These Indians never eat fresh meat; but, when it is putrid, either boil or grill it. They grow a kind of grain which they shell out into wooden bowls, work into a paste, and bake as bread. With this, they likewise eat grasshoppers and various other insects.
The traveller who pursues the road to Marysville, is tolerably certain to meet with more than one troop of aborigines. They have been driven into these desert regions before the advancing footsteps of civilization, and, although many of them, drawn thither by curiosity and that love of gain so common to all mankind, have ended by embracing the habits and occupations of the new comers, many others have, nevertheless, remained in open warfare, and several American expeditions have already been undertaken against them.
After eight hours of travelling, in the course of which we had forded several rivers, and encountered the worst roads I ever remember to have traversed, we arrived at Marysville.
With the exception of some few brick houses, Marysville is constructed entirely of wood. Situated on the enchanting banks of the Yuba, this city resembles an immense market-place, and does in fact supply all the villages and diggings round about. The heat here, however, is even more overwhelming, and the fever still more fatal, than at Sacramento.
It was in this city, and at the very hotel where I alighted in company with the rest of my stage-coach companions, that I met with an adventure which very nearly cost me my life. We were dining in company with a lady and her husband. Just as we had finished, and were about to leave the house, we heard an extraordinary commotion in the room overhead. The master of the hotel, in answer to our enquiries, replied that it was only a party of gentlemen who had met to dine upstairs. Being by this time tolerably well used to American manners, we were by no means surprised, but merely hastened our preparations, in order to get away before these revellers became more uproarious. It was a fine night, and we were anxious to pursue our journey by moonlight. Already the sound of broken plates and glasses foretold a serious ending to the riot. We waited to pay our bill, and suffered for our honesty. At the very moment when the master of the hotel was counting out our change, the door upstairs flew open, and the staircase was all at once filled by a drunken and vociferating crowd. We endeavoured to escape; but the fight had already begun. The combatants were all armed with revolvers, and in another instant I found myself separated from my companions. All at once a shot was fired, a ball whistled past my ear, and a second shot took effect upon a stranger who fell wounded at my feet. Distracted with fear, I ran I knew not whither, and was met by my friends, who believed me to have been injured, and were hastening to my help. The assassin, it seemed, had singled out a gentleman who ran for shelter down the passage where I was standing. Pursued and fired at, he nevertheless effected his escape; but the first shot passed within an inch of my head, and the second lodged in the left shoulder of an unoffending bystander.
The gloom of the passage, and the male attire which I habitually wore, had aided to mislead the would-be murderer. After all, I had a narrow escape of it.
It may not be out of place, at this point, to describe my costume, and to explain the motives by which I was led to adopt it. I wore a gray felt hat, a travelling paletot, and Hessian boots, such as were then the fashion in California. To these boots were attached a pair of Mexican spurs, useful for the mule-riding which is so frequent a mode of transit in these parts. Besides all this, I wore doeskin gloves, a leather belt made to carry gold, and a poignard. This dress is not only picturesque, but necessary; for the country is savage and unsettled, and, in moments of danger, the woman who is thus attired can better escape or defend herself than if she were encumbered with the garments peculiar to her sex. Up to the present moment I had never ceased congratulating myself on the success of my charming disguise; but this adventure, I must confess, somewhat diminished my confidence in my own temerity.
As may be conjectured by the preceding anecdote, the Americans, when intoxicated, are the maddest and most dangerous of human beings. They drink little wine; but, during their orgies, are much given to brandy, whisky, gin, absinthe, and other strong liquors. Their blood once inflamed, even the most peaceable among them become quarrelsome and sanguinary, and commit murders which, in their reasonable moments, inspire even themselves with horror.
Shasta City is a small settlement lying towards the north of California, and consists of a single street of wooden houses situated at some little distance from Sierra-Névada. This town was formerly the market which supplied certain rich diggings of the neighbourhood, long since exhausted. Instead, however, of being consequently deserted, Shasta City still flourishes in virtue of its situation. It is a halting-place for stage-coaches, and a station for the sale or hire of mules, without which it would be impossible to traverse the dangerous bridle-paths of the Rocky Mountains. Passing through this city, we beheld one of those great social disasters so common to California. Even at the moment of our arrival a great fire broke out, and in less than an hour the greater part of the city was consumed. Still more melancholy was it, towards evening, to see the unhappy inhabitants wandering amid the smoking ruins in search of the friends and fortunes they had lost.
Leaving Shasta City, and turning towards the north, as if bound for Oregon, the traveller passes through a mountainous country infested with enormous tawny bears, one of which alarmed me as I never wish to be alarmed again. I was riding somewhat in the rear of my companions. My mule was jogging slowly on, and, what with the fatigue of perpetual travelling, and the extreme heat of the day, I was more than half asleep. All at once, about twenty feet in advance, I beheld a huge bear peeping out at me from a cleft in the rocks, and swaying his head to and fro with the most tranquil and self-possessed air imaginable. The reins fell from my hands; the colour rushed to my face; I was paralyzed with terror, and had no voice to cry for help. The bear, however, content with the impression he had made, amused himself by rolling over and over in the middle of the road, without taking any notice of either me or my mule. A turn in the road now luckily brought me in sight of my companions. Their presence gave me courage, and, unwilling to prolong this exciting téte-à-téte, I put spurs to my mule, galloped rapidly on, and in another moment was indulging in a glowing description of the dangers through which I had passed.