Monday, May 10. I had directed the constable to get a pair of iron hinges made for one of the doors of the prison. He gave the order to a blacksmith, a crabbed old fellow, who charged eight dollars for his coarse work. As the charge was an imposition, I told the constable not to take the hinges; when up came the blacksmith with them to the office, and, in a fit of passion, hurled them at my feet, as I stood in the piazza. I handed the constable eight dollars, and told him to call on the blacksmith, pay him for the hinges, take his receipt, and then bring him before me. All which was done, and before me stood the smith, with his choler yet up. I told him that his violence and indignity would not be passed over; that I should fine him ten dollars for the benefit of the town, which he might pay or go to prison. After a few moments’ hesitation, he laid the ten dollars on the table, and took his departure without uttering a word. When clear of the office he grumbled out to the constable, “For once in my life I have been outwitted; that Yankee alcalde has not only got my hinges for nothing, but two dollars besides. I don’t wonder he can swing his prison doors at that rate; I would have tried the calaboose but for the infernal fleas.” The constable told him the next time he made hinges he must charge what they were worth, and curb his towering temper.
Wednesday, May 17. The ire of a Californian of hidalgo extraction flashes from his dark eyes like heat-lightning on a July cloud—you see the blaze, but hear no thunder; while the wit of a California lady glances here and there like the sun-rays through the fluttering leaves of a wind-stirred forest. We have several ladies here celebrated for their brilliant sallies, but Donna Jimeno carries off the palm. A friend showed her this morning a picture of the Israelites gathering manna. “Ah! they are the Californians,” said the Donna, “they pick up what heaven rains down.” He showed her Moses smiting the rock. “And there,” said the Donna, “is a Yankee; he can bring water out of a rock.” But humor and wit are not the highest characteristics of this lady. She possesses a refinement and intelligence that might grace any court in Europe; and withal, a benevolence that never wearies in reaching and relieving the sick. Her care of Lieut. Miner, one of the officers attached to this post, will long live in grateful remembrance. She hovered over him till his spirit fled, and wept as she thought of his mother.
CHAPTER XVIII.
FIRST DISCOVERY OF GOLD.—PRISON GUARD.—INCREDULITY ABOUT THE GOLD.—SANTIAGO GETTING MARRIED.—ANOTHER LUMP OF GOLD.—EFFECTS OF THE GOLD FEVER.—THE COURT OF AN ALCALDE.—MOSQUITOES AS CONSTABLES.—BOB AND HIS BAG OF GOLD.—RETURN OF CITIZENS FROM THE MINES.—A MAN WITH THE GOLD-CHOLIC.—THE MINES ON INDIVIDUAL CREDIT.
Monday, May 29. Our town was startled out of its quiet dreams to-day, by the announcement that gold had been discovered on the American Fork. The men wondered and talked, and the women too; but neither believed. The sibyls were less skeptical; they said the moon had, for several nights, appeared not more than a cable’s length from the earth; that a white raven had been seen playing with an infant; and that an owl had rung the church bells.
Saturday, June 3. The most faithful and reliable guard that I have ever had over the prisoners, is himself a prisoner. He had been a lieutenant in the Mexican army, and was sentenced, for a flagrant breach of the peace, to the public works for the term of one year. Being hard up for funds, I determined to make an experiment with this lieutenant; had him brought before me; ordered the ball and chain to be taken from his leg, and placed a double-barrelled gun, loaded and primed, in his hands. “Take that musket, and proceed with the prisoners to the stone quarry; return them to their cells before sunset, and report to me.” “Your order, Señor Alcalde, shall be faithfully obeyed,” was the reply. I then ordered one of the constables, well mounted and armed, to reconnoitre the quarry, and, unseen by the prisoners or guard, ascertain how things went on. He returned, and reported well of their regularity. At sunset, the lieutenant entered the office, and reported the prisoners in their cells, and all safe. “Very well, José; now make yourself safe, and that will do.” He accordingly returned to his prison, and from that day to this, has been my most faithful and reliable guard.
Monday, June 5. Another report reached us this morning from the American Fork. The rumor ran, that several workmen, while excavating for a mill-race, had thrown up little shining scales of a yellow ore, that proved to be gold; that an old Sonoranian, who had spent his life in gold mines, pronounced it the genuine thing. Still the public incredulity remained, save here and there a glimmer of faith, like the flash of a fire-fly at night. One good old lady, however, declared that she had been dreaming of gold every night for several weeks, and that it had so frustrated her simple household economy, that she had relieved her conscience, by confessing to her priest—
“Absolve me, father, of that sinful dream.”
Tuesday, June 6. Being troubled with the golden dream almost as much as the good lady, I determined to put an end to the suspense, and dispatched a messenger this morning to the American Fork. He will have to ride, going and returning, some four hundred miles, but his report will be reliable. We shall then know whether this gold is a fact or a fiction—a tangible reality on the earth, or a fanciful treasure at the base of some rainbow, retreating over hill and waterfall, to lure pursuit and disappoint hope.
Saturday, June 10. My boy Santiago has taken it into his head to get married; and being a Protestant, finds it extremely difficult to get through the ecclesiastical hopper. Were the person whom he wishes to wed of the same faith with himself, there would be but little impediment; but as she is a Roman Catholic, it is necessary that he should become one too. He has been to the presiding priest to see if he could not get his permission to retain a few articles of his own religion, just enough to save his conscience. But his reverence told him he must give it up in toto, renounce it as a heresy, and come without a scruple into the mother church. Iago is not much of a theologian, but has sense enough to know that conscientious scruples are not things of which a man can free himself at will. His love, none the less deep and sincere for his humble condition, urges him to a compliance with the canonical requirement, but these very scruples hold him back. How he will extricate himself I know not. He will probably compound the matter with his conscience by some mental reservations, as Galileo did when awed into the indignant confession that the earth was flat. Verily, if a man cannot marry in this world without becoming a hypocrite or apostate from the faith of his fathers, the sooner Miller’s conflagrating dream becomes a reality the better. Perhaps some shape of flame might emerge from its drifting embers, that would dare glimmer towards heaven without the leave of a pragmatic priest. I wonder if Adam asked Eve if she were a Roman Catholic before they celebrated their nuptials. This is an important question, and ought to be looked into, though now rather late in the day. I commend it to my venerable friend, the Bishop of New York, who has recently issued an edict that no Protestant shall marry a Roman Catholic without first passing his children, prospectively, through his baptismal font.