The climate is nevertheless generally considered salubrious, and is thought by some people to be one of the finest in the world. For my own part, I much prefer the summer weather of the mines, where the sky is always bright, and the warm temperature of the day becomes only comparatively cool at night, while the atmosphere is so dry, that the heat, however intense, is never oppressive, and so clear that everything within the range of vision is as clearly and distinctly seen as if one were looking upon a flat surface, and could equally examine each separate part of it, so satisfactory and so minute in detail is the view of the most distant objects.
Considering the very frequent use of pistols in San Francisco, it is a most providential circumstance that the climate is in a high degree favorable for the cure of gunshot wounds. These in general heal very rapidly, and many miraculous recoveries have taken place, effected by nature and the climate, after the surgeons, experienced as they are in that branch of practice, had exhausted their skill upon the patient.
CHAPTER XIX
A BULL AND BEAR FIGHT
THE long tract of mountainous country lying north and south, which comprises the mining districts, is divided into the northern and southern mines—the former having communication with San Francisco through Sacramento and Marysville, while the latter are more accessible by way of Stockton, a city situated at the head of navigation of the San Joaquin, which joins the Sacramento about fifty miles above San Francisco.
My wanderings had hitherto been confined to the northern mines, and when, after a short stay in San Francisco, business again led me to Placerville, I determined from that point to travel down through the southern mines, and visit the various places of interest en route.
It was about the end of March when I started. The winter was quite over; all that remained of it was an occasional heavy shower of rain; the air was mild and soft, and the mountains, covered with fresh verdure, were blooming brightly in the warm sunshine with many-colored flowers. In every ravine, and through each little hollow in the high lands, flowed a stream of water; and wherever water was to be found, there also were miners at work. From the towns and camps, where the supply of water was constant, and where the diggings could consequently be worked at any time of the year, they had expanded themselves over the whole face of the country; and in traveling through the depths of the forests, just as the solitude seemed to be perfect, one got a glimpse in the distance, through the dark columns of the pine trees, of the red shirts of two or three straggling miners, taking advantage of the short period of running water to reap a golden harvest in some spot of fancied richness. This was the season of all others to see to the best advantage the grandeur and beauty of the scenery, and at the same time to realize how widely diffused and inexhaustible is the wealth of the country. Inexhaustible is, of course, only a comparative term; for the amount of gold still remaining in California is a definite quantity becoming less and less every day, and already vastly reduced from what it was when the mines lay intact seven years ago; but still the date at which the yield of the California mines is to cease, or even to begin to fall off, seems to be as far distant as ever. In fact, the continued labor of constantly increasing numbers of miners, instead of exhausting the resources of the mines, as some persons at first supposed would be the case, has, on the contrary, only served to establish confidence in the permanence of their wealth.
It is true that such diggings are now rarely to be met with as were found in the early days, when the pioneers, pitching, as if by instinct, on those spots where the superabundant richness of the country had broken out, dug up gold as they would potatoes; nor is the average yield to the individual miner so great as it was in those times. Subsequent research, however, has shown that the gold is not confined to a few localities, but that the whole country is saturated with it. The mineral produce of the mines increases with the population, though not in the same ratio; for only a certain proportion of the immigrants betake themselves to mining, the rest finding equally profitable occupation in the various branches of mechanical and agricultural industry which have of late years sprung up; while the miner, though perhaps not actually taking out as much gold as in 1849, is nevertheless equally prosperous, for he lives amid the comforts of civilized life, which he obtains at a reasonable rate, instead of being reduced to a half-savage state, and having to pay fabulous prices for every article of consumption.
The first large camp on my way south from Hangtown was Moquelumne Hill, about sixty miles distant, and as there were no very interesting localities in the intermediate country, I traveled direct to that place. After passing through a number of small camps, I arrived about noon of the second day at Jacksonville, a small village called after General Jackson, of immortal memory. I had noticed a great many French miners at work at I came along, and so I was prepared to find it rather a French-looking place. Half the signs over the stores and hotels were French, and numbers of Frenchmen were sitting at small tables in front of the houses playing at cards.
As I walked up the town I nearly stumbled over a young grizzly bear, about the size of two Newfoundland dogs rolled into one, which was chained to a stump in the middle of the street. I very quickly got out of his way; but I found afterwards that he was more playful than vicious. He was the pet of the village, and was delighted when he could get any one to play with, though he was rather beyond the age at which such a playmate is at all desirable. I don’t think he was likely to enjoy long even the small amount of freedom he possessed; he would probably be caged up and shipped to New York; for a live grizzly is there a valuable piece of property, worth a good deal more than the same weight of bear’s meat in California, even at two dollars a pound.
From this place there was a steep descent of two or three miles to the Moquelumne River, which I crossed by means of a good bridge, and, after ascending again to the upper world by a long winding road, I reached the town of Moquelumne Hill, which is situated on the very brink of the high land overhanging the river.