 
The smaller pieces are put in a separ- 
ate pile, while the earth (tierra) is sift- 
ed through coarse sieves for the pur- 
pose of being made into adobes. There 
is also a blacksmith's shop for making 
and repairing implements. The miner 
is not paid by the day, but receives pay 
for the ore he extracts. They usually 
work in parties of from two to ten ; 
half the number work during the day, 
the other half by night, and in this 
manner serve as checks upon each 
other. Should a drone get into the 
number, complaint is made to the en- 
gineer, who has to settle such matters, 
which he generally does by placing him 
with a set nearer his capacity, or some- 
times by h discharge. The price of 
the ore is settled by agreement for each 

week. Should the passage be more 
than commonly laborious, they do not 
earn much ; or if, on the contrary, it 
proves to be easy and of great richness, 
the gain is theirs ; it being not infre- 
quent for them to make from thirty to 
forty dollars a week a piece, and sel- 
dom less than fifteen. In those parts 
of the mine where the ore is worthless, 
but still has to be extracted in order 
to reach that which will pay, or to pro- 
mote ventilation, they are paid by the 
vara,* at a stipulated price. They do 
nothing with getting the ore to the pa- 
tio ; this is done by the tenateros at the 
company's expense, as is also the sep- 
arating, sifting, and weighing. Each 
party have their ore kept separate ; it 
is weighed twice a week and an ac- 
count taken. They select one of their 

» At- 

(wo feet niue inches. 



party who receives the pay and divides 
it among his fellows. 

The tenatoros receive three dollars 
per diem; the sifters and weighers, 
two doDars and a half; blacksmiths 
and bricklayers, five and six; while 
carpenters are paid the city price of 
eight dollars a day. These wages 
t*em to be very just and liberal, yet 
Mich is their improvidence that no mat- 
ter how much they earn, the miners are 
not one peso better off at the end of 
the month than they were at its begin- 
ning. No provision being made for sick- 
ness or age, when that time comes, as 
come it will, there is nothing for them 
to do but, like some worn out old char- 
ger, lie down and die. This has ref- 
erence exclusively to the Mexicans ; 
and it is a pity that a Savings Bank 
could not be established, and made 
popular among tjiem. They number 
between two and three hundred in all ; 
but they are, perhaps, the most imprac- 
ticable people in the world, going on 
as their fathers did before them, firmly 
believing in the axiom, that sufficient 
unto the day is the evil thereof. 


h the name of a newly opened quick- 
piker mine, situated in a beautiful and 
romantic valley on Guadalupe Creek, 
at the extreme western point of the 
same range of hills as that of New Al- 
maden, and about four and a half miles 
from it This mine was discovered in 
1847, but was not attempted to be 
worked till 1850, when a company was 
formed and operations commenced; 
but, owing to the high price of labor 
and supplies, and the company running 
short of funds, after a few months 
were suspended. In 1655, a new com- 
pany was formed and incorporated by 
charter, from the Legislature of Mary- 
land, under the title of the " Santa 
Clara Mining Association, of Balti- 

more" with a sufficient working capital 
to open the mine, erect the necessary 
smelting works and carry them on. 
These being now nearly completed, the 
company expect, in a few weeks, to 
send their first samples of quicksilver 
to market; and, as large deposits of 
cinnabar have already been discovered, 
the prospects are peculiarly encourag- 
ing to the owners. 

Without omitting a farewell visit 
and a last drink at* the soda springs, 
we leave this singular spot for San 
Jose ; and the following morning, after 
passing the Old Mission and the flour- 
ishing farms along the valley, arrived 
in Oakland just in time to be too late 
for the ferry boat at noon; but pa- 
tience being a virtue, as we could do 
nothing else for three long hours, we 
quietly cultivated it and reached San 
Francisco to — practice it. 


Light be the earth that lies on his breast, 
Green be the Bod that covers his grave, 

Hallow'd the song bird, untouched in its nest, 
In the ever-green laurels that over it wave. 

Be honored the sword that he gallantly bore, 
Immortal the spot where he gloriously fell, 

Be chaunted his fame on ev'ry free shore, — 
On Time's latest record his memory dwelL 

Exalted his name in the land of his birth, 
EnvyM his fete by the sons of the brave, 

Wide his example shall spread round the earth, 
Till it ceases to bear on its bosom a slave. 

Peace everlasting dwell in his soul, 
Be welcom'd its entrance to regions of bliss, 

While patriot-heroes, his name here enrol, 
The reward of the brave, there ever be his. 


We open the hearts of others when 
we open our own. 



This animal has ever been repre- 
sented by the trappers and mountaineers 
of the American continent, as the most 
formidable and ferocious of wild beasts. 
His home is among the solitary fast- 
nesses of the mountain, and whenever 
the footsteps of the banter has invaded 
it, it has been at the peril of his life. 
Who has not heard of the hair-breadth 
escapes, the severe wounds, and often 
fatal results of such rencounters in the 
Rocky Mountains ? And often, in the 
early history of mountain adventure in 
California, after the discovery of gold, 
has the pioneer miner, with rifle and 
pickaxe, his blankets and pan, encount- 
ered this stern tenant of the forest, while 
in search of the precious metal. 

We remember very well that during 
ihe winter of 1849 a colored man was 
passing through the underbrush, in the 
vicinity of Mud Springs, (now Eldo- 
rado,) then a very sparsly populated 
mining district, when he came suddenly 
upon a large grizzly bear, which im- 
mediately raised upon and struck him, 

tearing off his clothing and making a 
few gashes in his flesji with the blow. 
The man had presence of mind to draw 
his knife, and, fortunately, with one 
blow he stabbed his antagonist to 
the heart, when he immediately fell 
with a groan. The man concluded to 
run, and when he returned to the spot, 
with assistance, the bear was dead. It 
was eventually taken to camp, and sold 
at one dollar and a quarter per pound, 
and as it weighed, when dressed, some 
little over eleven hundred pounds, it 
netted him about thirteen hundred dol- 
lars. He has many times since con- 
fessed that " it was the best prospect 
that he ever got I" 

If a grizzly bear is suddenly dis- 
turbed, he will immediately make an 
attack upon the cause, whether it be 
man or beast. An acquaintance of ours 
when descending a brushy hill near 
Bird's Valley, in the spring of 1850, 
unfortunately came suddenly upon one, 
when it attacked and tore him so fear- 
fully that for several months his life 
was despaired of, and though living, 
he is very badly disfigured in person. 



It ifl not often that the bear will be 
the aggressor — never if it can conve- 
niently make off — except it be a mother 
with her young cubs, when, without the 
slightest provocation, she will attack, 
and an unerring rifle or tree will be 
almost the only chance of deliverance. 
The first of the kind that we saw 
was perfectly conclusive to a bargain 
in our own mind that, if he were not 
the aggressor we never would be. His 
immense bulk, his fierce cunning eyes, 
his huge paws, his wide mouth and 
large teeth, as he sat upon his haunches 
gathering the berries from the mansa- 
nita, remined us of a preference for a 
tree or a much greater distance between 
us. The moment he saw us he pricked 
up his ears, while his eyes " snapped " 
again with brilliancy as he evidently 
measured the distance between us ; and, 
after a short pause, he stealthily walked 
away — several times looking back — as 
if with indecision or suspicion. 

When men go out purposely to hunt 
the bear, they generally go very well 
prepared, and conduct the expedition 
with the greatest possible coolness and 
caution ; but, with all their prudence 
and experience, they too often pay 
dearly for their sport 

In 1850 a large grizzly was seen 
near a place called the " Main Top," 
on the divide between the north and 
middle forks of the American river, 
when a party of six experienced hunt- 
ers was soon upon his track, and hear- 
ing the crackling of bushes they imme- 
diately divided off in different direc- 
tions, so as to surround him. At length 
he was seen, though partly hidden by 
the heavy underbrush, and fired upon, 
and at the first shot was badly wounded. 

This infuriated him, and he rushed 
quickly and suddenly out, and before 
the rifle could be re-loaded or the hunt* 
er (Mr. Wright) could escape, or others 
come to his assistance, he was tripped 
down, when the bear at one blow took 
out a piece of his skull, to the brain, 
broke his arm, and would have torn 
him to pieces but for the hasty advance 
of another of the party, (Mr. Bonnett,) 
who, with a large sized revolver, went 
up to him, and, at the risk of his own 
life, shot the grizzly through the heart, 
when he directly turned upon him, but 
before he could reach him another shot 
through the head laid him prostrate at 
his feet Mr. W. was removed and 
well attended, and after several months 
of great suffering, eventually recovered. 

A Mr. Drury and his party were out 
on a prospecting trip for gold ; and 
what was then very unusual, they were 
not well provided with weapons, but Mr. 

D concluded to have a shot at a 

bear that was near them, which he 
wounded, when he immediately took 
to a tree, and his companions ran off 
for rifles and men ; but, while they were 
away, the bear actually gnawed the 
tree— a mere sapling — in two, and after 
biting him through the body severely, 
left him for dead ; but, by timely assista- 
nce being afforded, he recovered, yet 
will be a cripple for life. 

The many early adventures of this 
kind, by miners and others, as they ex- 
plored the lonely forest paths of these 
beasts while prospecting for gold, gave 
great interest to the camp-fire at night ; 
and as the smoke curled up among the 
branches of the giant pines, and the 
fire sparkled in the darkness, many 
were the weary hours that were cheated 



of their dullness by the hair-elevating 
stories of sights and experiences with 
the grizzley bear. 

Every rustling of the leaves, every 
crackling of the branches, every brush- 
ing of the bushes — yes, every sound 
that was strange, whether distant or 
near, gave the signal for watchfulness, 
and with the rifle clutched they waited 
to see if it might not be a grizzly. 

This animal has gradually disappear- 
ed from the mining encampments, al- 
though in some of the more secluded 
he still steals down at night to relieve 
the miner of his beef, or feast upon his 
pork, yet the instances are now very 
rare. He has emigrated to the unfre- 
quented and solitary mountain forests, 
where undisturbed he can sleep through 
the winter, and at early spring find the 
young clever and roots upon which he 
may feed at leisure, or look out for an 
occasional victim among the young and 
timid deer ; and when summer opens to 
give its wild fruits for his sustenance, 
be content with what he can get 

These animals grow to an astonish- 
ing size, some having been killed in 
this State that weighed one thousand 
eight hundred pounds. Their average 
life is about fifteen or sixteen years. 
They generally have three at a birth, 
and are well and tenderly cared for by 
the mother. 

Although very wild, many of these 
animals have been thoroughly tamed, 
so as to have nearly as strong an at- 
tachment for man as a dog. Mr. Ad- 
ams, a gentleman who resided in the 
upper portion of Tuolumne County, 
had so thoroughly tamed a young griz- 
zly that it followed him wherever he 
went, and would moan in disappoint- 

ment and distress whenever he took 
his rifle down for a hunting excursion 
and showed any signs of leaving him 
behind. On one occasion, when en- 
gaged in his favorite occupation — that 
of hunting — he had wounded a grizzly, 
and being unable to escape from his 
vengeance, was about falling a victim — 
for the bear had wounded him badly 
in the head — his dog and the young 
tamed bear set upon him from behind, 
when he immediately turned to give 
them battle; in the meanwhile Mr. 
Adams had regained his feet, got pos- 
session of his rifle, and from a shelter 
behind a tree kept firing until the bear 
was killed, but not before his devoted 
animals were severely wounded. He 
now says, with pride and pleasure, "that 
bear once saved my life." 


For the perusal of a most rare and 
interesting work, published in 1671, 
entitled A History of America, we are 
indebted to Dr. Babe, who recently 
procured it in London, and which most 
probably is the only copy in this State. 
It is a volume of 675 pages, of impe- 
rial folio size, embellished with re- 
markably graphic illustrations, em- 
bracing, among many others, those of 
" Christofel Colonus," " Ferdinand Ma- 
gellanus," u Athabaliba Ultimus Rex 
Peruanorum," and is peculiar for the 
quaint style of the typography, as well 
as the orthography, of 1671. 

To the antiquarian, nothing can be 
more interesting than these reminiscen- 
cies collected from over 160 authors, 
and snatched from the oblivion of the 
early records of those periods, after 
the authors, the actors in those scenes, 



have long since been gathered to their 
final rest. 

The whole work is written in a 
plain and forcible style, and pictures 
the early morality of some of their 
laws, manners and customs. 

We think the title page given below 
will amuse our readers, and the des- 
cription of California one hundred and 
eighty-five years ago, be as interesting 
as anything we can place before them. 


Being the latest and most accurate 
description of 


Containing the original of the Inhabit- 
ants, and the remarkable voyages thith- 
er — the conquest of the vast EM- 
PIRES of Mexico and Peru, and 
other large Provinces and Territories, 
with the several European Planta- 
tions in those parts. Also, their Cities, ■ 
Fortresses, Towns, Temples, Moun- 
tains and Rivers. Their Habits, Cus- 
toms, Manners and Religions. Their 
Plants, Beasts, Birds and Serpents ; 
with an appendix containing, besides 
several other considerable additions, a 
brief survey of what hath been dis- 
covered of the unknown South-Land 
and the Arctic Region, 

Collected from the most authentic 
authors, augmented with later observa- 
tions, and adorn'd with maps and sculp- 

Br John Ooilbt, Esq. 
His Majesty's Cosmographer, Geo- 
graphic Printer, and Master of the 
Bevels, in the Kingdom of Ireland. 


Printed by the author, and are to be 

had at his House in White Fryers. 



u We shall close up our discourse of 
these islands that lie north of the Equi- 
noctial Line, with a discourse of Cali- 
fornia, specially so called, which was 

by many thought and described to be 
a Peninsula or half island, by reason 
of the Bay which divides it from Qui- 
vivian and New Gallacia towards the 
north, runneth much narrower than it 
doth southerly, which made them think 
that somewhere or other at the north 
it was join'd to the main land of Amer- 
ica ; But later Discoveries have found 
it to be a perfect island and altogeth- 
er separate from the Continent; for 
about the year 1620 some adventurers, 
beating upon those Coasts Northward, 
accidently and before they were aware, 
fell upon a straight, the waters where- 
of ran with such a Torrent and violent 
course, that they brought them into 
Mar Vermiglio, whether they would 
or no, and before they knew it, and by 
that mam* discovered that California 
was an island, and that the waters that 
were observed to fall so violently into 
that Sea towards the North, were not 
the Waters of any River emptying 
itself into the Bay from the main Land, 
as was formerly thought, but the Wa- 
ters of the North West sea itself, vio- 
lently breaking into the Bay and di- 
viding it wholly from the continent. 
It lieth North and South, extending 
itself in a vast length, full twenty De- 
grees of Latitude, viz : from twenty- 
two to forty-two ; but the breadth 
nothing answerable. 

The most Northern Point of it is 
call'd Cape Blanche ; that to the South, 
Cape St. Lucas, memoriable for that 
rich and gallant Prize which Captain 
Cavendish, in the year 1587, being 
then in his voyage about the World, 
took from the Spaniards near to this 
Place. As for the Island it self, it is 
at present little, if at all inhabited by 
the Spaniards; whether it be that they 
want Men to furnish new Plantations, 
or that they find no matter of invita- 
tion and encouragement from the coun- 
try, or perhaps that the access thither 
be not so easie : for 'tis reported to be 
wonderfully well peopled by the Na- 
tives, and that there were fonnd onely 
upon the Coasts and along the Shore 
of Mar Vermiglio, twenty or twenty- 



three Nations, all of different Lan- 
guages ; though from the peculiar 
Narrations that have been made of 
the Voyages of several eminent Per- 
sons into these Parts, it appears that 
the Spaniards have taken great pains 
in the discovery thereof, and also from 
the several Spanish Names of Places, 
that they have had Plantations here 
formerly, however neglected at present. 

The Country is abundantly well 
stored with Fish and Fowl, as appears 
partly by the Natives, who take a huge 
pride in making themselves gay with 
the Bones of the one, with which they 
load their Ears, and sometimes their 
Noses also ; and with the Feathers of 
the other, which ordinary People wear 
only sticking about their Wastes ; but 
Great Persons, and such as will be 
fine indeed, beset their Heads strange- 
ly with them, and have commonly one 
Bunch of them bigger than ordinary 
hanging down behind them like a Tail. 

Having no knowledge of the true 
God, they worship what the Devil will 
have them, that is, the Sun, attributing 
to it onely the increase of their Plants, 
healthful Seasons, and most of the 
other good things they enjoy, or are 
sensible of. 

Their Government is said to be 
onely Oeconomical, each Father order- 
ing the Affairs of his family apart, 
without subjection to any other Supe- 
rior; yet so well managed, that they 
live in good Peace one with another ; 
not without many good Laws and Cus- 
toms, viz: That they allow but one 
Wife to one Man ; That they punish 
Adultery with Death ; That they suffer 
not maids to talk or converse with 
Men till they be Married ; That Wid- 
ows may not Marry till they have 
Mourn'd at least one half year for 
their Husbands deceased ; and divers 
others of like nature, which perhaps, 
if the truth were known, do more 
properly belong to the Natives of 
Utopia, or New Atlantis, than to these 
of California. 

The Places therein, as yet observed, 
are onely upon the Sea Coast 

1. The Capes of St Clara and St 
Lucas, the one at the South-East end 
of the Island, looking towards New 
Gallicia, the other at the South-West, 
looking into the Sea, and towards Asia. 

2. St Cruce, so nam'd from its be- 
ing first discovered on Holy Rood Day, 
being a large and convenient Haven, 
not far from Cape St Clara. 

3. Cabo de las Playas, so call'd from 
a company of little bare Hillocks ap- 
pearing from the Sea, and is more with- 
in the Bay. 

4. Cabo Baxo, so term'd as lying 
towards the bottom of the Gulf. 

5. St Andrews, another convenient 
Haven upon an Island of the same 

6. St Thomas, an Island at the 
Mouth of the Gulf or Bay, of about 
twenty-five Leagues in compass, rising 
Southerly with a high mountainous 
Point, under which is a convenient 
Road for Shipping, and twenty-five 
Fathoms of Water. 

On the other side of the Island, 
towards the Main Sea, there is 

1. St Abad, a good Haven, and al- 
most surrounded with a pleasant and 
fruitful Countrey. . 

2. Cape Trinidado, a noted Prom- 

8. Cape de Cedras, so call'd (to- 
gether with a small Island named it) 
from the store of Cedars growing there- 

4. Enganna. 

5. Puebla de las Canoas, so nam'd 
from the abundance of those little 
Boats which the Americans generally 
use, and do call Canoos, whereof per- 
haps some store are made there. 

6. Cabo de Galera, from its resem- 
blance to a Rat 

It is believM there are many more 
Promontories and Bays on both sides 
of this Island, besides Rivers and 
Islets, yet not nam'd, and altogether 
unknown. Moreover Dr. Heylin hath 
well observed, that those above-men- 
tion'd are the Names onely Places and 
not of Towns and Villages, though 
doubtless there must needs have been 



some scattered Houses, built formerly 
by the Spaniards in so many Expedi- 

The first Discoverer of these Farts 
was Fedinando Cortez, who having in 
the Year 1534, set oat two Ships to 
that purpose from St. Jago, a Haven 
of New Spain, and not finding the 
Success answerable to his Expectation, 
went next Year himself in Person, 
and pass'd a good way up the Gulf, 
bat for want of Provisions was forc'd 
to return without having done any 
thing to the purpose — 

In 1539, one Francisco, a compan- 
ion of Cortez in the former Expedition, 
Set out upon his own Charges, and 
baring Coasted all about, both upon 
the Eastern and Western Shores, he 
at last Landed, but not without nota- 
ble opposition from the Natives, who 
with much clamour, and many antique 
Gestures set upon his Men and so 
furiously with Stones and Arrows, that 
they had met with a shrewM Repulse, 
had it not been for the Valor of their 
Auxilieries, the Mastiff Dogs, which it 
seems they us'd to carry along with 
them in those kind of Voyages; but at 
last he got footing so far, that he took 
possession in the name of the King of 
Spain with the usual formalities ; and 
following the example of Columbus, 
set up a Cross in the Place for a Me- 
morial and Testimony of his having 
been there* 

Much about the same time Marco 
de Nisa a Franciscan, undertaking a 
Voyage into these Parts, reported 
Wonders at his Return, of the plenty 
of golden Mines, stately Cities, set out 
with magnificent Buildings, the very 
Gates whereof were enrich'd with Tur- 
qoieses, and other Precious Stones, 
and whose meanest inhabitants went 
glittering in Gold and Mother of Pearl, 
*nd of the flourishing Condition of the 
Kingdoms of Acu, Tonteac, and Ma- 
rata ; whereupon the Governor of New 
Gallicia was sent by the then Vice- 
Boy of Mexico, with great hopes of 
bringing back a Confirmation of these 
Beports ; but whether out of spite to 

be deceived in his Expectation, or hav- 
ing real cause so to do, he represented 
all things as mean and despicable, as 
the Fryer had proclaim'd them rich 
and glorious. 

The next that went upon the Design 
was Ferdinando de Alcaron, who is 
reported to have Sail'd many Leagues 
up a River call'd Buena Guia, and 
there to have receiv'd Homage of Na- 
guacatus, one of the Heads of the Cali- 
fornian Tribes. 

One more Attempt was made in the 
Tear 1642, by Roderico Cabrillo, who 
discovered the Island of St Luke, and 
another call'd The Island of Posses- 
sion ; and this was the last we hear of 
that thought it worth while to go to 
an Undertaker to these Coasts, and 
ever since all Undertakings hither have 
been so wholly laid aside, that what- 
ever was once discovered in these Parts, 
seems rather to be lost and forgotten, 
than any way improv'd — 

As for Nova Albion, whereas many 
determine it to be only the utmost 
Northern part of California, though it 
doth not absolutely appear to be so 
from the Relation of Sir Francis 
Drake's Discovery of it, we judge it 
agreeable to Method and Decorum not 
wholly to omit the mention of it in 
this place, though it hath been already 
spoken of, and the aforesaid Relation 
deliver'd at large amongst the rest of 
those Provinces of largely-taken Cali- 
fornia, which were taken for granted 
to be upon the Continent 

Drake and his Company brought 
home this Description of the Countrey 
and its inhabitants, viz. That the Coun- 
trey was exceedingly well storM with 
Deer, Grazing up and down the Hills 
by thousands in a company ; That the 
Men generally went naked all over, 
the Women using onely a piece of a 
mat, or some such thing in stead of an 
Apron ; That their Houses were built 
onely of Turf and Osier, yet so wrought 
together, that they served very well to 
keep out the Cold ; in the midst of it 
was their Hearth where they made 
their Fire, and lay all round about it, 



together upon several Beds of Bull- 
Bushes. What their Towns were or 
whether they had any, is altogether un- 



It was in November, of the year 
1843, as near as I can recollect, that 
my last lottery, as I call it, was opened. 
I was sitting with my dear wife of 
blessed memory, in my little parlor on 
Canal street, that overlooked the traffic 
on the Hudson river, one cold, dismal 
evening, reviewing the affairs of the 
past day, and cogitating in my mind 
how 1 could raise a little money to pay 
off a debt for which I had become 
partly responsible to oblige a friend, 
when my attention was attracted to an 
extraordinary appearance in the fire- 
place, between the red hot coals. "My 
dear," said I, "do you see anything 
remarkable in the fire just now? — 
here, where I sit." " Yes, I do," said 
she. "What, a figure? Yes," she 
replied, "a two, — "Yes" — "and a 
four" — "exactly" — "and a seven, 
and I think something like a five. 
The very number! How extraordi- 
nary ! I have seen this myself, before 
I called your attention." I stirred the 
fire; still some of the numbers were 
visible ; at least, I fancied so; although 
they had vanished from my wife's ob- 
servation. I went to bed, and the next 
morning, at breakfast, I told my wife 
how I had dreamed more than once of 
purchasing a ticket that came up a 
prize bought by this very number. 
Said she. "Dear Hus, (she used to 
call me hus. — short for husband. Bless 
her heart ; be her name ever revered) 
dear Hus, I have dreamed the very 
same thing; nay, more, I dreamt it 
twice. So have I, if not thrice : and 
more than that, said she; I thought 
you had bought Hopkins' little cottage 
at Brooklyn, and his little pony, and his 
beautiful harness, and I was so happy 
driving you out in it. 

" Say no more," said I, " I go this 

very morning to the lottery ticket office 

I got to the office in good time, and 
with breathless anxiety enquired if 
2475 had been sold. No, the whole of 
it was at my service. I paid down 
with joy the price of it, and flew home 
to my wife — although pressing busi- 
ness awaited me at my office — and 
placed it in her hands, received a rap- 
turous kiss from her dear, dear lips, 
and for once, in my life, was happy. 

Well, the day, the important day, 
big with the fate of Cato (myself) and 
of Rome, (Rose-tree Cottage) at last 
arrived. I looked over the prize num- 
bers, mine certainly was not there. I 
looked again with the same result. I 
then, to make surety doubly sure, ex- 
amined the blanks, and sure enough 
mine stood among them as plain as 
black types could express anything. 
A few days afterwards, the girl had just 
raked out the cinders of the fire, and 
was black-leading the stove. 

" Before lighting the fire I saw — yes, 
I saw to my utter astonishment these 
very numbers on the back of the stove ; 
the founder's number for his stoves, I 
suppose. I could have smashed his 
head with the candlestick I held in my 

'My dear,' said my wife, when I 
came home in the evening, ' what was 
the matter with you this morning? 
Amelia says that she never saw you 
so agitated before. Her nose is swol- 
len as big as a turnip raddish, and the 
girl threatens to leave, and take I 
don't know what, against you ; she 
says you hurled the silver plated can- 
dkstick with all your mijht against 
her, and for what, she don't know. 9 

" Sweet one," said I, " tell her this 
story of our last lottery, and if that 
don't make the swelling go down, I 
will go down on my knees to her, for 
dawdle as she is, it is enough to make 
the stones in the street laugh." 

My sweet one laughed as heartily 
as myself at the oddity of the thing 
when she heard of it, and saw the self 
same figures in the stove, and thus 
ended my first and last lottery. 





Who that has been to London has 
not seen or heard of Wapping; the 
concentration of all the human scum 
of the great city. 

In Mud Alley, the last house as you 
approach the docks, on the right hand 
«de, is a low public, called The Crook- 
ed Billet. It was originally called 
Crooked Bill, but for an unpleasant 
notoriety its former possessor, a crip- 
ple, obtained, it was then altered, with 
a view of still retaining its usual cus- 
tomers — thieves and burglars of the 
most desperate character — and yet, to 
gain credit for an alteration for the 
better of its character. It would long 
ago have been divested of its license, 
had it not been found a convenient 
house of call for the Thames bargemen 
and laborers, as its landlord, one of 
the bench, duly set forth to his brother 
legal-licensers on licensing day. 

In a parlor under ground, hollowed 
out at a depth, underneath the bed of 
the river, sat four worthies, known by 
the slang names of the Smasher, 
Crasher, Slasher, and Haberdasher. 
The first was a well-known counterfeit 
coiner ; the second, a glaze-star burg- 
lar, that is, one who enters premises 
by noiselessly withdrawing a pane of 
glass by a peculiar process, sufficient 
to admit a juvenile thief; the third 
had been a prize fighter, whose age 
precluded him from again entering 
that arena; the fourth's occupation 
was unknown, but from the circum- 
stance of his always wearing a glove 
on the right hand, which did not ap- 
pear to be disabled, obtained for him 
that cognomination. It was believed 
by the fraternity, that he wore it to 
disguise a letter V, he having been 
branded on the continent as a (voleur) 

"Is the old man, called Robert, 


here, Skitter ? " enquired Smasher of 
the landlord, as he entered to bring 
beer and pipes for five, — 

u Yes, he came in after you." 

" What did he say ? " 

" The horse has gone lame, and will 
be blind." 

"All right," said Smasher; "turn 
the screw and let him come down." 

A large iron knob in the wall was 
turned, the entrance door slid back, 
displaying a small flight of steps. 

" Come on," the landlord shouted. 
The door opened on the foot of the 
stairs, and soon entered the man Ro- 
bert. The landlord returned, the door 
closed, and the five were in conclave. 

By an ingenious arrangement this 
door was so contrived as to form the 
entrance to two apartments ; one, the 
landlord's side room, or rather closet, 
where he transacted all his money 
matters. When this knob was turned, 
the whole closet slid on one side, and 
disappeared altogether behind the 
wainscot, disclosing the flight of stairs 
that led to this apartment, thus serving 
the purpose of a door also, to this 
lower room. 

" Bagged your game, Mr. Robert ? " 
says Smasher. 

"Yes," replied Robert, "I've poached 
to some purpose this time. You'll 
soon hear of it I doubt not, in the Hue 
and Cry. The government will offer 
its hundreds, perhaps thousands, and 
you, who have eked me on to this, will 
be the first to take the blood-money 
and betray me." 

" If I do, may " — here an oath too 
awful to be written by human pen, 
was ejaculated. One and all echoed 
the same. 

" You have got into the wrong hands 
to be so treated. Bad as we are, we 
are not so desperately mean as to cut 
the throat of him who supplies us with 
bread. No, no; have a little faith, 
neighbor," continued Smasher; "I'd 
cut that tongue out that dare betray 
you, though a pistol were at my head 
at the moment" 



u The old scoundrel, the Earl shall 
know now, what it is to have a son. I 
had a son once. Ah! such a noble 
boy!" — here he dashed aside a tear 
from his eye — u and by that villain I 
lost house and home, wife and son, at 
one fell swoop. I had the happiest 
home that ever fell to the lot of mor- 
tal. A wife who dearly loved me, a 
son whom we loved as our own souls ; 
she was all that a wife should be, he 
was more than a son can be. My boy ! 
my poor boy! My wife ! my broken- 
hearted wife ! Father, wife, son, home, 
all ruined." Here his emotions were 
too great to be stifled. He covered 
his face with his two hands and sobbed 
convulsively, in silence, for some min- 

" m tell you how it was," continued 
he, " my lad was a member of an ama- 
teur flower-club ; he had the prettiest 
pinks and pansies, and auriculas, that 
you ever saw. He gained the best 
prize at our last flower show, and 
bought us both, and himself, a new rig- 
out of Sunday clothes with the money. 

" This old Earl was a neighbor of 

ours, d him ; and his rabbits, and 

hares, and partridges, and what not, 
were continually intruding into our 
garden ; and one morning, in spite of 
all my boy's vigilance and nailing up 
boards, he found all his best flowers 
eaten up by these vermin. I was out 
at the time, or I might have restrained 
him. He made no ado, but coolly 
went up stairs for his gun and shot 
several hares and rabbits, as many as 
three or four, perhaps, that had got 
into our place and couldn't get out 
again. The noise brought the whole 
posse of lazy game-keepers. They saw 
my son with the gun in his hand, 
throwing the vermin, one after another, 
over the park paling. That evening 
he was handcuffed like a felon, put 
into the jail amongst the vile, and in 
the following County Assizes was sen- 
tenced to nine months' imprisonment 
as a rogue and vagabond. I called 
upon his lordship, and the parson was 
with me, but it was all in vain; his 

good character went for nothing. My 
wife fell ill seeing him not in his usual 
place, night after night, cheering us 
with his many joking stories. I could 
not keep her courage up. He hanged 
himself at last, hearing of his mother's 
grief — she survived the disaster only 
a day, and left me, alone, in my cot- 
tage, all through the endless length- 
ened and dark nights, to bewail my 
bitter lot. The Earl sent for me after 
their death, to come to him, expressing 
his sorrow at what had happened. He 
had something to offer me to misplace 
what I had lost. « Tell him," said I 
to the liveried lick-spittle he sent, ** I 
have something to offer him," and after 
that he may take my life as he has 
that of my wife and son. 

" This was construed into a threat, 
a warrant was out against me. I sold 
my cottage, plucked up resolution, put 
my hand on my son's gun, bade adieu 
to honest labor and my birth-place, and 
vowed — revenge. And where is the 
man that would do otherwise ? " 

" Where, indeed," said one and all. 

"Mark the deed and its punish- 
ment," continued the old man, his eyes 
flashing fire and his eyebrows elevated, 
exhibiting a fearless desperation, " and 
contrast it with another — a wretch 
beating the partner of his bosom with- 
in an inch of her life, and receiving no 
more than six months' imprisonment 
in the same calendar. Oh!" said he, 
" can a just God look on this and suffer 
such deeds, without bringing the prin- 
cipal offenders, the makers of such vile 
laws, to justice ? Can an honqst, la- 
boring man in this lord-ridden country 
claim a single fowl of the air, a beast 
of the field, a fish of the river, without 
their license ? The very air, nay, the 
very light of heaven we must pay for, 
if it comes through the windows of our 
houses. Our lands of common, our 
running streams, are all their property. 
And now I come to claim my reward, 
the ten pounds you promised me.' 

" All right, my friend, we are ready ; 
but first, in common fairness, we should 
be convinced that he is put out of the 



way, so that our future operations may 
not be trammeled by his appearance," 
said the Slasher. 

u He will no more trouble you, take 
my word for it, — farther than this I do 
not chose to reveal." 

- Well, but tell us how." 

tt Not a word, — I will forfeit, — I will 
be content to lose my life at your 
bands if he ever return to trouble you. 
Here," said he, holding up a signet 
ring, u here is sufficient evidence of his 
powerlessness to do you any harm, whaf- 
ever your designs may be. You must 
know he would not part with this while 
conscious of life." 

The four consulted together in a 
private whisper for some time, and at 
last agreed to give him the sum men- 

"Good!" said the old man, "and 
now I will tell you more, — I am off to 
California or Australia, or some other 
distant land ; let me know where you 
are to be found, and I will honestly ex- 
change the confidence by telling you 
of my future whereabouts." 

The Haberdasher, who was the only 
one who could write, at a tacit bidding 
of the three, wrote down on the back 
of an envelope the required informa- 
tion, and the interview closed. 

chapteb vu. 


"Not at all Mr. Hickleberry, I see 
no impropriety in it. Tis quite na- 
tural ; you and Mrs. Hickleberry can 
well afford it We accept your kind 
invitation. If I can't attend, there shall 
be some one there to represent the 
firm, to partake of the hospitality on 
the occasion. I see your debts amount 
to the sum of two hundred and seventy 
five pounds, fourteen shillings, and six- 
pence ha'penny, as set forth in this 
balance sheet ; your stock in trade and 
bad debts may realize some fifty pounds 
at least." 

"Mr. Suit," interrupted H., "Tis 
not worth mentionin\ I intend to 

leave it all to a poor old soul who 
served me faithfully for four years ; 
'twill give him a living, poor old crifc- 
ter, and be the means of takin' on him 
out of that parish pest — the workkus." 

" It does credit to your goodness of 
heart, Mr. Hickleberry," said the man 
of law. " Then you would rather settle 
these accounts yourself, I see, and wish 
to do so on this occasion." 

" Exactly so, Mr. Suit, and if you 
think the idea not an unsuitable one, I 
should like those who have waited 
longest, and who have bothered me 
the least, to receive a leetle over and 
above their accounts by way of inter- 
est, you see, as a kind of reward, and a 
hint like, to be easy upon poor devils 
who may be a little behindhand in their 
money matters ; even if I pinched a 
little for it arterward. It would be a 
hopportunity also of servin' out the close- 
fisted ones, that have 'prived me of 
many a night's rest, when I didn't know 
which way to turn for a blessed ha'- 

" To reward the kind, and punish the 
unmerciful, eh ?" 

" Jest so, Mr. Suit, I intend to make 
a speech on that ere occasion ; I don't 
often make a fool o' myself Mr. Suit, 
but I don't mind it when there's good 
likely to come on it" 

" By the bye, your odd name is as- 
sociated in my mind with something 
very remarkable which your mention 
of a speech calls to remembrance," said 
Mr. Suit. " I remember two or three 
years ago, the son of the Duke of 
* * * * stood for Marylebone, and 
upon some of the voters on that occa- 
sion taxing him with turning some old 
people, tenants of his, out of doors, be- 
cause they could not pay an increased 
rent ; replied, ( May I not do as I like 
with my own,' to which this person I 
allude to, replied, ' Certainly not, my 
Lord. This lighted torch which I hold 
in my hand, (it was night when his 
lordship addressed them from the bal- 
cony of his hotel) is mine : but because 
it is mine, I have no right to burn my 
neighbors' premises down with it' I 



remember that argument, homely as it 
was, proved unanswerable, and cost my 
Lord his election. I remember, also, 
that the papers reported the man's 
name to be something like yours ; it 
particularly stated it, as evidence that 
a plain home-thrust like that, was better 
than all the sophistry of a learned lo- 
gician ; which his Lordship was reputed 
to be." 

u Yes, Mr. Suit, I am the individual, 
but I nivir could see how that little bit 
o' common sense, from a huneducated 
man like myself, could have so soon 
floored a great man like my Lord. But 
you was a sayin' about my debts, 
and "- 

"I will forward you the balance 
sheet before next Monday, stating 
how you stand exactly. I will just 
hint, that if your debts were hundreds, 
where they are tens, you need not be 
under any apprehension about them; 
they are mere bagatelles. You know 
our bankers, I have deposited a sum 
there in your name which will satisfy 
all and every demand that may be 
made upon you, and leave a comforta- 
ble margin on the creditor's side, for 
your present use. So, in the mean- 
time, I advise you and your family to 
enjoy yourselves; you seem to be a 
temperate man, or I should not give 
you this advice, and your good sense, 
I know, will guide you in the right use 
of your good fortune." 

" I am obleeged by your good opin- 
ion, Mr. Suit, I never was drunk but 
once in my life, and that was upon a 
very remarkable occasion, a very rum 
one indeed, and which I'm ashamed on 
to this day. I hope that I may not 
prove undeserving of the favor that a 
kind Providence has stowed away upon 
sitch a humble individual as myself/' 

Soon after this interview, Hickle- 
berry's creditors were summoned to 
accept a composition in the pound — 
a strange proceeding, as they thought, 
who were not in the secret, especially 
as he had just jumped into a large for- 
tune by the death of a distant relative. 
The importunate set it down as all a 

trick, to bilk them of their just de- 
mands, or looked upon the rumor of his 
good fortnne, as an artful dodge, to 
stave off their claims altogether ; while 
the confident still gave him credit for 
being an honest fellow, yet had their 
misgivings, that distress might have 
made him have recourse at last to an 
unworthy stratagem. However, one 
and all, upon the day and hour given, 
attended with their little accounts at 
the little parlor in the Dog and 

Hickory rubbed his hands with glee 
as the time approached, when he was 
to meet them. To his honest heart, it 
was indeed a luxury to pay every one 
his own ; but in the midst of this honest 
pride, there lurked a roguish twinkle 
in the eye, indicative of some good joke 
to be carried out at somebody's ex- 
pense. With his friend Hobbs, by his 
side, the first creditor to shake him by 
the hand on entering was Mr. Scruit. 
Mr. Benjamin Scruit, a usurer of much 
notoriety among that class of poor 
tradesmen, that are ever driven at their 
wits' end, on Saturday nights, to pay 
their workmen their week's wages. 
His calculations were adjusted to the 
nicest balance of credit and probability. 
When the credit was good, he exacted 
only fifteen per cent for petty loans ; 
but where there might be any doubt 
preponderating in the scale, a quarter 
per cent, was but poor profit. Many 
and many a time would the poor 
goaded small tradesman, gather to- 
gether some of his best wares late on 
the Saturday night, to sell for anything 
they would fetch at the last extremity, 
rather than have recourse to him. And 
once within his spider-meshes, ruin, 
sooner or later, was inevitable. Many 
were the fair prospects he had ruined ; 
many were the hearts he had broken. 

" I am happy to congratulate you on 
your good fortune Mr. Hickleberry. 
Amongst my numerous friends, I know 
of no one who deserves such good luck 
more than you," whined the old usurer 

"Good fortune! Mr. Scruit — ah!* 
ha ! some cruel wag or other has bin 



playin* off his jokes agin you Mr. 
Scruit. My good friend Hobbs here 
has managed this here business for me. 
He is to be the Chairman on the occa- 
sion," rejoined Dickory. 

* Yes," interposed Hobbs, " we have 
met together to see if we can't save an 
honest man from the humiliation of 
going thro' the Insolvent Debtor's 
Court, and giving him another chance ; 
another fresh start in the world." 

u So then this is all a flam, this fine 
fortune. Mark me — I'm not to be did- 
dled in this way by any body, if you 
think to try it on with Benjamin Scruit, 
I can tell you he's not the man to be 
trifled with-" 

u Well then your best way will be 
to put him in jail, and get nothing for 
jour pains." 

u What do you propose then to offer 
in the pound ? I merely ask it for cu- 
riosity's sake." 

u Something more than a shilling, 
perhaps/* said Hobbs, looking very 

44 Ah, I thought so, Mr. Dobbs, or 
Hobbs, or whoever you may be. You 
will have to calculate upon my oppos- 
ing every step to any accommodation 
of this kind, and I know three or four 
others who will add to the opposition." 
u Then he must go to quod." 
u Yes, and I'll take care he shall go 
somewhere else after he gets out, do 
what you may." 

M At all events you may as well call 
and hear our decision, after we have 
had our dinner. We shall have got 
through by five, and if you will call, 
vou will hear what the majority will 
have recommended." 

** Dinner! dinner! — at the insol- 
vent's expense. Really, Mr. Hobbs, 
you do things in style. What right 
hare you to order and pay for a din- 
ner out of the bankrupt's effects ?" 

14 1 take that responsibility, friend 
Scruit, upon myself. I have always 
been accustomed to order dinner before 
I proceed to business of this kind ; and 
I find it has the best possible effect ; it 
makes the creditors look more kindly 

towards the debtor, and cheers him up. 
If he's a rogue, its one step towards 
making him an honest man ; and if 
he's an honest man, one step towards 
making him a solvent one hereafter. I 
never lost anything by it, and I would 
advise you to try it." 

" Yes, — add water to fuel to make 
it burn longer. No, I thank ye. I 
leave you to become rich by such 
means. In the mean time, Mr. Hobbs 
or Snobbs, mark me! I mean to have 
my own ; every penny of it" So say- 
ing, he shut the door with a bang, leav- 
ing the two friends in ecstasies at his 
mortification and disappointment. 

The three or four others followed in 
the same wake, and left accordingly, 
while the rest, upon an interview, 
thought it one of the most stupid and 
cruel jokes they ever heard ; but were, 
however, glad of the dinner, when they 
heard it was not to be at the creditor's 

Friend Hobbs now adjourned into 
the big parlor, where a long table was 
laid out with the taste of a connoisseur 
in good things, and falling to with 
right good will, at the good game of 
knife and fork before them, soon 
learned to think less of Hickory's 
bumptiousness or impudence, and more 
of Hobbs' discretion and good man- 

After the cloth was removed and 
grace had been said, Hobbs, to the 
surprise of all the party assembled, 
took the chair and sat in Dickory's 

While the wine, spirits and fruit 
were being placed upon the table, Dick- 
ory drew out of his side pocket a long 
strip of paper, containing the items of 
his several debts. 

" Gents," said he, addressing them 
with their mouths wide open, " friend 
Hobbs, on second consideration, would 
rather I should settle your accounts my- 
self. So I begin with Mr. Smithers. 
Your bill, I see, is fifteen pound odd; 
'tis bin owin' two months, and you hart 
asked me for it but once, and then in 
the most politest manner. Here are 




two twenty pun notes, of which I beg 
your acceptance. The change keep 
for Mrs. Smithers and the little Smith- 
ers, if there are any sitch people in 
existence; or, if not, put it in your 
pipe and smoke it." Proceeding in 
this manner, greatly to the surprise 
of all present, until the pile of new 
bank notes was well nigh exhausted, 
the landlord opened the door and 
ushered in the malcontents. 

Nothing could equal the surprise of 
these three worthies, when they saw 
Hick, in full feather, seated in the arm 
chair, with a glass of brandy and wa- 
ter before him, enveloped in a cloud of 
white smoke, which, frequent puffs from 
the agitated smoker, threatened to ob- 
scure from their sight. 

" Take your seats, gents. — take your 
seats," said H., flushed with pride at 
his position. " Friend Goodyear, pass 
the bottle to our three friends below," 
said he, handing a glass decanter. 

Friend Goodyear, taking the hint, 
and the joke at the same time, asked 
would they like a cinder in it. 

The three opposition members turn- 
ed pale and red by turns. After a few 
moments, Scruit broke silence : 

" I did n't come here to be insulted, 
Mr. Hickory ; but I came to be paid 
my just account, which I beg leave to 
hand to the waiter, to give to you for 

a What's the amount, friend Scruit ?" 
asked Dickory, scarcely deigning to 
take the pipe from his mouth. 

u Fifty-nine pounds, nineteen shil- 
lings and tenpence, Mr. Hickleberry. 
I think you ought to know it by this 
time, for I think your memory has 
been refreshed almost every morning 
for this last month upon the subject" 

" But I have paid off some of it, 

"Yes, a miserable instalment of 
some six pounds." 

u The original debt was some forty 
pounds, was it not ?" 

"It may be that," replied Scruit, 
looking defiance. 

* Well 9 gents., with your permission 

friend Hobbs will read over, for tin 
edification of friend Scruit, how m> 
other debts have been disposed of; an< 
then I'll make a propersition to ~b'. 
Scruit. My hobbhgation have bee 
a very heavy one to him, and I desi 
you see, to make him a suitable ret 

A clapping of hands, and rapping 
pots and glasses on the table, by wa 
of approbation, followed the red 
while a gleam of joy shone on th 
countenance of Scruit when he saw 
that the rumor of Hick's good fortune 
was not a false one. 

" Gentlemen !" roared Hobbs, " the 
chair is about to speak." 

" Gents, all," began Hickory, u Mr. 
Scruit has laid me under, as I said 
before, very heavy hob-ble-i-gations, 
and I have determined to return it in 
the heaviest manner in my power. 
There is a bag in that ere corner, 
marked with his name : have the good- 
ness to place it on the table." 

The waiter tugged at it a consider- 
able time, but in spite of all his en- 
deavors, could not stir it. Two of the 
conviviants sitting near observing this, 
lent a hand, and after a little stagger- 
ing placed it on the table. 

" There," said Hickory, u is your de- 
mand," pointing to the bag. u I think 
you will find the return as heavy as 
the hob-ble-i-ga-tion. I borrowed forty 
pounds of you ; I return it to you in 
something less than eight hundred 
pounds of copper, in the legal coin of 
the rellum. What you find deficient in 
interest, a gent here, from the firm of 
Suit, Nabb & Co., will answer for 
according to the usury laws. So give 
me a receipt and put the money in 
your pocket." 

A roar of laughter filled up the void 
made by the end of this speech, and 
the discomfitted Scruit stood as one 
stupified amid the jeers of the whole 
party. The other two sneaked out of 
the room, fearful that another joke of 
similar import awaited them, in the 
shape of legal flint stones, for aught 
they knew. 

While the party were thus enjoy- 



.Ii^mselves, Mr. Hick was making 
- oc^ssary preparations, assisted by 
fViend from the firm of Messrs. 
-, for a long voyage. 
; was late that night before the 
srivialities were over, and Hick 
ided his way once more to his 
py home. In the morning, after 
akLfaating with one of his friends, 
?ene presented itself to him of ra- 
x an unusual nature. 
* W bere's my wife blundered to?" 
ed lie of an Irishwoman, who was 
ingoing away like a great boy, hold- 
er on to two ropes suspended from a 
am in the wash-house. " What are 
u about ?— confound you, I don't pay 
u as a charwoman to come and act 
it baby here, to swing away your 
jie in that ere manner. Come out of 
tat ! Are ye crazy ?" shouted Hick. 
** Och ! faix, good master, an' it's the 
victress as desired me to be practicing 
)r the say, to kape off the say sick- 
ie<ss an' as sent you a rope for that 
u What ? — where's your mistress ?" 
He opened a door, and there was 
Viend Hobbs in one swing, Mrs. 
Hickleberry in a second, and little 
Adam in a third, all swinging and 
practicing for the u say," as a preven- 
tive against sea sickness in their con- 
templated journey to California. 

Comparison of Speed. — A French 
scientific journal states that the ordi- 
nary rate is per second : — 

Of a man walking, 4 feet ; of a good 
horse in harness, 12 feet; of a rein- 
deer in a sledge on ice, 29 feet ; of an 
English race horse, 43 feet ; of a hare, 
*# feet; of a good sailing ship, 14 
feet ; of the wind, 81 feet ; of sound, 
1,030 feet ; of a 24 pound cannon ball, 




300 feet. 

Habit in a child is at first like a 
spider's web, if neglected, it becomes a 
thread or twine ; next a cord or rope ; 
finally a cable ; and who can break it ? 

The buntlines upon the main courses, 

Part like robes on a bust of eighteen. 
Where the full swelling bosom half forces 

Its beautiful contour between, 
On white sails the long reef-points lie, 

Like the delicate silken eye lashes 
That fringe the pure depths of some eye, 

When with poetry and passion it flashes. 

This evening on calm summer sea, 

When waves dance about in their bliss, 
And the ship glides along in her glee, 

She resembles a boarding-school miss; 
Her bosom, half-seen in the night, 

Seems swelling with pent-up emotion, 
And she flings out her soft arms of white 

As if to embrace grim old ocean. 

Our ship uses ' braces ' and * stays ' 

To keep her in good sailing trim, 
Which are some of the milliner's ways 

By which a young belle is made slim ; 
She bows and careens on the billows, 

In a way that is very coquettish, 
Like a pretty flirt greeting the fellows, 

When inclined to be fainting and pettish. 

When the heartless coquette takes a notion 

To give a mad suitor the slip, 
And cuts him adrift on love's ocean, 

She is onlv a fast clipper ship ; 
She glides right away from the dreamer, 

Who hopelessly pines at his lot ; 
He might as well chase a war-steamer 

In a dull sailing Dutch galliot. 

When listlessly flapping her sails 

In a calm on a smooth glassy sea, 
She's a fashionable belle at the springs, 

Who is dying with love and ennui ; 
When the calm is relieved by a gale, 

Which only the storm-sails can bear, 
And the ship ships the seas o'er her rail, 

She wears quite a vixenish air. 

When the nightfalls down gloomy and black, 

Her dark bows are flashing with fire, 
And she flings the waves' out of her track 

Like a woman when storming in ire ; 
When under bare poles she scuds on, 

A virago wrought into despair, 
She shrieks like a fierce Amazon, 

With brawny arms tossing in air. 

At each changing breath of the fashion, 

Woman changes her 'rig' and her 'bearing,' 
To suit the Parisian passion ; 

Fond of 'going-about' and of 'wearing,' 
Over life's matrimonial sea, 

A husband must take the command, 
For women, like ships, you must see, 

Are useless unless they are manned. 




There are many great and renowned 
lands on this great earth. Some are 
brilliant in chivalry ; others are great 
in their agricultural resources ; others 
for their commercial enterprise. Cali- 
fornia is great in all these — great in 
all the substantial elements of wealth ; 
she is great in every department of 
human enterprise ; in the exceeding 
and almost fabulous riches of her 
mines. She may well now, long before 
verging upon her teens, enter the lists 
with a certainty of outstripping all 
competitors in the race for the highest 
honors a generous people can bestow. 

California has more flowers, brighter 
and larger by far than any other land ; 
grander and wilder mountain scenery 
than can be found elsewhere. Even 
the highest waterfall on the globe had 
to come all the way to California to 
show off to the best advantage. In no 
other country could the trees, wishing 
to make a fine display of their mag- 
nificent proportions, find elbow room 
enough, except in California. Her 
sky is higher, bluer and wider; her 
sun warmer, her moon larger, her stars 
brighter, and thicker, and more of 
them than can be found in any other 
land, or in all creation besides. In no 
other country would her towering 
mountains find so bright and glorious 
a sky for a magnificent background, on 
which to paint the bold outlines of their 
towering peaks and craggy sides, in 
the wildest and sublimest beauty. 

In animate nature she takes the lead 
of all other lands. Her fleas are 
larger — will jump farther and keep out 
of the way longer — than any of the 
slabsided, puny, half-starved Yankee 

fleas ; her rats are larger, better fed, 
more sleek and glossy, and far better 
contented, and more cosy, than all 
others. The very personification of 
well-behaved, clever and gentlemanly 
rats can be found here. 

No other country can show half so 
many thousand acres of wild ducks 
and geese; no other rivers can turn 
out salmon half as large ; and even the 
rivers themselves, in their roystering, 
hoyden glee, in their chuckling over 
the bright nuggets snoozing in their 
beds, make more noise in leaping, 
splashing and thundering down the 
mountain gorges than any other rivers 
in any country. Our quails are pret- 
tier, our coyotes plentier, and our griz- 
zly bears are not easily beaten — they 
correspond with our trees, mountains, 
waterfalls, and all other wonderful 
things in this State. 

California has more energetic men 
than can be found in the same number 
of people in all Christendom. Her 
fair cities and towns have been swept 
away again and again by fire and flood, 
and, phoenix-like, new ones have sprung 
up before the blazing brands of the 
former ruins had ceased smoking. 

With an iron will and undying per- 
severance, they grapple with difficul- 
ties, overcome trials, and stand before 
the world displaying all that is great 
and glorious in character and industry. 

More, and better than all, our ladies 
are fairer, and far more beautiful ; our 
children are more lovely, larger, and 
more of them — are smarter, and will 
make more noise on the Fourth of 
July — burn more fire crackers — than 
all other children between here and 

Whoever doubts this, let him come 



here and see for himself, and he will 
say that the one-half has not been told 
him, and with us think it is a great 
country. B. 


1 hear a voice, in the autumn winds, 

A cry in the forest gloom, 
A whisper low on the summer breeze, 

Borne from the silent tomb. 
Still, soft and sad, at the evening's close, 

At the dawn of the early day, 
In angel tones and in murmurs soft, 

"Soon wilt thou have passed away." 

In the heart's lone cells, in its secret founts, 

In the drop of the bitter tear, 
In sad, sad thoughts of an absent one 

'Mid hope's dark ashes drear. 
Still, still o'er the altar of hopeless love 

Is sounding a mournful lay, 
And an angel tone chants softly low, 

" He's passed from thy gaze away." 

O'er the sufferer's couch at the eve of life, 

When short is the fevered breath, — 
When the marble brow, and pure, young heart, 

Are fanned by the wings of death, — 
Still 'ere the pure soul has flown from earth, 

Life's zephyrs around it play, 
The dear, loved voice speaks softly low : 

" I'm passing away, away." 

Hope, love and joy speed e'er to us, 

On the wings of the early morn, 
They gently tread on our thorny path, 

But soon, too soon, are gone. 
A radiance bright on the heart is cast, 

Bat soon, uke the sunset's ray, 
It fades 'mid the shades of the coming eve, 

And has passed like a dream away. 

Thus ever as pearls on an ocean strand, 

As shells on the dark sea shore, 
^hen the ocean wave sweeps madly on, 

Are gone and are seen no more ; 
Do life's young flowers 'neath the tempest's 

Drop gently their leaflets gay, [wreath, 
And are swept by a wave from their slender 

And are passed from the earth away. 
**• Wreath. "Lilly-bill." 

The best women in the world are 
those who stay at home ; such is the 
universal opinion of the best judges, to 
wit: their husbands. The worst wo- 
men are those who have no home, or 
who love all other places better ; such 
is the verdict of those who meet them 
abroad. A wife in the house is as 
indispensable as a steersman at the 

" Pa, what is the interest of a kiss?" 
asked a sweet sixteen of her sire. 

" Why, really, I don't know. Why 
do you ask ? " 

" Because John, my cousin, borrowed 
a kiss last night from me, and said he'd 
pay me some of these nights with in- 
terest, after we are married." 

The first bird of spring 

Attempted to sing, 
But ere he had rounded a note, 

He fell from the limb — 
Ah 1 a dead bird was him — 

The music had friz in his throat ! 

Integrity is the first moral virtue, 
benevolence the second, and prudence 
the third; without the first, the two 
latter cannot exist, and without the two 
former the latter would be often useless. 

Great Depth of the Ocean. — 
Few readers are probably aware of 
the immense depth of some parts of 
the ocean, and beneath its level surface 
the crust of the globe is broken up 
into mountains and valleys quite as 
varied, or even more so, than the dry 

The following account of the depth 
at which it has been sounded, will give 
some idea of the vast valleys that ex- 
ist in its bed. The sounding was per- 
formed in the Atlantic, in 36 Q 49 S., 
36° 6 E. Ion., in a voyage of the Bri- 
tish ship Herald, from Rio Janeiro to 
the Cape of Good Hope. 

The depth at which bottom was 
reached was 7,706 fathoms, or 15,412 
yards, being over eiglu miles. 

The highest mountains on the sur- 



face of the globe do not exceed five 
miles, and the highest peaks of the 
Sierra Nevada are not more than 4,660 
yards ; so that the bed of the ocean 
has depths which far surpass the ele- 
vation of the highest points on its sur- 

The time required for this immense 
length of line to run out was about 
nine hours and a half! 


In the summer of 1849 a young man 
stood at the gate of a neat white cot- 
tage, in the town of L , holding 

by the hand his sweet, affianced bride, 
Lucy Gray. His voice grew tremu- 
lous, and a tear stood in his blue eye 
as he murmured, " You'll not forget 
me, Lucy." 

Long and wistfully did he look back 
from the hill-top, to catch a glimpse of 
a figure standing where he so lately 
stood. He saw a white handkerchief 
flutter in the breeze, turned, and was 
on his way to the newly discovered El 
Dorado, to win a fortune, which would 
give him home and happiness. 
* The village spire grew fainter, and 
the mountains waxed dim in the twi- 
light, which was gathering like a pall 
over hill and valley. Charles Gedney 
was alone ! He walked briskly, striv- 
ing to keep back the tears which swell- 
ed up into his eyes, while his hand 
pressed heavily upon his bosom, to 
still its emotion. The moon, hitherto 
shrouded, burst forth in resplendent 
beauty, illuminating the village of 

L , then draped itself again in 

dense, deep blackness. 

Taking up the small knapsack which 
contained his all, including a little par- 
cel his dear Lucy had requested him 
to defer examining until he was on his 
journey, he walked toward the ap- 
pointed rendezvous, where several fel- 
low emigrants, who were to accompany 
him, had assembled. It was nearly 
morning before he reached the small 
tavern, situated in the outskirts of the 
town from which they were to start. 

As he drew near he heard the loud 
and boisterous hilarity of his com- 
panions, and for a moment he was ir- 
resolute. Should he turn back again 
to all he loved and yearned for— or 
should he proceed in his new and pe- 
rilous enterprise ? 

At this instant, while the struggle 
between self and duty was raging in 
his bosom, the tavern door opened, and 
a fellow came reeling out, with a song 
upon his lips, and his person reeking 
with the fumes of liquor and tobacco 
smoke. Charles stood still, slightly 
shrinking behind a column of the pi- 
azza, trusting to be left alone in sweet 
communion with his delightful thoughts 
of home and Lucy. But the eye of 
the inebriate saw him in the moonlight, 
and he shouted, " Hollo there, Charley ! 
you red-shirted fellow ! Come in and 

"I entreat of you," said Charles, 
drawing his arm from the grasp of the 
man, " to leave me awhile alone." 

u No, no— come with me ; we want 
to make a night of it Hallo, in there ! 
— here's the last of the Mohegans ; 
open the door ; let 's have more whis- 
key ; we '11 drink again to our wives 
and sweethearts !" 

Resistance was useless, for some of 
the crowd within emerged at once, and 
drew Charles into their midst. 

The next morning everything was 
in readiness, and the train moved for- 
ward, all with blithe hearts save one. 
Three weeks after the departure, in a 
lovely valley, where the train halted 
to water the cattle, Charles wandered 
to a grassy knoll, and untied the blue 
ribbon which secured the little parcel 
Lucy had requested him not to ex- 
amine until on his journey. It was 
a daguerreotype of Lucy! Poor 
Charles! — he wept, and kissed the 
smiling eyes which looked upon him ; 
and as he placed the dear image upon 
his bosom, his heart felt lighter, and 
the journey before him appeared short- 
er and sweeter, with the hope that at 
some future day he should be well re- 
paid for all his toils and sorrows, 



Long and tedious months waned 
away; some of his companions had 
sickened and died, most of them had 
suffered much, but Charles was ever 
cheerful, and his pleasant song and 
smile gladdened many a desponding 
heart as they traveled over desert and 
plain. One person seemed nearer to 
him than the others : he won Charles' 
esteem by his apparent kindness of 
heart, and constant devotion to an or- 
phan sister, whom, he said, he never 
expected to see again, as she was dying 
of a broken heart. It was the old 
tale — unrequited love and desertion. 
Many an hour would WilliasuEaston 
wile away by relating sad stories of 
his sister Caroline, and many tears did 
both shed over the recital. The con- 
fidence of each grew stronger and more 
steadfast, and their companions had 
given them the appropriate cognomen 
of u the inseparables." 

In return, Cha rl ey fif^ np T unbur- 
dened his full heart and spoke of his 
treasure — Lucy. He would permit no 
other eye to look upon that " hallowed 
face" but his own ; yet, often a glowing 
description of her loveliness called 
forth the wish from Easton to see so 
bright a gem. "Some future time," 
would Charles invariably answer, as 
his face, already burned and reddened 
by the sun, grew scarlet at being 
thought so selfish. 

Time fled, the journey was ended, 
and they who had survived the fatigue 
and peril of so long a land journey, 
were assembled for the purpose of 
dividing equally their effects, that they 
then might seek their fortunes in what- 
ever manner they pleased. The scene 
was not a painful one. Not a tear was 
shed, nor regret experienced, as they 
took each other by the hand, or bid 
farewell, perhaps for the last time. 

It may appear strange, but it is 
nevertheless true, that but few friend- 
ships are formed among men when they 
are engaged iu such undertakings ; the 
bonds which should bind them to- 
gether the closer, and make them dear- 
er to each other, have been so severed ' 

and sundered by jealousies, dislikes 
and aversions, that they part with the 
greatest mutual satisfaction. Such has 
been the fate of nearly all who have 
crossed the plains. Can philosophers 
give any better reasons than the fore- 
going why this is so ? 

Charles and William were sitting on 
a hill-top, the broad, clear river rolling 
beneath at their feet, and a line of 
dark blue hills, whose peaks were just 
tinged with the lurid gleams of the 
rising sun, appeared in the distance. 
Both were silent; they watched the 
goin{? of their comrades, and felt a 
momentary unhappiness in seeing those 
depart with whom they had experi- 
enced so many hardships and priva- 
tions to reach so fair a land. 

The morning was beautiful ; in the 
thick foliage the birds made sweet mu- 
sic, and the air was balmy with the 
fragrance of innumerable flowers. 
With a quick, convulsive movement, 
Easton started to his feet. " Charles 
Gedney," said he, reaching out his 
hand, " shall we try our lot together, 
or shall this be our parting ?" 

"As* you will it, Easton," said 
Charles, mournfully. "It is hard at 
best, this seeming to be cheerful, hop- 
ing for fortune." 

"But," said Easton, interrupting 
him, " will it not be better, easier for 
both, were we to join our fortunes, ill 
or fair?' 

u It will ; and there's my hand," re- 
plied Charles. 

The companions started forward that 
morning, and travelled towards a set- 
tlement on the Yuba river. Marking 
out their claims, they entered into their 
vocation with alacrity, and were for- 
tunate ; in six months they were rich. 

A party of miners on a claim ad- 
joining had persuaded Charles and 
Easton to remove further up the river, 
by repeated stories of its greater rich- 
es ; but, after a few weeks' trial, they 
found the claims good for nothing, and 
their former claims possessed by those 
who had deceived them. 

With the treasure they had amassed 



they turned toward San Francisco, 
then a city of tents, many of which 
were dens of evil to lure the unwary, 
robbing them of their gold and honesty. 

Charles Gedney had been reared 
piously, and believed it a sin to step 
within the portals of a gambling house. 
His curiosity, however, got the better 
of his good intentions, and, with Eas- 
ton and several fellows with whom he 
had become acquainted at the hotel, he 
went, taking his gold with him, The 
room was densely filled with tobacco 
smoke ; and the tinkling of glasses, and 
the crowds which surrounded the card 
tables, plainly showed the excitement 
with which all were affected. 

Every one seemed intent on the 
progress of the games, and some time 
elapsed before either Easton or Charles 
could get near enough to witness any 
of the bettings. They did so at length, 
and to Charles' astonishment he beheld 
gold to the amount of thousands of 
dollars, heaped up like dirt. The ap- 
pearance of the players fascinated him, 
he became fixed to the spot, and a de- 
sire almost crept into his heart to try 
his luck. While thus lost in thought, 
some one touched his elbow, It was 
Easton. " Come," said he, " take some- 
thing ; here's an old friend of mine — 
let's have a drink together." 

They went to the bar ; both drank. 
Charles soon found himself again anx- 
iously watching the game, and great 
was his astonishment as he saw a 
Spaniard sweep from the table, with 
the greatest coolness, the winnings of 
a large bet which he had made. A 
bystander, noting Charles closely scru- 
tinizing the Spaniard, asked him why 
he did n't try his hand at it. " You'll 
win, I know." 

Charles looked round for Easton; 
he did not see him ; but he would cer- 
tainly come soon, and what was the 
harm, he thought, to play a little ; he 
was rich — more so than the Spaniard 
who had just won so much. 

" Will you play ?" again asked the 
mustachioed stranger. 

Charles nodded assent 

They seated themselves at a side 
table, while some* of the crowd imme- 
diately gathered round to witness their 
game. The stranger ordered some 
brandy — handed a glass to Charles, 
drinking to his success. Their gold 
was placed upon the table and the cards 

For some time the game seemed 
against Charles, but eventually he won. 
More liquor was called for, the betting 
ran high, and Charles played like a 
madman. At length, however, his 
great fortune deserted him and he lost. 
The Crowd was almost breathless as 
the stakes turned in favor of the stran- 
ger, who played calmly, his face wear- 
ing the same expression as when he 
sat down. The last dollar of Charles 
Gedney's lay upon the table, and his 
hand trembled fearfully as he felt in 
his pocket, hoping to discover another 
to keep it company. As he did so his 
hand touched the little case contain- 
ing the daguerreotype of Lucy. He 
laughed as he drew it forward, and his 
bloodshot eyes dilated with a fiendship 
expression as he flung it upon the 
table with an oath. " Take this," said 
he, " it will win it all back — -play ! 
play !" 

The stranger waited a moment, 
gazed at Charles, who looked like a 
demon, and drew the card. It was 
against poor Charles — he had lost 
everything ! 

The stranger coolly put the case into 
his pocket without looking at it, swept 
the gold from the table, and rose up. 
Charles started to his feet and con- 
fronted the ruiner of his hopes. 

" Return me my picture !" he hoarse- 
ly exclaimed. " Return it !" 

"Never!" returned the stranger, 
flinging him from him and rushing out 
of the place. 

o yea jg afterwards, in the steam- 
er wnicn sailed for New York, Easton 
was a passenger. He sauntered up 
and down the upper deck and saloon, 
in fine weather, seldom noticing any 
one. The ship made a good passage, 
and he appeared to be cheerful and 



happy, to passers by, but a close in- 
spection of his face and dark hazel 
eve*, would have told that all was not 
at re<t within the chambers of his heart. 

As the passengers were disembar- 
ing, he noticed a girl standing upon 
the pier, looking intently at each per- 
son, as they made their appearance at 
the gangway, and the look of bitter 
disappointment which followed that of 
anxiety was so strongly depicted upon 
her face, he went forward and en- 
quired "for whom she was looking," 
that he might be of service in telling 
her if the person was on board, as he 
had just arrived in the ship. With a 
Mush, she answered " it was a friend 
tor whom she had been looking several 
months — he had written — he might be 
expected at any moment/' 

** And what may be his name ? " en- 
quired Easton. Another blush suffused 
the face of the girl, and looking down 
upon the water she murmured " Charles 
Gedney." Easton started suddenly, 
and his heart beat violently. " lie is 
not here " he replied, " but I can in- 
form you of him, if you will come with 
me." Bidding her remain in the saloon 
of the steamer, he went to look after 
hi* trunk, and to order a carriage. 
Having engaged one, he returned to 
find the girl he had so strangely met. 
She was sitting as he left her. They 
entered the carriage, and it commenced 
slowly to force its way through the 
dense crowd collected on the pier. 
"And this is Lucy Gray, is it?" he 
asked ; u the lovely girl I have heard 
poor Gedney speak of so often." 

* Poor Gedney!" she exclaimed 
quickly, u why poor ! has any misfor- 
tune befallen him?" Clasping her 
hands and looking at Easton she 
a* aited his reply. u Be calm," he said, 
endeavoring to sooth her, u I will tell 
you all, when you reach home." 

A few weeks elapsed, and Lucy had 
somewhat recovered from the shock 
occasioned by the tidings of Gedney's 
death. Easton became a constant visi- 
tor at her house, and so powerful is 
sympathy between those who have 

known a dear and mutual friend that 
she became much attached to him, who 
had been for so long a time a com- 
panion of her lover. He so far inter- 
ested her feelings, by the recital of the 
many exciting scenes through which 
they had passed, the many dangers 
and privations they had endured to- 
gether, the attention shown to Charles 
during a long and severe illness, as well 
as the many pleasant hours they had 
passed in each other's society, that 
gradually, so deep is the female heart 
imbued with gratitude and kindness, he 
won her esteem and friendship, almost 
akin to love. 

It was a calm day in October, when 
all nature seemed a paradise. The 
broad elm tree beneath whose branches 
a few years before, Lucy had pledged 
herself to be the bride of Gedney, had 
donned a yellow robe, and the ash ber- 
ries in the rays of the setting sun, 
shone with a rich vermillion tint 

Easton held her hand in his; it 
trembled, and a few tears dropped upon 
it as he said, " Don't forget me Lucy." 
Poor girl ! the shock was too much for 
her, she commenced weeping violently. 
It recalled another scene, and another 
form which had been and was still dear 
to her. 

" Why do you weep, dearest Lucy? " 
asked Easton, bending over her. u Do 
you not believe that I love, worship, 
adore you ? You say you can never 
love another — that Charles possessed 
your heart. Be it so, sweet girl, give 
me then but your hand, and 1 will win 
your heart. Speak, Lucy, speak 1 " 

For a long time Lucy was silent ; 
she at length placed her hand within 
Easton's, gazed tenderly but mourn- 
fully into his eyes, and became pledged 
once more in the sight of heaven to be 
a wife. In a few months they were 
married, and to a beautiful cottage, not 
far from her old home and the elm 
tree, did Lucy Easton remove, to honor 
and obey him whom heaven had or- 
dained her husband. 

Years rolled on, the Eastons were 
courted, blessed, and the world thought 



happy. One day, two children gam- 
bolled on the green in front of the house, 
a boy and a girl. For a moment their 
pleasure had been checked by the 
sudden appearance of a man who stood 
watching them at the gate. He held 
some flowers in his hand and taking 
out a rose he threw it towards them, 
asking their names. " Tarlie Dedney 
Easton," replied the boy promptly. 
" What ! " asked the man, slowly draw- 
ing his hand across his brow. " What 
did you say — and whose house is 
this ? " 

At this moment, Lucy who had 
heard the children conversing, ap- 

" What do you wish, sir ?" she asked. 

" Great God ! am I awake, or do I 
dream?" gasped the stranger. "Is 
this Lucy ? — but no— yes, it is ! You 
were Lucy Gray! but now — oh, heav- 
en ! I see it all, all, — O, Lucy ! Lucy ! 
may God forgive you !" 

Drawing his shabby coat around 
him, the man attempted to move for- 
ward, but he was too feeble, he fell 
prostrate upon the gravel walk in a 

With the assistance of the servants, 
Lucy had him placed upon a bed, and 
in an hour he was able to speak co- 
herently. She gladly saw him open 
his eyes. She felt a degree of interest 
in his recovery which surprised her. 
As his eyes wandered about the room, 
they met a picture of Lucy. Gazing 
upon it, he slowly rose up in the bed, 
beckoned her toward him and asked, 
" Where did you get that t" 

" It belonged to a dear, but departed 
friend" she replied, her voice trem- 
bling with emotion. 

" And that friend you wronged — was 
false to," cried the stranger vehement- 
ly, as he fell backward in a paroxysm 
of grief. 

It matters not what followed, it is 
enough to say, Charles Gedney had 
returned, alive it is true, but ruined in 
health, in fortune and in hopes. Easton 
found him in his house, he whom he 
had so foully, deeply wronged. He 

was the stranger who won the money 
from Charles in San Francisco. By 
the aid of false clothes, hair, mousta- 
ches and whiskers, he passed for a 
stranger. Securing the spoils, he re- 
turned home, the beauty of Lucy's da- 
guerreotype induced him to seek her, 
to fabricate the death of Charles, and 
to corroborate it be produced the pic- 
ture, stating that Charles gave it to 
him, with the dying wish that he should 
marry Lucy. 

Next morning after Charles Ged- 
ney's arrival, a letter was handed Lucy 
Easton. It was from her husband. 
It ran as follows : 

" Lucy — I pray forgiveness from 
God — from you, if you can forgive me. 
Attribute all my wrongs to my deep 
love for you. 1 am severely punished 
— beyond endurance, but I shall soon 
put an end to all. 

"My children ! never tell them of 
me — let them forget they ever bore the 
name of so vile a wretch — change it — 
give them your maiden name, or any 

" I dare not hope Charles Gedney 
will forgive me— -entreat it of him, and 
I will bless you. 

" All my property is yours. I have 
no wish for anything here. Oh ! that 
I were sure of the future state ! Pray 
for me. When you receive this I shall 
have ceased to live. Farewell. 

" William." 

At the end of a twelvemonth, two 
persons, a tine matronly looking lady, 
and a consumptive, thin framed gentle- 
man might be seen occasionally in the 

grave yard of the village of L , 

bending above a grave, upon the slab 
of which was carved 


They had been married but a few 
months, and every time they paid this 
visit, Charles would whisper, " Lucy, 
I shall soon be laid beside him. You 
know I forgave him long ago. Let me 
believe you will water both our graves 
with your tears, praying for him who 
sinned, and was sinned against." 





How sweet are the ties of affection, 

Though absent, I am not forgot ; 
There are hearts with a fond recollection, 

Ever blessing my home and my lot; 
So while Time's rapid footsteps are flying, 

And naught can lost moments restore, 
I will dream while the present is dying, 

That the future has joys yet in store. 

Fair Summer has come with her flowers, 

And bright skies of heaven's own hue, 
With sweet-singing birds in her bowers, 

And smiles that remind me of you ; 
Her charms they are still as exciting, 

As when they enraptured my youth, 
where are there joys so inviting, 

As those found with nature and truth. 

But Summer the fairest is fleeting, 

It must die like our loved ones before ; 
While the past and the present are meeting, 

It is gone and we know it no more ; 
But I know while the Summer is dying, 

One heart is still faithful and true, 
To my own fond emotions replying, 

Far over the waters so blue. 

That love gives me joy in the present, 

Hope whispers of pleasures to be, 
And time which is so evanescent, 

Shall surely bring gladness with thee ; 
While I love thee with fondest emotion, 

I pray to the Father above, 
And commend thee with fervent devotion, 

To the care of His Infinite Love. 

w. H. D. 
Oakland, Cal., Aug. 8, 1856. 

Physician — u Why don't you set a 
bound to your drinking, and not ex- 
ceed HP* 

Patient — u So I do, old fellow, so 
1 do ; but then you see it's always so 
far off, that I always get drunk before 
I reach it." 

"When Peggy's arms her dog imprison, 
I often wish my lot was his'h ; 
How often would I stand and turn, 
And get a pat from hands like hern." 


Every traveler in the mountains of 
California has doubtless often noticed 
the many different trails that cross and 
recross his path in so many different 
directions. As often, perhaps, has he 
been perplexed, as a stranger, to know 
which was the right and which the 
wrong, when journeying from one 
mining district to another. 

Oftentimes he will start upon a good 
plain trail, and before he has gone 
many steps he finds that it " forks " now 
in this direction, now in that, until his 
plain trail has become very dim, and 
finally " runs out " altogether. Some- 
times for the want of a proper knowl- 
edge of the right one to take or the 
wrong one to shun, he* finds himself at 
the wrong place altogether, and many 
weary miles away from his intended 

After a heavy fall of snow, the writer 
wished to journey from Weaverville, 
(Trinity County) to Yreka, without 
returning to Shasta, as that would be 
at least seventy miles out of the way. 
My horse was saddled, and after sundry 
enquiries as to the direction J must 
take, was soon upon the road. 

A very heavy fog hung its misty veil 
upon every tree and stump and path, 
as though " Nature was brewing on a 
large scale," and didn't care for conse- 
quences, which prevented me from 
seeing any object whatever more than 
a few yards off. I started upon the 
right trail, and soon lost it Now I 
must enquire, thought I — and I did 
enquire. This man knew the trail, he 
believed — and the other didn't. That 
man knew it, exactly, but it was so 
" plaguey foggy that he was kind o' 



turned round." Another, knew a man 
that did know, if he could only find 
him ; but as that would be perhaps, 
more trouble than to find the trail, he 
gave it up. In this dilemma I came 
near a cabin, and could see from the 
smoke curling from the chimney with- 
out, and struggling 'hard with the fog, 
and the bright sparkling gleams that 
were shooting, twinkling and peeping 
through the chinks of the cabin door 
from within, that some miners were at 
home and could tell me at once without 
trouble the way I should go. Of course 
I knocked and made the enquiry. 

" Certainly, you follow this trail for 
a few yards, and turn to the left — the 
right goes down to " Five Cent Gulch." 

" Very good — I thank you." 

Now I was in good spirits, and so 
was my horse, as though he under- 
stood every word that had been said. 
On we went — trails here, trails there 
— in the snow. After traveling about 
a mile I met a man and again en- 

" Why bless your heart, you're going 
in the wrong direction." 

" Which is the right ?' 

u Oh ! the way you have just come." 

" Comforting " thought I. I thanked 
him as I patiently retraced my steps 
after making particular notice of his 
remarks. On, on I jog, " all right this 
time" think I. Passing this trail, 
crossing that, until my sad fate reveals 
to me, that my day-dreams were like 
the weather — somewhat foggy, for of a 
sudden I am brought to a "dead 
stand," beside the deep and well worked 
banks of a small creek, with a large 
log across it for a bridge ; but as my 
horse did not walk logs, I had to work 

my way through the fog and out of the 
snow by crossing ditches, climbing over 
banks of tailings, passing around and 
upon the edges of deep holes sunk there 
by the miners, and thus seek a low 
bank to reach the opposite side. 

Here, fortnnately I found a man 
who knew the trail, and took the pains 
of guiding me to it That man is a 
christian, thought I, as I thanked him 
for his kindness, and " went on my way 
rejoicing," that at last I was on the 
right trail. 

It is a great mental relief to be set 
right after being wrong, or to find a 
trail after you have lost it. Inwardly 
exulting upon my good fortune, I was 
pursuing " the even tenor of my way," 
and had made about a mile in the right 
direction, when my bright prospect was 
suddenly clouded by the trail straight 
before me making the letter V. "Well, 
well," I exclaimed, " this is a pretty pan 
of flapjacks ; now what shall I do — 
wait?" About twenty minutes had 
tardily passed away when I heard the 
welcome sound of footsteps advancing, 
and a man came up, when I enquired 
if he would be kind enough to tell me 
which was the right trail to Yreka ? 

" No sabe," he replied. 

"Camino— Yreka?" 

" No sabe." 

Presently another man came up, 
and to him I put the same question. 
With a polite shrug of the shoulders 
he replied: 

" Je ne parle Anglaise 

In a few seconds a third came up, 
and to him the same question was put, 
when in good round English he an* 
awered : 

" I '11 be hanged if I know ! I don't 



believe you can go there this way, any- 
how, now." 

" There is from three to seven feet 
of snow upon the mountains, and the 
trail is not yet broken." 

While we were speaking, another 
man was passing, who, upon being 
questioned in the same manner, re- 

u Oh, yes ; certainly, you can go it 
easy enough." 

** Would you please to tell me if it 
forks any more ?" 

u Forks ! Yes ; I guess it does fork, 
several times." 

I do n't know whether or not I ought 
to blame any man for sending me upon 
a strange trail that led to bo many dif- 
ferent points, without informing me of 
the right one to follow ; or blame my- 
.elf for not enquiring more particularly 
at starting ; but I resolved that if I were 
too negligent before, it should not be 
so this time, and immediately asked 
him to be kind enough to tell me how 
I might avoid so much waiting and 
questioning on this road in future. 

"Certainly," he replied. "Have 
70a a good memory ?" 

"Then, you 11 want to use it, I can 
tell you." 
u All right" 

u Well, then, here you take the left 
band trail, and that will be right until 
you come to another, and there, if you 
don't mind, you'll be wrong, for you 
must be sure to pass that one as though 
you didn't see it." 
41 Very good." 

a You follow on about three-quarters 
of a mile — may be a little more than 

that and there you'll find three trails, 

and be sure you take the right-hand 
one — remember." 

" You'll do— for a guide." 

" And follow it for about three hun- 
dred yards, when you will take the ex- 
treme left hand trail and jog ialong that 
for about a mile and a quarter, or there- 
abouts. There you will find three 
trails, and the snow pretty deep, and 
the trails rather dim, but you take the 
plainest of the three, and you will not 
go over half a mile before you will 
find that it forks again — dim as it is. 
This time you will have to take the 
blindest of the two— there are only 
two there — and before you have fol- 
lowed that many yards — if you're not 
lost then — TU be hanged!" 

I had to laugh this time, but assured 
him that when as far as that upon my 
journey, it would not be very pleasant 
to be lost, nor yet very convenient, and 
that I should feel obliged if he would 
save me the trouble } so, describing to 
him the road he had explained, I en- 
quired if that were right so far. 

" Yes," said he, u exactly right You 
have a pretty good memory." 

u Thank you — To remember roads," 
I replied, " and kindnesses," 

a Well, then," he continued, " after 
you have gone but a few rods, you will 
see the tops of some bushes, and an 
undergrowth of brushwood, and when 
you have worked your way to the other 
side, you make for the corner of a 
fence that you will see sticking up, and 
just beyond that you will come into a 
good beaten trail, and then you're all 

I, of course, thanked him for his 
kindness, and as I journeyed on I found 
the trail just as he had described it 

If men who know a trail would be 



more particular in guarding a stranger 
against taking the wrong one, they 
would have him feel as I do to this 
day — that that man was a friend, and, 
as such, I should be glad to meet and 
serve him, in any way, at any time, if 
it were possible, wherever or when- 
ever I might meet him. Be sure and 
give a stranger very plain directions. 

A Good Joke. — We heard a good 
joke perpetrated a few days since, by 
a friend of ours. Said he to an ac- 
quaintance : 

"Things are really coming to a 
pretty pass in our town ; all the ladies 
stopping at the 'Exchange' left the 
dinner table yesterday ! " 

" Possible !" said the person to whom 
the remark was addressed, greatly sur- 
prised, " what caused them to do so ?" 

u Why," responded our friend, con- 
vincing himself that the coast was 
clear, " they had finished eating." 

A pass made at him, but he dodged it 

A Home Missionary was engaged 
in the exercise of his laudable calling 
in one of the coal districts of England, 
and presenting a tract, made the fol- 
lowing enquiry: Do you, my good 
woman, know anything of Jesus Christ? 
" Jesus Christ," she exclaimed musing- 
ly, " bless me, Fve heard that name ; 
yet, I can't say as how I knows the 
man, but I'll call our Joe as he knows 
everybody, almost, in these parts. Joe, 
Joe," she immediately shouted, but 
turning again to the missionary, asked 
in a simple manner, "Is he a pitsman 
or a banksman, sir ? " 

A fellow remarked that he would 
like to know what there was about 
mush and milk that could bloat a man 
so soon. He said he never could eat 
more than three or four quarts without 
feeling considerably swollen. Strange, 


To the earnest and thoughtful we 
would address a few words on the in- 
vestment of capital in California ; for, 
whatever advances or hinders the pro- 
gress of our prosperity invites our anx- 
iety and demands our consideration. No 
man pretends to deny the varied and 
vast resources of our mineral or agri- 
cultural wealth, which, if properly de- 
veloped, would by its productiveness 
astonish the world. Every mountain 
and every valley, every gulch and 
every river, every flat and every hill, 
but scarcely touched, tell of what re- 
mains. The little already obtained 
but indicates the vastness of the store 
untouched — and yet the few fractions 
produced have been developed more by 
chance than system. What, then, let us 
ask, can be the reason that, compara- 
tively, all kinds of business are not more 
prosperous, and money more plentiful 
among us? In a State of so much 
wealth why are many poor, and remain 
poor so long? Let us go into the 
mining districts — for there is the index 
to our prosperity or our adversity — as 
we presume that none will deny that 
the hope of California is mainly in her 
mineral wealth. What do we see? 
men wielding the pick, or tending the 
sluice, or plying the shovel? Does 
water rushing through the hydraulic 
hose tear down the bank, wash dean 
the rocks, or get out the gold ? Verily 
no. Does the gurgling music of the 
water, leaping and laughing through 
the sluice cheer the heart of the miner 
as he toils? Ah, no. Has content- 
ment any seat upon his brow, any smile 
in his countenance, any place in his 
heart? No. Does the angel of hope 



pay its cheering visit to his lonely 
cabin, and tell to its inmate of a far 
distant home, a loving-hearted and pa- 
tient wife, and dear little ones soon to 
meet him at the cottage gate? Ah, 
no. The pick is at the cabin door — 
not in the claim — the sluice is drying 
and cracking in the sun, and will be 
useless e'er the water comes ; and what 
is worse, the little gold he has taken 
out while water lasted, has either been 
required to pay for food, or sent home 
to save his family from starvation. 
Thus are men situated in the mines, 
and from year to year, unless by some 
good fortune they strike a lead — it re- 
quires the little they may make during 
the rainy season to keep them through 
the dry. 

But wherefore ; is there no water in 
our mountain stream ? Plenty. Can- 
not that water be taken out from thence 
and conveyed through the mining dis- 
tricts? Easily. Then why in the name 
of our prosperity, why is it not done ? 
We will tell you. The hen which 
layed the golden egg was killed, or if 
not killed was plucked of all her 
feathers. The capital that should have 
built canals, was almost exclusively in- 
vested in real estate; because that 
offered the largest immediate return. 
There lies the mistake. 

We have been in nearly every 
mining district from one end of Cali- 
fornia to the other, and we know that 
the want of water for mining purposes 
is the great drawback to all our pros- 

We will mention one or two facts. 
At Michigan Bluffs, Placer county, 
there are diggings now opened that 
would employ five hundred men for 
ten years constantly, yet there has not 

been water to work with over three 
and a half months out of twelve. 

At St. Louis, Pine Grove and Bab- 
bit Creek, Sierra County, there are 
diggings already opened that would 
busily employ two thousand five hun- 
dred men for twenty years, and yet 
there has not been water to work with 
over four months. And these are only 
one or two instances out of hundreds — 
yes, hundreds. Then look at the 
thousands of acres that are scarcely 
touched, and the tens of thousands of 
acres of good mining ground that the 
miner has never even prospected ; and 
think of the vast wealth of California 
thus uselessly lying idle, and all that 
is wanted to develope it is water. 
Capital to build us canals, and they 
would give us water. Then let us ask 
is it policy, directly or indirectly to 
neglect this, the only cause of our busi- 
ness inactivity. 

Miners would work, all know wil- 
lingly, if they had water ; by working 
thus they would obtain money, and the 
money put into circulation would make 
business of all kinds prosperous ; and 
when the good tidings of success spread 
abroad, men would flock here by the 
thousand, as formerly, and bring with 
them their wives and their families, 
contented to labor and live by the side 
of their claim, and not as now have to 
wander from the hills to the streams, 
and from the streams to the hills, per- 
petually striving, yet spending all that 
is made in one claim, at one season, to 
find them another. Water would be 
the great panacea — the philosopher's 
stone to Californians. 

The gold is here, the strength is 
here, the will to work is here, and when 
Capital gives water, prosperity and 



contentment will be here, and city in- 
vestments would pay a much higher 
per centage than they now can. 

There are but few canals but what 
have paid a much higher per centage 
than the same amount of money in- 
vested in other countries ; yet, if they 
have not paid from two to ten per cent 
per month, they have been considered 
but indifferent investments. And even 
though as large an investment could 
not be realized directly here, as else- 
where, it would indirectly be a ju- 
dicious investment. We invite the 
thoughtful who are anxious for the per- 
manent Buccess of our State, to think 
seriously upon this very serious and 
important subject. 


They are around us in the evening hour, 
When pale stars glimmer in the silent sky ; 

They come to us like angels whispering near, 
To teach us how to die. 

They are around us when the evening smiles, 
While pulse and heart are beating strong 
and clear ; 

They talk to us in the still hoar of prayer — 
O ! then our friends are near. 

They are around us in the dreams of sleep, 
When the freed spirit roams unchained and 

O ! then they whisper to our listening ear, 
The heavenly things they see. 

They are around us in the hoar of death : — 
Angels of Mercy from our God they come ; 

Gently within their arms oar souls to bear, 
And take as to oar home. 

o. T. T. 
San Fbahcibco, Aag. 10th, 1856. 

Strawberries. — Old Isaac Wal- 
ton said " Our Heavenly Father might 
doubtless have made a better fruit than 
the strawberry, but he never did." 


Next to the dog and elephant, the 
horse ranks (which is acknowledged by 
all naturalists) in sagacity and intel- 
ligence. History teems with instances, 
well attested, of their superiority in all 
animal faculties of perception, that are 
not engrossed by creation's lord — Man. 
Indeed there are records besides those 
of holy writ, where man has suc- 
cumbed to the horse and ass in fore- 
knowledge of danger and expedience. 
We remember an anecdote that illus- 
trates this in no small degree. During 
the Peninsular war, two English offi- 
cers had to cross the Sierra de Es- 
trella, a mountain some six or seven 
thousand feet above the level of the 
sea. In its neighborhood were some 
of the most dangerous passes and de- 
files in the world, where a false step 
would hurl the unfortunate horse and 
rider to instant destruction. They had 
applied for mules to a well known 
guide hear the road, and he, hearing 
the route they were to take, made the 
remark in Spanish — " Jupiter os guarde 
de todo wed, en entas encructjadas^ — 

Jupiter preserve you in such cross 
paths. He brought out two horses 
instead of two mules, much to the dis- 
appointment of the soldier. u Be con- 
tent,'' said he, "you want something 
else than surefootedness in these roads. 

1 give you two of my best steeds, let 
them have as much of their way as 
possible, and you will go safe." After 
laying down the direction for their 
guidance, for, during the war, there 
was no procuring a guide, such was the 
terror that the peasantry bore to the 
French army, they proceeded on their 
journey. They had passed the first 
ravine on a ledge of rock more than a 
mile, scarcely broad enough for a dog 
to travel, when they fell into a dispute, 
one seeing, as he thought, the safest 
pass before him, refused to accede to 
the other's request, who was content to 
abide by the strict letter of the route, 
and the intelligence of his beast. The 



consequence proved fatal to the former, 
for horse and rider were found dead 
scarcely a mile from whence they sep- 
arated; the poor animal's sides being 
gored to pieces almost, bearing evi- 
dence of being forced, against his will ; 
while the other arrived safe at his des- 
tination over some of the most frightful 
cavities and gigantic rock-fissures that 
the world perhaps contains. 

Another anecdote is so marvellous 
in its nature that I cannot vouch for 
its credence, but give it on the authori- 
ty I received it A young French 
officer in the same war, having caroused 
rather late at night, at the house of a 
friend, refused the bed offered him by 
his entertainer, it being imperative on 
him that he should be at his head-quar- 
ters before daylight The merchant, 
his friend, at whose house he was en- 
tertained, procured him a well known 
experienced guide, recommended by 
the mayor of the place, and a steed, 
and mounting the pillion behind this 
guide with his enormous horn lantern 
stretched on a long pole, he jogged on 
his way. Here, too, ravines, broad 
and deep, were to be crossed by narrow 
planks, scarcely wide enough to admit 
a man, and in some places they appear- 
ed to escape being hurled below only 
by a miracle. After continuing on in 
this way for two or three hours, fright- 
ened by the yawning darkness here 
and there under their feet, they arrived 
at their journey's end. The young 
French officer paid the guide his de- 
mand, and he, mounting his trusty steed 
" blew out the light from his lantern." 
* What, are you mad ?" said the young 
officer; "you will want the light to go 
hack again, surely ?" " No," said the 
old guide, " I am blind, and my horse 
too. The light is worth saving. I 
only used it for you." " Well might 
I," said the young officer, " be thankful 
to God for my safety." Not a whip, 
nor a spur, nor a bridle was used on 
this occasion, only the terms, " diesto, 
yracioso, bonito, benigno, manso" — 
clever, gentle, pretty, good, tame ; and 
now and then as if asking advice, u Es 

bueno vicyar t Es malo major f" — Is 
it good? Is it f>ad traveling?" 

A friend of mine, a farmer in the 
precinct of Dover, had occasion to 
place his daughter at school at Black- 
heath, in the neighborhood of the great 
city. Having no occasion for her 
pony, he sold it to a friend, a few miles 
from the school. His surprise was 
great, about a month afterward, to ob- 
serve the poor creature, foot bounded, 
thin, and so weak as hardly able to 
stand, in its accustomed stall, a distance 
of seventy or eighty miles from its 
owner. The little creature must have 
chosen the night, as the best time to 
perform its journey, so as to escape the 
number of pounds with which every 
village between the two places abounds, 
more especially was this necessary, as 
it was the time of the corn ripening for 
harvest, when farmers are usually more 
upon the alert to pounce upon Btray 
cattle. By what perception could the 
animal have detected the right from 
the wrong road, what cunning must it 
have used in selecting its hiding places 
to sleep in ? These are matters that 
certainly set at rest the question as to 
their thinking and discr.minating pow- 
era. But if this were not satisfactory 
to obtain for them a character for in- 
telligence, a day spent in any of the 
exhibition circuses, while they are 
being trained for any important feat, 
will suffice to award for them a supe- 
rior character for this quality. 

In one of the Oxford papers (Eng- 
land) of last month, there is a singular 
instance of a life being saved by the 
sagacity of a horse. Some farmers 
going into a field, were so attracted by 
die extraordinary behavior of an ani- 
mal, that had never before, to their 
knowledge, exhibited any signs of in- 
telligence, that one of them was con- 
tent to be pulled by the frock, to where 
the creature might lead, and discovered 
a drunken cobbler of the village im- 
mersed in water up to the chin, and 
who, by its means, was extricated just 
at the time when life was about to take 
its departure. 



The remarkable horse and pet Co- 
penhagen, belonging to the Duke of 
Wellington, was gifted with a wonder- 
ful degree of intelligence. It is said 
that during the last days of its exist- 
ence, it would refuse all food except 
that prepared by the hand of its affec- 
tionate master. The trial is said to 
have been made in the presence of 
many persons, over and over again, 
when another hand used the same in- 
gredients, with the same care, in the 
same proportion, and yet the poor ani- 
mal could detect it 

" Occasionally equine attachment ex- 
hibits itself in a light as exalted and 
creditable as that of the human mind. 
During the peninsular war, the trump- 
eter of a French cavalry corps had a 
fine charger assigned to him, of which 
he became passionately fond, and 
which, by gentleness of disposition and 
uniform docility, equally evinced its 
affection. The sound of the trump- 
eter's voice, the sight of his uniform, 
or the twang of his trumpet, was suffi- 
cient to throw this animal into a state 
of excitement ; and he appeared to be 
pleased and happy only when under 
the saddle of his rider. Indeed he 
was unruly and useless to everybody 
else; for once, on being removed to 
another part of the forces, and con- 
signed to a young officer, he resolutely 
refused to perform his evolutions, and 
bolted straight to the trumpeter's sta- 
tion, and there took his stand, jostling 
alongside his former master. This 
animal, on being restored to the trump- 
eter, carried him, during several of the 
peninsular campaigns, through many 
difficulties and hair-breadth escapes. 
At last the corps to which he be- 
longed was worsted, and in the confu- 
sion of retreat the trumpeter was mor- 
tally wounded. Dropping from his 
horse, his body was found many days 
after the engagement stretched upon 
die sward, with the faithful charger 
standing beside it During the long 
interval, it seems that he had never 
quitted the trumpeter's side, but had 
stood sentinel over his corpse, scaring 

away the birds of prey, and remaining 
totally heedless of his own privations. 
When found, he was in a sadly reduced 
condition, partly from loss of blood 
through wounds, but chiefly from want 
of food, of which, in the excess of grief, 
he could not be prevailed on to par- 

On the evening of Saturday, the 
24th February, 1830, Mr. Smith, su- 
pervisor of excise at Befiuly, was 
proceeding home from a survey of 
Fort Augustus, and, to save a distance 
of about sixteen miles, he took the hill 
road from Drumnadrochit to Beauly. 
The road was completely blocked up 
with, and indiscernible amidst the waste 
of snow, so that Mr. Smith soon lost 
all idea of his route. In this dilemma 
he thought it best to trust to his horse, 
and, loosening the reins, allowed him 
to choose his own course. The animal 
made way, though slowly and cau- 
tiously, till coming to a ravine near 
Glenconvent, when both horse and 
rider suddenly disappeared in a snow 
wreath several fathoms deep. Mr. 
Smith, on recovering, found himself 
nearly three yards from the dangerous 
spot, with his faithful horse standing 
over him, and licking the snow from 
his face. He thinks the bridle must 
have been attached to his person. So 
completely, however, had he lost all 
sense of consciousness, that beyond the 
bare fact as stated, he had no knowl- 
edge of the means by which he had 
made so striking and providential an 

Though Providence seems to have 
implanted in the horse a benevolent 
disposition, with at the same time a 
certain awe of the human race, yet 
there are instances on record of his 
recollecting injuries, and fearfully 
revenging them. A person near Bos- 
ton, was in the habit, when ever he 
wished to catch his horse in the field, 
of taking a quantity of corn in a 
measure by way of bait On calling 
to him, the horse would come up and 
eat the corn, while the bridle was 
put over his head. But the owner 



having deceived the animal several 
times, by calling him when he had no 
corn in the measure, the horse at 
length began to suspect the design, 
and, coming up one day as usual, on 
being called, looked into the measure, 
and seeing it empty, turned round, 
reared on his hind-legs, and killed his 
master on the spot. 

In the preceding instance the provo- 
cation was deceit and trickery; the 
poor horse, however, often receives 
heavier incentives to revenge. Can 
we blame him when he attempts it 
in such cases as the following? A 
baronet, one of whose hunters had 
never tired in the longest chase, once 
encouraged the cruel thought of at- 
tempting completely to fatigue him. 
After a long chase, however, he dined, 
and again mounting, rode furiously 
among the hills. When brought to 
the stable his strength appeared to be 
exhausted, and he was scarcely able to 
walk. The groom, possessed of more 
feeling than his brutal master, could 
not refrain from tears at the sight of so 
noble an animal thus sunk down. The 
baronet sometime after entered the 
stable, and the horse made a furious 
spring upon him ; and had not the 
groom interfered, would soon have put 
it out of his power of ever again mis- 
using his animal. 

It is told of a horse belonging to an 
Irish nobleman, that he always became 
restive and furious whenever a certain 
individual came into his presence. 
One day this poor fellow happened to 
pass within reach, when the animal 
seized him with his teeth and broke 
his arm ; it then threw him down, and 
lay upon him — every effort to get it 
off proving unavailing, till the by- 
standers were compelled to shoot it. 
The reason assigned for this ferocity 
was, that the man had performed a 
cruel operation on the animal some 
time before, and which it seems to 
have revengefully remembered. 

Horses have exceedingly good mem- 
ories. In the darkest nights they 
wiH find their way homeward, if they 

have but once passed over the road ; 
they will recognise their old masters 
after a lapse of many years ; and those 
that have been in the army, though 
now degraded to carters' drudges, will 
suddenly become inspirited at the sight 
of military array, and rush to join the 
ranks, remembering not only their old 
uniform, but their own places in the 
troop, and the order of the various 
manoeuvers. Many interesting anec- 
dotes might be recited under this head, 
which place the retentive powers of 
the horse in a highly pleasing and 
creditable light. 

A gentleman rode a young horse, 
which he had bred, thirty miles from 
home, and to a part of the country 
where he had never been before. The 
road was a cross one, and extremely 
difficult to find; however, by dint of 
perseverance and inquiry, he at length 
reached his destination. Two years 
afterwards he had occasion to go the 
same way, and was benighted four or 
five miles from the end of his journey. 
The night was so dark that he could 
scarcely see the horse's head. He had 
a dreary moor and common to pass, 
and had lost all traces of the proper 
direction he had to take. The rain 
began to fall heavily. He now con- 
templated the uncertainty of his situa- 
tion. " Here am I," said he to himself, 
"far from any house, and in the midst 
of a dreary waste, where I know not 
which way to direct the course of my 
steed. I have heard much of the me- 
mory of the horse, and in that is now 
my only hope." He threw the reins 
on the horse's neck, and encouraging 
him to proceed, found himself safe at 
the gate of his friend in less than an 
hour. It must be remarked that the 
animal could not possibly have been 
that road but on the occasion two years 
before, as no person ever rode him but 
his master. 

It has been before remarked, that the 
horse is inferior to none of the brute 
creation in sagacity and general intel- 
ligence. In a state of nature, he is 
cautious and watchful; and the man- 



ner in which the wild herds conduct 
their marches, station their scouts and 
and leaders, shows how fully they com- 
prehend the necessity of obedience and 
order. All their movements, indeed, 
seem to be the result of reason, aided 
by a power of communicating their 
ideas far superior to that of most other 
animals. The neighings by which they 
communicate terror, alarm, recogni- 
tion, the discovery of water and pas- 
ture, &c, are all essentially different, 
yet instantaneously comprehended by 
every member of the herd ; nay, the 
various movements of the body, the 
pawing of the ground, the motions of 
the ears, and the expressions of the 
countenance, seem to be fully under- 
stood by each other. In passing swam- 
py ground, they test it with the fore- 
foot, before trusting to it the full weight 
of their bodies ; they will strike asun- 
der the melon-cactus to obtain its suc- 
culent juice with an address perfectly 
wonderful ; and will scoop out a hollow 
in the moist sand, in the expectation of 
its filling with water. All this they do 
in their wild state ;. and domestication, 
it seems, instead of deteriorating, tends 
rather to strengthen and develop their 

The Rev. Mr. Hall, in his " Travels 
through Scotland," tells of the Shet- 
land ponies, that when they come to 
any boggy piece of ground — whether 
with or without their masters — they 
first put their nose to it, and then pat 
it in a peculiar way with their forefeet ; 
and from the sound and feeling of the 
ground, they know whether it will 
bear them. They do the same with 
ice, and determine in a minute whether 
they will proceed; and that with a 
judgment far more unerring than that 
of their riders. 

Their sagacity sometimes evinces 
itself in behalf of their companions, in 
a manner which would do honor even 
to human nature. M. de Boussanelle, 
a captain of cavalry in the regiment of 
Beauvilliers, mentions that a horse be- 
longing to his company being, from 
age, unable to eat his hay or grind his 

oats, was fed for two months by two 
horses on his right and left, who ate 
with him. These two chargers, draw- 
ing the hay out of the racks, chewed it 
and put it before the old horse, and did 
the same with the oats, which he was 
then able to eat. 

The preceding anecdotes — which 
form but a mere fraction of what might 
be gleaned — exhibit some of the prin- 
cipal features in the character of the 
horse, whose natural qualities have 
been matured and greatly developed 
by domestication. Man has trained 
him with care, for the value of his ser- 
vices ; we wish we could add, that he 
uniformly treats him with kindness and 
consideration. " The reduction of the 
horse to a domestic state," says Buffon, 
"is the greatest acquisition from the 
animal world ever made by the art and 
industry of man. This noble animal 
partakes of the fatigues of war, and 
seems to feel the glory of victory. 
Equally intrepid as his master, he en- 
counters danger and death with ardour 
and magnanimity. He delights in the 
noise and tumult of arms, and annoys 
the enemy with resolution and alacrity. 
But it is not in perils and conflicts 
alone that the horse willingly co-ope- 
rates with his master; he likewise 
participates in human pleasures. He 
exults in the chase and the tournament; 
his eyes sparkle with emulation in the 
course. Bnt, though bold and intrepid, 
he suffers not himself to be carried off 
by a furious ardour ; he represses his 
movements, and knows how to govern 
and check the natural vivacity and fire 
of his temper. He not only yields to 
the hand, but seems to consult the in- 
clination of the rider. Uniformly obe- 
dient to the impressions he receives, 
he flies or stops, and regulates his 
motions entirely by the will of his 
master. He in some measure re- 
nounces his very existence to the 
pleasure of man. He delivers up his 
whole powers ; he reserves nothing ; 
and often dies rather than disobey the 
mandates of his governor." If such be 
the principal features in the character 



of the horse— and they are universally 
admitted — the feelings of that individ- 
ual are little to be envied who ever 
utters a harsh tone, draws a severe 
lash, or urges beyond his speed or 
strength an animal so willing and so 
obedient, and whose powers have been 
so essential to human progress. 


A most remarkable coin in excellent 
preservation has been just placed into 
our hands while we are going to press, 
an account of which we cannot forbear 
placing before our kind readers. It is 
in celebration of Martin Luther, the 
great triumphant Protestant reformer. 
It was from Mr. E. Seyd, of the firm 
of Franck & Co., California street. It 
was taken out of the wooden cover of 
a bale of goods consigned to them. It 
is silver of the size of a 12J cent piece. 
On its front is the figure of a candle 
burning in the midst of a radiated halo, 
with part of a hand holding a vessel 
like a modern glass tumbler over the 
flame as if about to extinguish the light; 
round this figure, between two neatly 
cut circles, is the inscription, " Ecclesia 
Norica Jubilant"— "The Churh at 
Norwich rejoicing." On its obverse 
side is the inscription "Martin Ys 
LUther Vs TheoLoglc DoCtor." The 
capita] letters of the inscription are 
supposed to represent the date 1522, 
the time when Luther returned to Wit- 
temberg, under the protection of the 
Elector of Saxony, whom he converted, 
with thousands of monks who quitted 
their convents and followed his example 
in marrying and becoming husbands of 
the faith. This was the year that he 
published his celebrated German ver- 
sion of the New Testament, the perusal 
of which, allowing and introducing self- 
interpretation, had the effect of causing 
the condemnation and excommunica- 
tion of whole convents and monasteries 
throughout North Germany, and their 
effects sold and disposed of by the 
secular power. About this time the 
monks of Norwich are recorded to 

have rebelled against their Prior, 
seized the abbey lands of St. Bennet, 
Ethelreo and Julian, and their reve- 
nues, adopted the new faith, putting on 
the whole new armor and proclaiming 
the mass as a human institution. They 
held their sway for some time when 
after a siege of some months the ver- 
satile Henry the Eighth restored the 
lands and revenues to the monks, or 
rather the monks repented somewhat 
and gave up their hostility as a forlorn 
hope. Afterwards, as is well known, 
the crafty Henry stepped in and took 
the lion's share of the prey, converting 
their rich endowments to his own use. 
It is conjectured to be of later date 
than this on account of the modern 
representation of the measure. By 
some it is supposed to bear an allusion 
to the simile uttered by the Saviour, 
" Neither do men light a candle, and 
put it under a bushel, but on a candle- 
stick ; and it giveth light unto all that 
are in the house." The milling round 
the flat edge is observed to be indica- 
tive at once of its more modern origin, 
but numismatists have come to the con- 
clusion that this is not to be relied on, 
as many coins earlier than Henry the 
Eighth, bear them. Its clearness, 
showing no effort of time is only proof 
that it has been lying a long time con- 
cealed. These are our random con- 

Hearts may look fondly, 
And joys may be known, 

But give me, on ! give me 
My own quiet home. 

The banquet, the revel, 
O let them all pass, 

Bat give me the joys 
That are destined to last. 

My own quiet hearth-side, 
My mother and friends, 

The dearest of blessings 
That God ever sends. 

To make a girl love you, coax her 
to love somebody else. If there be 
anything that woman relishes, it is to 
be contrary. 



Ctiiuft Crib.- 

We think that our kind readers will find 
the present number is fully equal to its prede- 
cessors, and we continue to hope that our 
Magazine — like good wine — will improve by 
age. It is our earnest desire that it should 
be so. We thought and felt that a cheap and 
good Magazine, breathing the spirit, illustrat- 
ing the beauties, and treasuring up the won- 
ders of California, was needed, and would be 
well supported by every well-wisher of our 
State. To an encouraging extent it has been 
so ; and yet there are many who are " wait- 
ing to see if it will succeed," — "waiting to see 
if they shall like it," — " waiting to know what 
will be the literary standard of its articles," — 
waiting for anything— waiting for nothing, ex- 
cept to see if they cannot magnify a quarter 
into a dollar by looking at it before they buy 
it, or, forsooth, waiting for some one to make 
them a present of it. When we started this 
Magazine, we did not wait to quibble about 
picayunes ; nor to dictate that this or that 
should be its character— except in its freedom 
from sectarianism and party — that all, upon 
one broad platform, might meet and make it 
what they wished it to be, and California needed. 
Apropos of this we have received a short and 
beautiful article from a lady contributor, that 
we take pleasure in inserting in our table, en- 


Waiting to see if that frail bark which left 
the haven of home, will be able alone to make 
its way among the mountain waves, and 
breakers, shoals and quicksands, in the peril- 
ous voyage of life, before you give it compass 
or chart or one friendly glimpse of the beacon 
light by which it may avoid shipwreck, and 
enter bravely and safely the destined port. 

Waiting to see if that family which arrived 
by last steamer, will take a fashionable house, 
have fashionable furniture, and be visited by 
fashionable people, ere you remember that 
they are strangers in a strange land, and to 
whom one word of encouraging kindness 
would be like oil upon the the troubled wa- 
ters, and whisper u welcome " to the strangers 1 

Waiting to see if that bereaved and wid- 
owed mother, as she presses her fatherless 

babes to her bosom, will be able alone to buf- 
fet with the surging waves of adversity ; will 
be able alone to meet the world in that hand 
to hand straggle, by which die must procure 
bread for herself and her little ones, now that 
her support and stay is no more by her side — 
before you lend her a helping hand, or speak 
the words of kindly counsel and encourage- 
ment to her feinting and bleeding heart. 

Waiting to see if that poor Old man will be 
able again to lift the heavy burden of his 
cares, and alone, unaided, toil up the steep 
ascent of life's weary and fatiguing journey, 
ere you offer him the staff of sympathy and 
assistance, or whisper in his ear the magic 
word of hope. 

Waiting until the last sands of life have run 
out from your hour-glass, ere you begin to 
practice the first lesson in that golden rule, 
" Do unto others as ye would they should do 
unto you." Carrie D. 

We hope that the foregoing will u wake up 
the waiters," and that many will think how 
well they can apply it to themselves in every 
action of their lives, and as a consequence, do 
better in future. 


A. Z. — Declined, with thanks for your many 
good wishes. 

T. P., Plumas Co. — You should have sent us 
your name ; for, believe us, no one will ever 
obtain it from us without your consent. 

H. H. — If your " Conversation with General 
Washington in a Dream " was half as amus- 
ing to the General as it has been to us, we 
congratulate the " Father of his Country " 
on his good fortune in making your ac- 
quaintance, We like your earnestness, but 
cannot say as much for your grammar ; and, 
did we but introduce our readers to that 
" rough and rajing river, passin to an /roe, 
like mountains of great green and restless mov- 
ing Eruptions" why, to a man — including 
the ladies — they would want to sail on it 
to-morrow, and California would be a "de- 
serted country," and then, only think for a 



moment, where would our Magazine find 
its readers ? No, H. ; it is too fearful to 
contemplate, and we most decline your fiv 
tot, but— we're sorry to say it ! 

N. t Maripo§a. — We can never admit anything 
that savors of party politics— even when 
as well written as your contribution. Send 
it to some newspaper. 

/ would that Heart were Mine— Is deficient in 
every element of true poetry. Declined. 

CB.— We think that your " Sunday Morn- 
ing's Walk " might have had a holier in- 
fluence upon your feelings, and, as a conse- 
quence, made yon more liberal in your 
views towards the class you so severely and 
unjustly censure. We hope never to forget 
ourselves so far as to insert, if you do to 
write, such unworthy articles. 

Maria. — Your little piece, if written with more 
care, will do you credit. We will return it 
for you to re-write. 

Why Did I Sell My Mule ?— Is a question that 
lies between yourself and the animal in ques- 
tion. It is an odd theme for song, and too 
lemoncholy and distressing for our columns, 
and we must decline the honor of setting it 
to music. 

Spark. — We take you to be a pretty hard case, 
but if you take ours to be a powder maga- 
zine for the purpose of blowing up people 
that we neither know* nor care anything 
about, you ought to learn better, and spark 
on your own account, not ours. 

D. B. — Is altogether too full of technicalities ; 
for this reason we do not desire you to phy- 
sic us with terms we do not understand. 
We always like to know what the doses are 
that we take ourselves, or give to our readers. 

Gorge T. Wolcome. — If we could soar as high 
ss your stanzas would take us, we believe 
that our imagination would certainly fall, 
and — break its neck. Don't cultivate the 
" highfidutin " style of composition; you 
have good sense— use it, and send us a 

Stopper, — Your article is more suitable for bal- 
last, being entirely too heavy for a Magazine. 

V- C. — Had your beautiful article, called 
" Home," been received in time we should, 
with great pleasure, have found it a place 
this month, for no theme is so dear to the 
true-hearted as home. Filed for next month. 

G. — No. We belong, so far as opinion goes, 
to the " don't care school ;" we shall ever 
try to keep our own respect at all hazards. 
" Let her went, for she's all oak." 

As an illustration of the pursuit of 
(love and) knowledge under difficul- 
ties, we are favored by a lady contrib- 
utor, with the following expressive and 
affecting correspondence addressed to 
a lady, then a resident at the British 
Vice Consulates, of Orau, Western 
Africa. It is from an amatory son of 
La Belle France, also a resident there,, 
upon whom the warmth of climate 
seems to have produced a correspond- 
ing warmth of love, and as a conse- 
quence, he became deeply enamored of 
the fair lady, and resolved that, as he 
spoke only French, and the lady Eng- 
lish, he would learn that language for 
her sake, and in her own tongue tell of 
the fire, "the hidden fire that slum- 
bered in his breast," and the following 
is the result, seriatim et literatim: 

Fikst Letter: I love thou. I 
did love thou. Thou art so pretty. 
Thou art so genteel. Love me also. 
Thou hast my heart Give me thy 
own. Tell me I love thou, and I will 
be happy. 

Second Letter: I am sick. I 
come you to see for me to cure. This 
night I had fever, and all time I have 
dream of you my divinity. 

Third Letter : I am very fond 
of and passionately of your beautiful 
eyes, they so fine. I think only from 
you day and night. Thy pretty figure. 
Thy sweet voice. All in thee enchant 
my heart. Oh! if me were possible 
to speak how many things I would tell 
from thou. Adieu. Farewell my God- 
dess. My heaven — my good luck, 

Our fair contributor has not in- 
formed us of the effect of such devo- 
tedness, but we presume the lady must 
have a heart like the shell of a cocoa- 
nut, with the milk (of human kind- 
ness) all drawn out of it, to resist such 
distressing importunity. 



fiterarg Sofa. 

India f the Pearl of Pearl River — by Mrs. 
D. E. N. Southworth — T. B. Peterson, 

This is the pleasing name of a new and 
pleasing volume, just published, from the 
favorite and graceful pen of the author of 
" The Wife's Victory," " The Last Heiress/ 
and other interesting works. It is refreshing 
to peruse a tale the plot of which is uninter- 
rupted by long and prosy descriptions, and 
the characters so true to nature that you for- 
get, in your interest for the hero and heroine, 
that they are but children of the imagination. 
" Uncle Billy 1 ' is a fair specimen of many 
men, who, while prosperity's sun smiles on 
you, will be the best of friends; but the mo- 
ment the storm comes down in earnest, turns 
and forsakes you ; yet, on the first indication 
of that fltorm having rolled away, is by your 
side with professions to u stick to you as long 
as I live." All the characters in the book are 
equally life-like, and we cordially commend 
this interesting work to our readers. 

The Life and Adventures of James P. Beck' 
worth, Mountaineer, Scout, and Pioneer and 
Chief of the Crow Nation of Indians — by 
T. D. Bonner. Harper Brothers, N. Y. 

All the early emigrants to this country will 

remember the mountaineer Jim Beckworth, 

who was among the first to explore the upper 

Sierras after the discovery of gold in California. 

His life of adventure, and his hair-breadth 

escapes are here vividly narrated ; all which 

illustrate the maxim that " truth is stranger 

than fiction." Every Galifornian should read 

it for himself, as a California book, and we 

think he will be pleased with it. 

Vagabond Life in Mexico — by Gabriel 
Ferrt. Harper Brothers, N. Y. 

This is another of those interesting works 
of that remarkable country; in which (Mr. 
Ferry has successfully pictured the peculiari- 
ties of its inhabitants — especially those be- 
longing to certain classes — during a residence 
of seven years amongst them. It is racy and 
vigorous in style ; its interest never flags; its 
description never wearies you ; and we must 
confess that we have seldon read a work with 
more pleasure than Vagabond Life in Mexico. 

The following quotation will show some 
of the difficulties, and the mettle of the mas : 

The last dispatches I bore from Fort Lea- 
venworth were addressed to California, and I 
had undertaken to carry them through. At 
Santa Fc I rested a week, and then, taking an 
escort of fifteen men, I started on my errand. 
On our arrival at the village of Abbeger, we 
found a large party of Apaches, who were in 
the midst of a drunken carousal. We en- 
camped inside the corral, that being as safe a 
place as we could select. Little Joe, an 
Apache Chief, inquired of me what I was 
going to do with these whites. 

" I am going to take them to California," I 
told him. 

" No," said he, " yon shall never take them 
nearer to California than they are now." 

" Well, I shall try," said I. 

He held some farther conversation with me 
of a denunciatory character, and then left to 
return to the Honor-shop. 

Foreseeing what was likely to result if more 
liquor was obtained, I visited every place in 
town where it was kept, and informed every 
seller that, if another drop was sold to the In- 
dians, I would hang the man that did it with- 
out a moment's delay ; and I would have been 
as good as my word, for they were all Mexi- 
cans, and I had felt no great liking for them 
since the awful tragedy at Taos. 

" But the priest — began one or two, in 

But I cut them short. "I'll hang your 

Eriest just as soon as any of you," I said, " if 
e dares to interfere in the matter." 

I suppose they intended to urge that their 
priest bad authorized them to sell liquors to 
the Indians. My interdict stopped them, for 
there was no more sold while I was there. 

The next day I saw Little Joe in one of the 
low saloons ; the stimulus of the liquor had left 
him, and he had what topers call the horrors. 
He begged mo to let him nave one dram more, 
but I refused. 

" Whisky," I said, " puts all kinds of non- 
sense into your head ; you get drunk, and then 
you are ripe for any mischief." 

When ne had become perfectly sober, he 
came to me, and again asked if it were true 
that I intended taking those whites to Califor- 
nia with me. 

I told him that it was perfectly true. 

"Well," said Joe, "if you attempt it we 
will kill vour whole party, and you with them. 
You will never listen to us: your ears are 
stopped. We all love you, bnt we have told 
you many times that we hate the whites, and 
do not want you to lead them through our 
hunting-grounds, and show them our paths ; 
but you will not listen to us. And now, if 
you undertake to pass through that canon, we 
will, without fail, kill yon all." 

" Well," I replied, " I shall certainly go, so 
yon had better get your warriors ready. 

We packed our animals, and I directed my 
men to travel slowly while I went through the 




jvuSu « re umip o* S[va£m *ous pun dn qnnp 
p(iioi». | 'aooBApv oj raairj poqsut j n -ucnivo 
for them to rush through, and reach me as 
won as possible. I then went on all alone, as 
I knew that, if I encountered Indians in the 
canon, they would not kill me by myself. I 
passed through without meeting any, and I 
signaled to the men to come on ; they soon 
joined me, and we issued upon the open prai- 
rie. Here we discovered tnree hundred Ap- 

aches, each man leading his war-horse. We 
numbered eighteen, two of whom were Mexi- 
cans. They did not offer to attack us, how- 
ever, and we continued our route unmolested, 
although they kept on our trail for twenty 
miles. A little before dark we rested to take 
supper, starting again immediately after the 
meal was finished. Wo saw no more "Of the 

Inberale Jtprfment 


BY "B." 

I had just entered the Third Avenue 
cars, at St Mark's Place, New York. 
When the signal for stopping was 
again sounded, a tall lady and a little 
boy of some six summers entered, and 
seated themselves opposite to me. The 
material of their wardrobe was coarse, 
but scrupulously neat. They had evi- 
dently seen better days. 

Interested in reading the* morning 
paper, only a casual glance was. be- 
stowed upon them. Once or twice, 
when passengers entered or left the 
cars, looking up for a moment, I caught 
sight of the beautiful and expressive 
eyes of the boy. Having finished the 
paper, just as the car entered Chatham 
Square, I sat carelessly gazing upon 
the living human tide rushing up the 
Bowery and down Catharine street, 
when the soft, childish voice of the boy, 
uttering the words, u Don't cry, mam- 
ma," fell upon my ear. In a moment 
I was all attention. Within one short 
half hour I had left my own children 
with their mother, well and happy. My 
eyes rested for a moment upon mother 
and child. There was an air of re- 
finement about the mother ; a delicacy 
stamped upon her classic features, that 
indicated a cultivated intellect and in- 
tercourse with polished society. 

Her tears fell like the rain drops. 
That car was as silent as the chamber 
of death for a moment, even amid the 
din and bustle of that crowded tho- 

roughfare. It was painfully evident 
that she would not weep much longer, 
for consumption, that so often blights 
the hopes of many fond friends, had 
laid a cold and heavy hand upon her 
heart Its throbbing would soon cease. 
Never — no, never — shall I forget 
the expression of the clear blue eyes 
of that dear boy, as he again repeated, 
in tones that thrilled through the very 
soul, " Don't cry, dear mamma" The 
men wept, the women sobbed aloud, 
the boy too caught the sorrowing spirit 
he had called forth, and gently laying 
his head upon his mother's lap, sobbed 
as though his little heart would break. 
Again gushed forth tears of sympathy 
from eyes long unused to weeping. It 
has been my lot to mingle in many 
scenes of bitter sorrow, to meet misery 
and despair in almost every form ; but 
never before had I been so completely 
overcome by another's woe. As soon 
as my swelling heart would permit, I 
addressed her, assuring her that she 
had the sympathy of all present, and 
that I would venture to speak for all, 
and say that we would all do every- 
thing in our power to alleviate her 
sorrows. For the first time she spoke. 
Her dulcet voice was like the full, 
rich tones of the flute ; her style of ex- 
pression was chaste, her language ele- 
gant and expressive. Her story was 
a short and sad one. Eight years ago 
she stood a blushing bride in her fa- 
ther's almost princely mansion, in the 
city of London. For two years they 
were prosperous and happy, when, her 



husband falling in with bad company, 
became dissipated, neglected his busi- 
ness, and finally became a bankrupt. 
His and her friends strove to reclaim 
him, but in vain. Her parents were 
anxious she should return to the home 
of her youth; but, debased and de- 
graded as he was, he was the chosen 
one of her young heart — in him were 
garnered up the rich treasures of her 
first, her only love. 

With all the eloquence of undying 
affection, she entreated him to turn 
away from his cups — he often prom- 
ised, but as often broke away from his 
solemn pledge to her, and his friends. 
He determined to come to America, so 
that by breaking away from the scenes 
and companions of his debauchery, he 
might reform. Her parents remon- 
strated in vain. She and her little 
Willie, then only a few months old, 
would share his fortune whether bright 
or sad. 

They came to New York. For a 
while he was a sober man ; but alas ! 
he found the same kind of men there 
he had left at home; with all the 
blandishments they know so well how 
to use, he was induced by them to 
enter the gilded saloons, where the 
lambent flame for a while plays around 
their votaries, and then flashes out in 
devouring fire. Thus sadly he fell ; — 
fell to rise no more. In a few months 
he became a beastly sot ; intercepted 
all her letters to her parents. Once 
they sent her a handsome remittance, 
but he had taken it from her letter and 
squandered it away to satiate his burn- 
ing thirst for rum. 

Year after year had passed; not 
hearing from home she supposed they 
had given her up. They began reluct- 
antly to think she had forgotten them. 

Anxiety and sorrow preyed upon 
her mind. Her jewels and watch — 
gifts from her mother — were pawned 
by her brutal husband ; more, before 
she was aware of the fact, he had taken 
from her trunk nearly all of her wear- 
ing apparel, and sold it, and drank up 
the avails of alL 

Indeed, her true, noble and loving 
heart was breaking under her load of 
sorrow. The bright scenes of her 
youth had faded away, — the fond anti- 
cipations of her young life had been 
blasted; her buoyant hopes, like the 
fallen leaves of the forest, were scat- 
tered in withered fragments around her 
aching and bleeding heart. A few 
days before, her husband had been laid 
in a drunkard's grave ; and now she 
felt that her dear boy would be alone 
in the wide world, in a strange land, 
far from her childhood's home, far from 
kindred and friends. 

That very morning had she received 
a letter from her parents, breathing 
the tenderest love for their long lost, 
but still fondly cherished daughter. 
The memories that silent messenger 
called up, and the uncertainty of her 
living to visit those dear parents again, 
caused the tears to gush as related 
above. So melodious were her tones, 
so tremulously sad her accents, that 
the music floating from the trembling 
strings of the seolian harp was never 
more heavenly. # 

By the next steamer she and her 
dear boy left for London. In a few 
days the beautiful and green shores of 
Albion were seen stretching far along 
the eastern horizon ; as the sun was 
sinking beneath the blue waves of the 
stormy Atlantic, that mother's weary 
head was raised from her pillow, she 
gazed for a few moments upon that 
beauteous land, called her Willie to 
her side, pointed to the land, told him 
there his grandparents lived, that he 
must be a good boy, love and obey 
them, — she drew him to her bosom, 
and while giving a mother's last kiss to 
her noble boy, the angel of death sealed 
her lips forever. In two days, followed 
by the sobbing Willie, her wasted form 
was carried into those gorgeous halls, 
where eight years before she had stood 
a blooming and happy bride. 

Oh! curse of intemperance how 
many more victims are to be offered 
upon thy bloody altar ? how many more 
hearts broken ? how many more graves 



be filled with the mangled forms of 
those falling beneath the all-crushing 
wheels of this blood-stained car ? 

May God speed the day when thy 
direful power shall be banished from 
the land, — yea, from the world. 

May Willie's life be long, virtuous, 
useful and happy, and all our young 
friends who have good and sober 
fathers be very thankful. 


If angels wear such on their wings, 

To us a partial gift is given : 
The pretty graces Mary sings 

With angels she may sing in Heaven. 

Frances B . 

Drttowk, Aug. 16th, 1856. 

Our young friend Frances never 
need feel afraid of our making ridi- 
cule of anything she may send us, as 
we remember very well how hard it 
was to put our thoughts into language, 
when we were her age — and some- 
times even now. No — if we can as- 
sist any of our juvenile friends in their 
little attempts at composition, we shall 
be very happy to do so ; but we love 
them too much to cause them one sor- 
row by ridicule. If the little pieces 
sent are good enough for a corner, we 
shall endeavor to find them one ; — if 
not, why we shall simply put them 


We take great pleasure in acknowledging 
the receipt of "The Benicia Wreath," a neatly 
written and interesting manuscript paper, en- 
tirely composed and conducted by young 
ladies from twelve to seventeen years of age, 
belonging to the Benicia Female Seminary. 
We think that it reflects great credit upon 
the talent and taste of its fair editors and con- 
tributors, and we sincerely hope that so good 
an trample may have its happy and encour- 

aging influence upon others to do likewise ; 
and we assure them that we shall always be 
pleased to find a welcome corner in our Mag- 
azine for such bright flowers of California lite- 
rature. Our desire is that from among their 
number many may become the pride and 
ornament, as they are the hope, of our young 
State, and of the country in which we live. 

We have inserted three of the pieces from 
the Wreath, and wc hope that the fair authors 
of the pieces necessarily omitted will rightly 
interpret our unintentional preference. The 
first is an introductory address to her fellow- 
students, and will speak for itself. 

Pleasure, upon her swift pinions has flown 
by, and now Wisdom's star has attracted us 
to our hall of study. 

Vacation, with beloved home, dear friends 
and summer delights has passed; and now 
knowledge, with its rugged cliflfe of sci- 
ence, and broad fields of labor, is presented to 
us. High and noble aims are set forth for 
ambition's upward flight; never-fading trea- 
sures now lie hidden, for the searching mind, 
and studies only to be conquered by untiring 

Have we, with minds newly refreshed by 
the waters of pleasure, and hearts lately made 
joyous by the charms of home, returned with 
a strong determination to toil, to study, and 
win the priceless gems of knowledge ? If so, 
let us renew the energy and ambition of our 
past school-days, toiling nobly in the great 
work before us. Though at first, clouds of 
despair may seem to shadow our youthful 
sky, and often a tear for " the loved ones " 
afar will fall, still let it be gently brushed 
away, and replaced by a will which shall 
wisely urge us on in the path of education, so 
that in after yean we may shed happiness 
upon our distant homes. We have good, 
kind teachers, ever ready to direct and in- 
struct; pleasant schoolmates to cheer us with 
bright new countenances, to whom we now 
bid a happy welcome as they enter our band. 
And as the sacred portals of study are opened 
to receive us, we spy the u Wreath," for which 
we loved to cull flowers in hours gone by ; and 
now, as then, shall we delight to twine fair 
blossoms in this never-fading garland. 



A wedding part? desirous of spending the honey moon io surveying the beauties of Califor- 
nia mountain scenery, entered a carriage for that purpose in their bridal attire. All went 
pleasantly, even the horses were deliriously fast, but the coachman, amused with the conver- 
sation, no doubt, was unmindful of a ditch across the road, while rapidly descending a hill, 
the crossing of which caused an uncomfortable "shaking up" of the party, and if it changed 
not their conversation, it did somewhat their appearance. For particulars see 



vol v OCTOBER, 1856. mo. it. 


On the north side of Commercial 
ttreet, between Montgomery and Kear- 
ny, there stands a dark, heavy looking 
building, with heavy iron bars, and 
heavy iron shutters, to windows and 
doors-, and high above, standing on, 
and just peering over a heavy cornice, 
there is a large American eagle ; look- 
ing down into the building, as if he 

meant to see, and take notes, of all that 
is going on within, " and print 'em too." 
At his back there is a small forest of 
chimney stacks, from which various 
kinds of smoke, and different colored 
fumes, are issuing. This building is 
the Branch Mint of San Francisco. 

On the pavement, in front, stands a 
number of odd looking, square boxes, 
containing bottles with glass necks ris- 
ing above the top, and in which are 


the various kinds of acid used in the 
manufacture of gold and silver coin 

In the street can be seen drays and 
wagons with men unloading supplies 
of various kinds for the Mint ; express 
wagons with packages of the precious 
metal from all parts of the mines ; men 
going up with carpet sacks hanging 
heavily on their hand, all desirous of 
having their gold dust converted into 

At the entrs 
door a man is sit 
whose business 
is to inquire j 
business when; 
you present y 
self for admissi 
and, if it is tc 
ably clear to 
that you have 
intention of obt 
ing a hatful of ; 
without a pn 
certificate; ■ 
more, that you 1 
business deal 
with Uncle Sam- 
uel ; or, at least, wish to see bow 
gold and silver is made into coin ; why, 
it is probable that you may be allowed 
to pass. 

By the kindness of Mr. Lott, the Su- 
perintendent of the Mint, and the cour- 
tesy of the officers of the different de- 
partments, every facility was offered us 
for obtaining sketches, and all the neces- 
sary information concerning the modus 
operandi of coining, cheerfully given 
in all its branches. 

To make the subject as plain as pos- 
sible, we will suppose that the reader 
has just placed a bag of gold at the 

Treasurer's counter, for the purpose of 
having it coined. Here the Receiving 
Clerk takes it, and after accurately 
weighing it, hands to the depositor a 
certificate for the gross weight of gold 
dust received, before melting. It is 
then sent to the Melting Room, where it 
is put into a black-lead crucible, mel- 
ted, (each deposit is melted by itself,) 
and run into a " bar." A "chip," weigh- 
ing about a tenth of an ounce, is then 
taken from each end of the bar, at 

opposite corners, — one from the top, 
the other from the bottom side. These 
chips are then taken to the Attay Room 
where they are carefully analyzed, by 
chemical process, and the exact amount 
of gold, silver, and other metals con- 
tained in each chip, accurately ascer- 
tained. The Assayer then reports to 
the Treasurer the exact proportion of 
gold, silver, and other metals, found in 
the chips. The standard fineness of 
the whole bar is then determined, and 
the value of the deposit ascertained ; 
it then awaits, in the Treasurer's Office, 
the orders of the depositor. "When it 


is withdrawn, theadepositor presents 
his certificate to the Superintendent's 
Clerk, wbo issues a warrant upon the 
Treasurer for the nett value of the 
deposit; and, upon the payment of this 
warrant, in coin, or bar, the Treasurer 
delivers the Mint memorandum, which 
contains the weight of the deposit be- 
fore and after melting, fineness, nett 
value, Ac, &c 

To facilitate business and prevent 
delay, a large amount of coin is always 
kept on hand, so that depositors are not 


required to wait until the gold dust ta- 
ken in, is coined ; but the moment its 
value is ascertained from the Assayer, 
the value is promptly paid the deposi- 
tor : this is a great public convenience. 

Now with the reader's permission let 
as see the gold bars accurately weighed 
in the Treasurer's Office; and let us 
carefully watch the many and interest- 
ing processes through which they must 
pass while being converted into coin. 

On leaving the Treasurer's hands 
they are first sent to the Melting Soom- 
■ he re, as California gold contains from 
three to twelve per cent, of silver, it 

becomes necessary in order to extract 
alloy the gold with about twice its 
weight of stiver ; and thereby destroy 
the affinity of the gold for the silver, 
this enables the acid to act upon the 
silver. For this purpose, the gold and 
silver are melted together ; and, while 
in a hot and fluid state, ispoured grad- 
ually into cold water, where it forms 
into small thin pieces somewhat resem- 
bling the common pop-corn in appear- 
ance, and these are called " granula- 
tions." The Granulationt are then 
conveyed from the Melting Room to 
the Refining Room ; where they are 
placed in porcelain pots, that are stand- 
ing in vats lined with lead. Nitric 
Acid is then poured in upon the granu- 
lations, in about the proportion of two 
and a half pounds of acid, to one of 
gold ; and, after the porcelain pots are 
thus filled sufficiently, the shutters, by 
which they are surrounded, are fixed 
closely down, and the granulations and 
acids boiled by steam for six hours, by 
which process tfie silver and all the 
base metals are dissolved, while the 
gold lies upon the bottom untouched. 
The bright orange colored vapor that 
iee issuing from the top of one of 
the chimneys of the Mint is generated 
from this process. After boiling, the 
solution is drawn out of the pots by 
means of a gold syphon, (worth over ' 
two thousand dollars) into small tubs ; 
it is then carried and emptied into a 
large tub or vat, twelve feet in diame- 
ter and six feet in depth — where a 
stream of salt water is poured upon it, 
which precipitates the nitrate of silver 
contained in solution, and it becomes 
chloride of rilver. The chloride is then 
run out of the vat into large filters, 
where it is washed until the water es- 


caping from the filter is perfectly free 
from the acid. The chloride of silver 
is then taken out of the filter and 
placed in a " reducing vat" where it is 
mixed viiihgranvlated nnc and water : 
oil of vitriol is then poured in upon it, 
where by the action of the oil of vitriol 
npon the zinc and the water, hydrogen 
gas is generated ; which, combining 
with the chlorine of the chloride of sil- 
ver forms muriatic acid, and leaves 
pure metalic silver, in fine powder, at 
the bottom of the reducing vat. 

The silver is then taken out, and 
again washed carefully for the purpose 
of removing the acid, and the chloride 
of zinc that has been formed by the 
action of zinc npon the chloride of sil- 
ver while in the reducing vat 

After the silver is thus thoroughly 
washed, it is placed in a hydraulic 
press, and subjected to the enormous 
pressure of twelve thousand pounds to 
the square inch, and the water nearly 
all forced out of it, leaving a compact, 
circular cake of silver, about ten inches 

in width, by three in thickness. These 
cakes are then placed on a drying-pan, 
and the remaining moisture dried out. 
The silver is now ready for melting, 
and making into coin ; or, for nse in 
the granulating process. 

Now, if you please, let us return to 
the porcelain pots, and notice what be 
comes of the gold left in the bottom. 
This is now subjected to another boil- 
ing process of six hours, in fresh nitric 
aoid in about the same proportion as 
before, during which time it is frequent- 
ly stirred, to enable the acid to perme- 
ate the whole of the gold in the pot- 
After this second boiling the acid is 
baled out (and saved for the first boil- 
ing process) and the contents of the 
porcelain pots emptied into a filter, 
where it is well washed with hot water, 
prepared expressly for this purpose, 
and the remaining nitrate of silver is 
entirely washed out, leaving nothing 
but pure gold. The water is now 
pressed out in the same manner as it 
was from the silver, and the cakes 



locked up in a drying furnace for 
about three hours, when they are taken 
out and are ready for melting. 

Let us now go to the Melting Room. 
There we find men moving about 
among " crucibles," " shoe" and " in- 
pjt-oiuuldo," and what not, in front of 
the furnace, and as they lift back the 
cover, and the bright light breaks 
upon the eyes ; down in the white beat 
we can see the crucible, ready to re- 
ceive the precious metal. The gold is 
then put into it, with, a sufficient amount 
of copper to reduce the standard of 
1000 to 903. The gold is then run 
otT into what are technically called 

whether it is now of the fineness re- 

These ingots of standard gold, each 
weighing about sixty ounces, of which 
there are from thirty -six to forty in one 
"melt" are then "pickled," which, 
being interpreted, means, to heat them 
red-hot and immerse them in sulphuric 
acid water, which cleans and partially 
anneals them. They arc then deliv- 
ered by the Melter and Refiner to the 
Treasurer, who weighs thera accurately 
and then delivers them to the Coiner. 

The ingots thus delivered, for twen- 
ty dollar pieces, are about 13 inches in 
length, about 1 inch and 7-16ths in 

""hoe-moulds." The bar thus run is 
termed " toughened bar." It is again 
swayed, for the purpose of knowing 
the exact amount of copper to be 
*Medto reduce it to 000-1000, or the 
I m tod States' standard fineness of 
">in. It in then again melted and re- 
duced to the above standard ; after 
»hicb it is run into " ingot-mould.- 
wd is again assayed, to dctermii 

/idth, and about 1-2 nn inch in thick- 
.css ; yet for every different sized coin 
the width varies to suit. 

They are now removed to the Boi- 
ling Room where the ingots pass thir- 
teen consecutive times through the rol- 
lers, and at each time decrease in 
thickness, and increase in length, until 
they are about three feet six inches lonp 
they are then taken to the AnntaVutj 



Boom, enclosed in long copper tubes, 
and securely sealed to prevent oxida- 
tion or loss of the metal. They are 
now placed in the annealing furnace, 
where, after remaining for about forty- 
five minutes in sealed tubes, they are 
taken out and cooled in clear water. 
The " strips " of goM are now ready 
for rolling to the finished thickness and 
are re-taken to the Rolling Room for 
that purpose ; and are afterwards re- 
turned to the Annealing Room and sub- 
jected again to a red hot heat for forty- 
five minutes, and again cooled as 

These " strips" are now carried to 
the Drawing and Cutting Room, where 
they are first pointed; then heated, by 
steam; then ' greased, " with wax and 
tallow ; and are then ready for the 
draw-bench. The point of the strip is 
then inserted in the " draw-jaw" and 
the whole strip is drawn through the 
"jaw" which reduces it exactly to the 
required thickness for coining. The 
strips thus gauged are then taken to 

the "cutting press," where, from the 
end of each strip a " proof-piece" is 
" punched " and accurately weighed ; 
and, if found correct is punched into 
" blanks" or " planchets" at the rate 
of about one hundred and eighty per 
minute. Should any of the strips be 
found too heavy, they are re-drawn 
through the "draw-jaw." If too light, 
they are laid aside to be regulated, by 
what is technically termed the "doctor" 
— a process by which the strip is made 
concave, before the planchets are cut 
out, and which gives them the re- 
quired weight. This is an improve- 
ment only in use in the San Francisco 
Branch Mint and is, we believe, the 
invention of Mr. Eckfeldt, the Coiner; 
and by which some thirteen thousand 
dollars in light strips arc saved from 
re-melting every day. Simple as the 
fact appears, it prevents the melting of 
about four millions of dollars per an- 
num, and is doubtless, a great saving 
to the publie. 

After the blanks or planchets are 



cut out, tbe strips are bent in a 
venient shape for re-melting, and are 
sent to tlie Coiner's Office to be weigh- 
ed, preparatory to making up his ac- 
count for the day, and which, with the 
planchets, must make up the gross 
amount received in the morning from 
tbe Treasurer. 

They are afterwards debvered to 
the Treasurer, by whom they are again 
weighed and then sent to the Melter 
and Refiner to be again cast into in- 

The planchets are then carried from 
tlie cutting press to the Cleaning Room 
where they are boiled in very strong 

for re-melting ; and those which ore 
too heavy are reduced, by filing, to the 
standard weight All the planchets 
thus adjusted, are then re-taken to the 
Coiner's Office, and, with the filings and 
light planchets, are carefully weighed, 
and that weight must tally with the 
gross amount of the planchets delivered 
to the Adjusters during the day. 

The work of "adjusting" is per- 
formed by females of whom from ten 
to fifteen are employed, according to 
the amount of labor to be accomplished. 

From the adjusting room the plan- 
chets arc taken to the Milling Room, 
where they are dropped into a tube, 

wap-suds, from which they are taken 
and dried in a pan, henlcd by steam, 
and then conveyed to the Coiner's Of- 
fice to be weighed. After which, they 
ire sent to the Adjusting Room when; 
taeh piece is separately weighed, and 
iIkm? found too light, are condemned 

belonging to the " milling machine," 
and by means of a revolving circular 
steel plate, with a groove in the edge, 
and a corresponding groove in a seg- 
ment of a circle, the planchets are 
borne rapidly round, horizontally, by 
which process the edges are thickened, 


and the diameter of the planchet ac- 
curately adjusted to fit the collar of the 

" coining press." After " milling" they 
are returned to the Coiner's office 
and again weighed, to ascertain if the 
weight is correct. 

They are then sent to the Annealing 
Room, where they are put into square 
cast-iron boxes, with double covers, 
carefully cemented with fire-clay, and 
placed in the annealing furnace, where 
they are subjected to a red heat for 
about an hour, when they are taken 
out and poured into a " pickle" con- 
taining diluted sulphuric acid. By 
this process they are softened and 
cleansed; and after they are rinsed 
with hot water they are well dried in 
saw-dust heated by steam, taken out 
and returned to the Coiner's office, 
where they are again weighed, and 
afterwards carried to the Coining Room, 
to be " stamped." This process is per- 
formed by dropping the planchet a into 
the tube in front of the machine, from 

whence they are carried by " feeders" 
to the "collar," into which they are 
dropped upon the lower die : the bead 
die then descends, and by its immense 
power displaces every particle of gold 
in the planchet, and gives the impres- 
sion upon both sides of the coin and 
the fluting on the edge, at the same 
moment. At every motion, the "feed- 
ers" not only take a planchet to the 
collar, but at the same time push the 
coin, previously struck, and now per- 
fect, from the lower die, which rises 
and falls for the purpose at each revo- 
lution of the wheel, from whence the 
coin slides into a bos underneath. 

From the Coining Room they are 
again taken to the Coiner's office where 
they are weighed, counted and deliv- 
ored to the Treasurer for payment to 

There is one piece always taken out 
of about every sixty thousand dollars, 
coined into double-eagles, and a similar 
amount from smaller coins, which are 

sent lo Philadelphia, and carefully pre- 
served tor examination at the "judg- 


meat day," as it is curiously and ex- 
pressively called, which takes place 
Mutually at Philadelphia, under the 
■uperintendence of commissioners ap- 
pointed by the U. S. government. 

We are surprised at the aggregate 
■mount of coin produced in so short a 
time, in such a small and very incon- 
venient building; for, it seemed tons 
uwt every man was more or less in the 
others' way ; and wherever the fault 
may lie, we think it of very question- 
able economy, that requires a remedy 
without delay. 

The following statement, kindly fur- 
' ni>hed us by the officers, will show the 
large amount of 

Fnm in OewuwM up la Stptmao ISA, 1636. 

Gold Ootnaia tor IB54. 

Double E«lci..SQ,fJH,360 00 

Euta 1,308,360 00 

HaKEatfn 1,340 00 

(Muter Kaalr.. 513 00 

GoMDofla™.... H,C» Itl 

aj.osi.aOT oo 

Tat* 0,715,338 43 

eilvor Coinage -None. 

Doable E*nien.t]7.6«.. , >ao 00 

EmIm 90,1100 00 

Hllf Ewles. . . . 303,000 00 

BUvor Coinage. 

Hllf Dollar. »64.97S00 

Qnu-Icr Dollarm... 99,100 00 

Total Cotaigo, 11 

... •21,531,75 

Double ElglBi. •19,395,000 00 

Eaglet 600.000 00 

BiHEhIb.... 455.500 00 
<Juarter EhkIm. 132,800 00 
Throe Dollar Pieces 73,500 00 
QoM DolUra... 34,600 00 

Ban 3.047[ooi88 

•33,718,401 » 

Silver Coinage. 

Hair DoUiart (105.500 00 

Quarter Dollaie... 71,500 00 

(177,000 00 

ToUl Cclnmro, 1856 (33,093,401 38 

St.... (9.715,338 *3 

ss (ai.ssvw 43 

-» *£L«9S,W1 28 

ToUl i3S.l92,.'.ia 14 




There is no information, more satis- 
factory, to form materials of judgment, 
than satisfactory evidence. Yet this, 
like all other human aids, is subject to 
error, where the mind becomes too 
much biassed by it, as to shut out ra- 
tional probability. 

Judges, knowing this, are careful, 
in their charges to juries to draw clear- 
ly the line of demarcation that distin- 
guishes certainty from doubt ; yet, not- 
withstanding all their care, remarkable 
instances have occurred where human 
life has been forfeited to its fallacy ; 
and long imprisonment, to its natural 

Some remarkable instances of this 
kind of presumptive evidence, are 
worded in the second volume of that 
admirable work Chamber's Miscellany ; 
where, life even has been destroyed, 
well worthy of the reader's perusal. 
Indeed, it is the duty of every think- 
ing person, who may be called upon in 
the course of his life to serve upon a 
jury, to bear such instances in mind. 
Of the latter description, — where life 
has been only spared, I will relate an 
instance never before published. 

My grandfather, a wealthy yeoman, 
residing at a place called Headcorn, 
had occasion to attend a cattle market, 
held in the county town of Maidstone, 
in Kent, England* As the distance 
was somewhat considerable, he left 
every thing home of importance, ex- 
cept his gold watch and appendages, 
which, at the time I am speaking, some 
hundred and fifty years ago, — was of 
sufficient value to be of great conse- 
quence. Jogging along on "his am- 
bling pad poney" he came up with a 

fellow horseman ;. and without ceremo- 
ny, as was his wont, soon fell into con- 
versation with him. He found him, I 
suppose, a man of much information, 
and travel, and when they had arrived 
at the end of their day's journey ; 
where the coach started for the metro- 
polis—London ; my grandfather invi- 
ted his fellow traveler to take dinner 
with him ; but he having pressing 
business, as he said, on the way, was 
obliged to refuse the civility ; but the 
old gentleman would insist upon his 
alighting to take one parting glass at 
least. At dinner, my grandfather, who 
always retired early to bed, especially 
while travelling, put his hand to his fob, 
to draw out his watch, to observe the 
time ; but to his astonishment, discov- 
ered that it was gone. At a consider- 
able expense to the old gentleman, the 
hue and cry was soon raised, and no 
expense being spared, the country for 
miles round was scoured in all direc- 
tions ; but no sign of the watch or its 
purloiner appeared for nearly a year 
after. In due time an advertisement 
having appeared in all the 'London pa 
pers, a watch, answering in every par- 
ticular to the description given, was 
traced to have been pawned three days 
after it was missed, at a house in Shef- 
field ; and in a short time afterwards, 
the person, who had pawned it, was 
discovered, and lodged in confinement,* 
to await his trial on suspicion of the 

The pawn-broker was unable to pro- 
duce the article pledged, for his house 
had been burnt to the ground some 
months previously ; but the transaction 
was so vivid in his mind, and the watch 
and appendages so well described in 
one of the books saved from the wreck 



of his property, that the presiding 
judge, and the jury, on the trial, could 
not but coincide in a verdict of guilty. 
The description tallied even to the ci- 
pher on the seal, which was described 
with more than usual accuracy, from 
the circumstance, as the pawn-broker 
alleged, of the watch being a very val- 
uable one, such effects, calling forth, as 
the judge remarked in his charge to 
the jury, a commendable vigilance on 
his part. 

The man, after conviction, received 
the sentence of transportation for life, 
as he was supposed to be of a bad 
stamp, for his obstinacy in refusing to 
offer one witness to his previous good 
character. Some twelve or fourteen 
years rolled on, and the affair, and all 
connected with it appeared to be entire- 
ly forgotten ; when the road, by the inn 
aforesaid, losing all its traffic, from the 
circumstance of a shorter one being 
made to the next town in a straighter 
direction, the house fell to the auction- 
eer's hammer. It was bought by a 
London tradesman, who proposed to 
make it his retiring residence, and on 
taking the old dilapidated stables down 
to make room for the intended improve- 
ment; an old saddle was discovered 
hanging to the wall near the further- 
most stall; and, on taking it from its 
peg, a gold watch, chain, keys, and seal, 
were discovered attached to the buckle, 
which held the strap of the stirrup. 
The former landlady, now an old wo- 
man, was applied to for information 
respecting it, when she remembered, 
fortunately, the circumstances. My 
father was communicated with upon 
the subject, 'and, the Judge, who 
presided at the trial, (Lord Chief Jus- 
tice Guerney if I rightly recollect) 

was addressed by my father's attorney, 
and the innocent convict, after the 
King's pardon was obtained, which took 
nearly three months in preparation, 
was set at liberty. I remember well 
my father describing the seal, and the 
good King George the Third's signa- 
ture. I too, remember asking of my 
father, when he related the story, what 
compensation the poor man had for his 
long, long years of penal servitude, in 
a strange land, cut off from his family, 
his friends, his country, his associations, 
his all that life holds dear ; and receiv- 
ed the answer — Bis Majesty's Most 
Gracious Pardon, for a crime he never 
committed, and some ounces of red seal- 
ing-wax attached to a mad man's scrawl. 

It appeared upon the discovery of 
the watch, that the saddle was never 
used after the loss of the watch, that 
it was an old one, kept expressly for 
my grandfather's use, who, perhaps, 
may not have been fond of equestrian 
exercise, he being described as a stout 
man of heavy weight. He, pro bably 
being advanced in years, never made 
so long a journey afterwards, fearing 
the safety of the road. 

The man upon trial, refused to offer 
any witness to his character, fearing 
his occupation,* that o£ a smuggler, 
might be elicited in cross-examination. 

Another, almost as remarkable an 
instance occurred, of a man who was 
convicted of murdering his fellow trav- 
eler, who had partaken of the same 
bed, in a small village inn, the night 
before the usual market-day ; in a lo- 
cality, of which, I now forget the name. 
In this instance, the suspected one, his 
bed-fellow, was pursued and taken; 
and the purse of the dead one, found 
in his pocket 



This man's life was saved, from the 
fangs of the law, by a miracle. After 
condemnation, (there was a recommend- 
ation for mercy appended to it in the 
shape of commutation to transportation 
for life) a child, who lived next door 
to the inn, happened to mention, one 
day at dinner, to her mother, that she 
saw the supposed murdered man, by 
the light of the moon, on the night in 
question, sharpening a knife upon a 
grindstone ; at the back of the inn 
yard; which yard, her window over- 
looked. That the noise awoke her, 
and that she saw him pick his purse 
from off the ground where it had fal- 
len, and put it into the pocket of the 
pants he then wore. That the pants 
were light ones, — the victims, own were 

The young man, his bed-fellow, on 
awaking the next morning ; it appear- 
ed, seeing his bed-fellow lying beside 
him with his throat cut, and his own 
shirt wet with his blood, on the spur 
of the moment, thoughtlessly fled. He 
denied all knowledge of the possession 
of the purse that was found upon him 
when taken, and this denial, furnished 
the jury with an argument in proof of 
his guilt The blood was traced from 
the grindstone, up to. the bed-room, 
into the bed whereon he must have 
fallen dead ; while his companion was 
in a dead sleep ; so that he must have 
worn his friend's pants, burst his own 
vest in the frenzy of the moment, to 
proceed down stairs with. 

The confidence of the little girl as 
to this man's identity and her knowl- 
edge of him, confirmed by his having 
given her, the day before, a few pence 
to fetch some article from the village 
apothecary, which turned out afterwards 

to be poison ; and which fact, strange to 
say, was not known on his trial. Her 
recognition of his height, color of his 
hair, &c, differing entirely from that 
of the accused, became conclusive evi- 
dence, afterwards, in favor of his inno- 
cence, and he then received a reversion 
of his sentence, which, but for this ob- 
servation of the child, would never 
have taken place ; but his life would 
have doubtlessly been forfeited, to the 
requirements of a legal conviction, 
based upon circumstantial or presump- 
tive evidence. 


The snow had been falling lightly 
From the heavens all the day, 

But the evening stars phone brightly, 
And spotless the white earth lay. 

The white-robed granite mountains, 
Seemed moulded of fleecy snow, 

And the muffled voice of the fountains 
Was murmuring far below. 

Yet my soul was sad with grieving, 
And the snow-fall from the cloud 

Seemed slowly and silently weaving 
My heart in a funeral shroud. 

And the trembling tear is starting 

From eyes unused to tears, 
As I think of our last sad parting, 

The winter of youthful years. 

Alice, thy step was lighter 

Than fall of the white-flaked snow ; 
And the blush of thy cheek was brighter 

Than the Northern Lights 1 red glow. 

Soft was the snow flake pressing 
The mountain lake's pure breast ; 

But softer thy fond caressing, 
And the kiss which thy lips impressed. 

The stars shone forth in splendor, 
From depths of the midnight skies ; 

But brighter the glances tender, 
Of thy loving and soul-lit eyes. 

My restless steps have wandered, 
'Mid vales where the gold streams flow ; 

And often my heart hath pondered, 
The snow-fall of long ago. 

To my lips has been pressed the chalice 

Of many a bitter woe, 
But memories of thee, Alice, 

Fall softly as feathery snow. S«„*. 

San Francisco, Sept. 21, 1856. 




This oak, bo called, has scarcely any 
characteristic in common with any of 
the species of quercus ; of which there 
are no fewer that one hundred and 
fifty. The larger genera, of which this 
is not one, are difficult of distinction, 
while the smaller are not properly de- 
fined. Oaks, like roses, are scarcely 
known in a wild state in the Southern 
hemisphere. They reach their most 
southern limits as far as Java ; passing 
upwards, beyond the Equinoctial, along 
the eastern parts of Asia. They spread 
to the_western along the Himalayas, 
and, reaching Europe, only stop at the 
Atlantic They find their way also, 
from their Asiatic origin, to this line of 
eastern demarcation, then overspread 
North America, in abundant variety ; 
from Canada to California, and through 
Mexico, down to the Isthmus of Pana- 
ma ; below which, no trace of any, in 
a wild state, are seen. 

Oaks are generally divided into 
three classes, Robora, Mces, and the 
Cerres. The first are the lords of the 
forest, with a large, long sinuate leaf, 
and producing long acorns with capa- 
cious capules. The second, is an ever- 
green ; with smaller acorns ; some 
species having small leaves, like the 
prickly holly, and producing diminutive 
acorns with almost globular seeds. 
This species abounds on the hills and 
▼ales throughout California, and is fa- 
miliar to every one ; it however, makes 
a poor tree in a forest compared with 
the former, and entirely exhausts, in 
time, the surface above its roots, so that 
tittle or no vegetation is seen under 

The latter,— Germ, are very common 

all over the southeast of Europe, with 
exceedingly large leaves ; some species, 
have a thick down upon them, and 
their seed-caps also are downy, furry 
or prickly. New species are being 
periodically added to, by botanist-trav- 
ellers, and seem to be almost inex- 
haustible. To none of these species; 
however, does the quercus mri, or pofc 
son oak bear any resemblance ; ex- 
cept in its lower leaves. It is some- 
what of a creeping plant, although it 
is devoid of tendrils, it upper stems 
bear a clear resemblance to the dog- 
wood shrub, with leaves like those of 
the maple ; its flower is scarcely per- 
ceptible to the naked eye, and its fruit 
consists of clusters of small, round, pea- 
like berries, of hard consistency, ap- 
proaching very closely to the achenia ; 
its pericarp being formed of a hard, dry, 
indehiscent skin. It rarely attains the 
height of eight feet, and is not generally 
very bushy, when it has attained to 
this size. If it were not of so poison*- 
ous a nature, it probably would be 
noticed only by botanists ; but its un- 
liable celebrity, on this account, 
forces itself on the attention of every 
one within its neighborhood. The 
manner in which it affects different 
persons is somewhat remarkable. 
People of a sanguiniferous and lym- 
phatic temperament, are greatly affect- 
ed by its contact. The first symptoms 
are observable in a dull itching sensa- 
tion, increasing more and more as the 
parts affected are irritated ; until the 
the surface, first touched, becomes full 
of pricking sensations. Quick swel- 
lings then immediately ensue, until the 
whole extremity, whether of head, 
hand, or leg becomes infected ; the ap- 
pearance then assumes that of incan- 



descent dropsy with most people, but 
sometimes has a reddish appearance. 
If the head becomes affected to any ex- 
tent the virus so rapidly gains ground, 
as soon, entirely to obliterate every 
trace of the features. 

Some persons of thin, spare habits, 
can handle it with impunity, and even 
rub the leaf of it into , a fresh wound 
without harm. Horses and hogs eat it 
with avidity, and as far as observation 
extends, the same may be said of all 
gramniverous animals. Its roots 
when thrown together, impregnate the 
air with a rank odor, somewhat similar 
to those of the hemlock. These are 
succulent at their extremities, but 
woody towards the stem, where it rises 
from the surface of the earth. When 
creeping along the ground, its younger 
leaves are tinged with a dark red col- 
or, it is then, that the plant assumes the 
appearance of the first exfoliations of 
the common oak, the Mobora. So ran- 
corous does the air of the neighbor- 
hood become, where it is left to grow 
in abundance, that whole families have 
been known to be affected with its poi- 
sonous influence, at such seasons, when 
the wind blows in a direction towards 
them ; more especially, of those of a 
temperament before mentioned. It is 
easily rooted up, except where it en- 
tangles itself among low shrubs, when 
it is rather difficult to eradicate, owing 
to its roots connecting several growths, 
as in all ordinary plants of the creep- 
ing kind. The three forms of leaf 
which it bears are not peculiar ; for 
many plants, such as the Ivy for in- 
stance, bear different shaped leaves, 
while remaining on the ground, from 
those when adhering to any erect sup- 

It is much to be desired that some 
reliable method of cure should be well 
known. Hitherto, its treatment has 
been confined to simple washes of solu- 
tion of common salt in cold water, and 
nitrate of silver ; the latter is not re- 
commended by the writer from personal 
knowledge ; but any chemist almost of 
experience may be trusted with its 
cure, as that appears only to be the 
work of time, and no instance of a 
fatal result, is recorded of its virulence. 

We hope to refer again to the sub- 
ject, and shall be glad of any fresh in- 
formation upon it, especially that rela- 
ting to its care, as it is becoming of 
considerable importance, especially to 
miners, who often suffer much from its 
poisonous contact 


I saw two children, dancing in, their glee, 
In the gay spring-time, when the flowers 
were young, 
Chasing the butterfly and humming bee, 
And mocking the gay birds that round them 

I saw two lovers, whispering as they sat 

In an old orchard, by a mossy well ; 
With eyes that with their light put out the 

Speaking strange language, that only eyes can 


I saw two graves upon the village green, 
With pale spring flowers and violets over- 

Above a simple slab, with names inscribed : 
Who are the sleepers underneath the stone? 

Sept. 15, 1856. g. t. b. 

Subgech of Dishushion. 

Is dansin morralle rong? 

Is the readin of fictishus works kom- 
mendible ? 

Is it necessary that femails shud re- 
seave thorough litterary educashun ? 

Ort femails to taik parts in politiks? 

Duz dress konstitute the morral part 
of wimmin ? 





Well, here I am, with my pen poised 
above this huge sheet of foolscap, en- 
snared in a descriptive dilemma. In 
taking a survey of the past with its in- 
tricate wanderings, I cannot refrain 
from penning a crude thought or two, 
to wile away an hour of loneliness. I 
shall give my opinion regarding words, 
persons, dates, and times, connected 
with these sketches, even at the risk of 
being charged with egotism. That 
precious piece of oro in 1848, caused 
a golden epidemic to prevail. Its fear- 
ful ravages reached my northern home 
on the beautiful Ohio. We, like many 
others, had the golden fever; but, 
slightly recovering, remained in a con- 
valescent state until 1852, when we 
took a relapse, as the shout rang out 
on every hand, "Who'll go there? 
wholl go there V Many, many times, 
we sat at nightfall in our cozy cot- 
tage home, talking of that far-off 
golden sunset land — and often would 
the luscious red apple be eaten that 
lay upon the tray mellowing in the 
fire light ; the cup of sparkling cider 
quaffed to the dregs, as the fire burned 
down to a few wasting embers, 'ere we 
quitted our castle buildings — to be real- 
ized some bright day, far away in the 
dreamy and shadowy future. Many 
were the cricket chirpings we heard be- 
fore we laid our heads upon the downy 
pillow. It was finally decided we 
should go to the gold regions. Then 
followed in quick succession all the an- 
noying preparations appertaining to 
such a hazardous adventure. Home, 
with its thousand and one endearments 

in the vine-clad cottage, was in due 
time sacrificed for the vague uncertain- 
ties of a shadowy future. A year or 
two would not be long — and then, oh ! 
how brightly the fire burned upon the 
hearthstone, as we talked of the hair- 
breadth escapes we should encounter, 
while gaining our (sure to be) millions. 
The homestead was mortgaged for a 
few hundreds to defray our necessary 
expenditure, till we arrived where 
large pieces of oro were (supposed to 
be) lying around loosely. All was 
ready, and ere the morrow's sun was 
up, we were to bid adieu to all we had 
loved from childhood, and which were 
engraved upon the heart by the mag- 
ical hand of affection. The last night 
I remained under the roof that had 
sheltered me from infancy, was one ever 
to be remembered. The evening, till 
bed-time, was consumed in packing 
away many little articles for the pil- 
grim's comfort, which none but the 
watchful eye of a mother could have 
provided. With a nervous hand she 
placed in my hands a little gilt-edged 
bible, a parting gift, with an admon- 
ishing verse written upon the fly-leaf, 
which I still preserve as a holy me- 
mento of the absent, I sought my pil- 
low at a late season, to waste the hours 
of darkness in musings of sadness, 
half regretting I had consented to 
launch my frail bark upon the sea of 
an untried future. Should I ever be 
permitted to return to the old roof 
tree-~-and make the unbroken circle 
again complete — a group of glad and 
happy hearts, or should I fill a name- 
less grave on a foreign shore, where 
the happy birds, or the evening 
zephyrs would come to chant the sad re- 
quiem above my lonely pillow. A 



bright morning, however, vanished all 
my repining, when I seated myself at 
the breakfast table, perhaps for the last 
time : slightly tremulous was my moth- 
er's hand when she passed me the last 
cup of coffee. I drank, I ate without 
tasting; father, mother, sister and 
brother all sat in silence, around the 
table, each eye was moist with tear- 
drops at the adieu of so long a separa- 
tion ; and the home was now sad, 
where smiles and merry laughter made 
the old farm house oft times ring with 
shouts of mirth and gladness. 

Every favored old haunt was visited ; 
the passionate embrace, the loving kiss, 
and the last good bye were taken, and I 
was gone. The iron-horse, with a loud 
snorting, bore me away from the vil- 
lage of L , that place dearest to 

memory. I closed my eyes — passed my 
hand before them to shut out the pain- 
ful scene. I had just left a father 
whose head was silvered o'er with age ; 
a mother, upon whose bosom I so oft 
had pillowed this aching head of 
mine. Oh, what name is half so love- 
ly, or replete with so many thoughts of 
childhood and helpless infancy, as 
mother? What words in the whole 
vocabulary are fraught with half the 
meaning? I had also left with the 
words, " God bless you" still ringing 
in the ear, from those who had mingled 
their ringlets with mine, as we conned 
o'er our lessons in the little red school- 
house together. I still held in my 
hand a little locket, containing an au- 
burn lock, lately severed from the 
head of her, my only sister, whom I 

love with an affection akin to mad- 

"Tis not gold that I worship, 

But a being aa pure 

As the dew-dropi of Heaven." 

All! all! weer gone, I had 
firmly set myself against crying at 
parting; but still my heart clung to 
home with such fond tenacity that I 
could not restrain my emotion, and my 
tears flowed thick and fast. 

The gray dawn of another morning, 
found us in the jostling, crowded streets 
of Cincinatti, the queen city of the 
west, where the boat Lady Pike, lay 
moored to bear us away. On the 12th 
of March, the boat left the landing, 
when the band struck up u Home ! 
sweet home !" As we stood upon the 
deck the crowd gave three cheers as a 
parting benediction. I never before or 
since felt such a feeling of utter loneli- 
ness — a feeling of abandonment and 
desolation — as then had taken posses- 
sion of my soul, and when I saw the 
last handkerchief waiving an adieu in 
the distance, I felt this to be the last 
visible link that bound me to my na- 
tive country, and I wept freely, over- 
powered as I was, with mingled feel- 
ings of regret and pain. I will here 
draw the curtain, to hide from the busy 
world these scenes of frequent parting, 
to tell you in No. 2, how the Califor- 
nians prospered. 

A witty correspondent sends as the 
following notice of a brief street collo- 
quy held between a maiden lady of a 
little beyond a certain age, and a new- 
ly married feminine :— 

" So you are going to keep house, are 
you ? " said the elderly maiden. 

" Yes," was the reply. 

" Going to have a girl, I suppose," 
was then queried. 

The newly made wife colored and 
then quietly responded that— 

" She really didn't know whether it 
would be a boy or girl* 





How singular, and at the same 
time how beautiful it is, that when 
we dream of the dear departed — 
of those whom we have loved in life, 
and with whom the happiest hours of 
our existence have been passed, how 
strange it is, that they appear to us in 
aU the truthfulness of reality, and the 
scenes of our youth are present with 
us once again, and the voice, the 
glance, the pressure of the hand, and 
the warm kiss of those dear ones who 
reared us in our helplessness and in- 
fancy, are as distinct as when we were 
blessed with their presence on earth. 
Last night I "dreamed a dream/' 
that made me for a time forget that 
I was growing old — that made me 
forget that I was thousands of miles 
away from those who love me — that 
made me forget that I was the last of 
our family circle, (for out of twenty- 
two, but five remain, and / am the 
youngest,) that made me oblivious to 
everything — every trouble, anxiety 
and annoyance, and careless of the 
future ; for I was once again at home ! 
— and the table was "set" for dinner — 
and such a dinner too! for it was 
Christmas Day, and there too, as I 
entered the room, (for I had just 
arrived from San Francisco, but I was 
yet a boy, and how I had got there I 
did'nt know, and didn't care,) I was 
greeted with the love and kisses of 
father, mother, sisters and brothers; 
everything looked so cozey and natur- 
al — nothing changed; and I thought 
how funny it was, that they all looked 
just the same as when I left, seventeen 
years ago! still I was a boy you know, 


mind that — for the most unaccountable 
and anomalous occurrences take place 
in dreams, and then to feel as I did, 
once again in life the warm embrace 
of a mother and a sister that I loved 
so well ! — to look into the eye of one 
whose love for me (however perverse 
or wayward I may have been) knew 
no variableness, and was in its depth 
unbounded — and to whom I could turn 
in the hour of distress or trial, with the 
full conviction that love only dictated 
her counsellings — to feel as I then felt, 
her dear hand in mine again, and hear 
her pleasant voice greeting me once 
more ! Oh ! I cannot tell you, or de- 
scribe the joy that then possessed me, 
for all the time I fancied I had been 
for a long series of years absent, and 
that I had that day arrived from a long 
and tedious voyage — that I had come 
direct to the " London Docks," and I 
wondered how the ship could get in 
there from California! — and our old 
man servant (who had been dead for 
20 years) stood right on the gangway 
to look after my luggage — and he 
seemed so rejoiced to see me that it 
made me cry ; and he said I looked 
" better than ever" — as though I hadn't 
been away from home at all!— and 
then, as we rumbled along the street, I 
noticed that the shops were closed, and 
I asked him if it were Sunday? and 
when he told me it was "Christmas," I 
shouted for joy ! the idea of a Christ- 
mas at home once more, after an ab- 
sence of so many, many years ! — then 
the snow was so deep upon the ground 
that the carts and coaches made no 
noise, and 1 thought it strange that 
there were no sleighs or bells; and 
then he said they'd been expecting me, 
and were all on the look-out, and that 



there'd be such rejoicing — such fun — 
and to think that he'd lived to see a 
" live Californian" that he'd heard mas- 
ter talk on so often ! — and would I take 
him back with me just to get a a thim- 
ble full of gold P' And then we reach 
the well remembered street, and we 
are at the door of the old homestead. 
There's the plate, the bell, the knocker 
with the lion's head that scared me so 
when I was a youngster. I rush up 
stairs and go into the nursery where 
"Ann," dear old Ann, who has been in 
our family more than 25 years, wishes 
me to come and be dressed for dinner, 
as it being Christmas day, I am, as a 
great favor, to dine with the family ! 
I can't exactly "get the hang" of this, 
yet it seemed all correct and natural. 
And then the door is opened, the thick 
red curtains closely drawn, the bright 
coal fire, blazing, spluttering, crackling, 
singing, hissing and curling round the 
bars, and ascending the chimney in one 
broad flame, that dazzled the eye and 
tingled the cheeks of us all. I had 
never seen such a fire I thought, ex- 
. cept in San Francisco in May, '50 ! 
and yet I also thought I'd just come 
home from school for the Christmas 
Holidays, and I asked if I might "read 
my piece" — yes, before dinner ! — and 
when told that in the evening when 
the games and romps commenced, it 
would be better, and more in order, I 
thought that a pretty way to treat one 
who has been absent for so long a time 
in a foreign land, and I began to sulk, 
but by the time the turkey was exposed 
to view, and the savory smell went up 
from numberless joints and dishes, the 
slight was forgotten, and with a clean 
pinafore, shiney face, and very red 
hands, I was eating with wonderful 

avidity, everything within my reach ; 
and then they'd ask me what I thought 
of California, and whether Oregon was 
anywhere near the North Pole? and 
what kept them alive ; and if Australia 
(for I was going to sail thence the next 
day) would be as profitable to me as 
California had been : — (for I was sup- 
posed, though an infant, to be very 
rich !) And then, and then, the lights 
grew fainter, the room seemed filled 
with a sort of mist — I fell from a great 
height — I rubbed my eyes — turned 
over in my little cot — awoke, and, alas ! 
found — it was but a dream ! 



When thou at eventide art roaming 
Along the elm-o'ershaded walk, 

Where past the eddying stream is foaming 
Beneath its tiny cataract — 

Where I with thee was wont to talk — 
Think thou upon the days gone by, 
And heave a sigh ! 

When sails the moon above the mountains, 
And cloudless skies are purely blue, 

And sparkle in the light the fountains, 
Ana darker frowns the lonely yew — 

Then be thou melancholy too, 
When musing on the hours I prov'd 
With thee beloved 1 

When wakes the dawn upon the dwelling, 
And lingering shadows disappear, 

And soft the woodland songs are swelling 
A choral anthem on thine ear — 

Think — for that hour to thought is dear — 
And then her flight remembrance brings 
To by-past things. 

To me, through every season, dearest, 
In every scene — by day, by night — 

Thou present to my mind appearest 
A quenchless star, for ever bright 1 

My solitary, sole delight ! 
Alone — in grove — by shore— at sea — 
I think of thee 1 

u Sonny, what are wages ? " 
« Don't know." 

u What does your father get on Sat- 
urday night ? " 

" Tight as a brick, — shame on him ?" 





A more thorough knowledge of the 
geography of the American continent 
was attained by the masses in the 
United States, in 1849, than could have 
been disseminated in twenty years, by 
all the common schools from Maine to 
Texas. The all-absorbing topic of 
conversation and subject of geographi- 
cal research, were the nearest and most 
expeditious routes to the newly discov- 
ered £1 Dorado. The dreary passage 
around Cape Horn, seemed intermina- 
ble to the impatient Hotspurs who 
were eager to delve into California's 
golden mountains at once. The route 
through Mexico seemed hazardous to a 
people passing it on a peaceful expe- 
dition, who had just returned from that 
country as victorious soldiers. The 
routes through Texas and New Mexico 
had been but little explored and were 
consequently but little known. To 
cross the plains through our own terri- 
tories required patience, as no trains 
would start until the opening of spring, 
and with the yellow fever raging in 
one's brain, three months' " delay was 
equal to a century in ordinary times. 
The Isthmus of Darien seemed to offer 
the greatest inducements to the Cali- 
fornia-bound adventurer, and in com- 
mon with thousands of others, I deter- 
mined to embark for Chagres. 

The steamer Galveston sailed from 
New Orleans for that port on the 15th 
of February, 1849, with as cheerful a 
lot of passengers as ever trod a deck. 
We bade good-bye to our friends on 
the levee, and steamed down the river, 
with light hearts and bright hopes. A 

" pocket full of rocks," seemed to glim- 
mer in the bright future. Not a man 
upon that steamer could have been in- 
duced to change his prospects for the 
best plantation on the Tombigbee. But 
alas ! how many were leaving happy 
homes, affectionate wives, loving sweet- 
hearts, and peaceful children, never to 
revisit them ; to endure Bickness and 
death among strangers, or be laid in 
the cold grave far from all their hearts 
held dear, without a kindred sigh of 
regret at their departure, or a hallowed 
tear-drop to moisten the ground that 
shut their forms forever from the world. 
Gold! gold! thou hast been the author 
of a thousand ills, as well as comforts, 
to mankind ! Wert thou as precious 
as the dews of Heaven, and a hundred 
times as abundant as thou art, thou 
couldst never repay the sorrow, the 
anguish, the misery, and the forlornness 
thou hast created! Thou canst not 
at eventide, fill the vacant chair in the 
family circle, which thou has bereft of 
its occupant ; thou canst not relieve the 
sorrow thou hast created in the wid- 
ow's heart, nor return the father thou 
hast taken from the orphan ; nor canst * 
thou render back its wonted sunshine 
to the mother's grief-worn face, whom 
thou has deprived of her sole prop in 
the decline of years — her darling, per- 
haps her only son. 

We had been but a few days at sea, 
when an accident occurred to the ma- 
chinery of our steamer, which forced 
us to put into Balize, Honduras. 
Here we were informed that we could 
easily cross the continent from Omoa, 
(a town situated at the head of the Bay 
of Honduras,) and a party, among 
whom was myself, composed of seven- 
teen passengers! organized themselves 



into a company for that purpose. Six- 
teen hours sailing up the island-studded 
Bay of Honduras, brought us to the 
hut-built city of Omoa. 

The only object of interest which we 
found here, was a dilapidated fortress, 
built about a century and a half ago by 
the Spaniards. For want of proper 
care, it is fast going to ruin. Its loop- 
holed parapets are crumbling into dust, 
and its time-worn bastions are cracked 
and tottering. Damp and dismal 
chambers, opening on the interior, 
are used as cells for criminals, whilst 
indentations in the wall facing the town 
serve as barracks for the starvelings 
called soldiers. One leaves this place 
with a feeling of regret that the people 
who once possessed the energy to erect 
such a monument of their enterprise as 
this, should have degenerated into the 
apathetic race which now ekes out a 
scanty existence among the nations of 
the earth. 

We chartered a train of mules and 
muleteers to convey our baggage to 
Puerta-la-Union, a town situated on 
the Pacific slope, in the State of San 
Salvador, at the head of the Bay of 
Fonseca, and proceeded on our jour- 
ney. To the admirer of the grand and 
beautiful in nature, our route afforded 
ample opportunity of gratification. — 
Here, the trail winds its sinuous way 
around a mountain, 

" High as huge Olympus," 

and anon ascends to its very summit. 
On either side, shading the cerulean 
vault from view, the majestic mahoga- 
ny tree rises high above our heads, 
and joins its branches in an arch em- 
brace ; pending beneath its dense leaves 
we see the oval nut containing its re- 
productive seed. All around we find 

ourselves enclosed by the luxurious 
vegetation of the country. Several 
species of the cactus, the mescal, the 
wild plantain, and the mango bush, 
grow so densely that but here and there 
you can see an aperture, through which 
beams a lank ray of the tropical sun- 
light Quadrupeds, disturbed by our 
approach, dart wildly into the foliage, 
and disappear from view. The very 
atmosphere is musical with concordant 
warblings of nature's feathered musi- 
cians. Suddenly we emerge from this 
picturesque scene, and find ourselves 
on the brink of an abrupt mountain. 
The altitude is so great, that we expe- 
rience the frigid chill of a northern 
atmosphere. Far, far beneath, winds 
the serpentine road, until, at length, it 
so diminishes to our sight, as to resem- 
ble a cord laid carelessly along the 
ground. Uninterrupted by any ob- 
struction, our view encompasses an im- 
mense valley, intersected here and 
there with sparkling rivulets, "mean- 
dering onward to the deep." Its green 
carpet is studded with unpretending, 
tiny habitations. One among the num- 
ber, looms high above the rest : It is 
God's house. Hark ! the wind brings 
to our listening ears, the dying tones of 
a church belli Our muleteers pros- 
trate themselves, for it is tolling the 
hour at which the faithful repeat the 
Angelas Domini. 

We turn to the north and west, and 
in the far distance we discover the 
misty tops of the Cordilleras ; to the 
east, we see the turbulent bosom of the 
ocean, " lashing itself into fury ; n to 
the south, and as our gaze is fixed on 
the magnificent scene before us, we 
are lost in admiration and amazement 
— we ponder, and we adore God ! 



The exquisite view we had from 
Mount Beautiful (so we christened the 
delightful spot I hate described) had 
such an effect upon us, that we found 
ourselves but little impressed, compar- 
atively, with the picturesque magnifi- 
cence afterwards witnessed, although 
we frequently passed through scenes 
of grandeur and beauty that would 
challenge the admiration of the tourist. 

In about six days after our departure 
from Omoa, our stock of provisions was 
exhausted, and we were obliged to 
habituate our stomachs to the cuisine 
of the natives. We camped for the 
night at a small town called Santiago, 
near the river Llayapa, (locally famed 
for its wealth in silver mines,) and, af- 
ter our customary precautions in pla- 
cing a guard over the baggage, and 
making our camp fires, several of us 
started into town on a foraging expe- 
dition. We had not proceeded far 
along the main street before our ears 
were saluted in the true vernacular : 

u Tare and 'ouns, ef that phiz' hasn't 
the looks of Erin stamped on it I" 

Being somewhat astonished to hear 
anything approaching to the King's 
English in that region, we naturally 
turned to view the speaker. Standing 
in the door of a more than ordinary 
looking ccudj we saw as fair a specimen 
of an Irishman as you would meet in a 
day's walk, smiling and making all sorts 
of bowings. We approached him, 
made the usual conventional inquiries, 
and asked what fortuitous decree of 
Providence had located him there. 

"Och,faix! it's a long story. Come 
inside gintlemen and accommodate 
yoursilves to a sate." 

We entered the casa, and seated our- 
selves on a rude bench of home manu- 
facture. Our new acquaintance retired 
to the back part of the house, but soon 
returned with a calabash and a couple 
of gourds* 

"Sure it's a good wind blowed ye 
this way. Och, it's an awful relafe to ' 
the eyes to see the unadulterated, home- 
made boys. Here, gintlemen, take a 
dhrop of this an' it'll do ye a power of 
good," said he, handing us the calabash 
and gourds. " If it's not as good as the 
rale poteen, sure it's the best they have 
in these parts. Whisht ! " said he, turn- 
ing to me, "you need'nt be delicate 
about taking it : it's a poor cow that 
runs dhry on the first milking." 

The liberality of our generous host 
caused us to drink rather freely of the 
liquor, and we were soon in a talkative 
vein. Sefior Don Patricio O'Blennis, 
as our host was called by the members 
of his household, gave orders to pre- 
pare supper for us, and despatched one 
of his native dependents to our camp 
with a bounteous supply of jerked beef, 
yams, and frijoles, and a gourd filled 
with aguardiente, for the use of our 
comrades. It was not long before a 
liberal repast was spread out upon the 
table, and we busily engaged in discus- 
sing its merits. Amongst our party 
was a countryman of O'Blennis, named 
Ryan, who, by the way, had been a 
soldier in our army in Mexico, and 
spoke tolerable Spanish, a desideratum 
which we greatly appreciated. They 
engaged in conversation and soon 
formed a warm friendship. " May I 
ask," said Ryan, " what part of the 
old country you came from ? " 

4 * I was born in the County Kerry, 
but airly removed to a place called 
Drymeleague, in the County Cork. 
Och, but that's the divel's own place for 
a skrimmage. Your pardon, Mr. El- 
ward," said he, addressing himself to 
one of my comrades ; " can I help you 
to a morsel of this dish ? No ! Well, 
it's rally quare how we all are preju- 
diced at ating iguana the first time. It 
was so with myself, but by dint of 
persevairance, I've made myself belave 
it's aiqual to tendher pullet." 

We had often seen the hideous ani- 
mal called " iguana" on the route, and 
had heard that the natives considered 
it, when cooked, un morceau Hcherchi; 



but our stomachs were not, as yet, suf- 
ficiently acclimated to relish what we 
looked upon as a " lizard fricassee" 

" Well, as I was saying, Mr. Ryan," 
continued our host, " Drymeleague and 
a broken head are all one in the dic- 
tionary. Bad cess to the Fair Day or 
St. Patrick's iver passed widout the 
whole town nadeing the doctor. Good 
luck, or bad luck, it's one of thim skrim- 
mages I may thank for being now secra- 
ted in this out-of-the-way place." 

" Indeed," said Ryan, " I would like 
to hear that adventure. It must be in- 

" Well, if it's agrayable to yez, I'll 
tell you the long and short of it." 

We all repeated the request that he 
would relate the story. After a bumper 
of aguardiente O'Blennis commenced : 

" Ye must know, thin, to commince 
at the beginning, that in the ould coun- 
thry, on Fair Days, the boys and girls 
gather into the town from all parts, to 
dhrink and enjoy themsilves. One 
Bridget O'Connor, whom I had some 
pretinsions to, was there, among the 
rest. I met her in the morning, and 
av coorse made my salutations to her. 

H ' Top o' the morning to you Miss 
Bridget,' says I, 'how do you find your- 
self this fine morning ?' 

" ' Very well Mistlier O'Blennis,' says 
she, just as cowld as you plase, and 
turned around to Tim Donovan, and 
commenced talking very purtly to him. 

" Wh-h-ew ! thinks I, what's the ma- 
ning of all this. Surely I thought it 
was draining I was. But no; there 
she was — Bridget O'Connor — and she 
smiling and laughing wid Tim. Dono- 
van and turning her back on Misther 
O'Blennis. The blood of the O'Blen- 
nises was up, and I had made up my 
mind to make Tim Donovan pay the 
affront Biddy had given me. 

" To dhrown my agitation I tuk sev- 
eral dhrops uv poteen, and by the 
time night came I was a match for the 
best man in the parish. Widow Dolan, 
that kept a sheebeen, or public house in 
Drymeleague, had given me an invita- 
tion to a ball she was to give that night, 

and whin the hour arrived I was in 
illegant humor to dance a hornpipe or 
break a head. In I goes to the room, 
where two blind fiddlers were playing 
the * Rocky Road to Dublin,' and the 
floor covered with boys and girls who 
were shaking the dust off their brogues, 
as if they wuld wear out their feet. 
At one ind of the room, who should I 
see but Biddy and Tim swinging and 
hugging aich other at ivery turn of the 
tune. I never lifted my eyes off the 
pair till the dance was finished, when 
up I steps to Biddy, and says I, in the 
purlitest imaginable manner ; 

" ' Miss O'Connor, may ask the pleas- 
ure of your company in the nixt jig ? ' 

u ' Misther O'Blennis,' says she, 'I'm 

" ' Well, then, the nixt ? ' says L 

" ' Sure, I'm engaged for that too,' 
says she. 

" 'And the nixt ? 

" ' Engaged, also. The fact is, Mis- 
ther O'Blennis, I'm engaged for the 
whole avening ! ' 

" ' Indade,' says I, somewhat astoon- 
ished ; ' and. by your love, may I ask 
who to ? ' 

"'To Misther Donovan,' and she 
turned her head from me. 

" I was in a terrible rage, and the 
dhrink I had in didn't at all tind to 
cool me. I turned to Bridget, and 
commenced talking in a loud voice ; 
says I : 

" ' Biddy O'Connor, ye think yersilf 
above dacent paple since your uncle 
died, and left you a ten-acre farm bar- 
rin' nine, wid a brindle cow and a litter 
of pigs, and a mud house. I've seen the 
time I wuddn't flip a happenny to be 
the Lord Leftenant ; but thin I didn't 
put on the airs that the likes of ye do. 
Have'nt 1 known you, Biddy, to come 
to my father's to beg oat-male and pra- 
ties, to give yer old crazy mother whin 
she had the small pock so bad none of 
the neigbors wud go near your house ? 
And Tim Donovan! Who's he? Sup- 
pose he has a few hundred pounds 
(which the Lord knows whether he 
came by honestly,) does that make him 



anything but an impudent upstart' 

"And so I went on, till the first thing 
I knew I saw Tim squaring himself for 
me. I picked up a bog-shtick that 
was handy, and in I pitched into Don- 
ovan. The room was soon cleared of 
the women, and the min were divided 
into two parties, — some for Tim. and 
some for mysilf. Tim and me had it 
right and left, until I saw an opportu- 
nity, and gave him a blow over the 
head wid my shillelah that laid him 
shtiff on the ground. Barney O'Keefe 
came up to me, and said : 

tt * For the Lord's sake, Pat, run ; 
you've kilt Tim Donovan, and we'll all 
be hanged.' 

" I was sobered in a minute, and saw 
the awkward perdicament I was in ; 
but it was too late. The Sheriff, who 
was in town came in and arrested me 
in the name of the Queen, and the nixt 
day I was taken to Bantry. At the 
next sessions I was thried for man- 
slaughter (for, rest his soul ! poor Tim 
died,) and I was sentenced to transport 
tation for fourteen years. Biddy, poor 
thing ! came to the jail and saw me be- 
fore I was shipped. She was in a ter- 
rible state of mind, and blamed herself 
for the whole transaction. 

u I didn't remain long in the employ 
of the government at Hobart-Town ; 
for, shortly after I arrived, an Amer- 
ican whaling ship came into port, and 
amongst her crew was one Jim Dela- 
ney, I had known in Bantry in former 
times. Jim arranged a plan to shtow 
me away on the vessel whin she was 
ready to sail, which succeeded. After 
a long cruize in the South saas we 
came this side of the line. Our vessel, 
unfortunately, sprang alake during a 
heavy gale, and we were obliged to 
take to the boats. Poor Jim got into 
the one with the first mate, and must 
have aither perished from hunger or 
dhrowned, as I niver heard of them or 
the boat since. We, afther much suf- 
fering, rached Puerta-la-Union, and 
were sent across the continent by the 
American agent at that port ; but whin 
1 got as far as this place I was capti- 

vated by a dark-eyed sefiorita, and 
came to the conclusion to cast anchor 
in Santiago. So, you percave, Mr. 
Ryan, how the Drymeleague skrim- 
mage brought me here." 

We were all highly interested with 
O'Blennis' story, which, from the quaint 
manner in which he told it, ever since 
has been as fresh in my mind as though 
it were told but yesterday. 

We passed the rest of the evening 
in social converse, alternating our jokes, 
stories, and songs with bumpers of 
aguardiente, and the "wee hours ayant 
the twal " had crowded upon us before 
we bid good night to the jovial and 
generous O'Blennis. 

At daylight we were stirring and 
preparing for our departure. I must 
confess that I awoke with a very un- 
comfortable headache. My scalp felt 
as if it had been tightened to its utmost 
tension ; or as Elward suggested, "my 
head had swollen too large for my 

We were soon ready for the road, 
and as we passed O'Blennis' door, we 
saw him hurrying out He beckoned 
us to the house, and Ryan and myself 
went over to him. 

u Come in boys," said he, taking us 
by the arm, " come in and thry a dhrop 
afore ye lave." 

I told him I had a severe headache, 
and was afraid to drink any more. 

* Whisht," said he, fc I have a bottle 
of the best medicine for that ye iver 
tasted — some pure conyac. Tare and 
'ouns, I only had one bottle, and I was 
ashamed to bring it out last night, 
knowing that it wudn't go round." 

The inducement was great, and in 
we stepped. O'Blennis went to a shelf 
and took down a bottle on which he lav- 
ished the most extravagant praises. 
We filled and drank each other's health, 
and I must say that I have ever since 
had the impression that that was the 
best brandy I ever tasted. 

O'Blennis accompanied us a couple 
of miles on the road, before we parted 
company. The generous Irishman 



shook us cordially by the hand, wishing 
us " God speed," and as he turned to 
leave us a flood of tears rolled down 
his manly cheeks. Ryan and myself 
walked on our road a long distance, 
without exchanging a word. He had 
his handkerchief out most of the time, 
and feigned to need it about his nasal 
organ; but I noticed, that he always 
ended by using a corner of it at his 
eyes, and, reader, is it necessary to 
mention it, regret at leaving caused me 
to imitate him ? 

The rest of our route across the con- 
tinent was void of incidents of interest. 
We passed through the city of Comay- 
agua (the capital of Honduras) the day 
after a battle between two aspirants for 
the Presidency. We were told these 
contentions were of common occur- 
rence, and, from their frequency lost 
the nature of remarkable events. 

On the twenty-second day after leav- 
ing Omoa, we arrived in Puerta-la- 
Union, on the Pacific — a town totally 
barren of everything that would interest 
the tourist. There was no vessel in 
port we could charter to bring us to 
California, and it was impossible to 
form any idea when there would be an 
arrival that would afford us a passage. 
To the indomitable spirit of energy 
that characterizes the American, there 
is u no such word as fail ;" and under 
any circumstances, as we had started 
for California, it was proposed that, in- 
stead of leading an indolent life await- 
ing a problematical opportunity of sail- 
ing to San Francisco, we should build 
a vessel! capable of taking us there. 
The proposition, at first seemed utterly 
impracticable, as, with the exception of 
timber, but little material could be pro- 
cured for building a vessel. To those 

who have courage .and perseverance' 
however nothing in reason is impossi- 
ble. All the old pieces of iron and 
rope that could be scraped together in 
the country were brought into requisi- 
tion. We laid the keel of our vessel 
on the 17th of March, and on the 17th 
day of May, we sailed from Puerta-la- 
Union, on board the Josi Castro, a 
fifteen ton vessel, named after the 
Commandante of the Port, who had 
extended us every facility in his power 
to procure the necessary material. 

I will not fatigue the reader by re- 
lating the many and wearying experi- 
ences of the voyage. Let it suffice to 
mention that we put into nearly every 
port upon the coast between the Gulf 
of Conchagua and the port of San Fran- 
cisco, and as our vessel was too small to 
carry a sufiiciency of water and provis- 
ions, we were nearly the whole time on 
short allowance. 

After one hundred and forty-jive days, 
(on the tenth day of October, 1849,) we 
entered the bay of San Francisco, our 
hearts overflowing with an excess of 
joy, that at last after so much priva- 
tion and suffering, we could look upon 
the golden hills of California, and feel 
that the goal of our hopes was reached, 
and that our long, long journey was at 
an end. 

Women endure pain, poverty, and 
the severest misfortune with more for- 
titude than men, but melt at the first 
harsh words from those they love. 
With her own heart open before her, 
no true mother can speak harshly to 
her child — the tone would rend the lit- 
tle tendrils of affection that are cling- 
ing to her, and, like vines in spring, 
ruthlessly cut, they might bleed with a 
fatal hindrance to health. 





Oh ! the Tine that grew by my father's door, 

With a dark and lonely shade ; 
How the sunbeams wandered there of yore, 

And amid the leaflets played : 
And the summer wind that wandered by, 

Had no music sound before 
It wakened delicate melody 

In the Tine by my father's door. 

White was the cottage and low was the roofj 

The eaves were both old and brown, 
But the leaves lay there in emerald woofs, 

Till the zephyrs brushed them down : 
Bright pearls of dew in prismatic hue, 

'Neath the sunbeam starred them o'er, 
And the rain-drops lay, like pale sea spray, 

O'er the vine by my father's door. 

Its foEage came in the early spring, 

With the April sun and shower, 
When the blue birds first began to sing, 

And wakened the daisy flower : [away, 
I've watched in the time that has wandered 

Full many a night of yore, 
To see the light of the young moon stray, 

O'er the vine by my father's door. 

When summer was rich in her wealth of balm, 

And her flowers of gold and flame, 
To the glossy leaves in the misty dawn, 

The bee andfthe hum bird came : 
They gathered sweets from the bells of bloom, 

Till they tumbled o'er and o'er, 
And a faint perfume stole up to my room, 

From the vine by my father's door. 

When autumn came with its ripened grain, 

And its garb of rainbow dye, 
And the harvest moon hung bright again, 

O'er the cornfields and the rye : 
As the reaper gathered in the sheaves 

From the fertile fields once more, 
Brightly the frost king tinted the leaves 

Of the vine by myjfather's door. 

But oh ! our home is desolate now, 

And echoes no mortal tread, 

Tall, rank weeds, in the garden grow, 

'Mid the pinks of white and red : 
Gone is the mirth and cheerful sounds, 

That were 'neath that roof of yore, 

But still the wind goes wandering round 

The vine by my father's door. 

Greenly it hangs o'er the time worn sill, 

And the rooftrce old and gray, 
But the fresh and bounding hearts are still, 

That under it used to play : 
Oh ! the voice of the past is 'mid the leaves, 

That sigh as they did of yore, 
And I weep o'er love's dismantled sheaves, 

'Neath the vine by the father's door. 

Sokcook, Aug. 1856. • 

Anecdote of Charles XII. — 
The mad king of Sweden, as he was 
called by some of his cotemporaries, 
was a pledged man, if not a member of 
a teetotal society. Charles, as every 
body knows, in the commencement of 
his career drank to great excess. In 
one of his drunken bouts, he so far 
overstepped the limits of propriety as 
to treat the Queen, his mother, with 
great disrespect. The next day, on 
being informed of his rudeness, he took 
a glass of wine in his hand, and re- 
pared to the Queen's room. " Madam," 
said he to her, " I have been informed 
that yesterday, in my cups, I forgot 
myself towards you. I come to ask 
your pardon, and to prevent a recur- 
rence of such a fault I drink this glass 

to your health, it shall be the last du- 
ring my life/* He kept his word, and 
from that day never tasted wine. In 
his subsequent life, no* king was ever 
known to have undergone greater hard- 
ships, and no man to have enjoyed bet- 
ter health than this cold water monarch. 

Splendid qualities break forth in 
dark times like lightning from a thun- 
der cloud. 

An old Vermont lady was asked by 
a young clergyman to what denomina- 
tion she belonged ? 

" I don't know," said she, " and don't 
care anything about nominations ; for 
my part, I hold on to the good old 
meetiu' house." 




NO. I. 

"Like the gloom of night retiring, 
When in 6plendor beams the day, 
Hope again ray heart inspiring, 
Doubt and fear shall chase away." 

Fill up your glass again, old friend: 
come, light another of those prime Ha- 
vanas — and, as the influence of the old 
wine sends a glow to our hearts, and 
the aroma of the balmy herb steals over 
our senses with its dreamy influence, 
I will try and tell you some reminis- 
cences of old '49 — a year, fraught with 
the reality of romance, of danger met, 
of difficulties overcome, of joy and sor- 
row, of hope and despair, of dreams, 
wild as Eastern fable, realized — of 
dreams, bright and enchanting, which 
vanished in the night of tears — aye, 
bitter, bitter tears, which, in their weep- 
ing agony, struck down many a noble, 
manly heart, never to rise again, and 
silvered the raven locks of youth, long 
before the time. Still, there is a fasci- 
nation in the memories of that time, 
which those of us who mingled in its 
whirl and excitement, call back with 
delight and intense longing for such 
days again. Aye, even here, old com- 
rade, amid this quiet, this comfort, this 
happiness which I now realize, I feel 
a pang, almost amounting to pain, at 
the thought that I shall never see their 
like again. It is almost ever thus. 
The traveller, from the burning tropics, 
treading the soil of his native land ; the 
ship-wrecked mariner, rescued from the 
reef, and arrived safely in the haven of 
rest ; the soldier, home from the battle 
field, dreaming, perchance, amid the 
very flowers of life, and the peaceful 
pleasures of his own fireside, of the 
excitement and dangers of the camp, 

often feels stealing over his heart a 
yearning to mingle again in the " war 
of elements ;" to hear the low booming 
sound of the cannon, the whistle of the 
shot, the cry of agony, and the shout of 
victory. So with the unquiet soul, 
who, wandering over this broad earth 
in search of fortune and adventure, is 
oftentimes the subject of an ever rest- 
less feeling which mocks the stillness 
and quietude of his earthly heaven, 
after it is gained by much privation, 
exposure, and often at the risk of life 
itself: eager for the days of adventure 
back again. Back again ! how my 
blood tingles at the thought boiling up 
as it does with the old lava of my 
youth. Ah ! I can call them here — the 
spirits of departed hours, old friends, 
true friends, with strong hands and 
great hearts, who were my comrades be- 
neath the giant pines, and mid the scenes 
of the camp and watch-fires high up in 
the eternal Sierras, aud which are be- 
fore me now with their light flashing 
in the ruddy, joyous faces that sat 
around. But I wander from our night 
of hope. 

Ours was a rare old ship— the Sally 
Ann, with a square, broad bow, and a 
square, broad stern, which for eight 
months bumped the huge waves like a 
great leviathan. What were the knots 
got out of her in a gale of wind I know 
not now, but I well recollect our Cap- 
tain in a state of ecstasy when, for a 
few hours on one eventful day, she 
bumped out six knots per hour, right 
dead before the wind. Then, io anti- 
cipation, we were mining in the great 
hills of the terra incognita of our hopes. 
She creaked in the fashion of a " fine 
old craft, all of the olden time," and 
tacked and hove to, and then carried 


away a studding-sail-boom, by way of 
variety. Sailing on the Atlantic, in 
due course of the lazy months we 
crossed the line, doubled Cape Horn, 
and soon were gliding along the Pacific, 
in an Indian clime dreaming away the 
weary hours, and right glad were we to 
be off the coast of California, and stand- 
ing in for the heads towards San Fran- 

It was gloomy when we neared the 
land ; heavy fog had gathered all 
around us, but by and by when it lifted 
up a little, right ahead of us towered 
the high mountains of the northern 
coast, hiding their lofty heads in the 
curtain of the mist. We were close 
upon it, and could see the white waves 
rolling and breaking upon the sandy 
shore, and the trees and herbage grow- 
ing upon the hills. 

Land ahead 1 oh, it is a glorious cry 1 
giving birth to an ecstasy of feeling 
known only to the wanderer on the 
deep. Ob, mother Earth ! how we 
loved thee then I How we longed to 
spring with fleet bounds from our tardy 
sailing prison and climb thy glorious 
hills ; to run, and gambol in thy green 
glades ; to feel the firm earth beneath 
our feet, and to pluck, in our wild de- 
light, the wild flowers of thy love and 
throw them aloft in our jubilee. This, 
in reality, is a sensation, which almost 
repays by its delight, for the weary 
dreaming of a long and dreary voyage. 

"Beady about!" "Aye, aye, sir!" 
was the word, and the dear old ship 
was round with a jaunty quickness 
that made our Captain boast that there 
was some life in the old craft yet. As 
we made for the Golden Gate the 
bright stars shone down in beauty 
from the deep blue arch of heaven, 

sending a radiance and a glory on the 
peaks of the hills and the islands off 
the shore. Far out to sea a heavy fog 
hung like a poll around the lake of 
dancing light, but it soon lifted up and 
rolled away, showing lights around us 
on every side, like rival stars to those 
above us, as they rise and fall with the 
rolling of the sea. Ships from all 
parts of the world are our companions 
for the night, and their lights sent a 
glow of pleasure to our hearts as they 
glanced across the waters to our ship. 
They were also steering for the land 
of gold. Our pulses beat quick, and 
our hearts were brave that night, as we 
gathered in knots here and there upon 
the deck, and spoke 
ness of our fortunes 
land, and the friend I; 
and we promised, ay 
by each other in the 
brothers in a band, ai 
of action, were to 
opposition, and become so rich that the 
nabobs of the land we had left would 
pale before the greatness of our high 

Ah, me ! how little we knew of the 
ordeal we had to pass through — of the 
selfishness of human nature ; of the 
privations ; of the struggles ; of the 
sickness of mind and body we had yet 
to meet ; of friend forsaking friend ; of 
brother deserting brother; aye, son and 
sire forgetting their tie of relationship. 
Still, we were brothers on that night, 
and each one sought his couch, his 
heart filled with the warm glow of 
friendship, and the light from a golden 
future beaming in his face. 

Yet ours was no holy brotherhood : 
we were linked to each other by no 
lofty or enobliog ties, no true aspira- 


tions, no ardent devotion. Oh do, for 
in truth we were worshippers of a false 
divinity, and our friendships were but 

selfish interests, guarding self from the 
misty shadows of coming time. And 
our prayers that night went not up to 
the Father in Heaven, but we bowed 
our heads in adoration to the visions of 
heaped gold, glittering from the mine, 
which was to be to us the key of earth's 
heaven— of man's friendship and wom- 
an's love. 

They left me, one by one, and I was, 
as it were, alone on the deck of the 
Sally Ann, leaning over the taffrail, 
looking out into the night, and up into 
the light of the stare ; and their silent 
up memories of the 
irt was full of love. 
the boy whom men 
hard, the stem and 
business, the schemer 
I, dreamt, my boy, of 
r young girl, in a far 
yes, perchance, might 
be looking into the light of the same 
stars with mc, thinking of the absent 
one who had gone to seek fortune for 
her sake alone ; and back to me now 
comes the boy dream of my love. 
Strange magic spell, over which space 
and time hath no control 1 Dwellest 
thou, alike, in the hearts of the inno- 
cent as in the hearts of the guilty? 
Livest thou ever on, through change 
and time, till old age, till death — aye, 
onward in the spirit land ? I knew not 
then, but I had my answer in the 
years to come. 

" CaU the watch I" " Heady about !" 
"Aye, aye, «V — startled me from my 
reveries, and I retired below. So 
ended our night of hope upon the 

bloom ; 

Langhing (lie clouds away with playful scorn, 
And living as if the earth contained no tomb." 

And so the morn was up with us ; 
the bright, the glorious morn. And 
the sun's beams lit up the ocean and 
the land ; the mountains of the coast 
were radiant with his glory, and the 
wavelets of the sea, and the surf on the 
shore, were sparkling and glowing in 
his light. On the deck of our old ship 
were gathered the dreamers of the 
night — looking at that land of hope, 
and at a sight which rarely falls lo the 
lot of man to witness, for not less than 
a hundred ships were now in sight, 
their white sails bent like racers, all 
steering for the break in the mountain 
chain, which we had learned, by this 
time, was the Golden Gate of San 
Francisco Bay. " They come, yes, 
still they come." The gold-seekers 
from a thousand homes, the self-exiled 
from many a different clime. Science 
triumphant over space and time, dan- 
ger and difficulty : the trackless ocean, 
the dark nights of storm, the reefs of 
unknown shores, even the wild wind 
which had howled in its mad fury, bad 
been chained and harnessed for man's 
use, and he became victorious. 

Let me call back that time, my friend. 
Let me feel once more the big thoughts 
which were within me then, as I looked 
upon that bold coast line and up into 
its high and distant hills. But more 
by* and bye. 

"I say, sranger, how far is it to the 

" W, ab-b-b b che-che p-p-p st-st-st! go ahead you'll g-g-gct there 
'fore I can t-t-tell you ! " 


Two neighbors, owning adjoining 
farms, and between whom a strong and 
pleasant friendship existed, made np 
their minds to journey together to Cal- 
ifornia. In due season they arrived 
safely in San Francisco, and without 
loss of time made the best of their way 
to the mines. They were pleased with 
appearances, and after sundry inquries 
agreed that as neither of them under- 
stood the modut openmdi of mining, it 
would be better, either to hire out until 
they knew what they were about, or 
seek to get an interest in a claim with 
a company who did understand it. 

The same afternoon they both made 
satisfactory arrangements to join differ' 
ent companies, although in claims ad- 
joining, and with a willing hand went 
immediately to work. In earnestness 
and sweat, early and late they toiled : 
neither the burning sun of summer, nor 
the chilling rain of winter, caused 
any loss of time to them, and were alike 
unheeded. The remembrance of the 
dear and waiting ones at home made 
them anxious and diligent here. But it 
so happened that the one claim paid 
remarkably well, while the other did 
not pay anything: yet, when they 
commenced working, the prospects of 
both were equally encouraging. 

Months rolled away, and while one 
neighbor was rapidly amassing a for- 
tune, the other had not even made bis 
current expenses. Yet both had 
worked equally hard, and both were 
alike provident in their expenditures. 
One morning, as they sat at breakfast, 
for they " cabined" together, the suc- 
cessful one said to the other, " George, 
I've half a mind to sell out my claim 

and go home. I believe I would if I 
could get what it is worth.." 

" What will you taker™ said one of 
his companions. 

"Two thousand dollars. For that 
amount you shall have my interest in 
the claim, tools, cabin and provisions." 

"I'll give it," was the immediate 

The bill of sale was made out, the 
money paid down ; and in one hour 
from that time, the lucky neighbor was 
ready to start upon his journey home. 

Now let us for a moment contrast 
the two men. The one with his heart 
swelling with joy and pride, thinking of 
those bis presence will soon make glad : 
the other, th; 
friend is goi 
will be adde< 
and long wil 
verse and c< 
hearted and 
while he rej' 

The thou^ 
pressively upon his heart was this ; he 
could not even hope that kit turn to 
visit the dear ones that were waiting 
to greet him at the old homestead 
would be likely to come very soon — oh, 
no. It is true that before the last blow 
was given that very day " they might 
strike the lead," and then — yes, then 
he too would have the prospect of 
going home, and in the dream of what 
might come to pass he forgets his dis- 
appointments, and as ever toils earn- 
estly on. It is this thought that keeps 
hope always alive within the breast, 
and enables the miner to do prodigies 
of labor, suffer hardships almost incred- 
ible, endure privations and brave dan- 
gers that would almost appal the com- 
fort loving souls of home. 


Now, however, he cheerfully takes 
the labor-hardened hand of his neigh' 
bor, and although the tear of sorrowful 
regret rises to his eye, from the depths 
of a noble and earnest heart, he wishes 
him " Goodbye, myboy,andmay God 
bless you 1" He would have added, 
and tell them at home the reasons why 
1 do not come. However, I know yon 
will do that for me, and do it kindly 
too, won't you ? but he knew his friend 
and trusted him. 

After all his old acquaintances had 
wished him "good bye," as they stood 
watching his departure, each one almost 
simultaneously remarked "Well, after 
all, he's a lucky fellow — isn't he F" 
ht !" — " He's got his 
was my turn!" as 
ty to their claims to 
nental relief in bodily 
ne sighed and thought 
y of his distant home, 
and glad, the other 
one sped on his homeward way, and 
was soon welcomed with greetings and 
kisses from the dear ones who loved 
him. Neighbors and acquaintances 
heard of his return, and gathered 
around him, to ask all sorts of ques- 
tions. Among the many inquirers, one 
of the most anxious was the wife of the 
unfortunate neighbor, who, with quiv- 
ering lips and agonized twitches of the 
countenance, asked, "When is our 
George coming home ? my George ?' 
The thrilling earnestness of her look 
told the disappointment of her heart, 
when she heard of his discouraging 
misfortunes, and she again exclaimed, 
" Oh when, oh when is our George 
coming home ?" 

" Why, Thomas," interrogates a 
neighbor, " how is it that George has 

not come home with you — he v/ent out 
with you, didnt he P" 

" Yes, but he has not done very well, 
or otherwise he would have been but 
too glad to have come home with ne." 

" Why," queried the neighbor, " has 
he not worked well in California ?** 

" Yes : no man harder." 

" What ! has he fooled away his 
money, then?" 

" No : no man is more careful." 

"Well — that's strange. I thought 
everybody got rich that went to Cali- 
fornia and worked hard." 

" There, neighbor, you, like many 
others, make a very great mistake. 
That I have done well, I owe to my very 
good fortune, and a favoring Provi- 
dence, but I might have worked just as 
hard — as many do for years — and made 
nothing : and this you will discover, if 
you ever go there." 

It is truly astonishing how few men, 
up to this very hour, ever dream of the 
months and years of unremitting and 
unrequited toil, by the miners in Cali- 
fornia, without even saving one dollar. 
And yet, their hopes are only surpassed 
by their efforts to make a fortune, or 
die rather than return home without it. 
And what is the most heart-sickening 
of all is that friends at home should 
for one moment suppose their labors 
are not incessant, their efforts not con- 
stant, their exertions not unwearied ; or 
that they are improvident, and, wan- 
tonly forgetting the claims of home, 
squander their hard earnings in fri- 

Did friends but know how much is 
borne without complaining, how much 
is accomplished without reward, they 
would, rather than censure even in 
thought, write encouragingly and con- 


(idingly to the absent ones, and cheer 
them on in their struggle to gain the 

It is the almost certain knowledge 
that sooner or later, the Californian will 
meet with his reward, that encourages 
him to renewed efforts, and, rather 
than give it up, his noble heart feels 
that it would sooner cease to beat, than 
that he should come to the land of gold, 
and return without the reward, when at 
any moment fortune might smile upon 
him, and, in a few brief months give 
him sufficient to make a whole life 

An elderly female with a heavy fig- 
ure and a superfluity of bandboxes and 
trunks, and an umbrella, anxiously 
inquired of us " which is the best 
steamboat for being safe to go in to 
Sacramento city." We thought for 
safety there was no particular choice. 
" But," she reasoned, "lam afeerd of 
them boats, for they explode you know, 
sometimes, and it 'ud be mi'ty onpleas- 
ant you know to be blowed up by 'em, 
and if you'll just show me one of them 
are steamboats whatan't got nobilers 
in 'em, I shall be greatly obleegcd to you 
— for them, you know, can't blow up J" 
We thought it very probable, and re- 
gretted our inability to give her the 
comforting information. 

Tears do not always flow from a sad 
and grief stricken heart, even when 
they have the appearance of doing so ; 
for instance, read what Tom Hood says 
on the matter: 

"Alter such jean of dissension and strife. 
Some wonder that Peter should weep for hie 

But his tears on her grave are nothing snr- 

He's Imying her doit for fesr of it's rising. 

THE 1ROH HORSE. Bukrit, the learned black- 
smith, thus eloquently discourses upon 
the iron horse : 

" I love to see one of those huge 
creatures, with sinews of brass and 
muscles of iron, strut forth from his 
smoky stable, and saluting the long 
train of cars with a dozen sonorous 
puffs from his iron nostrils, fall gently 
back into bis harness. There he stands, 
chemping and foaming upon the iron 
track, his great heart a furnace of glow- 
ing coals ; his lymphatic blood is boil- 
ing in his veins ; the strength of a thou- 
sand horses is nerving his sinews — he 
pants to be gone. 1 le would " snake " 
St. Peter across the Desert of Sahara, 
if he could be fairly hitched to it ; but 
there is a lilt 
chewing man 
him in with o 
away his bres 
he grow resti v 
ways deeply ii 
beg rimmed as 
luted in oil a 

is of t: 

the physical mind of that huge steam. 

Now for ourselves we want to see 
this "iron horse" snorting and puffing 
through one of the many passes of the 
Sierra Nevada mountains, and as he 
rushes on, on, beneath the shadows of 
our' densely timbered forests, or darts 
across or down our beautiful and fer 
tile valleys ; we don't care if all the 
Indians in creation lift up their hands 
in wonder at it, or fly with fear from 
before it. We want a Railroad. 

What care we if this or that political 
party make it a hobby, jump astride it, 
and seek to ride into power upon it ; 
all we say is — yivt ut the Railroad, 
give it to us nomebodif — give it to us 
anyiorfy^-give It to us everybody. It is 
the RAILROAD that we want; and 



we will not quarrel about the source 
from whence it cornea. We don't care 
who gives it, who pays for it, or wheth- 
er it pays for itself— to us that is of 
lesser importance, altogether. Give 
us the Railroad, gentlemen senators 
and congressmen, and give it to us 
at once. No shirking, no shuffling, no 
log-rolling delay, no quibbling, no sub- 
terfuges, nor substitutes. We want the 
Railroad. Yes, we, the people want 
it, and must have it. And please not 
forget that we want it without delay! 
Progress prays for it — Commerce waits 
for it — Peace or War demands it. 
Then why not give it? Besides we 
wn.nt. a inm» visiting ' the old folks at 
we can't afford to go 
it to go the other ; and 
more just like us — too 

live in comfort and 
must not forget the 

1 workers here. Cer- 
;n there are a few of 
es east of the Rocky 

Mountains, yet ; and they wish to have 
a little pleasure trip to see us—" drop 
in to breakfast" early some morning, 
and after " panning out " a little gold — 
just enough for a finger ring, — to say 
good bye, and return by way of Salt 
Lake City, to see the " Saints " and 
elders, and their wives, as well as take 
a peep at the little saints, just to see, 
yon know, if they are like other little 
people: and what is of more impor- 
tance, find out if the saints of the mas- 
culine gender are simply men, or giants, 
that they can manage more than one 

Then, again, we want to send our 
friends a basket or two of our ripe lus- 
cious peaches, and a box: of our " five 
pound bunches" of tempting, mouth- 

watering grapes, and a car-load or two 
of our forty-five pound watermelons, 
and a thousand other good things that 
we have, for dessert. 

Beoidea there are one ortwo articles 
we wish to import in quantities— and 
the first to be mentioned is muslin, with 
a pretty, good-tempered, loving, kind- 
hearted, intellectual, and contented la- 
dy-love, within it; or, if you will give 
us the latter we will grow all that we 
want of the former. Now if that one 
consideration is not enough to tempt 
you to give us the Railroad, we will 
talk to you about China and the East 
Indies, and — well, all the places and 
things that must come and go upon this 
great highway towards the setting sun, 
and the rising of empires on the broad 
and beautiful Pacific, &c., &c, &c^ 
until you go to sleep : and, on awak- 
ing, find yourself a day behind the age. 
The"/ron Horse" gentlemen, the Iron 
Hoese, THE IRON HORSE— give 
it to us at once, and our consequent 
prosperity shall tell you how much we 
appreciate the gift. 

" Madam How is it that you 

are always so early at church? Be- 
cause it is one part of my religion, not 
to interfere with the religious worship 
of others." 

[We hope that the gentleman who wears 
creaking boots, and always enters church 
about the middle of (he service, will, to oblige 
us, read the above twice over, and in future if 
he will come latt, take his boots off before 
walking down the aisle to the farther end of 
the church ; and when he departs, carry his 
hoot-jack nndcr his arm, in the same way he 
used to do bis Bible 1 ] 

Remember it. — The natives upon 
the Isthmus of Panama have a saying 
concerning fruit, that it is gold in the 
morning, silver at noon, and lead at 




Howard Whittingham, after clos- 
ing the store for the night, seated him- 
self in his little back room, and counted 
kid gold. It was a small pile, and be 
looked dissatisfied. "It is five long 
yi-are," said he to himself, "since I 
left my wife, my little ones and my 
dear old home in Baltimore — for what ? 
Gold ! yes, gold ! and I have made but 
this paltry sum, after all my toil, priva- 
tion, suffering, and hair-breadth ee- 
rapcs, I have only five thousand dol- 
lars in ready money. To be sure, I 
have my store filled with goods, all 
paid! for; and a pretty cottage, too. 
With this sum I might furnish it com- 
furtably, and send for my wife. There's 
no use in waiting to get rich. 1 would 
m soon die at once as lead this hermit's 
life. But will she come, when I tell 
her she will have to live, in a cottage, 
and dispense with the luxuries to which 
*he has been accustomed all her life ? 
Of course she will prefer her husband's 
society to all the luxuries the world 
affords, without him. At least, she 
ought. I will write at once, and ask 
her to come out." 

The letter (extolling our mild, de- 
lightful climate and beautiful country; 
and, above all, the cottage home, wait- 
ing only its fair tenant to make it the 
most lovely and romantic place imagi- 
nable,) was written, sealed and sent. 

Howard Whittingham was the only 
sou of a wealthy planter in Maryland. 
He lost his mother in infancy, and was 
early sent north and placed under the 
care of a maiden aunt, where be re- 
mained at school until he completed 
Id* education, paying occasionally, 
vacation, a short visit to his paternal 
home. At the age of twenty-twc 
married Annie Walton, a young lady 
of Baltimore, whose beauty won his 
admiration. Her features were regu- 
lar, her complexion fair as the lily, 
with soft blue eyes and flaxen ringlets. 
A sort of wax doll beauty, and born ti 
he but a pet or a plaything. 

Four years after Howard Whit ting- 

ham 'a marriage, his father died, leaving 
his son sole heir to his estate. 

He entered largely, and less cau- 
tiously, into the speculations in which 
his father was engaged, at the time of 
his death, that, in imagination, yielded 
a large profit, but resulted, in reality, 
La failure, and, ere two years had ex- 
pired, instead of being a millionaire, as 
he expected, he became a bankrupt. 

Annie, now the mother of three 
children, with less beauty and more 
brains than herself, was quite distressed 
at the idea of giving up their princely 
residence, carriage and servants. Al- 
though Whittingham had been for some 
time in trouble, and often spoke of it 
to Annie, she paid little attention — in- 
variably replying, " Don't bother me 
with your business affairs. It is some- 

At such times, J 
wished that his v 
attention to dress . 
forts. He still h 
and could not beat 
of her luxuries ; j 
to keep up their pi 

He collected w. 
scattered wealth, 

less expensive quarters, allowing Annie 
to still retain the carriage, though he 
could ill afford it, and handed the re- 
mainder, which was but a small sum, 
to a friend named Benton, to be paid 
her in monthly installments, reserving 
just enough to pay his passage to Cali- 

He arrived in San Francisco at the 
close of the year 1849, and soon se- 
cured a situation in a mercantile house 
then just established. He remained 
clerk but a few months, for his em- 
ployer became so well pleased with 
him, that he admitted him a partner in 
the concern. Now, thought he, I will 
soon return home, a millionaire indeed. 

But fortune frowned again. Fire, 
that devouring element, in one short 
hour reduced their store, with its valu- 
able stock of merchandise, to ashes. 
All that was saved was a few thousand 
dollars with which to commence busi- 



ness again. Nothing daunted, the firm 
with which Whittingham still continued, 
started anew, and was fairly launched 
in business again, when they were a 
second time burned out. The elements 
seemed to war against them. Yet they 
were not the only sufferers by the tre- 
mendous conflagrations of 1850. Many 
firms, like theirs, went down to rise no 
more. Disheartened, Howard Whit- 
tingham, after this last misfortune, 
started for the mines ; but, unused to 
toil, he soon gave up mining, and 
opened a small store. Having 
quaintances in San Francisco, through 
them he procured goods, and was mak 
ing money slowly, but steadily, as we 
find him at the commencement of our 
story. He had now been five years 

California. Thrpe vears of that til 

through all his 
>d style 
relish the idea 
nd to California, 
y, in a cottage. 
ty offering, and 
ason for declin- 
"amily, set sail. 
: wished to visit 
California, accompanied her. The 
voyage was a long one to him, for Mrs. 
Whittingham was, if possible, 
animate than ever : the nurse 
sick a great part of the way, and the 
care of the younger Whittinghams de- 
volved on him. It was with no little 
pleasure, therefore, that he first beheld 
San Francisco. Mrs. Whittingham 
exerted herself to go up on deck. 

" Oh, my 1" said she, " is that San 
Francisco? It looks like a desert, 
with shanties scattered over it. I think 
it is dreadful." 

" Sahara would be welcome to me," 
said Benton, " anything to get out of 

Howard Whittingham was among 
the first to jump on board. His wife 
looked about the same as when he left 
her, five years before, but the young 
misses of six, eight, and ten, had grown 
entirely out of his knowledge. He 

could scarcely realise that they were 
the same prattling children that he 
left behind him. 

"How old you look, Papa," said 
Eleanor, the eldest, "your hair is quite 
gray. I think Mr. Benton was mis- 
taken, in saying you were about his 

" I have seen care and trouble, my 
child. You cannot realize all that I 
have gone through. But let us away 
to more comfortable quarters." 

Benton followed, leading the little 
girls, and muttering to himself, that if 
he had such a wife he would set her in 
the China closet. 

Whittingham stopped a week in San 
Francisco, that his family might re- 
cover from the fatigues of the voyage, 
and then took them to his home in 
G . 

Benton and the little misses enjoyed 
the sail up the Sacramento river, and 
were delighted with the new and ever 
changing scenery. Arriving at the 
city of Sacramento, they stayed but a 
short time, and then proceeded to 
their home in the mountains. 

The stage was crowded with miners. 
Some returning to their homes ; others 
going to the country in search of em- 
ployment. Their coarse and soiled 
clothing attracted the attention of Mrs. 
Whittingham, and she drew her shawl 
more closely around her, and crowded 
herself farther back into the corner, 
that she might not come in contact with 
them, and was astonished to hear her 
husband make himself familiar with 
such rough and uncouth fellows. 

It was quite dark when they arrived 

in G : so Mrs Whittingham lost 

the fine view of the little village, of 
which her husband bad given her such 
a glowing description. Assisted up 
the steps, she entered the cottage and 
took a hasty survey of the interior. 
The parlor, dining-room, kitchen, with 
closets, and sleeping-rooms, were duly 
inspected, and Mrs. Whittingham sat 
down quite exhausted. 

" My dear, you make no comment," 
said her husband, as he assisted her to 


untie her bonnet. " Pray tell me," 
laid he, smilingly, " if it is not better 
than you expected ?' 

" I cannot say that I am pleased 
with what I have seen," languidly re- 
plied his wife, " the most I want, at 
present, is rest : perhaps things will 
look better in the morning." 

Benton, who was making himself 
generally useful, bringing in the bag- 
gage, and setting things to rights, mut- 
tered to himself, as he heard Mrs. W.'s 
reply: "I defy anybody to suit her. 
She came with the fixed determination 
not to like anything in California. It 
is the first time I have ever seen her 
■bow any decision of character at all." 

The little girls were delighted with 
their new home, and were gaily skip- 
ping from one room to another, and 
peeping into the closets and cupboards, 
to the great annoyance of Maggie, the 
maid of all work, who was trying to 
arrange the tea-table. 

Mr. Whittingham looked sad as he 
seated himself at the table. He was 
disappointed that his wife did not find 
something to commend in their new 
abode. But when he looked at his 
three rosy, merry children, who were 
eagerly devouring the eatables, a smile 
passed over his countenance. 

Soon after supper, Mrs. Whitting- 
ham and the children retired. " I am 
afraid," said Whittingham to Benton, 
when they were left to themselves, 
" that Annie is not going to like Cali- 
fornia. What do you think f" 

" I think," said Benton, "that she 
rcuoe (as many other ladies have done 
before her,) prepared to find fault with 

" She was always delicate, and has 
not yet recovered from the effects of 
the journey, Benton. Perhaps, in a 
few days, things will look better to 

" Perhaps so," replied Benton. "At 
all events, the children are happy as 
birds uncaged, and that is worth some- 

Benton stopped but a few days with 
the Wiuttinghams. Annie's discontent 

rather increased than diminished, when 
she was introduced to their neighbors, 
two of whom turned out to be the veri- 
table men of the stage whose rough 
dress had so disgusted her. 

" Must I associate with these peo- 
ple ?" said she to her husband, one 
day, after some callers had departed. 
"The butcher's, the baker's and the 
milkman's families have called to-day, 
made themselves provokingly familiar, 
and insisted on my sending the children 
over to spend the day, and calling 
early myself. This is a little too 
much. I hope, Howard, you do not 
expect me to mix with or associate 
with this rough set." 

"You can do as you b'ke, Annie. 
But let me assure you, rough and un- 
couth as they ap 
most of them, seei 
have moved in as 
you or I. Our I 
talent and learni 
years Judge of A 
Misfortune came 
m«j he left his 
condition, and, as 
here, was obliged 
keep his wife s 

starving. Our house carpenter, too, 
is a lawyer, from Maine, and finding 
that driving nails paid better than lying 
idle he went to work, and is now 
quite wealthy. He owns one-fourth 
of the houses in this place, nearly all 
of which he has built himself. Do not 
attempt, after this, my dear, to judge of 
a person's abilities by his employment 
here. In California, and all over the 
world, every honest employment ought 
to be considered honorable." 

"Well," said Annie, "you cannot 
deny but that they are rough." 

" Certainly, they are, Annie ; but 
you must realize that most of them 
have been a long time away from 
home and the refining society of ladies. 
I do not say you shall associate with 
them, but those that have called are 
among my best friends and customers, 
and I am, in a measure, dependent on 
them. I cannot say what effect your 


refusing to call will have on my busi- 

" Very well. I do not wish to ruin 
your trade, and I cannot bring my 
mind to associate with these people. 
So I will go back to San Francisco, 
and stay through the winter." 

" How foolish that would be, Annie. 
I could not possibly leave my business 
for any length of time." 

" Stay here, then, if you prefer it." 

" If I prefer, Annie ? On this little 
store I depend, for all the comforts we 
are to have through the winter. Will 
you not stay with me ? Speak out 
plainly, and it shall be as you wish. 
And though the expense will be great- 
er, and the children will be deprived 
of the out of door exercise they enjoy 

nay go, and I will 

for the past five 

urned to G 

,m keeping " bach- 

Whiltingham had 

1 the children, and 

house-keeper, to 

re of them ; thus 

1 entirely alone, to 

as best he might. 

" Upon my word, Howard, you take 

things coolly," said Benton, when he 

heard how things were. "As short a 

time as I have been here I have 

learned enough of California, to know 

better than that." 

" Than what?" said Howard, open- 
ing his eyes. 

" Why, letting a pretty little woman, 
like Annie, go to San Francisco to live 
in gaiety while you are here drudging 
at the mines. The next thing you will 
hear will be an elopement, or a divorce 

"'Pshaw, Benton, what have you 
seen in Annie to justify such an 
opinion f 

™ Only this, she is fond of flattery 
and finery, therefore, may be easily 
woo. There, she will receive a great 
deal of attention, as her ears will 
be filled with compliments ; you hod 
better by for send her home." 

" Benton, you ore as jealous a enr as 
ever lived, I think." "My wife is not 
accustomed to country life, and she 
did not like this. I gave my consent 
to her going." 

" Very kind of you Howard. If 
she loved you as she ought, she would 
stay by your side, and try to make you 
happy as you deserve to be, and not 
take herself off in that kind of style, 
and leave you to spend these long win- 
ter evenings alone." 

Whittingham knew his wife was 
thoughtless, and a little selfish, yet he 
had no fear of elopement, or a divorce ; 
still, after what Benton had said, he 
almost regretted having allowed her to 
go to the city, and after thinking the mat- 
ter over for a time, wrote to her, ex- 
pressing a wish that she would return. 

After a long delay her answer came, 
saying, that she was having a delight- 
ful time, and could not think of re- 
turning to the dull country at present ; 
and ended by saying, that she was very 
sorry he found it lonely without her. 
If he wished, she would send the chil- 
dren back, for they were some trouble 
tohernow, for Maggie had taken oSence 
that morning and left ; consequently 
she should have to stay in doors that 
evening, though she had made a posi- 
tive engagement lo attend the theatre 
with a young friend of her's, by the 
name of Esmond, whom she should be 
most happy to introduce to him. 

" Ye gods ! Is the woman mad ?" said 
Whittingham, crumpling the letter in 
his hand, and pacing rapidly up and 
down the apartment. 

Benton, who was always by when 
not wanted, muttered to himself, " not 
mod ; a lock of brains is the great 

Whittingham passed a sleepless 
night, and early the next morning start- 
ed for San Francisco. Owing to an 
accident in the machinery, it was elev- 
en o'clock, one hour later than usual, 
when the boat reached the wharf. 

It was a bright and beautiful even- 
ing ; the moon was shining softly down 
on the smooth waters, and rocky islands 


of the bay ; but Whittingham was in 
no mood to enjoy the scene. Immedi- 
ately on landing, be hurried to the ho- 
tel where his family was staying, and 
passed rapidly through the hall that 
led to his wife's apartments. He rap- 
ped twice, and was at last admitted by 
his eldest daughter Eleanor, who was 
aroused from sleep by the loud knock- 
ing at the door. 

" Ot| papa ! dearest papa 1" said 
she, springing into his arms, " I am so 
glad you have come, Ada and Clara 
have cried for you every night, and we 
have all been so lonely." 

" But where is your mother ?" asked 
Whittinghan, who had worked himself 
into such a state of excitement that he 
could hardly ask the question. 

" Oh ! mother has gone out some- 
where to ride, I've forgotten the place 
now. She promised to stay at home 
this evening, for we were dreadfully 
frightened last night. Some gentlemen 
quarrelled and tried to shoot each 
other, while mamma was gone to (he 
theatre, and she said she would not 
leave us any more ; but a fine looking 
gentleman came, and urged her so hard 
to take a ride, that she went" 

" Did any one else go with her 

" Oh, yes. Mr. and Mrs. Winston, 
and one other gentleman and lady." 

Howard did not wish to excite his 
daughter's curiosity by questioning her 
further, or by asking the name of the 
gentleman who was so attentive to her 
mother. He doubted not, it was Es- 
mond. How he burned to take the 
rascal by the collar and chastise him : 
and it grieved him to think of Annie's 
imprudent, thoughtless ways, to leave 
those beautiful children unattended, 
and hazard her own reputation for the 
sake of a moonlight ride. That mo 
meat, he beard voices on the stairs, 
ooe of which he recognized. It was 
Annie, bidding her cavalier good night 

Howard could hardly restrain his 
rage as Annie entered the room. She 
Inked rather disappointed than 
[■leased, when she saw her husband, 

and holding out her band to him, asked 
what brought him to the city ? 

" I wish you to return to G 

to-morrow, for I am not satisfied that 
you 'should remain longer," and he 

'■ To-morrow," said Annie™ " 'tis past 
midnight now, and I cannot pack my 
things ; Maggie is gone and I have no 
one to assist me, so it will be impossi- 
ble for me to be ready before the day 

They retired, but neither slept- It 
was the first time she had ever been 
found fault with. She thought her 
husband exacting ; and spent the re- 
mainder of the night in weeping, part- 
ly because she thought herself abused, 
and harshly ti 
she must lea 

feet gentle d 

The next tr 
Southwell, w 
noticing her i 
sad expessioi 
asked the cause of her unhappiness. 

Annie after a little hesitation, rela- 
ted to her the arrival of her husband, 
his anger, and determination to re- 
move her speedily from the city. 

Mrs. Southwell advised her not to 
humor his whims too readily; at all 
events take the excursion on horseback, 
she had that morning promised. 

Annie replied " that it was impossi- 
ble" for her husband had forbidden her 
leaving the children alone, and would 
be very angry if she went out again, 
either walking, or riding with Esmond. 

" I will take care of your children, 
and your husband need not know that 
you are out of the house, if you don't 
wish it. Though if I were in your 
place I would be independent about it, 
and show that I had a will, as well as 

While they were yet talking, Es- 
mond joined them with whip in hand 



equipped for the ride, promising Annie 
to return in an hour if she would ac- 
company him. After some persuasion 
she concluded to go. 

They had but just started when 
Mr. Whittingham returned, surprised to 
find a stranger in the room, amusing the 
children ; he asked for his wife, and was 
informed by Mrs. Southwell that sbe 
was out riding. She did not say with 
whom, nor did Whittingham ask, 
though he turned pale with anger. 
He placed himself by the door, at the 
main entrance of the hotel, that he 
might observe without being observed, 
but he was not the only one that was 
watching. Esmond's friends had ob- 
served Whittingham's movements, and 
" f the approach 
1 the " grand 

>sence of two 
the door. Es- 
ds in the door- 
i was out of 
the saddle be 
[hen whisper- 
r ear he raised 
o his lips. 
said W hitting- 
his heavy cane 
which he eva- 
ded, and Whittingham again raised the 
cane, but ere he could execute his pur- 
pose, Esmond drew a revolver from 
uis pocket and shot him through the 

Annie screamed, and was carried 
fainting from the scene of blood of 
which she had been in part the cause. 

Whittingham was carried bleeding 
and almost lifeless to a bed, where, on 
the arrival of a physician his wound 
was examined, and pronounced mortal. 
The dying man heard calmly bis 
fate, and then asked in a feeble voice 
for his wife and children. 

They came ; the penitent wife sunk 
on her knees by the bed-side, and 
begged, hoped, prayed for forgiveness, 
while the little ones hovered around 
lier weeping as though their hearts 
would break ; for they knew that some- 

thing dreadful had happened, though 
neither of them were old enough to 
realize the great misfortune that thus 
early overshadowed their young lives. 

" Cease your wailing Annie," said 
Whittingham. Tou are already forgiv- 
en, pray dry your tears and listen, for I 
would speak of these dear children 
who will in a few hours be fatherless. 
A double duty devolves on you." 

" Oh Annie 1 my wife ! promise me 
to discharge that duty faithfully; watch 
over these precious treasures as I have 
watched over you, teach them as I 
would have done, to be wise, and use- 
ful, and good. As soon as possible af- 
ter 1 am gone, return with them to Bal- 
timore. Promise me that or I cannot 

die in peace r 

Annie placing her hand 
promised to fulfil his wishes. 

Whittingham, faint from tbe loss of 
blood paused a few moments, then call- 
ing Nelly, the eldest daughter to him, 
kissed, and exhorted her to be kind and 
dutiful to her mother, to assist as far 
as possible in the care of her two 
younger sisters, and employ every leis- 
ure moment in study ; for, added he, 
you will soon have to depend upon 
your own exertions for support. Nel- 
ly, when her father had done speaking 
brought Ada and Clara to him : he 
rallied, raised himself for a moment in 
bed and imprinted tbe last fond kiss on 
their soft cheeks, then sunk back over- 
come by the exertion. His lips moved 
for a few momenta in prayer, then, with 
out a struggle, his spirit took its flight. 

When Benton arrived in San Fran- 
cisco, two days after the death of How- 
ard Whittingham, he found Annie a 
disconsolate widow, still watching by 
the corpse of ber husband, but so 
changed in a few short days that he 
scarcely recognized her. She was pale 
as the corpse beside her, and haggard 
with grief. Care for the first time left 
its mark on her brow, a mark never to 
be effaced. 

After following the remains of his 
friend to Yerba Buena, Benton made 
every exertion to find the whereabouts 


of Esmond, aod have him arrested. 
But he eluded them, and took his de- 
parture privately for Australia where 
he lived but a few months. Having 
one night won a large amount at the 
gaming table, attempting to return to 
hid lodgings with his ill-gotten gains, 
he was robbed and assassinated in the 

Benton settled the affairs of his de- 
ceased friend as quickly and quietly as 

possible, and placing the few thousands 
that remained in the hands of Mrs. 
Whiitinghani, saw her on board of the 
simmer bound for home, to which she 
returned a sadder, but — a wiser wo- 

A Proper Teem. — How can a man 
who has no wings be "winged" in an 
affair of honor? Because in fighting 
a duel he makes a goose of himself. 


Mr Mother ! O, what sacred tender feelings, 

Throb through my heart when thy dear name 

Mother ! — my inmost soul's most sweet re veal - 
Cluster around that fondly cherished word. 

In Tain I strive to fathom thy affection, 
Unknown its depths and boundless as the lea; 
la hours of joy, in sorrow's deep dejection, 
E'er the same in its fond love for mo. 
There's nought on earth Sows onward so un- 
As thai pure tide of feeling deep and strong; — 
The polar needle has its varied ranging, 
No varying current bean thy heart along. 

Thy life dwells mostly in thy love maternal ; 

Thy death a willing sacrifice might be 

To bless thy child ; such love is life eternal, 

Shall it e'er perish '. no, it cannot he. 

When death shall doom us for a time to sever, 

Father, give itrcngth to say "Thy will be 

Till 1 shall meet thee, where no more forever, 
Wc part through all the eternal years to come. 
W, H. D. 

UiKLAKTJ, Cal., Sept. 23d, 1856. 


In my ride through the north-eastern 
part of King's County, Ireland, in the 
year of grace, 1809, I had occasion to 
visit some of the most extensive bog 
districts of this part of the world ; 
among the chief was that of the great 
Bog Allen. The peat from this bog 
has been the nucleus of many a for- 
tune. It is twelve miles long by as 
many broad. It is only exceeded, I 
believe, by that of the greater East- 
ern Tullomore district, which spreads 

a waste of nearly twelve thousand 
i. Here the eye wanders in vain. 

lief; but no 

fies it— all i 

sheba. Fif 

lonesome wi 

me and my 

a shanty of 

my mortifici 

lord, in no w 

known that 

although a 1 

English, pr 

" Good ace 

are a man o 

some mischievous wag palmed upon the 

untutored landlord as a sign of attrac- 

" Why canuot I be accommodated ? 
I can pay for what I have," I expos- 

" Faith, you can pay for what you 
can't have, if you pluses ; but I teU't 
you you must proeade to the next 
hotel : there ye'll have more than ye'll 
be wanting ; but here ye'll be wanting 
more than ye'll have.** 

" Is there no house at hand, at a 
nearer distance than twelve miles ? I 
shall be sure to be knocked up, if I don't 
get knocked down, before I reach it. 
What is that building on the top of the 
hill there yonder ?" said I. 

" That's aven the big ruin of the 
seven Holy Churches. Ye may take 
up yer bed there, an ye plase ; yell 
have the holy dead fathers' specrits to 


kape you company, if yell be knowing 
how to kape the silent tongue in your 

" What Afe mean P" I inquired. 

" What do I mane it it ? No more 
or less than the place is haunted with 
the ghosts of good Father Toolao and 
Bridget O' Grady, who make their ap- 
pearance at the midnight, to point out 
the grave of Phitim O'Dogherty, the 
rogue who cnt the throats of the pair 
as they were counting their beads, and 
ran off with their foiling, and thin the 
divil chased him round and round the 
yerth till he could find no place to die 

} for the 

id darker, 

wd your 
take up 

' asked a 
can fur- 

" Give me the key, and a light, a 
little liquor, anil a loaf of bread, and 
I'll not trouble you more.™ 

" Here are some biscuits and a bottle 
Of whisky," said the landlady, who 
then made her appearance, despite of 
the mysterious winks of her spouse- 
Putting them in my holster, and exam- 
ining my pistols and re-capping them, 
I mounted old Rawbones and made for 
the ruins of the Seven Churches of 
Clonard House. I found them to be 
very extensive, forming one of the 
most interesting groups of ecclesiastical 
remains to be met with any where. 

The buildings, which I examined by 
torch-light, I found to be of various 
dates, from the seventh to tbe twelfth 
century. The old abbey of St. Kieron, 
of Clonard, is the ancient burying 
ground. It is about two Irish acres in 
extent, and full of 

I was too tired to examine it farther, 
and sought the only habitable room, by 
the directions given me, and made 
what preparation I could to pass the 
night. It was a large vaulted room, 
filled with dilapidated statues, in vari- 
ous attitudes leaning and reposing on 
tombs which my torch-light rendered 
most gloomy through the darkness. A 
sensation of horror crept over me, as I 
discovered, in a corner, half-uncovered 
by a broken stone that had fallen on 
one side, the upper half of a skeleton, 
with a dingy mitre on his head. I 
withdrew as speedily as I could, deter- 
mined, however, to pass the night there, 
as the rain began to pour in torrents, 
now and then relieved by fitful flashes 
of lightning, followed by loud bursts of 

Drawing my blanket from under 
my horse s saddle, I made him lie 
down, and resting my body at his side, 
with my saddle for a pillow, I made 
my repast. On a sudden, I heard a 
loud moan. Pshaw, it was nothing 
but the wind, howling through some 
old crevice. Then followed another. 
This I could not stand. So, snatching 
np my torch from the ground, where I 
bad stuck it; in haste to discover the 
cause, I stumbled over my horse, who 
appeared dead with fatigue, and out 
went the light. At that instant, one 
of heaven's awful glares of lightning 
lighted up the whole room, and a loud 
sound, like some immense gong, pealed 
along the frightful vaults of the place, 
and reached the room in which I was 
standing. Turning my eyes to the di- 
rection whence the sound proceeded, I 
saw, from the window nearest me, one 
of the most harrowing sights that the 
human imagination can depict. An 
old monk, with ugly cowl over his 
wiaardjaws, was pointing to a grave 
opposite to him, where stood a wretch, 
habited like one of Macbeth'* witches, 
with dishevelled hair, displaying one 
of the most frightful Irish countenances. 
My very flesh erepl over my bones as 
flash after flash displayed their statue- 
like forms to my amazed vision. I 



was riveted to the spot with terror, and 
my reason deserted its abode to make 
way for unrestrained fear. Can it be 
real ? Am I asleep ? la it a dream ? 
No, I am wide awake. I hold on to 
the arm of a marble knight, who, in 
full armor, but minus a nose, seemed 
to enjoy my terror. Now came a 
pitchy darkness, with furious winds 
that seemed to shake the very earth 
from its foundation. Another flash ! 
there they stood, yet immoveable, with 
their two skinny hands pointing to one 
sjioL Another flash — tliey have van- 
ished ! the wind is hushed: the ele- 
ments are at peace, and a dread silence 
reigns, I gave a kick to my horse, 
ami bade him rouse himself, and with 
trembling hands adjusted the saddle, 
mounted upon his back, rode him over 
the tomb-stones, at the hazard of my 
neck, cleared the stone fence and rode 
like a fugitive escaping from the devil, 
who, I made sure, was following close 
behind : nay, I could hear him laugh ; 
I could smell the very brimstone of his 
breath. My horse partook of my ter- 
ror, and ran I don't know how many 
miles without stopping. After some 
lime I took courage to look behind me, 
and saw — nothing. The dawn was 
breaking, and I discovered the tuxt 
hotel in sight. The girl had just 
taken down the only shutter of its only 
furnished room, and was feeding her 
fowls at the door. I alighted and went 
to bed, without saying a word, but with 
the determination of finding out the 
mj'3lery; for a mystery there was. Iliad 
seen two ghosts, and I could not bring 
my mind to believe in one. But some 
how or other my curiosity subsided 
with my breakfast, and I proceeded 
on my way, without clearing' up the 

Just six months after this, I had 
retrace my steps over this self-same 
road, and on coming to the same inn, 
*hcre I bad been accommodated with 
» bed, after my fright, I found an 
usual excitement at the door. A whole 
posse of police (constables, they wen 
tailed then,) were escorting three 

men and a woman, handcuffed, on their 
road to the county jail of King's county. 
They were convicted of keeping a 
private whisky still, and had managed 

' ■ illicit craft so craftily as to escape 
all detection. But an excise officer, 
hearing of some strange rumors of 
ghosts in the neighborhood of the cel- 
ebrated Seven Churches, suspected 
some cause for their appearance, and 
had detected the landlord and his wife 
in the act of the performance which 
had so unmanned me : but they had not 
counted the cost of frightening a man 
of law. Their deviltry could not "run 
away with the exciseman," for at the 
time when he was witnessing their per- 
formance, some 
nessing another 
that of removing 
the neighborhoo 
Churchesifcd h 
and secured the 
had traced an u 
extending far 1" 
of the holy St. K 
advantageous us 
to deposit their . 
ring spirits amoi 

How I couli 

clumsy performance of Messrs. Doolan 
and Co., the proprietors of the first 
hotel in the neighborhood, and who 
refused me shelter, I can only account 
for, by the associations of that lonely 
time and place, the frightful storm, and 
my wearied and exhausted body. 
There they were, sure enough, with 
two wagon-loads of gear captured, with 
the detestable gong I bad heard. I 
have hated a gong ever since. This 
was used by them to give warning of 
danger to the gang of illicit whisky 

I have never had patience since to 
hear a serious ghost story ; but have 
always had an inkling to repair my 
character by valiantly breaking the 
head of the ghostly story-teller, be he 
fogy or twaddler. 

London covers 121 acres of ground. 


"Where is the lad?" inquired Tom 
of his partner. 

" He has just stepped out to get some 
wood. I have been thinking over the 
circumstance of old Wiley's death, and 
that of his wife. Depend upon it 
there's some dark plot against some- 
body. This lad is born of very respect- 
able parents. There is no doubt of it. 
I am almost sure the crest upon that 
buckle is that of a noble family which 
my old master, that I was apprenticed 
m, it strikes 
the spoons 
>m, when I 
A shoes for 

ist be some 
with that 
;eed to find 

im. Such a 
ve nothing 
You are al- 
ways romancing, friend, I can't be- 
lieve you could live long without a 
mystery. Have you found the man 
with the locket yet? There maybe 
something in that. Doesn't one of the 
letters say something about the locket ?" 
— Yes. — If anything happens to you, 
send the locket and the Suckle, with the 
handkerchief, to C. B. — Wapping, un- 
der cover. 

" Here is a clue then. Don't you 
know of some friend in England as fond 
of mystery as yourself, who wouldn't 
mind neglecting a good business and 
spending a fortune to see what moon- 
shine may turn out, eh?" 

This is one of the many private con- 
versations the two miners daily en- 
gaged in. The letters had been read 
over and over again, but were so 
framed, in secret phrases, with private 
slang, that this was the only phrase 

that appeared intelligible to them. 
Who C. B. -Wapping was, they had no 
more means of discovering, than they 
had of the chief potentate of the moon, 
if it were inhabited. 

The lad had taken up his abode with 
them and bad endeared himself to them 
and all their friends. They would not 
allow him to do any violent work, bis 
delicate frame evidently being unfitted 
for it. In return, he amused their long 
dark evenings by relating to them what 
he knew of books that he had read. 
Wiley had taught him to play on the 
guitar, and he was not only a good per- 
former on the instrument, but displayed 
an aptitude at self-application in this 
and other studies as plainly foretold 
that he would one day become no ordi- 
nary character, be his future walk in 
life whatever it might. 

Their mining operations were at- 
tended by encouraging success, which 
enabled them to indulge the lad in any 
pursuit his mind sought after. They 
always found him cheerful and thank- 
ful. Their cabin, through his means, 
put on an appearance of comfort, neat- 
ness, and coziness as are seldom known 
in mining life. He was carpenter, doc- 
tor, and secretary to the whole estab- 
lishment. Unlike most boys of his age, 
he seemed never tired of doing some- 
thing, and his modest merits were ap- 
preciated by them accordingly. 

" Come my lad," said Tom, as he 
entered, " throw down the wood, reach 
your guitar, and let's have a song. To- 
day is the glorious fourth of July, and 
we will enjoy ourselves in commemo- 
ration of the event. What say you, 
brother Bull, will ye accept Brother 
Jonathan's invitation. 

" Witft all my heart, as this is my 
birth-day, I believe," said the boy. 

"Ah, who told you so? Are you 
sure of such an honor ? " 

" Wiley always celebrated it." 

" He did, he ? The old rascal had 
one peg, then, in his rascality, to hang 
a violin on. Come, my boy, you look 
sad. Give us a song — something 


The boy doing aa he was bid, strung 
his guitar, and to the exquisite air of 
Block ley's Hearts and Homes, — the 
author, of which, had he never written 
another melody, would have immortal- 
ized himself — sung the following: 

s some pat 

Ids dear, bereft; 

He neTer beard ■ lather's blessing ; 

A mother's kiss he never felt ; 
Be neTer knew a friend's caressing. 

And never at an altar knelt. 

Tet ill a mother's fondness sharing, 
With all a father's noble pride : 

Ai euanlian angels ever caring ; 
lie; know there's One who can provide. 

There Is a tie — and that He 11 send him, 
Sticking closer than a brother ; 

One through life that will befriend him : 
With such a Friend, he needs no other. 

" Boy." said Tom, " those words are 
yours. They are not lost upon us. 
Here, before the God whom you have 
invoked, my mate and I swear, (grasp- 
ing the right hand of his friend, and 
breaking the clay pipe he held in bis 
mouth) to befriend you." 

"Amen," said his mate, shaking lib 
hand in his turn, and joining the other 
to the lad's who was sobbing enough 
to break his heart- " Cheer up, my poor 
boy, there's comfort yet in store for you. 
It cannot be that a heart like yours is 
destined for ever to be sad. Come, 
get me another pipe. My thoughts 
were running, like yours, in too dreary 
a channel. It ill becomes us thus to 
commemorate this proud day." 

Tom had turned his back to give 
utterance to his feelings, which from 
the frequent motion of hand to head, 
appeared no less accute than the 

- Come," said Tom, wiping his eyes 
with his coat-sleeve, " I tell you what, 
male, with another such season as we 
have been blessed with, we'll go to the 
Old Country, and take our young friend 
with us, and find out his what-ye-may- 
call-em- Elmore, and if no other good 
will come of it, we shall have the satis- 

faction of having done our best to clear 
up the mystery. 

" Be it so dear Tom, but hang it, I 
am sighing like a fish out of water, and 
I hardly know what about so let us 
change the theme, and have a song or 
a toast in remembrance of the day." 

" With all my heart, fill up your glass 
and I will give you one. Now — Here's 
to our forefathers who "struck the lead" 
of Liberty — may each of us, in union, 
help to work it, and die, to a man, be- 
fore we ever see it 'jumped!' Hur- 
rah ! Hurrah ! " Now you give us 
your favorite song of The Pipe. 

Let Dame Fortune show'r her wealth and her 

On those who life's charms in them see; 
In cot, or inbow'r, (r *— " — *■— - 

W ith m y pipe, for 

Sweet soother of pi 
To the man who cl 
Whatever my sorrow 

With my pipe — the dear life onto me. 

If short be my strife, or i live a long life 

But one joy remain unto me ; 
This should be my drift, I'd bless God tor the 

Of the pipe — the dear life unto me. 

Thus, with toasts and songs, they 
spent the day. Turn we now to a less 
hilarious event. 


Good wives to snails should be a-kin, 
Always their houses keep within ; 
But not to carry (fashion's hacks!) 
All they have upon their backs. 

Good wives like echoes still should do, 
Speak only when they're spoken to ; 
But not like echoes (moat absurd '.) 
To have forever the last word. 

Good wives like city clocks should rhyme, 
Be regular and keep in time ; 
But not like city clocks aloud. 
Be heard by all the vulgar crowd. 


(Mot's Sable. 

The encouraging CivorB extended 
Magazine, from contributors and friendly well- 
wishers, leave us indebted in many grateful 
remembrances of tlieir kindness ; and we 
trust our acknowledgments will be shown in 
the progressive improvement of each depart- 
ment of our work, as experience teaches to us 
our wants, and kindly solicitude adds to our 
list of contributors and subscribers. 

We can assure our friends that we are 
anxious to hate a magazine that will reflect the 
thoughts and aspirations of CaJifomiims, and 
make a lonely hour pass off pleasantly : some- 
thing, that when the miner is tired with his 
bard day's labor, he can peruse with pleasure : 
-chant or profes- 
iil find that bis 
n the business of 
Something, too, 
ul may delight lo 
ery and the won 

nd that from all 

ve words of com- 

mt, and a steady 

increase in the number of subscribers. We 

hope our friends will continue to extend their 

favors; and we certainly shall our endeavors. 


well as pride 

any State, ar 

especially to 

new one like ours. One of the most beautifully 

perfect specimens, of mechanical skill that we 

have seen upon this coast we saw a fuw days 

ago at the office of Dr. E. K. Jenner, 108 

Montgomery street, San Francisco, who al- 
I though an excellent surgeon dentist, has 
employed his leisure time In making a highly- 
finished, double-barrelled, revolving rifle, 
entirely his own workmanship and design, 
even to the tools necessary to its construction. 
The barrels, and a revolving cylinder, con- 
taining seven chambers, are made of the finest 
quality of cast steel. The locks, plates, trim- 
mings, 4c, are forged from horse-shoe nails, 
carbonated into steel. The tube-chamber, 
powder-bed, bauds, thumb-piece, &c. &c, are 
all made of gold, to prevent corrosion ; and 
the whole are so beautifully and compactly 
fitted that, with a spring here and another 
there, pivots yonder and screws somewhere 
else, it operates with the ease and precision 
of clock-work. The cap-house, containing 
fifty-four caps, is fitted in the cylinder, and 
made to revolve at will, and entirely independ- 
ent : yet, at each movement, a cap is thrown 
upon the tube by means of a concealed spring, 
and at each cocking of the hammer the cap is 
taken off and the tube left clear. The cham- 
bers are loaded from the muzzle, by means of 
an extension rod which is neatly fitted be- 
tween the two barrels, and is there securely 
held with a spring, and can be taken oat and 
replaced easily and speedily. The lock is 
SO arrang'd 

charged a ball through a seasoned piece of 
redwood, sixteen inches in thickness, and 
afterwards struck an object at the distance of 
halfa-rnite. Both barrels can be fired at the 
game time, if desired. 

We should like to bob the grizzly bear 
whose skull would turn a ball from this rifle. 
If the Doctor should take out a patent — as we 
understand he has no thought of doing— we 
believe such a rifle would become a great fa- 
vorite with hunters, and would bring him a 
pecuniary reward for hia mechanical genius. 



We uv glad to see that we have such men 
among us, and we shall ever be pleased to 
notice the progress of anything appertaining 
la California, and especially no perfect and 
beautiful a piece of workmanship as tbat 

San Fkakcis, Sept. 20, 1S50. 
M*. Editor :— M j Deer Sur,— I did'nt rite 
lo you, last muiith cause I never do anything 
in a paaahun. If 1 hail rit then I should hev 
rit in a passhun. My bind biled all over 
when 1 seed tbat ere letter I sent you stuck 
in your Jfagaxeen. I rit it to you privit, just 
to giie you a little frendly device and you hev 
went and printed it and put my name down in 
full length >t the bottom of it. What will 
my trends think of me wen they see it* I 
tell you what it is Mr. Editur, you hev bruised 
my confedeno. You thort to sell your book 
!))■ igibbiting my name as one of jour distrib- 
utors. You thort to make my name and my 
litterary reputation secure preaeribcrs for 
Hatchings Callfomy magaieen without faihon 
flatti — I know you did. Then aiiutlier thing, 
you sed you ment to onsult your Artis about 
sum fashon platei. Hev you ever dun it! 
No ill warrent you hevent. Now I can't see 
no reason on airth why you should be so dif- 
ferent to your own good, uulea you are an old 
bacnitnr and then I rlont wunder at it. A 
marred man would know how neccsary fashons 
are to femails and women and that a book 
without fashons in it is no betertbanaship is 
that's lost her ruder, and cant do more make 
bed way in socity than a woman can without 
cloths made in the fust stile of fashon. Yes, 
the mora I think of it the more I'm sure of it 
that your Magaieen ahit stited to the litterary 
character of our fetnail people nor never will 
be f in till you put the fashons in it, and ef you 
Donl put em we dont take your book — there 
Sow— and I shood liko to know bow men is 
going to get along without us femails, us peci- 
ol.v editors. Youve got my daodur up, for 
aiirtin in thai tothcr Ictur of mine and now 
yon may put this un in if you like. 

I meen too, to find out wether you am a 
bachjlur or do— for it you arc, you can no 
mure make a editur than you can anything 
else. I dont want to speak too discuragin, 
because I want to see a Californy magaieen, 

and as I am a littel aniua about its duing well 
I may try if I cant get sum rale Smart woman 
to marrey you, and then you and the maga- 
zeen will do fust rate, and 111 he bound she'll 
see that you'll hev the fashons. 

Mrs. Mart Mettviui, 
Mother-in-law to Gudgc Swinem. 
P. S. — Would you just ADser me wun- 
questcn Mistur editur About that bachilur 
bisnese, and send it through the post directed 
Mrs. Mart Metwith. 
Now Mrs. M., how do you suppose we feel 
after that lecture ? Don't you believe that at 
this monieut we are prospecting for the 
smallest kind of a knot-bole, that we may 
creep through and be no more seen forever; 
but ready " to leave this world and climb a 
tree ?" Did you intend that " shame should 
burn our cheeks to 
man? The smnlle 
we are sorry, for w 
" He was not born 
Upon his blow si 
And we will also a< 
" 'Tie. man's prid 
HU highest, w. 
To stand by h 
and, we suppose, 

you the fashions: and if we had the most 
coaling and the prettiest little piece of goods 
in the world for a "rale smart wife," it 
couldn't be did. What would Godey say? 
Why, "Pshaw I he 'ought to know better." 
And our artist made the remark — a very beau- 
tiful remark it was, too— "pshaw I nonsense I" 
Then wife says she's going to look after you, 
and added something about writing to widows 
(she says she knows you are a widow, ) through 
the post-office, and something about birds, and 
chaff; and I don't know what. We are, how- 
ever, sorry that we have " bruised your con- 
fedenc ;" but if you had instructed us not to 
publish your letter, why we should never 
have dreamed of such a thing. Now, is that 
explanation enough ? because we must obey 
the wife about tbat post-office business I 

R. — We felt about seven years younger, after 
perusing your article. All right, old boy. 
" There's a good time coming," yet. 



P. T., Yrtka.— You are evidently a little 
vexed. We cannot help it. It ia of much 
more importance to have good articles than 
doubtful friendship, at the expense of both. 
We shall always select the best that reach 
us, for it is our pride and hope that, before 
a year is over, oar Magazine shall be second 
to Done, even if it U in California, and speaks 
almost exclusively of California themes. 
We know that the talent is here, and that 
subjects of the most thrilling interest are 
here, and, by degrees, we shall be favored 
by the best. Send us good articles, and 
you need not fear but that we shall find 
room for them. 
Jane A. — Forwarded to yon by T. M. 
V. 0. — Your stanzas are unfortunately mis- 

We know it : and not 

nths of September and 

■y camps, as early as 

ie there U no mater to 

state of things lasts 

ell, we suppose when 

ty have had their sleep 

i and lots are at the 

up a tittle to the sub- 

ery bard for the willing 

worker, God knows. 

Jotiak M — When a shadow can be caught 

and clothed, we may be able to " fix up" 

thoughts that we cannot find. It is thus 

with your piece — the thought* are not there. 
Alice D. — Your "Dreams of Home" require 

much more care than you have bestowed 

upon them. 
O. E. — Throw down your pick : shut off the 

water: and marry the lady at once, or 

a lost m 

ieet. — We Shall consider it "personal," 
and challenge you to pistols and coffee 
for — at least a dozen — if you don't leave off 
calling us "Judge," for, now-a-days, if a 
man looks into a court-room he is dubbed 
"Judge." — "Captains,™ "Doctors," 4c. 
be, are almost as common as musquitoes. 
We belong to the "full privates," and we 
are content. If, however, we are a judge, 
your piece is criminally negligent in its 
composition. Is that 0. Kf 

J. J. C. — We have not examined tow's yet. 
Be patient. 

Jettie JT.— We will try. 

JT. B., American Valley. — Declined. 

H. F. — Why do you keep sending us your 
conundrums? They are not worth the 
paper you spoil. 

Tom S.— Your're a jewel— and no JKw-take, 
under the circumstances. That's our ad- 

Pedettrian — is received from a nameless 
author, but was too late for this month. 

Iters Sofa. 

Narrative of Ihe United State** Exploring 
Expedition Around the World— In five 
volumes— By Chablks Wilkm, D. S. N. 
G. P. Putnam 4 Co., N. Y. 
We have seldom seen a work containing so 
many beautiful illustrations of nearly every 
interesting portion of the world. Nothing 
seems to be omitted that can please the eye, 
or inform the mind, and the graphic charm of 
description impresses you with its truthful- 
ness, brilliancy and comprehensiveness. From 
the bold, rocky Island of Madeira, to the 
coral formed groups of the Southern Sea, one 
can journey with the author without the 
fatiguing monotony of a voyage, or the peril- 
ous adventures of travel, in a mountainous 

country. Any man who can spare a few dol- 
lars will find them well invested in this well 
written and beautifully illustrated work- 
To Mr. McNulty we are indebted for the 
perusal of the Hittory of the American Pri- 
vateer*, and Lctlen-of-Afarque—bj Gwftol 
COGGIBIULL, author of Voyage* to Variw* 
Part* of the World. Every One familiar 
with the lucid, yet condensed comprehensive- 
ness of Mr. Coggeshall's style, will welcome 
this new volume to his library. Every man 
who partook in the brilliant achievements of 
that eventful time: every one whose daring 
exploits entitle Mm to a name in these rec- 



ords, will rejoice that tlie naval veteran has 
been spared to (ell, with such graphic truth- 
fulness, of the blood-bought victories and 
perilous daring of the war of 1812 to 1S1-J. 
While reading over the list of honored names 
of many of the officers who took part in these 
mgaguroents we always feel a regret that the 
hemic band of men forming the various ships' 
companies, by necessity, are almost never 
hem! of eicept in the mass. Yet, when they 
read over the brilliant victories won by their 
favorite ships there is an inward satisfaction 
that, although their names are not written on 
the scroll of fame, the. service nobly done 
their country is an ample reward to their true 
hearted patriotism. 

From the composer, Stephen C. Massett, 
we acknowledge the receipt of two pleasing 
pieces ol music, one is entitled " A Sabbath 
Scene," and the other, " I would not have 
thee young again." The pleasing melody of 
the one, and the touching tenderness of the 
other will insure them, no doubt, * favorable 

reception by the public. Mr, Massett is the 
author of several beautiful and favorite pieces; 
g others, " When the moon on the lake 
is beaming." " The love knot," &c, 4c. 
Moreover, to him is entitled the honor of giv- 
ing the first musical entertainment in Califor- 
nia At that time we were delving among 
rocks, in the deep canons of the mountains, 
and remember only, the ever welcome visits 
of tho •• Placer Tiroes" and " California True 
Delta," each of which, frequently contained 
some literary gem from the fun-loving and 
fun-giving pen or Mr. M. under the euphoni- 
ous cognomen of " Jeems Pipes." The cheer- 
ing and pleasurable influence of (hose pieces 
upon us, at such a time, will ever be tenderly 
cherished, and we accord to him, always, our 
kind remembrance, and the very best of good 

We see that Mr. M. 
ti-alia and the East Indie 
a cordial welcome, and 
profitable as it must be 
attend him — Always. 

!ntailt JtjattniM 

Come draw your chairs close up to 
mine, and I will tell you a story that I 
think will please you. It is a true sto- 
ry, and I know by your bright intelli- 
gent little faces that you like true sto- 
ries better than false ones; 'though 
"fairy tales" are all very interesting, 
and generally convey some good moral. 
That's right, sit as close as you please, 
the closer the better, lay your little 
heads in my lap, lean upon me, for I 
love little children better than anything 
else in the world. Why don't you 
know little ones, that you contribute 
more towards making this bright beau- 
tiful world what it is, than all else in 
it? We could possibly dispense with 
the trees, the birds, and the flowers, and 

perhaps make a very comfortable world 
without them ; but little children, you 
are more beautiful to look upon than 
all the flowers that ever bloomed upon 
the earth. Now I'll begin my story. 

One morning not long ago, as I en- 
tered my school-room I held in my 
hand a large and very beautiful bou- 
quet; indeed I never remember to have 
seen one with so many delicately beau- 
tiful flowers, and arranged with such 
exquisite taste. All my scholars gath- 
ered around me, lavishing their praises 
upon it, and it seemed to me as if each 
leaf and petal reflected back additional 
lustre, from the dozens of little starry 
eyes that looked so brightly upon it. 
Not that a bunch of flowers was such 
a rarity with us, for there is scarcely a 
day during the long, pleasant summer, 


that they are not brought in and ar- 
ranged upon the desks and table — but 
this was such a beauty! After calling 
the school to order, I said : 

" This beautiful bouquet, shall, to- 
night be given to the best scholar : the 
one that is perfect in all his lessons, 
and transgresses none of the rules of 
school. Now who will try to get it?" 
Every hand was raised, and every 
eye gave assurance that they would be 
the winner of the beautiful prize. All 
went noiselessly to their tasks, and by 
noon I thought that I should have to buy 
twenty bouquets to keep my promise 
goofi. But in an unguarded moment, 
one whispered, another left his seat, a 
third laughed, or made somebody else 
rs made mistakes in 
until I quite feared 
>uld be made happier 
.ts possessor. Two 
I, lifting the bouquet 

J! I give the prize ? " 
reri: raised, but, upon 
I one after another 
it one remained up. 
igh but nine years old, 
had outstripped all his competitors — 
the hard lessons had been learned with- 
out a mistake, and his conduct appeared 
to me very good, lie received it with 
many thanks, and without a murmur of 
disapprobation from the rest. 

The following morning the bouquet 
was returned to me with these words : 

" Mrs. W , I have brought back 

this bouquet — I could not keep it, for 
after I left school I remembered that 
I whispered once." 

Never in my life, did a tear spring 
so instantaneously to my eye. He saw 
it and added, — " I did not mean to de- 
ceive you, I quite forgot it when 1 look 
the bouquet, but I thought of it when 
I went home." 

" It is not a tear of grief, but one of 
joy, to think you possess so noble a 
heart — keep it my dear little fellow for 
your honesty." 

How do you like the story ? It is 
only a little circumstance, but it is 

these little every-day transactions, that 
form the mind and character of the 
man and the woman. Life is made up 
of little things, and all that is good, and 
true, and beautiful in the world is made 
of little parts. Washington, you know, 
never told an untruth. " I cannot tell 
a lit, Pa-pa, I did cut it with my little 
hatchet," said he, when he had ruined 
his father's favorite cherry tree. And 
now you have heard of little Frank's 
truth and honesty, you will say that 
that story is not without a parallel, and 
may all my young friends act as nobly 
and as good as little Frank. 
Your dear Friend, 



How man; long hours I have silt here in 
my little room and thought of the happv dan 
long ago that I spent by my fond mother's 
side, ami received the kiss of approbation from 
those lips tliut arc for ever closed in death. 
There is now no one on earth to whom I ran 
apply the endearing title of Mother. Four 
times have the flowers bloomed and withered 
over litr grave, and the grass sprung green 
and fresh from the sods that we placed over 
her grave. Though dead, she is none the less 
dear to me than when living. Her form and 
countenance are impressed on my memory, 
never to he removed. Yes, the memory of 
that Mother is a thing ever cherished and very 
dear to me. Well I remember the pale, cold 
autumn morning when my father led me lino 
the room, and, between his broken sola, told 
me that my mother was dead 1 I was then 
but a small child, vet 1 can distinctly remcui- 
her the dreadful stillness that reigned in that 
chamber of death. And when the cloth was 
removed, revealing licr cold, pale brow lo my 
gaze, O, how long and earnestly I looked up- 
on the calm sweet face — it was the last time 
that I ever looked upon it. Yet I can re- 
member the many little acta of kindness that 
she used to lice tow upon me, acts which only a 
Mother can licstow upon her child. 

Since her death, I have come, with my lath- 
er, lo the shores of the great Pacific. I have 
seen many strange fiicce, and watched them in 
the pursuit of pleasure, hut amid the gay 
anil nappy throng, one word often rises lo 
my lips (o which no one answers : it is the dear, 
fond word — Mother! Fhances 11. 

[F., you are improving.) 

They who put on no airs in times of 
prosperity, meet with respect and sym- 
pathy in seasons of adversity. 



NOVEMBER, 1856. 


"ITiere is a wild, bold, and beautiful 
magnificence in the mountain scenery 
of California, that strikes the mind of 
those who look upon it for the first 
time, with feelings of delight and awe. 
It* pine-crested hills ; its deep moun- 
tain -gorges ; its towering and rugged 
cliff. ; its dark and densely-timbered 
forest* ; its impetuous and foaming cat- 
aracts ; its rolling and surging streams ; 
it* deep and shadowy canons ; its 
cabin-dotted and miner-tenanted ra- 
vines ; its populous and busy mining 
town* ; with all the diversified land- 
scape of hill and dale, and all the vari- 
ety of active mining life, and difference 
in method of living and working ; that, 
while it please* by its novelty, inter- 
ests and charms by its mystery and 

It is our pleasing task, this month, 
to place before tbe reader some of 
those scenes, and to give a brief sketch 
of each engraving. Commencing with 

There is a peculiarity in the con- 
struction and appearance of cabins in 


the northern part of Sierra county that 
is not often seen elsewhere. This con- 
sists in the roof being about twice the 
length of ordinary ones, with one end 
enclosed as a dwelling-house, the other 
being left open and occupied as a shed 
for firewood. The necessity and con- 
venience of this arrangement will be 
seen at once, when we mention that 
snow often falls to a very great depth, 
completely burying up every thing. 
Even the ditches which supply these 
districts with water have to be timbered 
over to prevent them from being choked 

During the winter of 1852 and '53, 
snow fell in Onion Valley to the depth 
of tweDty-five feet, entirely covering 
up every building in it. Had this 
fallen in 1851, it would have caused 
an excess of suffering seldom heard of, 
for at that time it was supposed to be 
the business centre of a very large dis- 

trict, and the head-quarters for Rich 
Bar, Hottentot, Nelson Creels, Hop- 
kins', Dickson's, and Poor Man's 
Creeks. Even the towns of Gibson- 
ville, Seventy-Six, Pine frove, Whis- 
key Diggings, and several others, did 
their trading here. So that stores, ho- 
tels, gambling houses, &c, &c, went 
up with the magical rapidity of many 
California towns, and a population of 
nearly three thousand souls col- 
lected there. Fortunately, as other 
little towns sprung up, and trading 
posts were established at them, Onion 
Valley became gradually deserted ; and, 
when this heavy fall of snow came, there 
were but about one hundred and twenty 
persons remaining. The few houses 
shown in the engraving were all that 
withstood the immense weight of snow 
— and there were no less than thirteen 
hotels, besides stores, and other build- 
ings — and even to save these it became 
necessary to cut down the liberty poles 


and draw them in to use as props. We 
can easily imagine how much suffering, 
and even death, the falling buildings 
would have caused, had they been oc- 
cupied, independent of the scarcity of 
provisions so severely felt that win- 

A passage was dug by the inhabi- 
tants, under the snow, from " The Mi- 
ner's Retreat " to " The Golden Gate," 
whereby they might communicate with 
each other in their snow-walled prison. 

A short time after the thaw had 
commenced, and a portion of the roof 
of u The Miner's Retreat " had become 
bare, the wolves discovered it, and paid 

their nightly visits, to howl, while they 
warmed their feet. 

This is said to be the highest valley 
in the world that is yet settled. Now 
it contains only one store, one boarding- ' 
house and outbuildings for the conve- 
nience of "packers "passing through 
to other places. 

" Pilot Peak," in the distance, "Slate 
Creek Mountain," and the " Downie- 
ville Buttes," are the highest points of 
land within a circumference'of seventy 
miles, and are considered to be about 
eleven thousand feet above the sea- 
but their actual height, we believe, has' 
not yet been determined. 

r bri-som point. 


Is a very romantic little settlement at 
the junction of Nelson Creek and the 
middle fork of Feather river, about ten 
miles north of Onion Valley. Lying 

ai it does, just underneath the hill, as 
you descend from the valley, it is not 
seen until you are within a few yards 
of it. 

Being upon the main pack-trail from 


Gibson vi He to American Valley, and 
the central point of trade for Nelson 
Creek, Rich Bar, and other places, Be- 
sides being surrounded by a rich min- 
* ing district, it is a town of considera- 
ble importance. 

The population in the summer is 
about six hundred; and, in the winter, 
one hundred and fifty. When we were 
there, not very Ring ago, there were 
eight resident families, but only one 
marriageable lady! and we thought 
that had there even been as many as 
there were little fishes after feeding the 
multitude in the days of our Saviour — 
that being only a pair — we might ex- 
claim, with wonder (and compassion), 

as did the unbelieving Andrew, " what 
are they among so many ? " 

At Henpeck City, about half a mile 
up Nelson Creek, during the summer 
months, there is about five hundred 
ounces of gold dust taken out weekly, 
which, with the amount bought at Nel- 
son Point, would make the nett weekly 
product in this section about thirteen 
hundred ounces. Aboutthreeandahalf 
miles below, at the head of Rich Bar, 
there is a singular mountain, about two 
thousand feet high, in which there is a 
crater about eight feet in diameter at the 
top, and of a depth yet unascertained. 

The whole of the scenery here is 
very singular and beautiful 

This is a prosperous mining town of 
about seven hundred inhabitants, situ- 
ated on the " divide " between the mid- 
dle fork of Feather river and the north 
fork of Slate creek, about four miles 

south of Pilot Peak, seventy miles 
north-northeast of Maryaville. 

The diggings are tolerably deep 
and pay regularly and well, from the 
surface down, although nine-tenth* of 
the gold is found upon the rock, and is 


generally coarse. In the water season, 
there is about three thousand ounce* of 
gold dust taken out here, weekly, al- 
though there is but about one hundred 
and twenty ounces taken out weekly in 
the dry season. We would earnestly in- 
vite the attention of the public to this 
fact : the great want of California 
is water for miners to work with. 

The country around is wild and 
mountainous, and one vast forest of 
pines, firs and cedars. 

About half past nine o'clock on the 
morning of Jan. 1st, 1855, when the 
inhabitants were peacefully sleeping, 
many were suddenly awakened by the 
rushing of a violent wind, almost re- 
sembling a hurricane ; and, being sur- 
rounded by trees, they left their beds 
in haste, and with anxiety awaited the 
result. Mr. W. H. Alcoe and Mr. S. 
Snyder had kindled a tire, and just sat 
them down beside it, when a fir tree 
fell across the cabin, without doing the 
least injury. Mr. Lowell, hearing the 

trees fall all around him, became some- 
what alarmed, and went out of his 
cabin to see where he could go for 
safety. He had scarcely reached the 
outside when a large tree fell upon the < 
cabin and completely crushed it. One 
end of one of the logs struck Mr. L. 
on the shoulder and threw him several 
feet, without any further injury than a 
good shaking and a worse frightening. 
Dr. Rutherford, wife and child, were 
soundly sleeping in their bad, when a 
large pine, almost four feet in diame- 
ter, fell across the cabin and crushed it 
to within about two feet of the bed. 
The neighbors, hearing the crash, and 
thinking the inmates were injured, if 
not killed, ran immediately lo the spot, 
and soon received the cheering news 
that all were safe ; as the branches 
of the fallen tree had blocked up and 
fastened the door, it was immediately 
broken open ; and, ere they had left the 
building ten minutes, the tree settled 
entirely down to the bed. 



Several trees felt on other cabins 
and leveled them with the earth, yet 
no one was hurt. 

Mr. Alcoe's cabin, unfortunately, 
caught fire, which destroyed all of his 
goods and provisions ; and, as if to 
complete the destruction, two other 
trees fell upon it while it was burning. 

The same wind did considerable 
damage on Hopkins Creek, about eight 
miles northeast of Gibsonville. One 
large tree fell upon a two-story hotel, 
in the bedroom of which fourteen men 
were sleeping, and who were precipi- 
tated into the bar-room below without 
ceremony, and the building was shiv- 
ered to atoms; yet not a human life 
was taken, nor a bone broken, although 
eighteen hogs which were sleeping un- 
derneath the floor of the hotel were in- 
stantly killed. 

Few who have never seen them can 
conceive how deep are the furrows in 
the face of nature in some portions of 
the mountain heights of California. 
■The view before us was taken from 
just below the emigrant road, on the 
divide between Wolf and Kanaka 
creeks, looking west, towards Marys- 
ville, with the coast range in the dis- 
tance, and gives an excellent idea of 
the situation of some of the mining 
towns that are built on the very edge 
of these very deep and steep canons. 
Here " Chips Diggings" is seen on the 
left bank, and " Smith's" On the right, 
in the great "Blue Lead" of Sierra 
county, and which are some of the first 
mining towns the emigrant reaches 
after crossing the Plains by way of 
Beck worth's Pass and Seventy-Six. 

The illustration above pictures a 
fiumiiig company's claim on Scott's 
river, Siskiyou couoty, just after the 
water of the river had been turned 
through the flume. 

The claim, with many others on this 
river, proved very rich. It was no 
uncommon event to take from six to 
ten pounds of gold from a single pan 
of pay dirt, and a single day's labor of 


ihe company to pay from five to seven 
thousand dollars. 

An almost incredible amount of la- 
bor and money has been invested in 
river mining in California ; and al- 
though vast quantities of the precious 
metal have been produced, and men 
have been made rich — very rich, in a 
single summer, it is our conviction that, 
as yet, more gold has been invested in 
river mining than has ever beon real- 
ized from it, as a whole. 

Miners nevertheless hope on, and try 
their chances in this honorable kind of 
lottery — some to win, many to lose. 

There is a much larger number of 
men at work on this river this season 
than on any previous one, and most of 
them are doing well. 

The "bank" diggings pay regularly 
very good wages ; and, were it not for 
the very heavy " stripping " required, 
men could take out a competency in a 
single year. 

This view was taken just below the 
flourishing little town of Lanchaplana, 
on the Mokelumne river, a short dis- 
tance from Winter's Bar. 

The wheels shewn m the foreground 
of the engraving are used for the pur- 
pose of elevating water from the river, 
with which to wash the pay dirt that is 
carted from the diggings to the river 
for that purpose. 

There are but few among the ever 
beautiful and picturesque scenes of 

California that are more pleasing to 
the eye than the one before us ; and, 
when the snow is melting in the moun- 
tains, and the water of the river is 
high, and rushes past you with boom- 
ing and impetuous haste, it is one almost 
of enchantment 

When the Indians first saw China- 
men at work on this river, just above 
this spot, there arose a dispute among 
them as to whether Chinamen were In- 
dians (!) or not — one parly arguing 
that they were an inferior kind of In- 


Indiana that lived far over 
the big water ; and the 
other, that their eyea and 
general expression of the 
face, in no way resembled 
those of an Indian ; con- 
sequently they could not 
belong to the Indian peo- 
ple at all. They all, how- 
ever, came' to one conclu- 
sion, that if Chinamen 
were Indians (!) they could 
certainly swim. Thisbeing 
decided upon, they soon 
determined to prove the 
fact ; and, while a China- 
man was crossing a log 
(when the river was at its 
highest,) the Indians, 
without any further ado> 
quietly pushed him into 
the surging stream and 
drowned him! This at 
once set the question at 
rest ; and all arc now 
agreed that Chinamen are 
not Indians .' 


The lylye fairo 


Trnt its parcnesso thaire, 

fANNO D. 1500— 29) 

Quban Inide on tlie brciito o' Annie ! 

Farre doune youne glcnnc, 

Farre doune yonno glennc 

Fra the hauntis o' menne, 

Frae Hie hanntis o' menne, 

Thairc Itvits anc maydin faire, 

Thaire Uvh ane maydin faire, 

An' brieht as the gleime, 

But, noo she is gonne, 

O' ilia moniin' Ijrime, 

Quhilk maks me moane, 

Was the glint o' lier gowdcn hair. 

This maydin lives nac moire ! 

The reid, rciil rose, 

Ohe 1 why shonldc I moane, 

Quliilk swivrlj- Mowcs, 

Because she is gonnc ! 

An' easts aroumU' sweit netfuiine, 

Why Borrowo for her in the tomtw '. 

Was ne'er hnlf *o fuire, 


As e'en to compnirc, 

The ikies arc aye- faire, 

Wi' this maydin in her bluime ! 

An' the flonrii for ever blnime ! ■ 

3. T. A. A. 

The vi'let blewe, 

Qohafiwet wi dewe, 

Is death's door opened with a skele- 

Was the hue o'cyrie sac bonnie; 

ton key ? 


This very strange and rare bird, 
called, in Spanish, Courier del Camino 
or Piatano, is peculiar to California 
and some portions of Mexico. So far 
a- 1 am acquainted, it has not been de- 
scribed by any ornithologist, and still 
remains a distinct and isolated species 
front all other birds, roaming about 
orer barren plains and hills, in search 
of lizards, snakes, and other reptiles, 
upon which it preys. 

It is always seen upon the ground 
when first discovered, and instantly 
runs off, with remarkable fleetness, to 
the nearest thicket or hill, where it 
generally escapes from its pursuers 
either by hiding or sailing from one hill 
to another. It is very quick in its mo- 
tions — active and vigilant ; indeed, its 
remarkable swiftness enables it to out- 
strip a good horse. 

At first sight, one would suppose it 
to be a species of Pheasant, or belong- 
ing to the ambulatory or galinaceous 
class of birds ; but when examined 
more closely, it resembles them in no 
particular. < 

The most remarkable feature about 
it is its feet, these being more like those 
of clinging birds, such as the wood- 
pecker or parrot, having two toes be- 
hind and two before, armed with sharp 
claws. Its legs being strong and muscu- 
lar, make it well adapted for running. 

Its plumage is rather coarse and 
rough, of a dusky hue, marked with 
white and brownish specks on the neck 
and upper parts, while its under parts 
are of a dirty white. The tail is long ; 
the bill is strong and slightly curved ; 
eyes of a greyish brown, the pupil en- 
circled with a light colored ring. A 
bare space extends from the eye to the 
back of the neck, of a pale blueish 
color, tinged with red. 

At times it utters a harsh note, not 
unlike the sudden twirl of a watchman's 

The Road-Runner is seldom seen on 
trees, unless pursued very closely, 
when it has been seen to spring from 
the ground to the branches, at a height 
of ten or fifteen feet at a Bingle bound j 
but it prefers running along a road or 
path, from whence it derives its name. 



I have met with this bird frequently 
in my travels over the country, and 
have never seen one in company with 
any other bird, either of its own or any 
other kind. It is excessively shy and 
solitary, inhabiting the wildest and 
most unfrequented places. It has no 
song to cheer its solitude, but silently 
and lonely pursues its avocation in the 
wildest spots of California. 

I have now in my possession one of 
these birds, which is becoming quite 
tame, and readily feeds upon any kind 
of raw meat, but prefers lizards and 
small birds, which it swallows whole — 
feathers and all. If given to him alive, 
he will play with them awhile before 
swallowing them, just as a cat will do 
with a mouse. I have seen him devour 
three sparrows, one lizard, and a por- 
tion of the breast of a coot, for his 
breakfast, without experiencing any 
apparent inconvenience. It is exceed- 
ingly ravenous, and, like all birds of 
that class, has a disagreeable odor, and 
should, I think, be placed in the order 
of rapacious birds. 

Although it cannot fly well, by its 
activity and quickness it easily catches 
small birds, whether on the ground or 
in the thicket. 

The specimen I have now before me, 
measures twenty-three inches from the 
tip of his bill to the end of his tail. 
The tail is eleven and a quarter inches, 
the bill two and a half inches. 

Much more might be said concern- 
ing this singular and curious bird ; but 
lest I might be intruding on the pa- 
tience of the reader, I will forego fur- 
ther comment. A. J. Grays on. 

We are favored with the above from 
Mr. Grayson, of San Jose, a gentleman 
who is devoting his attention to the 

study of the habits, and the making of 
water-color drawings, of all the birds 
of California. If our friends will be 
kind enough to send any specimens of 
birds, or any of their observations con- 
cerning them, we shall be happy to see 
that Mr. G. receives them safely, to 
aid him in his interesting pursuit In 
a new country like ours, there is so 
much to be learned of the animal as 
'well as of the vegetable life around us, 
that any information upon any- subject 
will be thankfully received. 


We would that we could write those 
words in characters of fire ; or, illumi- 
nate each letter with the brilliancy of 
an electric light, that every man might 
read, and reading, " mark, learn, and 
inwardly digest" them. We would 
make them so plain, that by day or 
night, "he that runneth may read;*' 
for in them is the gospel of California's 
pecuniary salvation. 

Before the vision of every business- 
man we would make it as ever present, 
and as potent in its influence, as Nan- 
cy's ghost; and as omnipresent as 
Sykes' dog, that he might be led to ask 
a few questions as to its hidden mean- 

Nearly every capitalist has the words 
upon his lips — " We want population." 
" Give us population." " Nothing can 
improve in California until we get 
more population." u The value of pro- 
perty would double in six months, if we 
had population." " Give us cheap 
steamship and rail road communication, 
that it may bring us population." 

Oh ! yes, gentlemen, that is all very, 
fine, and we want ail those good things 
you would or could mention — badly 



we want them — but there is something 
we want much more, immeasurably, 
more than population — now — immedi- 
ately — and that is Water 1 Water! 

Not water to drink, for that can be 
found bubbling up by every way side 
and on every mountain top — but 
Water to work with; that is 
what we want, and what California 
wants more than anything else — for 
that is wanted immediately. No thirsty 
traveler upon a weary desert : no bed- 
ridden patient with burning brow and 
fevered pulse, ever needed water more 
for his immediate physical wants, than 
does California for its present pecu- 
niary necessities ; and whatever else 
we ask or get — first and last, is wanted 

Men who now work but three months 
out of twelve, could work constantly if 
they had water. If they were able to 
work they would take out gold all the 
year round ; and taking out gold for 
twelve months instead of three, would 
make some difference in the amount put 
in circulation, and if the gold thus taken 
out was in circulation, every depart- 
ment of business would feel the benefit 
of it : while the glad tidings of the 
prosperity of those who are here, going 
Eastward, would soon bring others, 
and then we should not only have a 
H population," but we should have a 
prosperous population. 

California's prosperity therefore, can 
be summed up in a nutshell thus — 

Water, enables men to work — work- 
»»y, men dig gold — gold, thus dug, 
would be put in circulation — that circu- 
lation would give prosperity — pros- 
Parity to those now here, would soon 
bring others : and all would be content. 

We will therefore, with the same 
language as the horse-leech, cry, 
« Give, Give," but let the gift be WA- 


It must ever be a source of astonish- 
ment and gratification to Californians, 
that the prolific production of our soil 
is such as almost to challenge the 
world. Who could ever dream that in 
a country comparatively new, so much 
perfection has already been attained 
in the culture and growth of fruits, 
flowers and vegetables, as to give us, 
in a few brief years, advantages that 
are as yet unpossessed by older States. 
Where, but in California, for instance, 
has there ever grown a pear of such 
proportions as that . on an opposite 
page ? — its natural size, from a photo- 
graph taken by Mr. Carden, of Brad- 
ley's Daguerrean Gallery, near our 
office, and kindly loaned us for the 
purpose by Mrs. E. J. Weaver, of 
the Washington Market — weighing, as 
it does, two pounds twelve ounces 
avoirdupois, and is one of five, all near- 
ly as large, from a very young tree in 
the orchard of Mr. Beard, Mission of 
San Jose; and gathered, too, before 
they were ripe, to be exhibited at the 
State Fair at San Jose, and were the 
largest offered for exhibition. 

Next month we shall find room for 
a more extended notice of some of the 
vegetable wonders that we have seen # 
— the products of California soil. 


Who makes the barren earth 

A paradise of wealth, 
And fills each humble hearth 

Wich plenty, life and health ? 
Oh, I would have you know 

They are the men of toil — 
The men who reap and sow— 

The tillers of the soil. 






tt How's the patient ?" asked the Cap- 
tain, of the Doctor of a schooner just 
off the Downs, in the Malay dialect, 

u He's not yet conscious. The dose 
must have been a very powerful one." 

" Yes, drugged I suppose, within an 
inch of life. When his wits return, 
tell me, for I have a short account to 
settle with him. Don't stare, man, I 
don't mean one of your short accounts." 

The man bobbed his head down un- 
der the hatchway, as if avoiding other 

Three days sail brought them out of 
the Channel, on the trackless ocean, 
and another day hid the shore from 
their sight, 

" Now," said the Captain to himself, 
now it is my turn. I've long looked 
for this day ; now for a hearty, full re- 
venge for all the wrongs inflicted on 
me by that hated class." 

u How does your honor find yourself 
this cool morning?" said he, when con- 
fronted with the patient. 

* What is the meaning of all this ?" 
enquired Lord Lovel. "Are you 
aware of what must be the conse- 
quences of this outrage, committed on 
a person in my position ? " 

** Perfectly aware ; and more so 
than yoa appeared to be, thirty years 
ago, of a similar outrage upon me," 
said the Captain. 

"I never remember having seen 
joa before," rejoined my lord. 

tt Let this remind you, villain ! " 
quickly answered the Captain, strip- 
ping himself to the skin, and exhibit- 
ing numerous scars on his back, crossed 
tod recrossed, similar in form to sharp 
notes in music, on a larger scale and 
more lengthened. " Do you remem- 
ber my being flogged round the Nore 
while you were a middy on board the 
Bellerophon, merely for calling you a 
*M*cy child, in retaliation for your 

daring to call me a lazy, fat lubber, 
before the boat's crew ? " • 

" Yes — I remember; you were 
boatswain on that occasion. But there 
was another provocation." 

" There was. You — you — a child, 
three months in the service — kicked 
me — me — a man, who had untimely 
grown grey in it — and I slapped your 
face and boxed your ears soundly, - to 
teach you how to respect your superi- 
ors in years, and your masters in expe- 

" I now remember it well. And 
can a British tar harbor, for thirty 
years, feelings, of demon-revenge 
towards an individual for the slight 
indiscretion of a boy ? " 

" Not against him as an individual, 
but against the whole race of his vile 
caste. As I was selected, a victim, to 
teach the class from which I sprung 
slavish subordination to your race, so 
I — mark me — / have, in like manner, 
selected you ' as a victim, to teach you 
and yours a lesson of respect towards 
honest labor and manly virtue. Never 
until the day when you insulted me, 
was I wanting in my duty or reverence 
towards the flag of my country ; and if 
I now disgrace it, you, and you only, 
have set me the example, and upon 
you be the shame and disgrace of the 
reprobate pirate." 

" Pirate ! " cried the amazed noble- 
man. Gracious God ! into what hands 
have I fallen! I confess I unknow- 
ingly have wronged you ; but do me 
the justice to attribute your inadequate 
and, I must confess, cruel punishment 
to the Dracon-laws of the British ser- 
vice — made, not to rule thinking men, 
bat for the outcasts of society, from 
which order, you know well, the ser- 
vice was mainly supplied. You for- 
get how I went on my knees to the 
captain, that he would soften the rigor . 
of your sentence. Nay, more, that 
very event was the sole inducement of 
my leaving the service." 

" It may be ; but there is another 
account with another aggrieved one 
you have to settle." 



"What is that? But have you 
calculated on the chances of your es- 
caping the lynx-eye of justice? All 
the world will ring of this misdeed, if 
found out, and your bones, after the 
ignominious death of the scaffold, will 
be left to rot in the air, as a warning 
to future evil-doers." 

, " What care I for this old carcass, 
riddled with shot and mangled with the 
cat ? What is the chance of the most 
intolerable death-pangs to the sweet 
indulgence of a life-cherished re- 

venge : 


" Martin," cried Lovell, " set me on 
shore at the first land you can make, 
and, I pledge you my honor, not a 
word shall ever escape my lips of this 
matter ; nay, more, I will use all the 
influence I possess to restore you to 
your former position in society. Dis- 
pose of your bark, get rid of your 
crew, and from that time I swear to 
befriend you through life, to make some 
little atonement for the evil I unwit- 
tingly have done yon." 

" No ; no ! " said the old mariner, 
beating his breast ; " this — this has 
come too late. I cannot retract; I 
cannot — I dare not look back. I, too, 
have power. I am pledged to execute 
a deed — to carry out a project, that 
will not admit of one particle of flinch- 
ing — to punish wrongs that the British 
laws have no power or inclination to 

" What ! would you murder me ? " 
" No ; I am no cowardly assassin." , 
" Challenge me to single combat? " 
" Not a bit of it. That would be as 

" What, then, are your intentions ? " 
" To land you on a cannibal island, 
with none but a companion whom 
your noble father — noble, forsooth — 
has wronged more, much more, than 
you have wronged me, and that's not a 

" My father I Lord Elmore ! 
wronged he any one? How, in the 
name of all that's sacred ! what can he 
have done to any one ? Speak ! what 
can he have done ? " 

" Murder ! " 

" Murder ? " 

" Murder ! murder of two innocent, 
virtuous, industrious, sober people; 
morally, I could add another, to make 
a third." 

"Speak! explain I" 

"Robert Woodgrove — outlawed by 
your father, Earl Elmore, for threat- 
ening him on account of prosecuting 
his son Robert, who hanged himself 
while in gaol for shooting a rabbit, and 
whose mother died of grief shortly 

" Gracious God ! " said his lordship, 
burying his face with both his hands ; 
" have I lived so Ions unconscious of 
these misfortunes ? " 

"I am pledged to see you safely 
landed with Woodgrove, who id now 
on board with us." 

" Where ? " hastily asked his lord- 

u That at present is a secret between 
us. You will find a tent with provis- 
ions, materials, etc., to make you both 
as comfortable as the circumstances of 
a transportation, perhaps for life, will 

" And am I daily to be confronted 
with, and make sport for, this man, 
whom I never injured ? " 

" Yes, daily ; that is to say, if the 
cannibals on the island do not, some 
fine day, make a savory roast of you 
and your companion, as a couple of 
side dishes, to garnish a war-feast ! " 

" Well, I am in your power now, 
and must make the best of it." 

" You had better ; it is the best phi- 
losophy you can urge upon yourself. 
Woodgrove risks his life as well as 
yours. He is a noble fellow, that 
Woodgrove— one of nature's, not soci- 
ety's, noblemen. He wants to teach 
you the use and virtue of several arts, 
which the latter people despise and 

" What arts are these ? " 

" Of procuring a living in nature's 
enchanting wilds, where a dowdy, min- 
ikin fop would starve. He wants to 
show you how to snare birds, wire rab- 



bits, stalk deer, net fish — in short, to 
show you the art of living well in the 
midst of abundance, instead of, as here- 
tofore, starving with plenty around 
you. He is an ingenious fellow, and 
if you behave yourself you will, after 
your probation, if your life be spared, 
come out a wiser, a better, a happier, 
if not a more enlightened man — wiser, 
better, happier, more enlightened, I re- j 
peat it, as to your duties to your so- 
called inferiors, who, you well know, 
live only to administer to your com- 
forts and pleasures." 

WHO wouldn't, if ONE could, travel 


"Now, Mrs. Berry jes put your wus 
foot behind, and your best foot afore, 
for the cab will be here in five minutes 
less than no time," said Dickory, taking 
out his huge gold watch, a few degrees 
in circumference less than a juvenile 
warming pan, and which he had of late 
such frequent recourse to, that one 
would think that all his friends had 
fevers, and that he was continually cal- 
led upon in a medical capacity to feel 
their pulses. 

"Why one cabll not hold half them 
things mum," said Flora the buxom 
help of Mrs. Hick. 

u You mind your own business, Flo- 
ra, and look after the younger Adam, 
and leave the older one to look after 
his self. Who ever heard of a cab that 
couldn't be stuffed so full at top and 
bottom as not to contain one trunk 
more," vociferated Hickory. 

Flora was not a pet dog, but Mrs. 
H's pet help ; she had selected her out 
of fifty advertised for, to go to Califor- 
nia, by Times' advertisement, because 
she could do a good day's work, and 
look after Adam in the bargain, with 
one eye, and see the pot a boiling with 
tbe other, while the rub and scrub 
went like steam all the time. But 
wliat Mrs. H. wanted with a washer-wo- 
man on so extensive a scale, on such a 
journey; and what her parents were 

thinking about when they gave her 
such a name, Mr. H. could not for the 
life of him see. 

With him, Mary — good old fashion- 
ed, John-Bull-Mary, was to be her 
name. With Mrs. Hicklebury, she 
might be what Mrs. Hick liked, he 
never interfered ; and as for the bear- 
er of such a picturesque name, she 
didn't care, she said, what she was call- 
ed, so long as she wasn't called too late 
for dinner. 

u We have done with the Irish wo- 
man," said Mrs. Hick, to her bosom 
friend Mrs. Poodle, " for at the end of 
an excursion we took in the country, or 
rather, intended to take, little Adam 
was taken sick with a bowel complaint, 
and we came back rather unexpectedly, 
in the evening, and found pretty doings, 
at home, I assure you. For, after 
knocking at the door, pulling at the 
bell, thunderin' at the shutters for a 
hour, Mr. H. was obleeged to borry a 
ladder of the bricklayer, next door, that 
he and the perleeseman might get in at 
the winder ; and sitch a scene did we 
see, as we never met wi' in all our 
born days afore nor never shall again, 
if we lived to the end of all time. But 
I've not time to tell you all about it 
now, dear Poodle, but as I was a say- 
ing, the wretch had the impudence to 
have the private performance of a 
Irish wake in our own house, and had 
even gone so far as to have the blessed 
corpse removed to our own parlor, and 
there was the abused mortality, as 
parson Briggs would say, as large as 
life, the only thing and person in the 
house, what was not turned topsy tur- 
vy, for not even one of the pewter pots 
from the next public, to the number of 
thirteen, as I am a sinner, (the Irish 
love odd numbers, the song says, you 
know,) stood upon its right end; but 
wasn't in the very same disorder ; and 
it was not until the purlece, assisted by 
three others, with wheel-barren, and 
stretchers, and hand-cuffs and wot-not, 
had cleared the house, and Flory and 
me had the histerics very bad, and the 
Doctor had come, and the perleceman, 



good fellow, had been made all right 
by the sovering reward, and a good 
glass of brandy and water in the bar- 
g'in; the house had been fumigated 
with brown paper, dipped in vinegar, 
and my poor head with lavender-water, 
that matters had been all put to rights 

" Where did you put them bits o' 
things of Adam's, Flory T 9 said Mrs. H. 

"In the box next to the one with a 
yeller top Mum." 

" Well, mind and keep your lieyes 
on 'urn, and see they're handy-like on 
the woyage." 

" Now then, here we are all right. 
Here comes all our old friends, to give 
us the last shake of the hands, Missus. 
Bless me, I didn't know we had so ma- 
ny friends in the world. There, don't 
be a snivelling, Mrs. H. ; you'll set up 
young Adam's pipes presently, and you 
know it's no joke when he gets a-goin'. 
One 'ud think that you were attendin' 
a funeral to see the doleful face you're 
a-makin'. Come wipe up your face 
and tuck your hair under." 

Mrs. H. did so, and turning to Flora, 
pathetically inquired if she was quite 
sure she had put up her second best 
bonnet all safe, and where was the silk 
umbrella with the red coral handle, 
with Mr. Hickleberry's name on it." 

"All right Mum," responded Flora, 
" don't cry Missus, it's nothin' a-crossin' 
on the 'Lantic, I know many of my 
friends who have done it, and they all 
say 'twas nothin' but a pleasure trip." 

" Is this the last," shouted Hick. 

" Yes," replied Flora. 

" Time it was, for that's the fifteenth, 
I think," said Hick ; one would suppose 
that we was a-goin' on the water povi- 
ded for another deluge, to last double 
the time of the old one, by all this gear. 
That's the wust of wimmen, they never 
can set off full sail wirout so much rig- 
gin ; whereas a man with a puss in his 
pocket, can throw on his cloak and hat, 
take his stick and be off before a wo- 
man can put on just her bonnet. 

"Drive to King's Cross, Coachee. 
Good-bye, good-bye, good-bye all." 

" No, we're going'lo see you off." 

" I'm aot a-going to take all on ye 
behind," swore the cabman, " unless you 
pays the fines 1 " 

" Go it, and never mind the fines," 
shouted all, and away they rolled on 
towards the King's Cross station. 

" Lawks! I have forgot the mixture 
for Adam, and the brandy," said Mrs. H. 
suddenly, " what shall we do when he 
wakes up ? " 

" Never mind the brandy, he shall 
have a gallon when we get to the 

" Now, when you gets to the station, 
Flory, don't you get gawking and star- 
ing about ye, else we shall lose half the 
trunks ; d'ye hear ? said Mrs. H. 

"Never fear me, Mum, I havn't 
traveled all my life for nuthm', I can 
count thirteen, I hope, Mum." 

" Yes, but there is sitch a thing as 
countin' a dozen and not seein, one on 
'em. If countin' on 'em does all the 
business, a veek's vash vould soon be 

" Wat the dooce do you want with 
washing now, Mrs. H. ? surely we've 
done with that 'ere reeking business for 
one while; least-wise as far as six 
months goes, so leave all them 'ere 
cares about the soap-suds behind." — 
"Here we are, now look sharp, Mis- 
sus ; Mary, keep your eyes open and 
your mouth shut, to take care of your 
teeth, or they'll not be sharp enough 
for the London sharpers, I can tell 

Here, what with bells ringing, rail- 
way whistles, slamming of doors, wheel- 
ing of trunks, running of porters, cal- 
ling of officers, "good-bye's" of friends, 
poor Mrs. Hick, and Flory were well 
nigh bewildered. It was well that 
Hick, himself, had so many friends be- 
hind to take care of them and their 

The sigh that rises at the thought 
of a friend may be almost as genial as 
his voice. 'Tis a breath that seems 
rather to come from him than from 




Mr. Editor : — It is with pleasure 
that I have seen jour efforts to rescue 
from oblivion, and perpetuate in your 
Magazine, the many wonderful things 
that relate to the early history of our 
State. During a residence of eight 
years upon this coast, in which time I 
have explored over eighteen hundred 
miles of it, I have been enabled to 
treasure up many things in my journal 
which may be of interest to your many 
readers ; I shall take pleasure in occa-* 
sionaUy giving you an extract from it, 
and, as there is no time like the pres- 
ent, I will commence with the follow- 

Alexander Selkirk, the hero of De- 
foe's enchanting story of Robinson Cru- 
soe, was only four years upon the des- 
ert island of Juan Fernandes. Could 
we but find an author at the present day, 
with Defoe's graphic imagination, we 
believe sufficient facts of the lonely ex- 
ile of this woman for eighteen years, 
could be obtained to make one of the 
most thrilling and beautifully descrip- 
tive volumes ever published. 

Those who are acquainted with the 
geography of this coast, will remember 
that about two hundred and fifty miles 
south of San Francisco, a chain of isl- 
ands commences, called the Santa Bar- 
bara Islands. While stationed upon 
one of this group— the island of San 
Miguel— making tidal observations for 
the U. S. Government, I was visited 
by Mr. George Nediver, an old resident 
of California, who came over from the 
main land, on a hunting excursion, and 
encamped beside me, and from whom I 

obtained much valuable information 
concerning the early history of these 
islands, as well as the adjacent coast 

One evening, while seated beside 
our quiet camp-fire, placidly smoking 
our pipes, Mr. N. related to me the 
following remarkable history : 

Twenty years ago, the whole of the 
Indian tribes inhabiting this group of 
islands were engaged in a fierce and 
exterminating war with each other, and 
to such an extent was this deadly hos- 
tility waged that already the population 
had very much diminished, and would, 
in all probability, before many years, 
become entirely extinct. To prevent 
this, and at the same time to ameliorate 
the condition of the Indians, the good 
Fathers of the Mission of Santa Bar- 
bara conceived the idea of removing 
them to the main land, where they 
might be watched over, improved, and 
preserved, under their immediate super* 

For this purpose they visited the isl- 
ands, in company with a few partially 
civilized Indians, and explained to 
them the advantages of removing to 
the Mission. They listened attentively 
to the proposal, and finally consented 
to go, on promises of protection from 
their natural enemies being given by 
the Fathers. 

Accordingly a small vessel was sent 
to the different islands, and the various 
tribes were taken one by one, to the 
Mission of Santa Barbara. But while 
the last of the Indians were embarking, 
at the island of San Nicolas, and all 
were supposed to be on board, a child 
was missing, and its mother, in great 
diatress was seeking every where, with- 
out success ; each portion of the vessel 
was diligently searched ; all the adja- 



cent rocks were examined, bnt no child 
could be found. Almost frantic, the 
mother requested the Captain to wait 
while she went into the interior to 
search for her child, to which he reluc- 
tantly consented. 

As night closed down in darkness, 
heavy masses of clouds rolled up from 
the horizon, and gave threatening evi- 
idence of a coming storm. All were 
anxious for the return of the woman 
and her child, before it broke upon 
them, but still they came not The 
wind began to blow, harder and strong- 
er ; the storm was rapidly increasing : 
and as the groups of Indians on board 
strained their eyes, trying to discover, 
in the darkness, some object that resem- 
bled the returning woman and her 
child, yet saw them not, there were 
many sad hearts and anxious counte- 
nances that night, on their account. 

The storm at last came on in all its 
fury, tossing their little vessel up and 
down like a feather, and compelled 
them at last, though reluctantly, to put 
to sea for safety, before any tidings of 
the absent ones could be received ; and, 
although the cargo of living freight 
reached Santa Barbara in safety, be- 
fore the vessel could return for the wo- 
man, it was wrecked and entirely lost ; 
and as no other could be oblained at 
that time, the poor woman had to re- 
main upon the island, where she lived, 
alone, for eighteen years ; no doubt for- 
gotten, or given up as long since dead. 

After the discovery of gold, it was 
rumored that San Nicolas was inhab- 
ited, and this, no doubt, had its founda- 
tion in the fact that several hunters of 
the sea otter, had seen the print of hu- 
man footsteps, and they endeavored to 
discover the whereabouts of the in- 

dividuals, but could not : yet, as all the 
footprints were alike, they concluded 
that there could be only one person 
living upon it; and many attempts * 
were made to find out who, and where 
this strange being was, but without 
avail, until one of California's oldest 
pioneers, Mr. Nediver — the gentleman 
who related to me the story, and who 
arrived in 'this country some twenty- 
five years ago, and still resides at San- 
ta Barbara — went over to look for her. 
and who, having spent many years as 
a hunter, and trapper in the Rocky 
Mountains, was as expert as an Indian, 
in following a trail, and consequently 
found but little difficulty in discovering 
the track, which he followed until he 
saw a singular object among the rocks 
upon the sea shore, near the mouth of 
a ravine, upon its knees, engaged in 
skinning a* seal. Upon approaching, 
he found it to be a woman clad in a 
singular dress of feathers ; and, when 
she saw him, she jumped up, and with 
excessive joy ran towards him, and 
seemed almost beside herself with 
wild delight, at the sight, once more, 
of a human being. 

In her hand she held a rude knife- 
blade, that she had made from a piece 
of old iron, probably obtained from the 
fragment of some wreck, and which 
she evidently valued beyond anything 
else in her possession. 

She was unable to make herself un- 
derstood, except by signs ; in making 
which she showed a great amount of 
intelligence, and signified her willing- 
ness to accompany him to Santa Bar- 
bara. Here Father Gonzales, of the 
Mission, took the greatest pains to dis- 
cover some of the Indians who had 
been taken from those islands, eighteen 



years before, but not one of them could 
be found, and what became of them, is 
a mystery unto this day. Not one of 
the Indians within a circumference of 
many miles, could be found, who could 
understand her. So that she could 
communicate only by signs. 

It appears from her narative, that 
after leaving the vessel in search of 
her child, she wandered about for sev- 
eral hours, and when she found it, the 
wild dogs which infest the island, even 
to the present day, had killed, and 
nearly devoured it We can better 
imagine the feelings of a rapther at 
such a time, than describe them. 
When she returned to the spot where 
she haa left the vessel,, to tell of her 
sorrows, for the loss of her child, that 
too was gone, and was bearing away 
her kindred and friends from her sight 

Could she have realized, then, that 
for eighteen long years she must live 
alone in the world, without one kind 
word of comfort, one cheering look from 
a friendly eye, or one smile of recogni- 
tion, it would have been too much for 
even her wild, but womanly nature to 
bear, and with her, as with us, it is 
well that we know not the future. 

From day to day, she lived in hope, 
beguiling the weary hours in providing 
for her wants. With snares made of 
her hair she caught birds; and with 
the skins, properly prepared, she made 
her clothing ; her needles were neat- 
ly made of bone, and cactus thorns ; 
her thread was of sinews from the seal : 
in these, and many other articles found 
in her possession, she exhibited much 
of the native ingenuity she possessed. 

Whether she still remembered her 
own language or not, will forever re- 
main a mystery. She was very gentle, 

and kind, especially to children, and 
nothing seemed to please her more 
than to be near them: and the poor 
woman would often shed tears, while 
attempting to describe, by signs, her 
own little one which had been killed 
and eaten by the wild dogs. 

The sympathy felt for her welfare, 
caused the people to supply her, boun- 
tifully, with everything she needed; 
and, very imprudently, allowed her to 
eat almost anything she chose, and the 
result was, that in about six months af- 
ter her escape from her lonely exile 
she sickened and died — having, un- 
doubtedly, been killed with kindness. 

At the conclusion of the old gentle 
man's tale, I was more than ever con- 
vinced of the truthfulness of the re- 
mark, that "Truth is stranger than 
fiction." — C. J. W. Russell. 

Immensity of the Universe.— 
As a proof of what a vast book the vis 
ible heavens are, and also of the dili 
gence of the student, man, in turning 
over its leaves, Dr. Nichol, in his work 
describing the magnitude of Lord 
Ross's telescope, says that Lord Ross 
has looked into space a distance so in- 
conceivable, that light, which travels at 
the rate of 200,000 miles in one second, 
would require a period of 250,000,000 
of solar years, each year containing 
about 32,000,000 of seconds, to pass 
the intervening gulf between this earth 
and the remotest point to which this 
telescope has reached. How utterly 
unable is the mind to grasp even a 
fraction of this immense period. To 
conceive the passing events of a hun- 
dred thonsand years only, is an impos- 
sibility, to say nothing of millions and 
hundreds of millions of years. 

Forget injuries and remember ben- 
efits. If you grant a favor, forget it; 
if you receive one, remember it. 




Oh ! .sing us a song of the olden time, 

A song of the friends we loved ; 
When we listened at eve to the village chimes 

And through the meadows we roved. 
Oh ! sing us a song— a good old song, 

That's gentle, tender and slow ; 
Of the friends that we knew— of the chosen few; 

In the days of long ago. 

Oh 1 tell us a tale of the olden time, 

When life and we were gay ; 
Ere death had come to call them home — 

The friends of our early day. 
Oh ! tell us of them — the gentle and good, 

Whom we loved in the days of old ; 
Ere the cares and strife, and the storms of life, 

Had made our warm blood cold. 

Oh ! tell of the scenes of the olden time, 

The scenes of our early years ; 
Ere the fountain of hope in our heart had dried, 

And dim were our eyes with tears. 
Ob ! for a strain to return again, 

As of some forgotten chime ; 

A song — a tone of that which is gone, 

' A voice of the olden time. 

G. T. S. 

San Fbancisco, Oct. 15, 1856. 

NO. II. 

" But fate whirls on the bark, 
And the rough gale sweeps from the rising tide, 
The early calm of thought." 


It was the footsteps of destiny in the 
blight light of the nineteenth century, 
marching onward and upward, while 
u excelsior " was the cry. 

Too long the boundless prairie had 
lain waste ; too long a thousand hills 
and vallies, gardens of Eden, "had 
bloomed unseen," aye until now, but 
the vanguard of civilization, impelled 
by the will of God, was gathering on 
these shores, " to make glad the wilder- 
ness, and make to blossom the rose in 
the desert 

Soon we sailed beneath the old Span- 
ish fort, which looked down so grim 
upon us. Could it have been possible 
to have rolled back years, or to have 
summoned from the spirit land the 
Spanish soldiers that in old time gar- 
risoned that battery, what a sight £pr 
them would have been our fleet, of dif- 
ferent nations, fearlessly sailing be- 
neath their guns, and never saying 
" Don Caesar, with your leave." And 
the Alcaldes of the Presidio, the mag- 
nates of the adobe capital, with their 
gold lace and their pride — ah me, what 
a stir .would have been among those 
compadres at such a time. 

Surely it was a new era on <Jie Pa- 
cific. The gold seeking filibusters of 
the Spanish race, who came bearing 
aloft the cross as symbol of their faith 
to christianize its people, are now effete 
and degenerate, and rapidly passing 
away before the strength of a new 
people, governed by liberal and just 
laws, pushed forward by love of adven- 
ture and of commerce, to seek for new 
fields of enterprise in the sunny lands 
of the beautiful Pacific 

" Ready about," and before us lay, 
what seemed a forest of pines, cover- 
ing a low island. It cannot be, we ex- 
claimed, by heavens ! it is a forest of 
ships. A thousand were riding at an- 
chor in the Bay, and soon we were 
among them. Ah ! there was our old 
comrade the " Adams," that we sailed 
with down the Atlantic coast, and kept 
company with in Rio, and there* our 
friend of Valparaiso, and there our 
consort off the Horn, with whom we 
doubled the Cape on that dark stormy 
evening, when it blew great guns and 
carried away our crossjack yard and 
sprung our fore topmast at the cap. 



Their decks were crowded, for they 
knew their old friend the " Sally Ann," 
and their wild cheer burst forth, and 
we answered in return, and as ship 
upon ship of our fleet sailed past us, 
they were welcomed with tremendous 
cheers. I tell thee old friend, it was a 
scene which few men ever behold, and 
our blood was bounding in a fever heat 

It's a strange sound, the rattling of 
the heavy chain as down goes the 
ponderous anchor in the deep ; and it is 
difficult to describe the mixed feelings 
which are born at such a time. Our 
voyage over, our sea life ended, and 
our land life to begin. The dreamy 
luxury of long inaction dissipated, and 
the work of reality about to commence. 
The first look at our new home, the 
first vivid realization of our field of 
enterprise, hope, courage, resolve, a 
little fear, trying to look away out into 
the future, a peering into the faces of 
our friends, and wondering if they will 
be staunch, and true, and steadfast ; an 
inward prayer, a look aloft at the spars 
of the now dear old ship, and then a 
rushing down below to see if all our 
traps are ready to be sent ashore. A 
hail from your friend of the opposite 
stateroom to yours, who is standing 
with half a dozen other good fellows, to 
take a last parting glass from the last 
bottle, and drink success to our hopes. 
Another rumbling of the chain as more 
is given out, to make the ship ride easy ; 
so ends our connection with the floating 
home, where for months, after all, we 
have been so happy. 

Then all is rush and excitement, 
bother, trouble, care and glimmerings 
of disappointment The man of yes- 
tcnlay, indolent, jaunty and careless, 
with the smoke from his hooka curling 

through his lips in graceful, lazy fes- 
toons, cannot be recognized in the fret- 
ted, anxious, overheated and excited 
fellow, who is rushing past you in 
search of a lost trunk or a missing 
carpet bag. 

With me it was different, thanks to 
my travels and connection with the em- 
bassy in Europe, where often I had to 
get ready for long journies at a mo- 
ment's notice, every thing with me was 
in its right place, and I was on deck 
looking with some degree of amuse- 
ment, at my fellow voyagers in their 
anxious hurry. 

Soon I turned from them to look out 
at the beautiful Bay. Its headlands and 
shores I traced far up and down, and 
wondered what was in the hazy dim 
beyond, and where' in that bright scene 
my destiny was to be cast 

Our city then was like a camp, its 
white tents glistening in the sun, and 
from where we lay, we could hear the 
rush and struggle of business, and hear 
the hammer and the axe at work. A 
mighty city was springing up, as if by 
magic, before our eyes ; there was the 
future scat of commerce, wealth and 
power, the first foundation stone of a 
mighty capital was laid amid that 
throng of tents. 

And in the inlets and bays of the 
great harbor, the scat of many a happy 
and thriving town. Away in the in- 
terior, the future homes, the happy 
homes of freemen and their sons, a peo- 
ple who were yet to control the destiny 
of the Pacific For, far out in its 
waters, were yet to sail the ships of 
this new land ; and along its coast, and 
in tbe harbors of its islands, the flag 
of this new country was yet to wave 
alof^ the arbiter of them all. 



Strange this reading of destiny in 
the present, yet it was truth ; a mighty 
lever had found its fulcrum, and the 
new world was being re-youthed again, 
and the first flashings of its future splen- 
dor shone out through the darkness of 
the past, even then, with a lustre, be- 
fore which the old glory of the fabu- 
lous Spanish conquest and achieve- 
ments were paling, as a star before the 
brilliant sun. 

The prophetic spirit was within me, 
and I felt its power, as I looked upon 
that city in the glory of years to come, 
and heard its future warriors and states- 
men speak, and beheld the throes and 
struggles in its young giant life — its 
virtues and its crimes, its noble pat- 
riots, and its traitor sons, mingled to- 
gether in the far off time — now trium- 
phant, now dismayed — now calm, now 
stern — now peace, now strife — now 
lifted up by the good, now cast down 
by the bad — now prosperous in the calm 
of happy, peaceful commerce — now 
swayed, and torn, and riven asunder, 
as her angels of good and demons of 
bad struggled for the mastery — still 
'twas triumph, 'twas upward and on- 
ward in the future of the GAden Ctity 
of the Pacific Empire, 

Our boat was soon dashing through 
the waters of the Bay, propelled by 
strong arms, and willing hearts, for the 
beach, which was thronged with the 
rush of hnman life. Soon her keel 
grated on the sand, and we were on our 
feet, one strong push altogether with 
the oars pointed downwards, and her 
bow was high and dry, one spring and 
we were on terra firma, and our arms 
were stretched aloft with a long respi- 
ration of satisfaction, right glad and 
thankful to be on land again, and that 

too in the great El Dorado, with our 
feet upon her golden shores. 

In truth it was a strange scene, that 
mingling of the races there, at the foot- 
stool of the altar of the golden god. 

I linked my arm in that of an old 
friend of mine, and through the heavy 
sand of the streets, we commenced onr 
explorations of the new city. It was 
a medley of confusion, but all were 
busy ; some erecting stands and laying 
out their wares to tempt the eye of the 
passer by ; some building their tents, 
sawing lumber, heaving the axe on 
high, and cutting timber into shape 
with the sharp adze ; some piling up 
goods in their open warehouses, others 
buying, bartering, and selling ; and 
others listening and searching for in- 
formation, that they hoped, was to open 
up the way, for them, to wealth. 

One thing struck me as remarkable, 
ere I was an hour in San Francisco, 
— the intense look of selfishness which 
was on every face. And before night, 
when I was back to the old ship, I 
found that the same shadow had fallen 
on the faces of my comrades. It was 
now impossible to come to an under- 
standing with any of them, as to what 
they intended to do, and what informa- 
tion they had gained. It was now 
every man for himself and a long fare- 
Well to the big words and promises of 

Self was up in arms, protecting self—* 
they were watchful and wary as Indi- 
ans, lest a word spoken in amity or 
hope might commit them, and act as a 
clog to aught the gods would grant 
them ere another day was past We 
were far, very far from being wealthy, 
many were on their last dollar, yet we 
were r ch in expectation — and were al- 



ready misers in our hearts, and the old 
adage that " riches harden the heart," 
was exemplified with tremendous force ; 
for many a poor hombre without a sin- 
gle ounce was already guarding his im- 
aginary wealth, which the coming time 
was to bring to him. 

Human nature, human nature, thou 
art not the boasted divinity which some 
high toned philanthropists, with great 
words would make thee — standing 
naked before the searching eye of truth. 

Faugh ! I have seen thee tried in 
the prairie, on the wreck, in the flight 
on the battle-field, in the hour of deadly 
famine, when all was lost but the tre- 
tneudous principle of self ; and, oh! 
how abject I have seen thee, how cow- 
ardly, how base. Still, I have seen 
exceptions, when the God-like principle 
of brotherly love has been visible with 
a light brilliant as the halo of an angel, 
— where the soul, in the right of its 
divine origin, has held the weaker hu- 
manity in cbeck, and made it act a 
work, with courage and nobility, a 
manly, glorious part, which deified the 
creature, and made the mortal for the 
time a God. 

Well, we strolled on through the 
sandy streets, now and then standing in 
some canvas groggery, where vile 
peach brandy and aguardiente, from 
Chili, was sold at fearful prices, and 
there listened to great tales which some 
ruffian sailor would be telling, and 
every now and then display his large 
bags of the shining dust Truly the 
place was a sailor's heaven : plenty of 
gold, plenty of rum, and no " call the 
watch," and u all hands, ahoy !" to reef 
topsails on a stormy night 

Clink! clink! clink! the sound of 
counting silver came ringing on the 

ear at every turn, in every street 
The sound was from the gambling- 
houses. My friend and I entered and 
passed around the crowd of human be- 
ings intent on trying the favor of the 
demon, chance. 

The rooms were crowded with those 
made after the image of the Creator, 
peering with restless and cunning eye 
at the dealers' hands, who, shuffling the 
cards, kept continually drawling out, 
" The game is made," and hauling into 
their overflowing coffers fifty to one 
they lost 

Well, there was piled on their tables 
great heaps of glittering coin of every 
realm and land under the sun, and 
large, solid, knotty pieces of virgin gold, 
with heavy bags of shining dust, show- 
ing there was no lack of wealth among 
the card-shuffling fraternity, whose fin- 
gers glistened with diamonds, and who, 
in the surrounding multitude, were re- 
markable for their fine dress. They 
were the Brummels and Chesterfields 
of the scene* 

My friend staked a dollar, I ten ; he 
lost, I won. lie staked five, I twenty ; 
the luck was still the same. I staked 
fifty, and won again. My friend would 
play no more, but the spirit of evil 
had got into me, and I staked a hun- 
dred—won once more; two hundred, 
and once more I was a victor. 

My friend sat down and, whispering, 
reasoned with me that I should leave 
while luck was with me. In vain he 
talked. I played on, now a winner, 
now a loser. One, two, three hours 
rolled on, and I rose the winner of two 
thousand dollars. 

When in the street, I sat down upon 
a pile of lumber and looked into my 
heart, and found that there was deeper 



guilt in it than I had ever dreamt of, 
for my blood was in a fever heat, and 
the full spirit of the thorough gambler 
was rampant in me. 

Still I had strength enough to lay 
my hand upon the veins of my heart, 
pausing to reflect, and soon I was mas- 
ter of myself, and then and there I 
made a vow never to stake a dollar at 
cards again; and, thank Heaven, I 
kept my resolution, aye, when tempted 
in the hour of trial. 

Not for millions would I again feel 
as I did when I was winner of that 
two thousand dollars. No, not for the 
uncovered wealth of California, piled 
in its glittering masses like the fabled 
wealth of the genii, would I give over, 
for two hours again, my soul, and heart, 
and being, to the mean, cowardly sel- 
fishness of spirit which had possession 
of me for that short but eventful period. 

Well, time rolled on, days, weeks, 
and months, and I was a speculator. 
A fortune was in my grasp ; but the 
culminating point of my luck was 
turned, and, in the ratio of my gain, I 
lost, until, alas ! my position, from the 
expectant millionaire, was that of a 
day laborer for hire. 

Damp, heavy fogs, like the mists of 
winter in a northern clime, enveloped, 
in its humid cloud, the Bay and City of 
Tents ; and then lights and fires peered 
out with a heavy glare from the hazy 

Strolling on the sand-beach, where 
now stands one of the finest streets of 
the city, I was looking into myself, and 
the examination was not flattering to 
my vanity, and helped to increase the 
gloomy depression of spirits which hud 
been gaining on mc for some days past. 
I had begun to feel a longing desire to 

leave this new land, which I had en- 
tered with such ardent hopes, soured 
by want of success in my speculations, 
and my lack of the knowledge of the 
world's ways, to enable me to carve 
out a path for myself independent of 

Proud, unwilling, and unaccustomed 
to hard labor, I inwardly blamed my 
seeming folly in coming to a country 
where, as yet, all men had either to be 
the traders or laborers. In that bitter 
hour I cursed the education which un- 
fitted me for holding my own in such 
a place as I now found myself. And, 
oh ! how I wished that I had learned to 
be a carpenter, or some other useful 
branch of trade, instead of studying 
for years in the dreamy, poetical clois- 
ters of a German college. 

The mines I dreaded, from the ruth- 
less lawless men whom I then met every 
day from there, and from their exag- 
gerated accounts of the misery they 
endured. Still it had come to this with 
me, that I had to determine upon my 
course that night, either to bear the 
supposed evils which were around me, 
leave for the mines, or leave the coun- 
try — " a sadder, but a wiser man." 

Earnestly I investigated every infor- 
mation I had received upon the subject, 
and my own experience. You will say, 
my friend, that it was easy to decide. 
I tell you, from the peculiar formation 
of my mental habits at that time, it 
was very difficult. True, there was 
plenty of work at high remuneration, 
but all in a new field from what 1 had 
been accustomed ; and then, from my 
vanity, or pride*, or bashfulness, I could 
not ask a man to give me work. One 
or two repulses I had met with, and 
some jeers from comrades with whom 




I had labored, at my awkwardness and 
gentle manners, bad made me hate my- 
self and mankind — so that, at that mo- 
ment I was ready to enter into any 
enterprise, short of dishonor, which 
would give me excitement and relief 
from ray own despai rings. 

Strolling on, planning and thinking, 
I was suddenly aroused by the sound 
of revelry and laughter, proceeding 
from a large frame, canvas-covered 
building, which broke like a charm 
upon my ear. I also will be joyous, I 
thought, as I paused at the edge of its 
circle of light. One step, another, and I 
was in its centre, when I was arrested in 
a manner somewhat strange and abrupt. 

At the door stood a tall, fine built 
man, dressed somewhat in a half sailor, 
half landsman fashion. I had but time 
to look at him, when suddenly he pre- 
sented a pistol point blank at me, and 
shouted, in a gay cheerful tone of voice, 
44 Under what king, Bezonian ? — speak 
or die." I answered not Again the 
question, and with it the flash of the 
pistol, and a ball whistled past my ear. 
One, two, three, four, five, six shots he 
fired in quick succession, each ball 
teeming to graze my head, when he 
exclaimed, " By heaven ! you are a 
trump, and I appoint you the Captain 
of my watch !" and making six steps, 
he was by my side, and grasped my 
hand as I sprung at his throat His 
arms were locked round me with an 
iron hold, and I was powerless. 

"Calm yourself," said he; "I am 
your friend," 

44 Unhand me," I exclaimed; my 
1i1«km1 was up to the fever heat. " Give 
nie a fair chance, villain, with gun or 
|>i«tol, knife or sword, and I will fight 
thee to the death." 

" I knew it, friend," he said, in tones 
gentle as a maiden's voice. " I have 
seen thee tried, here and before," — and 
bending down, he whispered a word in 
my ear which made me spring from 
him with a bound which tore me from 
his grasp. 

It was the name of a small town in 
Germany, which in memory 1 ever 
hated — where once in a mad frolic of 
some students, I quarrelled with a com- 
rade. We fought with small swords, 
and he fell. This had been the dark 
spot of my life, and I had learned to 
forget it until then. 

" Who are you ?" I exclaimed. 

" That matters not," he answered ; 
u I know you, you see. For some days 
I have intended to speak to you, and 
make you an offer which would give 
you a chance for fortune ; but seeing 
you enter within this light, the mad 
idea of trying if you were made of the 
same stuff as ever, made me draw upon 
you, to see if you would flinch from 
the whistle of the bullet. Forgive me, 
'twas a mad introduction, but not more 
so than many a frolic on the banks of 
the Neckar, in old Heidelburgh." 

Again he was beside me, and whis- 
pering gently, he gave me the pass- 
word of a society that I had been a 
member of years before. My hand 
was within his, his arm was around my 
neck, and we entered the house like 
comrades of the night. But what hap- 
pened there, I must reserve for my next 

paper. * 


A? the needle, frail and shivering, 

On the ocean wastes afar, 
Veering, changing, trembling, quivering, 

Settles on the polar star — 
So in breasts of those who roam, 

Love's magnetic fires arc burning — 
To the central point of home, 

Trembling hearts are ever turning. 





He knew her when a budding flower ; 

He watched her growth from hour to hour, 

And loved her in her bloom ; 
But since her soul has flown from earth, 
With all its native, saintly worth, 


His heart lies in her tomb. 

The expense and inconvenience at- 
tendant upon the transportation of 
bulky material from San Francisco 
into the interior, in 1849, rendered it 
necessary for California adventurers, 
arriving here, to squeeze their personal 
paraphernalia into as small a package 
as possible; and, consequently, many 
who had landed with cumbersome 
trunks were obliged to store them until 
they returned from the mountains* 
Many of these were destroyed during 
the terrible visitations of fire inflicted 
upon this city in its days of infancy. 
Those that were stored on board of 
vessels in the harbor and in houses 
that passed unscathed through the fiery 
ordeals, as a general thing, were left 
unreclaimed, and sales of trunks and 
contents, " for account of whom it may 
concern," were matters of e very-day 

Having a few shirts of my own lying 
miscellaneously around the room in 
which I lodged, and finding that their 
original number was rapidly decreas- 
ing by the simple rule of subtraction 
— a part of arithmetic in which my 
room-mates were particularly well 

• schooled — I resolved, in justice to ju- 

* dicious self-economy, to purchase a 
trunk, and thereby remove all further 
temptation. With this commendable 
object in view, I attended the next sale 
I saw advertised, and was the fortu- 
nate bidder-in of an elegant and fash- 

ionable spring-lock, double-covered, 
leather travelling trunk. In looking 
over its contents, which consisted of 
toilet knick-knacks, an assortment of 
under-garments, etc., I discovered a 
MS., carefully folded, and endorsed: 
" My first,, last, and only love. 
Curiosity led me to open it, and I 
found the following interesting narra- 


In the still, lone hours of night, when 
all around reigns silence, and man is left 
alone to commune with his thoughts 
how fleetly memory wings back to the 
moments of the past! How vividly 
appear, to the imagination, the faces of 
those we once loved ; and how freshly 
are arrayed before us the scenes of pur- 
ity and innocence that we passed with 
them in our halcyon days ! Again, in 
thought, we gambol, with all the buoy- 
ancy of youth, over the familiar fields 
of green, and pluck nature's choicest 
flowers to present to the idol of oar 
heart; or, perhaps, wander leisurely 
with her along the river's bank, gazing 
upon the bosom of the placid stream, 
as it silently courses to the ocean, and 
liken our love to it — calm but flowing, 
and as exhaustless as its source. 

Yes, there was a period when each 
succeeding day rolled on with such un- 
alloyed happiness — when requited love 
gave sunshine and brightness to every 
hour, that I now almost regret memory 
remains to give me the power of con- 
trasting that time with the present. 

Mary Elton was a rare and beauti- 
ful flower that bloomed in the town of 
Wilkesbarre, on the banks of the Sus- 
quehannah. She was adorned by na- 
ture with a form of excellent pymme- 
try and a face of marvellous beauty. 



Although she was endowed with an 
easy and fascinating grace in society, 
her manners were naturally retiring. 
Her family, being in affluent circum- 
stances, had given her an excellent 
education, which she made use of not 
to show others how far she was their 
superior in learning, but to attract 
them towards her that she might im- 
part to them the treasures she had re- 
ceived at the fount of knowledge. To 
the poor she had endeared herself by 
her benefactions; her peers she had 
won by her kindness and amiability ; 
and her seniors she had conciliated by 
her veneration and tractability. 

Though situated in vastly different 
worldly circumstances and prospects 
from Miss Elton, I grew up, from my 
earliest years, in her acquaintance. 
Our friendship, at the age of adoles- 
cence, ripened into love, and at length 
happiness for either was only to be 
found in the other's society. 

Two years passed away, from the 
time we had first interchanged our vows, 
without interruption to our happiness. 
Mv mind had become so engrossed 
with the enthralling passion which pos- 
sessed me, that I could not pay that 
strict attention to business which is 
6o necessary to attain success in the 
legal profession. The reputation I 
had gained during the first six months 
of my practice was rapidly waning for 
the wan/ of exertion on my part ; and 
I at length opened my eyes to the in- 
judicionsness, if not folly, of my course. 
There were obstacles to our union I 
bad not heretofore reflected upon. 
The object of my affection was the 
daughter of a wealthy father ; I must 
he the architect of my own fortune. 
Would it be rght, would it be honora- 

ble, to draw her down to my own level 
of poverty, with the bare prospect that 
my industry and talents would one 
day open the way to fame and opu- 
lence ? And then, even should I over- 
come my present scruples, would Mr. 
Elton be willing to give his daughter's 
hand to one who had nothing to offer 
in return but the poor pittance of 
professional ambition and a world of 
good intentions? Reason answered, 
No ! And yet, how could I for a mo- 
ment release the jewel that so en- 
chained me. " The spirit parting with 
the soul " could not offer half the meas- 
ure of suffering that a separation from 
the idol of my heart would produce. 
Honor and duty dictated the course 
which prudence sanctioned ; love and 
affection lured me on in the current 
which the heart approved. I decided, 
on the moment, to sink the latter con- 
sideration, and resolved to acquaint 
Mary, at our next meeting, with my 
reflections, and beg to be forgotten. 

But, alas for human weakness! 
When next we met, our hearts' out- 
pourings were as deeply imbued with 
love as they had been in our most 
thoughtless days. When I said : 

" Mary, I fear our positions in life 
are too widely different to permit the 
hope of a union," 

She replied : " Positions different, 
Henry? What matters it how dif- 
ferent our worldly positions may be, 
so long as our hearts are united by a 
congenial sympathy. Oh, Henry, you 
have known me to little purpose if you 
have yet to learn that no worldly con- 
sideration can come between you and 
my love ! " 

44 You misunderstand me, Mary ; I 
mean, your father's intentions would 



he an insuperable obstacle to our 

" Fear not, dear Henry. He will 
love you because I love you. He will 
"but see in our union the mutual happi- 
ness of his children, and gladly avail 
himself of the opportunity to sanction 
it. Although he has many eccentrici- 
ties, he nevertheless possesses a warm 
and noble heart." 

4i Let us, then, go to him at once, 
Mary, declare our love, and ask his 
blessing," said I, transported by the 
enthusiasm of my well beloved. 

We quickly threaded our way to 
Mr. Elton's residence, and entered 
his statelv mansion. We found him 
seated in his study, and I was kindly, 
if not cordially, received by him. 

Mr. Elton was a person of imposing 
preseuce. Past the meridian of life, 
with a form unusually erect, he wore 
an air approximating to aristocratic 
stiffness. His features, though promi- 
nent and inflexible, appeared handsome 
and intelligent I said he received me 
kindly; but yet — perhaps it was the 
consciousness of the audacity of my er- 
rand made me think so — I imagined 
I saw a degree of severity in his coun- 
tenance when he bade me to be seated 
that augured ill for the success of my 

I attempted several times to open 
the subject to him, but my heart fal- 
tered. I lacked the moral courage 
boldly to ask his daughter's hand ; and 
had it not been for the adroit device 
of Mary, I fear I would have quitted 
the house without having broached the 

" Father," said Mary, " Mr. Woods- 
by has business of importance to com- 
municate to you, and as it is perhaps 

not proper that I should be a party to 
your conversation, I will withdraw." 

This well-devised ruse completely 
entrapped me. It would have been 
cowardly on my part not to have en- 
tered the lists boldly, since Mary had 
thrown down the gauntlet I had hut 
one course left to pursue, and I called 
into requisition all my moral stamina 
to nerve me for the task. 
• " Mr. Elton," said I, when Mary had 
closed the door, " pardon the abrupt- 
ness with which I approach a subject 
which will perhaps meet as much with 
your astonishment at my presumption 
as it will excite your indignation at my 
temerity. Children of circumstances, 
our idols are frequently the authors of 
hopes which can never be realized; 
and our greatest comfort is often in the 
enjoyment of what must eventually 
prove a visionary happiness. By a 
fatality over which I had no control, 
I have become passionately, irrevoca- 
bly attached to your daughter. I need 
not say that my love is returned, for it 
is repaid four-fold. Our beings are 
inseparably, religiously blended, and it 
needs but your parental sanction to 
secure our happiness." 

Mr. Elton at first seemed astonished, 
then alarmed, then stupefied, and at 
last relaxed into a cold, severe, and 
patronizing demeanor. I expected to 
see an indignant burst of passion — and 
I believe I should have preferred it to 
the calm and marble expression of his 
countenance — as I closed my passion- 
ate rhapsody. After a few moments 
of '(to me) embarrassing silence, Mr. 
Elton, in a cold, deliberate, and meas- 
ured tone, spoke as follows : 

" Mr. Woodsby, it is unnecessary to 
mention that I am very much aston- 


22 C 

ished at your abrupt proposition. The 
welfare and happiness of my daughter 
i* a matter of very deep importance to 
me. I must say that I regret the af- 
fection that has sprung up between 
you ; not that I suppose you are not 
worthy of her, but that you are unable 
to support her in the manner to which 
she has been accustomed. Your pro- 
fession is an honorable and elevating 
one; and although you have not, as 
ret gained in it a high reputation, 
your talents and industry may one day 
ensure your success. If my daughter 
feels that her destiny is irretrievably 
linked with yours, she shall have my 
consent to wed you. But I will im- 
pose one condition, as a test of your 
sincerity and worthiness." 

u Oh, name it," I enthusiastically ex- 
claimed ; u and though it were as diffi- 
cult of execution as consummating Sy- 
siphus' task, or as perilous in purpose 
as buffeting the turbid Hellespont, I 
will attempt it." 

u It is neither difficult or dangerous. 
All that is requirejflKs patience and 
industry. Listen ! If, at the expira- 
tion of two years from the present 
time, you shall have established an ac- 
knowledged reputation in your profes- 
sion, and have secured an income that 
will comfortably support my daughter, 
you shall have my consent." 

I unhesitatingly availed myself of 
tbe proposition, and thanked him for 
his generosity. I resolved to apply 
myself with assiduity to my business, 
*od force a reputation from the legal 

When I reached the garden in front 
°f the house, I met Mary, who was 
anxiously waiting to hear her doom. 
I related what had passed between her 

father and myself, and assured he r 
that the task did not now seem difficulty 
as the incentive to exertion was so- 
great that success was sure to follow. 

Mary did not receive the intelli- 
gence with the satisfaction I antici- 
pated. She had hoped that her father 
would have given his consent without 
imposing any condition, and was there- 
fore disappointed. 

I told her that the prescribed time 
would soon fly around, and pictured in, 
glowing colors the advances I would 
make in my profession, and how muck 
more worthy I would be of receiving a 
treasure like her, when my fame and 
success were heralded by every tongue. 
We would meet, oft meet, again, and 
talk of the bright and happy days- 
which the future held in store for us. 
Time would but add fresh fuel to the 
flame that burnt within, and when my 
task was done, life evermore would be 
but one continued exstacy of love. 

The fervency of my hopes commu- 
nicated itself to Mary, and lighted up 
her visage with the rapture that ami- 
mated mine. Ere we parted, a long 
and warm embrace sealed our plighted 
troths. Heaven and earth had never 
before been witness to a pact more 
pure— to a betrothal more hallowed. 

The application and energy which I 
bestowed thenceforth on my vocation, 
had the effect of increasing my patron- 
age. No labor seemed too great, no re- 
search too tedious, and no study too ar- 
duous, to ensure the success of the 
causes of my clients. They thought, 
poor souls, in telling out my fees, that 
their dross was the incentive that urged 
me to the herculean exertions which I 
made on their behalf, and that it was 
the touchstone that caused my forensic 



oratory to flow. No! my client was 
the father of Mary, and tne fee herself! 
Never had lawyer a more valuable re- 
tainer, and never did one more zealous- 
ly strive for the success of his client 

One year had passed since the inter- 
view with Mr. Elton. I was pleased 
to hear through mutual friends, that he 
expressed great satisfaction at my 
growing reputation, and frequently 
passed high encomiums upon my exer- 
tions. When I could afford a respite 
from my labors, my time was. always 
spent in the company of Mary Elton. 
We both seemed but to live for the 
hour when her father would declare 
the conditions fulfilled, and endorse our 
union. Oh, how slowly the wheels of 
time seemed to move. Hours lingered 
into days, and days to years prolonged, 
as we would think of the time yet to 
pass ere the goal of our hopes should 
be attained. But patience was a virtue, 
and we resolved to add it to our code 
of morals. 

Christmas was at hand. The winter, 
so far, had been intensely severe, and 
the whole country was covered with a 
thick mantle of snow. The tinkling 
of sleigh bells had been heard without 
interruption for three weeks in the 
town of Wilkesbarre, and now that the 
holidays were coming, the denizens 
of the town regaled themselves with a 
sleigh ride. The sharp, biting atmos- 
phere which prevailed, induced exer- 
tion to keep the blood in circulation, 
and the young folks enjoyed themselves 
in the healthful exercise of skating and 
enow balling, while the old ones, muf- 
fled in furs to the chin, rode to the 
eound of merry bells from one friend's 
house to another's. 

Mr. Elton had proposed to his daugh- 

ter to pass the holidays at his brother's 
farm, which was situated some thirty 
miles from Wilkesbarre. They were 
to go in Mr. Elton's sleigh, drawn by 
his magnificent span of grays — the 
finest horses in the county — and were 
to return the morning previous to New 
Year's, so as to be in season to receive 
the calls of their friends on that gala 

I felt a degree of lonesomeness and 
dejection after Mary's departure, very 
inconsistent with the general joy that 
then prevailed in the town. Whilst 
every body seemed merry and jocund, 
I was care-worn and dispirited. I felt 
an indescribable presentiment weigh- 
ing me down, as if some impending 
danger were about to burst upon me. 
In vain I attempted to rouse myself 
from the moroseness which pervaded 
my whole being. In vain I called 
forth my better judgment to combat 
the vague phantom which had laid hold 
of me. My sleep was troubled and 
restive, and my dreams were of an 
alarming characflfe. What was to hap- 
pen I could not tell, but my mind in- 
stinctively wandered to the object of 
my affection. I sought to exorcise the 
demon of evil that possessed me by 
prayer. It afforded but a momentary 

" Great God P I cried, goaded by 
my feelings into a phrenzy of agony, " if 
there be any calamity about to happen 
to her I love, avert it. Let it, Lord, 
fall on me, not on her ; for I am strong 
and can better bear Thy wrath, than 
she Thy divine displeasure!" 

Darkness never ushered in a night 
so tempestuous as the one previous to 
the morning on which Mr. and Miss 
Elton were to return. The storm-king 



reigned in all his fury. The snow 
descended in thick flakes, and the wind 
howled as if Ehlis' demons were 
chaunting their infernal chorus. Mas- 
sive hail-stones pelted pitiless against 
the windows, whose sounds added 
dreariness to the sad music. Oh, it 
was such a ni«*ht as checks the sinner in 
his road career, and turns his thoughts, 
to God! 

The heaviness of my soul was in- 
creased by the magnitude of the storm. 
I felt as if each blast that whistled past 
my door, bore a tale of sadness with 
which I was inseperably connected. It 
was a long, long, dreary night; but 
still it had a morrow. 

A few hours' sleep helped to greatly 
revive me, and I arose in the morning 
feeling much better than I had since 
Mary's departure. The storm had par- 
tially subsided, and I felt the wonted 
vivacity of my temperament return. 
Besides, was not my well-beloved to 
come home to-day, and then what joy 
we would experience, when we clasped 
each other again! Oh yes, the fool- 
ish weakness must give way in the 
presence of my idol, whose face for me 
is ever sunshine and gladness. 

At the hour when they were ex- 
pected to return, I went to Mr. Elton's 
and sat down in his comfortable par- 
lor, anxiously awaiting their arrival. 
I had not beeu seated long, when one 
of the domestics opened the door and 
announced that Mr. Elton's sleigh was 
coming down the street. 

My features and feelings instantly 
brightened up. I thought how foolish I 
had been to allow myself to give way 
to unnecessary and unfounded fears, 
and started for the door. 
The horses had already stopped in 

front of the house, and when I arrived 
on the balcony, I saw Mr. Elton still 
remaining in his position holding the 
reins. Mary had not seen me yet Her 
attention was attracted to something 
immediately in front of her. , I invo- 
luntarily remained on the piazza a 
moment to enjoy the sight of that beau* 
tiful young maiden, blooming with the 
roseate hue of health, and the halo, 
staid and venorable visage of her fa- 
ther. He had evidently experienced 
difficulty in restraining the impetuosity 
of his grays, as he was still holding 
in the reins, waiting for some one to 
open the carriage-house gate. 

I quickly ran and opened it, and 
then went towards the .sleigh. I was 
very much astonished at the indiffer- 
ence with which they treated my pres- 
ence, neither of them deigning to no- 
tice me. What had I done to merit 
this coldness ? Nothing. They could 
not have seen me, I went close to 
Mary and tendered my open arms. 
She heeded me not. 

* Welcome back to Wilkesbarre, 
Miss Elton." 

But I received no answer. A hor- 
rible thought crosses my mind. No, 
no ! it cannot be ! Heaven is too boun- 
teous, too merciful to lend its piercing 
elements to such a deed. I approach 
still closer. Her eye-balls are fixed 
and glassy, her lips livid. He, too, is 
motionless ! Great God ! They are — 
frozen to death. 

Some two years since, whilst on a 
tour through the Atlantic States, I 
chanced to visit Pennsylvania, and re- 
mained several days at Wilkesbarre. 
I there formed the acquaintance of an 
old gentleman who had lived a long 



time in that place, and enquired if he 
knew anything of the foregoing history. 
He informed me that he had known all 
the parties and that the narrative was 
strictly true. 

" However," said he, " if you will 
come with me to yonder churchyard, I 
will show you the graves of Mr. Elton 
and his daughter. 

We entered the " silent city of the 
dead," and my friend pointed out two 
very chaste marble slabs. One was 
inscribed thus : — 

" To the memory of Joel K. Elton, 
who departed this life Dec 31, 1835, 
aged 53 years." 

The other was as follows : 

" Here lieth the mortal remains of 
Mary Elton, who died on the 31st of 
December, 1835, aged 20 years." 

And underneath were the following 

touching lines : — ♦ 

" A tribute to -virtue, a tribute to worth — 

A tear for the youthful in yean, 
Whose pilgrimage short was so prized upon 
As to leave it but sorrow and tears. 


a There," said my companion, " re- 
pose the ashes of those of whom you 
spoke. These tablets were erected 
by Mr. Woodsby. Since his departure 
to California, the graves have been 
sadly neglected. It was his custom to 
visit them every Sunday, and I have 
often seen him nursing with touching 
tenderness, the flowers that grew upon 
that little mound." 

We returned from the churchyard 
silent and thoughtful. 

* I have one more question to ask," 
said I, " before we part. Have you 
ever heard from Mr. Woodsby since he 
arrived in California?" 

"Yes he wrote once to a friend. 
The next letter that was received, 

brought the sad intelligence of his 
death. He died demented in the Cali- 
fornia Insane Asylum." 

" How sad a termination to such de- 
voted love," I sorrowfully remarked, as 
I parted with my friend* and Wilkes- 



Jokes. — As gold becomes refined by 
passing through the ordeal of fire, so 
truth is the purer for being tested by 
the furuace of fun ; for jokes are to 
facts what melting-pots are to metal. 
The utterer of a good joke is a useful 
member of society. 

Oh ! there's a heart for every one, 

If every one could find it ; 
Then up and seek, ere youth is gone, 

Whate'er the toil, ne er mind it ! 
For if you chance to meet at last 

With that one heart intended 
To be a blessing unsurpassed. 

Till life itself is ended, 
How could you prize the labor done, 

How grieve if you'd resign it ; 
For there's a heart for every one, 

If every one could find it. 

Good humor is the clear blue sky of 
the soul, on which every star of talent 
will shine more clearly, and the sun of 
genius encounter no vapors in its pas- 
sage. It is the most exquisite beauty 
of a fine face, a redeeming grace in a 
homely one. It is like the green in a 
landscape, harmonizing in every color, 
mellowing the light, and softening the 
hues of the dark, or like a flute in a 
full concert of instruments, a sound 
not at first discovered by the ear, yet 
filling up the breaks of the concord 
with its deep melody. 

"I am afraid," said a lady to her 
husband, " that I am going to have a 
stiff neck." ' " Not at all improbable, 
my dear," replied her spouse, u I have 
seen strong symptoms of it ever Bince 
we have been married." 





Y«u mast not find fault, dear friend 
Propertias, with my erratic flights. 
If I am arst in Ireland, next in New 
York, and now ia Holland, attribute it 
(o your unnatural craving for the 
strange and wonderful, and not to dry, 
randemic fault in my dottitigs down; 
they are all regular enough — the irreg- 
ularity is with yon, who are attracted 
by tlw curious patches in the old gar- 
ment; when many* sober and more 
meritorious texture passes by you un- 
heeded. I am now ia Holland, and to 
please you, must slar over the many 
wonderful features and natural and ar- 
tificial curiosities it contains. Its *a> 
mease polders ; u What are tfeey ?" yoa 
a4 : Tracts «f land of many thousands 
of acres in extent, {that<of Beemsted is 
fifteen English miles in ciroumferaBce,) 
below the level of the waters around it, 
made fertile and dry by the incessant 
industry of this people. I never 
shall forget my surprise at the first 
time on beholding this scene ; for here 
are reposing, ia a security that the 
spectator cannot (help thinking fancied 
and treacherous, hundreds of fat cows, 
thousands of plump sheep, scores of 
fine wbeatfieids, acres of beautiful gar* 
dens, all surrounded by great waters, 
which, to all appearance, are depend- 
ant upon a few crazy looking mills and 
amateur dykes, for their well-being. 
All appears in an unnatural position. 
Every road is a canal, and every high- 
way a zee. In our country such a 
state of things would produce colds, ca- 
tarrhs, agues, and fevers, wearing you 
all to skeletons. Here, it has a con- 
trary tendency, for its cows are the fat- 
te«t, its horses the sleekest, its sheep 
the sweetest, its butter the freshest, its 
maidens the rosiest, its wives the plump- 
er, its men the hardiest, (particularly in 
the sedes honoris) its children the stur- 
diest in creation. The Hollanders are 
a sensible people, they know that such 

a country, besides keeping out the riv- 
er waters, required something extraor- 
dinary to keep out the river fogs ; and 
with this view, the amazing gin distil- 
leries of Schiedam were constructed. 
Schiedam — genuine Schiedam— I 
see you smack your lips at the word, 
ftiead P., and well you may, for if 
there is anything that entitles it to the 
distinction of the nectar of the gods— 
but where am I wandering. I was 
going to tell you about all event which 
happened at Zaandam, while f was so- 
journing there, and which its good peo- 
ple talk of to this very day ; but be 
patient — this Zaandam, I must tell you 
something about — the story shall come 
by-and-by. This town, (the fifth in ex- 
tent) now numbering about 1 4,000 in- 
habitants, is situated on the north shore 
of the Y., between the East and West 
Zaandam. Its houses are all wood, 
and surrounded by a square canal quite 
insulated, the one from the other. 
Each has a garden cultivated with the 
neatest care. At a distance, the town 
has the strangest appearance — beauti- 
ful as strange : something like an ani- 
mated map, highly colored, to please 
boys of our own States. The houses 
are painted of divers fancy colors, 
green and white predominating. On 
one side, called the Zaan, there is a 
sight that would make the oldest trav- 
eler wink again, take off his " specs/' 
wipe them thrice, adjust them, and 
then ask himself the question " Do I 
sec, or dream that I see ? n What does 
he see? Why, a thousand wind-mills, 
all in one line, of five miles, at least, in 
length ; some of them, indeed most of 
them, as high, almost, as the Washington 
monument, and as large as a military 
barracks. Here they are, all going 
round, and round, in one mighty rivalry 
of attempting to achieve the most work 
in the least time, whether it be grinding 
corn, draining land, sawing timber, 
making paper, pounding drugs, pulver- 
izing tobacco, sifting snuff, preparing 
color materials, making sand or knead 
ing trass; which latter seems to be 
some volcanic debris, and which thu? 




ingenious people form into a kind of 
cement, and which has the property of 
hardening under water. Tliis discov- 
ery must have been of as much value 
in their dam-making, as their world- 
renowned Schiedam is in their xlram- 
drinking. Now to my story. 
A stone's throw from Peter the Great's 
Hut, (he lived here while learning the 
art and mystery of Dutch ship-build- 
ing, in 1696,) lived Hans Ryewyk and 
his frau. Their occupation, that of 
hostelry, was a tolerably thriving one 
at the time I speak of. No traveler 
could summon resolution to pass good 
Hans' house, without hearing and taste- 
ing once more, his best, strong, and his 
oldest ale. They were a simple peo- 
ple, and much esteemed in the neigh- 
borhood. One memorable Saturday 
night, while the parish sexton and 
schoolmaster were discussing the usual 
topics, to a late hour, a violent storm of 
wind and hail drove in a passenger, 
who, alighting from his horse, thun- 
dered at the door, although upon the 
latch, in a style of impatience, more 
befitting a wealthy owner than a casu- 
ual customer. 

The man of all work, in the doable 
capacity of waiter and hostler, led his 
jaded animal to the stable-parlor, (all 
stables here are much like parlor*) 
tied up his tail, as is the dainty custom 
in Holland, lest the walls should be 
soiled, took off the red cloth from his 
back, and then proceeded to unbuckle 
the saddle — red, too ; the beast, then, 
by the light of his lanthorn, appeared, 
to the amazed Boots, of a fiery red 
color. He had never seen such a 
thing. • However, h* gave him his feed, 
not taking his eyes off' him a moment, 
and then hastened in to the landlord 
and whispered to him an account of 
the extraordinary phenomenon of a red 
horse. But Bamblik, the waiter, had 
always something of the marvellous to 
relate, so neither mine host or hostess 
thought more of it. 

The stranger was introduced into the 
neat, sanded parlor, where sat two 
smokers, half asleep, waiting the end 

of the storm and the finish of their 
pipes. All at once there was a some- 
thing about the new-comer that routed 
the two smokers from their lethargy 
and excited their curiosity. After he 
had divested himself of his travelling- 
cloak, he appeared habited in red. 
The inside of the cloak itself was red. 
he had fiery red bair — bloodshot, red 
eyes— his nose was red, and his gloye>, 
if they were gloves, were also red. 
Calling for the waiter, he proceeded to 
draw off the leathers, with that man of 
allwork's assistance, which discovered 
his stockings to be also red. Opening 
his portmanteau of the same color, he 
drew out a red dressing-gown, and, af- 
ter seating himself in his chair, pro- 
ceeded to cover his red wig with a red 
night-cap. Then opening a small red 
box, he drew from thence a small red 
pipe, into which he thrust some red to- 
bacco ; and, to the now unrestrained 
wonder and fear of all the beholders, 
drew a cloud of red smoke, so thick 
and fast as to disguise, in a short time, 
the appearance of every object in the 
room, including himself. The parish 
sexton, taking advantage of the obscu- 
rity, sidled up noiselessly to the corner. 
where sat, in amazement and wonder, 
the schoolmaster, who, observing all 
these appearances, could not help 
thinking that he saw something, with 
a tuft like a tail, writhing about under 
the chair upon which this mysteriou* 
traveller sat. The stranger had not 
yet spoken. 

" How red the candle burns !" whis- 
pered the sexton. "And the fire!" 
rejoined the schoolmaster. 

" Slippers ! " said the mysterious 
one to the gaping Boots, whose hair 
already stood on end with fright. 

" Where ? " said the Boots. 

" There ! " said the red man, point- 
ing to a parcel in red paper. 

" Red, again ! " whispered the schol- 
ar. " Red, again ! " stammered the 
sexton, as a pair of red slippers un- 
folded themselves. 

Meanwhile the storm without raged 
with the utmost fury, and the wiud 



swept the four corners of the house as 
if some mighty giant were folding it 
around, or scraping it, with some huge 

u Do not leave me," said frightened 
Hans, the landlord. 

a You must not go,* echoed his bet- 
ter half to the two village functionaries. 

Now struck the long clock in the 
farthest corner of the room, the witch" 
ing hour #f nigld, and the mysterious 
one arose to seek his chamber for re* 

"Any room!" said the landlord. 
u Any where, but near me," said the 

" Here's the ca-oa-candle," shivered 
out the almost dumb-struck chamber- 

*'Tis time to go," said the peda- 

u Better stay," said the sexton, riv- 
eted by fright to the spot. 

Dreadful, most dreadful, passed that 
night The storm seemed laboring 
towards a climax it could not attain. 
The mysterious traveller overhead was 
pacing through the live long dreary 
hours, like a disembodied spirit doing 
penance. Ceaseless, piercing groans, 
and the clanking of long, heavy chains, 
as if trailing along the floor attached 
to some captive demon, were ever and 
anon heard. In vain the terrified 
landlord stirred up the fire, and the 
landlady crossed herself, calling upon 
all the saints in the calendar for deliv- 
erance. In vain they plied the sexton 
and schoolmaster in strong liquors un- 
scored; courage came not, but fear 
strided triumphant throughout the 

"The good saints guide us," said 
mine host, " what deeds that man has 
to answer for ! " 

u Gracious! what's that?" said the 
landlady, hearing a noise as if some 
bulky object, of a ton weight, had fallen 
on the floor, accompanied with yelling 
shrieks, piercing cries and shrill whis- 

M Do you smell the brimstone ? " 
cried the landlord. 

" Strong — very strong ! " said the 
sexton ; " our pastor will have to ex- 
orcise us all to-morrow." 

" Oh, what has Satan seen in us, to 
take up his abode here?" said the 

Here burst in the honest waiter. 
" Master, master ! goodness sake ! come 
in to the stables ! here's the man's 
horse dancing a fandango amongst the 
chickens and pigs, like any Christian. 
The brute looked up to me while I was 
giving his feed, and says he to me, 
* D'ye call that a full measure ? I'll 
shew you a pretty dance presently, 
you rascal.' With that he falls to 
dancing, like any devil. Oh! what's 
that ? " 

u What is to become of us ? " whis- 
pered all, as they gathered into one 
focus in the middle of the room. 

u Be patient," said the schoolmaster, 
" and say your prayers. Hark ! what's 
that ? " 

"'Tis the old cock a-crowing," said 
the man of hay. 

" Thank God ! " said the schoolmas- 
ter ; " all spirits vanish at cock-crow." 

Suddenly they heard the loud rum- 
bling of a carriage, rolling off with 
great rapidity to a distance ; and as 
the sound died on their ears, the wind 
fell, the rain ceased, and all above was 

After the affrighted party had held 
their breath some time in suspense, 
fearing to speak or even to look, the 
landlord first recovered his self-posses- 

" Is it safe to open the windows to 
let out the sulphur ? " he inquired of 
the schoolmaster. 

" What's o'clock ? " was th* rejoinder. 

" Three," whispered the landlady ; 
" I know it by the old cock, crowing 
five times." 

" All 's still above," said the land- 
lord. " Let's venture. Gracious ! 
what's that again ? " 

" Tis the lad letting down the shut- 
ters. ,, 

" Let us wait, for safety's sake, an- 
other hour, at least," said the hostess.. 



They waited till grey dawn ap- 
peared, and after baring ventured to 
refresh themselves, and hearing no 
noise above, the landlord proposed they 
should take a survey of the dreaded 
one's night-apartment, through the 
keyhole. Despite of the sulphurous 
stench, their courage rose at each sue* 
cessive drought of spirit-stirring Schie- 
dam, until tbey resolved to proceed, 
which was done in the following order, 
all being marshalled for this purpose 
at the bottom of the staircase. First, 
the valiant schoolmaster, with the 
kitchen poker in his right hand and a 
huge blunderbuss in bis left ; nest, the 
doughty sexton, clinging for protection 
with his arms around the rear rank of 
the file ; next, the stalwart waiter, with 
ike kitchen carving-knife in one bond 
and his master's old cavalry-sword in 
the other; after bim r the landlord, 
with -an old firelock of revolutionary 
memory j next in order, with her right 
arm around the landlord's waist, and a 
bag of flour in her left, ready to blind 
the eyes of the Satanic one, hi* comely 
wife ; and last, bringing up the rear, 
the cook- wench, with a huge coil of 
rope, wherewith to bind the man of 

After sundry peerings through the 
keyhole, the valiant leader of the troop 
declared he saw nothing. All was 
still as death. 

u Then break open *the door, — who's 
afraid," uttered the landlord. 

u First let's summon him to surren- 
der," said the schoolmaster. " I com- 
mand thee, thou Belzebub, to open the 
door and deliver up thyself to the law- 
ful custody of those here present, who 
have witnessed thy terrible misdeeds, 
or take the consequence ! We are all 
duly armed, therefore resistance is use- 
less. The civil force surround the 
house — escape, is hopeless. I com- 
mand thee to surrender. Once, twice, 

Waxing wonderfully valiant, <(*chie- 
d im on such occasions works wonder*,) 
(hey soon made a breach in the enemy's 
fortress, and to the dismay of the 

guests and the mortification of the 
landlord and his lady, discovered the 
bird had Down, and with him several 
portable articles of value, together 
with the strong-box, wherein mine host 
was wont to hoard all his wealth. 

" The devil ! — the rascal ! — the vil- 
lain 1 — the thief ! — the knave ! — the 
dog! — the wretch!" were among the 
choice epithets bestowed upon the con- 
coctor of this artful scheme — this per- 
sonifier of the devil, to draw off at- 
tention from his nefarious goings. Bet 
his successes were not of long duration, 
for the trick becoming noised abroad 
among the burgomasters, he was de- 
tected in the attempt of perpetrating a 
similar farce in a distant port of the 
country, and was after some time given 
chase to, captured, and safely housed 
under lock and key. 

Now came the day of trial. Mine 
host was duly summoned, with the rest 
who witnessed bis first exploit. The 
grave burgpmerster bad smoked his* 
last pipe, combed his best wig, adjasted 
bis whitest cravat, and took bis seat on 
the bench accoixhngly. A description 
of bis person was thus record* 4 in the 
poiice sheet: * Age, abottt sixty; nose* 
very fang? tip of it Y red; eye*, hair* 
teeth and fate, fiery red; hands and 
leg*, forty ami thin, said hands of & 
Mood-red color ; dre*9, all rea\ even to 
his tootk-jriek cendpipe.*~~ 

Tile worthy bench laughs orrtright 
on reading tlie description, and survey* 
ing his innocent looking victim. 

" Bring forth the accased," pompous- 
ly spoke the presiding rann of the law. 

The ponderous prison* door yielded 
to the authorized bar-and-bolt-drawer ; 

and in walked a little fet, squat, 

swarthy, snub-nosed dwarf*, dressed in 
bright blue. All, except bis bat (of 
conical shape), was blue ; bis beard — 
his hands — his teeth — h» lips— all 
blue, as if he had been born and 
brought up in the indigo business from 
his infancy. 

u Why, how's this ? " said the presi- 
dent. w This is a totally different man 
from what is here described. Did you 



search the prisoner, and take a record 
of it, on bis committal, officer ? " 

44 Why, yes, your worsnip's honor ; 
every part of him — and in presence of 
die gaoler." 

The gaoler corroborated the officer. 
He had, that very morning, whilst giv- 
ing him his breakfast, seen him, with 
his very own eyes, attired all in red. 

" Search him again, before as," said 
the worthies. I warrant us, he will 
not escape our vigilance. We were 
not born yesterday. We have seen 
better tricks than this. Go you into 
hid cell, and examine that narrowly, 
and bring what you may find there." 

The cell was narrowly searched, 
tad not a vestige of apparel of any de- 
scription found. The culprit was 
stripped to his skin, which they discov- 
ered to be of an indigo blue color, and 
whieh must have been stained some 
time previously, as it resisted all efforts 
to make it of a natural appearance. 

The president scratched his bald 
pate under his wig; the clerks bit 
their pens. The other burgomeisters, 
in deep thought, allowed their chins to 
rest upon their bosoms, and closed their 
eyes for meditation. 

u Measure the prisoner's height," 
bawled out the aforesaid functionary. 

" Foar feet eight," said the officer. 

u Bead the height mentioned in the 
indictment" said the clerk. "His 
worship will then compare the two." 

44 Sin feet five," was the response. 

'Ahem! ah — ah — hem! Oh, pull 
his legs; they may be composed of 
caoutchouc * I knew a sailor once who 
bad two wooden legs, and he could 
make them longer or shorter, at his 

The doctor reported all regular and 

" Pull his nose— I venture to sug- 
gest, with all due respect," said the 
clerk, turning round to the Bench. 

* Well, yes — no; that can't be made 
of india-rubber, Brother Blum," jocose- 
ly ventured the presiding magistrate — 
at which the whole Bench condescend- 
ed to laugh* 

Here each man of law turned to his 
neighbor and engaged in solemn con- 
ference for the space of five minutes. 

" Fellow, what have you to say for 
yourself? " at last ejaculated the mag- 

" I'm not the man," croaked the cul- 
prit, in a* hoarse tone. 

"What? does he say he's not a 
man ? Then who are you, pray ? 
The devil, I suppose." 

" If I were, you can't sustain this 
charge against me. You have failed 
in your identity." 

"Identity! Who can identify the 
devil, I should like to know ? " 

u Your worship, I can," ventured the 

u Who answers ? Let him stand 
forth and take the oath. Now, what 
do you know about the devil ? " 

u I saw him at *••***, on the night 
in question, and smelt his sulphur. I 
thought, at one time, it was only a 
thief's trick ; but, seeing him delivered 
into custody, with my own eyes, as red 
as a boiled lobster, and coming out of 
it as blue as an unboiled one, I am ir- 
resistibly led to the conclusion that he 
was, and is, one and the same devil, 
and no other." 

u Your worship, allow me to call 
your attention to the charge before the 
court We are trying the prisoner at 
the bar, and not the devil We are 
identifying the thief, and not the devil," 
interrupted the clerk. 

u Well, if this fellow 's not the thief, 
then he's the evil one ?" 

u Yes ; but supposing, your worship, 
you could prove his identification as 
such ; we have no charge against that 

u That's true, and that's law," re- 
joined his worship. 

" Have you examined his cell care- 
fully, and his clothes ? " 

" Thoroughly," replied the gaoler; 
il his cloak is blue — his vest is blue — 
his shirt is blue — his pantaloons are 
blue — his stockings are blue — his shoes 
are blue — the buckles are blue — and 
his skin, even, is blue." 



Thoroughly puzzled, the learned 
magnates once more turned to each 
other for another conference. 

u What's that you 've just found in 
his vest pocket?" said the would-be 
keen-eyed judge. 

<( A small blue morocco cqpc, your 

" Open it." 

All arose from their seats, and un- 
dignifiedly crowded around the officer. 

" Open it, I say ! " 

« I can V 

u Smash it." 

The culprit touched a spring, and 
out flew a pair of blue spectacles. 

" Defend us ! " whispered the clerk ; 
" 'tis the devil. 'Twere best to rid us 
of him." 

" Gentlemen, take your places. The 
Judge is about to address you," bawled 
one of the officers. 

" Gentlemen of the jury, I would not 
detain you with a long speech, if my 
pipe were allowed ; but since the 
worthy Bench, by their unanimous 
vote, have prohibited all smoking, I do 
not see how we shall become capable 
of arriving at the truth of this matter. 
If the man before you is the Satan of 
old, and we were all allowed to take 
our pipes, we should soon discover his 
true characteristics, for his atmosphere, 
as you all know, is smoke. Now, not 
being allowed this privilege, we see 
him disguised in ah atmosphere not his 
own, and therefore he is, you see, an- 
other man than what he really is ; and 
being another man than that he ap- 
pears to be before us, which is proved, 
on oath, by our worthy parish school- 
master and sexton, we are unable to 
identify any part of him as being the 
Culprit who stole this good man's money 
and frightened him out of his nine 
senses. The law is clearly laid down, 
that we should give every man his 
due. Now, although it were proved 
that this man is the devil, the law is 
plain, that we should 'give the devil 
his due ; ' and thus I dismiss the case: 
The prisoner is discharged, with this 
admonition — never to appear among , 

us again. If he dare do so, we assure 
him we will play the very dickins with 

The records of this droll affair state 
that this was nothing but the exploit of 
a poor conjuror, whose stale tricks were 
insufficient to procure him a livelihood. 
The change of attire from red to blue 
was effected by simply turning them 
inside out, each garment being a double 
one. His legs, which the affrighted 
officers of the law omitted at first to 
examine, were nothing more than mere 
elongations of wood, serving the pur- 
pose of stilts, the use of which the con- 
juror knew to be of great assistance in 
his various disguises. His wonderful 
steed, that so frightened the man of hay, 
was supplied with the gift of speech 
by his art of ventriloquism. 

u Music fills m y soul with sadness 

Still I fondly love its strain ; 
Once it brought me joy and gladness, 

Now it seems to bring me pain ; 
Tis because that link is brolon ; 

Friends no more in chorus join ; 
Music is the only token 

Of the joys that once were mine." 

Gentility is neither in birth, 
wealth, manner nor fashion — but in 
mind. A high sense of honor, a deter- 
mination never to take a mean advan- 
tage of another, an adherence to truth, 
delicacy and politeness towards those 
with whom we have dealings, are its 
essential characteristics. 

Great men never *sweU. It is only 
your 'three cent individuals' who are 
salaried at the rate of two hundred dol- 
lars a year, and dine on potatoes and 
dried herring, who put on airs and 
flashy waistcoats, swell, puff, blow, and 
endeavor to give themselves a conse- 
quential appearance. No discrimina- 
ting person need ever mistake the spu- 
rious for the genuine article. The 
difference between the two is as great 
as that between a barrel of vinegar 
and a bottle of the pure juice of the 




Across the beauty of this cloudless night, 
Let not the raven, Sorrow, wing his flight, 
Upon my heart breaks in a blissful dream 
< )f purest joy and lore ; thorn art the theme, 
And sweet inspire? of my muse's strain, 
Ella, my daughter, Ella, once again, 
Dear Ella, let me hear thy cherished name, 
Sweeter the sound than any earthly fame ; 
And thou art absent from thy father's arras, 
Away, with all thy dear and artless charms, 
The loro-Rt radience of thy beaming eye, 
Filled with a beauty that may surely Tie 
With all things lovely, shines not now on me, 
Yet still my heart that holy light can see, 
And hear the music of thy gentle voice, 
In tones that make thy father's heart rejoice. 
Entwined around thy father's heart and thine, 
Mv greatest blessing from a source divine. 

Ti* sad to think my home is far from thine, 
That home a pare and ever cherished shrine* 
Where kindred hearts in sweetest bliss might 

dwell, [swell, 

And love's pure raptures onr fond, bosoms 
Still shall our memories hold the joys of home, 
Theme joys from which we never sought to 

Br absence saddened, yet again well meet — 

The loved once more, once more with kisses 

And words of welcome from the heart's deep 

Restore us to a happiness divine. 

My God, to Thee alone would I commend. 
My cherished one; Thou, more than earthly 

Or rather, brother, sister, be more dear, 
Unto her heart, Our Father, and more near, 
Thy boundless love, Thy never-ceasing care, 
Save her from sin, and may its dark despair, 
Ne'er fill her soul, and may no bitter woes, 
E'er wring her heart with sorrow's fearful 

Let not earth's idols in her heart's pure shrine, 
Banish Thy Presence and Thy Love Divine ; 
May every blessing on her steps attend, 
Thy Wisdom guide her and Thy Love defend ; 
She hears each morn and eve the sacred 

Ascend from the domestic altar, where 
She now is dwelling, Oh may it unite 
Her heart to Thee, and with a heavenly light, 
Make radient all her life's most devious way, 
And lead her to the realms of perfect day. 

W. BLD. 
Oakland, Cal., Oct 1866. 



*I tell you, dearest, it is of no 
ase talking. Era another moon has 
waned I shall be on my way to Cali- 
fornia, 99 were the words addressed by a 
young widow to her sister, somewhat 
her senior, and also a widow, as they 
*&t in their humble dwelling at the twi- 
light hour. 

u Oh, newer think of such a step, 9 ' 
was the reply ; u all that I have urged 
against it is not a circumstance to what 
I can urge. Thiok for one moment that 
the change of climate alone will be 
hazardous to one of your delicate con- 

**Ha! ha! ha! fuss and nonsense, 
'ister ; any change must be for good. 
Have you forgotten the cold, dreary 
winter, from which we are but just 

emerging, that has been severe enough, 
almost, to freeze the milk of human 
kindness in the warmest breast? I 
have not forgotten it, nor yet how hard 
it has been to do without wood in this 
beautiful climate of ours. 9 ' 

" Sister, do not jest ; consider the 
inconvenience and dangers to which 
you will be exposed." 

" The dangers, my sister, are all in 
your imagination. The Isthmus is the 
worst part of the route ; but remember 
that, in addition to being a good horse- 
woman, I shall have the advantage of 
riding a mode de Vhomme. My cos- 
tume you shall see ; it fits exactly, and 
is exceedingly becoming. I almost 
fell in love with myself in the glass." 

u Sister, lay aside frivolity, and re- 
ally consider what you are about." 

" Consider ! why, I have considered. 
I am going to California to make a 




fortune. Do not shake jour head. 
' Aim high ' is my motto, if you do 
alight in the dust ; and I aim to free 
not myself alone, but you, from this 
galling poverty. I would see . your 
children plentifully fed ; I would see 
them educated as becomes the descend- 
ants of revolutionary heroes ; I rwould 
see your face free from that pallid, 
anxious, overtasked look. I can do 
nothing here. It was but yesterday 
Mr. Sear) sent me a package of shirts 
to make, with word that I must make 
them for twelve cents apiece. When 
he gave me fifteen cents before, and la- 
bor as hard as I could, it was all that 
I could do to live. God knows I am 
not thoughtless nor heartless. See r I 
have even parted with my wedding 
ring, the gift of my sainted husband, to 
buy medicines for my siek, dying babe. 
To me this,. the home of my early 
years, is but the land of buried hopes, 
visions of a happy childhood, surround- 
ed, not only by the comforts but the 
luxuries of life, my footsteps watched 
and tended by the best of mothers, my 
wants- more than supplied by a most 
indulgent father, and these ever haunt 
me now. Ob, how were my childish 
sorrows soothed by their ever ready 
sympathy ; oh, how I remember what 
stimulus their words of encouragement 
gave, to my childish heart. And then 
there was our younger brother, the 
bright-faced, happy fellow, who gath- 
ered all the broken china to deck my 
play-house with. And when dolls and 
play-houses were laid aside, and hard 
lessons had to be learned, there was 
one who explained and made those les- 
sons easy to me. and afterwards took 
me home from school on his own hand- 
sled ; and then, in after years, how 
many an hour we spent together be- 
neath the old elm tree. Every thing 
reminds me of the happy season of 
early womanhood ; here are the very 
paths we used to tread ; there are the 
books we used to read ; the memory of 
his kind and manly voice is with me 
still. Then, too, I found that I had 
learned a new lesson, for I had learned 

to love. Years rolled by. I will not 
speak of our joyous wedding, nor the 
trembling benediction of our kind old 
father, nor the blessing of my mother, 
as her tears fell fast and hot npon my 
head. A short season of happiness 
was ours, such as oar first parents 
might have enjoyed in the garden c€ 
Eden ere they sinned, and then the cup 
of happiness was dashed from my lips. 
Death, the destroyer, came upon my 
track; father, mother, brother, has* 
band — oh, sister, where are they ? and 
my darling Kttle one, whose eyes never 
saw her father's face, where, too, is 
she ? Last winter I laid her in the 
cold, cold earth — the snow her cover- 
Kd. What have I left save you, my 
sister ? Oh, is not this r then r a land of 
burred hopes to me ? " 

" Too true, alas ! you have suffered 
much for one so young. Forgive, 
dearest sister, my calling you thought- 
less. But am not I also bereft? — 
and if you leave me, what shall I 

" I leave you but to come again with 
relief for you and your children. 9 ' 

"Oh, my sister, California is no 
place for a lady ; you are young and 
delicate ; your face is fair, and you 
will be exposed to dangers you dream 
not of." 

u I fear no danger. Where my 
country's flag floats, there am I safe ; 
every star upon her ample folds is to 
me a star of hope, and every stripe re- 
minds me of the sufferings, the patience 
and fortitude of our forefathers. Sis- 
ter, their blood is coursing now within 
my veins — not sluggishly, but with all 
the energy which once was theirs ; 'tis 
nerving me for doty. 1 mast go," 

" You may be taken sick, perhaps 
may die, far away among strangers. 
Then will the world be to me desolate 

" Why, I cannot die ; I almost feel 
thai I have an insurance on my hfe 
till I have accomplished the object be- 
fore me ; besides, death comes not to 
those who long for it, but to those 
whose ties to earth are many and 



strong — who have every thing to live 
for ; such is not my case." 

44 Sister, I can say no more. If you 
will go, may God bless and prosper 

44 Bravo ! spoken like my own true 
sister. I have no more time to waste 
in words, for my preparations are not 
yet complete, and in ten days the 
steamer leaves." 

44 So soon ! " fell from the lips of the 
elder sister ; but the younger heard it 
not, for she was already engaged in the 
bustle of preparation. 

We will not follow our heroine, Kate 
Lansing, through the preparations for 
her journey, nor will we intrude upon 
the sad parting with her sister. She 
left New York in company with some 
acquaintances. A gentleman who had 
been to California and returned for his 
family, was now on his way with them 
to the golden land, and Kate's lot was 
cast with theirs. 

The journey from New York to As- 
pinwall was as monotonous as sea voy- 
ages always are, and she arrived there 
in the height of the rainy season. Her 
journey across the Isthmus I need not 
attempt to describe ; those who crossed 
it in that early day well know its per- 
ils ; to those who did not, no pen can 
convey an adequate idea. 

At Panama they were delayed sev- 
eral days ; and when nt last they went 
on board the steamer, to pursue their 
way, sickness followed them. The first 
night several cases of the Panama fe- 
ver broke out; This was the begin- 
ning of perils, for in a few days tbis 
dreadful disease had spread to every 
part of the ship. Among the first at- 
tacked were Kate's friends. 

You should have seen her then ; her 
young and girlish form bending first 
over one couch of pain and then an- 
other. How anxiously she watched 
and tended those sick friends — alas, in 
vain. She saw the lifeless forms of 
her protectors — first, the wife, then the 
husband, and finally their child — all 
committed to the bosom of the terrible 
deep. Kate was alone ; she felt that 

she was alone ; yet she sank not, but, 
like an angel of mercy, she pa^ed from 
couch to couch, ministering to the af- 
flicted. It mattered not where sick- 
ness and suffering were, whether in the 
steerage or the cabin, there was Kate 
Lansing to be found, giving medicine 
to one, nourishment to another, conso- 
lation to a third, and bathing the burn- 
ing brow and parched lips of a fourth. 
It was no wonder that they felt com- 
forted when they saw her coming, or 
that they greeted her, and spoke of her, 
as " the kind lady." In this work of 
womanly devoted ness, twenty-one days 
passed away, before reaching the en- 
trance to the long looked for and wel- 
come harbor of San Francisco. The 
sense of her loneliness pressed heavily 
upon her heart, and she retired to her 
room to pray that she might be pre- 
served from all danger, and guided in 
her future course, earnestly committing 
herself to His care and keeping, who 
had promised to be " a husband to the 
widow and a father to the fatherless." 
Hastily arranging her toilet, she went 
upon deck to take a first view of San 
Francisco, just as they were rapidly 
nearing the end of Long wharf 1 . This 
wharf was full of anxious faces, eagerly 
looking for loved ones expected to ar- 
rive by that steamer. As Kate looked 
upon all that vast multitude of human 
beings, and felt that there was no one 
to look for her — no one to take her by 
the hand and say, welcome to Califor- 
nia — a heart-sickened feeling crept over 
her, and she retired to her room, deter- 
mined to wait till the press of the 
crowd was over and the Captain was at 
leisure, and then seek from him advice 
as to her future course. Kate had not 
waited long before the crowd had near- 
ly all dispersed. Night was fast coming 
on, and she began to feel uneasy, when 
a light tap at her state-room door ar- 
rested her attention. 

" Excuse me, madam," said a manly 
voice, which she recognized at once as 
belonging to one of the passengers 
whom she had nursed on shipboard. 
" I know that you have lost your friends 



on the passage, and have come to say, 
that if I can assist you to find your 
friends here, it would afford me pleas- 



" I thank you, sir," said Kate, " but 
I have no friends. Those I lost by the 
fever were all I had to depend upon in 
this country ; now I am alone." 

u I am very sorry to hear it, Madam, 
but surely I can do something to serve 
you. Do not fear to let me know if I 
can ; I have a sister myself at home. 
You may trust me as you would a 
brother ; for Californians, though some- 
times rough and coarse among them- 
selves, know how to treat a lady re- 
spectfully, and as gentlemen should; 
and am I not already deeply indebted 
to you for your kind care while I was 
tossing in the delirium of that dreadful 

'•Do not mention it," said Kate, 
u but if you can inform me of some 
hotel or boarding-house where I can 
put up for the present and feel safe, it 
would oblige me very much." 

u Surely, that I will do with plea- 
sure," said the stranger ; " fortunately 
I am acquainted here with a widow 
lady who keeps a private boarding 
house. With her you will be well pro- 
vided and cared for. California is my 
home, although business called me to 
New York, from whence I have, as you 
know, but just returned, so that I speak 
from personal knowledge." 

The manly and courteous candor of 
the stranger induced Kate to accept his 
proffered services, and on arriving there 
she found it all that it had been repre- 
sented to be. 

Fortunately there were several lady 
boarders in the house, and whose eyes 
were attracted by Kate's neatly fitting 
and well made dresses. 

u I wish I had a dress which fitted 
me as neatly as yours does you," said 
one of the ladies, addressing Kate, as 
they left the breakfast room one morn- 

u Perhaps I could fit you one," said 

u Oh ! if you would I should be so 

delighted," said the lady, "for there is 
no one here who makes a dress that 
will set well, and I never could do any 
thing of that kind myself." 

In few words Kate informed her that 
she would be glad of any sewing she 
could get to do, as it was by her own 
exertions that she expected to live. 

The dresses were made as desired, 
and she succeeded in giving perfect 
satisfaction. Work crowded in upon 
her, and as she sewed very fast and was 
then paid thirty dollars for making a 
plain dress, she began to make money 
rapidly, and wrote to her sister " that 
she could hardly realize that she had 
ever made shirts for fifteen cents each." 

A year sped on, and Kate by her 
untiring industry had prospered well, 
and now kept a little store of her own, 
so that, together with her labor and the 
profits on her goods, she realized a 
handsome income. She was already 
worth more than even in her wildest 
dreams she had dared to hope for, and 
had sent money to her sister, which 
gave her the satisfaction of knowing 
that her wants were also provided for. 

One evening as she entered the par- 
lor of her boarding-house, (for she still 
lived at the same bouse) there were 
several strangers present, to whom Kate 
paid no attention, till one of them sud- 
denly rising, said : 

" Kate ! surely this is Elate Lan- 
sing." She looked up, and a wild 
scream of joy escaped her. It was 
Ned Lee, an old school-mate, and a 
neighbour's son — the first familiar face 
she had met in California. The hours 
of that evening flew quickly by, as they 
recounted the reminiscences of child- 
hood, and the events of the past few 
years, in which Mr. Lee learned for 
the first time, of Kate's widowhood. 
For two years he had been in the 
mines, and beside having accumulated 
a moderate fortune, was now the owner 
of some of the richest claims in one of 
the best mining localities of the State. 
Need we say, too, that now, life in Cali- 
fornia seemed more cheery to Kate than 
before, for now she had a friend to speak 



to— one who had known her at home, 
known her in the sunny days of her 
childhood and prosperity. 

After rather a prolonged stay in San 
Francisco, Mr. Lee returned to the 
mines ; hut his visits to the Bay being 
much more frequent than formerly, 
9ome of the old miners noticed it, and 
roguishly enquired if he went on a 
u prospecting expedition" to San Fran- 
cisco ; or, having u found a prospect," 
was engaged in working out a claim 
in the heart of some fair lady there; 
observing too, with a knowing wink, 
that u something was in the wind, they 

Four years have rolled away since 
the commmencement of our story. Let 
us take a peep into one of those princely 
mansions on S street. It is furn- 
ished elegantly. The luxuries of almost 
every clime seem to be there in the 
richest profusion. Some friends have 
gathered in to spend the evening. We 
may consider ourselves as one of the 
little and select company. 

The lady has just seated herself at 
the piano, and a gentleman, with his 
flute, in clear and bird-like notes, ac- 
companies her, while the rest of the 
party have taken their places, and ar- 
ranged their partners for a quadrille ; 
but, just as they are commencing, 
the loud booming of a cannon an- 
nounces the arrival of the mail steam- 
er, with news and passengers from the 
Atlantic States. Every one who has 
resided in San Francisco knows the 
thrill of excitement generally experi- 
enced when such a sound reverberates 
through the city, especially those who 
are expecting some dear old friend 
among the passengers. 

u It is the steamer ! " now leaps from 
lip to lip, as a sympathetic feeling of 
excited pleasure passes, like an elec- 
tric current, from heart to heart, know- 
ing, as they do, that Mrs. Lee expects 
a sister by that very steamer. The 
flute now is hastily laid aside; the 
tones of the piano are immediately 
hushed, and Mr. Lee makes a hasty 
•pology for leaving that gay and hap- 

py circle, to receive and welcome her 
to California. 

" Oh, how impatience gains upon the soul 
When the long promised hour of joy draws 

How slow the tardy momenta seem to roll ! " 

But the exciting suspense of expec- 
tation is soon ended, for a carriage is 
at the door, and in a few moments they 
are in each other's arms. We will 
now turn our eyes away from that 
scene of tenderness and affection, for 
the embraces and kisses of glad- 
ness and welcome, that are so sponta- 
neously springing from the gushing 
fullness of their overjoyed hearts, is too 
sacred for our gaze. 

It is enough to know that, after so 
long a separation, they have again met 
on the shores of the beautiful Pacific ; 
and surrounded by every comfort thai 
affection could anticipate or wealth 
supply, they often recur to their 
past of suffering and trial, to contrast 
it with the enjoyments of the present. 
And as they sit and chat the joyous 
hours away, or Kate and her husband, 
with parental pride, tell of the winning 
ways of their " first born," as he crows 
and struggles to free himself from the 
nurse's arms, let us take our leave, with 
the pleasing knowledge that there are 
happy hearts and homes in California. 


There's music in the gushing fount 

That springs from earth with sparkling 
In quiet flowing meadow brooks [stream, 

Which glisten in the morning beam. 
There's music in die sunset hour, 

When fade the fleecy clouds away, 
And evening zephyrs softly breathe 

The requiem of dying day. 

When the deep heaven's expanse of blue 

Is sparkling with the gems of night, 
Music is faintly falling down, 

With star-gleams poured in silver light ; 
It lifts the soul from things of earth, 

While o'er the spirit softly stealing, 
Subduing each unholy thought, 

And chastening every earthly feeling. 

Sax Francisco, Oct., 20th, 1856. 



Inbtral* geprtotntt 


" How long you staid away, mother, 
and I am so sick ; this pillow is so hard; 
Papa and sister don't know how to take 
good care of me, as you do. I wish 
you would never leave me again, until 
I get quite well." 

These were the fretful words ad- 
dressed by little Henry Gray to his 
mother, as she re-entered his room, af- 
ter an absence of about half an hour. 

" Do not fret, my son," said the kind 
mother, as she seated herself by the 
bedside, and gently passed her cool 
hands over Henry's feverish brow. " I 
do not like to see you indulge this fret- 
ful disposition. I fear you forget to be 
thankful to the good God who has giv- 
en you so many blessings, and so many 
kind friends to love and take care of 
you. Look about this room, my son; 
is it not furnished with everything to 
make you happy? Is not the carpet 
soft and beautiful ? When you look at 
its gay flowers you may almost think 
yourself in a beautiful garden. The 
chairs with their soft, red cushions, 
seem to invite you to them ; the table 
almost groans under the weight of 
pretty toys and elegant books ; even 
your little Canary, outside the window, 
seems to call upon you to join him in 
his song of thankfulness." 

" I don't care for any of them, moth- 
er," replied the wayward boy ; " I don't 
like the room, nor anything in it ; I don't 
like to be sick, and take nasty medicine, 
and lie in this old bed all day." 

" I know, my child, it is not pleasant 
to be sick, but it is sometimes neces- 
sary, and then we should try to be as 
patient as we can. Shall I tell you 
where I went when I left you this 
morning ? You remember little John- 
ny Davis, whose mother died last 
month, and who lives in the little shan- 
ty at the end of the lane ? " 

u O f yes, mother, I remember." 

u Well, my son, I went to see him ; 

he is very sick, much sicker than you 
are, and his father is very poor so that 
he has to go away to work, every day, 
and that leaves little Johnny quite 
alone, all day, unless some kind neigh- 
bor happens in to see him. Poor little 
fellow, how glad he looked to see me 
this morning when I went in, and how 
he thanked me for an old coverlid 
which I took over to cover him with, 
for Johnny has no nice bed like yours, 
with soft, warm blankets to cover him, 
nor any nice pillow to lay his little hot 
and aching head upon — some coarse 
straw thrown loose upon the hard floor, 
is all the bed he has, and his little torn 
pants are his only pillow. The room 
is bare and dirty ; an old box turned 
upside-down, answers in place of a 
chair ; the stove is a broken, rusty, old 
thing, and looks as if it had not had a 
fire in it for many a day. That, with, 
the pine table which his mother used 
to keep so nice and white, but which is 
now black and dirty, is all the furniture 
the house contains, except a few pieces 
of broken delf. Johnny has no kind 
sister to wait upon him, while his father 
is absent ; no one to give him medicine 
to make him well, no kind mother to 
make him nice gruel, or bathe his little 
hot hands and face. There he lays, all 
day, alone, neglected and very dirty ; 
his little flaxen ringlets which used to 
look so nice, when his mother was alive 
are now a tangled mass. When I 
went there this morning, I took that 
toast which you said was not " fit to 
eat ; " you ought to have seen how 
eagerly he ate it, only stopping to say 
" it was very good of you to bring me 
nice toast to eat. Dear mamma used to 
make me toast, but since she died I 
haven't had any." I took some water 
and washed his hands and face, and as 
I did so, the tears came into his eyes, 
he said " Oh, your hands seem so like 
my poor dear mamma's, but, she is dead, 
and can never wash her little Johnny's 
face and hands any more." I tried to 



sooth his feelings, by talking to him a 
few moments, promising to see him 
soon again, and hastened home to you, 
my son. Oh, what a contrast there is 
between your happy home, and his 
miserable and uncomfortable shanty. 
You have everything to make you 
happy ; he has nothing, but his con- 
tented spirit and his sweet, submissive 

** Mother, I see that I have been a 
naughty, thankless boy. I will try to 
be more patient, in future: and spare 
you often, to go and see little Johnny, 
and please take him some of my nice 
things, every time." Carrie D. 


u 0, then I see, Queen Mab hath been with 
you." — Skakspeare. 

Come join your hands and hie with me, 
A Fairy wedding you shall see ; 
Come sit ye down upon the grass, 
And see the pigmy pageant pass ; — 
First, drink this draught, while I a spell 
Will put upon this fairy doll. 
Here conies my lady Emmet, gay, 
Grasshoppers chaunting, line the way ; 
She's seated in an acorn shell, 
Joined to daisy wheels so well, 
And by such perfect mimic art, 
No earthly genius can impart. 
Her earwig steeds arc swift in pace ; 
Her cobweb reins she holds with grace ; 
Her whip, a trophy of yon plain — 
A spider's leg — in battle slain ; 
Her guards, red-coated lady birds, 
Advance in order, close in herds ; 
Now see them how they form in lines, 
And how their dotted armor shines, — 
And whither does she drive away — 
To yon green hillock bright and gay. 
The faiiies bid the zephyrs blow, 
T!k- hair-hvlls joining are not slow, 
E'it merry peals ring one, two, three, 
T> the great festivity. 
M".mwliile, the pigmy fumes rove, 
A ;.l flit about through vale and grove ;< ring dainties lich and rare, 
T» make a sumptuous bill of fare. 
ttnlor a tent-cou volvulus white, 
I.»v*t jd to kee p out of sight 

The vulgar gazing of the crowd, 
Who rent the air with huzzas loud ; 
Her carriage stops ; and my lord ant, 
Who waits almost with bosom faint, 
Helps her alight with graceful hand ; 
While crickets guards, with all their baud, 
Strike up a merry, chirping strain, — 
My lady bows and smiles again, — 
Lord ant, for her, thanks them aloud, 
And makes a speech above the crowd. 
Now to the feast : — On mushroom's spread — 
Grown in one night, where fairies tread — 
A gossamer table-cloth is placed, 
Whereon the fairies show their taste. 
Some tiny seeds, both ripe and good, 
A strawberry fresh, from neighboring wood, 
A giant grain-choice of the field, 
By fairy arts already peel'd ; 
Nectar, pressed by fairy hand 
From honeysuckles of their land ; 
Some tiny drops of fragrant dew, 
Which lillies oft display to view, 
And which the fairies have distilled, 
And every moss-seed-bottle filled. 
Now a huge beetle from his hole, 
In shining surplice black as coal, 
Is summoned to perform the rite 
And make them one. — A solemn sight- 
After the cloth 's from table cleft, 
The crowd now feast on what is left : 
See how they scramble, push and crowd. 
Hear how they hum and whiz aloud. 
But now, a moth the signal giving, 
All 's hushed as though no one were living* 
The happy pair ascend the car — 
'Tis growing late, their home is far — 
With the loud huzza, and one cheer more 
Proclaims the solemn rite is o'er. 
The glow-worms light them on their way, 
The faiiies guide 'till break of day, 
And watch, until they're out of sight, 
Then wish them all u good night," "good 




San Francisco, Oct. 20th, 1850. 

There are more elements of success 
in the single beat of a stout heart, than 
in all that this or the other can say or 
do. If you want to get along and be 
good-looking, smart and well off as any- 
body, don't be afraid. 



f ita|[ Bote. 

Arctic Explorations — The second Grinnell 
Expedition, in search of Sir John Franklin, 
in the years 1853, '54, '55 — By Elisha 
Kent Kanb, M. D., U. S. N. 2 Vols. 
Ghilds & Peterson, Philadelphia. 

We acknowledge, with pleasure, the perusal 
of an advance copy of this very interesting 
and beautifully illustrated work of Dr. Kane's, 
through Mr. H. B. Naulty, (the Agent for 
California.) We have never read a book with 
greater interest. The winning and noble- 
hearted simplicity of the author is only ex- 
ceeded by his modesty. Without any ap- 
parent effort, he takes the reader unconscious- 
ly into his confidence, and tells him of the 
perils, duties, hardships, fatigues, and won- 
derful deliverances that he and his brave band 
have passed through, during their arduous 
labors in the Arctic Sea. Every scene is 
pictured with the brilliancy and beauty of a 
life sketch ; every premonition is faithfully 
recorded ; aud even the conversations of his 
men in the hour of trial, are sometimes related 
with a candor that almost thrills, as you 
listen to the deeply interesting narrative. The 

(we know him well) he might have been the 
admired of all admirers of the courtly draw- 
ing room ; but he preferred a rough exterior, 
and the fragrance of a desert, to tho white 
kids and rose water of the saloon. It is said 
that his family have discarded him, since he 
commenced showman. Be it so ; his name 
will be handed down to posterity when theirs 
will be but engraven, may be, on the cold un- 
noticed slab of marble. He goes to a lion 
hunt, (see his midnight interview with six of 
them at once) with as much sang froid as we 
would do to a rabbit shooting ; chases an ele- 
phant as we would a hare ; and sticks a rhin- 
osceros as we would a tame pig. To make an 
extract from such a book, would be like 
placing before our readers, a wafer slice of a 
fifty pound water melon, on a burning sum- 
mer day. The book must be read and placed 
in every library. 

The Island of Cuba — By Alexander Hcm- 

The name of the author alone recommends 

the work. It is an excellent text book of in- 
iUustrations (about three hundred in number) formation concerning the Island of Cuba. I* 

political importance, physical aspect, climate, 

are beautifully drawn aud well engraved — 
many of them on steel — and we know of no 
book that could be more suitable for a Christ- 
inas present, than these volumes. 

A Hunter's Life among Lions, Elephants and 
other Wild Animals of South Africa — Two 
volumes in one — By Hanalkyn Gordon 
C u m m i x g . With an Introduction by Bay- 
ard Taylor. Derby & Jackson, New 

Bayard Taylor has done the public good 
service by laying this publication before the 
American people. Cumming is the man of 
his day. Just fancy, reader, a young fellow 
born to such a position as to make life a play- 
thing, suddenly leaving home, friends, pro- 
fession, (all honorable) to vagabondize, as 
thev call it, in the woods and wilds of Africa. 
Blessed with such a person as he possesses, 

population, sugar and tobacco culture, agri- 
culture, commerce, internal communication, 
revenue, are all well described. But Hum- 
boldt does not do things by the halves. 
Never shall we forget the enthusiasm mani- 
fi»B'.ed by the students of Gottenberg, when 
their university was opened by him. His 
cloak was taken and torn into pieces no larger 
than a dollar, and distributed among them- 
selves, to keep as a memento of the man : 
and when the venerable old traveler was told 
of their purpose, the big tears rolled down 
the furrows of his noble face, and the deep 
feeling almost choked his utterance. When 
he addressed them, in the presence of one oi 
the most august and numerous assemblies the 
world ever witnessed, you could hear distinctly 
the slow measured ticking of the ball clock. 
Derby 6a Jackson, N. Y., are the entcrpri«"g 



€tikx& Cable. 

Oar sins may be numerous, and much lar- 
ger than we could desire, and no doubt are 
oftencr committed than to result in our per- 
sonal good ; but we must say, that^fe sin of 
ingratitude we don't acknowledge as included 
in the catalogue. 

If the many favors extended to us, from 
various sources, gave us no thankfulness, we 
should think that the blood-pump within us 
was unworthy of the dignified name of heart ; 
and, consequently, merited a premature death 
and burial at our hands, " with a sprig of 
holly " through it ; therefore, we cannot alto- 
gether endorse the sentiments of " The Youn- 
ger Timon," when he says, 

44 Honor to him who self-complete and brave, « 
In ncora ran carve hU pathway to the grave, 
And heeding naught of what men think or Kay, 
Make his own breast his world upon the way." 

For, although we said in our introductory, 
that " we have no expectation of pleasing 
every one, for the simple reason that we are 
human," yet to know that our imperfect la- 
bors have a cheering and elevating influence, 
falls gratefully upon our heart, and we know 
that friends will excuse us for publishing such 
an encouraging letter — among many — as the 
following : 

Springfield, Oct. 4, 1856. 
Mb. Editor : — Dear Sir, — The fourth num- 
ber of your valuable Magazine has just reached 
n«, in the mountainous regions of old Tuo- 
lumne ; and, permit me, as one of its readers, 
to say, that it has already become a welcome 
messenger among the miners in this section, 
and is fast winning its way to popular favor. 
Having received and read all the numbers 
which have been issued, I speak advisedly, 
when I say, it is a sure specific against the 
caret* and troubles which afflict the miner 
during his " idle hours." It is a solace to the 
weary and wounded spirit of the disappointed 
and unfortunate, who will read, t-on amort, its 
interesting pages. It has been said in the 
utilitarian spirit of the present age, that he 
who makes "two spears of grass to grow, where 
only one grew before," is a benefactor to the 
human race ; but, how much more is he en- 
titled to that honorable distinction, who by 
lit* labors in the Republic of Letters, is enabled 

to rob dull care of its hold on the mind, 
though it be only for a season. 

Before I received the last number of your 
Magazine, my mind was sorely troubled, 
had been reflecting on the capriciousness of 
fortune ; I thought of the long weary months 
since I came to the mines of California; of 
the disappointments, hardships and trials, en- 
countered in this El Dorado of of the western 
world ; and care sat enthroned on my mind, 
and, I realized the truth of what Burns wrote 
years ago, in the fullness of his heart, 

44 Oh ! Death, the poor man's friend, 

The kindest and the bent, 
"Welcome, the hour my weary limbs 
Are laid with thee at rest." 

In deep despondency I commenced reading 
your Magazine, and care insensibly fled away, 
and I was translated into the realms of ima- 
gination — the world of "story and of song," 
— and, while treading its glittering shore in the 
radiant light of the true, the beautiful and 
good, I found many rare gems of thought and 
sentiment, which imagination had scattered 
from her " pictured urn," and, which possessed 
the talismanic power of expelling sorrow from 
inv heart. 

Wishing you, Mr. Editor, great success in 
your valuable enterprise on the Pacific coast, 
I will conclude for the present, and subscribe 
myself, Yours very sincerely, 


When the exciting whirl of the Presiden- 
tial election — now so near — is past, and our 
friends and well wishers can think calmly 
upon less exciting topics, we hope that they 
will send us something interesting and in- 
structive concerning California. We would 
suggest to some of those who have favored 
us with their contributions, that they make 
their future ones as much as possible con- 
nected with, or concerning California, so that 
we may make our Magazine more than ever 
Californian in the matter and spirit of its con- 


Lines to my Inkstand. — Are declined. 

P. — Next month. 

Josiah P. — We " guess " not. 



F. A. — What an idea. If Jacob had been a 
Yankee he would certainly have taken out 
a patent for his ladder ; and a valuable one 
it would have been too, to other people than 
himself; for, if they by any chance ever 
reach heaven, it must be by 6ome uncom- 
mon route. Declined. 

Somnus. — Yours is too characteristic of its 
title ; for, like a long sermon, with little in 
it, makes the whole a sleepy affair. 

Tech. — You were in luck to have a 1>ed that 
vou could "make vourself " in San Jose. 
Many would have been glad to have such a 
luxury, without complaining. By good 
fortune, and the kind hospitality of Col. G. 
and lady ; and of the old pioneer Mr. B., 
we were well cared foV ; and in addition to 
the long remembrance *of their kindness, we 
shall always be glad to " praise the boat 
that carries us over the stream." You 
should'nt have been born unlucky ! that's 

John 0. — Now in all candor what on earth 
is the use of healthy men, like you, going 
home * "broke," merely to stay awhile there 
broke, and after getting tired of being broke 
at home, make somebody else ' broke/ to 
raise the means to leave home broke, and 
when you again arrive here, still to feel that 
you are broke, and probably remain 
'broke,' for some time afterwards. The 
sooner the current of your thoughts is 
" broke," the better will it be for John 0; 
*for, lifter all, California is the best country 
in the world for a working man, and if cap- 
italists will give their attention to canals, 
and have them economically built, our 
State would be the most prosperons one of 
the Union. 

Verdant. — lias selected a very expressive sig- 
nature to his " last," and " basest " imita- 
tion of " Hiawatha," we give the following 
quotation— only (!) 

" Sing the song of Winter's breezes 

What they sang among the troeses, 
Saw: among the cheerless houses, 
Of the men who had no spouses : 

See a man 
With aspect dire, 
Sitting lonely 
By the fire, 
A mending of his trowses 1 " 

We owe you a cold potatoe, friend G-, for 
that piece — We do ! 

Laura. — Will you please write us something 
Californian ; yours unfortunately is too far 
fetched, and of too local an application of 
the " far, far awav." 

Sarah L. — Your stanzas are very pretty, we 
shaU^y to find them a place. 

"MyWpxt weeps Blood.'* — Is very poor, and 
full of plagiarisms. 

G. V. — Be sure you don't send your " Burn- 
ing Thoughts of Love," to Miss M. before 
keeping them at least three months in an 
ice house. If peradvcntiire you should 
" set her heart on fire," there is no other 
remedy known than marriage ; therefore, be 
cautious with your kindlings. 

S. L. — We have as good a pair of eyes as gen- 
erally falls to the lot of one man, but we 
do not profess to read pieces sent us, that 
are written with water as a substitute for 
ink. Write plain, if you please. 

Af> T. y Orleans Flat. — Yours, with several 
others received this month, would be excel- 
lent, if more carefully written. " What- 
ever is worth doing, is worth d<fl{r well," — 
try it. 

Epitaph.— Is informed that he must write bet- 
ter, before we can become his tombstone. 
Besides, our Magazine is for the living, and 
people generally are, like ourselves, in no 
particular hurry to see such shadowy fin- 
gers pointed at them as epitaphs. 

The Three Graces— We fear, would bring 
thrice as much disgrace upon us as credit, 
and far more than we deserve. One being 
all-sufficient for us, we must decline taking 

Thunder versus Lightning. — Is declined, as ire 
wish it to be all fair weather, if possible ; 
and, us California has hitherto got along 
very well with but little of such •' commo- 
dities," we hope to be the last to introduce 
it for common use ! 

Stiffs.— Yours is a glorious good piece, but, 
like many other good things, it came too 
late. Please send to us early in each month 
in future. 

j 09 , S.-~ Just tell the boys that we shall be 
up amongst them before long, and then they 
will have to keep tln»ir pockets buttoned 
closely up, or we are almost sure to get 
them to subscribe to the Magazine. 



vol. l DECEMBER, 1856. no. n 


In some of the more isolated mining 
local ties, the arrival of a pack train, is 
an event of some importance, and men 
gather around it with as much appar- 
ent interest, as though they expected to 
see some dear old friend stowed away 
somewhere among the packs. 

This necessity, has created an exten- 
sive packing business with the cities of 
Stockton, Marysville, Shasta, and Cres- 
cent City, but very little with Sacra- 
mento, at the present time. 

We are indebted to a friend in Stock- 
ton for the following interesting infor- 
mation concerning the packing trade 
of that city. 

The quantity of freight packed on 
mules to the counties of Calaveras* 
Tuolumne, Mariposa, and Tulare, from 
Stockton, is about two hundred- tons 
weekly, or one fifth of the entire amount 
of goods weekly transported. 

There are generally from forty to 
fifty mules in a train, mostly Mexican, 
each of which will carry from three 
hundred to three hundred and fifty 
pounds, and with which they will travel 
from twenty five to thirty five miles 
per day, without becoming weary. 

If there is plenty of grass they sel- 
dom get anything else to eat. When 
fed on barley, which is generally about 
three months of the year — November, 
December, and January — it is only 
given once a day, and in the proportion 
of from seven to eight pounds per mule. 
They seldom drink more than once a 
day, in the warmest of weather. The 
average life of a mule is about sixteen 
years. The Mexican mules are tougher 
and stronger than American mules ; 
for, while the latter seldom can carry 
more than from two hundred to two 
hundred and fifty pounds, the former 

can carry three hundred and I 
pounds, with greater ease. This fact 
may arise from the mules in Mex- 
ico being accustomed to packing only, 
and over n, mountainous country; while 
the American mules are used only for 
draught. The Mexican mule, loo, can 
carry a person forty miles per day, for 
ton ox twelve days consecutively, over ■ 
mountainous trail ; while it is very dif- 
ficult for an American mule to ac- 
iplish over twenty five or thirty 
miles per day. 

The Mexican mule can travel farther 
and endure more without food than any 
other quadruped ; and with him, appa- 
rently, it makes but little difference 

liether fed regularly or not ; still, like 
animals of the biped species, he has no 
objection to the best of good living. 
They can, however, always be kept fat 

ith but little care, and it is but very 
little that is required; while the Amer- 
ican mule, to do only half the amount 
of work, requires good food, regularly 
given, besides being well cared for 


vidual miners j and, according to the 
Shasta Courier, of Nov. 11th, 1854, it 

>uld be safe to estimate the number 

two thousand. 

otherwise. The Mexicans consider ' 
ihera altogether too delicate for their > 
use. Then again, from the steady reg- 
ularity of their steps, the Mexican mule | ' 
is much the easier, generally, 
under the saddle, and a person 
will not often become as much 
fatigued from ridiug one a 
week, us he would be in rid- 
ing an American mule fur only 
three days. 

The packing trade of Ma- 
rysville is very extensive with 
Downieville, Eureka North, 
Morrison's Diggios, St. Louis, 
Pine Grove, Poker Flat, Gib- 
wnville, Nelson's Point, Amer- 
ican Valley, Indian Valley, 
and all the intermediate and surround- 1 "With this data a very fair estimate 
ing places in the counties of Sierra and of the amount of freight packed from 
Plumas, giving employment to about , Shasta may he formed. Each mule 
two thousand five hundred mules, and load will average Iwo hundred pounds, 
between three and four hundred men. | A trip to the most remote point to 
From the town of Shasta, during j which goods arc taken will never occu- 
ihe winter of 1854-'5, the number of j py more than two weeks — in many in- 
mules employed in the packing trade to stances three or four days less. It is 
the various towns and mining localities a very moderate calculation, then, to 
north of Shasta, was one thou:-and eight average the trips of the entire two thou- 
hundred and seventy six. This does ' sand mules at two weeks each." 
not include the animals used by indi- : " This will give a result of one hun- 
dred tons per week, as the 
aggregate amount of freight 
I tucked from Shasta — which, 
at the very low figure of five 
cents per pound, would yield 
the sum of twenty thousand 
dollars per trip, to the pack- 

The principal places to 
which freight is thus trans- 
ported from Shasta, are Wea- 
vcrville, (or "Weaver," as it 
is now called,) Yrcka, and 
the settlements around, and 1 


Scott mountains, to those places ; with 
os buggies, windows, boxes, barret, i 
bars of iron, cbairs, tables, plows, &c 
In the fall of 1853, there was id 
iron safe, nearly three feet square, ami 
weighing 352 pounds, transported on 
a very large mule, from Shasta to | 
Weaverville, a distance of thirty-eight 
miles, over a rough and mountainous 
trail, without an accident ; but, after 
the load was taken off, the mule la; 
down, and died in a few hours after- 
All kinds of goods, at all times, are 
not alike safely packed. A friend of 
ours, who resides in Yreka, sent, among 
other things, a rocking chair and 
looking-glass, " and when I reached 
there," said he, " I found that the 
chair back was broken, the rockers off, 
and one arm in two pieces ; and the 
looking-glass was as much like a crate 
of broken crockery as any tiling /ever 

A gentleman has al-o informed u- 
that in the summer of 1855, two sets of 
mill- tones were packed from Shasta to 
Weaverville, the largest weighing six 
hundred pounds. Being looked upon 
as nn impossibility for one mule to car- 
ry, it was first tried to be " slung" be- 
tween two mules, but that being imprac- 
ticable, it was abandoned and paeked on 
one. The following fact will give tome 
idea of the expense often occasioned, 
as well as the immense weight some- 
times packed, over a rough and moun- 
tainous country : 

When the Treka Herald was about 
to be published, a press was purchased 
in San Francisco, at a cost of about 
between, those points. One is aston- six hundred dollars, upon which the 
ished to see the singular goods that freight alone amounted to nine hundred 
are often packed across the Trinity and | dollars, making the eDtire cost 51,300. 


The "bed-piece," weighing tliree 
hundred and ninety-seven pounds, 
which, with the aparajoe, ropes, &c, 
exceeded four hundred and thirty 
pound:!, was the weight of the entire 
pack, placed upon a very large mule. 

On descending the Scott mountain, 
this splendid animal slipped a little, 
"hen the pack over-balanced and 
threw him down the steep bank, killing 
him instantly. 

Many a mule, in California, has 
breathed his last in a ravine where ac- 
cident had tossed him — to be the food 
of wolves or coyotas. 

One train was passing the steep side 
of a mountain, in Trinity county, when 
* Urge rock came rolling from above, 
snd struck one of the mules in the side, 
frightening others off the track ; and 

killing one man and three mules. This 
can be appreciated by a glance at the 
engraving on the opposite page. 

During the severe winter of 1852, 
and '53, there was a pack train snowed 
in, between Grass Valley and Onion 
Valley, and out of forty-five animals, 
but three were taken out alive. It is 
almost incredible, the amount of dan- 
ger and privation, to which men who 
follow this business, are, sometimes, 

It is truly astonishing to see with 
what ease and care these useful animals 
pack their heavy loads over deep snow, 
and to notice how very cautiously they 
cross holes where the melting snow re- 
veals some ditch, or tree beneath ; and 
where some less careful animal has "put 
his foot in it," and, as a consequence, 



has sunk with his load into trouble. 
We have often watched them de- 
scending a snow bank when heavily 
packed, and have seen that as they 
could not step safely, they have fixed 
their feet and braced their limbs, and 
unhesitatingly slide down with perfect 
security, over the worst places. 

There is something very pleasing 
and picturesque in the sight of a large 
pack train of mules quietly descending 
a hill, as each one intelligently exam- 
ines the trail, and moves carefully, step 
by step, on the steep and dangerous 
declivity, as though he suspected dan- 
ger to himself, or injury to the pack 
committed to his care. 

The packing trade from Crescent 
City, a seaport town about three hun- 
dred miles north of San Francisco, is 
one of growing importance. From 
thence most of the goods required in 
Klamath, and some portions of Siski- 
you and Trinity counties, are transport- 
ed. There is already an extensive 
trade with Jacksonville, (Rogue River 
valley,) Illinois Valley, Sailor's Dig- 
gings, New Orleans Bar, (on the Klam- 
ath river,) and county seat of Klamath, 
Scott's river, Applegate creek, and sev- 
eral other prosperous localities in that 

There are about one thousands five 
hundred mules in the packing tra<% At 
these points. It is no uncommon cir- 
cumstance, to nleet between twenty and 
thirty trains, with from twenty to seven- 
ty-five animals , in each train, and all 
heavily laden, on your way from Jack- 
sonville to Crescent City. The loud 
"hippah," "mfllah," of the Mexican 
muleteers, sounds strangely to the ear, 
in the deep, and almost unbroken still- 
ness of the forest. 

It seems to us, that the Mexican 
sings no song, hums no tune, to break 
in upon the monotinous duties of his 
calling ; but, is apparently indifferent 
to every kind of cheerfulness, until the 
labors of the day are done, and then 
but seldom. 

A large portion of the trail lies 
through an immense forest of redwood 
trees, and which, from their large 
growth and numbers, are much more 
imposing in appearance than the mam- 
moth tree grove of Calaveras. 

The soil must be exceedingly fertile, 
as the leaves of the common fern grow to 
the height of from twelve to fifteen feet. 

On the trail from Trinidad to Sal- 
mon river there is a hollow tree, mea- 
suring thirty three feet in diameter, 
which is the usual camping place of 
trains, holding all the packs for the 
largest, besides affording shelter and 
sleeping room to the packers. 

The distance from Crescent City to 
Jacksonville is 120 miles, and generally 
takes packers about ten days to go 

There is now a considerable packing 
trade carried on between Union — Hum- 
boldt Bay — and the mining settlements 
on Salmon, JBel, and Trinity rivers; 
also, with the town and vicinity of 

All of these trails across the coast 
range of mountains, are very rough, 
and almost impassable during the win- 
ter, from snow in some places and mud 
in others. 

We are indebted to Mr. Dressel, 
of the firm of Kuchel & Dressel, of this 
city, who has just returned from a 
sketching tour in the north, for interest- 
ing particulars concerning the above 


" During the Rogue River Indian 
War of 1853, while CapL Limerick's 
command was stationed at Bates', on 
Grave Creek, to keep the trail clear, 
and guard the pack trains against the 
Indians, an incident occurred, which is 
too good to be lost, altogether, and for 
which we are indebted to a 
nearly as good as an eye wkn 
pevially as the night was extremely 
dark. As usual, a strong guard 
placed around the house, for protecting 
the provisions, groceries, liquors, and 
other valuables, that were stacked in 
the rear. A Mr. D. was not very 
comfortably situated to sleep, from the 
met that the night was very cold, and 
he had only one blanket " to go to bed 
to." In this dilemma he remembered 
that among the other good things piled 
np, was some good old rum, and the 
thought struck him that if he could 
only secure a bouleful, he could raise 
sufficient tpirilual help, to make up 

for the deficiency of blankets. But to 
get it, be thought, " aye there's the 

" He knew the risk that he should 
if he were caught at it; or, if the 
guard, in the dark, mistook him for an 
Indian ; but, after debating in his own 
mind all the advantages and disad- 
vantages, he concluded that the ad- 
vantages were in favor of taking his 
chances, and having the rum. Stealthi- 
ly went his feet, and cautious were his 
movements, and as luck would have it, 
be succeeded not only in finding the 
right keg, and tapping it, but of trans- 
ferring a portion of its contents to a 
large black bottle, with which he bad 
armed and equipped" himself before 
starting on his dangerous, but stimu- 
lating mission. Grasping and guard- 
ing the treasure with his arm, he 
grouped his way with cautious move- 
ments, towards his solitary blanket ; 
but, as fate would have it, the guard 
was awake ! and moreover, to increase 
his trepidation and his danger, he 
shouted in a stentorian voice, " Who 
goes there ? " 

A friend," replied D. 


" Advance, friend, and give the coun- 
tersign," cried the guard in a fierce 
and firm tone. At this critical junc- 
ture of affairs, D'a presence of mind 
forsook him, and he hesitated in his 

" Advance, friend, and give the 
countersign," again cried the guard, in 
a trembling and confused tone of voice, 
aa he raised his rifle to a" present 
arms," "fire." 

D. immediately, bat cautiously, ad- 
vanced towards the guard, and said in 
full, round, English, 

" I've got a good bottle of rum." 

" Then pass on, friend," said the 
guard, "but be sure andpats tkii way, 
and give that countersign, as he lowered 
his musket, and shared the plunder. 

The business of packing 
is often attended with con- 
siderable danger, as well as 
exposure, which the follow- 
ing incident will illustrate. 

In the summer of 1854, 
Mr. Robert Woods, (of the 
firm of Tomlinson & Woods 
boss packers, of Yreka,) was 
crossing the Scott moun- 
tain, when a shot was fired 
from behind a rock, which 
took effect in the neck of the 
mule he was riding ; it fell in- 
stantly, scarcely giving him time to re- 
cover his feet — when, with great pres- 
ence of mind, he deliberately aimed 
his revolver at the robber who had 
fired at him, and shot him ; when he 
leaped up, exclaiming, "lama dead 
man." Two other men then made 
their appearance, with their rifles ; but, 
while they were seeking a secure place, 
behind a rock, from whence to shoot, 
Mr. Woods made his escape, leaving 

his saddle-mule, saddle-bags, aud mon- 
ey, (about $1,400,) behind. 

Packers on the Sacramento river- 
trail to Yreka, have been plundered of 
their whole train and cargoes, by the 
Indians, and their owners murdered. 
For two years this route was aban- 
doned, chiefly from this cause. 

The Mexicans invariably blindfold 
each mule, before attempting to pack 
him, after which he stands quietly, un- 
til the bandage is removed. A man 
generally rides in front of every train, 
for the purpose of stopping the train 
when anything goes wrong, and acting 
as a guide to the others ; although 
in every train there is always a 
leader, known generally as "the bell 
mule;" most of the mules prefer a 

white one, which they unhesitat- 
ingly follow, so that when he starts it is 
the signal for the others immediately to 

They seldom start before nine o'clock 
in the morning, after which they travel 
until sunset without stopping, except 
when somthing goes wrong. 

When about to camp, the almost in- 
variable custom of packers, after re- 
moving the goods, (by whi'.'h they 


alway sleep, in all kinds of weather,) 
is, for the mules to stand side by side, 
in a line, or in a hollow square, with 
their heads in one direction, before 
taking off the aparajoet; and then, 
in the morning, when the train of 
loose mules is driven up to camp to 
receive their packs, each one walks 
carefully op to his own aparajoe and 
blanket; which he evidently knows as 
well as does the packer. 

An aparajoe is a kind of packsaddle, 
or pad, the covering of which is made 
of leather and stuffed with hair, and 
generally weighs from twenty-five to 

forty pounds. These arc always used 
by Mexican muleteers, and are much 
easier for the mule than a common 

When the toils of the day are over 
and the mules are peacefully feeding, 
comes the time of relaxation to the 
men, who while they are enjoying the 
aroma of their fine flavored cigarita, 
spend the evening hours telling tales 
of some far off, but fair seflorita, 
or make up their bed by the packs 
and as soon as they have finished 
their supper, and lie down to sleep for 
the night. 




The Mushrooms and Fungi are 
classed by botanists under one name, 
Agaricus, which is the generic name 
given to all the species. This compre- 
hends the whole of the tribe that bear 
an umbrella shape, having gills, or 
fleshy plates disposed as radii, proceed- 
ing immediately from the center of the 
part attached to the stalk. The upper 
part of the pileus, or cap, contains 
the sporales, or seeds, by which the 
class are supposed to be generated. 
There are upwards of a thousand spe- 
cies of the Fungi, properly so called, 
growing on meadows and heath, under 
rocks and decayed habitatious, and at 
the trunk of almost all trees, wherever 
there is any decaying vegetable matter. 
The greater part of these growths are 
of the most poisonous nature, only a 
very few are edible, and many remain 
yet to be examined, to ascertain their 
properties, or action, upon the human 
or bestial constitution. As there ex- 
ists no botanical means of distinguish- 
ing the wholesome from the poisonous 
kind, a few words dictated by a long 
experience, to discriminate between 
the classes, or species, the edible and 
the poisonous, may not be unaccepta- 
ble to the readers of the California 
Magazine. At the same time, we are 
open to correction from practical culti- 
vators, if our experience have deceived 
us ; for, as the two species are often 
very much alike in shape, color, growth, 
and odor, too much caution cannot be 
used, even by the experienced, to form 
any judgment, to serve as a guide ; in- 
deed, this guide may be said to be a 
matter of life and death, and, therefore, 
we approach the subject with all the 

caution and circumspection so grave 
an inquiry demands. 

It is not a little singular that the 
same plant, to all appearance, whole- 
some in one climate, has the reputation 
of being poisonous in another. Many 
that bear this character, in the south 
of Europe, are, in Russia, eagerly 
sought after, and their rank odor in 
one place, becomes notably and attract- 
ively transformed by their fragrance 
in another. The Agaricus Muscarius 
of Kamtschatka, is an instance. The 
properties of this growth of the agari- 
cus appear to depend more upon cli- 
mate, situation, and soil, than upon any 
specific peculiarity indigenous to them. 

Of the thousand, and upwards, spe- 
cies already observed by botanists, the 
following characteristics may serve to 
detect the poisonous kind. 

1. All those that have their caps, or 
tops, very thin in proportion to their 
gills, or radii. 

2. All those that have their caps 
growing on one side of their stalks. 

3. All those that have exact equal 
length of gill. 

4. All those which express a milky 
juice, or dark, watery fluid. 

5. All those which have the collar 
surrounding their stalk, thready, or fil- 
amentous, or like a caterpillar's web. 

6. All those which are very light in 
weight, and do not admit, readily, of 
the cap being skinned. 

7. And lastly, all those which emit 
a rank hemlock odor, when their caps 
are detached from their stalks. 

The few following observations may 
serve as a safe guide in collecting those 
that are edible. 

1. The Fairy Ring mushroom, (the 
Agaricus Protensis of Botanists.) 



These spring from the earth in curvi- 
linear rows, and have the appearance 
of little, round, milky-white, balls. 
Their fragrance is remarkable, resem- 
bling, when freshly plucked, the per- 
fume of the cabbage rose. 

2. The common and lesser mushroom, 
(the Agaricus Campestris,) sold in our 
markets, wild or cultivated. These, 
also, are similar to the former, except 
that when in their larger growth, their 
cap separates from the stalk, enlarges 
itself, and becomes somewhat conical, 
with liver, or chocolate colored gills, 
with a thick, fleshy, pulpy, white cap, 
soon soiled by the sun, but its exterior 
never fades into a black appearance 
similar to the toadstool fungi. At a 
more advanced age, the cap becomes 
concave, the color of the top grayish, 
the gills only, quite black. This, also, 
emits a delicious odor when fresh, and 
is of agreeable flavor when eaten raw. 

3. The common larger mushroom, 
(the Agaricus Geargii,) is much like 
the former, but inferior in odor and 
flavor, and much heavier ; some have 
been found to weigh as much as six* 
teen pounds. This kind is the most 
serviceable in making catsup. 

Of all the numerous species, these 
ar* the only few to be relied on as fit 
for food. In general the nose and the 
taste should always be consulted, in 
order to discriminate between them. 
The smallest portion of the stalk of the 
poisonous kind, (and some of them 
have a very deceptive appearance,) 
when put into the mouth, leaves a 
burning sensation at the root of the 
tongue, and is almost always accompa- 
nied by nausea, more or less. The 
wholesome kind will not grow near 
trees ; but prefers the shade and 

neighborhood of small shrubs. Sheep 
pastures are more favorable to their 
growth than other plains. 

The edible kind are also slower of 
growth, than the poisonous — are not so 
often found in clusters, ; if so, do not 
show so much stalk, but keep their 
heads near the grouud, enlarging them 
before they elevate themselves ; very 
unlike the Fungus Anthropos with 
which, in the present day, our society 
is inflicted. 


Is not woman's fond heart a fathomless mine, 
Affection's securest, her holiest shrine ? 
There it blooms in its beauty, luxuriant and 

As a flowret of fragrance, though lowly it be. 
The blast may be bleak, and bitter the storm 
Of adversity's wind sweeping over its form ; 
It can ne'er be destroy 'd, but its beauties will 

If aside, as neglected it ever be laid. 

If the hopes that have nursed it should wither 
and die, 

The stream that refreshed it prove shallow 
and dry, 

Warm sighs will oft fan, and tears will bedew 

The cherished exotic, in hopes to renew 

The fragrance, and beauty, the heart-thrill- 
ing glow 

That o'ersprcad every sense when it opened 
to blow : 

Then the thorns were unseen, unlooked for 
the blight, 

For the dazzling of hope hid the future from 

Though the chill of unkindness should rob it 

of bloom, 
Or the frailty of hie lay it low in the tomb ; 
Then the part that is human will moulder and 

But the brightest and best will ascend to the 

For e'en woman's affection would be robbed of 

its worth, 
Were its joys and its fears alone centered on 

It must rest upon' God — then will all be secure, 
And the love of His creatures be constant 

and pure. 

To the Homeward Bound. — 
Something to Remember. — Before 
going East be sure to subscribe for 

$tttcbing0' California JUajajuu. 




In the very early settlement of this 
State, there were vague rumors of sev- 
eral unsuccessful attempts to introduce 
the honey bee— of large premiums of- 
fered for the Jlrst hive of living bees — 
of the flowers and plants being entire- 
ly unproductive of gums and sweets 
and honey dew—- of the winters being 
too warm, and the summers too hot — 
of the atmosphere being altogether too 
dry — and numberless other reasons 
that would make the culture and man- 
agement of the honey bee an useless 
and unprofitable enterprise. We are 
happy to find that the " prophets " are 
in the wrong, as we have received 
from Mrs. Weaver, of the Washington 
Market, a sample of the finest flavored 
honey that we have ever tasted in any 
country, (we do not say " as fine as any" 
— but the finest of any,) and this was 
produced at the apiary of Messrs. Ap- 
pleton & Buck, near San Jose : and 
who, we are informed, have sold this 
year over five hundred pounds of hon- 
ey, at from $1,50 to $2,50 per pound, 
and thirty hives of bees at $100 per 
hive, and have a large number yet re- 
maining. From the San Jose TVibune, 
we take the following very interesting 
description of these valuable little 

The Honey Bee. — A visit to the 
Apiary of Messrs. F. 6. Appleton and 
Wm. Buck, on the Alameda, will rich- 
ly repay any one at all interested in 
the management of bees. These gen- 
tlemen have now one hundred and 
four hives, and have been remarkably 
successful from the commencement of 
their operations with them, having lost, 
as they believe, only one swarm from 
among them all. They first obtained 
one hive in the fall of 1854, and from 

this, two more were sent out the fol- 
lowing year ; and in the spring of the 
present year, they had six from the ori- 
ginal stock. Twenty-five hives were 
brought from Orange county, N. Y. 
Hence will be seen the rapidity of 
their increase ! In the Eastern States 
two swarms in one year are considered 
a fair increase ; here three are a com- 
mon average; and in some cases as 
many as eight, and in one instance 
even nine swarms were sent out from 
one hive in a single year ! The bees 
work more or less all winter, finding 
material from one source and another, 
with which to construct their delicate 

In early Spring they resort to the 
thickets of willows upon the first ap- 
pearance of the leaves; from some 
plants they obtain gums , and gather 
honey dew here and there, so that their 
work is hardly ever suspended. But 
from the first of April to the first of 
July, is their busiest time, when the 
whole country — hill, plain and wood- 
land, is one immense garden of flowers. 
During that season, " from early morn 
till dewy eve " the bees are most act- 

And their labors are productive and 
profitable. A hive of average size 
produces 40 lbs. of honey per year ; 
which is, at present, worth from $1,50 
$2,50 per lb. Any one can see how 
remunerative the rearing of the honey 
bee maj be made. The only outlay 
of consequence is a stock from which 
to propagate ; and after that, the man- 
agement is easy and inexpensive. 
Messrs. A. & B. have this year sold 
several swarms which uniformly have 
done well. They have sent them to 
different parts of the State and to Ore- 
gon ; and at the Fair they received a 
special premium for exhibit of bees, 
and also one for a fine specimen of 

When we take into account the com- 
parative ease with which the honey 
bee may be managed in this country 
— requiring no care through a long 
and cold winter, we are induced to be- 



lieve that a branch of rural economy 
so agreeable and productive will not 
be neglected. 

How much might be added to the 
true wealth and comfort of our homes! 
The bee belongs to the country home- 
stead. It is connected with the dreams 
of youth, and with the dog-eared classic 
page. Virgil sung of the bee, and 
taught the management of the hive two 
thousand years ago ; and in every age 
and clime where civilization has ex- 
tended, the bee has been the home 
companion of man. 

We hope to see a hive or two of 
bees in front of the cabin of almost 
every miner, as well as near the com- 
fortable looking house of the valley 
resident, before many years have 
passed away. Besides, as they speak 
volumes of the contentment within, we 
would suggest, that when the boys are 
u making arrangements" for that first 
and best of all kinds of cabin furniture 
— u a gude wife," that they forget not 
the bees, and the flower seed , 
that looked so cheery and familiar at 
their dear old home; for next to a 
smiling and loving-hearted wife, comes 
the neat looking cottage and garden. 
We would that we could see every 
resident of California thus provided 
for, and then they could afford to watt 
a little, as well as labor for the favors 
of fortune. 

There is no fear of knowing too 
much, though there may be of prac- 
Using too little. 

The whole coinage of the United 
States since 1793, is $498,866,567 ; of 
which amount there has been received 
from California, since 1848, $31 1,234,- 

If you wish to cure a scolding wife, 
wait patiently until she ceases — then 
kiss her. 


NO. II. 

In a preceeding chapter, I left a 
group of " hale fellows well met," on 
the deck of the " Lady Pike," bound 
for the gold mines, far away in the Oc- 

On a peaceful Sabbath morning, 
our steamer glided proudly down the 
beautiful stream, and not a sound dis- 
turbed the quietude of the hour, save 
the frequent splash of the side-wheels, 
as they dipped their broad buckets in 
the transparent river. A minister 
being on board, was prevailed upon to 
give the < crowd a short, home-spun, 
sermon; who, after throwing his 
hands above his head, directed his dis- 
course exclusively to Californians, and 
which for the most part formed his au- 
dience. The worthy divine was sud- 
denly cut short in his high-flown expos- 
tulations, by a hugh son of the Emer- 
ald Isle, who declared himself to be a 
catholic ; and he informed the preacher, 
that before going any further, his senti- 
ments must come to a focus ! This in- 
terference, immediately caused a giggle, 
to the great annoyance of the minister, 
who sought his state-room in despair ; 
while the Irishman, thinking himself 
the victorious party, strutted about the 
cabin and deck of the steamer, as 
though he were the owner, and meant 
that we should know it 

That night we were enveloped in a 
dense fog ; yet, although the sun went 
down in misty vapor, about midnight 
the moon arose gloriously bright, and 
I left my state-room to look upon the 
loveliness of the scene around. Often 
in my California home, when evening 
comes on with its Italian sky, aix^ the 



stars shifle oat so clear and beautiful, 
do they remind me of that time, and I 
sigh as I think of days that are passed. 

How often is the monotony of a voy- 
age broken, on river or sea, by some 
event, it was so with us : for while we 
were "wooding up," a man slipped 
from the plank into the eddying stream, 
while going ashore, and the fog being 
exceedingly dense, poor fellow, he was 
seen no more, although much search 
was made for him ; a splash and a cry, 
was all that was heard or known of 

Soon we found' that the transparent 
waters of the Ohio, mingled with the 
sluggish and turbid waters of the Mis- 
sissippi, and soon we reached the city 
of St. Louis, in a fearful thunder 

From thence we took the " Highland 
Mary," for Keokuk, Iowa, where we 
arrived in safety, and where too, we 
had arranged to get our outfit for the 
toilsome and fatiguing journey of the 

Keokuk, at the time this journal 
was penned, was a lonesome, dingy 
looking place, with a few log and 
framed houses scattered along the banks 
of the river. At the present time it 
is one of the most thriving and beau- 
tiful, among the marvelous young cities 
of the West Before taking another 
step in my narative, I might as well 
give a short historical account of this 

Its name was taken from the old 
Chief Keokuk, who fought so brave 
and valiantly with the world renowned 
Black Hawk, whose deeds of warfare 
have made him a savage of consider- 
able notoriety and distinction. His 
name is now a bug-bear to frighten 

unruly children to quick obedience. 
This citv lies at the foot of the lower 
rapids of the Mississippi, two hundred 
and five miles above St. Louis, and 
one hundred and twenty-five miles 
south of Iowa city, and from its local 
advantanges, it has been termed, and 
not inappropriately, the Gate City of 
Iowa. It is situated in the south-east 
corner of the State, and the only town 
in it that has uninterrupted commu- 
nication with the tributaries of the Mis- 

While at this, in no way, agreeable 
stopping place for travellers, on enter- 
ing the little log parlor, there sat a 
woman just in from California. She 
was a tall, gaunt specimen of humani- 
ty, and had a cracked, squeaking voice, 
which she raised to the highest key 
while relating the many ** bar " breadth 
escapes and experiences, while so far 
away in the land of gold, and her two 
unmarried daughters sat listening to her 
harangue, and smiled a look of appro- 
bation at whatever she might .«av. 
These two presented a very imposing, 
and taken altogether, very singular 
appearance as they thus sat. Each 
had a pair of very ponderous ear rings, 
made of natural specimens of Califor- 
nia gold, hanging in large holes made 
in their ears, (punched, one would 
suppose, with a chisel and mallet); with 
these most singular ornaments, and a 
silk dress, or two, which they had in 
possession, they stood upon the carpet, 
fit subjects for matrimony, looking like 
swamp angels, or fresh water lilies? 

The story was cut short by the en- 
trance of three semi-barbarians, for so 
they looked, desperately tugging in a 
hugh trunk ; and at their sides, a load- 
ed revolver,; they sat heavily down, 



with an air of importance, as much as 
to say (come if you dare), I'm a Cali- 
fornian, desperate as a tiger, with much 
" oro." I must confess I was overawed, 
at this singular and ferocious looking 
group, and wondered if all people that 
became gold hunters, looked so desper- 
ately respectable, and monstrously en- 
chanting. Then I felt an inward con- 
viction, that gold, and the eagerness 
to obtain it, made the heart callous and 
hardened, perhaps, and that it might 
transform an angel into a fiend incar- 

That you may have a correct idea 
of the father at the head of these smil- 
ing, verdant-looking responsibilities, I 
will sketch him for you, reader. He 
was about fifty-five or sixty years of 
age, tall, well built, and might for what 
I know, in a time long ago, have been 
remarkably handsome, save from a 
certain indescribable expression of the 
eyes, which though delicately blue, and 
almost beautiful, led you at once to feel 
that you were in the presence of one, 
over whose heart a thick, impenetra- 
ble veil had drawn a darkness, no mor- 
tal eye could pierce. His nose once 
might have been well shaped, but it had 
now a piece taken from the side, ex- 
tending to the eye, which greatly 
marred the savage beauty of his coun- 
tenance, as it turned. His hair, which 
had been a deep beautiful chesnut, had 
commenced to show here and there a 
silver thread, and his white, high for- 
head was marked by three deep fur- 
rows, which told in truthful accents, that 
he was sliding down the declivity of 
life, rapidly. 

The dinner bell sounding alarm of an 
attack upon edibles, the old man made 
a rush for the dining room, followed 

by his two amazon looking daughters, 
and their mama, who entered with a 
toss of the head, and an air of hau- 
teur, bespeaking a very distinguished 
personage, and all seated themselves, 
near the old man, who stood erect, eat- 
ing without a knife or fork, looking as 
wise and venerable as a Hottentot phi- 

Here we hired a Dutch wagon, the 
only mode of conveyance, to take us to 
Fairfield, an inland town lying distant 
some forty miles. I left the Califor- 
nians, wondering how they ever lived 
to tell the tale. 


The question has often been put, by 
some of our mirth-loving friends, — 
" What is the origin of St. Valentine's 
day ? " — and other old observances that 
appear made for all time, regardless of 
the wholesale change in other matters 
of the community at large. 

This custom of exchanging love- 
glances, and letters, on this ever mem- 
orable day, we believe, arose from good 
old Saint Valentine's receding from his 
clan, and taking unto himself a wife, 
still adhereing to the monkish stole and 
hood, despite the thundering excom- 
munications of the Vatican. His birth- 
day was on the fourteenth day of Feb- 
ruary, and the sensible part of mankind 
thus do him perpetual honor, by this 
old custom. Peace to his ashes, say 
we; if the whole paternity were to 
follow his example. We would keep, to 
the end of our existence, a St. Valen- 
tine's day, if possible, six days of every 

April-fool dat — (the first of 
April,) — arose from the fact of our 



blessed Lord being mocked with the 
crown of thorns and the sceptre-reed. 
His enemies crowning their malice by 
thus befooling him with their mock 

St. Nicholas' Day in Germany, 
but St. Sylvester's day in France, 
the 1st of June, are sacred to the affec- 
tions and delight of children. On this 
day, parents deposit in sly holes and 
corners, little presents for the young 
folk, who have to thank the good Saints 
— patrons of children — for one day of 
joy and gladness, in the same way as 
comes Santa Claus on Christmas day 
in the United { t ites. 

The omen of Spilling Salt, is said to 
be derived from the custom of the 
Arabs, who, by this means, declare 
deadly enmity against a foe, as eating 
salt with a stranger, denotes great con- 

The omen of Crossed Knives, from 
the Roman custom of crossing swords 
of gladiators, who thus commenced con- 
test to the death ; when the strife was 
not required to be thus urgent, this 
custom was avoided. 

Meeting on the Stairs, may have had 
its origin from the well known aversion 
of the wife-killing Henry the Eighth ; 
who never failed to express his anger, 
when thus met, or saluted — no doubt 
suspecting secret assassination. 
■ The well known rhyme, 

" Would ye wish to live and thrive, 
Let a spider run alive," 

can be traced to have been in use at 
the time of the great plague of London, 
in Charles the Second's reign. It was 
the popular belief that the flies with 
which some close habitations were in- 
fested, inoculated persons with the vi- 
rus of the disease. These pests were 

remarkably large at that time ; indeed, 
the whole atmosphere, in the com- 
mencement of this calamity, seemed 
pregnant with them. 

With respect to superstitious num- 
bers, the origin of the number three, 
arose doubtless from the triune person 
of the Godhead. The unlucky number 
five, from the five foolish virgins. Brit- 
ish, and other sailors, feel repugnance 
to sail on Friday, the day of our Lord's 
crucifixion. Black Monday, probably 
arose from the circumstance of prison- 
ers being called up for punishment in 
Bridewell, and from the black mark 
list of the week. 

Barbers' poles* from the circum- 
stance of their formerly uniting the 
practice of phlebotomy, with the ton- 
sorial art. The pole was held in the 
hand, to cause the necessary rigidity 
of muscle for the issue of the blood, 
and the red tape wound round it, now 
represented in colors, was used to tie 
up the bandage after the operation. 

The Shakespearian adage, as good 
wine needs no bush, so a good play 
needs no epilogue, alludes to the prac- 
tice of formerly hanging out a holly 
bush in summer, a. mistletoe in winter; 
to show where wine could be had. 
This custom is now in use in many 
nooks and corners of " ryghte merrye 
Englande." The word bush is a cor- 
ruption from the French word bouchei 


Kissing under the mistletoe bough, 
probably had its rise from the practice 
of the ancient Druids, performing the 
right of marriage under this bough. 
The mistletoe was an emblem of the 
woman's being grafted on the man, a9 
the oak was symbol of the man's 




Since the publication, in our last 
number, of an article on the Poison 
Oak of California, we have been far 
rored with some additional informa- 
tion concerning it, which we now place 
before our readers. A correspondent, 
under the nom de plume of " Gold 
Spring/' gives the following : 

" I was pleased to see, in the Octo- 
ber number, a short notice of the Poi- 
son Oak, or La Yedra, as the Mexi- 
cans call it, and I am anxious to obtain 
information about it, and also to learn 
a preventive of its evil effects. I 
believe that I am as subject to its in- 
fluence as any person can be, and I per- 
ceive that I am infinitely more liable to 
be affected by it now, than when I first 
commenced to mine, in 1850. At that 
time, it was necessary that I should 
come into actual contact with, and even 
be scratched by it, in order to be at- 
tacked severely ; but now, if I work 
within a few paces of it, and perspire, 
as one is apt to do in a California sum- 
mer, I am certain, although exceeding- 
ly careful not to touch it, to be badly 
' poisoned.' 

" The effects, however, are not pre- 
cisely the Bame, on me, as on many 
others* Its first appearance is in the 
form of small red pimples on my arms 
or legs, and these soon become watery 
pustules, which speedily spread over 
all the most tender parts of my body, 
as inside my elbows and knees ; and, in 
fact, in every place where the skin, by 
forming a wrinkle, appears to detain 
the perspiration. Sometimes it breaks 
out across my stomach, and then it 
produces a very unpleasant, sickly feel- 
ing gradually. The parts, however, 

never swell, which I have attributed to 
the ease with which it appears to break 
through .the skin. These pustules are 
exceedingly irritating, and, when 
scratched, which it is almost impossi- 
ble to avoid doing, become very pain- 
ful. The eruption, if left to itself, usu- 
ally continues for about a week, when 
it gradually subsides — sometimes, how- 
ever, leaving a memento of its passage 
in the shape of boils, which break out 
here and there over the affected parts. 
I forgot to say that the pustules are 
sometimes so thick as to produce the 
appearance of a severe, blistered scald, 
and the discharge of aqueous matter so 
great that I have had a pocket hand- 
kerchief which I tied round my arm, 
wet through several folds by it 

" As for its cure, almost every one 
has a different specific, although the 
most favored appears to be salt and 
water. I have tried almost every 
thing I could hear of — salt, gunpow- 
der, carbonate of soda, sugar of lead, 
and many others, with various success, 
but have never been able to cure it 
under three or four days; and then, 
when I resumed work, found myself 
just as subject to it as ever. I have 
also tried decoctions of various plants, 
in order to find an immediate remedy, 
but without avaiL I am rather op- 
posed to the use of any such violent 
specifics as those above named, as I 
think they are very apt to produce in- 
ternal sickness. I am inclined to the 
opinion that, where convenient* fre- 
quent bathings with water, as hot as 
can be borne, is about the best treat- 
ment. Some light aperient may be 
taken at the same time. A solution of 
acetate of lead, with some drops of 
laudanum in it, is, however, tolerabjy 



effective. I think, however, that it is 
with this, as with other ailments ; that, 
as it affects differently constituted per- 
sons variously, so it is differently cured. 
I have known some people who have 
used salt and water with great effect, 
although it produced none on me. By 
the way, I have observed that persons 
of a light complexion are much more 
easily affected by it than dark ones. 
Is this also the result of your experi- 

u I should be very much pleased if 
some of your readers would throw a 
little more light on the subject of curing 
or preventing the evil effects of La Ye- 
dra, for I am so annoyed by it when 
mining as to have christened it ( mine 
enemy,' believing it to be the only one 
I have in the country." 

Gold Spring's letter is one of the 
many instances of the good effect of 
disseminating information of local in- 
terest. We quote his favor, and hope 
that it will be an example to our read- 
ers, of communicating any intelligence 
that may tend to benefit our communi- 
ty. We are glad to see that he re- 
commends caution in the use of exter- 
nal applications, as we are yet unac- 
quainted with the whole of its symp- 

Some have suggested constant rub- 
bing with ice, or bathing in ice-water ; 
but we would by no means recommend 
it ; applications similar to those in use 
for other poisons of like appearance are 

Since our last, we have submitted 
its leaf to a powerful microscope, but 
can discover none of the Jlbrce homes of 
the sting-nettle. We observed that its 
leaf is much charged with succulence, 
of less consistency than that of the oak, 

to which it bears some resemblance. 
We have seen a person who declares 
that he has frequently swallowed some 
of its juice, after mastication, with im- 
punity, but are inclined to attach little 
importance to this knowledge, as, from 
the time of old Homer, who, in the 
fourth book of his Iliad, records of Ma- 
caon, the son of jEsculapius — 

" Then, when he saw the wound, where the 
poison'd arrow fell, 

Having suck'd out the blood, applied with art 
that remedy 

The prudent Chiron gave to his beloved fa- 

and of Eleanor, the wife of the Eng- 
lish king, Edward I, who sucked the 
virus from the wound made by a poi- 
soned arrow, and so saved her hus- 
band's life at the hazard of her own, it 
has been well known that many poi- 
sons may be imbibed harmless, which 
would cause death if externally applied, 
and vice versa of others. 

From the effects of this poison, a 
gentleman with whom we are very well 
acquainted, was entirely blind for six 
weeks, his head having swollen to an 
enormous size ; and, in addition to his 
distressingly painful condition, was 
much afraid that it would become fatal 
in its consequences. Many of the usu- 
al remedies, superintended by a skilful 
physician, were useless and unavailing, 
until a friend, while visiting him, sug- 
gested the use of the soap root, so com- 
mon throughout California. This was 
tried with eminent success ; for in 
three days after its application he was 
able to resume his business. As near- 
ly every one throughout California is 
familiar with this root, we need only 
add that it was used in the same man- 
ner as common soap. 

It is possible that if the soap root 



could be used when the first symp- 
toms are apparent, it would prove an 
immediate remedy. 

A correspondent of the San Fran- 
cisco Evening Bulletin, of Nov. 24th, 
makes the following observations : 


Editor Bulletin: — Referring to 
the article in Hutchings' Magazine on 
the above plant, an extract from which 
appeared in Saturday's Bulletin, I beg 
to offer a few remarks. 

The effect of this climbing {not creep- 
ing) shrub acts as a poisonous agent on 
some constitutions is not, as therein 
stated, confined to temperament. [This 
is an error, as no such statement was 
made. — Ed.] The virus acts on the 
cuticle, and produces a rapidly increas- 
ed action of the vascular system. In 
certain states of the body the action is 
more rapid than at other periods. The 
remedies I would suggest are as follows : 
Wash the part affected with a strong 
solution of bicarb, of soda ; then apply, 
by means of a linen cloth, kept well sat- 
urated, a lotion composed of chloroform, 
one part ; eau de cologne, two parts ; 
water, three parts. After a very short 
period, the patient will generally not 
experience any further annoyance. 

This shrub varies in size. I have 
seen several eight, ten, and twelve feet, 
high — in some instances destrowing 
that whence in its early growth it de- 
rived support, and forming an indepen- 
dent shrub of considerable size and ex- 
tent. Some persons can handle the 
leaves and stems, and even rub the 
juice or sap which it exudes on any 
part of the body, with impunity. H. s. 

A gentleman writing to the Marys- 
ville Herald, when alluding to the same 
article, says that he recently came 
across, in a dark ravine, in Butte coun- 
ty, a specimen of it which was twenty- 
five feet in height, and that there were 
growing in the vicinity other specimens 
of nearly the same height 

We are happy to have our belief 
confirmed, that this pestilence has not 
in any instance proved fatal. In the 
meantime, it would be a charity — nay, 
even a duty, to make known, as public- 
ly as possible, any specific remedy that 
any fortunate discoverer may alight 
upon, and we shall gladly lend our aid 
in publishing it 


Sweet, plaintive strains — just heard above the 

buBy throng 
That crowd the streets-Hind yet art scarcely 

Before thy feeble breath is spent and gone— 
Tell me whence comest thou, 
With such wooing notes and gentle guise, 
That take oar raptured senses by surprise * 
Tell me, sweet spirit of the ether sphere, 
Why touch those trembling strings and linger 

Amid the throng ? 

Methinks thou'dst haunt the lake, 
The mead, the dell, and sylvan stream, 
Or linger round the moon s pale beam, 
Rather than here. * * * 

And yet 
Our greedy sense, delighted, hears 
The murmuring music of the spheres ; 
Then stay and tune the welcome strain, 
And stir the soul's sweet depths again. 

• w. F. H. 

A Gentleman's Diary of his 
Wife's Temper. — Monday — A thick 
fog; no seeing through it. Tuesday — 
Gloomy and very chilly, unseasonable 
weather. Wednesday — Frosty ; at 
times sharp. Thursday — bitter cold 
in the morning ; red sunset, with flying 
clouds, portending hard weather. Fri- 
day — Storm in the morning, with peals 
of thunder ; air clear afterwards. Sat- 
urday — Gleams of sunshine, with par- 
tial thaw ; frost again at night. Sunday 
— A light southwester in the morning ; 
calm and pleasant at dinner-time ; hur- 
ricane and earthquake at night 

A lunatic once informed his physi- 
cian, who was classifying cases of in- 
sanity, that he had lost his senses by 
watching a politician, whose course was 
so crooked that it turned his brain. 




We take the following simple and 
touching description of the social 
and spiritual blessedness of Sunday 
from Rev. Dr. Scott's discourse at the 
dedication of Zion's Chapel, the church 
built by the people of color, on Pacific 
street, in this city, a few weeks ago, 
and published in the Mirror of the 
Times, the new organ of the colored 
people : 

I am not sure, my Christian friends 
and brethren, whether any of you 
crossed " the Plains," in coming to this 
country* or not. But I suppose every 
one of you has read or heard of the 
dangers and wearisomeness of a jour- 
ney across the great deserts of Asia 
and of Africa, from which some of 
your forefathers were brought to this 
country. In those deserts, the sun 
pours forth his burning rays upon the 
panting traveller, while the sand glows 
like a furnace. The skin on his face 
blisters, his lips crack, and even his 
feet are scalded through his boots or 
shoes, if of the ordinary black leather. 
Day after day the weary march is 
made. Scarcely a Human being is ever 
seen, save those in your own company. 
On every side a dreary waste stretches 
away and disappears beneath the glare 
of a cloudless sky. The moaning of 
the wind over the sands and along the 
rocky ridges and gorges, is like one's 
fancy of the waitings of lost spirits. 
But the water-skins begin to grow 
light. The camels are beginning to 
complain ; their tongues swell. The 
whole caravan becomes moody and 
ginks into silence. Every one begins 
to wish the journey, or life itself, were 
at an end. But now, why this rapid 
gait? Why are the camels moving 
with uplifted heads and distended nos- 
trils ? It is because the foremost one 
of the train has caught sight of an 
oasis, and, like an electric flash, the 
news passes to the last one of the car- 
avan. Now hope with shouts of joy 

fills the crowd with renewed vigor, 
and in a little while all are sheltered 
by the palm trees, and are filled with 
cool water gushing from the fountain. 
The dangers and toils of the desert are 
forgotten ; rest and refreshment gained 
in the oasis prepare them for new 
journeys. And is not the Sabbath 
sanctuary an oasis to us in the journey 
of life t The night does not wholly re- 
lieve us ; sometimes our day of labor 
has twenty-four hours, and our weeks 
consist of seven days. But even when 
we have the night for rest, we are 
sometimes oppressed with the cares of 
the day that is past, and we live it over 
again in feverish dreams, or spend it 
in anxious thoughts for the morrow. 
But when "six days' work is done," 
what a blessing it is that then the bless- 
ed Sabbath come?, consecrated to 

heaven and holy thoughts, to domestic 
repose, and intellectual improvement. 
Oh, what would become of our race, 
especially the laboring poor, but for the 
rest of the Sabbath ! The two great 
gifts of God to man, which he brought 
with him out of Paradise, are the Sab- 
bath and marriage. How blissful our 
youthful recollections of the Sabbath ! 
How many tender thoughts and holy 
associations are connected with its re- 
turn ! How much do we owe to our 
weekly reunions in the house of God ! 
Weary and worn, excited and exhaust- 
ed, you drag through the week ; but at 
last the office is closed ; business re- 
poses. You are refreshed with the 
calmness of the Sabbath morn. Na- 
ture is cheerful. Your thoughts soar 
upward in their aspirations, and for a 
time you forget the world and its cares. 
Blessed is the day of rest ! 

It is good to go with the tribes of Is- 
rael to Zion's gates ? This is one oasis 
ever fresh and green, amid the waste 
and burning desert. Here are springs 
that never dry. Here are trees ever 
green. Their leaves never wither and 
their fruits never lose their sweetness. 
And even if there were no mutual ben- 
efits derived from the Sabbath, it is a 
priceless boon to toiling humanity. 



The observance of the Christian Sab- 
bath strengthens the ties of home and 
enhances the happiness of social inter- 
course. Without the Sabbath many 
families would not know the joys of 
their own firesides. Banished from 
home, as most business men are all the 
week, catching only a glimpse of their 
little ones morning and evening, it is a 
great comfort that there is one day out 
of seven, when they may be free from 
the toils of business. As it is a day of 
rest, so it restores man's exhausted en- 
ergy- It lengthens out his life, and af- 
fords him an opportunity to improve 
his mind and his heart, and prepare for 
a better world. 

This comparison of the Sabbath 
sanctuary has been suggested to me by 
what I saw in one ot your Sabbath- 
school papers, and by my recollections 
of travels in the Deserts of Arabia; 
and to my mind it is not more beauti- 
ful than it is appropriate to you. Let 
ns all thank God, take courage, and set 
out to-day from this place afresh for 
the heavenly Canaan. 

Speak gently to the erring— 

0'i, do not" thou forget, 
However darkly stained by sin, 

He is thy brother yet — 
Heir of the self-same heritage, 

Child of the self-same God ; 
He hath hat stumbled in the path 

Thou h«st in weakness trod. 

Speak kindly to the erring — 

Thou yet mayst lead him hack, 
With holy words, and tones of love, 

From misery's thorny track ; 
Forget not, thou hast often sinn'd, 

And sinful yet must be ; — 
Deal kindly with the erring one, 

As God hath dealt with thee ! 



Is a store-keeper— or, rather, a seller 
of stores ; for he only takes the money, 
and leaves you to take the goods. For 
two years that I have known him, I 
have never seen him without his pipe 
in his mouth and his left hand in the 
pocket of his pants. 1 do verily be- 

lieve, if we were all to be blown up 
one of these days, (we live next door 
to a high pressure flour-mill,) his head 
would be found with a pipe in its 
mouth, and the body with a hand in its 

" How's dry stuff? " I asked, one 
day, by way of curiosity, to see whether 
the pipe would quit its orifice. 

"Shicks shents," said he, moving 
every muscle in his face to give plain 
utterance, rather than move the ever- 
lasting pipe. But whether per quart, 
per gallon, per bushel, per sack, or per 
pound, the said pipe prohibited to be 
explained. I sometimes have thought, 
if I were not so sedate a body, I would 
raise a cry of fire, to see whether the 
head would appear without the pipe in 
it, to inquire what was the matter. 

Oh, here is a horse at the door; his 
store is shut up ; he is going to make 
holiday. If he ride that horse, surely 
he cannot do it with his hand in his 
pocket and pipe in his mouth. Here 
he comes. He mounts ; he turns his . 
head. There is the meerschaum, sure 
enough ; and, I declare, his left hand is 
in its usual situation; the right one 
does all the work. Away he goes — 
" bibbity bob— bibbity bob "— and the 
meerschaum ; and no mere-sham of a 
pipe is it, I assure you, but one capa- 
ble of raising a smoke sufficient to set 
going all the fire-bells in San Fran- 
cisco. Now the beast is restive ; he 
kicks. Surely the left hand comes to 
the rescue. Not a bit of it ; but the 
meerschaum describes its gyrations 
round the region of his nose, irrespec- 
tive of all consequences to its neigh- 
borhood ; and such a nose, ftoo, as 
friend Bardolph might apostrophize* 
Surely that meerschaum must be nice- 
ly Browned by this time — (his name is 
Brown; it is, indeed.) I'd give the 
world for that pipe, for he and it are 
always in a brown study. With his 
legs on the counter, his head against 
the wall, and his gaze where the stove- 
pipe used to be, what untold lucubra- 
tions pass which the world knows not- 
ing about. He is a philosopher, is fv&gtA 



Brown, and his pipe is his vade mecum 
— his hypothesis — aye, and his hypos- 
tasis. What visions, of soothing con- 
solation does it not afford ; what clear 
views of modified existence does it not 
elicit. If I were to be an unsentient 
being, I would be Mr. Brown's pipe, 
and I should be as merry as any piper. 
I am sure I should. 


The monkey is described by natu- 
ralists as a class amongst the Simiadce, 
which possess a tail, as distinguished 
from those of the ape kind, which are 
without this appendage. Of the class, 
the ape appears more grave, less peev- 
ish and mischievous than the monkey. 
They are susceptible of more intelli- 
gence, and become more gentle and af- 
fectionate. The few tricks which the 
monkeys in our streets occasionally ex- 
hibit are the result of much training 
and perseverance, seldom performed 
without the jerk of the chain or the eye 
of the master; whereas those of the 
ape often show an intelligence not 
much inferior to that of uncivilized 

Lieutenant Matthews, who travelled 
over a great part of Sierra Leone, 
Guinea, Congo, and Loango, states 
that the Chimpanzee, the tribe most 
like man in their structure, generally 
take up their abode near some deserted 
town or village, where the papau tree 
grows abundantly, the fruit of which 
serves them as food in abundance. 
They build huts nearly like the houses 
of the natives, covering them with 
leaves,* for their females and young, 
guarding the entrances, day and night, 
with all the care of the fondest parent. 
If one of them is shot, the rest of the 
community pursue, with the utmost 
speed, the destroyer, and the only 
means then of escaping their vengeance 
is to part with the gun, which they in- 
stantly seize and batter to pieces, 
giving over the pursuit when they have 
thus vented their rage. They travel 
in large bodies, arming themselves with 

clubs, and frequently compel the ele- 
phant to abandon its locality. Mons. 
de la Brosse states that they sometimes 
watch for months together, to steal 
young negresses, whom they carry into 
the woods and force to live with 
them, feeding them plentifully, but 
otherwise doing them no injury, as if 
to enjoy merely their society. One in- 
stance of this kind came under his no- 
tice, of a negress who lived in Loango, 
and who had lived upwards of three 
years amongst them, in the utmost 
harmony, before she was able to make 
her escape. 

The apes or baboons which frequent 
the rock of Gibraltar sprung from a 
pair that were brought thither by an 
officer who had travelled through the 
interior of Africa. These are de- 
scribed as perfect nuisances to the 
place. The only method the inhabi- 
tants have of ridding themselves of 
them is by catching and shaving them. 
An odd method ; but no other can be 
had recourse to, on account of the use 
of firearms being prohibited. 

A friend of mine, an officer in the 
Sappers and Miners, at a place called 
Brompton in Kent, possessed one of 
remarkable cunning. He had brought 
it from this celebrated fort. It had an 
extraordinary antipathy for women, 
boys, dogs and pigs. We remember 
well seeing some youths playing at 
marbles on the pavement of the cannon 
embrasures, and watching its tricks. 
He would wait patiently until they were 
all intent upon their game, and then 
slily thrust his head over the parapet 
and hurl a brickbat upon them, stoop- 
ing his head down immediately after- 
wards to hide himself. On one occa- 
sion, on a repetition of these tricks, a 
boy, who had a Newfoundland dog 
with him, discovered the offender and 
gave chase to him through the streets 
of the neighboring village, Brompton. 
The creature, jumping up to the first 
knocker of a door he came to, thun- 
dered away at it without intermission, 
with one hand, while he rang the bell 
violently with the other. An old lady 



of portly dimensions came to the door, 
and the transition of the emotions of 
her face, from a good scolding expres- 
sion to one of staring alarm, as the 
brute jumped upon her ample shoulders 
for protection, is not to be soon forgot- 

On another occasion this baboon car- 
ried off a large basket of cherries, 
weights, scales, and all, which had been 
left by an old woman, for a few mo- 
ments, in the passage at the bottom of 
the stairs, in the barrack room, during 
her temporary absence to get change 
for a coin. The creature was seen the 
next moment, from an upper window, 
showering cherries, weights, scales, 
basket and all, upon the regimentals as 
they were marching out for the morn- 
ing's parade. I remember well, old 

Col. P y bobbing down his head 

to avoid a 21b weight, which despite 
his caution, struck his nose, causing the 
shedding of blood most ingloriously 
and profusely. After this adventure, 
the mischievous customer was taken to 
the Chatham Dock Yard, in the neigh- 
borhood. Here its exploits were as 
mischievous; for one day the turret 
clock of the yard having stopped, its 
cause was discovered to be the filling 
up the said turret with the tools of the 
workmen, who had been for a long 
time previously, suspecting all sorts of 
thefts of each other. 

The story of the monkey shaving 
the cat must have originated from this 
creature, who was one day discovered 
with the blacking brush lathering away 
most vigorously upon poor puss, on the 
sill of its mistress's chamber window, 
habited in her best bonnet and cap. 
The poor beast at last met with a de- 
serter's punishment, for it grew such a 
nuisance, and so frequently broke from 
its chain, that its master condemned it 
to be shot, 

The smaller monkeys, properly so 
called, are deficient in sagacity to many 
of this species ; often and often have 
we watched at the celebrated Regent's 
Park Zoological Gardens, London, their 
attempts to crack a marble toy given 

them among some nuts. Again and 
again, would each try to crack it, put- 
ting the paw now to the right, now to 
the left mandible,- and not leaving it 
till one and all apparently denounced 
it as an imposition. These Gardens 
have the greatest variety of the mon- 
key tribe of any in the world. Many 
young pombos, we were told, have 
been taken to England, but none have 
survived the change of climate. Some 
of this tribe are so alert, that Duvacel 
says, he has often seen them in confine- 
ment clear spaces of eighteen feet with 
the greatest ease, and that for an hour 
together, without intermission. Many 
birds stand no chance with them. Once 
he let a grey king loose, and ob- 
served that it only for a moment 
marked its flight, then leaped to a dis- 
tant branch, caught the bird with one 
hand, in passing, and seized the branch 
with the other hand, as if that alone 
had been its aim. This kind when 
taken young, are very playful and af- 
fectionate, and exhibit much intelli- 
gence. A droll story is told of one 
which we will relate. An old bache- 
lor in Scotland, a banker, kept one of 
these animals, and treated it as a pet 
child. One day a venerable high- 
lander, after banking hours, observing 
the doors not closed, made his appear- 
ance, and drew from his pocket his 
leather bag, and emptying his gold from 
it on the counter, and spreading his 
bank notes, waited for the banker to 
take due account of his savings. To 
his great surprise, he saw the old gen- 
tleman aforesaid, take a flying leap, 
with much gravity, from the chair on 
to the counter, roll up his bank notes 
and put them in his mouth, and at the 
same time, taking up the gold sover- 
eigns, pelt him with hand fu Is of them; 
The highlander observing the sudden 
madness of this, to him, chief clerk of 
the establishment, made aim at him 
with his knobbed stick, but the chief 
clerk, jumping upon him, seized his 
hat and wig, and made a spring of 
some dozen feet from the counter, on 
to a shelf at the further part of t\ie 



room, where he sat grinning, chatter- 
ing, and showing his white teeth, to 
the terror and amazement of the man, 
and it was not nntil the attendant, who 
had scarcely left the premises five 
minutes, explained matters to the dis- 
comfited highlander, that he could be 
brought to think that it was a trick of 
an ape, who had made use of his mas- 
ter's old coat, hat and wig, for this pur- 
pose, iu their absence. 

■ ^*m ^ ■ ■ ■ w ■■■■• pi ■ ■»■■■ ■■■■■■ im ■ ■*■■■ mm i 

Loss of a Wipe. — No man but 
one who has been called upon to mourn 
the loss of a beloved companion can 
appreciate the beauty and truthfulness 
of the following article which we copy 
from an exchange : 

In comparison with the loss of a 
wife all other bereavements are trifling. 
The wife, she who fills so large a space 
in the domestic heaven, she who bus- 
ied herself so unwearedly for the pre- 
cious ones around her ; bitter, bitter is 
the tear that falls upon her cold clay ! 
You stand beside her coffin and think 
of the past. It seems an amber col- 
ored pathway where the sun shone on 
beautiful flowers and the stars hung 
glittering overhead. Fain would the 
soul linger there — no thorns are re- 
membered, save those your hands may 
unwillingly have planted ; her noble 
tender heart lies open to your inmost 
sight You think of her now as all 
gentleness, all beauty, all purity. But 
she is dead ! The dear head that has 
lain upon your bosom rests in the still 
darkness upon a pillow of clay. The 
hands that have ministered so untiring- 
ly, are folded white and cold beneath 
the gloomy portals of the grave. The 
heart, whose every beat measured 
an eternity of love, lies under your feet. 
The flowers she bent over in smiles, 
bend now above her in tears, shaking 
the dew from their petals, that the ver- 
dure around her may be green and 
beautiful for ever, as a memento of her 
undying love. 

Humility is a flower that prospers 
most when planted on the rich soil of 
a noble and great mind. 


My sister dear, though far from thee I dwell, 
And varied climes between as intervene, 

No space or time can from my heart dispel 
The memory of thy love ; no distant scene 
Of mountains grand, or valleys ever green, 

Seem e'er so fair as those I've seen with thee, 
Where Hudson's crystal waters flow be- 

Its loveliest shores, in beauty, to the sea — 
Bright emblem of thy heart's pure tide of 
love for me. 

Thou hast rejoiced in all my hours of bliss, 
And thou has gloried in my youth's suc- 

Meeting me ever with the greeting kiss, 
Pure as thy love, and parting but to bless, 
With cherished memories of thy tenderness ; 

In sorrow, thou wert as an angel near, 
To soothe me with thy sympathy's excess, 

Pointing above to Faith and Hope, to clear 
My skies of all that made my life most sad 
and drear. 

Through all this changing life's most devious 
My heart, with purest joy, can turn to thee ; 
If other hearts, once loved, have gone astray 
From all their vows of faith and constancy, 
And steered their barks upon life's troubled 
Whose storms may bear them on to wealth or 
No more with such is linked my destiny; 
I envy not the prises they may claim ; 
I turn from all to bless thy dearly cherished 

I bless thee, sister, for thy love so true ; 

I bless thee for thy sympathy so sweet, 
That fell upon my heart as falls the dew 

From heaven on flowers beneath our feet, 

Reviving all their glorious hues, to greet 
The coming day, and call their fragrance 

I'll bless thee ever; and, until we meet, 
May God's best blessings recompense thy 

And give thee all the peace and joy of 

heaven and earth. 

w. h. d. 
Sacramento, Noi ., 1856. 




BY W. H. D. 

Home! what blessed associations 
cluster around that word, dwelling for- 
ever in our memories, sacred and hal- 
lowed, yet varied as the ever-changing 
phases of our mortal life. Let us, 
kind reader, revert to our first impres- 
sions of home. We cannot go back to 
the period of helpless infancy, when 
our very weakness was our strength, 
and we reigned in the household with 
a power more supreme than that of a 
ruler of some mighty kingdom. Then 
all hearts bowed down in submission 
to the silent charm of innocence and 
purity, while our slightest smiles of 
recognition gave unspeakable joy, and 
our cries of anguish sent a pang of sor- 
row to every heart. This we cannot 
remember ; but, perhaps, between the 
periods of infancy and childhood, in 
our first conscious impressions of home, 
we find ourselves lying on a mother's 
bosom — enfolded in her arms — bathed 
with her tender and undying love, 
while her subdued voice is soothing us 
to rest with hymns of melody whose 
every sound of sweetness, through all 
our after lives, shall seem like echoes 
from that time. Such are our first 
dreamy impressions on the shores of 
time, and these shall linger in our mem- 
ories till time shall be no more. 

But not only with our first impres- 
sions of home shall our memories fondly 
linger; because there we passed our 
childhood in its joyous glee, and at- 
tracted all hearts by our winning ways, 
and there endured our first sorrows, 
which, though transient, were as real 
and as bitter to our fresh and tender 
hearts, as those of maturer years: 
there, we played with our brothers and 
our sisters ; and there, we experienced 
the hallowed and blessed influence of a 
mother's love : there we received a 
father's kind advice and admonitions : 
there, we climbed his knee to listen in 
sorrow to some tales of human suffer- 
ing* or glory in the triumphs of our 
country over oppression and wrong; 

there, we rejoiced in the purity and 
tenderness of a sister's love ; and there, 
we felt the generous embraces of a 
brother's manly heart; there, we 
formed our first friendships with our 
youthful playmates, with whom we en- 
joyed so much frolic and fun; there, 
burst forth the ardent aspirations of 
our youthful years, when with generous 
impulses and unperverted taste, we 
vowed ever to strive for the right and 
good ; there, were our earliest visions 
of the future, which seemed glowing 
in rainbow-tints, with no clouds of 
sorrow lowering upon its skies ; there, 
we cemented the bonds of friendship; 
and there, we exchanged the first rap- 
turous kiss of love ; there, at morn and 
eve our youthful prayers ascended to 
heaven, while with trusting and unsul- 
lied hearts, we confided in a Saviour's 
undying love ; there, was the school- 
house where we conned our daily and 
irksome task, watching the shadows as 
they shortened to the hour of noon, or 
lengthened with the declining sun; 
there stood the church, where a never- 
ending future first unfolded to our view, 
while our souls aspired after eternal 
things ; there, it may be, we have Been 
the forms of loved ones carried to their 
final home; and whose spirits have 
ever since been beckoning us to the 
skies. There, too, were Christmas 
merry-makings, and New- Year greet- 
ings ; there, were harvests home, and 
thanksgiving feasts ; there, we rejoiced 
in the light of a joyous life, or sorrow- 
ed in the fear of a coming death; 
there, we revelled in the heights of 
earthly bliss ; and there, it may be, we 
experienced events so tragical and sol- 
emn that we could not whisper them 
in the ear of our dearest friend. 

But let us turn from the home of our 
early years, to the later home of our 
hearts; to that spot where we have 
gathered all that is most sacred and 
dear to us on earth ; for there, is one, 
to whom we have vowed to be ever 
faithful and true — one to whom we 
seem to be united with more than 
earthly ties; there, our fairest t^oP** 



center ; there, our purest and sweetest 
affections dwell ; there, to our children, 
come the home experiences of our ear- 
ly years ; and, through our affections 
for them, do we first truly estimate the 
tenderness and depth of our parents' 
attachments to us; there, in all our 
toils, our anxieties, our conflicts with 
the world, do we find a compensating 
joy, a bliss that nothing else earthly can 
bestow ; and, if we are for a time sep- 
arated from such a home, how anxious- 
ly is the expected messenger looked for 
that shall tell us, "all is well;" in it 
will be found the renewed vows of our 
affection ; the heartfelt wish ; the fer- 
vent prayer that God's blessing may 
rest on the absent one ; and His never- 
ceasing care guard and guide him to 
the home of his affections ; the ever- 
peaceful haven of his rest. 

The thoughts of Home ! they cheer 
the lonely traveler in his weary pilgrim- 
age ; they encourage the sailor in his 
duties amid the howling of the storm ; 
they bring tears to the eyes of the stran- 
ger as he wanders in a distant land ; 
they startle the reckless youth in his 
career of ruin ; and, amid his midnight 
revels present before him the visions of 
dear but sorrowful faces with tearful 
eyes, entreating him once more to re- 
turn to the paths of virtue, to the home 
of his early years. The criminal on 
the gallows, hardened by many crimes, 
and which have at last brought him to 
a fearful doom, dwells not on the scenes 
around him; his last dying thoughts 
are with his home; and where, perhaps, 
still lives an aged mother, grieving for 
the presence of her long absent son ; 
he thinks of her undying affection ; he 
remembers all her tenderness and care, 
and he knows, alas, too well, that the 
tidings of his fate will break her heart: 
for himself, he fears not death, but the 
thoughts of home and dear ones there, 
embitter the last moments of his exis- 
tence ; they wring his heart with the 
agony of remorse, as he dies in the 
wildness of despair. 

O, let us thank the good Father, 
with heartfelt gratitude, for all the as- 

sociations, for all the influences, for all 
the blessings of home ; and for an ever 
blessed memory that makes it always 
present; who can tell of its mighty 
power ? who can reveal its silent and 
manifold workings for good ? Blessed 
are the homes of earth, but how mu?h 
more blessed shall we find the homes of 
heaven, in our Father's many mansions, 
where sorrows and partings are un- 
known, and where we shall ever be 
with those we love — at home. 



When in the boundless realms of space 
The long, deep silence first was broken. 

And, from the dark and formless void, 
Into existence worlds were spoken, — 

As clouds of darkness rolled away, 
The heavenly vault with music rung, 

And listening angels paused entranced, 
While morning stars in gladness sung. 

Music is round us every where — 
Is breathed in wild unwritten notes, 

Harmonious as the evening air 
That through iEolian harp-strings floats. 

'Tis heard at midnight's watching hour — 
In the still watches of the night — 

Is borne upon the morning breeze, 
Is breaking with the morning light. 

There's music in the raging storm — 

In the deep thunder's solemn roar- 
In the hoarse voice of ocean's surge, 
Boiled in upon the rock-bound shore. 

There's music in the furious winds, 
When on the ocean falls their breath, 

They howl the requiem of man, 
And fling him down to sudden death. 

A vast deal of genial humor, says 
Mrs. Stowe, is conscientiously stran- 
gled in people, which might illuminate 
and warm the way of life. Wit and 
gaiety answer the same purpose that 
a fire does in a damp house, dispersing 
chills, and drying up mould, and making 
all wholesome and cheerful 

Foolish. — Two young ladies hating 
each other, on account of a gentleman, 
who does not care a fig for either of 




" It is hard to die ! " said a little child, 
As the gay birds sang, and the green earth 

And perfumes floated on summer air, — 
She loved the fields and would linger there. 

" It is hard to die ! " to the terror-king, 
Said a lonely maiden, in youth's warm 

As the lustrous eye and the hectic glow, 
Revealed the trace of a lurking foe. 

** It ts hard to die ! " said a mother mild, 
As she sadly gazed on her first-born child, 

For she felt while yielding her latest breath, 
That she was dying a two-fold death. 


It is hard to die I" said a poet, fired 
With seal to picture his dreams inspired, 
As he gazed with a worshipper's earnest eye, 
On the bright green fields and the deep blue 

"It is hard to die 7 " said a warrior grim, 
Surrounded by mangled corse and limb, 

As his comrades' shout at the set of sun, 
Proclaimed the hard fought battle-field won. 

" It is hard to die I " said a stalwart form, 
Amid the rage of an ocean storm, 

As the staunch ship struggled with wind and 
To save her form from an ocean grave. 

" It is hard to die I" was a felon's groan, 
As his soul was chilled by the walls of stone, 

While a vision before his eye-balls came, 
Of scaffold, block, and death of shame. 

" It is hard to die! " with a muttered curse, 
Said a gloating miser who clutched his 

And with bony fingers raked op his gold, 
For which his life and and his soul were sold. 

« It is hard to die!" with a fearful yell, 
8hrieked a murderer haunted by fiends of 

As a spectral form with its bloody head, 
Lay down by his side, in his hard death bed. 

" It is hard to die 1 " said an aged man, 
Whose life was lengthened beyond life's 

He had lost the friends of his early years, 
Yet would linger still in this vale of tears. 

Though the spirit of mortal exchanges earth, 
For a brighter home and a heavenly birth, 

From youth to age comes the bitter sigh, 
"It is hard to die!" "It is hard to die!" 

S # # * * 
San Francisco, Oct. 1856. 




When Mr. and Mrs. Hickleberry 
were comfortably seated in a first class 
carriage, with Mary, alias Flory, and 
the young Adam, they began fairly to 
consider themselves on their way to 
the land of gold. There were no other 
inmates in the vehicle, but a gentleman 
stranger-foreigner with bushy mustach- 
ings, (as Mrs. Hickleberry was wont to 
call them,) and a smart looking lad of 
about thirteen years of age. They had 
not proceded far, when little Adam be- 
gan to be troublesome ; for, when he 
was standing up he wanted to sit down, 
and when he was down he wanted to 
get up, and when he was in he wanted 
to get out, and rice versa. He was also 
very troublesomely attracted towards 
the gentleman-foreigner's massive gold 
watch chain, which the amiable trav- 
eler begged the little fellow might be 
indulged with ; Mrs. H. thought she 
never saw so nice a gent in all her life, 
while Hick congratulated himself that 
no woman who wore a sky-biue bonnet 
was a passenger by the same train. 
Mrs. H. enjo) ed the notion very much, 
and " wondered at the strange fancies of 
some queer folk who would prefer a 
rumble-tumble crazy old coach, to the 
easy motion of the rail They might 
rail at it as long as they liked, but, tor 
her part, give her the rail all the world 
over. The air, too, was as flagrant 



as if coming from so many gardings. 
It was delightful, it was." To which, 
and other like sentiments Mr. H. and 
the kind "furriner" good-naturedly re- 
sponded ; indeed, the latter gentleman 
was " the most accommodating man she 
ever knew." He became quite chatty, 
and, wonderful to relate, he was born 
in the very same village that had the 
honor of giving Mrs. H. birth ; and, still 
more wonderful, upon comparing notes, 
actually discovered that they were first 
cousins on the grandmother's side,- 
which Mr. H. also, thought a remarka- 
ble circumstance, to pick up in a rail 
road carriage. His conversation elicit- 
ed that he was a gentleman " traveling 
on his own account — knew all about 
California, where he had lived twenty 
years — had crossed the Atlantic and 
Pacific nearly twenty times, and was 
then on his wiy to JaLuca, on a rum 
speculation ; also, having been for years 
engaged in a scientific discovery to 
convert cocoa nuts into fresh butter ; 
that object also embraced part of his 
attention. He had several agents in 
California, to whom he would be happy 
to give them letters of introduction; 
they would find," he said, " the land of 
gold a mighty wonderful place. Gold 
was so plentiful, and iron so scarce, 
he declared he frequently sold an old, 
worthless iron pot for its weight in gold. 
He remembered, once," he said, " after 
a day's prospecting, selling the sand 
that got in his shoes, for ten times the 
worth of a gross of them in the old 
country. He remembered once going 
into a blacksmith's shop, up in the 
mines, accompanied by his servant 
Whack-a-wa-6, a native Indian, where 
every shoe in the place was forged 
from gold ; nay, the very nails that 
fastened them to the horses' hoofs were 
gold ; even the very anvil and hammer 
of the blacksmith, aye, even the very 
nose of the bellows, were made of gold, 
because iron was so wonderfully scarce 
at that time." Hickleberry thought this 
very wonderful, and gently inquired if 
the gent were romancing; "cos he 
knew a little about metals, and he ques- 

tioned whether a gold nail wouldn't be 
too soft to hold on to the shoe. He 
begged to be excused from taking in 
all that amount ; he Was not yet quite 
soft enough for that He knew," he 
said, " 'twas very hard to get it in some 
places ; but, hang it, he couldn't swal- 
low all that travellers told." 

"You forget to take into account, 
my dear sir, the influence of the climate, 
particularly that of California, where 
the days are so hot as to melt lead in 
the very streets, and on the tops of 
the houses ; and the nights are so cold 
that butter, in the morning, couldn't be 
chopped, scarcely, with a hatchet. Do 
you doubt that?" said the traveller. 
"Now, if butter could melt and con- 
dense, in the same ratio, why couldn't 
gold, particularly if one took into ac- 
count that California gold, there was no 
question about it, was known to melt 
faster in a warm pocket, near a warm 
heart," he slily added, u than in any 
other country." 

" It might be true," said, Hick, u and 
might be a joke ; 'twas no matter ; all 
he knew about its hardness, anywhere 
that he heerd on, 'twas precious hard 
to get" 

This animated conversation was 
kept up to a late hour, until sleep, one 
after another, influenced the whole par- 
ty, from which, they were only at inter- 
vals, partially aroused, by the guards 
shouting the names of the various 
places, at which, from time to time, 
they arrived, until at last smoky, murky 
Liverpool burst upon them. Here the 
foreign gentleman, who seemed to 
speak the whole of the foreign lan- 
guages, and some others, (self-invented 
ones, beside) known only to the police 
district, was met by another foreigner, 
to whom Mr. and Mrs. H. were formal- 
ly introduced. 

" How strange it was," said Mrs, H., 
"that they were going to the same 
hotel — the Victoria — kept by a former 
old servant of a friend of his, where 
they should have every accommoda- 
tion, and then — how kind — he and his 
friend would call in the morning, to 



escort them about Liverpool, and show 
them the lions. 

"How wonderful it was," thought 
Mrs. H. "that every place abroad, 
away from home, should have lions, 
which every body spoke about." 

" If his friends are going to the same 
hotel," said the foreigner's foreign 
friend, in half broken English, " his 
garc/on vould take de loogage of de 
lady, and de gentlemans, vizout deer 
trouble vid ma friend seven big tronk 
all in de vay mooch pleasant dan any 

Here his garc/on settled the matter 
by bringing five glasses of hot brandy 
and water to the door of the railway 
carriage ; and which were thankfully 
received by Hickleberry and company; 
all the trunks, both of the foreign trav- 
eler, and our friend Hick, were thrown 
into one capacious hand cart, and were 
then deposited in the hotel safely and 
snugly for the night 

As soon as morning dawned, Hick 
arose early, and went down to the 
trunk room for a change of linen, &c. ; 
but to his great dismay, saw only those 
of the illustrious foreign traveler. Be- 
coming alarmed, he called up the land- 
lord, and discovered to his great morti- 
fication, that the pleasant traveler had 
made a most extraordinary mistake, 
and had carried off the whole of his 
worldly comforts, as far as thirteen 
portmanteaus and packages could con- 
tain, and had left nothing in their stead 
but some ordinary brickbats, carefully 
packed in new straw ; which the land- 
lord could not be brought to believe 
were, at any time, destined for so long 
a journey as the placard on them de- 

" Here's a go ! here's a pretty go, 
here's a precious pretty go," said he 
bursting into Mrs H's bed-chamber, 
u That foreign whiskerando has run off 
with the whole of our trunks, and left 
us nothing but brickbats to wear, with 
straw for change of linen." 

tt What on earth do you mean, H.," 
said Mrs. H., sitting bolt upright in the 

" Mean ? why what I say, woman I 
That furriner has run off with all our 
trunks, and not the ghost of a one has 
he left behind, even for modesty's sake; 
he has left us nothing but a heap of 
brickbats wrapped up in straw, to con- 
sole us for the loss of them." 

"Why, that's impossible, Hickory, 
for I seed them all wheeled into the 
lumbering room, my very self, while 
you were a sipping your glass of bran- 
dy and water with the two strangers, 
in the bar room, I'll take my oath on 

" Oh, you'll have to take something 
pise, Mrs. H., when you have seen no 
more of 'em than I have," 

u Have you been to the purleece 
station people about it? " inquired Mrs. 

" No, nor to the moon's station-people 
either, and I think there's as much use 
in 'plying to the one, as to the 'tother." 

" Well, then — go then — my good 
man — for there's all my caps, and 
gowns, and flannins, and heaven knows 
what in urn." 

" I thought what his fine stories of 
Californy would come to ; somehow or 
other, I had my mtegivin's when he 
spoke of the gold — talkin o' gold, I'd 
give all the stuff in Californy, if I had 
it, for the pleasure of just punching his 
precious old head for half an hour with 
my best tin hammer; and if I didn't 
leave every part thereof flatter than 
any frying pan in this establishment, 
I'd consent to be kick'd to death by 

Here the landlord, as much amazed 
as themselves, brought them a letter, 
which was left on the table in the bar- 
room, addressed to D. Hickleberry, Esq. 

Hick opened it, and with the help of 
the landlord, spelt out the following : 

Dear Friend :-Being suddenly called 
upon to take charge of some valuable 
goods consigned to the respectable firm 
of Messrs. James Noakes and Thomas 
Stiles fy Co., I cannot depart without 
giving you the recommendations I prom- 
ised to some friends in California. One 
will suffice for all; it is that of James 



Green, Esq., 9999*A street, Triangtdar 
Square, Nomaris County, California. 
You will find him, when you see him, 
a very pleasant old gentleman, as much 
like yourself as possible. Please give 
my best love to my cousin, Mrs. Hickle- 
berry for whom I shall ever entertain 
the warmest friendship, for the charge 
she has intrusted to me, and which I 
shall endeavor to keep as a keepsake, for 
her sake and my own. 

" Scoundrel," cried Hicklebeny, he 
deserves to be roasted alive, and 
skinned afterwards." 

" Tis adding insult to injury," said 
the host. 

u 'Tis wus than borrowing one's best 
cap, and spoilin' on it, and slappin' 
one's face with it arterwards," said 
Mrs. H. 

" 'Tis arter all, on'y leavin' the name 
of a true brick behind him, although 
the fellow was a man of straw," said 
Mr. Potts, the boots. 

" What shall I do for caps, all day," 
sobbed Mrs. H. 

" 0, wear your nightcaps — wot's the 
odds, Mrs H. ? All wimmin think on 
and run their heads on is bunnets, caps, 
gowns, shoes, ribbons, laces and gloves 
— but, let us have some breakfast, 
for I want something to keep that 'ere 
matter down on my stomach," peevishly 
added poor Hick. 

chapter xn. 


We are now about to raise one cor- 
ner of the curtain of our drama, to ex- 
hibit to the reader, as pretty a scene 
of a den of dark forensic villainy, as 
was ever depicted by any history, an- 
cient or modern. 

Messrs. Suit & Nabb had scarcely 
congratulated themselves with having 
successfully wrested from her Most 
Gracious Majesty's fund, a hitherto 
unclaimed estate, now, nominally the 
property of Dickory Hicklebeny, Esq., 
but actually, of Messrs. Suit & Nabb, 
than another stray fish, by the merest 

chance in the world, unexpectedly fell 
into the meshes of their net. This was 
no other than one of the worthies men- 
tioned in chapter six, the Haberdasher. 
Unable to withstand the temptation of 
the reward of four thousand pounds, to 
which the government had added two 
more, for any information that might 
lead to the discovery of that unfortu- 
nate nobleman, Lord Lovett, whose 
mysterious and sudden disappearance 
had roused the curiosity of all England, 
and afforded the columns of newspa- 
pers an everlasting fund of inexhausti- 
ble themes, to their great comfort; 
this individual, finding the problem of 
secure reward and safety of self, too 
difficult for him to solve, had resolved 
to apply to the before-mentioned gen- 
tlemen for their aid and assistance. It 
was a scene worthy of the great pain- 
ter Le Brun, to mark the passions of 
the trio, as they were seated opposite 
each other, in the back reception room 
of one of the dwellings in that great 
law pyramid — Furnival's Inn, London. 
Suit & Nabb, two of the smartest 
practitioners of their profession and 
day, had to deal with one, if possible, 
smarter than themselves ; a fellow, a 
match for the very father of deceivers. 

" You say that you are in possession 
of a direct clue of the whereabouts of 
Lord Lovett? " It was in this guide 
that Suit opened the campaign. 

" I say no such thing," replied the 
Haberdasher; "I say I know those 
who do." 

" And what do you offer, to enable 
us to meet the expenses of following 
up your information preceding the dis- 
covery ? " 

" One half the reward, which is to 
include your law expenses." 

"Agreed! What say you Mr. 
Nabb ? " 

" I think it is a fair offer," replied 
that gentleman. 

*' I have another proposal to make : 
I possess sufficient information to con- 
test the reputed heirs' right to Earl 
Elmore's estate : this I cannot do with- 
out efficient legal assistance ; and for 



due consideration, signed, sealed, and 
delivered, I am ready to prove the 
truth of what I assert." 

" What is that consideration, may I 
ask?" inquired Nabb, concealing his 

" No less than a partnership in your 
well-established business." 

u Aye, indeed!" rejoined Suit, "your 
proposition is, to say as little as possi- 
ble about it, simply ridiculous. 

" Why so," replied the haberdasher, 
" If I can be the means of introducing 
to you the solicitorship to the extensive 
possessions of their lordship's estates, 
so as probably to double your income, 
I do not think upon examination, and 
proper consideration, you will find my 
proposition so ridiculous as you at first 
sight imagine." 

u Pray who are you ? may I en- 
quire," responded both simultaneously. 

" That at present, I cannot divulge, 
I can only state that I have been 
brought up to your profession, and 
know the details of a great many parts 
of it ; and to assure you of this fact, I 
am prepared to undergo any examina- 
tion in common law you may be in- 
clined to submit me to. Circumstances, 
not birth, have placed me in my pre- 
sent position ; and I seek a better, to 
enable me to shake off improper ac- 
quaintances and habits, with which I 
have been, too long, associated. If 
you feel inclined to entertain my pro- 
posal, you will find me one to be relied 
upon at all times. You have raised 
yourself to professional eminence and 
affluence, in a certain walk in the law 
that I am duly acquainted with, and I 
shall be enabled to double your busi- 
ness, almost without an effort of yours, 
by means of your respectability." 

a You really surprise us. May I 
aak what that walk of the law is, to 
which you allude ? " 

" Certainly. It is that of investiga- 
tions of unclaimed bank dividends, 
heirless estates, unattested foreign 
claims, unattached — " 

"Thai will do, that is quite suffi- 
cient," stammered out the amazed Mc- 

Nabb, dreading the laying bare other 
supposed arcana of their craft. 

" That suit of Budge versus Rudge, 
of yours, gentlemen, was a chef <T 
oeuvre of legal sleight of hand. I was 
abroad at the time, and I cannot tell 
you with what anxiety I watched the 
issue of that memorable trial." 

Here Messrs. Suit and McNabb, 
winced again, while the Haberdasher 

"One of your best witnesses — O' 
Tooley — received his instructions from 
me ; but I had none of the reward that 
the rascal received from your hands. 
What would you have done gentlemen, 
without this black and white swearer ? 
His was the pivot on which the weigh- 
ty bulk of the whole ponderous matter 
turned ; the key-stone of the mighty 
arch, which your abilities had erected, 
and which, if wanting, or not judicious 
ly framed, would have tumbled your 
mighty fabric of five long years of toil 
into the dust. Then again your suit 

" We wish to hear no more, sir, of 
these matters ; but beg you to confine 
yourself to your first proposition of in- 
troducing us to the solicitorship you 
mention. If you can produce satisfac- 
tory proofs of your ability to effect 
this, we make no doubt we shall accede ' 
to your wishes of a partnership in our 
business. You mentioned that you 
have resided abroad, do you speak any 
of the foreign languages ? " 

" I am well acquainted with, and speak 
fluently, the German, French, Italian, 
and Hindoostanee." 

" Indeed ! then you will be quite an 
acquisition to us. Really you must 
favor us with some name." 

" Let it be Smith, Mr. Smith, there 
are plenty on the Law List, and one 
more or less is sure to be overlooked," 

" And escape detection, you would 
say," rejoined McNabb, grinning with 
a ghastly smile of mortification. 
"Where are you to be found Mr. 
Smith — that is — all — what may be your 
place of residence ? " 

Here this extraordinary Mr. Smith 


;a;>ional!y, the most 
gbt hand in a right 
prominent feature 
ion does not come 

-egarded each other 
spense, at last Mr. 

«th me, gentlemen, 
me a trump. Deal 
you will find me a 

catching up a blank 
words, and preput- 
ial manner to the 
at those cabalistic 
innot tell, perhaps 
iem ; but whatever 
educed such an ef- 
of the law, that no 
ould have given a 
to their perceptive 
ic power of making 
•omc to terms, and 
r after, the reepec- 
-3. Suit & McNabb, 
Suit, McNabb & 
chambers received 
or the convenience 
i Lincoln's Inn de- 
al's Inn — Inn! O 
irversion, alike only 
;, where in the for- 
:ced by law — in the 

fith treacherous spark ; 

"ml leaves us dork ; 

a! lightens 

t beneath the snow, 

-, brighten*, 

thill below. 

at if young ladies 
>ung men more on 
x)d characters than 
A good reputation 
n a fine coat in al- 
siness, except woo- 


Think of me when the early day is dawning, 
And the bright east seems like a golden aes, 
While fair Aurora ushers in the morning ; 
I'll think of thoe. 

Think of me when the god of day is sending, 

At noontide hour, his radiance far and free, 

O'er hill and plain his blowings wide extend- 

I'll think of thee. 

Think of me when the twilight dew* are fail- 
And flowers shed fragrance o'er the fading 

■hen the day is gently closing, 
-e twinkling through each leafy 

When all is hushed, n 


I'll think of thee. 

Pray for mo when, at night, before reposing, 

Yon meet together on the bonded knee — 
Each day with prayer and sacred duties 
closing ; 

I'll pray for thee. 

Fray for mo when nfar my way I'm wending, 

Upon the deep and ever restless sea — 
While every thought of mine is homeward 
tending ; 

I'll pray for theo. 

Fray for mo when in distant lands I'm dwel- 
Oh, then I know you'll often pray for me ; 
Where each emotion of my heart is telling, 
My prayers for thee. 
OAXLiNi), Not. 20, 1856. 

A single female house-fly, it is 
said, will produce, in one season, twenty 





And underneath that face, like summer's 


Its Up as noiseless and its cheek as clear, 

Slumbers a whirlwind of the heart's emotions, 

Love, hatred, pride, hope, Borrow— all, save 


The room which we entered was 
briliantly lighted by a large silver can* 
delabra, placed in the centre of a long 
table of unplaned mahogany ; here and 
there on it were groups of bottles of 
wine from different lands. The pale 
vintage of the Rhine, the warm, red, 
glowing nectar of the Douro. Brandies 
from the Charente, and the fiery 
Schnapps of the sturdy Hollander. 

Crystal vases of dried fruits, and 
drinking cups and goblets of different 
forms and manufactures. 

Some fifteen men were seated on 
benches placed on each side of the 
table, carousing with no stint of jollity. 
Behind them, on each side of the 
room, were rows of bunks, two tiers deep, 
like a ship's forecastle, in which were 
fur robes and blankets, and rich cover- 
lets of damask and silk. At the head 
of each of these beds hung a revolver 
in a holster, and a pair of silver hilted 
daggers, which flashed back the light 
from their burnished mountings. At 
the end of the room were oars and 
sails, and piles of cordage, boat lanterns, 
rockets, and marine tackle of different 

The men were evidently sailors, and 
had their devil-may-care, yet generous 

All wore the beard and moustache, 

and had the bronzed complexion of a 

long sea life. There were some fine 

face« among them : but, the majority. 


would have make no bad addition to a 
pirate, or a slaver's crew. 

My strange friend seated himself at 
the far end of the table, at a distance 
from the others, placed me beside him, 
called out to a negro who was acting 
as waiter, and we soon had goblets and 
wine before us. 

" And now," said he, turning to me, 
with all the bland courtesy of a highly 
polished gentleman, " allow me to wel- 
come you to my sea-side lodge, pray 
what wine shall I have the pleasure of 
pledging you in. Here is some old 
Madeira which has crossed the line 
twice, and is as old as Warren Hast- 
ings' grandfather; or here is some 
rare old Port, you can see the bee's 
wing in it; or perhaps a goblet of 
sparkling Burgundy, clear and bright 
as the light of love in a maiden's 

" I will drink of the Burgundy," I 
answered, and my goblet was filled, 
and we pledged each other in wine of 
the purest nativity. 

I now looked keenly at my host, but 
I knew him not ; still, there was a look 
in his eye which haunted me, as having 
been seen in some other place, in some 
other land ; but, I could not bring my 
memory to an anchor, as to when, and 

He was a splendid model of a man, 
and seemed to have weathered some 
twenty-five years of life, a towering 
form*; gigantic strength ; beautiful curl- 
ing hair, beard and moustache, of a 
dark brown shade ; clear eye ; high 
forehead ; small, firm mouth ; a winning 
expression of countenance, and insinu- 
ating address, made up my friend, as a 
most delightful companion. 

fJut. at time*, thw* w»« a 1i«rht in his 


gcr glare, which made 
re not certain, when a 
mper might mar all the 
s he then displayed. 
lid he, addressing one 
officer, and who sat 
then will the tide serve 
it; I believe all tout 
d ; and there are your 
>ur friend Don Fran- 
papers for the captain 
tut,' " and he handed 
sket of papers, and con- 
rou any thing more to 

retain Harold, but to 

. Let us drink success 

p boys to your feet; 

good run to the Gaits- 
instant, they were all 

ie cups were drained. 

down," exclaimed Mr. 

tile down and get the 
is some heavy pulling 

inutes all was bustle, as 
is bed and buckled on 
iming up to Capt. Har- 
>od by, Mr. Malcolm 
id he, with all but some 
aen, departed, and we 
re, left alone, after the 
! which had been with 

e to me the quick obe- 
■en, and their sobriety, 
md wine before theta — 
■vish prodigality, there 
of discipline and ays- 
pay to restrain them 
unid so much apparent 

lie, I wish to know you, 
when we met befofc ; 

I have a dim, uncertain feeling, con- 
cerning my former acquaintance with 
you which I would like to dissipate, by 
knowing exactly our former position 
with each other." 

" Well, I cannot but say, that in a 
more civilized state of society than 
this, the question would be reasonable. 
Suffice it," he continued, "that I wish 
to be unknown, but, as Mr. Harold, a 
merchant of this Pueblo of San Fran- 
cisco, and if further endorsement is 
required, apply to my friend, Dob 
Spinosa Carthagena, who is a Don 
magnate, and owns some seventy-five 
square miles of land ; some 20,000 
head of beeves ; and as many horses 
as would mount the light and heavy 
cavalry of the Duke of Parma. Here 
let us drink to the Neckar, and to the 
true hearts of other days." 

We pledged the toast, and he con- 
tinned, " my good friend Mark ham, we 
have met often before in old Heidel- 
berg, and we attended the same col- 
lege — and, in old, dear old Virginia, I 
met you often, and once at your own 
father's house, but we were never inti- 
mate ; it was always among a crowd 
we met, so you see our knowledge of 
each other was never very great. I 
am engaged in an undertaking which 
needs much writing and copying, and 
I need a clerk in whom I can put the 
moat perfect confidence ; I will pay 
you a thousand dollars a month : — will 
you accept the offer? Do not judge 
me by the mad frolic of to-night, you 
met me in the hour of relaxation — in 
business I could stand the test of. the 

For a little time I considered, there 
was a mystery about the man; our 
manner of introduction, and bis prince- 



ly offer, which made me hesitate ere 
entering into a bargain with him. I 
looked at him, and his keen black eye 
seemed to read my very heart ; cau- 
tion whispered beware, he may be 
your evil genius; but there was a 
strong fascination in the man, and in 
the adventure, which drew me on, and 
suddenly I exclaimed, u I am at your 
service, Mr. Harold, and if you wish 
I will give you writing to that effect." 

" Ha ! writing," he answered, with a 
sneer upon his fine lip, " deeds and 
bonds were made for knaves, and there 
is no need of writing between you and 
I ; your word will be enough, and as for 
mine, your salary will be paid in ad- 
vance ; and now, that we have settled 
this question of business, let us turn to 
the good wine and pleasure." 

u Friend Markham, fill up a bumper 
to our future hopes. And here, you 
ebon cupid, bring me a box of the old 
cheroots: come, take one of these 
prime Manillas ; do you know I prefer 
the real Manilla to the best Havana 
you can find." 

" If they have age, and are like 
this," I answered, (puffing the perfumed 
smoke through my nostrils, and reali- 
zing the aroma of a most delightful 
weed,) I must admit the correctness of 
your taste ; and now, as we have a 
quiet hour together, I wish you to tell 
me your opinion of California, and its 

u It is written in the words progress 
and destiny" 

u California, in the book of Time, is 
marked, as the leading State of the 


reach from Sitka on the North, to 
Terra del Fuego, on the South. A 
galaxy of States, of which Eureka, 

will be the first and most brilliant 
star. Giving light, and tone, and 
strength, to the others; sending out 
her steam fleets to them all, and making 
the long range of ocean, alive with the 
bustle the vitality, the life of Com- 

"Here, on this beach, where now 
we sit, in a canvass covered building, 
will be proud and great streets, with 
magnificent edifices. I can hear, now, 
in imagination, the hum of its thou- 
sands, the ring of the anvil, and the 
whistle of the Iron Horse, dashing 
proudly, nobly, to his journey's end, 
and bringing a million letters to the 
men of trade, who will rush to receive 
them, and in the night they will ponder 
over great adventures, and which) toitt 
quicken the old world with afresh vi- 
tality; re-youthed in the glorious in- 
fluence of the new world, which will 
spring into life at its confines." 

" Truly, Mr. Harold," I replied, « it 
is a splendid prospect for us, who are 
citizens of the new land, we shonld be 
happy and proud in the hope of its 

" Happy," cried he in a tone of ago- 
ny ; the word had roused the demon in 
him, and it seemed a pang was gnaw- 
ing at his heart, which withered him ; 
the expression of his face was so fear- 
ful. " Happy— oh, my God, speak not 
of happiness to me. I tell you Mark- 
ham, there is no true happiness upon 
this earth. The word jars upon my 
ear — look into your experience. Look 
back, back, into the hours, days, yean, 
of your life — trace out the happiness 
of them, and tell me, was there not a 
sting in all, some bitter in the cup ? " 

" You are yet young in the world's 
trials, and I can tell by your eye yon 

urtMixas' California magazine. 

d that you would 
;ss of friendship and 
rch back into your 
four loves — Bearish 
beyond the surface, 
e little warrant for 
ice, and if your faith 
.shaken, you may be 
tperience has been 
e I trusted most, I 
reived. Heavens i I 
vhom I have deified, 
ature seemed to lift 
me, that I bave de- 
the worship I have 
But time rolled on, 
n upon my soul, for 
l was but a tool, used 
ids, who coined from 
us, some of tbe dross 
emsj;lves. And for 
nstlves and me, and 
ie true and noble of 
.th the devil'* hoof of 

had poetry in their 
emotions, and on 

light had looked up 
felt the God within 
il genius was with 
tber thoughts than 
soon was theirs, for 

become to them a 
.onor. And human 
thoughts, and truth 

all sympathy, was 

hand, by them into 
give them wealth ; 
)ls, that by and by, 

the shadow of their 
win back the pure 
ly feeling — the souls 
* ay. But they were 
ne again. My God, 

what a delusion, for they had become 
slaves to a hard taskmaster, and the 
golden devil urged them on, and wrin- 
kled their brow, and whitened their 
hair in his service, and their wealth 
was as a mockery and a curse to 

" But love, what of love, Harold," I 

" Love," he answered, with a quiet, 
deadly, smile, "I too have loved, Mark- 
ham, aye, and bright eyes bave 
beamed into my heart, and its foun- 
tains have welled up with the first 
fresh, sparkling waters of dear love. 
Ha 1 what a spell ; how I robed the 
priestess of that first altar in angelic 
thought, and dreamed 'twas all too pure 
for earth. And when the touch of the 
gentlo band thrilled through every 
nerve, and soft lips were pressed for 
■he first time, gently on my brow, making 
the earth a paradise — oh ! how I 
gloried in my new faith, and deemed 
its fire immortal. Alas, alas ; the 
mocking demons were looking on the 
scene, and the echo of their laughter 
was but breaking on my ear — for it 
was but a utile time, and those eyes 
were beaming on another, and that 
fair hand was black in its foul deceit, 
and that pure kiss, that sweet dear kiss 
of love — was given away, madly given 
away, when all was forgotten but the 
mad idolatry of sin ; and I, the first 
was desolate, out in the dark night, 
amid the wild winds, the lightning, 
and the bitter rain, fit companionship 
with the fierce storm within my soul. 
Happiness, I knew not, but in excite- 
ment, when the warm blood is boiling 
at the fever heat in the chase after 
some imaginary pleasure; when the 
eye of beauty beams on you in mad 



love. Or, when in the battle field, 
jour arm thrown back, your sabre 
poised to strike your enemy down at 
your feet, you hear the cry of victory. 
Ah ! that is happiness, which makes 
the pulsations of the heart bound with 
new life. And if in such a moment, 
the king of terrors claim us for his 
own, and the quick bullet, or the ready 
steel, gives us our passport to the spirit 
land, we shrink uot from his coming, 
but madly, gloriously, leap into the un- 
known gulf, with a shout of triumph 
on our lips, and we are gone, to the 
soul-land, no more to feel the stinging 
pangs of this earth's cares, but to real- 
ize the high yearnings of the soul, 
which has been an ever present pain 
to us, fettered in their prison here. An 
ever longing of the mortal for immor- 

I looked at Harold, his eyes were 
brilliant, there was a look of defiance 
onto death, in their flashing radiance, 
and the sound of the war cry was in 
his voice. He was a splendid picture 
of the gladiator, and with the cestus on, 
or sword in hand, he seemed one who 
in the ampi theatre would have made 
his antagonist bite the dust of the Spo- 

How will this gladiator spirit bear 
him through this world I thought, 
where will he end, by the bullet, or 
the knife — perchance in some expedi- 
tion for conquest in Central or South- 
ern America. 

The filibuster of to-day, would have 
made the gladiator of another time. 
The quiet, happy life of civilization, 
suits them not, and it is necessary they i 
find a field where their fiery tempera- 
ments can blaze up in light. The con- 
ventional rules of society, are like the 

bars of the tiger's cage to them. Pri- 
soned, held in check by them, their 
death ends in dishonor, which, in a 
more congenial clime, amid danger and 
adventure, burns up with a lustre 
which makes them heroes. 

For some time we were silent, for in 
each had been touched an electric fire 
of thought, extending far back into 
other days, repeating fast old memo- 
ries, long buried in the tomb of time. 

u Come, fill another bumper," at last 
exclaimed Harold, " this room prisons, 
me, as I feel just now, I wish I was on 
the ocean, in the deep dark night, amid 
the howling of the storm, to see the 
live lightening cleave the mountain 
waves, as they madly leaped to its em- 
brace. The loud voices of the fierce 
winds would soothe me n#w ; let us out 
into the night" l • 

A quick walk of half a mile, brought 
us to a point of land jutting out into 
the Bay, and we stood in silence con- 
templating the beauty of the scene. 
The heavy fog had cleared away, and 
the still water was like a rival firma- 
ment to that above, for the stars were 
out in glory, and they were looking 
down into the mirror beneath them, 
which was reflecting back their beauty 
and their brightness, and the inlands of 
the harbor were standing up in bold 
relief against the clear horizon of the 
bay coast, like ebon giants standing 
amid a silver sea of light, looking down 
upon the town, with its hundred lights 
twinkling in the distance, and the ships 
anchored near them — sentinels, of the 
past and future, immovable and eternal. 

Thr ear of a friend is the sanctuary 
of evil reports ; there alone they are 
safely preserved. 



There is nothing more agreeable to 
me than a venerable village church- 
yard. I knew I am not singular in 
this partiality ; thousands have said and 
sung of their feelings, whilst visiting 
these hallowed spots ; but they must 
be of the right character to please me ; 
no squirearchy about them, no modern 
innovations, no sectarian proscription. 
In no country are these seen to so much 
advantage, to the moralizer, as in Eng- 
land, the " old country," as we Yankees 
love to characterize her. In Holland, 
in France, in Germany, as in other 
parts of the continent, they are too much 
cared for ; the elements make no way 
against the paint pot and white wash- 
ing, and those at home are all too new 
to call up reminiscences of more than 
a couple of centuries. No 1 it is under 


I its 
y to 

sonry. Amongst their attractions no 1 
the least I found to be the rustic lays 
of the village poets ; some, so droll ; 

ous ; some, so extraordinary, that, in 
my travels, I resolved no object what- 
ever should withdraw my attention from 
recording them. I will give you a few, 
without burdening your attention with 
place or note of circumstance. 

One, on a little Emma, aged four 
" Adieu 1 sweet shade, whose gentle virtues 

Around thy parents' hearts a net of love : 
How, like a lily, thou didst charm the eye, 
And Inn the love of every passer by. 
Heaven saw thy worth, though unmatured by 

And matched its favorite from this vale of 

Upon a wife of only two years expe- 
rience, by the fond husband : 

" Ah ! whore's tho charm that bound me to 

this earth t 
The daily joy to which my Anne gave birth 1 
I lacked no other life than that was given, 
fiat the was snatched to show this is not 

Upon a sorrowing father, who lost 
three of his sons on a boating excur- 

" Mysterious hand ! why hartat thou blessed 
Me with three boys, the sweetest and the best t 
Their love for me was mixed without a pang, 
And all the village with their virtues rang ; 
In one fell hour they left life's busy shore, 
The wave closed o'er them, and they wen no 

Upon a singer who, although only 
sixteen years of age, had been leader 
of the village choir for several years : 

" Hark 1 I hear an angel's voice, 
Sister come t thou art our choice 1 
Leave this earth, with all its grief, 
Of oar glad choir to be the chief! 
We need a voice to harmonise 
Like thine, our seraphs in the skies , 
Come sister 1 come, with ready wing 
We wait Hosannas you to fling 1 " 

Upon a father, by his sons : 

May thy blessed s 

In all temptation 

As when in life, to teacn oar youui, 

Through virtue's paths the God of truth." 

Upon a sister, by a brother, the last 
but one of his race I 



" Sister, the last of all my race, 
And shall I see no more thy face, 
Smiling sweet content on me 
Soared with the world's cold charity ; 
'T is thus she speaks, it is God's grace 
To seek, for you a happier place." 

These, it is impossible to deny, make 
such an impression upon the heart as 
to render it more susceptible of its duty, 
and more mindful of heavenly things ; 
but there are doggerels which convey 
quite a contrary tendency, and it is only 
to deter the conceited and ignorant 
from such attempts that I conceive it a 
duty to record them. 

One, on a poor boy : 

" Here I lays, 
Killed by* a chaise." 

Another, on a singular quietus : 

"Here I lie, 
Killed by a skye 
Rocket in my eye." 

Another : 

" Two pootv babes God gave to me, 
As pooty babes as ever vou see ; 
But them wur seized wi ague fits, 
And now am lie as dead as nits ! " 

Another, on one William Weekes : 

" Here lies poor W. W., 
Who never more will trouble yon, trouble 


" Here lies my old wife, Death did hei throt- 

Before she killed herself with the brandy bot- 

Another, remarkable for absence of 
orthography : 

" Afflixions sor 
Long tira I bor, 
Physick wis war all vane, 
Till God did plcese, 
Death me to sees, 
And ese me of all pane." 

Another, on a schoolmaster: 

" Here lies poor Mr. Trigomay, 
Who never more will figure away ; 
His addition is now a vision ; 
His subtraction is without action ; 
His multiplication has no situation; 
And his division is in a prison. 
Let's hope he's gone to a better school 
Than any here that he did rule." 

Another, on a tailor : 

"I spent my life, by God's good grace, 
In clothing Adam's naked race ; 
God grant me at the dread awaking, 
The wedding garment of His making." 

But the most pompous of all writings, 
dead or living, is that upon a certain 
Thomas WarcUe, recorded in the an- 
cient Cathedral of Canterbury. I have 
the words in short hand only, and so 
cannot vouch for its fac simile, but in 
substance it runs as follows. It begins 
somewhat in this strain : 

" Reader, if you would inquire who lies un- 
der this marble slab, know that it is Thomas 
Wardle, Esquire, who, as it came to pass in 
the year of our Lord * * * * * held 
the mayoralty of this great city with indubit- 
able honor ; he was the eldest son of — " 

Then follows his pedigree, occupying 
some fifteen or twenty lines with mere 
names, of whom nobody knows, or per- 
haps cares about. Some wag (upon 
honor it was not I, suspicious reader) 
etched, with a diamond, the following 
upon the stone : 

" Here ties an ass. 

It came to pass, 
That as he Uvea he died, 

A pompous fool ; 

In life fit tool 
For Vanity and Pride." 

Another I remember as being some- 
what remarkable for coincidences : 

" Here lyes Charles Septime Mandaye, 

Who was born, christen'd, marry'd, and dy'd 
on a Snndaye ; 

Sunday* is ye blessed seventh daye of ye 

As ev'ry goode Christian knowethe who can 
spceke ; 

He was ye seveathe child of ye seventhe sonne, 

And he left seven childrenne all bat one ; 

He was thirtye and one yearee olde, his bro- 
ther saves, 

And yet he had but seven in all birthe dayes ; 

And there are but seven of letters in each his 
- name, 

Which ye reader can see if he do but count ye 
same ; 

Altho many have such relatione by dozens, 

He had bat seven times seven of cousines ; 

He dyed in ve seventhe daye of ye seventhe 
roonthe, 1707, 

And left us hope is translated now to ye sev- 
enthe heav'n ; 

Altho his numbers were in this condition, 

Yet he was quite free of all superstition ; 

He liv'd alwaye conformyioge to God 


js in Devon- 
rious marble 
ured a figure 

skeleton join- 
Iressed lady, 
under which 

f Ye Faire La- 
Id sexton, he 

1 this worth j 
idfather, who 
hall dis'ioorse 
never be lost 
and mine are 

at her hend, 
feet, for they 

She was an 
hat was one 
such a will, 
with ft valua- 
inger, which, 
church knew, 
Eton, ' Sam, I 
ing treasures 
ake no use of 
e coffin nf the 
d divide the 
i an done ; the 
tea the tomb, 
1 cut off the 
2, because it 
4ow, says the 
e are out on 
ay to one of 

'eas ; I've got 
ib; who'll be 
Raid the sex. 
manage it ? 
I'll stay here, 
ling I'll crack 
gnal, and you 
«t is clear.' 

Good,' says the sezlon, and off he 

Now it happened that a carpenter 
bad occasion to cross the churchyard, 
to get to the village inn, where he lived, 
and coming home on this night late 
from his work, he heard a strange 
cracking sound in the church, and look- 
ing up at the windows saw strange 
lights flitting about the place, and some- 
thing all in white, which no doubt was 
the rogue of a clerk, clothed in bis rev- 
erence's surplice, to frighten passengers 
away from the place. So he takes him 
to his heels as fast as his legs could 
carry him, and arrives almost out of 
breath at the village inn, and relates 
that he has seen a most frightful appa- 
rition in the church, and that all the 
place was lighted up, and crackling of 
flames were heard in it. A poor crip- 
pled tailor who eat in the corner smok- 
ing his pipe, ridiculed the idea in such 
a manner as to excite the ire of the 
carpenter, and the tailor challenging 
him to the proof of there ever being 
such a thing as a ghost, there was no 
gelling away from the suspicion of his 
cowardice but to accept the offer of the 
tailor, which was to carry him (thctai- 
lor), crutch in hand, to the scene of 
action, and discover the deception, if 
any, or the truth, if necessary. So off 
they both set, the coward carpenter's 
knees, as we may well imagine, knock- 
ing together, and the valiant tailor urg- 
ing bim forward to the foray. 

" ' Did ye hear that ? ' says the car- 
penter (hearing the nut cracking). 

" ' Go on ye fool I' says the valiant 
tailor (raising his crutch aloft ready for 
the encounter), 

" ' Look ! there's the ghost ! ' stam- 
mered the carpenter, 

" ' Sure enough, one like it,' say* the 

" ' Let's take breath,' courage he 
meant, says the carpenter. 

" ' Go on, go on,' says the tailor. 

" Thus excited they entered the porch 
just as the clock might strike two. The 
tailor, nothing daunted, opens the pon- 
derous chancel door. Now the clerk, 



seeing something lumbering on a man's 
back, in the night's gloom, imagined it 
was the sexton laden with the lamb for 
his green peas, and so bawled out, 

"'Is he a fat un?' 

" ' Fat or lean, take him/ said the 
poor frightened carpenter, dropping the 
tailor and blundering over stones and 
chairs, and running out of the building 
with superhuman speed." 

" Not a bad story," said I, " but how 
is this connected with the Ladye An- 

u Yon shall hear, master ; " the story 
goes that the cutting off of this lady's 
finger for the ring, caused blood to flow, 
and resuscitated her. I believe that's 
the term, for it appeared that she had 

been buried alive. The fright of the 
sexton, clerk, and tailor, in their turn 
seeing this lady in her shroud, scream- 
ing, shrieking, and fainting with fright, 
I leave to your imagination. The end 
of all was that my lady lived many 
years after, and I am told that the mon- 
key, and the remainder of his bag of 
nuts, are now enclosed in a glass case, 
set in gold, as heir looms in the family, 
to record the event So, after all the 
carrying out of the foolish designs of 
the old lady, you see added many years 
to her life, and let us hope that if she 
were a good Christian before the event, 
that she died even a better one after 

" There's no doubt of it," said I. 

liberal* Jeprtmtnt 




"'Tis no use, what you say, Mrs. 
Schmeterling, your little idle vagabond, 
I will not take into the school again. 
He is a pest to the boys, a torment to 
the girls, and a source of constant dis- 
comfiture to me." 

" Try him once more, do, pray, Mr. 
Grubb," said poor Mrs. S. to the crab- 
bed old schoolmaster of the little village 
of Podsfeldt. "He is indeed a good boy 
at bottom ; you don't know what a com- 
fort he has been to me since his poor 
father's death." Here the little urchin's 
chin bibbered, and his tears fell with 
his mother's at the mention of his fath- 
er ; plainly showing to all but the pre- 
judiced pedagogue, that he was not so 
bad as he thought him. 

" You will be a good boy, Hans, 
won't you?" said the poor mother, 

" Master has a spite on me," blub- 
bered out the boy, hiding his head be- 
hind his right arm. 

" Master Katwick said I was a liar, 
and little better than a thief, and I hit 
him for it, and then Master caned me, 
and if he was to cane me a thousand 
times, I'd hit any boy who dared to 
call me such names." 

"Never mind, Hans; the Master 
will forgive you this time," said Mrs. S. 
" I know he is a very kind gentleman." 

" Yes, so he is, to his favorites, moth- 
er, but not to poor boys like me." 

" Do you hear that ? " said the mas- 
ter. " What do you think your young 
hopeful did the other day. I sent him 
into the girls room to replenish their 
ink for the caligraphic departmental 
lesson, when the little imp took the op* 
portunity to crawl under their desk, 
and pin all their frocks together, and 
when the word of dismissal was given, 
—crack — rent — slit — tear — went their 
dresses, from the top to the bottom." 

" I say it wasn't me," said the boy, 
in the most impudent tone. 

" As a proof that it was," said the 
learned pundit, " he took the prescribed 
forty stripes without a wriggle or ft 



" Yes ! I know who did it ; but I 
shan't say," said the boy. 

"You had better deny that wazatious 
affair (excuse the pun, Mrs. Sehnieter- 
ling) of last Monday, sir." 

" By all means, sir, if you wish it 
excused," replied the widow, not ex- 
actly comprehending the favor he 

" What do you think that was, Mrs. 
S. ? When the worthy burgomeister, 
Yon Bumbledink, honored us with a 
visit, all the scholars, instead of rising, 
as usual, to make their dutiful obeisan- 
ces to his worship, sat as motionless as 
as so many statues ; and, after his wor- 
ship had left, on my inquiring the 
cause of so flagrant a piece of neglect- 
ful duty, I found one and all had been 
stuck to their seats with great clods of 
cobbler's wax, which that vile boy of 
yours had placed for that express, in- 
dividual, and nefarious purpose." 

" O Hans ! Hans ! you wicked boy ! " 
said Mrs. S. " How could you behave 
so to his honorable worship, who, you 
know, says he will always be a friend 
to you." 

Here the young Hans' countenance 
was fluctuating awhile between a smile 
and a tear — at last a broad grin got 
the ascendency, which so provoked 
the village dominie, that he took the 
whip-cat that was lying ever handy 
on his time-worn desk, and cut Hans 
over the head, back, and breech, in 
less time than I can relate it ; the poor 
widow, in the meantime, receiving 
half the blows, in her attempts to 
shield her dear husband's boy; and 
thus closed her interview and interces- 
sion, altogether. 

" Mother, don't cry," said Hans, as 
they crossed the church-yard leading 
to the school house, "I can learn much 
faster with you, than with that old sur- 
ly Grub." 

" Hans ! Hans ! this will break my 
heart, it will. What will your poor 
grandmother say? — what will his 
worship Yon Bumbledink, say? O, 
what a disgrace have you inflicted up- 
on the Schmeterlings 1 Turned out of 

school ! only think, that I should live 
to hear it." 

"Why, I know what Bumbledink 
will say, Schmeterling (Butterfly) by 
name, and Schmeterling by nature. 
The old stupid has never done anything 
but make game of me, and never will 
He and the Master are in company, 
and no good is to be got out of a cart- 
load of such rubbish. 'Tis very easy 
to make promises, Mother, but very 
difficult to perform; besides, he believes 
all what the Master says against me, 
without hearing me a word. I wish I 
was a man, I'd make 'em say different 
things of me, that I would." 

" Hans, my boy, always respect your 

" They're not my betters, Mother, or 
they would behave better to me ; but 
I hope, before long, to make them 
ashamed of their spite on me, for noth- 

Young Hans was destined to make 
good his assertion, before three short 
months had gone over his honest little 
head. As far as a boy could do, he 
did all to please and comfort his poor 
old mother. She was very, very poor, 
and Hans knowing this, was always 
upon the alert for a stray coin. He 
would dig gardens, fetch cows, chop 
wood, go a dozen errands before most 
of you think of getting out of bed, and 
was always in time to light his poor 
mother's fire, make the pot boil, pre- 
pare the stir-about, in the room next 
to his mother's chamber. He did not 
want calling in the morning, but was 
always up with the earliest lark, hang- 
ing out his mother's clothes (she took 
in washing from her neighbors,) and 
preparing all this besides her breakfast, 
before he went out to do other odd jobs. 
Everybody liked the boy, but the old 
schoolmaster and his favorite; and 
those he cared nothing about The 
only thing that grieved his mother 
about him, was, that so good a boy 
should suffer under the ignominy of be- 
ing an expelled scholar. 

As I said before, three months after 
these transactions, Hans was puddling 



about at the back of the village green, 
(a place where the whole village used to 
empty their rubbish) for a few stray 
coals and wood to add to his store of 
fuel, when his little keen eye alighted 
upon something that shone like a star 
amidst the rubbish ; on wiping off the 
dirt, he found it to be a gold ring, just 
such a one as he remembered once to 
have seen on the little finger of the 
thwacking hand of his former school- 
master. He first thought he would 
take it to the old man, but on further 
cogitation, resolved to do no such thing, 
for he feared that he might suspect 
him of having stolen it, and of his 
conscience pricking him to deliver it 
up to him. Then he thought he would 
tell Mrs. Schmeterling about it, but 
that wouldn't do, because he had ob- 
served whenever his master's name 
was mentioned to her, it always 
brought tears to her eyes, and re- 
proaches to her tongue; which latter 
he had hardly patience enough left to 
bear. So he kept it three days to think 
more about it, and on the fourth day, 
who should he run up against but 
Master Katwyk, the old man's favorite. 

u How do Hans," said the favorite. 

u How do Katwyk, " said young 

u What's that you are looking at on 
your thumb ? " said Katwyk to Hans. 

44 A ring I've found, is'nt it pretty ? " 

u Why don't you sell it, and get 
something for it. Why I declare 'tis 
like — why 'tis the very ring that 
master has been making such a fuss 
about, this last six months. His 
daughter gave it him before she went 
to sea, and the old man has never 
heard more of her again. He is al- 
most broken hearted about it. Let me 
look at it." The boy took it, and 
pressing the small diamond in front, 
which he had often seen his master do, 
the back flew open, and displayed a 
very small, beautiful minature of a 
lady, about the circumference of a pea. 

"Oh, 'tis the same, and you shall 
have the reward of the six thalers 
he promised. Give it to me, and I 

will bring you the thalers on Satur- 
day." . 

Hans gave it to him, and kept the 
matter secret from every body, but 
when the Saturday came, he resolved 
to tell his mother all about it if Master 
Katwyk was not as good as his word 
about the thalers. 

'•Here is your money," said Kat- 
wyk, true to his appointment, u and one 
thaler more for your poverty ; master 
is so delighted about it, he is almost 
ready to jump for joy." 

Now, thought Hans, when Katwyk 
was gone, I'll make old whack-away 
ashamed of himself. I'll just take 
these thalers, and tell him I scorn his 
dirty money, and tell him at the same 
time, that I am not a liar nor a thief. 

So away went Hans, across the 
green into the church yard, and in his 
haste he stumbled over a stone, and 
down he fell upon — his poor father's 
grave. " Shall I keep this money to 
buy a stone with writing upon it, to put 
up at poor father's grave," said he to 
himself. Something whispered No, 
take it to the schoolmaster. So off he 
set, and with a stout heart gave a 
thump at the old curmudgeon's door. 

u Come in," said the old man. 

Hans entered as bold as a brass 

" What do you want here ? " said the 

He wore his worsted night cap on 
his head, and his old face was bound 
round with a white stocking, in which 
was a poultice, for he had been suffer- 
ing so much with the tooth ache all 
night, that he was obliged to give the 
boys and girls a holiday that day, which 
no doubt they were very sorry for ! . 

u Here's your money, master; I don't 
want it, and wouldn't have it from you 
even if mother was a starving, much 
less myself." 

" What money ? " said the old man 
in great surprise, looking more comical 
than ever ; for in his excitement the 
poultice gear, and night cap pinned to 
it, fell off, and displayed a facile out- 
line, skinny on one side, and puffed ®°t 



like a bladder on the other, his nose 
partaking of the difference of the two 

u I never sent you any money ! " said 
he to Hans ; " I had rather have sent 
you a good horsewhip. Explain your- 
self ; but take care boy how you asso- 
ciate my respectable name with any of 
your deeds of mischief." 

With that Hans told him all about 
his finding the ring. 

You should have seen the old man's 
countenance when Hans mentioned 
about hi* favorite. 

" Why ! the rascal has sold it, my poor 
daughter's ring, my poor Mary's ring. 
Woe is me ! Hans, my boy, my poor 
boy, how have I wronged you ! Where 
is the young villain ? You will go with 
me, my boy, and tell the young thief to 
his face that he has sold it, and that he 
knew it was mine, for I had often seen 
him admire it. Come, my Hans, my 
dear boy ; Hans forgive me, and come 
with me, I shall die if I do not recover 

Hans, nothing loath, soon found Mas- 
ter Katwyk. The schoolmaster taxed 
him with it ; it was no use for him to 
deny it ; so it was recovered at the ex- 
pense of the money given for it, and 
which he had squandered, and which 
his parents were glad to pay, to hnsh 
up the matter. 

" Why, who is this coming across the 
common?" said Mrs. Schmeterling, 
wiping her spectacles and putting them 
on in haste. " As I live 'tis Hans, with 
his right hand in that of the school- 
master's. What's up now, I wonder? 
Something he's done to offend him, I'll 
be bound. No, he is laughing and 
smiling; and, I declare, kissing the dear 
boy on his right cheek." 

"Oh! Mrs. Schmeterling," said Grub 
on meeting her, " a proud day for you ; 
but one of painful humiliation to me, 
and yet of great joy. Forgive me, Mrs. 
S. Hans — your noble boy — I envy 
you the treasure." 

Well, if you had seen the pedagogues 
surprise at first, I question whether you 
would think it at all a .suitable compar- 

sion to that of the poor widow's, when 
he told her of his honest conduct. The 
old man kept wiping his nose, and his 
eyes, scarcely being able to restrain his 
emotion as he showed her the ring, and 
kissing Hans so much at one time, that 
the poor old widow thougnt the master 
would end his emotion by kissing her 
next He was going to do, no one 
knows what, for the widow and Hans ; 
and some folks in the village, after this, 
thought that Mrs. Schmeterling, the 
butterfly, might change into a Mrs. 
Grub some eventful day or other. 

"After all," said fat little sturdy 
Hans, " I did no more, mother, than 
what any other honest boy would do." 

[to bb concluded, with an engraving, 
in our next.] 

Tukre is something so pretty and simple, 
yet so touching a prayer, in the following 
beautiful lines, that we with pleasure tran- 
scribe them into our Juvenile Department 
from the Family Christian Almanac for 1857. 


Into her chamber went 

A little child, one day, 
And by a chair she knelt, 

And thus began to pray : 
Jesus, my eyes I close — 

Thy form I cannot see ; 
If thou art near me, Lord, 
I pray thee speak to me. 
A Rtill, small voice she heard within her soul, 
" What is it, child ? I hoar thee ; toll me all." 

I pray thee, Lord, she said, 

That thou wilt condescend 
To tarry in my heart, 

And ever be my friend ; 
The path of life is dark ; 

I would not go astray ; 
Oh, let me have thy hand, 

To lead me in the way. 
"Fear not; I will not leave thee, child, 

alone " — 
She thought she felt a soft hand press bcr own. 

Her little prayer was said, 

And from her chamber, now, 
Forth passed she, with the light 

Of heaven upon her brow. 
" Mother, I've seen the Lord ; 

His hand in mine I felt ; 
And oh, I heard him say, 
As by my chair I knelt, 
' Fear not, mv child ; whatever ills may come, 
I'll not forsake thee till I bring thee home. 1 " 



(Ebttor's Cablt 

How rapidly month by month rolls away 
— more so in California, it seems to us, than 
elsewhere. In San Francisco, and other 
cities, the flight of time is noticed, among 
business men, chiefly by "steamer days." 
In the mountains, among miners, it is seen 
and felt most by the coming and going of the 
" Rainy Season." To each it is alike rapid. 
To some, this flight of time brings perpetual 
prosperity ; to others, nothing but continual 
adversity. Although to many the path- 
way of life opens up green and bright, and 
beautiful as spring, while to others it is dark 
and draped in the withering leaves and dull- 
ness of autumn — and that, too, without the 
hanrest of summer having once blessed 
their labors — yet, men seldom become dis- 
cooraged. By some wise law of our being, 
the beacon-light of .hope is always burning in 
nearly every Califoraian's heart, and invites 
him on to do and dare continually, that event- 
ually he may win the prize. Besides, in this 
favored land, changes often come as rapidly 
as time can bring them ; the poor of to-day 
may be rich to-morrow; and the richest 
of the rich as speedily become poor. It 
is this knowledge that gives consolation to 
the one, and admonition to the other ; while it 
whispers, kindly and gently, to each, " Let us 
all live as brethren ;" and ever feel that there 
is a nobler life and a higher joy than wealth 
can give or poverty deprive us of, when we 
do our duty faithfully, as men, to ourselves 
Mid to each other. 

How different is the current of thought and 
feeling, among the people of California, at 
this season of the year, from what it is in 
other portions of our much favored Union. 
There, the dearest of friends look forward to 
Christmas as a time of pleasant social inter- 
coarse and merry-making with a little world 
of kindred spirits that they esteem and love. 
Here, we have to be satisfied with thinking of 
the dear familiar faces that will gather around 
toe family hearth, and sit in the family circle 
•* wch a time— and wonder, too, if they wil 
remember the wanderers, and wish for the ab- 
*«t oue's return. We hope they won't for- 

get us — we know they will not — and that 
thought is priceless in its comforting influence 
upon our hearts, when so far and so long 
away. How very many of us there are who 
would like to be visitors and guests in the 
dear old homestead when that day comes 
round ; to look into the faces of beloved ones 
and see if time has dealt gently with them — 
to hear if the music of their voices is as sweet 
as formerly — to see if the eye has grown less 
bright, or smiles less kindly on us — yes, and 
learn, too, if lips that we Ion e can give us as 
sweet and cordial a greeting as of yore. 
Well — let us hope. There are but few, we 
believe, in California, who would object to 

Now, wo have a few words to say about 
water. We know that the only drawback 
to the prosperity — that might be unparalleled 
—of California, is want of water. We know, 
too, that where one man is now prosperous, 
twenty would be, if they had plenty of water; 
and we arc anxious that this almost universal 
negligence of the best interests of every man, 
woman, and child, in this State, should know 
a change; — speedily, if possible; therefore, 
we shall feci obliged to every gentleman, in 
each mining district of California, if he will 
kindly take the trouble to send us correct in- 
formation on the following points, viz : 

How many weeks, in a year, upon 
an average, has your district sufficient 
water to work with ? 

How many men could, in your opin- 
ion, be steadily and profitably em- 
ployed, in your district, if it were well 
supplied with water ? 

As this subject is of more importance than 
any, or all others — comparatively— concern- 
ing the welfare of our young State, and of 
the bone and sinew of its workers, we are the 
more desirous of a cheerful and speedy an- 
swer to our enquiries — with any additional 
information, upon that, or any other subject, 
that can be given, that, directly or indirectly i 
affects our prosperity. 



From the fair young Editresses of the Be- | 
nicia Wreath wo acknowledge the receipt of 
other copies of their well-conducted manu- 
script paper. We think that such an exam- 
ple would be a good one to follow in other 
schools ; as we know of no accomplishment 
that is more useful, or more elevating and re- 
fining, than composition ; and which, we feel 
certain, must very materially relieve and as- 
sist other studies. 

Moreover, the Wreath breathes the true no- 
bility of spirit, which, in the formation of 
character, cannot be too highly prized, or too 
carefully cultivated. 

We place the following selections before 
the reader. 


Dreams ! It is not tonight alone that these 
airy messengers belong, for oft in the dancing 
sunlight we lose sight of life aad all its cares, 
and wander away through fancy's flowery 
pathway, revelling amid the radiant scenes 
which are found only there. See how bright 
love's young dream blends with the thoughts 
of her heart, and she dreams of joy and peace 
with the chosen one of her heart. Dream 
on! fair maiden; linger yet longer amid thy 
castles of airy mould; for soon the dark clouds 
of sorrow will burst upon you. Life is not all 
a fairy dream. Friendship's tones are silvery 
now, but soon you'll miss their soothing 
sounds; and e'en love, with its whispered 
vows of constancy, will unfold its bright 
pinions and leave your heart desolate. 

In yonder dark alley, the haunt of poverty 
and vice, see! there is a human form seated 
upon the sidewalk. Tis a lone beggar ! Sor- 
row and care hare, made deep furrows on his 
brow, and his aged limbs are fast hastening 
on towards the grave. See I he moves not. 
Ah, he too is journeying in dream-land. All 
his troubles are forgotten, all cares banished 
from his mind ; and now it soars on fancy's 
piuions through Elysian groves, listening to 
the sweet songs of the ransomed spirits of 
those who once cheered his sad heart on earth. 

Ah! aged pilgrim, these are bright dreams, 
but brighter yet are the realities awaiting you, 
when your weary journey is done and you 
■hall have joined that radiant band. 

These bright dreams of day, like those of 
night, are bright spots in life's pathway. To 
the young, and the aged, they come and 
whisper hopes of the future, and tell us that 
though dark clouds gather around us here, a 
brighter day awaits us in our eternal home. 

Wild Rose. 


Few young ladies are aware how great an 
accomplishment it is to be a good reader ; 
and how much pleasure is experienced in 
being mistress of this useful accomplishment 
Reading is conveying to your readers, fully 
and clearly, the ideas of the author. To en- 
able one to do this, they must be endowed 
with a full, clear voice, which, with distinct 
articulation and practice, will render any one 
a good reader. Articulation is one of the 
first principles in learning to read. Upon it 
depends the clear enunciation of every word 
and syllable ; and whoever would aspire to be 
a good reader should pay particular attention 
to this all-important subject. Next in impor- 
tance is found accent. Without this, in read- 
ing, there would be a harshness that would 
he hardly admissable. To these subjects 
must be added emphasis, inflection, quantity 
and modulation, to perfect reading. 

Mrs. Mowatt, one of our finest American 
actresses, first commenced her acting by pub- 
lic reading ; and it is said that she has done 
more towards inspiring her hearers with 
nobler thoughts and loftier themes for con- 
templation than any other actress who ever 
appeared upon the stage. 

Aside from this, how inviting is a good 
reader, in the home circle. When dreary 
winter-evenings come, how pleasant is it to 
assemble around a large fire-place and listen 
to portions of some edifying book, read by a 
father, in his full-chest tones, or by a mother 
or sister, in their sweetly musical voices. 

Any young lady, who would aspire to be 
an entertaining daughter, wife or mother, 
should attend to this accomplishment. 



It is an old saying, " One might as well be 
out of the world as out of the fashion ; " and, 
really, some of our sex seem to think so, if 




we may judge from the manner in which they 
dross. Well, go on, ladies ; by so doing you 
may gain the approbation of a few senseless 
fops and the envy of your sister votaries of 
fashion. Many think this is the only occupa- 
tion in which the ladies of the present century 
can engage. It has been decided unnecessary 
for them to stock their silly heads with any 
amonnt of education, for fear, forsooth, that 
they might else trespass upon the forbidden 
ground occupied by the " lords of creation ; " 
and it has also been fully decided that all do- 
mestic occupations are degrading in their 
character ; so now, as the only resource, they 
hare taken to powdering and painting, dress- 
ing and dancing, to fill up their useless hours. 
A noble vocation, truly, to* flit, like the painted 
butterfly, from flower to flower, pausing on 
none sufficiently long to taste of the sweets 
enfolded within their beautiful cups ; to cast 
all the aspirations of a soaring spirit, all the 
energies of the human soul, upon the shrine of 
fashionable folly; and to waste, in idle 
amusements, the life intended to be devoted 
to nobler purposes. And yet many of the 
ladies of the present day are of just such a 
character. With wealth at their disposal, 
they consider any thing like labor as beneath 
their station ; and instead of using their time 
and wealth in the improvement of their minds, 
they only aim to be leaders in fashionable 
circles, or become ball-room belles. 

I am not an advocate of " woman's rights," 
but I would aim at a higher destiny than this. 
Woman's mind is capable of grasping the 
wonderful truths of science, and to her, even 
more than to man, belongs the power of in- 
vestigating the natural beauties around us. 

Then, young ladies, let us throw off the 
skackles of fashion, and employ our time and 
energies in some higher vocation. Let us 
take the station which of right belongs to us, 
and be no longer the fickle-minded beings 
women are generally termed. Let us, when 
the time comes for us to mingle in life's busy 
scenes, show that we are not bound by fash- 
ion ; but casting aside its fpllics, let us rise to 
the true sphere of womanhood. 

Touch me not. 

[We like the spirit and the straight-spoken 
earnestness of this piece. We can almost see 
the eyes of its fair authoress " snap " again, 

as she thinks and writes of the senseless fol- 
lies of her sex. It is too true, that some 
ladies— especially in California — have been 
too much like expensive playthings, or pretty 
tovs, rather than the noble-hearted wife — the 
God-given helpmeet of man ; and we cannot 
commend too highly the vein of correct 
and ennobling sentiment that runs through 
the whole of the articles written in the Bb- 
necia Wreath.] 


This world is full of beanty. Beauty is 
stamped on every scene of nature ; it is re- 
vealed in many forms of art ; but it is found 
brightest and most lasting in the human 
mind. The tiny bud, when the morning sun 
smiles out, blooms in brightness and beauty 
for a time ; but at " evening's pale ray," the 
fair flower droops and fades. Look up at the 
jewels of the night, as they come forth bright- 
ly, to stud the etherial sky ; they shine for a 
time, shedding their soft light upon us, but 
are often hidden by a cloud, or they fade from 
our gaze. 

So it is with the fair and beautiful counte- 
nance ; during the sunny hours of childhood 
and youth, it beams with loveliest charms ; 
but soon time dims the bright eye, furrows 
the snowy brow, whitens the once jetty braids, 
and almost wholly erases the beauty of that 
face. 80, as we gaze around, and view all 
that is fair and beautiful passing away, we 
are ready to ask, is there no lotting beauty ? 
must it all fade and die ? 

There is a whisper, No! for, view the 
beauty of the mind, ever living, winning our 
hearts with new charms, in this world, and 
shedding happiness upon us in another ; be- 
stowing upon those who possess it noble 
thoughts and emotions, and better fitting 
them, at life's close, to wear an angel's crown. 

Natural beauty is, to us, a gift; mental 
beauty, a prize, for which we should strive, 
and, still more truly, if we possess not the 
former. Wealth, upon its golden pinions, 
may soar away ; beauty of face, we know, 
soon dies ; but mental beauty is a true and 
lasting prize. Then let us nobly strive, and 
never rest our labors for it, until life's clo&e. 




T. W. B.— Wo have sent it. 

Jeff, Monte Ckristo. — We have not forgotten. 
Can you say as much ? 

J. Sliaw. — If your initial had been a P. in- 
stead of a J., we should say, Oh, F-shaw ! 
don't get angry ; besides, as we are not to 
blame, we don't c-^a-r-e ; therefore we say, 
" let her went." 

Jane A. — Please have patience. Yours, with 
several others, will appear in due season. 
Besides, we have to cultivate that virtue ; 
and we hope you don't suppose it to be our 
selfish wish to cultivate it — alone ! Do you ? 

R. M., Wood's Creek. — Your article on the 
Chinese is not quite suitable for our col- 
umns. Individually, however, we think 
you are right ; but, as the Chinese are cer- 
tainly not our equals, without proper care 
a new kind of slavery may arise, that ulti- 
mately would give us more trouble than we 
bargained for, and which every one, who is 
anxious for the prosperity and progress of 
California, would much deplore, and should 
seek to avoid. 

Old Hoss. — We unhesitatingly reject all vul- 
garisms, especially when unaccompanied 
with good sense, wit, or good humor. 

The moral and mental culture of the Youth of 
California, by one who knows something 
about education, we regret was introduced 
to our notice too late for the present num- 

flora. — Do you take us for a heathen ? Of 
course we love ladies who are sprightly, in- 
telligent, and good looking. 

0. C. — Now whether you intend to spell clip, 
or class, or cheap, or what not, we cannot 
for the life of us make out ; a spider, just 
escaped from drowning in a pool of ink, and 
walking hurriedly across a sheet of paper, 
is nowhere, in comparison. Please trans- 
late it. 

Harry T. — "Keep her going," "never say 
die," " faint heart never won fair lady," Ac. 
To know that the gold is there, is nearly half 
way to getting it. We have known many 
claims given up, about the middle of the 

week, as worthless, that have been equal to 
a fortune to some one else, before that week 
ended. Our advice is this : never start in 
any Qnterprize before you thoroughly make 
up your mind that it is desirable ; and never 
quit it, until you prove it to be worthless. 
It is either wrong to begin, or it is wrong to 
leave off, before testing it thoroughly. Are 
we right, think you ? 

On Improvement — Don't suit us. Did you 
ever cat an apple that was entirely without 
flavor, tasteless, and very dry ? Well, that's 
just the case with your piece. 

Stiffer. — Hanging may be a very pleasant 
death ; but if you don't wish to make us die 
of laughter, don't send any more such hang- 
ing stories. 

T. F. — Your acquaintance had better emi- 
grate, or join the Digger Indians of the 
masculine gender, as they believe that labor 
is beneath them, or at least very inconveni- 
ent for themselves, though very excellent 
for their squaws. Pass him on; he's a 
waster — he is. 

Lines of a modern Livy — Are tolerably good, 
but why not put them in use " to point a 
moral, or adorn a tale?" They would 
then be worth publishing. 

J. J. C. — Send us some soul thrilling sketch 
of California, that is the kind we want; 
something that enters into the soul-experi- 
ences of the man, and we will thank you 
and our readers will admire your sketch. 

Santon. — Fanny Brown, To Miss , of Cal- 
ifornia, and Indian Summer, are received, 
but the measure is so poor, and the lines so 
slovenly put together, that they are not 
fit for publication. 

A. /. — We had to laugh over your "Cali- 
fornia Gobbler. We give a "thumping" 

*• Bill thumps Ned, and Jack thumps Jim ; 

Tom thumps his wife, and his wife thumps him ; 

What should we dq in this thumping world of 

If we did not all keep thumping, and thump- 
ing together V 

The Cobbler's last is not his aul, wc 
hope, as there is some sole to the upper, 
in his writings. 



JANUARY, 1857. 


Hail, Christmas ! Hail, ofolden time ! 
Usher id Thee, ey'niiig chime. 

From ev'ry town, and ev'ry steeple, 
From ev'ry country, creed and people. 
Hail ! thou bless'd day of the year ; 
Welcome, welcome all thy cheer. 
Hail Christmas ! time of mirth aniglee, 
Frolic, fun and jollity, 


Free from ev'ry enmity.— 

Ye miners leave jonr picks ao J shovels, 
Yonr shanties, tents, your bunki and hovels ; 
Merchants close yonr musty books ; 
Storekeepes, your counter nooks ; 
Lawyers, hide yonr mortgage deeds ; 
Farmers, work no more yonr steeds ; 
Printers, let your wives make pie, (pi.) 
Nor press for copy, ink undry ; 
Clerks, put journals on their shelf, 
And let the ledger post itself ; 
Let all, in short, without delay. 

Let ev'ry hearth, let ev'ry door, 

Be open'd wide to rich and poor. 

Come one, come all. none keep away, 

From celebrating this Great Day. 

Now let the lord of all the Feast, 

In tones befitting faithful priest, 

Offer to the (tod of all, 

Thanks responding through the hall, 

For all his glorious, bounteous care, 

For health and wealth throughout the year. 

That done, from biggest to the least, 

Take their seats; — and now, the Feast : 

Make nni renal Holiday, 
Christians all, yourselves among, 
Perpetuate the sacred song : 
" Glory to God. on high," it ran, 
" Peace, good will, to ev'ry man." 
Come thy votaries near and far, 
Grand papa and grand mamma, 
Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, 
Wives and sweethearts, and all others, 
Uncles, nephews, aunts and nieces, 
As far as one's own kin increases, 
Not forgetting country cousins, 
If not in scores, at least in dozens. 
Open purse strings, free and wide, 
Give vent to the gen'roos tide. 

Mine host, the head, surveys them nigh, 
With glowing eheek and sparkling eye. 
Welcome 1 welcome great and small, 
Welcome 1 welcome 1 welcome all 1 
Slice alter slice, the good old chief 
With magic speed, carves he the beet 
How grave, he gravy on you presses. 
All mindful of the ladies' dresses. 
And now what mirth and joy abound ; 
How fun, and joke, and wit, go rouod. 
" Doctor," a Tar cries, " clear the deck, (de- 
.'And help me to a brother quack," (duck.) 
In turn replies he " show good breeding, 
I'll take part in yon fowl proceeding ; " 



" Parson without Apollo G, 

Will you eat an el-e-gy ? " (leg.) : 

" Nay, while your * time is on the wing/ 

I will in praise of turkey sing ; 

HI take, too, after your hard knocks, (bad 

Some staffing from its ballot-box." 
Some Hamlet go— without his ghost, 
To place beside the turkey roast. 
Now snipes, not snips, their little bills 
Discharged, but not from money tills, 
One after other disappear, 
Victims to the season's cheer. 
Send the grand plum padding round, 
With holly green's red berries crown'd. 
The sparkling wine now passes by,' 
With old jokes ready cut and dry ; 
Ooe says, " the sherry on the table, 
To other wine 's incomparable. 
The port compared, he'd not advise, 
Twould change to porter in a trice." 
A bashful youth, beside a lass, 
Is not observed to fill his glass ; 
He takes no port, he takes no sherry, 
Because he's near his own my deary. (Ma- 
And now, when all have had enough, 

Tables are clear'd for blind man's buff: 
The heaviest, fattest guest is siez'd, 
And of his handkerchief soon eas'd, 
And many an 1 he roars aloud, 
From pinches giv'n him by the crowd. 
In vain each shout he tries to track, 
And for his pains receives a whack. 
And while the smart he's rubbing out, 
He runs his nose against a spout 
Of kettle black, which had been placed 
To spoil the beauty of his face : 
When tired at last of the whole rig, 
On grandmamma's best cap and wig, 
He pounces next, all desperate, 
And overturns her chair of state ; 
The good old grandame laughs as loud, 
As any youngster of the crowd. 
Suddenly, when no one's near, 
The host and hostess disappear ; 
Follow we them, and leave the rest, 
To any sport they may suggest. 
Ah ! what a scene is now before us, 

Worthy of an angels' chorus : 
In a large room with cheerful fire, 
Blazing higher and still higher, 
(Regardless of the snow and frost, 
The hail and sleet, all tempest toes'd 
Without,) appears three tables spread. 
At which the ladies take the head, 
There to dispense to young and old, 
The liberal viands hot or cold, 
There young and old, in gratitude 
Pour out their thanks, in accents rude 
For celebrating hearty cheer, 

At least one day throughout the year. 

* * * * * * *** 

Visit we now the lonely miner, 
(Fresh comer or the forty-niner,) 
With head and hand on knee reclining, 
He shuts out once all thoughts of mining, 
With eye fixed on the log that's burning, 
Thoughts of dear home, and all its yearning 
Burst fresh and vivid on his mind, 
Of all that's dear, left far behind ; — 
Takes from his breast the last long letter, 
His glistening eyes still growing wetter, 
Reads o'er again his mother's blessing, 
His father's hopes, sweetheart's caressing : 
It tells perchance, of a lost mother, 
Wife, or father, sister, brother ; 
Sweetheart perhaps, yet still more sad 
A pet just lisping name of dad ; 
How treasures he the last words said, 
And pictures where the dear one's laid. 
The letter falls — down drops his head — 
Between his hands 'tis buried ; 
Now nature's tears flow thick and fast, 
Remembrance, tribute of the past. 
Almighty God, spare thou his tears, 
Grant him success in later years ; 
Let not his sweat be thus all spent, 
Without a hope, without a cent. 

Miners excuse a longer call, 
Our sympathies are with you all ; 
May blessings fill your lorn abode, 
May you soon strike the wished for lode, 
A lode that leads to such a vein, 
Would welcome Christmas here again. 

Bound as by spell — wish all God speed, 
Be bless'd the Day, and blessd the Deed. 



To those who are unacquainted with 
the technicalities of mining, the mean- 
ing of the above name when applied 
to a waterfall, may be somewhat of a 
mystery. To make it plain to every 
reader, perhaps it will not be uninter- 
esting to describe one of the implements 
of mining called a Lung Tout. This 
consists of a long fiat box, open at the 
top, into which the wash dirt is thrown 
and through which a stream of water 
is turned; the back end being elevated, 
gives sufficient fall to it for the water 
to pass down with considerable force. 
At the lower end there is a plate of 
perforated iron called a " torn iron,'' 
through which the water, dirt, and gold 

pass into a " riffle box" underneath, 
where the gold is saved. This bos 
has narrow strips of wood across the 
bottom; and, when one end is ele- 
vated, the water makes a fall, or riffle, 
and, from the great resemblance in tbe 
shape of the above falls to a riffle box, 
comes the name of Riffle Box Falls. 

These romantic and beautiful falls, 
are situated on Deer Creek, about nine 
miles below the city of Nevada. In 
the winter season, when the water 
rushes over with an impetuous sweep, 
it is remarkably wild and picturesque. 

In 1B.02, a company was formed to 
test the richness of this great riffle box 
of nature ; and to accomplish which a 


tunnel was cut through a hill of solid 
rock, about three hundred feet in 
length, at a cost of twenty thousand 
dollars. Through this tunnel the wa- 
ters of the creek were turned, and by 
which the falls were drained. 

The water had worn deep holes in 
the bed of the creek, and to pump 
these dry, seven thousand dollars more 
were expended in machinery, &c 
When this was accomplished and the 
"box" was made dry, (As whole of the 
gold thai vat taken out vat only about 
two hundred dotlart. 

This is one of the many enterprises 
into which the Californian enters, and 
where his money and time— frequently 
all that he possesses — are embarked, 
in a single venture, and he thrown pen- 
niless upon his own energies to begin 
life again — as be terms it. This will 
give friends in the East at least, one 
idea w/iy the miner frequently remains 
from dear friends and home so long, 
when his hopes of returning were 
built upon the success of his under- 
taking — and which too often proves a 
complete failure. 


This Seal, with which the coast of 
California abounds is the Phoca Jtt- 
bata of naturalists, is generally known 
as the hair seal, and is by no 
means rare, as almost all the coasts in 
high southern and northern latitudes, 
abound with it. To the Laplander it 
is meat, drink, clothing, ace To the 
Indians of Beheriog's Straits and 
Eamschatka it is most valuable; in 
fact they could hardly exist without it. 
Far away in those inhospitable regions, 
where winter reigns three fourths of the 
year, no timber can be obtained suffi- 
ciently Urge to build a canoe ; but with 
a few seal skins, and a little whale 

bone, the Indian will construct one of 
the most perfect life-boats in the world. 
In this he will fearlessly venture miles 
from land to catch fish and seals, aye 
and even the whale. These canoes are 
difficult to manage to those who are 
unacquainted with them. It requires 
no small degree of practice, even in 
the Kamschatkan, in a rough sea to 
keep such a boat alive. He is not al- 
lowed to marry unless he have the 
ability of so making and guiding them. 
So it* is_ make a canoe, guide a canoe, 
with him, before rule a wife and have 
a wife. Indeed his canoe is all to him. 
His bouse, his clothes, his furniture, 


s food, for without it, Iris shores, pro- 
io in flsh, would be nseless. 



rarely to be found in any other inhabi- 
tant of the waters. This was remark- 
ed by the ancient historian Pliny. He 
gives nn amusing account of one that 
was easily taught to perform certain 
tricks. It would salute visitors freely, 
and would answer to its name when 
called. F. Cuvier narrates of one that 
he saw, that was made to stand erect 
on its tail, and hold a staff between its 
flippers, like a sentinel on duty. It 
would tumble heels over head when 
desired, give a flipper to be shaken and 
and present its lips for its keeper's 

Captain Russell, the traveller and 
explorer of the sea-board resources of 
California, and who favored us with 
the narrative of the woman who was 
eighteen years alone, says that it is 
most amusing sometimes to see their 
contests with the Coast Indians. TheBe 
fellows skulk behind the rocks adjacent 
to some gently sloping sand banks, and 
when the shoal has become dry by the 
receding of the tide, they front the 
body and interpose their return to the 
water ; each selecting as his prey the 
biggest and most powerful. Catch- 
ing hold of the tail flipper, the animal 
scuffles along the sand, dragging along 
after him the Indian, who with a tight 
grip follows, until by ploughing a deep 
furrow with his feet, leaning back, and 

with all his strength resisting the pow- 
erful progress of the animal, until both 
come to a dead stand, the animal's side 
nippers are then tied by another party, 
and the poor beast then easily becomes 
his prey. He often, he says, remon- 
strated in vain against their barbarous 
cruelty of preparing them for food, or 
for blubber. A hugh fire is made in a 
large flat hole in the ground, and the 
poor beasts are hurled in, and roasted 
alive. TVe have no other way said 
they of singeing or scorching off their 
hair. If they were put in dead we 
should have to get in the fire ourselves 
to turn them, but being alive they spare 
us the trouble, and torn themselves 
when one side is singed sufficiently. 

The whole tribe possess remarkable 
peculiarities of respiration and circu- 
lation of blood. The interval between 
their respirations is very long. A full 
grown animal can remain under water 
without requiring a fresh inspiration, 
for upwards of half an hour. They 
can open and close at pleasure, for 
these purposes, their valvular nostrils 
in a surprising degree, eating their 
food all the time under water with per- 
fect enjoyment Their breathing « 
remarkably slow, and very irregular- 
After opening the nostrils and making 
a long expiration, the creature inhales 
air by a long inspiration, 'and just be- 
fore diving, closes its nostrils as tight as 
any mechanical valve. In confine- 
ment they have been observed to re- 
main asleep, with the head under wa- 
ter, for an hour at each time, without 
any fresh inhalation of air. Natural- 
ists account for this power by the ani- 
mal's possessing a great venous canal 
in its liver, which assists it in diving, 
so that their respiration is somewhat 


independent of the circulation of the 
blood. The animal exhibited in San 
Francisco at the present time, is in 
very excellent condition, exceeding); 
tame, and very submissive to its keep- 
er. This animal seems to enjoy the