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THE ADVENTURES OF 
 TWO ALABAMA BOYS 
 
M 
 o 
 
 C 
 
 PQ 
 
The Adventures of Two 
 Alabama Boys 
 
 In Three Sections 
 
 By H. J. and W. B. Crumpton 
 
 Part One 
 
 The Adventures of Dr. H. J. Crumpton, of 
 
 Piedmont, California, in his efforts to reach 
 
 the Gold Fields in 1849 
 
 Part Two 
 The Adventures of Rev. W. B. Crumpton, going 
 to and returning from California, including his 
 Lecture, " The Original Tramp, or How a Boy 
 Got through the Lines to the Confederacy " 
 
 Part Three 
 
 To California and Back after a Lapse of 
 Forty Years 
 
 Montgomery, Ala. 
 
 The Paragon Press 
 
 1912 
 
Copyright 1912 by W. B. Crumpton 
 
 Printed at the Paragon Press 
 
Dedication 
 
 We dedicate the little booklet to our 
 children. Maybe others will be inter- 
 ested also. We are certain there are im- 
 portant lessons here for young people, 
 who are in earnest. For the frivolous 
 and thoughtless there is nothing. 
 
 "The Boys:' 
 
Foreword. 
 
 H E ADVENTURES F 
 TWO ALABAMA BOYS 
 was prepared some years 
 ago with the view of put- 
 ting it in book form; but "The Boys" 
 have been so very busy the publication 
 has been delayed. 
 
 SECTION ONE contains the adven- 
 tures of Dr. H. J. Crumpton, a native 
 of Wilcox county, but since '49 a citizen 
 of California, now residing on a beauti- 
 ful spot in Piedmont, a suburb of the 
 city of Oakland. 
 
 These incidents which he relates, his 
 baby brother, the writer of these lines, 
 heard when he was a scrap of a boy. 
 They made a profound impression on 
 his youthful mind, and he has ever cher- 
 ished the hope that some day he might 
 see them in print. They were prepared 
 
at my earnest solicitation. I feel sure 
 it was no easy task to dig up from mem- 
 ory almost forgotten incidents and put 
 them in shape for the reader. At this 
 writing, though he is advanced in years, 
 past eighty-four, the good wife writes: 
 "He is smart and active as ever — walks 
 fifteen miles and it doesn't feaze him." 
 
 One of the most noted buildings in 
 San Francisco is that of the Society of 
 California Pioneers, of which Society he 
 is an honored member and a Vice-Pres- 
 ident. His opinion of politics one can 
 discover by a letter to the writer. He 
 says: "I am forced to the conclusion, 
 after serving in the Legislature of my 
 adopted State several terms and in a 
 local municipality, that politics is a 
 filthy pool." An opinion shared by a 
 good many others. Some are said to be 
 born politicians; but I am sure none 
 were born in the Crumpton family. Ev- 
 ery one of the name I have ever known, 
 felt great interest in all public questions 
 and had opinions about them, but office 
 seeking has not been to their liking. 
 
 A family trait is, an undying love for 
 the old haunts. This caused the old 
 
 8 
 
Forty Niner, when he possessed the 
 means to do so, to purchase the old farm 
 of his father, fulfilling in part, no doubt, 
 a dream of his youthful days. 
 
 Though in the land of the enemy he 
 was loyal to the South during the war 
 between the States, proving his faith 
 by his works when he invested much of 
 his means in Confederate Bonds. The 
 Confederacy failing, of course this was 
 a clear loss to him. Just at the break- 
 ing out of the Civil War, he returned 
 to California to look after his interests 
 there and to see what had become of 
 me. If the reader will turn to my let- 
 ters which follow, he will get the con- 
 nection. 
 
 He failed to tell a most interesting 
 event in his history: When a miner, 
 he often took on his knee a wee-bit of 
 a girl, Mattie by name, the daughter of 
 William Jack, a stury old Scotch- 
 Irishman, from Beloit, Wis. She called 
 him "sweetheart," and he often took 
 her pledge to be his wife some day. 
 Sure enough, the old bachelor waited, 
 and little Mattie has been for many 
 years the mistress of his home. In one 
 
of the most cozy cottages of Sausalito, 
 nestling against the mountain, with the 
 Bay and the City of San Francisco at 
 its front, it was my pleasure to visit the 
 little family some years ago. It had 
 been forty years since I had seen my 
 brother. In her father's home in 1862, 
 near Beloit, I had spent two months de- 
 lightfully, while stealthily preparing to 
 make my way through the lines to the 
 Confederacy. I know it was in his 
 heart to tell of his wife and his charm- 
 ing daughter, Clara, the light and joy 
 of the home; but the burden of writing 
 was too much, and abruptly he gave up 
 the job. 
 
 I am glad indeed the Adventures be- 
 gin with something of the family his- 
 tory. He is the only member of the 
 family remaining who knows anything 
 about it (there are only two of us now) . 
 I am mortified that I failed to find out 
 some of the facts from my father, who 
 was so long with me in his old age. 
 
 My brother, after his adventurous life 
 in the mines, served his adopted State 
 in the Legislature and later settled 
 down, after graduation, to the practice 
 
 10 
 
of medicine, a profession he seemed to 
 have a liking for from his boyhood. At 
 this writing he is a citizen of Piedmont, 
 California. He is hale and hearty and 
 says that in 1915,when the Panama Ca- 
 nal is opened, he is going to visit the 
 States again and bring his wife. Every 
 foot of the route across the Isthmus 
 will be familiar, as he crossed it several 
 times, one time partly on foot, before 
 the railroad was completed. 
 
 W. B. CRUMPTON. 
 Montgomery, Ala. 
 
 11 
 
Part One 
 
 By H. J. Crumpton 
 
 The Adventures of Dr. H. J. Crumpton 
 
 of Piedmont, California, in his efforts to 
 
 reach the Gold Fields in 1849 
 
 Recollections of the family life; Arrival in 
 Alabama; Moves to town; Changes vocation; 
 Becomes a printer; The Mexican War; Starts 
 on his wanderings; The gold excitement; 
 Starts for the Far West; New acquaintances; 
 Another start West; 'Strikes out all alone; A 
 plunge in the overflow; Falls in with the mil- 
 itary; Strikes hands with old friends; Food 
 scarce; Confronted by Indians; Alone again; 
 Reaches California; Loses his oxen; In God's 
 country at last; Gets a job; Takes sail; 
 Hears sad tidings; No pay for services; At 
 Oro City; In the mines; At rough-and-ready; 
 Starts back home; In a wreck; On the Pan- 
 ama; In New Orleans; Finds his brother; De- 
 tained in Mobile; Business complications; 
 Back to the mines; Returns to Alabama; 
 Opinion about slavery. 
 
 13 
 
Part One 
 
 Y DEAR Brother Wash : 
 You asked me to prepare 
 some notes on the wander- 
 ings of an Alabama Boy. 
 To do this from memory after such a 
 lapse of time will be somewhat inac- 
 curate and prosy, I fear. 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE FAMILY LIFE. 
 
 Our parents were married about 1816. 
 Mother was Miss Matilda Smith Bryan 
 and father Henry T. Crumpton. Both 
 sprang from honorable, well-to-do peo- 
 ple from revolutionary sires, who were 
 soldiers of distinction under General 
 Francis Marion. Our maternal grand- 
 father was Rev. Richard Bryan, a Meth- 
 odist preacher. Our parents started 
 married life in Walterboro, Colleton 
 District, S. C, where were born to them 
 
 15 
 
Mary, Richard Alexander, Maranda 
 Ann, Henry Thomas, Hezekiah John, 
 (myself, born Sept. 18, 1828), and Wil- 
 liam Zachariah; the balance of the ten 
 children, afterwards born in Alabama 
 were James Henderson, Martha Matil- 
 da, Jane Eliza, and Washington Bryan, 
 yourself, the baby. All have now passed 
 into the life beyond except you and me. 
 In Walterboro our father developed 
 into something of a plunger in the fi- 
 nancial world; made several successful 
 deals, later formed a partnership — the 
 other fellow furnishing experience, our 
 progenitor the "dough." They invested 
 in the purchase and driving of cattle 
 to supply the Charleston beef market. 
 They succeeded well, always re-invest- 
 ing original capital and profit in an- 
 other and bigger lot, finally meeting a 
 calamity by the drowning of the whole 
 herd in attempting to cross a swollen 
 stream, Broad River, perhaps at its 
 mouth and perhaps from not knowing 
 of the ebb and flow of the tide, though 
 living within forty miles of the coast. 
 With a feeling of disgust, following this 
 financial collapse, our father sought new 
 
 16 
 
environment, and by the aid of kins folk 
 loaded up family and household belong- 
 ings in 1832 and struck out through the 
 wilderness for Alabama, across Georgia 
 through the Chickasaw and Choctaw na- 
 tions, before the removal of those and 
 other friendly tribes was completed to 
 the territory now forming part of the 
 State of Oklahoma. 
 
 ARRIVAL IN ALABAMA. 
 
 After a dreary trip, we safely landed 
 at the delightful home of grandmother 
 Bryan near "Fort Rascal," now Pleas- 
 ant Hill, Dallas Co. We afterwards 
 moved to old Cahaba, where our father 
 succeeded well in business. The arrival 
 of a steamboat was quite an event, oc- 
 curring maybe once a month ; everybody 
 turned out. They had a crude way of 
 loading cotton. A bale was carelessly 
 turned loose and rolled over our brother 
 Henry, who sustained injuries from 
 which he died. This was such a shock 
 for poor mother, it was determined best 
 to have a change of scenes. Our fam- 
 ily removed from old Cahaba to Farm- 
 
 17 
 
ersville, a little hamlet in Lowndes 
 county. One thing about our stay there 
 is vividly remembered. A dear, good old 
 soul, named Ingram, was my school 
 teacher in the log-cabin school house. 
 He didn't know much and didn't try to 
 fool anybody ; but he was a great stick- 
 ler for what he called "etiket" — was 
 bent on teaching his children good man- 
 ners. Just about all of Friday was de- 
 voted to this stunt. It was quite a re- 
 lief, after we got rid of our bashfulness. 
 The previous four days, twelve hours 
 each, with our prosy studies, put us in 
 good shape for a change on Friday. 
 The dear old fellow managed to work 
 in more or less change of program from 
 time to time; but one inflexible feature 
 was to send one of the girls out of one 
 of the side doors, then detail some boy 
 to go out the other, to escort her back 
 and introduce her to each one of the 
 whole school, an ordeal to which every 
 boy and girl had to be subjected. Some 
 regarded this as a hardship, but to this 
 degenerate son of Adam 'twas always 
 a roaring farce and as good as a circus ! 
 Our family about this time came into 
 
 18 
 
possession of quite an inheritance, 
 which was added to the proceeds from 
 sale of the effects at Cahaba, and in- 
 vested in a fine body of land, about the 
 junction of Grindstone and Bear Creek3, 
 in Wilcox county. Our charming new 
 home was built on high ground on Dog- 
 wood Level, a little way from the farm, 
 where we had a spring of fine water 
 and plenty of good air. By this time 
 three of us boys were big enough 
 to work and strong, willing work- 
 ers we were. With no experience 
 and not always guided in our 
 farming, we got along better than 
 neighbors to the manner born, and were 
 learning and doing fairly well. It was 
 perhaps the mistake of a lifetime to 
 accept an offer to sell the whole outfit, 
 at figures far in advance of cost or 
 apparent present value, to people who 
 knew a good thing when they saw it — 
 the Maxwells — a noble acquisition to 
 that then border settlement. 
 
 MOVED TO TOWN. 
 
 We moved to the county seat, Barbers- 
 
 19 
 
ville, now Camden, and went into the 
 hotel business. We furnished a good 
 table, clean house, clean beds, was pop- 
 ular and crowded from the start — lots 
 of old family friends from far and near, 
 called for entertaining whom it would 
 have been an outrage on Southern hos- 
 pitality to tender, or accept compensa- 
 tion. In this way all profits were 
 "chawed up" — a mighty poor way to 
 run a hotel. But we older boys were 
 pretty good hustlers, earned enough to 
 help along, tiding over and in the edu- 
 cation of the younger children. 
 
 My first stunt in that direction was 
 starting an express and stage line. Car- 
 ried passengers and freight between our 
 town and Bridgeport, nearest landing 
 on the Alabama River. My outfit was 
 a one-horse affair with a highly prized 
 annex — an undersized black cur, "Beav- 
 er," — worthless in the estimation of 
 everyone, other than his affectionate 
 owner. 
 
 About this time, two enterprising 
 young men from New England started 
 a general store at the landing. On a 
 return trip from the East to buy goods, 
 
 20 
 
one of them brought with him a large 
 Newfoundland dog — the first one in 
 those parts, which he "sicked" onto 
 Beaver. Owing to the difference in size, 
 results were quick and one-sided. See- 
 ing me crying in affectionate, helpless 
 distress, the fellow had the heartless bad 
 taste to exultingly ask: "What do you 
 think of that, young man?" My re- 
 sponse between sobs was: "You, a big 
 man, made a big dog lick a little boy's 
 little dog. By and by, I will be as big 
 as you and will then do to you what has 
 been done today to my Beaver." Years 
 afterwards, when, perhaps, as the first 
 successful Califorian to return, the peo- 
 ple of dear old Camden tendered me 
 quite an ovation, he of the dog fight, 
 among them, was loud in expressing 
 welcome and personal admiration, which 
 made it decidly bad taste in me to allude 
 to the old thing, by saying: "If now 
 the attempt was made to execute the 
 promised retaliation, it would show a 
 malicious, revengeful spirit, without in 
 any way changing what occurred in the 
 long ago, so please consider the incident 
 closed," and so it was with a snap. 
 
 21 
 
CHANGE OF VOCATION. 
 
 Maybe the dog fight prompted a 
 change of vocation to that of mail car- 
 rier, on horse back or mule back, the 
 route extending from Cahaba down the 
 river by Cambridge* to Prairie 
 Bluff, across the river and up by 
 old Canton, to Camden, Bells Land- 
 ing, Claiborne, thence to Stockton, 
 in Baldwin county, and serving inter- 
 vening post offices. It required six days 
 to make a round trip with the seventh 
 day off, Thursday, either at Stockton or 
 the other end. At Stockton, as a gov- 
 ernment attache, one had the privilege 
 to go on the mail boat to Mobile and 
 return after a stay of five hours 
 — quite a treat for a country boy. 
 Whereas, a day off at the other end in- 
 volved an extra ride of ten miles to Sel- 
 ma and return, because the contractor 
 
 *The post ortice at Cambridge was in the 
 home of a planter, C. M. Cochran, H. J. C. 
 carried the mail into that home many a time, 
 about the time the other Alabama boy was 
 born. Into that home the latter entered in 
 1870 and took the baby daughter of the old 
 post master to be his wife. The post office 
 has been long known as Crumptonia. — W. B. C. 
 
 22 
 
lived there, and thus saved the keep of 
 boy and horse in Cahaba. 
 
 With an ambition to do faithful and 
 efficient service, reckless risks were 
 some times taken. I once got into Flat 
 Creek, when the old worn-out mule was 
 unable to stem the stiff current. We 
 were carried down stream toward the 
 river not far away. A friendly over- 
 hanging grape-vine gave me a stopping 
 place and not far below the mule lodged 
 in a submerged tree-top. My lusty yells 
 brought the good Samaritan. When 
 about to swim out to rescue me, he was 
 disgusted when told to first save the 
 mule and mail. This he did in good 
 shape; meantime, I did my own swim- 
 ming. The water was emptied out of 
 the mail bag, the bag thrown across the 
 saddle, the mule mounted, and away we 
 went for a bridge several miles up the 
 stream. Maybe it was not the same 
 old mule which about a year afterwards 
 laid down and died suddenly, some eight 
 miles from our terminal point, Cahaba. 
 Slinging saddle, bridle, and mail bag 
 over my shoulder, the balance of the 
 trip was made on foot and the mail de- 
 
 23 
 
livered on time. When next pay day 
 came around, the old contractor placed 
 his own value on the mule and took same 
 out of my wages. My Job was thrown 
 up immediately and suit commenced for 
 the amount due, but tiring of the law's 
 delay, the case was allowed to lapse, 
 and the wretch allowed the comfort of 
 having beaten a boy out of hard earned 
 wages. Doubtless he has long since 
 passed to the beyond. He was outward- 
 ly a devout and sanctimonious man; if 
 one were sure he is now enjoying a 
 state of heavenly bliss, it would more 
 than justify a belief in universal salva- 
 tion. 
 
 BECOMES A PRINTER. 
 
 My next work was an apprentice in 
 a printing office — a fine school for a 
 boy with an ambition to learn. Those 
 capable of judging soon began to cred- 
 it me with quick, accurate work. 'Twas 
 a misfortune perhaps, and entailed fol- 
 lowing hardships to have an early am- 
 bition for something beyond — com- 
 menced "reading medicine" — generally 
 
 24 
 
in hours stolen from sleep or out-door 
 exercise and sunshine. 
 
 MEXICAN WAR. 
 
 When the war with Mexico com- 
 menced, brothers William and Richard 
 went as volunteers, the latter on a very 
 short enlistment, and afterwards wrote 
 he had declined further service in the 
 ranks, having secured employment more 
 lucrative in the quartermaster's employ- 
 ment. Although not exactly fair thus 
 to leave the old folks alone with a num- 
 ber of younger children, I left for Mem- 
 phis, Tenn., soon after the other boys 
 went to Mexico and matriculated as a 
 student in a medical college. 
 
 I paid my way by working between 
 times in a printing office. There I re- 
 mained for two years and made fine 
 progress. I was still under age, and 
 on some account I concluded there would 
 be but little honor in attaining a de- 
 gree from that school, so I determined 
 for a time to suspend further efforts 
 in that direction. I was growing up 
 thin and cadaverous looking, longing 
 
 25 
 
for out-door life, so I left Memphis with 
 a view of joining brother Richard on the 
 Rio Grande frontier. Upon my arrival 
 at New Orleans, May 1848, peace was 
 declared with Mexico. Concluding that 
 our brothers and all other American 
 troops would come home soon, I return- 
 ed to our home in Camden. William 
 came before a great while, but Richard 
 wrote he had joined a Major Graham's 
 party soon to leave the Rio Grande 
 frontier to take possession of this 
 recently acquired territory, California, 
 as a part of the rich spoils of war. Up- 
 on learning this, my purpose was at once 
 declared to join him as soon as possi- 
 ble, though having next to nothing finan- 
 cially to go on. This was before the 
 finding of gold there had been an- 
 nounced to us. A man, Kilpatrick by 
 name, from Clark county, had been 
 quite sick in Camden, under treatment 
 of Dr. Bryant. More as a nurse than a 
 half-baked doctor, he had been cared for 
 by me also, for which there was quite a 
 sum due. Announcing to him my pur- 
 pose, and asking payment for amount 
 due, he, like others, was shocked at so 
 
 26 
 
desperate an undertaking, but said my 
 claim would be paid as soon as he could 
 obtain money from home. This emer- 
 gency was soon bridged over by his giv- 
 ing me a check on his folks for the 
 amount. 
 
 STARTS ON HIS WANDERINGS. 
 
 So I packed my belongings into a pair 
 of old saddle-bags, which was sent down 
 the river to Mobile. I collected eveiy 
 cent due me in Camden and struck out 
 across country for Kilpatrick's home in 
 Clark county on foot. In those days it 
 was rare to see a decent appearing white 
 chap thus traveling. White folks looked 
 askance and suspicious, and the darkies 
 wondered. It was a comfort to hear a 
 darky say to her companions : " Yander 
 boy haint no po' white trash." She 
 didn't know how scantily filled was my 
 purse. 
 
 The Kilpatricks treated me like a 
 prince, paid me liberally for services 
 to afflicted relative, urged me to stay 
 with them longer, and bade me God- 
 speed in my desperate undertaking. 
 
 27 
 
Resuming my tramp, it was not far to 
 the Tombigbee, where a steamboat 
 picked me up and in due time landed me 
 in Mobile, where my first care was to 
 hunt up my old saddle-bags. I forgot 
 to pay the consignee, who perhaps 
 thought me a rich planter's son, whose 
 cotton crop he hoped to handle later on. 
 
 THE GOLD EXCITEMENT. 
 
 By this time the great gold discover- 
 ies were known the world over. At New 
 Orleans I saw a circular sent out from 
 Fort Smith, Ark., "Ho, for California 
 Gold Mines!" It went on to say that an 
 expedition was fitting out at that point, 
 soon to start overland. After some mis- 
 takes enroute, I reached Ft. Smith, per- 
 haps in Oct. 1848, to be informed that 
 the expedition was only in its incipiency, 
 not to leave there until the following 
 spring, which was just as well for me, 
 as most of my scanty funds had been 
 used up. I was fortunate indeed in 
 finding work. I was never idle a day, so 
 that within six months, I accumulated 
 quite a little sum. I suppose I had the 
 
 28 
 
appearance of being an undersized coun- 
 try boy ; but everybody soon saw a quick 
 willingness to do diligently any task 
 given me. 'Twas soon my good fortune 
 to fall in with John F. Wheeler, an old 
 Georgian, who had married a Cherokee 
 — an intelligent, educated woman. They 
 had a number of children, mostly girls, 
 all well behaved. He owned the Fort 
 Smith Herald, put me to work, took me 
 into his family, a delightful, cheerful 
 home. When spring opened, mostly 
 through him, terms were made for my 
 transportation with dear old Charley 
 Hudspeth, who showed the affection of 
 a father for his son. 
 
 STARTS FOR THE FAR WEST. 
 
 We left Fort Smith April 12th, 1849, 
 traveled westerly up the Canadian river 
 through the territory of the Choctaws 
 and other of those friendly tribes, who 
 had been moved from Georgia, Alabama 
 and other Southern States. Thence our 
 route of travel was westerly up that 
 river through the present territory of 
 Oklahoma, up onto broad open plains to 
 
 29 
 
Sante Fe, Albuquerque, thence down the 
 Rio Grande to near El Paso, thence to 
 Tucson, to the Pimo villages, down the 
 Gila to the Colorado, where Fort Yuma 
 now is, thence across the Great Ameri- 
 can Desert, and so through arable Cali- 
 fornia to Los Angeles, to San Pedro, 
 thence by Barque Hector, by sea, to San 
 Francisco. 
 
 Some little distance from Ft. Smith, 
 our route of travel was mostly through 
 low valley lands with a number of 
 rather large streams, with considerable 
 rain, hence our progress was rather 
 slow. After going about 150 miles, my 
 leg became seriously injured from a 
 horse floundering in the mud. This in- 
 jury in such surroundings grew rapid- 
 ly more serious. Two reputable medical 
 men in the train gave me kind treat- 
 ment and rather gloomy prognostica- 
 tions, hinting at the possibilities of am- 
 putation. Though they knew no more 
 than this half-baked doctor, everything 
 tended to make me despondent. 
 
 Just then a young man, whose wealthy 
 father lived in Ft. Smith, and who knew 
 of the friendship of old John Wheeler 
 
 30 
 
and family for me, said: "Young fel- 
 low, you are in a bad fix. You had 
 better return and let those Wheeler girls 
 and their mother take care of you and 
 you'll soon be as good as new — don't 
 say you can't stand the trip — you can 
 ride horse-back. There is one of my 
 best horses, saddle, bridle and lariat; 
 take them and deliver them to my father 
 at Ft. Smith." Others thought well of 
 this scheme, which rekindled a tender 
 feeling for one of the half-breed Chero- 
 kee girls and made me feel homesick. 
 So it did not take much persuasion to 
 start me on the back out trip, dear old 
 Charlie Hudspeth having refunded all 
 I had paid him. 
 
 Soon afterwards I was taken in for 
 the night by a Choctaw family. Though 
 full blooded Indians, they were intelli- 
 gent, well-to-do people, who treated me 
 with royal hospitality. I made myself 
 solid with them by saying my people 
 knew their's well and were always on 
 friendly terms with them before remov- 
 al from Southern States. When they 
 were told of my having lived with the 
 Wheeler family, though the latter were 
 
 31 
 
Cherokees, they made me feel very much 
 at home. There was a continuous rain 
 and they prevailed on me to remain un- 
 til its subsidence — which was not for 
 several days — and had the effect to over- 
 flow a large stream nearby. Remember- 
 ing some of my bad luck in high water 
 when a mail carrier, I determined not 
 to take any chances now — happy indeed 
 in having so good a stopping place. 
 Cleanliness and rest worked wonders in 
 my injured leg within the few days 
 thus waterbound. 
 
 NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 
 
 There came along a pack train bound 
 for California and camped on the oppo- 
 site side of the stream. Tired wait- 
 ing the subsidence of the flood they 
 hired the Indians to help them across. 
 The Indians constructed a rude raft, 
 on which the trappings and cargoes of 
 the mules and their owners were placed 
 and drawn with ropes across. The In- 
 dians, almost naked, were in the water 
 steering the mules across — doing the 
 job in splendid way. 
 
 32 
 
This pack train turned out to be a 
 part of a large wagon train, several days 
 in advance of them, whom, from the de- 
 scription, I knew were traveling near 
 my old party. When it came to paying 
 the Indians for their arduous ferry job, 
 the packers did not have ready money 
 enough and, like so many others when 
 dealing with Indians, did not know the 
 importance of being civil. The Indians 
 were very indignant and did not be- 
 lieve that they were short of the ready. 
 Things began to look serious. 
 
 ANOTHER START WEST. 
 
 My own physical condition was 
 changing so rapidly for the better, my 
 old enthusiasm for the westward trip 
 only required a little to change my 
 course in that direction; so, to relieve 
 these fellows of their dilemma, I offered 
 to advance the balance due the Indians 
 and go along with them until we over- 
 took their wagon train, when the 
 amount due me should be refunded. 
 This was readily agreed to and the 
 Indians' claim amicably adjusted. The 
 
 33 
 
family with whom I had been stopping 
 would accept no compensation for their 
 kindness to me, so I bade them an af- 
 fectionate adieu and departed. 
 
 In due time, traveling with the pack- 
 ers, we overtook their wagon train ; the 
 amount due me was promptly repaid. 
 My own old party was reported several 
 days ahead. We were then beyond low, 
 swampy land, onto broad, open plains 
 on the border of the Kiowas, Coman- 
 ches, and other warlike tribes of In- 
 dians. We were at a point where most 
 of the teams had crossed from the 
 South to the North side of the Cana- 
 dian river. 
 
 STRIKES OUT ALL ALONE. 
 
 I chose to follow the track of the 
 lesser number, who continued up on the 
 southerly side of that great stream. I 
 passed a number of detached small par- 
 ties, but soon found myself beyond all 
 in sight, and alone on broad, treeless 
 plains, with now and then a clump of 
 willows or a lone cotton tree, showing 
 where the river was. Thus passed two 
 
 34 
 
anxious days. During the afternoon of 
 the third day, several shallow ponds of 
 water were crossed, some a quarter of 
 a mile in extent, but only a few inche3 
 deep. 
 
 A little after dark, I found quite a 
 beaten track, showing a large number 
 of wagons had recently passed; felt 
 somewhat relieved, hoping soon to fall 
 in with some one. 
 
 A PLUNGE IN THE OVERFLOW. 
 
 Perhaps about nine o'clock, I came to 
 a body of water, which I mistook for 
 another shallow pond, such as had been 
 previously encountered, but in a little 
 time I was in swimming water, in a 
 strong, rapid current. The horse, as 
 badly panic stricken as the rider, could 
 not, or would not swim and was soon 
 rolling down the current like a barrel. 
 For some time I could not detach my 
 feet from the little yankee stirrup?. 
 When released, I swam until able to 
 stand a moment with head above water. 
 
 The horse was out in the current and 
 neighed pitifully for help. Swimming 
 
 35 
 
out to him and catching the bridle, we 
 successfully landed on the same side we 
 started in. Although it was a cool eve- 
 ning, instead of having my only coat on, 
 it hung carelessly on the horn of the 
 saddle, and my Alabama saddle bags 
 and a pair of blankets were thrown 
 loosely across the saddle with some pro- 
 visions. All these floated down the riv- 
 er. With the lariat, which had fortun- 
 ately been saved, the horse was picketed 
 on the leeside of a bunch of willows. 
 Covered with the wet saddle blanket, he 
 fared fairly well in the luxuriant grass. 
 To save myself from freezing, I cut with 
 m Y big jack-knife a lot of willow twigs, 
 and piled them in a heap. Wiggling 
 myself into the center of this, I found 
 a perfect shield from the raw wind and 
 never had a more comfortable, sound 
 sleep all night. 
 
 I was disgusted with myself in the 
 morning to discover this was the cross- 
 ing place of the Canadian river of the 
 emigrants who had been traveling up 
 the North side and that when striking 
 their road the night before, 'twas my 
 fate to take the wrong end and was 
 
 36 
 
on the back track to Fort Smith, when 
 entering the river. 
 
 FELL IN WITH THE MILITARY. 
 
 I resumed a westerly course next 
 morning-. After traveling all day, badly 
 scared by plenty of signs of hostile In- 
 dians, was overjoyed to see friendly 
 camp-fires ahead, which proved to be 
 a military escort which accompanied us 
 to Santa Fe. They treated me hospit- 
 ably, after hearing my tale of woe. Up 
 to the time I got into the river, although 
 I had some provisions, I had no relish 
 for them, owing, I suppose, to my fear 
 of Indians, and the uncertainty about 
 the route of travel. I was well prepared 
 now to fill up with the ample lay-out 
 presented by my military entertainers. 
 The incident was mentioned in their re- 
 port to the Government of Captain Mer- 
 cey's Santa Fe expedition from Fort 
 Smith Spring of 1849. 
 
 STRIKES HANDS WITH OLD FRIENDS. 
 
 I rejoined my old party the next af- 
 37 
 
ternoon; was received with surprise and 
 great enthusiasm. The horse and out- 
 fit was returned to his owner and dear 
 old Charlie Hudspeth treated me as a 
 returned lost son, sound and well every 
 way, and fully reinstated me as one of 
 the party. I was a general chore boy, 
 looking up camping sites, starting fires, 
 procuring wood and water, driving 
 team, or looking out for stock; most of 
 the time traveled on foot. While a mail 
 carrier, I had learned to ride and stay 
 on most any kind of a "critter." So 
 while enroute, I rode everything placed 
 in my charge, steer, cow, mule or bron- 
 co, thus I had many a lift when tired of 
 tramping. 
 
 We passed through safely the many 
 warlike tribes before reaching New 
 Mexico. By the time we reached Santa 
 Fe, we realized it would take a much 
 longer time to make the trip clear across 
 than at first anticipated and that pro- 
 visions would be short. 
 
 FOOD SCARCE. 
 
 We were disappointed, too, in not be- 
 
 38 
 
ing able to replenish by purchase from 
 the Mexicans — only in stinted quanti- 
 ties. We were disappointed also in 
 seeing but few buffaloes, from which 
 source we had expected to get all the 
 additional meat we might require. At 
 that time there were still millions roam- 
 ing the plains. Their habit was to start 
 from Canada at the approach of winter, 
 feeding Southward, wintering in North- 
 ern Texas, Mexico and Indian Territory, 
 starting Northward, as spring ap- 
 proached, back to their Northern feed- 
 ing grounds. 
 
 In traveling down the Great Rio 
 Grande Valley, a very rich coun- 
 try from Albuquerque to near El 
 Paso, we were some times able 
 to buy beans. Further on we 
 found an abundance of muskeet — a 
 wild locust which bore a sort of bean, 
 fine food for man or beast. But we had 
 to live on restricted rations for a long 
 time. It ivas an unwritten law that 
 women and children shoidd eat all they 
 wanted. Being a stunted, undersized 
 boy, just taking on new growth, conse- 
 quently requiring more than a fully de- 
 
veloped man, it was a particular hard- 
 ship not to be let in as a juvenile with 
 the women. All of us soured. We grew 
 crabbed and cross, forgetting- what the 
 Good Book says : "A soft answer turn- 
 eth away wrath." There were bicker- 
 ings and quarrels and bloodshed. 
 
 Presuming on our escape from Indian 
 depredations, we began to grow careless. 
 After leaving the Rio Grande Valley, we 
 camped one night without water, — dis- 
 appointed in not reaching the Rio Mim- 
 bles. Next morning we started early 
 without breakfast. Nearly every one 
 on horse-back shoved out ahead. Soon 
 there was a line of timber in sight, 
 where we felt sure there was water. 
 Having a small band of cattle under 
 my charge, one of them was mounted, 
 and the band crowded ahead. In a lit- 
 tle while I was some distance ahead of 
 the train of wagons when, as if spring- 
 ing out of the ground, three Apache In- 
 dians, splendidly mounted, confronted 
 me. 
 
 40 
 
ALONE CONFRONTED BY INDIANS. 
 
 My feelings might have found utter- 
 ance as follows : "Well, boy, there is 
 one chance in a thousand for you to 
 get out of this alive — that one chance 
 consists in concealing from them that 
 you are scared nearly to death." Hav- 
 ing picked up considerable Spanish dur- 
 ing the short contact with the Mexicans, 
 which the border tribes all speak fluent- 
 ly, they were invited to go into camp 
 with me. that we had some nice presents 
 for them, naming such things as were 
 thought most acceptable to them. In 
 the meantime I had dismounted from 
 my steed and advanced to the one sup- 
 posed to be the leader and offered to 
 shake hands with him. After a little 
 conversation with his fellows, he seized 
 my hand, not so as to give me pain, but 
 with a grip it would have been useless 
 to pull away from had he willed it other- 
 wise. Being right over me on his horse, 
 he looked at me so piercingly that the 
 effect was transmitted to the region of 
 the stomach, where there was a death- 
 like chilliness. My weight being less, 
 
 41 
 
perhaps, than 100 pounds, my upper- 
 most thought was, how easy for him to 
 life me across his saddle and, with his 
 comrades, fly away to the mountains 
 and have a war dance while burning 
 me at the stake. All this while he was 
 telling how good he thought me. 
 
 To my surprise the invitation was ac- 
 cepted, and we took up the line of march 
 for camp, one of the yellow devils in 
 the rear and one on each side of the 
 little band of cattle and the badly scared 
 boy who kept jabbering away, afraid to 
 stop lest his knees would give way. 
 They acted on my suggestion to go out 
 and get some horses and mules and 
 bring them in, as we wanted some and 
 would give good prices. 
 
 ALONE AGAIN. 
 
 Being left alone by them, I was glad 
 to pile down on the side of the road and 
 wait for the wagon train and go to camp 
 with them. No matter what their orig- 
 inal purpose, these Indians never re- 
 turned to our camp. Another and big- 
 ger band had just returned into the 
 
 42 
 
same mountain and doubtless were join- 
 ed by my entertainers with a drove of 
 stock stolen from the Mexicans; but a 
 band of our troops followed and recov- 
 ered the stock after a sharp fight. These 
 border tribes had for all time gone on 
 such forays according to their own 
 sweet will and got away with the spoils 
 before the poor Mexicans got ready to 
 hit back. Through our late acquisition 
 of territory, these Mexicans received 
 protection from our troops. This the 
 Indians resented, regarding the border 
 settlements as their special preserves, 
 the engagement referred to being the 
 commencement of an interminable war. 
 Our party escaped without trouble, but 
 those behind us and poor Mexicans by 
 the score were destroyed before the al- 
 most annihilation of all these border 
 tribes. 
 
 REACHES CALIFORNIA. 
 
 After considerable privation, we fin- 
 ally reached California by crossing the 
 Colorado river, where Fort Yuma now 
 is, into the Great American Desert, 
 
 43 
 
where we found things more tolerable 
 than anticipated. A large area of the 
 so-called desert is far below the sea-lev- 
 el and there had been a vast inflow of 
 fresh water the past season from the 
 great Colorado river. A rank growth 
 of green grass and other vegetation 
 awaited our coming and deep pools fur- 
 nished an abundance of pure, cool water. 
 We at last reached settlements where 
 we could replenish our stores and where 
 there was plenty of game. 
 
 LOST HIS OXEN. 
 
 Soon after reaching the first settle- 
 ment, a loose yoke of oxen was lost 
 through my carelessness and I stopped 
 behind to hunt them. I found them af- 
 ter looking thirty-six hours, just at dark 
 the second night, and started with them, 
 on foot, to overtake my party. I had 
 nothing to eat during the time, traveled 
 all night, and next morning at eight 
 o'clock met two of my comrades starting 
 back to hunt me. They had killed a fine, 
 fat deer, and had a four quart bucket 
 full of stewed venison with dumplings 
 
 44 
 
made of unbolted flour, a repast fit to 
 set before a king. That layout was set 
 before me and the void from a forty- 
 eight hours' fast was soon filled. The 
 boys stared at the almost empty pail, 
 being told 'twas the first eaten since 
 we parted two days before. 
 
 IN GOD'S COUNTRY AT LAST. 
 
 One was justified in feeling, under the 
 circumstances, that at last he had found 
 "God's Country." 
 
 We now leisurely moved along and 
 reached Los Angeles in due time, where 
 our party broke up. Some sold off their 
 stock; others drove on, or packed 
 through to the southern gold fields; 
 others took shipping for San Francisco. 
 Having nothing to go farther on, it was 
 necessary for me to find work. My em- 
 ployer was old Abel Stearnes, an old 
 settler, a Scotchman, who had married 
 into a noble Castilian family. He was 
 well-to-do, a merchant. When asked 
 what I could do, I replied : "0, any- 
 thing." "Which means you are trained 
 to nothing!" was his reply. I said: 
 
 45 
 
"Not exactly, I am a doctor." With a 
 grunt he mumbled out "You are a h — 
 of a looking doctor!" 
 
 GOT A JOB. 
 
 Agreeing with him on that proposi- 
 tion, I replied : "Well, I don't expect to 
 doctor you, but surely you can use me 
 some way to your benefit and to mine." 
 After thus tantalizing me and taking my 
 measure, he called a peon, whom I found 
 to be an easy boss, and I was placed 
 beside himself digging and shoveling, 
 took his gait, which was much more 
 easy than the Southern darkey. Later 
 on the old man came out and said: 
 "Come in now, we are going to have 
 dinner." This first invitation for a 
 square meal within six months was em- 
 barrassing. In my thread-bare, un- 
 kempt condition, I felt myself unfit to 
 dine with an elegant family. The old 
 Don took in the situation and walked 
 away, to reappear after perhaps an 
 hour, renewing his invitation, as I sup- 
 posed, to dine with the servants; but 
 there was a retinue of them to wait on 
 
 46 
 
me, no one else at the table. 'Twas a 
 magnificent spread, fit to set before roy- 
 alty. Knowing very little about liquor 
 of any sort, I did not understand the 
 Don, when he said in setting a well- 
 filled decanter before me: "Here is 
 some fin^ old dry Sherry; help yourself, 
 it won't hurt you." To verify his last 
 assertion, he poured out a goblet full 
 and tossed it down, smacked his lips, 
 then poured out another for me, which 
 was disposed of as per his request, to 
 discover that there was nothing dry 
 about the transaction except the half- 
 starved immigrant. The servants were 
 amazed, and in a quiet way, had fun 
 among themselves to see the amount of 
 provender absorbed, washed down by 
 the dry liquid condiment. The wit of 
 their party, a bright Indian girl, said 
 in Spanish : "He is little and long with 
 big room inside." They had their own 
 fun, assuming my ignorance of the 
 language, as they spoke in Spanisn. 
 This was the commencement of a pleas- 
 ant stay with the family, as one of them. 
 After a good clean-up and fresh rai- 
 ment obtained, I did not shovel and pick 
 
 47 
 
with the peon any more. I was placed 
 apparently on waiting orders at fair 
 wages while apparently the old Don 
 sized me up. Later on he was taken 
 aback when he found that my purpose 
 was to reach San Francisco as soon as 
 possible. I hoped by being there to be 
 sooner placed in communication with 
 Brother Richard. He then told me he 
 had purposed placing me in his large 
 mercantile establishment, believing the 
 young immigrant to be a trustworthy 
 and competent employe, he wanted me 
 to abandon all thought of San Francis- 
 co and the mines, by remaining with 
 him, as more likely to trace our Brother 
 from that point. When told that it was 
 too late, that passage for San Francisco 
 had already been secured on the Barque 
 Hector, then at San Pedro, some twenty 
 miles from Los Angeles, he paid me lib- 
 erally for my services, gave me a fine 
 pair of Mexican blankets and provisions 
 for the trip. 
 
 TO TAKE SAIL. 
 
 Before declaring my plans and pur- 
 
 48 
 
poses to Don Abel, I had met in Los 
 Angeles the owner of the barque, who 
 offered to take me up to San Francisco 
 on credit for part or all of the passage 
 money. At the port of San Pedro, there 
 were so many wanting to go that it was 
 beyond the legal limit. All had to sign 
 papers securing the owner against pros- 
 ecution for violating the law. The own- 
 er turned out to be Capt. Alex Bell, 
 brother to Col. Minter's wife, then liv- 
 ing on Mush Creek, near Pleasant Hill, 
 in Alabama. 
 
 HEARS SAD TIDINGS. 
 
 In signing my name, he asked : "Are 
 you one of the Alabama Crump tons?" 
 "Yes," was the reply. "Was Dick your 
 brother?" "Yes." "He's dead, poor fel- 
 low; died with cholera at Camargo 
 when about to start with Major Gra- 
 ham's party for the Coast." Seeing my 
 distress and shock from such intelli- 
 gence, he said: "Be of good cheer, my 
 dear boy; Dick was a noble friend to 
 me, I'll be a brother to you." Of course 
 this was comforting. Bell, besides clean- 
 
 49 
 
ing up quite a lot of money by his pas- 
 sengers, had bought a lot of produce on 
 speculation, jerked beef, dried grapes 
 and corn in the ear. Upon arrival in 
 San Francisco and discharging the pas- 
 sengers, he bought two corn shellers, 
 the only such machines on the coast, and 
 put me to work with others shelling the 
 corn. We did good work and were fed 
 well, an important item for us who had 
 been so long on short rations. 
 
 The crew of the ship cleared out for 
 the mines. A ship at anchor in port re- 
 quires considerable work and attention 
 to keep everything in shipshape, woik 
 landmen knew nothing about, but we 
 consented to do as best we knew. It 
 wasn't long, however, before the officers 
 of the ship got overbearing and abusive. 
 "D — n your eyes! Avast there!" etc. 
 We struck and went ashore. 
 
 NO PAY FOR SERVICES. 
 
 There was quite a sum due me be- 
 yond payment of my passage money. 
 This Bell refused to pay, except on con- 
 dition that there was a return to the 
 
 50 
 
ship and the job finished. Refusing to 
 do this, the balance was lost, although 
 he promised to be a brother by proxy. 
 Others sued and got their money. Three 
 others and myself found a job burning 
 charcoal and chopping cord wood from 
 the scrub oaks on the adjacent hills. I 
 remarked to my comrades that I knew 
 nothing about such work. They said it 
 was all right and they would give me 
 a full show and do most of the hard 
 work. It was a standoff, by my cooking 
 and doing other camp duties and mark- 
 eting our products. Thus we earned 
 enough to get an outfit for the mines. 
 
 AT ORO CITY. 
 
 We went on a little sloop to Sacra- 
 mento and from there up the river to 
 where a man had laid out what he called 
 Oro City. He hired us to clear out snags 
 and sawyers, so as to make Bear river 
 navigable down to its mouth into the 
 Feather river, perhaps two miles below. 
 He offered us $12.00 a day without keep, 
 or $8.00 a day and keep, and a place 
 to sleep in our blankets. To make a 
 
 51 
 
dead sure thing we accepted the $8.00 
 per day and keep. The old man had 
 a nice family, a good, motherly wife and 
 two grown daughters, who made it 
 pleasant for us. We got along and gave 
 satisfaction. We noticed, however, fre- 
 quent half and sometimes whole days 
 off when we were idle. Notwithstand- 
 ing such loss of time, we did not com- 
 plain at first, but grew restive and de- 
 termined to resume our tramp to the 
 mines. When coming to a settlement 
 we fell far short of getting what we 
 thought justly due. For Sunday we 
 were charged $4.00 for a day's board 
 and the same for each day laid off dur- 
 ing the week and $2.00 for each half 
 day that the old fellow failed to fur- 
 nish work. 
 
 After accepting these harsh terms, 
 the wise guy of our party vouchsafed 
 the following: "Well, old Rooster, al- 
 though masquerading as an honest old 
 Missouri farmer, in thus tricking us 
 boys, had we stayed much longer, we'd 
 have been in your debt. In this trans- 
 action you have out-yanked the shrewd- 
 est Yankee we have thus far met." 
 
IN THE MINES. 
 
 We struck the mines at the mouth of 
 Deer creek, where it empties in the Yu- 
 ba river, and worked along the banks, 
 finally settling in a comfortable camp 
 where the splendid little mountain city, 
 Nevada, has since grown up. We were 
 lucky in soon having good returns for 
 our work, beyond what the Oro City 
 man had promised us, and so continued 
 until the spring of 1850. Then we se- 
 cured a promising layout on the upper 
 South Yuba river, perhaps thirty miles 
 away, and commenced active operations 
 to turn the river as soon as the snow 
 water subsided. Results were not satis- 
 factory, blowing into the Yuba Dam all 
 our previous earnings. I returned to 
 Sacramento, lured thither by a $200.00 
 per month job offered me on my way up 
 to the mines. 
 
 But the immigration of 1850 was ar- 
 riving, and Sacramento was full of idle 
 men, glad to work on any terms offer- 
 ed, so my traps were shouldered for a 
 start back for the mines, where a new 
 location was made 
 
 53 
 
AT ROUGH-AND-READY. 
 
 Met with good success during the fol- 
 lowing winter, in the spring of 1851 
 another change was made, to Auburn, 
 then called Woods' Dry Diggings. Here 
 I staid with good success until the fall 
 of 1853. I determined to visit the old 
 folks at home and to finish my medical 
 studies at New Orleans. Accompanying 
 me was my dear old mining partner, 
 Torn Dixon, of Marengo county. 
 
 STARTS BACK HOME. 
 
 We started from our California home, 
 Auburn, so as to have several days ia 
 San Francisco before the sailing of the 
 Panama steamer. 
 
 He found a Dr. A. S. Wright, who 
 advertised himself as "Banker and As- 
 sayer," who offered Dix a bigger price 
 than anyone else would give for his gold 
 dust, provided he would take draft on 
 New Orleans, payable in sixty days af- 
 ter sight. Besides the $3,000.00 thus 
 disposed of, he had quite a little reserve, 
 which he persisted in "toting" on his 
 
 54 
 
person — a source of worry and nervous 
 anxiety, contributing to the general 
 breakdown that followed. 
 
 IN A WRECK. 
 
 We left San Francisco in the crack 
 steamship Winfield Scott with an oppo- 
 sition steamer racing us from the start 
 via Nicarauga. At midnight, the sec- 
 ond day out, our ship struck a rock and 
 sank. There was a calm sea and plenty 
 of time to save all hands and land them 
 on an adjacent island, Aracapa, with 
 a limited amount of provisions, which 
 were doled out stintedly twice a day. 
 There was rarely enough given out to 
 go around. Out of 500 souls, perhaps 
 as many as twenty-five would get noth- 
 ing. Tom was nearly always one of them. 
 My little allowance was always shared 
 with him. When reproved for not rush- 
 ing in with me to secure his share, he 
 replied: "0, Kiah, I don't like to 
 crowd." W T hen assured he would have 
 to go hungry, as I wouldn't divide any 
 longer, he got a move on him and got 
 there with the foremost. There was no 
 
water on the island, but the tanks of 
 fresh water on the steamer remained in- 
 tact and were brought on shore in boats. 
 One day, when assisting in this work 
 and undertaking to help myself to a 
 drink, the cup was knocked from my 
 lips by one of the crew, who said: "Let 
 that water alone until I tell you to drink, 
 
 you ." After the fellow was 
 
 pretty badly used up, the cup was re- 
 filled and drank with gusto, with no fur- 
 ther molestation. One usually makes 
 friends when showing pluck to resent 
 such an outrage, and this fellow slunk 
 like a whipped cur. When the affray 
 was over, Dick was hard by gritting his 
 teeth, with fists doubled up, just ready 
 for war. 
 
 ON TO PANAMA. 
 
 After a ten days stay, we sailed pleas- 
 antly to Panama. We had hard expe- 
 riences in crossing the Isthmus. The 
 railroad had been completed but a few 
 miles at its eastern terminus. As a large 
 number of our comrades had determined 
 to cross on foot, instead of paying a 
 
 56 
 
fabulous price for mule hire, we determ- 
 ined to be of the number. Much of 
 my stuff was thrown away to make my 
 pack as light as possible, but Dick was 
 in love with all he had, which he wanted 
 to take home as souvenirs, besides the 
 gold dust strapped to his person. With 
 his heavy load, he soon began to lag; 
 first one article and then another was 
 transferred from his shoulders to mine. 
 He was almost heart broken when we 
 were forced to lighten cargo from time 
 to time, abandoning different things on 
 the march, in order to keep up with 
 our comrades. Upon my releasing him 
 from his incubus of gold dust, he step- 
 ped rather spryly for a time. I kept 
 him in front and pushed him along, 
 bullied and scared him by fear of rob- 
 bers, who we heard of attacking, rob- 
 bing and some times killing others. 
 Poor fellow, iH was used up and col- 
 lapsed upon reaching the steamer. He 
 was abed most of the time until we 
 reached New Orleans. 
 
 57 
 
IN NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 Upon presentation of his $3,000.00 
 check, not on a bank, but on a respecta- 
 ble mercantile house, we were told that 
 they knew nothing of the San Francisco 
 Banker and Assayer. As the check 
 was not due for sixty days, they ex- 
 plained the funds might be received with 
 which to pay it. 
 
 We passed over to Mobile after Dick 
 rested a few days, where, fortunately, 
 we found an old friend of his. It was 
 a great relief to me, as poor Dick 
 had been a burden. Besides the 
 terrible ordeal of other vicissitudes 
 through which we had just passed, 
 was the worry of the probable loss of 
 his $3,000.00 cheap-john check. He was 
 in a state of mental as well as physical 
 collapse. As soon as able to travel, his 
 friends kindly escorted ^ixon to his 
 home, up the Tombigbel? to Demopolis. 
 
 FINDS HIS BROTHER. 
 
 I found brother William in Mobile, 
 where he had a fine position in business 
 and stood well socially. 
 
A returned successful California*! 
 was something of a show, a rather an- 
 noying feature of my stay in Mobile, 
 which prompted an early exit for Cam- 
 den and out to Pine Apple where our 
 people lived. After a nice visit, find- 
 ing the old folks up in pretty good 
 shape, I started for New Orleans, with 
 a view of resuming my medical stud- 
 ies. Upon my arrival at Mobile, I found 
 poor brother William down with pneu- 
 monia. 
 
 DETAINED IN MOBILE. 
 
 Although under the care of two of 
 the most eminent doctors of that city, 
 my trip to New Orleans was abandoned 
 to remain with him as nurse. After a 
 long siege they gave him up as beyond 
 recovery. This being known, brought 
 what was intended as a farewell greet- 
 ing from a host of old friends who com- 
 forted him on his being resigned and 
 prepared for the change. Although hav- 
 ing little hope myself, I tried to dispel 
 from his mind the idea that a fatal end- 
 
 59 
 
mg was inevitable, and partially suc- 
 ceeded. Although they abandoned the 
 case, the doctors were asked to give him 
 a little champagne. They flippantly re- 
 sponded : "Give him all he wants." Two 
 quart bottles were obtained and the poor 
 fellow smacked his lips after having a 
 small wine glass full. This I kept up 
 every hour. The effect was marvelous. 
 He was so revived that I felt justified m 
 leaving him to take a little rest and 
 sleep, after stupidly repeating the Doc- 
 tor's words : "give him all he wants," to 
 those left in charge. They had seen 
 the cautious small doses given and at 
 intervals of an hour. After more than 
 an hour's refreshing slumber, I found 
 the poor fellow in great distress, retch- 
 ing and vomiting, hovering near life's 
 end. After being snatched from the 
 jaws of death by the judicious use of 
 an agent, he was almost gone by the in- 
 judcious overdosing with the same. 
 
 Though no more than an inexperi- 
 enced, half-baked doctor, no other was 
 called and no more chances taken of his 
 being killed through kindness, not to 
 say innate stupidity. After this episode, 
 
 60 
 
the invalid progressed rapidly to full re- 
 covery and we went to Camden within 
 a month; there he was s3on fully re- 
 stored. He abandoned a fine position 
 and prospects in Mobile and remained 
 in Wilcox and in the fall was elected to 
 office by the largest majority ever giv- 
 en in the county. In this position, he 
 was exposed a good deal to vicissitudes 
 of weather and in time had another at- 
 tack of pneumonia, which took him off 
 — a noble, true man. 
 
 Business complications of my old 
 friend Dixon demanded 
 
 IMMEDIATE ATTENTION IN CALIFORNIA, 
 
 and he prevailed on me to return and 
 act as his agent. The poor fellow turn- 
 ed the collection of his $3,000.00 pro- 
 tested check over to me, as business 
 agent, whose knowledge of business was 
 almost as limited as his own. I was for- 
 tunate, however, in seeking assitance in 
 proper quarters. The check, having 
 been presented when due, but not paid, 
 went to protest. Upon calling at the 
 New Orleans house on my way to Caii- 
 
 61 
 
fornia they predicted Wright would not 
 be found on my arrival. 
 
 Added to the wear and tear of nurs- 
 ing brother William and other, perhaps, 
 unnecessary exposures, after two weeks 
 stay on the Isthmus, I was attacked with 
 Panama fever before the steamer reach- 
 ed Acapulco; but in cooler weather, by 
 the time we had reached San Francis- 
 co, I was in fairly good shape. Upon 
 my arrival, I was fortunate enough to 
 be placed in contact with two of the 
 biggest banking houses in town, who, 
 after some fun with me, as the victim 
 of the agent, gave me all the aid possi- 
 ble in recovering the money. Old Wright 
 was badly scared and humiliated at the 
 exposure, which came sooner than he 
 anticipated. He filibustered, quibbled, 
 said he had forwarded the money and 
 knew it had been paid at the other end 
 of the line, but he was outgeneraled on 
 every turn and finally refunded every 
 dollar, which, less a small sum for inci- 
 dentals, was sent to Dixon in a check 
 on a Mobile bank. Within a short time, 
 Wright and the old bankers who helped 
 hold him up, all went to the wall. 
 
 62 
 
BACK TO THE MINES AGAIN. 
 
 After getting the Dixon matter set- 
 tled, I left San Francisco for my old 
 haunts in the mines at Auburn. Net 
 a great while afterwards, heard from a 
 dear old mining partner, who some time 
 previous left for the north, when I left 
 Rough-and-Ready for Auburn. He 
 wrote me he had a valuable discovery 
 at what is now Yreka, near the Oregon 
 line, requesting me to join and share 
 with him all there was in it. Usually 
 rather reserved about exposing my 
 plans for the future, my intended pros- 
 pects to join Tom Ward got to be known 
 among others, by an enterprising thief, 
 who went through my effects one night 
 and stole most of my ready means on 
 the eve of my departure. With plenty 
 of help, he was captured and my money 
 recovered. The necessary law's delay 
 to appear against him knocked out my 
 contemplated trip. The fellow was 
 finally tried, convicted, and served a 
 term in the penitentiary. While wait- 
 ing for this, I bought into the old 
 Rough-and-Ready mine at Forest Hill, 
 
 63 
 
first one share, one-eighth interest — had 
 but little to do with it, but, as others 
 got discouraged, secured additional in- 
 terests, struggled hard, lived stintedly, 
 and when at last the mine began + o 
 yield fair returns, owned five-eighths in- 
 terst. I closed out in five years with 
 more money than sense, and 
 
 RETURNED TO ALABAMA, 
 
 purposing to first finish my studies in 
 medicine, then to buy a plantation and 
 the darkies thereon. My original pur- 
 pose was to enter Tulane University, 
 New Orleans, but the Medical Depart- 
 ment of the State University in Mobile 
 was chosen. Scores of people knew me 
 and I was soon a social lion, a bad pre- 
 dicament for a student anxious to cram 
 and learn all possible in a given time. 
 At the end of the term I felt too green 
 to submit to an examination, which 
 made it necessary to attend another 
 term to secure the degree. This I did 
 at another Institution, and later an hon- 
 ored professional standing was attained. 
 
 64 
 
HIS OPINION ABOUT SLAVERY. 
 
 Following close on the term in Mo- 
 bile, the spring and part of the summer 
 were spent in Wilcox and Dallas, visit- 
 ing among relatives and old friends of 
 our family. Perhaps it was to our 
 cousin, Ulma Crumpton, my views on 
 the negro question were expressed about 
 thus : "Well, my purpose in leaving 
 California was to finally settle down 
 on a plantation with the ownership of as 
 many darkies as my means would buy, 
 but after being away from the institu- 
 tion so long and seeing the harrassing 
 cares and annoyances connected with 
 managing and providing for the crea- 
 tures, my sympathies are with those of 
 you who are responsible to God and man 
 for their humane treatment. The dar- 
 key has the best of it. I would not 
 swap places with you. I wouldn't ac- 
 cept as a gift the best plantation and 
 darkies thereon and be forced to con- 
 tinue as such owner." 
 
 65 
 

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Part Two 
 
 By W. B. Crumpton 
 
 The Adventures of W. B. Crumpton, going 
 to and returning from California, including 
 his Lecture, " The Original Tramp, or 
 How a Boy Got through the Lines to the 
 Confederacy" 
 
 67 
 
HOW I BEGAN TO LECTURE. 
 
 <2^gg^ HE following is about the 
 way I tell it: 
 
 J?jSP The story I am to tell 
 g5j ^S| ^|i) relates my own personal 
 adventures, which I often told 
 around the fire-side, with no dream of 
 its ever assuming the shape of a lec- 
 ture. My old friend, Col. J. T. Mur- 
 fee, President of Howard College, 
 insisted that I should turn it into a lec- 
 ture. My reply was : "Some day, when 
 I nave time, I may sit down and write 
 it out, dressing it up with beautiful lan- 
 guage, weaving in some poetry, and then 
 branch out as a full fledged lecturer." I 
 
 69 
 
suppose the leisure time never would 
 have come and probably the lecture 
 never been delivered but for a fool- 
 hardy spell that possessed me on one oc- 
 casion when I was in Mt. Sterling, Ky. 
 A brother said: "Our Baptist young 
 people want you to deLver a lecture. 
 You are going to be here several days. 
 Could you not do so?" And I promptly 
 said "Yes." The next question was: 
 "What is the name of the lecture?" I 
 had never thought of that before, but I 
 blurted out: "How a boy got through 
 the Lines to the Confederacy." "How 
 much do you charge?" That was a new 
 question too, but I ventured to say: 
 "About one-half." So it was arranged 
 and a dodger was gotten out by the 
 preacher and printer headed: "War, 
 War, War." It was the time of the 
 Spanish-American war and it ran 
 about this way: "Dr. W. B. Crumpton, 
 of Georgetown, Ky., being in our city 
 for a few days has kindly consented to 
 deliver his famous lecture at the Court 
 House tonight at 7:30 o'clock for the 
 benefit of the Baptist Young People's 
 Union. It is a rare opportunity our citi- 
 
 70 
 
zens have to hear this distinguished 
 lecturer. Come one, come all. A treat 
 awaits you. Admission Ten Cents." 
 The old people concluded, as long as the 
 price was so small, that it was only a 
 funny story I was going to relate to the 
 young people and they were conspicu- 
 ous by their absence. 
 
 After spending a nervous afternoon, 
 I went out to the Court House and found 
 about a hundred and fifty young people 
 and children gathered. I said to my- 
 self: "You have made yourself a fool 
 now. These children will all be asleep 
 in about ten minutes, and you will be 
 ashamed of yourself the balance of your 
 life for attempting to lecture." When 
 I was through with the story, only two 
 very small kids were asleep, so I took 
 it as a good indication that I had some- 
 thing worth while. I returned to my 
 home, taking with me some of the fine 
 circulars for the amusement of my fam- 
 ily, and concluded to make a further test 
 by giving a free lecture in the College 
 Chapel. It was well advertised and 
 probably five hundred people were pres- 
 ent, many old veterans and a large num- 
 
 71 
 
ber of students. When I was through, 
 parties congratulated me, and I conclud- 
 ed that I could afford to continue spin- 
 ning the yarn. So I have delivered the 
 lecture in a great many places, wherever 
 the young people or women would get 
 up an audience. 
 
 The lecture was called the "Original 
 Tramp; or How a boy got through the 
 lines to the Confederacy." One pious 
 old sister who heard it suggested that 
 the name be changed to : "How the Lord 
 took care of a boy while going through 
 the lines," and I cheerfully accept the 
 amended form. 
 
 It is not a religious lecture. The boy 
 I am to tell about was not working at 
 religion much, though a member of the 
 church. But I hope there will be dis- 
 covered the marks of an over-ruling 
 Providence running like a silver thread 
 through all the story. He has believed, 
 for many years, the Lord had him in 
 hand, though he knew it not, prepar- 
 ing him for the task that has been his 
 for many years. If some reader shall 
 come to believe in the Guiding Hand in 
 his or her own life, I shall be happy. 
 
 72 
 
The lecture began with my return 
 from California; but I have concluded 
 to give the whole narrative, beginning 
 with my first start to California, and 
 let the reader pick out where the "Fa- 
 mous Lecture" begins. 
 
 73 
 
Chapter I 
 
 A boy's best friend; A boy without ambi- 
 tion; "A sucker ready to bite at any bait"; 
 Remembers his brother's counsel; Off to sea; 
 Completely transformed. 
 
 I once heard a blind man sing — I re- 
 member one line of the chorus: 
 
 "A BOY'S BEST FRIEND IS HIS MOTHER." 
 
 How true is that and the poor boy 
 doesn't realize it until the mother is 
 taken from him. After she is gone out 
 of the home, the world is never again 
 what it was to him. 
 
 My home was broken up by the death 
 of my mother when I was only thirteen. 
 I became a wanderer. Sometimes I 
 worked on a farm, sometimes I went to 
 school, after a fashion. When my 
 brother, an "old forty-niner," as the 
 
 75 
 
first gold-hunters in California were 
 called, visited relatives at Pleasant Hill 
 in Dallas county, he found me in school. 
 He thought that travel would be the 
 best schooling for me. So he asked me 
 one day how I would like to go to Cal- 
 ifornia. My answer in the negative 
 amazed him. I was perfectly content 
 to remain where I was. I was honest 
 about it. I had been to Montgomery, 
 Selma, Cahaba and Prattville, and had 
 frequently seen steam boats on the Ala- 
 bama — had actually ridden on one — had 
 but one desire as to travel ungratified. 
 I wanted some day to go to Mooile and 
 then to East Mississippi to see my kin. 
 I had determined to make that trip if 
 I lived to be grown; beyond that I had 
 no ambition to see the world. 
 
 This satisfied condition indicated to 
 my brother that 
 
 I WAS WITHOUT AMBITION. 
 
 This distressed him no little. Through 
 another party he approached me next 
 time. I was asked if I would be willing 
 to go to California to look after some 
 
 76 
 
business for my brother ; then to return 
 if I desired. To this proposition, I read- 
 ily consented. It seemc ludicrous, in- 
 deed, now to think of sending an ignor- 
 ant boy on such a journey, to "look 
 after business;" but I fell into the 
 scheme and felt my importance as never 
 before. 
 
 My brother was wise and knew the 
 ways of the world and was kind enough 
 to accompany me as far as he could. 
 First he took me down the Alabama to 
 Mobile, then sent me alone up the M. 
 & 0. (the first railroad I ever saw) to 
 Enterprise, Miss., to visit my relatives 
 beyond there in Jasper county. I hired 
 a horse and buggy from a Mr. Edmon- 
 son and drove out twenty-four miles to 
 my brother-in-law's home. Returning, 
 he accompanied me to Montgomery by 
 boat, thence by rail to Savan- 
 nah, Charleston, Wilmington, Rich- 
 mond, Baltimore, Washington, Philadel- 
 phia and finally to New York, two days 
 before the time for the steamer to sail. 
 We lay over a day at most of the cities 
 mentioned to give me a chance to learn 
 some of the ways of the world. I was a 
 
 77 
 
"SUCKER, READY TO BITE AT ANY BAIT." 
 
 I doubt if ever a boy started on so 
 long a trip as green as I. One incident 
 will show my ignorance. While in Ne v 
 York, one afternoon, I saw a great com- 
 motion on the streets. Going out I saw 
 my first fire engine. The engine was of 
 the old kind, with long ropes attached, 
 pulled by men. There the poor fellows 
 were toiling over the rough streets, tug- 
 ging at the ropes and frantically appeal- 
 ing to the crowds of people who lined 
 the sidewalks to come to their aid. I 
 had read of great fires destroying large 
 cities and turning multitudes out as 
 homeless wanderers, and I made sure 
 that just such a thing was about to hap- 
 pen to New York. I was paralyzed at 
 the utter indifference of the people who 
 gazed unmoved at the heroic firemen and 
 turned a deaf ear to their appeals. I 
 could stand it no longer, so I leaped out 
 into the street and seized the rope. I 
 was a tall, slim, awkward lad, about 
 eighteen years old, thin as a match, pale 
 as a ghost and had on a long Jim 
 Swinger. The crowd cheered, but I 
 
 78 
 
didn't know what it was about. The 
 firemen encouraged me, of course. "Go 
 it, my laddie, brave boy; now we'll save 
 the town," were some of the cheering 
 remarks the firemen spoke as I tugged 
 away with all my might on the rope. 
 "Stand up, my son," was another, as I 
 slipped on the cobble stones. The fire 
 reached, I was put in position with the 
 others to pump the machine. I knew 
 nothing of what was going on, for I 
 was intent on trying to save the town. 
 After awhile, by the awkwardness of 
 some fellow who held the nozzle (of 
 course it was all accidental) the stream 
 struck me full in the breast and I was 
 nearly drowned. A great shout we -, t 
 up from the crowd, and I realized that 
 the eyes of several thousand spectators, 
 who had been drawn to the fire, were 
 centered on me. I guessed afterward 
 that the fire, which I never saw, had 
 been subdued, and they were having a 
 little sport at my expense. 
 
 I turned loose the pump as though I 
 had been shot, drew my overcoat tight 
 about me, for it was very cold, and dart- 
 
 79 
 
ed through the crowd, going I knew 
 not whither. Fortunately 
 
 MY BROTHER'S COUNSEL CAME TO MY 
 
 aid: 
 
 "If you ever get lost in a city, don't 
 try to find your way back, but hail the 
 first hack you see, and tell the driver to 
 take you to your hotel." This I did, 
 and as the carriage rumbled over the 
 streets across several blocks, I was 
 wishing and praying that I might g?.t 
 to my room without being seen by my 
 brother. He was not in the lobby of 
 the hotel, and I was congratulating my- 
 self, as I wearily toiled up the stairs, 
 that I had missed him, and he would 
 never know of my misfortune; but I 
 was doomed to disappointment. Open- 
 ing the door, there he was in the room ! 
 As I stood before him, bedraggled with 
 mud and water, his eyes opened wide 
 and he took me in. "Where have you 
 been?" he exclaimed. I gasped out: 
 "To the fire!" He was not a prayer- 
 meeting man, and I will not repeat his 
 language. As he rolled on the beet, yell- 
 
 80 
 
ing like a Comanche Indian, I was ut- 
 terly disgusted with him. I saw noth- 
 ing to laugh about. I have never helped 
 at a fire since then, and when I hear 
 the fire alarm and see the engine in its 
 mad rush, I am inclined to want to go 
 in the other direction. 
 
 OFF TO SEA 
 
 is a beautiful thing to read about, but 
 it has a serious side. I didn't mind 
 separating with my brother so much. He 
 had introduced me to the captain and 
 purser of the steamer, besides these, I 
 knew not a soul. I was much interest- 
 ed, for the hour or two before night- 
 fall, watching the shipping. Everything 
 was new to me, but darkness came down 
 upon us before we were out of the har- 
 bor. I shall never forget the sensation 
 when the vessel struck the first billow 
 of the rolling ocean. As the old vessel 
 lurched forward, and her timbers be- 
 gan to creak, some one said : "That's 
 pretty strong for a starter." Another 
 said: "Shouldn't wonder if we didn't 
 have a rough voyage." And yet another : 
 
 81 
 
"It is always dangerous at sea in 
 March." For the first time I began to 
 get alarmed. I watched the swinging 
 lamps, the supper tables that looked as 
 if they were going over and spill ail 
 the dishes; the sick passengers as they 
 flew either to their staterooms or to the 
 upper deck. Only a little while elapsed 
 before I was in bed myself, wishing for 
 my brother and abusing myself for ever 
 undertaking the trip. 
 
 Oh! the desolation and loneliness of 
 that horrid night as I rolled with every 
 motion of the vessel! I never slept a 
 wink. Next morning I looked out of 
 the port-hole and saw the mad waves 
 of the ocean. To my surprise the sun 
 was shining; but it looked to me like a 
 storm was raging. I learned after- 
 wards that the Atlantic is always rough 
 and that I was the only one on board 
 who was much alarmed. Three days 
 and nights I kept my bed from sheer 
 fright and home-sickness. I know it was 
 not sea-sickness, for I tested myself, 
 time and time again, afterwards and 
 never had tho first symptom. 
 
 I had about made up my mind that 
 
 82 
 
I would never see the home folks again, 
 but would die in a few days and be bur- 
 ied in the ocean. The third day the old 
 Captain came in on his rounds of in- 
 spection. When he found that I was 
 not sick, he shouted : "Pshaw, boy, get 
 out of this and be a man; get on deck 
 and get a sniff of the salt air and you 
 will be all right in two minutes and as 
 hungry as a wolf. Out, out with you; 
 be a man." In less time than it takes co 
 write it 
 
 I WAS COMPLETELY TRANSFORMED. 
 
 All my fears were gone and I found 
 the Captain's words true. As I looked 
 at the hundreds of people on the open 
 deck, there were eight hundred passen- 
 gers, all happy and cheerful, I felt dis- 
 graced to have been such a coward. 
 There was the boundless ocean on every 
 side. No sign of land anywhere and, 
 strange to say, I was not a bit afraid. 
 The reassuring words of the Captain 
 had saved me. Many a poor fellow has 
 given up and gone down in the battle 
 of life, who might have been saved if 
 
 83 
 
someone had only spoken the cheering 
 words in time. 
 
 Down through the tropical islands to 
 Aspinwall, now called Colon, across the 
 Isthmus of Darien, where the Panama 
 Canal is now being constructed, on the 
 railroad to the ancient city of Pan- 
 ama and up the beautiful Pacific in- 
 to the lovely harbor of Acapulco, Mexi- 
 co, where we stopped a day for coal, and 
 finally through the Golden Gate; we 
 dropped anchor in the Bay of San Fran- 
 cisco, just twenty-four days from New 
 York. Not a soul in all the great city 
 did I know ; but I was soon in the hands 
 of the friends of my brother. I felt 
 like Mrs. Partington when she struck 
 land after being to sea, she exclaimed: 
 "Thank the Lord for terra cotta," and I 
 promised myself never again to get on 
 an ocean steamer. 
 
 84 
 
Chapter Two 
 
 Looking for a job; A hostler; In San Fran- 
 cisco; Packing gold through tne streets; 
 Moves to Oakland; Impulse to shout "Hurrah 
 for Jeff Davis." 
 
 ffl N THE diggings, among the 
 ^ j. miners, I spent three 
 ^^ months, "keeping bach," 
 Jf with a genteel old Scotch- 
 man, in my brother's cabin on the moun- 
 tain side. From the little stoop in front 
 of my cabin, I could see villages of 
 Digger Indians, Chinese and Greasers, 
 and people from every nation of the 
 earth. 
 
 Later I was introduced to a Boston- 
 ian who was sheriff of Placer county. 
 He had been told I was 
 
 LOOKING FOR A JOB. 
 
 He turned his cold, grey eyes on me 
 
 85 
 
and said: "I knew old Crump — he was 
 never afraid of work; but Southern 
 boys generally feel themselves above it. 
 I wonder if you are that way. I want 
 somebody to be here about the court 
 house and jail all the time to keep 
 things cleaned up and to feed and curry 
 my four horses. Can you curry horses? 
 Are you ashamed of it? Suppose some- 
 time when you were with your over- 
 alls on, currying horses, a pretty girl 
 comes along the street, guess you'd run 
 up in the loft and hide, eh? Now, for 
 that sort of work for a boy about your 
 age, I have fifty dollars a month and 
 grub. What do you say?" My! how he 
 did fire the questions at me and how 
 his grey eyes did snap and pierce me 
 through! Fifty dollars a month was a 
 big thing in my eyes. I was a little on 
 my mettle to show the Boston Yankee 
 what a Southern boy could do if he 
 tried. So I became 
 
 A HOSTLER 
 
 for nine months. I was used to all 
 kinds of work on the farm, but never 
 
 85 
 
had any occasion to become an expert — 
 with the curry comb. I was privileged 
 to belt a pistol about me and guard 
 a prisoner while he did the work, if I 
 liked; but generally I preferred doing 
 the work myself. 
 
 For the benefit of my own boys and 
 others who may chance to read these 
 lines, I want to record it: the three 
 months roughing it in the miner's cabin, 
 and the nine months currying Sheriff 
 Bullock's horses, made a year of most 
 valuable training for me. I learned 
 more that twelve months than in any of 
 my life, except the years later in the 
 Civil War. 
 
 I was always fond of the girls. 
 I was never in any place long 
 before I was well acquainted with a 
 number of the nicest in the town. In- 
 stead of running up in the loft to hide 
 when they came along, many a pleasant 
 chat did I have, standing before the 
 stable door with my overalls on and my 
 sleeves rolled up to my elbows. My 
 brother, returning from the States, 
 took me 
 
 87 
 
TO SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 and put me in school. Some of my 
 leisure time he expected me to look af- 
 ter his business. My ignorance of busi- 
 ness methods is well illustrated by the 
 following incident: He went away, 
 leaving a note of something over 
 three thousand dollars. It was in the 
 hands of a lawyer friend and was not 
 due. He told me he would send me a 
 draft to pay that note. 
 
 I didn't know what a draft was; but 
 it finally came in the mail by the steam- 
 er which came once a month. 
 
 I could hardly sleep that night for 
 fe:ir somebody would steal it. I felt 
 sure something was going to happen to 
 me before I got the note paid. I had 
 read of hold-ups at night, and even in 
 day time parties had been enticed into 
 dark alleys and robbed. Next morning 
 it looked as if the bank would never 
 open its doors. I passed and repassed, 
 afraid to stop and look in, for fear some 
 one would suspect I had some money 
 and would lay a trap for me. Finally 
 the door opened and I was the first to 
 
enter. I presented the draft. It was 
 the proudest act of my life. The fellow 
 looked at it, and then at me, turned it 
 over, looked on a book, cut his eye at 
 me again, then looked at his watch, 
 asked me some more questions, then 
 went in a back room and was gone, oh ! 
 so long. "Surely," I began to think, 
 "maybe he will slip out of the back door 
 and I will never see my draft anymore." 
 But finally he returned with another 
 man. I can't recall it all now, but after 
 a while it was arranged and the man 
 asked: "What do you want for this?" 
 "Want gold," was my reply. I had heard 
 of bank notes that were not good — there 
 were no green backs then. I was de- 
 termined to be on the safe side. Noth- 
 ing but gold would satisfy me. "Mighty 
 heavy for you to pack,' he said, but I 
 knew of no other way. Two sacks were 
 given me. My ! how my eyes opened as 
 the money was counted into the sacks 
 in $20 gold pieces. I had never seen 33 
 much money before. 
 
 89 
 
TAKING A SACK IN EACH HAND, I TRUDGED 
 AWAY UP THE STREET. 
 
 Block after block was passed and 
 finally I went up the stairway and stood 
 almost breathless in the lawyer's office. 
 Depositing my treasure on a chair, I 
 said : "Mr. Anderson, that note is due 
 today and I have come to pay it." "All 
 right, my boy, you could have waited 
 three days longer if you wished/ was 
 the lawyer's kind reply. I had been im- 
 pressed with the exact date and thought 
 it so fortunate that the steamer arrived 
 just the day before the note fell due. I 
 thought something awful would happen 
 if it was not promptly settled, when due. 
 I knew nothing of days of grace. "But 
 what have you in those sacks," queried 
 the lawyer in a kindly tone. "That's 
 the money," I replied. Of course the 
 laugh was on me. There I got my first 
 lesson in banking. The draft endorsed 
 by me, would have suited him much bet- 
 ter than the two sacks of gold coin. So 
 I was a "gold bug" when William Jen- 
 nings Bryan was a kid, and I have never 
 changed my platform. 
 
 90 
 
I chanced one Saturday to go 
 
 TO OAKLAND, 
 
 quite a nice town then — now a great 
 city. My brother had told me of an 
 old friend of his over there, Judge Ms- 
 Kee, and I called on him. I found him 
 to be an intense Southerner. His wife 
 was a Miss Davis, from Mississippi, a 
 kinswoman of Jeff Davis, afterwards 
 President of the Confederacy. It so 
 happened that there was to be a gather- 
 ing of young people at his house that 
 night and they were all Southern peo- 
 ple. Of course I was not slow to ac- 
 cept an invitation to remain over. Such 
 a company of fire-eating Southerners T 
 had no idea could be gotten together in 
 California. All the talk was about se- 
 cession. All the songs were of the 
 South. I heard Dixie for the first time. 
 I had been boarding with a New Bed- 
 ford Yankee — an abolitionist, a South 
 hater. It required only a hint on the 
 part of my new friends to make a great 
 change in my living. I went to Oakland 
 College, selected a room, and two days 
 
 91 
 
later I was out of the great city and 
 over the bay where every week I could 
 visit my Southern friends and talk "se- 
 cesh." The more we talked, of course, 
 the madder I got and when the war 
 broke out a few weeks later, the spirit 
 of rebellion was hot within me. It was 
 a time of great excitement and great 
 danger. On a Friday night I went over 
 to the city. The next morning as I was 
 dressing, I thought I heard an unusual 
 tone in the voices of the newsboys and 
 I heard excited voices on the street and 
 in the hotel. When I reached the side- 
 walk I heard the cry: "Here's the 
 Morning Call ! All about the great bat- 
 tle of Bull Run." "Federal troops fall- 
 ing back on Washington, pursued by 
 the Rebel army. Rebel army marching 
 on the Capital." My first impulse was 
 to shout: 
 
 "HURRAH FOR JEFF DAVIS/" 
 
 Had I done so, I would have been torn 
 to pieces by crowds surging through the 
 streets. All business was suspended, 
 the streets were jammed. I bought a 
 
 92 
 
paper and got out of the crowd as quick- 
 ly as possible. I hardly stirred out of 
 the office of my friend all day, so fearful 
 was he that my mouth would get me 
 into trouble. The next day I attended 
 Dr. Scott's church (Presbyterian) 
 where I frequently went because he was 
 from New Orleans. His and the Meth- 
 odist Church, South, were the only 
 churches which did not have flag staffs 
 on them. A mob gathered on Saturday 
 night and burned the old doctor in ef- 
 figy and wrapped the lamp posts and 
 the front of the church in American 
 flags. In the streets Sunday morning 
 was a wild mob of several thousand. 
 The house was packed with an immense 
 audience of men — only two ladies pres- 
 ent, one the wife of the preacher. The 
 sermon was a plain gospel sermon, with 
 no reference whatever to the surround- 
 ings. After the service a large company 
 of police fought their way through the 
 crowd at the head of the carriage which 
 conveyed the preacher and his family. 
 On the next steamer, the good man sail- 
 ed for New York, where I afterwards 
 learned, he was pastor of a Presbyterian 
 
 93 
 
church during the four years of the war. 
 It is impossible for one who was not 
 there, to conceive of the excitement. 
 Dr. Scott had said nothing to provoke 
 this outbreak, except at the meeting of 
 his Presbytery, he protested against the 
 custom then prevailing of putting flag 
 staffs on the church buildings. Though 
 I was a Baptist, I did not affiliate much 
 with the people of my faith because 
 they had gone into politics — the preach- 
 er's prayers and sermons being leveled 
 against the South. 0. P. Fitzgerald, 
 now a Bishop in Nashville, was pastor 
 of the little Methodist Church, South, in 
 the city. He had regular appointments 
 at Oakland in the afternoons. I became 
 very fond of him and he knew me right 
 well. When the Southern Baptist Con- 
 vention met in Nashville some years 
 ago, the aged Bishop was introduced to 
 the body. After the close of the session 
 I approached him with the remarks: 
 ''You never saw me before?" Instantly 
 he replied: "Yes, sir, this is Crumpton. 
 I knew you by your voice." It had been 
 thirty years since we had met. In such 
 an atmosphere as we breathed in Cali- 
 
 94 
 
fornia in those days, it is not strange 
 that Southern sympathizers began lay- 
 ing plans and schemes for getting back 
 South. 
 
 95 
 
Chapter Three 
 
 A firm resolve broken; A layover at Pitts- 
 burg; At Beloit, Wis.; The fall of Fort Don- 
 elson. 
 
 OMPANIES were secretly 
 organized and meeting 
 places agreed upon far out 
 ^^^ on the eastern border. Some 
 of these companies were butchered by 
 the Indians; others overtaken and cap- 
 tured by the Federal cavalry. My 
 brother, suspecting my state of mind, 
 came out and we held a conference. He 
 had large interests there and some in 
 Alabama. He proposed to leave me 
 there to look after his affairs while he 
 came through the lines ; but that was not 
 my mind at all. I announced my pur- 
 pose to go. He was opposed to my at- 
 tempting the trip across the plains no 
 matter how strong the company that 
 
 97 
 
accompanied me. He wanted me to run 
 no risks. He planned the trip — back 
 over the same route to New York, thence 
 to Wisconsin to the home of an old 
 friend, to remain until spring — mean- 
 time, corresponding with Col. U. S. 
 Grant, the military commander at Cai- 
 ro, 111., to get a pass, if possible, on 
 some pretext or other, through the lines. 
 
 MY FIRM RESOLVE 
 
 against ever again going on an ocean 
 steamer had to be broken. I was in a 
 condition of mind which would have 
 made me willing to attempt the trip in 
 a balloon. On November 30, 1861, I 
 took the steamer. On January 1st, I 
 reached my destination at Beloit, Wis. 
 The trip was full of interesting inci- 
 dents, but I mention only two. I made 
 the acquaintance on the steamer 
 of a Marylander, who had been 
 in California for many years. His 
 destination was Baltimore. He ex- 
 pected to get through the lines and join 
 the Confederate cavalry. When we 
 reached New York, he gave me a little 
 
 98 
 
four barrel Sharp's pistol with one hun- 
 dred cartridges. He expected to equip 
 himself with something more formid- 
 able. This, the only pistol I ever owned, 
 was one of the most harmless weapons 
 I ever saw. I mention it now only to 
 introduce it later. 
 
 Reaching Panama and boarding the 
 Isthmus train, I observed a frail young 
 fellow in the uniform of a lieutenant of 
 U. S. Navy passing through the train 
 frequently, viewing with some care the 
 passengers. He seemed to let his gaze 
 rest upon me each time, in a way to 
 make me a little uncomfortable. Was 
 it possible, I thought, that somebody had 
 found out my secret and had sent this 
 chap aboard to look me out and arrest 
 me when I reached Aspinwall? In the 
 few hours ride across the Isthmus, I 
 worked myself up to a very unhappy 
 state of mind. It was after dark when 
 we got aboard the steamer North Star, 
 the same I had gone out in, which the 
 Government afterwards purchased and 
 turned into a gunboat. While the pas- 
 sengers were all in line approaching the 
 office to have their rooms assigned, I 
 
 99 
 
was approached by the young officer 
 who asked to see me. My heart flew up 
 in my throat. All my fears were about 
 to be realized. I felt sure I'd be on a 
 man-of-war and in irons in a few min- 
 utes. I controlled myself enough to 
 protest that if I should leave the line I 
 would lose my place and have to drop 
 back to the foot. "I want to see you 
 about that very thing," he said. "I ha\ e 
 a room for you." My eyes, I know 
 were nearly as big as saucers, and I 
 must have been pale as a sheet. I made 
 some reply and remained in lint. 
 "Come," he said in a -very earnest, ten- 
 der tone, "I have seen the captain and 
 he has given me a room and permitted 
 me to choose my own room-mate, and 
 I have picked you out." I felt reassured, 
 and followed him to the identical berth 
 I had suffered tortures in nearly two 
 years before. 
 
 In a little while he had discovered 
 that I was Southern and he turned out 
 to be a Virginian, who was playing sick 
 and was off on a furlough. "There is 
 nothing the matter with me," he said, "I 
 expect to be in the Confederate Navy in 
 
 100 
 
thirty days." But in spite of this re- 
 mark, his uniform scared me and I gave 
 him no intimations of my intentions. 
 My old Maryland friend and I tied on 
 to each other. Neither of us sought ac- 
 quaintances with others of the passen- 
 gers. 
 
 On the way from Jersey City to Chi- 
 cago, I was left while at dinner at Al- 
 toona, Pa. My baggage of course went 
 on. 
 
 THIS REQUIRED A LAY-OVER AT PITTS- 
 BURG, 
 
 where my belongings had been stopped. 
 The day happened to be Sunday. Grow- 
 ing tired of the hotel, I thought to walk 
 about the city some after dinner. Pick- 
 ing up the city directory I glanced 
 through it curiously and chanced to see 
 the name "Crumpton." Over the river, 
 in Alleghaney City, there seemed to be 
 quite a family of them. I took the num- 
 ber of the street and went in quest of 
 kins folk, not dreaming of trouble. 
 Finding the place, I rang the bell and 
 
 101 
 
found the family at dinner. I was ush- 
 ered into the parlor and left alone. 
 
 Glancing around the room, I saw 
 American flags everywhere and the pic- 
 tures or Lincoln and Hamlin, the Pres- 
 ident and Vice-President. "What a fool 
 I am," I thought. My curiosity had got- 
 ten me into trouble; but I must get out 
 somehow. To slip out of the house, 
 while the family were yet at dinner 
 would never do. I determined to face 
 the difficulty. I never knew why I was 
 named Washington unless it was bo- 
 cause the father of his country was born 
 on February 22na and I on the 24th. 
 However, you must remember there 
 were several years intervening between 
 the birthdays of these two distinguished 
 men. I was very unlike my illustrious 
 namesake. He never could tell a lie, I 
 had been successful in the attempt sev- 
 eral times; but I could not hide a lie. If 
 any one looked straight at me I would 
 betray myself. On this occasion, I stucR 
 as near the truth as I could and I guess 
 the story was plausible; at least it was 
 not questioned. 
 
 I learned from the two young men, 
 
 102 
 
who met me in the parlor, that their 
 father was an Episcopal clergyman, out 
 of the city that day ; that he had several 
 sons in the Union army, and these were 
 getting ready to go. I was pressed earn- 
 estly to remain over night and see the 
 father, but I was pressed for time and 
 turned a deaf ear to all their appeals 
 and, as soon as possible, excused myself 
 and returned to the hotel. I was afraid 
 of my new found kin; but they were 
 hard to shake off. One of the young 
 men accompanied me to the hotel and 
 that night returned with an earnest invi- 
 tation from the father, who had return- 
 ed, to visit him before I left the city. 
 A great weight was lifted when he left 
 me and I boarded the train for Chicago. 
 At Altoona and Pittsburg, in the hotel 
 lobbies, I was compelled to hear war 
 talk of the most offensive character by 
 the crowds of loafers who thronged 
 there to hear the news. It was only a 
 few miles to the West Virginia line. 
 The war was on everybody's lips. There 
 I sat in the midst of the talkers, one 
 lone Southerner, with a secret purpose 
 in my mind which would have brought 
 
 103 
 
me into trouble if it has been suspected. 
 My lips were sealed of course, but some- 
 times it was very hard to keep silent. 
 
 AT BELOIT, WISCONSIN, 
 
 or rather, four miles in the country, 
 I met a warm welcome from my 
 brother's old friends. He had met them 
 in California in the early days. I learn- 
 ed also that there was a match brewing 
 between him and the oldest daughter, 
 which was afterwards consummated. 
 
 How the snow did pile up soon after 
 I reached Wisconsin! I had never seen 
 the like before. My friends, knowing 
 that I was a Southerner and unused 
 to such severe weather, were as tender 
 of me as if I had been a baby; but in 
 a few days I did not at all mind it. 
 Winter time is the time for visiting in 
 the North, and so I was on the go with 
 the family much of the time. Another 
 way I spent my time was to go out in 
 the deep snow in the fields. Sometimes 
 a rabbit, frightened at my crushing 
 through the crust of the snow, would 
 jump out of his hole ten feet away and 
 
 104 
 
sit for a moment, loath to run away in 
 the cold. Many a time I emptied my 
 pistol at him and would then throw the 
 gun at him before he would run away. 
 That gun will be heard from again. 
 Without any talk about it, I se- 
 cured a large map of the "Seat of 
 the war in the West." This I put on the 
 wall in the dining room. It gave all the 
 public roads. With the study of the 
 map, I read diligently the Chicago Daily 
 Times, which gave the movements of 
 troops along the route I might choose. 
 I picked out two routes; one through 
 Southeast Missouri, the other through 
 Kentucky and Tennessee, both branch- 
 ing out from Southern Illinois. My 
 brother hoped I would become satisfied 
 to remain in this lovely Northern home 
 and go to school, but I was bent 
 on going to the war. I did as 
 he suggested, however; I corres- 
 ponded with Col. U. S. Grant, com- 
 mandant of the post at Cario, 111., af- 
 terwards the great General and twice 
 President, asking for a pass-port south, 
 and received a very kind letter in re- 
 ply, but denying the request. 
 
 105 
 
I might have remained in Wisconsin 
 until spring, when I could have had 
 better weather and more money, but for 
 an incident I will presently relate. 
 
 THE FALL OF FT. DONELSON, 
 
 in Tennessee, was a fearful blow to me. 
 Of course there was great exultation 
 everywhere up North. I saw and heard 
 it all, but could say nothing. One day 
 while in Beloit, I saw a great crowd on 
 the sidewalk. Drawing near I discov- 
 ered the attraction. It was a butternut 
 jeans jacket, which had been taken off a 
 dead Confederate at Ft. Donelson. It 
 was shot through and was saturated 
 with blood. On it was a large placard 
 with these words : 
 
 "Taken from the dead body of Pri- 
 vate Turner of the Mississippi Rifles on 
 the battlefield of Fort Donelson." 
 
 I gazed at it for a moment and heard 
 the exultant laugh and jeers from the 
 toughs who gathered about it. I turned 
 away with clenched teeth, determined 
 
 106 
 
to go South at all hazards and at once 
 I announced to my friends that evening 
 that I was going to Chicago, a hundred 
 miles away, next morning to see the 
 Fort Donelson prisoners who were con- 
 fined in Camp Douglas. 
 
 107 
 
Chapter Four 
 
 Gets a pass into Camp Douglas; Learns 
 first lesson in "Shut-mouth"; Starts afoot out 
 of Chicago; Frogs in the throat; Pawns his 
 pistol; Rides with Federal soldiers; Across the 
 Mississippi. 
 
 « HAD only a little money. 
 
 /* I could have gotten more 
 
 %JlJ from my friends if I 
 
 JA had asked for it, but I 
 
 SSJgjffl 
 
 "^ thought possibly I might 
 be captured and traced back to 
 their home and get them in trouble. I 
 wanted them to have the privilege of 
 saying they knew nothing at all about 
 my plans and for the same reason, I 
 did not care for them to know of my 
 intentions. Lest I should create some 
 suspicion, I took no satchel with me. 
 On the 6th of March, 1862, I started. 
 With a shawl securely strapped, in 
 which I had slipped a shirt, with every 
 scratch of pen or pencil, by which I 
 might be identified, destroyed, I bade 
 
 109 
 
farewell to my friends, with no expec- 
 tation of returning again. 
 
 I shall say now and then that things 
 "happened," but I do not believe that 
 things happen. I think they are all a 
 part of the chain of God's great plan. 
 
 It so happened that I put up at the 
 Madison House in passing through 
 Chicago, and so I naturally went back 
 to the same place in returning to the 
 city, and this happened to be the head- 
 quarters of Col. Mulligan, the Com- 
 mandant of Camp Douglas. Arriving 
 there in the middle of the afternoon, I 
 got aboard a street car and went out to 
 the Camp. Looking through the open 
 gate, I saw for the first time Confed- 
 erate soldiers. They were all dressed 
 in butternut jeans. In the beginning, 
 the Confederates did not wear the grey, 
 because they did not have it. The cloth 
 made all over the country by the 
 mothers and sisters was jeans, the color 
 of butternut. 
 
 Returning to the hotel, after supper 
 I wrote the very best note I could to 
 Col. Mulligan and sent it up to his 
 rooms. Expecting every moment to 
 
 110 
 
be called up into his office, it 
 seemed that minutes were hours. I am 
 sure, if my fears had been realized, it 
 would have taken only about two ques- 
 tions to have tangled me. What 
 would have happened then, I have no 
 idea, but I guess I would have been 
 arrested and probably thrown into pris- 
 on as a Southern sympathizer. But to 
 my great delight, the servant returned 
 with a silver waiter and on it was a 
 nice little card, saying: 
 
 "LET MR. W. B. CRUMPTON INTO THE 
 CAMP TOMORROW." 
 
 As soon as I could get my breakfast 
 the next morning I was on my way to 
 the Camp. On entering the open gate, 
 I saw the barracks of an Alabama reg- 
 iment. The Barracks, were long, low 
 buildings. The Camp was laid off like 
 a city, with streets and alleys. I en- 
 tered the building at once and in a mo- 
 ment was surrounded by a large num- 
 ber of men. I said : "You are Alabam- 
 ians, and so am I. I have been to Cal- 
 ifornia. I am on my way back. I ex- 
 
 lll 
 
pect to start tomorrow morning from 
 this City, to go through the lines and 
 join the Confederate army." I rattled 
 off the words very rapidly, never real- 
 izing for a moment the danger I might 
 be in. When I reached the end of the 
 sentence, I looked into their faces, and 
 they looked like boards, not a feature 
 indicated any sympathy for what I said. 
 It was paralyzing; but fortunately a 
 Mississippian happened to be in the 
 crowd. Why he was there I never did 
 know, but when I had finished my 
 speech, he said: "Did you say your 
 name was Crumpton?" I said "yes." 
 "And do your father and sisters live 
 in Mississippi?" I said "yes." "And 
 did you visit them before you went to 
 California?" I replied "yes, two years 
 ago." "Well," he said, "I belong to a 
 Company right from their neighbor- 
 hood. I did not see you, but I heard 
 the people speaking about your visit. 
 Come with me and I will introduce you 
 to the boys who can tell you about your 
 people." He took me to his barracks, 
 several hundred yards from where I 
 was, carried me into a back, dark cor- 
 
 112 
 
ner, and said in a low tone: "You are 
 in great danger. You must keep your 
 mouth shut. I am not surprised at your 
 being carried away at meeting those 
 Alabamians, but there is a rumor out 
 among us that they have agreed to go 
 West and fight the Indians and relieve 
 the Regulars there, who will be sent to 
 the front and we all believe it." [In all 
 my travels in Alabama, I have never 
 told the name of that regiment, lest I 
 should find his surmise correct.] I know 
 you must have observed the indifference 
 that they manifested when you were 
 talking. It is more than probable that 
 some of them will betray you today be- 
 fore you get out. You stay with us and 
 late this evening, I will see if I can't 
 get you out through another gate. It 
 is hardly probable that they would know 
 where my quarters are, as I am a per- 
 fect stranger to them. It was only an 
 accident that I was present when you 
 came in." 
 
 113 
 
THIS IS THE FIRST LESSON I HAD IN 
 "SHUT-MOUTH" 
 
 and it has served me all my 
 days. You may be sure I did not 
 need a second invitation to remain 
 with them. Numbers of the boys talked 
 with me, and we had a pleasant day. 
 Late in the afternoon, my friend con- 
 ducted me in sight of another gate. I 
 divided my money with him and left. 
 
 Going back to the hotel, I satisfied 
 myself about the way the Illinois Cen- 
 tral R. R. ran out from the city, because 
 that was the route I expected to take. 
 It didn't make any difference then with 
 me about lower or upper berths. The 
 next morning, Sunday, the 9th of March, 
 with my shawl wrapped up in a hand- 
 strap, and my overcoat and rubbers on, 
 
 I STARTED OUT AFOOT DOWN THE 
 RAILROAD. 
 
 Fifteen miles below was the town of 
 Calumet, now a part of the city; I 
 reached there about the middle of the 
 afternoon, and went into the eating 
 house by the railroad. There was a 
 
 114 
 
large number of men gathered around 
 the stove, talking about the war. About 
 six o'clock they broke up and went to 
 their homes for supper, and I was left 
 alone with the proprietor, who was al- 
 so the railroad agent. 
 
 I had made it up with my friends at 
 Camp Douglass, if I should be captured 
 I would claim my name was Hardy, one 
 of their comrades, who had been left 
 somewhere, and they would recognize 
 me as Hardy. In that way, later on, I 
 would be exchanged and get through. 
 It was a poor put up story, but that was 
 the understanding, so I did not expect 
 to be Crumpton any more. 
 
 The proprietor said : "You seem to 
 be traveling." I said "yes." "Afoot?" 
 "Yes." "Where are you from?" "Be- 
 loit, Wisconsin." "What is your name?" 
 I said "Crumpton." Immediately he 
 took my breath by saying: "You are 
 lately from California, aren't you?" 
 
 FORTY FROGS SEEMED TO JUMP INTO MY 
 THROAT. 
 
 I choked them down the best 
 
 115 
 
I could and finally said: "Yes, sir 
 but how did you know it?" He 
 said: "Do you know Safford in Cali- 
 fornia?" I said "yes, one of the best 
 friends I ever had." "Well," he replied, 
 "Safford and I were reared down in Cai- 
 ro. It has been years since I was there, 
 but last Christmas I went to visit the 
 old scenes and, among others, called on 
 his brother. He showed me a letter from 
 the California brother, in which he said 
 a young man my the name of Crump- 
 ton had gone to Beloit, Wis., and he had 
 sent some Japanase and Chinese curios- 
 ities by him." I said, "yes, I am the 
 boy. I sent the curios by express a 
 month ago, and I expect to see the Saf- 
 fords on this trip." I did not deserve 
 anything for telling the truth; my in- 
 tention was to tell a lie. Suppose I had 
 said my name was Hardy. The next 
 question would have been: "Do you 
 know a young fellow by the name of 
 Crumpton, lately from California?" 
 Then I would have been into it. 
 
 Resuming the conversation, he said: 
 "How is it that you are afoot?" My re- 
 ply was: "My brother promised to 
 
 116 
 
send me money and when he did not do 
 it, I became impatient and determined 
 to go without it. "Where are you go- 
 ing?" I said: "To Vienna." It was a 
 place I had picked out on the map, about 
 twenty miles East of Anna Station. 
 I guess it was a very insignificant place. 
 Anna Station was the Camp of Instruc- 
 tion for the Federal Army, about 
 twenty miles North of Cairo. I had 
 chosen that as my point of destination, 
 as no one would suspect me if I should 
 be going where the Federal soldiers 
 were. My friend said: "Young man, 
 you are surely not acquainted with the 
 prairie and the winter weather. It is 
 pleasant for this time of the year, but 
 in a few days snow storms and blizzards 
 will be the order and any man, taking 
 the trip you propose afoot, would freeze 
 to death. It is out of the question for 
 you to think of such a thing, it is near 
 three hundred miles." I said: "Well, 
 I will go until the storm breaks out." 
 
 He said, "you remain with me 
 tonight. It shan't cost you anything, 
 and in the morning I will see if I can't 
 get you a ticket to Anna Station." I 
 
 117 
 
said : "I like to settle things in 
 my mind; think I can sleep better. I 
 have a little pistol here which was giv- 
 en me by a friend. It is hardly of any 
 value to anybody except me, but if you 
 will take it in pawn, for two weeks, for 
 a ticket to Anna Station, I will take the 
 ticket; otherwise I will pursue my jour- 
 ney afoot." He finally agreed to do as 
 I proposed and I turned over the pistol 
 to him. It was the only pistol I ever 
 possessed. Really it was a relief to get 
 rid of it, for I had been uneasy every 
 minute I had it in my pocket. 
 The next morning I 
 
 TOOK THE TRAIN, WHICH WAS LOADED 
 DOWN WITH FEDERAL SOLDIERS, 
 
 going to Anna Station. They were 
 nearly all young men, in blue uni- 
 forms and had large, well filled knap- 
 sacks. I don't think I spoke a word to 
 anybody that day. If anybody asked 
 me a question, I answered only in 
 monosyllables. I saw those boys take 
 new Bibles out of their knapsacks and 
 begin to read them. Nearly every one 
 
 118 
 
of them had a Bible. I did not under- 
 stand it until, a few weeks later, when 
 my own sister presented me with a Bi- 
 ble, as I started to the army, with the 
 injunction that I should read it. 
 A little before day I reached Anna 
 
 Station : 
 » 
 
 AT DAYLIGHT I STARTED WEST TO THE 
 MISSISSIPPI RIVER, 
 
 instead of East to Vienna. Tak- 
 ing dinner with a farmer, who 
 was evidently in sympathy with 
 the Southern people, he said: "How 
 are you going to get across the river?" 
 I said: "Is there no ferry there?" "No, 
 there is a place where the ferry was, 
 but all the boats from St. Louis to Cai- 
 ro have been destroyed by the Federals, 
 except one belonging to a fisherman, 
 four miles above the old ferry; but he 
 is a Union man and would see you 
 dead before he would put you over." 
 About the middle of the afternoon I 
 reached the abandoned ferry. I sup- 
 pose the Mississippi River was low- 
 er than it had ever been at that 
 
 119 
 
time of the year, and probably 
 ever has been since. Large sand 
 bars extended out into the river and 
 the stream was very narrow where it 
 swept around the bar. I went up to 
 the head of the sand bar and found 
 driftwood of every imaginable kind. I 
 picked out some timbers and expected 
 to come back and attempt to make a 
 raft on which I might pole or paddle 
 myself across, if I should fail in get- 
 ting across in the fisherman's boat. As 
 I approached the house of the fisherman, 
 I saw on the other side of the river, in 
 the village a very large number of men. 
 Evidently they were having a lot of 
 sport; I guessed they had much liquor 
 aboard. I got the woman to call her 
 husband over. I saw him and a com- 
 panion coming down the river bank on 
 the other side. I discovered at once 
 that they were intoxicated. As they 
 came up, the owner of the boat said: 
 "Who are you?" "I am a young fellow 
 from Beloit, Wis., going to Greenville, 
 Mo." "Well, how do you know you are 
 going?" I said: "I don't know it. I 
 suppose it depends on you, but I am 
 
 120 
 
very anxious to get across." He said: 
 "Well, old fellow, are you loyal?" "I 
 am sworn not to put anybody across 
 here except loyal men, and I would get 
 into a world of trouble if I should put 
 a rebel across." I said: "How can a 
 man be otherwise than loyal when he 
 comes from Beloit, Wis.? I was in Chi- 
 cago just day before yesterday and I 
 expect, just as soon as I get back home, 
 to join the army." So after a good deal 
 of parley, he said : "Well, it will take 
 one dollar in advance," which I read- 
 ily paid, that left me one dollar in 
 my pocket. I was anxious to make a 
 good impression on him as to my loyal- 
 ty, so I said, as we were crossing: "Is 
 there any danger of my falling into the 
 hands of the rebels on the other side of 
 the river?" He said: "I should say, 
 and if they run up on you they will kill 
 you sure." I said: "That would be 
 awful. I think maybe I can walk two 
 miles before night; tell me the name of 
 some loyal man out a little piece, where 
 I could stay all night and be safe." He 
 said : "All right I'll just take you up to 
 the man and introduce you, he will take 
 
 121 
 
care of you." I saw at once I had spo- 
 ken one word too many. I didn't want 
 to be introduced to anybody by that 
 man, especially not to a loyal man. How 
 was I going to get out of it was the 
 question. 
 
 Just as the boat landed there came a 
 number of men down the bank, curs- 
 ing and swearing at these fellows. Evi- 
 dently they had formed a conspiracy to 
 whip them when they got back. Thev 
 commenced fighting and rolled into the 
 edge of the river before I left. When I 
 got to the top of the bank, I saw all 
 the people of the town coming my way, 
 evidently, bent on seeing the fight. I 
 did not care to meet them, so I took a 
 path running right down by the river 
 bank and walked off just as if I lived 
 down that way. I have no idea that 
 there was a man in the crowd that couli 
 have remembered seeing me, if he had 
 been sworn ; they were so intent on see- 
 ing that fight they had no eyes for any- 
 thing else. 
 
 122 
 
Chapter Five 
 
 Gets; his pistol back; Road full of Yankees; 
 Goes forty miles one day; Such a man as I 
 have never seen; Not a prayer meeting man; 
 Reaches old Uncle McCullough's; Like one in 
 a dream ; You people who don't believe in 
 prayer ; Mind made up not to remain. 
 
 WftH STAYED that night with a 
 man who lived on the bank 
 of the river, and found out 
 that he had been with Jeff 
 Tnompson, the Confederate Caval- 
 ry General, but had been caught 
 and made to take the oath of 
 allegience. Such men, I afterwards 
 discovered, were called "galvaniz- 
 ed" men. Before I left the house 
 next morning I was treated to the sight 
 of a steamboat, loaded with Federal sol- 
 diers, going down the river. They were 
 cheered lustily by the negroes, but the 
 white man and I observed them in si- 
 lence. Of course, I told him nothing 
 
 123 
 
about my intentions, except that I was 
 going to Greenville, Mo. Thinking it 
 possible that it might be difficult to get 
 a letter back to my friends later on, I 
 wanted to find a suitable place to write. 
 This I discovered by questioning an old 
 negro. He said he belonged to "Marse 
 John Oliver. Young Marse John was 
 with Jeff Thompson and Miss Mary was 
 at home." I concluded I could confide 
 in the mother after that information, 
 so I approached the house and 
 introduced myself to the lady, telling 
 her that I was going South and wanted 
 to write some letters back to my friend:.;. 
 She kindly showed me to a back room 
 and gave me stationery. I wrote to my 
 friends in Wisconsin, begging their 
 pardon for deceiving them, and asking 
 them to redeem my pistol, so that the 
 man at Calumet might not lose any- 
 thing. This they did and 
 
 THREE YEARS AFTER THEY SENT THE 
 PISTOL TO ME, 
 
 and I have it now as a souvenir of those 
 days. 
 
 124 
 
The lady said : "I would be very glad 
 for you to spend the afternoon and 
 night with us, so that my husband might 
 see you; but it would be dangerous for 
 you and for us. The Home Guards are 
 roaming through the country all the 
 time, and if you should be found here, 
 they might have my husband arrested 
 and carried off to prison, on the charge 
 of harboring a rebel, or they might 
 burn our property down. There is no 
 telling what they would do. I am very 
 uneasy for you, lest they shall meet you 
 and kill you." These Home Guards, as 
 I afterwards found out, were irrespon- 
 sible soldiers, most of them Germans, 
 who were but little more than maraud- 
 ers, and I afterwards found that we had 
 some of the same sort among the 
 Confederates. I had but little ap- 
 prehension of trouble, as I was to 
 go to places where there were 
 Federal garrisons. I went through the 
 first town late in the afternoon with 
 a "galvanized" man whom T happened 
 to meet just before reaching the village. 
 I saw the soldiers all around on the 
 streets, drinking and carousing. A lit- 
 
 125 
 
tie further along, I spent the night in 
 a home where an old gentleman and his 
 family were living, taking care of the 
 plantation and slaves belonging to a 
 young man who was with Jeff Thomp- 
 son. Of course they told me very much 
 about the war, but I said nothing to 
 them further than that I was going to 
 Greenville. The next morning when I 
 came down stairs, I found the girls on 
 the back veranda. Being of a confiding 
 disposition, especially with pretty girls, 
 I told them in a few words that I was 
 going South to the Confederate Army. 
 Just then breakfast was announced. I 
 sat down to the table with my back to- 
 wards the front door, and the girls sat 
 on the opposite side of the table, in full 
 view of the front door and the public 
 road. As I was chatting with them, 
 casting sheep's eyes the while. I no- 
 ticed one of them suddenly change 
 color, as she gazed intently towards the 
 front door, and she remarked: 
 
 "THE ROAD IS FULL OF YANKEES." 
 
 Immediately the frogs leaped into 
 126 
 
my throat, and I was wondering 
 what I would say to the fellows 
 when they came in. One girl bounded 
 towards the door and stood in it. It 
 was the days of the hoop-skirt and she 
 just about filled the door, so that nobody 
 might see past her. The other girl beg- 
 ged me to run up stairs and hide, which 
 I was not at all inclined to do. The 
 old people were paralyzed, because they 
 did not understand it at all. I hastily 
 informed them of what I had told the 
 girls. That is one time I didn't know 
 what I ate for breakfast. It might 
 have been knives and forks and salt- 
 cellars for all I knew, but I kept eat- 
 ing. The girl in the door turned her 
 head and said : "They are going into 
 the lot." The old gentlemen said : "I 
 don't reckon they are coming in the 
 house at all; they left some wounded 
 horses with me several weeks ago and 
 told me yesterday they were going to 
 send after them." It was a great re- 
 lief to hear that, but I could not under- 
 stand why a whole regiment should 
 have to come after a few horses. Pres- 
 ently the girl said : "They are going 
 
 127 
 
off," and I felt a pressure removed, 
 equal to five hundred bales of cotton. I 
 felt as light as a feather and if I had 
 had wings, I certainly would have used 
 them. 
 
 Each of these two nights, I spent 
 twenty-five cents, and that carried with 
 it a lunch for the next day. As speedily 
 as possible I got away and 
 
 WENT FORTY-FIVE MILES THAT DAY. 
 
 Mind you, I did not say I walked it; 
 when I was dead sure nobody saw me, I 
 ran. I saw very few people that day. 
 The Home Guards had done their work 
 well, as the burned houses indicated on 
 every side. 
 
 Late that afternoon I was told that I 
 was approaching another village, but I 
 need not go by the village if I did not 
 wish to; I could turn to the left and 
 cross the creek lower down, and both 
 roads led to Greenville. I had no bus- 
 iness in the town, so I took the left 
 hand. Just before night I came to a 
 deep, narrow, ugly looking little stream 
 that had no bridge across it. Nobody 
 
 128 
 
had been fording it. I looked in vain 
 for a log on which to cross. I didn't 
 want to go up the stream, for that would 
 carry me up into the town. I found a 
 pole, that probably nothing but a squir- 
 rel had ever crossed on, but I ventured 
 to straddle it, and then I inched myself 
 across. A kodak could have gotten a 
 picture worth while then. Getting on 
 the other side, I went up to the most 
 desolate looking home I had ever seen. 
 Not a sign of life, except now and then 
 the cackle of a chicken flying to the 
 roost. I knocked at the front door but 
 no response coming, like a tramp, I 
 went around to the kitchen. There was 
 an old lady, standing before a great, 
 old-fashioned fire place cooking supper. 
 It seemed to me I never smelt the fry- 
 ing of bacon that was so delicious in 
 my life. I said: "I am traveling and 
 am very tired; I want to stay all night 
 with you, please ma'am." She invited me 
 in saying: "Sit down by the fire here; 
 when my son comes, maybe he will let 
 you stay. I don't know whether he will 
 or not, he is mighty curios." The 
 kitchen had a dirt floor. She put corn 
 
 129 
 
bread and fried meat on the table and 
 invited me to put my stool up to the ta- 
 ble and eat, which I was not slow to do. 
 Just as I began eating, 
 
 THERE CAME IN SUCH A MAN AS I HAVE 
 NEVER SEEN BEFORE OR SINCE 
 
 I judge he was about twenty-one 
 or twenty-two years old, with im- 
 mense jaw bones, high cheek bones, 
 just a little space between his eyebrows 
 and hair, overhanging eyebrows and 
 way-back little beady eyes. He scowled 
 at me, then said to the old lady : "Who's 
 this you've got here?" I looked up and 
 said : "Good evening sir, your mother 
 was kind enough to invite me in. I want 
 to stay all night with you and I hope 
 you can accommodate me." He took his 
 old slouch hat off, threw it on the floor, 
 sat down and went to eating. Not a word 
 passed. That is another time I don't 
 know what I ate. I eyed him and he 
 eyed me, but I mostly eyed the grub. 
 He got through before I did, picked up 
 his hat and shot out the door without a 
 word. He had been gone not ten min- 
 
 130 
 
utes when the biggest rain I ever heard, 
 began to fall and I judge it fell through 
 the whole night. The old lady showed 
 me to a bed and I retired, wondering 
 whether I would wake up dead or alive, 
 feeling pretty certain that I would wake 
 up dead, for I was sure that boy was 
 bent on michief. Next morning, I 
 had my breakfast by candle-light, 
 paid the old lady a quarter, and 
 said to her : "I am completely 
 broken down, my feet are blister- 
 ed and swollen, I could hardly get 
 my shoes on this morning, I have no 
 money. Is there anybody living near 
 here, on whom it would not be an impo- 
 sition, who might let me rest until Mon- 
 day morning?" The reply was: "I 
 have a son about three miles down the 
 road. He is plenty able to do it if he 
 would, but he is cwioser than that boy 
 you saw here last night." When I got 
 out the front gate, I looked down on 
 that insignificant little old creek, and 
 there was a stream of water big enough 
 to float the navy of the United States. 
 It did not dawn on me then, but later 
 I felt sure that boy crossed the creek 
 
 131 
 
and went to town to report me to the 
 Yankees and that rain and overflow pre- 
 vented his designs from being carried 
 out. Doubtless the stream remained up 
 the greater part of the day. I trudged 
 along, dragging my feet as best I could, 
 and after so long a time, reached the 
 home of this "curiose?*" son. He came 
 out and stood on the stoop to listen to 
 my yarn about going to Greenville. 
 
 HE WAS NOT A PRAYER-MEETING MAN 
 
 I judged from his language. He said: 
 "Do you think I am a fool? You are 
 nothing but a little old rebel or some 
 little old boy going to the rebels. I 
 hope to God the Home Guards will find 
 you today and kill you. If I see any 
 of them I am going to put them on your 
 track." Of course I had no further ar- 
 gument with that man. I went off a few 
 hundred yards, felt of my knees to see 
 if there were any joints there or not, 
 for up to that time I had not discovered 
 them that day. How mad I did get! I 
 gritted my teeth, shook my fist, bowed 
 my neck, and shot out, going thirty-five 
 miles. I never saw a soul all day. 
 
 132 
 
The remains of burned homes I could 
 see; now and then a place was spared 
 and evidently the people were about, but 
 out of sight. I was almost in despair of 
 reaching a place to spend the night, 
 when just before dark, I looked down 
 and saw one of the most beautiful 
 sights I ever beheld. It was an old 
 country home, the doors wide open, good 
 fires burning, the negro quarters 
 stretching out and fires burning bright- 
 ly in the cabins. I heard the lowing of 
 cattle, the bleating of sheep, the cack- 
 ling of poultry, all indicating a place of 
 plenty. I found it to be an old lady'^ 
 home, whose son and grand son had 
 been with Jeff Thompson captured 
 and galvanized. They were so out- 
 spoken, I made bold that night 
 to tell them who I was and where 
 I was going. They said: "It is im- 
 possible for you to go any further un- 
 til Caster river goes down. As the road 
 runs, it crosses the river three time?,. 
 There is a possibility of your going far 
 up the river and getting a "galvanized" 
 man to put you across in a boat, and at 
 another place getting a widow woman 
 
 133 
 
to send you across on horseback and 
 then 
 
 REACHING OLD 'UNCLE MCCULLOUGH'S,' 
 
 but you ought not to undertake it. 
 Stay with us until Monday morning at 
 least." The old lady did not hear this 
 conversation. The boys were off early 
 the next morning to their work, confi- 
 dent that I was going to remain. I con- 
 cluded the mother ought to be consulted, 
 and so I ventured to say, as she was 
 washing the dishes : "The boys said 
 that it would be all right for me to re- 
 main and rest here until Monday morn- 
 ing. I suppose it will be all right with 
 you?" She said "y-e-s, I reckin so." I 
 saw at once that I was not welcome. I 
 thought about it a little while and pres- 
 ently returned and said : "I believe, on 
 reflection, if you will fix me up a lunch, 
 I will go on." She did so without any 
 protest. "How much do I owe you?" I 
 asked. "Half a dollar," was the reply. 
 It was the first time anybody suggested 
 a price like that and I had only a quar- 
 ter left. I took out the quarter and said : 
 
 134 
 
"This is as near as I can come to pay- 
 ing it." I fully expected the old soul 
 to say "keep it,' but, bless your life, she 
 took it, saying: "That's lots better 
 than a heap of them do ; they come here 
 and bring their horses and spend a 
 week and don't say turkey about mon- 
 ey." 
 
 So I made the trip, after many adven- 
 tures, falling into the overflow a time or 
 two, and reached "Uncle McCullough's" 
 just at night fall. Providence was 
 leading me, I believe. Had I car- 
 ried out my plans to remain until Mon- 
 day morning, that stream at the village 
 would have gone down and the Yank- 
 ees doubtless would have found me 
 there, then I would have been done for. 
 
 So much for my antipathy to staying 
 where I am not welcome. It served me 
 in good turn on that occasion as it has 
 on many another. 
 
 "Uncle McCullough" was an uncle of 
 Gen. Ben McCullough, who was dis- 
 tinguishing himself at this time as a 
 Confederate General. As I stood in the 
 door and looked at the old patriarch, 
 
 135 
 
standing before a large fire, in an old- 
 fashioned fireplace, 
 
 I FELT LIKE ONE IN A DREAM. 
 
 He was the same height and same 
 complexion as my own uncle, Rich- 
 ard Bryan, with whom I had lived when 
 a boy at Pleasant Hill in Dallas county. 
 The similarity of the house, the cedar 
 trees in front and the further coinci- 
 dence of both being class-leaders in the 
 Methodist church — I was almost dazed 
 that night as I thought about it. I said 
 to the old gentleman : "I am traveling, I 
 have no money, and I want to stay all 
 night, please sir." The response from 
 his old warm heart came immediately: 
 "Why come in, my son, of course you 
 can stay all night, money don't make 
 any difference here. You seem to be 
 wet, you must have some dry 
 clothes," with that he took me into 
 another room and dressed me up 
 in his best, wrung out my clothes 
 and hung them before the fire to dry. 
 He took me into a kitchen, with a dirt 
 floor, identical with "Uncle Dick's" 
 
 136 
 
home when I was a boy, and introduced 
 me to a dear old soul who was the very 
 image of old "Aunt Nancy." After sup- 
 per I opened my heart to him : "I have 
 been saying I was going to Greenville. 
 I don't know anything about Greenville, 
 or care anything about it; I want to go 
 South and join the Confederate army/' 
 The old man said: "Well, my son, you 
 are dangerously near Greenville, only 
 twelve miles ; the Yankees were out here 
 today and may be out here tonight. I 
 don't know what I will do with you. It 
 is too cold for you to go out to the 
 fodder-loft, so I am going to put you in 
 bed and pray the Lord to protect you." 
 
 YOU PEOPLE, WHO DON'T BELIEVE IN 
 PRAYER : 
 
 The boy I am telling you about was 
 not very religious, but when the old 
 patriarch told him he was going to pray 
 for him, when he lay clown on that bed, 
 he felt as secure as if an army of sol- 
 diers had been around him. 
 
 We ate breakfast by candle-light, and 
 just about sun-up we were climbing the 
 
 137 
 
hill back of his garden. When I reach- 
 ed the top, I saw stretched out for 
 miles Caster river bottom, overflowing 
 everything. The old man said: "Now, 
 my son, you will see nobody today. You 
 will find no road, except this path. You 
 follow this trail right down this ridge 
 and you will come to Ira Abernathy's. 
 There you will have to stop. It is folly 
 to try to go any further until the over- 
 flow goes down. Nobody will ever find 
 you there. Ira is a good Methodist; he 
 has been galvanized. You tell him that 
 Uncle McCullough sent you there and 
 said for him to take care of you until 
 the river goes down, it will be all right." 
 I sauntered along that day, one of the 
 prettiest Sundays I ever saw. Deer, 
 turkeys and squirrels were seen on 
 every side. Late in the afternoon, I 
 reached the end of my journey and de- 
 livered "Uncle McCullough's" message. 
 When I was through, I saw a face that 
 reminded me exactly of the faces of 
 those Alabamians in Chicago at Camp 
 Douglas. I saw through it instantly. 
 Ira had conscientious regard for his 
 oath. If he kept me there and it was 
 
 138 
 
found out, it would go hard with him. 
 Before I went to bed, my 
 
 MIND WAS MADE UP NOT TO REMAIN. 
 
 I found out from him it was 
 fourteen miles to Bloomfield where 
 the Confederates were, about nine 
 miles was overflowed, that the depth 
 would not be above my waist, ex- 
 cept at the last. Duck Creek was deep 
 and dangrous, that I would pass only 
 one house and that was just before I 
 reached Duck creek. 
 
 So next morning I started, and in 
 five minutes I was knee deep in water. 
 I could tell the way the road ran by 
 watching the trees, so I kept just on 
 the outside of the edge in the woods. 
 Before a great while I came to a slough 
 which seemed to be dangerous, and on 
 sounding it I found that here was one 
 place that my friend had certainly for- 
 gotten ; it was very much over my head. 
 I turned to find a log to cross it, which 
 I successfully walked, but on going out 
 on the other side on a limb, the limb 
 broke and I fell into the water. Re- 
 
 130 
 
member this was March, and it was in 
 Missouri, and you can imagine that I 
 was not very comfortable. You can see 
 something of the happy-go-lucky boy, 
 when I tell you that out there, half a 
 mile from the road, wet as a drowned 
 rat and water all around me, I took out 
 my knife and stood for half an hour by 
 the side of a smooth beech tree, and 
 carved my name: "W. B. Crumpton, 
 Pleasant Hill, Ala." It is there to this 
 day, if the forests have not been de- 
 stroyed. 
 
 I waded along throughout the day and 
 late that afternoon I passed the house 
 on my right, the only dry land I had 
 seen. Beyond the house a slough ran up 
 from the overflow into a corn field. The 
 fence was built up to each end of a log 
 across the slough and rails were stuck 
 in above the logs as a sort of water 
 fence. Behind these rails on the log I 
 was making my way across, when I 
 heard a corn stalk crack over in the field. 
 Looking in that direction I saw a Yank- 
 ee, in full uniform, with a gun on his 
 shoulder. How those frogs did leap in- 
 to my throat. What was I to do? I 
 
 140 
 
did not dare to dodge; in that case, I 
 could never have explained it if he had 
 seen me. If I should go on the road, he 
 would probably see me, so I eased my- 
 self off the end of the log and walked 
 straight aivay from him into the over- 
 flow, I had no idea where I was going, 
 only I knew I was going away from 
 him. I was feeling for bullets in my 
 back all the time, but I am sure that he 
 did not see me. If he had, he would 
 have killed me and have thrown my 
 body in the creek. Now see how Provi- 
 dence leads! If I had followed the road 
 and escaped his eye, I would have come 
 to the creek, with no possible chance of 
 crossing. Naturally I would have turn- 
 ed up the creek, never would have 
 dreamed of going down into the over- 
 flow. As it turned out, I came to a 
 raft just in the creek. It had broken 
 loose, I suppose, from a mill above and 
 had lodged there. By wading in, waist 
 deep, I climbed on it, but found I was 
 still some distance from the bank on 
 the other side. I had not looked around 
 since I left the Yankee, so standing on 
 the raft I eased myself around and saw 
 
 141 
 
no one. When I measured the water on 
 the other side I found it too deep for me 
 to wade and I couldn't swim a lick. I 
 reached around in the water, got hold of 
 a loose sassafras pole, floated it around, 
 stuck it in the bank on the other side, 
 and undertook to walk it and it partial- 
 ly under water. Of course it wobbled; 
 I went down head and ears. Coming up 
 fortunately I grasped my bundle in one 
 hand and my cap in the other, and 
 found myself chin deep in the water. I 
 waded out on the other side, which 
 seemed to me "the bank of sweet deliv- 
 erance." I had been told that I would 
 be on the side of the Confederates when 
 I got there. I walked briskly up to the 
 top of the hill and looked around to 
 see if there were any signs of camp- 
 fires anywhere, indicating the presence 
 of the Yankee forces. I supposed that 
 the man I saw in the bottom was on 
 picket. Seeing no signs of camp, I shot 
 down the hill as fast as I could run. An 
 old man seeing me shouted: "Hello, 
 there." I replied: "Hello, yourself." 
 He said : "Stop and give me the news." 
 I said : "I have no news." He yelled 
 
 142 
 
again: "Have you seed any soldiers." 
 I replied : "Yes, I saw one back there 
 in the river bottom." He said : "Yes, 
 that's Ike Reader, I heard he was home 
 'tother day; but stop and give me some 
 news." I said: "No, I haven't time," 
 and on I rushed. I won't say I went the 
 remaining five miles in three-quarters 
 of an hour, but I went it in a very short 
 time. The idea of being caught almost 
 within sight of the rebel lines possessed 
 me and it put wings on my feet. When 
 I reached the borders of the village just 
 about night fall, there was a man stand- 
 ing, as if he were waiting for me, and 
 when I told him my story, he said: 
 "Come right along up to Capt. Miller's 
 home, and you will be welcome." I 
 found that the Captain owned a 
 steamboat on the St. Francis river, and 
 I guess I could have gotten passage if 
 I had asked for it, but I never thought 
 of it. I was given dry clothes, treated 
 most tenderly, and the next morning at 
 breakfast was told that the rebel scouts 
 were in town. 
 
 143 
 
Chapter Six 
 
 Released on parole; On the lookout; Reaches 
 Helena, Ark.; Aboard the steamer; Black cof- 
 fee; Reaches Vicksburg; Finds one man who 
 believes him; In ten miles of Newton; On the 
 Mobile and Ohio; More trouble; Reaches home. 
 
 <£><£>£*)& HAT was the best news I 
 had ever heard. The Cap- 
 tain accompanied me to 
 the front door and said: 
 "You can go out of the front gate there, 
 or you can take this path and go through 
 the grove. I looked down the path and 
 saw the scouts passing the gap, and just 
 as I got to the gap all of them had 
 passed except one. I said to him: "I 
 saw a Yankee in the river bottom yes- 
 terday." He said : "Do you know who 
 he was?" I said: "No, but I might 
 
 145 
 
know the name, if I heard it." He 
 said: "Was it Ike Reader?" "I said: 
 "Yes, that was the name I heard a man 
 call." So he put spurs to his horse and 
 went to the head of the column shout- 
 ing as he went : "Old Ike Reader is at 
 home." I judge they had heard that he 
 was home on furlough and were going 
 after him. 
 
 Twenty-four miles wasn't much of a 
 walk so I sauntered along through the 
 day and just at dark came up 
 to the pickets. They were raw re- 
 cruits, whom I suppose had never 
 known duty before. They had stacked 
 their guns and built a fire and were out 
 in the woods gathering wood to burn 
 through the night. They were fright- 
 ened nearly to death. I could have cap- 
 tured them without any difficulty. I 
 told them they were the fellows I was 
 hunting for and that I wanted to sur- 
 render. Three of them took me back 
 about a mile and let me go to bed, while 
 they sat up and watched me all night. 
 
 RELEASED ON PAROLE. 
 
 Next morning they carried me back sev- 
 146 
 
eral miles to the company of Capt. Hun- 
 ter. I found him to be an old veteran of 
 Mexican war. He had recruited a com- 
 pany and was up there in Stoddard 
 County drilling them and enlisting 
 other men before going South. When 
 I told him my story, he said: "I will 
 release you on parole of honor, that you 
 will not leave the camp. You will be 
 safer with us than traveling alone. In 
 a little while we will g"o down A he river 
 to Helena, Ark. That will be right on 
 your road. I will take you in my mess 
 and you will be treated right." Such 
 kindness on the part of a perfect stran- 
 ger, under the circumstances, was un- 
 usual and greatly encouraging to me. 
 The next afternoon the scouts came 
 along with their man. They had found 
 him at home. He was there on a fur- 
 lough. I saw their Captain and ours 
 talking very animatedly for probably 
 thirty minutes and as he rode off, 
 he said: "He is mine by rights, and I 
 am going to have him." When he was 
 gone the Captain took me into his tent 
 and asked me if I had met those scouts. 
 I related to him the circumstance of my 
 
 147 
 
going through the grove at Bloomfield, 
 rather than through the front gate, 
 which would have caused me to meet 
 the head of the column. I did it only 
 from convenience, not from any fears 
 that I had. He replied : "You certainly 
 were fortunate in going through that 
 grove. The Captain of that Company is 
 nothing more than a marauder, although 
 he wears the Confederate uniform. It 
 is his custom, when he meets a civilian 
 anywhere, to kill him, but he will take 
 a Federal soldier prisoner. I will not 
 ask you to enlist with us, but you be 
 just as one of our soldiers. Have you 
 a gun ready at hand with ammunition 
 and whenever you see those scouts, 
 don't expose yourself. We will pass 
 and repass them on the trip south, no 
 doubt, and he is mean enough to shoot 
 you down. We are going to protect 
 you." That the Captain was not mis- 
 taken in the man, I soon discovered. We 
 saw a suttler pass our camp one day, 
 and just a little later saw this Captain 
 with his scouts going in the same di- 
 rection. It was not a great while be- 
 fore we heard pistol shots and present- 
 
 148 
 
ly they came back and our men learned 
 from them that the Captain had taken 
 the suttler out into the woods and shot 
 him, leaving his wagon standing in the 
 road. He was a harmless fellow who 
 was gathering up chickens and eggs 
 and butter, and selling them wherever 
 he could, sometime to the Federals and 
 sometimes to the Confederates. 
 
 ON THE LOOKOUT. 
 
 You may be sure I was on the look- 
 out. The number of Yankees that they 
 had as prisoners increased to probably 
 twenty-five. When the companies as- 
 sembled to start South under General 
 Thompson, sometimes these scouts were 
 ahead and sometimes in the rear. They 
 passed and repassed us. Word went 
 down the line whenever they were ap- 
 proaching, "Crump, look-out" and I 
 was always ready. The old Yankee soon 
 found out that I was the man who had 
 told on him and learned my name and 
 he would shout when he came in sight 
 of me, "Hello, Crump," and I would re- 
 ply, "Hello, Ike." The first service I 
 
 149 
 
did after joining the Confederate army 
 at Columbus, Miss., was to guard the 
 Federal prisoners, and who should I 
 find there but old Ike Reader. 
 
 REACHES HELENA, ARK. 
 
 It was several weeks before we 
 reached Helena, Ark. There I ate 
 breakfast with the boys, the morn- 
 ing before they went up the riv- 
 er. I could have secured rations 
 if I had thought of it. I learned after- 
 wards a soldier was satisfied so long as 
 his stomach was full. I went to see 
 Gen. Thompson, however, and got from 
 him a paper, stating that I had come to 
 them up in Missouri, that I was on my 
 way to my friends in Mississippi, and 
 commending me to people wherever I 
 went. I could have gotten transporta- 
 tion from him if I had thought of it, but 
 never dreamed that I could be hungry 
 again or ever have need to ride any- 
 more. I remained all that day and 
 night, sleeping on the wharf boat, and 
 the next day, without anything to eat. 
 I did not have the courage to beg. That 
 
 150 
 
was the only quality of the tramp that 
 I had not learned. 
 
 BOARDED THE STEAMER. 
 
 About 2 o'clock I went to the hotel 
 intending to ask for dinner. While I 
 was sitting there, trying to work up 
 courage enough to approach the clerk, I 
 heard a boat coming down and hastened 
 away and boarded the steamer, H. D. 
 Mears. As she was pulling off, I ap- 
 proached the Captain and showed him 
 my paper from Gen. Thompson. He 
 made the atmosphere blue witn profan- 
 ity. He said it was simply absurd, that 
 I had forged that paper, that Gen. 
 Thompson would not have given me 
 that paper without giving me transpor- 
 tation too, he almost made me believe 
 he was right. It did seem absurd. Then 
 I asked him to credit me with my trans- 
 portation to Vicksburg, to give me the 
 address of some one to whom I might 
 send the money. He repliea, "I would 
 not credit my grand-mammy." 
 
 The river was high and boats could 
 not approach land. Seeing a skiff coming 
 
 151 
 
over from the Arkansas side, from 
 where a landing was supposed to be, 
 thinking that he was going to put me 
 off, 1 approached him and asked that 
 he put me off on the Mississippi side, as 
 I was afoot. His reply was, "I am not 
 going to put you off; you can ride as 
 
 far as you want to ride, to if you 
 
 want to." I felt that he was very much 
 more likely to go there than I. I told 
 him I had asked for nothing except the 
 privilege to ride. 
 
 TAKES FEVER. 
 
 He replied: "How are you going to get 
 any grub?" I answered that I did not 
 know. I was too independent to let him 
 know that I needed some just at that 
 time. Being exposed to the weather 
 and drinking Mississippi water and do- 
 ing without food brought on fever, 
 which I had all the night. The next 
 morning I was in a desperate condi- 
 tion. The desire for food had given 
 place to a feeling that I'd as soon die as 
 not. Late in the afternoon, I began to 
 feel a delirium stealing over me. It 
 
 152 
 
seemed all like a dream to me ; could not 
 tell where I was. I knew it was for 
 the want of something to eat. I had 
 sense enough left to know that the 
 kitchen was the place to find relief, so 
 I found my way to the door, and stood 
 there looking into the face of the old 
 negro man, a perfect giant in appear- 
 ance. I said : "Uncle, I am on this boat 
 without a cent of money, and haven't 
 had anything to eat for three days; I 
 am sick and about to die." He looked 
 me all over from head to foot, then put 
 a stool up to the table and said in a 
 commanding tone: "Set down there." 
 
 BLACK COFFEE. 
 
 I wasn't used to being ordered about by 
 negroes that way, but I took no offense 
 on that occasion. He filled a quart cup 
 with the blackest coffee I ever saw, put 
 three tablespoonsful of sugar into it, 
 stirred it and sat it before me and said : 
 "Drink that." I guess he must have 
 seen cases like mine before. I com- 
 menced to sip the coffee, for it was too 
 hot to drink. I shall never forget that 
 
 153 
 
cup of coffee while I live. The very 
 first sip seemed to go to the ends of my 
 fingers and toes; it thrilled me through 
 and through. As I drank I could nol 
 restrain my tears. When I was through, 
 in about half an hour, I was in a pro- 
 fuse perspiration. I looked at the three 
 large pieces of steak, as big as my hand 
 and four hot rolls, and said : "Uncle, if 
 I should eat that meat, I am sure 1 
 would die in half an hour. If you have 
 no objections, I will put it in my over- 
 coat pocket and eat it at my leisure." 
 He said: "That is just the thing foi 
 you to do." Thanking him, I departed, 
 and commenced reaching in my pocket, 
 pulling off pieces of steak, chewing it 
 and swallowing the juice. I "chawed" 
 all night, in my waking moments. When 
 I went to sleep, I was chewing that 
 meat. At sun rise the next morning, I 
 found myself at Vicksburg, with no fe- 
 ver and as hungry as a wolf. I went 
 out like Pat, "in quest of a breakfast, 
 for me appetite." I was determined nev- 
 er to speak to another man. I was like 
 that fellow who said, "the more he 
 knew about men, the better he liked 
 
 154 
 
dogs." So many of them did not believe 
 my story and took it out in cursing 
 that I was thoroughly disgusted with 
 them. Seeing the sign : "Mrs. Roebeck- 
 er, Private Boarding," I took a seat in 
 an old store nearby and watched the 
 door until all the boarders came out. 
 How like a tramp ! I approach- 
 ed the door and was received very 
 graciously by the kind lady, who 
 gave me a good breakfast. When 
 she asked me how I was going to get 
 home, I replied, "I am going to 
 walk." She protested, "No, don't do 
 anything of the kind. Go up and see 
 Mr. , the superin- 
 tendent of the railroad. He is a 
 kind, nice gentleman, and I am sure 
 he will help you on your way.' I 
 plucked up courage enough to speak to 
 the Superintendent, and found him just 
 as the lady said, a perfect gentleman. 
 
 FINDS ONE MAN WHO BELIEVED HIM. 
 
 He said : "Of course, my son ; I will give 
 you a ticket, sign this due bill, and we 
 will send it over to our agent, Dr. Watts 
 
 155 
 
at Newton Station, and your people can 
 pay it after you get home." I shall 
 never forget his kindly expression, and 
 the effect it had on me. My tears are 
 not usually very shallow, but kindness 
 always humbled me and brought out 
 the tears. I got aboard the train and 
 in a little while fell asleep. I slept all 
 the afternoon. Don't remember pass- 
 ing Brandon or Jackson or any place. 
 
 IN TEN MILES OP NEWTON. 
 
 About ten o'clock at night some scldiers 
 came on the crowded train. One took 
 a seat in the aisle on his knap-sack 
 right by me. I said, "How far is it to 
 Newton?" He said, "Ten miles." Af- 
 ter a while I heard the brakeman call 
 out "Chunky Station." I said: "How 
 far is it from Newton now?" He said, 
 "Why, fellow, it is twenty miles, you 
 have passed Newton." By the time I 
 got myself together, the train was un- 
 der way again, so I remained seated un- 
 til I got to Meridian. I remembered 
 that Meridian was just above Enter- 
 prise, and there I knew one man. See- 
 
 156 
 
ing a train on the M. & 0. just ready 
 to start for Mobile, I made a rush and 
 got aboard and took my seat among a 
 lot of soldiers. Presently the conductor 
 came in with his lantern, calling, "tick- 
 ets," and 
 
 MY TROUBLES BEGAN AGAIN. 
 
 I showed him my paper from General 
 Thompson, and said to him : "You know 
 Mr. Edmondson, who keeps the hotel at 
 Enterprise, I hired a horse and buggy 
 from him two years ago to go out to 
 Garlandsville. I am sure I can get the 
 money and leave it anywhere you say, 
 if you will let me pass on." He was 
 another man that did not attend prayer 
 meeting. He said, "No, sir, Edmondson 
 is dead, you are lying anyhow and now 
 get off at the wood station." There was 
 a Sergeant on board, in charge of some 
 soldiers, who took an interest in me. 
 He said: "Captain, I have more trans- 
 portation than I have men ; let this man 
 go on my transportation." He said : "No 
 sir, he has got to get off. He is spin- 
 ning a yarn. Who ever heard of a man 
 
 157 
 
coming back from California without 
 money." So I got off, and when the 
 train started, I stepped up on the back- 
 platform. It was only a little while be- 
 fore we reached Enterprise. I saw the 
 conductor standing on the platform, 
 with his lantern, and I walked boldly 
 by him. He easily detected me, as I had 
 on a fur cap, very uncommon in the 
 South, He said : "Are you ready to pay 
 me, sir?" I replied: "No." He said: "If 
 you are a gentleman, you will do as you 
 said you would do. Leave that money 
 here with Mr. Jackson, who keeps the 
 eating house," I said : "I am not a 
 gentleman now since you made me steal 
 a ride, gentlemen don't do that way." 
 
 THEN HE COMMENCED CURSING. 
 
 I threw myself back with my thumbs 
 under my arms and said : "Now, blaze 
 away and when you think you have 
 cursed out the value of your ticket, let 
 me know and I will pass on." That was 
 about one o'clock in the morning. Pres- 
 ently the engineer rang his bell and the 
 Captain jumped on, shaking his fist at 
 
 158 
 
me as the train pulled out. I responded 
 by shaking both my fists at him. That is 
 my way of keeping out of a row with 
 a conductor, wait until he gets off. Of 
 course I was very mad while he was 
 cursing, but I was in no condition to 
 fight. 
 
 I went to the hotel and registered my 
 name like a gentleman : "W. B. Crump- 
 ton, San Francisco, Cal." When I awoke 
 the next morning, and looked into 
 a glass, for the first time in six 
 weeks, I was like Pat, when he said : 
 "Pat, is this you, or is it somebody 
 else?" I had been over the camp-fires 
 and my face was smoked and greasy, 
 and I looked more like a negro than a 
 white man. By diligent use of soap and 
 water, I got myself clean down to my 
 collar. I had an old woolen comforter, 
 that I had worn around my neck. I 
 turned it wrong side out, pinned it 
 close around my throat, spread it over 
 the front of my dirty shirt, buttoned 
 my coat and, imagine I made a right 
 decent appearance. I took my seat at 
 the table, crowded with people. I have 
 
 159 
 
no recollection when anybody got up. I 
 came to myself after a while, when I 
 asked for another biscuit, I looked at 
 the negroes, whose eyes were almost 
 popping out, and I realized that I was 
 the only one at the table. I looked at 
 the astonished lady at the end of the 
 room and stammered out: "Is this Mrs. 
 Edmondson? Excuse me please, I am 
 nearly starved." She insisted on my 
 eating more, but I didn't have the face 
 to do it. I said: "Mrs. Edmondson, do 
 you remember a boy coming here two 
 years ago and hiring a horse and buggy 
 to go out to Garlandsville? She said: 
 "Yes, I remember you well." I told her 
 my story, "and asked her to credit me 
 until my people could send her the 
 money, to which she readily consented. 
 
 REACHES HOME. 
 
 I journeyed on for twenty-four miles 
 and late that afternoon came to my 
 brother-in-law's home. They were all 
 looking for me. I had separated at 
 Panama with a man by the name of 
 Simpson, who had been a commission 
 
 160 
 
merchant in Mobile, and I had given him 
 a letter. He went across to Aspenwall, 
 thence to Havana, and ran the block- 
 ade into Mobile. I had discussed doing 
 that with my brother before I left San 
 Francisco, but he advised very much 
 against it. 
 
 I started from Beloit the 6th of 
 March and reached home on the 23rd of 
 April, traveling probably a thousand or 
 twelve hundred miles, much of it on 
 foot. As I spun my yarn that night 
 around the fire-side, my sister said, 
 "Brother, why didn't you ask Mrs. Ed- 
 mondson to send you out in a buggy?" 
 I said, "Bless my life, I never thought 
 of it until you mentioned it." I had got- 
 ten so used to traveling afoot, it made 
 no difference. 
 
 It was not long before I found a re- 
 cruiting officer, Lieutenant John Mc- 
 intosh, and gave him my name. At the 
 appointed time, I took the train at New- 
 ton for Columbus, Miss., where on May 
 1862, I joined Company H., of the 
 37th Mississippi Infantry. I had a 
 mind to join an Alabama regiment, but 
 my people insisted on my enlisting in 
 
 161 
 
a Mississippi Regiment, so that 
 they might more easily hear from 
 me. The Lieutenant promised me 
 a thirty days furlough to visit my 
 Alabama kin as soon as I was 
 enlisted at Columbus. After I had signed 
 my name, he said, "Wash, do you want 
 your furlough now?" I said, "No, you 
 might get m a battle while I was gone, 
 or the war might be over before I re- 
 turned, so I will not take it." That 
 furlough never came, except on two or 
 three occasions afterwards, when I was 
 wounded. Some day I may take the 
 time to write out another story about, 
 "What the boy saw after he got through 
 the lines to the Confederacy," you may 
 depend upon it, he saw sights. I was 
 one of two or three in my regiment who 
 could sing. Many a night, sitting around 
 the Camp Fires, the weary hours were 
 passed by singing Camp songs. Only 
 two of these do I remember now. 
 
 "GOOBER PEAS" 
 
 was one of the most popular. It ran 
 about this way: 
 
 162 
 
"GOOBER PEAS." 
 
 Sitting by the roadside on a pleasant day 
 
 Chatting with my mess-mates, whiling time 
 away 
 
 Chatting with my mess-mates wholly at my 
 ease 
 
 Good gracious ! how delicious ; eating Goober- 
 peas. 
 
 When a horseman passes, the Soldiers have a 
 rule 
 
 To cry out at their loudest: "Mister, here's 
 your mule," 
 
 But another pleasure enchantinger than these 
 
 Is wearing out your jaw-teeth eating Goober- 
 peas. 
 
 Just before a battle the General has a row, 
 He says: "The Yanks are coming, I hear their 
 
 rifles now." 
 He looks around in wonder and what do you 
 
 think he sees? 
 The Gorga-i Milish-i eating Gooberpeas. 
 
 Now my story's ended, it's lasted long enough 
 The story's interesting, but the rhymes are 
 
 rather rough. 
 When this war is over and we are free from 
 
 grays and fleas 
 We'll kiss our wives and sweethearts and 
 
 grabble Gooberpeas. 
 
 163 
 
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Part Three 
 
 By W. B. Crump ton 
 
 To California and Back after a Lapse of 
 Forty Years 
 
 165 
 
Introduction 
 
 1 N HISTORY few things are 
 of greater interest than bi- 
 ography and in biography 
 few things are of greater 
 interest than travel. A good strong 
 man who has covered much of the sur- 
 face of the earth, with his eyes and 
 ears open, and tells of it intelligently 
 and charmingly to others is a real ben- 
 efactor to his friends. 
 
 Every acquaintance of the author of 
 this volume will be grateful for what 
 he has written herein. He needs no in- 
 troduction and it is almost wholly form- 
 al even to call his name. Who in Ala- 
 bama does not know him, and among us 
 all, whose life has not been touched lo 
 some extent by the influence of his? 
 The observant reader will recognize at 
 
 167 
 
once the well known style, the vein of 
 seriousness and the vein of pleasantry 
 running side by side, and the high, dis- 
 tinctive purpose. The author has theor- 
 ies, as any one can see, elevated and 
 generous theories, but here above all 
 else is the practical man, the man of af- 
 fairs, taking life as it comes, with its 
 ups and downs, entering into its very 
 currents, becoming of it a part, laying 
 his hand upon it and utilizing it for the 
 glory of God and the good of his fellow- 
 men. 
 
 In these letters the youthful reader 
 will find interest and entertainment as 
 he looks through anticipation at the 
 real problems of life; the person in 
 middle years will discover confirmation 
 for his strength and hope as he actually 
 struggles with these problems, while 
 many sentiments will minister comfort 
 and peace to him who is in the afternoon 
 of life and ere long expects to look out 
 into the winter of age. 
 
 CHARLES A. STAKELY. 
 Montgomery, Ala. 
 
 168 
 
Preface to Letters of the Second 
 Trip 
 
 It has been a number of years since 
 these letters appeared in the Alabama 
 Baptist. As I have traveled, many have 
 been the kind words said to me about 
 them. Parents have expressed the wish 
 that I put them in book form so that 
 their children could read them. Some 
 old people and the "shut-ins," who by 
 reason of their age or affliction can 
 never hope to travel, have expressed 
 the same wish. In the hope that its 
 reading may entertain, instruct and en- 
 courage, I send the little booklet out. — 
 
 W. B. C. 
 
 169 
 
Chapter I 
 
 A second trip to California after forty 
 years; My home in Marion; Begins the trip; 
 The dry dock; Not another berth; The Sunset 
 Limited; The Great Salt Mine; Beaumont; 
 San Antonio; The Alamo; He expects it of 
 me; Out on the boundless prairies; Nears the 
 Del Rio; The Seminole Cave Canon; Breakfast 
 at El Paso; The Rio Grande; Consumptives' 
 paradise; At Lordsburg; At San Simons; 
 Tucson; People go to Europe. 
 
 OFF ON SECOND TRIP TO CALIFORNIA 
 AFTER FORTY YEARS. 
 
 Dear Bro. Barnett: 
 
 ffiST^T^ HEN I promised weeks ago 
 to write something of my 
 trip for the Alabama Bap- 
 tist, I thought it an easy 
 task but I discover my 
 "Trip Notes" in Ala- 
 bama, which I have been writ- 
 ing for twenty years, are not hard to 
 prepare. If it is not convenient to 
 
 mistake. 
 
 171 
 
write them on the spot, one can carry in 
 his mind the points worthy of mention 
 and write them at leisure; but not so 
 with a trip like this. There is so much 
 to see during the day you do not want to 
 be writing, lest you miss something of 
 interest ; if you put off the writing, you 
 are sure to leave out much which would 
 interest the reader. So here I am far 
 out on the sandy plains of New Mexico, 
 where the scenery seems to be unchang- 
 ed for many miles. I am trying to put 
 together the points I have scored down 
 for my friends in Alabama. We have 
 just passed the 1,200th mile post, just 
 about half the way from New Orleans 
 to San Francisco. 
 
 It was very kind of the brethren of 
 the State Board of Missions to give me 
 this month off. Probably, ten years 
 ago, I was given my first vacation of 
 one month. It was a new experience 
 to me. Brethren who had been used to 
 such things volunteered to advise me 
 where to spend it. "Go to Monteagle," 
 said one, "Go to the coast," said an- 
 other; but I went to 
 
 172 
 
MY HOME IN MARION. 
 
 the best spot on earth for me to rest. 
 I thought. Every day my mail was 
 sent me and after a rest of one day, I 
 went to writing letters and in a little 
 while, I found myself planning cam- 
 paigns and arranging my plans of work 
 for months ahead. The month was 
 soon gone and I returned to the 
 office but little benefitted. I have deter- 
 mined that shall not occur again. I 
 hope I will not receive a business letter 
 for a month. Don't get it into your 
 mind, kind reader, that I am sick or 
 broken down. I am all right — never 
 felt better than I do this morning of 
 January 15th; but I am sure I will be 
 better and stronger after this month's 
 rest. 
 
 BUT LET ME BEGIN WITH MY TRIP. 
 
 George Ely, of Montgomery, the 
 Traveling Passenger Agent of the 
 Southern Pacific, is one of the cleverest 
 railroad men in all the South. I have 
 been telling him of this trip for years : 
 
 173 
 
"All right, when you get ready, let me 
 know, and I will load you up," said he, 
 after every talk. Sure enough he did. 
 "Through Story Land to Sunset Skies," 
 is the striking name of a book he gave 
 me. A couple of old travelers who are 
 supposed to have passed this way years 
 ago before there was any thought of a 
 railroad, takes a girl and her papa into 
 their party and start for San Francisco 
 on the Limited. First one and then the 
 other taUts. In those far-off days, they 
 must have camped for months at every 
 point, for they know the history of ev- 
 ery section and places of interest. 
 
 Their "Limited" seems to have been 
 an unlimited, as to time, for the narra- 
 tive takes you leisurely from point to 
 point. It is invaluable to the party who 
 takes the trip and I am the only one 
 who seems to possess one in the car. 
 
 "Where are we?" "Wonder what 
 there is here?" "I declare it is the driest 
 dullest trip I ever took." These are 
 some of the expressions I have heard. 
 I haven't time to tell them about things. 
 I wish I had, for it is such a pity for 
 people to take the long trip and get so 
 
 174 
 
little out of it. One old sister, I fear, 
 will worry herself sick. 
 The great 
 
 DRY DOCK 
 
 lately built by the government and 
 brought by sea from New York to New 
 Orleans, was all the talk. "What sort 
 of a looking thing is a dry dock?" I 
 asked one of my friends. "We'll go out 
 tomorrow and see it,' was the reply. It's 
 wonderful to think of a machine like 
 that with power to lift the man-of-war, 
 "Illinois," the biggest vessel in the 
 navy, clear out of the water. "The big- 
 gest dry dock in the world," said my 
 friend. It is wonderful how many "big- 
 gest things in the world" one meets in 
 traveling. I have passed near "the big- 
 gest salt mines," "the biggest hunting 
 and fishing ground," "the biggest bridge 
 in the world," "the biggest sugar refin- 
 ery." I don't know how many "big- 
 gest things in the world" there are 
 ahead of me, but that dry dock and the 
 battleship Illinois, are big things, for 
 sure. 
 
 175 
 
"NOT ANOTHER BERTH 
 
 on the Limited Monday," was the un- 
 pleasant news I got at the ticket office 
 two days before I was ready to go. It 
 was a great disappointment. The Lim- 
 ited is made up entirely of Pullman 
 sleepers with a dining car attached. 
 "Seventy-three hours from New Orleans 
 to San Francisco," are the words which 
 I have thought about for three months. 
 Here is a description which charmed 
 me : "Sunset Limited traverses the New 
 Coast Line betwen Los Angeles and San 
 Francisco, the grandest trip in the 
 United States." 
 
 EQUIPMENT OF "SUNSET LIMITED." 
 COMPOSITE CAR, "EL INDIA." 
 
 A place where men smoke, read and 
 rest. The first car of the train : It con- 
 tains buffet, baths, barber shop, desk, 
 bookcases, books and stationery. Here 
 one may view the peculiar scenery 
 through wide plate-glass windows, tell 
 yarns and enjoy full comfort of an up- 
 to-date equipment. A conveyencae 
 worthy of any man's admiration." 
 
 176 
 
Then it goes on to describe in tne 
 same style each car: The ladies' parlor 
 car, the sleeping car, the dining car. 
 But I missed it by not engaging a place 
 beforehand. Never mind, next time I'll 
 know better. I lose a day thereby and 
 pay double for a sleeper. Poor comfort, 
 but the best at hand, "an upper berth 
 only to Los Angeles on the regular train 
 is all that is left — nothing to San Fran- 
 cisco," and I jumped at it. 
 
 An hour later and I would have had 
 to go in the day coach and nod it out. 
 It looks like everybody has taken a no- 
 tion to travel at the same time; but I 
 learn it is always this way on this road 
 in winter. Through the low lands and 
 swamps and magnificent sugar planta- 
 tions, the train speeds on its western 
 course. The Teche country through 
 which we go is called the "Sugar Bowl 
 of Louisiana." I wonder that it wasn't 
 put down as the "biggest thing of its 
 kind in the world." 
 
 Before we leave Louisiana, it will be 
 interesting to some I am sure, to hear 
 something of the 
 
 177 
 
GREAT SALT MINE 
 
 which for several years furnished the 
 most of the salt used in the Confeder- 
 acy, in our civil war. The mine is on 
 "Avery's Island," on the Gulf coast. 
 Many years ago a boy returning from 
 a successful hunt, threw the deer he had 
 killed into the fork of a tree while he 
 sought to slake his thirst at a beautiful 
 spring. The water was so salty he 
 could not drink it. On telling his mother 
 about it, she had water brought from 
 the spring and boiled and secured a 
 good deposit of salt. Gradually the 
 spring came to be used. After a while, 
 farming interests absorbed the attention 
 of the owner of the island, who by the 
 was was a Yankee from New Jersey, 
 who fled South with his negro slaves, 
 when it became inevitable that the ne- 
 groes North were going to be freed. 
 How the South has been cursed about 
 slavery : The facts of history show that 
 Northern people are responsible. Not 
 Southerners, but Northerners, stole the 
 negroes from Africa and introduced 
 slavery in the United States. When they 
 
 178 
 
found the institution didn't pay, they 
 brought the slaves South and sold them 
 to our fathers. Later they drenched the 
 nation in blood to free the slaves their 
 daddies had sold to us. Some few did 
 as Col. Avery did: moved South with 
 their negro slaves. (But to return to 
 the Salt Industry.) 
 
 Gradually the salt springs were 
 abandoned until our civil war, when 
 salt began to bring $11.00 a bar- 
 rel in New Orleans. The son of the 
 planter asked his father for permission 
 to run a kettle in boiling, to this was 
 added other kettles, and so the mine de- 
 veloped. When the springs would not 
 supply the water fast enough, a well 
 was dug. Sixteen feet from the surface, 
 what seemed to be the stump of an old 
 tree was struck, covering the bottom of 
 the well. Close examination proved it 
 to be solid rock salt. The owner, Col. 
 Avery, leased a part of the mine to the 
 Confederate Government. It is said at 
 the close of the war, he found himself 
 the fortunate possessor of $3,000,000 of 
 worthless Confederate money; besides 
 this, he lost 2,000 bales of cotton, which 
 
 179 
 
the government had paid him for, 
 worth in the market after the surrender 
 from twenty-five to fifty cents per 
 pound. The mines were captured by 
 the Federals in 1863, but work was re- 
 sumed after they left. 
 
 The mining goes on now on an ex- 
 tensive scale and great tunnels run 
 through it many feet below the surface. 
 The supply is practically inexhaustible. 
 It has been explored by boring 1,200 
 feet down and the bottom of the salt 
 bed is still below. How is that for a 
 saity story! We passed 
 
 BEAUMONT 
 
 at night, much to my regret, but I 
 learned the oil fields, which I hoped to 
 catch a sight of, were five miles away. 
 However, I felt the breeze, as every 
 passenger who got aboard for a hun- 
 dred miles in either direction was talk- 
 ing oil. I imagined I could almost smell 
 and taste kerosene. You may be sure 
 I heard of the "biggest" oil well. A lit- 
 tle later I struck a cow-man. I don't 
 know whether he was a "Cattle King" 
 
 180 
 
or not, but he could talk cows. I was 
 glad to have him in the same section 
 with me for he knew the country and 
 could answer all my questions. Houston 
 was passed in the night. 
 We breakfasted at 
 
 SAN ANTONIO 
 
 and found the town rejoicing over the 
 breaking of a five month's drought by 
 the rain which was then falling. One 
 of the natives said : "You can't tell any- 
 thing about rains here. They may stop 
 in fifteen minutes or they may pour 
 down for a week." We found it so, for 
 in a few minutes after leaving San An- 
 tonio, the clouds began to break and 
 soon the bright sun appeared, but the 
 rain had extended far to the west which 
 was fortunate for the travelers. I was 
 so impressed with what I read of the 
 battle of the Alamo which took place 
 near San Antonio. I will quote it. Some 
 have read it before, but the most of 
 your readers have not : 
 
 181 
 
THE ALAMO 
 
 "If deeds of daring sanctify the soil 
 that witnessed them, that should be to 
 every American, one of the sacred 
 places of the land. We soon alighted 
 in front of the old church and entered 
 its broad portal. A hundred and sev- 
 enty-five years have elapsed since its 
 foundations were begun. Its early his- 
 tory would be filled with the interest of 
 tradition were it not for the fact that 
 one glorious deed of sacrifice dwarfs all 
 that went before. Here on March 6, 
 1836, one hundred and eighty-one cit- 
 izen soldiers, untrained to war, fought 
 more than twenty times their number 
 and scorning retreat deliberately chose 
 to die. The fight began February 23rd, 
 when the Mexican army under Santa 
 Anna began the assault. The attack 
 was continued day and night, and each 
 time the Mexican column was hurled 
 back with frightful loss. Each day 
 witnessed supreme examples of heroism 
 on the part of the beleaguered men. One 
 of the most inspiring of them was the 
 sacrifice of James Butler Bonham, a na- 
 
 182 
 
tive of South Carolina, and the friend 
 of Col. Travis, who commanded the Ala- 
 mo forces. He had been sent to Fannin 
 with appeals for aid, which were un- 
 availing. On March 2nd, he reached, 
 on his return, a hill overlooking the 
 scene of the seige, accompanied by two 
 companions. Realizing the situation, 
 these associates saw no necessity for 
 further progress and demanded of Bon- 
 ham that they retire. The reply of 
 Bonham immortalized him. He said : "I 
 will report the result of my mission to 
 Colonel Travis. 
 
 HE EXPECTS IT OF ME. 
 
 I have to tell him there is no prospect 
 of reiniorcements, that he has but to 
 die in defending his cause and that I 
 came to die with him." Then bidding 
 farewell to his companions, mounted on 
 a cream colored horse, through the 
 lines of the enemy and amid showers 
 of bullets, this gallant son of South Car- 
 olina rode to his death. The gates of 
 the fortress opened to receive him and 
 he presented himself to his chief. This 
 
 183 
 
is the noblest incident in history of 
 stern adherence to solemn duty without 
 regard to personal danger. On the 
 morning of March 6th, a general assault 
 took place. Slowly the noble Texans 
 were driven back until inside the church 
 they made their last stand. No quarter 
 was asked, none granted. Each Texan 
 died desperately in hand-to-hand con- 
 flict with overpowering numbers. Col. 
 Jas. Bowie, sick and unable to rise, was 
 bayoneted in bed. Col. David Crocket 
 died amid a circle of slaughtered foes. 
 Travis fell upon the wall when he was 
 giving inspiration to his men. When 
 the last Texan died, the floor was near- 
 ly ankle deep in blood and ghastly 
 corpses were heaped everywhere. By 
 order of Santa Anna, the bodies were 
 piled in heaps and burned. On the 
 monument to these immortal dead, Tex- 
 as writes an inscription so great it 
 makes the heart stand still: "Ther- 
 mopylae had its messenger of defeat — 
 the Alamo had none." 
 
 "I am sorry for you for 
 
 184 
 
THE NEXT TWO DAYS. IT IS THE DRIEST, 
 DULLEST RIDE I EVER TOOK." 
 
 A lady, with whom I became ac- 
 quainted said that to me on quitting 
 the train at San Antonio. Folks are so 
 unlike. What was to her dull and un- 
 interesting, I found to be of the greatest 
 interest to me. True there were not 
 many people to be seen, but the bound- 
 less prairies with here and there herds 
 of cattle or horses grazing and occa- 
 sionally a Greaser village with moun- 
 tains now and then appearing in the 
 distance, had a charm about it for me 
 which I have never experienced before. 
 
 OUT IN THE BOUNDLESS PRAIRIE. 
 
 Mesquite bushes cover thinly the land 
 and remind one constantly of an old 
 neglected orchard where the sprouts 
 have been allowed to grow up from the 
 roots of the trees. The railroad has a 
 four-wire fence on each side of the 
 track, which gives the land the appear- 
 ance of being fenced and you are all 
 the time on the lookout for the farm 
 
 185 
 
house, just beyond the orchard, but it 
 never appears. Occasionally right in 
 the midst of the Mesquite you see a 
 forty or eighty acre tract broken in a 
 square, showing the soil as black as 
 one's hat. Occasionally is seen a cotton 
 field, but the crop failed because of the 
 drought. All the laborers on the rail- 
 road seem to be Mexicans and I learn 
 they give general satisfaction, but my! 
 what shabby hovels they live in! Some- 
 times only straw or brush covered with 
 straw, but more frequently built of 
 "doby," sun dried brick. As we near the 
 Texas border, the soil becomes thinner 
 and more rocky. We pass towns with 
 no sign of gardens or orchards. 
 
 We have passed the dry beds of im- 
 mense streams, some of them called 
 rivers, I presume. 
 
 AS WE NEAR THE DEL RIO, 
 
 some running streams are seen and 
 signs of irrigation. Here is the Rio 
 Grande which for thirteen miles of its 
 length forms the boundary between the 
 United States and Mexico. The railroad 
 
 186 
 
skirts along the river bank at the base 
 of a great cliff to the right and on the 
 other side of the river the bare Mexican 
 mountains frown down upon us. Dev- 
 il's river is crossed, a beautiful stream 
 which refuses for miles, to mix its clear 
 waters with the muddy Rio Grande. 
 
 THE SEMINOLE CAVE CANON — 
 
 pronounced "kanyon," as the gorges 
 between the mountains are called, is so 
 grand one regrets that the railroad does 
 not go through it. Only a glimpse is 
 had of its mouth as it opens on Devil 1 * 
 river. Up, up the rocky steeps we go 
 until the open plains are reached. The 
 Spanish dagger, some scrubby bushes, 
 and a species of grass, resembling bear 
 grass is all there is in the way of vege- 
 tation. The Pecos river is crossed by 
 the "highest bridge in the world," the 
 boy said who tried to sell the pictures: 
 "Mo it ain't," said a gentleman, "the 
 one across Kentucky river near Lexing- 
 ton, is the highest," and the man by my 
 side said he knew of two that were 
 higher than either one. Anyway, as I 
 
 187 
 
looked down into the river, 320 feet be- 
 low, I thought it was high enough. They 
 say that the atmosphere is so clear here 
 that your eyes deceive you. At one 
 point, the Santa Rosa mountains in 
 Mexico, seventy miles away, can be 
 clearly seen, but they look to be only 
 five miles off. Much of the finest scen- 
 ery we missed at night. Paisaino Pass, 
 summit of the Sunset Route, we did not 
 see. Its altitude is 5,082 feet. 
 
 WE BREAKFASTED AT EL PASO 
 
 — two full days from New Orleans. 
 What horrible tales are told of Mexican 
 and Indian cruelties in the days of long 
 ago, but my Texas friend tells me that 
 everything like ruffianism in all this 
 section is passed; that hunters can, 
 with perfect safety, camp miles away 
 on these plains without fear of molesta- 
 tion. But looking at some of the speci- 
 mens of men hereabouts, I'd rather do 
 my hunting further East, if sport was 
 what I was after. In spite of the drv 
 climate some people are farming about 
 El Paso. Of course it is done by irriga- 
 
 188 
 
tion, the Kio Grande furnishing the 
 water. Here is where we change time. 
 By our watches it was 8:30 only a little 
 after daylight. They said the only thing 
 perplexing about El Paso is the time. It 
 has four brands of time and the citizen 
 takes his choice. "They used to have 
 four or five other varieties, but so many 
 people became insane in the attempt to 
 keep their watches right and meet ap- 
 pointments, that now they have only 
 four." Between New Orleans and El 
 Paso, Central time is adhered to, Pacific 
 time from there West. The difference 
 is two hours; so if you arrive at El 
 Paso at 11:15 a. m. and wait there an 
 hour and three quarters, you still get 
 away at 11 a. m., and experience no de- 
 lay. Then there is local or sun time and 
 Mexican time besides. "Wonder if all 
 the boys who read these lines under- 
 stand about the change from sun 
 time to railroad time?" The 12 o'clock 
 mark, when I was a boy, was what we 
 blew the dinner horn by and we got 
 along first-rate; but now the railroads 
 have taken us in hand and changed all 
 that. Here at El Paso, they seem to 
 
 189 
 
have done their worst on old time — 
 cheating him out of two hours when go- 
 ing West, or maybe they only borrow 
 the two hours and pay it back on the 
 trip East. 
 
 THE RIO GRANDE 
 
 The water is very low and muddy. 
 We are now in New Mexico running 
 across its southwestern border for two 
 hundred and fifty miles. There was a 
 white frost on this morning, a rare 
 thing here. The poor Mexicans were 
 huddled on the sunny-side of their dug- 
 outs and dobys, wrapped in their blan- 
 kets. I can't see where they get wood 
 to burn, the country is so barren. My 
 friend told me yesterday that these are 
 typical Mexican homes. A poor little 
 pony, a long-nosed pig or two, a mangy 
 cur, and a few chickens are all they 
 possess in the way of live stock, with 
 these they seem perfectly contented. 
 Some one said El Paso was the 
 
 consumptive's paradise 
 but from stories I heard about other 
 
 190 
 
places, I am sure it has rivals. One 
 man asserted that one winter he heard 
 there were 37,000 consumptives in and 
 around San Antonio and El Paso. Of 
 course it was not so; but that yarn is 
 spun by the great family of "They Say." 
 On our train there were several poor 
 fellows on their way West for their 
 health. How they did cough! It was 
 distressing. One said, "I have bron- 
 chitis which bothers me some. My 
 lungs are not at all affected." How 
 strange the hopeful tone of all consump- 
 tives! May be it is well that they are 
 so. "When you get into Arizona, it 
 will be so dusty you can hardly see out 
 of the windows," said the porter. That 
 is the case here in New Mexico and if 
 the wind was blowing it would be blind- 
 ing. A vast sandy plain in every di- 
 rection with bare mountains, sometimes 
 sand, sometimes rock, in the far dis- 
 tance, is all we see. As we near Dem- 
 ing, we begin to see wind mills, which 
 indicates the presence of water at not 
 a great depth. Here is a nice town, 
 some large stores, a court house and 
 public school building, all of brick; but 
 
 191 
 
what on earth keeps up the town? Pos- 
 sibly there may be grazing land in the 
 region and maybe some mining; but to 
 a stranger all is desert. 
 
 AT LORDSBURG 
 
 we pass into Arizona. Drummers are 
 everywhere present. They crowd on 
 with their grips and sample cases at 
 every station. The saloon is everywhere 
 present also. At one place, besides the 
 depot building, I saw no businss house 
 except a combined saloon and barber 
 shop. The "Tennessee Saloon" was in 
 one place; "This here is a saloon," was 
 the sign on another. After we left San 
 Antonio, the tramps disappear. Up to 
 that point, I could see them looking 
 wistfully at the flying train in day time 
 and at night I could see their camp 
 fires beside the track; but the stations 
 are too far apart and the picking too 
 poor beyond San Antonio for these en- 
 terprising travelers. Though the coun- 
 try seems so dry and barren, there are 
 evidences that sometimes they have 
 fearful rain falls. I noticed at several 
 
 192 
 
points in Arizona vast areas, cover- 
 ing probably thousands of acres, where 
 at times there are lakes or inland seas. 
 Now the surface is dry and cracked, 
 with not the least sign of water except 
 at one spot where the depression is 
 deepest and there is congregated a 
 great herd of poverty-stricken cattle. 
 The wire fence on either side of the road 
 keeps me company. It makes one think 
 the land is fenced to keep the cattle in 
 and you are expecting to see a great 
 herd every minute; but the fence be- 
 longs to the railroad and is intended to 
 keep cattle off the track. Think of a 
 double line of wire fence three thous- 
 and miles long; yes, longer than tha^, 
 for the Southern Pacific goes right on 
 to Portland, Oregon, nearly eight hun- 
 dred miles north and to Ogden, nearly 
 a thousand miles east of San Francisco 
 and the fences go with it. 
 
 AT SAN SIMONS, 
 
 in Arizona, they say there is fine graz- 
 ing for cattle, one company alone own- 
 ing 75,000 head. I was on the lookout 
 
 193 
 
for the face of the Apache chief, called 
 "Cochise's Head." It is far to the 
 southwest on the mountain top. I fan- 
 cied I saw it time and again, but when 
 it came in sight, there was no mistaking 
 it. The outline of the face with its 
 great Roman nose looking towards the 
 heavens, is very distinct; for three 
 hours it was in full view of the train. 
 The Apache Indians, who once roamed 
 these plains, called that mountain after 
 the name of their greatest chieftain 
 
 TUCSON, 
 
 pronounced "Tuson," said to be one of 
 the quaintest towns in all the West and 
 next to the oldest place in the United 
 States, I saw only by its electric lights. 
 Phoenix, the capital, is thirty-four 
 miles from our route on a branch road. 
 I was so charmed with descriptions of 
 the country thereabouts, I copy for 
 your readers some interesting matter: 
 
 "All this country was settled by an 
 earlier race than any of the present In- 
 dians. The cliffs all through these Ari- 
 zona mountains are covered with hiero- 
 
 194 
 
glyphics and pictographs. The Salt and 
 Gila (Hela) river valleys are full of old 
 ruins of early occupancy. There are 
 artificial mounds, hundreds of feet long, 
 extensive canals for irrigating pur- 
 poses, and vast debris — all, a class of 
 work the present races are unfamiliar 
 with. The most wonderful, or at least 
 the best known of all these ruins — lies 
 three hours of stage north of the sta- 
 tion of Casa Grande. Father Niza, who, 
 in 1539, visited the country, heard of 
 these ruins which were then regarded 
 with awe and veneration by the native 
 tribes. Coronado's people visited them 
 in 1540, and since then many explorers 
 have come and gone, and left descrip- 
 tions to tell us what they were and are. 
 As they exist today, they still show the 
 towering adobe walls that are believed 
 to have been seven stories in height. 
 
 "Some of the rooms were thirty and 
 forty feet long. Archaeologists and 
 ethnologists have puzzled over these 
 ruins for ages. Today, with their re- 
 mains of great irrigating ditches all 
 about them, they present a hard nut 
 for scientists to crack. However, we 
 
 195 
 
must stand amazed at the extent of 
 these ruins. One of the great canals 
 tapped the Salt river on the south side 
 near the mouth of the Verde. For three 
 and a half miles it passes through an 
 artificial gorge in the Superstition 
 mountains, cut out of solid rock to a 
 depth of a hundred feet. After pass- 
 ing the mountains, it divides into four 
 branches whose aggregate length is 120 
 miles independent of the distributing 
 ditches. This system of canals irrigated 
 1,600 square miles of country. The en- 
 gineering is perfect. There is not even 
 a tradition to be found of these people. 
 We only know that at a period fixed by 
 scientists as 2,000 years ago, the Brad- 
 shaw mountains were active volcanoes, 
 and the lava, making its way through 
 Black Canon flowed into these canals. 
 Still later, a great deluge flowed over 
 McDowell Mountains, segregating their 
 granite sides and depositing their wash 
 over the upper valley and the canals to 
 a depth of from three to five feet. This 
 gives us testimony as to the age of 
 these vast works, and tells us nothing 
 of the millions of people who must once 
 
 196 
 
have lived here in a high state of civ- 
 ilization. 
 
 PEOPLE GO TO EUROPE 
 
 to find ancient civilizations, when they 
 can get them right here at home. There 
 isn't anything in history more fascinat- 
 ing than the story of the conquest of 
 this very region we are traveling 
 through. There is a dramatic recital of 
 Spanish occupancy reaching back 280 
 years beyond the Guadalupe-Hidalgo 
 treaty of '46. The gold and silver hun- 
 gry Madrid government was pretty 
 nearly pushed out by the Indian out- 
 break of 1802, the Mexican revolution 
 twenty years later, and the Apache up- 
 rising of 1827. The country became a 
 wilderness almost until from 1845 to 
 1860, hardy settlers forced their way 
 into the rich valleys, established homes 
 and began developing again the re- 
 sources of the country. Then our war 
 came on, protection was withdrawn, the 
 Apaches swooped down, and it took ten 
 years to undo their work and begin 
 again the building of a commonwealth. 
 
 197 
 
Now, here's an empire as large as the 
 six New England States with New York 
 thrown in. Its climate and scenery are 
 so varied that they appeal to every in- 
 terest. All the semi-tropical plants 
 grow in the southern valleys, while the 
 peaks of its northern mountains are 
 clad in perpetual snow. Here is the 
 awe-inspiring canon of the Colorado, 
 the greatest and most marvelous cleft 
 in the mountains of the world. You 
 can see a petrified forest here, with the 
 trees congealed into stone, rearing their 
 rugged trunks fifty and seventy feet 
 in the air. What else does man want 
 than that which he can find in Arizona ? 
 It is rich in mines, in timber, grazing 
 land, soil for fruit culture, the best cli- 
 mate to be found anywhere. The wealth 
 of the territory is worth more than a 
 hundred million dollars, and is increas- 
 ing with wonderful rapidity as people 
 are coming to know its limitless re- 
 sources. 
 
 "It used to be that the consumptive 
 had Phoenix all to himself. He went 
 there and the climate gave him life and 
 health, but of late years the agricul- 
 
 198 
 
turist, the fruit raiser and bee keeper 
 have crowded him pretty closely, so 
 that now you find the thrifty modern 
 city set down among groves of oranges, 
 lemon, plum, apricot and peach trees 
 that make a paradise out of all that 
 beautiful valley, so that men find there 
 not only health, but wealth. It is the 
 center of some of the greatest irriga- 
 tion schemes that have been undertak- 
 en in our age." 
 
 199 
 
Chapter II 
 
 In Southern California; Plowing machine; 
 In the oil country; San Francisco; The Union 
 Ferry Depot; Fort Alkatras; Sausalito; Seal 
 rocks; The Golden Gate; Sutro baths and mu- 
 seum; China Town; The United States Mint; 
 James Lick; The Stanford University; The 
 climate. 
 
 ^^^IJFTER days of travel over 
 the dreary desert waste, it 
 was refreshing to look out 
 in the early morning on 
 the orchards of oranges, lemons, limes, 
 and I know not how many other kinds 
 of fruit. We are now 
 
 IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA. 
 
 There are yet miles on miles of desert 
 country, but it is frequently broken by 
 the orchards of tropical fruits. Some 
 one said as we traversed New Mexico 
 
 201 
 
and Arizona deserts : "This country was 
 made only to tie the lands which are fit 
 for something together." I fell in 
 with the balance in that opinion; but I 
 am far from believing that now. Wher- 
 ever water can be had for irrigation, 
 these sandy plains and knobs can be 
 made to blossom as the rose. It is de- 
 monstrated beyond all question here 
 and in some of the parks about San 
 Francisco. We passed in the night old 
 Fort Yuma and the Colorado river, 
 which separates Arizona from Califor- 
 nia and empties into the Gulf of Cali- 
 fornia. From Riverside, Pomona and 
 Los Angeles to San Francisco, over the 
 Coast Line, the country is as the garden 
 of the Lord, except when the great cat- 
 tle ranches and wheat farms occupy the 
 territory. Farming is made profitable 
 only by irrigation. This is usually the 
 rainy season when the irrigating ditches 
 are not much in use, but no rain has 
 fallen and the farmers are busy prepar- 
 ing the ground and planting wheat. In 
 many places they were flooding the 
 ground in order to bring up the wheat, 
 already sown. I saw only a few places 
 
 202 
 
where the crop was showing. What 
 would Alabama farmers think of run- 
 ning a plow with six and eight horses 
 attached? It was not one plow, but a 
 
 PLOWING MACHINE 
 
 having several large breakers. I saw 
 from six to ten horses pulling harrow?. 
 Horse flesh seems to be abundant. In 
 size, the horses are simply immense. 
 The Eucalyptus tree is a disappoint- 
 ment: where it stands alone it grows 
 to a great height, having a few scat- 
 tering branches ; but in groves and clus- 
 ters along avenues and on the moun- 
 tain sides, it is charming. Its growth 
 is rapid, and as an absorbent of malaria 
 it is noted above all plants. I am sur- 
 prised that it is not grown around Mo- 
 bile and New Orleans. The Coast Line 
 from Los Angeles has been open only a 
 few weeks, and now trains run into San 
 Francisco for the first time. Many 
 roads centre here, but the Southern 
 Pacific is the first to take its train into 
 the city. All others have their termin- 
 als over the Bay at different points, or 
 
 203 
 
trains are brought over by steamers. 
 From San Buena Ventura for many- 
 miles, our train runs by the side of the 
 Ocean. It is a glorious sight to one 
 unused to the Sea. There are numer- 
 ous large towns and the lands in many 
 places seem to be fertile almost to the 
 beach. California is becoming 
 
 NOTED FOR ITS OIL. 
 
 At one point on the coast there must 
 have been three hundred derricks, 
 many of them on wharves extending 
 far out into the ocean, the wells being 
 only a few feet apart. Back in the 
 mountains and foot-hills there must be 
 many more, as I can see hundreds of 
 great tanks along the beach. Owing to 
 the high price for coal, it will not be a 
 great while before oil will run most of 
 the machinery on the Pacific Coast. The 
 most of the coal used comes from 
 Australia and is very high. The wild- 
 est, grandest scenery of the whole trip 
 is where the road pierces the Coast 
 Range at San Louis Obispo. I would 
 not dare undertake its description. And 
 now I am in 
 
 204 
 
SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 after an absence of forty years. Of 
 course I recognize nothing — all is 
 changed; hills have been leveled and 
 their sands emptied into the Bay. Front 
 Street is now separated from the Bay 
 front by blocks of magnificent build- 
 ings. My brother and his wife met me. 
 How they have changed ! I never would 
 have known them. They were impolite 
 enough to accuse me of growing old, 
 too. 
 
 THE UNION FERRY DEPOT, 
 
 from which our boat started on its six 
 mile trip across the Bay, is a wonderful 
 structure, and is built on a mud foun- 
 dation where the Bay has been filled 
 in. It is 659 feet long with a clock 
 tower rising 245 feet. The second 
 story contains a hall the whole length 
 of the building, 48 feet wide and 42 
 feet high. The building belongs to the 
 State and is used for waiting rooms for 
 some of the great railroads and for the 
 many large ferry boats which cross the 
 
 205 
 
Bay to Oakland, Alameda, Berkeley, 
 Sausalito and many other points. The 
 Bay is filled with shipping of every de- 
 scription and from all parts of the 
 world. 
 
 FORT ALKATRAS 
 
 is on an island. If the prison there 
 could talk, it could tell many a tale of 
 suffering during the civil war, the only 
 offense being, the occupant sympathized 
 with the Confederacy. Yonder is Goat 
 Island, in whose shadow a number of 
 boys and I, years ago, in our own beau- 
 tiful sail boat, on a Saturday morning, 
 made a fine beginning for a day's fish- 
 ing, but the wretched fellows soon took 
 a notion to return to Oakland — mean- 
 time the wind had sprung up and the 
 Bay was lashed into great billows. I 
 was hopelessly in the minority, and re- 
 luctantly took my place and steered the 
 little craft over the mad waves. In a 
 few minutes every fellow except myself 
 was deathly sick, and I was left to man- 
 age sails and helm alone. It was my 
 first lesson in navigation. Time and 
 
 206 
 
again I was sure we were lost, but the 
 Lord must have interposed, though none 
 of us were much given to a religious 
 life. When we got safely ashore my in- 
 terest in the boat was quickly disposed 
 of to my fool-hardy companions. 
 Through all these years I have fondly 
 hoped I might some day finish that fish, 
 so unceremoniously broken into. 
 
 SAUSALITO 
 
 is the end of my journey. My brother 
 lives here in a lovely home built in a 
 niche of the mountain and fronting the 
 Bay, which is not twenty steps from his 
 gate. San Francisco is plainly in view 
 directly in front, and Oakland and oth- 
 er cities by the Bay, are to the left. This 
 is the terminus of a railroad which runs 
 back in Marin county through a beau- 
 tiful country. People who live here 
 and on back for miles to San Rafael, 
 mostly have business in the city. 
 
 They are conveyed to and from their 
 homes bj cars and boats which run ev- 
 ery half hour. It is said there are two 
 thousand people in this burg; but I 
 
 207 
 
can't see where they are. In nooks and 
 corners of the mountains they are stuck 
 away so that it looks more like a thick- 
 ly settled country community than a 
 town. The streets run around the 
 mountains on easy grades so that before 
 one is aware of it he is on a high eleva- 
 tion. Exercise! You can get all you 
 want here. The back entrance to my 
 brother's home is some four hundred 
 feet above his house and is reached by 
 a flight of steps almost as steep as a 
 ladder. I have always counted myself 
 a good walker, but I am not in it with 
 these Californians. Both men and 
 women are great walkers. Remarking 
 on the great number of ruddy-faced 
 girls and women I saw, the quick ex- 
 planation was : "We have so much open 
 weather and the air is so bracing, our 
 people are so much out of doors; hence 
 the ruddy cheeks." I am a 
 
 POOR HAND AT SIGHT-SEEING. 
 
 Probably it comes from a sort of tired 
 feeling which I have had since my 
 birth; anyway, I don't like to start out 
 
 208 
 
in the business of seeing things, but 
 I just had to. These people believe 
 they have something worth seeing and 
 they leave their affairs behind and give 
 themselves to showing the tourists the 
 sights. And they are worth seeing, too. 
 You can write almost anything extrav- 
 agant about California and it will not 
 be far from the truth. I was glad I 
 was not left to myself, but how help- 
 less I am when it comes to writing 
 about the sights. I can command only a 
 few adjectives and they soon become 
 commonplace. "Immense" is one of my 
 favorites. "Wonderful" is another. 
 Then comes "great" and a lot of little 
 ones until I grow tired and only grust 
 as my guide raves over what we are 
 looking at. If I could only rave over 
 things! I will never have a better op- 
 portunity than now, but the thing is 
 impossible for me. 
 
 "The City of Atlanta" is the name of 
 the Observation Car which makes sev- 
 eral trips daily to the Cliff House and 
 return. The conductor is a good talk- 
 er and knows his business thoroughly. 
 While the car moves along at a good 
 
 209 
 
speed, he announces to the travelers the 
 places of interest. 
 
 We pass the great power house where 
 is generated the electricity which runs 
 the many miles of electric car line; the 
 Mission Dolores, an old adobe building 
 erected in 1776 ; Golden Gate Park, cov- 
 ering more than one thousand acres; 
 the Affiliate Colleges, three great build- 
 ings situated on a mountain side over- 
 looking the city and bay, and finally the 
 Cliff House on the point on the Pacific. 
 Out there two hundred yards away are 
 the 
 
 SEAL ROCKS. 
 
 A great herd of seals live there, pro- 
 tected by the authorities for the pleas- 
 ure of the travelers who flock here by 
 the thousands. In the afternoon they 
 look like a flock of sheep resting in the 
 shadows of the rock; but in the morn- 
 ing they are playing in the waters. At 
 one time they sound like a pack of 
 hounds far in the distance; at another, 
 like a herd of hungry cattle. This, with 
 the roar of the ocean against the rocks, 
 makes a sound one never can forget. 
 
 210 
 
It is said that here, on the broad pi- 
 azzas of the Cliff House, is the only spot 
 in all the world where such a sight can 
 be enjoyed. I was told that some years 
 ago after a storm, a large sea-lion, 
 killed by the storm, was washed ashore, 
 and its weight was twenty-seven hun- 
 dred pounds. I do not doubt, it judg- 
 ing by the appearance of one immense 
 old fellow, which they have named "Ben 
 Butler," after "Beast Butler," I sup- 
 pose, of New Orleans fame. 
 
 The quickest way out of my troubles 
 at this point is to allow other writers 
 to tell of the things that I saw there. 
 
 "The entrance through 
 
 THE GOLDEN GATE 
 
 cannot be surpassed. On the right can 
 be seen the Cliff House and Sutro 
 Heights; on the left, Point Bonita 
 Lighthouse. Passing these, you enter 
 what might be called the vestibule of 
 the Golden Gate, which narrows to the 
 distance of one and one-eighth miles 
 between Fort Point and Lime Point, 
 with a depth of water of three hundred 
 and ninety feet. 
 
 211 
 
The bay is so land-locked that the 
 early voyagers kept sailing right by its 
 narrow opening, and it was not until 
 November 7, 1769, that it was discov- 
 ered; but it was not entered and made 
 known to the world until 1775. The 
 Bay covers 450 square miles. It can 
 accommodate the navies of the entire 
 world without crowding them. 
 
 SUTRO BATHS AND MUSEUM 
 
 is where an immense rock basin catch- 
 es the water from the ocean twice a day 
 at high tide. The baths, with a capac- 
 ity of nearly two millions of gallons, 
 can be filled within an hour. The length 
 of the building is 500 feet. It has seat- 
 ing capacity for 3,700 and swimming 
 accommodations for 2,000 bathers. Tons 
 of iron and thousands of feet of glass, 
 3,000,000 feet of lumber and over 300,- 
 000 feet of concrete were used in its 
 construction. The bathers are here all 
 times of the year." 
 
 I can't tell of Golden Gate Park, with 
 its beautiful drives, its statuary, muse- 
 um, its herds of buffaloes and deer; of 
 
 212 
 
the Presidio, the Government reserva- 
 tion of over 1,500 acres, which Las been 
 beautified until it may be included 
 among the parks of San Francisco. 
 
 CHINATOWN, 
 
 covering twelve squares of the city, 
 where nobody lives but Chinese, is a 
 place of great interest. Many visitors 
 employ guides and take in the town at 
 night, which, I am told, is the best time 
 to see it at its worst. Horrid tales are 
 told of underground opium dens, where 
 victims of the drug, of all colors, con- 
 gregate ; of the gambling hells, and the 
 Chinese lotteries. Two Chinese landed 
 in 1848; in 1850 there were 450; in 1852 
 10,000 landed in one month. They were 
 welcomed at first. They are the best of 
 laborers, but they soon began to sup- 
 plant white labor. It was discovered 
 also that they did not come with their 
 families, to make this country their 
 home. They keep what they make and 
 return with it to China — they even 
 send the bones of their dead back to the 
 Celestial Empire. By law, they have 
 
 213 
 
been prohibited from coming to this 
 country for some years. The years of 
 the first Exclusion Act are now about 
 out, and one of the biggest questions, in 
 the minds of Californians is, the new 
 Exclusion Law. The Labor party is 
 very strong in the State, and the politi- 
 cians dare not antagonize it. It is a 
 serious problem. If the Chinese would 
 come like the people of other nations 
 and bring their families and settle in 
 the country, their enemies would be 
 robbed of their strongest argument. No 
 exclusion laws are thought of against 
 the people of other nations, even though 
 they supplant, in many lines, the Amer- 
 ican laboring man. 
 
 THE UNITED STATES MINT. 
 
 "The biggest mint in the world," the 
 fellow said, is a place where one can 
 feel mighty rich for a little while. Vis- 
 itors are received at regular hours, 
 bunched and put in charge of a guide 
 who shows them through. One can see 
 the money in every process of manufac- 
 ture. I was impressed with the fact 
 
 214 
 
that two dies stamp $40,000 in $20 gold 
 pieces in ten minutes and that the coin- 
 age is about $30,000,000 a year. I saw 
 only one greenback and one copper 
 while I was in San Francisco. Only 
 gold and silver are used. 
 
 JAMES LICK 
 
 was an old pioneer — a machinist and a 
 bachelor. He used his immense wealth 
 in beautifying the city and benefiting 
 his fellow men. The Pioneers' Build- 
 ing he gave, leaving it richly endowed. 
 Here are gathered all the curios of the 
 early times and from the fund is sup- 
 ported old and disabled pioneers. He 
 gave to the city a great bath house, 
 where any one can bathe without cost; 
 $400,000 of his money went into the 
 California Academy of Science. 
 
 The Lick Observatory, near San Jose, 
 crowning the summit of Mount Hamil- 
 ton, 4,250 feet above sea level, his great- 
 est benefaction, I could only read about. 
 The bequest amounted to $7,000,000, 
 and the telescope alone cost $55,000. 
 
 215 
 
This is indeed the biggest telescope in 
 the world. 
 
 THE STANFORD UNIVERSITY 
 
 at Palo Alto, only a few miles away 
 from San Francisco on the Coast Line, 
 I could easily have seen in passing, but 
 it escaped me. It is named for Leland 
 Stanford, Jr., for whom it will be a per- 
 petual monument. He was the only 
 child, and the parents devoted the whole 
 of their princely fortune to the erection 
 and endowment of this great school. I 
 saw the palatial home of the widow in 
 San Francisco. This school and the 
 State University at Berkeley, certainly 
 offer great advantages to the young men 
 and women of California — they are both 
 co-educational. 
 
 The great wealth of this country is 
 simply marvelous. The taxable prop- 
 erty of San Francisco amounts to near- 
 ly $400,000,000, with $120,000,000 
 hoarded in savings banks, or $343 per 
 capita, but notwithstanding all this 
 there is a great army of very poor peo- 
 ple. 
 
 216 
 
THE CLIMATE 
 
 about San Francisco is peculiar. The 
 average maximum temperature for 
 twenty-two years has been 62 and the 
 minimum 51 degrees, a variation of 
 only eleven degrees. The January tem- 
 perature, for those years, has been 50 
 and for June 59 degrees. The last and 
 the first three months of each year are 
 the rainiest — only about 67 rainy days 
 in the year. The people wear the same 
 outer garments the year round. Ice and 
 snow are seldom seen. The fogs make 
 it an undesirable place for people with 
 pulmonary troubles. 
 
 I have missed many things of great 
 interest. Back of my brother's house, 
 upon Mount Tamalpais, is the "crook- 
 edest railroad in the world." It doubles 
 back on itself five times, forming a dou- 
 ble bow knot. But for the fogs, I should 
 have enjoyed the trip where the finest 
 view in all the country may be had. 
 
 217 
 
Chapter Three 
 
 Los Angeles; "Seeing Los Angeles"; The re- 
 turn; The pit; The Mirage; Old Fort Yuma; 
 Religious matters; Baptists; An interesting 
 occurrence; The pastors' conference; Califor- 
 nia College; One serious question. 
 
 NE who travels and ob- 
 serves could write letters 
 indefinitely about what he 
 sees and hears, but the 
 question is: "How long will the 
 readers stand it?" Just what to 
 write about and when to stop, are 
 perplexing questions, but I must 
 close with this letter. Besides a 
 day in Oakland and Berkeley, where the 
 State University is located, and a short 
 run on a railroad to San Quinten, all 
 my sight-seeing was done in San Fran- 
 cisco. There are over half a million 
 people in and around that city. Prob- 
 ably 350,000 in San Francisco; Oakland 
 Alameda, Berkeley and several other 
 
 219 
 
towns across the bay, practically one 
 city, have over one hundred thousand 
 more. Just two weeks was the length 
 of my stay thereabouts. Everybody 
 was very kind to give advice to the trav- 
 eler, some of which he took — if he had 
 taken it all, he would have been gone a 
 year or more. Before I left, on the way, 
 and about San Francisco, I was told I 
 must not return without seeing 
 
 LOS ANGELES. 
 
 I gave two days returning, one of 
 them Sunday, to this surpassingly beau- 
 tiful city. "You must see Pasadena, 
 Long Bsach, Riverside and Mount 
 Lowe," a friend said and another sug- 
 gested a trip to San Diego and I know 
 not how many other places, but the line 
 had to be drawn somewhere and this 
 is the last place for me on this trip. 
 "There is nothing in a name," but here 
 is one I found, there is something in: 
 "Pueblo de la Reina de los Angelise." 
 That was the original Spanish name: 
 the meaning was : "Town of the Queen 
 of the Angels." It must have been a 
 
 220 
 
beautiful place in those far off days, 
 1781. It was rather damp, raw weath- 
 er while I was there and I saw but lit- 
 tle. The display of fruits and farm 
 products and natural resources of 
 Southern California, at the Chamber of 
 Commerce is simply marvelous. The 
 immense hotels of the city are full all 
 through the winters. I was told there 
 were 60,000 tourists in the city the day 
 I was there. These great hotels are not 
 run for fun either, as I happen to know 
 from what I paid for one night's lodg- 
 ing. At all the suburban cities, I learn- 
 ed, the hotels flourish as they do here. 
 In Florida it is said : "the people live on 
 gophers in the summer and on Yankees 
 in the winter." These people certainly 
 have a fine chance at the Yankees in 
 winter. Southern people, too, find their 
 way here and many have made it their 
 home. Mrs. Scarboro, a Judson girl, 
 into whose home I was received with an 
 old fashioned southern welcome, told 
 me there were four Judson girls and 
 several Howard College boys there. The 
 Daughters of the Confederacy have two 
 chapters, and I think the old Confed- 
 
 221 
 
erates have an organization, too. Her 
 old friends in Alabama will be glad to 
 know that Miss Sue Daniel makes this 
 her home and that she is well and hap- 
 py. . How many people she knows in 
 Alabama and how they do love her ! She 
 loves the Lord and His work here as 
 she did in Marion. 
 
 "SEEING LOS ANGELES." 
 
 is the name of the observation car which 
 will give you a two or three hours ride 
 through the city for a small sum. I 
 can't begin to tell of all we saw. There 
 are hundreds of palatial homes here in 
 the midst of grounds surrounded by the 
 rarest of plants. I can't understand 
 why they do not have the orange as an 
 ornamental tree, for it grows beautiful- 
 ly all around. It is a lovely tree and 
 when loaded with fruit, it surpasses 
 anything I have seen. I was never tired 
 of eating oranges until now. I shall 
 never forget the acres on acres I saw, 
 covered with trees laden with the lus- 
 cious fruit. The growth of the popula- 
 tion in this Southern California city is 
 something marvelous. 
 
 222 
 
In 1860 there were 4,500 ; in 1870, 
 11,000; in 1880, 50,000; in 1897, more 
 than 100,000, and at this time, probably 
 150,000. What is the attraction? the 
 reader asks. The climate is the first 
 thing, of course. It is only 293 feet 
 above the level of the sea, the air is dry 
 and entirely free from malarial in- 
 fluences. There is not much need of fire 
 in the homes, so spring-like is the 
 weather most of the time. The ocean 
 is only a short distance away on one 
 side, and the mountains, on the other 
 side, are only a few minutes ride. Be- 
 sides all this, the rich lands abound. 
 Oil wells are abundant in the southern 
 part of the city. Many persons mort- 
 gaged delightful homes to develop wells 
 in their front and back yards and af- 
 terwards lost all. Some of the wisest 
 feel that the discovery of oil was a cal- 
 amity to the city. The conductor on 
 our observation car, in his excellent de- 
 scription of things, as we went along, 
 would occasionally venture to perpe- 
 trate a piece of wit at which there was 
 the faintest sort of a smile on the faces 
 of some of his passengers, on others, it 
 
 223 
 
was entirely lost, but he made one hap- 
 py hit, which brought down the house. 
 "On the left you see many hundreds of 
 derricks, showing that Los Angeles has 
 among her many other resources, oil to 
 burn. You will observe that the oil 
 wells come to an abrupt termination at 
 the fence of the old cemetery. Many 
 people insisted that so much valuable 
 territory should not be given up to the 
 dead since the occupants had either 
 gone to where they did not need oil, or 
 to where fuel was furnished them free." 
 
 THE RETURN 
 
 Was by the same route I went. If I 
 had to make the trip again, I should go 
 one way and return another. I am not 
 at all displeased with the Southern Pa- 
 cific. It was as good as I wanted and 
 I guess the equal of any others. I 
 counted myself fortunate to get a place 
 on the Limited returning! Beyond the 
 saving of a day, I discovered but little 
 advantage over a place on the sleeper 
 on the regular train. Everything was 
 nice and convenient of course, and, if I 
 
 224 
 
had plenty of money and loved to smoke 
 and drink, I think I would put great 
 store on the Limited ; but a lower berth 
 on a sleeper on the regular train, is 
 good enough for me. I saw many 
 points of interest, returning, which I 
 passed in the night, going. 
 
 "THE PIT" 
 
 Is a depression in Southern California 
 through which the road runs which 
 reaches at Salton, tivo hundred and six- 
 ty-three feet below the level of the sea. 
 Only a few miles away, across the moun- 
 tain range, is the Pacific ocean and here 
 at Salton they have great salt works, 
 where the waters of the Salt Springs, 
 found in the neighborhood, are evap- 
 orated. All this region was once cov- 
 ered by the ocean, no doubt, and the 
 probabilities are that it will be again 
 some day. Here, they say, in this at- 
 mosphere, is the place for consumptives 
 and there are Very many to be seen. At 
 Indio, twenty feet below sea level, there 
 is a good hotel and neat little cottages, 
 fitted up especially for the accommoda- 
 tion of invalids. 
 
 225 
 
THE MIRAGE. 
 
 I thought I saw it going out, but was 
 mistaken. I am not prepared yet to say 
 it was not a lake of water or mud, for 
 they say the Salt Springs and the Vol- 
 canic Springs of mud are hereabouts. 
 One dares not approach too near the 
 latter. It spreads itself out over many 
 acres and maybe many miles. If it is 
 dangerous to explore, who knows but 
 the so-called mirage is a real lake of 
 mud and water ! But there it is out a few 
 miles from the railroad, and for miles 
 you can see it. You see distinctly the 
 shadows from the other bank and little 
 knolls and islands, all through it, cast 
 their shadows distinctly on the face of 
 the water. Yet they say it is all a de- 
 lusion, there is no water there! Maybe 
 so, but I am a skeptic. 
 
 In a former letter I spoke of 
 the four wire fences on either side 
 of the road and suggested that 
 it was more than 3,000 miles long; 
 but I discovered in the Colorado desert, 
 which I passed at night while going, 
 there is no fence for hundreds of miles, 
 
 226 
 
nothing but bare sand, and of course, 
 there are no cattle to get on the track. 
 
 OLD FORT YUMA 
 
 Is a historic spot on the Colorado river, 
 This was the crossing place in the early 
 days of all the thousands of gold hunt- 
 ers from the East. If its history could 
 be written what stories of adventure 
 and suffering would it contain! It was 
 here my brother, in 1849, caught the 
 first glimpse of California after a long 
 and perilous trip across the plains from 
 Ft. Smith in Arkansas. If he would 
 write the story of his ups and downs 
 before and after getting to California 
 it would make mighty interesting read- 
 ing. 
 
 The town of Yuma is not far from 
 the Gulf of California — I saw two lit- 
 tle steamboats tied up there. If any- 
 one has been trying to do anything in 
 the way of teaching and evangelizing 
 the Yuma Indians, a company of whom 
 we saw, they certainly have reason to 
 be discouraged. I have seen nowhere 
 more wretched specimens of humanity. 
 
 227 
 
The government policy of continuing 
 the I»dians as "Wards of the Nation," 
 supplying them with a living without 
 any effort on their part, and the efforts 
 of the Catholics to Christianize them, 
 have been, alike failures. 
 
 Now my trip is ended. I have tra- 
 veled 205 miles in Alabama, 63 in Mis- 
 sissippi, 300 in Louisiana, 947 in Texas, 
 249 in New Mexico, 414 in Arizona, 728 
 in California, making in all 2,906 miles. 
 It has been a great pleasure for me to 
 write these letters. I doubt not they 
 seemed very commonplace to many who 
 are used to travel. I haven't had that 
 class in mind at all. I have thought of 
 the many hundreds who were "Shut- 
 Ins" by reason of circumstances, and 
 will in all probability never make this 
 trip or anything like it. I will be glad 
 if the letters have proven helpful to 
 any. 
 
 It is proper that these letters of travel 
 should close with something about 
 
 RELIGIOUS MATTERS. 
 
 The earliest religion to be planted in 
 
 228 
 
all this western country was Roman 
 Catholic. In Texas, New Mexico, Ari- 
 zona and California, you will hear of 
 "The Missions," by which they mean 
 some ancient cathedral or monastery, 
 built more than a century ago, but now 
 in ruins. The tumble-down walls are of 
 great interest to the traveler, and are 
 regarded with superstitious reverence 
 by many persons. Enthusiastic orators 
 and writers often rave over the noble 
 self-sacrifice of the Spanish priests who 
 founded these Missions. Doubtless 
 there were some pure, good men among 
 them, inflamed with a zeal for soul sav- 
 ing. But if we study the history of the 
 Missions, there is little to admire. There 
 was a deliberate trade between the 
 Spanish Government and these Span- 
 ish Fathers. They received every 
 encouragement from the government 
 and carried on their building and trad- 
 ing under government protection. The 
 Indians, whom they came to Christian- 
 ize, became practically their slaves. The 
 labor required to quarry and dress the 
 stones, burn the brick and prepare and 
 transport the timbers for the buildings, 
 
 229 
 
was immense, and it was all done by the 
 Indians under the direction of the Fath- 
 ers. The income from the Missions, es- 
 tablished by one of the Societies, became 
 $2,000,000 annually. They were in 
 possession of their properties for more 
 than half a century. After the Missions 
 were secularized by the Mexican gov- 
 ernment, to replete its exhausted treas- 
 ures, the Fathers gave up their places, 
 the Missions crumbled into ruins and 
 their converts went back into their sav- 
 age state. 
 
 There is now no trace of anything 
 permanent about their work, except 
 where the Indians intermarried with 
 the Spanish soldiers; their decendants 
 are still Catholics. But the Catholics 
 are strong on the Pacific Coast, as they 
 are everywhere in Coast cities. Proba- 
 bly the Episcopalians come next, 
 though of this I am not certain. From 
 all that I could see, most of the people 
 are working at most anything else than 
 religion. I was constantly reminded of 
 the couplet in the old hymn : 
 
 "Where every prospect pleases 
 
 And only man is vile." 
 
 230 
 
If a lovely country, delightful climate, 
 bountiful harvests and general pros- 
 perity, make people religious, the Cali- 
 fornians certainly ought to be devout; 
 but I fear they take these things as 
 matters of course, and forget the Giver 
 of all good. 
 
 I was told at Sausalito that men did 
 not go to preaching in California. From 
 what I saw in the Episcopal church in 
 that little city, at a night service, it 
 looked as if it were true; but I wor- 
 shipped with the First Baptist Church 
 in San Francisco on two Sunday morn- 
 ings and was much pleased to find full> 
 one-half the worshippers males. 
 
 BAPTISTS 
 
 in San Francisco are few in numbers. 
 I had the privilege of preaching 
 for the First Church people one 
 morning. Dr. Wood, the pastor, is a 
 strong preacher, and seems to have an 
 aggressive church. My membership 
 was here when I was a boy. But I was 
 not a very loyal member, as the reader 
 later will find how I attended the serv- 
 
 231 
 
ices of Dr. Scott on account of my 
 Southern proclivities. A Southern 
 preacher in California is a rarity, I 
 judge, but he meets with a hearty wel- 
 come. Old Southerners, of course, greet 
 him with a style he is used to, and the 
 Yankees crowd about him as if he were 
 a curiosity. "I knew you were from 
 the South," said one: "Why?" I asked. 
 "Are you a Southern man?" "No, but I 
 was down in that country on the other 
 side from you in the war." From the 
 handshake he gave me, one would not 
 have guessed that we had at one time 
 been enemies. "Reckon" is a good word 
 peculiar to the South and so is "Tote." 
 These are the two words, the use of 
 which anywhere in the North, will be- 
 tray the speaker as a Southern man. 
 The words they use to express the same 
 ideas are "Guess" and "Pack." I sub- 
 mit these are no improvement on ours. 
 In my sermon I had occasion to say, 
 "You reckon" — instantly the face of 
 every Northerner was lit up with a 
 smile. I was greatly pleased with the 
 heartiness with which most everyone in 
 the congregation entered into the sing- 
 
 232 
 
ing. An instrument was used, but a 
 leader stood on the platform and led 
 the congregation. The pastor explained 
 to me, rather apologetically, that since 
 their building was destroyed a few years 
 ago, with their fine organ, a choir had 
 not been organized. I thought: "The 
 Lord be praised for a fire if it gives 
 us such singing as that in place of the 
 music of the average city choir." 
 
 AN INTERESTING OCCURRENCE. 
 
 Before the service began, the pastor 
 begged the indulgence of the congrega- 
 tion while he stated the case of a gentle- 
 man who was present. He came from 
 El Dorado county, where there was no 
 Baptist church nearer than forty miles 
 of him. He had been converted for 
 some time, and being in the city on 
 business, he concluded to remain over 
 Sunday and state his case to the church 
 here and ask for baptism. It was the 
 custom of the church to hear such 
 cases on Wednesday night, at the prayer 
 meeting, but the brother was to return 
 to his home next day, so the matter 
 
 233 
 
came up at the morning service on 
 Sunday. The brother made his state- 
 ment, some questions were asked, and 
 he was received for baptism, which was 
 to take place that night. There was 
 present a gentleman who had been so 
 circumstanced he had not witnessed, for 
 many years, the reception of a member 
 in a Baptist church. On leaving the 
 church he said: "I haven't seen that 
 way of the whole congregation voting 
 on the reception of a member for a 
 long time. It seems to me that is the 
 thing to do." As an object lesson it is 
 worth everything to the Baptists, and 
 ought to be witnessed by as large a 
 number as possible. But the tendency, 
 in our cities, is to thrust it aside lest 
 it weary the Sunday congregation. 
 
 The congregational form of church 
 government is destined to sweep Amer- 
 ica and every democracy-loving people 
 on the globe. Everybody ought to know 
 we stand for it. 
 
 I met with the 
 
 pastor's conference. 
 composed of all the Baptist preachers 
 
 234 
 
in and around the city. It alternates 
 its meetings between San Francisco and 
 Oakland. 
 
 All told, I suppose they have about 
 twenty-five members. One morning the 
 hour was given me to tell about mis- 
 sion work in the South. They were es- 
 pecially curious to know something 
 about the negroes. They fired many 
 questions at me, which I answered satis- 
 factorily, I suppose, as they gave me a 
 vote of thanks, with a round of applause 
 and sent greetings to the Baptists of 
 Alabama. 
 
 I guess Oakland is the center of Bap- 
 tist strength for Northern California, 
 as Los Angeles is for Southern Cal- 
 ifornia — there being four or five church- 
 es in the city. It is the seat of 
 
 CALIFORNIA COLLEGE, 
 
 the Baptist college of the State. I did 
 not visit it, but from the statement I 
 heard before the Conference from its 
 President, I judge, it is in a precarious 
 condition. It does seem to me, if Mr. 
 Rockefeller wants to help the Baptists 
 
 235 
 
where they are most needy, he has a 
 great opportunity in California. From 
 all I can learn, the cause is suffering 
 most, for the want of pastors who 
 will stick to the State. Those they have 
 are from many different States and 
 from England. I judge they are good 
 men and true; but unless the minds 
 of a considerable number of them are 
 made up to remain in the State, the 
 cause of the Baptist must continue to be 
 a great struggle. A floating ministry, in 
 any State, cannot give permanency to 
 the work. Every State needs and must 
 have a good, large element of natives 
 in the ministry. This, California, is 
 almost wholly deficient in, I suppose. 
 
 It was my privilege to hear at Los 
 Angeles, Dr. Frost, long a resident of 
 California, and said to be the strongest 
 man on the Coast. He is strong and 
 rugged, a King Saul among his breth- 
 ren in stature, and his sermon was full 
 of the strong meat of the Gospel. 
 
 Rev. Joseph Smale, pastor of the 
 First Church, I heard at night. It was 
 a plain, gospel sermon, delivered in an 
 earnest, impressive manner. His church 
 
 236 
 
is probably the largest and richest on 
 the Coast. The pastor and his assist- 
 ant are both Englishmen. I met with 
 the Pastors' Conference. The Bap- 
 tists hereabouts seem to be nu- 
 merous and influential. They have a 
 vigorous, aggressive ministry, who 
 speak hopefully of the prospects. I was 
 assured that the religious element was 
 quite strong and pronounced in all 
 Southern California. 
 
 ONE SERIOUS QUESTION 
 
 agitating the brethren on the Pacific 
 Coast I found to be: The multiplicity 
 of agents to represent the various de- 
 nominational interests. This gave es- 
 pecial interest to my talk before the Pas- 
 tors' Conference at Oakland. It seemed 
 to be a new thing with them that one 
 man should represent all the mission in- 
 terests in one State, as we do in Ala- 
 bama. The Missionary Union (their 
 Foreign Mission Board, (the Home Mis- 
 sion Society, The American Baptist 
 Publication Society, each have a man to 
 represent their interests, and besides 
 
 237 
 
these I think the two Woman's Societis 
 have special agents also. The Northern 
 Anniversaries, with which the churches 
 on the Pacific Coast affiliate, have ap- 
 pointed committees on co-operation, but 
 the jealousies existing between the so- 
 cieties stand in the way of their accom- 
 plishing anything toward consolidation. 
 There is no question in the minds of 
 any, North or South, but that our Con- 
 vention plan is better to bring about con- 
 cert of action. I should have been de- 
 lighted to have studied closer the Bap- 
 tist situation and cultivated the breth- 
 ren in California, but my time was too 
 short. They are struggling with un- 
 solved problems on that side as we are 
 on this side. 
 
 May Heaven help them and us with 
 that wisdom that comes from above. 
 
 238