California 1849-1913 | Page 5

I did. I met the hunter on the
street about a week later and he told me that he realized seven hundred
dollars for his bears. I do not make the statement as a bear story, but as
a bare fact.

Life In the Mines.
The preceding pages were written about twenty years ago, and only
covered about one and one-half years after leaving the Green
Mountains of old Vermont. Since which time, I have experienced
nearly all of the vicissitudes of the State to the present time (1913). I
will now attempt to give an account of my stewardship from that time
on. I date my arrival in the State, Weaverville, about three miles below
Hangtown (now Placerville), September 10th, 1849. This was where I
did my first mining, which was not, much of a success, on account of
my weak condition caused by my having the so-called "land scurvy,"
brought on from a want of vegetable food, and I left for Sacramento
City where I remained for a week or two and then left and went to
Grass Valley. There I made a little money, and went to Sacramento
City and bought two wagon loads of goods, went back to Grass Valley
and started a hotel, ran it a few weeks, and the first thing I knew I was
"busted."
It is now in the winter of '49 and '50 and I went to Sacramento again,
and from Sacramento to Beal's Bar on the North Fork of the American
River at the junction of the North and South Forks. By this time I had
gained my strength so that I was more like myself, and I bought a
rocker, pick, shovel and pan and went into the gulches for gold. I had
fairly good luck until spring. By this time I had laid by a few hundred
dollars, and I joined a company of thirty to turn the South Fork of the
American River into the North Fork, by so doing we expected to drain

about one-fourth of a mile of the bed of the South Fork. The banks of
the river were rich and everything went to show that the bed of the river
was very rich, and we went to work with great hopes of a big harvest of
gold. The first thing we did was to build a dam, and dig a canal, which
we accomplished in about four months. About this time snow and rain
came on in the mountains, raised the water in the river and washed
away part of our dam. It was now too late to build again that season.
Now you see the hopes and disappointments of the miner. While we
were at work on the canal we had occasion to blast some boulders that
were in our way. We had a blacksmith to sharpen the picks and drills
who had a portable forge on the point of land between the two rivers.
When we were ready to blast the rock we gave him timely warning, he
paid no heed, the blast went off, and a portion of a boulder weighing
about 500 pounds went directly for his forge and within about six
inches of his legs and went on over into the North Fork. The man
turned about and hollered to the boys in the canal "I surrender."
About this time the river had risen to such an extent that it was thought
advisable to suspend operations until the next spring. This was a
dividing of the roads, and each member had to look out for himself. I
went to Mokelumne Hill, staked out some claims and went to work to
sink a shaft through the lava to bedrock. The lava on the surface is very
hard, but grows softer as you go down. While I was thus banging away
with my pick and not making much headway, there came along a Mr.
Ferguson from San Francisco, on a mule. He stopped and looked at me
a minute and then said, "Young man, how deep do you expect to go
before you reach bedrock?" I said, "About 65 or 75 feet." "Well," said
he, "by - you have got more pluck than any man I ever saw." He went
on and so did I, and I have not seen him since. It took me about two
weeks to get so that I could not throw the dirt to the surface, then I had
to make a windlass, get a tub and rope, and hire a man to help me at
eight dollars a day, and 50 cents a point for sharpening picks. These
things completed and in operation, I was able to make two or three feet
per day, and we finally reached the bedrock at a depth of