<a^RAMP' 
 
 WW .I///X 
 
 
 UBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 ODOnVDabbH 
 

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 W^:M^^.^^. Mml. 
 
California Tramp 
 
 LATER FOOTPRINTS; 
 
 LIFE ON THE PLAINS AND IN THE GOLDEN STATE THIRTY VEARS AGO, 
 WITH MISCELLANEOUS SKETCHES IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 Illustrated vviia THmrv-XiNE Wood akd Photo-Esgra^ 
 
 T. S. KENDERDINE, 
 
 NEWTOWN, PA. 
 
 1888 
 
^'t^ 
 
 Copyright, 1888, by T. S. Render dim. 
 
 Press of Globe Printing House, j 
 
 112 N. 12th St.. Philadelphia. , 
 
'<-». jiJretace. 
 
 pref( 
 
 
 ^HIS book was not written to fill a long-felt want. 
 Neither was it at the " urgent solicitations of my 
 friends," many of whom do not know that I made the 
 journey herein described. Nor was it written to make money, 
 but rather with a reverse expectation. I wrote it partly at 
 the request of my immediate family, partly with the hope that 
 it would interest my friends as well as a portion of the outside 
 public, partly to experience the sensations of authorship. 
 
 The title of the work is capable of two constructions — a 
 pedestrian journey, and the nomadic life I led for a time in 
 the likeness of the Ishmaelites which infest our rural districts, 
 with the exception in respect to the last part — and a blessed 
 exception it is — that while an Eastern tramp hunts work, 
 praying he wont find it, his Occidental brother did the con- 
 trary. As to the first rendering, it might be open to criti- 
 cism, inasmuch as two-thirds of the overland journey was by 
 rail and water; but I can plead Mark Twain in his " Tramp 
 Abroad " as an extenuating example ; his walking being 
 done on cars and steamboats. But as he was guilty of the 
 hypocrisy of carrying a staff and knapsack, and I did my steam 
 pilgrimage without these deceptions, I think I leave Mark far 
 in the rear in respect to disingenuousness. 
 
 The past winter I conceived the idea of placing my writings 
 in a more durable shape than that derived from scrap-books 
 
4 PREFACE. 
 
 and loose manuscript, and rewrote, excised and added ; al- 
 though occasionally for want of time I was obliged to let them 
 stand as written. This state of things comes in good play, for 
 whenever the critical reader takes exception to the use of flow- 
 ery language, redundant or rapturous adjectives and prosy 
 description of route or scenery within the volume, I can lay it 
 to the pen of the young ox-driver. 
 
 There was a physiological law contemporaneous with my 
 school days, that the human system was changed once in seven 
 years ; that all that was there on the first year was expelled 
 through natural causes by the seventh and replaced with new 
 material. If this is in being yet and has not been relegated into 
 mythical nothingness by new and iconoclastic school-books, 
 along with the accounts of the "Maelstrom " and Sea Serpent, 
 and the story of Pocahontas and John Smith, which were estab- 
 lished facts as far as descriptive text and wood cuts could make 
 them, I am more than four removes from the young traveler 
 and ranchero of thirty years ago. Therefore should anything 
 be found in the book which makes a favorable impression 
 credit it to his mature successor or evolvent, who is palpable 
 and capable of feeling praise or blame. The other party is 
 away in the shadowy realms of the past, and unsensitive to 
 both. In fact, so disassociated is he from myself, that I can 
 give his portrait, as well as full-length representations of him in 
 connection with other illustrations, with no more feeling of 
 egotism than if I were showing off the features of one of his 
 fellow cowboys of the plains. 
 
 Who reads this volume with the impression that it is full of 
 wild hunting adventures and narrations of murders and rob- 
 
PREFACE. 5 
 
 beries indigenous to an unsettled country will be disappointed. 
 My mode of travel precluded Nimrodic pursuits, and had it 
 been otherwise I don't imagine the wild animals of the Wild 
 West would have been noticeably reduced in numbers. As for 
 scenes of violence, although there were opportunities to par- 
 ticipate therein, I left them for others who saw more fun in 
 them than I did myself. It is true, this book would have 
 been more replete with interest could I have given personal 
 narrations of these ; but as participation might have been only 
 another name for annihilation, I don't regret that lack of indi- 
 vidual experience has enabled me to be in a position to write 
 an autographical and more commonplace account. 
 
 As for the ^' Later Footprints" following "A California 
 Tramp," I will only say that among the prose sketches the 
 article on John Burns should be worth attention as far as it 
 furnishes facts proving the old man was a real militant in the 
 Battle of Gettysburg ; and as to those in rhyme, simply state 
 that some of them had the questionable fame of newspaper 
 republication. 
 
 When an author apologizes for literary defects, and airs the 
 difficulties he has labored under, it is generally assumed that 
 he could have done no better under favorable circumstances, 
 ahd by implication is assured that if the work was so burden- 
 some the reading public would have excused him from its 
 performance. Nevertheless, I will say that the preparation of 
 this volume was made before and after business hours since 
 the preceding winter, and when it is understood what a disad- 
 vantage this disconnected procedure has when compared with 
 continuous work, I hope the literary imperfections involved 
 will be overlooked. 
 
6 PREFACE. 
 
 The illustrations, while not up to the high art standard, pic- 
 ture scenery and incidents of which I was a part sufficiently 
 well. The most of them are from original sketches redrawn 
 and made available through wood and photo-engraving. In 
 a w^ork of so limited a circulation they involved an outlay 
 hardly w^arranted, except by my desire to represent and per- 
 petuate what has been heretofore unillustrated and now non- 
 existent save in memory. 
 
 I have now accomplished what until lately I never seriously 
 thought of doing — wTitten a book. This act is what Job 
 wanted his enemy to do; either because he would lose money 
 or be criticized beyond the punishment of personal boils. 
 But hoping that the miseries of authorship only existed in the 
 imagination of that synonym of Patience, and that the peru- 
 sal of this work will add a mite to the pleasures of my readers, 
 I remain 
 
 Their friend, 
 
 The Author. 
 
 Newtown, Pa., 10th mo., 1888. 
 
©ontentx^. 
 
 I. Preliminary 9 
 
 ir. To the Land of the Buffalo . 20 
 
 III. A Day on the Plains 31 
 
 IV. Along the Platte to Fort Laramie 49 
 
 V. To the Great South Pass 69 
 
 VL Among the Mountains 86 
 
 VII. In the Valley of the Shadow 95 
 
 VIIL The Saints' Rest 104 
 
 IX. Among the Mormon Settlements ]20 
 
 X. Along the Desert Border I39 
 
 XL On the Great Sandy Desert 153 
 
 XII. From the Kingston Springs to San Bernardino 171 
 
 XIII. To Pueblo De Los Angeles 184 
 
 XIV. From Los Angeles to San Francisco 197 
 
 XV. On the Tramp 210 
 
 XVI. Eanch Life 231 
 
 XVII. In and Around San Francisco 252 
 
 XVIII. A San Franciscan Day 264 
 
 XIX. The Bit Theatre 271 
 
 XX. Homeward Bound— Southward 278 
 
 XXI. Homeward Bound— Northward 291 
 
 XXIL In New York 300 
 
 XXIII. Conclusion 310 
 
 Sketches in Prose. 
 
 Robert Kenderdine 317 
 
 John Burns of Gettysburg 336 
 
 The Village Store 348 
 
 My Tramp 364 
 
 Company Trials 374 
 
 Sketches in Rhyme. 
 
 In the Shadow of Round Top 378 
 
 John Burns Again 384 
 
 Jennie Wade 397 
 
 The Old Grist-Mill 398 
 
 Lyric of the Cuttalossa 401 
 
 Dickens 407 
 
 The Old Saw-Mill 411 
 
 After-thoughts 414 
 
 (7) 
 
(#PfuAfraiTonx^, 
 
 Frontispiece — Up the Valley of the Platte. 
 A Plain Sketch— Title page. 
 
 Portrait 8 
 
 A Country Call in Kansas in 1858 14 
 
 Making our Mark 17 
 
 The Corral 32 
 
 The Lead Team 37 
 
 The ^S Straightens to an I 39 
 
 The Sleeping Herd 51 
 
 Fording the South Platte 59 
 
 Chimney Rock 65 
 
 The Devil's Gate 80 
 
 Down Provo Canon 92 
 
 Through the Streets of Lehi 98 
 
 Main Street, Salt Lake City 106 
 
 The Tabernacle 108 
 
 Great Salt Lake in the Twilight 118 
 
 Approach to the Valley of the Rio Virgin 148 
 
 The Ruins of Las Vegas . 163 
 
 Our Oamp at Kingston Sj)rings — Bently and his Dog 171 
 
 Marching to the Sea 185 
 
 Field of Cacti 194 
 
 The Wine Team 201 
 
 San Pedro in 1858 204 
 
 Entrance to the Golden Gate 208 
 
 Oakland in 1858 — Contra Costa Mountains in the Distance 215 
 
 Largest Ferryboat in the World, Plying between San Francisco and Oakland, 216 
 
 Looking at Monte del Diablo 220 
 
 Straits of Carquinaz 222 
 
 "Scottie" and I 225 
 
 Bird's-Eye View of San Francisco— Golden Gate in the Distance 249 
 
 San Francibco Bay in the Good Old Time 253 
 
 How they Built the Ships in 255 
 
 The Old Mission Dolores 257 
 
 Mission Dolores as it is now 259 
 
 The Plaza, San Francisco 268 
 
 San Francisco in 1847 272 
 
 Robert Kenderdine. Portrait 316 
 
 Charles Dickens. Portrait 407 
 
 (8) 
 
/I ©alifoproia ^pamp 
 
 I. 
 
 PrePiminan^ 
 
 ¥ 
 
 ^^HE reading of Freaiont's Narrative and other works 
 of Western adventure gave me, during the last two 
 or three years of my minority, a great desire to 
 travel over the trans-Mississippi plains and mountains. The 
 departure of a friend and schoolmate for Oregon, on a sur- 
 veying expedition, still further unsettled me, and showed my 
 prosaic home life in yet more unfavorable contrast with the 
 possibilities which Western travel would furnish; and when, 
 in the spring of 1858, I secured a situation in the interior 
 of Michigan, I concluded I had made one step in the coveted 
 direction, and was partially satisfied. 
 
 I never shall forget the night when, having bid farewell to 
 the home circle, I left Philadelphia for the West. The hour 
 w^as eleven of the clock; darkness all around and the weather 
 stormy; and not knowing a soul on board, or in my prospective 
 home, I sank into a fit of the blues, not of the " deeply, beauti- 
 fully " sort, but rather, from the sensations I felt, as if tinged 
 
 (9) 
 
10 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 with blue vitriol. In those clays the Western trains started 
 from Eleventh and Market streets, and were drawn by mules 
 to the suburbs. The drift of the rain on the car windows al- 
 most hid the lamp lights as we slowly passed out the drenched 
 streets ; until, when beyond the Schuylkill, a locomotive dis- 
 placed our long-eared propellers. There were no sleeping-cars 
 then to mitigate the sorrows of all-night travel, so I had 
 ample time, in my wakefulness, to think over past deeds and 
 the future troubles my leaving home might bring. To cheer 
 myself up I bought a comic book of one of the juvenile fiends 
 who, even in those times, made travelers miserable; but its 
 overdrawn humor and stale jokes so increased my unhappy 
 feeling that I put it awa}^ in disgust. Ever since I have had 
 a horror of books of the alleged "funny" order, a feeling 
 which extends even to works of the "Mark Twain" class, 
 books whose humor generally is made at the expense of relig- 
 ion and morality. The night passed at last, and when morn- 
 ing brought a clear sunrise and a view of the beautiful valley 
 of the Juniata, I began to take a more cheerful view of life. 
 
 Around curves, by heavy grades and through gloomy tun- 
 nels, and the Alleghenies were passed ; and at two o'clock in the 
 afternoon the smoke- plumed chimneys of Pittsburgh came in 
 sight. The coming night was passed on a Lake Erie steamer, 
 and the next afternoon found me at my destination. 
 
 The party who employed me turned out to be a visionary — 
 a " crank " he would be termed now. The large tract of land 
 he was on he was simply superintendent of, instead of owner, 
 and the business I was to have charge of was simpl}^ his men- 
 tal tenant, without prospect of the remotest materialization. 
 So in course of a month I discharged my employer; and with 
 ten dollars and a pair of boots I had earned, I re-obeyed 
 Greeley's as yet unspoken command to " Go West, young man " 
 — an order, it will be noticed, I obeyed in instalments. 
 
 I stopped one day in Chicago, then on jack-screws and work- 
 
PRELIMIXAKY. 11 
 
 ing its way up. The sight of houses rising Phoenix-like from 
 the mud, with the people dwelling therein, living and dying 
 as usual, was an edifying one, but as a canvas of the town 
 showed it could get along without me, I shook the mud afore- 
 said from my boots and left it to its fate; certainly not a luck- 
 less one, with real estate so rising. 
 
 Money being the root of all evil, I felt myself as harmless as 
 Mary's little lamb when preparing to leave what, from a severe 
 strain on the imagination, was called the " Garden City." I was 
 compelled to buy a second-class ticket to Kansas, where destiny 
 and inclination seemed to call me. My departure was in an 
 emigrant car at midnight; my only companions two drunken 
 bandits, armed with guns. The car was dark, and I always 
 hailed the conductor's advent with his lantern, from my place 
 in an unobtrusive corner, with silent orisons. In St. Louis I 
 only stopped long enough to note how similarly the streets 
 w^ere named to those of Philadelphia. I left there at ten 
 o'clock on June 2d, and passing over a country of alternate 
 prairie land and wooded streams, reached Jefferson City late 
 at night, where I boarded the "Polar Star" steamer; the West- 
 ern railroad system then not reaching beyond that town. 
 
 At that time the only railroads reaching beyond the Missis- 
 sippi were the Missouri Pacific and the Hannibal and St. Jo. 
 The latter had not reached the Missouri, so part of the road 
 was made by stage, and consequently was the least popular 
 way to Kansas, as by the former route the whole journey could 
 be made by boat and rail; a great favor in the days of border 
 ruffianism, when Free State emigration by private convey- 
 ance was often checked or turned back by pro-slavery high- 
 waymen. 
 
 Four days I endured the discomforts of deck passage, many 
 and many a time wishing myself an Astor or Girard that I 
 might climb out of it to the beatitude of the cabin above, where 
 amid high living and luxurious surroundings the first-class 
 
12 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 passengers' lives slid along. My companions were the lower 
 order of emigrants, foreign and domestic, and the deck hands 
 or " roustabouts." Many of the latter were desperadoes, whose 
 gashed faces showed the effects of personal encounters. My 
 sleeping places were on bundles of freight, and my provender 
 the rude fare I bought at the landings. My impression had 
 been that deck passage simply meant absence of state-room 
 and dining privileges, but I soon learned that the enjoyment 
 of the upper deck was fruit forbidden, and that the officer in 
 charge knew a steerage passenger by a sort of instinct as a 
 personage who was to be hustled down the gangway on sight. 
 So I perforce passed my time below, with one eye on my be- 
 longings, lest they should be stolen, and the other on the 
 scenery and surroundings generally. The shriek of the "cal- 
 liope;" the cough of the exhaust pipe, as that of an asthmatic 
 giant ; the escape of the angry steam ; the roar of the mud- 
 valves, when the sediment of the river water was forced from 
 the boilers; the cursing of the crew by the mate on duty; the 
 mutterings and low spoken threats of the former, and the sing- 
 song call of the leadsmen, as the treacherous channel was 
 sounded, I still seem to hear. In my vision are the unwashed 
 passengers ; the grimy stokers feeding the fires under the 
 high-strung boilers; the vile deck hands on duty, or eating 
 their fried bacon and hard tack, with their feet hanging over 
 the muddy water, into which they now and then dipped their 
 tincups for drink; the envied cabin passengers promenading 
 the upper deck and occasionally coming down to our purga- 
 tory to see the possibility of endurance; the mile-wide river 
 with its driftwood and caving banks, its shabby towns and 
 wood-yards; our wooding up at night in the glare of pine- 
 knots, when, like fiends in their glare, the aroused crew carried 
 armloads of billets on a run, under the occasional stimulus of 
 a kick or blow. All these sights and sounds are bright in my 
 memory now. I became so disgusted with my surroundings 
 
PRELIMIXARY. 13 
 
 that I made an effort to exchange my deck for a cabin passage. 
 Watching my chance, I ascended to the celestial regions to see 
 the clerk about it, but his manners and figures had such an 
 altitude that I was fain to retreat before, mistaking my errand, 
 the mate accelerated my steps. Like all tribulations, mine 
 passed away, however, and with several dollars saved for fut- 
 ure needs by my privations, I at last landed at Leavenworth 
 on the 7th of June, feeling just as well as if I had fared on the 
 high living of the upper cabin, instead of on the husks, in the 
 shape of bread and bolognas, I ate on the lower deck. 
 
 I had come these hundreds of miles to hunt work, but with 
 dull times and no friends to help me, I was sore beset to find 
 anything to do. I tried around the city, then a place of from 
 one to two thousand people, but I did not seem necessary to 
 the growth of the town any more than I was to that of Chicago. 
 At that time there was one business open to young men of easy 
 conscience, and that was to go out in the country, take up 
 claims, make affidavits that they pre-empted them for their own 
 exclusive use, and then sell out for a stated sum to their em- 
 ployer. The law required that a habitation twelve by twelve 
 must be built thereon before the claim could be held. This 
 was accomplished by the erection of a Liliputian residence of 
 twelve inches square, or by a simple rail pen of the required 
 dimensions in feet. A young Kentuckian, similarly situated 
 financially as myself, and I walked a long distance out of town 
 one day to see a real estate agent who gave men this question- 
 able employment. On this journey I learned how they made 
 country calls in Kansas thirty years ago, of which I give an 
 illustration drawn from life. We did not go up to the door 
 and ring the bell for two reasons: there was no bell to ring, 
 and we were afraid of the dogs. We just stood out in the road 
 and shouted "Hello!" If no response were made we would 
 scream, "Call your dogs off," this soon becoming a necessity 
 If the party called on had any politeness, they would rush out 
 
14 
 
 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 with clubs or boot-toes and extricate us, otherwise they would 
 give the dogs aid with their guns in helping the intruders off. 
 This seemed like queer doing to me, but they were natural to 
 my comrade from the "dark and bloody ground," and under 
 his tuition I soon grew familiar with them. We at last found 
 the agent we were after, but on learning there was more or less 
 of perjury connected with the business, although we were as- 
 
 A Country Call in Kansas in 1858. 
 
 sured that custom sanctioned and semi-legalized it, Ave resolved 
 to touch not the unclean thing, although "there was money 
 in i-t." 
 
 Hearing there were ox-drivers wanted at Kansas City, to 
 take a train to Santa Fe, a place I had a desire to 
 visit, I lugged my trunk down to the steamboat wharf, 
 for I was always my own porter, and when the next 
 
PRELIMINARY. 15 
 
 packet came along went down the Missouri. This time, 
 as the trip was short, I took cabin passage and enjoyed 
 the privilege of the saloon and "texis" deck and was as 
 good as the best of them. I could see the " calliope " man 
 playing on his instrument of torture; the silk-hatted gamblers 
 playing at cards ; I could lounge on a sofa, and do other acts 
 and things lately forbidden. Arrived at my destination I 
 soon hired with a transportation agent to drive team, and for- 
 warded my trunk home. The sending of this, which con- 
 tained nearly all of my civilized belongings, seemed like burn- 
 ing the bridge behind, and that I had entered on a dangerous, 
 half savage life, from which I might never return. Before 
 leaving the agent, I made some inquiries of him in regard to 
 the scenery on the route, and other matters, which smacked 
 more of the tourist than of the experienced ox-propeller I pro- 
 fessed to be. The next morning, rigged out in my roughest 
 clothing, I reported for duty at the wharf, where a train was 
 being made up. What was my mortification when my yester- 
 day's employer told me curtly he did not want me. " Why?" 
 I asked. " Any one who asks such questions as you did, is 
 too smart for an ox-driver," he roughly answered as he turned 
 away. I resolved that next time I would guard well my 
 tongue. 
 
 Concluding to return to Leavenworth and again try my 
 luck there, I passed the coming night waiting for an up 
 steamer. A dismal wait it was; till midnight in a foul 
 smelling saloon, and after that was closed, on the dark levee, 
 by the side of the rushing river. Towards morning a boat 
 came along, and on it I returned to the above town. Here I 
 again hired as an ox-driver, trying to look as rough and un- 
 kempt as I could, that I might seem worthy the vocation. My 
 destination was Salt Lake. This time I was careful to ask no 
 questions, though I shrank from the rough life before me. 
 
 One thing that reconciled me to engaging in this journey 
 
16 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 was that a congenial young fellow whom I got acquainted 
 with at my boarding-house, named Will Finlay, was going 
 with me ; in fact, the enterprise was a mutual affair. I knew 
 from the class of men I saw about the departing trains, that I 
 would want some one like him for a comrade, and thought, 
 from the spirit he showed, he would stick to me. Still, as he 
 had been brought up to gentle ways and had joined the train 
 out of a spirit of adventure, I do not wonder that he afterwards 
 deserted me, weighed down as I was with such surroundings. 
 
 Some of the particulars of my campaign life I will tell in a 
 chapter entitled " A Day on the Plains." For a few days 
 we were engaged in loading the huge wagons and branding 
 cattle. The mark was an ox-yoke burned in front of the right 
 hip. This was the private brand of Russel, Majors and 
 Waddell, the most extensive freighters who ever crossed the 
 plains, with whom I had hired. We branded five hundred in 
 one day. The groans of the struggling oxen and the smell of 
 their burning flesh sickened me, but the fear of another rebuff 
 made me hide my emotion and feign that just such work was 
 what I was suffering for. 
 
 The few days we were waiting to start on our journey I 
 lived at a place called the " Outfit." Our sleeping quarters 
 were full of vermin, but these were less disgusting than a por- 
 tion of my human associates, many of whom were merely 
 waiting for the time for their clothing to be dealt out to 
 them, when they would run off. Some of them were jailbirds 
 and other desperadoes, and petty thieving was common. In 
 their talk they were the vilest of the vile, yet on account of a 
 few semi-respectable fellows among them, I concluded to not 
 back down, but to follow out my resolve to go to Utah, to 
 which place we were to take supplies for the army sent to sub- 
 due the Mormons, then in rebellion. The soldiers around the 
 Fort made it a lively place, but their numbers were so small 
 compared with the million or more who sprung to arms four 
 
PRELIMINARY. 
 
 17 
 
18 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 years after, that they are unworthy of notice. I think they 
 were not over four thousand men under General Johnston, 
 commanding the Utah army, the most of which had preceded 
 us. Still their white tents among the greenery of grass and 
 trees, with the moving columns of horse, foot and artillery 
 around them, formed a scene to be remembered. - 
 
 Before we started each man was given a whip, with a lash 
 ten feet long. These were but toys to what supplanted them 
 when they wore out. With a sort of poetic injustice, from the 
 skins of cattle which died of hardship, lashes were cut and 
 plaited five or six yards long, to facilitate the turning of the 
 hides of other oxen into whip material. These scourges were 
 from an inch and a quarter to an inch and a half in thickness 
 at the " swell," one-fourth the way from the stock, from which 
 they tapered each way, with a buckskin " cracker," and in 
 the hands of an expert they did murderous w^ork. 
 
 Each train had a box of medicines which was kept in the 
 train-master's wagon, along with the revolvers and ammunition, 
 which was its proper place. If I remember rightly, the basic 
 matter of the contents was composed of calomel, laudanum 
 and Epsom salts, with a few outlying adjuncts for doing their 
 work. These, in the hands of an ignorant practitioner, were 
 capable of much mischief. I think the quack who had his 
 medicines numbered to suit the ills inherent to flesh, and 
 when he was out of the required number 6, gave numbers 
 2 and 4 as an equivalent and promptly killed his man, was a 
 wagon-master. I knew I fought as shy of that chest as a fox 
 would of a box-trap. When a little out of sorts or low-spirited, 
 the old professionals would make things worse by telling what 
 became of the teamsters when they died, that is, in this world ; 
 for it is pretty easy to tell where most of the " bull-whackers " 
 went, unless orthodox theology is at fault. These Job's com- 
 forters told how the translated unfortunates were buried in 
 scant roadside graves, in boxes made from the sideboards of 
 
PRELIMINARY. 
 
 19 
 
 their wagons. I,- however, made up my mind not to stay sick 
 or downhearted and patronize the death-trap in the master's 
 wagon, and thereby keep the wagon body as well as my own 
 and soul together. But for all that, I would sometimes think 
 in the dark hours of the night I was lying in a prospective 
 coflSn ! 
 
 /-^c^p--\ 
 
II. 
 
 ©Jo tfte baniL of tfte Si>uffafo. 
 
 'E at last got under way, but on account of un- 
 broken teams, ignorant drivers and desertions, 
 0\l it was several days before we got in working 
 
 order. Sometimes the whole night guard, with their outfits, 
 would decamp in a body, leaving the cattle to wander over the 
 country. The deserters were replaced by better men obtained 
 from returning trains, with which we sent back our sick. 
 
 After some days of tribulation we crossed the valleys of the 
 Big and Little Grasshopper, and reached Walnut Creek on the 
 8th of July. Here we saw our first deer, which our wagon- 
 master gave chase to on his mule, but with limited success. 
 On the night of the 17th, when one hundred and twenty miles on 
 the road, we had the most terrible thunder-storm I ever saw. 
 I was out all night herding the cattle, and the glare of 
 lightning and crash of thunder rendered them hard to 
 manage. They hardly lay down all night, but wandered fit- 
 fully about, which made it hard for us. However, the sun 
 rose bright and warm the next morning, when we could 
 hardly realize what a night we had passed. 
 
 Our next night's camp was by the side of the new-made 
 grave of a teamster, who had been run over by a stampede of 
 oxen. A mound marked the spot on our arrival, but by 
 morning the herd had so trampled down the wet earth that no 
 
 (20) 
 
TO THE LAND OF THE BUFFALO. 21 
 
 trace was visible of the resting place of the poor fellow, even 
 the rude headboard, on which was his name, being displaced. 
 On the 20th we came to Marysville, on the Big Blue. Here 
 was a mission and reservation of the Otto Indians. While 
 descending the bluff one of our oxen died ; but the noble red 
 men, when apprised, soon had him skinned, cut up and carried 
 to their village. These Indians shaved their heads and were 
 otherwise as near naked as they could well be. Still, the 
 weather was warm. 
 
 The valley of the Big Blue was swarming with mosquitoes, 
 and that night while herding cattle we were badly pestered 
 with. them. They bit through our clothing and sang merrily 
 at their work. We wrapped ourselves from head to heels in 
 our blankets to fence them off, though the air was oppressively 
 sultry, but in spite of that they bit us so we were covered 
 with a rash the next morning. To their shrill tenor a band 
 of wolves on the adjacent bluffs howled a blood-curdling 
 baritone. The howl of one wolf is enough, but when a band 
 of this species get down to their work, it is more than that. 
 They commence with a shrill whine, which increases and 
 deepens until it ends in an unearthly yell which you feel in 
 your bones. 
 
 We crossed the Blue on a rope ferry, swimming all the oxen 
 except what we wanted to pull the wagons on to the boat. My 
 friend Finlay and I were sent to herd cattle on the other side 
 of the river, where we were kept till night with nothing to eat. 
 When we were relieved, we had to swim the river to our 
 wagons which were not ferried over. The river was swollen, 
 so that we landed far below in the darkness. The next morn- 
 ing we found our shoes stolen as well as some of our clothing, 
 which we had left on the other side. 
 
 After crossing the rest of the wagons, the guards were re- 
 arranged, and our rifles and a few rounds of ammunition given 
 us, as we were getting among hostile Indians. There were 
 
22 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 pistols also ill the train arsenal, but for motives of policy they 
 were not given out. Some of our men could punish one 
 another with fist and tooth sufficiently without using these. 
 At noon on the 25th we met a part of the troops sent to Utah, 
 returning. They were artillerymen, with some cavalry or dra- 
 goons, as they were then called, and General Harney, still living 
 in 1888, was with them. They had gone four hundred miles 
 before taking a return course. 
 
 We reached the valley of the Little Blue on the 26th of 
 June. This was full of mosquitoes, and at night noisy with 
 wolves. While herding that night, a wolf crossed a knoll 
 within twenty yards of where I was lying down, looking in 
 silhouette against the clear sky to my excited fancy as large 
 as a horse. 
 
 Our route lay the next day along the valley of the Little 
 Blue in the direction of the Platte River. The road was 
 miry and lined with the carcasses of dead oxen lost by pre- 
 ceding trains, which filled the air with sickening odors. We 
 afterwards left the valley and crossed high ground, from which 
 we had a fine view of the lower country to the south. Broad 
 vistas of verdure, traversed by belts of darker green, marked 
 the timber-lined streams. The main trunk was the Blue, and 
 from this extended short branches. 
 
 The 1st of August found us among a range of sand hills 
 which announced our approach to the valley of the Platte. 
 These were a succession of knolls and ridges from thirty 
 to sixty feet high. Amid their defiles our wheels sunk deep 
 in the sand, and we frequently doubled teams in order to get 
 through. From these we came to the broad, level bottom of 
 the river, which was marked by numerous wooded islands. 
 In the distance we saw Fort Kearney, the low buildings of 
 which were just visible above the prairie. When within a 
 mile the train was stopped, and orders given for each man to 
 overhaul his load, and put the flour which was in any way 
 
TO THE LAND OF THE BUFFALO. 23 
 
 damaged by rain in the bottom, so as the load would pass 
 governmental inspection. We were forced to become parties in 
 this fraud, whether willing or not. We encamped at noon a 
 few hundred yards beyond the Post. 
 
 Fort Kearney is about one hundred and sixty miles from the 
 Missouri. It was established during the Mexican war, the 
 intention being to connect the frontiers with the Pacific by a 
 chain of military posts along the Platte and Columbia rivers. 
 The buildings consisted of barracks, hospital, sutler store and 
 cavalry stables. Some were of logs, others of frame, but the 
 majority were of dried mud and roofed with sods. It was not 
 a very prepossessing place, but after a journey of three hundred 
 miles through a wilderness, we welcomed the sight, as we 
 also did the sound of the bugle that night, and the roll of 
 drum and the shriek of fife the next morning from the 
 musicians of the little garrison. 
 
 At Kearney Finlay left me. Since the train started he had 
 been as sick of his profession as the traditional dog of the pro- 
 verbial broth. He could see no romance in "hollering" at 
 and beating oxen all day and herding them on alternate nights, 
 and was disgusted with his associates. Much as he disliked to 
 leave me, he was determined to quit the train in some way. 
 One dark and stormy night, when on guard near the sand hilfs, 
 he came to camp and, awakening me, tried to persuade me to 
 desert with him and make our way through three hundred 
 miles of wilderness to the Missouri by the route we came. I 
 did not start out with the intention of turning back, and pre- 
 vailed on him to desist from hig^ntention. He was afterwards 
 taken sick, and went back with the next return train. He 
 cried when we parted, and I felt badly enough, for he was my 
 wagon mate and the only congenial comrade I had in all that 
 unkempt gang of ox-drivers. I never heard of Finlay after- 
 wards. 
 
 We left Fort Kearney the morning after our arrival, and 
 
24 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 slowly moved up the valley of the Platte, whose waters we 
 were to follow to the summit of the Rocky Mountains. Our 
 route was about a mile from the shore, which we were unable 
 to approach nearer on account of numerous " sloos," as the 
 " Pikers " call marshy creeks, which extended from the river. 
 The water we could not see for the many islands. Towards 
 night we j^assed a French trading post, whose owner had grown 
 rich trading with emigrants and Indians. Of course, the item 
 of whisky w^as the most attractive part of his stock. These 
 traders generally had one or more Indian wives, by which 
 means they ingratiated themselves with the noble red men. 
 
 We camped six miles west of the Fort. The next morning 
 we broke corral early, as our wagon-master was anxious to 
 make up for lost time. I never saw birds in freedom as tame 
 as here. They would alight near us as we passed along, and 
 it was sport for the skilled " Pikers " to " pop " them with 
 their whips — the " crackers " being as fatal as bullets. But 
 we were soon to see larger game than birds. About 9 o'clock, 
 while leisurely trudging along, we w^ere startled by a shout 
 which ran from head to rear of the train : " A buffalo ! A buf- 
 falo ! " In the direction indicated, we saw a dark, moving ob- 
 ject, a mile off. The wagon-master and his assistant immedi- 
 ately started in pursuit ; while we, taking matters in our own 
 hands, stopped the train to enjoy the chase, trusting that the 
 outcome would be a change from our scurvy-producing 
 bacon to buffalo steak. Mounted on little mules, armed with 
 rifles, revolvers and knives, with their heels, which nearly 
 dragged the ground, bristling with huge rattling spurs, our 
 heroes looked like Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, starting out 
 on one of their windmill storming expeditions. The buffalo 
 took the alarm when they were in rifle-shot, and galloped 
 toward the sand hills as fast as his clumsy legs would carry 
 him, closely followed by his pursuers. These fired several 
 shots after him, but he only ran the faster; and, kicking up a 
 
TO THE LAND OF THE BUFFALO. 25 
 
 Cloud Of dust Which hid him from our sight, he out-distanced 
 his pursuers, and was soon lost from view among the rtricate 
 system of hills which bounded our vision on th! south Ou 
 
 =;;::; tXs."^ '- -'-- -^ -" --^- 
 
 An hour before sunset M'e saw scattered bands of buffaloe. to 
 
 Z:LhT' ""' '"'^' ^"' ^'"'^'^^ *'-* - should ha 
 some spoit, the wagon-master allowed us to halt earlier th«n 
 
 com.,on. About a dozen of us shouldered our r fl and I' h 
 
 a few rounds of f^xed ammunition started on our buffalo hunt 
 
 As we neared the bellowing and already excited band we 
 
 par ed each man taking a different route' I picked out a big 
 
 bu 1, as a foeman worthy of my gun, and started after him^ 
 
 but he led me a weary race, and before I had a chance to 
 
 draw on hn., we were in the midst of the sand hills He wis 
 
 a cunning old fellow, and all the time, by adroit managtent 
 
 kept at a respectful distance. I, at last, got within rffle-sho 
 
 and fired but the report only frightened hL, and lie gal oped 
 
 away and was soon lost to view. Although it was now after 
 
 sunset, and I was a long distance from cam,^, I was not yet sa^s- 
 
 11 . /''"t'^' "' '''' expedition, and ramming home 
 
 another cartridge, I started after fresh game. Moving on a shorl 
 distance among the sand hills, I came across a hefd of bu 
 oiaby grazing together. Always on the watch for hurTan 
 ntruders, as these animals are, they started off in a bodv upon 
 eemg ,«e, but resting my rifle scientifically on my kne I 
 
 o the h rd dashed madly forw*«l, scared by the report, my 
 buffalo stopped ; but, alas ! for my skill as a marksman, he did 
 not drop as I wished him to, either because the ball did not 
 enter a vital part, or because he had scruples about giving "ip 
 
 t^/ZlZ 7r"'"" r' """• ' «^^^ "^-"> and^oundeS 
 ?r;t ,^ t' ? '-^^knowledgment, except to move on a 
 
 few steps, while I reloaded my rifle. Again and again did the 
 
26 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 report of my piece ring out on the air, each of which my huge 
 opponent merely acknowledged by a toss of his shaggy head, 
 or by slightly changing his position. I shot on until but one 
 cartridge was left, and then I stopped, thinking my stubborn 
 game might eventually conclude to take the part of hunter 
 himself. Some stories I had once read of wounded buffaloes 
 turning upon their pursuers and goring or trampling them to 
 death, came to my mind at this time, and at last I concluded 
 that the " world was wide enough for him and me," and to 
 return to camp. Suiting the action to the thought, I started 
 off in what I supposed was the right direction, casting an 
 occasional look backward towards the buffalo. 1 had not gone 
 far, however, before I found out I was lost. I had started on a 
 buffalo trail which I thought led to the river, but instead it 
 was leading me into difficulties. I got bewildered at last, and 
 lost the direction of our camp. Here was I, a youthful seeker 
 after adventure, far away from camp, locked amid a maze of 
 sand hills, surrounded by darkness and in danger every 
 moment of being run over by the bands of buffaloes, which were 
 now on their way to water and filling the air with low bellow- 
 ing. And what if I should come on to a stray party of 
 Cheyennes, who might want to play one of their practical 
 jokes on me? My heart jumped in my throat at the thought, 
 but I started on, and with the Polar star as my guide, I en- 
 deavored to reach the north side of the range of sand hills, 
 whence I could find my way across the valley to the Platte. 
 So I walked on through the yielding sand, in ravines and 
 over ridges, sometimes following the buffalo trails, but leaving 
 them when I thought they diverged from a right line. At 
 last, to my great joy, I saw I was nearing the edge of the hills, 
 for the abrupt knolls and ridges began to subside to broad 
 undulations, which announced the level plain beyond. But 
 where was the corral? I looked through the darkness in 
 hopes to get a glimpse of our campfire, but saw nothing. It 
 
TO THE LAND OF THE BUFFALO. 27 
 
 gave me the horrors to be thus alone in this gloomy place, 
 listening to the mutterings of moving herds, and not knowing 
 which way to go to find my transient home. I now thought 
 of my remaining cartridge, and concluding to let my com- 
 rades know ©f my whereabouts, with that I loaded and fired. 
 A moment of suspense, and it w^as answered by two or three 
 shots, and soon a blaze shot up through the darkness, by which 
 I knew my companions were directing my steps. I hurried 
 over the prairie, and soon the circle of the corral arose before 
 me, and I was among my brethren of the plains. 
 
 I admit that I was badly frightened while in that labyrinth 
 of sand hills, not knowing where camp w^as, and invisible 
 monsters bellowing all around me. My companions, who had 
 long since got in camp, knew the import of my rifle-shot 
 and, simularly answering it, built a fire for my guidance. 
 
 One of our men, w^ho was an old hunter, had shot a buf- 
 falo out towards the sand hills, and asked me to go with him 
 to get some fresh beef for supper. As dark as it was, through 
 a sort of instinct, he led the way straight to where the animal 
 lay. He was so heavy, we could hardly roll him over. Carv- 
 ing a choice cut from his flesh, we lugged it to the camp, 
 much to the delight of the thirty men who had lived on salt 
 pork long enough to get the scurvy. Still w^e soon got tired 
 of buffalo meat, as it was tough and had a strong musky odor, 
 and some of the men were made sick by the change. 
 
 The road was lined with bands of buffaloes, and the whole 
 plain between the river and sand hills was fairly black with 
 them. We saw them not by hundreds or thousands, but by 
 hundreds of acres. The main body was about a quarter of a 
 mile from us, the column near a mile in width, and extend- 
 ing parallel with the river as far either way as the eye could 
 reach. Several were grazing near the road and some came 
 close to our wagons, heedless of danger, and were constant 
 targets for our rifles. I shot one within ten yards of the 
 
28 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 wagon. How many were killed during the day I don't know ; 
 but far too many, and we at last got disgusted with the miser- 
 able sport and put our rifles away. To be sure, my first ad- 
 venture with them was quite exciting, but now so quiet were 
 they that there was no sport in firing at these harmless brutes. 
 Numbers of them, killed by parties in advance, were scattered 
 over the plain, half devoured by wolves ; and the inroad made 
 upon them by immigrants and hunters, were in thirty years to 
 drive them out of existence, except where protected. I am 
 ashamed to think that we had any part in this slaughter. 
 
 To show how near the outlying members of the large herd 
 of buffaloes which darkened the plain on the east, came to 
 our camp, I will mention that a half-grown specimen jumped 
 over one of our wagon tongues, on its road to water. Its 
 temerity was rewarded with a fatal shot. The bellowing of 
 the main body made the air tremble and frightened our cattle, 
 while a musky odor filled the air. 
 
 The hunting of these animals seemed so much like gunning 
 for cows in a barnyard, that I only mention my experience to 
 show how near I became lost while engaged in that misnamed 
 sport. 
 
 Buffaloes resemble hogs in liking to wallow in mud and 
 water. With the river in sight, when thirsty we had to drink 
 from the little ponds where they had been disporting, though 
 from its musky odor it was almost unbearable. Still it was 
 better than the alkali water we drank further on. 
 
 With the plain full of buffaloes on one side, and the island- 
 filled Platte on the other, we wearily traveled on under an 
 August sun. It was pitiful to see the suffering of the oxen, as 
 with tongues lolling out and eyes turned appealingly to the 
 brutish driver, they slowly moved along. Sometimes they 
 were lashed, beaten and overworked until they fell dead in 
 their tracks. In fifteen miles from our morning's camp we 
 stopped for the night, to the great joy of man and beast. 
 
TO THE LAND OF THE BUFFALO. 29 
 
 I was captain of guard No. 4. This meant that I had the 
 most of the work to do and got the blame for what was undone. 
 It was nice to write home that I was a " captain," even if it 
 was over a scurvy crew of four. It did to accompany the 
 other fiction that our employers would hire no one who swore 
 or drank. To be sure, the men were clear of drinking — when 
 they could get none. It pleased me to hear how particular our 
 bosses w^ere, and I so wrote ; but I never told my parents that 
 my cojnrades, with few^ exceptions, sw^ore like pirates and stole 
 what little there was to steal. At first they stole the best oxen 
 from the w^eaker drivers, when they found their merits and 
 before each one well knew his cattle ; then they would steal 
 pipes and tobacco, tinware and bow-keys, as w^ell as the w^ood, 
 got with so much labor in readiness for cooking breakfast. 
 They were a nice set, take them all around ; but there were 
 three or four, I hope the reader will believe, who did not 
 train wdtli the crowd. 
 
 I was routed out by the captain of " No. 3," suppositiously at 
 midnight, although we were sometimes defrauded of our sleep 
 by being prematurely awakened. I would be acquainted with 
 the condition of the herd, when I would awaken the rest of 
 my men and start forth to relieve the old guard. Our prede- 
 cessors had had a hard night of it to keep the cattle from being 
 incorporated with the buffaloes which were surrounding them. 
 The shaggy brutes were on their way to water from their graz- 
 ing grounds, and were making the air tremble with their ter- 
 rible roaring. In the darkness we could not tell one beast 
 from another, and we were often in danger of being run over 
 by the buffaloes which seemed to be trying to stampede our 
 herd. It was claimed that they purposely did that. One of 
 our men, " Dutch Bill," said that while on a return trip from 
 Laramie, in 1857, his train was overtaken by a snow-storm 
 near the junction of the North and South Platte. The oxen 
 were turned out to graze, but the grass was so covered with 
 snow that they half perished by starvation and cold. One day, 
 
30 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 while the rem^tinder, now scrawny skeletons, were wandering 
 around or browsing on the willows bordering the river, the 
 snow-bound men witnessed a strange sight. A band of buf- 
 faloes came floundering through the snow on the road to water, 
 after getting which they went among the oxen. The buffaloes, 
 as if commiserating their bovine neighbors, licked their faces 
 and in other ways showed their good feeling. Suddenly a low 
 bellow was heard, and in a moment the mingled band of buf- 
 faloes and oxen were moving from the river and over the sand 
 hill. The whole party disappeared from view, leaving the 
 teamsters in a sad plight: a dreary winter before them, and no 
 fuel but the willows along the river. After much suffering 
 they were relieved in the spring. 
 
 Of course we could not divert the course of the buffaloes, 
 the best we could do was to keep our cattle away from them. 
 The continued muttering of the former kept the latter restless, 
 and we were kept busy until morning in preventing the oxen 
 from wandering awa}^ We could hear through the darkness 
 the buffaloes as they jumped down the bank into the river, or 
 their bellowing as they scrambled back. We were glad when 
 the sun rose, when driving our cattle to the corral, we were 
 ready for another weary drive. 
 
 Wherever there are buffaloes there are Indians. Hitherto we 
 had only seen the tame variety hanging around the trading 
 posts, some naked from their shaved heads to their bare feet, 
 with the exception of a tribute to modesty in the shape of an 
 apron, a world too scant. In the forenoon we were favored 
 with a sight of the unadulterated article, untainted with 
 civilization, mounted on horses and brave with paint, feathers 
 and silver ornaments. They seemed friendly and shouted the 
 customary salutation of " How ! How ! " at us. Not to be be- 
 hind in courtesy we also said " How !" Their chief wants here 
 below were whisky and tobacco, in which they showed a great 
 resemblance to the noble white man. They traveled with us 
 awhile and then galloped away. 
 
^^ ■ J^%.^*%^p^^ - 
 
 ^&9)W\ 
 
 
 m^ 
 
 III. 
 
 (A ©a^ on tFie pPairiA, 
 
 LEVEL valley, miles in width; a broad river, full of 
 wooded islands, and shallows, and rippling currents ; 
 in the far distance low ranges of interminable hills; 
 a circle of white covered wagons, with the embers of campfires 
 dimly glowing in their midst. This is the scene, but the 
 central object, our camp, only is visible, for the light of morning 
 has not yet come. 
 
 It is the dawn of a warm summer's day. Between the hard 
 bed, the heat and musquitoes, a restless night has been passed, 
 tired and needful of repose as you have been ; but as daj^ight 
 approaches, a deep sleep comes over you. Suddenly you hear a 
 thumping on the side of the sheeted wagon, accompanied with 
 cries of ^'Eoll out ! Roll out !" and words unmentionable added 
 thereto. This is the reveille of the plains, and the performer 
 is the assistant wagon-master of the train ; the musical instru- 
 ments are his lungs and a detached ox-bow. The sounds travel 
 around the circle of wagons until not a driver is slighted. 
 Drowsily you roll on your bed of hard bags of flour and try to 
 think you imagine the sounds and can sleep longer, but no, 
 they are realit}^ 
 
 A rushing sound is heard. It is the tread of our herd of 
 over three hundred oxen, just being driven from their night's 
 grazing grounds. There are the blowing of breaths, the clatter 
 
 (31) 
 
32 
 
 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 of striking horns, and the petulant cries of the night guard, 
 weary with loss of sleep and keeping the restless cattle closed 
 up, that the watchful Indian might not break in and steal. 
 Persistent drumming on the wagon, and entreaties of the bullies 
 and cursings of the weaklings of the train, and the evolving 
 process indicated by the initial cries of the wagon-master is 
 consummated, and the sleepy drivers stand, ox-yoke on shoul- 
 der, a bow in one hand and bow-key in teeth, ready for work. 
 
 The Corral. 
 
 The last of the straggling herd is now in, and the voice of 
 the wagon-master, hoarse from yesterday's shouting at men 
 and oxen, yells " Yoke up ! " Then comes a scene of noise and 
 confusion of from ten to thirty minutes, according to the alac- 
 rity of the men. 
 
 In our train there are a wagon-master, an assistant, two ex- 
 tras, to help in different places, or take the place of sick or in- 
 
A DAY OX THE PLAINS. 33 
 
 jured, and twenty-six drivers — thirty in all. There are three 
 hundred and twelve oxen, besides some spare ones, often broken 
 down. There are twenty-six wagons, divided into two wings — 
 the right and left. As the leading teams have advantages, 
 these wings alternate in starting. In bad roads the head 
 wagons get over the difficult spots an hour or two before those 
 in the rear, and as the drivers often fail to reciprocate favors, 
 they go on and leave the last to get along the best they can, 
 with the help of the extras, or those behind. The favorites of 
 the wagon-masters — neighbors or old comrades of the plains — 
 get the leadership and the pick of the cattle, while the rest 
 put up with the leavings. The men are portioned off in four 
 messes of six or seven, the cooks not having to guard or herd 
 at night, or at the noon halts. The men are divided in five 
 guards, so their watches will vary from before to after mid- 
 night, as their turns come, though sometimes they stand all 
 night. The last, though making the duty rarer, was a great 
 hardship, when after a hard day's work we went supperless to 
 an all night's guard, after driving the cattle into the river to 
 drink. 
 
 When stopping, the train is placed in two semi-circles, one on 
 either side of the road, as a protection against Indians and to form 
 a corral to hold the oxen while yoking them up. The wagons are 
 narrow tired, weigh eighteen hundred pounds, and carry fifty- 
 four hundred. They are covered with double sheets and pro- 
 vided with chain-locks. The cook's wagon has a mess-box on 
 behind to carry our Dutch oven, skillet and tin plates, and rem- 
 nant of meals. A half-barrel for water is hung on the end of the 
 guide pole. In the oven is baked saleratus-raised bread, that 
 comes out of it as yellow as sponge cake and unfit to eat. In 
 the skillet our bacon is fried, and in the surplus fat dough is 
 boiled and christened " fat cakes." Our fuel, if we are fortunate 
 enough to camp by timber, is the dry est branches we can find, 
 but in certain districts we used " buffalo chips." This last was 
 
34 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 not repulsive., only by association, and I have seen " Pikers " 
 roasting hoe cakes in their embers, with mouths a-water. 
 " Pikers " and Missourians were synonymous. 
 
 Our train was No. 54 ; how many followed I do not know. 
 They, as well as hundreds of others, were owned by Eussel, 
 Majors and Waddell, government contractors, a part of which 
 firm embezzled hundreds of thousands of dollars of Indian 
 trust funds at the outbreak of the civil war. We were carry- 
 ing army supplies to Salt. Lake for the soldiers sent out under 
 Albert Sydney Johnston (who was killed at Shiloh) for the sup- 
 pression of the Mormon Rebellion. Twenty cents per pound 
 was the rate of freight, though when we got out there the 
 troubles were over, and the Government bought all the flour 
 wanted for $5.00 per hundred. Our train, when in close order, 
 was a half mile long, but it often reached from one to three 
 miles. On our way we overtook a train whose, men had mu- 
 tinied against the wagon-master, and this afterwards traveled 
 with us, making our train twice the above length. The wagon- 
 masters and extras rode horses, the drivers all walked, as it 
 was impossible otherwise to keep the oxen to their work. 
 
 The cattle, on account of the immense demand, were mainly 
 unbroken. We aimed to get two good Missouri oxen for 
 wheelers and leaders, size being required for the former and 
 intelligence for the latter. The next grade were the " pointers," 
 which were hooked next the tongue. Between these and the 
 leaders were the " swing," composed of the " scallawags " — the 
 weak, lazy and unbroken. To show how few stood the twelve 
 hundred miles journey, I will state that but two of my twelve got 
 through, the rest having died or given out from time to time. 
 They were replaced by others from returning trains, or by the 
 best in what we called our " calf yard," or loose cattle. This was 
 a corruption of the Spanish word caballada, although the 
 "Pikers" did not know it, and, in fact, did not bother them- 
 selves about its origin, as " calf yard " seemed the natural term 
 
A DAY OX THE PLAINS. 35 
 
 for a troop of oxen. About half the men were Missourians, the 
 rest odds and ends of human driftwood, floating around Kan- 
 sas, waiting for some eddying current to draw them in. Some 
 of these were lazy and worthless, and imposed additional bur- 
 dens upon the willing ones. They were paid twenty-six dollars 
 per month and found, and were furnished with " outfits " of 
 blankets and clothing at starting, which was charged up to 
 them. About the first night out the term " found " would not 
 apply to some of them, for they ran away and were "lost to 
 sight," though to the memory of their employers dear. 
 
 The wagons, on account of unseasoned timber being used in 
 their make, were a source of much trouble. Only four of our 
 twenty-six went through. Sometimes we would have to take 
 the wheels ofi" at our noon rests and soak them in the river. 
 Those with wooden axles ran easier than those of iron. Many 
 of the wagons were made East and sent to Kansas by New 
 Orleans. 
 
 I left our men some time back yoking up. At the command 
 each man starts with a rush for his "off-wheeler." To pick him 
 out of a herd of over three hundred excited oxen is a diffi- 
 cult job. They must be yoked seriatim, so that no matter how 
 many of the other eleven you see, you must get that particu- 
 lar one. Tearing through the surging mass, for you are some- 
 times on a race, the " off ox " at last is found, one end of 
 the yoke attached, with more or less trouble, and he is pulled 
 and driven to the rear of your wagon which, like all the rest, 
 is towards the centre of the corral. Then you run around 
 among the herd after the "nigh-wheeler," which after much 
 tribulation is found and driven up and yoked to his mate. 
 These are then taken outside and put to the tongue. The 
 next to find are the leaders, which, when yoked, are chained 
 to the wheels, when the rest are brought up in order and the 
 five yokes chained together, every ox and yoke in its regular 
 place. The men first mark their oxen that they may know 
 
36 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 them, but they soon recognize them alL AVe once yoked up 
 and were ready to start in five minutes. Sometimes the lasso 
 would have to be used to catch the wild Texas oxen, but they 
 soon were so broken down that they were all tame enough. 
 
 Each man furnished himself from the " outfit " house with 
 woolen blankets, clothing and, if he could afford it, a gum 
 blanket or overcoat. The company furnished him with a rifle, 
 revolver and ammunition, which were not given out until we 
 arrived among hostile Indians. I am thankful to add that we 
 never had an excuse to use these for the purpose intended, 
 although a party of hostiles alarmed us one night by coming 
 within a few hundred yards of us and giving some defiant 
 war-whoops. It was so dark we could not see them, and in 
 the morning there was no trace of them, and I was mighty 
 glad of it. 
 
 We are now ready to start. Each driver with a cruel whip 
 stands by the side of his wheelers, while the wagon-master 
 and " extras," mounted on mules or horses, revolver at belt 
 and clattering spur at heel, are grouped by the leading wagon. 
 The command of '' Eoll on " is given, and one after the other 
 the wagons start out and the train is in motion, crawling like 
 a Saurian monster over the prairie. What a half hour ago 
 was a white circle, as silent as death, is now resonant with 
 shouts and oaths and, uncoiled, is leaving its resting place far 
 behind. 
 
 The best teams in the train were the first and fourteenth, 
 which alternated in leading. Being picked cattle and having 
 no heavier loads to haul than the poor ones, they generally 
 made a good appearance, so that our line of march was always 
 best foot foremost. 
 
 When in a timber country the breaking of an axle or tongue 
 did not much disconcert us, as we could replace them. But 
 when we got out of the hard-wood region along the Platte, it 
 was different. Then we would abandon the broken wagon 
 
A DAY OX THE PLAINS. 
 
 37 
 
38 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 and divide the load and team among others. This was only 
 adding more trouble, only to be remedied when an empty 
 train was met, when we made exchanges both of wagons and 
 oxen. 
 
 In the journey to Salt Lake we averaged about eight miles 
 a day, which would have been more had we not lost much 
 time by desertions and bad roads at the start. The drivers, on 
 account of so much moving back and forth to keep the lazy 
 oxen up to their work, traveled half as much farther. The 
 free cattle were soon broken down and left dead on the road, 
 or to recuperate in the "calf yard," so that many left behind 
 were lazy and cunning. These would only work when the 
 driver was at their sides, urging them with word and whip. 
 
 The oxen were badly used generally. The poor beasts 
 seemed to have a human sense of wrong, and I have seen 
 their sorrowful eyes full of tears under abuse. The old drivers 
 were skilled in the use of their whips — some with lashes over 
 five yards long — and took delight in marking the backs of 
 their cattle ; while others, who were not so accomplished, 
 jDounded and kicked them without mercy, and even more 
 cruelly used them. To call these semblances of humanity 
 brutes, would be a libel on the four-footed race. To make the 
 exhausted oxen pull, some of these drivers would not stop 
 short of breaking a tail, staving in a rib, or even gouging out 
 an eye. I grew sick at their heartless doings, but was power- 
 less to avert them. The thousands of carcasses of oxen which 
 lined our trail showed how hard was their usage. 
 
 The road for awhile is good, and we are making two miles 
 an hour. On account of the miry places we keep away from 
 the Platte, which, with its many islands, is plainly visible on 
 one side, while on the other is a maze of sand hills. At last 
 we come to a " slough," or swampy creek, and here trouble 
 begins. The wheels sink to their hubs, the team stalls, and 
 
A DAY OX THE PLAINS. 
 
 39 
 
 then come lively times. The caravan telegraph is then put 
 in operation. The driver of the luckless team shouts to the 
 one ahead, "Hold on ! " which in our train is equivalent to 
 " down brakes." These words are carried from mouth to 
 mouth, until they reach the head wagon, where the wagon- 
 master is always riding, looking for bad crossings and fixing 
 plans for their remedy. This functionary gallops back to the 
 scene of disaster, while the train halts until further orders. 
 He gets the " extras," who are experts with the whip, to lash 
 
 The S Straightens to an /. 
 
 the oxen, while strong arms are at the wheels. The men 
 yell, the oxen pull to their utmost, the whips crack like so 
 many pistols, and the wagon creaks, but all in vain. Another 
 team is added and' another effort made, but in vain. 
 Others are supplemented, until twenty yokes are floundering 
 in the mud in their efforts to move one wagon, but they only 
 sink it deeper. Finally the last resort is made. A part of 
 
40 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 the earth is spaded away front of the wheels, the wagon is partly 
 unloaded, and the long, double file of oxen, almost exhausted 
 by their previous efforts, is placed in the shape of the letter 
 S. The wagon must now come or the tongue pull out. Again 
 the whips fly, the wheel men tug, the drivers shout, and the 
 S straightens to an I with a semblance to a " sickening thud." 
 A moment of suspense and the wheels slowly raise from their 
 deep imbedment, and the wagon moves to dry land. The suc- 
 ceeding wagons move over a more judiciously selected route, 
 and at the shout " Roll on ! " the leading wagons are on their 
 way. 
 
 From the hardships we went through one would suppose that 
 our noon halts would be wholly for rest, but such would not 
 always be the case. Quarrels would ensue on the drive, or 
 when in difficulties, the lie would be given, or vile epithets 
 used. Then would follow threats of a " licking " at the noon 
 corral. At the latter verbal hostilities would be continued, 
 when cries of " Fight it out !" would come from the unkempt 
 crowd attracted to the spot. The disputants would be two mad 
 Missourians, perhaps, big, dirty and long-haired. Obeying the 
 command, at it they would go like a brace of giants. It was 
 kick and strike — whether above or below the belt, no matter — 
 and gouge and pull hair, until one or the other howled enough. 
 These doings were so natural a sequence to our mode of life 
 that no one was shocked at them, particularly as the contest- 
 ants soon " made up." Despite their brutishness there was a 
 grotesqueness about the affair, which excites a smile even at 
 this late day. There seemed the necessity of a vent for the 
 combative nature of these rugged fellows, and these fights 
 furnished it. 
 
 The fight is over, our dinners finished, and the herds, their 
 appetites satisfied also, driven in and yoked up ; we are again 
 on our way. The roads, perhaps, are good, and the afternoon 
 
A DAY ON THE PLAINS. 41 
 
 passes monotonously along. The western sun, as it nears the 
 horizon, blinds us with its rays ; but as this is an indication 
 that the period of night camp is approaching, we can tolerate 
 it. We anxiously watch the lead team, to see it turn from 
 its course and start the corral. When this comes, how glad 
 we are, and one after the other twenty-six wagons are formed 
 in a protecting circle. And now, all being in readiness, the 
 command " unyoke " is given, and in five minutes three 
 hundred oxen are loosened and, under charge of the night 
 guard, taken to water and grass. The men in camp now pre- 
 pare for supper. The rations of flour, pork and coffee are got 
 from the cook's wagon, but no sugar, as that has been wasted 
 or stolen to trade to the Indians. The cook begins to mix his 
 flour and water into dough and manipulate the other raw 
 provender; a detail, unwilling albeit, having started off for 
 wood and water. Sometimes the men are so tired that rather 
 then make the exertions necessary to supper, they eat raw 
 meat, or remnants of the day's dinner, and wearily crawl into 
 their beds. 
 
 The wood was generally green and a fire difficult to make. 
 To bake bread we needed live coals to put on our Dutch oven^ 
 when that was too much trouble, we would fry dough in the- 
 salty drippings of bacon — a scurvy' dish. Sometimes we- 
 would have flapjacks. To turn these required a dexterous 
 twist of the long- handled skillet, whereby the cake could be 
 turned and landed right side up without touching it. The 
 acme of perfection in making this product was for the cook to 
 throw up the "jack" and run around the wagon and catch it 
 — the "jack " — as it came down. I never saw this done. The 
 water was sometimes carried, or " packed," a quarter of a 
 mile. I did not know what to make of the word " pack " at 
 first. My initial job was to help brand cattle at Fort Leaven- 
 worth, where I was told to " pack " the red hot irons from the 
 furnace to the " brander." I thought I was to pack the irons 
 3 
 
42 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 in a box, but it did not take the " boss " long to make me 
 understand what he meant. The half-barrel we used had a 
 handle to it, through which at first we put a " porter," and two 
 carried it ; but we afterwards got so strong that one would 
 shoulder it full of water and carry it to camp alone. 
 
 At last our rations are getting ready for the " table," the 
 latter being, in a general way, the ground. The camp kettle, 
 filled with water for our coffee, is on the fire, which the cook 
 is swearing at in a very unlady-like way, as, with sleeves rolled 
 up to the elbow, the tenacious dough is kneaded and a general 
 supervision extended over the cookery. One of us, with a 
 cofFeemill between his knees, is powdering the fragrant Rio ; 
 another is frying with skill more or less artistic our scurvy- 
 producing bacon ; and the third, whom all save the cook is 
 continually enjoining to be saving of the fuel, is tending the 
 stubborn fire, while the rest of the mess are taking alternate 
 smokes from one pipe owned by the crowd. At last the 
 coffee is pronounced boiled, the bacon done brown and the 
 cook has either a lot of saleratus bread, " fat cakes," or " flap- 
 jacks" in readiness. Then he warbles " Grub pile," and we all 
 get to work. Seated like Turks with our table beneath us, 
 and our motto " fingers w^ere made before forks," we go to 
 work, dipping our cups in the common kettle and shredding 
 our meat with our teeth, and dispensing with the effeminacy 
 of butter-knives for the reason that we have no butter. 
 Supper over, pipes are relighted for a social smoke, and we try 
 to enjoy ourselves, while we thank our stars we are not on 
 guard, as we listen to the cries of the distant herders and 
 pity the poor fellows from our comfortable situations, hardly 
 thinking in a few hours we will be routed out to replace them. 
 
 Watches, whereby the herders might determine wdien to call 
 the next guard, which came on at midnight, were a rarity in 
 our train. Mine was of the open-face variety and was full- 
 jeweled. It was the northern sky and the hour hand was the 
 
A DAY ON THE PLAINS. 43 
 
 Great Bear or " Dipper." When I was weary with a hard 
 day's march, how slow it moved around the pivotal North 
 Star? How glad was I when the extreme point of the 
 " Dipper " pointed to midnight's noon, when I would go to the 
 corral, some times a half mile off, and arouse our sleepy suc- 
 cessors. These would after a while make their appearance 
 through the dark air, often vowing that my watch was not 
 right and that they had been called too early. I am afraid 
 they were sometimes right in their suspicions. 
 
 Our cook was called " Black Bill." He was not a negro, 
 but a dark-featured Caucasian with full lips. He detested the 
 name, but it stuck to him. His duties exempted him from 
 night guard, but his office was a thankless one, for he had 
 to scold the men to make them get w^ood and water, and was 
 growled at for his cookery. Once or twice he left his work, 
 but his successors did so badly that we coaxed him back and 
 used him better. 
 
 Once, after a hard night on guard, I concluded to take the 
 cook's situation myself. The growls of the mess and a 
 haggardness which showed through the tan and dirt shroud- 
 ing their faces soon, however, relegated me back to my proper 
 place. 
 
 For awhile after supper we sit around the embers of our 
 fire, some listlessly dozing, some thinking of the past or 
 speculating on the future, others listening to the talk of more 
 wide-awake comrades, not very edifying at the most. 
 
 Just now it is about the buffalo, and how many each one 
 had shot, or what kind of oxen they would make, and whether 
 the herd would stampede our cattle to-night, how they liked 
 the meat, etc. In general, the conversation ran on the day's 
 doings, but sometimes tough yarns, embodying the experience 
 of old teamsters, took up the time. 
 
 Let me say something about our motley crew. I did not 
 
44 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 \ 
 
 have an autograph album along, and, therefore, can do little 
 towards giving the " signs manual " of my comrades, and if I 
 had, it would have been as full of crosses as a penitential 
 monk. 
 
 The wagon-master was William Taylor, who was not a bad 
 sort of a fellow, being as good to his men as was practicable un- 
 der the circumstances. Cy. Conners, his assistant, was abusive 
 and tyrannical until he had his bad points knocked out of 
 him. We found a fellow along the roadside one day, suffer- 
 ing with the chills. He had been, according to his story, 
 heartlessly left there by the wagon-master of a train just 
 ahead, but the chances were he was a deserter. We took 
 charge of him, and he was soon able to work, but was the butt 
 of the corral, and was abused by Conners in particular. One 
 day, after tyrannizing over this man whose name was Don- 
 nelly, the assistant gave him a term which he might as well 
 have shortened and called him a dog. It is claimed that a 
 worm will turn when trod on, but Donnelly would do more 
 than this, so he dared Conners to fistic combat in the arena, 
 formed by our corral at noon. The challenge was accepted, 
 and at the time specified the aff'air came off. It is no credit 
 to our refinement, but we enjoyed the, sport, especially when at 
 the supreme moment the assistant, who could only fight in a 
 sort of cat and dog style, went under from a scientific knock 
 from Donnelly. He was much larger than his adversary, but 
 he had to " holler enough," when he was let up. He was 
 cowed down by the humble " bull-whacker's " beating, and 
 had but little authority thereafter, in fact, so much so I pitied 
 the fellow. Donnelly was quite set up by the affair, and 
 bullied around a little in his turn, until one day, on the prin- 
 ciple that " fleas have other fleas to bite 'em," a little Irish- 
 man, called " U. S.," resented his doings by giving him a 
 punishment he long remembered ; for he bit him in the man- 
 ner of a dog, and in other ways fought him until he was 
 humiliated as much as was poor Conners. 
 
A DAY ON THE PLAINS. 45 
 
 Then there was " Phil " — last name never heard of — one of 
 the " extras," whose highest ambition was to be a wagon-master 
 some day. He was a good ox-driver, and could release a 
 " stuck " team with skill. '' Phil " called whip " hoop," and 
 was a great hand to sit around the campfire of the elite mess, 
 that is where the officials fed, and tell about his day's 
 experience ; how he made a certain team " get up and haul," 
 and he would ask the wagon-master if he " minded " how a 
 certain " ofF-wheeler " buckled down to it when he began to skin 
 him with his " hoop," and the action of certain other cattle 
 when under his leathern stimulant. Then there was Johnson, 
 a big, fine looking fellow, who was the wheelwright of the 
 train, and " Kaintuck," and " Yank," a New Yorker. I will 
 also name "Missouri Bill" as about the greatest swearer I 
 ever heard. If I could imagined he read, I would class 
 " Tristram Shandy " among his perusals, for his maledictus sit 
 included nearly every part of the poor ox under dissection, the 
 " melt " being his particular objective point. When his team 
 got fast he would stamp and rave and swear until, if there was 
 a possibility of his bluing the air, his oaths would have 
 furnished the indigo. All swearers are fools, but he seemed 
 the king of them. Yet, 'for all, when in his cool moments he 
 was a good sort of a chap. Then there was Fisher, a lazy fel- 
 low, with a face in a chronic state of grime. He was harm- 
 less, so that whenever a coward wanted to show his mettle, he 
 would provoke him to a retort and then kick him. 
 
 Fisher had once lived among the Pottowattomies, where he 
 had been, in a measure, adopted by the tribe. He would often 
 sit around the campfire and commence to narrate some of his 
 experience of Indian life, but he was so lazy that his snoring 
 voice, which was a soporific of itself, would cease in the middle 
 of a story through sheer weariness of the vocal cliords. Still 
 we would be so nearly put to sleep ourselves, that we would 
 hardly notice the cessation. There was another fellow, a 
 
46 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 messmate of mine, I am sorry to say, named Bill Casey, who 
 often told us how he had promised his little brother to bring 
 him home an " Injun's skulp." But no one's teeth chattered 
 livelier than his one night when we were given ammunition for 
 an expected attack from a party of Cheyennes. There was 
 " Irish John," with murder in his heart when angry, and an 
 old Indian campaigner with General Harney ; and " Dutch 
 John," with a Russian face, a fearful temper and a flow of 
 German oaths; and "Dutch Bill," yet a boy, but who had 
 been on a winter-bound train the year before, when, with 
 cattle frozen or stampeded, the time until spring was passed 
 on the plains. When in his German home, he lived on the 
 borders of the Black Forest, and he sometimes entertained me 
 with narrations of his adventures in that famed wilderness. 
 Another, with the prefix "Dutch," was "Charley" — surname, 
 as usual, unknown — who owned a claim in Kansas, but who 
 joined us when we were short of men when passing his farm. 
 In some of our troublous times, and we had plenty of them, he 
 would doubly curse the day he joined us, and cry like a 
 Banshee for the wife and baby he had left on the shore of 
 the Big Blue. He was a freethinker and argumentator, and 
 when in the mood, he would make the air ring with his 
 excited talk. As he was barely understandable in his calm 
 moments, he spoke no English when excited. Then there 
 was "Whisky Bill," so termed for his fondness for the 
 adjective ; there was Bentley, a deserter from the regulars, 
 who hid or disguised himself when near a fort or when near- 
 ing a camp of soldiers. Another was " Dutch Joe," formerly a 
 Mississippi steamboatman, in which calling he had learned 
 any amount of profanity and irreligion, and yet at night, 
 around our campfires, he would unctiously sing pathetic 
 songs, the stock specimen being, " When My Old Mother and 
 I Did Part," which, full of good sentiment, got to be as 
 wearisome a song as "The Child in the Grave With Its 
 
A DAY ON THE PLAINS. 47 
 
 Mother," as reiterated by one of Mark Twain's characters. 
 He professed to believe in neither God nor a future existence, 
 and yet the night we forded the Platte, when from exposure 
 he thought he was about to die, he howled like a coward for 
 fear of death. But this was nothing new in my experience 
 on the plains. The greatest blatherskites in sneering at death 
 and religion, were the most grovelling cravens when the last 
 hour seemed imminent. There were others who are still in 
 my memory, but I have mentioned enough to show what 
 manner of men I traveled with. Our mess had a full share 
 of these, among whom I name Fisher, Casey and "Irish John." 
 
 The night is wearing on. The men, tired with their day's 
 toil and with listening to the evening talk, are one by one 
 crawling into their wagons to get their needed sleep. Our 
 mess is on guard to-night and should have retired long since. 
 We get into our blankets, and, for awhile kept awake by 
 thoughts of the past or speculations on the future, we are in 
 the mysterious land of dreams. 
 
 I have given a sample of our experience on the plains for 
 a period of eighteen weeks, our hardships increasing as we 
 advanced among the mountains and pasture became scarce. 
 Then at nights we would have to drive the oxen across the 
 river to graze, preceding trains having eaten up the pasture 
 on the near side. We would ride the oxen over, if practicable, 
 while the horsemen urged them on, but we would have to 
 spend the night in wet clothing. How we kept our health 
 through it all I cannot understand, but it did not materially 
 suffer. 
 
 An incident we occasionally experienced, and which was a 
 pleasing one, was the meeting of the mail stage, or being 
 passed by the same on its western way. The vehicle itself 
 was a cumbrous affair, and was known by the " Pikers" as an 
 " avalanche," which was as near as they could be expected 
 
48 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 to come to " ambulance." Those who had any sentiment 
 about them could imagine the hopes and fears enveloped in 
 the leathern mail bag on the way to cheer or sadden, unless 
 nipped by the killing frost of train robbery. Plain, matter- 
 of-fact fellows saw a wagon with six mules on the trot, or 
 gallop when possible, clouded with dust or wading in splash- 
 ing mud. 
 
 And now the Kansas prairies, then virgin, over which we so 
 slowly traveled, are covered with farms and villages. The 
 watchful house-dog replaces the howling wolf. The bellowing 
 buffalo, which darkened his pasturage, has made way for 
 herds of cattle, the marauding Indian for the useful 
 farmer. The children of the ignoble red men I saw, instead 
 of practicing with their mimic bows and arrows on rabbits 
 or prairie dogs, or shooting pennies from stakes for the amuse- 
 ment of flush palefaces, are learning agriculture from 
 Eastern farmers, and successfully, too. Where the ox-train 
 moved at the rate of ten or fifteen miles per da}^, trains of 
 another kind travel six hundred. Where the emigrant plodded 
 his weary way, thousands of excursionists annually flock to 
 California. Colorado, which we traversed a desert wilderness, 
 is now a prosperous state, its seeming barrenness reclaimed by 
 irrigation, and its repulsive mountains teeming with precious 
 metals. The city of Denver had not been located. 
 
 With all these changes I can hardly realize what a country 
 I passed through thirty years ago. 
 
IV. 
 
 oKPong tfie pPaffe fo iJorf "baramie. 
 
 NTIL the 8th our course was through the buffalo 
 country, but we were now beyond it, though a few 
 outlying stragglers from the main herd might be 
 seen. We encamped at night near the river, which was here a 
 mile in width, and filled with sandy islands covered with a tan- 
 gled growth of willow and cotton-wood. At midnight our watch 
 was called out to relieve the other which had left the herd to 
 take care of itself. Before we reached the pasturage we heard a 
 noise which came to our ears ominously. It was the herd stam- 
 peding for the river. Plunge ! Plunge ! one after another we 
 heard the oxen dropping into the water from the bank and 
 making for the opposite shore. Splash ! Splash ! we could 
 hear them, as we pulled off our boots and coats and ran after 
 them. In the water and quicksands, over sand-bars and 
 through tangled islets we labored along, filling the air with 
 yells in our efforts to arrest the progress of the oxen, which, 
 under the guidance of a mischievous Texan, were determinedly 
 moving on. By great efforts we at last so gained on the 
 column as to reach the head oxen, and these we switched on 
 to the back track by severe clubbings. The main herd followed 
 them, and we at last got the runaways back, and in our wet 
 clothes guarded them until morning. One would think that 
 after a hard day's work the cattle would be glad to lie down 
 
 (49) 
 
50 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 after eating, but they sometimes seemed endowed with the 
 demon of unrest, and wasted their strength with senseless 
 wanderings, and thus, sleepy and tired as we were, brought 
 us additional hardships. 
 
 But there were times when a halo of sentiment covered the 
 surroundings. This was in the small hours of the night, and 
 when the oxen, tired and with their hunger satisfied, lay down 
 in groups around us. The full moon which was high overhead 
 showed the broad island-dotted Platte with its divided channels 
 sparkling in its soft light. From the shore the plain broadened 
 till it met the far-off hills, beyond w^hich there w^as no trace 
 of civilization, no animal life for hundreds of miles, but of 
 Indians and wild beasts. Dimly gleaming from the prairie 
 was our corral, its circle of sheeted wagons showing like a 
 patriarchal encampment of far away times. The sounds we 
 heard w^ere hushed, the lowing of distant buffaloes, the howl- 
 ing of wolves, the barking of their coyote brethern, or the 
 voices of predatory night birds, coming to us wierdly and faintly. 
 Now and then came a deep sigh from one of the reclining herd, 
 as he, perhaps, thought of the wrongs inflicted on him the 
 previous day. The surroundings induced meditation, and my 
 thoughts would revert to my far-away home and the loved 
 ones there ; and I wondered how I ever came to lead such a 
 life among people like my associates, whose ways were so 
 uncongenial and generally repulsive. 
 
 M}^ reclining position, the hushed, far-awa}^ sounds, the pro- 
 pinquity of so much sleep as was massed in the somnolent 
 beasts about me, the influences of night, one or all, would 
 make me drowsy in spite of the responsibility resting upon 
 me, when I would instinctively arouse with a start to find 
 the late quiescent herd in commotion, and stringing across the 
 plain in the wake of some mischief making leader. The rest 
 of the night guard had been caught napping, and then would 
 be trouble till dawn keeping the cattle together. 
 
ALONG THE PLATTE TO FOET LAEAMIE. 
 
 51 
 
52 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 The mile-wide river with its sand-bars, low shores and dis- 
 tant sand hills called to mind a picture I once saw of the river 
 Nile, with the full moon gleaming above it. My unleashed fancy 
 increased the resemblance. 'The lone cotton-woods were trans- 
 formed to tufted palms from their positions on shore or island. 
 I evolved the pyramids from the hazy outlines of distant sand 
 hills ; the sheeted wagons turned to an Arab encampment, the 
 sleeping oxen to couchant camels, and for Bedouins of the 
 desert I could choose between my comrades and the Indians 
 encamped near by, and present about as Ishmaelitic a gang as 
 the valley of Father Nile was ever afflicted with. 
 
 On the 6th of August we came to a timberless reach, and 
 heavy rains having spoiled our ^^bois-de-vache^^ or buffalo- 
 wood — as the French politely termed our usual fuel — we halted 
 for a half a day to procure some real wood. This w^e got by 
 wading to neighboring islands, axe in hand, and felling the 
 dryest timber we could find. Cut in convenient lengths, we 
 would "pack" it ashore and through a thicket of matted 
 willows to our wagons. Those who thought this too much 
 trouble, eked out a supply by stealing it from their provident 
 comrades and then boasted about it, as they did of appropriat- 
 ing yokes, bow-keys, cooking utensils and other necessaries of 
 life on the plains. 
 
 We reached Grant's Camp at noon on the 12th. This is a 
 fine camping place, near the bluff's, and about three miles from 
 the river, and is supplied with a spring of excellent water 
 gushing out from the bottom of a deep ravine. Hardly had 
 we coralled before a body of mounted Indians rode up, whom 
 we found to be the braves of a Sioux village, now changing 
 its locality, for looking back we saw stretching along the plain 
 and advancing toward our camp a long moving column, which 
 as it neared us, presented a rather grotesque appearance. 
 There were about a hundred persons appertaining to this port- 
 able village. The squaws were dragging their heavily laden 
 
ALONG THE PLATTE TO FORT LARAMIE. 53 
 
 ponies after them ; while the old men, children and dogs were 
 scattered along the line of march, some of the latter drawing 
 loads as well as their equine companions. The Indian mode 
 of transporting baggage from one place to another is to attach 
 the ends of two or three lodge poles to each side of the pon}^ 
 by leathern thongs, leaving the other ends to drag upon the 
 ground. Their provisions, tents, skins, etc., are strapped to 
 these poles, above which we may often see projecting the black 
 heads of the papooses, who appear to enjoy their ride. The 
 dogs with their loads trot along after the ponies, their tongues 
 out, and seemingly in the best possible humor. These have 
 the greatest aversion to the whites, and will fly on them in an 
 instant unless restrained by their owners. As soon as the 
 squaws arrived with the baggage, they commenced unpacking 
 it, after which they pitched their tents, their lazy, dignified 
 lords looking quietly on with pipe in mouth. The squaws are 
 subject to the most abject servitude, and are obliged to perform 
 all the labor. 
 
 While we were encamped together at Grant's Camp I em- 
 ployed my leisure time in visiting our neighbors. The lodges, 
 which are some twelve feet in height and ten in diameter, are 
 formed by a number of poles meeting together at the top in 
 the shape of a pyramid, over which is put a covering of buffalo 
 hide ; an aperture being left in the top for the purpose of the 
 smoke escaping. In warm weather the cover of the tent is 
 raised to some distance from the ground, so that the air circu- 
 lating through them makes them pleasant summer habitations. 
 On entering the lodges, which I did sans ccremonie, I found 
 them filled with a heterogeneous mixture of squaws, children, 
 papooses and dogs, seated or lying around, the former busily 
 engaged in making moccasons, or in the tanning of skins. 
 The mixed population hardly noticed me, except the dogs, 
 which, from their hiding places into which they had retreated 
 on my entrance, showed their ivory in a menacing manner. 
 
54 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 I did not remain long, driven out less by the cool reception 
 I met with than by the rank odor that pervaded the lodges. 
 The " Indian smell," which impregnates everything they have 
 around them, is peculiarly disagreeable ; wild animals are 
 particularly sensitive to it and are thrown into the keenest 
 alarm when it is within " nose-shot." Our visits were returned 
 by the Indians with interest, lord and vassal crowding around 
 our campfires, either for the purpose of showing their friend- 
 ship or stealing bacon (which they all have a failing for), I 
 don't know which. The captains or chiefs would not con- 
 descend to notice any but the officers of the train. Squatted 
 around in a circle, the pipe of peace was passed around with 
 great ceremony by the worthy council formed by the officers 
 and the swarthy " chieftains brave and bold." It was amusing 
 to see the Indians drawing the essence from the narcotic 
 stowed away in the bowls of their curiously fashioned pipes. 
 Putting the stems to their lips with all the gravity imaginable 
 they would fill their mouths w^ith smoke, which they would 
 slowly exhale through their well-schooled nostrils, as if bent 
 on extracting all the good qualities it contained from it. 
 While this extempore council was engaged in its solemn 
 sitting, the remaining Indians were lounging around our 
 messes, begging and stealing whenever they were unobserved. 
 One of our wagons being broken down, we were obliged to 
 repair it here. After taking out the freight, part of which was 
 composed of crackers destined for Laramie, we found the bot- 
 tom of the body covered with crumbs, mixed with about an 
 equal proportion of dirt. Calling up the squaws and children, 
 who came flocking around like so many hens and chickens, 
 we commenced scattering this rather dubious manna over the 
 ground. Hardl}^ had the mixture reached the earth ere it 
 was surrounded by a group of " anxious seekers," who gobbled 
 it up instanter, and then watched eagerly to see where the 
 next supply would fall. To see this agile pack of wretches 
 
ALONG THE PLATTE TO FORT LARAMIE. 55 
 
 running hither and thither, sometimes with faces turned 
 heavenward in anxious expectation, at others, down on their 
 knees scrambling for the precious morsels that fell around 
 them, all screaming and chattering like so many parrots, was 
 a sight to move the risibles of a stoic ; and laughter long and 
 deep resounded from the bystanders. The lordly " bucks " 
 standing around seemed to enjoy the scene as much as our- 
 selves, although their manifestations of delight were not so 
 open. 
 
 Before we left the camp we had the pleasure of seeing the 
 Indians on a buffalo hunt. While they were lounging around 
 the corral after dinner, a squaw came running up from the 
 village with the information that a buffalo was in sight. The 
 features of the Indians, which a moment before were stolid 
 and vacant, were now full of the liveliest animation, and, 
 springing from the ground, they rushed in a body to where 
 their ponies were picketed ; in an instant they were mounted 
 and coursing over the plain in the direction of their victim, 
 which was plainly visible a half a mile distant. The latter 
 soon took the alarm and made for the bluffs, but his pursuers, 
 on their tough little animals, swiftly gained upon him, and in 
 a short time came up with him, when discharging a volley of 
 bullets and arrows at their noble game, he was soon rolling in 
 the dust. It was but a few minutes from the time the alarm 
 was given until the buffalo was killed, and the hunters were 
 on their way to camp, leaving the meat to be cut up and 
 brought home by the squaws. The latter made their appear- 
 ance at last, each with a heavy load on her back, and they 
 were soon busily engaged in cutting up the flesh preparatory 
 to drying it in the sun for future use. The chase was quite an 
 exciting one, and we watched it with intense interest from 
 first to last. 
 
 Leaving our Indian friends behind us, we moved on and 
 encamped at sundown near the river, after a journey of twelve 
 
56 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 miles. The next day (13th) we passed by the celebrated 
 " Cotton-wood Springs/' where, in the midst of a scattered 
 grove of majestic cotton- woods, a clear stream gushes forth, 
 famed for its coolness and purity. We all stopped to get a 
 drink of the delicious water, which tasted like nectar to us 
 who had for so long quenched thirst with the yellow, tepid 
 water of the Platte, and then moved on, encamping at sunset 
 on the summit of O'Fallon's Bluffs, whose steep declivities we 
 climbed with difficulty. These bluffs are opposite the junc- 
 tion of the north and south forks of the Platte, and extend to 
 the edge of the river. Our encampment was on the edge of a 
 pond filled w^ith a villainous fluid, which passed for water by 
 the hardiest, but which we were obliged to drink for want of 
 better. The vegetation on the bluffs was parched and w^ith- 
 ered, owing to the pervading drought. Thorny plants of 
 almost every description abounded here, making it a painful 
 task to move outside of the beaten track. Near this place a 
 train was snowed under in the autumn of '57, and the whitened 
 bones of its starved and frozen cattle lay scatte-red around, 
 forming a ghastly spectacle. 
 
 The Platte, below the junction, is a mile in width and aver- 
 ages a foot in depth. Between the forks is a low prairie which 
 extends about eighteen miles above the junction, when it 
 reaches the bluffs, ascending to the broad plateau extending 
 between the two rivers farther on. Descending from the bold 
 bluffs on which we were encamped the preceding night, w^e again 
 rolled over the Platte bottom, the road being bad from the 
 deep and yielding sand. Late in the afternoon of the 14th 
 we reached the celebrated crossing of the South Platte. 
 
 At the ford the South Fork, or Padouca, is about a half 
 mile in width, with numerous sand-bars rising above the 
 surface of the water. On account of the difficulty of crossing 
 this stream, from its quicksand bottom, and the heavy freshets 
 which annually fill its banks, this ford is a noted locality on 
 
ALONG THE PLATTE TO FORT LARAMIE. 57 
 
 the great California trail. Luckily for us the river was now 
 at a low ebb, as it generally is at this time of year. In spite 
 of the small portion of daylight that was left us, the wagon- 
 master resolved to attempt to ford the river before morning, 
 and doubling teams, five of the lead wagons plunged down 
 the steep shore into the river. But it was impossible to move 
 them but a short distance over the yielding quicksandy bot- 
 tom, with so weak a force as we had attached to them, and 
 after floundering about in the river until after night, we gave 
 up the attempt for that day, and bringing the exhausted oxen 
 ashore, we turned the whole herd loose, and left the wagons 
 until the morning, when the final start was to be made. Sun- 
 rise saw us all up and busily engaged in fortifying the inner 
 man with liberal allowances of pork, bread and coffee, our 
 standing, unvaried bill of fare, in anticipation of the heavy 
 day's work before us. After breakfast the herd was hurried 
 into the corral, when out of the one hundred and fifty- six 
 yokes, we selected eighty of the strongest. These were divided 
 into teams of twenty yokes each, our intention being to take 
 four wagons over at a time, and five or six men were alloted 
 to each team, to tug at the wheels and belabor the unwilling 
 oxen. The long, snake-like columns were at last hitched to 
 their respective wagons, and stood in readiness on the bluff 
 overlooking the broad river, which lay spread out before us, 
 sparkling under the rays of a bright sun. The wagons, which 
 had remained in the river all night, were now deeply 
 sunken in the quicksand, looking like spots upon the surface 
 of the water, and as if it would be impossible to awaken them 
 from their soft beds into consciousness on the opposite shore ; 
 and all things betokened a day replete with toil and hardship. 
 The signal being given, our teams began tumbling down the 
 bank and striking out into the river, each taking a different 
 cpurse, and soon the excitement commenced. The oxen, 
 frightened by the broad, glittering expanse of water spreading 
 4 
 
58 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 out befoj^e them, refused to pull at first ; but a proper amount 
 of buckskin and yelling being judiciously applied by their 
 mentors, they were at last induced to change their opinions, 
 and the wagons slowly began to move. In spite of the 
 remedies administered, they would soon stop, for the wheels 
 were continually sinking, and the cattle, from hard driving 
 and scanty food, were badly broken down. Again, after re- 
 peated efforts, we would start, soon to be brought to a full 
 stop, however ; and we were sometimes obliged to unload the 
 freight and pack it to a neighboring sand-bar until we could 
 again get under way. And so it went on, until at length, 
 after laboring tediously and yelling assiduously, the pioneer 
 wagons of our caravan'were across the Platte, and at last stood 
 dripping on the opposite shore. The teams now started back 
 for another quartette of w^agons, which were got over in due 
 time. Throughout the day the river was alive with excite- 
 ment by the shouting of the drivers, the loud cracking of 
 their terrible whips, the struggling oxen, turning from the 
 right to the left as they strained every muscle to move the 
 reluctant wagons, splashing the water all about them in their 
 mad plunges, and the re-crossing of the long columns after 
 other wagons. After having made several excursions back 
 and forth, we at last had the great satisfaction of seeing the 
 last wagon ascending the northern shore of the South Platte. 
 Grass being scarce around the ford, we were compelled to 
 take the herd two miles up the valley, where we found toler- 
 ably good pasturage. About the middle of the night the 
 cattle made a stampede for the islands of the river, from which 
 they were dislodged with much difficulty, some of them not 
 being found until noon the next da}^ The day consequently 
 was far gone before we got under way. We at length began 
 the ascent of the toilsome steep leading to the broad plateau, 
 extending between the valleys of the north and south forks of 
 the Platte. When near the summit we met a small band of 
 
ALONG THE PLATTE TO FORT LARAMIE. 
 
 59 
 
 Cheyennes, who were mounted on fine ponies, armpd with 
 rifles, sliields and lances, and painted and feathered to tlie last 
 degree of Indian dandyism. Unlike our Sioux friends, who 
 w^ere all exceedingly good-natured and friendly, they did not 
 look at us as they passed by, nor notice the " hows " and " hies " 
 that we shouted at them, and I respected them the more for it. 
 We had expected to find water on the top of the divide, but 
 after considerable search we found none, and pushing^ on we 
 
 Fobbing the South Platte. 
 
 at last came in sight of the bold, uneven bluffs overlooking the 
 valley of the North Platte. Following their rough outlines for 
 about a mile, we came to a steep descent, leading down to the 
 bottom of a deep valley, opening on to the river, some three 
 miles distant. This is known as " Ash Hollow " — a famous 
 landmark on the California trail. We reached the top of the 
 sandy declivity a little after dark, and double rough-locking 
 
60 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 our wagons, we commenced descending. It was near midnight 
 before the train was all corralled at the foot of the hill, the 
 descent of which was full of danger to both men and animals, 
 for, had a lock-chain broken, the whole team would have 
 tumbled head over heels down a steep whose inclination was 
 some forty-five degrees. Several narrow escapes occurred dur- 
 ing the descent, and we were heartily rejoiced when it was ac- 
 complished. The oxen had had nothing to eat nor drink since 
 morning, and we were obliged to remain all night in a region 
 destitute of water and grass. We left the famished cattle 
 chained to the wagons, and were under way early the next 
 morning, all hands hungry and thirsty. 
 
 Nothing could be more dreary than the region through which 
 we passed. The bottom of the valley down which we were 
 journeying, and which was a bed of sand and gravel, was about 
 one hundred 3^ards in width, almost entirely destitute of vegeta- 
 tion and bounded on either side by gloomy, barren hills, which 
 arose to the height of six or eight hundred feet, terminating in 
 rugged cliffs. It seemed as if some mighty volcano ^had once 
 been at work here, blasting and desolating everything around 
 in its upheavings. Slowly our weak, hollow oxen drew the 
 cumbrous wagons through the yielding sands, which arose and 
 enveloped us in clouds, as we trudged on our way unrejoicing. 
 At last we emerged from this valley of desolation, and moving 
 about a mile up the river, we encamped near its shore. A rush 
 was soon made for the river by both man and beast, and its 
 warm, yellow waters soon quenched the thirst of all. Near 
 the mouth of Ash Hollow we passed a mail station, near which 
 was encamped a village of Cheyennes. The little naked chil- 
 dren crowded around us as we passed by the lodges, whilst the 
 old squaws, squatted around their domiciles, gazed quietly at 
 us through their black, snaky eyes, looking quite as attractive 
 as the fabled dames who guard the portals of the infernal 
 regions. Near this spot a battle was fought a year before 
 
ALONG THE PLATTE TO FORT LARAMIE. 61 
 
 between the Cheyennes and the Americans under General Har- 
 ney. The fortifications erected by the latter could still be seen 
 on the flat extending between the bluff and the river. One of 
 our men who had been an eye-witness of the fight gave us a 
 graphic description of it. It was a hardly fought contest, but 
 the skill of the Americans at last prevailed over the superior 
 numbers of the enemy. The Cheyennes were entirely ^routed, 
 with the loss of two hundred of their number and all their 
 tents and baggage, which were burned in a huge bonfire by 
 the victors. Their squaws were taken prisoners, and distrib- 
 uted among our gallant soldiers, but were afterwards given up 
 to their lawful owners. The severe castigation which the Chey- 
 ennes here received has humbled them greatly, and they are far 
 less mischievous now than formerly. Old " Harney " is held 
 in great detestation among them, and the mere mention of his 
 name will bring a scowl on the face of a Cheyenne brave. 
 
 The scenery along the Plattes begins to change above the 
 Forks. The broad, level bottoms stretching along the river as 
 far as the eye can reach, are no longer seen, and the sandy 
 bluffs often approach to the very edge of the water, rising in 
 rough, uneven outlines to the height of near a thousand feet. 
 Among the sharp rocks that cover their desolate sides a few 
 scrubby cedars are growing, looking from the road like mere 
 bushes, but several were a foot in diameter, as I found on 
 clambering up for wood. We no longer see the richly timbered 
 islands of the lower Platte, the sand-bars being merely fringed 
 with willows and destitute of trees. 
 
 After procuring a supply of cedar-wood from the neigh- 
 boring hills, we proceeded on our way over a road which 
 was very heavy on account of the deep sand. Our teams, 
 weakened by hard driving and starvation, were continually 
 stalling, so that the day had its usual amount of excitement 
 to vary the monotony of the journey. A train which had 
 passed through our corral the preceding night and encamped 
 
62 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 by us at noon, came up with us about the middle of the 
 afternoon, and endeavored to pass us. Resolving not to 
 suffer the disgrace of being driven around, without some effort 
 to maintain our dignity, we essayed to inspire with blows and 
 yells fresh energy into our failing oxen. Vain our efforts. 
 As the locomotive dashes by the canalboat, so did our rivals, 
 with their superior teams, glide by us. This was a provoking 
 spectacle, but circumstances obliged us to endure the sight of 
 it. As our rivals had the right of way as soon as they were 
 broadside of us, we stopped and waited until they had moved 
 out of our way, when we humbly followed in their rear. We 
 encamped at night on a broad, well grassed flat, about half a 
 mile from the river, a short distance from our rivals. We en- 
 deavored to get the start of the latter the next morning, but we 
 missed it. Our road was sandy enough at starting, but it be- 
 came worse as we advanced, and as the rays of the sun beat 
 down incessantly and hotly, our oxen were continually giving 
 out. Our route led us over an uneven bluff at some distance 
 from the shore, and tediously working over the deep sand, we 
 came at noon to the top of a precipitous steep leading down to 
 the bottom of the river. After descending this we corralled 
 for the day, in order to rest our weary animals, which we took 
 across the river to graze, the grass on the south shore of the 
 Platte having been eaten off close by trains in advance of us. 
 (August 19th.) Owing to a heavy rain which fell last night 
 and hardened the sand, our road to-day was considerably bet- 
 ter than yesterday, so that we made good progress. While en- 
 camped at noon, a homeward bound train from Fort Laramie 
 passed us, stopping long enough, however, to make an ex- 
 change of some wagons and oxen. The next day, in the fore- 
 noon, we came in sight of the Court House Rock. This natu- 
 ral curiosity is situated about nine miles south of the road, but 
 owing to the dry and pure atmosphere of this region, it does 
 not appear to be more than two or three. It is apparently about 
 
ALONG THE PLATTE TO FORT LARAMIE. 63 
 
 three hundred yards long and two hundred in lieight. It is 
 composed of marl and earthy limestone, and is worn into its 
 peculiar shape by the action of the elements on its soft constitu- 
 ents. Standing alone above the broad plain, its outlines 
 rendered singularly regular by distance, it has an extremely 
 majestic appearance, having much the look of an ancient feudal 
 castle, and the sight of it formed a pleasing variation to the 
 monotony of our journey. Although the land between it and the 
 road is apparently a dead level, it is very uneven, being full of 
 deep gulches which have been washed into its marly soil by 
 the rains of winter. A Mormon told me that while passing this 
 rock one of his party was filled with curiosity to examine it 
 closely, and under the impression that it was but a short dis- 
 tance from the road, he mounted his horse and rode towards it, 
 thinking to regain his comrades in a short time. The plain 
 seemed so level, and the Court House so near that he imagined 
 he was going on a nice little journey of pleasure, but he soon 
 found himself mistaken. Deep ravines were continually ob- 
 structing his path, and worse than all, the object he was seek- 
 ing seemed like the ignusfatuus to fly flefore him. But he was 
 a plucky individual, and resolved to attain his object. Perse- 
 verance will accomplish anything, and he at last reached this 
 majestic landmark. Having gratified his curiosity, he went 
 on his way, and late in the night came up with his comrades, 
 well wearied and hungered, if not satisfied with his side excur- 
 sion. 
 
 Throughout the 21st the road was bad, sometimes laying 
 across the sandy bluffs which intersected our route, at others, 
 over marshy flats which extended between them. Owing to 
 the severe labor they underwent, the cattle had begun to fail 
 fast, for they were en route from early in the morning till late 
 in the evening, over bad roads and under a hot sun. One of 
 our men narrowly escaped being shot in the afternoon. A 
 comrade with a loaded rifle in his hand was walking along by 
 
64 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 his side, when the trigger somehow caught and the load went 
 off, the bullet just grazing him, and mortally wounding one 
 of his oxen. It was a narrow escape, but the accident fur- 
 nished us with a supply of fresh beef, which was, however, too 
 tough and gristly for general eating. We came in sight of the 
 celebrated Chimney Rock in the afternoon. This famous land- 
 mark, although some thirty miles distant, was plainly visible, 
 owing to the extreme purity of the atmosphere. 
 
 Near here we passed an emigrant wagon, the cover of which 
 had been removed and the bows festooned with strips of buf- 
 falo meat, which was in process of being dried or "jerked." 
 This gets well covered with dust and as dry and hard as 
 wood. It is soaked and boiled before being eaten. 
 
 We nooned on the 23d by Chimney Rock, w^hich is about 
 forty miles west from the Court House and seventy from Ash 
 Hollow. This rock, or rather column, is set upon a semi- 
 spherically shaped hill, and is about twenty-five feet in 
 diameter at the bottom, gradually tapering to half that at the 
 top. Its summit is about one hundred and fifty feet above 
 the plain, but it was at one time much higher, early travelers 
 say five hundred feet. The winds and rains, acting upon the 
 soft materials of which it is composed, are gradually wearing 
 it away, and the ground around its base is covered with pieces 
 which have fallen from its summit. I cannot account for the 
 formation of this singular object, except by supposing that it 
 was originally a hutte, or isolated mound, through the centre 
 of which, from its base to its summit, ran a column of harder 
 material than its surroundings, and that the rain and wind, 
 acting on the surface, have worn away its softer constituents 
 and left a column standing. The desert, called the Indian's 
 Enchanted Ground, extending between the North Platte and 
 White River, is in some places covered with bluffs and buites, 
 which the action of the elements has converted in a similar 
 manner into all imaginable shapes. Towers, walls and 
 
ALONG THE PLATTE TO FORT LARAMIE. 
 
 65 
 
 minarets arise before the eyes of the astonished traveler, 
 in some places, while in others he beholds cities and castles in 
 ruins. 
 
 Passing over a dreary country, which barely furnished 
 enough of grass for our famished animals, we arrived at Scott's 
 Bluffs on the afternoon of the 25th. This is a bold escarp- 
 ment of sand and clay, about a half a mile in length and near 
 a thousand feet in height, extending southward from the river 
 and rising like a gigantic barrier to obstruct our way. It was 
 
 Chimney Eock. 
 
 for a long time visible, and at a distance seemed impossible to 
 be surmounted. The road forks before we reach the bluffs, 
 one trail passing around its southern end and re-joining the 
 main road at some distance beyond it, the other passing 
 directly over its summit. The latter is the worse road of the 
 two, but it being the shorter, we chose it. We were detained 
 some time at the foot of the bluff by the breaking of one of 
 our wagons, but w^e at last got under way, and commenced 
 
66 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 our toilsome journey over it. The ascent was easy and 
 gradual, until we came to a deep gorge, which intersected our 
 road at the foot of the main bluff. Crossing this at the im- 
 minent risk of being run over by the teams as they plunged 
 headlong to the bottom, we came to a series of steep hills and 
 narrow, deep and sandy defiles, through which there was 
 barely room for a wagon to pass. So squarely hewn were 
 some of these passes, that one could hardly believe that art 
 had not a hand in their formation. After a vast deal of exer- 
 tion we at last reached the summit, when we commenced the 
 still more dangerous descent. Tumbling pell-mell down nar- 
 row passages, slowly crawling over abrupt ascents, we at length 
 reached the bottom, and in two miles struck the river and 
 encamped, but not till long after dark. The Platte was here 
 a maze of sloughs and islands, the bed of the river being 
 divided into innumerable channels. On account of the 
 scarcity of grass on the main land, we kept the herd on one of 
 the islands during the night. 
 
 On this portion of our journey, and in fact nearly all the 
 way westward of Fort Kearney, we drove early and late. 
 Starting sometimes before sunrise, we would drive on until 
 ten o'clock, when we would stop an hour for breakfast, then 
 we would again start and roll on until after sunset, sometimes 
 until eleven o'clock. These were the times which wore us 
 down. To be wakened from a sound nap early in the morn- 
 ing by the harsh voice of the assistant, as he yelled forth the 
 dreaded reveille, with its accompanying club-thumps on the 
 wagon-body ; to go in the tumultuous corral and yoke up 
 while you are so sleej^y you can hardly keep your eyes open ; 
 to start hungry on a toilsome march ; to drive with a short 
 intermission until after night, and then, perhaps, to go on 
 the detested guard, were things to be experienced to be 
 understood. 
 
 Our harships began visibly to affect us. While in the early 
 
ALONG THE PLATTE TO FORT LARAMIE. 67 
 
 part of the journey, when our tasks had been comparatively 
 light, the train would have mirthful scenes occasionally. 
 Those were the times when we made short drives; when our 
 diet was composed of something else besides a monotony of 
 bread and pork, and pork and bread ; and when, on account of 
 the danger of the men deserting with their " outfits," the train 
 officials were less exacting. But now it was different. Slowly 
 and wearily we walked along by the side of our teams, which 
 were as morose and desponding as their drivers. No sounds 
 are heard as we move over the dreary w^aste but the dull grat- 
 ing of the wheels, as they grind through the yielding sand, and 
 the sharp crack of the whips, as the teamsters urge on the pant- 
 ing oxen. The miserable animals, exhausted by incessant 
 labor and little to eat, move lifelessly along wdth heads bowed 
 low, casting their tear-filled eyes imploringly for the mercy 
 they seldom got, and sometimes, completely worn out, th^ 
 drop in their tracks, to swell the numbers of reeking carcasses 
 and bleached skeletons which line the road. The hearts of all 
 are gladdened at sight of the forming corral, and the oxen 
 quicken their pace when they see it. We unloosen them and 
 they are soon scattering over the sun-burned prairie, seeking 
 to allay their hunger, while we go at our camp duties, getting 
 our wood and water and otherwise preparing for supper. Si- 
 lently and mechanically we go through our task, a feeling of 
 weariness and sadness, not to say peevishness, pervading all. 
 Our campfires, which of old were the scenes of mirthful horse- 
 play, songs and stories, now see nothing but groups of grimy, 
 care-worn men. 
 
 At that time how far distant seemed the Golden State toward 
 which I was traveling ! I hardly thought that fate would ever 
 carry me to that glittering bourne ! 
 
 Besides our returning trains we met, occasionally, other 
 bodies; once, a party of renegade Mormons. When our troops 
 reached Utah and the rebels surrendered, all men and women 
 
68 
 
 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 who wished to go back to the States were allowed permission. 
 This party, a part of whom were females, accepted, and being 
 supplied with teams and provisions, started. They were a 
 hard looking party, the women in particular. With short, 
 travel-stained clothing, and dust-begrimed faces and frowsy 
 hair, they proclaimed the fact that woman, as a foot traveler 
 over the plains, is not a prepossessing object. They were short 
 of food, and we gave them some from our stores. 
 
 September 1st. We passed many Indians, who followed us 
 and thronged around us at our noon camp, begging and thiev- 
 ing. They belonged to a village we passed farther on. On 
 an elevation near by we saw a singular burying ground. On 
 scaffolds, six or eight feet high, the corpses, wrapped in robes 
 of the buffalo, were reclining. These stages, rudely built of 
 forked poles and sticks, were the first the deceased took on 
 their journeys to the happy hunting grounds. The sight was 
 very repulsive. A walled sepulchre on the roadside marked 
 the resting place of a "big Injun." 
 
 Our road the next morning lay on the bluffs overlooking the 
 river and through sand, in which our teams were continually 
 stalling. From our high ground we had a fine view of the 
 surrounding country, the most prominent object of which was 
 Laramie Peak. To our right extended the valley of the Platte, 
 as far as the eye could reach, walled in and half hidden by 
 high and precipitous hills ; while from the distant mountains 
 on the left rolled the sparkling waters of the Laramie River, 
 till they mingled with the waves of the larger stream. De- 
 scending the bluffs we moved, up the valley, the whole caval- 
 cade enveloped in clouds of dust. We were now nearing Fort 
 Laramie, and soon the many rude buildings and tents of that 
 post were spread before us. 
 
Uo tFie Gireaf 3^^^^ paxi)A, 
 
 r^^ORT Laramie, with its soldiers and Indians, and the 
 "^- animation around it was pleasant to see, and we were 
 glad to be delayed there a few hours, while our lading 
 underwent government inspection. While here I got hold of 
 a New York Tribune. This was such a treat that I went off 
 to myself and had a good time reading. It had been about 
 two months since I had been in communication with the out- 
 side world, so that there were many things mentioned whose 
 beginnings I was ignorant of. The Kansas-Nebraska affair 
 was at its height, and the national excitement was well por- 
 trayed in the Tribune. Then there was the Sepoy rebellion 
 and the laying of the Atlantic Cable, the latter a failure for 
 the time. Editorials and all I eagerly read. We "bull- 
 whackers " were not a very literary set, in fact, I doubt if there 
 were any books in the train but my own. At any rate, I never 
 saw any of my comrades reading. My literary pleasure was 
 of short duration, however, for the remorseless cry of " Yoke 
 up," soon roused me to present duties, and returning my paper 
 to the kind sutler who loaned it, I was on my way towards the 
 realms of sunset. 
 
 Fort Laramie is situated on the shores of the Laramie River, 
 about two miles above its junction with the Platte. The nu- 
 merous and extensive public buildings were neatly built of 
 
 (69) 
 
70 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 frame and adobes, or sun dried bricks, and to travelers 
 who had been journeying long without seeing civilized 
 habitations, they made a fine appearance. The station was 
 formerly a trading post under charge of the American 
 Fur Company, when it was sometimes known by the title 
 of Fort John. The place was lively from the numerous sol- 
 diers stationed there, the workmen and teamsters employed 
 and the Indians encamped in the vicinit}^, drawn 
 thither for the purpose of trading with the whites. Russel & 
 Co. had a store and smith shop here for the convenience of 
 their trains passing through and stopping at this post. The 
 " store " of this great firm was built of mud and roofed with 
 sods, and stocked with a lot of goods which would be in the 
 States worth not over two hundred dollars, but which was here 
 worth five times as much. We all renewed our " outfits " 
 here, as the supplies we procured at Leavenworth were w^ell 
 nigh exhausted. 
 
 \¥e had great difficulty in finding grass for our animals, but 
 finally found some on the opposite side of the Platte, two miles 
 below the Fort, where we drove the herd. We were compelled 
 to ford both rivers on our way, each flowing over a rocky bed 
 with a rapid current. There is a bridge over the Laramie be- 
 low the Fort, but it is now in a dilapidated condition, and the 
 dingy little toll-house at one end is now tenantless. The lum- 
 ber used in the construction of this bridge was obtained from 
 the Black Hills, some forty miles distant. Emigrant and 
 freight trains now cross at the ford, opposite the post. 
 
 Before leaving the Fort two of our party received their dis- 
 charges, and one deserted for parts unknown. We procured 
 two others at the post, and then started on the long journey 
 which lay ahead of us ; the most of the party in bad spirits, 
 for we had for some time previous to our arrival at Laramie 
 been induced to believe that our stopping place would be there. 
 For my own part, I was willing to proceed in spite of the hard- 
 
TO THE GREAT SOUTH PASS. 71 
 
 ships I had experienced, for I had started on the through jour- 
 ney, and did not wish to back out now, and besides I was 
 desirous of seeing the interesting country lying between here 
 and the far distant Pacific. There were but two or three but 
 who were anxious to turn back, and it is no wonder. The 
 majority of our men had not joined the train for the purpose 
 of exploring the country over which they were to pass, but 
 because they were destitute of means, and saw here a chance to 
 keep from starving. Arriving at Fort Laramie, wearied and 
 disgusted with their profession, they wished to retrace their 
 steps, for they saw on ahead only a repetition of their 23ast toils 
 and privations. Some of these had families which they were 
 anxious to return to, others had taken up claims before their 
 departure, which now needed their attention, and the}^ feared 
 that it would be so late in the season before they could start 
 on their homeward voyage from Great Salt Lake, that the nar- 
 row gorges of the Rocky Mountains would be filled with deep 
 and impassable snows, so that they must either remain among 
 the Mormons till spring, or run the risk of being frozen to 
 death by returning before. Several applied for their discharges, 
 but they were refused, for as it was we had not a full comple- 
 ment of hands. 
 
 Crossing the Laramie River at the ford, we passed through 
 the military establishment and commenced ascending the high, 
 barren hills which overlook it. Reaching the summit of this 
 ridge, we descended a dangerous rocky gorge leading to the 
 river bottom below, which is here about a half a mile in width. 
 Continuing along this at the base of the hills, the road at 
 length led us to the top of a bluff from which we descended by 
 a break-neck declivity to the river. A grove of tall timber 
 arose from the flat at the foot of the bluff", close by whose shore 
 we encamped after sunset, the bold, white outlines of which 
 formed a magnificent background to the scenery. On account 
 of grass we took the herd to the northern side of the river. So 
 
72 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 deep and swift flowing was the Platte here, that we could hardly 
 get the cattle across, and it was only by riding the mules back 
 and forth along the rear of the reluctant column, and clubbing 
 and yelling at the affrighted animals, that w^e were enabled to 
 land them on the opposite shore. (4th.) Passing over a dis- 
 mal flat, the soil of which was in some places white with alka- 
 line efllorescences, with stunted cotton- woods here and there 
 rising above it, and with a high hill covered with craggy rocks 
 rising on our left, we came about six miles from our last night's 
 camp to wdiere the river emerges from a deep gorge, walled on 
 either side by solid rocks. The road here turns to the left and 
 ascends a precipitous hill, whose summit we attained with 
 much difficulty. The characteristic plant of these regions, the 
 artemisia, now began to make its appearance. This plant, to 
 which the title of sage-bush is commonly given on the plains, 
 abounds westward of Fort Laramie. It varies in height from 
 six inches to as many feet, growing in gnarled, twisted clumps, 
 and is of a dark gray color, giving the country which it covers 
 a desolate look. It sometimes grows so thickly that it is a 
 hard matter to force one's way through it, and it was continu- 
 ally wearing out our clothes and patience. The more elevated 
 the country, the larger and more abundant it grows, until from 
 a little weed six inches in height, we find it transformed into a 
 tree from three to four inches in diameter. Owing to the cold 
 of the preceding winter, or to the excessive drought, we found 
 a great portion of the artimisias dead, and the brittle stalks 
 made excellent fuel. The plant emits a peculiar, but not un- 
 pleasant odor, somewhat like that of turpentine or camphor. 
 We encamped in the afternoon on the shores of a clear, 
 sparkling stream, shaded by majestic trees, which were scat- 
 tered along its margin. We found two trains, which had left 
 Laramie the day of our arrival, and which were under the 
 command of Messrs. Crissman and Truett, encamped here. A 
 wagon belonging to one of them, while descending the danger- 
 
TO THE GREAT SOUTH PASS. 73 
 
 ous bluffs overlooking the creek, had upset and rolled over a 
 precipice, scattering its contents in every direction, and the 
 men were busily engaged in repairing damages on our arrival. 
 Leaving our beautiful encampment, we proceeded on our way 
 over a picturesque country, and we corralled after night on 
 the summit of a high hill, after a journey of ten miles. 
 
 We had a fine view on the morning of the 5th, from the hill 
 on which we were encamped. Bleak, rocky mountains arose 
 majestically on all sides, covered on some places with pines, 
 whose dark green foliage contrasted w^ell wdth their dull gray 
 background. Deep gorges in places intersected them, along 
 whose bottoms clear streams were sparkling, as they sped on 
 their way to the Platte. To the north we could discern the 
 high ranges of mountains which walled in the valley of this 
 river, which had now lost its characteristics, being changed 
 from a broad, shallow stream, flowing through a monotonous 
 plain, to a river of the mountains, shut in in some places by 
 high, rocky bluffs, and running with a clear, swift current over 
 a rocky or pebbly bed. I felt a thrill of pleasure as I gazed 
 through the clear, frosty air of the morning upon the wild 
 scenery which surrounded me, looking doubly grand when 
 the sun, as he wheeled above the eastern hills, gilded the sum- 
 mits of the neighboring mountains with his golden light, 
 forming a picture of unsurpassing grandeur and beauty. 
 Descending from our elevated camping place, we came to a 
 large, clear running creek, whose shores were covered with 
 timber, mostly cotton-wood and poplar. This w^e followed 
 down until we came to a broad valle}^ which we supposed to 
 be that of the Platte, but it was only one of its tributaries. 
 Proceeding up this for three or four miles, we encamped at 
 noon by a swampy spring, around which our half-starved 
 animals were unable to find but little grass. Proceeding on our 
 way over an excellent road, we encamped about four o'clock 
 on a large branch of the Platte. A trading post, with the 
 5 
 
74 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 usual surroundings of Indian lodges, which was near our 
 corral, gave the thirstier portion of our company a chance to 
 " fire up," and under the influence of the miserable stuff, there 
 dealt out at the rate of twenty-five cents a drink, they were 
 soon forgetting their troubles in this fiery Lethe. 
 
 Following up the valley, we at last left it and struck up a 
 long dry caiion which led to the valley of the Platte. The 
 scenery along the route was very striking and picturesque. 
 The Black Hills arose irregularl}^ on our left in huge, black 
 billows, above which towered the cloud-capped summit of 
 Mt. Laramie, which was for a long time visible ; but it was at 
 last hid from view by high ridges which arose between us, the 
 whole range enveloped in the hazy atmosphere of the Indian 
 summer. We again reached the valley of the Platte, and at 
 nightfall encamped about a half a mile from the river on a 
 sandy bottom and near a fine grove of cotton-woods. 
 
 The next morning we made an early start, and soon reached 
 the first crossing of the Platte about a mile distant. The bed 
 of the river is here about fifteen hundred feet wide, and owing 
 to its deep, sandy banks is in a few places fordable. The 
 stream, which during the spring freshets often fills its banks, 
 was not more than three hundred feet in width now, and by 
 doubling teams we soon crossed it, and proceeded on our way 
 up the valley, the vegetation of which was all dried and 
 withered by the drought. Proceeding over a road filled with 
 deep sand, we came in the afternoon to a group of buttes, 
 through which the trail winds, and extricating ourselves 
 from amongst them, we encamped after night on a desolate 
 plateau overlooking the river. 
 
 We reached the second crossing of the Platte the next morn- 
 ing. This was a difficult place to ford, the shores being some 
 twenty feet high and exceedingly steep, while the bottom was 
 a bed of yielding sand. After crossing, we stopped a short 
 time to breakfast, when we again started, and passing around 
 
TO THE GREAT SOUTH PASS. 
 
 75 
 
 a large, sandy bluff which arose across the valley, we followed 
 along the dry bed of a creek, and again struck the river. AVe 
 commenced to corral at sunset, but owing to the badness of the 
 roads, and the continual giving out of the oxen, our line of 
 march was broken into straggling fragments. Some of the 
 wagons did not get into camp until after night, and one we 
 were obliged to leave a mile back on the road, on account of 
 all its team having given out. The sky was covered with 
 black clouds which portended a stormy night, and we were 
 surrounded by pitchy darkness. 
 
 The next morning we were awakened by the usual 
 reveille of " Roll out," but their was a suffix appended to it on 
 this occasion, in which the "awakening spirit" said— and lefs 
 track rabbits. I could not discern the pith of the suffix, or 
 else was not influenced by the inducements it held out, and 
 thinking that the tolerable comfort I w^as now experiencing 
 preferable to the pleasure that would accrue from tracking the 
 aforesaid rabbits, which I feared too only existed in imagina- 
 tion, I wrapped the drapery of my couch still closer about 
 me, resolving to not emerge into the outer world yet awhile. 
 A continuation of the reveille, however, at last induced me to 
 " roll out," when, what was my consternation, to see the whole 
 of the surrounding landscape enveloped in snow which was 
 still falling. During the night the rain had turned to snow, 
 and the cotton-woods and their undergrowth of vines and 
 bushes along the river bottom, and the innumerable clumps 
 of wild sage on the surrounding plain, were now surmounted 
 with glittering crowns. 
 
 The road having once more become passable, we made a 
 start at noon on the 10th, and rolling over a good road we camped 
 at sunset on the River Fourche Boisee, two miles above its 
 junction with the Platte. This is a clear running stream, ten 
 yards in width, and has a narrow fringe of cotton-woods along 
 its shores. There being no grass around our camp, we took 
 
76 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 the herd down to the junction of the rivers, where we found a 
 good supply. So great had been the travel over the plains 
 this season, that all the best camping places had been denuded 
 of grass, so that the eleventh-hour caravans were sometimes 
 hard beset to find feed for their animals. The excessive 
 drought which was now blasting these elevated regions, had 
 also tended greatly to dimish the supply of edible vegetation, 
 and from these causes our oxen were continually in a half- 
 famished condition, and their numbers were every day de- 
 creasing. 
 
 Passing over a broad and desolate ridge, we struck the 
 Platte the next morning, and proceeding along the top of the 
 bluffs overlooking the river, we encamped at noon near its 
 shore. The country passed over was awfully desolate. From 
 the waters of the river to as far as the eye could reach on 
 either side, dreary artemisia-covered plains, with drearier 
 hills arose above them in broken and rugged ridges. The 
 little herbage that appeared above the sterile earth was seen in 
 crisp, sapless bunches, and the want of a sufficiency was 
 telling sadly on our animals, which were daily " falling faint 
 by the wayside," never to rise again. The road was now 
 lined with the carcasses of the oxen of preceding trains, which 
 we were obliged to pass with hermetically sealed nostrils on 
 account of the insufferable stench they emitted. They were in 
 every stage of decomposition, and the sight of these reeking, 
 putrid remains was another disagreeable feature of our 
 journey. We reached Deer Creek, which is one hundred and 
 ten miles west from Fort Laramie, in the afternoon. There was 
 quite a considerable settlement of French traders and Indians 
 here, and it was a pleasant sight to see this village after our 
 long wilderness journey. We had been so long outside the 
 pale of civilization, that the sight of human habitations, how- 
 ever rudely built, with little children, however scantily or 
 duskily hued, playing around their doors, was very refreshing 
 
TO THE GREAT SOUTH PASS. 77 
 
 to our minds. These traders had mostly a plurality of wives, 
 which they purchased from their fathers with powder and 
 whisky, and which they put aside at their pleasure as soon as 
 old age has marred their beauty. We stopped a short time in 
 this village, but none of the Indians came around us, as they 
 were restrained by the traders from mingling among other 
 whites, of whom they were very jealous. These traders were a 
 rough, hardy set, and but a little better civilized than their 
 bronze-faced allies, whom they had a great influence over. 
 We encamped after nightfall, three miles w^est of the village, 
 on a broad plain overlooking the river which was about a 
 mile to our right. 
 
 On the morning of the 17th, with cattle half dead with 
 hunger and thirst, we sloAvly drove from our night's camp, 
 and passing over a country rugged and desolate, we moved on 
 a high blufl" overlooking the river, which was about a mile 
 distant, and near a clear, sparkling stream which afforded us 
 excellent water. Here we bade a final adieu to the Platte (as 
 the road here left it), a river which I 'for one w^as heartily 
 tired off. We had encamped on its shores for a month and a 
 half, traveling during that time a distance of over four hundred 
 and fifty miles. When we first saw its dirty face at Fort 
 Kearney it was over a mile in width, lazily flowing between 
 forest-crowned islands and through a dull, monotonous plain. 
 As we ascended it, the hills, which bordered the narrowing 
 valley, began to grow higher and more abrupt, and barren sand- 
 bars to take the place of wooded islands. After a journey of 
 one hundred and fifty miles, we strike the South Fork ; in the 
 whole distance not having seen anything worthy the name of 
 tributary; the river decreasing rather than increasing in 
 volume, as the thirsty sands drink in its water. After having 
 crossed the South Fork, quite a change takes place in the 
 appearance of the valley; the river bottoms are often sandy, 
 and occasionally intersected by sandy blufls. The ranges of 
 
78 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 hills which bound the valley are now higher and very rock}^ 
 and a few stunted cedars make their appearance. As you 
 advance, natural curiosities, like the Court House and Chimney 
 Rock, make their appearance, and the geological features of 
 the country are changing greatly. Continuing farther up the 
 river, it becomes better timbered, and its shores sandier, until 
 you reach Laramie, when another change comes over it, for 
 here it becomes a river of the mountains, and continues so to 
 its native home in the backbone of our Continent. Sometimes 
 between rock-walled canons, at others through a narrow, desert 
 plain, flanked by desolate hills, we see it rapidly flowing on its 
 way, over pebbly and rocky beds, its volume often increased 
 by the streams which come from the neighboring mountains 
 to join it. Ascending it from Kearney to where the California 
 trail leaves it, we find its width has decreased from over a mile 
 in width to less than three rods; and while witnessing this 
 decrease, I had seen so much hardship and so little pleasure, 
 that it is no wonder that I parted from old Father Platte with- 
 out tears. Its mosquitoes had lacerated me, its waters had 
 nearly frozen me, its bogs had engulfed me, and its sand had 
 choked me ; and it was with heartfelt joy that I caught a last 
 glimpse of its waters, which an intervening blufl* soon hid 
 forever from my sight. 
 
 From our noon's encampment we passed over a gloomy, 
 God-forsaken country, and corralled at night in a deep and 
 rocky gorge, through which our road led. We had not ex- 
 pected to find water here ; but on searching, we found a little 
 brook fiowing at the bottom of a deep ravine, near the corral. 
 Thinking ourselves very fortunate, we filled our kegs, but upon 
 trying the water we found it to be so abominably alkaline as 
 to be unfit for drinking. There was not a spear of grass in 
 the vicinity of the corral, so that our miserable, broken down 
 animals were compelled to fast another day. 
 
 Owing to hunger, thirst and the bitter coldness of the night. 
 
TO THE GREAT SOUTH PASS. 79 
 
 we found several of our oxen lying dead in the corral the 
 next morning, and the rest looked about ready to tumble over. 
 We started on, however, for the longer we remained in this 
 awful place, the worse for us all ; but our progress was neces- 
 sarily slow, and our victims were continually dropping in the 
 yoke. The country grew even more desolate as we advanced, 
 and was covered with beds of sand and gravel, which supported 
 a stunted growth of sage. 
 
 The forenoon of the 20th was over a country where desolation 
 reigned supreme. On either side the desert stretched as far 
 as the eye could reach, the dull monotony of its dead level 
 being occasionally broken by abrupt buttes which arose above 
 it, in broken outliness, to the height of from one to five hundred 
 feet. We struck the Sweet Water River at noon, here running 
 through a broad valley, the vegetation of which was dried 
 and withered by the fearful drought which was now spreading 
 like a blight over these regions. The river was about three 
 rods in width, with a depth of two feet, and flowed with a rapid 
 current over a stony bed which was very winding. The valley 
 was bounded on the south by a high, broken range of hills, 
 the precipitous sides of which were covered with sharp, craggy 
 rocks, among which there was not a particle of vegetation, and 
 presented a very forbidding appearance indeed. The road in 
 the afternoon was very bad on account of heavy sand through 
 which we moved slowly. We corralled after sunset near the 
 river, where, doubling upon itself, it formed a sort of peninsula, 
 on which we found a scanty plat of grass, on which we drove 
 our animals for the night. 
 
 Early the next morning we passed a newly erected trading post, 
 and shortly after we arrived at the celebrated Rock Indepen- 
 dence. This is a huge granite rock, somewhat semi-spherical in 
 shape, and is about six hundred feet long and one hundred and 
 fifty feet high, its surface entirely destitute of soil. The outside 
 appears to be covered with sorts of layers or scales of various sizes 
 
80 
 
 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 and from one to two feet in thickness, the whole being of a dark 
 gray color. The surface of the rock is filled with names 
 and dates from base to summit, on the side fronting the road, 
 where ambitious travelers have endeavored to immortalize 
 themselves through the medium of black and red paint, con- 
 verted into glaring capitals. Thousands of names, known and 
 unknown to fame, are here recorded on a gigantic album 
 which will stand till the crack of doom. Fremont, on his 
 
 The Devil's Gate. » 
 
 return from his first expedition in 1842, carved a cross on this 
 rock, which, after he became a candidate for the Presidency, 
 became a prominent object: the enemies of the Pathfinder 
 seeing Jesuitism in the act. The rock is situated close to the 
 river, near by where the road crosses it, and as it stands on the 
 edge of a plain, it has a majestic look. About four miles 
 farther on we saw a still greater curiosity. This was the Devil's 
 Gate, where the Sweet Water forces its way through a rugged 
 
TO THE GREAT SOUTH PASS. 81 
 
 escarpment between rocks which rise four hundred feet perpen- 
 dicularly above it, the width of the passage being thirty feet. 
 The bed of the stream is choked up with masses of rock which 
 have fallen from above, among which the river tumbles and 
 foames as it rushes onward through this diabolically named 
 defile. We were obliged to make somewhat of a detour to get 
 around the southern gate-post, and we encamped after noon 
 about a mile beyond, on a high, barren bluff, overlooking the 
 Sweet Water, which here flows through a level bottom, a half 
 a mile wide, and covered with a scanty growth of sapless grass. 
 So crooked was the river that it often doubled on itself as it 
 flowed along, looking from our elevated position like a huge 
 serpent crawling over the valley. In our search for grass we 
 found a good supply back of the granite hills, bordering the 
 northern shore of the Sweet Water; and in order that our 
 animals might recruit, we remained all day at out camping 
 place. 
 
 The scenery along this river was gloomy and repulsive. 
 The snow-covered mountains gleaming in the far distance, the 
 gray, sage-covered plain, the river-flat, with its yellow, withered 
 grass, gave a cheerless picture, made still more so by the 
 numerous human graves, and carcasses and bones of oxen 
 which strewed the margins of the road and made a vast 
 charnel-house of the valley of the Sweet Water. Near the 
 Devil's Gate we saw where many men, women and children 
 had been buried by the roadside, the victims of a species of 
 plague which had attacked emigrants a few years before. Some 
 of them were unmarked, save by ominous depressions, while 
 others were covered b}^ huge rocks which kindly hands had 
 rolled over them to do double duty for the dead: as monu- 
 ments and protection from the fangs of wolf and coyote. Their 
 names had been rudely painted on these rocks, but the sun 
 and rain had nearly obliterated them. 
 
 My occupation and its surroundings had about driven from 
 
82 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 me what sentiment I had, but it came back, temporarily at 
 least, at the sight of the graves of these emigrants, particularly 
 of those of women and children. In fancy I saw the fever- 
 stricken wife and mother borne along through grinding sands 
 or jolting over stony roads or rocky fords, until, the dread 
 hour imminent, the train stops on the Sweet AVater. This 
 seems to have been a vale of death, and that the sick who had 
 thus far come, arrived here but to die. In this assemblage of 
 both sexes and ages, ranging from childhood to advanced years, 
 there are affection and kindly feeling, so different from what 
 exists in our rough crowd. The train halts until the last scene 
 in the life of the dying is over. No sick-chamber with rich 
 belongings and comforts are hers. The mildewed wagon- 
 cover makes the walls and ceiling ; the hangings, the rough 
 clothing of the family. The doorway is the arched cover, 
 and it looks appropriately toward the west ; and the descending 
 sun directs its last glances within on the dying form. Kind 
 hands minister to its wants, and when the life goes out, they 
 perform the last sad rites. Among the less sympathetic of 
 the emigrants there may be impatience at the delay; for behind 
 them are murderous Indians, and the cold wind blowing 
 around them, and the snow on the distant mountains, warns 
 them that the storms of winter may engulf them before the 
 journey is over. A shallow grave is hollowed out, the coffin- 
 less body laid therein, am id the weeping of women and children, 
 and the sad looks of the men who quickly cover the body 
 with earth and protect it with a cairn of rocks. Or it may be 
 a child that dies, when we can imagine the parents' feelings 
 as they lay it away in that desert solitude, and, taking up the 
 burden of their journey, pass on, never to see its resting place 
 again. You who ride by in your palace cars, wining and 
 dining as you go on your profitless excursions, cannot imagine 
 the trials and sufferings of the pioneers who first settled the 
 country where you enjoy your junketing. 
 
TO THE GREAT SOUTH PASS. 83 
 
 The morning of the 26th we crossed the river, and en- 
 camped at 10 o'clock on a high bkiff on its left shore. We 
 here had a fifteen-mile stretch to cross without water, and 
 allowing our animals three hours to feed, we filled our water 
 kegs^ and pushed on, our road laying over a desolate, rolling 
 plain covered with sage-brush. In the afternoon we entered a 
 broad, sandy valley, through which ran the dr}^ bed of a 
 stream. Ascending this valley to its upper extremity, we 
 crossed a sandy ridge and corralled about 10 o'clock at night 
 on a waterless plain. We made an early start the next morn- 
 ing, and rolling over a hilly and barren plateau, we descended 
 at noon into the valley of the Sweet Water, which was here 
 about a half a mile in width, and corralled. There being no 
 grass along the river, we drove the herd to the bluffs, which 
 were scantily supplied with bunch-grass. Several of our ani- 
 mals gave out during the forenoon. The river was here fringed 
 by a dense growth of willows, but the characteristic sterility 
 of this valley was manifest in the barren plain and bluffs 
 bordering it. Two miles from our noon's camp we came to 
 where a ridge of rocky hills extended across the valley 
 through which the river forced its way. The road over the 
 bluffs is a difficult one, and we encamped after night on its 
 farther side in a canon leading down to the river. 
 
 Still continuing up the river, we came in the afternoon to 
 where another mountain wall intersects the valley, which, 
 below it, is about a mile in breadth. The river penetrates it 
 by a deep gorge, walled on either side by rocky, perpendicular 
 bluffs. The road leaves the valley by a deep canon (pro- 
 nounced kanyon, the Spanish for ravine or defile), which turns 
 to the right, and winds to the summit of the ridge, ascending 
 and descending several hills in the way. We encamped at 
 night near its summit. We found a considerable stream of 
 good water, a half a mile from the corral, the shores of which 
 were lined with timber. 
 
84 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 The morning of the 30th came upon us with a heavy frost, 
 which whitened the valley and neighboring mountains like a 
 young snow. The whole party were ordered out early to 
 hunt up the oxen, which were interspersed in the jungle 
 bordering the neighboring branch. We broke corral at sun- 
 rise, and ascending a rocky hill, stood upon the summit 
 of a succession of barren ridges, which extended as far as the 
 eye could reach in every direction, a rugged depression mark- 
 ing the course of the river. We saw two lakes of considerable 
 size on our left, the shores of which were encrusted with 
 saleratus in nearly a pure state; so much, resembling that 
 substance, indeed, that it answered the purpose for raising 
 bread. While on this ridge, a wind-storm came on, which 
 nearly blinded us, as it blew the sharp sand directly in our 
 faces. We were obliged to walk in a bent posture while the 
 storm lasted, which was until we reached the Sweet Water at 
 noon. We encamped on the left bank of the river, near a 
 thicket of willows, which supplied us with fuel, and took the 
 herd a mile down the river to graze. This place is called the 
 Last Crossing. We met here a wagon-master and three 
 teamsters, who had come in advance of a return train which 
 was a few miles back on the road, and they agreed to join our 
 caravan, which was deficient in available men. Draper, the 
 wagon-master, who had been all the way to Camp Floyd and 
 who knew the road well,*was to act as pilot to our train over 
 the difficult route which yet remained between us and our 
 destination. We broke corral a little after noon, and crossing 
 the river for the last time, ascended a gravelly bluff, and 
 followed along the right bank of the river. We soon met the 
 returning " outfit," which contained the men belonging to 
 three trains, and some twenty wagons. 
 
 The 31st we went but four miles, camping at noon close by 
 the river. Our employers had a herd a short distance up the 
 valley, from which we obtained a supply of fresh oxen, leav- 
 
TO THE GREAT SOUTH PASS. 85 
 
 ing in their stead an equal number of our skeletons. Our 
 night guards were now arranged differently. One of our new 
 hands was to stand guard every night (sleeping in the day- 
 time in one of the wagons), assisted by three others, who were 
 to take their turns every sixth night. This arrangement was 
 quite an improvement over the former system. 
 
 On some trains the herders did no driving whatever, which 
 left them fresh for their all-night work, or noon herding. This 
 was not Russel & Co.'s way of doing, as they got all the work 
 out of their men that was possible. We would feel so tired after 
 our day's drive that when our turns came to stand guard we 
 mentally protested; but as this involved silence, it availed 
 nothing when loud-mouthed protests fell flat. So without 
 suppers we would leave camp on a half or all-night guard, de- 
 pending on something to eat coming out to us by our mess- 
 mates, and for a nap at our noon-halt the next day. This 
 brought on so much drowsiness that on my next drive I would 
 often find myself turned somnambulist, and driving oxen in 
 my sleep. 
 
VI. 
 
 oKmonLcr tFie Mounfainx^. 
 
 LJTY^L^T" E reached the South Pass on the 1st of October. 
 "^ *" I had thought this was something like the 
 
 Devil's Gate on a large scale, a mountain 
 walled gorge, but it was very different. Imagine a nearly 
 level desert plain, averaging a mile in width, bounded on 
 either side by a low range of hills, beyond which extends a 
 rolling country from ten to twenty miles, until it reaches a 
 range of lofty bleak mountains — and you can form an idea 
 of the best Rocky Mountain pass. About two miles to our 
 right we could see the valley of the Sweet Water, which we 
 were leaving. The snowy peaks of the Wind River Moun- 
 tains, which rose far to the north of us, were glittering in the 
 sun's rays, while to the south, rising like a huge barrier, 
 we saw Table Mountain. All around, as far as the eye could 
 reach, was a scene of wild desolation. 
 
 We nooned at the Pacific Spring, which is a short distance 
 west of the culminating point of our route. This is a morass 
 of twenty acres, vividly green and with a sluggish stream 
 running through it. When I first saw this meadow I thought 
 we had a nice corralling place. We camped on the southern 
 shore. As soon as the oxen were loosened, they broke in a 
 body for this deceitful meadow, in which many of them were 
 soon floundering and unable to get out. We dragged them 
 
 (86) 
 
AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 87 
 
 out by main force, attaching lassos to their horns. In the 
 swamp were many carcasses of oxen, so many, that the water 
 was unfit to drink. We left here in the afternoon, and follow- 
 ing along Pacific Creek, a tributary of the Colorado, we 
 camped at night near another swamp. About midnight the 
 hungry cattle got into this, and we worked an hour or more 
 in the cold water and mud getting them out. Some w^e were 
 obliged to leave there to die. 
 
 At sunrise we started, and passing over a desert covered 
 with beds of sand and miry flats and sloughs, white with 
 alkali, we camped at noon by a brackish stream. When we 
 resumed our march, we stirred up clouds of saleratus-impreg- 
 nated dust which aggravated our thirst, as we could not drink 
 the water where w^e had camped. Much of the water in this 
 part of the country was the color of weak lye, and tasted simi- 
 larly. I have known the white hair of oxen to acquire a pink 
 tinge from their continued use of it. 
 
 At a place called Deep Hollow w^e saw three black circles of 
 tires and wagon-irons, where the Mormons had burned as many 
 corrals in the previous fall. There were seventy-eight w^agons 
 loaded with provisions for the advance troops of the Utah 
 Expedition, which were two days' march ahead, and which 
 afterwards sorely felt the need of them. The guerilla leader 
 was Lot Smith, a Mormon " Old Put." 
 
 As the cold increased, fuel became plentier in the shape of 
 a large growth of sage-brush. Much of this was dry and 
 dead, and at night we made the scenery luminous with bon- 
 fires, around which we stood or reclined. On the 9th of 
 October we crossed Green River, the Rio Verde of the old 
 Spaniards. The next day we encamped on Ham's Fork, near 
 where lay the carcasses of five hundred cattle belonging to a 
 supply train of the Utah army. They had perished from 
 hunger and cold the preceding winter. A sickening odor 
 was still around the spot, so that we dared not camp near the 
 ford. 
 
88 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 On the 11th we reached Fort Bridger. This had been a 
 trading post, and during the marauding excursions of the 
 Saints, to harass and destroy our supply trains, it was used 
 as a starting point. On the approach of our troops, the 
 Mormons deserted the place after burning it down. General 
 Johnston arrived here at the close of November, and making 
 the place his winter quarters, built a fort and remained here 
 until spring, suffering many hardships from cold and lack 
 of the provisions the Mormons burned. As soon as the 
 snows had sufficiently melted, supplies were sent to the 
 beleagured troops, who were found eating their last rations. 
 They marched on to Salt Lake after recuperating, and 
 accomplished their mission. The commissary here lightened 
 our wagons to the extent of four hundred pounds apiece, 
 which was quite a help to us. 
 
 We had now joined with us another train — the same one 
 which had passed us on the Platte. The men had rebelled 
 against their wagon-master, and Russel & Go's, agents had 
 ordered the two trains to run together under our own. There 
 were now in the train fifty wagons, sixty men, and over six 
 hundred oxen. Among the new men were several Mexican 
 Indians. This many men consumed much provision, and our 
 bacon running low, application was made at a cattle station 
 belonging to our employers for some beef cattle, which was 
 refused. That night two expert thieves of our party were 
 sent to the agency and brought home three fine bullocks, 
 which were divided among our men. 
 
 Bearing in mind the vast amount of game roaming over 
 the plains and among the mountains, it would naturally be 
 supposed that much of our diet would be from that source. 
 What fresh meat we had outside of the domain of the buff'alo, 
 whose flesh, particularly in the summer, is unfit to eat, was 
 mainly from our oxen when accidentally killed. This, of 
 course, was poor eating. We saw deer and antelope frequently, 
 
AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 89 
 
 but the only venison we fared on was a fawn one of our men 
 shot on the North Platte, and which, among thirty hearty 
 men, was hardly a taste. Indians sometimes brought deer to 
 sell, but as we had no money to buy with, the result was noth- 
 ing to our larder. Sage-hens sometimes whirred away in gun- 
 shot, but our broken down oxen needed so much stimulus 
 that they parted in peace. A species of hare, called, from its 
 long ears, "jack-rabbit," we met in plenitude among the 
 Rocky Mountains, and we shot many of them. These we 
 made into soup, and as a relief from our bacon were welcome 
 fare. But the proportion of fresh meat was so small that one 
 or two cases of scurvy showed themselves from our diet of 
 salt pork and dough fried in its drippings. We were in poor 
 condition to forage for game. The horses, from galloping 
 from one end of the mile-long train to the other, were too 
 tired for side excursions after deer, and we were too much in 
 the same condition ourselves at our halting places to go hunt- 
 ing. On the Sweet Water we improvised a net out of a 
 wagon cover, and caught a mess of fish, and these were 
 indeed a treat. Once, at a trading post, I was a partaker of 
 beaver meat. It was a dark red in color, and fair eating, 
 but it seemed so like cannibalism to eat of animals so indus- 
 trious and half human in their providence that I did not 
 enjoy it. In this connection I will mention that at one of 
 our Rocky mountain camps I came across a clearing which 
 at once arrested my attention. It was alongside of a large 
 stream and several rods in extent. The stumps were from 
 two to four inches in diameter and conical. These had all 
 been neatly cut off by four-footed wood-choppers, and the 
 trees and branches floated down to a dam which was seen 
 some distance below. This was the only sign of beavers I saw 
 on the whole journey. 
 
 Our implements for the conversion of our few articles of 
 diet into ox-propellers were few at the start, and grew fewer 
 6 
 
90 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 as we progressed. For baking our bread we had what we 
 called a " Dutch oven ;" a large skillet wdth a lid, surrounded 
 with a battlement for holding hot coals. The "rising" was 
 saleratus, and this it took so much of in our hastily got up 
 meals that the loaf, or " pone," as we called it, was as yellow 
 as corn bread and hardly fit to eat. Hot coals, however, 
 w^ere often so scarce that w^e were fain to fry our dough in 
 fat. The other utensils were a frying pan, camp kettle, and 
 tin pan for kneading trough. A large coffee-pot we had 
 awhile, but it soon got lost or battered beyond use, and then 
 we fell back on the black camp-kettle wherein to brew our 
 Java — when we had any. 
 
 On the 17th we were caught in a blinding snow-storm and 
 were detained four da3^s. Our time was spent caring for the 
 oxen, gathering wood and idling around camp. We left here 
 on the 21st, and crossed Bear River, which flows into Salt 
 Lake. 
 
 Our road throughout the journey had been a natural one 
 except at the fords, where the banks had been dug away. 
 Whenever a bluff lining a valley came too near a stream, the 
 road would diverge and pass over the hill until the valley 
 became passable. The ascents were generally difficult and 
 required doubling of teams, while the descending slopes 
 w^ere often scenes of serious accidents to men, oxen and 
 wagons. We crossed but one bridge before reaching Utah, 
 and that was built by a trader who charged toll. In the part 
 of the country we were now in, however, we came across an 
 occasional " dug-road," built by the troops the last spring, 
 which enabled us to get along when otherwise it would have 
 been impossible. 
 
 By November 1st w^e had no provisions left but flour ; bacon, 
 beans, rice and coffee all gone. Of course, with our wagons 
 loaded with the material for the manufacture of life's staff, we 
 would not want ; neither need sailors adrift suffer for lack of 
 
AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 91 
 
 water. We had no saleratus, so that our bread was hard 
 and tough. Our beverage, outside of water, was a concoction 
 we called flour soup. On this weak diet we lived a few days, 
 when we were met with a supply of good beef from Salt Lake 
 by agents of our employers, and henceforth we did not want. 
 
 There were three w^ays of entering Salt Lake Valley : by 
 Emigration, Echo and Provo canons. We took the latter 
 route. The road was built by the Mormon Church at much 
 expense, as at places the rocky walls of the valley came close 
 to the water, w^hen wooden ways would be built over it. Toll 
 was charged us. All the way down Provo Canon the road was 
 dangerous, in spite of the labor spent upon it. Our long teams 
 had trouble in drawing the wagons around short curves,, as 
 the strain of the leaders had a tendency to drag the " swing " 
 cattle into the gulfs below. One wagon tumbled into the 
 river and spilled its contents. On the plains, when an acci- 
 dent happened, it was the custom for the train to halt until 
 matters were righted. But now that we were continually 
 troubled with breakdowns and upsets, the luckier teams ahead 
 went selfishly on until they, too, were in trouble. 
 
 I give a sketch of a part of our road down Provo 
 Canon. Our artist, in the re-drawing for photo-engraving, 
 has omitted the slope lying between the almost perpendicular 
 rocks and the creek through which the track was cut. Some- 
 times we would come across expansions of the gorge, but they 
 were so sloping that w^e could not form corral on them, so that 
 throughout the time we were passing the canon, w^e remained 
 in line. Sometimes we would wind around crasfpv rocks ; then 
 descend to the foaming creek, over which, on a corduroy road, 
 we would go awhile, and then ascend to fresh dangers. If the 
 other passes to Salt Lake were as bad as these I don't wonder 
 that our troops Avere so long on a stand about entering the 
 valley ; so few defenders could have kept them out. 
 
 The reader has a view of our descent of Provo River, but I 
 
92 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 can only describe the sounds it gave rise to. I never heard 
 such a bedlam of swearing and yelling as within the gloom of 
 its gorges. At Platte crossing and other difficult points I 
 thought I had heard the acme of malediction ; but to Provo 
 Canon was reserved the dubious honor of being the scene of 
 the cap-sheaf of past efforts. To say that the ox-drivers swore 
 like troopers, or " like our army in Flanders," would be draw- 
 
 DowN Provo Canon. 
 
 ing it a world too mild. The air resounded, and the high rocks 
 echoed with imprecations worthy of pirates. There was the 
 broad-mouthed oath of the Missourian, the scientific curse of 
 the Yankee, the guttural imprecation of the German, and the 
 broguey expletive of him from the Emerald sod. To these 
 were added the " carajos,^' " carambos,^' " cozedos " and arraign- 
 ments of derelict saints from the tongues of the Mexi- 
 
AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 93 
 
 cans who had come in with our companion train. These all 
 mingled in a sulphurous, polyglot whirlwind and ascended 
 skyward through the deep caiion. Let us hope that when the 
 recording angel charged these things up to the poor ox-drivers, 
 he found something to put to their credit in their after-lives ; 
 but, I fear, the chances were small of his doing so. I know 
 that his tears, plenteous as they would be, could not efface the 
 debit entries. 
 
 Taking into account the nature of our road, and that there 
 were fifty teamsters, each with twelve oxen to manage, and that 
 our train, when in close order, reached about a mile, it need 
 not be wondered at that there was confusion, with some result- 
 ant naughtiness of language. 
 
 We had expected to go through the canon by night, but 
 the continued misfortunes that befell us made it impossible, 
 and we halted as darkness began to arch over the sky-light 
 above us. In our contracted space we could only leave the 
 wagons strung along the gorge, and turn loose the hungry, 
 foot-sore cattle. Here I stood my last guard for "Old Russel," 
 as we called the firm who employed us. The night was bit- 
 terl}^ cold, and a fierce wind was blowing down the canon 
 from the distant valley of Provo. Walking back and forth, 
 over thorny plants and sharp stones, and shivering with cold, 
 I passed a night to be remembered ; and I was glad when I saw 
 the morning sun gilding the frost-tipped crests of the canon 
 walls. Gathering our still hungry and benumbed oxen, w^e 
 continued down the valley, the scenery of which grew more 
 grand as we proceeded. On the left bank the walls arose 
 almost perpendicularly to the height of a thousand feet, having 
 off'sets in places on which were growing tall pines, while at 
 the foot of the gray wall the river leaped and foamed. We 
 passed at one place a frozen cascade which must have been 
 eight hundred feet high. This distorted column of ice was a 
 fine sight, and was an evidence of the coldness of the night 
 we had just passed. 
 
94 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 The valley gradually widened, but the road was still danger- 
 ous. We soon met companies of Mormons, men and boys, who 
 were chopping wood and mending roads, and anon we en- 
 countered an aged Samaritan with a wagon load of onions and 
 cabbages for our special use, which he sold to those who had 
 any money, or its equivalent in the shape of transferable 
 goods belonging to our employers. As the most of us were as 
 poor as the turkey allegedly Job's (although his book fails to 
 mention the fact that he ever owned such a bird, either poor 
 or fat) when we hired at Leavenworth, it will be seen that the 
 Mormon hucksters got more bacon and ox-chains than coin of 
 the realm. Those few who had conscience instead of money 
 were obliged to see luxuries, like milk, eggs and vegetables, 
 pass by them like the Priest and the Levite of old, giving 
 them no assistance. 
 
 Near the mouth of the widening gorge we came to that 
 evidence of civilization — a toll-gate. Here a saintly keeper 
 slate in hand, kept tally of our wagons as they lumbered past, 
 the toll being one dollar per ton, or §1,250 for our train. The 
 road belonged to the Mormon Church — otherwise Brigham 
 Young. Paying an enemy toll to enter his conquered territory 
 was the height of absurdity. Just below the gate we crossed 
 the river on an excellent bridge, and still following down the 
 canon we left it by an immense natural gateway, where tower- 
 ing rocks arose perpendicularly from each side of the river. 
 
VIL 
 
 4n tfte >^aPfey of tRe Sf aioco. 
 
 ^yz^J^'E were now in the Great Valley, fifty miles below 
 '^7^// Salt Lake City. We corraled on the edge of a 
 f S^ plain extending from the mountain to Lake 
 Utah. The section we were in was oval in shape and sur- 
 rounded by high mountains covered with snow\ In the centre 
 was the Lake, its waters shining brightly in the sun, and from 
 the mouth of its gloomy canon we could see the Provo River 
 winding through a desolate plain toward the inland sea. The 
 dreary plain, the gleaming lake and rugged surroundings 
 formed a scene of quiet grandeur I never will forget. 
 
 On the 5th w^e continued up the valley. The road was 
 smooth, and w^e made good time. Evidences that we were ap- 
 proaching civilization were hourly becoming apparent. At 
 first we saw, rising above the plain, an object w^hich proved to 
 be a farm house, but it was so far from us that we could only 
 see its outlines ; but further on we came to cultivated grounds 
 enclosed with mud walls and arranged for irrigation. My 
 readers can hardly understand how w^e felt at seeing the haunts 
 of a civilized people; but if they w^ill recall the time which had 
 elapsed since we left the States, it will not seem strange that 
 these foreign homes of a still more foreign people arose before 
 our eyes like friends long separated. Other farms and cottages 
 came in sight, and sundry of their dwellers began to line the 
 
 (95) 
 
96 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 road and tender to us onions, turnips and other strange vege- 
 tables. The country was getting more thickly settled, and soon 
 the sight of a village greeted us. This was Battle Creek, and 
 in the heart of it we made our corral. We hardly halted be- 
 fore we were surrounded by men, women and children, dogs, 
 pigs and chickens, the last hardly realizing their danger in 
 coming so close to the itching palms of the ox-drivers. The 
 children had an eye to business and peddled all manner of 
 things among us ; while the men went about, tempting our in- 
 nocent men, even as did the disguised one of old. They had 
 the assurance to think that our noble fellows would trade ox- 
 yokes, bows, chains and other things belonging to our 
 employers, for whisky, beer, poultry, vegetables and other of 
 life's necessaries. Some of our men, rather than see the disap- 
 pointment generated by refusal, made sacrifices resulting in 
 the coveted exchange; and, to make the Mormons feel more at 
 ease, even went so far as to drink the liquor at once in 
 their presence, and soon were laughing and making merry. 
 
 One of our Mormon friends invited me to dine with him. I 
 bought the invitation with a gun-barrel I picked up on the 
 Platte. At the hour named I repaired to his house, a one- 
 roomed " adobe," which answered the purpose of parlor, bed- 
 room and kitchen. He had but one wife and two children, 
 with whom I was soon seated at table. After grace was said 
 the man of the house took a quid from his mouth and uttered 
 the words " pile in," when we all felt at our ease. I " piled in," 
 much to the disgust, I fear, of my host, who saw his gun-bar- 
 rel vanishing in a dissolving view. This mode of dining was 
 quite a change from sitting on the ground, eating from a com- 
 mon plate, but I soon got used to it. What we had were not 
 luxuries, but it was relished. There were beef, potatoes, bis- 
 cuits and butter; and the whole punctuated with a full stop, in 
 the guise of a disk of good, thick, pumpkin pie ! It really did 
 me good to sit in the warmth of an old-fashioned fire-place. 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW. 97 
 
 side by side with a father and mother and their prattling 
 children. To be sure the first was uncouth, but the wife was 
 quite presentable, and I much enjoyed myself. 
 
 Dinner eaten, I procured some vegetables for my mess and 
 went back to the corral. It was a pleasure to look on 
 my companions. They all had had good dinners; for those 
 who were without money had the equivalent in the shape of 
 " portable property," which, if not their own, answered the same 
 purpose. Their faces were radiant with smiles, so different 
 from their past woe-begone looks. Some of them, I am sorry 
 to say, were a little drunk. But there was a cessation of their 
 chronic state of swearing, which partially compensated for 
 this. 
 
 Among the group of villagers we saw an old man who told 
 me he was from Philadelphia. In this distant land we were 
 acquaintances ; in fact, we felt a little related. He seemed to 
 take much interest in me when he found out where I lived, 
 and invited me to his home. " Uncle Job," for so his neigh- 
 bors called him, dwelt in a little adobe house on the main 
 street, where he lived the anomalous life, in that polygamous 
 land, of a bachelor ; for what reason I don't know, unless it 
 was to help reduce the average. He had the patience of his 
 prononym of old, and took me over to his little house and 
 garden and showed me the mammoth vegetables he had 
 raised, and introduced me to his next door neighbor, a fair 
 Mormoness, all the while talking to me in a very voluble 
 manner. Uncle Job had a skeleton in his closet which he 
 showed me. It was a black bottle, and his frequent visits to 
 this was what made him so talkative. He denounced the 
 soldiers for coming among them, praised Brigham Young for 
 his course, and extolled the Mormon heaven as being the true 
 New Jerusalem towards which mankind should travel. He 
 told me his troubles with one of his neighbors, and, in fact, 
 was getting so affectionate and communicative, that I was fain 
 to get away from him and hie me to the corral. 
 
98 
 
 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 The town had about five hundred people in its borders, 
 mostly of the lower class of English and Danes. There were 
 no Irish, but there was one family of Africans, who seemed to 
 be held in esteem. The foreign element, having come through 
 New York without stopping, , had retained their dress and 
 manners. They wore wooden shoes, and were coarsely clad. 
 The houses were on roomy lots, and were mainly of sun- 
 dried bricks, and had few adornments inside or out. 
 
 
 Through the Streets of Lehi. 
 
 We left in the afternoon, and after night came to the town 
 of Lehi— a name taken from the Mormon Bible. This was 
 surrounded by a wall twelve feet high. We experienced a 
 strange sensation, driving through streets between lighted 
 houses, but we enjoyed it. The gate- way, as we emerged from 
 the town, was so narrow that I was afraid my wagon might 
 play the part of the rams' horns on Jericho, and send the walls 
 tumbling about my head ; but I got through without hubbing. 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW. 99 
 
 At midnight we camped on the banks of the Jordan, paying 
 the Bishop of Lehi $50 for the grass. We were awakened the 
 next morning by the crowing of neighboring roosters, a sort 
 of reveille we had not heard for a long, long tiaie. As we 
 would make a dry camp that night, we concluded not to start 
 until noon. The Jordan, which lay in our way, was crossed 
 by a bridge, and was no longer a hard road to travel. The 
 river flows between deep cut banks, and was about twenty 
 yards wide ; the water green and somewhat alkaline. As to 
 the origin of the name of this river, allowing Salt Lake, with 
 its bitter water and absence of outlet, to represent the Dead Sea, 
 and Lake Utah to stand for the Sea of Galilee, the appropriate- 
 ness of the name Jordan to the connecting stream, with its 
 rocky bed and rugged surrounding scenery, is obvious. At the 
 far end of the bridge was a combination of laundry and grocery. 
 The barmaid of the institution was washing at the time, her 
 dishevelled locks hanging around a face not very attractive. 
 Our men being short of money and on the move, and the bar 
 being on the *' off side " of the train, but little business was 
 done here. 
 
 We encamped at midnight, after a thirty mile drive, the 
 longest day's travel we had ever made, on the edge of Cedar 
 Valley. We were up early in the morning and started on our 
 last drive. We met many return teamsters on foot, and these 
 were eagerly questioned as to how far we had to go, and they 
 gave us all sorts of answers ; some rather disrespectful. About 
 the middle of the forenoon the lead teamster reported our 
 destination in sight, and then a shout went up on the desert 
 air which rang all along our mile of wagons. Even the oxen 
 seemed imbued with a subdued enthusiasm. 
 
 A few more words about our cattle before we part with them. 
 There is not much sentiment connected with these animals, 
 although when the ancient poet spoke of the "Ox-eyed Juno," 
 the alleged wife of Jupiter, he paid an inferential tribute to 
 
100 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 their visual organs, at least when he compared them to those 
 of the mythological " Queen of Heaven." I have before 
 alluded to the pathos expressed in their eyes, which under 
 suffering was almost human and was given vent in tears; a 
 weakness the rough teamster sometimes contracted : for I have 
 seen big, bearded fellows crying over a dead ox, as "dying in 
 the harness," they loosened him from the team and placed his 
 3"oke-fellow in some weakling's place. 
 
 Our oxen were too many in number and transient in owner- 
 ship to merit names, except in certain cases. My wheelers 
 were " Dodge " and Samson. The propensity of the first to 
 obey the summons " Whoa !" was such that at the least intima- 
 tion of it he would surge back and stop the whole team ; some- 
 times splitting his yoke, and once, going into a gully, nearly 
 getting killed. For this cause I was forced to give the com- 
 mand in subdued tones, and yet so the rest would hear. 
 "Samson," so named from his strength, broke down from 
 over-willingness, and at Fort Kearney was substituted by a 
 bovine giant, which I called Goliath. These names sounded 
 strange to my un-Biblical companions, who listened to them in- 
 quiringly, and who were satisfied with " Texas," " Nig," " Roan " 
 and other color-giving names; though "Tom and Jerry," from 
 the name of a favorite tipple, was sometimes given to a yoke. 
 
 At Camp Floyd, named after the then Secretary of War, 
 there were thirty-five hundred troops living in four hundred 
 adobe houses. There were also commissary houses and cavalry 
 stables, making a large, well laid-out town. We commenced 
 unloading at two o'clock, and by four had finished. We then 
 took the wagons outside the camp where, among acres of 
 others, we left them to rot down piecemeal. The oxen, except 
 two teams we kept to haul our provisions and eff"ects to Salt 
 Lake, were given in charge of Mormon herders. But two of 
 my own were left of the twelve I started. One was the near 
 wheeler named " Dodge," from his habit of dropping back as 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW. 101 
 
 soon as I went ahead to attend to the forward cattle. His 
 laziness was his salvation. The other was a "pointer" who 
 did his duty faithfully to the end. 
 
 Returning to camp we were in time to see the soldiers on 
 dress parade. Their bright arms and prompt movements 
 were pleasant to see, all being regulars. We saw General 
 Albert Sydney Johnston, in command, who in four years was 
 to fall at Shiloh, in arms against the flag which now floated 
 over him. Many of the company's commissioned oflicers 
 were in the same time to be colonels and generals in either 
 service. Strains of martial music enlivened the scene ; among 
 which were the stirring airs of " Yankee Doodle," " Bold 
 Soldier Boy " and the " Girl I Left Behind Me :" airs soon to 
 be familiar to all, north and south. Many of the privates 
 were deserting for California and elsewhere. 
 
 This army had many tribulations en route to Camp Floyd. 
 It left Fort Laramie the previous September, and from want 
 of supplies (which were intercepted and burned by Mormon 
 guerillas) and deep snows got no farther then Bridger. When 
 spring opened the troops were detained, while Governor 
 Gummings and the Peace Commissioners were parleying with 
 the Mormon leaders, and did not reach Salt Lake until the 
 26th of June. They found the streets almost deserted, the 
 leading citizens having gone to Provo, fifty miles south. Gov- 
 ernor Gummings truckled to the rebels, and to induce them 
 to return they were granted amnesty ; and the troops marched 
 to a sterile plain, forty or fifty miles south-east and beyond 
 the Jordan, that their presence might not cause irritation. 
 Thus humored, the people soon came back, and for months 
 reaped a rich harvest selling grain, flour, wood and lumber 
 to the troops. Brigham Young ran his three saw mills in a 
 canon he claimed as his own, steadily cutting material for 
 soldiers' quarters, each earning one hundred dollars per day. 
 The Mormons had their own fun spoiling the Egyptians in 
 
102 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 revenge for their humiliations from having to yield to Federal 
 power. 
 
 The next morning we retraced our route. Walking in 
 advance of our baggage wagons we waded the Jordan where 
 we crossed it, there being no bridge. Here was another of the 
 "groceries," where whisky was sold at twenty-five cents a 
 drink. We nooned here and again took up the line of march 
 toward Salt Lake City. We soon saw this place, twenty-five 
 miles away, from the divide between the two valleys of Utah 
 and Salt Lake. Near here two remarkable springs gushed 
 forth from the roadside; one hot, the other cold; so close 
 we could almost reach both at once. I could easily say 
 I caught fish in the one and boiled them in the other ; but I 
 forbear. When really or practically alone on his journey a 
 traveler is often tempted to amplify his descriptions, as evidenced 
 by the tales of solitary voyages, from Gulliver down ; so, thus 
 traveling, let me have due credit for my abnegation in not 
 repeating this fish story; one so justified by modern usage. 
 Both springs were impregnated with sulphur. Many similar 
 ones were in the neighborhood; some with embankments 
 around them formed naturally. 
 
 The road we were traveling was a magnificent one; one 
 hundred feet wide, smooth and so straight we could see miles 
 ahead. As we neared the city we saw a few villages inhabited 
 by industrious people. The fields on either hand looked 
 parched and desolate, but the thick set stubble showed that 
 good crops had been raised. They were enclosed with mud 
 walls made by filling board frames with the sticky clay dug 
 from the ditches at the base. 
 
 We passed an extensive beet sugar factory on the way. The 
 machinery had been brought at great expense from England, 
 but the enterprise was a failure and the works silent. Further 
 on was the Penitentiary, also still for want of tenants. We 
 reached the city at sunset, and encamped in a vacant lot, 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW. 
 
 103 
 
 which had been prepared for us by furnishing it with plenty 
 of fire-wood and straw. This last was scattered around as if 
 for a herd of cattle. Seeking a thick bunch of it for a bed, 
 and with my worldly goods for a pillow I laid down and 
 wrapped my blankets around me, prepared for such dreams 
 as the circumstances warranted. 
 
VIII. 
 
 ©Ifie (i)aint'A^ ^^^^* 
 
 REAT SALT LAKE CITY— the Jerusalem, the 
 ^ Mecca, the Holy of Holies of the Latter Day Saints 
 and the grand centre around which the wheel of 
 Mormonisni then revolved ; the spot from whence issued all 
 the mandates of the Church and where all the villanies laid 
 to the charge of Brigham Young and his satellites were con- 
 cocted — is located near the foot-hills of the Wahsatch Mountains 
 and on the eastern edge of the Great Valley. From the base 
 of this range, the tall peaks of which were then white with 
 snow, the town extends towards the lake, which is some twenty 
 miles to the westward; its scattered buildings covering several 
 square miles. Speaking of the place as it was in 1858, each 
 square contained ten acres and was divided into eight lots of 
 one acre and a quarter each, so that it presented quite a sub- 
 urban and rural appearance. The streets, which were eight 
 rods wide, and from the nature of the soil as hard as an 
 asphaltum pavement, crossed each other at right angles and 
 were shaded by rows of young cotton-woods and locusts ; the 
 town in its eleven years of existence not having had time to 
 develop a very large growth of trees. Along the sides of the 
 streets flowed clear and sparkling streams of water, which 
 answered the double purpose of supplying the people with 
 drink and irrigation for their gardens. This water was pre- 
 
 (104) 
 
REST. 105 
 
 served clean by city ordinances, a fine of five dollars being 
 put on any one caught washing in it. This I found out by 
 experience, for the straw shed in which I passed the first 
 night of my arrival not being supplied with water, as on 
 account of the great rush of guests the waiters had been un- 
 able to properly attend to the needs of their rooms, I repaired 
 in the morning to the stream running by our hotel, whose 
 hospitable landlord kept open house, to perform my ablutions. 
 I had got fairly under way when I was hailed by a Mormon 
 and informed that I was subject to a fine, but on my inform- 
 ing him of my ignorance of their laws, he said he would let me 
 go. I felt about as grateful to him for his forbearance as most 
 people do w^hen told of a blunder fraught with risk to the 
 maker, the information of which puts the recipient under 
 obligation — that is, so much so that I forgot to thank him, as 
 in a semi- washed condition I turned and walked away. From 
 the appearance of the rest of our party few of them had been 
 in danger of arrest, for voluntary deprivation from water had 
 made them notorious for their ungodliness since leaving the 
 Missouri, and they were disposed to keep it up. 
 
 I give a view of East Temple Street, not to show what the 
 city was like then, for the sketch was made long since, when 
 railroads had made it accessable to tourists and filled it with 
 business enterprise, but to show its position at the foot of the 
 snow-clad Wahsatch Mountains, whence comes the sparkling 
 water which quenches the thirst of its people and irrigates its 
 gardens. The city spreads and rises, but the rugged back- 
 ground gleams from snowy peaks and frowns from shadowy 
 recesses of a lower altitude the same now as then, when thirty 
 years ago I gazed at it from the gateway leading from Utah 
 Valley. 
 
 The houses, w^hich were built of adobes, were generally of 
 one story, so that the town presented rather a squatty appear- 
 ance, which was occasionally relieved, however, by a few houses 
 7 
 
106 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP 
 
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 BsiiJiiiiiii 
 
 I 
 
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 11 
 
 liM 
 
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 lilllllllllllllllllillliEllllllililSiil:!!^ 
 
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THE saints' rest. 107 
 
 of larger and loftier dimensions, belonging to dignitaries of the 
 Church. These arose above the humble tenements around 
 them, as the worldly positions of their saintly owners towered 
 above those of the vulgar herd. Among these the house, or 
 rather palace, of Brigham Young was conspicuous, both from 
 its elevated position and its architectural beauty. It was located 
 in the highest part of the city and near the base of the moun- 
 tains, which rose several thousand feet above it in rugged out- 
 lines. It consisted of a series of buildings, built apparently at 
 different times — an addition being made, I presume, whenever 
 a fresh victim was added to the spreading establishment of its 
 multi-wived owner — and taking all things into consideration, 
 was quite a respectable looking edifice. The main building 
 was built of adobes, and plastered and painted to an extent 
 which gave it quite a Yankeefied air. West of this and on 
 the same square was the Lion House, a noble building, with 
 its gable fronting the street and with a stone lion couchant 
 above its principal entrance. In this was the President's office. 
 The "Tithing Office" and "Home Manufacturers'" establish- 
 ment were also on the same square, which was surrounded by a 
 stone wall some twelve feet high, and strengthened at regular 
 intervals by abutments. Heber Kimble's square adjoined this, 
 but the buildings within it were very humble specimens of 
 arcliitecture. Temple Block was on the opposite side of the 
 street and west from Brigham's establishment, and was en- 
 closed by massive walls. In the centre of this was the foun- 
 dation of the Great Temple, which was to be the Eighth Wonder 
 of the World— if it ever got completed. The plan of it was 
 revealed to Brigham in a dream, as well as the identical spot 
 on which it was to be located. The work on this great edifice, 
 which had progressed steadily, was suspended upon the break- 
 ing out of the troubles, and had not yet been resumed. 
 Another prominent building was the "Tabernacle," peculiarly 
 shaped and used for theatrical performances and lectures. I 
 give a view of it. Brigham dreamed its plan also. 
 
108 
 
 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 The "Public Works " was one of the peculiar institutions of 
 the Metropolis. In order to enable the Mormons of foreign 
 countries, who were generally needy, to reach the New Jeru- 
 salem a range of workshops were erected in Temple Block, 
 where all manner of avocations were to be carried on, so that 
 the Saint after his arrival at the promised land could refund 
 the money which had been advanced by the Church for his 
 passage, by laboring in these "Public Works" the required length 
 
 The Tabernacle. 
 
 of time for discharging the debt he had contracted. This 
 establishment, in connection with the " Perpetual Emigrating 
 Fund Society," had been the means of bringing numbers of 
 immigrants to Utah, whom a lack of sufficient funds would 
 otherwise have compelled to remain outside the pale of sal- 
 vation. 
 
 The other public buildings were the County Court House 
 
REST. 100 
 
 and the Council House. The latter was formerly the place of 
 meeting of the Territorial Legislature, which now meets at 
 Fillmore City. 
 
 The business thoroughfare of the city (East Temple Street) 
 runs north and south through it, and was for some distance 
 thickly lined with stores, workshops and hotels. The mer- 
 chants were doing a splendid business, and their stocks of 
 merchandise were speedily being evaporated by their Mormon 
 customers, who, with their pockets well lined with government 
 gold, were buying at an extravagant rate those foreign luxuries 
 which a lack of the needful had hitherto deprived them of, 
 and which retailed at prices high enough to startle persons 
 fresh from the cheap domain of the East. Sugar and coffee 
 went briskly at 60 and 65 cents per pound, molasses flowed at 
 the rate of HOO per gallon, and vinegar was $1.50 per bottle. 
 Calico retailed at from 30 to 40 cents per yard, and clothing of 
 all kinds was proportionately dear. Hardware was enormously 
 high also — a frying pan would not cross the counter for less 
 than $2.50, a coffee-mill would not come down from its abiding 
 place short of a $4.00 bait, and a tin coff'ee-pot off" its nail 
 for less than $3.50. These prices to persons in the States seem 
 fabulous, but from bitter experience I know them to be correct, 
 as our outfits, preparatory for California, were purchased here. 
 As an evidence of how speedily goods were disposed of at these 
 rates, I will state a fact. One house (Gilbert & Co.) disposed 
 of $3,000 worth of goods the first day their stock was exposed 
 for sale — a large transaction when we consider the penurious 
 habits of the denizens of Salt Lake City, and the limited means 
 they had of obtaining hard money, the only kind taken by 
 the merchants in exchange for their goods. 
 
 The two hotels, the "Empire" and " New World," were also 
 coining their dimes. Poisonous concoctions, bearing the names 
 of "Pure Old Whisky," "Prime French Brandy," "Superior 
 Port Wine," etc., were here off'ered to a thirsty public at the 
 
110 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 rate of two bits (twenty-five cents) a drink, the drinkers little 
 dreaming that they were gulping down a perfect catalogue of 
 poisonous drugs at each potation. Each of these establish- 
 ments had its gambling hell, where newly arrived greenhorns 
 were scientifically fleeced by experienced blacklegs, who had 
 flocked here from all parts of the Union in anticipation of a 
 windfall. I visited one of them one evening. Ascending a 
 dark stairway in the rear of the building, I entered a low room 
 densely packed with humanity, and reeking with the fumes of 
 tobacco and bad whisky. The players were seated at their 
 tables and busily engaged in solving the mysteries of monte, 
 a game peculiar to Mexico and California, but now introduced 
 into the Mormon Zion by its accomplished and unscrupulous 
 votaries. It was a sad sight, to see the self-satisfied composure 
 wath which the blackleg drew in his fraudulently obtained 
 gold ; while the plucked victim would utter curses loud and 
 deep at his luck, but would again, lured on by the infernal 
 spirit of gambling, venture another stake, which would be 
 certain to follow in the wake of its predecessors to the coffers 
 of the scientific " dealer." It was odd to see what little value 
 money possessed here, where double-eagles were tossed about 
 like coppers by the excited gamesters. The gambling tables 
 were surrounded by eager lookers-on, who seemed almost as 
 much absorbed in the game as the players themselves, and did 
 one of the latter become tired or " broke," there were numbers 
 ready to take his place. Having staid until my curiosity was 
 fully satisfied, I retired from this above-ground Pandemonium, 
 and wending my way to my lodging-house, I moralized, as I 
 trod the gloomy streets, on the frailties of poor human nature. 
 The tradesmen of Great Salt Lake City were revelling in 
 the present flourishing state of affairs as greatly as the mer- 
 chants and grog venders. The shoemakers, in particular, wore 
 a look of independence, which spoke of plenty to do and high 
 rates for the doing. These sedentaries unblushingly de- 
 
REST. Ill 
 
 manded §10.00 per pair for coarse boots. The saddlers and 
 tailors were fat and saucy also, and eke were the sooty sons of 
 Vulcan ! 
 
 ^; * jj; ^ ;i; :{; ^« 
 
 Great Salt Lake City was founded in the summer of 1847 
 by an advance column of the Mormon emigration, which was 
 sent to seek some isolated spot in the Far West, where the 
 Church might locate and prosper, free from the persecution of 
 their relentless enemies. They were then established at 
 Nauvoo, in Illinois ; a city which they had built up after their 
 expulsion by a lawless mob from their homes in Jackson 
 county, Missouri. While at Nauvoo they were granted extra- 
 ordinary privileges by the Governor of Illinois ; one of which 
 was to raise an armed force whereby they might repel the 
 assaults of their enemies, for they were believed by their neigh- 
 bors to be an innocent, persecuted people, deserving of aid and 
 sympathy. The new settlement grew strong and mighty until 
 fifteen thousand Saints had gathered around this nucleus; 
 four thousand of which were w^ell-drilled soldiers. A Temple 
 was erected on a hill overlooking the city, where the people 
 might congregate to hear the sublime mysteries of their religion 
 expounded, and this w^as the pride and glory of its builders. 
 Things went on swimmingly for a while; but dark whispers 
 began to arise at last that the city was becoming a nest of 
 villainy, a central point for all the thieves and murderers in 
 the vicinity to seek shelter in, after having transacted their 
 nefarious crimes, and w^here, shielded by their aiders and 
 abettors, they could not be brought to justice. In vain the 
 Saints endeavored to stay the storm which w^as gathering over 
 their heads, by protestations of loyalty and innocence ; the ball 
 was in motion, which was to crush Mormonism in Illinois. 
 One thing brought on another, until the Saints and Gentiles 
 were in arms against each other, and scenes of violence occur- 
 red, which were a disgrace to the age. Finally the State militia 
 
112 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 was called out, and under the command of the Governor they 
 repaired to the scene of the troubles. In order to appease the 
 wrath of the indignant Gentiles, the Prophet, Jo Smith, his 
 brother Hyrum and two others of the head dignitaries of the 
 Church were arrested hy the Governor and his posse, and 
 thrown into prison. A guard was placed around the jail to 
 protect the prisoners from the clamorous mob which was 
 thirsting for their blood. This was on the 25th of June, 1844. 
 On the evening of the 27th, a band of two hundred disguised 
 men overpowered the guard, and breaking into the jail, mur- 
 dered the two Smiths and badly wounded one of the other 
 prisoners. Somewhat appeased by this sacrifice, the tumult of 
 the mob subsided a little, but it was plainly evident that the 
 Mormons would be obliged to vacate Nauvoo. Brigham Young 
 now stood in the shoes of the deceased Prophet, and prepara- 
 tions were soon being made under his directions, for the remo- 
 val of the Church to some locality where its devotees might 
 follow their peculiar creed, unmolested by the gentile world. 
 Therefore, by the direction of the High Council, ''a company 
 of pioneers, consisting mostly of young, hardy men with their 
 families," were sent in advance of the main body, which was 
 to follow in due season. These pioneers were to halt in some 
 valley of the Rocky Mountains and put in grain, an,d await 
 the arrival of another division, which was to follow in its wake 
 as soon as practicable. They located in the valley of Great 
 Salt Lake, at the period previously stated, and commenced the 
 work of irrigating the soil, and putting in crops, etc., for the 
 proper reception of their comrades, and they laid out Salt Lake 
 City. Emigrants soon flocked into the New Zion from the 
 Old, and the city began to flourish apace, and to send out 
 shoots into diff'erent parts of the Territory of Utah, the popu- 
 lation of which now numbered Avell nigh one hundred thou- 
 sand souls. 
 
 After the resignation of Governor Young, and upon the in- 
 
REST. 113 
 
 stalment of Governor Cummings, an event occurred whose only 
 parallel was in the desertion of Moscow by its citizens. In Salt 
 Lake City and in all the settlements north of it commenced a 
 human stampede which continued during the months of April 
 and May. Bidding adieu to their houses and lands, the devoted 
 Mormons migrated in large bodies to the southern end of Lake 
 Utah, where in a half-starved condition the}^ dwelt in every 
 manner of abiding places. Twenty-five or thirty thousand 
 people thus migrated from the northern settlements. Of the 
 deserters from Salt Lake City, the more fanatical burned their 
 dwellings, while others were content with tearing the wood- 
 work from them, or otherwise disfiguring them. On the 26th 
 of June the Utah army, which had left Fort Bridger on the 
 12th, entered the city, which the}^ found silent and deserted. 
 The troops remained here until the 29th, when they removed 
 to Cedar Valley, their present encampment. The deserting 
 Mormons, who were encamped at Provo, gradually returned to 
 their homes during the summer, and by the latter end of 
 August they were all installed in their old quarters, and affairs 
 soon began to move on in the old way. 
 
 This is all the author has to say of Salt Lake City, except 
 that the sight of it did not make the impression on him that 
 it has made on other travelers. This was doubtless because 
 he beheld it at an unfavorable season, when the shade trees 
 along the streets were denuded of their foliage, and when the 
 gardens and orchards, which in the summer form the chief 
 attractions of the city, had lost their bloom, blighted by the 
 severe frosts of November ; and besides it had not burst at 
 once upon his view, as the way had been paved for beholding 
 it, by the hamlets and villages he had previously seen. But 
 delightful and refreshing in the extreme must be the sight of 
 this city in the month of June, when the dust-begrimed trav- 
 eler, emerging from the tortuous, gloomy defiles of the Wah- 
 satcli, comes in view of it; its gardens in bloom, its trees robed 
 
114 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 in leafy verdure, and its cool brooks leaping beneath the gleam- 
 ing sunlight, forming a paradise when contrasted with the 
 gloomy regions over which he has been journeying. 
 
 Brigham Young, the Grand Lama of Utah, was invisible at 
 the time of my arrival in his domains. Some said this was 
 because the eyes of Justice were on his trail to make him 
 answer certain charges alleged against him; others, that 
 the Army had offended him in thus entering his domain 
 without leave or license from his royal self, and that he was 
 undertaking to spite Uncle Sam by clinging like a wrathful 
 spider to his den, and refusing to show himself. He had dis- 
 continued the weekly gatherings at the Tabernacle, perhaps 
 to show that the conduct of the " outside barbarians" displeased 
 him, and that he would not be a good boy until the Federal 
 troops were withdrawn from his realm and he was left again 
 in power. On the contrary, his more worldly minded or less 
 stubborn subjects, more intent on filling their purses than 
 battling for the interest of the Church, were in high glee at 
 the existing state of things. Heretofore the only means which 
 the Saints had of acquiring money, whereby to purchase their 
 luxuries, was from the produce sold to that portion of the 
 California emigration which passed through their settlements, 
 and by taking surplus cattle to California ; the road to which 
 was mainly over deserts, and for a good portion of the year 
 blocked with snow. Now they had a market under their very 
 eyes, which would relieve them of all their surplus produce 
 at prices to suit themselves, for the great army which had 
 come to subjugate them, but which was now to benefit them, 
 was close at hand. Therefore, as soon as peace was established, 
 the lucre-loving Saint might have been seen wending his way 
 toward the great market house at Camp Floyd with his grain, 
 his flour, his vegetables and his lumber, and coming home 
 with his pockets lined with United States gold, and laughing 
 in his sleeves at the bungling way in which Uncle Sam does 
 
THE saints' rest. 115 
 
 up his work. Even Brigliam Young, the grand origmator of 
 the difficulties between his subjects and the Gentiles, had a 
 share of the spoils, and the lion's share by the way, for the 
 lumber used in the building of Camp Floyd was from his 
 caiion. Was there ever anything more preposterously absurd? 
 Brigham Young, the head of a fanatical Church which, owing 
 to its iniquities, had been driven from place to place till it had 
 at last established itself among the gloomy valleys of the Rocky 
 Mountains, a thousand miles from a civilized country, attempts 
 to set up a government of his own, where he and his brutalized 
 subjects may enjoy their peculiar institution unmolested by 
 and independent of the general government. The latter sends 
 an army to subjugate the rebels, but it is so delayed that it 
 does not get under way until the season is far advanced. 
 While in midst of the Kocky Mountains, and on the verge of 
 w^inter, three of its supply trains, which have been left negli- 
 gently unguarded, are burnt by a small band of Mormons, 
 who after accomplishing their bold design, get off unmolested. 
 With imminent prospect of being either starved or frozen to 
 death before they encounter the enemy, the little army moves 
 onward, but is finally brought to a halt at Fort Bridger, when 
 cold winter encounters it, and casting an impassable barrier 
 of snow before it, says with icy tongues, " Thus far shalt thou 
 go and no farther." Then the half-starved, benumbed soldiers 
 commence preparing to meet the terrors and hardships which 
 await them. A dreary winter they pass, shivering with the 
 intense cold of those elevated regions and barely keeping body 
 and soul together by the little sustenance they gnaw from the 
 gristly bones of their broken-down mules and oxen, and un- 
 able to withstand their hardships, many poor soldiers sink 
 beneath them to rise no more. Spring! thrice welcome 
 spring ! at last comes upon them, and with it come supplies 
 from the far East, how badly needed is well known. Negotia- 
 tions for peace are in the meantime going on between the 
 
116 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 belligerents, but the little army, having been refreshed, goes 
 on its way and in due time reaches Salt Lake City, which it 
 finds deserted. Having taken formal possession of the place, 
 the arm 3^ moves off to a locality where it can quietly repose 
 itself after the exploit, it having orders to molest the Saints 
 no longer. Other troops follow in the wake of this gallant 
 vanguard, and numerous trains follow these, laden with pro- 
 visions and munitions of war. They arrive in Utah and find 
 peace declared and the enemy not only going unpunished, but 
 as saucy and insulting as ever, and revelling in the pickings 
 it gleans from the very army which it was so lately in arms 
 against and with armed impudence defying in the rock-bound 
 fastness of Echo Caiion. 
 
 Still when we remember how the Mormons were persecuted 
 by the people of Illinois and Missouri, we cannot wonder at 
 the bitter feeling they bear towards Americans in general, 
 particularly as the State authorities did so little to check the 
 persecution. B}^ pitiless mobs they were the victims of mur- 
 ders and other outrages. The memories of these kept alive 
 the most bitter feelings. Tar forms an attractive background 
 for feathers, but for the purpose of cementing friendship be- 
 tween the Mormons and Western Americans it proved a dismal 
 failure. 
 
 In regard to the people of Salt Lake City, then regarded in 
 the East as a set of fanatical brutes, I was agreeably disap- 
 pointed in them. Though generally ignorant, they were in- 
 dustrious and sober. Intelligence was generally confined to 
 the leaders, but not altogether. I was an uninvited listener, 
 one evening, to an argument between a Mormon lady and a 
 Gentile of the opposite sex. The former was refined in ap- 
 pearance, and her intelligence was manifest in the way she 
 met the arguments of her opponent. She was the defender 
 of the Mormon faith, inclusive of polygamy. To see a woman 
 among these people well dressed and intelligent was startling. 
 
THE saints' rest. 117 
 
 but to hear her defendiDg a religion whose main tendency was 
 to brutalize her own sex, almost took away my breath, eaves- 
 dropper that I was. 
 
 The Mormons told me that previous to the occupation of 
 Salt Lake City by the troops, women of a certain class were 
 unknown in the Territory ; that no lic|uor was allowed to be 
 sold ; that gambling was not tolerated, and that the town was 
 so peaceable that policemen were unnecessary. Now there 
 were nightly disorders from drunken brawls, and the morals 
 were those of a mining camp. The nightly scenes along East 
 Temple Street struck terror into those of us who were " tender- 
 feet." 
 
 Outside of polygamy I saw nothing bad about the Mormons, 
 and I was with them in their settlements and traveling for 
 six weeks. They excelled the old-time Puritans in ignorance, 
 but not in fanaticism. It may be they put " best foot foremost" 
 in their conduct and conversation when in our presence — 
 I simply describe them as I found them. A comparison be- 
 tween the Mormons and Gentiles I saw in Salt Lake was much 
 at the expense of the latter. 
 
 Barring the singular people who inhabit it, Great Salt Lake 
 is the curiosity of the Great Basin. Its islands only are visi- 
 ble from the city, but from the table land back we saw its 
 water gleaming in the sun. In the far background arose 
 bleak, gray mountains, the border of immense tracts of desert 
 land extending towards California. 
 
 I give a view of the shores of this great inland sea. It is 
 some 130 miles in length by 75 in breadth, Salt Lake City 
 being at its southern extremity. Its waters are intensely saltish, 
 although most of the streams flowing in it are fresh water 
 streams, the principal of which are the Jordan, Bear and 
 Weber rivers. Although the lake cannot be seen from the 
 city, on account of the intervening bluff, the numerous 
 islands which dot its surface are plainly visible at the distance 
 
118 
 
 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 Great Salt Lake in the Twilight. 
 
 of twenty miles, their bold, rugged outlines rising like a wall 
 across the river. The largest of these, Antelope Island, was the 
 exclusive property of the Church, which used it as a grazing 
 
THE saints' rest. 119 
 
 range for its cattle. Between this island and the shore the 
 lake is fordable, so that the stock can be driven over in safety. 
 There they were left until the rich grass on the island had 
 put them in good condition, when they ^Yere driven across the 
 mountains to California, where they w^ere sold at remunera- 
 tive prices; the proceeds going into the coffers of the Church, 
 a large portion of whose revenue came from this source. The 
 edge of the lake is shallow and rocky for some distance, when 
 w^e come to a hard sand bottom, and the color of the water 
 deepens from green to dark blue. In some places along the 
 rocky beach the salt collects in such quantities that it can be 
 shoveled up by the wagon-load and hauled away for domestic 
 use. Saleratus-whitened bottoms abound along the borders 
 of the lake, over which are scattered pools of stagnant water. 
 
IX. 
 
 (sKmoncr tfie Mormoi^ ^e^^^emenXA, 
 
 E staid in Salt Lake City until the 12th of No- 
 vember. We were paid off on the 10th. It was 
 optional wdth us whether to take our discharge 
 at $40 per month or make the round trip at $26. I hesitated 
 a while, but a glance at the snowy range to the eastward, and 
 the knowledge that the trip to the Missouri would take two of 
 the coldest of winter months, even if we could make twenty 
 miles a day, soon decided my course. I would go on to Cali- 
 fornia. About half, mainly Missourians, with one or two 
 Kansans, returned and, we heard, underwent much suffering. 
 Our party of twenty made arrangements wdth some Mormon 
 freighters, w^ho were going to Southern California for goods, to 
 convey themselves, provisions and baggage to the Pacific. 
 Their charge was $80 a piece. My wages amounted to $140, 
 after my outfit was deducted. Much of this was spent for 
 needed clothing and my share of utensils and provisions for 
 our mess. I also bought a rifle which I thought I would need, 
 but which I had better have left, as I so much needed after- 
 wards the money it cost. 
 
 Our means of conveyance were three four-horse springless 
 wagons, in charge of Sydney Tanner, a veteran Mormon. 
 The other teams were owned by the drivers. We got along 
 
 (120) 
 
AMONG THE MORMON SETTLEMENTS. 121 
 
 pleasantly all through the long and trying journey with these 
 men. 
 
 We were to go the southern route, which leads through the 
 lower settlements, and then takes across the Great Sandy 
 Desert via the Santa Fe trail, emerging onto the Pacific at 
 San Pedro, which is eight hundred miles southwest from Salt 
 Lake. This route is only traveled in the winter season, as it 
 is nearly impassable during the summer on account of the 
 extreme heat. The northern route, which is far the shorter 
 and more traveled of the two, strikes towards the north from 
 Salt Lake City, along the eastern shore of the lake to its upper 
 extremity, when it runs a westwardly course until it reaches the 
 Humboldt River, which it follows down to its sink; it then 
 crosses over to Carson River and enters Carson Valley, along 
 the western edge of which lies the Sierra Nevada. The road 
 then crosses these mountains, and branches off in different 
 directions towards the various mining camps. This road, which 
 we would otherwise have traveled, was rendered unpassable 
 by snow, so that we were under the necessity of taking the 
 other route. Our departure was to have taken place on the 
 11th, but on various accounts we did not get under way until 
 the afternoon of the 12th, when, with twenty passengers and 
 their accoutrements closely crammed in our rude conveyances, 
 we gladly turned our backs upon and said farewell to the 
 Salty City. Passing mainly over the same road which we had 
 followed in our march from Camp Floyd, we encamped in the 
 afternoon of the 13th inside the walls of Lehi. In the evening 
 we were treated to a serenade from a juvenile Mormon band. 
 Prominent among the strains of melody which they rolled out 
 upon the still night air was " The Girl I Left Behind Me," an 
 air which had its due effects on the minds of its rough audience, 
 as it brought up old recollections of times gone by. The 
 musicians were stationed in the plaza, or public square, and 
 as the music, which was extremely well executed, reached our 
 8 
 
122 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 ears, as we sat around our bright-glowing campfires, it sounded 
 pleasant, especially when compared with the mutterings of 
 the buffalo, the dismal howling of w^olves and the shrill notes 
 of the mosquito, which of old had greeted us. 
 
 We started the next morning early, and by 9 o'clock reached 
 Battle Creek. I here beheld my enthusiastic friend, Uncle Job, 
 who looked very much as if he had just awakened from a 
 week's spree. As his blood-shot eyes did not recognize me, I 
 did not notice him, being fearful of another affecting scene. 
 After a half hour's halt, we retook our route ; the road laying 
 along the eastern shore of Lake Utah, the surrounding moun- 
 tains of whose valley were white with snow, although it was 
 warm enough on the plain on which we were journeying. In 
 the afternoon we reached Provo City, which contained a popu- 
 lation of about fifteen hundred, and was the second city in 
 point of size and importance in Utah. It is built on both 
 sides of Provo River, a few miles below the canon, the mouth 
 of which is plainly visible from here, seeming like a gigantic 
 gateway cut through the towering mountains which rise on 
 either side. The winds which came howling down this canon 
 are felt to a considerable distance from where it opens on to 
 the valley; as if some giant, with a pair of bellows in size 
 proportionate to the undertaking, was at work with his engine 
 back of the mountain. As I looked upon the opening of the 
 canon, the toils and hardships which I had experienced in its 
 depths a few days before, came vividly to my mind, and I 
 was thankful that I had accomplished that journey, and 
 that the one I was now entering on had so much less privation 
 and so much more romance about it. 
 
 The Utah Indians, which abound among the Wahsatch Moun- 
 tains, and which are extremely warlike, were formerly bad 
 neighbors to the Mormons. After having attacked a settlement 
 they would retire with their booty to the fastnesses of this 
 canon, where for a long time they defied the enraged Saints. 
 
AMONG THE MORMON SETTLEMENTS. 123 
 
 The latter, at last, routed them out of their principal strong- 
 hold, which was near the mouth of the cailon, in the following 
 manner, which was related to me by Captain Littel, one of the 
 conductors of our company, who was engaged in the assault. 
 The stronghold was surrounded on all sides by lofty precipi- 
 tous rocks, except on the side fronting the river, being a sort 
 of a nook cut into the mountain side. For several days the 
 Indians defied their enemies, who had now gathered from all 
 parts of the valley, resolved to avenge the injuries they had 
 received at all hazards. But the besiegers found that without 
 some new mode of attack their efforts would be unavailing, 
 for the besieged had numerous advantages over them, and had 
 already killed several of their number. The Mormons finally 
 planned and executed a species of moveable breastwork, tri- 
 angular in shape, and made of thick plank, which they 
 sheltered themselves behind, and shoved before them up the 
 mountain gorge, at the farther extremity of which the Utahs 
 were posted, at the same time pouring a deadly fire from their 
 rifles. The Indians, astounded at this mode of warfare and 
 seeing how their ranks were being thinned by the storm of 
 bullets directed against them, soon stampeded in a body, and, 
 rushing toward the mouth of their stronghold, attempted to 
 escape. Repulsed here, they endeavored to scale the rocky 
 walls which surrounded them, but the pale-faced sharpshooters 
 picked them from their slight footholds and tumbled them to 
 the bottom of the defile. So utterly were the Utahs routed in 
 this encounter, that they never attempted to molest their 
 neighbors again. 
 
 We remained but a short time in Provo, when we moved on, 
 and, following along the base of the high range of mountains 
 which rises above the eastern limit of the valley, encamped at 
 night at Springville, a village containing about seven hundred 
 inhabitants and appearing quite prosperous. It had the usual 
 quadrangular i^laza, from the centre of which a tall pole shot 
 
124 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 upward. We left this village early the next day, our route 
 laying over a desolate, unproductive valley, the soil of which 
 was covered with alkaline efflorescences and supported nothing 
 but a stunted growth of artemisia. We came at noon to a 
 low ridge which stretches across between the two mountains 
 and formed the dividing line between the valleys of Utah and 
 Juab. Rolling down the latter valley, over a well beaten trail, 
 we came, before sunset, to the Spanish Fork settlement : one 
 of the best built and most flourishing towns in the Territory. 
 It is surrounded by a good adobe wall, pierced on two sides by 
 gateways about ten feet wide. The Indians around here were 
 troublesome, and the cattle of the adjoining farms were driven 
 inside the walls at night, when the gates were closed and barred, 
 and guard was mounted until morning. The mode of farmers 
 living in compact villages prevailed then in Utah, where it 
 had several advantages. Were the people to live in scattered 
 farms, as in the States, their lives and property would fall easy 
 prey to the prowling Indians, wdio are forever on the watch to 
 commit depredations ; but by thus living in walled villages^ 
 they were enabled to withstand the onsets of their enemies, 
 and besides have a secure place in which to store their grain 
 and keep their stock. Another thing which made it convenient 
 for the people of Utah to live in this manner, was that the 
 farm land all laid along the edges of streams, the strip being 
 only as wide as could be easily irrigated, so that the farms 
 were all close together ; in fact, this tillable land was some- 
 times made common property to all the villagers, and sur- 
 rounded with an enclosure whose erection was participated in 
 by the whole community. The fences w^ere generally made of 
 mud. They were formed by digging a ditch and throwing 
 the contents between board cases, which were set up on its 
 margin; the frames being two feet apart at the bottom and 
 inclining to within one foot of each other at the top, and 
 about three feet in height. The earth was moistened and 
 
AMONG THE MORMON SETTLEMENTS. 125 
 
 thrown in the case, which was left to stand until its con- 
 tents had the required hardness, when it was moved a length 
 further on to he refilled in the same way. Did rain fall in 
 these regions, these fences w^ould not last a year, and neither 
 would the dwellings; but as it was, I have seen walls twelve or 
 fifteen feet high, of several years' standing, which were appar- 
 ently as substantial as ever. The lack of rain which would 
 appear in every way disadvantageous to the Utonians, is not 
 altogether a curse. 
 
 As there was a municipal law in Spanish Fork against 
 building open fires inside the walls, we were under the 
 necessity of quartering ourselves on the good citizens, who 
 were glad enough to receive us, for the reason we gave them 
 a half-dollar apiece for our meals. My host was the village 
 miller — a clever man by the way — whose demands were so 
 moderate that he had but one better half, while his neighbors' 
 wives indulged in better thirds, fourths, and so on. I spent an 
 agreeable evening chatting with the good people of the 
 house, as we sat around a huge log fire which was burning 
 brightly in the broad, old-fashioned chimney corner. The 
 supper was a good one, although I strongly suspected that 
 the tea was bogus, as that commodit}^ is so dear in Utah 
 that the inhabitants resort to various means to counterfeit it. 
 Coff'ee is imitated also ; the substitutes being scorched wheat 
 and bread-crust compounded, from which a beverage is con- 
 cocted which is not so much unlike the genuine article. 
 
 It was odd to see well constructed saw-mills, grist-mills, 
 threshing machines and other labor-saving machinery in 
 these out-of-the-world regions ; but they are quite common. 
 We may say as hard things as we please about the Mormons, 
 but at the same time let us give them due credit for the 
 enterprise and ingenuity they have displayed in the partial 
 overcoming of the great disadvantages of soil, climate and 
 isolation which they experience. Under the necessity of 
 
126 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 watering their crops continually to prevent them from being 
 destroyed by the intense, all-pervading drought of these re- 
 gions, and compelled to haul fuel long distances to keep them- 
 selves from freezing during the long and bitter winter, they 
 have decidedly a hard life to lead ; and when we consider how 
 the mass of the people, who are honest in the opinions they 
 profess, have been harangued and excited by their fanatical 
 leaders, until they have been led to consider themselves a 
 persecuted race, we should be more lenient towards them than 
 what we are, and allow them to peacefully pursue their 
 favorite hobbies until they become disgusted with them, which 
 they ultimately will. 
 
 We emerged from the village gate early in the morning of 
 the 16th, and took our way over a region as desolate and 
 dreary as that passed over the preceding day. Our route lay 
 through the middle of a broad, level valley, lined on either 
 side by low mountain ranges, and we encamped towards sunset 
 at a little, isolated ranche, situated on a small stream which 
 wound over the level plain from its source in the contiguous 
 mountains. There were but two families in the settlement, 
 which looked lonely and unprotected, and as if it would fall 
 an easy prey to an Indian attack. In the course of the even- 
 ing we were treated to a vocal serenade by a couple of pre- 
 cocious Mormon boys ; their song being one of the patriotic 
 effusions gotten up by the Saints during the rebellion; and 
 it was to these what the Marseillaise was to the French 
 Revolutionists. The burden of the song was an extolment of 
 the virtues of the Mormons and their ability to crush Federal 
 troops should they be so foolhardy as to enter their domains. 
 Four lines of this defiant ditty ran thus : 
 
 " The Yankees feared our Brigham Young, 
 And Heber, his companion ; 
 They would have liked to crush us out, 
 But they thought of Echo Canon ; " 
 
AMONG THE MORMON SETTLEMENTS. 127 
 
 — in allusion to the pretentious cobblestone fortifications which 
 the rebels had erected in that reverberating ravine for resisting 
 the entrance of the United States troops into the Great Valley. 
 The patriotic ardor with which the infantile Saints rolled forth 
 the song was infinitely refreshing, and their efforts were highly 
 applauded by their gentile auditory. 
 
 Passing over a country which became more uneven as we 
 advanced, and which consisted of a continuous chain of 
 valleys bounded on each side by elongations of the same two 
 ranges of the Wahsatch Mountains which flank the valleys 
 of Salt and Utah Lakes, we reached the Sevier River on the 
 afternoon of the 18th. This river, which is about eight rods 
 wide, and so deep that it is hardly fordable, rises among the 
 mountains east of our route, and, flowing through a valley so 
 barren and cold that it is unfit for settlement, sinks about 
 thirty miles below where we crossed it. I have seen few 
 sceneries more dreary than that along this river, which runs 
 with a swift, turbid current between high, steep banks, beyond 
 which extends a desolation-cursed tract of uneven country, 
 covered with low, scattered clumps of wild sage. The Sevier 
 was explored some years ago by a party of Mormons for the 
 purpose of seeking some place along its shores whereon to 
 form a settlement, but they returned unsuccessful, after 
 having narrowly escaped being frozen to death for their 
 trouble. 
 
 Having remained long enough to fill our water casks, we 
 crossed the river on a narrow and unsubstantial wooden 
 bridge, which threatened at every step to break and drop us 
 in the rushing waters below. We found a party of soldiers 
 encamped on the opposite shore ; being stationed there for the 
 purpose of arresting deserters from Camp Floyd, as numbers 
 were leaving that place nightly and starting for California 
 by this route. There was one of these dissatisfied sons of 
 Mars in our company, whose love of liberty was stronger 
 
128 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 than his desire for playing soldier in an isolated post, or of 
 exchanging black eyes and bloody noses with an enemy. This 
 was Bentl}^, whose heart fluttered with fear when his eyes 
 caught sight of the white, conical tents, which not only called 
 up memories of old times, but reminded him that the}^ con- 
 tained certain blue-uniformed individuals whose duty it was 
 to exercise a paternal care over his absconding person. He 
 resolved, however, not to despair, and concealing himself as 
 well as he could beneath the baggage in the wagon to which 
 he belonged, he ran the gauntlet in safety, although the 
 inquisitive eyes of one of the soldiers peered into his place of 
 concealment. What visions of " ball and chain," and " drum- 
 ming out of the regiment," arose in the deserter's mind about 
 this time, the reader can imagine ; suffice to say, he safely 
 crossed the Sevier and the Rubicon. Heretofore Bently had 
 been satisfied to borrow^ my green goggles, for disguise when 
 passing a post, but the close watch here apparent forced 
 greater precautions. 
 
 We encamped after night on a cedar-covered bluff' over- 
 looking the valley, and as we had plenty of fuel we managed 
 to keep at bay the cold night air which surrounded us, and 
 our well-fed campfires shot out brightly into the surround- 
 ing darkness. The cedar boughs spread on the stony ground 
 afforded us excellent couches, and with our feet turned towards 
 the fire, Indian fashion, we rolled up in our blankets, and 
 slept like kings in state ; the earth our bed, the star-lit sky 
 our canopy. 
 
 There is a pleasure in camp life, which only those can 
 appreciate who have experienced it : a freedom from all those 
 petty cares and anxieties which beset the mind in the midst 
 of civilization. The soul expands and revels in a creation all 
 its own, as it gazes upon the external world, which, if not 
 endowed with the comforts and refinements of civilized life, 
 is at least bare of its deceit and heartlessness, and there is 
 
AMONG THE MORMON SETTLEMENTS. 129 
 
 just enough of danger to be apprehended to keep the mind 
 in a lively state of excitement. In a journey like ours, the 
 desolate but interesting country we were passing over; con- 
 jectures as to where our night's camp would be formed; 
 the probability of an attack upon us by our Indian neighbors 
 — all formed subjects for thought and conversation during the 
 day, while our nights were enlivened by the brighth^ blazing 
 campfires, and by well told tales from lips of those who had 
 been participants in the scenes they were describing, and by 
 broad-mouthed jokes more remarkable for point than refine- 
 ment. To further make our evening camps interesting, dis- 
 cussions would arise between the Saint and Gentile portions 
 of our company in regard to their respective forms of religion ; 
 the former contending with a zeal worthy of a better cause 
 that their "peculiar institution" was ordained by God; and 
 the latter battling for the adverse side of the question ; and 
 the dispute would sometimes be continued well on to the 
 noon of night, or until the fires had gone down, when the 
 tear-drawing smoke and chilling atmosphere would warn 
 the testy combatants to repair to their respective dormitories. 
 We encamped on the evening of the 19th at the foot of a 
 long canon, and about a fourth of a mile from a stream 
 which had a habit of sinking and rising, like many other 
 streams of this singular country. It was an extremely hilly 
 region, covered with occasional groves of stunted cedars, but 
 supporting only a scanty supply of yellow grass, which sprang 
 up in patches between the omnipresent clumps of wild sage. 
 The night was a very cold one, and the ground was covered 
 with a thin coating of snow, which had fallen while we were 
 in a more northern but less elevated locality. We felt the 
 cold sensibly increasing as we advanced (for the country 
 becomes more elevated as we approach the rim of the Great 
 Basin), and we had great difficulty to keep warm while riding 
 in our clumsy stages, so that occasional pedestrian tours 
 
130 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 became quite fashionable. These walks, while they kept the 
 blood in circulation, greatly gratified the owners of the teams, 
 as the loads were thereby lightened, and a proportionate 
 amount of mule and horse muscle economized. The team- 
 sters, who for the most part owned their teams, were very 
 careful of their animals during the forepart of the journey, 
 that they might be the better enabled to accomplish the latter, 
 which lay wholly over deserts. Our diurnal drives were 
 rarely over twenty miles, and generally ten or fifteen, and 
 besides the grass which the animals would pick during the 
 night, liberal rations of wheat were given them before and 
 after the day's drive. We commenced ascending the caiion by 
 daylight the next morning, and as it was two miles to the 
 summit of the mountain to which it led, and as the road was 
 slippery from the snow which covered it, the ascent was toil- 
 some to the teams as well as to ourselves, who trudged by their 
 sides. Scattered cedars were growing on the sides and sum- 
 mit of the mountain, their verdant foliage comparing agree- 
 ably with the snow-whitened earth. Descending the southern 
 slope over a rough road, we entered Cedar Valley — a broad 
 mountain-encircled plain — and crossing another divide, we 
 reached Fillmore Valley. We came to Fillmore City late 
 in the evening, and halted a while to await the coming of 
 some of our delayed wagons. This city is situated one 
 hundred and sixty miles south from Salt Lake and consists 
 of about a dozen hovels overshadowed by a State House. 
 The latter, which has been built but a short time, is one of 
 the finest buildings in the Territory. Uncle Samuel's purse 
 was phlebotomized copiously during its erection, for in this 
 out-of-the-way place the mice could play to their satisfaction 
 during the absence of the cat. The plan of the building is in 
 the shape of a Greek cross, but at present only one wing was 
 completed. This was built of rough-hewn red sandstone, and 
 was the only stone building I saw in the Territory. 
 
AMONG THE MOEMON SETTLEMENTS. 131 
 
 One thing could be said of Fillmore City, which could be 
 said of no other Capitol in the Union : that no intoxicating 
 beverages were sold within its limits ! There were thirty 
 individuals in our party — men who conscientiously believed 
 that a proper putting down of spirits was good for keeping up 
 the spirits — and that "Mormon lightning" was an excellent 
 article for lightening up the mind as well as the purse — and 
 these had looked forward to the time when they would arrive 
 in Fillmore City with as much pleasure as the sand-choked 
 Arab gazes upon the blooming oasis in advance of him. But 
 lo 1 when they arrived in the haven of their thoughts they 
 were doomed to bitter disappointment : for a miserable species 
 of beer was the strongest article to be had for love or money. 
 This and pumpkin pies were the staple productions of Fillmore, 
 and a goodly portion of both articles was disposed of during 
 our short sojourn in the place. We left the city about ten 
 o'clock, and encamped at midnight in the midst of a grease- 
 wood-covered plain, eight miles from the city. The night was 
 cloudy and cold, and in order to protect ourselves from the 
 force of the wind, we built a bulwark of bushes in the form of 
 a circle, and making a good fire in the centre, we laid down, 
 rolled up in our blankets, and endeavored to court the drowsy 
 god; but a rain, which soon commenced falling, made our 
 efforts vain for awhile. " Kind nature's sweet restorer, balmy 
 sleep," at length asserted its sway, and with a dreary wind 
 blowing around me, and a driving rain soaking my blankets, 
 I slept — as well as could be expected. 
 
 The next morning we were detained by lost horses. We 
 saw Indians riding along the far edge of the valley and we 
 feared they had stolen them, but the Mormons found them 
 by noon. In the afternoon we passed an isolated house 
 occupied by three women, doubtless the wives of the absent 
 proprietor, some children, and an almost naked Indian. The 
 women had repulsive faces, one of them much older than the 
 
132 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 rest, and looked haggard and unhappy. The Indian was inso- 
 lent, and stood warming himself before the fire, holding in his 
 hand a bow and arrows. As we had been walking ahead of 
 the teams, we staid here to warm until they came up ; but we 
 gladly left the house, not liking the looks of the inmates. 
 Be3^ond here in a valley we came upon a camp of Mexicans, 
 on whom I aired my Spanish with poor success. You never 
 know how little you understand a language until you try to 
 utilize it. They looked like a pack of land-pirates, with their 
 knives, broad hats, and heads stuck through the centres of 
 their blankets. 
 
 At sunset we came to a new settlement, called Beaver, com- 
 posed of three or four hundred people. It had been a dis- 
 appointment, as there had been frosts every month in the 
 year. At night we went to a religious meeting held in the 
 schoolhouse. The congregation was rough, and rudely clad, 
 in homespun, calico and buckskin. I saw here what reminded 
 me of the old-time Puritan worship : bowie knives and re- 
 volvers in church. There was no regular minister ; the ser- 
 vices being carried on by different members giving in their 
 " experience." Their language was rough and ungrammatical, 
 and some of the narrations so comical as to set the audience 
 to laughing. Some grew pathetic, and their hearers cried, and 
 on the whole they enjoyed themselves. One told how, when 
 once afflicted with a plague of grasshoppers, prayers for de- 
 liverance were made, when flocks of a peculiar bird, strange 
 to that country, came among them and devoured them all. 
 
 We laid up the next da}^ for the purpose of recruiting our 
 mules and horses, so our conductors said ; but I thought that 
 the real reason was that the Beaver folks might get some of 
 our gold. Every village we passed through was formed, for 
 the time, into a toll house, wherein we would be systematically 
 relieved of our superfluity of evil's root. Our Mormons, know- 
 ing the poverty of their isolated brethren, favored them all 
 
AMONG THE MORMON SETTLEMENTS. 133 
 
 they could by delays. Our abstinence so long from vegetables 
 and dairy products made us keen for them, and they were put 
 on to us at high figures. They also knew our failing for pie, 
 and did a fine trade with us in that circular necessity. 
 
 We were visited by a small party of Indians in the fore- 
 noon. They came from their dens in the neighboring moun- 
 tains on a begging expedition— enterprises which the sylvan 
 stoics often engaged in — as the scarcity of game kept them in 
 a semi-civilized state. The Mormons satisfied their demands 
 humbly, for should they excite their wrath, they would fare 
 badly. Even if the Indians did not make an attack on the 
 settlement itself, they would make the whites feel their venge- 
 ance some other way : by running off their cattle, or by riddling 
 them with arrows. Besides this their long trips over the 
 desert made them dependent on the good will of the savages. 
 It may be, also, that certain enterprises which the Indians and 
 Mormons had in common, such as the massacre of the Moun- 
 tain Meadows, made the latter humor their swarthy neighbors 
 for fear they might expose them. 
 
 There were two characters among the Indians who visited 
 us; one of whom was a chief, called "Injun Tom" by the 
 townsfolk ; the other being self-styled " Worky John." The 
 last could talk but little English, and offered us much sport. 
 He would go through the motions of driving a yoke of oxen, 
 at the same time imitating the conversation usually directed 
 towards them by the average teamster, which made our ex-ox- 
 drivers howl with delight. John was almost naked when he 
 came among us, and as a reward for his entertainment we 
 made him up a missionary box, containing a hat, shirt and 
 trousers. I need not say that the hat was of the shocking bad 
 order, and that the other articles were in tatters, for why should 
 we be expected to donate the pick of our wardrobe to the 
 heathen, more than other more pretentious folks. It was comical 
 to see the Indian putting the last on— wrong side foremost and 
 
134 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 almost upside down. Finally, with our assistance, he was 
 dressed, when he danced and shouted and leaped and laughed, 
 with his hat on one side and the extremity of his linen floating 
 in the breeze through a rent in his breeches. Then he would 
 mock a drunken man ; his stagger and reel, his nodding head 
 and leer of eye showing he had seen the effects of fire-water 
 on the human form. 
 
 One thing to the credit of these Indians is their disgust of 
 drunkenness ; but, no doubt, as civilization encroaches on them 
 they will acquire the habits of their brothers east of the 
 mountains. I think the Mormons were partly the cause of 
 this, through self-interest, if from no higher motive. 
 
 Our visitors left us before noon and made their way towards 
 their dens in the mountains. They returned in the afternoon, 
 with several squaws added — hideous beings, by the way. 
 " Worky John " brought a harem of four, all clad in short 
 mantles of rabbit skin. I could have wished the rabbits in 
 that country grew in proportion to their ears, or that the 
 squaws attained a less altitude, though goodness knows they 
 were squatty enough, rarely attaining a height of over four 
 feet. Their faces were hideous, their hair thick and matted, 
 their breasts long and hanging to the waist — altogether they 
 were horrid objects. One of them had a baby hanging to her 
 back, its form lashed in a willow frame and looking contented 
 and sleepy, as all papooses do. " Worky John " took great 
 pleasure in showing his wives, at the same time strongly hint- 
 ing that presents to them were in order. Our stock of mil- 
 linery, jewelry and other articles which delight the eye of 
 women just then being low, we were unable to satisfy his 
 insinuations. 
 
 "Injun Tom" differed from "Worky John" indisposition, 
 being morose and sullen. He was dreaded by the Beaverians 
 on account of his influence among the Utes. A thoughtless 
 member of our company, to note its effect, told Tom that the 
 
AMONG THE MORMON SETTLEMENTS. 135 
 
 tribes east of the mountains had banded together to exterm- 
 inate his own, which much excited him. He then angered 
 him by calling him a ''bad Injun," in the assumption that the 
 good ones were all dead, or doing sentry duty before cigar 
 stores. The term seemed full of insult, for on hearing it his 
 wdiole nature underwent a change. With wild gesticulations 
 and glistening of his snake-like eyes he commenced yelling 
 and screaming a string of phrases, half English and half 
 Indian, at his insulter, who tried to soothe him when the 
 Mormons told him what might be the result of his imprudence 
 in the lone journeys ahead. Tom grew so wild that we feared he 
 might do bodily harm to his enemy; but the Mormons acting 
 as peacemakers in part allayed the storm, though the fierce 
 looks remained on his face still. Before leaving us he extended 
 his hand towards his insulter, but upon the latter preparing 
 to meet this proffer of forgiveness, Tom dropped his hand, and 
 spitting on the ground to show his contempt, turned his back 
 on us, and, followed by the rest of his gang, struck for the 
 mountains. As we had to travel a long reach inhabited by his 
 tribe, our Mormons felt uneasy, not so much from direct 
 attack, but from stealing or killing of our animals. 
 
 One of the beauties of Mormonism had lately been exhibited 
 in Beaver, where a girl of thirteen had just been married, or 
 " sealed," as they termed it, to a man of forty. The groom 
 was a tar-maker, and to see this oddly mated couple two of 
 our boys visited them, ordering a gallon of tar as an excuse. 
 Having none on hand, he engaged to make some at once ; but 
 I judge he was stuck with it, as the interviewers, having grati- 
 fied their curiosity, never fulfilled their contract. 
 
 In my notes I refer to the above gentleman as an "old man 
 of forty," which goes to show what a relative term "old" is. 
 From my then youthful standpoint he seemed well towards 
 the foot of life's downward slope; now that I have cut my 
 fiftieth notch on time's reckoning stick, the man of tar appears 
 
136 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 young enough to have needed the consent of parents or guar- 
 dians to his hymeneal venture. 
 
 Under various pretexts we were kept at Beaver till the 24th. 
 Time passed slowly, for our provisions were going fast. We 
 spent it lounging around our campfire, practicing with our 
 rifles on imaginary Indians, and in making pumpkin pie raids 
 on the Mormon huts. We at last started on our way. The 
 mountains on the south we passed by a stony canon, and de- 
 scended to the valley of Little Salt Lake, where w^e encamped 
 after dark by a brackish spring in the centre of a green meadow 
 — a real oasis in the desert. The next day we came in sight 
 of the lake itself, which is fifteen miles long and embosomed 
 in a desert valley, and has no visible outlet. 
 
 In the afternoon we reached Hed Creek settlement, which 
 was built on a plan admirably adapted for resisting Indian 
 attacks. An adobe wall, twenty feet high and pierced by a 
 single gateway, enclosed an area of one hundred feet each way, 
 and formed the rear wall for ranges of dwellings fronting on 
 the hollow square, where cattle and other belongings could be 
 kept at night. We reached Parowan before sunset, and camped 
 within its walls. This town is two hundred and fifty miles 
 south of Salt Lake, is among the oldest of the Mormon settle- 
 ments and, with one exception, the best-built town I saw in 
 Utah. It is surrounded by a wall twelve feet high and a mile 
 around, and the public square is enclosed by a picket fence and 
 planted with shade trees. Its people numbered about eight 
 hundred. 
 
 Three of us visited one of the citizens after supper. As we 
 wanted to buy some provender, we were cordially met and 
 ushered into a common room, in which there was a bed 
 suggestively wide. We spent an entertaining evening talking 
 on matters not remarkably deep.. While on the Utah war, of 
 the incidents and causes of which he was profoundly ignorant, 
 my host said, "Uncle Sam's President now, ain't he?" I 
 
AMONG THE MORMON SETTLEMENTS. 137 
 
 thought this was his little joke, until I found he thought that 
 our national uncle and "Jimmy" Buchanan were one and 
 the same, when he asked, " Uncle Sam's a bachelor, ain't he?" 
 I told him he was, and I expect he detested him on account of 
 his lone state still more than he had, for they all hate the 
 Federal authorities. Our host had three wives, all of whom 
 called him "father" when they addressed him. There was 
 a young squaw in the room also, but whether as wife or help 
 I did not ascertain. 
 
 A return caravan passed through the town that night, from 
 which we learned that the Indians ahead were getting trouble- 
 some; a fight with some emigrants having aroused their 
 anger. 
 
 Early on the 28th we reached the walled town of Cedar City 
 —a half in ruins settlement. It was a sad sight to see so many 
 dwellings, once thronged by busy inmates, going to decay; the 
 roofs falling in, the walls crumbling. About half the people 
 had gone to more f^ivored regions. The remainder looked 
 lonesome and owlish amid the desolation, and doubtless the 
 town would soon be wholly deserted. 
 
 We vraited several hours here for the rest of the wagons to 
 come up. We employed the time in laying in provisions, as 
 this was our last chance before crossing the desert. The people 
 were taking advantage of this to charge us extortionate 
 prices, when Bishop Lee interfered in our behalf, so that flour 
 fell from $12 to $6 per hundred. This Lee was he who after- 
 wards turned informer, and showed the connection of the 
 Mormons and Indians with the massacre of the Mountain 
 Meadows. Though high in the Church, he did not look much 
 like an ecclesiastic. He was a portly gentleman with a red 
 face, which showed that he liked the good things of this earth, 
 and now and then held converse with departing spirits. He 
 was clad in a showy suit, in which a " boiled shirt," satin vest 
 and cloth coat shone conspicuously: so different from his 
 9 
 
138 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 companions, who wore the roughest clothing. He was quite 
 voluble, though the occasional expletives showed him a little 
 profane for a Bishop. 
 
 Cedar City boasted the only iron works in Utah ; but they 
 were a failure, as the ore could not be made to " flux," and no 
 fire clay could be found to stand the required heat. 
 
 The expected teams having come up, we left the settlement. 
 Our road laid for a mile along the large farm which was sur- 
 rounded by a palisade of jagged cedar logs. We encamped 
 at night in a pass leading up the inner slopes of Fremont's 
 Basin, by a little spring of sulphur, which we could hardly 
 drink. The night was very cold, but with a wind-break of 
 cedar boughs and plenty of fire, we endured it until morning. 
 We reached Panther Creek at noon: the last settlement on the 
 great highway to California. 
 
X. 
 
 (sKfoncr tFie ©expert Si)oriler, 
 
 BROAD expanse of wilderness, on which there was not 
 ^ a civilized habitation, now la}^ before us ; the first 
 settlement being four hundred miles distant- 
 Visions of bleached skeletons, parched lips, stinted rations, and 
 all the dismal belongings of desert travel, arose in my mind as 
 we left the little settlement of Panther Creek and resumed our 
 route up the uneven slope of the mountain. We encamped at 
 night on a desolate valley opening onto the Mountain Meadows. 
 
 These meadows, which w^e entered the morning of the 30th, 
 are situated on the summit of the "Rim of the Basin," at the 
 elevation of five thousand feet above the sea, and consist of a 
 level valley a mile in width, and seven miles in length. By the 
 Spaniards it bore the name of Las Vegas de Santa Clara, and 
 was the place where the great caravans bound to New Mexico 
 from California rested to recruit their animals, famished and 
 wearied by their toilsome journey over the Great Desert. Our 
 route lay down the valley over a good, well-beaten trail, and 
 we encamped at noon by a little stream, which barely aff'orded 
 enough water for ourselves and animals. 
 
 Close by our camping place occurred the notorious massacre 
 of the Mountain Meadows, where, in the autumn of 1857, one 
 hundred and nineteen persons were brutally murdered by a 
 party of Indians, and Mormons disguised as such. It was a 
 
 (139) 
 
140 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 company of emigrants on their way from Arkansas to Cali- 
 fornia via the Southern Route, who from some cause had 
 aroused the anger of the Saints. With the exception of a few 
 of the children, who were thought too young to ever be able to 
 give an account of the affair, the whole party was destroyed ; 
 the children being scattered among the white murderers of 
 their parents, after the massacre. After some time they were 
 sought out by their friends and brought to Salt Lake City, 
 where they remained until the summer of 1859, when the}^ 
 were taken to California by the Government, but not until they 
 had criminated several Mormons among the assassinators of 
 their parents. A cluster of sunken graves, and the remains of 
 a hastily thrown-up fortification, w^ere all that now marked the 
 spot where the unfortunate emigrants perished. 
 
 I was not aware at the time that the Mormons were in any 
 way connected with the massacre, further than in burying the 
 victims and taking care of the survivors, and with the rest of 
 the Gentiles drank in as gospel the account of the affair given 
 by our conductors, although I wondered at the time why they 
 had so much aversion to talking on the subject. I give below 
 the Mormon version of the massacre as told me by one of our 
 conductors : 
 
 "The emigrants, on arriving at the watering place, were 
 visited by a party of Indians whom the former (pretending 
 friendship towards them) invited to a large feast which they 
 were going to have served up in the afternoon ; an ox having 
 been slaughtered for the purpose. In order to rid themselves 
 of the Indians, the flesh of the ox was poisoned by the Ameri- 
 cans, as was also the water of the spring ; but the Indians 
 found out the strategem in season to prevent its effects. They 
 took no notice of it at the time, but at daybreak the next 
 morning attacked the camj) of the emigrants, which the latter 
 had fortified in anticipation of an assault, and took vengeance 
 on their enemies by murdering all but the younger children. 
 
ALONG THE DESERT BORDER. 141 
 
 The Mormons, on hearing of the outrage, immediately repaired 
 to the scene of carnage, where they interred the dead ; after 
 which they took the living to their homes, where they were 
 kindly taken care of until their friends came after them." 
 
 In spite of the assertions of the Mormons to the contrary, 
 there is no doubt but what they were the principal actors in 
 this fearful tragedy, and that they were closely leagued with 
 the Indians ; else why was it that small parties of Saints were 
 enabled to pass through a region infested by savage tribes, 
 which boldly attacked and robbed large bodies of American 
 Gentiles. Bishop Lee, of Beaver, afterwards confessed to being 
 one of the principals of the massacre, and that it was instigated 
 by Mormon officials. 
 
 The country became more rough and uneven as we ad- 
 vanced. Filling our casks at a little stream which crossed our 
 path, we made a dry camp at nightfall, on the summit of the 
 rim of the Great Basin. As we were now approaching a region 
 infested by dangerous Indians, a council of war was held in 
 the evening, for the purpose of choosing officers, appointing 
 guards and making regulations for the government of our 
 company. Sydney Tanner, an old mountaineer and veteran 
 Mormon, was unanimously elected captain, and a gentleman 
 who figured in the New York Clipper under the nom de 
 plume of "Sporty" was chosen sergeant of the camp guard, 
 which was hereafter to be mounted at night ; each guard to be 
 composed of two men, and to stand so many hours at a time. 
 The passengers volunteered to stand camp guard, while the 
 more difficult horse guard was to be performed by the team- 
 sters. A short but comprehensive address Avas made by the 
 captain in regard to our intercourse with the Indians, so that 
 collisions might be avoided, after which the meeting broke up 
 with three loud cheers for the officers elected. Roughly clad, 
 sunburnt, and "bearded like the pard," we formed quite a 
 picturesque group, as we stood encircling a huge campfire, 
 
142 A CALIFOKNIA TRAMP. 
 
 which threw a bright glare over all, and boisterously deliberat- 
 ing on "affairs of great pith and moment." The fact of our 
 being on the culminating point of the ridge dividing the 
 waters flowing into the Pacific from those losing themselves 
 in the Great Basin, was enough to make our camp interesting, 
 while the rugged mountains surrounding us, and the idea of 
 having cast ourselves loose from the bonds of civilization to 
 traverse a region remarkable for its physical features, and the 
 dangers which await the traveler from Indian attack while 
 traversing it, added additional interest to the scene. 
 
 I awoke in the morning with a rather peculiar sensation of 
 moisture about my face, and, upon opening my eyes, I was 
 made aware of the disagreeable fact that a snow-storm was 
 raging above us and robing the face of nature, as well as my 
 own, with a mantle of white. The blankets and heads of our 
 party were covered also, and it was amusing to see the sleepers 
 as they awoke from their heavy slumbers (so heavy that they 
 were unaware that Dame Nature in her generosity was furnish- 
 ing them with an additional coverlet) and brushed the spongy 
 element from their eyes, preparatory to gazing upon the outer 
 world. It was not a very agreeable predicament to be in, but 
 we philosophically arose and shook the accumulated snow from 
 our blankets, and stowing them in our wagons, we were 
 soon absorbed in our breakfast-cooking operations — operations 
 which were carried on in the face of great difficulties, for the 
 fast falling snow, which was accompanied by rain, had a great 
 tendency to extinguish our fires, and consequently our pa- 
 tience. We were detained until near noon by the storm and 
 the difficulty in finding our animals, which had scattered over 
 the neighboring hills, but we at last got under way and com- 
 menced our descent of the "Rim of the Basin." Passing down 
 a rough road, particularly dangerous to the wagons on account 
 of the numerous "jump-offs" we encountered, we at last 
 reached the head waters of the Santa Clara, a stream flowing 
 
ALONG THE DESERT BORDER. 143 
 
 into the Pacific through the Virgin and Colorado. By a route 
 four hundred miles long we had crossed the Great Basin, and we 
 now stood again on the Pacific slope, which we had traveled over 
 five weeks before. We soon reached the valley of the Santa 
 Clara, a rough, sandy flat a half a mile in width, well timbered 
 along the stream with cotton-woods, and flanked by bleak and 
 rugged mountains. Evidences of a tremendous flood, which 
 had swept this valley the preceding spring, were continually 
 visible in the trunks of trees and driftwood that strewed the 
 bottom. The trail had been obliterated by the rushing waters, 
 and we were now traveling over an exceedingly rough road, 
 which had been barely laid out by the few wagons that had 
 passed down the valley since the freshet. These freshets, which 
 occur every spring from the melting of the snows which have 
 accumulated among the mountains during the winter, come 
 pouring down the tributaries of the Santa Clara in torrents, to 
 join their volumes in its valley, between whose rocky blufi's 
 they rush headlong to the Pacific, carrying devastation in their 
 wakes. A rain-storm came on us in the afternoon, and we 
 were obliged to make an early halt, camping at the base of a 
 . precipitous steep whose summit arose perpendicularly a thou- 
 sand feet above us. 
 
 About half way up the side a cave was seen. To this I 
 ascended, and found it to be a deserted Indian home, as signs 
 of fire were visible on the floor, and the sides of the chamber 
 were blackened with smoke. 
 
 The morning of the second of December dawned upon us 
 clear but cold, and a strong wind was blowing through the dreary 
 valley. We made an early start, and continuing down the 
 river over a trail which offered numerous obstructions to our 
 weary animals, by w^ay of deep sand, rocks and bad fordings, 
 we came upon a party of travelers encamped by a little nook 
 on the roadside. They were in a sorry predicament, indeed, 
 as two of their wagons had broken down, and they would be 
 
144 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 obliged to remain until they could get them repaired at a 
 Mormon settlement the other side of the mountain. Th^y 
 were surrounded by a gang of naked Indians, of the Santa 
 Clara tribe, whose impudent demands for provisions they were 
 thoughtlessly complying with ; not thinking that the more 
 they would give to these beastly wretches, the more they would 
 ask for. The Santa Claras, which are the most dreaded 
 Indians on the route, thickly infest the regions around here, 
 and by murder and robbery lay a heavy toll on the emi- 
 gration passing through their cheerless domains. The cold 
 rain of the preceding night had been a godsend to us, as it 
 had been the means of keeping these Indians within their dens; 
 had it been otherwise the whole tribe would soon have been 
 apprized by its scouts of our coming, and our night's camp 
 would have been thronged by the red scamps, who by beg- 
 ging and stealing would have materially lessened our supply 
 of provisions, which we were obliged to husband carefully, as 
 we had scarcely enough to carry us through. Soon after 
 passing this encampment we met a return exploring party of 
 Mormons, who had been, as they said, on a search for more 
 tillable territory whereon the new-comers to the Church of 
 Latter Day Saints might settle, as the amount of land in Utah 
 capable of being successfully cultivated is very limited, on 
 account of the small quantity of water for irrigating purposes 
 that these rainless regions afford. The party had been absent 
 some months on their perilous enterprise — perilous on acount 
 of the risks they ran of dying by thirst and starvation in the 
 desolate country traversed — and showed haggard faces and 
 tattered garments. Although the explorers had ostensibly 
 gone for the above purpose, they had doubtlessly been sent to 
 seek some new abiding place for the Saints, in the event of 
 their being ousted from their present locations by the Federal 
 troops. The leaders of the Mormons had for some time been 
 keeping themselves in readiness for such an event, and I was 
 
ALONG THE DESERT BORDER. 145 
 
 informed by one of our conductors, that in the heart of the 
 grdat desert regions lying west of the Mormon settlements, a 
 fertile valley had been discovered, which, on account of the 
 small quantity of water found along the route leading to it, 
 could only be attained by small companies at a time. Here, 
 should they be driven from their present abodes, they could 
 form a distinct empire of their own, even more isolated than 
 the country they now inhabit, where, revelling in the slough of 
 polygamy to their hearts' content, they might bid defiance to 
 the United States, whose troops could only reach the Mormons 
 in small squads, which could be cut off easily by the " Destroy- 
 ing Angels." 
 
 A little after noon we reached a point on the Santa Clara 
 where the trail leaves it to the left, a short distance above its 
 junction with the Kio Virgin. The scenery along the whole 
 of the eighteen miles which we had traveled down the valley 
 was particularly wild and rugged, and extremely interesting 
 to those fond of viewing nature in her roughest aspects. Rocks 
 piled on rocks arose upon the view above a narrow, sandy 
 valley, through the middle of which a small river was dashing 
 and foaming on its oceanward way. Near where we left it, a 
 bold escarpment of rock of a bright vermillion color arose 
 above the left bank of the river, making a pleasing variation 
 to the sombre hue of the surrounding scenery. Filling our 
 water casks, we left the Santa Clara, and climbing a steep, 
 sandy bluff we found ourselves on a desert plateau, in the 
 centre of which arose a mountain 'two thousand feet in height, 
 and covered from near its base to its summit with a thick 
 covering of snow. Striking across this plain in the direction 
 of a deep gorge in the mountain, we passed, near the roadside, 
 a singular rock, which was about twenty feet in height, length 
 and thickness, being remarkably square. It lay poised upon 
 a pile of other rocks, on to which it had rolled from a neighbor- 
 ing hill, on whose slope were a few more specimens of the same 
 
146 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 kind, apparently ready to follow in the wake of their cubical 
 comrade. About sunset we entered the defile before referred 
 to, up which we commenced our toilsome ascent of the moun- 
 tain. The trail was sometimes so shut in by obtruding rocks 
 as to hardly allow the passage of our wagons. We at length 
 reached the snow line, and here the cold grew so intense that 
 our blankets and overcoats were brought into requisition to keep 
 us from freezing. Shortly after entering the canon we were 
 overtaken by a chief of the Santa Claras, who, enraged that so 
 large a body should pass through his domains without paying 
 the usual toll, had started in pursuit of our caravan, hoping to 
 yet squeeze from it a little tribute. He was very impudent in 
 his demands, which our Mormon friends partially satisfied with 
 presents of flour and clothing, after which he left us. Naked 
 as he was, he went bounding through the snow apparently un- 
 conscious of the inclemency of the weather, and was soon out 
 of sight. 
 
 It was far into the night when we reached the summit of 
 the mountain, around which a fierce tempest was blowing 
 and chilling us to the bone, as with shivering limbs and 
 chattering teeth we trudged through the snow by the side of 
 the jaded teams. It was near midnight when we reached a 
 point near the foot of the caiion on the far side of the summit, 
 where we encamped after a march of thirty miles, ten of which 
 had been over the mountain. The cutting wind still howled 
 around our heads with unabated fury, and owing to this, to- 
 gether with the darkness of the night and the scarcity of fuel, 
 we were necessitated to go to bed minus our supper, although 
 we had eaten nothing since morning. Our chief thoughts were 
 as to how and where we would pass the remainder of the night. 
 We now regretted more than ever that we had not provided 
 ourselves with tents when starting on our journey, for it was 
 almost unbearable to lie out in the open air on a night like this. 
 An exploring party having found some cedars on the opposite 
 
ALONG THE DESERT BORDER. 147 
 
 side of the canon — which had here expanded to a fourth of a 
 mile in width — we repaired thither, and building a fire in a 
 sort of ravine, which broke the force of the wind, we passed a 
 dismal night. Few had more than one pair of blankets where- 
 with to fight off the cold, and these were spread on the stony 
 soil, making a couch that none could sleep upon but weary 
 travelers like ourselves. The cold had considerably abated 
 by morning, when we emerged from the canon into a dreary 
 desert which lay spread before us, covered with thorny vegeta- 
 tion of all sizes, from the stunted prickly pear to the yucca tree 
 growing to the height of twenty feet, and a foot in diameter. 
 The yucca is a singular tree, and gives a peculiar appearance to 
 the country in which it grows. The wood is soft and spongy, 
 and the fibres are locked and twisted to an extent rendering it 
 impossible to separate them. The limbs, which project hori- 
 zontally, are short, thick and blunt; from their extremities 
 project circular clumps of bayonet-shaped spines a foot in 
 length, which are stiff and armed with thorny points. On ac- 
 count of the singular formation of its formidable-looking leaves 
 the plant is sometimes known as the " Spanish Dagger." These 
 leaves are of a vivid green color, and are in pleasing contrast 
 with the few gloomy-hued plants of the desert. The yucca is 
 short lived, and in localities where it abounds the earth is 
 thickly strewn with prostrate trunks, which are nearly as light 
 and porous as so much cotton. It burns freely, but owing to 
 the sickening odor it emits, is not in much demand for fuel. 
 
 The tree is shown in the foreground of the next illustration, 
 which is sketched from memory. 
 
 Traveling for fifteen miles over a plain of sand and gravel, 
 which abounded with yuccas and other thorny plants, we 
 halted after noon at a camping place known as the " Beaver 
 Dam." In the evening a party of fifty or sixty men came up 
 with us and encamped near, intending to travel with us until 
 the end of the journey. We now numbered near a hundred 
 
148 
 
 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
ALONG THE DESERT BORDER. 149 
 
 and fifty men, a force amply sufficient to withstand a large 
 force of Diggers, for whose appearance we kept a strict watch 
 nightly. 
 
 We were under way a little after sunrise the next morning 
 (4th), and crossing a tract of sandy desert, six miles in width, 
 we came upon the valley of the Rio Virgin, and here I cast my 
 eyes on one of the most disagreeable sceneries I saw in my 
 trans-continental trip. Imagine a level, sandy valley, bounded 
 on either side by bluffs of rock and yellow sand, through the 
 centre of which a turbid, crooked river is flowing between 
 steep-cut banks. Imagine the narrow plain covered at inter- 
 vals with weeds and thorns, and a bright noontide sun pour- 
 ing upon the glaring sands its dazzling beams, and you can 
 judge of the impression which the sight of the valley of the Rio 
 Virgin made upon me. A few miles above where we struck it 
 the river flows between precipitous rocks, which rise to the 
 height of two thousand feet, forming a gigantic gateway, 
 through which the muddy waters dash and foam on their way 
 to the sandy plain beyond. Shortly after we entered the valley 
 we met a band of Diggers, who accompanied us for some time. 
 
 Continuing down the dreary valley, over a road filled with 
 deep sand, through Avhich our horses and mules wearily 
 waded, we camped on the right shore of the river, after a 
 journey of eighteen miles. This camp was in New Mexico, 
 through the northwestern part of which the trail passes. Our 
 evening's camp was enlivened by another cotillon, the par- 
 ticipants of which danced to the music of a well-played violin. 
 It was odd to hear sounds of mirth, revelry and music ascend- 
 ing from such a forsaken region. As the Terpsichorean 
 performers moved through the intricate " figures," they would 
 occasionally stumble over the clumps of sage-brush which 
 covered the camp, and considerable confusion was occasioned 
 thereby. A party of Diggers had visited our camp early in 
 the even i no-. Hearing our shouts and music, they repaired in 
 
150 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 a body to the spacious ballroom and enjoyed with infinite 
 glee the antics of the obstreperous palefaces. One of the 
 latter having been jilted by his partner, entered the ranks of 
 the dusky aborigines, and, heedless of the consequences that 
 might ensue from the act, dragged one of them (a sort of one- 
 horse chief) out into the cotillon. The Digger took the joke 
 in good part, and capered about in great glee, occasionally 
 giving vent to his feelings in yells of delight, and war-whoops 
 delivered off-hand, as he was pulled and hauled by his not 
 very gentle comrade. His swarthy brethren appeared to enjoy 
 the sport as much as himself, and their gentle guffaws showed 
 them of a less stoical mood than their brethren west of the 
 mountains. 
 
 While these saltatory festivities were in progress, our con- 
 ductors were on nettles for fear the imprudent among us would 
 commit some act provocative of future trouble by their famili- 
 arities with the savages. These Indians were the best natured 
 I met on my travels, and the only ones I ever saw enjoy a 
 hearty laugh ; but so changeable and treacherous were they by 
 nature, that the least going beyond the mark by our men 
 would anger them in a moment, and set them to concocting 
 some scheme for our injury. The Mormons, being the greatest 
 probable sufferers from any misunderstanding which might 
 arise, did their best to quietly prevent any outbreak; in fact, 
 throughout the journey they showed remarkable tact, both in 
 their dealings with the Indians and our own men. 
 
 Bill Bently, our deserter, ow^ned a pup which he had bought 
 of a Mormon at Beaver. He was fat and sleek, but gave 
 little promise of future worth. A bright-looking, skeletonized 
 dog, owned by one of our Indian visitors, took Bently 's 
 attention, and he proposed a trade, and not knowing a Digger's 
 predilection, expected to give boot. The Indian gave one 
 look at the fat puppy, and with an affirmative grunt agreed 
 to swap, when the bargain was consummated in mutual satis- 
 
ALONG THE DESERT BORDER. 151 
 
 faction. The Indian dog, under protest, was absorbed into 
 our mess, while the Mormon pup was doubtless soon assimi- 
 lated into the aboriginal system. The Indians have a penchant 
 for cooked dog, from the half-civilized tribe bordering the 
 western frontiers to the brutish wretches who infest the Great 
 Sandy Desert, 
 
 Throughout the forty miles which we traveled along the 
 valley of the Rio Virgin, the same general features were 
 presented : a sandy bottom of various width, bordered by 
 square-cut bluffs which increased in height as we advanced. 
 We used sparingly of the water of the river, which possesses 
 deleterious qualities, as its upper tributaries are fed by 
 poisonous springs. We crossed the river twelve or thirteen 
 times at rocky or quicksandy fords, where the stream was so 
 deep that its rushing waters came up to the beds of the 
 wagons, which were som^etimes in danger of being swept down 
 the current. The road w^as a bad one the whole distance, 
 passing over a continuous bed of deep, yielding sand, Avhich 
 worried our teams so badly that the passengers were obliged 
 to make pedestrianism a profession a good portion of the way. 
 
 At sunset on the 5th we reached that point on the Rio 
 Virgin where the Santa Fe trail leaves it and strikes south- 
 westwardly across the Sandy Desert. We encamped on the 
 shore about a mile from the mesa, or plain, which here rises 
 abruptly to the height of five hundred feet. Hardly had we 
 halted before the neighboring bluffs were seen alive with 
 Diggers, who came out of their cavernous habitations in 
 swarms to look at us. Some descended to the valley and 
 came running to the camp, where they greeted us with cries 
 of " sJietcop ashendy//^^ (give us something to eat). They 
 were grotesque specimens of humanity, especially the old men, 
 and were nearly naked, what few clothes they had amongst 
 them being tattered apparel which they had begged or 
 stolen from passing caravans. 
 
152 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 A single garment was the average. One would have a pair 
 of pantaloons so torn that had there been a background of 
 shirt and any street urchins in the vicinity, he would have 
 been told there was mail matter awaiting call. Another 
 would have a coat split down the back like a locust shell, a 
 third would have a shirt only, and a fourth only a hat. Some 
 had quivers of panther skins hung over their shoulders. These 
 were filled with arrows made of reeds and pointed with sharp 
 flints, bound on with fine sinews. Their bows were three or 
 four feet long, and made either of wood or from elk-ribs neatly 
 spliced together. These last must have come from the East, as 
 there is nothing larger than rabbits in this section. Their 
 bows are powerful, and will send an arrow through the body 
 of an ox or horse, as passing emigrants have often learned to 
 their sorrow. These Indians had no fire-arms. The head 
 men knew our conductors well from previous intercourse, and 
 shook hands with them quite ostentatiously ; winding up with 
 the everlasting cry of " shetcop,^' a word which springs as 
 naturally to a Digger's lips as does " backsheesh " to those of 
 their near relative, the Egyptian Arab. Shortly after their 
 arrival in camp they commenced dragging fuel from distant 
 points for our use, for which service they expected liberal pay 
 in food and raiment. Our animals were given in their charge. 
 The Mormons adopted this plan altogether while traveling in 
 these regions, and were rarely troubled with having stock 
 stolen ; for the Diggers, through interested motives, were true 
 to their trust. 
 
^K^^^m 
 
 XI. 
 
 ©n tfie ^reat ^anil^ ©expert. 
 
 E were now on the borders of a desolate region, 
 extending westward from three to four hundred 
 (Q^JU miles ; as truly a desert as the Great Sahara ; a 
 
 land of sand, gravel and rocks; with occasional brackish 
 springs and streams which lost themselves awhile under the 
 surface, again to appear ; their courses, when above ground, 
 marked by stretches of salt grass and thorny shrubs and 
 prickly plants. In all this domain there was not an inhabited 
 building, not even a tent for the protection of its savage 
 inhabitants, such as are used by the Indians of the East, for 
 they lived in caves or flimsy hovels made from reeds and 
 mud. A glance eastward over the shores of the Rio Virgin 
 showed mountain after mountain, bare and bleak, rolling 
 backward until lost to view in the haz}^ distance. 
 
 The next morning we intended to have made an early start, 
 as we had a twenty mile desert to cross before reaching water, 
 but we were detained until ten o'clock by being unable to find 
 one of our horses. A party of eight men, who had an outfit of 
 their own, and who had joined us a few days previously for 
 protection, became impatient of the delay and pushed forward, 
 heedless of the consequences. We watched the little party with 
 interest as it slowly moved away from our night's encampment 
 toward the trail which strikes the bluffs some two miles distant. 
 10 (153) 
 
154 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 The most difficult ascent between the frontiers and the Pacific 
 is up these blufis. The wagon was drawn by two half-famished 
 Indian ponies, which seemed hardly able to draw themselves 
 up the steep, independent of their wagon, and we did not 
 expect to see them reach the summit. In the dim distance 
 the men looked like pigmies tugging and toiling at the 
 wheels, as they aided their equine comrades up the toilsome 
 ascent. Attaining the summit at last, they fired a volley of 
 shots and gave exultant shouts, to let us poor, belated fellows 
 know that they could go as well without us as in our com- 
 pany, little thinking how soon they would need our assistance. 
 
 Having lost much precious time searching for the lost 
 horse, we finally concluded that the Indians had run it off 
 and eaten it, and resolved to push on. Our cavalcade was 
 two hours in ascending the bluffs. The passengers were 
 obliged to put their shoulders to the wheels of their respective 
 vehicles, in aiding the panting teams up the precipitous, stony 
 steeps which barred our progress, and we were glad when we 
 at last stood secure on the top of the dangerous declivity, in 
 some parts of which the slightest accident would have hurled 
 wagon and team into defiles hundreds of feet below. 
 
 We had an extensive but not inviting prospect from our 
 elevation of the desolate valley beneath our feet, beyond which 
 arose a range of bleak and rugged mountains. We did not 
 stop long to meditate, however, but as soon as the last team 
 was up, struck across the broad desert plateau which lay 
 spread before us : a barren tract of sand and gravel, its appar- 
 ently level outlines occasionally broken by bold, isolated 
 mountains, which arose in dismal grandeur to the height of 
 two thousand feet. I say the plain was apparently level, for it 
 was occasionally broken by yawning chasms where the earth 
 seemed to have been rent assunder by terrific convulsions of 
 nature. One of these chasms, around one end of which the trail 
 passed, was about two hundred feet in width by fifty in depth. 
 
ON THE GREAT SANDY DESERT. 155 
 
 and extended as far as the eye could reach. The bottom was 
 covered with jagged, splintered rocks, which had at one time 
 been subjected to intense heat, and the sides, which arose 
 perpendicularly above it, were rough and uneven and covered 
 with sharp projections. Gulches like this are quite common 
 on the Great Desert, and as it is unreasonable to suppose that 
 they have been hollowed out by floods, as rain rarely if ever 
 falls in these regions, we are forced to conclude that the under- 
 pinning of the earth's surface has given way in such places 
 and allowed it to sink. The peculiar formation of the earth 
 here to some distance below the surface, w^hich had the 
 appearance of having once been a mass of molten lava, gives 
 rise to the supposition that at some remote time the country 
 had been covered to a considerable depth with the vomitings 
 which made this plain one vast sea of fire. 
 
 Our road was exceedingly rough from the bed of stones 
 which covered it, and we traveled slowly. Late in the after- 
 noon we were overtaken by an Indian with the missing horse, 
 which we supposed had long since been disposed of by horse- 
 beef appreciating Diggers and was quietly reposing in their 
 stomachs. But the Indians had been true to their charge, 
 and after a long search for the missing animal had found 
 him. The Mormons wishing to instil into his mind the trite 
 maxim, "Honesty is the best policy," and to further enable 
 him at some future time to resist the temptation of converting 
 live horse into beef, liberally rewarded the conscientious 
 Digger with shetcop and clothing, and he retraced his steps 
 rejoicingly and in a brisk canter. 
 
 It was near midnight when, having crossed the jornado, we 
 descended a steep, sandy bluff and encamped in the midst of 
 pitchy darkness on the shores of the Rio de los Angeles, or 
 rather where it should be, as the river is here subterranean. 
 We procured enough of water, however, in a marsh close at 
 hand, bu^ it was disagreeably brackish. We found encamped 
 
156 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 near by the eight impatient travelers who had left us in such 
 fine style in the morning. They were in a sorry plight, in- 
 deed, for they were surrounded by a pack of yelling Diggers 
 who had them completely in their power. They had stolen 
 their rifles, and were now rummaging their baggage and 
 appropriating such articles, as took their fancy, to themselves, 
 while the humbled eight looked on and trembled. The 
 Diggers desisted from their plundering upon our unexpected 
 appearance, and were finally induced to make restitution from 
 threats of punishment. What would have become of the 
 party had we not seasonably arrived, I can only guess ; but it 
 is probable that they would have gone the road of the many 
 others whose uncoffined bones are bleaching on the sands of 
 the desert. 
 
 The morning of the 7th dawned upon us clear and bright, 
 and found us encamped on a swampy flat abounding in salt 
 grass, and occasionally covered with thickets of thorny bushes. 
 We were soon visited by hosts of Indians, men, women and 
 children; all clamorously demanding shetcop. There were 
 proportionally few squaws, numbers having been carried off" 
 by neighboring tribes and sold as slaves in the settlements of 
 New Mexico. What few we saw were extremely ugly. They 
 were low in stature (which was mostly under four feet), thick- 
 set and waddling in their gait. They wore scanty mantles, 
 made by sewing several rabbit skins together, which were 
 loosely thrown around them, in " mother Hubbard " style. 
 Their faces were even more repulsive than those of the males, 
 being wrinkled and brutish, and with eyes that glared like 
 4ihose of a beast of prey. They were abject slaves to the men, 
 and while the latter were hanging around our fires and pester- 
 ing us for shetcop, their women and children were squatted in 
 a group by themselves : the picture of humility and abase- 
 ment. Some of the squaws wore on their heads a sort of bowl 
 made of willow branches closely woven together, which was 
 
ON THE GREAT SANDY DESERT. 157 
 
 made to answer the double purpose of head-dress and goblet : 
 a convenient arrangement. 
 
 These Indians were of the Pah-Utah tribe, and were similar 
 in physical appearance and attire to their brethren of the Rio 
 Virgin, whom they, however, excelled in impudence. As they 
 were continually and vociferously crying for shetcop (some- 
 thing to eat), and as our conductors wished particularly to 
 gain their good will, a call was issued to our company for 
 alms in the shape of flour for the famished Diggers. This 
 was made by the captain and was responded to with right good 
 will by the different messes, so that enough of flour was raised 
 to make three kettles of " hasty pudding." The Diggers, in 
 hopes that they would not be disturbed by the " Americats " 
 in their culinary operations, repaired with their provender to 
 a little distance from our encampment, where they built fires, 
 and placing over them the camp-kettles filled to the brim with 
 an uninviting mixture of flour and water, squatted around 
 them, waiting anxiously for the decoction to come to a boil- 
 ing point. Two old and withered gentlemen, the patriarchs 
 of the flock, were the appointed chefs de ceremonie, their 
 business being to stir the pudding, a task they performed 
 with becoming gravity, while their juniors looked on with 
 mouths watering as they thought of the forthcoming feast. 
 It was as much as the venerable cooks could do to keep the 
 others from pitching pell-mell into the provender before it 
 was half cooked. As soon as it had reached the scalding 
 notch, the famished guests made a rush, and with wild cries 
 crowded around the mess like so many swine each one fearful 
 of not getting his share. Such pushing, scrambling and 
 yelling I never beheld. Some would get their cups full of the 
 beverage and sneak off to some locality where they could 
 enjoy it unobserved, while others would dip their hands into 
 the scalding contents of the kettles and lick them with evident 
 relish. In the uproar about as much was spilled as was eaten, 
 
158 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 but the Digger is by no means particular in his diet, and the 
 mush was scratched from the earth and gobbled down, sand 
 and all. We were fearful that the " ladies " would fail to get 
 their just allowance of shetcop, as their selfish lords seemed 
 disposed to appropriate the whole amount to themselves, but 
 we changed our opinions when we saw a cunning old squaw 
 step quietly in and take possession of one of the camp- 
 kettles, while the rest of the porcine group were squabbling 
 over the others. Returning to a safe distance with her prize, 
 she seated herself by it, and drawing the drapery of her 
 mantle around it, secured it from the gaze of prying eyes. It 
 was mirth-provoking to see the old " Diggeress," as seated by 
 her prize, she now and then gave us a knowing look. It was 
 with infinite satisfaction that she at last saw the contentious 
 crew start for a neighboring thicket, in close pursuit of two 
 camp-kettles which two enterprising gentlemen had made 
 bold to bear off for their exclusive benefit. Watching her 
 opportunity, she called up the squaws and papooses, who 
 had long been in the background of the scene, and unveiled 
 to the gaze of watchful eyes her "mess of pottage;" when 
 with exceeding zest the whole party fell to work and the 
 beverage disappeared with astonishing rapidity : the ladies 
 with the bowl-shaped bonnets faring the best, as they could 
 dip out a goodly portion at a time, while their less fortunate 
 comrades were constrained to make use of the convenient 
 goblet of Diogenes — the hollow of the hand. The whole 
 scene was rife with side-splitting merriment, and the per- 
 formers were greeted with uproarious laughter by the com- 
 pact circle of " Americats " which crowded around them, in 
 spite of the cries of " Piquee ! Piquee /" (go away ! go away !) 
 which were yelled at them by the annoyed Diggers. 
 
 The Pah-Utahs are the poorest and most degraded we saw 
 of all the Indians east or west of the Rocky Mountains. They 
 are kept in continual subjection by the powerful tribes of the 
 
ON THE GREAT SANDY DESERT. 159 
 
 Utahs and Parowans, who chase them from their hunting 
 grounds and confine them to a strip of desert country, which 
 barely affords them enough sustenance to keep them from starv- 
 ing. Their diet for the most part is such as the ancient witches 
 were wont to feed on ere starting on their expeditions for tor- 
 menting mortals: snakes, lizards, toads and frogs, and such other 
 reptiles which the warmth of the sun draws from beneath the 
 surface of these cheerless regions. In order to dislodge this 
 delectable "game" from their lairs, many of the Diggers go 
 armed with hooked sticks. Some of these animals they swal- 
 low raw, merely jerking off the tail by way of "dressing." 
 Even of this disgusting food they rarely have a sufficiency, and 
 are mostly in a state of semi-starvation, so that we can partially 
 excuse them for the begging and thieving which necessity 
 compels them to resort to as a means of supporting existence. 
 Some live in caves, while others live in miserable tents. Their 
 abodes are always in a horrible condition of filth, and those of 
 us who were venturesome enough to explore their interiors, 
 found them inhabited by miserable humanity and reeking 
 with vile odors. They are very cowardly, and will never 
 attack whites unless they are overwhelmingly in the majority, 
 and then in the dead of night. They are more dreaded for 
 their thievish than their warlike habits by travelers, who suf- 
 fer sometimes severely from the inroads they make upon their 
 animals. The language of these Indians is composed of but 
 few words, and those merely relate to their animal wants; the 
 accent being strikingly similar to that of the Spanish. 
 
 It was near 10 o'clock before we left our interesting camping 
 place; our route lying up a broad, sandy valley, occasionally 
 varied by miry flats, which were white with alkaline exuda- 
 tions, and giving forth a sickening odor. We at length 
 struck the river, which was two rods in width, its tortuous bed 
 sometimes deepening into holes of unknown depth. Its water 
 was impregnated with sulphur and very warm. Crossing the 
 
160 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 river, we stood on the edge of a "jornado" near sixty miles in 
 width. Filling our water casks, we left the gloomy valley of 
 the Rio de los Angeles (river of the angels), and ascending a 
 broad, square canon, nine miles in length, and strewn with the 
 debris of a disruptured world, we reached an uneven desert 
 plateau, where, from all parts of the compass, the most awful 
 desolation stared us in the face. Those in the "States," who 
 imagine the whole of our western territory to be one vast tract 
 of towering forests and verdant prairies, could hardly be 
 brought to realize the fact, that within the limits of our Re- 
 public are regions of such frightful desolation as these. They 
 read of the sterile, waterless plains covered with beds of mov- 
 ing sands and shattered rocks, which lie spread in desolate 
 grandeur over the Old World, little thinking of the vast ex- 
 panse of similar desert region that mars the beauty of our 
 country. Doomed forever to remain as it is, the abiding place 
 of those who only in form can lay claim to belong to the 
 human family, and of loathsome reptiles, deadly in their sting, 
 its wildness can never be subdued. Desolation sits enthroned 
 on those cheerless domains, and with a ghastly smile surveys 
 her awful realm, populated w^ith hosts of distorted specimens of 
 the animal and vegetable kingdom ! 
 
 From the time I left the prairies of Nebraska my narra- 
 tive has contained so many abusive adjectives in reference to 
 the country traversed, so much disparagement of its soil, rocks, 
 water and vegetation, that I fear the reader will think it owed 
 me something it would not pay, and that I was taking a means 
 to slander it wherein it could not talk back. But my lan- 
 guage has been none too strong. The blight on part of the 
 land may have been caused by an exceptional drought; but the 
 desolation was mainly normal; so I will let these adjectives re- 
 main propped up against their relative nouns, at the risk of bear- 
 ing them over with too much support. I may have been seem- 
 ingly too harsh also in my reference to my brother teamsters, the 
 
ON THE GREAT SANDY DESERT. 161 
 
 Mormons and the Indians, particularly the Diggers, but as few 
 of them will get hold of this book, and those who do in all like- 
 lihood can't read, I will waste no more apologies on the one 
 than the other. 
 
 Over a region like that described our caravan slowly jour- 
 neyed, after entering the limits of the Great Sandy Desert. 
 The road was so rough from the stones, that strewed it at suit- 
 able distances for jolting our corporeal systems to pieces, that 
 we found it about as pleasant to walk as ride in our spring- 
 minus diligences. We halted at sun-down, w^hen about fifteen 
 miles on our journey, to refresh ourselves and animals with 
 food and rest, but only for an hour, when we pushed ahead 
 and continued on our way till midnight. During the latter 
 part of our march the road had been an ascending one, and 
 our encampment was on the summit of a ridge — the culminat- 
 ing point of the jornado, or waterless stretch. AVe had this 
 day traveled about thirty miles. 
 
 We made an early start on the morning of the 8th, the sun 
 of which shone on us through the medium of a chilling atmos- 
 phere. Owing to the representations of our Mormon conduc- 
 tors, we had expected to find the weather in this region op- 
 pressively warm, and consequently many of our party had 
 disposed of their blankets and heavy clothing in the settle- 
 ments. They now seriously felt the want of these articles, for 
 the weather was for a good part of the time uncomfortably 
 cold, particularly mornings and evenings. We left our ele- 
 vated camp by a gradually descending road, which passed over 
 a country similar to that on the other side of the divide, and 
 in twenty-five miles reached a broad, level valley, known as 
 " Las Vegas," or the Meadows, where we arrived late in the 
 afternoon. Crossing the valley, which was three miles in 
 width, we came upon the remains of a Mormon settlement. 
 Some years ago a colony was planted here by the Saints; the 
 intention being to form a half-way station between their col- 
 
162 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 onies in Utah and California, where the emigrants might for 
 a while refresh themselves and their jaded animals, after their 
 long and w^eary desert journey. The existence of valuable lead 
 mines in the vicinity, together with the expectation of deriv- 
 ing great profit by furnishing travelers with supplies, induced 
 five or six families to locate themselves in this wild and dan- 
 gerous locality, near two hundred miles from any settlement, 
 and surrounded on all sides by fearful deserts, tenanted by 
 hordes of thieving savages. The first business of the colony 
 was to build a fort for its protection, the remains of which 
 were still standing. It consisted of an area of 50 by 100 feet, 
 surrounded by an adobe wall twelve feet high, w^hich was flanked 
 at the corners by square bastions for commanding the face of 
 the wall in case of attack. Around the inner side of this well- 
 planned fortress was an offset in the wall, whereon the besieged 
 might stand while firing on the enemy. The gateway which 
 perforated the western wall was in a dilapidated condition, as 
 w^ere also the dwellings arranged on one side of the hollow 
 square. In one corner was a furnace for smelting lead ore, 
 and pieces of the metal strewn over the floor showed that the 
 attempts of the workmen had been successful. After the erec- 
 tion of the establishment, farming operations were gone into 
 extensively, and a considerable tract was fenced, irrigated and 
 brought under cultivation. The enterprising colonists were in 
 high expectation of reaping a rich reward for their labor, when 
 the Vegas Indians, who were in considerable numbers in this 
 valley, began to give them serious trouble by their thieving 
 propensities, and at last it was as much as the isolated settlers 
 could do to preserve their lives. Matters kept getting worse 
 and worse, and finally the Mormons found themselves obliged 
 to vacate their hard-earned homes and leave them in possession 
 of their savage annoyers ; but with a Christian spirit, which 
 hardly seems credible, they bequeathed their houses and lands 
 to their enemies, whom they taught the art of tilling the soil. 
 
ON THE GREAT SANDY DESERT. 
 
 163 
 
 The savages tried civilized life for a season, but soon grew dis- 
 gusted with it and returned to their former modes of living; 
 but not till after they had set on fire all the combustible mate- 
 rial of the fort, the roofless domiciles inside of which looked 
 cheerlessly over its gray walls. Sad were the thoughts which 
 the sight of this lone and dismantled fortress raised, as in silent 
 isolation it stood on this once blooming oasis of the desert. 
 Prowling coyotes, venomous reptiles, and those wretched imi- 
 
 The Kuins ( 
 
 tations of humanity, the Diggers, now lay claim to those walls 
 which once formed an abiding place for civilized people. 
 Thorns and dry, withered weeds now covered the once verdant 
 fields, which, for want of irrigation, were now returning to 
 their original sterility, and the whole valley presented a scene 
 dismal and desolate in the extreme. 
 
 I give a sketch of these ruins, made from memory and my 
 
164 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 descriptive notes. Our bivouac was by the side of the walls, 
 which under a bright moon showed wierd and ghastly. 
 
 Hosts of Indians came pouring in upon us on our arrival, 
 and pertinaciously stuck to us until our departure. They were 
 very annoying, as, apart from their begging habits, they were 
 inveterate thieves. On account of their scant clothing they 
 could not conceal their plunder about their persons, so when 
 the}'' got hold of a tin plate, knife or cup, they would dex- 
 terously twirl it into the neighboring reeds for future quest. 
 I was amused in watching their doings, while with snake-like 
 movements they secured these, their features at the same time 
 wearing the passive appearance of professional pickpockets. 
 
 The characteristics of the Vegas Indians were similar to the 
 savages we saw on the Rio Virgin : broad faces, snaky eyes, 
 matted hair hanging over the forehead, and forms low in stat- 
 ure. The clothing of the males mainly consisted of the cast- 
 o& apparel of passing emigrants, and was scanty at most; 
 while the garments of the squaws were composed of the skins 
 of rabbits, which had not grown up to the proper require- 
 ments. Their language, while resembling the Spanish into- 
 nation, came from their lips in such an idiotic way, that I can 
 best term it a lingual slobber. 
 
 The nomenclature of the country we were passing through 
 showed we were in what had once been Spanish territory ; for 
 all that, such mellifluous names as Santa Clara, Rio Virgin, 
 Los Angeles, Las Animas and the like, seemed unfitted to 
 such streams as we were meeting with, tinctured as they were 
 with alkali until unfit for drink. Terms like '^jornado,'' for a 
 day's journey, and " caballada,'^ for loose stock, were going out 
 of use, but " corral,'^ as an enclosure, and " canon,'' as a nar- 
 row valley, had been incorporated in our language. The sub- 
 stitution of the Spanish "si" for "yes," and " bueno'^ for 
 " good," was also common among us travelers. 
 
 The next morning a party of us started in advance of the 
 
ON THE GREAT SANDY DESERT. 165 
 
 caravan, anxious to have a bath in the celebrated " Aquada 
 Caliente de las Vegas," three miles distant. Bidding adieu 
 to the ruined fortress and the associations and thoughts which 
 thie sight of it called up, we proceeded on our way over a level, 
 barren plain. We at length came to the Bethsada of the desert : 
 a circular spring five yards in diameter and of unfathomable 
 depth, the water of which was at precisely the right tempera- 
 ture for a warm bath. Divesting ourselves of our habiliments 
 we plunged into the refreshing pool, below whose sparkling 
 surface it was impossible to sink; not on account of the den- 
 sity of the water, but of the strong current that boiled up from 
 the bottom. One of our number, Fisher, the lazy man, who 
 had not been known to wash since leaving the " States," was 
 seized and stripped by rude, though well-wishing, comrades, 
 and cast headlong into the healing and cleansing waters. The 
 fellow, who could not swim, was afraid for his life; but he 
 arose like a naiad, if such a comparison is admissible, and 
 spouting and barking like a seal, paddled ashore. We dis- 
 ported in this delightful bath until the caravan came up, 
 when we resumed our journey. 
 
 We were now reduced, by those leaving who had joined 
 us on the Santa Clara, to the three teams and twenty passen- 
 gers which left Salt Lake in company. While more than a 
 match for the Diggers who had lately annoyed us, we put up 
 with their doings, dreading loss of stock. The waterless stretch 
 reached from thirty to sixty miles sometimes, and we dreaded 
 being left almost helpless on these desolate journeys. 
 
 We had now a thirty mile jornado to cross. Passing over a 
 tract of country almost entirely destitute of vegetation, and 
 covered with beds of sand, gravel and stone, we reached late 
 in the night the noted camping place of, Williams' Ranch. 
 " Old Williams," a hunter celebrated for his daring exploits 
 and recklessness, once ventured here with a drove of horses 
 and mules which he stole from the Mexicans, and after him 
 
166 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 the camp is called. A considerable stream here gushes out at 
 the foot of a rugged wall of rock, which rises precipitously to 
 the height of one thousand feet above the plain. We were now 
 as near as we could tell in the State of California, but as the 
 boundary lines of the western divisions of our Union are like 
 the Equinoctial line, purely imaginary, we could form no defi- 
 nite idea as to when we crossed the borders of New Mexico 
 and California. It is doubtful if Uncle Sam's surveyors ever 
 ventured into these wild regions, but I will warrant they were 
 well paid whether they performed their duties or not. By way 
 of parenthesis, I will here mention an instance to show how 
 government employees get through their undertakings. When 
 Utah was surveyed some years since, it was by contract, the 
 contractor being allowed so much per mile for the ground 
 traveled over while running the dividing line between the 
 counties. This person, who was a genius in his line, con- 
 ceived a plan whereby he might travel, in imagination, over 
 the greatest breadth of space with the least possible amount 
 of labor and wear and tear of shoe-leather. The ingenious 
 gentleman and his corps, on arriving at the scene of their 
 labors, would encamp at some fertile oasis and then, with their 
 maps spread out before them, and while seated by their blazing 
 campfires, they would commence their arduous labor of travel- 
 ing over the deserts surrounding them — on paper. Growing 
 weary of one camping place they would move to another, 
 when another string of "magnificent distances" would be 
 successfull}^ surveyed ; and so on, until the territory was laid 
 out into counties, after which they returned home and re- 
 ceived their reward. They were paid as much per mile for 
 their imaginary journej^s as if they had really traveled over 
 and chained the whole distance. These were told me as facts 
 by eye-witnesses of the operations. 
 
 The morning of the 10th came upon us clear and cold, and 
 showed us encamped in a region exceedingly rugged and des- 
 
ON THE GREAT SANDY DESERT. 167 
 
 olate. The clear stream which came dashing by us from its 
 source in the neighboring rocky bluff to its sink in the valley 
 beneath us, was fringed with masses of ice which the cold of 
 the night had formed. The water here is excellent, unlike 
 that found at the few other camping places in the desert, where 
 the springs are more or less tinctured with sulphur. Several 
 of the animals having wandered off during the night, we were 
 detained until the middle of the forenoon searching for them, 
 when, making a retrograde march to regain the trail, which 
 we had left the night before in order to reach water, we fol- 
 lowed for a while along a range of mountains which arose as 
 if to bar our progress. We ascended this escarpment at length 
 through a sort of pass, which by a variety of tortuous 
 ascents and descent leads to the summit. The scenery was 
 varied and interesting along our route ; the mountain slopes 
 were covered with cedars, and we occasionally passed fantas- 
 tically shaped rocks. At one place the summit of a steep de- 
 clivity was surmounted by a rocky pile, which at a distance 
 appeared like a huge watch-tower. The side fronting the road 
 was pierced by a rough-hewn doorway. At another place 
 the side of a rock-faced hill was indented by a cave some ten 
 feet square, which had the appearance of being hewn out by 
 human hands, so correct and regular was it in its outlines. 
 Objects similarly picturesque were continually presenting 
 themselves to us as we slowly trudged up the mountain side. 
 Five miles down the western slope of the mountain, which we 
 descended at a rapid pace, we came to the " Mountain Springs," 
 which are twelve miles from " Williams' Ranch " by the wagon 
 trail, but only six by a Digger path over the mountains. Sev- 
 eral of our party came by this " cut-ofF," under the pilotage of 
 a young Pah-Utah whom we had brought with us from Las 
 Vegas. We found them at the Springs on our arrival, all 
 looking the worse for wear, to judge from the array of toes that 
 we saw protruding from the folds of shoe-leather which had 
 
168 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 been sadly dilapidated by coming in contact with the sharp 
 volcanic rocks which bestrewed the trail. We found barely 
 enough of water at the Springs for ourselves and animals, and 
 that was disagreeably brackish. 
 
 Our provisions now began to run short, and anxious to make 
 them hold out as long as possible, we put ourselves upon 
 allowance ; an expedient which, by the way, was suggestive of 
 gloomy forebodings. Upon leaving the settlements we had laid 
 in what we thought was a sufficient quantity, but we found out 
 our mistake when too late to remedy it, and so were obliged to 
 do the best we could ; that is, to divide our scanty supply of 
 flour and coffee — all the articles of luxury or necessity we 
 now possessed — into as many parts as there were days between 
 then and the time when we calculated to arrive in San Ber- 
 nardino ; one part, and no more, to be devoured per day. Our 
 future prospects, as may be surmised, were none of the bright- 
 est at this stage of the journey, especially when we considered 
 the many accidents which might happen to detain us on the 
 road: such as the giving out of teams, breaking down of 
 wagons and other causes. We allowed for eight days' time to 
 reach San Bernardino. 
 
 We left our elevated encampment at the " Mountain Springs " 
 early the next morning, and passing over a rough road 
 which lay through a scattered grove of yuccas, the repulsive 
 aspect of which made the scenery anything but agreeable, 
 we rolled at a brisk trot down the mountain slope. The 
 range which we were crossing was the rim of a gigantic 
 basin of irregular shape and about thirty miles in diameter. 
 Basins like this are often met with in the Great Desert. 
 They are level beds of sand and gravel, supporting no vege- 
 tation save scattered and dwarfed specimens of sage, and 
 surrounded by bleak and rugged mountains which afford 
 but few passes; Some ten miles to the north of the trail 
 we saw the bed of an alkaline lake which was white with sal- 
 
ON THE GREAT SANDY DESERT. 169 
 
 eratus, and so in fact was a good portion of the basin, which 
 was of a dead level. It was about sundown when we reached 
 the opposite range of mountains, which, in. spite of the dis- 
 tance, had been visible all day, as the same clear atmosphere 
 which covers the plains is found here. After a tedious jour- 
 ney of thirty miles we encamped at midnight on the summit 
 of a ridge which was totally destitute of water, and our only 
 fuel was the detestable yucca, which gave forth such a sicken- 
 ing odor as to almost preclude our using it. 
 
 Descending this mountain and crossing a broad waste of 
 yielding sand, we arrived in the afternoon of the 12th at the 
 "Kingston Springs" — the western terminus of the fifty mile 
 jornado on which we had been journeying since the morning 
 of the previous day. Here several springs of warm water, 
 strongly tinctured with sulphur, gush from the summit of a 
 mound, rising about four feet above the plain. The scenery 
 here is obstructed on all sides but one by groups of buttes, 
 which rise above the plain with rocky, shattered fronts. These 
 regions are so destitute of anything like ordinary fuel, that 
 had we not brought some along in our wagons we would have 
 eaten an uncooked dinner. 
 
 At the foot of one of the high, rocky mounds w^e found a 
 portion of the skeleton of a poor wretch, who had paid the 
 forfeit of his life in trying to accomplish the feat of crossing 
 the Great Desert alone. Our Mormon friends knew the history 
 of him whose only remains were the whitened bones lying 
 around us. He was a man young in years but of intelli- 
 gence, who from some cause became deranged. In one of his 
 fits of madness he mounted his horse, and leaving San Ber- 
 nardino, crossed the Sierra, and alone and unprotected struck 
 out into the bosom of the Great Desert. The next that was 
 heard of him was when a party of travelers found at the 
 Kingston Springs his body pierced with arrows by the side 
 of the fountain. The remains had been buried, but those 
 11 
 
170 
 
 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 resurrectionists of the desert, the wolves, had since exhumed 
 them, and the bones now lay scattered around the margins of 
 the shallow grave. The skull was not there, but after some 
 search we found it at a considerable distance, where, tossed 
 about by the foul wolf, it had found its way. The Mormon 
 conductors did not concern themselves in the least about re- 
 burying the bones of their friend, perhaps thinking it was 
 " none of their funeral." 
 
XII. 
 
 Si)ernariliao. 
 
 ROM its peculiar appearance, surroundings and asso- 
 ciations, I give a sketch of the fountain known as 
 the Kingston Springs. The bleached skeleton, with 
 its skull's ironic grin, the splintered rocks, the glaring sands 
 with their repellent vegetation of cacti, thorns and the dis- 
 agreeable yucca tree made a deep impression on me. Besides, 
 we were now beginning to feel the lack of provisions, and this 
 brings me again to Bently and his dog. 
 
 When our provender was divided, no allotment was made 
 for this animal, who was of good size and seemed to have been 
 born hungry, and to have never got over this natal failing. 
 The dog got into thieving habits, resulting in the carrying 
 away of some of our precious rations ; his master being caught 
 sometimes assisting him. This, with the dislike their doings 
 engendered in the balance of our mess, made the twain devoted 
 to one another to a degree which, had we not been void of senti- 
 ment, would have filled us with pity and admiration. But 
 we were hungry and our hearts were of stone. So two of the 
 mess coaxed the dog from camp and shot him. His master 
 was disconsolate at his loss and the rest of us wondered what 
 
 (171) 
 
172 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 had become of his four-footed friend, but, in our then feelings, 
 hoping never to see him again. 
 
 Just before sunset we resumed our march and slowly left our 
 late desolate camping place, with its sad associations, in the 
 distance. Our reason for starting at this time was to avoid the 
 Kingston Spring Indians, it being dangerous to halt among 
 them at night. Our Mormons reported them as of large size 
 and differing in appearance from the Diggers generally. They 
 rarely show themselves by day, but watch from behind the 
 desert rocks the movements of travelers, and should they halt 
 at night, steal or kill their stock. The reader can hardly 
 imagine how we dreaded the loss of animals on the waterless 
 stretches of from thirty to sixty miles, and with what anxiety 
 we watched them at night. Their loss almost involved our 
 own lives. But by traveling much after sundown, and by the 
 judicious treatment our conductors pursued toward the Indians, 
 we went through safely. Lack of pasturage was made up with 
 rations of wheat, which for the emergencies of desert travel 
 had been carried from the settlements. This, however, was 
 running short, and our teams were getting thin and weak. 
 The alternations of yielding sand and jolting stones were trying 
 to passengers as well as teams, as much of the way we were 
 obliged to walk. 
 
 Our road now lay over a sandy tract, the horizon occasionally 
 broken by rocky " buttes " and sand pillars. Not a tree was 
 visible except an occasional yucca, which, wdth horizontal, 
 outstretched arms and extended palms, seemed asking for 
 continued curses on this already over-cursed region. Rising 
 to a height of twenty or more feet, wdth trunks a foot in 
 diameter and of ghostly whiteness, or prone to the ground, 
 decaying in spongy, ill-smelling masses, this nightmare of 
 vegetation gave the landscape a weird look. Grass there was 
 none ; but in its place there came from the sand occasional 
 growths of thorny, repulsive plants. 
 
FROM THE KINGSTON SPRINGS TO SAN BERNARDINO. 173 
 
 Our journey was growing tiresome. We were getting low in 
 spirits, and everything having been talked out we traveled 
 most of the time in silence. In our springless wagons we 
 could not sleep, so we walked and rode alternately, listening 
 anxiously for Indian approaches, and dreading that at any 
 moment an arrow-pierced horse might fall. But nothing 
 befel us. In the morning, at four o'clock, in pitchy darkness, 
 we halted. The air was cold, and no fuel was to be had for 
 warmth or cooking our scant food. There was not a spear of 
 grass, so instead of hoppling our horses and turning them 
 loose we tied them to the wagons. In prairie travel, when 
 grass was plenty, tethering horses was practicable ; but in a 
 country like this it was not ; it took so broad a range to feed 
 each. So there being too few teamsters to guard the animals, 
 hopples were used to restrain them. These sometimes got loose, 
 and, in spite of their broken-down condition, the horses would 
 wander out of sight and cause us much vexatious delay. 
 When there was no grass we tied them up and gave them what 
 we could spare of wheat. Our teams were now in such condi- 
 tion we were afraid they would not take us through. Our day's 
 march on the 12th was forty-five miles. 
 
 The morning of December loth dawned upon us bright and 
 clear, and found us encamped in another of these great desert- 
 basins, surrounded by ranges of barren mountains. We broke 
 camp early in the day and continued on our way over the 
 sandy and stony plain in the direction of a gap in the moun- 
 tain rim, which was indistinctly visible from our camping 
 place. In the course of the forenoon ocular evidence was 
 manifested of our being in the modern El Dorado, for we saw 
 gold-bearing rock scattered over the plain, although in rather 
 limited quantities. Before long our party was scattering over 
 the plain " prospecting " and bringing the results of their 
 searchings to our Mormon friends — the most of whom were 
 versed in aurific lore, which they had acquired during a resi- 
 
174 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 dence in California — for inspection. The whole of this desert 
 is rich in precious metals, but on account of the lack of water 
 for separating them from the earth and rock in which they 
 are found, they will doubtless, until the advent of railroads, 
 remain where they are. After emerging from the basin 
 through the pass, we came on to a gravelly, rolling plain, 
 occasionally varied by beds of yielding sand. Late in the 
 afternoon we came in sight of what appeared to be a large 
 body of water. Nothing could have seemed more natural. 
 We could see the waves dancing beneath the rays of the sun, 
 now sinking behind the range of mountains which bounded 
 our view on the west, and at the sight of this exhilarating 
 picture both horse and man pressed onward with quickened 
 steps, hoping to soon quench their thirst in the sparkling 
 waters before them. The hopes of all were, however, in a 
 measure disappointed on a nearer view of the imaginary lake, 
 which proved to be a perfectly level plain, a square mile in 
 area, which had been glazed over by water which had once 
 covered it. The reflection of the sun on its glossy surface had 
 given it its watery appearance. This is called " Dry Lake," 
 and is made a halting place whenever water is found in two 
 or three wells on its northern shore. We had not expected to 
 find water at this time of the year, but we found a sufficiency 
 of it at the bottom of the wells ; though it was a vile liquid — 
 muddy and alkaline. Having filled our kegs we crossed to 
 the other side of the lake-bed, where we found a little grass 
 scattered among the dwarfed sage brush. To say that the 
 plain was as " smooth as a barn floor " would be altogether 
 within the bounds of truth, so even was its surface, and the 
 hot sun had baked it as hard as a brick. It was quite a treat 
 to ride over such a course as this after having been jolted so 
 long over the rough surface of the desert. 
 
 The day was succeeded by a bright moon-lit evening, and 
 as so unparalleled a race-course was at hand, we determined 
 
FROM THE KINGSTON SPRINGS TO SAN BERNARDINO. 175 
 
 to make use of it and have a little sport to vary the cheerless- 
 ness of our journey. Biped nags renowned for fleetness of 
 foot were selected from our ranks, and surrounded by their 
 hackers they proceeded to the place allotted for the display of 
 their locomotive powers. Clad in as few habiliments as pos- 
 sible, and with feet encased in light moccasons, the gallant 
 Olympians would leave the starting point, and with flying 
 heels and streaming locks they would speed over the level 
 course toward the speedily nearing goal, amid the cheers and 
 yells of an admiring and appreciative audience. Bets of 
 money and of wine — the latter to be forthcoming on our 
 arrival at San Bernardino — w^ere freely offered and taken on 
 the result of the races, and the competitors were watched with 
 the liveliest interest by their friends until they came up to 
 the score. The whole scene was rife with mirth and excite- 
 ment, and during the evening's performance the desert soli- 
 tudes were made to ring with such sounds as had never before 
 disturbed their silent airs. 
 
 Much of our gaiety was forced, however, and we soon settled 
 down to the normal condition of the past few days. Instead 
 of a night drive, which the condition of our horses precluded, 
 we encamped on the shores of the deceitful lake. In the moon- 
 light of the early evening we could see the yuccas, erect or 
 fallen, in the semblance of alert or sleeping ghosts, giving the 
 landscape an uncanny look. 
 
 The next morning we saw an object slowly crawling towards 
 us across the shining bed of the lake. What should it be but 
 Bently's dog, like Marryatt's " Snarl eyow," come back to "visit 
 the glimpses of the moon." The twain of would-be murderers 
 announced themselves by their looks when their victim made 
 his appearance. Bently's emotions were a mixture of anger 
 and pleasure, while the poor dog wagged his tail to the forget- 
 fulness of his wounds. A reversion of feeling followed, and it 
 was concluded to tolerate the superfluous member of our mess 
 a little longer. 
 
176 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 At noon on the 14th we reached the Bitter Springs, the 
 water of which was bitter enough indeed. We found a party 
 of traders encamped here, who were en route for Salt Lake 
 with merchandise from San Francisco. As we had now a 
 waterless stretch of forty-five miles to cross, we filled our 
 casks at the " Springs," and, passing over a dreary waste of 
 yielding sand, encamped at sunset long enough to cook our 
 scanty suppers, when we drove on. Another long march 
 through the darkness, and we arrived, a little before day- 
 break, on the shores of the Rio Mojave — the Rio de los 
 Animas of the old Spaniards. Here we refreshed ourselves 
 with quaffs of excellent water, which was in delightful con- 
 trast with the revolting liquids we had been obliged to use 
 for the last one hundred and forty miles of our journey. 
 
 The Mojave, which takes its rise among the snow-capped 
 peaks of the San Bernardino Mountains, flows through a 
 sandy valley of various widths, beneath whose surface it 
 occasionally sinks for miles. For the most of its course it 
 is fringed with a belt of timber, coixfposed of cotton-wood 
 and willow, amongst which are thickets of thorny under- 
 brush, whose verdant foliage contrasts pleasantly with the 
 barren waste of sand and gravel which extends, on either 
 hand, as far as the eye can reach. The river emerges from 
 its subterranean channel a short distance below where it is 
 crossed by the Spanish trail. Fifty miles lower down the 
 Mojave runs plump against a rocky bluff, which tells it in 
 unmistakable terms, " Thus far shalt thou go and no farther." 
 The Santa Fe trail once followed the river to its sink ; but the 
 route we traveled is now preferred, it being the most direct. 
 
 Near our camp we found the head and cleanly picked bones 
 of a horse, which had been killed and eaten by a party of des- 
 titute travelers who had left here the day before our arrival. 
 We had not yet come to horse-beef ourselves, but we were in 
 a fair (or rather gloomy) way for it, as we were beginning to 
 
FROM THE KINGSTON SPRINGS TO SAN BERNARDINO. 177 
 
 feel keenly the effects of short allowance. We essayed the 
 expedient of tightening our belts in order to neutralize the 
 effects brought on by the aching void within ; but we found 
 this plan was better in theory than in practice. Another 
 mode we had for making a little go a great way was to 
 drink plentifully of our weak coffee, under the impression 
 that it would expand the more solid food until it filled up 
 that vacuum which man, as well as nature, so much abhors. 
 During the first part of the time we were on allowance we had 
 our jokes about the predicament we were in, as we endeavored 
 to drive away the impressions brought on by the gloomy 
 future that was hanging over us. Having devoured our re- 
 spective allowances of dry bread, we would lay siege to the 
 camp-kettle of coffee, and with tincups brimming with the 
 unsugared, uncreamed and alkaline decoction, we would com- 
 mence " filling up," as we jestingl}^ termed it, after which 
 we would tighten our belts another hole and bid defiance to 
 gaunt famine. These jokes, however, soon became old and 
 stale, and wearied looks, irritable tempers and listlessness 
 abounded amid our half-starved company. As may be sur- 
 mised, our campfires were no longer redolent with the up- 
 roarious merriment and practical joking which characterized 
 those of the forepart of our journey. 
 
 Travelers on short allowance are full of selfishness, some 
 fine writing to the contrary notwithstanding. AVith us there 
 was suspicion, accusation and recrimination. One or two 
 were accused of stealing from the daily allowance, as we 
 took our turns riding, when there were chances for those 
 lacking consciences to purloin the bread, which was all we 
 had and which we would bake to last twenty-four hours. 
 The most pitiable sight was Bently and his dog. There 
 was but little sentiment about me; but when I saw the 
 master secretly getting food for his pet, I had a feeling 
 which prevented me from interfering. I believe Bently 
 
178 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 would have gone still more hungry than he was to have 
 comforted his four-footed companion. The rest of the men 
 watched them like beasts of prey, and would have knocked 
 the man over and re-killed the dog on the least extra prov- 
 ocation. I expected the last would happen, but the watch- 
 fulness of Bently prevented it, and the dog went with us to 
 San Bernardino. What afterwards became of the devoted 
 twain I do not know. Both were worthless, and their Ish- 
 maelitish life seemed to bind them together closer and closer. 
 I hope if the soldiers ever got the man, his faithful dog bore 
 him company. The episode of Bently and his dog I will ever 
 remember. 
 
 Our route now lay in a westerly direction along the sunken 
 waters of the Mojave. The scenery was uninteresting, as 
 nothing met our gaze save the sandy valley with its barren, 
 rugged boundaries of rocky hills, and the narrow belt of 
 timber traversing it. On the 16th we came in sight of the 
 long-wished-for Sierra Nevada, whose eternally snow-clad 
 summits had loomed up before me ever since I left Salt Lake 
 City. We at last came to where the river flows above the 
 surface of the valley. It was here two rods wide and as many 
 feet in depth. Shortly after nightfall we camped by a little 
 grocery, the first inhabited house we had seen since leaving 
 the Mormon settlement, four hundred miles distant. Here a 
 portion of our company left us on foot for the next settlement, 
 which was thirty miles further on, going by a near cut across 
 the mountains which the wagons could not travel. These 
 individuals had entirely run out of provisions, and as they 
 could not wait until the caravan reached the settlement, they 
 had formed the design of going on foot in advance of us. It 
 was about 10 o'clock when they left us. We watched the 
 progress of the little band with interest as it waded the river, 
 and at a quick pace plunged into the darkness beyond. They 
 were starting on a dangerous expedition, for the route was 
 
FROM THE KINGSTON SPRINGS TO SAN BERNARDINO. 179 
 
 unknown to them and infested with bad Indians, to say noth- 
 ing of grizzlies. Poor fellows! We were powerless to aid 
 them, as we had scarcely enough of provisions to keep us 
 from starvation until our arrival in San Bernardino, and our 
 belts were buckled up to the last hole. 
 
 The Southern Pacific Railroad follows the course of the 
 Mojave — pronounced Mohavey — and reaches the coast by the 
 same pass we went through — the Cajon. Before the descent 
 of this can be made, an elevation of three thousand feet must 
 be reached. This is the only available route through the San 
 Bernardino range of the Sierra Nevada. The Mojave sinks, 
 like many of the desert rivers, near the pass. 
 
 Leaving this stream to our right, we proceeded the next 
 morning over a gradually ascending road, which led to the 
 summit of a precipitous range of hills running parallel to the 
 main Sierra. Along the top of a slanting ridge, whose pre- 
 cipitous sides led down to dangerous defiles, we descended 
 to the head of the Cajon Pass of the Sierra Nevada. This 
 ridge, which we christened the " Devil's Back-bone," arose at 
 an angle of forty-five degrees, and on account of its numerous 
 vertebrae was dangerous to our wagons. The yucca, which 
 had not intruded its disagreeable presence upon us for several 
 days, made its appearance on the surrounding hills, its 
 repulsive form rising to the height of twenty feet, with its 
 white trunk, and leaves like daggers. We encamped after 
 night in the upper end of the Cajon Pass, in a locality badly 
 infested by grizzlies, the whereabouts of which were made 
 manifest by the restlessness of our animals, Avhich were neigh- 
 ing, braying and scampering hither and thither throughout 
 the night. We spent the evening in polishing up the outer 
 man preparatory to again making our entrance to a civilized 
 region and among a civilized people, as ^ve expected to reach 
 San Bernardino the next day. Razors, scissors and soap were 
 freely administered to portions of the human form sadly 
 needing them, and these were soon followed by a change to 
 
180 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 clothing which had long lain in the gloomy recesses of carpet- 
 bags in anticipation of the time when, to deck the persons of 
 its owners, it was to be called forth before reaching the settle- 
 ments. These operations, which somewhat modified the 
 general piratical appearance of our company, occupied our 
 time until near midnight. When I at last sought my hard 
 couch by the side of a faintly glimmering campfire, it was 
 not to sleep, for the various emotions which thronged through 
 my mind at the thoughts of the new scenes among which I 
 was to act my part in life's great drama, alone and friendless, 
 together with the wild scenery around us and the deep silence 
 of the night, broken occasionally by the loud cries and furious 
 tread of the horses and mules as they dashed to and fro along 
 the gloomy pass, drove sleep from me, much as I courted its 
 presence. 
 
 The morning of the 18th saw us on our road early. The 
 trail leading along the bottom of the rugged pass was an 
 exceedingly rough one, l3^ing over beds of rock and stone, 
 and sometimes in the channel of the stream which it often 
 crossed. The cafion at length opened into a valley a mile in 
 width, which was thickly sown with thorny plants, among 
 which the prickly pear, a branch of the cactus family, held 
 a prominent place. This plant here grew to the height of 
 two feet, with oval-shaped leaves an inch in thicknees and 
 thickly covered with sharp thorns. It bears a bell-shaped 
 fruit, encased in a purple bulb, which, when ripe, is very 
 agreeable to the taste, although its surroundings are so full of 
 minute, barbed thorns, which penetrate the lips, tongue and 
 hands of the eater, that there is far more pain than pleasure 
 in eating them. Winding through a thorny chaparral and 
 over beds of yielding sand, we continued down the widening 
 pass, which at length opened into the valley of San Bernar- 
 dino. Descending a gradually sloping bluff, with our teams 
 at full speed, we reached the level plain stretching beyond ; 
 and passing by the side of fields now green with the starting 
 
FROM THE KINGSTON SPRINGS TO SAN BERNARDINO. 181 
 
 grass, our caravan at last filed into the terminus of our 
 present journey — San Bernardino. 
 
 This town is situated near the southern extrenaity of the 
 valley of the same name and a few miles from the foot of a 
 lofty Sierra. The origin of this city is as follows: Shortly 
 after the settlement of Great Salt Lake was founded, a com- 
 pany of Mormons emigrated to California, then a Mexican 
 province, for the purpose of selecting a place whereon to found 
 a colony, as the climate and soil of that region were deemed 
 vastly superior to those of Utah. These pioneers bought a 
 tract of land in the southern end of San Bernardino Valley, 
 for which the sum of §70,000 was paid ; and emigration soon 
 flocking thither, a flourishing colony was founded. This 
 settlement Brigham Young, by an arrangement of his own, 
 incorporated into Utah Territory, which he extended to the 
 Pacific. This arrangement, however, could not stand, and 
 soon after the Mexican war San Bernardino became a portion 
 of the Golden State, much to the disgust of the Prophet, to 
 whom California was a great eye-sore. The settlement con- 
 tinued thriving until the autumn of 1857, when all true 
 believers were summoned to repair immediately to Utah, in 
 order to resist the ingress of the Federal troops, who were now 
 on their way to Utah. The majority obeyed the summons, 
 and selling their property for what they could get, removed to 
 Utah, while the remainder, setting at defiance the thunders of 
 excommunication hurled at them by the head of the Church, 
 resolved to remain. These backsliders were called "Apos- 
 tates " by their zeal-blinded brethren, who entertained feelings 
 of the greatest contempt towards them. Several of the 
 Mormons of our party had been residents of San Bernardino, 
 and these spoke to us Gentiles in terms of undisguised disgust 
 of those of their fellow colonists who were not devoted enough 
 to the cause of Polygamy to take up the cross and follow them 
 to the realm of Brigham. But even if the Mormons had not 
 left when they did, they would soon have been routed out by 
 
182 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 the Americans of Southern California, who saw in this settle- 
 ment a nest of corruption, an abiding place for all the villains 
 of the country, and where money was extorted by all manner 
 of means by unscrupulous Church dignitaries and forwarded 
 to Salt Lake. Collisions between the Saints and Gentiles 
 occasionally took place, and there was every appearance of a 
 renewal of the Nauvoo scenes, when luckily the mandate of 
 the Prophet came forth to call back the stray Mormon sheep 
 into their original fold. 
 
 Several Americans now lived in San Bernardino; but its 
 population had greatly decreased since the time when Mor- 
 monism sat enthroned there, and tenantless houses gaped sadly 
 through unglazed windows at the few strangers w^ho visited the 
 city. The whole place, which contained six or eight hundred 
 inhabitants, had a tumble-down look ; and the fact of the 
 public business of the city being in the hands of Jews, did 
 not tend to make San Bernardino prosper. The signs on the 
 few business places gave the town somewhat of a foreign air: 
 Tienda Barata taking the place of " Cheap Store." 
 
 And now in regard to the condition of our party of twenty, 
 who left Salt Lake six weeks before in such good heart. A 
 part had spent all their money, and those who had not, kept 
 the information for private use. Owing to reasons mentioned, 
 we were all glad to get to our journey's end and matterless 
 how soon we parted company. Our discordant mess passed 
 its last night on the floor of an old adobe house ; one of the 
 many deserted ones of that luckless town, bare of furniture and 
 cheerless in the extreme. In spite of temptations and theft 
 our provisions had held out, though we often went hungry to 
 accomplish this end. We were now to scatter, we knew not 
 where. Taking our party as a whole, w^e were about a fair 
 average of the thousands of ox-drivers who crossed the plains 
 in 1858, and that is not giving them a very high place. The 
 best of these was John Galdie, familiarly known as "Scottie," 
 a quiet fellow, who shared my fortunes much of the time 
 
FROM THE KINGSTON SPRINGS TO SAN BERNARDINO. 183 
 
 while I was in California, and who was a friend to me in time 
 of need From what the reader knows of my comrades in 
 general, he will not wonder I cared not how soon we parted 
 As little as I regretted leaving my messmates, who, I admit 
 had some good traits woven amid their failings, I felt low- 
 spirited when getting ready to leave San Bernardino 
 
 It is true I had got to California, but I did not know what 
 to do now that I was there, for I was unacquainted with a per- 
 son along the Pacific Coast. To find work I must get to the 
 northern part of the State, and to reach there required money 
 When I contracted with the Mormons for my passage I did 
 not think I would be left ninety miles from the coast. In- 
 quiry developed the fact that the steamer plying between 
 ban Pedro and San Francisco only ran every twenty days 
 that its first trip would be on the 23d, and that the fare in the 
 steerage would be $20. Two gold pieces amounting to that 
 was all the money I possessed. I had barely time to reach the 
 coast on foot. Should I miss the steamer, what would I do^ 
 bo I resolved to start at once. 
 
 Speaking in the proper sense, my " California Tramp " began 
 at San Bernardino, for heretofore I was either a walking mem- 
 ber of an organized body, or alternately walking and ridin<r 
 ^vith the Mormon wagoners. Now I was taking the road in 
 earnest. Here we, who had so long traveled together, separated, 
 some to stay in the town, while those who went on so straggled 
 that there was no comradeship among them. I parted with 
 them with no regret. I don't say but what some of them were 
 good in their way, and that I have seen worse people— in jail- 
 but when I look back on that party, at the end of thirty years' 
 I wonder how I could travel with it for over five months I 
 suppose It was because I could do no better. It was between the 
 devil and the deep sea." On the one hand was the desert or 
 praine with its cruel Indians and wild beasts, on the other 
 our goodhe companie." As the least evil, I was justified in 
 chnging to the last. 
 
1^1^^^^^^ 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 ™^^^^^^ 
 
 V--'-I:3^v^- '•;■;■■■ 
 
 XIII. 
 
 ©lo Que'Bfo Re T2)ox*> sKngefeA. 
 
 
 ^0 start for the City of Angels on foot was, indeed, a 
 prosaic way of traveling. The steed of Pegasus 
 would have been none too good as a mode of transit 
 to so poetically named a town; but there being no such 
 animal then at livery in San Bernardino, and having not the 
 wherewithal to hire him had there been, I was fain to mount 
 the hack traditionally under the ownership of one Shank and 
 start on my journey. This being A\dthout money and without 
 price, I was soon ready for my seaward tramp. 
 
 To say that I made a prepossessing appearance would be 
 wrong. I did not resemble the "Views afoot" tourist with his 
 trim suit, his neat knapsack and staff. The most of my worldly 
 goods were in an old carpet-bag, the counterpart of which is 
 only seen nowadays in the hand of bucolic strangers in the 
 city, or on the comic stage. In addition there was a pair of 
 boots as hard as the adamantine heart of Pharoah, and so tight 
 I could only wear them "turn about" with a pair of thin 
 Indian moccasons. They had clung to me with a Damon-and- 
 Pythias-like tenacity, or like " The Old Man of the Sea " to his 
 victim, and were a part of my monthly hire in Michigan. I 
 had borne their infelicities to Salt Lake, when a Mormon cob- 
 bler put §2.00 expense on them, after which I could not afford 
 
 (184) 
 
TO PUEBLO DE LOS ANGELES. 185 
 
 to throw them away, but took them as thrifty people do over- 
 plus medicine, rather than be guilty of wastefulness. These, 
 when not in use, w^ere slung across my shoulders along with 
 my blankets and an overcoat. Then I had a rifle which I had 
 bought at Salt Lake, and which, as it had nearly drained my 
 purse to the bottom, after I paid my transportation charges, 
 I had regretted buying. It was bought to fight Indians with, 
 but as we found it pleasanter to make our way through hostile 
 territory by firing flour and beef at them, we never harmed 
 an aboriginal hair. 
 
 And now with this rifle on my shoulder, my carpet-bag and 
 boots suspended back of the muzzle, the rest of my "duds" 
 otherwise disposed of, and the clothing I wore rent and stained 
 with weeks of open-air travel and lying on the ground, the 
 reader, gentle or otherwise, can imagine my appearance when 
 starting on my tramp, and can be assured I did not improve 
 on further acquaintance during my search for work. I sup- 
 pose I was about an average example of most of the tramps 
 seen on Eastern highways when that class of nomads are in 
 season, except that here my rifle and knife would have lent 
 an additional terror. Of course I wore a belt, to take up or 
 let out as hunger waxed or waned, to which was suspended 
 the above knife. Although this last was in shape piratical, 
 and gleaming with German silver, I am glad to say it was 
 never designed for anything but uses culinary. 
 
 This much for externals. Mentally, were cerebral exposure 
 possible, I would not have shown up much better. Worri- 
 ment as to what would be my future, thus cast adrift, put my 
 spirits down towards the zero bulb to keep company with my 
 finances. Besides, the journey ahead was long and lonely, 
 hardly relieved by the grand view of the Sierras, and thoughts 
 of the new scenes I was entering in a country whose romance 
 had not yet been smothered by progress, and which was 
 punctuated with towns, valleys and mountains full of wildness 
 
 12 
 
186 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 and feudalism, and accented with sonorous Castilian nomen- 
 clature. Now, such names as Dog Gulch, Grass Valley and 
 Rogue River are taking the place of the sweet names of a 
 language which could make the most effective oaths sound as 
 lover's mou things. Even these are being drowned by Yankee 
 substitutes, and the mellifluous " carambas,^^ ^^carajos" '^coze- 
 dos^' and '' sacramentos," which to me never sounded more 
 harmful from the tongue of a Mexican than "Dear me" and 
 "Oh! my" from an emotional Eastern woman, are disused by 
 the vile objurgations of the "Americanos." In those days the 
 Mexican "geed" and "hawed" his oxen in Spanish, and "got 
 them up" and "whoaed" them similarly; now his "anda,'^ 
 his ^'circo^' and other ox-directing synonyms are only heard 
 in out-of-the-way " Sleepy Hollow " ranches. 
 
 As to the appearance of the country I was to travel over, it 
 was like this; for although a score and a half of years have 
 elapsed since I was there, it is now plainly before me : North- 
 ward stretched, as far as the eye could reach, a nearly level 
 plain, the first part bare of green vegetation and for some 
 distance covered with a chaparral of sage-brush higher than 
 one's head. Beyond the soil grew better, and forty miles from 
 my starting point was green with pasture. The first settle- 
 ment was twenty-two miles on the road, and after awhile the 
 plain was dotted at intervals of four or five miles with the 
 white walls of ranche buildings. The right of the vista was 
 flanked by a range of the Sierra Nevada as far as I could see ; 
 the mountain rising abruptly for thousands of feet, the upper 
 part white with snow. Ten to fifteen miles oft' to the left a 
 low range of hills bounded the valley, and westward the plain 
 extended to the Pacific, some thirty miles away. 
 
 I started about 10 o'clock on the 19th of December, 1858. 
 I cannot say I had no company, for on the road for miles our 
 party was scattered ; at long intervals, of course, for there 
 would not be more than two or three in sight at once. A 
 
TO PUEBLO DE LOS ANGELES. 187 
 
 part of the time I would tramp alone, and while I would be 
 resting, perhaps a brother tramp w^ould come up and we 
 would travel together, or " in cahoot," as partnership was 
 called in the plains " argot," — for all the world like the anarch- 
 istic wayfarers on the Bristol Turnpike. Those who had 
 money preferred traveling alone; those who had none, like 
 misery, loved company for the chance it afforded for a 
 " sponge " on the commissary stores of the more fortunate. 
 
 My route for awhile lay over the low plain in which San 
 Bernardino is built, amidst fields long since shorn of their 
 harvests, and through scattered thickets which the frost had 
 robbed of their foliage. The day was warm and my load 
 heavy, so I was forced to do as some of my predecessors were 
 doing, cast my superfluous clothing along the road, without 
 hope of it returning in days many or few. Having thus un- 
 burdened myself as much as I dared, I went on with a lighter 
 load, but not a lighter heart, for if ever I had what are known 
 as the " dumps," it was when I started on my " march to the 
 sea." I soon reached the shores of a stream which waters this 
 valley, and crossing it climbed a bluff and found myself on 
 a bleak plain. I was now on the beginning of a waterless 
 stretch of twenty miles, and as it was well on towards noon I 
 had small prospect of making the end of the journey before 
 night. In spite of the reduction I had made in my load it 
 was still heavy, and I was glad when, six miles on my way, I 
 met a horseman whom I persuaded to buy my rifle. I let 
 him have it, with the ammunition belonging, for five dollars — 
 one-fourth of what it cost. This was a godsend, for all I had 
 before was the two eagles I had saved and kept from the 
 knowledge of my companions for my passage to San Francisco. 
 The reason I did not take my comrades into my confidence 
 was that I feared some might want to " borrow " them. 
 
 The trail soon led into a spreading chaparral, a thicket of 
 gnarled sage-brush, repulsive from a fire which had lately 
 
188 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 gone through it. This so hemmed in my vision that I could 
 only see in advance. I slowly and wearily tramped over the 
 flinty road, w^ith limbs so chafed and feet so blistered that I 
 had often to stop to rest. Besides, the sun shone warm, in 
 spite of December and the snow-covered mountains. I at last 
 emerged from the chaparral to an open plain. 
 
 The day was waning and night came on long before I got 
 to the stream where I was to pass the night. Mindless of the 
 saline fate of Lot's wife, I turned to look back and saw the most 
 beautiful sight imaginable — sunset on Mount San Bernardino. 
 It seemed as if the sun, with his shadowy lever and the horizon 
 for a fulcrum, was slowly forcing the light of day heavenward; 
 the last rays gathering around the summit of that peak of the 
 Sierras. The gleaming white changed into the most beautiful 
 purple and gold, and the mountain top remained thus invested 
 for some time after twilight had mantled the plain below. The 
 mellow tints grew darker as the sun, in his Archimedean role, 
 bore down his end of the lever, lower and lower, till, with an 
 imaginable hiss, he plunged into the sea; while the other 
 extremity of the phantasmal seesaw climbed the summit and 
 drove to the cold upper air the last lingering rays of light. 
 I stopped longer than I could afford to look on this sight. 
 The thickening gloom warned me to go on, and with a sigh I 
 retook my weary way over the lonely valley. 
 
 I had not gone far into the darkness before I heard the 
 distant yelping of wolves from the direction of the chaparral. 
 Those who have heard these demon-dogs know their blood- 
 curdling howls ; those who have not may be thankful. I was 
 familiar with them on the plains, but I was not alone then ; 
 now their fiend-like voices gave me the shivers, and I hurried 
 on, hoping to overtake company. I soon found wolves were 
 not the only animals I had to fear, for I was getting on to a 
 range of wild cattle — wild in the sense of running at will, 
 though under ownersliip by the neighboring rancheros. A 
 
TO PUEBLO DE LOS ANGELES. 189 
 
 large herd of these aniraals galloped across the trail just 
 behind me, and I believe that I would have been trampled 
 to death had I been a little later. I now hurried faster, 
 and soon my suspense was ended by the sight of a fire. This 
 was at the stopping place I spoke of, and here I found a few 
 of our men. Just beyond was a stream of water, where I 
 slaked my thirst for the first time in twenty miles. I found 
 I was by the side of some ranch buildings, which were shown 
 by the reflection of a fire in front, around which some Mexi- 
 cans, who looked like brigands, were toasting their feet, their 
 " serapes " drawn around their shoulders, chattering away 
 with the inevitable " cigarillos " in their mouths. I was 
 hungry and was making my way to the ranch for something 
 to eat, as quietly as I could, so as to avoid these men, when the 
 barking of a dog warned me away, and I went back to the shore 
 of the brook, where two or three of our men were lying down. 
 It was cold, and I w^ished for my cast-away overcoat, but I made 
 the best use of my blanket by wrapping it around me. I sat 
 here awhile, w4th few pleasant thoughts for my company, 
 watching the Mexicans around their fire, and exchanging an 
 occasional word with my fellows. We were all tired and not 
 in a humor to talk much, and spreading my blankets beneath 
 the boughs of a cottonwood, wrapped them around me and 
 after a while got to sleep. Awakened from my uneasy slum- 
 bers by the barking of neighboring dogs, I was glad when 
 morning came. Before the sunlight had reached the foot of 
 the mountain slope I was well on my way from my inhos- 
 pitable camping place, little rested and much ahungered. 
 
 In spite of this feeling, as I trudged along my halting feet 
 involuntarily kept step to a sing-song music, called up by the 
 names of some of the prominent objects which were being 
 brought before me. Most people who were school children in 
 1850 will remember the "singing geography schools" that 
 spread like an epidemic over the land. They were at first 
 
190 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 held in the evenings and sometimes by day for a month dur- 
 ing vacations. The repetition of the geographical names, 
 with the peculiarity of the rising and falling inflections, were 
 entered into with zeal, and mucli knowledge of the earth with 
 the appendages thereof was obtained. If there was ever music 
 in " singing geography," it was wlien chanting objects with 
 Spanish names. So as I walked along I mentally sung " San 
 Bernardino Mountain," " Sierra Nevada Mountains," " Upper 
 California," "Monterey," etc., repeating each with the peculiar 
 cliange of voice which had been taught me in my school days, 
 until somctliing else drove the subject from my mind. 
 
 The country improved as I advanced, and occasional bands 
 of cattle and horses I met showed improved pasturage. Eight 
 miles from my starting place and thirty from St. Bernardino 
 I came to another ranch — the half-way place between Los 
 Angeles and the last town. Here I got something to eat, and 
 stopped long enough to take some mental notes of the place. 
 The houses were of one story and surrounded a courtyard, 
 which was filled with a motley assemblage of people of all 
 sizes, ages and colors. These were the retainers of the pro- 
 prietor of the ranch, as the rich Dons who lived in this valley 
 had a goodly number of vassals under them. These hangers- 
 on were little better than slaves, but they led an easy life 
 and were contented. Herding cattle and cultivating a little 
 ground to raise the grain and vegetables required, was all they 
 did. The former was done on horseback and was more in the 
 nature of sport than otherwise. One side of the courtyard was 
 strewn with saddles, bridles and lassoes and the rest of the 
 articles a Mexican horseman needs. Large dogs of villainous 
 appearance stalked amid their biped comrades, and paid me 
 such attention that I was fain to leave. 
 
 Wealthy Mexicans living on large grants deeded to them by 
 their government were then common in Southern California, 
 and they resisted the invasion of tlieir Yankee neighbors upon 
 
TO PUEBLO DE LOS ANGELES. 191 
 
 their dignified exclusiveness with an old fogy stubbornes?. 
 They led the same isolated life at the time I was there as did 
 their ancestors when they came from Mexico. Surrounded by 
 a retinue of dark-faced half-breeds, the patriarchal Don lived 
 in stately pomp on his leagues of domain, unvexed by the 
 doings of the outer world. His chief riches were his flocks 
 and herds of horses, cattle, sheep and goats, which pastured in 
 freedom over his broad acres. The only pure Spanish blood in 
 California was in the veins of this class. These devotees of 
 time-honored customs employed the same simple implements of 
 agriculture as did their forefathers, and contentedly plowed 
 the soil with crooked sticks and harrowed with the branches of 
 trees. Their clumsy carts were made wholly of wood, the 
 wheels being sawed off the ends of logs, and the frame held 
 together by wooden pins. To these carts were hitched, with 
 rawhide ropes, from one to three pairs of half- wild oxen. The 
 yokes were laid behind the horns, to which they were lashed 
 with leather thongs. One reason I heard given for thus attach- 
 ing them was that advantage was got of the strongest part of 
 the ox, which lay in the neck ; that much strength being lost 
 when the yoke rested against the shoulder. It was amusing 
 to see one of these rig-outs in motion. On each side of the 
 column was a " greaser," who, with his goad pointed with a 
 nail, prodded the sides of his victims, accompanying each 
 thrust with a wild cry. Thus equipped the establishment 
 moved on its way, the wheels grinding forth dolorous music, 
 the heartless drivers punching and screaming, the oxen 
 panting under their burden. 
 
 The mtiin forte of the Mexican is his horsemanship. Such 
 headlong riders I never saw ; always on the full jump, they sit 
 their saddles firmly and defy the efforts of their wild animals 
 to throw them. With their lassos they perform wonders. 
 With practiced skill the plaited leathern rope is thrown at full 
 gallop, and a wild bull or horse is flounderinc^ in the dust. 
 
192 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 These are sometimes broken by the struggling victims, but 
 the expert " lassero " will pick up the severed end while at full 
 speed, and with a dexterous coil around the saddle-horn secure 
 his prey. The horses are trained young as well as their riders, 
 and as soon as the rope is thrown they will arrest their speed 
 in a moment, and, throwing themselves back on their haunches, 
 stand ready to resist the impending shock. 
 
 The common answer of a Mexican to a question is " Quien 
 sabef" (who knows?). This saves trouble and is not mislead- 
 ing, for you at least know as much as you did before. So 
 when I questioned a Mexican, who was standing at the door 
 of the courtyard, ready for a mount and clad in semi-bandit 
 costume, broad-rimmed "sombrero," "serape," leather leggings, 
 jingling spurs and clumsy wooden stirrups, as to how far it 
 was to Los Angeles, and he said there were many leagues 
 'twixt here and there, I was not deceived. Leaving the lonely 
 ranch, my path still lay along the mountain-bounded plain, 
 w^hich extends perhaps one hundred miles north of San Ber- 
 nardino. Over this were scattered herds of wild-looking Span- 
 ish cattle and an occasional band of horses. The former were 
 quite annoying to me, particularly the patriarchs of the flock, 
 who pawed the ground and made eyes at me from positions 
 close to the trail. I several times got ready for a foot race, but 
 nothing serious occurred. The younger stock were less war- 
 like, and a well-emitted yell would scatter them. These cattle 
 are of a very different breed from the gentle animals pasturing 
 around our rural homes. They are smaller, generally of a 
 dun color, and with slender, sharp-pointed horns. 
 
 On the whole of the sixty miles of road from San Bernar- 
 dino to Los Angeles I did not see a single vehicle in motion, 
 nor horsemen, except the " vaqueros " or herders we occasion- 
 ally met. The trail seemed to be monopolized by our scattered 
 party; yet it was the mainly traveled road from San Pedro to 
 San Bernardino and the southern route to Salt Lake, as well 
 as to New Mexico. 
 
TO PUEBLO DE LOS ANGELES. 193 
 
 Amid the scenes described I slowly wended my way over 
 the gravelly plains and beneath the rays of a warm sun. My 
 feet were now blistered to a painful extent, and sweltering under 
 the weight of my yet heavy load, I sickened at the thought 
 of the many leagues which lay between me and the next 
 stopping place, which was thirty miles from where I passed the 
 night. Besides, I was chronically hungry and Avould get no 
 water till night, except by making long detours to out-of-the- 
 way ranches. There was not a shade tree along the road; but 
 in the afternoon I was greeted Avith the sight of a large live- 
 oak rising in solitary grandeur above the level plain to the 
 left of the trail. It seemed so inviting that I went out of my 
 way to rest under its shade, which was near a hundred 
 feet in diameter. As I was anxious to reach El Monte, the 
 first settlement, before dark, I did not remain long. The trail 
 now bore away from the Sierra and towards the coast. Towards 
 sundown I came across some large beds of prickly pears, some 
 as high as six feet and scattered over acres of ground. The 
 leaves w^re from an inch to two inches in thickness, oval- 
 shaped, six to ten inches long, standing one above the other at 
 right angles, and covered with spines. It bore a purple fruit 
 which stopped my thirst to a certain extent, but left my tongue 
 and lips full of barbed thorns, difficult to dislodge. 
 
 Night was approaching, and in company with two or three 
 brother stragglers I hurried on for El Monte, but darkness 
 overtook us before we arrived. The sight of lights in the dis- 
 tance quickened our steps, for we knew we were nearing the 
 end of our journey. Crossing the dry, sandy bed of a narrow 
 river we ascended a bluff and found ourselves in the dark 
 street of a village. Getting a drink at the first house we came 
 to we hunted up a place to stop all night. We found a sort of 
 a hotel, and before an open fire in the bar-room rested awhile. 
 Then we went out to supper. This was spread on a table, and 
 we had benches to sit on and knives and forks to eat with. To 
 
194 
 
 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
TO PUEBLO DE LOS ANGELES. 195 
 
 be sure, we lacked napkins and finger bowls, but in view of 
 our other luxuries we pardoned the want of these. Our 
 custom at meals had been to sit on the ground, or, if lazy, to 
 lean on our elbows, while we helped ourselves from the frying- 
 pan in the centre of the group, using our fingers when the 
 temperature of the eatables would admit of it. 
 
 Greatly refreshed by my night's rest on the floor I was on 
 my way early the next morning. Passing through the streets 
 of the village, between vine-embowered gardens and scattered 
 shade trees, which looked refreshing to eyes so long used to 
 desert scenery, I emerged to a valley, the most beautiful I ever 
 saw. I was now on the western boundary of the great plain 
 I had been traveling over since leaving San Bernardino, 
 which here arose in sweeping billows as it neared the range 
 of hills on the west. Hitherto it had been semi-desert, 
 naturally so or from drought, but now a covering of herbage, 
 vividly green, spread over the plain from hills to mountains. 
 Pasturing on this were flocks and herds which filled the air 
 with neighing, lowing and bleating. All that was needed 
 were shepherds and tuneful pipes to make this a veritable 
 Arcadia, in which mortals might lead a life of peaceful happi- 
 ness, undisturbed by the turmoil of the outer world. Xear 
 the centre of the valley arose the white walls of a village 
 which gleamed brightly in the rays of the morning sun. 
 Beyond was the mountain, green at the base, and changing 
 to gray and brown as the outlines climbed upw^ards. Then 
 came patches of snow, and finally an unsullied sheet of white- 
 ness which spread upward and clothed the summit thousands 
 of feet above the plain. Long had I journeyed amid scenes 
 of awful desolation, over black and rugged mountains, amid 
 sandy deserts and by the shores of poisonous creeks and rivers, 
 and now that I had passed all these and reached the borders 
 of civilization, it was infinitely refreshing to look on such a 
 picture as was now spread before me. With my imagination 
 
196 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 excited by the scenes around, I pursued my way over this 
 pastoral vale, occasionally halting a few moments to enjoy its 
 beauties, for I feared that, like some pleasant dream, it would 
 vanish to nothingness. I was better fitted this morning to 
 enjoy such surroundings, for I had had a good night's rest, 
 and as there were but twelve miles to go that day I traveled 
 leisurely. 
 
 Passing through a range of green hills by a winding canon 
 I came on to a broad plain which extended to the ocean. I was 
 now nearing Los Angeles, and traveling for a while along the 
 foot of a range of hills, I turned to the west and soon came 
 in sight of the " City of Angels," whose white walls gleamed 
 in the noon-day sun. 
 
 Note. — The valley extending eastward from San Bernardino, which I found 
 so thinly settled and rarely traveled over, is now traversed by a railroad, along 
 which are many towns. Speculation is rife there in town-lots and suburban lands. 
 San Bernardino itself has a population of six thousand. The name of the mount 
 itself has been vulgarized to "Old Baldy." 
 
XIV. 
 
 iJrom ho& eKngefex?) to i)an iJraneixiico. 
 
 
 Ij^HE southern half of California was then but sparsely 
 populated; what few large settlements there were 
 being near the coast and from fifty to one hundred 
 miles apart. Among these Los Angeles ranked the largest, 
 and still stands highest in importance, both on account of its 
 size and age. One of the first colonies planted by the 
 Mexicans in California was located here, the site being chosen 
 on account of the climate and fertile soil. It grew fast and 
 became the capital of Upper California. It is built on the 
 shores of the Los Angeles Eiver, near the foot of a range of 
 mountains which extend in rugged outlines to the Pacific, 
 which at the port of San Pedro is thirty miles distant. The 
 architecture of the city is varied, ranging from one-story adobe 
 houses to large brick stores built by the invading Yankee. 
 At that time the place was distinctly Mexican, the American 
 and his style of building being exceptional. The streets 
 presented a strange appearance in the old part of the town. 
 The houses were of sun-dried bricks, and the common ones 
 roofed with reeds and grass, over which was poured a coating 
 of bitumen, from springs of that material near by. In hot 
 weather this melted, and running down the walls gave them a 
 variegated look. Some of the houses extended in large one- 
 story ranges, at intervals pierced by gateways opening to 
 
 (197) 
 
198 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 gardens adorned with orange trees and vines. These 
 belonged to the better classes, and were roofed with tiles. A 
 rural, quiet air pervaded the suburbs, but in the business 
 centre was noise and confusion compared with what was 
 known there ten years before, when it was an exclusively- 
 Mexican town. Here was to be seen in greatest contrast the 
 varied population of Los Angeles. Plainly attired nuns 
 and fashionably dressed American women were seen together, 
 as well as the swarthy Mexican, in his attire of shirt and 
 drawers, along with the Yankee " dude." Chinese, Indians and 
 negroes abounded ; in fact all the odds and ends of humanity 
 seemed here brought in contact, and, chattering and jabbering 
 in their many tongues, made up strange scenes, rarely 
 witnessed in so small a place. Occasionally an ox-team would 
 come creeping into town, laden with wine casks in transit to 
 the coast, and following after a troop of donkeys with back- 
 loads of wood packed from the neighboring mountains. Now 
 and then the scene would be varied by the appearance of a 
 horseman, who, fully equipped with a Mexican rider's outfit, 
 would gallop by with a rattle of spurs and a stir of dust. 
 
 I spent the afternoon of my arrival looking around the 
 town, in the busy centre, the quiet suburbs, and along the 
 shore of the little river flowing by. In the water of this I 
 saw a score of washerwomen with bare feet and in short 
 skirts, pounding the dirt from soiled clothing by means of 
 clubs as it lay in the water. I loitered about the stores, watch- 
 ing the swarthy customers ride up and remain mounted till 
 their purchases were delivered to them, when they would 
 gallop away. 
 
 I am speaking of the Puebla of thirty years ago, before it 
 was, as now, a distinctively American town, the Mexican 
 portion a curiosity merely, and speculation wild, and building 
 lots selling at inflated prices. Now a railroad runs by the 
 town and the screech of the locomotive has frightened the 
 
FROM LOS ANGELES TO SAN FRANCISCO. 109 
 
 little wood-laden " burros " from thjB streets, and steam washers 
 have driven the swarthy Naiads, who then vexed the clear 
 waters of the Los Angeles with their paddles, to other means of 
 livelihood. I prefer speaking of the town in its quieter days, 
 w^hen the influence of the old Spanish fathers at the Mission 
 Church near by had i;iot lost its sedative restraint, and before 
 all were rushing to get at the head of the financial ladder. 
 
 In imagination Los Angeles had been a city of my love. I 
 had read of its beautiful women, its gallant men and its pious 
 priests, who had sacrificed so much for the salvation of the 
 Indians, and a visit to the town made a great impression on 
 me. If I could have shut the innovation of the Yankee 
 quarter from my sight, I might have imagined myself in a 
 town of La Mancha, the tropical courtyards, the horsemen, 
 barbaric in their costume, the water nymphs in the river, and 
 strings of donkeys with their wild drivers to keep up the 
 illusion. 
 
 I would have seen more of Los Angeles, its old Mission and 
 other points of interest, but I was so tired and footsore that I 
 was satisfied to rest and prepare for my seaward tramp. So 
 the rest of the day I sat at the corners of the streets, in the 
 old part of the town, and watched the passers-by. Much of 
 the " shopping" here was done on horseback. Buyers from 
 neighboring ranches would gallop in, and suddenly halting be- 
 fore a tienda barata, or "cheap store" — as elsewhere, the 
 stores here were all tiendas baratas — call for their wants, 
 remaining mounted while the merchant made ready the 
 goods, and after being waited on gallop away with clatter of 
 spur and swish of leather accoutrements. 
 
 Throughout the day scattered parties of the adventurers 
 who had started from Salt Lake with such high hopes of the 
 future came straggling into the town, hungry, tired and out 
 of spirits. The first comers got all the situations procurable, 
 while the main part of the adventurers met with disappoint- 
 
200 A CALIFORNIA TEAMP. 
 
 ment. Many by their prodigality at Salt Lake, or among the 
 Mormon settlements, had emptied their purses, and these found 
 themselves in a sorry plight indeed. The poor fellows might 
 have been seen at the street corners dolefully discussing their 
 affairs, present and prospective. Some were going to San Pedro 
 to take stowaway luck on the steamer to San Francisco; 
 others to continue their tramp up the coast to the same place, 
 a journey of five hundred miles over a rough, thinly-settled 
 country. I never heard how they got through. I am sorry 
 to say that in those times we did not worry much about what 
 became of one another. 
 
 Shortly after sunset I left Los Angeles, and with one of my 
 fellow ox-drivers of the plains began a night's march for San 
 Pedro, thirty miles away. At this time I can hardly say why 
 I started at that hour, but either because it was pleasanter 
 traveling by night than by day, or for fear of missing the 
 steamer, or to save the cost of a night's lodging. I think for 
 the latter reason, as the five dollar gold piece I got for my 
 rifle was broken up and the fragments so reduced, that I had 
 barely enough for my expenses to San Francisco, independent 
 of my passage money, which I would not touch. My com- 
 panion was " Dutch Joe," he of the profane tongue and reck- 
 less disposition; but the poor fellow was dead broke now and 
 I pitied him. He had been a Mississippi steamboat man, and 
 was calculating to " beat" his way up the coast after he once 
 got on the steamer. 
 
 Passing through a street lined with gardens of orange, fig 
 and other semi-tropical trees, and bordered with hedges of 
 willow and long extensions of grape-trellises, we left the City 
 of Angels. Had we the wisdom we afterward possessed, we 
 w^ould have known these picturesque roadside borders were 
 screens for expert throwers of the lasso, who practiced on trav- 
 elers their noted skill and choked and robbed them ; and that 
 the sterile pampas beyond was the haunt of picturesque ban- 
 
FROM LOS ANGELES TO SAX FRAXXISCO. 
 
 201 
 
 dits who annexed murder to their other crimes; Americans and 
 Spaniards being treated impartially. We soon found ourselves 
 on a bleak plain, at the commencement of a lonely journey. 
 As the twilight deepened a depressing stillness came around 
 us, which was at intervals broken by the barking of dogs of 
 distant ranches, or the fainter heard howls of wolves on the 
 Sierra Madra Mountains. Overhead the stars shone brio-htlv, 
 
 The Wine Team. 
 
 but their glare was as chilling as the winds which at sunset 
 commenced blowing from the western sea. 
 
 I much regret for the reader's comfort that I have not a few 
 pleasant episodes and reminiscences to string on the thread of 
 my narrative; but I have not, and must note down things as 
 they came to me, only too glad that all came out right in the 
 end. 
 
 " Dutch Joe " and I exchanged few words as we plodded 
 
 13 
 
202 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 along. My comrade was in no humor for singing his old-time 
 songs, or telling his steamboat adventures, or for talking of the 
 times when, a stage driver over a wild Arkansas route, he 
 " beat " his employers out of the midway fares. He was sub- 
 dued and depressed, and I must admit he had congenial com- 
 pany in me. 
 
 About 10 o'clock, through the darkness, we heard the 
 creaking of wheels, the crack of a whip and the familiar talk 
 indulged in by an ox-driver to his team. We soon caught 
 up with an ox-drawn wagon on which was a cask of wine so 
 large that in the dim light it looked as big as the "Heidelberg 
 tun." This was in transit to the coast. The driver was com- 
 panionable, and for a couple of hours we shared his talk with 
 his oxen. The wine he was hauling was from a vineyard near 
 Los Angeles, and was on its road to San Fransisco, whence it 
 would go to France, thence to New York, where it would mas- 
 querade as Veuve Cliquot in all probability. 
 
 The night air was getting colder, and my blistered feet 
 prevented me walking fast enough to keep warm. I often 
 wished for the overcoat I had thrown away the day before. 
 About midnight we came across a party of travelers who were 
 seated around a fire, and with their permission we sat with 
 them awhile and tried to warm ourselves. We left in an hour, 
 and saying good-bye to our friend the teamster, as well as to 
 Tom and Jerry, his wheelers, and Bill and Barney, his leading 
 oxen — for I heard their names often enough to remember them 
 in connection with threats and entreaties more or less profane 
 — went on our way alone. The wind blew colder and colder, 
 and towards morning we were glad to seek the shelter a 
 friendly bluff afforded, when we built a fire with some coarse 
 weeds and brush we found. With smoke-enforced tears we 
 shivered here until daybreak, when against a wind like a 
 tempest we resumed our way. 
 
 A peculiar noise noAv broke upon our ears, which we rightly 
 
FROM LOS ANGELES TO SAN FRANCISCO. 203 
 
 guessed was the surf lashing the shore. Emerging from a 
 maze of ravines and sloughs I climbed a sand hill and to my 
 joy I saw the waters of the Pacific, which the sun was just 
 beginning to silver from his position on the summit of the 
 distant Sierra. I have often thought how I traveled thirty-five 
 hundred miles to see one ocean after living within one hundred 
 miles of another all my life previous to my overland journey. 
 
 I could have gone into more extensive raptures over my first 
 sight of the Pacific had I been in a better position to appre- 
 ciate it. We have heard of Balboa's feelings, when from a 
 " lone peak of Darien " he first glimpsed the same sea ; but if 
 he had walked all night lugging a pair of blankets and an 
 unseemly carpet-bag, with nothing to drink and little to eat, 
 and, from wearing tight boots, with blisters on his ankles as 
 big as the quarter-dollars his purse lacked, he would have felt 
 about as I felt. Still I must admit to a thrill of admiration as 
 from the far sea line I saw the waves roll in and lash the 
 miniature " lone peak " on which I stood. 
 
 I had struck the coast line at a point on the Bay of San 
 Pedro which was too shallow for anchorage, but which is now 
 near the site of Wilmington, a settlement which has blotted 
 the " town " of San Pedro off the map. I have lately seen a 
 photograph of this part of the Ba}^ and the sight of the railroad 
 tracks laid under the bluff, the cars thereon, and the piles of 
 lumber and the warehouses, so contrast with the place as I saw 
 it, that I give an illustration of the landing place of 1858. On 
 account of the dangers of this harbor a breakwater has been 
 built to accommodate the increased commerce which the growtli 
 of Los Angeles has brought here. 
 
 Readers of Dana's " Tavo Years before the Mast " will 
 remember San Pedro Bay as the scene of the flogging and of 
 innumerable hardships of loading and unloading cargoes. I 
 have often experienced a fellow feeling for the author, as each 
 of our experiences on the California coast developed about the 
 
204 
 
 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 same amount of fun. The 'town was no larger than on his 
 visit in 1835, and could not well have been smaller. There 
 were two adobe houses and a smith shop on the bank, and a 
 warehouse under the blutf. A steep road ran to the plain 
 above. There was no water near the place, and the few |)eople 
 Hying here depended on a spring some miles inland. 
 
 There were but two vessels in the harbor ; one the " Senator," 
 w^hich was to take us northward, and which I was pleased to 
 
 .^fc 
 
 San Pedro in 1858. 
 
 see had not gone, and a sailing vessel, both anchored some 
 distance off for fear of being driven ashore by sudden winds. 
 The bay is a dreary sheet of water, surrounded by bleak shores, 
 bare of trees or verdure. On account of the insecurit}^ of the 
 harbor and the labor of moving cargoes, in former times, San 
 Pedro was called by sailors the " Hell of the California coast." 
 The island in the illustration is known as " Dead Man's 
 Rock." Here, over twenty years before, a master of a vessel 
 
FROM LOS ANGELES TO SAN FRANCISCO. 205 
 
 was buried after a mysterious death, and this has given the 
 place a mournful interest ever since. 
 
 We passed nearly the whole day on the shore of this dreary 
 place, sunning ourselves as best we could to keep warm, and 
 dozing away the past night's sleeplessness. How I wanted to 
 get away from here can only be known by those who have 
 been at this desolate port and seen its forbidding shore, with 
 its bleak mountain background, the miserable adobe buildings 
 and the island with its lonely grave,wind-swept, and with scream- 
 ing sea birds circling around it. " Dutch Joe " and I appeared 
 to be the advance guard of our party. The rest, a dozen or so, 
 came straggling in through the day, tired, footsore and 
 hungry. Some of them, who had spent their money, were 
 forlorn looking indeed. To make matters worse, we were 
 hungry and thirsty. Expecting to go directly on board the 
 steamer, we had brought nothing to eat, and water was not pro- 
 curable here, it being literally a " dry town." How such a 
 forsaken place as San Pedro could be the port of a town like 
 Los Angeles, which then had from 15,000 to 20,000 inhabitants, 
 I am at a loss to say. Querulous and weary we spent the 
 time watching the waves rolling in, the sea birds skimming 
 over the water and diving below, and the freight in its tedious 
 transit to the " Senator " from the rickety wharf. Among the 
 latter was the cask of wine of our midnight friend, which came 
 down the steep road leading to the emharcadero at the risk of 
 annihilating the driver and oxen, and was laboriously got into 
 a lighter and put on board. I went into a doze calculating 
 the number of " drunks " in the huge tank. 
 
 Our resting place was at the foot of the bluff, up whose steep 
 sides Dana and his fellow-sailors of the " Pilgrim," in 1837, 
 carried boxes and bales of freight to the ox-carts waiting above, 
 and down whose declivities they threw the rolls of hides 
 taken in exchange, and Avhich were carried on the heads of 
 sailors to the boats. A wharf now ran a short distance out 
 from shore, but the port accommodations were still very rude. 
 
206 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 We were not allowed to go on board the " Senator " till near 
 sun-down. A rope had been run ashore, and back and for- 
 ward along this a lighter was pulled till the passengers were 
 on board, the freight having been previously loaded. There 
 was a heavy swell on the bay, although the wind had gone 
 down, and I was afraid awhile our rude craft would swamp; 
 but we finally reached the steamer. As the two vessels did 
 not go up and down together, there was some difficulty in get- 
 ting on board, but with the aid of the down-reaching arms 
 of the sailors we climbed the deck. The " Senator " was on her 
 up trip from San Diego, and for passengers had a motley crowd 
 of dignified Spanish gentlemen, pompous army officers, enter- 
 prising Yankee merchants and adventurers of all kinds, seek- 
 ing a change of scene. I was tired and, having slept none 
 since leaving El Monte, crawled into a rude berth in the steer- 
 age and was soon forgetting everything in a deep sleep. When 
 I awoke I found the "Senator" had up anchored and was 
 plowing her way through the darkness, and also that I had 
 missed my supper. However, as the charge was high I was 
 not sorry, as I had saved that much. 
 
 That night the Pacific Ocean belied its name. I know of the 
 propensity of travelers who to sea in ships go down to narrate 
 remarkable experiences. They have the quickest or most 
 tedious of voyages from port to port, the most terrible storms 
 and the most quiescent calms. The vessel in question is at the 
 " mercy of waves rolling mountains high," or is a " painted ship 
 upon a painted ocean." Before the storm they note the anxious 
 look of the captain, as he scans the barometer, and the talks 
 among the sailors, who, in hushed voices, tell how they heard 
 the ship's cat give an ominous note of warning the night be- 
 fore, or how the ghost of Tom Bowline, who was lost at sea last 
 trip, appeared to the cabin boy about midnight and gave vent 
 to an expression of similar import. The storm safely over, 
 they hear master and men say they never had such nautical 
 
FROM LOS ANGELES TO SAN FRANCISCO. 207 
 
 experience. Of course, in this age of steam these romancers 
 cannot get up much excitement in regard to calms, unless 
 they can make out that the captain forgot to take in coal at 
 starting. 
 
 So to be in fashion I will tell how the " Senator " rolled and 
 pitched as she sped on through the darkness ; how she 
 would mount the waves as if bent on a trip to the moon; how 
 she would give a roll as if intent on spilling her freight and 
 passengers into the sea, and then how we held our breaths 
 when the prow swiftly came down. I will tell how the 
 timbers groaned, the sails flapped; how the wind whistled 
 through the cordage and the way the captain bawled and the 
 sailors swore, and how the passengers wished they were home. 
 It was my first experience on the ocean and I thought then we 
 had a rough royage, but I suppose there was nothing unusual 
 about it. As to the sea-sickness of the passengers I will say 
 nothing; such descriptions are not agreeable. We were nearly 
 two days making the trip, a time of much discomfort to us in 
 the steerage. We stopped at Santa Barbara and Monterey, but 
 between fog and darkness we saw but little of them. During 
 the prevalence of certain winds they are dangerous places to 
 stop at, and as this was the case now we hurried away from 
 both ports. On the afternoon of Christmas Day we arrived in 
 front of the Golden Gate, whose northern post is Punta Bonita, 
 or Pretty Point ; whose southern is Punta de los Lobos, or 
 Wolves' Point. My impression had been that the entrance 
 was between two acute headlands, beyond which the Bay of 
 San Francisco expanded, which was erroneous. The passage 
 is five or six miles long, with rugged hills as high as two 
 thousand feet on the north, while those on the south are three 
 or four hundred feet in elevation. The channel is from one to 
 two miles wide. The seaward boundaries of this were bare and 
 repulsive, but as we steamed inland the shores and islands 
 were green and pleasant to look upon. Bearing southward we 
 
208 
 
 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 came in front of San Francisco, Avhere, partly on piles and 
 partly on sand hills, it looked eastwardly toward the magnifi- 
 cent bay of the same name, and beyond to the fertile plains 
 of Contra Costa. We were soon fastened to the wharf and 
 ready to land. 
 
 Even when stepping from palace cars to hotel coaches and 
 
 Entrance to the Golden Gate. 
 
 with money in abundance, a traveler experiences peculiar 
 sensations when entering a large city, knowing that among 
 "the whole cityful, friends he has none." How he would 
 feel after the discomforts of a steerage voj^age, and but twenty 
 cents in his pocket, would be still more peculiar. I know that 
 when the steamer was fastened to the wharf and preparations 
 
FROM LOS ANGELES TO SAN FRANCISCO. 
 
 209 
 
 made for landing I felt a feeling of " goneness," hardly con- 
 sistent with an Eastern man's idea of going ashore on the 
 Land of Gold. 
 
 The word being given, a rush was made for the gang-plank 
 by the passengers, who, weary of confinement, Avere glad to 
 leave their ocean home of the two past days. They were 
 welcomed by a motley crowd of cab drivers, hotel runners, 
 young porters, news boys and boot-blacks, who ostentatiously 
 met them as they poured from the decks of the " Senator." 
 Forcing my way through the obstreperous gang, I at last 
 reached the wharf-gates, and passing these I trod the streets of 
 San Francisco — I was almost ready to say, " A stranger in a 
 strange land," but the expression has been used so often I 
 spare the reader its reiteration, and simply say — feeling like a 
 *' cat in a strange garret," with a scarcity of mice. 
 
XV. 
 
 ©r^ tfie ©Jramp, 
 
 FTER I had started to hunt a place to stay all night 
 I was joined by John Galdie, or " Scottie," as we 
 all called him, who proposed that we should go 
 together. As I knew him to be a quiet, honest fellow I agreed 
 to it. He was nearly as poor as I was, so there was no danger 
 of his taking me to a five-dollar-a-day hotel. We were an 
 uncouth looking pair, and made some sport for the street 
 gamins; used as they were to queer characters. What was 
 known as the " Frazer River bubble," by which thousands 
 had been induced to go up the coast to dig for gold, had 
 lately bursted, and hundreds were coming back ragged and 
 poor. Thinking we were just from the luckless diggings, 
 much interest was taken in us by the boys. They called 
 us " Frazer," asked us how we found the folks and where we 
 proposed investing our money. Paying no attention to such 
 nonsense we trudged over the amphibious streets next the 
 water front; streets lying over what was late the bay. Near 
 the edge of the rising ground on which the solid part of the 
 city is built we came in sight of a sign bearing the words, 
 " Pacific Lodgings, Twenty-five cents." Now the amount of 
 my coin possessions was two ten-cent pieces ; but these, on 
 account of a financial reckoning peculiar to California, 
 
 (210) 
 
ON THE TRAMP. 211 
 
 amounted to the same as the sum named on the sign. 
 Thus a dime was the same as a twelve and a half cent 
 piece. If you bought an article worth ten cents and ten- 
 dered a quarter they gave you a dime in change. This was 
 the minimum coin in use. So I felt emboldened to enter the 
 " lodgings," and with my comrade by my side ascended a 
 pair of rickety stairs to a set of shabby apartments. We had 
 hardly reached the landing before the keeper came to meet 
 us. He turned out to be a good-hearted Irishman, who liad 
 apparently seen better days. On making known our business 
 he showed us to a sort of a pen about five feet by eight in size, 
 containing a bed of suspicious appearance. This room we 
 engaged, and paying for one night's use of it in advance, we 
 started out to see what we could raise on our watches, each of 
 us having one. Mine was put on to me at Leavenworth by a 
 sharper, he getting in exchange a fair silver timepiece. His he 
 professed to be gold, which metal, he said, was more liked by 
 the Indians than silver, a fact he knew by experience, and 
 that they would gladly trade me a pony for a gold watch like 
 that. So I took it, and the first day I carried it showed it to 
 be the vilest of brass. I was so tried by the discovery that I 
 could have thrown it away, thinking I could never realize on 
 it. " Scottie's " was of silver and worth much more. When 
 we started out the streets were intensely dark, but as we could 
 get nothing to eat until we sold these watches we pushed on 
 till we came to a watchmaker's shop, and entering, made known 
 our errand to the proprietor. He astonished me with an off'er 
 of tliree dollars for mine, while to my comrade he off'ered eight. 
 We gladly accepted these, and with the proceeds of the trans- 
 action in our pockets emerged to the streets, made muddy 
 from recent rains, and took our way towards our roosting 
 place. At the first bakery we stopped, and buying two loaves 
 of bread made a light supper thereon. Arriving at last at 
 the " Pacific Lodgings " we went to bed. It was long before I 
 
212 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 could get to sleep. I thought about my home in the distant East 
 and wondered why I had ever left it for such husks as I now 
 fed on. I compared myself with the Prodigal of old, though, I 
 am glad to say, with exceptions. I mentally traversed my 
 way to the " Pacific." I was again by rail and water travel- 
 ing to Kansas; then, by the side of my patient, sad-eyed 
 oxen, crossing the plains and mountains to Salt Lake. Then 
 came my trip with the Mormons, my walk to the coast and 
 my voyage to San Francisco. I reversed the line of travel 
 and extracted all the pleasant episodes from it I could, but 
 then there was no sleep for thoughts about my future. 
 ''Scottie" was of a more stolid nature and was soon asleep. 
 Our lodgings were of a low grade and frequented by sailors, 
 tramps and others who could not afford the luxuries of a 
 hotel. As these came straggling into their rooms during the 
 night I could tell by their brutal voices and blasphemous 
 talk w^hat manner of men they were. We were separated 
 from them only by thin board partitions, like stalls, which 
 did not run to the ceiling, so that we had a chance for a close 
 acquaintance with the strange bed-fellows we were thrown 
 among. In spite of the racket sleep came at last, and thus 
 ended my first and last Christmas Day in California. 
 
 Late the next morning we were awakened by the "sound of 
 the church going bell " as it echoed from the many places of 
 worship in the city, ushering in a day unobserved by me for 
 many a long month. As the sweet chimes came floating to 
 my ears through the morning air memories of the distant land 
 I had so long ago departed from came to me, where the ob- 
 servance of the First day of the week was a rule and not, as 
 here, an exception. During the trip from Leavenworth to San 
 Francisco a single Sabbath had not been observed by our 
 party, and I had not entered a place of worship except a 
 Mormon church, where I had heard the most cranky doctrine. 
 
 We laid abe(f as long as w^e dared to get the worth of our 
 
ON THE TRAMP. 213 
 
 lodging money, and when obliged to get up found ourselves 
 in the midst of a dismal, rainy day. We only went out to 
 meals, two of which we indulged in at the " What Cheer 
 House," where we enjoyed the luxury of sitting at a table 
 with a cloth on and waiters to attend to our wants. But it 
 did make a hole in my three dollars, although we indulged 
 sparingly. 
 
 Another night in company with beings to whom they with 
 which the Prodigal Son ate husks were blue-blooded gentle- 
 men, and a bright morning dawned upon us. We arose early, 
 as now we must begin hunting for a "job" in earnest, for by 
 the way our watch money was going we found how fleeting 
 was time. We spent a little more of the results of this time 
 at the "What Cheer" — which, by the way, was one of the 
 greatest restaurants in the world and which furnished meals 
 of good quality at a low price and without the aid of liquor 
 sales — and then went hunting for work. The trades and pro- 
 fessions we found full of incumbents and even day's work 
 could not be had; so after hunting till we were tired, we re- 
 solved to leave San Francisco and travel towards Sacramento, 
 intending to try for work among the farmers, and, failing, then 
 strike for the mines. 
 
 My funds were now reduced to one dollar, while probably 
 "Scottie" had three or four, he having run his down in the 
 purchase of a pair of shoes. I could not afford these, although 
 I needed them badly. 
 
 AVith the good wishes of our host of the " Pacific Lodgings " 
 accompanying us we left that vermin-infested dormitory about 
 10 o'clock on the morning of December 27th. We proceeded 
 directly to the wharf of the San Antonio ferry, where we 
 boarded a little steamer which was soon on its way over the 
 bay. The day was clear and the sun shone brightly, lighting 
 up the surrounding scenery with glowing tints until it was 
 very beautiful. Behind us lay the city with ks busy wharves 
 
214 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 and its roofs and spires gleaming in the meridian sun ; before 
 us spread the plains of Contra Costa, and on their margin 
 appeared the pretty vilages of Oakland and San Antonio. 
 On the background arose a range of mountains, whose slopes 
 were green with herbage, with Mount Diablo rising in the 
 distance. Around us was spread an expanse of water, dotted 
 with sailing craft and shining like silver. Everything, 
 around, above, below, was full of beauty, but as I was not in a 
 sentimental mood it went almost unappreciated. The city had 
 absorbed two dollars of my three, the crossing of the beautiful 
 bay had taken twenty-five cents of the remaining dollar, 
 while the plain beyond was simply a hunting ground for work 
 and the mountain an obstacle to surmount in case none was 
 found. We soon reached our landing place at Oakland, but 
 a village at that time, and the home of the artist-traveler 
 J. Ross Browne, a name then spelt without the terminal vowel. 
 Getting ashore we traversed the streets, broad and shaded 
 with the perennial live-oak from which the place takes its 
 name. 
 
 Oakland is now a large place — a sort of a Brooklyn to San 
 Francisco — and noted for its beautiful residences and as the 
 terminus for the principal overland railroad. On account of 
 its situation the main city can only be reached by land from 
 the east in a round-about way ; so an immense ferryboat has 
 been built for carrying several cars at a time across the bay. 
 The town is many times larger now than when I saw it, and 
 much more beautified, but with all its additions it cannot 
 impress modern tourists more than it did me, when, debark- 
 ing from an unpretentious ferryboat, I walked its shaded 
 streets with their bordering of well-kept yards and pretty 
 residences. I was hungry, unkempt and out of conceit with 
 my appearance generally, and with spirits down at the heels ; 
 but for all that I could not help being impressed with the 
 beauties of the place. 
 
ON THE TRAMP. 
 
 215 
 
 Coming to a baker shop, in imitation of Franklin, we 
 bought two loaves of bread. Except in the matter of soiled 
 clothing, I cannot continue the comparison further, for I have 
 no evidence that there were any Miss Reeds with their inter- 
 ested eyes fixed on us, and the community, as far as I can 
 learn, was never materially impressed with our presence. 
 Bread is not very satisfying, so, to make it durable, we bought 
 
 Oakland in 1858— Contra Costa Mountains in the Distance. 
 
 some " bolognas," and seating ourselves on a green bank in 
 the suburbs of the town we partook of our homely fare in 
 silence, unquestioning the origin of the solid part of our meal. 
 And now for another tramp. Formerly I had a definite 
 objective point — San Francisco ; now it was where I could 
 strike a job of work, which was a very indefinite point. I 
 thought when I put my luggage on board the " Senator " I 
 
216 
 
 A CALIFOllNIA TKAISfP. 
 
 was done packing it around; but here it was like the " Ohl 
 Man of the Sea," impossible to shake from my back. There it 
 lay on the grass, the same old carpet-bag, roll of blankets and 
 boots. I loathed their sight, but could not do without them. 
 So I had nothing to do but shoulder tliem, and between the 
 Scylla of moccasons with wet feet, and the Charybdis of 
 tight boots and ])listered ankles, go on my way. Our route 
 lay over a level ]>lain, wliicli the recent rains had rendered 
 
 Largest Fekkyboat in tui; ^VoRLD, Plying Between San Francisco 
 
 AND Oakland. 
 
 impassable by mud and water, and as I now was in the moc- 
 cason stage of foot-gear I suffered therefrom. 
 
 The plain was dotted at various intervals with ranch build- 
 ings, but they were generally far from the road, so that we 
 were obliged to make long detours in our search for employ- 
 ment. We had arrived in California at a bad time for work, 
 as the farmers had all supplied themselves with help. Each 
 farmer, however, probably to get shut of us, could tell of some 
 
ON THE TRAMP. 217 
 
 one further on who wanted help, and so we traveled on to be 
 disappointed again. 
 
 To make the situation worse towards night it began to rain, 
 and we had both forgotten our umbrellas. Between my leaky 
 moccasons and wet clothing I fared badly. At nightfall we 
 came to a farm-house on whose hospitality we encroached. The 
 owner was away on our arrival, but soon came home and gave 
 us permission to remain till morning, but did not press us to 
 stay to tea. We remained outside in the mist and coming 
 darkness until a look through the window showed the table 
 set and preparations made to partake of its edible trimmings, 
 when, " Scottie " leading the way, we entered the kitchen. Our 
 " cheek " was rewarded with an invitation to a " set-down " 
 supper. Our manners had not shown remarkable refinement, 
 but we were getting well broken in to our enforced life, and 
 did not suffer any loss of self-respect. We were beginning to 
 see how life looked from the tramp's side of the fence. 
 
 Our host, now that we had forced ourselves upon him, 
 treated us kindly, and after supper allowed us to sleep in an 
 outbuilding along with the two hired men. It was California 
 style for the help to sleep in the barn, or any other place out- 
 side the house, which was often a mere shell of one story, with 
 barely room for the ranch owner and his family. While I 
 was in the State the hired farm-hand had few comforts in this 
 life, and, after he was done with it, was placed without osten- 
 tatious ceremony in a fence corner. One of the hands was an 
 Irishman who was extremely patronizing in his way, and, 
 when we told him how unsuccessful we had been in getting 
 work, said it was because we looked so green on account of 
 our dress. He said our caps were enough of themselves to bar 
 us from the pleasures of farm life ; we must get hats with wide 
 rims and assume a more free and easy air. As we had not 
 the money to buy hats, nor the wherewithal to raise our spirits, 
 his advice did not amount to much, but I afterwards bore a 
 14 
 
218 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 profound dislike to my particular head-gear, which since 
 leaving Salt Lake had done dual duty as night cap and dress 
 hat. After this I would fain have doffed my cap when ap- 
 plying for work, but as politeness was at a discount, hats on 
 at table even not being a cause for expulsion from dining- 
 rooms where we fed, I abstained from this effeminacy. 
 
 Waiting awhile for an invitation to breakfast, which did 
 not evolve, we shouldered our effects with spirits of a down- 
 ward tendency, and trudged off in the direction of a ranch 
 w^here lived two bachelors who we heard were in want of 
 people of about our build. These "twin relics," however, 
 cold-shouldered us and sent us on our way. The market for 
 us seemed glutted ; the supply for us seemed beyond the 
 demand. This state of things was not very creditable to Cali- 
 fornia, but so it was. 
 
 Leaving here, our route lay along a line of telegraph in the 
 direction of a pass in the mountains to the northeast. We 
 soon entered a crooked caiion, down which was laid a narrow 
 wagon road. This was sideling and slippery from the previous 
 night's rain, which was again falling. I traveled as usual in 
 tribulation on account of my feet, teaching the summit we 
 found it so enveloped in mist we could see but a few paces in 
 any direction. Descending the other side of the mountain by 
 a winding stream we came to a lone inn called the " Walnut 
 Creek House," where we got some bread and pork of a land- 
 lady who looked as sour as her bread. The day was cold and 
 wet, and being tired and hungry we stopped at a convenient 
 place and built a fire, where we warmed ourselves and ate our 
 recent purchase. Then we got our pipes and took a smoke. 
 I don't use the weed now, and, in a general way, discounte- 
 nance it ; but when a prohibitory tobacco law is passed I want 
 an exception made in favor of tramps. It cheers them with- 
 out inebriation. I know that after traveling in all kinds of 
 weather, and being perpetually rebuffed by unappreciating 
 
ON THE TRAMP. 219 
 
 farmers, a quiet smoke behind a hay rick, or under a shelter- 
 ing tree, was a great comfort. But I never believed in smoking 
 in barns. I drew the line there ; " Scottie " did not. That 
 same night we slept in one, and he lit a match in the midst 
 of straw and smoked away. In my native land I had heard 
 it called the sin of sins for a tramp to smoke in a barn, but 
 things were so reversed and my comrade seemed to enjoy it 
 so, that I said nothing. 
 
 It was again shoulder carpet-bags and march ! More rain 
 and no umbrellas ! More changes from boots and blisters to 
 moccasons and misery. 
 
 The weather cleared off as we proceeded. We were now 
 among a maze of vividly green hills through which our road 
 wound. The land was scatteringly settled, and our chances 
 for work proportionally limited. State of my financial ther- 
 mometer, sixty-five cents above zero and falling ! 
 
 The country began to subside to gentler curves and to become 
 more settled. Late in the afternoon we came to a little 
 hamlet and here we made another fruitless efi'ort for work ; 
 but we were told of some further on. At sun-down we came 
 to a lone ranch whose mistress kindly gave us some biscuits, 
 which much to our relief she would take no pay for. She let 
 us dry ourselves by the fire awhile, and when her husband 
 came home, he allowed us to lie in the barn all night, for 
 which we were thankful. The sun set brightly, and as its rays 
 slanted through the dripping live-oaks and broad shadows 
 crept out from the hills, I was reminded of when, after similar 
 rain-followed sunsets on the old home farm, I went after the 
 cows, with the trees glistening with crystal drops and the 
 swamp-robin's song ringing from the darkening woods which 
 shaded the waters of the Cuttalossa. 
 
 Shaking the straw from our clothing we were again on our 
 way the next morning, the 29th. Again the green hills arose 
 and fell before us. From the summit of a range we enjoyed, 
 
220 
 
 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 as far as stomachic vacuity would allow, the scenery before us — 
 a verdant plain stretching far away and dotted with ranches, 
 with the waters of Suisun Bay in the distance. On the horizon 
 arose Mount Diablo, a landmark which can be seen from San 
 Francisco arising above intervening mountains, although its 
 habitat is near the shore of the Bay of Suisun. This scene of 
 many a weird legend was in view during near all my wander- 
 ings around the bay. 
 
 A Glance at Moxte del Diablo. 
 
 After breakfast time we came to another ranch, whose lady 
 furnished us with breakfast, on our request being made. She 
 seemed kind and had told us if we would wait she would give 
 us something better than cold victuals. We supposed this 
 would be a gratis affair, and when the meal was ready we com- 
 plained not that the bread was sour, the pork unsavory and 
 the coffee made from old stock, but ate the viands thankfully. 
 Thinking it safe to off'er to pay for our fare, I put my hand in 
 my pocket as a preparatory flourish, and asked the extent of 
 
ON THE TRAMP. 221 
 
 our indebtedness. " Oh," said she, " I guess I wont charge you 
 more than seventy-five cents." Taken aback by this extortion 
 we paid the amount, " Scottie " regretting we had not lied and 
 said we had no money. My monetary thermometer now 
 registered twenty cents in the shade, considerably below freez- 
 ing. I was now as well off as when I debarked from the 
 " Senator," except that I had no watch to hypothecate. 
 
 Leaving this ranch which had so raided our funds we trudged 
 through the ever verdant range of hills and descended to a 
 plain bordering a sluggish stream flowing into Suisun Bay. 
 About 4 o'clock we came to the village of Pacheco. On the way 
 we met a man who said there was a fence-builder living there 
 who wanted hands, and him we found at the "grocery," which 
 means a combination of grog-shop and store. He told us if 
 he got a contract he was expecting he would give us work. 
 " Scottie" went with him to see about it, I being too footsore to 
 go along. So I seated myself down on the porch till they got 
 back. The village was mainly Mexican, one of that race keeping 
 the " grocery," or tienda. I sat there watching the swarthy 
 customers coming and going on their tough " bronchos," or 
 while they stopped to drink, buy groceries or play cards. The 
 latter, with a gambling attachment, seemed to be their delight. 
 The cards were peculiarly pictured. When ofl" their horses 
 these Mexicans were common looking enough, but when 
 mounted, with ornamented saddles and bridles and jingling 
 spurs, they made a very picturesque appearance. 
 
 In an hour " Scottie " and the contractor came back, but with 
 no good news, so we moved on in the direction of Martinez. 
 Just after dark we overtook a man who lived in the latter 
 place. He knew of no work, was poor himself, and if he had 
 room in his little house said he would keep us. Hearing we 
 had no money to pay for lodgings he took us to an empty school 
 house, on the edge of the village, where we could stay all night. 
 He then left us to ourselves in the thickening gloaming 
 
222 
 
 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 doubtless experiencing the same relief we all feel when 
 sending a tramp to a hotel, a proprietor of a brief to the nearest 
 benevolent neighbor, or a book-agent to our worst enemy. We 
 loitered around the door of the empty hall of learning for a 
 while but did not enter, fearing we might not get awake in 
 time for school ; besides, we questioned the right of our departed 
 friend, who had thoughtfully slipped away, to give us the 
 freedom of this hall of learning. We then went on to Martinez, 
 a considerable town and the county seat of Contra Costa 
 
 Straits of Caequinaz. 
 
 County. This is opposite Benicia, on the Straits of Carquinaz, 
 which connect the bays of San Pablo and Suisun, the latter 
 the recipient of the waters of the Sacramento and San Joaquin. 
 Here we found a liveryman kind enough to let us pass the 
 night in his stable. He sent a hostler with us, and picking 
 out a comfortable stall we secured it by depositing our bag- 
 gage therein. • It being too cold to sit there, we went to the 
 hotel adjacent, and seated around a warm stove we fired up 
 
ON THE TRAMP. 223 
 
 our pipes and tried to forget our troubles. The clink of the 
 two solitary dimes in my pocket reminded me that they would 
 have to swell to fifty cents before they would take me across 
 the ferry to Benicia ; and we must do that to go on to Sacra- 
 mento, and I was sore puzzled as to how the difficulty was to 
 be obviated ; besides, w^e were as hungry as owls. However, 
 " Scottie" seemed to have a spare dime, with which he bought 
 a loaf of bread, which, on account of its lightness, contained 
 about as much nourishment as so much dried fog, and with 
 this we left the comfortable stove for the stable and took our 
 places in the stall. We looked so tired out that the hostler did 
 not think it w^orth while to put a pole between us, and, so 
 leaving us, we lay down to sleep along with the other roadsters 
 in the barn. 
 
 The next morning, without any preliminary grooming or 
 feeding, we left our stable and went to the wharf, where, in an 
 hour's time, the ferry-boat landed. Willing to run the risk of 
 being put on shore w^hen the captain found out the condition 
 of my bank account, I went on board with " Scottie." Luckily 
 for me that officer did not come around for the fare until the 
 boat had started. When he came my heart worked up toward 
 my throat when I had to tell him I had but twenty cents, 
 which I offered him. "If that is all you have," said he, 
 " keep it till you can pay me ! " Here was a slice of practical 
 Christianity in a state so covered with mortgages of the Arch- 
 Enemy ! 
 
 Our boat was soon over, and stepping ashore I found my- 
 self in Benicia, once the capital of California and named after 
 General Vallejo's daughter, who was dead and lay buried 
 among the green hills back of the town. Vallejo, a short 
 distance off, was to have been the capital, and to secure it the 
 General spent $100,000 on state buildings, which were unused 
 and went to ruin ; a new whim having seized the authorities. 
 Benicia was then a government post, having extensive bar- 
 
224 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 racks. At the wharf we saw a train of Uncle Sam's wagons 
 on the way to San Bernardino. The long line of white sheets 
 looked familiar, and, much as I disliked returning my steps, I 
 would gladly have hired as a teamster. The sight of the train 
 had about the same effect on us as a ship would on a sailor 
 who had turned landsman to better his condition, vowing to 
 never trust the treacherous deep again. We had rough times 
 on the plains, but were having worse now, and were ready to 
 go back to life on a train. So we concluded to make applica- 
 tion. To do so I walked a mile to the quartermaster's office, 
 but we were not wanted, so we concluded to tramp on up the 
 valley, still following the telegraph. I had previously invested 
 ten cents in a loaf of bread, which answered for breakfast and 
 dinner. I had now ten cents left ; my brother tramp, as it 
 turned out, more. 
 
 Striking across a range of green hills we at length came to 
 the road leading to Sacramento. This highway follows the 
 flat land bordering the Bay of.Suisun, except where the 
 marshes which fringe it force it to the high ground. Here it 
 was sideling, and my hard boots blistered my feet worse than 
 ever while traversing these slopes. " Scottie," w4th his com- 
 fortable shoes, could easily outwalk me. Conversation on 
 general topics having long since been exhausted, we talked 
 little as we walked along, and as at this season rain was 
 chronic, we had not many pleasant things to say, our wet 
 clothing putting a damper on conversation. The road w^as a 
 lonely one, and as the ranches were far apart we had few 
 chances for work. The land was marshy and covered with 
 shallow pools. The bay adjacent w^as broad and shallow, and 
 was the recipient of the waters of the Sacramento and San 
 Joaquin. A sail now and then, or a rare steamer, was all 
 that enlivened its waters, and these were often hidden by 
 mists. We came at sundown to a group of isolated hills, 
 when, turning a point, we came to a lone tavern called the 
 
ON THE TRAMP. 
 
 225 
 
 " Cordelia House." Entering the bar-room we sat down be- 
 fore the fire to dry and warm ourselves, and lighting our 
 pipes prepared, as far as I was concerned, to pass a hungry 
 night. We had walked sixteen miles that day, about forty in 
 all, and still no work. With my sore feet, aching bones and 
 empty pockets I felt about as low down a tramp as runs the 
 
 
 Scottie" and I. 
 
 road. We sat silently by the fire listening to the talk of the 
 two or three travelers stopping there for the night. 
 
 When the landlord came in to see how many of us wanted 
 supper I said nothing, knowing I could not pay for it. When 
 the bell rang I was going to remain and starve it out, but 
 " Scottie " told me to come on and he would pay. Never did 
 his voice sound so pleasant. It appeared he had not been en- 
 tirely " broke," but this last venture finished him financially. 
 
226 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 The supper being on the American plan, and knowing we 
 would now have to beg until we got work, the landlord did 
 not make much out of us. We were allowed to lie on the 
 floor until morning. We failed to work a free breakfast out 
 of our host, but he gave us permission to leave our gripsacks 
 at the hotel until we came for them. 
 
 In the midst of a penetrating rain we left the hotel and 
 struck across a range of hills for Napa Valley, where we were 
 told we would find work. I had nothing to carry but my 
 blankets, so I traveled with more comfort. What I had left 
 was of no practical use to me, being a better suit of clothing 
 and some books. One of these was named " Spanish without 
 a Master," which I had studied that I might enjoy conversa- 
 tion with the native Californians. It was aptly named, for if 
 it ever had a master it was without one while I carried it. 
 Arrived in the valley, work was as scarce as ever. We would 
 alternate in making our inquiries. Some would be answered 
 respectfully, others rudely. I well recollect a farmer we came 
 across while he was killing a hog. It was my turn, and in 
 spite of the inauspiciousness of the moment, I humbly asked 
 him if he did not want a couple of good men. Looking up 
 from his gory work in surprise, for he had not seen me before, 
 he spitefully told me he " couldn't raise enough money to pay 
 the men he had, let alone more," and went on with his work. 
 Tired and hungry, as usual, we arrived at a wayside ranch, 
 whose owner was just going to dinner. He had no work for 
 us, but kindly invited us to sit down to the table. 
 
 We were now getting into the heart of Napa Valle}^ one of 
 the greatest grain growing regions around the bay. We came 
 to the little village of Suscol about sunset. Here lived some 
 Bucks Countians, but I did not know it then. Just beyond 
 we came to Napa. Unacquainted with the country over which 
 we were traveling I thought we were going more and more 
 into the wilderness. Imagine my surprise when I saw a large 
 
ON THE TRAMP. 227 
 
 town on a navigable stream in which were some sailing ves- 
 sels, and from which a daily steamer ran to San Francisco. 
 
 The next thing to find out was where to pass the night. 
 The town, covered as it was with the gathering shades of 
 evening, looked inhospitable, which might not have been the 
 case in the broad glare of day. Wandering half aimlessly 
 about the streets and passing groups of merry people — for it 
 was New Year's Eve — who so contrasted with our sorry selves, 
 we again gravitated towards a livery stable. Seeing a light 
 within we entered, and looking around for a comfortable stall 
 humbly asked the proprietor if he could stable us. " No ; I will 
 not," said he ; "I never allow stragglers in my barn over night." 
 We were leaving when he called us back, and in a kindlier 
 tone told us we might sleep in a shed outside. This we found 
 to be an open place, covered with straw on poles, and here we 
 left our blankets and started out to hunt a fire, for the night 
 air chilled us. We soon found a hotel before whose hearth we 
 made ourselves comfortable. Being hungry we at length sallied 
 out, and striking a bakery invested our joint capital, twenty 
 cents, in two loaves of bread. We were now bankrupt. 
 
 Upon coming out we heard music, and going to where it 
 came from we entered a hotel. Here we found an assemblage 
 of young men, who had come from the surrounding country 
 to take part in a New Year's ball ; for that day had ushered in 
 the year 1859. Money was flowing freely from these generous 
 young Californians for worse than useless things, while we 
 were suffering for necessities. Things to us seemed out of 
 joint. The dancing soon began, and to see it we went to 
 the hall adjoining the ball-room. Groups of pretty, well- 
 dressed girls came down the stairs and whisked by us, laugh- 
 ing and talking on their way to join the merry-makers. I 
 wondered what they thought of the two tramps looking on, 
 or whether they thought of them at all. The men might 
 have been common rowdies in cheap-store-clothes, and the 
 
228 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 girls mediocre affairs in shoddy dresses and brass jewelry, 
 but to us, from our humble station, they seemed as of the elite. 
 
 We looked at this gay scene from our comfortable position 
 as long as we thought it j^rudent for fear of ejectment, when 
 we left, and wending our way through the noisy streets 
 sought our straw palace. Making our beds on some bales of 
 hay we at last got to sleep. The next morning we were 
 awakened by the crowing of some biddies roosting on the 
 shed. The air was chilling and a thick fog hung over the 
 town and its surroundings. We remained wrapped up until 
 the sun w^as an hour high, when we rolled up our blankets and 
 resumed our tramp, but with the usual luck. At noon we 
 reached a ranch owned by a retired sea captain, who, on 
 appearing, said : " Well boys ! just from the States, are you ?" 
 Want work, do you ? Got none, but got some dinner for you ! 
 Walk right in and help yourselves!" We had a tip-top 
 dinner, winding up with pie. 
 
 Here we heard of a ranch a few miles off where hands were 
 wanted. Thanking our entertainer we made a bee line 
 thence, across broad, level fields, and about 4 o'clock got to the 
 boundaries of the ranch. We soon came across two shepherds 
 who were seated by a fire under a wide spreading live-oak and 
 tending some thousands of sheep. Coming to the ranch we 
 were told that the *' Patron," Signor Augustina, was not at 
 home, but soon would be. In about an hour he made his 
 appearance, and through an interpreter told us that they had 
 all the help needed, but that a friend, eighteen miles away, 
 wanted him to get him two men, and that if we would stay 
 with him two or three days he would take us over. This 
 information made us exceedingly glad, for it meant something 
 to eat for that length of time. 
 
 The Salvador Ranch, which we were now on, belonged to 
 Salvador Vallejo, brother to the General, and was a large 
 tract from the amount of wheat they were putting in — two 
 
ON THE TRAMP. 229 
 
 thousand nine hundred acres. It was worked by one hundred 
 hands, half of whom were Mexicans. Everything was con- 
 ducted with military precision. At 5 o'clock in the morn- 
 ing the bell on the ranch house was vigorously rung, and at 
 its summons every man was expected to get up, and if he 
 was a driver get his team ready for work. At 6 the bell 
 rang for breakfast. This over, the hands went to their allotted 
 tasks, and under the supervision of a major-domo, or over- 
 seer, who on horseback was continually visiting different parts 
 of the ranch, worked on until half-past eleven, when the bell 
 called them to the house in readiness for dinner at 12. At 1 
 they were signalled to work and at sunset to quit. Every- 
 thing worked smoothly. The men and animals were hard 
 worked, but all had plenty to eat. 
 
 There were fifty plows at work, the motive power being 
 oxen and horses. Most of the former were native cattle and 
 were driven by Mexicans. They pulled by their horns, the 
 yoke being lashed to them. It was an odd sight to see the 
 Mexicans plowing, with sharpened sticks instead of whips, 
 with Spanish oaths instead of English, and with different 
 commands from ours. You could hear the wild cries of the 
 drivers a long distance. 
 
 We enjoyed ourselves in a fashion the several days we 
 w^ere on the Salvador Ranch. The reader can hardly appre- 
 ciate the change from our tramp life to this. We had an easy 
 time, doing what odd jobs we liked, had plenty to eat and a 
 straw-mow to sleep in. The table manners were somewhat 
 primitive, I admit. Hats were worn when desirable. If a 
 piece of bread was wanted no waiter passed it along, neither 
 did the wisher ill-manneredly reach for it. He simply said 
 to the one nearest the edible, " Hello ! pard, heave us a chunk 
 of bread." In a trice it would come, like a quoit. The 
 coffee-pot was passed along that whoso wanted might 
 pour. There was no table-cloth for one to be afraid of soil- 
 
230 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 ing, no napkins that might be carried off in lieu of " wipes," 
 no embarrassing finger bowls in danger of doing duty as 
 goblet or wash basin. Everything w^as plain and unpreten- 
 tious, free and easy; the latter particularly applying to the 
 conversation. Still I should not criticize or satirize. I was 
 used well, and my life on the Salvador Ranch, following as 
 it did so many hardships, is a pleasant episode in my life. 
 
 To make a long story short I left the ranch on the 4th of 
 January, in company with my good friend " Scottie," in a 
 wagon driven by Signer Augustina, and bound for Signer 
 X., who lived in the Valley of Petaluma. The morning was 
 cold and a foggy darkness surrounded us, as drawn by a span 
 of half-broken, half-bred horses we swiftly moved over the 
 flat which extended to a neighboring ridge, beyond which 
 was the Valley of Sonoma. Lightly clad as we were, " Scottie" 
 and I shivered with the cold, and crouching down in the 
 wagon we covered ourselves with our blankets. No talk 
 ensued between us and our conductor for the good reason 
 that it was impossible, from neither knowing the other's 
 language. The ride w^as unpleasant until the sun rose to 
 partially dispel the mists and warm the air. Like reptiles 
 thawed to activity by the warmth of spring we shook off our 
 blankets and enjoyed ourselves looking around us as we 
 passed the varying scenery. Now we were driving rapidly 
 over a long level stretch, now crossing a rolling divide, 
 through tortuous canons, along a serpentine road so sideling 
 in places that I was afraid of an upset, and then crossing a 
 break-neck gulch or wading some sticky bog. We passed 
 by scattered ranches and at rare intervals a hotel. At 11 
 o'clock w^e came to the old Spanish town of Sonoma, twelve 
 miles from Napa. This is a quaint looking place, with a 
 'plaza in the centre and built of adobes. Leaving the plains 
 of Sonoma by a crooked caiion winding through a ridge of 
 green hills we came to the valley of Petaluma, and at noon 
 arrived at our destination. 
 
XVI. 
 
 f^ancft h\fe. 
 
 IGNOR X., an Italian some sixty years old, had been 
 a successful merchant in San Francisco. He had a 
 son named Pedro, who married a native heiress. 
 This lady inherited a tract of one thousand six hundred 
 acres in Sonoma County, and thinking a fortune might be 
 made in farming, the whole party, father, mother, son and his 
 wife and baby left San Francisco and moved to this ranch, 
 on which had previously been built a house and barn. 
 With them were transported all manner of farming imple- 
 ments; among them a subsoil plow for delving in a soil which 
 hardly knew a bottom, some of which was composed of an 
 adobe clay so hard that the coulter point would hardly scratch 
 it. Though Pedro and his wife owned the property they 
 were looked upon as children by the old gentleman, who was 
 the controlling power on the ranch. He scolded his son as 
 if he were a boy in roundabouts, and he in his turn, as if he 
 found consolation in the humiliation of so doing, unnecessarily 
 scolded his employees. Inez, the young wife, was as much of 
 a plaything as was the baby, Ana, or as she was called in 
 the diminuendos of the Spanish language, Anita, and, as far 
 as assisting at household affairs was concerned, was of no 
 more account than the baby. Signor X. did the cooking. He 
 was a singular genius, and cut an odd figure as with head 
 
 (231) 
 
232 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 bare, or handkerchief tied around it, and with pantaloons 
 suspenderless and a red sash girt around his loins, he marched 
 about, gun in hand, shooting his enemies, the blackbirds, 
 which in countless numbers lit on his new-sown grain 
 and tore it up. He was extremely passionate, and at times, 
 when stalking around with his gun and wildly shouting, was 
 fearful to behold. 
 
 It was here that John Galdie and I began ranch life in the 
 Golden State, January 4th. The only man X. had hired 
 before our coming was an Irishman, named Richard Dobbin, 
 and guided by his feeble directions and the oath-filled broken 
 English of the father and the less bearable interference of the 
 son, who for fear of offending the old man, of whom he was 
 in dread, merely repeated or translated his words, we began 
 operations by breaking up the prairie sod which, unencum- 
 bered by bush or tree, spread in abrupt billows all around us. 
 
 For drawing our three Yankee plows we had to choose our 
 teams from eleven head of horses, all of which, with one ex- 
 ception, were of mixed native breed. This exception was 
 Old Tom, a bob-tail gray, brought from the States, and which 
 was our main stand-by. He once had a mate, which had 
 departed this life previous to our arrival, poisoned by a dis- 
 charged hand, so our suspicion-filled master said, but which 
 was more probably killed by overwork. So the whole blunt 
 came on Tom. As far as my experience went, the native 
 horses had but little endurance, and those which were manage- 
 able were continually giving out in the team. Some were 
 valueless to plow or wagon, and were only available when 
 spanned with a wooden saddle and bridled with the cruel 
 Spanish bit, and were ridden galloping over the prairie. A 
 few were docile, but these were soon broken down with hard 
 work, so that our plow teams were reduced to one, the centre- 
 piece of which was the faithful Tom. A part of the tract was 
 a deep shale loam and was easy plowing, but a large portion 
 
RANCH LIFE. 233 
 
 was "adobe," a stiff, brown clay, hard to start the plow in, and 
 when entered difficult to keep there from the roots of a weed 
 called the soap plant. The ranch was quite hilly and incon- 
 venient to work, except where the hills arose like hemispheres, 
 when w^e began at the bottom and plowed round and round. 
 We worked the horses three abreast but, except in mellow soil, 
 made poor headway. As the horses were mainly unbroken 
 we were in continual turmoil by their kicking, refusing to 
 pull and getting tangled in the harness. The " Patron," or 
 Boss, was constantly on hand, swearing, beating the horses, 
 bearing his heavy weight, for he was six feet high and broad 
 of build, on the plow beam and screaming, " Mucho terrano ! 
 Mucho terrano/" which meant more ground, in order to make 
 us take a broader furrow and a deeper. At times the team 
 would be completely exhausted, or may be inextricably tangled 
 up, and then the old gentleman would stand angry and over- 
 flowing with fearful and unintelligible oaths, gesticulating 
 wildly and with stout staff pounding the poor "caballos." He 
 swore Spanish, Italian and broken English. At such times 
 we cut a comical figure : the struggling horse, the irate master 
 and awe-stricken hired-man. After the teams were reduced to 
 one, a teamless teamster was kept riding the plow-beam, so that 
 the last trio was used up. The whole cavalcade, except Tom 
 and a riding horse, was now turned out to graze and recruit, 
 and our master turned his attention to oxen as plow pro- 
 pellers. First he bought a medium-sized pair of cattle, but 
 under the original dispensation they soon went the way of 
 their equine brethren. Then a new pair were bought, and a 
 fine, big yoke they were. And now, with two span of oxen to 
 a wheel-plow, we might be seen gaily cruising over the prairie. 
 We were all in raptures, particularly the horses, who eyed us 
 from afar on their pasturage, and while we were not interfered 
 with we got along finely. But soon the Patron's evil genius 
 set him to interfering, and the greedy man again screamed 
 
 15 
 
234 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 ^' Mucho terrano/^^ and the oxen fell faint in the furrow. We 
 had now broken a hundred acres of land, eleven horses and 
 four oxen, and we thought it time to stop. The wheat had 
 been sown and harrowed in between the blows, and turning 
 the oxen loose to keep the horses company, we turned our 
 attention to fence building. We used redwood for posts and 
 sawed rails of Oregon pine for nailing on them. The posts 
 had been previously sharpened, and were to be driven into 
 the ground. Into the mystery of this I was soon introduced. 
 Mounted on a high, clumsy stool it was my painful duty to 
 pound with a "pepper-wood" maul, the size of a nail keg, on 
 the top of the post, which Don Pedro steadied. This was a 
 little monotonous, not to say tiresome. The good Don Pedro 
 never "spelled" me; instead, he would look inquiringly at me 
 whenever my catapult ceased its vibrations. In fact it was an 
 injured look, and, I am sorry to say, I was sometimes tempted 
 to mistake his head for the post-top. At first he would start a 
 hole with a crowbar, but afterwards, thinking he was humor- 
 ing me, he stopped that concession. We finished a mile of 
 fence and then quit. 
 
 One of my morning duties was to haul water from a spring 
 three hundred yards off, for house use and for soaking barley 
 overnight for the horses. This I accomplished with my faith- 
 ful companion, Tom, hitched to a wooden sled, on which were 
 placed two barrels; these filled, I drew them up a steep hill. 
 Once I recollect my frail sled pulled apart and set the lading 
 to playing roley-boley to the bottom. I looked at them with 
 unenviable feelings, listening to the tantalizing "glug-glug" 
 the bung gave forth each revolution, Tom looking quietly on. 
 
 The Patron alwaj^s routed us up before daylight after a night 
 which was always too short. I often thought of the miserable 
 negro slaves, who longed all day for night and sighed when the 
 morning came ! About an hour before daylight we would hear 
 the voice of the elder Patron penetrating the foggy air with fran- 
 
RANCH LIFE. 235 
 
 tic cries for " R-e-e-chard " to "geeta uppa." Dick, I am sorry 
 to say, often "possumed," when our interlocutor would get so 
 excited that "Scottie" or I was fain to answer by proxy for the 
 derelict Dick. 
 
 When our eleven horses were all working we divided their 
 care b'etween us, and generally had them ready for work before 
 day. We fed them on wild oats, cut green, clover and timothy 
 hay being unknown, while for solid feed we gave them barley. 
 This was put to soak twelve hours before using, as it was indi- 
 gestible otherwise. The horses cleaned and harnessed, we went 
 to breakfast, which was invariably composed of galleta Italiana, 
 a kind of hard bread and coffee ; each of the best quality, but 
 not a very solid diet for laboring men. This bread, which is 
 far superior to hard tack, is six inches in diameter and from a 
 half-inch to an inch in thickness, and one of these disks we 
 found each morning by our coffee-bowls. Plates and knives 
 and forks we never had, because we had no use for them. Of 
 coffee, with the customary trimmings, we had an abundance on 
 tap in the tea-kettle. The bread we broke up and put to soak, 
 as we did the barley for the horses; in fact, the two and foar- 
 legged workers on the farm fared pretty much alike, except 
 the latter got waited on and we did not. The bread puffed up 
 elegantly, but its staying qualities were poor. One hour's 
 worrying with the teams or swinging the big maul would turn 
 it into hired man. Thinking our allowance too small, Dick 
 explored the kitchen loft one morning with his long arms and 
 found the source of our bread supply, and after that we did 
 not want. Our dinners were composed of fresh beef in general, 
 or cod-fish on fast days, fried in oil, and bread and coffee. Pie 
 we never saw, but mushrooms we had sometimes. Supper the 
 same. This was our favorite meal as we were not hurried, and 
 we often prolonged it rather than go to the gloom of tlie barn. 
 We were never in the house except at meal time, and as we 
 had no village store, with its nail-keg seats held down by gar- 
 
236 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 rulous gossips, to hie to for entertainment, we had a dull time 
 outside of working hours; and this kept up for three months 
 and a half! 
 
 In justice to Signor X. I must say he was a good cook, and 
 lovingly bending over his stew-pan, he had quite a domestic 
 look, in strong contrast to his appearance when roaming his 
 daughter's broad acres. The family ate in an adjoining room, 
 and, for all I know, fared as we did. We were much edified by 
 the family conversation while at meals — there was but a thin 
 board partition between us — particularly as we could not under- 
 stand a word they said. They were continually talking; the 
 rough bass of the senior mingling with the soft voice of Inez 
 and the childish treble of baby Anita. Our meals eaten, we 
 would go to our allotted tasks ; my morning chore being to 
 hitch Tom to the sled matutinal, when barrel laden we sped 
 merrily to the fountain. After this I would play plow or a 
 tattoo on the redwood posts. Supper over, which was after 
 dusk, we went to our sleeping apartment, which was a room 
 partitioned off in the barn, within hearing of the crunching 
 horses. In our boudoir there were two bunks ; one for " Scottie " 
 and I, the other was Dick's Then, if not too tired, we would 
 light a candle and talk on such subjects as came uppermost; 
 Dick, perhaps, about his times before we came with our Pa- 
 tron, how rich he was and what a store he had in "Frisco;" 
 "Scottie," of his life amid the "banks and braes" of Scot- 
 land; I, about how much better I was fixed when in the 
 "States." This Dick would doubt, or else cover my narrative 
 over and tuck it in with a more favorable account of his ante- 
 Californian life, so I would wish I had said nothing. Dick 
 was a good-hearted, gabby fellow, head-over-heels, but enter- 
 taining withal. During the fifteen weeks we were there we 
 were away but one evening, which we spent with a neighbor- 
 ing farmer, who in a rude shanty kept bachelor's hall, as did 
 most of his class around there. We were always too tired at 
 
RANCH LIFE. 237 
 
 night to want to run. My life on the ranch, at best, was a 
 cheerless one; of reading matter we had none, and I often 
 wished for the few books I had lugged about me with such 
 tribulation on my tramp, and which now lay in my carpet-bag 
 at the Hotel Cordelia. I don't remember seeing a newspaper 
 while there, and I was almost as much isolated from the world 
 as a hermit. 
 
 Besides we three there was a Mexican helper for awhile, 
 named Antonio. He was a good-natured fellow, and I often 
 used him for a lay-figure to try my "Spanish without a 
 Master "on. 
 
 In this book was a story I knew by heart, and this I could 
 repeat to him understandingly. It related to three travelers 
 who found a treasure. Being hungry, one of them was sent 
 to buy meat. That he might enjoy the money himself, he 
 poisoned the meat; that the other two might possess it, they 
 resolved to kill him. The result was, all three lay dead by the 
 side of the treasure, much to the profit of a philosopher who 
 opportunely passed by and pocketed the same. The tale, with 
 its burden of gold and murder, was typically Spanish and 
 pleased Antonio, who called it a ''muy buena historian In re- 
 turn he taught me how to " haw," " gee," " get up " and " whoa" 
 our Spanish oxen. In general, however, there were so many 
 " misfits " in our conversational exchanges, that our verbal 
 intercourse was rather unsatisfactory, and I ceased to annoy 
 him. 
 
 Antonio was as full of " Quien sabe'' and "No Quiero " as the 
 generality of the Spanish-Indian race. The first, which is 
 literally "who knows," means "I don't know and don't want 
 to," and is a convenient answer for a shiftless, careless person 
 to make. As for " No Quiero" it means " I don't want to," also 
 a convenient reply when one is requested to do a thing he 
 objects to doing. 
 
 In a few days the Mexican left. Soon after the Patron and 
 
238 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 Dick kicked up a quarrel and the latter went, so there were no 
 hired men left on the ranch, but " Scottie " and myself. The 
 duty of milking two or three unruly cows, hitherto Dick's, 
 now devolved on me, as well as that of playing Aquarius. 
 
 In March we commenced setting out a vineyard nursery, the 
 ground for which we had previously prepared. There were 
 three acres of it. We made holes in the furrows fifteen inches 
 deep and two feet apart, and in these we stuck the cuttings, 
 pressing the earth close around them and leaving one bud 
 exposed. We set out about three thousand vines. This was 
 done in March, which was the coldest month I experienced in 
 California. The northwest winds prevailed and seemed to 
 penetrate our clothing like needles, but we had but little rain 
 in comparison with the past months. I must say, however, 
 that although I spent the rainy season in California, I lost but 
 few days on account of rain, which mainly came at night, or 
 so light in daytime as not to prevent our working. Setting 
 out this vineyard would hardly be called " temperance work " 
 now, but at that time it was no more than planting out an apple 
 orchard, as far as consequential damages were concerned. 
 Anyhow the wine produced there was probably used for sacra- 
 mental and mechanical purposes. 
 
 We now had little to do. The farm work there came mainly 
 in the winter and summer months, so that in the spring 
 there was much leisure. Our Patron now seemed sore beset 
 to find excuses to get shut of us, as milking, hauling Avater 
 and chopping wood were all we had to do. 
 
 One day, soon after Dick's departure, we had a little variety 
 in the shape of killing a vagabond cow for beef. She was 
 ranging the prairie, when, our meat running low, her fate 
 was sealed; so the X.'s, senior and junior, with "Scottie," my- 
 self and the dog Rita, went a hunting. Pedro was mounted 
 on his riding horse, Jim, and with his high saddle, swinging 
 lasso, broad sombrero, leather leggings and jingling spurs was 
 
RANCH LIFE. 239 
 
 a sight. His father, with his flowing beard and gray locks, 
 capped with a skull cap, his red sash streaming in the wind, 
 with his murderous bird-gun, acted as foot-soldier. Running 
 about, shouting and gesticulating, he made a good companion- 
 piece to his son, while the rest of us took the part of whippers- 
 in for the hunters. Our game was a Spanish cow, roving and 
 fierce in her disposition, so that Pedro had much the safest 
 position among the participants in the battue. We had a lively 
 time of it for a while; Pedro, in his toreador costume, cavorting 
 over the prairie trying to change the direction of the cow, 
 which, with tail like a banneret and "nostrils all wide," was 
 careering at full gallop; the Patron, gun in hand, running 
 uselessly about, flinging his arms and loudly swearing, 
 " Scottie " and myself pretending to help, but trying hard to 
 keep clear of the cow's horns. At last, more by good luck 
 than otherwise, we got the cow near the barn, when the Patron 
 slipped inside, and through a knot-hole let fly the death hid- 
 den in his gun. He then ran with a knife, stuck her and in 
 a tub caught the blood which he stirred as it ran. This was 
 designed for blood-pudding. To see the Patron at his pirati- 
 cal work gave me the shivers. " Scottie " and I " skun " the 
 animal and dressed her as she lay on the ground. For some 
 time after we lived on beef, tripe and blood-puddings. The 
 beef we carried to the house, where much of it was hung up 
 in the open air. In this pure climate it would keep thus for 
 days. 
 
 Among the things we did towards the close of our time there 
 was to set out a lot of fruit trees in front of the house. This 
 work was done in those spring fever days, the saddest of the 
 year, and with many anxious glances at the slow moving sun. 
 November days are quoted for their superabundance of mel- 
 ancholia, but, as far as my experience goes, there are a few 
 days in the month which has All Fools' day for its Genesis 
 which lays them under. 
 
240 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 While crossing the plains I was called Stephen. Hearing 
 the outrageous nicknames my comrades bore, and thinking 
 my Christian title provocative of something novel and out- 
 rageous, from its rareness, I gave my middle name ; I regret 
 to say, with unsatisfactory result^. The Patron called me 
 Henry, for what reason I don't know. He either thought that 
 '' Steve," as " Scottie " called me, sounded like Henry, or, what 
 is more probable, called me Henry indifferently, as we call a 
 Chinaman " John," or a goat " Billy." At any rate, Henry I 
 started, and Henry I remained, even " Scottie " and Dick slid- 
 ing into the delusion, possibly to save confusion, or, perhaps, 
 thinking our employers might think I was a suspicious charac- 
 ter with numerous aliases, if they called me otherwise. 
 
 Don Pedro was sometimes ridiculous in his reticence. Not 
 condescending to generalize he would give directions on the 
 instalment plan, so that when he began we did not know 
 what the outcome would be. He spoke good English, but as 
 slowly as if there was a dash between each word. For instance, 
 he w^ould say : " Yoke up those oxen ! Hitch them to the 
 wagon ! Now start ! Gee them ! Haw them ! Now straight 
 ahead ! Haw them ! " and so on, until one day we found our- 
 selves on the summit of an adjacent mountain, without our 
 knowing from one turn to the next where w^e were going to, and 
 what was our errand ; the Don simply sitting on the wagon 
 and giving directions, as needed. Our business w^as simply to 
 cut a load of wood from the tops of the live-oaks, trees being 
 too scarce in that section to warrant cutting them down for 
 fuel. As to the desirability of such work, with insecure foot- 
 ing, whacking away at the inferior limbs Don Pedro, from his 
 secure position on the ground, should designate, and at the 
 risk of cutting ourselves, or tumbling to the ground and hurt- 
 ing the Patron, I leave you to imagine. 
 
 Let me say here, parenthetically, that on reviewing what I 
 have written I am impressed with the thought of how tame the 
 
RANCH LIFE. 241 
 
 narration will fall on the average reader. I know, too, there 
 are many travelers' tales so full of adventure that they pall the 
 senses, being too much of a good thing ; either because the liter- 
 ary stomach becomes clogged with them, or because the literary 
 throat is too small to swallow^ them, which somew^hat reconciles 
 me. I know my hum-drum life in California made a dull 
 sequel to my journey over the plains. I had thought to get 
 some congenial employment in San Francisco, or, failing that, 
 to try the excitement of the gold mines. I missed the first, 
 when necessity turned me from the line of travel to Sacra- 
 mento, which was a good thing I know. So fate, luck or cir- 
 cumstances ordered it that I should pass my days in the land 
 of orold on a lone ranch, where the sun rose and set on a scene 
 as quiet as the sea ; where I saw every day the same fields 
 rolling away from me in green waves, till they broke in foot- 
 hills at the base of a distant mountain on one side, or rose in 
 gentle slopes to the horizon on the other; where the same farm 
 labors lapped on one another in monotonous succession until, 
 pecuniarily able, I broke from them. 
 
 Antonio had gone; Dick had gone, and now " Scottie," my 
 only comrade and the last of my companions of the plains, 
 was to leave also. He and the Patron had a quarrel which 
 severed the bands which had held them together so long. We 
 had been in the same mess for four and a half months cross- 
 ing the plains, and had seen rough times there and on the 
 road to California. We had been on the tramp two weeks, 
 wherein he had shared his last dollar with me. But such is 
 the callousness acquired by leading such a life as ours that we 
 parted without even a hand-shake. I said " Good-bye, Scottie !" 
 and he " Good-bye, Steve !" That was all, unless his falling 
 back to my old name of '' Steve " was a concession which in- 
 dicated a softening of the heart at thoughts of our late vaga- 
 bond life. With blankets slung over his shoulder he turned 
 his back on the ranch and started towards Sonoma. He w^as 
 
242 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 hardly out of sight when, in spite of the case-hardening my 
 nature had undergone, my heart swelled within me at the 
 thought of some of his kindly acts during our tramp life, and I 
 was sorry I had not been more lavish of my demonstrations 
 at parting. I never saw nor heard from " Scottie " afterward. 
 
 I felt really lonesome and down-hearted that night when I 
 went to sleep in my dingy room in the barn. I was practically 
 alone on the sixteen hundred acre ranch. I longed for the 
 unappreciated company of Dick, with his wild yarns ; or his 
 accounts of his heart smashing exploits in his native land — 
 for Richard was something of a Don Juan. I sighed for the 
 quiet company of " Scottie," generally taciturn, but sometimes 
 rising to feats of droll humor. With the exception of Old Tom 
 I had no company now. No sound was heard save what he 
 made crunching his owner's wild oats, (his own he had sown 
 long since) or when, his scanty rations eaten, he gnawed the 
 manger. A steady old boy was Tom, though a little trickey 
 withal. When the barley approached the bottom of the hogs- 
 head we turned him out to grass, and, consequently, I had to 
 catch him every morning to haul water. At such times who 
 so trying as Tom? Hither and thither I ran. Now I had 
 him and now I hadn't ! I would pen him in a fence corner 
 and then he would be like the Hibernian flea. At last we 
 would come to a mutual understanding and get to work. Poor 
 Tom ! with all his faults I loved him still, particularly when 
 I wanted to catch him. If yet alive, may he get all he wants 
 of his favorite soaked barley ; if dead, may he be among the 
 green pastures of the equine Elysian Fields ! 
 
 I said no noise disturbed me save Tom's jawing. Let me 
 hasten to unsay this. I was afflicted with rats in the worst 
 form, with no " Pied Piper of Hamelin " to come to me with 
 his aid, and whisk them away with the presto ! of his tuneful 
 reed. Not in units, twins nor triplets did they come only, 
 but in swarms like the locusts of old. They reserved all their 
 
RANCH LIFE. 243 
 
 antics for the night and then began. They squealed, they 
 fought and ran foot races over my blankets and face. They 
 dived into my water pail; they eat my candles, my soap even. 
 Over head on a shelf was a Bible, which had belonged to and 
 comforted some former servitor of the ranch, and which com- 
 prised my entire library. Under the guidance of the Evil One 
 the rats knocked this into the bucket, and in the morning I 
 found it afloat and hopelessly dissolved. When they had 
 neither candles nor soap to eat they made a raid on Tom's 
 barley. This was touching the Patron in a tender place. So 
 one leisure day, with gun in hand, and myself and Rita for 
 assistants, he gave the rats a regular St. Bartholomew ! We 
 routed them from their secret hiding place and exterminated 
 them by the dozen. The old gentleman banged away with 
 tongue and gun, while Rita leaped around barking joyously, 
 and I enjoyed myself more that day than any passed on that 
 lonely ranch. After this thinning out of the rats my nights 
 passed more agreeably. 
 
 One day in a good humored mood the Patron asked me for 
 the -first time about my family. I did as they usually do 
 under similar circumstances, told him of the better days I had 
 seen, and how I did not have to do as I did now ; just doing 
 it to see the world from different standpoints, etc. He was a 
 poor logician and failed to see my motives, and I had the 
 mortification therefore of seeing he did not believe a word 
 I said. 
 
 I was getting uneasy for fear my parents had got none of my 
 letters, some of which had been posted in out-of-the-way 
 places or given in charge of persons who might neglect to 
 post them. I had written two or three times since my arrival, 
 but had not received any since leaving Salt Lake. In the 
 ten months or more since I left home I had no answers. 
 Thinking that perhaps there might be some for me in San 
 Francisco I wrote down, and was gratified in a few days 
 
244 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 by receiving a pack of letters, which I read eagerly. The 
 one I was most interested in contained a draft on Sathers, 
 Church & Co. (a firm which I think General Sherman was 
 connected with), which amounted to seventy dollars, and with 
 what I had earned was ample to take me home. After this I 
 was contented to stay no longer, for with the means to take 
 me away my surroundings grew unbearable. I, however, had 
 but little to do: milking, hauling water and a daily gallop on 
 Jim to the little landing on the Peteluma River for letters 
 from the absent ones in San Francisco. I told the Patron I 
 would have to leave him. He acquiesced in this, but asked 
 me to remain until his children came back from town. So 
 one evening the Peteluma boat brought up the younger 
 branches of his family, pleased with their sojourn in San 
 Francisco, and I thought rather reluctant to take up their old 
 ranch life with its isolation from society. 
 
 The next morning I fixed for my departure. After my 
 solitary breakfast of bread and coffee, Don Pedro called me 
 into the sanctum sanctorum — dining-room, sitting-room and 
 parlor combined — a room never seen by the profane eyes 
 of the hired men, save when they received their wages after dis- 
 missal. Through its portals went Antonio, Dick and "Scottie" 
 to get their hard-earned gold, afterwards to make exit and 
 seek elsewhere their fortunes. It was not such a grand room ; 
 in fact, was partly used as a granary. In the room was the 
 whole family seated, like an inquisitorial conclave, among 
 which was Madam X., the invalid, whom I had not seen since 
 I came on the ranch. Behind a table sat Don Pedro with a 
 pile of gold and silver before him, the amount of my wages. 
 It was correctly computed, at the rate of twenty-six dollars 
 per month, sixty dollars in all, beside what I had received. 
 This he pushed toward me in silence. The only word spoken by 
 any of this weird group was by the aged signor, who, completely 
 relaxed from his old-time ways, spoke kindly, telling me to 
 
RANCH LIFE. 245 
 
 take good care of my money and not spend it foolishly. I 
 thought better of them at parting and bore them no ill will. 
 Then I left that, to me, singular family, sitting in state ; the 
 pretty, aristocratic Inez, her good-looking husband, the ven- 
 erable Patron and wife and the little Anita, and with my 
 blankets slung over my shoulder shook the "adobe" of the 
 ranch from my feet and turned from it, casting no lingering 
 look backward. 
 
 It w^as a beautiful day when I left, so different from the 
 morning I came there. I was different myself. In place of 
 the seedy tramp with his humble demeanor, and fearing he 
 could not secure work, I departed erect, in good spirits and clad 
 respectably. I took the route of " Scottie" and the one over which 
 Signor Augustina had brought us. It was the 21st of April, 
 and the hills through which the unfenced road wound were 
 clothed in the greenest of grass, on which herds of cattle were 
 pasturing. The range on my left was dotted at intervals with 
 live-oaks, and with the verdure about them looked like a series 
 of apple orchards ; for at a distance an apple-tree and live-oak 
 look much alike. At about 9 I came to Sonoma, a town 
 I had passed through before, but then almost invisible in the 
 morning fog. This old town possesses historical interest in 
 connection with the conquest of California, for here Colonel 
 Fremont proclaimed its independence before he knew of the 
 war between the United States and Mexico, and hoisted the 
 "Bear Flag" in the square. It was typical of the towns found 
 in the province previous to 1847 ; a bare plaza surrounded by 
 low, adobe structures, whitewashed and glaring, mainly public 
 buildings, stores and drinking places, before which numerous 
 saddle-horses were standing. Extending from this at increas- 
 ing intervals were more adobe buildings, humble enough the 
 most of them. In spite of this the town had a pleasant look 
 in its setting of green fields and outlying pasture ranges. I 
 stopped here but a few minutes, and walking over the level 
 
246 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 valley soon reached the range of hills dividing the valle3^s of 
 Sonoma and Napa. Just after leaving the town of Sonoma I 
 came to the " Pike County House," named so as a compliment 
 to the many "Pikes" in California. In a lonely spot near 
 here I met two men, a sample of what you were then contin- 
 ually meeting in California. They were "dead broke" 
 tramps, and a vicious looking lot. They told me they w^anted 
 some money of me, and I gave them a dollar, which they 
 took as if it were due them. Saying "Good-bye, Charley," 
 they went on, and I expect got royally drunk at the " Pike " 
 on my money. I thought it better to give them one dollar 
 than to have them "borrow" sixty dollars of me. The last 
 fate I looked for; but it would have gone tough with me to 
 have given up my hard earnings on the ranch. But, perhaps, 
 I wrongly suspected these men. They may have only asked 
 of me w^hat they had often given others, for the Californian is 
 noted for his liberality wdien flush, and his "cheek" for ask- 
 ing of others when luck had turned. Still, in my case it was 
 a forced loan, and I handed over my dollar with a very un- 
 favorable opinion of the transaction. 
 
 I crossed the divide and at last reached the sw^ampy plains 
 bordering the Napa River. Leaving Napa with its unpleas- 
 ant recollections to the left, I crossed the river further down, 
 at Suscol. Here was a hotel where I staid all night, faring 
 very differently from when last here in this neighborhood, 
 when my comrade and I slept supperless in a straw-shed. The 
 next morning I started early and soon struck the trail where 
 we traveled in such tribulation a few months before. Then 
 down-hearted, ragged and penniless, foot-sore and limping, I 
 trudged along, zigzagging from ranch to ranch hunting for 
 work; often the recipient of snubs and grudgingly offered 
 meals, and thankful if I could find a comfortable stable to 
 sleep in. Now I walked cheerfully along, taking in the scen- 
 ery, with money in plenty, and when tired, "took mine ease 
 
RANCH LIFE. 247 
 
 in mine inn," as well as meals and lodging, and was on my 
 homeward way. I remembered all the localities as I passed, 
 and their recollections gave me the reverse of pleasure, save 
 as I contrasted the past with the present. At that ranch we 
 had sought for work, at this we had intruded at meal time, 
 and farther on, at yon wayside house, the gory-handed pig"- 
 butcher had rebuffed me. Coming to the divide between the 
 valleys of Napa and Suisun, I soon reached the plains be- 
 yond and started for the " Cordelia House," now a map-marked 
 town, called Cordelia. It was here that " Scottie " and I had 
 stopped over night, and where the good soul divided his last 
 dollar with me and where we left our surplus luggage. The 
 landlord had forgotten me until I reminded him where he put 
 our carpet-bags, when, on lifting a trap in the floor, he handed 
 me mine. " Scottie's " things were there yet ; so it appeared 
 he had not traveled this way. As I saw his familiar carpet- 
 bag down in the dark, grave-like hole, I could not disconnect 
 the sight from scenes sepulchral ; and when the landlord let 
 down the narrow trap, it seemed as if he was closing the cof- 
 fin-lid of poor " Scottie." And here, on the scene of his act 
 of abnegation, I again felt conscience-smitten that I had not 
 called him back after his stolid departure from the ranch and 
 given him a hearty squeeze of the hand and a God-speed, in 
 memory of past kindnesses and to cheer him on his lonely 
 way. 
 
 I was glad to find my carpet-bag. In it was a suit of clothes 
 I had carried with me from Kansas, thinking a presentable 
 appearance would sometimes help me to a situation, and which 
 before leaving home had been my " best suit." Then there 
 was a folio-book in which I had transcribed my writings; poor 
 enough when I look upon them now, but which I then thought 
 would be a passport to a good position. In it, in pencil, I had 
 kept the notes of my overland journey. There were other 
 books which helped weigh me down, all of which I found and 
 
248 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 brought home. Their creased backs and bent corners, when 
 I now look at them, remind me that the carpet-bag containing 
 them was long used as a pillow, a hard one albeit. 
 
 Now well laden with clothing, bodily and mental, I left the 
 Cordelia House and was soon on my way down the valley to- 
 wards Benicia, where I arrived at sun-down. After supper I 
 walked out on the wharf to wait for the Sacramento steamer 
 to appear. I would like to have seen my clever ferryboat 
 captain to pay him my ferriage, but I saw nothing of him. I 
 have never paid him yet, but w^hen I go to California I will 
 hunt him up and give him principal and interest. He must 
 be nearing his centennial now. 
 
 The steamer soon made its appearance through the gather- 
 ing night, screaming and asthmatic. It swung to, made a 
 short stop, and I boarded her. 
 
 What a medley of passengers! Miners from the mountains 
 and plains; bowie-knived, pistoled and hirsute, but far more 
 peaceable than they looked ; merchants from the far inland 
 towns and Sacramento ; gamblers, gentlemanly and observant ; 
 slant-eyed Chinamen, with their long queues ; swarthy "greas- 
 ers" from the river ranches, and butternut-colored Indians; 
 all talking in their different tongues, and all bound for the 
 centre of the California social and commercial system — San 
 Francisco ! 
 
 The boat moved slowly from the wind-swept wharf of Beni- 
 cia, and then plunged with clang of bell, shriek of whistle and 
 escape of steam through the inky waves and increasing gloom. 
 The style of travel I was now indulging in almost took my 
 breath with its luxuriance. This was not working my passage 
 across the plains, shouting myself hoarse at broken-down oxen. 
 It was not jolting over deserts in a springless wagon, or 
 tramping around hunting work and leading a semi-servile 
 life when I found it. Here was richness ! Cabin passage in 
 a " palatial " steamer, tinsel and gilding, curtains and mirrors 
 
RANCH LIFE. 
 
 249 
 
 >l liliiillillllllilill 
 
 16 
 
 ir(!llllll||,l|ifi||,i|||rf 
 
250 ^ A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 around me, a genuine ingrain carpet on the floor, and seats 
 upholstered with real cotton plush ! Tramps, such as I had 
 been, down on deck and not allowed above, and the better sort 
 of people for my company. I could hardly realize that I was 
 steaming athwart a ferry which I had lately crossed through 
 charity, and was opposite a town where I was glad to get a good 
 horse-stall to sleep in. 
 
 Around me the up-river passengers, wearied with their 
 long passage, were sleepily lounging on sofas and chairs, 
 while the newly acquired ones sauntered idly around or sat 
 reading. Soon the hotel-runner, who had boarded our craft 
 at Benicia, made his appearance. I could tell him in advance 
 by his gentlemanly dress and address, his dangling watch- 
 chain on a background of satin vest, his glossy hat and his 
 smooth tongue, and his peculiar way of introducing his sub- 
 ject. Placidly smiling he accosts you. He takes a random 
 lingual voyage on the sea of prevailing topics, and by rare and 
 skilful pilotage brings you by easy stages to the present hotel 
 system ; from that to the way in which San Francisco cara- 
 vanseries are conducted, and from that to the hotel whose 
 representative and "barker" you are at length made aware 
 your interlocutor is. Having sown this much he leaves it to 
 bring forth fruit, and seeks for other victims. Scarcely are you 
 rid of him when another of the same genus makes his appear- 
 ance and gives you to understand that his predecessor was a 
 " Sydney Cove," or escaped convict, and the hotel he repre- 
 sents is entirely beneath the patronage of one of your gentle- 
 manly appearance, and then vaunts the accommodations of 
 the " Wiggins House." He leaves you at last, only to be followed 
 by others of the same ilk, whose rear is brought up by the 
 importunate No. 1. By persistent ding-donging and satis- 
 factory self-vindication he gets into your confidence, and you 
 grudgingly promise to patronize his hotel. 
 
 Meanwhile, with a persistent, pulmonic cough, properly 
 
RANCH LIFE. 251 
 
 belonging to space-consumption, the steamer has been plow- 
 ing its way through the gloom of air and water towards its 
 destination. The passengers grow still sleepier and less 
 talkative. Finally the scattered lights of a city glimmer 
 through its mounting darkness, and at length, as the clang 
 of the midnight bell comes on our drowsy ears, the boat 
 strikes the wharf with a rebound, and feeling as only those 
 feel who enter a strange city at night's dark noon, you step 
 upon the wharf. And now the " runner " seizes his only 
 victim, and putting you in a sort of convict van, hurries you 
 off to his hotel. He introduces you to the smiling night- 
 clerk, and having bagged his game and got his commission, 
 you need expect no more attention from the gentlemanly 
 
XVII. 
 #a an(\ aroun^ ^clfl iJraacix^co, 
 
 ZT is not of the San Francisco of the present I would 
 speak. Were I to, in view of the many annual excur- 
 sionists from the East who bring back oral and 
 written descriptions thereof, I would be the proper recipient 
 of the peculiar words of desistance which the supple tongues 
 of our people lap out of our plastic language. I would speak 
 of the San Francisco of the past, when a good part of its 
 foundations were swashed by the waters of the bay they arose 
 from ; before cable cars were thought of, and the " Nobs " had 
 peopled '' Nob Hill ; " when the city was badly lighted, and, 
 for want of works, water was peddled about the town in huge 
 hogsheads on wheels ; when the foreign element was large, and 
 the vigilantes had just finished purifying the moral atmos- 
 phere of the metropolis. Or that more distant time, the 
 pastoral age of California, when a chain of missions extended 
 from San Francisco on the north to San Diego on the south, 
 peopled with converted Indians and surrounded by the flocks 
 and herds they cared for. Or earlier still, when Drake's 
 clumsy ship came riding through the Golden Gate, the object 
 of the attention of groups of deer on the headlands, or dread 
 of the fleeing natives, while the buccaneer sailors gazed with 
 rapture on the scene before them. 
 
 (252) 
 
IN AND AROUND SAN FRANCISCO. 
 
 253 
 
 It is a question whether the Bay of San Francisco was dis- 
 covered by land or sea travelers, though it is plausibly claimed 
 that the zealous Spanish missionaries who established the 
 missions south were the first Europeans to see this magnificent 
 sheet of water. In a fertile valley, two miles south of the centre 
 of the present site of the city, Father Junipero Serra, in 1769, 
 set up his cross, rang his invitation bells to summon the heathen, 
 and here started the Mission of San Francisco, although it 
 
 San Francisco Bay in the Good Old Time. 
 
 was six years later before it was fairly established. It hav- 
 ing been requested that one of the missions should be called 
 after Saint Francis, Father Junipero waited till the 9th of 
 November, 1776, that saint's day, and then, amid his followers 
 and the surrounding wondering Indians, dedicated it the 
 Mission of San Francisco. It was afterwards named the 
 Mission Dolores (Mission of Sorrows). At the dedication 
 
254 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 sacerdotal music and incense had they none, except what the 
 loaded muskets of the military escort furnished. 
 
 Eighteen of these missions were scattered along the coast 
 within twenty miles of the sea. The Fathers were devoted to 
 their work, and at one time (1800) had fifteen thousand con- 
 verts on the rolls. But they were held by the frail tenure of 
 favor and reward of creature comforts, so that when the 
 missions were denuded of their lands the miserable wretches 
 returned to the ways of their fathers. At its most flourishing 
 time the Mission Dolores had about eight hundred converted 
 Indians connected with it, and eighty thousand cattle, horses 
 and mules, and the same number of sheep. In 1831 the num- 
 ber of the former had gone down to six thousand, while 
 there was no record of the latter. The valleys along the 
 rivers running into the bay made fine pasture ground, and 
 cattle-raising flourished until the Fathers lost their control 
 and their faithful Indians w^ere driven to their late vagabond 
 life. Dana, in his "Two Years Before the Mast," gives an 
 interesting account of his visit to this mission, and the suff'er- 
 ings of the crew while collecting hides and getting wood and 
 water. 
 
 The crushing out of the missions through the rapacity of 
 the Mexican government, and the necessity of the Fathers 
 giving up their pious work, and the scattering of their con- 
 verts, is a painful chapter in the history of California. The 
 Indians, even if held to Christianity by being w^ell fed and 
 clothed, were much better off than when savages, and led com- 
 paratively industrious lives, while their religious instructors 
 or masters, if you choose to call them so, though often ignorant 
 monks, led exemplary, self-sacrificing lives, and did the best 
 they knew for the bodily and spiritual welfare of their wards. 
 
 While the Mexicans held California there was a struggle 
 between the clerical and secular power over the missions, which 
 at times would attain some of their former power, while at 
 
IN AND AROUND SAN FRANCISCO. 
 
 255 
 
 the same time a political conflict was going on between the 
 home government and the provincial, in which latter were 
 living many rebellious Americans. The result was a demorali- 
 zation which made California an easy conquest by the United 
 States. In fact, as before stated. Colonel Fremont declared the 
 province independent before war between Mexico and this 
 country was known to him. 
 
 How THEY Built the Ships in. 
 
 The war over and gold discovered, the Mission Dolores 
 ceased to be the business centre of the region around the bay ; 
 for the harbor, where the incoming vessels bringing passengers 
 and supplies must land, was two miles north. This was Yerba 
 Buena Cove, and the deep water opposite was soon alive with 
 
256 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 shipping, and a few houses on the hillside, built for the neces- 
 sities of the few trading vessels which had got to coming to 
 this harbor, formed a town named after the Cove. After the 
 gold excitement many of the vessels it brought there were 
 deserted by their crews. The shallow water necessitated the 
 extension of long wharves, and at times the stranded vessels were 
 within their limits. The lack of room on the hillside caused 
 frame buildings to be erected along these wharves and over the 
 water; bisecting causeways enclosed some of the dismantled 
 vessels, which were sometimes used for dwellings or prisons, 
 and the town was becoming a second Rangoon, with houses on 
 stilts. These " water lots " were sold by the State. The space 
 between these wooden streets made a place to dump the sand 
 from the adjacent hills to make building sites there, so that two 
 birds were killed with one stone, or rather the removal of one 
 lot of sand made two building lots. Eventually the water 
 front was filled up to the wharf line and built over. Granite 
 blocks were even erected on this sandy foundation, which set- 
 tled, leaving yawning crevices in the walls. The wharves, 
 eleven in number, extended from the shore from 300 to 2,000 
 feet, so that the extent of the water-covered city can be imag- 
 ined, each wharf representing a street. The stranded vessels, 
 used as dwellings amid this network of wooden streets, with 
 houses building around them, was a singular sight. 
 
 The account of the frauds practiced in the sale of these water 
 lots, and the efforts brought to bear on the Legislature to sell 
 more to the detriment of those owning front lots, and to the 
 safety of the harbor on account of forcing the outlying vessels 
 further to the mercy of the swift tides, would furnish interest- 
 ing reading. Also in regard to one Dr. Peter Smith, who, 
 holding " scrip " which could not be realized on, sued the city 
 and exposed public property for sale. The authorities made 
 proclamation that the purchasers would not get possession of 
 what they bought; but the sale went on, and the properties 
 
IN AND AROUND SAN FRANCISCO. 
 
 257 
 
 were sold at merely nominal prices. The result was that, the 
 sales being valid, the city was almost bankrupted and the 
 buyers made immensely wealthy. Then there were the big fires 
 and the actions of the vigilantes. About all these a volume 
 might be written. 
 
 Public squares, as we understand them, San Francisco had 
 none, unless two or three open places devoid of grass or 
 ornamentation could be called such. One of these was known 
 
 The Old Mission Dolores. 
 
 on the records as Portsmouth Square, but this the people 
 persisted in calling the " Plaza." This was a dismal place, 
 muddy or dusty according to the season, and was the starting 
 place for omnibuses. It also afforded, in past turbulent times, 
 a resort for mobs and hangings by the vigilantes. 
 
 At the time of my arrival in California the Mission Dolores 
 
258 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 had long since filled its usefulness as a place of Indian con- 
 version, and was more of a curiosity than otherwise. It lay 
 in a fertile valley, watered by Mission Creek, but which was 
 surrounded by barren hills covered by stunted shrubs. The 
 few buildings were in fair repair. The church was built of 
 adobe and roofed with tiles, the front -being stuccoed with 
 some show of ornament, with three bells in the gable. Inside 
 was a show of tinsel and glitter, and some rude paintings. At 
 right angles was a rough building with a piazza, which had 
 perhaps been the home of the Fathers who ministered to the 
 simple Indians. To the left of the church was a graveyard 
 full of graves, among which was that of Casey, the man who 
 slew Wm. Starr King, and who was hung by the vigilantes. 
 He had a monument with a complimentary inscription on it, 
 to the effect that he was more sinned against than sinning, 
 and that he was a martyr in his sudden suspension ; which 
 shows that no matter how bad you live, or how mean your 
 " shuffle off," there will be kind friends who will go to 
 considerable expense to lie in your favor. Fifty years ago 
 this was a rich mission, surrounded by flocks and herds, 
 and Indian converts by hundreds, who willingly did the 
 Fathers' bidding. Now it was nothing but a quiet resort for 
 excursionists. 
 
 I give two sketches of this mission. The first was taken in 
 1854, and represents it with a " lean-to " the whole length, 
 next to the Campo Santo, or graveyard. A sketch I made of 
 it four years later shows this " lean-to " removed and the 
 space occupied by graves. The porticoed building on the 
 right of the main church was used as a drinking saloon and 
 hotel at the time of my visit. Since then a sense of shame 
 has caused this to be done away with, the building torn down, 
 and in its place arises a towered church which dwarfs the old 
 mission by its side. I give a representation of the new and 
 old churches, the former from a photograph. 
 
IN AND AROUND SAN FRANCISCO. 
 
 259 
 
 Thirty years ago a description of the Chinese in San Fran- 
 cisco, their habits, customs and dress, would have made inter- 
 esting reading ; but now, with thousands in our Eastern towns, 
 the case is different. Still I may be excused for saying some- 
 thing about that much-abused race. Shuffling along the 
 streets with their odd countenances and dress, they made a 
 great impression on me. Then as now they were looked upon 
 
 Mission Dolores as it is now. 
 
 (From a Photograph by Faber.) 
 
 as nuisances, chiefly because they lived on little and were 
 willing to work for low wages. They had been badly abused, 
 cheated, beaten, murdered. They were game for " hoodlums " 
 and people who called themselves respectable. I heard an 
 apparently fair man say that once when out of funds in the 
 mining regions, he sat on the roadside waiting for a China- 
 man to come along that he might rob him ! He thought no 
 
260 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 more of it than of knocking over a rabbit to satisfy his hunger. 
 At one time they taxed them seventy dollars per year, but 
 when I was there it was four dollars per month when mining. 
 This induced more of them to w^ork at washing, or as house 
 servants. All the civil Chinese were not at avocations so 
 humble. Some of the wealthiest San Franciscan merchants 
 were from the Flowery Kingdom, and at the large auction 
 sales I saw them in rich silken robes, bidding with the same 
 spirit as their white brethren, and in many cases better able 
 to meet their liabilities. You all know how they are brought 
 over by contractors who farm their services out, and whose 
 main obligation is to take them back to China when dead. 
 You have heard of the " Chinese Quarter " and their theatre, 
 also, so I will say nothing about them. In fact, so many 
 things which I thought were novelties when I came home are 
 now household words, that I may have left out things of inter- 
 est for fear of duplication, 
 
 I have spoken of the " Golden Gate," but I did not say that 
 it was so named before the gold discoveries were made. It 
 is simply a fanciful name. The broad peninsula between 
 San Francisco and the sea is a series of barren ridges, the 
 highest point near the city being called Telegraph Hill. Here 
 was a station formerly used for signaling vessels when they 
 approached the coast; but this had been superseded by a 
 telegraph line. This mode of communication had become com- 
 mon in the thickly settled part of the State, but with the 
 East the overland stage line was the quickest mode of convey- 
 ing news, unless it was the Nicaraugua route. There was but 
 forty miles of railroad in the State, and this was from Marys- 
 ville on the Sacramento, northward. The stage and steam- 
 boat were as yet the main reliance for travelers. There was no 
 communication with the southern part of the State except by 
 semi-monthly steamer. 
 
 On looking back through the vista of the past thirty years I 
 
IN AND AROUND SAN FRANCISCO. 261 
 
 can hardly realize that California was only ten years old on 
 my arrival, and that I came within that time of being a " Forty- 
 niner." But remember, taking into account the fires, tlie vigi- 
 lante hangings, the jobbery and corruption of the metropolis, 
 and the murders and Chinese persecutions in the mining dis- 
 tricts, with its accompanying music from pistol crack and 
 swish of bowie, California had then passed a century of the 
 life of our more prosy States; hence the time, though seeming 
 long, was brief. 
 
 At that time California had no literature. Among its scenery 
 and people there were mines of romance and poetry as rich in 
 their way as even the plains and mountains of gold, and as 
 virgin of efi'orts at development as they had been so lately. 
 The author of " Ramona " had not risen to so pathetically de- 
 pict the wrongs of the despised, though semi-civilized Indians. 
 That gifted, though shameless, vagabond, " The Poet of the 
 Sierras," had not woven his poetic warp through the woof of 
 its longitudinal valleys and mountains to draw in its meshes 
 before our eyes his creative imagery from 
 
 " The quail who was piping all day long, 
 For the rabbit to -dance in the chaparral," 
 
 and that being but little higher in the scale of life, the " Dig- 
 ger " Indian, to the best types of Californian humanity, and 
 from the lowliest valleys to the loftiest mountain peaks. Bret 
 Harte had not come to arrange the rough miner, the polished 
 gambler, the proud Spaniard and humble half-breed, the pious 
 Father, the vulgar new-enriched woman, the respectable 
 though scheming " school-marm " and the Cyprian adventuress, 
 into a grand octave, and play upon it with his deft fingers such 
 tunes as would echo around the w^orld. It is true that the 
 latter tried to make the one good deed of an Oakhurst cover 
 up the vile doings of a life-time, and that he assumed that 
 whoever made a profession was necessarily a hypocrite. But 
 
262 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 as a novelist so popular as Dickens set him the example, we 
 will suppose he did not feel so, but adopted the style for popu- 
 larity. At that time no occidental Bancroft had come upon 
 the scene to rival his Eastern namesake in historic research. 
 But the harvest, though hidden, was there and ready for the 
 gleaner. 
 
 At that time the Indian was considered as a nuisance to be 
 abated by bullet and starvation ; the Chinese as objects of 
 oppression and robbery; the old-time Spanish aristocracy as 
 proprietors of stealable lands; and the remnant of mission 
 priests as pious frauds. A Californian historian said in sub- 
 stance: "The Indians are in the way of State progress; the 
 sooner they are out of the way the better. Should their pro- 
 tectors, the Fathers, try to preserve them, well, then sweep the 
 Fathers away too!" Such was the sentiment of the American- 
 Californian. Everybody and everything which did not 
 minister to greed for wealth must be stamped out. 
 
 I stayed in San Francisco two weeks waiting for the steamer 
 for the States. With the Geysers, the Big Trees and the Yo- 
 semite within my reach (these curiosities which Eastern tourists 
 now go thousands of miles to see) within a hundred miles or so, 
 I confined my travels to the boundaries of the city. My humble 
 way of life in the State had prevented me from hearing of 
 them, and, had it been different, I was so anxious to go home 
 on my earnings that I doubt if I would have visited these 
 noted scenes. I did not even go to Sacramento, although the 
 competition had reduced the fare to fifty cents. I have many 
 times regretted that I did not make better use of my oppor- 
 tunities, but 'tis ever thus ! But then this neglect of oppor- 
 tunities has its compensation. The reader is spared a reiter- 
 ated account of the above-named wonders, with a chance of it 
 being a guide-book rehash of scenery afflicted with lacka- 
 daisical names, of trees of unbelievable sizes, and so on to the 
 bitter end. Nowadays these descriptions are generally "skipped," 
 
IN AND AROUND SAN FRANCISCO. 
 
 263 
 
 SO, had I seen and written, it would only have been a waste of 
 time and ink. For all this reasoning I wish I had seen these 
 " chestnuts." So my time was spent wandering around the 
 city and suburbs till " steamer day " came. 
 
 My first business after coming to San Francisco was to get 
 my draft cashed. Sathers & Church, whom it was on, hesi- 
 tated about paying it, as my signature had failed to come with 
 it, that it might be compared with my present writing. 
 Although anxious to go home, I had money in plenty for tem- 
 porary use, and would rather go to work again than arouse the 
 bankers' suspicions with persistence. I was about to tell them 
 to return the draft, and prepare to hunt permanent employ- 
 ment, when they told me they would pay me, which conclu- 
 sion they perhaps came to through my indifference. Taking 
 the proffered gold I repaired to the hotel, and from its wel- 
 coming portals made many a sortie to points of interest in and 
 around the city during my two weeks' sojourn there. 
 
XVIII. 
 
 UEEN of the Pacific Coast ! Fair city whose chang- 
 ing skies for half the year shower down mist and 
 rain, and the other half sunbeams of molten brass ! 
 Metropolis of alternate sticky mud and blinding 
 dust ! in spite of these and more thou art a city of my heart, 
 Ciudad de San Francisco ! 
 
 The morning, as befits the month of April in that clime, is 
 warm and sultry. Breakfast is over, and I sit in front of my 
 hotel reading the morning paper drowsily, or listlessly w^atch- 
 ing the surroundings. Along comes the daily waterman, with 
 his tank on wheels, to serve his customers, for San Francisco 
 has no water works. The people are supplied in this way, the 
 indispensable fluid being hauled from distant springs and 
 furnished at so much per week. The waterman is quick- 
 motioned and dexterous, and the way he works is quite refresh- 
 ing to my spring-fevered brain. Close following comes the 
 brawny butcher and the mealy baker. Then come little accor- 
 deon and tambourine girls, who sing with precocious voices to 
 music more or less sweet. They move familiarly among the 
 loungers, asking for money ; young in years, but already old 
 in sin. 
 
 As the sun swings up like a censer, the heat pours from it 
 faster. To save myself from going to sleep I throw away my 
 
 (264) 
 
A SAN FRANCISCAN DAY. 265 
 
 " Bulletin " and start for a stroll, as warm as it is, and move 
 lazily down the pavement. I saunter down towards the 
 wharves and find myself in the clutches of sellers of slop- 
 clothing and " Cheap Johns," who toss me about, one to 
 another, like a foot-ball. Breaking loose from these purse- 
 emptying rogues, I continue on my way over w^ooden streets 
 and by houses and shops on piles, around whose foundations 
 I hear the low wash of waves, until I reach the end of the 
 wharf. 
 
 Sail-furled ships with their net-like shrouds and tapering 
 masts in numbers are riding at anchor in the bay, or are 
 chained, like restive bull-dogs, to the wharves. Clumsy square- 
 rigged craft from the Sacramento, San Joaquin and the lesser 
 tributaries of the bay are rising and falling with the sw^ell, or 
 heavily bumping their slimy sides against the piers. Above 
 me is a huge Panama steamer, slowly shifting with the tide. 
 Far out in the bay is a man-of-war, its death ful guns dia- 
 bolically grinning through many a port. It is the French 
 frigate " Eurydice," lately arrived after a long voyage. A gig 
 is lowered, and as it nears I see in it the captain and some of 
 his under-officers coming to the city. With measured stroke 
 the boat darts into a dock and halts at a clumsy stairway. The 
 officers mount these to the wharf, all glittering in epaulettes 
 and gold lace. There is an American man-of-war's man in the 
 vicinity who, on a furlough, or to suit his convenience, has 
 come down to " Frisco " from his ship at the navy yard at 
 Vallejo. He has been drinking freely, and feels jolly, sarcastic 
 and adventurous. He speaks sneeringly of the French sailors 
 manning the gig, and tells them — only they don't understand 
 him — that his ship can whip a dozen such as theirs. He is 
 bantered to go and shake hands with the French captain, and 
 vows he will do it. Giving the quid in his squirrel-like cheek 
 another roll, he marches forward, his gait combining the roll 
 of the quarter-deck with the stagger of the drunkard. He 
 
266 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 fronts the dapper captain and, saluting him, grasps his delicate 
 hand with his tar-stained paw, much to the amusement of the 
 Frenchman. Then he turns away with a smile on his lip and 
 a leer in his eye. 
 
 I walk over to the San Antonio Ferry. A boat is lying there 
 read}^ to start. It costs but two bits to cross, and I go aboard. 
 The signal rings and the boat darts out among the waves. 
 How the waters sparkle in the meridian sunlight ! A cool 
 breeze is coming through the Golden Gate. It fans my throb- 
 bing brow and drives away the eyinui which has hung over me 
 like an incubus since morning. Little " white caps " are dis- 
 porting on the crests of the more sedate overgrown waves. 
 The white sails of the river craft are swelled to life from their 
 limber lethargy and flap and bend before the welcome breeze, 
 slowly dragging their cumbrous burdens along. White-breasted 
 sea-gulls, big and little, go flying over the water or suddenly 
 dive below. I am across the bay, and the boat lies moored at 
 Oakland. I remember it as the town from whence I started 
 on my tramp for work. I see the prairie before me and the 
 mountain beyond over which I wearily walked, and I feel 
 thankful that I am not on the same journey again ! The plain 
 of Contra Costa, then clouded in mist, is now bright and 
 green, and so is the ridge beyond. The boat doubles on its 
 course and returns and I am again in San Francisco. Here 
 comes John Chinaman, transplanted representative of pig- 
 tailed Orientalism, trigged out in all the oddity of his national 
 clothing. His cap, with its rim turned up at a sharp angle, 
 seems especially adapted for catching rain. His collarless coat 
 of blue hangs loosely about him and eke his short ample 
 breeches. Jealous of his queue is John. Time was when 
 maliciously disposed Americans would slip up behind him 
 and cut it off" — the production of a lifetime. Nothing could 
 outrage John's dignity more ; sooner would he lose his head. 
 But his rights are better protected than of yore, and these 
 
A SAN FRANCISCAN DAY. 267 
 
 capillary bisections are no longer done with impunity. Still 
 John walks as if in dread of having his fond hopes severed, 
 and carries them snugly coiled under his arms like a cart 
 whip. 
 
 My walk brings me to a quarter of the city inhabited by 
 these strange people. I can easily imagine myself on the 
 other side of the Pacific. Chinamen, Chinawomen, boys, 
 girls and babies. Shops filled with Chinese toggery, presided 
 over by a Chinese clerk. Chinese literary depots where books 
 are sold which you begin reading at the back end and read 
 up the page instead of across. Collections of drugs made 
 from all kinds of vile and outlandish sources. Opium dens 
 where groups smoke their worthless lives away. 
 
 I go to the Plaza. It bears about as much resemblance to 
 our public squares as does the Sahara Desert to the Grand 
 Prairie. The stunted trees look as if a simoon had been 
 through them, and the yellow grass peeps timidly above the 
 gravel. Unattractive as this promenade is, it is the best our 
 transmundane metropolis afiPords. 
 
 Still hotter glows the sun on this pent-up place. Its brassy 
 beams leap down to the earth, rebound and nearly blind me. 
 
 To-day there is a parade. Even now it is passing through 
 the Plaza. There is an orator and poet of the day, who ride 
 at the head of the column in a barouche drawn by four 
 prancing grays. A halo of self-complacency surrounds them. 
 The poet of the day has a poem in his side pocket which is 
 badly rhymed, badly metred and lacking sense. The orator 
 is ready to burst with his suppressed eloquence. There is a 
 brass band with shining horns and stunning drums, and their 
 laborious strains make my head ache. There are horsemen, 
 grenadiers and " citizens generally." On the high side of the 
 Plaza an artillery company is posted which fires off deafening 
 shots. Somehow, owing to the hot sun, the sulphurous condi- 
 tion of the air, the blare of band or din of cannon, I don't 
 appreciate the scene. 
 
268 
 
 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 I am again at the wharf. The opposition steamers to Sac- 
 ramento are ready to start. Kunners with tickets to sell are 
 capering about buttonholing suppositious passengers and 
 villifying one another. "Sydney coves," " escaped convicts" 
 are amongst the mildest of the names bandied about ; while, 
 imitating the quarrels of humanity on shore, numerous sea- 
 gulls dart and dive, soar and swoop and scream and croak 
 
 The Plaza, San Francisco. 
 
 as they wrangle over and in the water for edible flotsam and 
 jetsam. Between these, the cries of the venders of newspapers 
 and small wares, and the escaping steam, the scene is pande- 
 moniac. 
 
 It is afternoon ; the air is growing cooler, for a sea-breeze is 
 stirring it up. It is reviving, and I stroll to the hills north 
 of the city overlooking the waters leading to the Golden Gate. 
 
A SAN FRANCISCAN DAY. 269 
 
 Ships sail by me as they make their exits and their entrances. 
 I cannot help comparing the lively times of now with the 
 quietude of twenty years ago, when at rare intervals a vessel 
 came for hides, or to supply the few wants of the Mission. 
 
 I return to the wharf. The steamer from the States has 
 been telegraphed and is momentarily expected. It rounds 
 the peninsula and soon bumps against the pier, and the eager 
 passengers tumble pell-mell down the crowded gangway. A 
 crowd of hotel runners, wharf-rats and loungers are crowding 
 around the reporters and the few welcoming friends of the 
 emigrants. Almost suffocated by the yelling, surging crowd, 
 I am glad to get away, leaving the greenhorns to the tender 
 mercies of the sharpers and runners. 
 
 I am once more in the heart of the city and on the fashion- 
 able promenade. Gaily attired women of varying characters 
 rustle by me in those silks and satins, scarlets and velvets 
 which Franklin notes as kitchen fire extinguishers. To those 
 who have been living for months on a lonely ranch or in an iso- 
 lated mining camp the sight is a novelty indeed. 
 
 Again at the Plaza. An omnibus is about starting on its 
 hourly trip to the Mission Dolores. I am curious to see 
 this venerable reminder of the sway of the Spanish fathers, so 
 I pay my "bit," jump in the coach and am soon rolling over 
 a smooth plank road to the Mission of Sorrows. The two 
 miles intervening are sandy and uninteresting, and I am glad 
 when we arrive in front of the old adobe sanctuary. A quaint 
 old church it is with its unhewn rafters, its three large bells 
 arranged in a triangle in the gable, and its stuccoed columns 
 in bas relief. It is the work of the rude Indian converts, who 
 less than a hundred years ago were gathered from heathen bar- 
 barism into the folds of the Catholic Church by the preaching 
 and unselfish efforts of the old Spanish padres. Adjoining is 
 the Campo Santo, or Holy Field, where lie buried the dead of 
 generations. Here are inscriptions in many tongues, graven 
 
270 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 on prone slab or stone erectly standing. Here lie side by side 
 pale-faced nun and swarthy Indian girl, pious priest and 
 dark-hued native ranchero. Thickly strewn are the graves ; 
 irreverence would say too thick for comfort. But there is no 
 elbowing for precedence in the narrow halls below ; there is 
 no jostling to provoke resentment in that world of silence. 
 Granite and marble shafts covered some of the graves, bright 
 sweet smelling flowers grew from others, while some were 
 neglected hollows. The Catholic has a love for the beautiful 
 engrafted in his piety, and you see the homes of his dead 
 ornamented with shrubs, flowers and s^ea-shells. 
 
 The sun slowly sinks below the hills back of the Mission 
 Dolores, and the visitors are departing from the shrine of their 
 pilgrimage. Twilight is mantling the graveyard, and in its 
 shadows one can almost imagine he sees the cowled monks 
 standing rebukingly among the tombs before the representa- 
 tives of a race whose progress was so antagonistic to their labors. 
 With uncanny thoughts I close the clanging gates and leave 
 the abode of death for the congenial society of the living. 
 
XIX. 
 
 Ufte S^if ©Ifteafre, 
 
 /^^ AN FRANCISCO is a city of theatres. With but a 
 ^^^ sixth part of the population (in 1858) of Philadelphia, 
 N^^^ it can boast of almost as many places of amuse- 
 ment. From Maguire's Opera House down, through inter- 
 mediate grades to the lowest cafe chantant, are a series of enter- 
 tainments from which fastidious to lax can select a place of 
 evening resort. Occupying a middle rank among these are 
 the " Bit Theatres," so termed from the price of admission, a 
 " bit," or shilling. These are generally conducted by broken- 
 down professionals, and their assistants are amateurs ; their 
 patrons being a medley of those who cannot afford higher 
 priced places of diversion, or who go out of curiosity. 
 
 In my walks about the city my attention had often been 
 drawn toward those abodes of the minor drama through the 
 mediums of glaring posters. These, after describing the 
 features of the coming entertainment, short dramas, acrobatic 
 feats, singing and dancing, conspicuously remarked that the 
 best liquors could be had for twelve and a half cents ; thus 
 putting the professions of the stage and bar on an equal 
 footing. 
 
 In 1858 the part of the city, covering what once had been 
 the bay, had so extended that a view parallel with the front 
 
 (271) 
 
272 
 
 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 and taking in the upper town made San Francisco resemble a 
 recumbent giantess, a little tipsy, or rather " half seas over," 
 with her feet in the water, and with the contents of her wide- 
 spreading lap in danger of dropping through the fragile 
 apron. Beneath the flat, where now were filth and mud, and 
 the swash of waves as they climbed and fell back from the 
 
 San Francisco in 1847. 
 
 slimy wharf timbers, once ships were moored, and here, 
 deserted by their gold-greedy crews, some lay rotting, until 
 enclosed by wharf and street they became absorbed in the 
 growing town. The architecture of this built-over portion 
 was shabby enough, and consisted mainly of warehouses, 
 
THE BIT THEATRE. 273 
 
 offices connected with shipping, junk shops, Jew clothing 
 stores, Chinese laundries and low groggeries. The lioUow 
 square, which these buildings surrounded, was the dumping 
 place for superfluous material from the high ground over- 
 looking the bay, as well as for the odds and ends which comrfiu- 
 nities generally surreptitiously throw into such places. On the 
 planked streets, after the arrival of States' steamers and other 
 craft, drays thundered back and forth, confidence men played 
 their little games on incoming passengers, hotel runners did 
 their work, and bootblacks left their shining marks. 
 
 One day in my saunterings over this portion of the city I 
 came across one of the places of amusement heading this 
 chapter. It Avas of no greater pretension than scores of the 
 rickety buildings surrounding it, except that it w^as of two 
 stories. The bar-room was as prominent a part of the 
 premises as the liquor announcement was of the posters, as 
 the audience was forced to pass through it to get to the 
 " auditorium." 
 
 The manager w^as Miss Rowena Granice, whether an as- 
 sumed or real name I don't know. I saw her in the trying 
 light of day standing — leaning from a sort of inside balcony 
 above the bar-room — like another Juliet, or rather like the 
 grandmother of that interesting young woman, although on 
 her face paint, powder and paste had done their work, until 
 she looked like a flamboj^ant fright : an exemplification of the 
 conflict we are warring with time, and of the fact that we may 
 apply pigment and dye, we may pad and bewig, and wrap 
 our forms in the gay robes of youth, only to see what we are 
 trying to fend off come back like a pent-up flood, and, washing 
 ofl" cosmetic and color, and obliterating our other shams, 
 deliver the human humbug to Old Age's grim follower. The 
 Romeo who played to this Juliet was a rotund German, who, 
 from his position on the bar-room floor, invited her to step 
 down from her perch and take a drink with him ; a request 
 she coyly agreed to. 
 
274 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 Miss Rowena, in spite of this uncomplimentary introduc- 
 tion, seemed like one who had been the possessor of good 
 looks and an actress of note, but who, on account of loss of 
 personal attractions rather than of professional ability, had 
 been obliged to leave more aristocratic boards for this humble 
 theatre. Enterprising, if old and faded, she had managed her 
 " Gaieties " until it was at the head of its class. 
 
 Facilis decensus Averni and easy of access was the " Bit 
 Theatre." Passing through the purgatorial bar-room, a place 
 reeking with the fumes of tobacco and liquor, I gave the 
 " open sesame " of a " bit " to a willing recipient, and was 
 ushered into the room adjoining. On entering through a 
 vista of smoke I saw a row of " tallow dips," and behind 
 them the mimic stage. In front of these, on a floor some ten 
 yards square, w^ere rows of tables, around which were the 
 theatrical as well as the vinous guests of the " Gaieties." Be- 
 fore these were placed by attentive waiters the wished-for 
 liquids from the adjoining room. Around three sides of the 
 building was a gallery; the whole building seating about 
 three hundred people. 
 
 The view on entering was unique. Enveloped in dense 
 fumes of tobacco, the audience was drinking and talking. It 
 was a melange of rough miners, fresh from the mountains and 
 now on their way home to the States, and conspicuous for 
 their shaggy beards and weapons ; inoffensive looking gamblers 
 seeking whom they might devour, and curious sight-seers. 
 Mingled among them were a number of boys of various ages 
 and sizes to match. 
 
 I secured a seat near the stage. Eor companion I had a 
 specimen of the genus small boy, the lad who gets familiar 
 and ends by getting impudent. I found him throughout the 
 evening a source of entertainment and general information. 
 As a theatrical critic he was good — for his age. He was well 
 acquainted with the three minor actors, who were young like 
 
THE BIT THEATRE. 275 
 
 himself. As there was no way from the street to the stage 
 except through the auditorium, the players were obliged to 
 make ingress among the audience. As they passed us my 
 little friend addressed them in quite a familiar way, though, 
 to do him justice, more from a desire to show me his iac- 
 quaintance with them than from any lack of respect. Not 
 so with some of his fellows. These spoke to them in words 
 neither becoming nor complimentary. The young actors bore 
 these pinthrusts into their dignity with the nonchalance of 
 veteran tragedians when receiving sentient attention from a 
 demonstrative lobby. Disappearing through a side door they 
 left the audience anxiously expecting their reappearance. At 
 length the bell announcing the rising of the curtain was heard, 
 and simultaneous with its ringing there was a hush in the 
 ubiquitous conversation and clink of glasses, and soon com- 
 menced the performance of " Brigham Young ; or. The Prophet's 
 Dream." This was a mixture of comedy and tragedy, the 
 former preponderating. The Prophet was represented by a 
 celebrated acrobat, whose main forte was in tying himself up 
 in bow-knots, but who, in a pinch, could figure in the drama. 
 His Sultana was the ripe-aged Miss Rowena, his other wives 
 being represented by three juvenile actors, arrayed in female 
 garments, and who created a great amount of amusement by 
 their efforts to adapt themselves to their parts. The only 
 efforts made to carry dignity into the play were by the two 
 leading characters, and, to do them justice, they did well 
 under trying circumstances ; but, alas ! their efforts were not 
 appreciated by their listeners, who would loudly laugh at and 
 guy them during affecting scenes. Unasked-for advice and un- 
 seemly remarks would discompose the Sultana while in heroic 
 attitude she prepared to slay the faithless Prophet, while the 
 high-tragedy voice and action of the latter were turned into 
 ridicule. Especially were assaults made on the dignity of poor 
 Brigham when, after performing in an affecting scene, he 
 
276 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 came in front of the curtain in the role of a " supe," to extin- 
 guish the footlights, in order that the room might be darkened 
 to the proper consistency while he indulged in his dream. In 
 the face of a battery of uncomplimentary remarks he accom- 
 plished his humble mission, and then retired to reappear in 
 his remarkable vision, in which the ghost of his murdered 
 wife was to awaken him to consciousness, remorse and peni- 
 tence. The only appreciated acting was done by the young 
 actors in female rig, who, at last ignoring the characters in 
 which they were designed to act, seemed only possessed with 
 a desire to amuse the audience ; and this they did until the 
 clouds of tobacco swayed to and fro with the shocks of convul- 
 sive laughter underlying them. 
 
 During the performance of this play my friend, the small 
 boy, rendered me great service. Entertaining me with 
 critiques on the actors and their style, he told me the names 
 of his friends as they came upon the scene. My small boy 
 was of the dignified pattern, and did not join his fellows in 
 their ridicule of the actors, but confined his remarks to me, ^s 
 also the smoke of a large cigar he was puffing. 
 
 Following the play was a series of acrobatic feats by 
 the late Brigham, and then a dance by one of the boys. Next 
 came a song by a little girl of twelve years, who, on account 
 of the homeliness of her last name, was simply known as 
 " Miss Lottie " on the bills. The dance was accomplished to 
 the entire satisfaction of the audience, but, owing to hoarse- 
 ness, Lottie broke down amid the " Shells of the Ocean." Thrice 
 she essayed the effort and as often failed. The miners, many 
 of whom had known her when among the mountains on a 
 professional tour, sympathized with her condition as much as 
 they wanted to hear her sing, and it was amusing to listen to 
 them in their rough but kind tones encouraging her to go on. 
 At last, getting into a pet at her failure, she ran off the stage 
 amid the applause of her friends. I did not know I would 
 
THE BIT THEATRE. 
 
 277 
 
 ever hear of this girl again. She became a popular actress ; 
 generally, on account of her small stature taking juvenile 
 parts, which she still continues, although over forty years old. 
 Her mother still accompanies her on her tours. Her success 
 has been great, and her fortune is in the hundred thousands. 
 She is called Lotta, and her name of Crabtree is still kept sub- 
 dued. A beautiful fountain bearing her name— her first name, 
 remember — ornaments the city where she made her successful 
 start in life ; a gift from her to the city whence she made her 
 start to fame, if her questionable notoriety can be so called. 
 
 The performance was over, and by this time the lights in 
 the vitiated air were burning blue. Odors at variance with 
 those of " Araby the Blest " filled the air from the floor to the 
 ceiling. The attentions of the waiters on their guests had had 
 their natural eff'ect. The drinking part of the audience was get- 
 ting uproarious. Omens of a continuation of the evening per- 
 formances were making themselves manifest, and, thinking a 
 bed in a hotel preferable to a muss in a place like this, I left 
 the " Gaietie," and, passing through the thronged bar-room, 
 emerged to the silent and gloomy world without. 
 
 Such is a description of an evening's entertainment at a 
 " Bit Theatre," one of the institutions of San Francisco. Con- 
 ducted and patronized by a class less reputable than those 
 belonging to places of amusement of higher pretensions, 1 will 
 say that at this particular theatre there was nothing said or 
 acted on the stage of an off'ensive nature, which is praise, 
 even if of the negative kind. Furnishing amusement to their 
 miscellaneous audiences through their very incompetencies, 
 the actors philosophically bore the indignities heaped upon 
 them, probably finding consolation in the maxim : 
 
 A shilling often for a kick atones ; 
 
 And what's a drubbing so it breaks no bones ? 
 

 'mjf^m^. 
 
 XX. 
 
 (JTomecoarc^ Si)ounc:|— ^o^tFicoarcl, 
 
 ^^HE time for my departure for the " States " had come 
 
 c^ at last. For some days previous to this there had been 
 [i^ much unseemly canvassing among prospective pas- 
 sengers by the " runners " of the two opposition steamers which 
 were to sail on the same day for Panama. I thought the sub- 
 agents of the contending river boats were bad enough in the 
 free use of Billingsgate toward one another in their wordy 
 fighting over passengers ; but their more pretentious brethren 
 went beyond them by getting up blood-curdling posters, much 
 to the unsettling of the minds of intending travelers. One of 
 these would be headed-^over a cut of an old-time casket: — 
 
 Bew^are of the Floating Coffin ! ! 
 
 followed by some points in the decaying make-up of that ves- 
 sel. The other poster in a glaring headline would start with 
 something like 
 
 Look out for the Ocean Death-trap ! ! 
 
 with the words following similarly grim and savoring of the 
 King of Terrors. These hand-bills so unnerved me, that if I 
 had had a chance to work my passage home on an ox-train I 
 would have taken up with it. 
 
 The steamers were the " Golden Gate " and the " Orizaba," 
 on which last I engaged passage. This was known as the 
 
 (278) 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND — SOUTHWARD. 279 
 
 " Opposition," the former being the " Regular " line, and on 
 the 5th of May lay at Mission Street Wharf awaiting the signal 
 for departure. As was always the case when a " States steamer " 
 left, the dock was crowded with the curious and interested ; 
 among whom was a large percentage of sellers of sea-sickness 
 preventives, as well as venders of provocatives of stomachic 
 troubles, and merchants of various kinds of literature, gene- 
 rally novels of the " blood and thunder " variety. There was 
 much rivalry among the passengers of the two steamers, as 
 well as among their owners and crews ; so that when the hour 
 came for a mutual start, and the " Orizaba" was found so imbed- 
 ded in the mud that she was immovable, there came jeers and 
 cheers from the " Golden Gate" as she moved off, and voices of 
 mortification from her fixed rival. By the time the tide had 
 sufficiently risen to let us off" we were two hours behind the 
 other, which we saw disappear with flags and streamers flying 
 around the channel leading to the " Gateway of Gold," as Bay- 
 ard Taylor calls it. 
 
 At last we are in a position to move; and now the ex- 
 citement is at the top notch. Separating friends bestow 
 the parting greeting for the hundredth time, while the book, 
 newspaper and fruit venders unite in one yelling chorus 
 to impress us with the chances we are wasting in seeing such 
 bargains slip away. As our departure becomes additionally 
 imminent the tumult on the wharf increases, and the fruit 
 peddlers, seeing no hope of selling us anything more, are 
 so moved by generous impulses as to sling the more damaged 
 portions of their goods at us as tokens of remembrances, so 
 that we had some decayed specimens of tropical fruitage to 
 eat between meals. The news and medicine venders, and dis- 
 pensers of bologna sausage and other delicacies, which the 
 steerage passengers ma}^ yearn for, make one more effort; 
 friends again send affectionate messages from the lonely wharf 
 to the high deck, and the reverse ; the rowdy element shouts ; 
 
280 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 the dense masses sway to and fro; the bells ring; flags and 
 streamers flap in the breeze ; and at last, following a crash of 
 cannon, the machinery is set in motion ; and with a parting 
 bombardment of rotten oranges and bananas we are off for the 
 " States." 
 
 Soon San Francisco with its memories is far astern, and, 
 sailing through the channel leading to the Golden Gate, we 
 are soon beyond the limits of that rock-strewn portal and out 
 on the bosom of the Pacific. So farewell to the amphibious 
 city of the west coast, to its grand bay and its tributary rivers 
 and their rich valleys, and farewell to the beautiful and 
 quaint towns and lone rancheros I passed in troublous pil- 
 grimage, for I am off to new scenes. 
 
 Turning southward we sped down the coast of California, 
 which, for much of the way, was only a faint cloud-bank on 
 our port bow, and afterward not even this was visible, and we 
 lost all sight of land. On the 6th we saw a herd, or a school, 
 or a flock, whichever term is correct, of whales, but we had no 
 time to catch them. On the 9th we came in sight of land. 
 This was the "Marguerites," a group of islands belonging to 
 Mexico. They were barren and rocky, but still a relief to 
 the vision weary with the watery plain around us. 
 
 For economical reasons I had taken passage in the steerage. 
 The fare was $52.50, the odd $2.50 being an export tax ; that 
 in the cabin was $200, and in the intermediate $150. The 
 "Opposition" had reduced the rate flfty per cent. In the 
 steerage was an unpleasant mode of traveling; but I thought 
 I w^ould feel just as well, after getting to New York, as if I had 
 led the Sybaritic life of those in the first cabin, where they 
 had four meals a day, with a lunch between, gilt mirrors to 
 look into, plush-covered furniture to lounge on by day and 
 cosy state-rooms to sleep in at night. Our sleeping places were 
 the two lower decks, and our beds rude bunks where we slept, 
 from three to seven, side by side, on straw matresses. I was 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND SOUTHWARD. 281 
 
 lucky enough to secure a place on the first deck, for from the 
 confined air the hold was almost unbearable. Our eating 
 quarters were between the berths of the first deck, below the 
 main, the tables being narrow and swung by rods so as to 
 accommodate themselves to the motion of the steamer. We eat 
 standing up, once in a while lying down to it when the vessel 
 gave a lurch. Our fare was coff'ee and tea, in their season, 
 made from a musty base, steeped in water so decayed that it 
 hardly held together ; hard tack, which had seen its best days 
 and the traditional sailors' " salt hoss," which had seen its 
 worst. As for dessert, the exhilarating pie had we none, and 
 our ice cream we ate in a sort of Barmecide way, that is, in 
 our minds. But we could not expect to travel for one cent a 
 mile and partake of much edible richness. Then we had 
 many things in common with the nabobs in the upper cabins. 
 We saw the same grand sunsets which they saw, we oftener 
 looked on the day-god as he rolled above the eastern sea to 
 make its waves glitter with his light. We saw the same moon 
 round out and wane, rise out of the midnight waves and pale 
 in the morning sky. We mutually enjoyed the glitter of simi- 
 lar stars, and saw the same constellations move northward, 
 until the Southern Cross replaced the Ursa Major. We par- 
 took of the same likes and dislikes toward our fellow passen- 
 gers; grew hungry and satisfied our appetites as they, although 
 in a diff'erent way ; yawned and grew sleepy and went to bed. 
 While the first cabin sat around its marble topped card-table 
 and gambled its surplus gold away, the steerage spread a 
 blanket on the salivated deck and worked with the same 
 energy ; the changing dross giving forth the same fascinating 
 glitter whether from horny or plebeian palm. Still, through 
 all my optimistic views ran a flavor of sour grapes, and I 
 often envied the more favored passengers who could super- 
 ciliously come among us without having yelled at them : " Say^ 
 you ! go to your part of the ship ; you don't belong here ! " 
 18 
 
282 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 The water-butt, from which throughout the day we quenched 
 our thirst, was near the bow, and access to the contents was 
 through a small hole in the top by letting down a deep, narrow 
 cup with a string. The water was good at first, but grew 
 worse until it got as bad as it could be, when it improved ; on 
 the same principle, perhaps, that wine gets better by ocean 
 transit. To be sure the liquid was bad enough from being so 
 warm, but then we had the advantage of the cabin passengers 
 who were obliged to use ice water, which is notoriously hurtful 
 from the bacteria in it. They were also forced to use fresh 
 water to bathe in, while we had nothing but the best of salt 
 water drawn fresh from the sea, per rope and bucket. When 
 it is known what miles the wealthiest of our people will 
 travel for a chance to wash in ocean brine, our position can be 
 appreciated. Then w^e were ahead of the ship aristocracy in 
 another way, as we in the forward part were always nearer 
 home. So that, taking it all in all, we had the advantage. 
 
 I suppose three-fifths or more of the passengers were in the 
 steerage. As there were about one thousand on board, how 
 closely we were packed can be imagined. We slept in rows, 
 and from lack of confidence in my fellows I thought wdiile 
 sleeping. Did one on either side of me shift his position the 
 least I would arouse, finding my hand on my money belt, so 
 that my senses were on the watch whether I was awake or not. 
 
 The reader need not think that a steerage passage was a 
 synonym for poverty. There were thousands of dollars in 
 gold or drafts among the forward passengers. I believe there 
 was more money there than about the cabin. The miners, no 
 matter how well off", w^ere more at home among the uncon- 
 ventionalities of steerage life and took it of choice, and though 
 some sported knives and revolvers, I became acquainted with 
 many quiet, worthy men in the steerage. 
 
 A noted person in the cabin was General William Walker, 
 a filibuster, who was then on his road to Central America to 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND — SOUTHWARD. 283 
 
 get shot. He was a short, stout man with a smooth, red face. 
 He left our vessel, I think, at Acapulco to go on the " Oregon " 
 for San Juan del Sur ; as when next heard from he was on the 
 opposite side of the Isthmus, where, failing in an insurrection, 
 he was captured, led out in front of a file of half-savage 
 soldiers and shot down like a convict, the victim of not 
 minding his own business. 
 
 On the 12th we came in sight of the chain of desolate 
 mountains which fringes the southwestern coast of Mexico. 
 Continuing we came to the harbor of Acapulco, and winding 
 between the rocky islands and promontories which arose 
 around us, we came to anchor at 4 o'clock opposite the town. 
 Here we found our rival, the " Golden Gate," the " Oregon " 
 and a large collier, from which we got a supply of coal before 
 leaving. 
 
 We had hardly dropped anchor before a number of natives 
 swam out to us. AVith their dark features, wild eyes and 
 shaggy hair, they looked like so many sea-imps while dis- 
 porting around us as we lay three hundred yards from shore. 
 They howled to us to throw " dimeys " and " picayuneys" into 
 the sea, and then see how they would bring them up. Those 
 who were rich enough to invest did so, and following the 
 coins with their sharp eyes, the divers soon brought them to 
 the surface, and shouted for more " dime3^s." They stayed in 
 the water hours at a time. 
 
 Several boats manned — if this term is admissible in refer- 
 ence to such people — by the wretched looking natives soon 
 put off from shore for the purpose of carrying such of us to 
 land as wanted to go. Many of us went. There was no land- 
 ing-place ; we simply got our boats as near dry land as possi- 
 ble, and jumped ashore on the sandy beach which extends 
 front of the town. 
 
 Acapulco makes a picturescjue appearance from the bay, 
 with its low, white buildings shaded by tropical trees, and the 
 
284 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 volcanic mountains rising back of it. The population of three 
 thousand was a mixture of Spaniards, Negroes and Indians, 
 so mixed that you could hardly tell which was the predominant 
 race. And what a set of degenerate beings they w^ere ! The 
 men lazy and thievish, the women disgustingly licentious, the 
 children precocious in aping the vices of their parents ; all of 
 them bearing the fruits of immoral living in their listless, at- 
 tenuated frames, which were reeking with scrofulous diseases. 
 These half human wretches get their living mainly from the 
 vessels stopping here for coal and water, and the passengers 
 thereof who venture ashore. The last are annoyed to despe- 
 ration's brink by troops of beggars, thieves and itinerant 
 merchants, who pester them from their landing to departure. 
 
 The plaza, or public square, of Acapulco was a lively place 
 in the afternoon. One side was taken up by the stands of 
 venders of all sorts of merchandize, who were shouting forth 
 the merits and cheapness of their wares. They would wa^day 
 passengers, and if they could not induce them to buy, they 
 would roll out some sonorous and trilled Spanish oath. At 
 one place an old hag was presiding over a gambling table, 
 where she was dealing " monte " to an excited group of natives 
 and passengers, the latter taking to the business quite natu- 
 rally. Occasionally a dispute would arise between the beldam 
 and the " backers," when the voice of the former would arise to 
 the shrillest pitch and then gradually decline, as her anger 
 subsided. Scantily robed women passed through the square 
 on their way to and from the public fountains, with large 
 earthen jars poised on their heads ; and little donkeys, half hid- 
 den with loads of vegetables and fruits, slowly worked their 
 way amid the motley group. 
 
 When I wrote my notes of travel, or rather, when I ampli- 
 fied them on my arrival home, the temptation was strong and 
 often yielded to, to use foreign terms in my descriptions, and 
 to give the words spoken by Indian or Mexican in their own 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND — SOUTHWARD. 285 
 
 language. It is the custom of many travelers and becomes 
 natural. It gives one a chance of airing what little he knows ; 
 or rather, of ventilating the much he don't know. But when, 
 after thirty years, the writer revises what he wrote in his youth, 
 he notes how tame were his smart expressions, how vapid his 
 attempts at high-flown description, and how silly his efforts to 
 impress his readers with his lingual lore. So now I " put 
 away childish things " and try to expunge all pedantry, and 
 " call a spade a spade." I gathered one piece of informa- 
 tion, however, that it is one thing to study a language to 
 what you think is proficiency, and another to put it into 
 practice, but I must admit that a few foreign terms and 
 phrases, mixed in, tone up an article and give the writer a 
 reputation for smartness. So I hope the reader will not meet 
 with many non-understandable words or phrases. 
 
 To look at this town, with its low, white buildings, its 
 thatched huts, its tropical vegetation, and its swarthy people, 
 one could easily imagine himself in some country on the 
 Barbary coast, and not in progressive North America and a 
 free republic, and I was much amused and interested in what 
 I saw during my short stay there. 
 
 From the 'plaza and its odd sights I ascended the side of a 
 rocky hill overlooking the town, as well as the bay and its 
 shelter of capes and islands. The lower side of the hill was 
 dotted with straw huts, the lazy owners of which were swing- 
 ing in their hammocks or seated on the ground smoking, 
 while their women were grinding corn and baking the dough 
 therefrom on flat stones set at an angle before an open fire, 
 their naked children the meanwhile rolling in the sand or 
 playing with the gaunt pigs and dogs of the town. Buzzards 
 as big as turkey -gob biers were seated around on projecting 
 rocks, looking pensively on the congenial scenes around, and 
 so tame that they would allow us to come within a few paces, 
 when they would flap their wings, and with a disagree- 
 
286 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 able croak fly lazily away. They are the scavengers of the 
 town, and, as their throats are used for sewers, are protected 
 from harm. 
 
 Crossing over to the fort I passed an open hut containing 
 a stand on which was seated an old, old man with his hands 
 clasped in front of his shins, like those of a Peruvian mummy. 
 His knees were drawn up against his breast, and around 
 him was wrapped an old blanket, above which projected his 
 parchment-colored face. He looked so like exhumed death 
 that I was startled when he feebly nodded to me, and could 
 imagine the dried muscle crackling in the exertion. In fact, 
 taking him for all in all, his cadaverous appearance and 
 sepulchral voice, one might have thought he was inaugurating 
 the resurrection. 
 
 The Castillo, or fort, which was situated on a broad knoll 
 commanding the harbor, as well as the town, was quadrangular 
 and surrounded by a walled moat, across which was one of the 
 old-fashioned drawbridges we read about, and which mailed 
 knights clattered merrily over when the besieged did not get 
 it pulled up in season. In these modern times a well-directed 
 cannon shot would have loosened the fastening and sent the 
 fly-trap thundering down. The fort was mounted by some 
 hundred rusty cannon, and garrisoned by a company of what 
 would have been cut-throat soldiers did they not lack energy 
 to do violent deeds. They were uniformed in white panta- 
 loons, ragged shirt and straw hat, and looked as if they would 
 run at the first appearance of an enemy. What I have seen 
 of Spanish-American soldiers makes me think how little we 
 should boast of our victories over the Mexican troops during 
 our disgraceful war with their country, particularly^ when we 
 take into consideration the factional wars then waging in 
 Mexico. These soldiers were armed with flintlocks, and had 
 plugs in the muzzles to keep out dampness and save cleaning. 
 They were also uniformed with bare feet, which enabled them. 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND SOUTHWARD. 287 
 
 when their guns were thrown down, to be ready for a celeri- 
 tous run in case an enemy would ever venture into such a 
 wretched country, a country whose most reliant defense 
 asrainst an unacclimated foe is the vellow fever. The fort was 
 built one hundred years ago, and was skilfully constructed. 
 The chief occupation of the garrison was to guard a chain- 
 gang, who, on their backs, were carrying sand and lime for 
 the use of some convict masons who were repairing the fort. 
 Walking two and two over the sharp stones, with one hand 
 steadying the sack and the other holding up a rattling chain, 
 these felons seemed walking exemplifications of the maxim, 
 "The way of the transgressor is hard." The wretches did not 
 feel their degradation, but with brutal jest and laugh beguiled 
 their labor. Just outside the fort was a government smith 
 shop, the Vulcan of which was chained to his Cyclopian 
 "beezer" by a chain, and so well was the apprentice "inden- 
 tured and firmly bound " to his master, that if this plan had 
 been adopted a generation ago there would have been fewer 
 advertisements in contemporaneous newspapers of " One 
 horseshoe-nail reward." When I saw the chances this twain 
 had for severing the tie which bound them, I thought what a 
 successful strike they might make for their freedom if they 
 tried. 
 
 " Who would be free himself must strike the blow," 
 
 and if there is a hammer and cold-chisel by, so much the 
 easier ; but, alas for these fellows, the propinquity of two sol- 
 diers with loaded muskets prevented them from exercising 
 their ingenuities. 
 
 By the time I came back to the plaza the short-lived twi- 
 light of the tropics had given way to darkness, and the booths 
 were lighted up, making the scene quite lively. Two musi- 
 cians, on violin and flute, were giving the " Orizabians " some 
 sweet music; but the strains were so short and so often re- 
 
288 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 peated, that it clogged the senses, and we were fain to proffer 
 them some of the coin of the reahii to stop. The merchants 
 seemed still more lively and persistent by torch-light, and pes- 
 tered us more than ever to buy their wares, while the women 
 paraded their viciousness with increased boldness. If one 
 town more than another needs to be swallowed up, it is this 
 modern Sodom ; but in that event the earth would be pitied 
 for surrounding such a sickening dose. 
 
 Fearing that we might be left in this miserable town I 
 moved down to the sandy shore, and, after running the 
 gauntlet between rows of yelling boatmen, I jumped into one 
 of the numerous craft, and shooting out into the darkness, 
 the swarthy Charon, reversing the usual course of that mytho- 
 logical personage, took me from Death to Life. I may be 
 straining a point in the simile, but I will let it stand, as Aca- 
 pulco was certainly an abode of death, both morally and other- 
 wise, while on the " Orizaba " we had life on the ocean wave — 
 such as it was. 
 
 We were nearly all night coaling the steamer. The coal 
 was all carried in sacks on the backs of the men from one 
 vessel to another, and the grimy procession of native carriers, 
 under the glare of torches, made an impressive scene. We 
 hoisted the anchor before sunrise, however, and put to sea, 
 glad that we were once more on our homeward way and leav- 
 ing such a den of badness behind. 
 
 Time passed slowly on board our vessel. Some of us arose 
 by sunrise, although at that time we ran chances of being 
 swamped by the sailors while washing down the decks, as, by 
 accident, they often threw water on those who got in their 
 way. We drew water from the salt, salt sea and washed, a 
 group at a time ; until by turns all who cared to wash had 
 pickled themselves, and then been rasped off with a 
 common towel, which operation was in itself a species of dry 
 salting. Then, in season, we went to breakfast, and, standing 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND — SOUTHWARD. 289 
 
 in rows along swinging tables, drank our coffee whose main 
 strength lay in the water, and ate our salt junk whose main 
 strength lay in its smell, and between the two worried down 
 some hard tack. The sad ceremony over, we lounged away the 
 time until noon, killing it in ways as various as our natures. 
 Some read, some told yarns, some continually got themselves 
 in places where the}^ were sworn out by the mate on duty, 
 many smoked, and several " fought the tiger " in the hopeless 
 task of winning at " monteJ' At last the dinner hour would 
 come. Then more onslaught — feeble on my part — on the 
 saline hash and " hard tack," while the vessel lurched and 
 the passengers — some of them — swore as they fell against the 
 bunks, or spilt their victuals over themselves or neighbors, 
 while the tables swung like pendulums. This perfunctory 
 meal over, we hied to the deck above to get the fresh air 
 denied us below. More killing of him who cuts down all 
 both great and small, and the time for another meal came, 
 and another return to the comparative pleasure of the deck. 
 The air, which had been sultry and oppressive during the 
 day, would now be stirred by gentle breezes, and, on feeling 
 these to fan their fevered cheeks, the spirits of the travelers 
 would revive from the dreamy listlessness which had per- 
 vaded them during the sun-lit hours. In star-gazing, sing- 
 ing, story -telling, and in another occupation sometimes termed 
 '' tripping the light fantastic toe," the evening wore away, 
 and midnight often found the more obstreperous part of our 
 crowd engaged in their revels, much to the annoyance of the 
 early retirers, who could but illy sleep while such a racket was 
 going on overhead. 
 
 Thus we spent our days on the ocean, twenty-two in all, and 
 wearisome days they were. The same sea-sights, the same 
 people to look at and talk to, the same recurrence of meals 
 composed of a similarity of unpalatable materials, the same 
 diurnal discomforts from the tropic heat. 
 
290 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 On the 14th we entered the Gulf of Tehuantepec, and in 
 crossing it we had a rough passage. As we proceeded, 
 on account of the curve of the coast, we often saw land, some- 
 times in mountain sides, thickly covered with tangled vegeta- 
 tion coming abruptly to the water's edge. The air grew 
 warmer and more oppressive, and the sun as we neared the 
 isthmus was directly overhead at noon, so we stood on our 
 shadows. Heavy showers sometimes kept us below deck. 
 
 On the 18th we entered Panama Bay, the shores and islands 
 of which were clothed in the most vivid green. Late in the 
 afternoon we anchored within three miles of Panama. 
 
 This old town is in the Republic of Colombia, and occupies 
 a tongue of land reaching out into a bay so shallow that 
 vessels of eighty tons can only come within two miles, while 
 passenger steamers must anchor a mile further out, near an 
 island called Perico. This, like the other islands which make 
 the harbor, was green with rank vegetation to the water's 
 edge; a tangle of vines and mammoth-leaved plants and 
 parasite-clad trees which seemed rife with disease. The little 
 steamer commonly used to carry passengers ashore was out of 
 repair, so we were obliged to make use of small boats, a whole 
 fleet of which put off from shore to meet us. When they 
 came alongside a rush was made for them by the passengers, 
 who looked like a human cataract, as laughing, cursing and 
 yelling they poured down the stairway into the boats which, 
 as fast as loaded, pulled ashore. The boat I was in was one 
 of the first, and was so full that it nearly swamped more 
 than once in the three miles row. When we reached the 
 shore, there being no wharf, we had to ride " pig-a-back " on 
 the shoulders of men in waiting, whom we had to pay. It 
 seemed to me that the boatmen purposely stopped at parts 
 of the shore which would require the services of these marine 
 porters, and thus the thousand, more or less, of humanity 
 which for two weeks had made the " Orizaba " their home got 
 to shore. 
 
XXI. 
 
 Jfomecoarc^ Si)oua4— RortFicjoar^, 
 
 NTERING the city by a picturesque though crum- 
 ■^ bling gateway which pierced the southern wall, I 
 ^^^^^^ passed the Grand Cathedral, and, wending my way 
 through some dark, narrow streets, stopped at the "American 
 Hotel," where for two dollars I bought a chance for breakfast 
 — supper being out of the question — and the privilege of sleep- 
 ing on the floor, which done I took a walk around the city. 
 The walled portion was a half mile square, and in it were 
 fifteen massive churches, besides schools and convents, many 
 of them in ruins. Panama was once the wealthiest city in the 
 New World, as through it passed the trade between Spain and 
 her South American Colonies ; but little business is done here 
 now, and many of the grand buildings are tumbling to ruins. 
 The population is but eleven thousand. 
 
 The houses which lined the narrow streets in the best part 
 of the town were lofty and faced with balconies, on which 
 were seated the better class of people, chatting in quite a 
 lively sort of way. The soldiers I saw were uniformed gaily, 
 and strutted along as if responsible for much. Itinerant and 
 sedentary merchants of all manner of goods, from whisky to 
 Panama hats, were shrilly enumerating the merits and cheap- 
 ness of them, and sturdy little donkies, heavily laden with 
 wood, water- easks and vegetables, worked their way through 
 
 (291) 
 
292 
 
 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 the streets, urged on by their impish drivers— all forming a 
 scene tropical and picturesque in the extreme. But, as if to 
 shadow the lively picture with gloom, directly in front of the 
 hotel arose the high walls of an old convent, now seamed and 
 going to ruin. Nothing was more calculated to call up sad 
 thoughts than this old building, with parasite plants growing 
 from the crevices of its roofless, windowless walls, whose stones 
 they were forcing asunder. 
 
 The " American Hotel," from its massiveness, might have 
 been some ecclesiastical building. In the courtyard was a 
 huge tank, and around it several of the ship's passengers, in a 
 state of nature, were taking an upright bath under the manipu- 
 lations of as many black grooms. Above some wordy war- 
 fare among these human hostlers I heard some one say, " I'm 
 no Jamaica nigger ; I'm from Bucks County, Pennsylvania, I 
 am." These words so startled me that I w^ent among the 
 splashing bathers, and singling the speaker out found his 
 name to be Robert Grose, and that he had once lived with 
 Stacy Brown, of Brownsburg. He had drifted here, where he 
 was stranded until he could get away. Among the outlandish 
 Jamaica negroes with whom he had been confounded he 
 seemed like a lost black sheep. He was overjoyed to see one 
 from his own native county, and was anxious to get back 
 again. 
 
 At 9 o'clock the notes of a bugle rang out upon the air as a 
 signal for all citizens and strangers within the gates to get to 
 their homes, permanent or temporary, or go to the calaboose. 
 Hardly had the tantarara died away before the idlers and 
 street merchants were hurrying home. The day's excitement 
 being ended I betook myself to a large hall in the hotel, where, 
 among a host of others, I lay down ; but sleep w^as impossible 
 for a long time. The sickly season was beginning ; the air was 
 damp and sultry, and it seemed to me as if Death was around 
 picking out victims. The building seemed to swing to and 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND — NORTHWARD. 293 
 
 fro in imitation of the motion of the " Orizaba," besides, several 
 of the sleepers around me, who lacked sentiment and nervous- 
 ness, snored outrageously. So I had a good chance to reflect 
 on the deeds of my past life before sleep came. 
 
 Although we had paid for our breakfast in advance, many 
 of us got none through the landlord's rascality, as the train 
 left before half could get to the table, but as it did not look fit 
 to eat, it made little matter. We had been told the night be- 
 fore the cars left at 9 o'clock, when 6 was the hour. Our way 
 to the terminus was through the eastern gate, and then amid 
 the suburbs of thatched huts which lay along the margin of 
 the bay. The half-wild denizens were all ready for us, and 
 with pernicious activity waylaid us with fruits, corals, sea- 
 shells, whisky, cigars, monkeys, squirrels, parrots and similar 
 goods, dead and alive. We were much amused at a monkey- 
 merchant, whose wares had been captured in the neighboring 
 forest. In his efibrts to show the tameness of one of his half- 
 human specimens, that he might the easier sell it, it got away 
 from him and struck a bee-line for its former home. The last 
 we saw of the twain their speed was so nearly matched that we 
 were in doubt as to the result of the race. 
 
 The starting of the train rid us of these mercantile pests, 
 and we were soon rolling over the fever-breeding swamp 
 which marks the first section of the Isthmian crossing. The 
 lives lost in building this road were fearfully numerous ; but 
 thirty years since they are being more than duplicated in 
 digging the canal. When we came to the ridge we used two 
 locomotives to ascend it, and from its slope we took our last 
 view of the Pacific near where Balboa had his first, and also 
 of the ruined old city on its shore. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the denseness, luxuriance and gigan- 
 tic proportions of the vegetation through which we rode. The 
 surface of the fever-breeding slope was covered with a matting 
 of creeping vines above which rose a growth of mammoth 
 
294 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 plants, with leaves eight or ten feet long and a foot or more 
 wide. Far above these giants of the lower vegetable kingdom 
 towered the stately mahogany and the slender, tufted palm, 
 the forms of some hidden from view by parasite plants. But 
 this prolific place, where nature has so recklessly showered her 
 bounty, is a vast plague spot, where death stalks silent and 
 ghostly, seeking for victims. 
 
 Though since dwarfed by the great enterprise of De Lesseps, 
 the building of this railroad was a great undertaking when we 
 think of the natural obstacles to be surmounted ; but when we 
 consider that the placing of each tie severed a human life, we 
 are tempted to wish it had never been built. Thousands died 
 in its construction, but at last the road was built, and now the 
 shrieking locomotive, like the Juggernaut of India, rolls over 
 a road-bed of human corpses, drawing in its wake a living 
 freight, which concerns itself little of the sacrifices made for its 
 convenience. 
 
 We frequently stalled in the ascent, although we had but 
 one section of the passengers. At the summit the rear engine 
 was sent back to help up the other half. The descent was 
 quickly made down the valley of the Chagres. On this river 
 we passed some collections of huts, whose people were loung- 
 ing about them. We cannot expect much snap in a com- 
 munity which can pick its dinners off of trees as wanted, and 
 don't have to build a fire to cook them. Crossing the Chagres 
 on an iron bridge we rolled into the modern built city of 
 Aspinwall. Here we met a ship load of people who were to 
 fill the vacancies we left in California. How they plied us 
 with questions, and how patronizingly we answered these 
 " tenderfeet.'' How difi'erently were the two portions situated ; 
 one having seen the elephant, the other just entering the 
 menagerie ! 
 
 The people of Aspinwall, like those of Acapulco and 
 Panama, live on the pickings they get from travelers passing 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND — NORTHWARD. 295 
 
 through. We experienced the same vicissitudes as in the last 
 named places, although the pirates were more villainous look- 
 ing. Many of these were Jamaica negroes, and a more repul- 
 sive set of beings I never saw, unless they were the Diggers on 
 the Great Desert. Some were giants with feet like those of 
 " Dandy Jim of Caroline." Many of the venders were females, 
 who, in their outlandish English, addressed us affectionately 
 as " Come my lub, buy dis bottle Jamaky rum, brot it from 
 dar meself ;" or, " Here honey, hab one dese big pine-apples." 
 They looked like scant-frocked gorillas. 
 
 Our Atlantic steamer was the " Northern Light," which we 
 boarded in the afternoon. In San Francisco we had our 
 berths, such as they were, numbered, so that there was no con- 
 fusion ; but here the earliest bird got the choicest worm ; thus 
 there was much rushing and crowding to get bunks on the first 
 deck. Each one had to show his ticket, and " stowaways " had 
 a poor show. There were several of these who beat their way 
 from San Francisco, and in their impudence boasted of their 
 doings. But one of these got on to the " Northern Light." He 
 was a rowdy New York boy, who, when he was refused 
 passage, watched his opportunity, jumped into the water, 
 climbed up the paddle wheel and got through an opening to 
 the deck when he was discovered. The officers were going to 
 put him ashore, but he pleaded so hard and looked so forlorn 
 in his drenched clothes that he was allowed to continue on 
 his way by working his passage heaving coal. He was a 
 " Bowery Boy," and had been full of his pranks; but now, 
 when we saw him, he was crestfallen enough, and so remained 
 until his old haunts on the Battery met his gaze. 
 
 Whenever we left a port the people showed the greatest 
 regret, which was greatly to our credit. At Aspinwall they 
 crowded on the wharf, and howled and yelled and swore as 
 they thrust long poison-filled bottles at us, and pine-apples and 
 bunches of bananas, and so continued until the vessel left. 
 
296 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 Aspinwall is underlaid with a coral reef, and the water is so 
 bad that for drinking purposes the people depend on huge 
 cisterns, which are filled in the rainy season. To supply the 
 ship-tank we were obliged to diverge from our homeward 
 course and proceed down the New Grenada coast for twenty- 
 five miles, where we took in water. I was glad of this, as it 
 gave me a chance to see the scene of an exploit I read of in 
 my young school days in "Parley's History;" namely, the 
 capture of Porto Bello by the buccaneer Morgan and his 
 piratical gang. 
 
 Had we been under the Equatorial sun the weather could 
 not have been hotter or the scenery more tropical than what 
 we saw and felt while going down the coast. The high moun- 
 tain shores were covered with a network of vegetation that 
 hid the earth down to the edge of the water which duplicated 
 it in reverse. The stillness was oppressive, even the beauti- 
 fully plumaged birds flitting among the fever-suggesting 
 shrubbery being silent. 
 
 Slowly steaming along we came before sunset to a scene of 
 picturesque quietude, whose equal I never saw. This was 
 Porto Bello, the " beautiful harbor," discovered in 1502 by 
 Columbus, and settled one hundred years after. The ruins of 
 the old town were close to our anchorage, consisting of 
 remains of towers, churches, convents and other buildings, 
 overgrown with tangled vines, and with limbs of trees pro- 
 jecting through the windows, and shrubbery growing from 
 the joints of the stones. How difl'erent from two hundred 
 years ago, when the town was the northern terminus of an 
 isthmus highway, paved with stones and extending over the 
 ridge to Panama. Then Porto Bello was the point of exchange 
 where the gold and silver of Peru met the costly merchandize 
 of Spain, when convoyed by armed vessels it was landed here. 
 At stated times fairs were held, to which the merchants of the 
 western coast of South America came to make their purchases 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND — NORTHWARD. 297 
 
 which were carried by mules and llamas to the Pacific shore, 
 and thence shipped. Porto Bello grew in wealth so that the 
 buccaneers resolved on its capture, which, in 1668, they effected 
 by surprise. 
 
 The church ornaments and wealth of the town, how- 
 ever, were placed in the castle which defied the pirates. 
 Morgan made use of a stratagem by which he thought to 
 accomplish his ends without bloodshed. Collecting the 
 priests and women whom he found in the city, he com- 
 manded them to go in advance and plant the scaling ladders, 
 thinking the garrison would not harm them. The heart of the 
 Spanish commander was, however, proof against the prayers 
 of priests or tears of women, and he ordered his men to fire on 
 all who advanced. His scheme failing, Morgan stormed the 
 castle and secured an immense booty. Porto Bello never sur- 
 vived this blow, for Spanish commerce was swept from the 
 neighboring waters by this same bold buccaneer. The fleets 
 which once rode here at anchor are unrepresented now except 
 by the occasional steamers which come here to water. So 
 abrupt is the shore that we anchored within twenty yards of 
 it, the slope being covered with tangled vegetation to the 
 lower edge. The water with which the ships are supplied is 
 from " Columbus' Spring," which, high up the hillside, pours its 
 rich tide from under a mass of rank growing plants, which, 
 through botanic ignorance, I must term mammoth weeds in 
 the likeness of caladiums and ferns. An iron pipe runs to 
 within connecting distance of vessels, to which a hose is at- 
 tached, and the tanks quickly filled with the best of water. 
 
 The deck was covered with the passengers, who, quietly com- 
 menting, looked on the surrounding scene. Birds of beautiful 
 plumage, but voiceless, flew from bough to bough, preparing 
 for their night's rest. Among these were brilliant parrots and 
 paroquets and others I did not know. Larger ones, such as 
 pelicans and cranes, flapped their wings clumsily amid the 
 19 
 
298 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 branches of huge lignum vitae and mahogany trees, whose 
 mossy trunks seemed to grow almost parallel with the steep 
 mountain side. A hut stood near the edge of the water, built 
 of reeds and thatched with broad leaves, a sample of the 
 dwelling "places of the few mongrel descendants of the old 
 population of Porto Bello. The owner of this was paddling 
 around us in a canoe in which, on its back, lay a huge turtle, 
 whose angry eyes showed that it would turn, like the worm, 
 if it were possible. The owner made no effort to sell his prey. 
 Another boat was loaded down with bananas, which also 
 had to sell themselves or go unsold. Such independent mer- 
 chants I never saw. At last these mercantile representatives 
 of Porto Bello's vanished glory left us and lazily paddled 
 toward the ruined town, which the setting sun was now gild- 
 ing with its last rays. As it sank below the hills a mantle of 
 golden light lingered awhile on the vine-covered w^alls and 
 towers, as if to redeem the place from the loneliness and desola- 
 tion surrounding it. 
 
 The silence about us was really oppressive, and the dark- 
 ening waters so still that the steamer hardly moved, while the 
 air of that mountain-hedged harbor was sultry beyond endur- 
 ance. These, with the sight of the ruins, which looked ghastly 
 in the twilight, and as if some of the old Castilian knights 
 and priests, friars and nuns which once dwelt in its castle 
 and convents might crawl out of their former haunts, and, 
 mistaking us for buccaneers, smite us with ancient engines of 
 warfare and harry us with exorcisms and consignments to 
 pits bottomless, gave us such feelings that we grew impatient 
 of delay and glad to leave what had been such a picturesque 
 place, but which now was getting unbearable. 
 
 From some unexplained cause we did not leave till mid- 
 night, and when we awoke in the morning we were gaily 
 steaming over the Sea of the Caribs. On the 23d we passed 
 between Cuba and Hayti, and on the 25th entered the warm 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND — NORTHWARD. 299 
 
 waters of the Gulf Stream — a river flowing through an ocean. 
 Soon we were plowing waters afterwards familiar to me in 
 1862 and 1863; but who could have dreamed that in ten 
 years our country would experience the horrors of a Civil 
 War. On the 26th we passed Cape Hatteras, and the 28th 
 brought us in sight of land, which was the coast of New 
 Jersey. 
 
 In the years before I left home I heard a great many satiri- 
 cal things said of the State east of the Delaware. Would-be 
 smart folks called it Spain and a sand-bank, and its people 
 Spaniards, and sand-pipers, and other cutting names were prev- 
 alent. Perhaps I thought these sayings smart, and in a 
 modest way indulged in them myself. But when I saw its 
 shores for the first time, after my year of journeying, I was in 
 no mood to indulge in or tolerate the cheap wit of former days. 
 It was the verge of my native land, and I welcomed its un- 
 picturesque, low-lying shores as the threshold of my home. 
 
 Soon the shores of Long Island came in view, and, passing 
 by Governor's Island, we steered through a labyrinth of ship- 
 ping, and at last the " Northern Light " was moored at her 
 dock, just above the Battery. Now came the hurry and con- 
 fusion of landing, after which, forcing themselves through a 
 noisy array of hackmen, runners and porters, my thousand 
 shipmates scattered and parted forever. 
 
XXII. 
 
 ^rj n.eco @/o^^' 
 
 RED-LETTER day in the annals of New York 
 sharpers is the advent of a California steamer. 
 Hardly is the vessel telegraphed before a fleet of 
 pilot boats start out to meet her, each anxious to be the lucky 
 one which is to act as her escort and be the recipient of her 
 pilotage fee. The boats are furnished with packages of circu- 
 lars, mainly of hotels, boarding houses and clothing stores, 
 and these are scattered broadcast over the steamer as soon as 
 opportunity offers, and are eagerly read by a community 
 whose literature has been so rare as that on our vessel. Solo- 
 mon Levi's statements in regard to the merits and cheapness 
 of his clothing are absorbed, without their truth being ques- 
 tioned, by people who look upon them more as a mental enter- 
 tainment than as schemes for entrapping the unwary into 
 shoddy dispensaries. Peter Hash's account of his luxurious 
 parlors. Sybaritic dining halls and gorgeous dormitories are 
 enjoyed like romances, and so are the descriptions of the Ori- 
 ental accommodations of the Occidental Hotel. Weakened by 
 such mental pabulum the passengers go on their way, weary 
 with their long journey and full of excitement at the prospect 
 of landing. Wistful are the looks which they cast upon the 
 city, with its scenes of busy life, as the steamer nears the 
 
 (300) 
 
 J 
 
IN NEW YORK. 301 
 
 wharves ; but glances more eager meet theirs from the crowd 
 of human hyenas and vultures which line the docks ready to 
 pounce upon their prey as soon as it is within reach. Hardl}^ 
 is the vessel made fast before the anxious seekers for whom 
 they may devour, despite the efforts made by officers to pre- 
 vent them, are mounting the deck, and with insidious smile and 
 lying tongue plying their vocations. The hotel runners are the 
 first to greet you, and these keep up a sort of guerilla warfare 
 until you emerge from the wharf on to the street. Kunning 
 the gauntlet of these worthies you are next set upon by a 
 fierce and noisy array of cab drivers. These assail you from 
 all sides with whip and tongue, and you may thank your 
 lucky stars if you pass this ordeal without being impressed into 
 one of their flaming chariots, in which you are carried one 
 square, all for the sum of four York shillings. The feelings 
 of one of these sons of Jehu were so outraged by my not ac- 
 cepting a ride in his phaeton, along with some deprecatory 
 remarks I made, that he off'ered to " lick me for a quarter," 
 which coin not being to spare I was let off. Passing these 
 characters you next come on to a legion of young porters who, 
 for fees as small as themselves, agree to carry your luggage 
 to any part of the city. These, the light infantry of the army 
 of sharpers, are very tenacious, and grabbing your gripsack 
 will only leave you on threats of summary punishment. 
 
 Passing successfully these inner defenses of the city you at last 
 reach your hotel. Now, you think, " I liave passed the troubles 
 incident to the invasion of an enemy's country, and ' I will take 
 mine ease in mine inn !'" 
 
 Innocent man that you are, don't you know that the steps 
 of the returned Californian are dogged by persistent mercena- 
 ries from the time he sets foot on the soil of Gotham till he 
 leaves it, lightened in purse and spirits ! Hug no delusive 
 fancies. Hardl}^ have you emerged from the bath-room and 
 barber-shop before you are met by a gentlemanly-looking 
 
802 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 man, with a winning address and an elaborate necktie, who 
 has seen your exit and patiently awaits your entrance. He is 
 a Count D'Orsay in manners and appearance, and is well 
 calculated to come the confidence game. Endowed with a 
 deep knowledge of human nature, he has noticed your green- 
 ness, and he will profit thereby. Meeting you with a bland 
 smile, he will grasp your hand like an old acquaintance and 
 tenderly inquire after his friends in California ; for, in nine 
 cases out of ten, your confidence man has been to the land of 
 gold, and such is his knowledge of localities there and your 
 greenness that his lies are credited. Getting much interested 
 in your welfare, and seeing your somewhat shabby attire, he 
 makes you the recipient of gratuitous warning and advice. 
 He cautions you against numerous clothing store agents, who, 
 taking advantage of the condition of your wardrobe, and ap- 
 pealing to your pride to get it replaced by an array of their 
 cheap but elegant wares, will try to decoy you off to their 
 Fulton Street dens, there to take you in and swindle you. 
 With a face beaming with benevolence and urbanity he warns 
 you to keep out of their clutches, and, self-sacrificing proto- 
 type of the good Samaritan that he is, he ofi'ers to conduct 
 you to where you will get your money's worth. He is not at 
 all interested in the clothing emporium ; oh no, not he ; he is 
 interested in you and does not want to see you swindled as he 
 was when he returned from California. Being much taken 
 by his Christian deportment you accompany him, for it would 
 be ungrateful to repay his kindness with mistrust; so, arm-in- 
 arm — walking exemplification of the fact that new-made 
 friendships are as strong as old-established ones — you pass 
 from the hotel. As you proceed you meet scattered units of 
 the clothing agent gang, and these, true to the predictions of 
 your Damon, wantonly assail you with their business cards 
 and offers of safe conduct to their respective stores. Keeping 
 you close under his protecting wing, your friend scowls 
 
IN NEW YORK. 
 
 303 
 
 fiercely at the skirmishers on your flank, whom he severely 
 anathematizes. The latter, also growing interested in you, 
 return his compliments and give you the assurance that you 
 are in the hands of a noted swindler, who will not leave you 
 until he gets your last penny. Your friend shakes his fist 
 and breathes defiance and devotion till your admiration is 
 unbounded. Being clad in verdure as well as in seedy cloth- 
 ing you do not observe Damon exchanging sly winks with 
 his apparent foes between his expletives. As yet you do not 
 know that they are all of one family. Boldly rescuing you 
 from the hands of your tormentors, Damon triumphantly 
 bears you onward, discoursing familiarly on surrounding 
 objects. The building is closed or he would take you through 
 the Tribune ofiice. Why, did he know Horace Greeley? 
 Intimate with him ; queer man was Old Greeley ! Anon, we 
 pass the Tribune's antipode, the Herald. He knows " Old Ben- 
 nett," too. We would go through there if it was'nt shut up ; 
 so we will have to forego the pleasure. You soon emerge into 
 Fulton Street, that paradise of cheap clothing stores. Elbow- 
 ing yourselves through the rival merchants thereof, your 
 escort takes you to the store and introduces you to the pro- 
 prietor. They have a private conversation which, in all 
 probability, has reference to your innocence and how far the 
 merchant can swindle you without exciting suspicions. Hav- 
 ing been away from the East so long that you hardly know 
 what honest prices should be, you do not know how much 
 you have been financially bled, neither do you observe your 
 companion getting his "price of blood" in the shape of a 
 heavy per cent, on the goods you have been buying. Gather- 
 ing up your purchases you depart for your hotel, pleased with 
 the deportment of New Yorkers in general toward strangers, 
 and of your friend in particular. 
 
 Speaking in the first person, I will say this is no fancy 
 sketch, and that when I came to look over the purchases I 
 
304 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 had made, that I might look like a civilized being on my 
 arrival home, I felt disgusted with myself that, after all my 
 worldly experience these sharpers could throw such a glamour 
 about themselves that I could not recognize them in their 
 true characters. I have come to the conclusion that to see the 
 world which I saw, while a person may gain in some kinds 
 of experience, he is the more easily made the dupe of those 
 who stay at home and study human nature for what they 
 can work out of it. These rogues seem to exert a magnetic 
 influence over those who come in contact with them, for in 
 my case I had read enough about the " Peter Funks " to have 
 not been imposed upon. 
 
 There is another personage pursuing the same calling 
 whom you will be apt to come in contact with. This is a 
 venerable gentleman with a placid countenance, who comes 
 the benevolent dodge also. He, of course, has a son in Cali- 
 fornia — they all have sons or brothers there — a good son, who 
 sends him a remittance by every steamer. He says he is in 
 easy circumstances and keeps a clothing store, where he can 
 exercise his benevolent propensities by selling raiment to 
 returned Californians at less than cost. Charmed with your 
 kind old friend, you accompany him to his den, where you 
 are sold with what you buy. 
 
 The thimblerigger, the pocket-book dropper and swindlers 
 of other kinds should receive passing notices, but I pass over 
 their claims, though they were always with us, to treat of 
 an adventure two of us had with some " Peter Funk " watch 
 dealers. 
 
 My comrade had been some years in California, where he 
 had gone through the varied experiences befalling mining 
 life, finally graduating at Fraser River, so that he was any- 
 thing but a greenhorn. P'or myself, if I had not seen any 
 of the doings of New York sharpers I had read and heard of 
 them, and both of us considered ourselves invulnerable to 
 
IN NEW YORK. 305 
 
 their attacks. At the gullibility of " Peter Funk's " victims 
 we had marveled much. 
 
 During a promenade on the Battery — where we had seen 
 the pocket-book dropping and other games played with 
 mingled feelings of pity and contempt for the victims, and 
 with much respect for our ability to withstand the seductive 
 wiles of New York sharpers — we took a stroll up Broadway. 
 When opposite the City Park our attention was arrested by 
 the loud cries of an auctioneer who was selling watches at a 
 great sacrifice. 
 
 " Here," I said to my friend, " is a ' Peter Funk ' shop in 
 full blast. Let us go in and see how the simple-minded 
 country people are swindled." 
 
 My remark was overheard by a man standing at my elbow, 
 and a remarkably honest-looking person he was, too. 
 
 " You are mistaken, sir," said the latter. " The Peter Funks 
 have all been cleaned out by the police. These gentlemen 
 do a perfectly legitimate business." 
 
 This, of course, was sufficient. It would not do to impugn 
 the motives of a man like our informant. His whole manner 
 betokened what is known as God's noblest work. His gray 
 hairs, his mild eyes, his general appearance stamped him as 
 a man of probit}^ 
 
 The bidding, now that our attention was drawn towards 
 the shop, grew fiercer and louder. Watches were rapidly 
 knocked off* to innocent-looking gentlemen who had a mania 
 for them. They seemed a good thing which they could 
 not get enough of. Our new-found friend at last caught the 
 infection and made spirited bids at what the auctioneer 
 called " a splendid, full-jeweled, gold hunting watch," one of 
 an imported lot which had just been sold at a great sacrifice 
 by the custom-house officials to pay duties. Our man soon 
 ran it up to twenty dollars, at which price he got it. He then 
 went up to the clerk to pay for it, but could only raise fifteen 
 
306 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 dollars. The clerk assumed a particularly angry look and 
 said, with an oath, to the buyer who seemed ready to sink in 
 his boots with fear: 
 
 " What did you bid on that watch for when you knew you 
 could not pay for it and when we might have sold it to the 
 next lowest bidder and got the cash. Get out of the way, 
 hay-seeds, and give me that watch." 
 
 The buyer was taken all aback by this rude rebuff. He 
 humbly returned the time-piece and begged pardon. But he 
 was inconsolable for the loss of his bargain, which was again 
 put up and bid on with renewed interest. I never saw people 
 so crazy for a watch. As each bid was put on our new 
 acquaintance acted as if he was having a tooth pulled. Com- 
 ing up to my shipmate he said : 
 
 " Come, won't you buy it ? I'm a watchmaker myself and 
 live in Jersey City. I am putting up at the Astor House, 
 where I left the rest of my money. The watch will go for 
 twenty dollars, buy it and come over with me and I will give 
 you thirty for it. Oh, it's too bad they wont let me have it." 
 
 He then turned to the clerk and implored him to wait until 
 he could get his money. The actuary told him not to bother 
 him with his foolishness, while the auctioneer went on with 
 his intonations. Thus shabbily treated the case of the would- 
 be buyer was becoming pitiable. The contortions of his face 
 betokened a man in the first stages of colic. We felt sym- 
 pathy for him and detestation for the others. My shipmate 
 was at last induced to buy the watch, being assured by the 
 auctioneer that if it was not all he represented it the money 
 would be refunded, and was the possessor of it for twenty 
 dollars. I need hardly say that, wrapped up as I was in the 
 transaction, I envied him his bargain, on which he would soon 
 make ten dollars. On looking around for the watchmaker he 
 was gone ; his appealing face no longer met our eyes. The 
 amount of the matter was, he was a " Peter Funk," and my 
 friend had been swindled. 
 
IN NEW YORK. 307 
 
 But he had his remedy, for did not the auctioneer say that 
 if the watch was not all he represented he would refund the 
 money? We inspected the thing and found its odor as 
 brazen as the face of its late owner; so we went back to 
 the shop, which was almost deserted, the auctioneer and four 
 or five persons being all that remained. One of these, a 
 staid, portly old gentleman, with gold glasses, cane and shiny 
 hat, who said he was a jeweler, asked to see the watch. 
 
 Taking us to one side he said it was worth but a few dollars, 
 and that we would never see the Jersey City man again. My 
 shipmate, in wrath, went to the auctioneer, who had stopped 
 his noise while trouble was impending, and demanded that he 
 should redeem his promise, as the watch was not what he 
 represented it to be. 
 
 " Aha !" said Peter Funk, who was now coming out in his 
 real character, "you won't catch me asleep. I said, 'if ifs not 
 all I represent it.' But I took good care not to represent it at 
 all. So, my friend, you had better keep quiet and leave the 
 store." Our last acquaintance now came forward to our 
 rescue and said : 
 
 " Gentlemen, take my advice ; these rascals have swindled 
 you and you will never get your money back. The best thing 
 you can do is to exchange your watch for a good common 
 silver one, and make no fuss about it. I am a judge of 
 watches and will see that you are not cheated this time. 
 So don't make fools of yourselves again by calling in the 
 police, as no one will believe your story." So here was 
 another " Peter Funk." 
 
 Turning from him we renewed our talk with the auctioneer, 
 who would not notice us. Angry for allowing ourselves to be 
 so duped we, for I was standing by my friend in his trouble, 
 resolved to checkmate the swindlers, even if our stay in the 
 city should be delayed by bringing the matter before a police 
 court ; so, giving the watch into my keeping, my shipmate 
 
308 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 started for an officer. Thinking he was only feigning, Peter 
 told him to go ahead, but, seeing him in earnest, he called him 
 back and agreed to refund the money. He was going to deduct 
 the " usual commission of two dollars and a half," but threats 
 of another sally after the police brought him to his senses, 
 and he gave back the whole amount and ordered us away. 
 
 Repassing in a few moments we saw the machine in full 
 running order again, stool-pigeons and all, and with the 
 requisite amount of raw material lying around for working 
 up. They seem to separate and get together by magic. 
 
 Such is the experience of two persons who prided them- 
 selves on their knowledge of the world. The truth was that 
 we were completely under the influence of the Peter Funks, 
 as was shown by the sequel. If those cognizant of their tricks 
 are thus swindled, why wonder at the number of uninformed 
 strangers who are duped by these knaves ? A kind of spell 
 seems thrown around you, and forgetting all former advice 
 and experience you unconsciously allow yourselves to be 
 drawn into the snares set for you, to come out shamefully 
 
 swindled. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Enjoying the hospitality of New York for two nights and a 
 day, as I could not leave sooner, I left on the morning of May 
 30th, and before noon came in sight of the Delaware River — 
 a stream familiar to me from my earliest recollections, but 
 which I had not seen for thirteen months. A ride of twenty- 
 three miles and old landmarks around Lumberton became 
 visible, and with the depressed feeling, which we sometimes 
 experience more when nearing home after a long absence in 
 distant lands than when leaving it, I came in sight of the 
 old mill, river-landing, lumber-yard and quarry, and all 
 which made up the little village where I passed my life. 
 Soon traversing the winding valley of the Cuttalossa, which 
 the sinking sun was fast throwing in shadow, my old home 
 
IX NEW YORK. 309 
 
 came in view from its forest setting, and here I found the 
 home-circle intact and well, and glad to see the sun-burnt, 
 rough-clad wanderer back; while our Irish handmaid voiced 
 a generous welcome, and Nero, the dog, who unlike his proto- 
 type of ancient Greece had not forgotten his Ulysses, gave 
 him the freedom of the house with bark and whine and 
 demonstrative wag of tail. I also learned how easy a thing it 
 is to compass sea and land, thinking of the wonder and 
 admiration you will create, and then, when returning to your 
 starting place, find what a transient splash you make when drop- 
 ping in the social sea. For awhile the questioning conversa- 
 tional billows meet answering waves, which ebb and flow and 
 bear you into prominence on their surges; then, through 
 familiarity, weariness or lack of curiosity, these subside to the 
 faintest ripples, until the returned traveler finds himself of no 
 more nor less account than those who remained at home satis- 
 fied with the contentments which every-day life brings forth. 
 And this is as it should be. If the expectations of all would 
 be realized who seek prominence, there would be so much 
 commotion in the world that any other than a hum-drum 
 existence would be suppressed by penal enactment. 
 
XXIII. 
 
 (^oncfuAior^. 
 
 ' CONCLUSION " naturally belonging to a book as 
 much as a " Preface," I hitch one on to A Califor- 
 nia Tramp. It is a little like a rear locomotive 
 on a difficult grade, placed there to help take the train-like 
 chapters through, although in this case the hind engine is 
 ahead ! 
 
 These travels involved a journey of seven thousand miles 
 by steam, thirteen hundred on foot and eight hundred of 
 alternate riding and walking, and a period of something over 
 a year. As far as the accumulation of what moths corrupt 
 and thieves break in and steal are concerned, they were a fail- 
 ure ; but otherwise, in spite of what I passed through, I would 
 not have missed my experience for all I might have gained in 
 the most prosperous venture in the time employed. 
 
 Thirty years ago, with the exception of a few settlements in 
 Eastern Kansas and the Mormons living in Utah, in the country 
 between the Missouri and the gold regions of California, inde- 
 pendent of the Indians, who were either wild and murderous 
 nomads or under the influence of white traders, who brutalized 
 them further with " civilized " ways, there were no inhabitants 
 but the soldiers, traders and hunters, and the outlaws which had 
 been driven thence from the States for their crimes. Many of 
 these last were with the Indians, and were the cause of much 
 
 (310) 
 
CONCLUSION. 
 
 311 
 
 of the trouble between them and the whites, whether as settlers 
 or emigrants. On our school maps the great bulk of the land 
 was marked desert or mountain, and a journey amid its savagery 
 and that of the two and four-footed animals which roamed 
 over it could not fail to interest an observant traveler. 
 
 Then game was abundant. The buffalo in countless num- 
 bers traveled north and south, as the seasons came and went 
 and pasturage invited them to g;reener and richer fields, and 
 deer and other animals were in plenty. Now, except in the 
 National Park, the bison is unseen and other game is rarely 
 met. Their Indian hunters, then untrammeled by reserva- 
 tions, in war-paint and fully armed, roamed free, and trading- 
 posts were scattered over what are now farm lands and mining 
 camps. Such is the country I traveled over, and whose 
 description I have tried to make interesting to my readers. 
 
 In a foot-note I alluded to the valley extending from San 
 Bernardino towards the coast, then a lonely mountain-walled 
 plain, where patches of chaparral alternated with semi-desert 
 and rich prairie, so sparsely inhabited that in forty-five miles 
 I saw but two ranches, but now traversed by a railroad 
 and dotted with towns, whose people are crazy over specula- 
 tion in town lots. I will add two other changes: one is the 
 passing of the land along the forks of the Platte from apparent 
 sterility to productive farm land; the other, the transformation 
 of the south branch of the river, from its appearance as shown 
 on page 59, to a bed of sand and stagnant pools in summer. 
 Of course, during the melting of the mountain snows the river 
 is as wild as ever, but at the same time of year that we crossed 
 it the change is as stated. This is caused by the irrigating 
 ditches leading from it to water the ranches on the flats above. 
 To think of the river we splashed through, sometimes up to 
 our waists, in 1858, capable of being crossed dry-shod in thirty 
 years seems unreal. There are other changes less striking 
 which I will pass over. 
 
312 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 I would like to say something more of my comrades of the 
 plains; those rough, unsympathetic fellows whose toils and 
 hardships I shared so many eventful months. After our 
 separation I never heard of one of them, although our num- 
 bers ranged from thirty to sixty — doubling after our second 
 train was coupled on. On my arrival home, a half year from 
 the time we parted in Salt Lake, I wrote to one or two Mis- 
 sourians whose localities I knew, but, either from their inability 
 to '' read writing " or disinclination to start a correspondence, 
 they never replied. The addresses of the only two I was in- 
 terested in, " Scottie " and Finlay, I did not know. The former 
 I have sufficiently alluded to ; of the last I will say a word or 
 two more. He was a Canadian by birth, a fact he wished con- 
 cealed from his companions, for fear of their prejudice, al- 
 though his sensitiveness soon gave way to contempt. He was 
 a youth of intelligence and should have known better than to 
 have started on such a journe}^, lacking the ability as he did 
 to bring himself down to the circumstances around him in 
 the way of associating with his mates and adapting himself to 
 rough work. Gentle in appearance he was plucky to the verge 
 of science. His brother ox-drivers, who were disposed to 
 criticize his mode of handling a whip and managing his cattle, 
 he could not tolerate, holding himself aloof from them ; yet 
 at times I have known him to unbend until he was quite 
 familiar. I remember one time in particular when he put his 
 arm in an affectionate manner around a " Piker's " neck, and 
 getting his head in a vise-like grip, gave the "bull-whacker" 
 such a pounding for an unseemly remark he made that he 
 bawled for mercy. I mention Finlay now, as I have before, 
 as being the only congenial friend I had in the train, and 
 when through sickness he turned back at Fort Kearney, I felt 
 a loneliness and isolation the rest of the journey which can 
 only be understood through a knowledge of my surroundings. 
 
 An overland journey to California now cannot be compared 
 
CONCLUSION. 313 
 
 to what it was thirty years ago, when the traveler and his 
 friends bade farewell, doubting if they would ever meet again. 
 Now, in the comforts of sleeping and drawing-room cars, with 
 all his wants prepared for in advance, his itinerary marked 
 out and his hotel bills and carriage hire paid, he smilingly 
 starts on his way and in a week is at its end. Then, if an 
 emigrant, for two months it was an alternation of march and 
 guard duty, or, if he traveled as I did, a journey of six months 
 when every day in the w^eek was utilized, and when those of 
 an inquiring turn had no chance of satisfying their minds of 
 the doings of the great world outside except what they saw in 
 stale papers at forts and trading-posts, or heard from chance 
 travelers they met. Owing to my limited chances I could not 
 keep a continuous diary on my travels. On the route to Salt 
 Lake we suffered so much from daily hardship and nightly 
 loss of sleep that, in my short vacations, I felt more like rest- 
 ing than writing, so would have to wait and fill them up 
 wholesale when storms or accident gave me a chance. On 
 my arrival home I re-wrote and amplified these notes and 
 published, all up to my California experience, in a local paper, 
 not feeling able to place the result in book-form, as I wished. 
 
 Does the present work have that necessary adjunct, a 
 Moral ? True, many readers do not care for such, but are 
 satisfied to skim over their readings, careless whether their 
 morals are good or bad. In my tender youth, w^hen I read 
 iEsop's Fables, I always "skipped " the Morals as too ponder- 
 ous for my understanding, being satisfied to revel in the talks 
 and actions of apes and foxes, wolves and lambs, lions and 
 asses and other impossible conversationalists. But some read- 
 ers look for results independent of the pleasures of transient 
 perusal: some good to humanity coming from the author's 
 experience. 
 
 When "Two Years Before the Mast" was written the author 
 obtained more than the popularity it created, although it is as 
 20 
 
314 A CALIFORNIA TRAMP. 
 
 much of a modern classic as Robinson Crusoe. His narrative 
 of a sailor's hardships and helplessness when in foreign lands, 
 under a tyrannical master, resulted in the passage of laws for 
 the protection of poor Jack. So I have faith of greater bulk 
 than a mustard seed that some good may come out of this 
 literary Nazareth ; not from the book generally, but from the 
 part devoted to my California experience. May not those 
 who have been fortunate enough to read this narrative look on 
 a tramp as something more than an absorbent of odors, more 
 or less Arabian, a lodgment for dirt, and an incipient incen- 
 diary in case his wants are not supplied ? May not ruralists, 
 who are in a position to employ help, change their views in 
 regard to them ? When in the stables the alternate thrums 
 in the milk-pails cease ; when the plowman musingly halts at 
 the shad}^ end of the furrow, and in the kitchen the rattle of 
 dish-washing stops under your Abigail's manipulations, may 
 not the imminent chiding words be withheld ? Will not such 
 favored readers reflect that these helpers may be employing 
 their borrowed, begrudged intervals in studying up points for 
 some forthcoming book in which their employers' virtues or 
 demerits will be aired in the coldest of type ? Will they not, 
 in awe, remember that the tramp may be an embryotic author — 
 a " cliiel amang them ta'en notes," to be printed for their pleas- 
 ure or misery in proportion as the}^ treat him ? 
 
 So, with the hope that at least this much good may result 
 from my literary venture, I close. But I hope for more : that 
 the foregoing recital of my travels over a country so changed 
 since I made my pilgrimage, a generation ago, may have an 
 interest created by the narration alone, and that the reader 
 will be wiser when he comes to the 
 
 End of a California Tramp. 
 
Later Footprints; 
 
 OR, 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS SKETCHES 
 
 Prose and Verse 
 
Egbert Kenderdine, 
 
 From a Photograph taken in 1863, before leaving hospital 
 for the front at Fredericksburg. 
 
ket©f^e§ ir^ ^PO§e 
 
 f?o€>erf J^eriiLerSLine. 
 
 S FAR as the writer can learn, this young soldier 
 was the only native of Bucks County who lost his 
 ^^ ^^^ life in the battle of Gettysburg. This, irrespective 
 ^considerations of kin and friendship, makes his short career 
 entitled to record; and there are other reasons for writing this. 
 Thousands of the voters of to-day were born since the war. 
 They know nothing of this terrible time, save as they hear of 
 it through the survivors of the struggle. They who were 
 opposed to the war, and those seekers for office who are anxious 
 to keep from their number such claimants for popular favor as 
 men who had saved their country from ruin, are telling these 
 young men that the war being over, the issues that brought it 
 on are dead, and recollections of the animosities of the strife 
 should be buried with it. This involves the forgetfulness of the 
 participants in that strife. The survivors of these are getting 
 fewer and fewer. Their deeds should not be hidden by plausible 
 platitudes. Three hundred thousand of their comrades Avent 
 down to death, without hope of reward, that we might have a 
 united country. Typical of these was Robert Kenderdine. 
 
 He was born in 1841. In his school days, as well as after- 
 ward, he was a diligent student and reader. Before the age 
 of nineteen he was a writer of verses and descriptive prose, 
 and a participant in those debates which of old were common 
 at the cross-roads school houses, and in which, for his age and 
 
 (317) 
 
318 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 experience, he showed rare argumentative ability. At nine- 
 teen he commenced teaching, which he followed until he 
 was twenty-one years old, with the exception of two terms 
 at institutions, were he went to better fit himself for that 
 work. When a lad at school he was noted for his peaceful 
 disposition and for his avoidance of those disputes which the 
 average juvenile covets to show his prowess. In a school 
 where the children of Friends formed a small per cent, he 
 used the plain language to all, his thee and thy being addressed 
 impartially to canal boy and to his more refined playmates. 
 As he grew to manhood and the clouds of Civil War were 
 breaking over the land, his friends little dreamed that he 
 would ever be part and parcel of the bloody strife. He was 
 admired by his acquaintances and reigned in the social circles 
 around him. He was apparently enjoying life, and it was not 
 thought by the unobservant that his patriotism would go 
 beyond the lip service, with which so many lovers of their 
 country served it. But as the trouble deepened and it became 
 more and more apparent that the fighting done was but the 
 preliminary skirmish of a prolonged and deadly war for physical 
 mastery, wherein one of the sections must go down ; when 
 they who enlisted for a holiday were getting appalled at the 
 work before them ; when stay-at-home advocates of the war 
 became timorous lest they might be called on to practice their 
 preachings, and were trying to make themselves believe they 
 could serve their country best at home ; when opponents of 
 the war were chuckling at their little gatherings, over the dis- 
 asters that followed one another through the spring and fall 
 of 1862 — then they who knew Robert Kenderdine knew that it 
 was only a question of time, and that a brief time, when he 
 would lay aside his peaceful ways and congenial studies and 
 join in body as well as in mind the soldiers who were fighting 
 for their country. He debated the matter long and well. There 
 was the unwillingness of his family that he should enter a 
 
ROBERT KENDERDINE. 319 
 
 career so fraught with danger, as well as hardship, which his 
 health would not be likely to encompass; there were the pangs 
 he felt to part with his loved pursuits and the society of his 
 friends. On the other hand, he argued that his life was 
 worth no more than another's ; that they who talked should 
 act; that while men with families were going to the front he 
 should not hesitate. While he reasoned, there came the re- 
 verses to the Union armies before Richmond. 
 
 Those were dark days. We hear of the discouraging out- 
 look for the Union cause just before the victories of Vicksburg 
 and Gettysburg. But it could not have been more gloomy 
 than during the days following the defeats of McClellan and 
 Pope in '62, nor result in more depression among the loyal. 
 Faith in the Army of the Potomac was near gone, and enlist- 
 ments were slow. The heyday of the war was over. Many of 
 the soldiers were returning, but not from expiration of term of 
 service. Some were sick from the malaria of the Chickahominy. 
 Some had lost an arm, others a leg, and once in a while, by 
 express, would come an ominously shaped box with " Honor 
 the Brave " stencilled on the top. It was a grand exhortation, 
 but the inanimate form within was poor capital for a recruit- 
 ing-officer. So also were the empty sleeves and trouser-legs, 
 and fever-wasted forms of the others. But these times, while 
 they depressed the many, made the few resolve to consecrate 
 the lives, which they had hitherto withheld from the sacrifice, 
 to the service of the country. 
 
 At that time patriotism meant more than advocating the 
 war, willingness to bear a share of its costs, encouraging en- 
 listments, or even enlisting expecting only to help garrison 
 forts around Washington, or to repel State invasion. Serving 
 the country meant not standing up for it alone; it meant 
 standing up in line of battle as a mark for Confederate rifle- 
 men or cannoniers, with the questionable compensating privi- 
 lege of making targets of these rebellious marksmen. Many 
 
320 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 said when the Capital was in danger, they'd go; others, that 
 they'd prove their zeal when the State was threatened. But 
 when they saw Washington escape impending danger, these 
 people guessed the State would get along all right without 
 their aid; besides, it wasn't right for just the loyal people to 
 go. Let the Government order a draft, and make all do their 
 duty; then they'd go sure. Many wouldn't hesitate a moment 
 if it were not for their families. Wives who in ante-bellum 
 times were without control in the doings of their husbands, 
 had suddenly became possessed of restraining influences; sons 
 became dutiful, and swains yielded to the solicitations of their 
 sweethearts when requested to keep out of the cruel war. 
 It's no fun to die for one's country, in spite of the Latin maxim, 
 and those who in the sober, second thought hesitated, were 
 excusable. But they knew some must go ; and now that it is 
 all over and the country saved, they should honor and apjDre- 
 ciate those who saved it. 
 
 Among those who enlisted in those troublous times was 
 Robert Kenderdine. His arguments for and against the neces- 
 sity of personal service were drowned in the appeals made by 
 the imperiled Nation. Through bad management, jealousy 
 among officers high in command, or weakness of numbers, our 
 armies were reeling back towards Washington, and it was time 
 for those who had hesitated to enlist to do so now. So one 
 day while he was spending his vacation in a distant State pre- 
 paratory to teaching again in the fall, and when it was thought 
 he had given up the intention of enlisting, a letter came stat- 
 ing that he had joined Collis' Zouaves. In a few days he came 
 home, when his family, finding opposition no longer availing, 
 did what they could to make his departure pleasant. One 
 thing to make them better reconciled was that Captain Elliot, 
 whose company he joined, was a man to inspire confidence, 
 while the company itself was composed of exceptionally good 
 material. Besides, three of his home acquaintances soon joined 
 
ROBERT KENDERDINE. 321 
 
 him, which was evidence that he would have friends in time of 
 need. Unfortunately, through discharge and death, he was 
 soon bereft of these, but he made many friends in the company 
 and regiment to take their places. General Pope had been 
 defeated, and his demoralized army was moving northward, 
 endeavoring to screen Washington from Lee's flanking army. 
 It was a time of the most intense anxiety to the National 
 authorities, and all of the available troops in the North were 
 hurried to the Capital. Among these were the Zouaves, though 
 their organization had not been perfected. 
 
 They broke camp at Nicetown on the night of the 31st of 
 August, 1862, and reached the Volunteer Refreshment Saloon 
 in the morning. From here they marched to the Baltimore 
 Depot. Like the rest, Company F occupied a box car, fitted up 
 with rough board seats. Leave-taking from accompanying 
 friends was over, and with the depression which fills the hearts 
 of departing soldiers, no matter about the outward appearance 
 of unconcern, the Zouaves were soon on their way to the seat 
 of war. At Newark, Delaware, an accident occurred, resulting 
 in the death of Mordecai Ryan, one of the group of Bucks 
 County boys who tented together, the others being Thaddeus 
 and Joseph A. Paxson,* Robert Kenderdine and Pierson 
 Kitchen. In reckless or forced merriment the soldiers were 
 loudly singing their camp songs. Mordecai, a tall, good- 
 natured youth, was sitting in the doorway, his long legs 
 swinging in time to the noisy song he was shouting. Suddenly 
 he was thrown from the car, his feet having been struck by a 
 coal-bin they were passing. There being no bell-rope, a young 
 Zouave was lifted to the top of the jolting car, and by running 
 along the tops of the cars he reached the engine, and the train 
 was stopped some three or four miles from the scene of the 
 accident. Reversing the engine, they found the poor fellow on 
 
 * Dr. Paxson, of Philadelphia, who died in the Spring of 1888. 
 
322 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 the track dying from his injuries. So the first violent death 
 of the 114th was not to have the fiery romance of battle to 
 surround it, but was to result from contact with a prosaic coal- 
 bin. The dead soldier was the son of a widowed mother, and 
 to her home, as his friend and tent-mate, Robert Kenderdine 
 bore the mortal remains of poor Mordecai, while the rest went 
 sadly on their southward way. 
 
 Until after the invasion and retreat of Lee in September the 
 Zouaves lay around Washington. When Stuart made his raid 
 through Maryland to Chambersburg, and near to Gettysburg, 
 in October, they were marched back and forth along the shore 
 of the Potomac, in a vain attempt to intercept the retreat of 
 that successful cavalry leader. To reach one ford they marched 
 thirty miles, and retraced their route after guarding it thirty 
 minutes. This service was hard on these raw troops. One 
 night Robert's company of eighty-nine men got into camp with 
 but sixteen, but he wrote proudly back that he was one of 
 them, nor did he discard his knapsack, as did many. With 
 chafed limbs and blistered feet, the rest had sunk exhausted 
 by the way. Still the remainder got in before morning. When 
 the march was ordered again the men thought they could not 
 move, but sixty-four got in line and started on their hopeless 
 search for Stuart. Hither and yon they dragged their wearied 
 limbs, through dust and mud, in sun and rain ; hard usage 
 for a boy whose life had been a succession of study and teach- 
 ing, and which was unacquainted with hardship. Still he 
 wrote home cheerfully, and speaking for himself and two home 
 comrades, the third having been discharged, said they were in 
 good spirits. But the last march was more than he could bear. 
 After an exhausting day marching in the rain he laid down at 
 night in his drenched clothes. In a few days word came from 
 Poolsville he was down sick. His father and brother-in-law, 
 Eastburn Reeder, at once started for Maryland, that they might 
 bring him home, but when they arrived at Poolsville the 
 
ROBERT KENDERDINE. 323 
 
 army had crossed to Virginia, taking the sick along. Fearful 
 of rebel raids the whole country was in a ferment, so the two 
 were sore beset to get anywhere. The farmers whom they 
 induced to carry them to different fording points did so reluc- 
 tantly, fearful of the capture of themselves or teams. They 
 finally effected a crossing near Edward's Ferry, where they 
 followed the route of the Federals. At Leesburg, in four miles, 
 they came up with the sick, and under an orchard tree they 
 at last found Robert, wrapped in a blanket, on the bare ground 
 and unable to rise. 
 
 The hospital tents soon came up and were pitched, when 
 hay was spread on the ground and the sick carried thither, 
 and made as comfortable as possible. They were afterward 
 removed to the public buildings. These had been used by the 
 Confederates for the sick and wounded. They were in a filthy 
 state, and the sick removed there fared worse than when in the 
 open air. The surgeons were without proper medicine and 
 food for the sick, who were dying daily for want of them. 
 Strong efforts were made to get permission to remove Robert 
 to Philadelphia, but with the unreasoning perverseness which 
 officials clothed in a minimum of red tape often show, they 
 
 were unnoticed. E then made a journey to the Friends' 
 
 settlement at Goose Creek, six miles from Leesburg, to find a 
 home for Robert, as he was not likely to live where he was. 
 He was successful, and the invalid, with permission of the 
 medical director of the hospital, was removed to the hospitable 
 home of Rachel Hoag. Under changed circumstances, Robert 
 was soon past danger. While here rebel raids were imminent, 
 and thinking it prudent to leave for fear of capture, E. at 
 once started north. He was refused a pass by our authorities 
 and forbidden to leave, but he made his way into Maryland, 
 unmolested by either of the combatants, and got home safely- 
 The day after the rebels made their appearance at the Friends' 
 settlement, and made inquiries for the new-comers at Hoag's ; 
 
324 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 in particular for E. Reeder, and were chagrined to find him 
 gone. They then asked if there was not a Federal soldier in 
 the house. They were taken to where Robert was lying in bed. 
 They remarked he was a very sick man, but made him prisoner, 
 and paroled him. A parole for a sick man meant a chance to 
 get home and exemption from service until exchanged ; but 
 Robert protested and demanded the officer's authority. He, 
 however, signed the necessary papers and the rebels left. 
 They were surly at first, but in the main acted kindly, as did 
 several of the Leesburg people. Secessionists though they were. 
 Many kindilesses did the sick soldier and his friends receive at 
 their hands, when the hospital people were powerless to help. 
 Robert, in less than two weeks, was able to be removed from 
 his kind Virginia home, and was brought to Philadelphia, 
 where he arrived on the 19th of November. Here he remained 
 in the hospital, with the exception of a short time spent among 
 his friends, until the 10th of February, 1863, when he was 
 exchanged, and his health being in a measure restored, he 
 was again ready for service in the field. 
 
 There were excuses for his remaining behind. Through a 
 medical friend in the hospital he could have been detailed as 
 clerk where he was. For this there were plenty of precedents. 
 Many scholarly patriots joined the Union forces, only to find 
 after they had tasted the danger of army life awhile that they 
 might he valuable adjuncts to some quartermaster, commis- 
 sarist or medical director. Sometimes they were detailed in 
 the War Department. They got what they thought themselves 
 fitted for when they could command the required influence ; 
 in such cases they kept out of harm's way till the close of the 
 war. Robert had their chances, but he took no advantage of 
 them. He was too proud to retrace one step. He had joined 
 the army to fight, or he would have remained in the better 
 position of hospital clerk. And if he did not appreciate 
 the hardships of a soldier's life when he enlisted, he knew them 
 
ROBERT KENDERDINE. 325 
 
 now, when they had brought him nigh to death's door. He 
 knew the change from a dainty diet to the rough and some- 
 times scanty fare of the soldier ; from a life of ease to a series 
 of long marches, followed often by picket duty, and the drudg- 
 ery of life in camp or in the trenches. He knew what it was 
 to be sick, without the care we give our dumb animals at 
 home. So when one night, at 11 o'clock, with his squad of 
 convalescents he heard the hospital gates clang behind him, 
 and marched through the dark streets and chilling air to take 
 the cars and rejoin his old comrades, he knew what was before 
 him. His description of his " March to the Regiment" was at 
 times pathetic, although his arm}^ letters were full of noble 
 resolve, of hope for the future, and scorn for those who at home 
 were making rear attacks on the defenders of the Union. As 
 the little band marched through the cheerlees streets on their 
 way to fresh devotion and sacrifices for their country they were 
 watched like convicts. A friend accompanied Robert until the 
 surly guard warned him away. At the station the group sat on 
 the curbstone until the train should leave. Travelers descended 
 from carriages and sought the warmth of the depot. The ladies, 
 as they glided by the Boys in Blue, gathered their skirts closer 
 that they might not be defiled by contact, while their escorts 
 glanced sidewise as if they were looking at beings of a difterent 
 race from themselves. And they were not wrong if they thought 
 so. Better the humblest private than the citizen, no matter 
 what his talent, wealth, station or profession of godliness, who 
 would pass him by without an encouraging word or sympa- 
 thetic thought. 
 
 Boarding the train the ride to Washington w^as made partly 
 in a box car. Some of the soldiers w^ere drunk, and Robert 
 spent much of his time in endeavors to keep them from falling 
 out of the car. He stopped awhile in the Capital to visit some 
 friends. One of these w^as as the comforters of Job. He was 
 an intense patriot at the beginning of the war and joined the 
 
326 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 army. Battle and march had taken off the keen edge of his 
 devotion to country. He got detailed to a clerkship. When 
 he saw Robert after his experience going to the front again, 
 he laughed at him for his verdancy in not getting out of the 
 army when he had a chance. Robert felt contempt for such 
 an expression from one who had professed so much in his time, 
 but for all that it made him feel badly. 
 
 He passed down the Potomac to Acquia Creek, and thence 
 by rail to Falmouth, opposite Fredericksburg, where he found 
 his regiment ; but not his tent-mates. By death and discharge 
 they were gone. While he was awa}^ the battle of Fredericks- 
 burg had been fought. It was a dull winter day, snow was on 
 the ground, and the company streets were swamps of mud 
 when he arrived. The sight was not one to raise his spirits, 
 but he entered into his duties with a firm resolve to serve his 
 imperiled country to the bitter end. 
 
 He missed the assault on the height of St. Marye and the 
 glory thereto attached, but there was plenty of work yet to do ; 
 and glory, for that matter. On the 3d of May came the battle 
 of Chancellors ville. It Avas a sad da}^ for the 114th ; from the 
 screening thickets came bullet and shell, till one hundred and 
 seventy -three of their number went down — all their officers but 
 eight. Captain Elliot, the loved commander of company F, 
 here died a patriot's death. Robert was grazed by a bullet, 
 but he came out of the fight safe. 
 
 Another defeat to add to the rest of its disasters for the 
 Army of the Potomac. More chuckling among the opponents 
 of the war ; more satisfaction among deposed generals and 
 their friends ; more worriment for Lincoln ; more weeping and 
 wailing for the dead, and the end of it all hidden by gloomy 
 clouds. But there were brave hearts left, and the Army of 
 the Potomac would yet fulfil its mission. The thinned bat- 
 talions, after a short rest, were again in motion. This time to 
 the North, for Lee was marching on Pennsylvania. 
 
ROBERT KENDERDINE. 327 
 
 After the disaster at Chancellorsville the Third Corps 
 had returned to Roscobel, near Falmouth, where they lay 
 when the order to march came. With it went the 114th, its 
 ranks depleted, but the soldiers not discouraged. On the 11th 
 of June this regiment reached Hartwood Church; on the 12th, 
 Bealton; on the 14th, Manassas Junction; on the 17th, Centre- 
 ville ; on the 19th, Gum Springs. On the 25th the regiment 
 crossed the Potomac at Edward's Ferry, which was familiar 
 ground. On the 26th they reached Point of Rocks. On the 28th, 
 Woodsboro, where General Sickles joined them. On the 29th, 
 Taneytown, and the 30th, a point near Emmettsburg. 
 
 The weather was warm, and from the passage of such an 
 army the road was deep with dust, which choked the men 
 and horses and made marching difficult, but the army bore 
 up well. Robert kept up with the best of them. He could 
 not be surpassed on a march. He had become a hardy 
 soldier. The battle he had been in had tested his courage 
 and he had borne it well. He was inspired with confidence. 
 His health and spirits were good. He was on his way to his 
 native State, on whose soil he was ready to offer up his life a 
 sacrifice, and he felt ready to do and dare to the utmost. 
 
 There was not much variation in the series of alternate 
 marches and halts, for in the time between Falmouth and Get- 
 tysburg the Third Corps marched, on an average, but one day 
 in two. The watching for Lee, whose destination was not 
 manifest, and the effort to cover Washington from his attack, 
 made Hooker's progress slow and cautious. The monotony of 
 the day's march was relieved by the sight of camps they passed 
 by, as the corps moved alternately, or by the galloping by of cav- 
 alry or artillery seeking the whereabouts of the enemy. Then 
 there was the fording of streams, the camping when the day's 
 tramp was over, the camp duties and the weary night on 
 picket. It took from the 5th till the 30th of June to reach Get- 
 tysburg. 
 
328 
 
 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 Captain Giveii, of Manayunk, gave me the following con- 
 cerning the action of the regiment after the 1st of July. From 
 his position he saw but little of Robert in the fight, being on 
 the non-commissioned staff. He was an intimate friend, and 
 had served in the same company until promoted : 
 
 " On the afternoon of July 1st, 1863, we reached Emmetts- 
 burg, Maryland, from Bridgeport ; halted for a rest, when it 
 began to rain. This continued until near dark. Soon word 
 came to fall in, which we obeyed in quick order, and proceeded 
 through the town. A mile outside we began to hear the fir- 
 ing of a cannon. This came from the fight between Oak 
 Ridge and Cemetery Hill, as our men were falling back to the 
 protection of Steinwehr's guns. We were then hurried 
 faster. Our overcoats, which many of us carried, became 
 heavy, and we began throwing them away. A farmer was 
 driving rapidly from the battlefield with his family in an 
 open farm wagon. I asked him if he wanted an overcoat ? 
 He said ' No ! but I will keep it for you.' It being a good one 
 I threw it to him. Robert disposed of his the same way, and 
 we hurried on toward the sound of battle. We were in good 
 spirits, laughing and joking, although wet to the skin. I 
 remember Robert was as cheerful as any. It was about sun- 
 down when we reached the point on the Emmettsburg road 
 where we fought next day — little knowing that here so many 
 of our boys would fall. This was at the Sherfey House, then 
 of no more note than any one of the many farm-houses 
 around, and at the next house beyond turned to the right. In 
 this, then a low, one-storied log structure, lived a man who 
 Avas sitting in the doorway nursing a baby as we marched 
 hurriedly by. I thought how soon he would be getting 
 out of that. The next day that log-house was a fort, and 
 I don't think that man and baby was part of the garrison. We 
 marched across the fields and were posted on the Ridge north of 
 Round Top. The firing had now ceased. The remnants of the 
 
ROBERT KENDERDINE. 329 
 
 1st and 11th Corps, which since morning had battled the greater 
 part of the rebel army on Seminary Ridge, were now lying 
 tired and bleeding on the hills south of the town, which was 
 full of the enemy and the prisoners they had captured in 
 the side streets of the town. It was now dark. The day's 
 battle was over and we were getting ready for the morrow. 
 Before daylight we were moved from the Ridge to a point near 
 the Emmettsburg road. [This movement forward of the 3d 
 Corps is what General Sickles is blamed for.] Here we lay, 
 face to the earth, until afternoon, supporting Randolph's bat- 
 tery, subjected to a fearful cannonade. At first the shells 
 went far beyond, but the gunners shortened the fuses and they 
 dropped in front and over us. Robert lay with us during this 
 terrible time, but was not hurt. We had several wounded here 
 from bursting shells. While we lay there Lieutenant Buck- 
 lyn, who commanded the battery, came among us. He asked 
 who had charge of that regiment ? As is often the case at 
 such times, there w^as no especial one ready to answer ; but 
 when he said, ' If you expect to save my guns, you must charge 
 now,' we were all ready. The pioneers were sent ahead to 
 cut down the fence along the Emmettsburg road, and they 
 went at it with a will, but before they accomplished their mis- 
 sion the enemy was upon them. James Priest was whacking 
 away at a post when a bullet struck it. He thought that 
 maybe the men could climb the fence that was yet up and 
 went back. A pioneer's lot is not a very happy one. It is 
 not so bad to be shot at when you can reply in the same lan- 
 guage, but to be a target for riflemen and nothing to defend 
 yourself with but a weapon as short-ranged as a common axe, 
 is not very exhilarating fun, neither is after-service in the 
 hospital. There seemed to be no order given, but we ad- 
 vanced with a cheer, and double-quicked to the Emmettsburg 
 road. Through the fence where down, and tumbling over it 
 anyhow where the pioneers had left their work unfinished, 
 21 
 
330 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 we reached the road and were in the thick of the fight. This 
 was in front of the Sherfey House. 
 
 " How long we fought here I cannot tell. In battle a per- 
 son has no real conception of time. We crossed the road, and 
 I remember myself standing in the path leading to the 
 house directing some of the men what to do. Of course, all 
 was excitement. I remember that in many cases the fighting 
 was hand to hand. It was a desperate battle. Men never 
 fought with so much determination as did our little band. 
 Eobert fell not far from here, just to the left of the Sherfey 
 House. The boys were falling all around me. I was almost 
 beside myself as I beheld my comrades' vain effbrts to rally. 
 We had to fall back, although very reluctantly. Night 
 came on, and with it came the 5th Corps, when we, a little 
 band of sixty-five men, all that was left out of four hundred 
 and seventy-three who went into the fight, gathered near the 
 foot of Round Top where we lay until morning. We were 
 afterward posted near the Devil's Den, when we were served 
 with rations, the first in forty-eight hours, except a barrel of 
 flour we bought of a farmer on the morning of the 2d. We 
 were soon hurried to the support of the 2d Corps, on the 
 Ridge, who were getting ready for the coming assault of Lee. 
 We were posted in the rear of the Philadelphia Brigade. 
 Pickett's charge was in our front. We helped repel it, but 
 lost no men there. On the night following, our pickets ad- 
 vanced to the Emmettsburg road whence we were driven the 
 day before, leaving the dead and wounded behind. I took a 
 detail of men and reported to a captain in the 26th Pennsyl- 
 vania, who had charge of the burial squad. I will here men- 
 tion a curious circumstance. While he and I were talking near 
 the road, he stopped and picked up something which proved 
 to be two musket balls — one a Union, the other a rebel. They 
 had met in mid-air and welded together. We could distin- 
 guish them by the rings, the former having three, the latter 
 
ROBERT KENDERDINE. 331 
 
 two. If the captain is alive he has them yet, no doubt. At 
 any rate the statement is correct. 
 
 " There are many things I could relate that come to me only 
 when my mind dwells upon that battle, or when persons seek 
 from me information concerning it. 
 
 " I remember a circumstance which impressed itself on my 
 mind very forcibly, particularly as I had never seen women 
 assisting amid the horrors of a battle-field before; neither 
 have I since, for that matter. The remnant of our regiment, 
 in coming off the field at the Sherfey House, became detached 
 from the brigade (Graham's). About 3 in the morning I was 
 sent to look for it. I saw a light in a large barn, went to it, 
 inquired and found it a hospital. And such a sight. In the 
 centre was the amputation table. Under and around lay 
 arms, hands, legs and feet, till it looked liked a human 
 slaughter house. Blood covered the table, the floor w^as 
 slippery wdth it ; the dim flicker of candles cast a sickly glare 
 on the surroundings, making the sight the ghastliest I ever 
 saw. To this was added the agonizing moans and cries of the 
 w^ounded and dying ; while over this was the roar of cannon 
 and shriek of shell, occasioned by an advance of our lines. I 
 turned away and entered the yard. On a stretcher lay an 
 ofiicer in his last agonies ; two companions knelt by his side ; 
 while the enclosure was full of dead and dying. I turned 
 from these and saw two ladies, evidently a mother and 
 daughter, administering to the wounded. All night long 
 these faithful women bathed and bandaged their wounds, fed 
 and cheered the poor fellows, or soothed their dying moments. 
 I do not believe they deserted their posts, though shot and 
 shell w^ere beginning to fall and burst around. I did not have 
 long to stay. I hastened away from the awful sight ; took the 
 little remnant of the Zouaves to the brigade, and was soon 
 again in the heat of battle. 
 
 " Early on the morning of the 4th I went out to our picket 
 
332 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 line with a detail to bury the dead. Just as I reached 
 the Sherfey House I saw two men, not Zouaves, carrying 
 Eobert out of it on a stretcher. He looked badly and was suf- 
 fering much from his wound. His clothing was torn, and he 
 seemed to have had no care taken of him since the battle, near 
 two days before. I asked him if he was wounded badly. He 
 said, ' Oh, yes; I am very badly wounded.' That was all he 
 said ; for they were carrying him oflP, and I was busy with my 
 awful duties; but the look he gave me I will never forget, it 
 was so sad. 
 
 " Sergeant DeHaven, who was killed by my side with a ball 
 through his heart, and who was a neighbor of mine, lay dead 
 in the pathway. I sat down and cut his name on a shingle, 
 and put it at his grave, where he was buried with five Con- 
 federates, and sent word to his sorrowing wife. His body was 
 removed, and with six others of our company now lies in our 
 village cemetery. The rude headboard seems to have been 
 wrongly placed, for when the removal took place it was at the 
 head of a buried rebel. The dead sergeant was, however, 
 found at his side. From the conflict of battle they were sleep- 
 ing the peaceful sleep of death together. 
 
 " Robert was a man who was much liked and respected ; 
 very kind and always willing to do a good act ; to sacrifice 
 himself for the good of others. I have always looked upon 
 him as an ideal American soldier, brave, intelligent and a 
 gentleman in word and deed ; ready to fight for his country 
 without hope of reward, save the consciousness of having 
 done his duty." 
 
 Sergeant H. H. Snyder, now of New York, was with Robert 
 when he fell ; both being in the color guard. The line— if such 
 a confused mass could be called a line, when, without a head, 
 some in the house, some in the yard, some back of the barn — 
 the regiment was fighting, had fallen back to the road. The 
 guard was in advance of the colors, defending them to their 
 
ROBERT KENDERDINE. 333 
 
 utmost. The enemy was working around to the Emmettsburg 
 road and were flanking the left of the line at the peach orchard. 
 Snyder saw one of Barksdale's Mississippians, known by their 
 broad felt hats, taking aim at him from the corner of the barn, 
 for the little band around the flag was so thinned and scattered 
 that preferences could be distinguished. The rebel fired, and 
 Robert fell mortally wounded. Snyder fired at the Missis- 
 sippian at once, but missed him ; a comrade drew on him with 
 better luck, for the rebel fell apparently dead. All was con- 
 fusion now. The enemy was swarming around the house and 
 in front of the Zouaves ; two of their cannons were run into 
 the road and Avere raking our troops with an enfilading fire, 
 and the last of them were retreating. Robert, who was left 
 lying in the road close by where the monument now is, called 
 to one of his comrades, but he had gone. Sergeant Snyder 
 answered for him, and bidding him good-bye retreated with the 
 rest. This was about 6 o'clock. 
 
 Until the morning of the 4th the enemy held this ground, 
 so that there was no chance for the Federals to aid their 
 wounded until then. The latter were taken to the field 
 hospital on Rock Creek, east of Round Top ; Robert among the 
 rest. His wound was necessarily mortal. We were fortunate 
 in meeting a comrade, James H. Priest, who was with him to 
 the last, and did all he could to make him comfortable. His 
 father, after making two attempts, at last reached Gettysburg 
 early on the morning of the 10th. After much difficulty, he 
 found him in a tent with a number of wounded. Robert 
 recognized him for the moment, but soon wandered off* in the 
 delirium which had clouded tis mind since his arrival from 
 the battle-field. It had been thought by his friends that had 
 proper care been taken of him he might have lived, but the 
 best of care could not have saved him. He died on the 10th 
 of July. 
 
 His mission was accomplished. He had offered his life to 
 
334 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 his country, and it had gone out in the whirlwind of battle. 
 As he lay dying, the enemy were fleeing from the pursuing 
 Federals. The meadows and hills they had fought to con- 
 quer were ridged with their graves. Thousands of his coun- 
 trymen were yet to die and suffer, but the turning point had 
 come. The Union he fought for was to be saved. 
 
 The curtain had dropped ; the tragedy was over. He who 
 had lain so long, suffering and in delirium, in sight of that 
 rocky height which he had defended, now slept his last sleep 
 in his death-tent under the shadow of Round Top. Those 
 eyes were no more to reflect the fire of battle ; those lips to 
 give forth cheering words to faltering comrades ; those limbs 
 to move in the execution of the dread duties of a soldier. That 
 mind, that form, those features had found rest. No more the 
 morning bugle call would arouse him to his daily duties, nor 
 nightly tattoo close them. With so much to live and hope for, 
 alas ! that it should be so ! 
 
 He died a common soldier ; in his case a symbol of disin- 
 terested patriotism. From his shoulder gleamed no star, nor 
 eagle, nor leaf; neither double nor single bar. He bore not 
 even the insignia of a sergeant. He had campaigned and 
 fought for a year. He was loyal, brave and intelligent ; but 
 when they bore him from his last fight, the sleeve of his torn 
 and battle-stained Zouave jacket showed only the chevrons of 
 a corporal. But better this humble token of rank than the 
 triple stars of those generals who, with jealousy and envy, 
 sulked in their tents, mute to the appeals of their sore pressed 
 comrades. 
 
 A common soldier ! All praise to the man who carried the 
 musket. He reaped scant comfort while living ; he had no 
 separate monument when dead. From the grave of the 
 colonel or general sprang a shaft blazoned with his deeds. 
 The private soldier had, as far as public recognition went, a 
 hundredth part or so of one of those granite columns which in 
 
ROBERT KENDERDINE. 335 
 
 the North arose from city square or village green. 'Tis true 
 he had, when through some fortuitous circumstances his 
 battle-gashed body reached home, a stone at his head in the 
 graveyard of his native village which his comrades could 
 annually decorate. But more than that, and better than 
 mural marks were the memories of the gallant deeds done in 
 his devotion to country, which perennially bloomed in the souls 
 of those who saw him go forth to the sacrifice. In the words 
 of that beautiful poem, " The Man with a Musket," 
 
 " I knew him ! By all that is noble I knew 
 This commonplace hero I name ! 
 I've camped with him, marched with him, fought with him too 
 In the swirl of the fierce battle flame ! 
 
 * * * * 
 
 I knew him I tell you ! And, also, I knew 
 
 When he fell on the battle-swept ridge, 
 That the poor battered body that lay there in blue 
 
 Was only a plank in the bridge 
 Over which some one should pass to a fame 
 
 That shall shine while the high stars shall shine. 
 Your hero is known by an echoing name, 
 
 But the man of the musket is mine ! " 
 
 The body of the young soldier was brought home and buried 
 in the beautiful yard fronting the Friends' meeting-house 
 where he attended in his peaceful days. He died a soldier's 
 death. He was buried in the ways of the peaceful sect which 
 looks upon war with abhorrence. No battle-flag draped his 
 coffin, nor soft bugle notes nor muffled drum played a funeral 
 march to his grave. No platoon, with reversed muskets, went 
 before him ; no parting volley closed the scene. An aged 
 ministering Friend spoke a few consoling words over his re- 
 mains, and Robert Kenderdine was laid to rest amid the sor- 
 row of all Avho knew him, and now, 
 
 '' After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well ! " 
 
336 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 ZT has been shown that William Tell was a myth, and the 
 shooting of an apple from a son's head to save a father's 
 life a thread-bare reiteration, handed down through 
 generations of story-tellers. It has been demonstrated that 
 the account of the rescue of John Smith by the daughter of 
 Powhatan, which went undisputed for two centuries, existed 
 only in the mind of the narrator. It has been proven that 
 Whittier's poem of Barbara Frietchie was based on an act of 
 patriotic defiance which history does not corroborate. It is, 
 therefore, no wonder that John Burns, of Gettysburg, is re- 
 garded by those who look into the matter superficially, as a 
 fanciful creation, particularly when we reflect that it required 
 a poem to make his actions famous, and that there was a 
 probability of its being based on as unsubstantial a foundation 
 as was the story of the aged heroine of Frederick. That he 
 w^as not the " baseless fabric of a vision," but of as real flesh and 
 blood as a feeble man of seventy could be, and that Bret Harte 
 rather understated than overdrew the facts which connected 
 him with the Gettysburg battle, can easily be shown. Being 
 shown, let us remember, while honoring the memory of the 
 titled dead or living, who had such incentives to brave death 
 on the hills and in the meadows around that historic town, that 
 old John Burns, past the fighting age, and while his neigh- 
 bors were seeking subterranean seclusion from the gathering 
 storm, left his peaceful work, went amid our fighting lines, whose 
 movements were visible from his little home not a half mile 
 distant, and insisted on sharing the danger with veteran 
 soldiers, and w^ho fought until wounded past fighting. 
 
 The greater stress should be laid on the actions of John 
 Burns on that eventful day, because his was an isolated case. 
 
JOHN BURNS OF GETTYSBURG. 337 
 
 In all the raids and invasions north of the Potomac and the 
 Ohio we have no similar instance of a civilian leaving his 
 home to join our troops to fight the invaders. Even in the 
 pugnacious South such resistance, if it ever occurred, has not 
 been given prominence. That the act was Quixotic is not to 
 the point, and if it were, so were the actions of hundreds of 
 thousands who left wealth and comfort to risk hardships, 
 wounds and death, who owed no more to their country than 
 their stay-at-home neighbors. Apologetic spokesmen for his 
 townsmen, on the day of the fight, emphasize the fact that 
 ununiformed men found about a battle-field are liable to be 
 treated as spies if captured, and at any rate would be only in 
 the way; that if wounded they would draw no pension, and if 
 killed their heirs would not be benefited. If so, and assum- 
 ing that Burns took this into account, all the more credit is 
 due him. That he was cranky and unsociable goes for noth- 
 ing. He was boastful, and his unrepressed satisfaction at the 
 part he played would produce ill-natured remarks from his 
 fellows. This would create resentment and isolate him from 
 the rest of his neighbors. In fact, the people of Gettysburg 
 seem very sensitive to the non-fulfilment of the expectations of 
 unpractical persons, in that every able-bodied man did not 
 grasp his musket from the hooks over the fireplace and rush 
 out to meet the invaders, while their wives moulded bullets and 
 scraped lint. Mindful of this feeling, the guide tells visitors 
 that all men capable of fighting had already enlisted, and if it 
 were not so, and they had had the bravery to fight among our 
 uniformed soldiers, they would have been shot by the enemy 
 if captured. The truth of the matter is, that the capture of the 
 town was not the object of either army, but the destruction of 
 its antagonist was. Gettysburg, by accident of situation, was 
 where the collision occurred, and its men were no more obliged 
 to turn out in mass than those of Doylestown or Bristol one 
 hundred and fifty miles distant. They did go to the front 
 
338 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 about as much as the men of those two towns and no more. 
 While the shells bursted and the cannon thundered, the people 
 stayed in the cellars, and when the battle was over did all 
 they could to take care of the wounded. Still, I was^orry to see 
 a disposition among the people of the town to undervalue the 
 heroism of the only two citizens who risked their lives for our 
 cause — John Burns and Jennie Wade. In their humble ways 
 they were the hero and heroine of the fight, and epics might 
 be written on them, but their fellowmen and women, veritable 
 cave-dwellers as they were in that age, seeing how their exalta- 
 tion belittles themselves, persist in acting iconoclastic parts and 
 sneer at or tear to pieces the stories of the young girl and old 
 Scotchman. Some of these, knowing Burns is too dead to tell 
 his side of the story, say he was no more in the fight than 
 they were, which is making a very lamb of him, and what 
 scratches he had were self-inflicted ; that if he did get into the 
 fight it was either while he was drunk or else while he was out 
 hunting his cow. It struck me that the most Texan cow-boy 
 would not have dared the latter feat, and that a man who 
 would go cow-hunting on Seminary Ridge on the first day of 
 July, 1863, needed no further eulogy. As an instance of how 
 little some of the people knew of Burns, I will state that while 
 on the way from Carlisle I came across a hotel-keeper who had 
 lived in Gettysburg two years and had never heard of him. 
 To make the matter worse, this landlord kept a livery-stable 
 and furnished guides to show its patrons over the battle-field. 
 The home of 
 
 " The only man who wouldn't back down 
 When the rebels rode through his native town, 
 But held his own in the fight next day 
 When all his townsfolk ran away," 
 
 was a story and a-half house with a basement, over which hung 
 a platform reached by a flight of steps running up the front of 
 the house. It is on the extreme western edge of the town, 
 
JOHN BURNS OF GETTYSBURG. 339 
 
 where the streets slope down to the meadows, reaching to the 
 foot of Seminary Ridge, a half mile distant. Eight miles 
 westward is a ^yooded range, a part of the Blue Ridge, known 
 as South Mountain, beyond which is the Cumberland Valley. 
 Between this and the town is a rolling, diversified country, 
 dotted by farms and woods. Before the war we can fancy the 
 old Scotchman, in his hours of rest, looking from his cottage 
 across this peaceful stretch of country and enjoying its 
 beauties, but it is doubtful if he bothered his practical mind 
 much about them. After the invasion we can imagine with a 
 conviction that our surmisings were realized, how he felt when 
 he saw Early's dust-begrimed veterans take possession of the 
 town on the 26th of June, and begin levying tribute on the 
 startled citizens : how he met the sneers of his neighbors after 
 the horde passed through for not carrying out his warlike 
 threats; how he felt on the memorable 1st of July, when the 
 vanguard of the Federal army marched by his door to meet 
 the enemy thronging from the north and through the moun- 
 tain-pass on the west, and how his old soldier-blood fired his 
 heart as he saw the combat open; how, leaving his work, he 
 hurried to the front, while his subterranean neighbors gazed 
 wonderingly at him from their seclusion. 
 
 On the morning of July 1st, 1863, the greatest excitement 
 was developing in Gettysburg, on Seminary Ridge and the 
 valley of WiUoughby Run beyond. The enemy s point of 
 concentration was discovered, and it was known that his 
 advance was in such force that the impending conflict 
 between the armies of Lee and Meade must necessarily take 
 place near the town. The preliminary skirmish had begun 
 and, knowing its import, the commanding general was sending 
 reinforcements as fast as the exhausted condition of e 
 troops would permit. Here John Burns first comes on the 
 scene. At this time he was sixty-nine years old. In . 
 younger days he had been given to drink, and some of his 
 
340 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 townspeople, who admit that he fought the enemy on 
 Seminary Ridge, claim that he did it while he was so drunk 
 he did not know a Union soldier from a rebel. He was a 
 patriot and had been a soldier, and maddened by the sight of 
 the preparation for the strife, and the efforts of the citizens to 
 avoid it by flight or concealment, he got down his old flint- 
 lock, and putting his powder-horn and some bullets in his 
 pockets, prepared to take the field. Always bold and 
 determined, he was now full of passion. One who saw him told 
 me he would never forget him as he was that morning, when, 
 with rifle on his shoulder, he cursed every male non-combat- 
 ant he found above ground, calling them squaws, cowards and 
 " chicken-hearts," and similar names, and urging them to go 
 home and melt up their pewter into bullets and go and defend 
 their homes and firesides, but ceasing his unavailing oaths 
 and entreaties he joined the troops now hurried to the front. 
 
 The scenes and sounds around were intensely impressive. 
 There was the distant booming of cannon and rattle of musketry, 
 the smoke curling above the Ridge, the frightened country- 
 men fleeing to the dubious protection of the town, the cattle, 
 wild with terror, running and bellowing across the fields 
 until shot down by interrupting missiles, and the waves on 
 waves of infantry and artiller}^ rolling toward the scene of 
 battle and meeting and almost burying the influx billows of 
 wounded and demoralized men. Toward where the noises of 
 battle smote the air the loudest, with set teeth and furrowed 
 brow, marched old John Burns, neither looking to the left nor 
 right, unless to cast a professional eye on the worn foot-gear 
 of the tired soldiers, and, jostled by the armed throngs who 
 crowded b}^ him, he slowly worked his way to the summit of 
 the Ridge. 
 
 The Seventh Wisconsin Regiment was a part of the " Iron 
 Brigade," an organization which has a good record in the 
 campaign of the Army of the Potomac. In that brigade 
 
JOHN BURNS OF GETTYSBURG. 341 
 
 there were two other Wisconsin regiments, and the three 
 re-enlisted almost to a man at the end of their three years' 
 service, the thinned ranks being filled up by Indians from the 
 same State. 
 
 The commander of the Seventh Wisconsin in the first day's 
 fight at Gettysburg was John B. Callis, then Lieutenant- 
 Colonel, but afterwards made a Brigadier-General. He 
 had previously commanded his regiment in the battle of 
 Antietam, Second Bull Run and Brandy Station, and many 
 minor engagements. He was Southern born, and when, after 
 the commencement of hostilities, he offered to raise a company 
 of volunteers, his proposition was looked upon rather coldly 
 by his countrymen. His bravery during some of the heaviest 
 fighting in the East showed how unjust were the suspicions. 
 In Confederate General Hill's account of the battle of South 
 Mountain, in the Century magazine's war papers, I see mention 
 of General Callis' name and the severe losses of his command. 
 He was badly wounded at Gettysburg by a ball through the 
 lungs, and was left for a day on the field from which our 
 army had been driven during the first day's fight. He is still 
 almost helpless from this wound, partial paralysis resulting 
 therefrom. He is now living in Lancaster, Grant County, 
 Wisconsin. It is from him I got the particulars of the part 
 John Burns took in the battle of Gettysburg, my acquaintance 
 'with him coming through one of his men I met on the field 
 during a recent visit. 
 
 " On the 1st of July the ' Iron Brigade ' marched to the crest 
 of Seminary Ridge, south of the Seminary, where it drew the 
 unexpected fire of Archer's Confederate Brigade, this being 
 the first infantry firing of the battle, the previous fighting 
 having been by dismounted cavalry. Our brigade, not hav- 
 ing their muskets loaded, charged and captured the opposing 
 force with the bayonet, which took place at Willoughby's 
 Run. After sending the prisoners to the rear we re-formed 
 
342 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 parallel with the Run and sent our skirmishers to the front, 
 where continuous firing was kept up, with shot and shell 
 whistling and bursting around the main line. At this time, 
 about 11 A.M., I saw an object approaching from the rear, and 
 I think the oddest looking person I saw during the war. He 
 wore a bell-crown hat, a swallow-tail coat, with rolling collar 
 and brass buttons, and a buff vest. He had on his shoulder 
 an old rifle with which he came to a ' present arms/ and then 
 said: 
 
 " ' Colonel, is this your regiment? ' 
 
 " ' Yes,' I said. 
 
 " Then he brought his rifle to an order and said : 
 
 " ' Can I fight in your regiment ?' 
 
 " I answered, ' Old man, you had better go to the rear or 
 you'll get hurt.' 
 
 " And he replied, just as a shell burst near him : 
 
 " * Tut ! tut ! tut ! I've heard this sort of thing before.' 
 
 " These words were spoken in a tremulous voice. I again 
 ordered him to the rear, when he replied, ' No, sir. If you 
 won't let me fight in j^'our regiment I will fight alone.' I 
 asked him where his cartridge box was. He patted his 
 trousers' pocket, and said, ' Here's my bullets,' and, taking 
 an old-fashioned powder-horn from his pocket, ' Here's my 
 powder, and I know how to use them. There are three hun- 
 dred cowards back in that town who ought to come out of' 
 their cellars and fight, and I will show you that there is one 
 man in Gettysburg who is not afraid.' Just then some of the 
 boys began to joke him about his hat and to insist that he 
 should have a chance to fight. Sergeant George Eustis added, 
 ' Fix him up, boys. He'll soon get tired of it and go home.' 
 I at last yielded, and with the sergeant's help fixed him up 
 with a rifle we had just captured from Archer's sharpshooters, 
 and leaned his old squirrel rifle up against a tree. He was 
 given a cartridge box and belt, but declined to use them, and 
 
JOHN BURNS OF GETTYSBURG. 343 
 
 instead filled his pockets with fixed ammunition, after which 
 he went into the ranks. He soon grew restless, as the general 
 engagement had not begun, and advanced to the front towards 
 our skirmishers before he could see a rebel to shoot at. Pretty- 
 soon I saw a Confederate officer riding towards their advanced 
 line, mounted on a white horse. Burns drew on him and the 
 horse galloped through our lines without a rider. Whether 
 the officer was killed or not I do not know. The old man 
 loaded and fired away until I called in my skirmishers and 
 ordered my men back to the Seminary. In making this 
 movement I was wounded, mortally as I thought, and left 
 behind, our troops being gradually forced back. Consequently 
 that is all I know personally of Burns at Gettysburg." 
 
 Sergeant George Eustis, above referred to, is living in Gilroy, 
 California. I wrote to him for further corroborating informa- 
 tion in regard to John Burns. He says : " If any of those who 
 think that the old man took no part in the battle of Gettys- 
 burg had seen him on the 1st of July, 1863, they would change 
 their opinion. I can't tell just what time he came up to us, 
 having left my watch at home on the bureau that morning, 
 but it was after w^e had captured Archer's Brigade, and while 
 we were lying down in the timber to protect ourselves from 
 the shot and shell flying around, about noon, say, that I saw 
 a little old man coming up in the rear of our company, F. 
 I remember him well. He had on a swallow-tail coat, with 
 smooth brass buttons. We boys commenced to poke fun at 
 him, thinking him a fool to come up where there was so 
 much danger. I wanted to put a cartridge box on him to 
 make him look Uke a soldier, telling him he couldn't fight 
 without that. His reply w^as, slapping his pockets, ' I can get 
 my hands in here quicker than in the box ; I am not used to 
 them new-fangled things.' In answer to a question as to 
 what made him come up there, he said the rebels had either 
 milked his cows or driven them away, and he was going to be 
 
344 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 even with them. All this while the shells w^ere screamins: 
 and bursting over the protecting timber. About this time the 
 " rebs " began to advance. Bullets were whistling around pretty 
 lively. We hugged the ground closer and the old man got 
 behind a tree. He surprised us all by not taking a double- 
 quick to the rear, but he was just as cool as any veteran 
 among us. We soon had orders to move a hundred yards 
 to the right, and were shortly engaged in one of the hot- 
 test fights I was ever in. Foot by foot we were driven back. 
 We made our last stand at the Seminary, where we did good 
 work for a while and then retreated through the town to 
 Cemetery Ridge. I never saw John Burns after we moved 
 to the right. From some cause he did not follow, and we 
 left him with his gun behind the tree. I learned afterward 
 he was wounded in three places. General Callis was wounded 
 and left for dead on the field. 
 
 " On our retreat through Gettysburg I saw but one citizen. 
 This was an old man who brought a washtub out to his pump 
 on the sidewalk, and then pumped water for the boys as they 
 passed along. God bless his old soul ; I wish I knew who he 
 was that, if alive, I might thank him for his bravery and 
 kindness." 
 
 Dr. Horner, of the town, dressed the old man's wounds. 
 He informed me he was struck in the arm, ankle and breast, 
 the latter a trifling flesh wound. The assertions of some of 
 his townspeople that he ''merely got scratched among the 
 briars," therefore, will hardly stand. 
 
 Another incident in the life of the old hero I came across 
 recently. On the evening of November 9th, 1863, the day on 
 which Lincoln delivered his memorable words at the dedica- 
 tion of the Gettysburg monument, the President, accompanied 
 by his brother-in-law. General Todd, and a few other noted 
 men, attended a lecture. As the party entered the church in 
 which it was given, and were passing to the seats assigned 
 
JOHN BURNS OF GETTYSBURG. 345 
 
 tbem, it was noticed that a feeble, graj^-haired man was fol- 
 lowing them, as if disposed to intrude. As Lincoln and Todd 
 entered their pew the old man followed. Todd, noticing this, 
 said, "Old man, this pew is reserved for the President and his 
 party." This remark caused Lincoln to look around. Seeing 
 Burns, whom he knew, the President quickly said, " Why, 
 Todd, this is old John Burns, of Gettysburg. He fought all 
 day for the Union, for wdiich j^ou never fired a shot in your 
 life. Come here, John, and sit down by me." And there, 
 side by side to the close of the lecture, sat the greatest man 
 America has produced and the humble hero of its greatest 
 battle ! 
 
 Why Bret Harte, who is needlessly exaggerative, did not 
 work up the fact of the wounding of Burns, is hard to tell. 
 The poet seemed to have simply seized hold of the main fact 
 and elaborated it regardless of chronology. He says when the 
 fight was over, 
 
 " He shouldered his rifle, unbent his brows, 
 And then went home to his bees and cows." 
 
 As he fought on the first day it was not until two days after 
 that the enemy " Backward pressed, broke at the final charge 
 and ran." In fact, things looked pretty blue for the Union 
 cause for some time after Burns left the field on a stretcher 
 after turning the command over to General Meade. " The 
 clerks the Home Guards mustered in " were mythical, as he 
 himself intimates when he says Burns was "the only man 
 who would'nt back down." 
 
 The field on which John Burns fought is on the left as you 
 near the "Springs Hotel," about a mile and a-half west of the 
 town, and close by the grove where General Reynolds fell. 
 After he was wounded he was carried to his home, which was 
 the first house but one in Gettysburg as you enter by the 
 Chambersburg Pike. He was laid on a lounge in the front 
 
 22 
 
346 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 room until other arrangements could be made. While lying 
 here a rebel bullet passed over him and went through the 
 partition four feet from the floor. This hole is closed up by 
 pasting a piece of rag over it, but shows clearly how near 
 Burns got his fourth, and, in all likelihood, his coup de grace. 
 It was fired from a house filled with rebel sharpshooters near 
 the town, and was doubtless a stray shot, although Burns, 
 who had some conceit, always thought the rebels had a spite 
 against him for his defense of the town. He brooded over 
 this so long that he at last settled it as a fact that one of his 
 neighbors, whom he thought bore him malice, had told his 
 enemies where he lay, that a sure shot might be made. In 
 spite of his wounds Burns was not long in getting about. He 
 traveled around the country as an attraction to different gath- 
 erings, where the attention shown greatly tickled his vanity, 
 for which he was hardly accountable, as second childhood was 
 coming over him. After his wife's death he sold his house and 
 went to live with one of his friends, but he often returned, 
 thankful if the new owner would keep him a day or two at a 
 time. His mind was finally set on coming back to his old 
 home to there end his days, for which privilege he off'ered the 
 landlord all his pension money. The offer was not accepted, 
 and he died away from his little home from which he made 
 his sortie on the enemies of his country. 
 
 On the top of Cemetery Hill, in the graveyard adjoining the 
 National Cemetery, are two marble slabs. On the one is : 
 
 JOHN L. BUENS, 
 
 The Hero of Gettysburg, 
 
 Died February 4th, 1872, 
 
 Aged 78 years. 
 
JOHN BURNS OF GETTYSBURG. 347 
 
 On the other 
 
 BARBAKA, 
 
 Wife of John L. Burns, 
 
 Born June 15th, 1797, 
 
 Died July 1st, 1868. 
 
 '■ Thy word is as a lamp unto my feet 
 And a light unto my path." 
 
 It will be noticed that Barbara died on the anniversary of 
 the fight her husband made himself famous in. 
 
 They had no children, but left an adopted daughter, Jennie, 
 who lives with a family by the name of Martin, on the 
 " Diamond," as the central square of Gettysburg is called. 
 She was but two years old at the time of the battle. 
 * * * * 
 
 I have since re-visited Gettysburg and found additional 
 evidence that Burns was the patriot his admirers claimed him 
 to have been. I also saw the same disposition among some of 
 his neighbors to belittle him to strangers. They can scarcely 
 speak a good word for him, and it is the utterance of these 
 which make visitors believe he was what they term him— a 
 drunken braggart. As I have before said, he was at one time 
 addicted to drink, but he reformed, and the later years of his 
 life was a sober man. He had made effort to enlist at the 
 beginning of the war, but the recruiting-officer would not take 
 him, as he was then sixty-seven years old. I was told that he 
 served in the Mexican war, but it being afterwards contra- 
 dicted, as John led a double life in Gettysburg, it is hard to 
 say whether it is true or not. In gathering information about 
 Burns, it was a common thing for the second informant to 
 nullify what the first said. It is very evident he had been a 
 soldier at some previous time. He received a pension from 
 the Government for his day's work at Gettysburg up to the 
 time of his death. 
 
348 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 Shorn of all exaggeration the story of old John Burns, gray 
 with age, standing on Seminary Ridge among the veterans of 
 the Army of the Potomac, loading and firing with the best of 
 them, is a thrilling episode of the late war. By correspondence 
 with those with whom he fought, and who would naturally 
 recollect the particulars of an incident so unique, and by per- 
 sonal inquiry of those who knew him, I have obtained the 
 details of the deed which made him famous. 
 
 If what I have written will do anything towards perpetuat- 
 ing the memory of the citizen-hero of Gettysburg, and render 
 him less a mythical personage and more the gallant patriot 
 he was, it is all I ask. 
 
 
 ©If e >^iPfage ^tore, 
 
 7,^-^^ HANGE is written on all things mundane. Speak- 
 ing in a particular way of man, we see a series of 
 ever-varying changes, from red-faced infancy to 
 wrinkled old age. Noting the human race in general, we see 
 with what ceaseless mutations it has advanced, from the 
 grinning pre-historic ape of Darwin to the self-complacent, 
 self-assumedly perfect man of to-day. The seasons follow one 
 another in one endless, shifting succession. Empires grow, 
 flourish and decay. Kingdoms arise from the ashes of past 
 governmental conflagrations, flap their confident wings into 
 futurity, knock their heads against the rock of popular will, 
 and die. Republics — those synonyms of ingratitude — run 
 their too brief existence, pass away, and emerge in some 
 
THE VILLAGE STORE. 
 
 349 
 
 other form. The arts and sciences are continually varying, 
 their course being onward and upward. In manner of loco- 
 motion we have gone from the pack-horse to the lightning 
 train ; in modes of transmitting news, from the plodding mail 
 coach to the electric telegraph. In our habitations we have 
 advanced from the colonial log hut to magnificent residences, 
 with their wen-like bay windows, their mansard roofs, their 
 towers and their mortgages. The plain public buildings of 
 the olden time are succeeded by massive piles, which cost piles 
 as massive, and which an unconsulted posterity must pay for. 
 As before intimated, change and advancement are accompani- 
 ments of all things sublunary, with one exception, and that 
 is the Village Store. I have known this institution for over 
 forty years, and in that period there has been little alteration 
 in its outward and inward appearance, the mode of conduct- 
 ing it, and the personnel of its conductor and his patrons. 
 
 There was the hitching post with its well gnawed top ; the 
 porch filled up with dry goods, soap and candle boxes, and 
 the rakes, shovels and hoes piled up around the outside of the 
 door as of old. On entering the door there was the same 
 trim array of nail kegs to greet the eye. In them were the 
 different gradations, from the festive " three-penny-fine " to 
 the lordly " spike." Not so prominent to me now, but stand- 
 ing out then in bold relief, my first recollections of the grocery 
 store are in connection with the candy jars. Short-necked, 
 apoplectic fellows that they are, with their brass-capped heads; 
 there they stand, just as they stood in my boyhood's days, the 
 centre of attraction for juvenile eyes. Their contents don't 
 seem to have been disturbed. The one on the left is shotted 
 with " sour-balls," the next with mint stick, the next with 
 lemon candy, and then came a jar with "lickerish," followed 
 by another containing "secrets." These latter had printed 
 mottoes around them, as now, and were much aff'ected by the 
 youthful swains at school. These passed them over to the big 
 
350 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 girls, who received them with the conventional giggle. I 
 don't think the confectionery of the present age is equal to the 
 old-time article on the score of purity; there is so much more 
 chalk in its composition now. Among the eccentricities of 
 my childhood was a partiality for candy. When my parents 
 went to store my last request was for mint stick ; my first 
 inquiry after they returned was if they had got it. In vain 
 was the sanitary advice about its being unwholesome for 
 children ; vanity of vanities was it to try to curb the appe- 
 tite for it by the solemn assurance that it would rot out every 
 tooth in my head. That row of jars brings to my recol- 
 lection a singular conceit that took possession of my callow 
 mind during the Millerite excitement. Several of my school- 
 fellows, whose parents were firm believers in Millerism, had 
 impressed my mental faculties with the idea that the end of 
 the world was nigh, and that on a certain fixed day the human 
 race was to be extinct on earth. The speculation as to what 
 manner of means was to accomplish this filled my young 
 mind with terror, but I at last gathered consolation from the 
 possibility that one person might be left as a sample of what 
 w^as, and furthermore, that that person might be me. My 
 impression was that the earth would remain as it was, onl}^ 
 uninhabited ; the houses stand as they were, only tenantless ; 
 the stores — they were the prominent features — without store- 
 keepers ; and then, with no one to say nay, I would go for the 
 confectioner}^ ! No thoughts of my loneliness, or the fearful 
 silence which would prevail over the land in the suppression 
 of all animated nature, with my single exception, entered into 
 my philosophy. Neither did I draw comparisons between my 
 possible condition and the similar one of Macaulay's New 
 Zealander in depopulated London. The simple possibility of 
 a free range of the candy shelves of a deserted store absorbed 
 all other considerations. 
 
 On my right, as I enter, is the counter devoted to groceries 
 
THE VILLAGE STORE. 351 
 
 and sundry other articles. At its end, next the street, is the 
 powder and shot department. The sight of the powder-can 
 always inspired me with awe, and its possible explosion, 
 coupled with carelessness on the part of the boyish clerk, gave 
 me visions of flying tea canisters, paint jars, mouse traps, 
 clothes lines and the rest of the odds and ends usually found 
 in connection with the grocery department of a " well kept 
 country store." " A quarter o' powder, pound of shot," was 
 the sentiment generally given in by those seeking ordnance 
 stores, and was responded to by the storekeeper with the gravity 
 befitting a dispenser of those death-dealing articles. The scales 
 for weighing these were also used to balance tea, which was 
 proper, as one variety of the nerve-destroying herb was known 
 as " Gunpowder." Close by stand the balances which test the 
 weight of groceries, mackerel and nails. Over these the 
 customer of an inquiring mind leaned while his purchases 
 were tried in the balance. I could always estimate a man's 
 intrinsic moral worth by his actions at such times. Were he 
 unduly thrifty he would appropriate a piece of cheese before 
 the weight of it was announced ; if an " all, all honorable 
 man," he would wait till after and then gorge himself with 
 saccharine sweetness or that other production, the use of which 
 would make his breath smell like that of the lord-mayor of 
 Limburg. Mackerel, I always noticed, were never interfered 
 with by either class, but the former would generally inquire 
 if due allowance was made for the brown paper in which the 
 salty fish were wrapped. The considerate questioning of the 
 merchant sounds in my ears as it did in days gone by. " Do 
 you like a sharp cheese or a mild ? " " Will you have the mild 
 Rio or the strong ?" " How did that last tea suit? " were the 
 stock questions. When I was a boy the coffee was always 
 sold raw. Before being roasted it had to be picked of all 
 forei.iin matter. I have in my mind an old lady, of an 
 economical turn, who used to save up all this waste and return 
 
352 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 it to the store along with her old rags, which was not so bad. 
 There is the cellar door leading to the subterranean store 
 house, where were stored mackerel, butter, oil, molasses and 
 other moist goods. Into this cavern, and when he had no 
 clerk, the genius of the store went with reluctance, whenever 
 his customer was morally shaky. The tidiness of the house- 
 keeper was generally reflected in the molasses jug ; were it 
 streaky, she was a slattern ; if clean, a model housewife. In 
 old times " wallets " were in vogue, but I don't see them any 
 more. Many a time have I gone to the store with one of those 
 double-ended bags thrown over my shoulders, with a jug in 
 one or each end. Once, w^hen quite a lad, I went on horse- 
 back, with a wallet before me containing a molasses and a 
 vinegar jug, in which situation I did not make a bad repre- 
 sentation of a Tartar horseman on his road from the wars, 
 with his enemies' heads at his saddle bow. Arriving at the 
 store I laid them on the ground while I tied my steed, which 
 suddenly shied, and planting his feet on the frail receptacles 
 of those antipodal commodities, crushed them to atoms. The 
 only witness, beside my horse or myself, was an old lady 
 standing on the store porch, who aggravated me beyond 
 endurance by showing me a countenance wreathed in smiles 
 — for I was blubbering at a great rate over my trouble — but I 
 forgave her after my arrival home, when mother told me that 
 the apparent smile was nothing more than a chronic contrac- 
 tion of the facial muscles, which showed the same through 
 sunshine and sorrow ; and such I afterwards saw for myself to 
 be the case. The storekeeper soon came to my assistance, and 
 with a cheerfulness heightened by the sale of two new jugs, 
 soon had me straightened up. 
 
 There is the medicine closet as it stood of yore, but not' 
 filled as then. Where stand the stupefying " Mrs. Winslow," 
 " Pain Killer," '' Consumption Cures," and other compounds, 
 was an array of good old Thompsonian medicines; there was the 
 
THE VILLAGE STORE. 353 
 
 biting " No. 6," the fiery " Kian Pepper," the gingery " Com- 
 position," the nauseating " Lobelia," and other beverages. I 
 know them all by heart, for I have gone through the whole 
 course, and a terrible ordeal to my young mind and body it 
 was. These preparations would often drive away disease 
 without being administered at all. Often, when expressing 
 myself as too sick to go to school, miraculous cures have been 
 effected by a mere look at the burning drinks being prepared 
 for my recovery. Not that I loved to go to school more, but 
 that I liked " composition " less ! 
 
 And there is the show case, the contents a mercantile 
 museum, and its glazed lid still inviting guileless youth to 
 rest its elbows on it and break through. It didn't used to be 
 thought worth while to putty the panes of glass, so frequently 
 were they broken, and I observe they are still only tacked in. 
 As an inducement to the over-confiding and morally delin- 
 quent to invest in a grab, I see a ten-cent note pasted on the 
 under side of one of the panes. The standard mercantile joke 
 in specie times was to nail a counterfeit quarter to the counter 
 and thus tempt erring human nature with illusory hopes. 
 Varied the contents of the show case. Here the hired girl got 
 the bows, the ribbons and " balm of a thousand flowers " 
 wherewith to ensnare the village youths ; and here the latter 
 got the "galone" to besprinkle his handkerchief, and the 
 " bear's oil " to anoint his locks, both of which w^ere to make 
 him irresistible in the eyes of the aforesaid. There were eyes 
 for the blind in the shape of German silver spectacles, razors 
 for the unshaven, soap for the unclean and fish-hooks for the 
 fisher of fish. But what took my attention, when a lad, was 
 the knife department of the show case. First and foremost 
 among the collection was that vade mecum — the knife with a 
 dozen blades and other appliances, among Avhich were a cork- 
 screw, toothpick, file and gimlet. This, while it bewildered 
 me, was beyond my aspirations. There were knives of six 
 
o54 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 blades, knives of four blades, tbree-bladed knives, two-bladed 
 knives and so on by easy stages to that single-bladed affair, 
 the " Barlow " — why so called it is not known, probably 
 because Billy of that surname was the inventor. I don't see 
 them any more. They used to sell for ten and twelve cents, 
 and had blades of such villainous temper that a turnip would 
 almost turn their edges. They were, however, considered 
 good enough for little boys to lose, and were often bought for 
 them by thrifty parents in preference to lending them their 
 own .more valuable whittlers. I've not forgotten with what 
 consummate innocence a knife with a recently broken blade 
 was placed in the parental trousers by the youthful delinquent, 
 the ruptured ends carefully placed together, and the damage 
 not discovered until the knife would be next used. The 
 Barlow handle had a peculiar smell caused by the varnish or 
 stain with which the bone was covered, which I well remem- 
 ber. In order to test the temper of the blades we used to 
 blow our breaths on them, and note the length of time it took 
 for them to evaporate. I recollect that once, w^hile in the 
 Barlow stage of existence, and having just lost one of those 
 " toad stickers," as we called them at school, I w^as flattening 
 my nose on the show case of our store, looking wistfully at 
 some nice two-bladed knives, when the storekeeper asked me 
 if I didn't want to buy one. I told him yes, but "pappy" 
 wouldn't let me. " Ah," said he, shrewdly, " take it home and 
 show it to him and I guess he will." On getting there I 
 found the suggestion had been a good one, for my father could 
 not resist my importunities, and, besides, possession was 
 always nine points of the law. I recollect getting our man of 
 all work, Aaron White, to grind it for me, and my mother 
 calling excitedly to him not to make it too sharp. I also 
 remember his replying that he understood his business, and 
 have not forgotten that he made the knife so dull that the 
 softest pine was as seasoned oak. 
 
THE VILLAGE STORE. 355 
 
 I skip to the dry goods department, where the odorous 
 corduroy, the Kentucky jeans, which faded as a flower, the 
 flashy calicoes, whose colors were fast only in the sense of 
 speedily leaving the goods, and the muslins of more or less 
 bleachedness are stored. I pass under the array of dangling 
 boots, which hang like a cloud of leathery manna, ready to 
 descend on an unshod world whenever it should be deemed 
 worthy. I will say nothing of the part devoted to school 
 books, the shelves of which in my younger days were filled 
 with those time-honored works— Comly's spelling book and 
 grammar, Pike's arithmetic, Olney's geography. Parley's 
 histories, etc.— but hasten on to that part of the store where 
 evidences of our nationality sit enthroned in the post-ofhce 
 department. True, there is some change here, for in old 
 times envelopes were not thought of, and the postage was 
 rarely prepaid ; but the general appearance is just as it was 
 then. People who have no reason to expect letters make 
 daily inquiries for them, just as they used to, and the wearied 
 postmaster answers them as courteously as he can. The vil- 
 lage miss, who is lucky enough to get a letter, makes tlie most 
 of it, and after trying to find out who it is from by looking at 
 the post-mark, carefully opens it and reads it as she saunters 
 homeward on the public highway— the envy of the less for- 
 tunate maids. The business man, to whom letters are no 
 novelty, runs his forefinger into the envelope and rips it 
 open without ceremony. The man who don't take a country 
 paper begs one of his neighbor's out of the pack, and does 
 his best to get through with it before it is called for. 
 
 I pass from the stock of the store to the stock company, 
 which there plays its daily and nightly parts— from the in- 
 animate to the animate fixtures. First comes the head-centre 
 of the institution, the storekeeper himself. He is gray of hair 
 and whisker, but he looks no older to-day than when, a third 
 of a century ago, with my eyes on a level with the counter, he 
 
356 
 
 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 gave me my cent's worth of candy. Following so many years 
 behind his wake in the voyage of life I note few changes. 
 When I see new comers in the neighborhood buying goods I 
 see the same hesitancy apparent on his countenance as to 
 whether he should urge goods on them in anticipation of 
 sure pay, or whether to hang back from so doing in appre- 
 hension of being eventually victimized. I see with what 
 alacrity the burly, well-to-do farmer — the man who, as he 
 drives the fat oxen of Shrewdness and Contentment, is fat 
 in both purse and figure — is waited on, till the counter is 
 full of packages of dry goods and groceries. I observe how 
 the poor ne'er-do-well, who is always asking to have his pur- 
 chases "just marked down," is avoided. I still hear " there 
 is nothing made in groceries," and still wonder how the 
 venders of them live. 
 
 Then there were the boys who regularly graduated in 
 that store. From mere sweepers of the floor and dusters 
 of counters, from fishers of mackerel and drawers of 
 molasses and bungling Avrappers-up of packages, they have 
 become adepts in their business, and left the humble 
 scenes of their tutelage for positions in the city, or, having 
 capital at command, started stores of their own. They 
 were generally composed of lads who were too lazy to work 
 on a farm, and were the envy of their agricultural brethren. 
 Among us school boys a desire to 'tend store was rampant 
 within our souls. The duties of that vocation, in comparison 
 with our farm labors, loomed up so pleasantly before us that 
 it is no wonder we longed for a change of pasture on which 
 our young lives might feed. Often when engaged in the de- 
 tested occupation of stone picking, with the " spine of my back " 
 (query : is there any other spine?) bent double, and with legs 
 aweary with gathering our annual mural harvest, and my 
 system burning with spring fever, I have looked across the 
 fields toward the neighboring village and envied the new boy 
 
THE VILLAGE STORE. 357 
 
 that the storekeeper had just got. Not but what a yearning 
 toward the medical and dental professions occasionally took 
 possession of me, but a desire to 'tend store was uppermost in 
 my juvenile mind. The department devoted to the mackerel 
 and pork fisheries, the drawing of molasses and extracting of 
 oil from their respective casks — so detested by the novice be- 
 fore he is half through his probationary exercises and is a full- 
 fledged clerk — had no terrors for me. Even the clawing among 
 the contents of the nail kegs, with its attendant annoyances 
 of getting splinters of nails under your own, and tearing your 
 coat sleeves with the points of the "three-penny-fines," which, 
 after piercing the hoops and staves, come through on the in- 
 side, was as naught. The desire to be installed on the other 
 side of the counter, where I would be in a position to say to 
 the customers as they entered, " Well, what can I do for you 
 to-day?" to weigh out the toothsome sugar and mouth an 
 occasional lump, to poise the fragrant tea, to balance the rat- 
 tling coffee, to recklessly serve out the black gunpowder and 
 bright globules of shot, to wield the murderous cheese knife, 
 to sway the yard-stick sceptre over a prostrate array of rolls of 
 cloths, cassimeres and vestings, of muslins and calicoes, tapes 
 and laces ; to dispense the goods in the show case, to hand out 
 the contents of the post-office, and, above all, to sit on the stool 
 at the desk and "just charge it " — the desire, I say, to do these 
 things pervaded my being. Besides, the free run of the candy 
 jars was not to be lost sight of. 
 
 I recollect well when Bob Beeser, the son of a farmer neigh- 
 bor and about my own age, was promoted to a vacancy in our 
 store. The position had been for some time vacant, and I had 
 longed for it like L for the apple pie in the old nursery book. 
 I teased my father for the coveted position, but in vain. He 
 had higher aspirations for me, and Bob got the place. At 
 school I was not behind him : in truth, I was his superior, 
 both mentally and physically. Whether it was a 
 
358 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 the school grounds or in the spelling class, I could lay Bob on 
 his back. But as store-tender he seemed a head and shoulder 
 above me. When kind fate plucked him from the thorny 
 path of agriculture the jagged surroundings, seemed to have 
 torn off and retained his rough exterior, so that when she 
 landed him behind the counter he was etherialized, so to re- 
 mark, and, after being reclad in store-clothes, was in a world 
 beyond me. I remember, about two weeks after his instal- 
 ment in his new position, I was sent to the store after a load 
 of mackerel and molasses. It was during my regular noon- 
 spell and in stone-picking time. A warm April sun showered 
 his rays upon me as I trudged along on foot, with the recep- 
 tacles for the above mentioned luxuries swinging at my side, 
 and my heart rebelled that the time for sending me had not 
 been delayed until after, working hours. When I entered the 
 store I was not in a joyous mood. Bob, who was waiting on a 
 village miss, vouchsafed me a condescending nod, which spoke 
 volumes in showing the difference in our present positions in 
 society. Putting my jug and dish-pan on the counter I sat 
 down disconsolately on a hard nail keg and read the hand 
 bills until I could be waited on,- as the storekeeper was away. 
 How I envied Bob ! My clothing was coarse and untidy, and 
 my feet were bare. My hands were rough and sore and my 
 skin tanned. Bob's clothes were neat and stylish, his hands 
 white and soft, and his face a putty-colored hue, which was my 
 envy; but above all these there was an easiness and famili- 
 arity of manner about him that smote me sorely. But to see 
 him — him who, when he had hitherto come in contact with 
 me, was always the under dog — pretending to be oblivious of 
 my presence, just because he " 'tended store," was insupport- 
 able. You wouldn't have thought that a short two weeks ago 
 he was picking stones, cutting wood, feeding pigs and milking 
 cows ! To see him when he weighed out the white sugar (how 
 well he had got to know the dividing line between giving 
 
THE VILLAGE STORE. 359 
 
 good weight and not too much draft), how generously he 
 gave the girl a lump after he had struck the balance; to see 
 him, when it came to cheese, how neatly he gave her a piece 
 to taste on the point of his cheese knife— a rusty old imple- 
 ment it was, but to my eyes it was as a blade of Damascus !— 
 and with w^hat vigor and grace he clave the yellow segment ; 
 to behold him pause— on the road from the grocery counter to 
 the dry goods department— at the candy shelf to give her a 
 "secret;" to see her unwrap the confection and put it in her 
 mouth, and, as she rolled it from cheek to cheek as a sweet 
 morsel, hear her read the couplet on the " secret " paper : 
 
 " If you love me as I love you, 
 No knife can cut our love in two" — 
 
 to hear their mutual tittering thereat ; to see how dexterously 
 Bob threw down calicoes and muslins, ribbons and tape on the 
 dry goods counter ; to see their whispered confidences after 
 the purchases were made and wrapped ; how Bob, under pre- 
 tence to say something in her ear, suddenly shifted his mouth 
 and gave her a rousing smack on the lips ; the pretended 
 anger and attempts to box his ears ; to see what a time they 
 had when they got to the post-office department; how he 
 tried to make her believe there was a letter for her, which, 
 when produced, turned out to be a lottery policy circular for 
 her father; how they parted at the door with mysterious hints 
 and winks intended for my benefit— all this was aggravating 
 in the extreme; but what drove me nearly wild was Bob's pre- 
 tended obliviousness of my presence. I was never intended 
 for a pirate, but when I saw, heard and felt all this, with that 
 cheese-knife lying in easy reach, I felt as much like Captain 
 Kidd did '' when he sailed, when he sailed," as any good little 
 boy ought to feel. 
 
 When Bob became aware of my presence he turned patron- 
 izingly and said, " Well, young man, what can I do for you 
 
360 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 to-day," in tones that cut me to the quick. In a sullen voice 
 I told him a gallon of New Orleans and a pan of his best No. 
 1 mackerel was what I was after, and to stir his stumps, as I 
 was in a hurry ; not that I was, but I thought a little bravado 
 was in order. But it was all assumed, for I stood in awe of 
 him. As I saw him turn his nose up at the disagreeable task 
 before him I experienced a secret joy until he appeared from 
 the lower regions. He seemed so disgusted with the moist- 
 grocery part of his duties that I would like to have given him 
 another similar order for the sake of having him get his deli- 
 cate hands soiled again. 
 
 And then the airs he took on when off duty ! To see him 
 on a Sabbath morning, when he should have been at Sunday- 
 school, standing in front of the store talking to the hotel- 
 keeper's daughter, was a sight. Languidly leaning against 
 the porch he would be seen smoking what I will be bound 
 was a cigar of the Spanish brand — costing five cents ; a fabu- 
 lous price in those days, when you could get four for a penny — 
 and which I will be further bound, in any reasonable recog- 
 nizance, was not paid for, unless taking a five-cent piece out 
 of the till and dropping it in again could be called compensa- 
 tion. His hat would be stuck rakishly on the side of his head 
 and his fingers thrust in his pants' pockets, with the thumbs 
 pointing outward in the way still affected by sprigs older 
 than he. This habit, I may remark, dates so far back that I 
 can fancy Adam's little boys standing in that position ; that is, 
 if I could imagine them in trousers — which I cannot. As we 
 drove by. Bob would take his "five-center" from his lips, blow a 
 cloud, and bestowing a patronizing nod on father go on talk- 
 ing to Miss Boniface. Young store-tenders didn't wear paper 
 collars in those days nor part their hair in the middle, yet 
 they possessed an irresistible charm in the eyes of the village 
 maids that must have been due to their vocation. But I 
 know one thing, and that is that he became unbearable to me 
 
THE VILLAGE STORE. 361 
 
 in proportion as I longed to be in his place. I expect you will 
 imagine that with Excelsior and Eureka for his watchwords he 
 eventually turned out to be an embryotic John Wanamaker, 
 but he didn't. He is at present tending bar in a down-town 
 saloon ; his face is as red as it used to be white, and he wears 
 carbuncles on his nose. 
 
 At this period of my existence I recollect that for the osten- 
 sible purpose of advancing the cause of education, but, I fear, 
 more with an eye to trade, the opposition store started a night 
 school for the education of the village youth. If with the for- 
 mer idea it was a delusion and a snare. With the storekeeper 
 acting the role of teacher we did sums on our slates and fin- 
 ished our " studies " by spelling. I remember getting above 
 several by spelling the word " twelfth." Among the number 
 who took side-steps to the rear was a large boy, who, while 
 I was on my way home, waylaid me from behind a board 
 pile, and told me he'd soon show me how to spell. In my 
 temerity I remarked " he'd have to spell able first," but before 
 he was done with me I felt, physically speaking, as if he had 
 left me with the mark of Cain ! I bit the dust a martyr to 
 orthography and " science ; " but that Avay of being " spelled 
 down" I never liked. Another boy, whom I had also got 
 above, told me afterward it was good for me ; but I could not 
 see how it was. But I was young then. 
 
 I pass on to the other regular habitues of the " country store." 
 Through the daytime the number was few and generall}' of 
 the genus " loafer." These passed the time in smoking, chew- 
 ing, spitting at the stove to hear it " siz," and eying the cus- 
 tomers, particularly the female portion, while they made their 
 purchases. Much herding together had used up and dwarfed 
 their conversational powers, and they dwelt in a dreamy state 
 — probably wondering why they had ever been created. Occa- 
 sionally one would start up, as if seized with an original idea, 
 and ask if there was anything in the office for him, and then, 
 
 23 
 
362 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 overcome with the effort, lapse into lethargic silence. As the 
 custom of these gentry never amounted to anything, the store- 
 keeper always felt aggrieved by their presence, and doubtless 
 often wished they were in some other building — say the oppo- 
 sition store, for instance — with a successful Guy Fawkes run- 
 ning a gunpowder plot in the basement ! And yet he was not 
 to blame for wishing it; for what more suitable food for 
 powder than a store loafer ? 
 
 But at the nightly soirees the house was crowded. Then 
 came the patrons of the store far and near. Some came for 
 goods, some for the mail, some to talk and some to hear 
 others talk, and all more or less to loaf. There is the sturdy 
 'Squire, whose word, as befitted his office, was law; the 
 shrewd farmer, and thrifty mechanic. There is the hen- 
 pecked husband, who fled from his home as the shades of 
 night drew on apace to the congenial society at the store. 
 (That is he among the forks and shovels in a gloomy corner, 
 smoking a mild cigar.) There are the butcher, the baker 
 and, if the trade were not an extinct one, the candlestick 
 maker, the lively apprentice and farmer lads of various ages. 
 The married members of this nightly-meeting coterie have 
 left their homes as soon as the evening meal was gulped 
 down, to just " slip down to the corner to hear the news." 
 Their day's work over they leave the wife, whose work is 
 never done, to wash the supper dishes, soothe the cross chil- 
 dren and put them to bed, and then pass the evening darn- 
 ing stockings and pondering on those long-passed days when 
 it would have been rank heresy to have believed that John 
 would ever desert her for the coarse attractions of the society 
 found at night at the cross-roads store. 
 
 Mark those two lads on the grocery counter, in rather too 
 close propinquit}^ to the powder magazine, considering they 
 are smoking. One of them is the son of the village doctor, 
 who has sent him to the store for some groceries, with strict 
 
THE VILLAGE STORE. 363 
 
 injunctions to hurry back. He is now making himself sick 
 on a " half-Spanish," for it is his first attempt at using the 
 weed. He has a confiding mother, and she must needs be 
 when, after scenting his coat in the morning, he tells her it 
 was all done by his being in such a crowd of smokers at the 
 store, and she believes it. The other lad, a Daniel Lambert 
 in obesity, is the son of a deacon of the church, also sent 
 on a hasty errand. He is a modern edition of the Prodigal 
 Son, bound in a roundabout and tight trousers. He robbed 
 a hen's nest of its fruit before he left home, and has spent the 
 value of it in riotous living in the shape of a penny cigar. 
 Viewing this as a symbol of pleasure, he has drained it to the 
 dregs, for he is now chewing the stump. So, like the Prodigal, 
 he has come to the husk which even swine would not eat; and 
 I am certain that, knowing all things, if his father had him 
 at home he would at least half kill the fatted calf. 
 
 The lucky one of the nocturnal fixtures being seated in the 
 only arm chair, the rest on bench, counter or with their 
 pantaloons patched with nail kegs, the scene is interesting 
 and instructive. Behold the venerable loafer whose back 
 has become bowed, his locks a snowy white and whose 
 tongue has become slightly palsied in the service of his 
 nightly audience. Grown hardened in his sin of telling 
 incredible stories, he has got to believe them himself. There 
 is the other nuisance who tells pointless yarns full of " I tell 
 you what's," " you know's," " you see's," " says I's " and " says 
 he's" until he becomes unendurable, except to his regular 
 listeners. There is the man who is so devoted to fishing 
 that his mouth has grown like a sucker's, his eyes as of a 
 catfish, and in getting out of paying his debts has become 
 as an eel in slipperiness. His tales are of the fish, fishy. 
 There is the sportsman with hunting proclivities, who will 
 lie by the hour if he can have listeners. Too lazy to work, 
 he will trudge from morning till night o'er hill and valley 
 
364 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 tracking rabbits or hunting squirrels, and then wonder 
 why he can't make a living. His society, too valuable for 
 one single community, alternates between the store and 
 tavern. There is also the man who chatters everlastingly 
 and whom no one listens to. A good portion of the talk is 
 the essence of vulgarity, some of it from the lips of hoary 
 sinners, and especially relished by the more tender youth, 
 whose legs are swinging from the counter and benches. 
 
 The night w^ears on apace. The crowd, in numbers, re- 
 mains about the same, occasionally varying in personnel 
 by exchanges with the hotel opposite. But at last it begins to 
 dwindle. One gathers up a jug, one a coal-oil can, another a 
 basket, and another a bundle and departs. Then follow some 
 of the less inveterate loafers, and lastly, after several pointed 
 hints from the storekeeper or his boy, the sticking-plasters 
 vanish into darkness. The shutters are closed, the doors are 
 barred, the lights put out, and simmering in a stale atmos- 
 phere of tobacco smoke, the store is deserted till morning. 
 
 BY JOHN SMITH. 
 
 .^^^NLYaTrampT 
 
 He stood before me dressed in a hat of the plug 
 ^^y variety, which, by continued dinting, looked like 
 the bellows of a lopsided accordion ; and a coat whose sleeve 
 cuffs showed by their silken glossiness that if he kept a pocket- 
 handkerchief it was very derelict in performing its duty. 
 
MY TRAMP. 865 
 
 When this unghostly apparition thrust itself into my pres- 
 ence I was in my store drawing off my last year's account. 
 Sandwiched between the good bills, like spoiled ham between 
 fresh baker's bread, were several bad ones. Here was John Doe, 
 who, by paying cash at the start, had got into my good graces 
 until I opened an account with him, when, by paying a little 
 on the old score and buying more on • a new, he had so run 
 in my debt that I had refused him further credit, and he now 
 went to the new opposition store, where he paid cash. John had 
 just gone by with a string of mackerel in one hand and a jug 
 of molasses in the other, which he carried with a defiant 
 swing. There was Richard Roe, whom I had nursed, speaking 
 in a mercantile way, for some time, in the hope that he would 
 receive a stroke of conscience and pay me like a man, but who, 
 I had just learned, had run away between two days. There 
 were others of the same stamp who were making themselves 
 apparent as I ran over the contents of my ledger, and I con- 
 fess I was in rather an irritable mood when my tramp 
 appeared before me, and I felt like inviting him to retire until 
 I had more leisure to entertain him. It is thus we often make 
 the innocent the victims of the spleen which others have 
 engendered. 
 
 But then he was only a tramp ! 
 
 So was Franklin, when landing in Philadelphia, with his 
 clothing sticking out of his pockets, he stood munching his 
 roll of bread. In this day and time he would have been 
 avoided by man, while the dogs would have been invited to 
 give him their special attention. 
 
 Only a tramp? 
 
 So was Homer, when, wandering through those seven noble 
 cities of Greece, each of which afterward contended for the 
 honor of being his birthplace, he begged his unwillingly-given 
 bread. In our prejudice how many Franklins and Homers 
 we kick from our doors ! 
 
366 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 I knew my interviewer was a tramp, but I pretended not. 
 When he pulled some business-like papers from his coat 
 pocket, I, in return, accused him with being a census man, a 
 book agent and a church-subscription man. But he denied 
 these impeachments. I reached hard-pan by hinting that he 
 was a lightning rod agent, his coolness and impudence so 
 amazed me. At this he laughed outright, telling me in good 
 English, for a Polander, that he had not come that low yet. 
 
 My tramp's mouth was a broad one, and when he emitted 
 this laugh he showed his white teeth to that extent that they 
 looked as if they might be the ivory keys belonging to the 
 accordion whose bellows his wrinkled hat represented. This 
 conceit took such possession of me that I felt tempted to mash 
 down that hat to see if there was any music in his soul, but I 
 didn't, for he carried a knotty stick under his arm. 
 
 At his earnest request I took his proffered document. It 
 
 was about the color of a coffee-colored naturalization paper, 
 
 but what it lacked in cleanliness it made up by unsavory 
 
 odors. Opening it and holding it at arm's length, I read : 
 
 " To the Benevolent : 
 
 " This is to certify that the bearer, Signor Vermi Celli, is a 
 truthful, worthy man, but a man of misery. He is a son of 
 Italy ; a dweller in the Valley of the Po. On an island in 
 that river is his estate. During a fearful inundation, the past 
 season, the floods enveloped it, so that he and his family were 
 forced to its highest summits. In order to procure support for 
 them until the subsidence of the waters, he formed the resolu- 
 tion of swimming ashore and coming to America, where he 
 trusts the charitable w411 pity the sorrows of a poor old man 
 and give out of their abundance ; and he will ever pray, etc. 
 
 " Signed, Signor Maca Roni." 
 
 Having been a tramp, in a small way, once myself, I have 
 an undue amount of pity for these houseless wanderers who 
 are now devastating this country; these sturdy varlets, who, at 
 an expense to the county of a dollar and a-half a night, get 
 
MY TRAMP. 
 
 367 
 
 their lodgings and two more or less square meals, and then 
 complain*' of their victuals and the quality of tobacco handed 
 out to them ; these lusty beggars who terrify our households 
 and turn up their noses at the best cuts of mince pie. I was 
 melted by the pitiful tale of this poor nobleman, who, far away 
 from his suffering family, was endeavoring to raise funds for 
 their relief. I forgave him the odor of gin which tinctured 
 his breath, knowing he had imbibed that stimulant merely to 
 drown trouble. So that when I handed him back his state- 
 ment with a present of ten cents, which he insisted I should 
 mark down on his brief that he might properly account for 
 the funds collected, I could not resist his request to partake of 
 my hospitality for the night. Acting on the impulse of the 
 moment, I took my tramp to the house and seated him in the 
 kitchen, much to the annoyance of Mrs. Smith and the disgust 
 of Bridget, our maid of all work, and then went back to the 
 task I was at when my foreign friend interrupted me. It was 
 now nearing night, and going to the house to supper I found 
 the household in somewhat of an uproar. When I introduced 
 my tramp, in answer to my wife's inquiry as to ways and 
 means for' lodging him, I had jocularly remarked that he 
 might be put in the girl's room. This my oldest, who had 
 just arrived at the " irrepressible small boy " age, had carried 
 to Bridget's ears, with such additions as the case seemed to 
 demand, when that jewel, red-faced and irate, gave warnnig 
 on the spot, in spite of all promises of increased wages and a 
 nearlv new silk dress. The innocent cause of this disturbance 
 was quietly seated by the kitchen stove, placidly filling the 
 apartment with smoke, and unmindful of the bangnig and 
 knocking around of pots and kettles by the angry servmg- 
 maid. He had conversed but little, merely inqun-ing from 
 time to time of the progress of the evening meal. When that 
 was ready, he showed some feeling when he saw preparations 
 were making for his eating alone in the kitchen ; mildly re- 
 
368 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 monstrating against it as being something out of the usual 
 way, and that he was used to being treated as if he was half 
 white. Much experimenting on the cookery of the various 
 households he had invaded had made him quite a connoisseur 
 in victuals. He knew the proper time to turn up his nose at 
 a cup of coffee, and he was aware when " tramp butter " was 
 placed before him. He mildly remonstrated against this 
 oleaginous compound — an article we generally keep on hand 
 in cases of emergency, much as your tobacco-beggar's victim 
 keeps an inferior article of " plug " for his many friends. It 
 was buckwheat cake season, and he showed much discrimina- 
 tion in feasting on those luxuries. These grew " sicklied o'er 
 with a pale cast " during the progress of the meal, when our 
 guest intimated to my wife (who, of course, is the cake-baker, 
 Bridget disliking the business on account of the cold cakes 
 falling to the follower of that profession) that he believed he 
 was done ; but his appetite returned, however, when the 
 proper golden-brown hue was again attained, when, like 
 Oliver the hungry, he asked for more. After closing up the 
 store and returning to the house, I found the vexed question 
 of how our boarder was to be lodged for the night still upper- 
 most in the female mind, and unsettled. Objections being 
 made to any more luxurious mode for his passing the noc- 
 turnal hours, he was sentenced to sleep on the sitting-room 
 floor, from which there was no respite. A horse blanket and 
 rocking-chair cushion were the comforts assigned him, after 
 which we retired; I with an undiminished confidence in 
 human nature ; my wife full of dark forebodings of robbery and 
 perhaps assassination, and Bridget with a full determination 
 of packing up and going to her "cousin's" in Lambertville 
 the next morning. As to how we spent the time until morn- 
 ing, each of us could have said with him of Gloucester, " Oh ! 
 I have passed a miserable night." If let alone I would have 
 slept the sleep of the just; but every half hour Mrs. Smith 
 
MY TRAMP. 369 
 
 with a shake would tell me, " I'd better go down and see if 
 all was right." Once, when I went down on hearing an 
 unusual commotion, I found my tramp taking the table-cloth 
 from its place in the dish closet to do duty as a sheet, the 
 horse blanket being too rough for his delicate system. Pity- 
 ing the poor wretch, I did not report this to my wife, know- 
 ing it would only make a fuss. About midnight I was awak- 
 ened by the announcement that the house was full of smoke, 
 when, rushing down stairs without inquiring as to what man- 
 ner of smoke it was, I found my traveling friend sitting in 
 the middle of the room surrounded with a dense vapor, which 
 a pipe, charged with jail tobacco, was giving forth. This he 
 put by at my urgent request, when I again retired, to be again 
 disturbed at various intervals until morning. When my wife 
 did not hear suspicious noises, Bridget did ; so that between 
 them both I made more trips than did Mother Hubbard in 
 the interest of her dog of wonderful abilities. In the dawn's 
 early light I saw him peacefully slumbering in his chair, with 
 his hat down over his eyes, doubtlessly dreaming of the loved 
 ones of his far-off home on the Po. 
 
 When I came down stairs preparatory to stirring up the 
 matinal fires and setting the day's work going generally, what 
 a sight met my sleep-robbed eyes! Where I had left a com- 
 plete realization of the materialization of the genus tramp I 
 found his disembodied clothes. These, sometime during the 
 night, he had so stuffed with cushions and other appliances as 
 to much resemble the natural man as seen in the dim light of the 
 stove, while his hat hung rakishly on a broom-handle which 
 stood back of his chair. It w^as this object I had seen when I 
 had last come down stairs, and hence the quiet that afterward 
 reigned. The same day on which my tramp made his ap- 
 pearance my wife had gone to the city and bought me a com- 
 plete suit of best clothes, which she had shown me in the evening, 
 and then laid them away in a cupboard in the sitting-room. 
 
370 SKETCHES IN PKOSE. 
 
 My first thought was of them ; but a search for thera told me 
 they were gone. On looking at the hat-rack in the hail, a 
 new silk hat and an overcoat, with some business papers in it, 
 were also found missing. Calling up my startled family and 
 telling them the news, we were soon busily engaged, with rue- 
 ful aspects, albeit, in ascertaining the damage done by our 
 tramp, which were annoying if not serious. The pair of boots 
 the Signor Vermi Celli had worn, which had made night 
 hideous with their Stygian aroma, and which still lent a 
 gamey flavor to the tobacco-scented room, were found inserted 
 in the legs of the dummy, and in their stead he had taken a 
 pair of my French calf-skins. Our three children each had 
 one of those respectable begging machines called " money- 
 banks " sitting on the mantel, all of which had been well tilled 
 by considerate friends, but they were now found empty. On 
 learning this our offspring howled like Rome. A sponge cake 
 which had been expressly made for some company we were 
 expecting next day had been taken, and the stand drawers 
 rummaged. Wishing to know no more at present I rushed 
 away from the harrowing scene to see if I could learn any- 
 thing of the whereabouts of the Signor. An hour's search 
 around the village amounted to nothing ; my inquiries being 
 generally met with such unsympathizing remarks as " You 
 might have known better," or, " It served you right." I, how- 
 ever, learned that a through freight train that passed by our 
 village at an early hour in the morning had stopped to drop 
 a car, and this I felt sure had been the means of my tramp's 
 escape. On arriving home I found a far more cheerful feeling 
 prevailing there than I could have expected. The donation of 
 the coveted silk dress, if she would only stay, had exorcised the 
 " laving" demon from Bridget's soul, and she was now merrily 
 rotating the handle of the coffee-mill. My wife, with an I- 
 told-you-so air, was getting breakfast with a cheerfulness of 
 manner which could only be accounted for by the fact that 
 
MY TRAMP. 371 
 
 her rejoicings at my discomfiture had, togetlier with the con- 
 clusion to stay of her hand-maiden, outweighed her regret at 
 the losses from the depredations of our lodger. A merry peal 
 of laughter from the front room showed that our children had 
 also experienced a change of heart. On hearing John, my 
 oldest boy, exclaim, " Goodey, that's the hardest lick it's got 
 yet," and my youngest, that " he'd bet his toe-nail'd come off," 
 I went in to see what caused this merry-making, and was 
 greeted by a violent pounding at the front door. Opening it 
 I found Jo Sipes, one of my best customers, standing on one 
 foot and holding the other in his hand, and swearing at such 
 a rate that I really felt hurt. On asking an explanation, he 
 told me that if I was going to allow my young ones to play 
 such tricks on innocent people I might, but he'd bought 
 his last cent's worth of me ; and turning around he limped off. 
 It appeared that after my departure little John had been 
 seized with a bright idea, which had dried up his sorrow at 
 the loss of his pennies, on seeing the tramp's hat reposing on 
 its perch. This he had placed on the pavement in front of 
 the store and ballasted with a brick. Several guileless people 
 had bestowed kicks upon it, much to their regret and the 
 enjoyment of my children, who, in witnessing the sport, had 
 forgotten their recent trouble. Informing the latter that I 
 would " make them laugh on the other side of their mouths," I 
 administered the needed correctives, and, amid their wailings, 
 I sat down to rather a late breakfast. The hat I had ordered 
 removed promptly from its tempting position; but not until it 
 had caused me much loss in custom, as several of those who had 
 attempted to propel it were my patrons, who thought I was in 
 some way connected with its being placed there. I at last 
 got to the store, and barring the fact that several customers 
 had been there for goods and had gone away empty-handed, 
 and that my tramp had been the indirect means of losing me 
 some custom, things were soon going on smoothly again. The 
 
372 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 loss of my clothing, my wife said, was more than made uj3 by 
 the carpet rags she got out of the tramp's clothes. These latter, 
 which had originally been wrathfully carried out with the tongs 
 at arms length and thrown back of the pig-pen, had been, on 
 second thought, tenderly gathered up, disinfected and washed, 
 and made ready to do duty in a new carpet we were about 
 making. For my part, I comforted myself with one reflec- 
 tion, and that was, if ever a well-dressed man left our town 
 my tramp was he. 
 
 One day while busily engaged in the grocery department of 
 my store, shortly after the events narrated, my wife came 
 in with a troubled look on her face and an opened letter in 
 her hand. It was addressed to her, and read as follows : 
 
 MuDDLETON, Jan. 6th, 1876. 
 Dear Mrs. Smith. — Fearing the subject of the within local 
 item, which I clip from the pages of the Muddleton Gaslight, 
 may have got into his dissipated habits on account of the wor- 
 riment of mind a Scolding Wife always occasions, I write to 
 warn you, if such is the case, to be more considerate with him 
 in the future. When the prodigal returns home, on money 
 loaned him by entire strangers, who, according to the poor 
 man's story, are angels by the side of his own household (I 
 mean you), kill the fatted calf for him. I conclude with my 
 best regards, and by saying that when I looked upon the linen 
 of your husband — the man you swore to love, honor, obey and 
 do his washing — I thought that while Charity covers a multi- 
 tude of sins, it is Vanity to think of trying to hide a dirty 
 shirt with a two-cent Paper Collar. Yours in Pity, 
 
 Rebecca Sharp, 
 President Muddleton Sewing Society. 
 
 The following is the Local : 
 
 Another Victim of the Demon Alcohol. — This morning a sad 
 sight was witnessed in front of Van Splutter's Lager Beer 
 saloon, in the shape of what was once a respectably dressed 
 man, lying in the gutter in a beastly state of intoxication. 
 
MY TRAMP. 373 
 
 He was so stupefied that he was unable to give any account of 
 himself. He was at last brought around b}^ the kindly offices 
 of several small boys, who gathered about him and threw 
 water in his face and pelted him with mud. In searching his 
 pockets for matches they came across several handfuls of 
 pennies, which, for fear he might spend them for more 
 rum, they generously agreed to take care of. They ran 
 off after throwing away the papers they found on him. 
 These latter were picked up by a grocery drummer, who was 
 temporarily in the town, and were the means of his recogni- 
 tion. From memoranda found in his pockets it would appear 
 that he was on his return home from buying goods ; but 
 according to his own confused statements he left home on 
 account of family troubles, and sought to drown them in the 
 floiving bowl. He told a sorrowful tale. It is a sad case, and 
 should be a warning to wives to be more considerate, and 
 always meet their husbands with a smile, etc. The drummer, 
 having an eye to business, loaned the poor man money to 
 return home on, for which he was profuse in his thanks. We 
 would not wish to be invidious, and will mention no names, 
 merely observing that, in his sober moments, if you called 
 him John Smith he would answer to it, and that his store is 
 
 not far from town, Bucks County. We will conclude by 
 
 saying that, by a substitution of names, the old song would be 
 appropriate for the occasion : 
 
 " Schmidt Johannes is his name, 
 America his nation ; 
 
 town his dwelling-place, 
 
 And brandy his damnation I " 
 
 I threw down the paper in disgust. " If ever I extend hos- 
 pitality to another Bedouin of civilized life," said I, " may I 
 
 Excuse me, ma'am, did you say you wanted the mild Rio or 
 the strong ? " 
 
 
374 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 ^^HERE is a time in her housekeeping experience when 
 woman wishes she were either a man or dead: a 
 
 / r-g[^ HE 
 
 brace of alternatives not so dissimilar when you 
 reflect upon the future punishment that awaits man's selfish- 
 ness in this life, and the quiet repose of death, and the reward 
 in store for those who have been " weary and heavy laden." 
 This time is when after doing a hard day's work and the hired 
 girl gone she has seen a market wagon load of unexpected 
 company unloaded and settled down, and then beheld how 
 light the burden of entertaining visitors falls on the alleged 
 head of the household. The first thing the latter does after 
 ordering the hired man to put away the strange horses is to 
 take the men folks — the whole load is "his folks," by the way 
 — part of the company to the pig pen, and leaning over the 
 trough discuss the relative merits of Berkshire and Chester 
 Whites, until it is supposed that " Mother " has the parlor fire 
 made. Then they adjourn to the house, and with chairs 
 tipped back at an angle of forty-five degrees, at the imminent 
 risk of cutting through the new parlor carpet, discuss politics 
 or whatever comes uppermost. They find the female guests 
 already here, and engaged in looking over the autograph and 
 photograph albums, and wdth a tight grip on the other end of 
 the sympathetic chord which connects the two parties in the 
 matter of the expected supper. But while this party are 
 enjoying themselves where is mother? She is down in the 
 kitchen wondering what she will get for supper. She is done 
 wondering whether or not the company will stay all night, for 
 she cunningly got her boy to ask the little company girl how 
 long they were going to stay. The little lad took an in- 
 opportune time to propound the inquiry, and made it before 
 
COMPANY TRIALS. 375 
 
 the parlor crowd; when he suffered rebuke from his father for 
 his lack of manners, and retaliated by saying that " mother 
 told him to ask!" So the latter has now but one thing to 
 trouble her, and that is provender for her hungry guests. 
 Shall it be ham ? The last one is worn to the bone. Shall it 
 be those other stand-bys, dried or frizzled beef? Alas ! the 
 places which knew them once are as bare as Mother Hubbard's 
 cupboard. Trips to the parlor door are taken, that consolation 
 and aid may be had from the helpmate (?) there entertaining 
 the company ; but winks and beckonings through the door- 
 crack meet with but tardy response. At last the husband 
 comes out into the hall, in a huff, and asks his wife what she 
 means interrupting them and breaking the chain of the argu- 
 ment, and when the case is mildly stated, says it's always the 
 way when " his folks " come visiting ; nothing to eat, and he 
 must be pestered about it. 'Tain't the way when " her folks " 
 come. Then there's no end of sponge cake and good things. 
 When she provokingly tells him that what she wants are the 
 very things that she told him to get the other day when at 
 election, he says, she ought to have known better than to have 
 bothered him at such a time, when he had so much on his 
 mind ; anyhow, he's heard enough. Finally, the little boy is 
 hoisted on the sharp backbone of the old family horse and 
 started off to the village sausage-shop for carnal food. He is 
 enjoined to also bring some necessary groceries, but, of course, 
 forgets them, and has to go back again. After much tribula- 
 tion and many paternal visits from the parlor to the kitchen, 
 to see what is making supper so late, that meal is at last 
 ready, and at the announcement of the same the group in the 
 parlor comes pouring into the dining room like ravening 
 wolves. One of the guests having said that " buckwheat cakes 
 would not go bad, but so many women hated to bake 'em," 
 mother, by the aid of some baking powder had hastily gotten 
 up a basis of the same, and spends the time between pouring 
 
376 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 
 
 out coffee and waiting on children (as father is too busy talk- 
 ing to attend to the latter), in baking cakes and in trotting 
 back and forth from table to stove. Occasionally she is stimu- 
 lated to further exertion by remarks such as, the cakes are 
 getting pale, or they are as heavy as lead, or cold as ice ; or, 
 what ails the coffee ; it won't kill anybody with strength ; or, 
 it would bear an iron wedge, point downward ; or, that it took 
 his mother to make buckwheat cakes or good coffee. Almost 
 fagged out, she sees sausage gravy spilled on the new table- 
 cloth ; the children visitors upset coffee on the same, or drop 
 victuals on the floor, and vary the sport by breaking two or 
 three gilt-edged china cups and saucers. With a sigh of relief 
 she sees the appetites of the guests show signs of being 
 satiated, and finally their jaws stop wagging. They arise and 
 seek that haven of refuge, the parlor, leaving the cook alone 
 with the dirty dishes and cold cakes. She eats a few of these — 
 the cakes, not the dishes — and after an hour spent washing up 
 the latter, and getting three or four beds ready, she hastily 
 spruces herself up and enters the parlor. She casts envious 
 looks at the sofa rocking chair, in which father is seated, but 
 he is poor at taking hints, and only leaves it long enough to 
 go to the coal scuttle to spit, as he is a dear lover of the weed, 
 it being good for the teeth. The company is engaged in a 
 spirited conversation, and mother makes desperate efforts to 
 throw in a few remarks, to show, if for nothing else, that she 
 is not the hired girl, but they fall on unsympathetic ears, or, 
 if noticed at all, it is for the correction of some error of state- 
 ment or grammar. As it is soon bedtime, she remarks that 
 the folks must be tired and would like to go to bed ; so she 
 puts them all to rest for the night, giving up her own goose- 
 feather bed, as she expects to take the floor. After this father 
 gives her a little lecture about bothering him about the 
 victuals when he was wanting to talk, and looking so cross and 
 " huffy " at supper-time, when she ought to have been doing 
 
COMPANY TRIALS. 
 
 377 
 
 her best to let " his folks " know they were welcome, and also 
 in relation to her looking so " slomicky " when company was 
 about. After receiving the proper amount of rebuke she goes 
 to bed, or to floor, rather, to dream about the days before she 
 was married, when she was so afraid she would die an old 
 maid! She gets up the next morning, makes the fire, and 
 goes through the ordeal of the preceding evening and amid 
 other tribulations till "his folks" depart. Alas! taking one 
 consideration with another, a woman's lot is not a happy one. 
 
 24 
 
keie\^e% m I^bgi^e. 
 
 #n tFie ^ft^^ooo of S^ouniL ©Jop, 
 
 From the wooded crest of Round Top, north to Seminary Ridge, 
 From its sulphur-shrouded ramparts east to Wolf Hill's rocky ledge 
 Rolls the thunder of the conflict to the far horizon's edge ; 
 Echoing loud from ridge to ridge. 
 
 Crimson horrors mar their outlines ; seething vapors veil the sky ; 
 Cannon-booming, musket-rattle, yells and wailing mount on high ; 
 Ushered in with drum and trumpet march the birthdays of July, 
 While the death-mist veils the sky. 
 
 Back and forth fly iron shuttles, warps phantasmal mark their way 
 Through a woof of lines of battle, tangled threads of Blue and Gray. 
 Freedom's shroud or shroud of Treason weaves a thunderous loom to-day 
 From the woof of Blue and Gray 
 
 How the loyal Nation trembles through that bloody battle-week ! 
 How the fates of sons and brothers kindred pale and trembling seek ! 
 As bewildering, wire-borne voices from the dinning conflict speak. 
 Through that dreadful battle-week. 
 
 Telling how the Nation's heroes 'neath that bright midsummer's sun, 
 In their grand self-sacrificing suflTering, bleeding struggled on, 
 Till our banners waved triumphant : Gettysburg was lost and won, 
 Just as set the shrouded sun. 
 
 (378) 
 
IN THE SHADOW OF ROUND TOP. 379 
 
 From the bristling height of Round Top to the rebel-peopled plain 
 Comes a sound of crashing thunder ; comes a sheet of leaden rain ; 
 As red Death, with arms Briarean, starts his Sickles in the grain, 
 On the rebel-peopled plain. 
 
 Was that leader simply reckless that he thus destruction wooed ? 
 Did he disobey his orders, or were they misunderstood ? 
 Profitless the queries, for he paid the forfeit with his blood ; 
 That is not misunderstood. 
 
 Elbow touching, centre dressing, on its colors rent and scarred. 
 See that bright-hued line advancing, its allignment yet unmarred ! 
 See that Zouave battling fearless in the thinning color-guard ! 
 Round the flag so rent and scarred. 
 
 He, our hero, leaving kindred, leaving friends behind him far. 
 Cared for naught beside his country, sought no gleaming shoulder-bar ; 
 But, beside the humblest private, marched enlisted for the war. 
 Friends and kin behind afar. 
 
 Reigning in the social circle, glowing with poetic fire 
 
 Was his mind and stored with knowledge, yet expanding, broader 
 
 higher. 
 Sore must be that Nation's sufferings, that such sacrifice require, 
 Myriad lives through blood and fire. 
 
 Home affection sought to stay him ; love of country urged him on. 
 Duty warred on inclination ; short the struggle — duty won. 
 And a letter, wrote in sorrow, came to tell that he had gone. 
 Short the struggle — duty won ! 
 
 '^obly done that duty, whether 'neath the annalled conflicts roar, 
 Or the unwritten picket skirmish, march or bivouac, he bore 
 In his soul a glow flamboyant as the tortured martyrs wore 
 In the dreadful days of yore. 
 
 Now the rage and grim of battle mask his glowing countenance. 
 As he charges with his comrades, with the colors in advance. 
 War's dread horrors all around him pass unheeded to his glance. 
 So the flag was in advance. 
 
380 SKETCHES IN RHYME. 
 
 Vain those sacrificial offerings ; for like vultures on their prey 
 Swoop the gathering hosts of Treason ; now the Patriots stand at bay ; 
 Now fall backward as they vainly strive the fierce advance to stay, 
 Vainly strive to save the day. 
 
 Slowly, sullenly retreating from the horrors gathering round, 
 Him, our hero, they are leaving writhing on the reeking ground, 
 Grasping still his heated musket, smitten by a mortal wound. 
 While the horrors gather round. 
 
 Oh, the anguish dire which fills him as he hears the foemen's yell. 
 When he sees them rush victorious up the highway where he fell. 
 Agonized in flesh and spirit, how he suffers, who can tell. 
 While his foes victorious yell ? 
 
 Now he sees behind South Mountain smoke- veiled sink the reddening sun, 
 And the moon from out the east hills has her arching course begun ; 
 While the stars in fear and trembling peer through heaven one by one ; 
 Sadly gleaming one by one. 
 
 Growing fainter in the distance, still he hears the tireless strife ; 
 Hears the far-off cannon pounding, sees the air with meteors rife. 
 Countless furies seem to mutter, " Blow for blow, and life for life ! " 
 Mid the yet unended strife. 
 
 Sees the stubborn foemen slowly up the slopes of Round Top creep ; 
 Hears them as with shouts exultant rock and crag and wall they leap. 
 Till the brave " Reserves " of Crawford hurl them headlong from the 
 steep. 
 
 Hard-won heights they could not keep. 
 
 Hears their still more distant onset, strong in numbers, fierce of will. 
 Echoing from the graveyard-mantled heights of Cemetery Hill, 
 Till they turn back torn and shattered. Hushed the tumult, all is still. 
 Silence covers vale and hill. 
 
 Still unsuccored lies that hero, while the full moon high o'erhead 
 Shows the writhing forms about him ; shows the gaping, palled dead ; 
 Murmuring not, although the bullet burns within as molten lead, 
 Murmuring not, though hope had fled. 
 
IN THE SHADOW OF ROUND TOP. 381 
 
 Living all his young life over, back his wandering thoughts are sent, 
 With his kin his thrilling heart-chords in a loving maze are blent ; 
 To the scenes beside the river, where his school-boy days were spent, 
 Back his wandering thoughts are sent. 
 
 Forward to the speculative future soon unveiled to be. 
 Longing for the dread transition in his helpless agony, 
 That would tear aside the veiling of a life-long mystery. 
 Which alone the dead can see. 
 
 Now his thoughts ring out harmonious to the distant battle's chime. 
 Now they well from out his bosom in a weird and mournful rhyme, 
 As the golden grains of memory trickle through the sieve of time, 
 Full of Aveird and mournful rhyme. 
 
 Still the invader holds possession ; still the wounded plaintive moan ; 
 Still the rigid, staring corpses look straight up with eyes of stone 
 At the moon which calm, unpitying, stalks her star-lit path alone. 
 Heedless as those eyes of stone. 
 
 Now the glowing hands of morning tear the shimmering veil of night 
 From the earth's red riven bosom ; and at noon, from height to height. 
 Rings again the clash of armies as they grapple in their might, 
 In the war of Wrong and Right. 
 
 And again the spiteful rifle spits its fire from left to right ; 
 Yet again the yawning cannon gives its hidden devil flight, 
 Till the war fiend, gorged to fulness, grants unwillingly respite, 
 In the fight 'twixt Wrong and Right. 
 
 Baffled is the dread invasion. Echoing now from hill to hill. 
 Hoarsely sounding Jubilates all the smoking welkin fill, 
 Till again the moonbeams shimmer, and the earth is hushed and still. 
 Silence covers vale and hill. 
 
 Still the rebels hold that outpost ; still the thirsty wounded moan ; 
 Still those calm, unpassioned corpses glare straight up with eyes of 
 
 stone ; 
 Still the moon, so phantom-ship-like, sails unheeding slowly on, 
 Heedless as those eyes of stone. 
 
^82 SKETCHES IN RHYME. 
 
 Still ungathered lies that harvest swathed by death with reaper keen, 
 Ripe and ready for the garner long neglected hath it been, 
 But the harvesters are busy, they have other fields to glean, 
 Swathed by death with reaper keen. 
 
 Now beneath South Mountain's shadows, southward the invaders go 
 Through the slanting rain and darkness in a fierce tumultuous flow ; 
 And give back the hard won acres with their harvest to the foe ; 
 Dead and dying lying low. 
 
 And the gleaners come together, gather up the trampled sheaves. 
 And they lay them in the garner ; dust to dust the earth receives. 
 O the thorns among the roses in the wreath which Victory weaves. 
 Blood stains dull its laurel leaves ! 
 
 Well alligned down in the trenches, blankets mufiled in a row, 
 Like a sleeping line of battle waiting for the trumpet's blow. 
 Shoulder touching comrade shoulder, as in life they faced the foe — 
 Blanket mufiled, lying low. 
 
 And they gather up the living fragments of that festal day. 
 And the jolting ambulances, o'er the late plowed fields away. 
 Bear those maimed, neglected wounded, sad mementos of the fray — 
 Fragments of war's festal day. 
 
 Bear them fainting o'er the meadows which they late exultant trod. 
 Up the slopes where late their lines in billows bayonet-crested fiowed, 
 To the hospitals beyond them, gleaming from the trampled sod, 
 Slowly ebbed which fiercely flowed. 
 
 Days and nights of suffering followed, when one day at early morn 
 To that tented shrine there came a pilgrim old and travel-worn, 
 With his staff" and heavy burden — burden, he full long had borne, 
 Came one day at early morn. 
 
 And his plain attire bespoke him follower of that noble creed 
 Taught of old by Penn and Barclay — born of persecution's seed. 
 Mindful of the Light within him ever he in word and deed ; 
 Follower of a peaceful creed. 
 
IN THE SHADOW OF ROUND TOP. 383 
 
 His the lot to bear and suffer, though a soul of highest worth, 
 Toilin- ever, baffled often, still his genial smile came forth 
 Sad exemplar of the passage, " Our rewards are not of earth. 
 Though with soul of highest worth. 
 
 And among those tents he wandered, patriarch like of olden time. 
 Seeking in their sad recesses him who in his manhoods prime. 
 In that valley heard his death-knell ringing in the batteries chime. 
 Heard it in his manhood's prime. 
 
 And at last his weary vision rests on a familiar face. 
 Staring forthwith wistful glances from that suffermg-haunted place. 
 And the seeker and the sought-for joyful, agonized embrace, 
 In that suffering-haunted place. 
 
 Now the lost was found, but succor want, neglect had made in vain. 
 And the stream of life was ebbing slowly to its fount again ; _ _ 
 While delirium's weird, wild fancies o'er him had begun their reign. 
 Want, neglect made help m vain. 
 
 Now amid the social triumphs of his former life they dwell, 
 Now his songs, his pupils chanting, in a soothing cadence swell, 
 Now, above the crash of battle, comes the foeman s demon yell ; 
 Comes, alas ! to break the spell. 
 
 And he hears his comrades answering with defiant, ringing shout 
 Till the scenes and sounds commingle which encompass him about, 
 And they die to softest murmurs and his lamp of light goes out- 
 Darkens to illumine doubt ! 
 
 Now afar that hero-martyr bears that pilgrim in his woe, 
 To the vale where passed his childhood by the river's murmuriiig flow 
 Where the remnant of a household-wide war-scattered-lay him low 
 Near the river's murmuring flow. 
 
 No funeral pomp surrounds him, o'er his grave fires no platoon. 
 No bright flags enfold his coffin, drum nor trumpet ring no tune, 
 As they lay him with his brothers on that summer's afternoon. 
 Drum nor trumpet ring no tune. 
 
384 
 
 SKETCHES IN RHYME. 
 
 Lay him there and part in sorrow ; but, ere many years have flown, 
 Comes that pilgrim, life aweary, there to lay his burden down. 
 Comes to reap a life-sown harvest, from the Cross to take the Crown, 
 When he'd lain his burden down. 
 
 ^ofir^ Si)urnA (sKgair^. 
 
 After Bret Harte — Several Years. 
 
 Who hasn't heard of old John Burns? 
 The man so praised and slandered by turns ; 
 Till some, as the stories to mind they recall. 
 Much doubt if he ever lived at all. 
 For who ever led such a double life 
 As he, when the Boys in Blue held strife 
 With the rebs in gray and butternut brown 
 On the hills o'erlooking Gettysburg town ? 
 
 For he saw no fight, yet he bravely fought — 
 
 Was badly wounded, yet he was not 
 
 A valiant soldier, a cowardly brag, 
 
 A crusty crank, a comical wag, 
 
 A poor shoemaker in rented house, 
 
 A thrifty farmer with " bees and cows !" 
 
 Why such contrariness, when, forsooth, 
 'Tis so much easier to tell the truth ? 
 
 Where the quiet streets come sloping down 
 The sun-set side of Gettysburg town, 
 And shady suburb to meadow turns 
 You'll find the house of old John Burns. 
 
 A rustic cottage I'd like to paint ; 
 Many-gabled and mossy and quaint ; 
 
JOHN BURNS AGAIN. 385 
 
 With ivied walls and a floral arch 
 Bridging the front of the latticed porch ; 
 With flower-lined paths, and nooks with ferns, 
 Surroundings for which the soulful yearns. 
 But not the surroundings of brave John Burns. 
 I would fain give rein to the vain aesthetic. 
 But I'd rather be truthful than poetic ; 
 So I must come down to language tame 
 And show a "story and a half of frame," 
 With whitewash painted, a flowerless lawn — 
 'Tis not the picture I counted on. 
 But I care not who from the canvas turns ; 
 It shows you the home of old John Burns. 
 
 And here he lived from year to year. 
 The sort of fellow who some call queer. 
 For he paid his debts, but to make amends 
 Minded his business and stuck to his friends, 
 Like the wax with which he shaped his ends ! 
 
 For as to the trade of old John Burns, 
 He made and mended shoes by turns ; 
 So he sewed and pegged away, and here 
 Life's stream ran smoothly for many a year. 
 
 In the summer days, when his work was done, 
 He would sit on his steps, while the slanting sun 
 Sent its beams on his little house of frame 
 Till the gable windows danced aflame, 
 And look on scenes in the glowing west. 
 With peaceful thoughts in his thankful breast. 
 
 And truly it was a goodly sight, 
 Did he look to the front or left or right, 
 Where the vista spread for many a rood, 
 Dotted with farm-house, orchard and wood. 
 
386 SKETCHES IN RHYME. 
 
 Just in front was the famed Oak Ridge, 
 While on the far horizon's edge, 
 Lifting it up on either hand. 
 Arose South Mountain rugged and grand, 
 Hiding the Valley of Cumberland. 
 
 Peaceful the time, but it soon passed o'er, 
 And the cruel demon of civil war 
 Had plowed the land and the harvest made 
 For the reaper Death with his crescent blade. 
 
 Throbbings of hope and fear by turns 
 
 Pulsed through the heart of old John Burns. 
 
 For the "canny Scot" was a patriot true. 
 
 Who longed to fight in the ranks of Blue. 
 
 But gathering years had bowed him down. 
 
 And he needs must stay in Gettysburg town. 
 
 So he fretted and fumed day after day. 
 
 Though he pegged and stitched and hammered away. 
 
 For there needs to be soling and heeling of shoes 
 
 Though the war eagle^screeches or peace dove cooes ; 
 
 Though nations go tottering to luckless fate. 
 
 Shoemakers must work and customers wait. 
 
 One day through the streets of the startled town 
 An army of horsemen came riding down. 
 Rebels in gray and butternut brown. 
 
 Streaming with tatters their dusty clothes. 
 Full of vermin, as they with oaths, 
 Georgia " crackers," " tar-heel " toughs, 
 Texas cow-boys, Arkansaw roughs ; 
 But plucky in battle as well as defeat, 
 These ragged fellows were hard to beat. 
 As with rattle of sj^ur and jingle of sword. 
 Like a noisy dream, swept the hungry horde 
 
JOHN BURNS AGAIN. 
 
 387 
 
 On their Northward road. In another day 
 Came Buford and Reynolds the selfsame way, 
 With their Yankee troops, with marching worn, 
 But their shot-riven flags were proudly borne, 
 As 'mid clangor and shouts they galloped down 
 The sloping streets of Gettysburg town. 
 
 And where was Burns that fateful day, 
 
 When our boys were gathering for the fray ? 
 
 The man who had said he was ready to fight 
 
 As soon as the rebels came in sight ? 
 
 Down in his shoe shop mending shoes, 
 
 Pegging away, but full of the Blues 
 
 As the town that morn, for he wanted to fight, 
 
 But he'd promised some work that was not done quite ; 
 
 For I'd liave you know the doubtingest Thomas 
 
 Ne'er said John Burns went back on a promise ! 
 
 On the floor was his work in a tidy row. 
 
 From coarsest brogan to baby's shoe, 
 
 AUigned as if on dress parade ; 
 
 And on his shoe bench lately made, 
 
 A present from old John Burns 'tis said. 
 
 Were the wedding slippers of Jennie Wade. 
 
 Poor girl ! in another day to fall, 
 
 Shot dead by a rebel rifle ball. 
 
 While, laying aside all girlish fears. 
 
 She was baking bread for our cannoniers ! 
 
 He hears a cannon ; he quickly turns 
 
 His face to the north, does old John Burns, 
 
 And he sees a sight from his house of frame 
 
 That sets his tingling blood aflame ; 
 
 For foemen are gathering to bring renown 
 
 And tears and sorrow to Gettysburg town. 
 
 In vain for him is that signal gun, 
 
 For the promised shoes are not yet done. 
 
SKETCHES IN RHYME. 
 
 Nor he the man from duty to shirk ; 
 So he goes on finishing up his work. 
 
 Boom ! Boom ! Again the cannon's clamor 
 Plays base to the tenor of his hammer, 
 As he works away with his stubborn will, 
 To get through so as to go on the hill. 
 But now his senses seemed spell-bound, 
 When a change came o'er all things around. 
 
 He saw himself an avenging knight. 
 
 Predestined to set the wrong things right. 
 
 His garments changed from their cut so queer 
 
 To the courtly dress of a cavalier. 
 
 From its peg on the side of the dingy room 
 
 His napless white hat seemed to bloom 
 
 To a Highland bonnet with nodding plume. 
 
 His shoe-knife grew to a bright claymore, 
 
 As heavy as Bruce or Wallace bore. 
 
 While his hammer changed to the sledge of Thor, 
 
 Pounding the brazen gong of war. 
 
 His awls to hilted daggers grew. 
 
 Seeking the hearts of Treason's crew. 
 
 The shoe-pegs, ranged in their little stalls, 
 
 Grew and hardened to Minnie balls. 
 
 While his ink — in a horn — seemed like a flood 
 
 Of bubbling, seething, traitor's blood. 
 
 Each coil from his ball of thread let loose 
 
 Twisted and curled to a hangman's noose, 
 
 Ready to give the rebs their dues. 
 
 While the muffled stroke on the leathered stone 
 
 Seemed " sickening thuds " for traitors gone. 
 
 And each dubious bill on his little slate, 
 
 A repudiated Southern debt ! 
 
 But this last gave such a twinge of pain. 
 
 He aroused and went to work again. 
 
JOHN BURNS AGAIN. 389 
 
 Testily rasping the sole of his shoe, 
 
 He pared the edge and blackened them too. 
 
 Marked on the shining face the price, 
 
 Then said, as he shut his mouth like a vise : 
 
 " I've kept my promise," and then he laughed, 
 
 When he added : " I'll never disgrace my craft ! " 
 
 Thus John, and he stiffly rose to his feet. 
 
 Folded his apron tidy and neat. 
 
 Then he called to his good wife Barbara, 
 
 " I've a job of work on the Kidge to-day. 
 
 If young and able-bodied fellers 
 
 Choose to hide like rats in the cellars, 
 
 I'll show my colors and go the front 
 
 And share with the boys the battle's brunt." 
 
 He shows her the row of customers' shoes ; 
 Tells whom to trust and whom to refuse ; 
 Then her toil-worn hands he tightly grips, 
 Till they tingle to their finger tips. 
 And looking around that no one saw, 
 He frightened the weeping Barbara 
 With a smacking kiss on her puckered lips — 
 For he wasn't one of the kissing kind, 
 Though a tenderer man you couldn't find — 
 And blushing and trembling standing there, 
 To him she was as young and fair 
 As when he bore her a bonnie bride 
 In far off" days from the banks of Clyde. 
 
 From his heart there seems a lifted load. 
 As he moves along the dusty road ; 
 And his halting gait works up to the stride 
 Of a soldier filled with martial pride ; 
 While he lifts his head with a pose severe 
 That would please the eye of a grenadier, 
 As he hears the sounds and sees the sight 
 That tells the opening of the fight. 
 
390 SKETCHES IN RHYME. 
 
 Sections of batteries thundered by, 
 Followed by squadrons of cavalry ; 
 And limping on with blistered feet, 
 The tired foot-soldiers filled the street ; 
 While on the hill top, smoke enplumed, 
 The hot breathed cannon ceaseless boomed ; 
 And underneath was heard the whir 
 Of the random ball of the skirmisher ; 
 But neither to right nor left he turns, 
 But on like fate stalks old John Burns, 
 With soul aflame and teeth on edge. 
 And never stops till he mounts the Ridge. 
 
 And here he sees, in the rising din, 
 
 The Seventh Wisconsin going in ; 
 
 And he says to the Colonel, " Give us a gun. 
 
 And I'll help you to make the rebels run ! " 
 
 Just then a shell tore up the dirt — 
 
 " Run home, old fellow, or you'll get hurt," 
 
 Said the Colonel. But John roared back in wrath. 
 
 As he stood unflinched in the fiery bath, 
 
 " There's no room there, for all the cellars 
 
 Are full to the joists with home-guard fellers, 
 
 So give us a gun." And the Colonel said, 
 
 Under the orders he roared o'erhead, 
 
 " There's none to spare," and he said with a smile, 
 
 " There'll be plenty if you'll wait awhile," 
 
 As he changed the order to " Fire by file." 
 
 Just then came the " zip " of a Minnie ball, 
 And a tall file-closer was seen to fall. 
 And when to his side John quickly sped, 
 No thought had he of robbing the dead. 
 But rather that of grafting his life 
 To this one laid low in the battle's strife. 
 And to finish the work he'd just begun. — 
 With short apology fighting John 
 
JOHN BURNS AGAIN. 391 
 
 Grasped from the tight-clenched hand the gun, 
 Smoking and warm ; nor pangs he felt 
 As he took the cartridge-box and belt 
 From the dying man, and buckled them on, 
 For the blood was hot in fighting John. 
 And he stepped in line with an iron will. 
 And not forgetting his old-time skill, 
 When he gunned for squirrels on yonder hill, 
 And which in his eyes yet seemed to lurk, 
 He spat on his hands and went to work. 
 
 How he and the boys had another spat 
 About his clothes and bell-crowned hat, 
 Bret Harte has told you all of that ! 
 No matter if some his story doubt — 
 So I'll just narrate what he left out. 
 
 Not caring a peg for Hardee's drill, 
 
 John's plan was to " load and fire at will ;" 
 
 And as he blazed to left and right 
 
 Each shot gave vent to a special spite. 
 
 This for Sumpter. That Bull Run— 
 
 And here he double-shotted his gun ; 
 
 This Fredericksburg. That Chancellorsville — 
 
 For each he shot with a will to kill. 
 
 This for the time he kept away 
 
 From the ranks of the Blue in front of the Gray. 
 
 That for the dead Wisconsin man. 
 
 Whose record ended when his began. 
 
 Mute but appealing lying there — 
 
 And here he " loaded his gun for bear," 
 
 This for his colonel wounded sore — 
 
 'Twas then as he banged away he swore. 
 
 Till with this for that and that for this. 
 
 Firing away with seldom a miss. 
 
 His cartridge-box was emptied quite 
 
 Before he had shot away his spite. 
 
392 SKETCHES IN RHYME. 
 
 How many were killed, or wounded fell, 
 From i^iercing bullet and gashing shell. 
 He never noticed, but with the rest 
 His only thought was doing his best ! 
 
 Thus Gettysburg's patriot grim and lone, 
 
 With a borrowed gun but a will of his own, 
 
 Loading, aiming, firing away ; 
 
 So full of life was he that day 
 
 From his acts you'd scarce the inference draw 
 
 He was dead in the Psalmist's Scriptural law. 
 
 He got more bullets — this man of pluck, 
 Unarmed as yet ; but changed his luck 
 When a low aimed shot his ankle struck. 
 But still he could fire ; when another one 
 Crippled the arm that steadied his gun ; 
 Another, and Burns fell prone to the ground. 
 One added to plenty lying around ; 
 And they bore him off as the sun went down 
 Over the hill and into the town. 
 
 And there he lay while the battle surged 
 Till the fiery day into night had merged, 
 While the men in Gray pushed the boys in Blue 
 The streets of Gettysburg through and through, 
 Capturing some and driving the rest 
 Till they wearied dropped on the graveyard crest. 
 When the guns of Steinwehr, grim and black. 
 Pelted their fierce pursuers back. 
 
 And another day, while the rebel right 
 
 Was fighting our left for Round Top's height, 
 
 Till the famed Peach Orchard ground was filled 
 
 With fallen soldiers maimed and killed, 
 
 And horses dead by the burst caissons 
 
 Just in rear of the useless guns. 
 
JOHN BURNS AGAIN. 393 
 
 Till the trees which in April bloomed with pearl, 
 Blushed red with the rain of that tempest whirl. 
 While the smoke-grimed imps in the " Devil's Den " 
 Were rifling the lives of our Round Top men, 
 And each rock on the slope of " Granite Spur " 
 Blazed with the fire of a skirmisher. 
 While round-shot, shell and musket ball 
 Were threshing the wheat so yellow and tall, 
 That gleamed in the valley far below 
 Alive with the charge of the coming foe, 
 Till the tangled straw seemed from the heights 
 Dotted all over with gruesome sights. 
 
 And yet he lay while roared and raved 
 
 The fight and the rent flags drooped or waved. 
 
 Till the twilight shades came quivering down 
 
 Over the sulphur waves of brown. 
 
 When the fiery rebels of Hoke and Hays ; 
 
 Were charging the Federal battle-blaze. 
 
 When the gunners were tickling with rammer and swab 
 
 Their gun-throats till with retch and throb 
 
 They vomited hells of iron and fire 
 
 On the torn waves rising higher and higher, 
 
 Till they made them turn and backward pour 
 
 With their wreckage crowding the sloping shore ; 
 
 Flotsam and jetsam high and dry 
 
 For the wreckers to gather by and by. 
 
 And there he lay that terrible day. 
 
 That final day when the grim array ; 
 
 The storming column of Pickett stood 
 
 Enmassed behind the screening wood. 
 
 Left flanked and charged the meadow slopes, 
 
 Of hopes forlon, forlornest of hopes ! 
 
 Hi Hi * => ^ * 
 
 The cannon which an hour or more 
 
 Had vexed the air have ceased their roar. 
 
 25 
 
394 SKETCHES IN RHYME. 
 
 The Federals, ranged from height to height, 
 In awe-struck silence view the sight 
 As onward the Confederate braves 
 Come marching o'er their future graves, 
 And as they cross the meadow's marge 
 They double-quick the final charge. 
 
 Now roar the Federal guns again, 
 Now flash their hundred fires amain, 
 The graveyard frees its hidden death 
 And Round Top blows its poisoned breath. 
 While the long, low ridge which lies between 
 Seething with fire and smoke is seen. 
 
 The torn lines break but charge again ; 
 Behind a broadening trail of slain, 
 In front a narrowing sea of gray, 
 On the famed Stone Wall breaks away, 
 Reddening the surface with its spray. 
 
 And still he heard from the lonely ward 
 The battle above as it surged and roared, 
 While the bursting shells wove a fiery bridge 
 Of arches which sprang from ridge to ridge. 
 Spanning the reeking battle mist. 
 Over which they shrieked and hissed ; 
 Spanning the swaying noisy sea 
 Of demonized humanity 
 With its under current flowing red. 
 Wounded and dying among the dead. 
 
 The sun rose twice, and twice went down, 
 Back of the mountains dim and brown ; 
 Twice the moon with softened glare 
 Rode through the sulphur-laden air. 
 And the fight was over. Ah ! who can tell 
 How many were sleeping where they fell. 
 
JOHN BURNS AGAIN. 395 
 
 The fight was over, but victory 
 Didn't perch on the banners of General Lee, 
 AVho bolstered his pistols and sheathed his sword, 
 And getting ahead of his rebel horde 
 They stole — 'twas a way they had — away 
 Through the mountain pass of Monterey, 
 And off to the South-land skurried down, 
 Sick and tired of Gettysburg town. 
 
 And still Burns lay in his lonely ward, 
 Tho' hushed were the guns which so lately roared. 
 Still o'er him the Hither and Yon held strife 
 On the skirmish ground 'twixt death and life, 
 For the wounding bullets the probe withstood. 
 And fever was firing his meagre blood, 
 The rebels around him — the burning pain — 
 The battle echoes had turned his brain. 
 
 He was fighting still in the sultry sun, 
 
 Down by the banks of AVilloughby Run, 
 
 Swathing the rebels with his gun — 
 
 The borrowed gun which this honest man 
 
 "Was worrying how to return again — 
 
 In the gathering smoke and rising noise, 
 
 In the line with the brave Wisconsin boys, 
 
 Again was he coaxing left and right 
 
 His neighbors to get their guns and fight ; 
 
 Again these subterranean dwellers 
 
 Who served their country down in their cellars, 
 
 Rang in his ears their senseless prate, 
 
 " They also serve who watch and wait." 
 
 While this was the loud refrain of some, 
 
 " What would be done if we all left home ? 
 
 Again was he calling them rats and moles. 
 And telling them all to come out of their holes 
 As he did before. And that is why 
 When you talk of Burns they look so shy. 
 
SKETCHES IN RHYME. 
 
 Instead of giving him votes of thanks, 
 As they would have done in the elder Rome, 
 They vote him a crusty king of cranks. 
 They call him a bug of the genus hum ; 
 And this is the local fame one earns 
 Who does his duty like old John Burns. 
 
 One day in his ears these words were lipped, 
 
 " The battle is over, the rebs are whipped ! " 
 
 His wandering mind to the words caught on, 
 
 The fever quick from his brain was gone ; 
 
 The bullets which had so stubborn proved 
 
 To the probing steel like magnets moved ; 
 
 And getting one of his cranky turns. 
 
 He soon got well, did old John Burns, 
 
 In spite of all the doctor's rules. 
 
 And hobbled back to his bench and tools, 
 
 And stitched and pegged and hammered away 
 
 As he did of old, until one day 
 
 Death came along with his manner rough — 
 
 As he handles his victims tender or tough — 
 
 Gathered him in and bore him off 
 
 With the neighbors' help, and laid him away 
 
 By the bones of his old wife, Barbara, 
 
 On the hill o'erlooking his house of frame. 
 
 And the field where he won his deathless fame. 
 
 Now this is the last of old John Burns, 
 Gashed by bullets and rhymes by turns ; 
 The rebels commenced, and Bret and I 
 Have finished their work successfully. 
 And laid him to rest on the hills that frown 
 On the peaceful homes of Gettysburg town. 
 
JENNIE WADE. 
 
 Jennie ©Y^aile- 
 
 Killed at Gettysburg, July, 1863. 
 
 Have you heard the story of Jennie AVade 
 And Corporal Skelly, her Boy in Blue? 
 
 Gettysburg's " Saragossa Maid " 
 
 And his country's soldier brave and true? 
 
 When the shells burst over spire and roof, 
 
 And the balls hissed up and down the street, 
 And people, from danger to keep aloof, 
 
 Hid in the cellar's safe retreat. 
 Brave Jennie the dangers heeded none, 
 
 But in her cottage worked away 
 Baking the brown loaves one by one 
 
 For the boys who fought on the hill that day. 
 When lo ! as she worked, a rebel ball 
 
 Like an adder hissed through the open door, 
 And the stricken maiden tottered to fall 
 
 Lifeless upon her kitchen floor. 
 Never to know her soldier lover, 
 
 Corporal Skelly, light of her eye, 
 Joy of her young heart over and over. 
 
 Wounded, had lain him down to die. 
 
 Down where the Shenandoah Kiver, 
 
 With current reddened, sought the sea, 
 Its bosom with war-sounds ever a-quiver. 
 
 As the battle-clouds their bolts set free. 
 When the Minnie balls sang through the thickets- 
 
 In place of the song-birds scared away- 
 After the bugle recalled the pickets. 
 
 And ere the batteries got in play. 
 
 397 
 
398 SKETCHES IN RHYME. 
 
 When the skirmish line grew thinner and thinner 
 
 And our army's edges were torn and frayed, 
 Ere the fight worked on to bass from tenor, 
 
 The bullet flew hot that low him laid. 
 Laid him low, in life ne'er knowing 
 
 His love in death on her hearth-stone bled, 
 From rebel bullet her heart's blood flowing ; 
 
 Neither to know the other dead. 
 
 This is the story of Jennie Wade 
 
 And Corporal Skelly, her Boy in Blue ! 
 
 Gettysburg's " Saragossa Maid " 
 
 And her country's soldier brave and true. 
 
 Half hidden by weeping willows, 
 
 At the foot of a wooded hill, 
 In a setting of quiet beauty 
 
 Nestles the old grist-mill. 
 Its roof is seamed and moss-covered. 
 
 And tottering is its wall, 
 And silent and still is the water-wheel 
 
 All compassed in Time's enthrall. 
 
 Slimy and green is the penstock, 
 
 And covered with nettles rank ; 
 Weed-grown the winding mill-race, 
 
 Crevasses cleave its banks. 
 The willow's coquettish branches 
 
 Are kissing the glassy pond, 
 With its splatterdocks in floating flocks. 
 
 And the thicket-lined shore beyond. 
 
399 
 
 THE OLD GRIST-MILL. 
 
 Back to the days of my boyhood 
 
 My thoughts fly on memory's wmgs, 
 I see the old mill in its glory; 
 
 What spray the big ^Yater-wheel flings. 
 As the buckets strike the water 
 
 With merry, pattering sound, 
 And what rattling peals the counter-wheels 
 Ring out as they whirl around ! 
 
 Hark how the mill-stones rumble 
 
 As the golden grain runs through! 
 List to the clattering " damsel "^^ 
 
 Shaking the agueish "shoe! 
 Swiftly is gliding the belting-- 
 
 The cogs reel round in a maze- 
 As with mute surprise in my juvenile eyes 
 
 I wondering stand and gaze. 
 
 There stands the miller musing 
 On the ups and downs of corn. 
 
 His form appears bowed down with years 
 And the weighty sacks he's borne. 
 
 Dust wraps him round like a halo- 
 Dented his mealy hat— 
 
 An honest old man is the miller I scan, 
 Though they say his hogs are fat. 
 
 Weighing out quarters of flour- 
 Measuring bushels of feed- 
 Plenty of grist work his dower- 
 Plenty of water his need. 
 Toiling from morning till even, 
 
 Grinding the golden grain ; 
 When death one day chanced over that way 
 And heavenward jogged the twain. 
 
400 SKETCHES IN RHYME. 
 
 No longer the spectral miller 
 
 At his onerous post is found ; 
 From his haunts he's missed, he's ground his grist, 
 
 And the miller's grist is ground. 
 Well toled, they say, was his grist work, 
 
 Well told were the yarns he spun. 
 Well tolled was the bell at his funeral 
 
 After his work was done. 
 
 And now that mill is standing 
 
 Cheerless and silent and old. 
 Owls and bats through the windows 
 
 Are flying fearless and bold. 
 Time and the rats are gnawing 
 
 At rafter and beam and floor ; 
 And soon the old mill, so silent and still. 
 
 Will crumble to rise no more. 
 
 Oh ! what is the world but a grist-mill ? 
 
 Where Right is ground down by Power ; 
 Where Fashion is grinding its minions 
 
 Into very indifferent flour. 
 Where Vice is crushing out Virtue, 
 
 And the Rich grind down the Poor. 
 Where grists of Cares and Hopes and Fears 
 
 Pass in and out at the door ! 
 
 Oh, what is Life but a mill-stone ? 
 
 Turning round once each day ; 
 Crushing us, tearing us, grinding us, 
 
 Slowly but surely away. 
 Grimly, remorselessly gliding, 
 
 Stilling the panting breath ; 
 Who is that ghastly miller? 
 
 Who but the scarecrow — Death ? 
 
A LYRIC OF THE CUTTALOSSA. 
 
 J\ bync of tfie ©uffafoxi^Aa.* 
 
 Where Cuttalossa's waters 
 
 Roll murmuring on their way, 
 'Twixt hazel clumps and alders, 
 
 'Neath old trees mossed and gray. 
 Just where across the valley. 
 
 From the old, old grist-mill come 
 The water-wheel's low patter, 
 
 The mill-stone's drowsy hum. 
 
 Here sparkling from its birthplace 
 
 Just up the rifted hill. 
 O'er tiny cascades leaping, 
 
 Comes down a little rill ; 
 Till in a rude built fountain 
 
 It pours its crystal tide. 
 Just where the road comes winding 
 
 On the valley opening wide. 
 
 Here a Samaria-dweller 
 
 Had brought a rustic cup. 
 From the milky cocoa fashioned, 
 
 And there had hung it up. 
 A little gem poetic. 
 
 From New England's Quaker bard, 
 With his name beneath, was graven 
 
 Upon its outlines hard. 
 
 401 
 
 * On the Cuttalossa, two miles from its mouth, is a spring which l^-« ^^ad mu^^ 
 printed notice from iis romantic surroundings. It had long ^een — - a 
 place of liquid refreshment by ph^cing there a water-trough and drinking cup 
 The latter,\ cocoa shell neatly handled, had an apt inscription plac-i upon ^t 
 A colored teamster from Buckingham bore the cup away for private use bnt 
 brought it back on hearing that the road-master had pos.ed up a notice threaten- 
 ing the abductor with suspension unless he did so. 
 
402 SKETCHES IN RHYMK. 
 
 Here through the swelteriug sunmier 
 
 The thirsty wayfarer stopped 
 To quaff this liquid manna — 
 
 This nectar heaven-dropped. 
 There Dives in his phaeton, 
 
 There Jehu with his wain, 
 And the ragged, grimy tramper 
 
 Met on a common plane. 
 
 Met in this Temperance tavern, 
 
 With swaying branches roofed ; 
 The bar-maids wanton Naiads ; 
 
 While Satyrs horned and hoofed, 
 Played hostler ; while no landlord 
 
 With bills the guests did vex — 
 They freely drained the cocoa 
 
 Of Adam's XXX! 
 
 One sleepy, summer noontide, 
 
 When all was still around. 
 Save when, like a tired bee's buzziug, 
 
 A Pan-pipe's droning sound 
 Came drowsily from the meadow, 
 
 Morpheus, the tricky elf. 
 Fast bound the fountain guardians. 
 
 So the bar had to run itself. 
 
 That day a colored orphan, 
 
 Of fifty years or so, 
 Just from a neighboring province. 
 
 Stopped here his mules to blow. 
 He spied the pendant goblet — 
 
 This "child-like" son of Ham, 
 Quoth he, "That palm-born cocoa 
 
 Will soothe my 'itching palm.' 
 
A LYKIC OF THE CUTTALOSSA. 
 
 "Oh what a cup for cider! 
 
 I'll put it to that use, 
 And drink from it genial bumpers 
 
 Ofbeadv apple-juice." 
 Then this colored man and brother 
 
 Glanced warily toward the mill, 
 Low humming across the valley, 
 
 And the farm-house on the hill. 
 
 Then spake, "One Whittier owns it; 
 
 But I do not care a— clam, 
 Not one whit I err in taking. 
 
 For wittier I am. 
 For wit I e'er was famous, 
 
 In logic I bear the palm. 
 So away I'll bear the palm-fruit. 
 
 And hie to the land of Haml 
 So he quick annexed the cocoa— 
 
 His conscience gave no qualm 
 Saying with tragic Kichard, 
 
 "This much for Buckingham I 
 
 The elves awakening, seeing 
 
 The spoiler had been there, 
 The Satyrs stamped their goat-hoots, 
 
 The Naiads tore their hair. 
 And fearing the wrath of Dian— 
 She of the groves and fields— 
 The Naiads took to the water, 
 The Satyrs took to their heels. 
 
 While this brother bore his treasure 
 
 Homeward, and late that night 
 He tapped the frothing cider, 
 
 With blithesome heart and iiglit. 
 But oh, what horrors seized him 
 
 When he to drink essayed; 
 
 403 
 
404 SKETCHES IN RHYME. 
 
 Fierce spasms shook his muscles, 
 He felt a nameless dread. 
 
 'Twas cider-phobia had him 
 Within its awful grasp. 
 
 He sought his couch in terror, 
 And many a thirsty gasp. 
 
 He prays aloud for Morpheus — 
 
 His prayer naught avails ; 
 His bed seems filled with chestnut burrs, 
 
 His pillow with wrought nails. 
 These prick-like stings of conscience, 
 
 He tosses to and fro. 
 Crying out, " No wretch so suffered 
 
 On earth or down below. 
 
 " Not vulture-gnawed Prometheus, 
 
 Chained to his lonely rock; 
 Nor Tantalus, ever baffled 
 
 By the waters that him mock. 
 Not Ixion, ever turning, 
 
 Snake-bound, upon his wheel ; 
 Nor Sisyphus, ever rolling 
 
 His stone up an endless hill. 
 
 " O is't what folks call conscience 
 
 That makes this night a hell ? 
 O for some incantation 
 
 To break this magic spell. 
 O for some Afric sorcerer, 
 
 Some grim magician's wand, 
 Some ' fetich ' of my fathers. 
 
 From far Apingi land. 
 
 " Come from the mountain, Dinah ! 
 Once chaste Diana called. 
 
A LYRIC OF THE CUTTALOSSA. 
 
 Come from tby haunts and tell me 
 What has my spirit thralled! 
 
 Scarce was the prayer uttered, 
 When the Sylvan Goddess come, 
 
 And with her presence haloed 
 And glorified the room. 
 
 " Burnt-corked" her Grecian profile, 
 
 Her "Grecian Bend" curved high; 
 Crimped were her flowing tresses, 
 
 "Greek fire" was in her eye. 
 And thus she spake, "Oh, monster 1 
 
 Who with sacrilegious hand 
 Stole a vessel from my altar. 
 
 List while I thee command! 
 
 Before to-morrow's noontide 
 Take thou that goblet back. 
 
 Or fiercer pangs than ever 
 Thy recreant soul shall rack. 
 
 « And traveler, be he tramper. 
 
 Or Dives with his chaise, 
 Or Jehu with his wagon. 
 
 Will curse thee day by day. 
 E'en now the roadway guardian, 
 
 A note has posted up. 
 The fate of Haman threatening 
 
 To the robber of ' Our Cup.' 
 
 " If peace thou wishest, promise. 
 
 Or by the fabled boar, 
 Ancestral curse shall reach thee 
 
 From far Zambesi's shore. 
 Of the arch-baboon Darwinian, 
 
 Our sire pre- Adamite- 
 Its Upas bane shall shade thee, ^^ 
 
 Life's fairest prospects bhght. 
 
 405 
 
406 SKETCHES IN RHYME. 
 
 Thus she ; with teeth a-chatter, 
 
 He promised. Frorn the room 
 She rode off on a moonbeam, 
 
 And left the place in gloom. 
 The chestnut burrs turned feathers, 
 
 To down the nails w^ere wrought, 
 He slept the just man's slumbers. 
 
 Till day its duty brought. 
 
 Then he geared his long-eared comrades, 
 
 And the cocoa shell conveyed 
 To the nook beside the roadway, 
 
 Where the bubbling fountain played. 
 A weight was off his spirits, 
 
 His whistle blithe and gay. 
 Rang out on the Cuttalossa, 
 
 As he went his winding way. 
 
 The woodland sprites, exultant. 
 
 In sportive gambols played, 
 Pan-piping a Bacchanal measure, 
 
 Frisked up and down the glade. 
 While the goat-like prancing Satyrs, 
 
 And the Naiads scant arrayed, 
 Keeping time to the pipes' wild music, 
 
 Danced minuets in the shade. 
 
DICKENS. 
 
 407 
 
 I SEE his grand creations rise 
 
 In troops from depths abysmal, 
 And file along before my eyes, 
 
 With faces gay to dismal — 
 Gay like the jolly, jovial Mark, 
 
 Perennially cheerful ; 
 In every shade of character. 
 
 To Gummidge, always tearful. 
 
 Well to the front stalks Copperfield, 
 Whose future ope'd so dreary 
 
 When boyhood's trials weighing down 
 Made him of life a-weary ; 
 
408 SKETCHES IN RHYME. 
 
 Till, hopefully, he trudged along 
 When time made all things even, 
 
 And all his purgatorial paths 
 Merged to an earthly heaven. 
 
 In thinking of his rival girls, 
 
 With Pat I'd say : "Be gorra ! 
 I'd taken Agnes at the start — 
 
 Not waste those years with Dora." 
 You cannot find a nobler type. 
 
 Through Dickens' women sorting. 
 But she should not have been slow, 
 
 And done some livelier courting. 
 
 While David, burdened with his doll, 
 
 Looked back with glances yearning 
 To that regretted point in life 
 
 When Agnes graced the turning. 
 Close by Aunt Trotwood walks erect, 
 
 As if naught would unbend her ; 
 And yet beneath that rugged form 
 
 Were heart-throbs pulsing tender. 
 
 And here comes Peggoty, the nurse, 
 
 With cheeks like russet apples ; 
 Her brother Daniel, rough but kind. 
 
 Whose tongue such English grapples ; 
 And little Em'ly, at whose face 
 
 Such lecherous glances leer forth 
 From him for whom Ham lost his life : 
 
 The polished villain Steerforth. 
 
 And Tommy Traddles, Simple Dick, 
 And more along come trooping. 
 
 I'll have to stop, they come so thick, 
 And seek another grouping. 
 
DICKENS. 409- 
 
 Ah ! here is Pip in churchyard bounds, 
 As day grows dim and dimmer, 
 
 Trying to con life's early tasks. 
 With tombstones for his primer. 
 
 And convict Magwitch shuffles by, 
 
 I hear his chain's harsh clangor ; 
 While henpecked Gargery plods along, 
 
 Lashed by his shrew-wife's anger; 
 And ponderous Orlick, holding tight 
 
 His murderous blacksmith hammer ; 
 And cautious Wemmick, and the "Aged' 
 
 His ears so proof to clamor. 
 
 And weird Miss Havisham appears. 
 And convict-born Estella ; 
 
 A shame she e'er should wed our Pip- 
 He was too nice a fellow\ 
 
 Another group : "Our Mutual Friend" 
 Stands forth in outlines splendid ; 
 
 Who gave up fortune — lived unknown. 
 To test a wife intended. 
 
 And ox-like Boffin, with his mate, 
 
 Who made such tilts at fashion ; 
 And literary Wegg, who had 
 
 For poetry such passion ; 
 And Gaffer and Rogue Riderhood, 
 
 With callings so unholy ; 
 And bony Venus— Jenny Wren ; 
 
 The Jew so meek and lowly. 
 
 And Eugene Wrayburn ! how could he 
 E'er marry Gaffer's daughter? 
 
 Such fearful price for being pulled 
 By her from out the water ; 
 
410 SKETCHES IN RHYME. 
 
 And Bradley Headstone, on whose life 
 There seemed to dawn no morning, 
 
 Who shunned one woman's loving smiles 
 To meet another's scorning. 
 
 Another group, and at its head 
 
 Is Pecksniff's form appearing; 
 His speech so full of pious talk, 
 
 His eye of carnal leering. 
 Here pass along twin storied dames, 
 
 Whose gait the rest embarrass ; 
 They are material Mrs. Gamp, 
 
 And mythic Mrs. Harris. 
 
 Young Chuzzlewit, his servant Mark — 
 
 That synonym for Jolly ; 
 And poor Tom Pinch, whose dearest friend 
 
 Made his love-yearnings folly. 
 Another group which Pickwick leads 
 
 With legs abbreviated, 
 And Weller and his " widder " wife 
 
 Who were so badly mated. 
 
 Another crew by Dombey led, 
 
 I see, has just up-anchored ; 
 And still another, led by him 
 
 Who for some " more " so hankered ; 
 And other chiefs lead other hosts. 
 
 Till comes the grand finale. 
 When Death tears Edwin Drood in two — 
 
 Half left each side the Valley. 
 
 What shall I say of him whose brain 
 These passing forms created ? 
 
 Did he deserve the praise bestowed. 
 Or was be overrated ? 
 
THE OLD SAW-MILL. 411 
 
 Alas ! I fear the crucial test, 
 
 If placed upon him rightly, 
 "Would show him of but mortal stuff, 
 
 With blemishes unsightly. 
 
 We judge the writer by his words, 
 
 To find at last our folly. 
 On seeing what a wealth of thought 
 
 One private life can sully. 
 The snob and hypocrite for e'er 
 
 His pen's point was impaling — 
 Pecksniff and Podsnap, merged in him. 
 
 Their doubles were assailing. 
 
 Alas ! whose pen could draw the tear. 
 
 Wronged woman's woes portraying, 
 Should act Don Juan while the part 
 
 Of household tyrant playing ; 
 O'er novelists he lived enthroned. 
 
 All rival kings unseating — 
 To die at last of too much drink. 
 
 Combined with over-eating. 
 
 ©Ifie ©f4 iaco-Miff. 
 
 No MORE the glassy pond reflects 
 
 The lithesome willows' play. 
 The walls which pent its waters up 
 
 The floods have washed away. 
 Dead are the bright green water-plants 
 
 That fringed its shaded rim ; 
 The plow its arching furrows turn 
 
 Where fishes used to swim. 
 
412 SKETCHES IN RHYME. 
 
 Thick sown with briars and tangled weed, 
 
 And sedge grass waving rank, 
 The head-race winds in dim outline 
 
 Along the meadow bank. 
 Till crawling 'neath the turnpike road 
 
 It nears the ruined mill, 
 With roof-tree sunken to the leaves, 
 
 With voiceless wheels and still. 
 
 Its forebay sunken in the mud, 
 
 Its walls but crumbling stone, 
 Its timber mouldering to decay. 
 
 Its log-yard weed-o'ergrowrl. 
 Yet fancy needs but sway its wand, 
 
 When full of busy life 
 The old-time scenes start up again 
 
 With ringing music rife. 
 
 Again upon the brimful race 
 
 The willow branches play ; 
 Again the dripping mill-wheel flings 
 
 Aside the foaming spray. 
 Again I hear the rag-wheel's grate. 
 
 And hear the rattling cog. 
 And see the rising saw-teeth send 
 
 The white dust o'er the log. 
 
 I see the sawyer crouching stand 
 
 With keen and single eye — 
 The other shut, that he may see 
 
 If the mill-saw runs awry. 
 With swinging axe he " sculps " anon 
 
 The dirt from off the bark; 
 He hea.rs the saw a " hinge-hook " strike, 
 
 With eyebrows frowning dark. 
 
THE OLD SAW MILL. 43^3 
 
 Anon with watchful glance he sees, 
 
 Slow moving down the road, 
 The low log- wagon, oxen drawn, 
 
 And creaking with its load. 
 He grasps the toilsome cant-hook tight, 
 
 With horny hands and brown, 
 And with the teamsters' added help 
 
 The logs come thundering down. 
 
 Through toiling years he wore away 
 His life upon that mill ; 
 
 When death smote one he smote them both 
 And left them ever still. 
 
 He who uprightly walked the earth. 
 Full careless of its pelf, 
 
 Now in his plain-made coffin lay- 
 He sawed the boards hims'elf. 
 
 He sleeps in peaceful rest beneath 
 
 The daisy-sprinkled sod ; 
 No more to care for summer's drought, 
 
 Or spring-time's angry flood. 
 As neighbor good, as friend oft tried. 
 
 With large and kindly heart. 
 His life, well spent, this tribute earned— 
 
 " He acted well his part ! " 
 
 
414 SKETCHES IN EHYME. 
 
 Suns rise and set ; moons wax and wane ; 
 
 The seasons come, the seasons go ; 
 Onward to the eternal main 
 
 The everlasting rivers flow ; 
 From ocean's bosom mists arise. 
 
 Arise to fall to earth in rain ; 
 The snow-flakes winnowed from the skies 
 
 Like Antseus touch to rise again. 
 
 Eternal mountains prop the clouds ; 
 
 Eternal valleys stretch between ; 
 The one enwrapt in snowy shrouds, 
 
 The other robed in endless green. 
 I ask, why should these elements 
 
 Live soulless on, while mortal man. 
 So filled with soul and God-given sense. 
 
 Meets death, when lived his little span ? 
 
 We know the river flowing by 
 
 Will, heaven-descended, seek its source. 
 We know the shrubbery, bare and dry. 
 
 The spring will cover in its course. 
 But do we die, though know we not. 
 
 The scenes behind the curtain's fall ? 
 If to our gaze it is not brought, 
 
 Is there no hope beyond the pall ? 
 
 If light Divine illumine not 
 
 The dreaded haunts of the Beyond ; 
 
 Is there not proof within the thought 
 Which in earth, sky or stream is found ? 
 
AFTER-THOUGHTS. 416 
 
 If death gives life to soulless tree — 
 
 Clothes winter's icy slopes with green ; 
 Cannot our faith, from trammels free, 
 
 Make our deaths turned to life be seen ? 
 
 And if the waters flowing by, 
 
 All soulless, to the absorbing sea. 
 Can rise wind-wafted to the sky 
 
 To drop to live in flower and tree. 
 Can we not know there is no death, 
 
 That life flows on wave after wave. 
 And all unseen the parted breath 
 
 Sighs and exhalts beyond the grave? 
 
 Can pulseless clods thus favored be. 
 
 To grass and flowers and trees give birth, 
 And we, who live and love, must we 
 
 Die only to enrich the earth? 
 If withered seeds can grow and reach 
 
 In spreading splendor to the sky. 
 Must we yearn on in vain beseech. 
 
 Grope heavenward, fall, and vainly die? 
 
 We want no voice of gibbering ghost. 
 
 From gruesome graveyard taken flight, 
 To prove in death we are not lost — 
 
 The future not an endless night. 
 Even he who doubts the Word inspired. 
 
 In nature should not seek in vain. 
 To find the proof so much desired — 
 
 We only die to live again ! 
 
 •3 
 
ilfte ©Y^ia^-LIp 
 
 AVING written one conclusion within the confines of this 
 ^ volume, it becomes an easy task to write another. In this 
 one I am given opportunity to say that if readers knew 
 how tired an author grows of his book by the time he 
 sends his last proof to the publisher, they would not deem him an object 
 of envy. What the writer looked upon in its preparatory stages as a 
 labor of love, at last so wearies him that he is glad to get it out of 
 sight. Reading the same thing over and over, as the proofs are returned 
 for the correction of mistakes, makes him so tired of what was once a 
 pleasure that he goes through it as mechanically as if it were the work 
 of some one else, and feels that his readers should be under obligations 
 to him for getting the words in readable shape. The worst of it is that 
 repeated proof-readings so dull the senses that the overlooking of errors 
 is rendered easy ; so that after the types are set and the forms struck 
 off beyond recall, the author sees staring at him errors which in bitter- 
 ness of spirit he reproaches himself for not seeing in time. These are 
 repetition of words in such close connection that they mar the harmony 
 of composition, and other mistakes equally unpleasant. I call attention 
 to this, so that when the reader comes across anything bearing criticism^ 
 he will know I am aware of it also. 
 
 I may mention another source of annoyance. This is, when too late 
 to remedy the matter, the author sees what fine things he might have 
 inserted to enliven certain dull pages; but now, alas! impossible, since 
 the book is printed and the cold, cold type distributed. 
 
 Thus commenting, I start off my Book with the old saying, 
 
 " What's writ is writ ; would it were worthier." 
 
'jt.'ii^u!( ^ \i?rY!b: >u 
 
^^--NS^U 
 
 'r/^^'^^&^/L