Jan. 22d. In company with several experienced and successful miners, went to some of the tributaries of the Tuolumne. We had gone three miles from home, and were prospecting some of the higher ravines, the lower being too full of water. It had been cloudy when we started, but we were so accustomed to the rains of this country that we felt no concern; but about noon a severe, cold wind sprung up, driving before it a storm of snow. It came cutting and freezing into our faces. It was one of those evils which must be met. I carried a spade in one hand, and a crow-bar in the other; and that piece of cold iron penetrated into my soul. I thought I had never before experienced the sensation of pure, unrelieved cold. The ice-water into which I plunged my hands half an hour since, on my return, felt warm. We were not at all prepared for such an event. Ah! this mountain ramble, the heavy snow-flakes and hail pelting in our faces, our hands and feet almost frozen, have gone far toward curing us of any slight remains of the “yellow fever” which may have been clinging to us!
Jan. 23d. A clear and cold day. The ground is covered with snow. Alone I went to my cold and cheerless work. Those who are counting their bright yellow coins think little of the privations which have been undergone, the agonies which have been endured—think not of the living death, the dying life it has cost to draw from the mines their golden eagles. Made to-day 75 cents.
Jan. 24th. Last night it was intensely cold, and near morning commenced snowing, which it has continued to do the whole day. A mail-agent has come in to-day, and still no letters for me. It is now thirty-nine weeks since my last letter from home was dated. I would purchase one line from my wife with all the gold I have made during those thirty-nine weeks.
To-day, while a friend was seated by me, before Captain W.’s blazing fire, we were speaking of the great number of persons who come to the mines, and, after working a few days, become discouraged, and abandon mining. He related the following instance, which he knows to have taken place. A merchant from New York recently came up with high expectations, having made all his arrangements and preparations to carry on mining for one season. The fascinating interest which invests this whole subject at a distance had drawn him on. Being a strong and vigorous man, blessed with the grace of perseverance, he attributed the want of success, of which so many complained, to their indolence or want of energy. The question he frequently put, on his way to the mines, was, “How much may be made by hard and persevering labor?” as if he thought that such labor must succeed. He reached the mines—saw, on the bar below him, some miners hard at work. As he watched them, he thought, “That, indeed, is hard work, and here is an opportunity to judge for myself.” He directed the muleteer to wait while he went down to the bar. There he saw the preparations which had been made for washing, the stones and dirt which had been removed before the gold could be reached. He saw the men at the bottom of the pit, knee deep in mud, filling the buckets. He followed those buckets to the cradle, watched the operation of washing the dirt through, the cradle. As they prepared to wash down in pans, he inquired, “How many buckets of dirt have been washed to procure the gold now in the machine?” “Twenty-five,” was the reply. “And how many buckets can be washed out in a day?” “Sometimes more and sometimes less; we wash out one hundred and fifty.” “How many men in your company?” “Four.” “While these inquiries were going on, one of the company was panning down the gold, and brought it to where they were seated upon some rocks. “How much gold is there in that pan?” he eagerly inquired. One said there was $2, while the others thought there was not so much. It was weighed, and found to be $1 62. He could make his own calculations of their day’s labor. The sum total was $9 72; for each of the four men, $2 43. He looked about him. There was all that pile of rubbish to be removed—enough to employ them the whole day—before they could wash the gold at all. “Where are your tents?” he asked. “We have none.” “Where are your provisions?” “This money is to purchase them.” “You had better purchase mine, which can be done cheap, as I shall be on my way to San Francisco in ten minutes.” And to San Francisco he returned, and in three weeks was established in a commission auction store.
Jan. 28th. Since my last date it has rained constantly, and some of the time in torrents; but little work has been done. Yesterday a miner was tried for stealing a small amount of gold, and, upon conviction, was sentenced to receive five lashes, and to leave the mines in five days. Reports have been circulating among us of some large lumps of gold having been found at Sonora, one of which, it is asserted, weighs seventy pounds.
Jan. 29th. It is a lovely spring morning, but the water is so high it is impossible to work. The notes of the robin, the thrush, and the American nightingale are heard, bringing back thoughts of the homes we have left. The miners are beginning to talk of the summer diggings upon the rivers. Many parties have gone on exploring expeditions, and it is said that thousands of miners have all their provisions purchased, and but await the melting of the snow from the mountains to cross over and take possession of the real El Dorado. Very little is doing here. We are not averaging a dollar a day on the whole creek. A gentleman from New England has just been telling me that he left a business, when he came from home, which enabled him to lay up $500 a year; but that, since he left home, which is now over a year, he has not made $200. Surely not enough to support him. A newspaper, which has strayed into the mines to-day, brings the astounding intelligence of the murder of Dr. Parkman, and the arrest and trial of Professor Webster as the murderer.
Feb. 2d. Prospected to-day with Mr. L., of Livingston Manor, upon the Hudson River. Mr. L. has a quiet, easy way, as he is seated upon some rock, examining the dirt, and turning over the stones at the bottom of some hole, which gives the impression to any one who may happen to be looking on from a distance that he is picking up pieces of gold. We were thus seated to-day, and he was scraping the clay from a stone, and showed me several small scales, when two miners, who had been working all day above us, hurried down, and eagerly asked what we had found. They would not believe when we told them, but sat there an hour, watching every movement, ready, on the appearance of the lumps, to take possession of the next claim. Miners practice many arts to deceive others with regard to what they may be doing. Especially is this the case if they are doing well, when they generally say they are doing nothing, reasoning as did Sir Walter Scott after he had published “Waverley,” and wishing to conceal his authorship. People had no right to ask if he was the author, and therefore it was right for him to deceive them. I found it was better to tell the truth. The very purpose of concealment was thus better accomplished, for, speak as you might, you were sure not to be believed, and you were thus spared the sin of a falsehood. The only indication by which I came to judge that miners were doing well in any place was to find them early and late, and constantly, at their work. Our prospecting gave us 25 cents each.
Feb. 4th. This is a day to be remembered. Letters from home! If any one would learn the full significance of these words, let him pass ten months in California without one word from his loved ones, an unhappy exile from his own family. They may be sick, suffering, dying, and he who should be near them, to care for, and protect, and comfort them, is far away, and knows not their condition. It is an era in the mines—the arrival of the mail-agent. How cheerfully are our two dollars a letter paid. It was like receiving back my family from the dead—those letters, after so long and weary a silence. I am happy, and I am miserable! I am calm, and I am fearfully excited! It is an era in the miner’s life when such, although tardy, messengers reach him. I have been present when many of these have given up to their owners their treasures of love or their burden of wretchedness. One has just opened his letter, and bursts into immoderate weeping. I inquire the cause. “My wife and child are both dead!” A physician of one of the hospitals told me that they dared not give their letters from home to those who were very sick; that in several instances they had seen persons in this condition, upon reading their letters, turn over and die.
A party of individuals, from the ranches on the plains below, passed us on their way to the headwaters of the Tuolumne, in pursuit of Indians who had stolen some of their mules. They were joined by numbers of the miners.
Feb. 5th. There is some excitement with regard to a bar one mile above us. Captain W. and myself have spent the day there, and have made $5 37 each. The lump of gold found at Sonora, and which, it was said, weighs seventy pounds, weighs only twenty-two pounds. The miner through whom I received my information had a claim next to the one in which this lump was found. It lay within two inches of the very spot where he was at work. One blow of his pick would have given him possession of it.