Oregon Historical Quarterly/Volume 5/Recollections and Opinions of an Old Pioneer, part 4
"RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF AN OLD PIONEER."
[CONCLUDED.]
By Peter H. Burnett.
CHAPTER VI.
DISCOVERY OF GOLD IN CALIFORNIA—DETERMINE TO GO TO THE MINES-ORGANIZED A WAGON PARTY.
I had been a member of the legislative committee of 1844, had taken a leading part in that little body, and had done what I considered my fair proportion of the work, under all the then existing circumstances. We had adopted a code of laws, which, though imperfect, was ample for that time and that country. I looked forward to the speedy settlement of the question of sovereignty in our favor, and it was so settled within two years thereafter.
As before stated, I went to Oregon to accomplish three purposes. I had already assisted to lay the foundation of a great American community on the shores of the Pacific, and the trip across the plains had fully restored the health of Mrs. Burnett. There was still one great end to attain—the payment of my debts. I had a family of eight persons to support, and a large amount of old indebtedness to pay. My debts were just, and I believed in the great maxim of the law, that "a man must be just before he is generous." Had the essential interest of a large body of my fellowmen, in my judgment, required further sacrifices, I would have made them most cheerfully. But, the foundation of a great community on this coast having been laid, all else would naturally follow us a matter of course, as there were others competent to continue the work.
The obligation to support my family and pay my debts was sacred to me, and I therefore gave the larger portion of my time to my own private affairs so long as I remained in Oregon. I did not then foresee the discovery of gold in California, and for this reason my only chance to pay, so far as I could see, was to remain and labor in Oregon. I had not the slightest idea of leaving that country until the summer of 1848. Before I left I had paid a small portion of my indebtedness. I always had faith that I should ultimately pay every dollar.
In the month of July, 1848 (if I remember correctly), the news of the discovery of gold in California reached Oregon. It passed from San Francisco to Honolulu, thence to Nesqualy, and thence to Fort Vancouver. At that very time there was a vessel from San Francisco in the Willamette River, loading with flour, the master of which knew the fact but concealed it from our people for speculative reasons, until the news was made public by the gentlemen connected with the Hudson Bay Company.
This extraordinary news created the most intense excitement throughout Oregon. Scarcely anything else was spoken of. We had vanquished the Indians, and that war for the time was almost forgotten. We did not know of the then late treaty of peace between Mexico and the United States; but we were aware of the fact that our government had possession of California; and we knew, to a moral certainty, that it would never be given up.
Many of our people at once believed the reported discovery to be true, and speedily left for the gold mines with pack animals. I think that at least two thirds of the male population of Oregon, capable of bearing arms, started for California in the summer and fall of 1848. The white population of Oregon, including the late immigrants, must have amounted then to from eight to ten thousand people. Before we left, many persons expressed their apprehensions that the Indians might renew hostilities during the absence of so many men. But those of us who went to the mines that fall (leaving our families behind in Oregon) had no fears of any further attacks from the Indians. Time proved we were right.
These accounts were so new and extraordinary to us at that time, that I had my doubts as to their truth, until I had evidence satisfactory to me. I did not jump to conclusions, like most people; but when I saw a letter which had been written in California by ex-Governor Lilburn W. Boggs, formerly of Missouri, to his brother-in-law Colonel Boon of Oregon, I was fully satisfied. I had known Governor Boggs since 1821, was familiar with his handwriting, and knew Colonel Boon; and there was no reasonable cause to doubt. This letter I read about the last of August, 1848.
I saw my opportunity, and at once consulted my wife. I told her that I thought it was our duty to separate again for a time, though we had promised each other, after our long separation of fourteen months during our early married life, that we would not separate again. I said that this was a new and special case, never anticipated by us; that it was the only certain opportunity to get out of debt within a reasonable time, and I thought it my duty to make the effort. She consented, and I came to California, and succeeded beyond my expectations. I paid all my debts, principal and interest, security debts and all. Time conclusively proved the wisdom and justice of my course. I set out to accomplish three important objects, and, thanks be to God, I succeeded in all.
When I had determined to come to California, I at once set to work to prepare for the journey. All who preceded me had gone with pack animals; but it occurred to me that we might be able to make the trip with wagons. I went at once to see Doctor McLoughlin, and asked his opinion of the practicability. Without hesitation lie replied that he thought we could succeed, and recommended old Thomas McKay for pilot. No wagons had ever passed between Oregon and California. Thomas McKay had made the trip several times with pack trains, and knew the general nature of the country, and the courses and distances; but he knew of no practicable wagon route, as he had only traveled with pack animals.
This was about the first of September, 1848. I at once went into the streets of Oregon City, and proposed the immediate organization of a wagon company. The proposition was received with decided favor; and in eight days we had organized a company of one hundred and fifty stout, robust, energetic, sober men, and fifty wagons and ox teams, and were off for the gold mines of California. We had only one family, consisting of the husband, wife, and three or four children. We had fresh teams, strong wagons, an ample supply of provisions for six months, and a good assortment of mining implements. I had two wagons and teams, and two saddle horses; and I took plank in the bottoms of my wagons, with which I constructed a gold rocker after we arrived in the mines.
We were not certain that we could go through with our wagons, and thought we might be caught in the mountains, as were the Donner party in 1840. In case we had been snowed in, we had plenty of provisions to live upon during the winter. Besides, we were apprehensive that there might be a great scarcity of provisions in the mines during the winter of 1848-'49. The only article I purchased in the mines was some molasses, having everything else in the way of provisions. Advances of outfits were made to such men as Hastings and his party, Burnett, and other prominent men ....
Those who proposed going to California could readily get all the supplies they required of the company by giving their notes payable in California.—Gray's "Oregon," 361.
This is a mistake, so far as I was concerned. I had plenty of wheat, cattle, and hogs, and did not need advances. My outfit cost very little additional outlay, for the simple reason that I had my own wagon and teams, except one yoke of oxen which I purchased of Pettigrove, in Portland, and paid for at the time. I had the two horses that I took with me, and all the provisions that I required, except a few pounds of tea. I had an ample supply of sugar, for reasons already stated. I had all the clothes required, and plenty of tools, except two picks, which I got a blacksmith in Oregon City to make. I do not remember having purchased a single article on credit.
OFF FOR CALIFORNIA INCIDENTS OF THE TRIP.
I was elected captain of the wagon party, and Thomas McKay was employed as pilot. We followed the Applegate route to Klamath Lake, where we left the road and took a southern direction. Thomas McKay, myself, and five others, well armed and mounted, went on in advance of the wagons to discover the best route, leaving the wagons to follow our trail until otherwise notified. We, the road hunters, took with us plenty of flour, sugar, and tea, and depended upon our guns for meat.
We passed over comparatively smooth prairie for some distance. One evening we encamped at what was then called Goose Lake. It being late in the season, the water in the lake was very low, muddy, and almost putrid. Vast flocks of pelicans were visiting this lake at that time, on their way south. I remember that we killed one on the wing with a rifle.
The water being so bad, we drank very little, and left early next morning. We traveled over prairie some twenty miles toward a heavy body of timber in the distance, then entered a rocky cedar grove about six miles in width. As our horses were not shod, their feet became sore and tender while passing over this rough road. We then entered a vast forest of beautiful pines. Our pilot told us that, if he was not mistaken, we should find in the pine timber an Indian trail; and, sure enough, we soon came to a plain horse path through the open forest. We followed this trail until sunset, and encamped in a small, dry prairie, having traveled all day beneath a hot October sun without water. Our little party were sober, solemn, and silent. No one ate anything except myself, and I only ate a very small piece of cold bread.
We left this dry and desolate camp early next morning. About 10 o'clock one of our party saw a deer, and followed it to a beautiful little stream of water, flowing from the hills into the forest. We spent the remainder of the day on the banks of this clear branch, drinking water and eating a badger. When I first drank the water it had no pleasant taste, but seemed like rainwater; but my natural thirst soon returned, and I found that no luxury was equal to water to a thirsty man. We sent out three or four hunters for game; but they returned about 2 p. m. with a large badger. This was all the meat we had. We dressed and cooked it well; and, to our keen and famished appetites, it was splendid food. The foot of the badger, the tail of the beaver, the ear of the hog, and the foot of the elephant are superior eating. I have myself eaten of all but the last, and can speak from personal knowledge; and, as to the foot of the elephant, I can give Sir Samuel linker as my authority, in his "Explorations," etc.
We left next morning thoroughly refreshed and rested; and we had not traveled more than ten miles when we came in sight of Pitt River, a tributary of the Sacramento. It was here but a small creek, with a valley about half a mile wide. When we had approached near the stream, to our utter surprise and astonishment, we found a new wagon road. Who made this road we could not at first imagine. A considerable number of those coming to California with pack animals decided to follow our trail, rather than come by the usual pack route. These packers had overtaken us the previous evening, and were with us when we discovered this new wagon road. It so happened that one of them had been in California, and knew old Peter Lassen. This man was a sensible fellow, and at once gave it as his opinion that this road had been made by a small party of immigrants whom Lassen had persuaded to come to California by a new route that would enter the great valley of the Sacramento at or near Lassen's rancho. This conjectural explanation proved to be the true one.
So soon as the packers found this road, they left us. No amount of argument could induce them to remain with us. They thought our progress too slow. This left our little party of road-hunters alone in a wild Indian country, the wagons being some distance behind.
We followed the new road slowly. One day, while passing through open pine woods, we saw an Indian some two hundred yards ahead of us. He was intent on hunting, and did not see us until we were within a hundred yards, charging down upon him with our horses at full speed. He saw that escape by flight was impossible; so he hid under a clump of bushes. We soon came up, and by signs ordered him to come out from his place of concealment. This command he understood and promptly obeyed. He was a stout, active young man, apparently twenty-five years of age, and he had a large gray squirrel under his belt which he had killed with his bow and arrow. He evidently feared that we would take his life; but we treated him kindly, spent some time conversing with him as well as we could by signs, and then left him in peace.
From the point where we struck the Lassen road, it continued down the river in a western direction ten or fifteen miles until the river turned to the south and ran through a canon, the road ascending the tall hills, and continuing about west for twenty to thirty miles, when it came again to and crossed the river. The same day that we saw the Indian we encamped, after dark, on a high bluff above the river. We had had no water to drink since morning, and we had traveled late in the hope of finding a good encampment.
The night was so dark, and the bluff was so steep and rough, that we could distinctly hear the roar of the stream, as it dashed among the rocks below. At length, one of our men determined to go for water. He took with him a small tin bucket; and after having been absent a considerable time, he returned with the bucket about one fourth full, having spilt most of the water on his return to camp. The amount for each of us was so small that our thirst was increased rather than diminished.
The next morning we left early, and followed the road to the crossing of the river, where we arrived about noon. Here we spent the remainder of that day. The valley at this point was about a mile and a half wide, and without timber, and the descent into it was down a tall hill, which was not only steep, but heavily timbered. In the middle of this valley there was a solitary ridge about a mile long and a quarter of a mile wide at its baseband some two hundred feet high, covered with rocks of various sizes. We determined to discover, if we could, a new and easier route down the hill. For this purpose we ascended this ridge, from the summit of which we could have an excellent view of the face of the hill, down which our wagons must come.
While we were quietly seated upon the rocks we saw an Indian emerge from the edge of the timber at the foot of the hill, about three fourths of a mile distant, and start in a brisk run across the intervening prairie towards us. I directed the men to sit perfectly still until the Indian should be hidden from our view, and then to separate, and let him fall into the ambush. We occupied the highest point of this lonely ridge, and we knew he would make for the same spot for the purpose of overlooking our camp. We waited until he came to the foot of the ridge, from which position he could not see us, and then we divided our men into two parties, each party taking up a different position. Very soon the Indian came within about thirty feet of one of our parties, and suddenly found himself confronted with four rifles pointed at him, with a command by signs to stop. Of course it was a perfect surprise to the poor old Indian. He was about sixty years old, was dressed in buckskin, had long coarse hair and dim eyes, and his teeth were worn down to the gums.
Notwithstanding the suddenness and completeness of the surprise, the old hero was as brave and cool as possible. I had with me only an axe with which to blaze the new and better way, in case we found it, and was at first some little distance from the Indian. As I came toward him with the axe on my shoulder he made the most vehement motions for me to stop and not come any nearer. I saw that he was apprehensive that I would take off his head with the axe, and at once stopped and threw it aside. At first he would allow no one to come near him, but coolly wet his fingers with his tongue and then deliberately dipped them into the sand at the foot of the rock on which he sat, and, with his trusty bow and arrow in his hands, he looked the men full in the face as much as to say, "I know you have me in your power, but I wish you to understand that I am prepared to sell my life as dearly as possible." I never saw a greater display of calm, heroic, and determined courage than was shown by this old Indian. He was much braver than the young Indian we had seen the day before.
One of our men who was a blustering fellow and who was for displaying his courage when there was no danger, proposed that we should kill the old Indian. I at once put a damper upon that cowardly proposition by stating to the fellow that if lie wanted to kill the Indian he could have a chance to do so in a fair and equal single combat with him. This proposition, as I anticipated, he promptly declined. I was satisfied that there was no fight in him.
After some time we were permitted one at a time to approach him. We offered him the pipe of peace, which he accepted. He would let our men look at his bows and arrows one at a time, never parting with both of them at once. He was evidently suspicious of treachery. We stayed with him some time, treating him kindly, and then left him sitting on his rock. This was the last we saw of him. We considered this mode of treating the Indians the most judicious, as it displayed our power and at the same time our magnanimity. We proved that we intended no harm to them, but were mere passers through their country. They evidently appreciated our motives, and the result was that we had Dot the slightest difficulty with the Indians.
After crossing the river the road bore south, it being impossible to follow down the stream, as the mountains came too close to it. Next morning we left our camp and followed the road south about ten miles, when we came to a beautiful grassy valley, covered with scattering pine timber. This valley was about two miles wide where the road struck it, and ran west, the very direction we wished to go. It seemed a defile passing at right angles through the Sierra Nevada Mountains, as if designed for a level road into the Sacramento Valley.
We were much pleased at the prospect, and followed this splendid road rapidly about eight miles, when, to our great mortification, we came to the termination of this lovely valley in front of a tall, steep mountain, which could not be ascended except by some creature that had either wings or claws. Upon examination, we found that old Peter Lassen and his party had marched west along this narrow valley to its abrupt termination, and then had turned about and marched back to near the point where they entered it, thus wasting some ten or fifteen miles of travel. The two portions of the road going into and coming out of this pretty valley were not more than half a mile apart; but this fact was unknown to us until after we had brought up against that impassable mountain.
This was a perplexing and distressing situation. Our own pilot did not like this route, as it was not going in the right direction. How to get out of this line of travel, and get again upon the river, was the question. We spent the greater part of one day in exploring a new route, but found it impracticable. In our explorations, we found a lava bed some two miles wide. It was clear to us that old Peter Lassen was lost, except as to courses, and was wholly unacquainted with the particular route he was going. Our own pilot knew as little as Lassen, if not less. Our wagons, we knew, would soon overtake us; and we determined to follow Lassen's road ten or fifteen miles farther to see if it turned west. Several of us started on foot, and found that the road, after leaving the valley, went south about ten miles, and then turned due west, running through open pine timber and over good ground. We returned to the camp in the night, and decided that we would follow Lassen's road at all hazards. We awaited the arrival of our wagons, and then set forward. We found the road an excellent one, going in the right direction; and we soon found ourselves upon the summit of the Sierra Nevada Mountains.
The summit was almost a dead level, covered with stunted pines. We passed between two peaks. The ascent on the eastern side was very gradual and easy. We encamped one evening on the summit near a small lake; and it was so cold that night that ice formed along its margin. This was about the 20th of October, 1848. We knew when we had passed the summit, from the fact that the streams flowed west. Though the beds of the streams were dry at that season of the year, we could tell which way the water had run from the driftwood lodged in places.
While on Pitt River, we knew from the camp fires that Lassen's party had ten wagons; and from all appearances we were pretty sure that they were some thirty days ahead of us.
OVERTAKE PETER LASSEN AND HIS PARTY—ARRIVAL IN THE SACRAMENTO VALLEY.
We pressed on vigorously, and soon reached the wide strip of magnificent pine timber found on the western side of the Sierra Nevada. We had not proceeded many miles, after entering this body of timber, before I saw a large, newly-blazed pine tree standing near the road. Approaching, I found these words marked in pencil: "Look under a stone below for a letter." It was a stone lying upon the surface of the ground, and partly imbedded in it. It had been removed, the letter placed in its bed, and then replaced. No Indian would ever have thought of looking under that stone for anything. I did as directed, and found a letter addressed to me by my old friend and law partner in Oregon City, A. L. Lovejoy, Esq., one of the packers who had gone ahead of us. The letter stated that, they had overtaken old Peter Lassen and a portion of his party, lost in the mountains and half starved. That very evening we overtook Lassen and half of his party in the condition described by Lovejoy. In abou teight days after we had first seen Lassen's road, we had overtaken him.
Peter Lassen had met the incoming immigration that fall, and had induced the people belonging to ten wagons to come by his new route. This route he had not previously explored. He only had a correct idea of the courses, and some general knowledge of the country through which they must pass. So long as this small party were traveling through prairies, or open woods, they could make fair progress; but the moment they came to heavy timber, they had not force enough to open the road. After reaching the wide strip of timber already mentioned, they converted their ten wagons into ten carts, so that they could make short turns, and thus drive around the fallen timber. This they found a slow mode of travel. One half of the party became so incensed against Lassen that his life was in great danger The whole party had been without any bread for more than a month, and had during that time lived alone on poor beef. They were, indeed, objects of pity. I never saw people so worn down and so emaciated as these poor immigrants.
The people that belonged to five of the carts had abandoned them, packed their poor oxen, and left the other half of the party a short time before we reached those that remained with the other five carts and with Lassen. We gave them plenty of provisions, and told them to follow us, and we would open the way ourselves. Of course, they greatly rejoiced. How their sunken eyes sparkled with delight! Our pilot, Thomas McKay, overtook an old woman on foot, driving before her a packed oxen down a long, steep hill. When he approached near to her, he made a noise that caused her to stop and look back. " Who are you, and where did you come from?" she asked in a loud voice. He informed her that he was one of a party of one hundred and fifty men, who were on their way from Oregon, with wagons and ox teams, to the California gold mines. "Have you got any flour?" "Yes, madam; plenty." "You are like an angel from heaven!" And she raised a loud and thrilling shout that rang through that primeval forest.
Lassen and our pilot followed the trail of the packers for some twenty or thirty miles, as it passed over good ground, but through heavy timber. We had from sixty to eighty stout men to open the road, while the others were left to drive the teams. We plied our axes with skill, vigor, and success, and opened the route about as fast as the teams could well follow.
At length the pack trail descended a long, steep hill, to a creek at the bottom of an immense ravine. Old Peter Lassen insisted that our wagons should keep on the top of the ridges, and not go down to the water. When the first portion of the train arrived at this point, they had to stop some time on the summit of the hill. How to get out of this position without descending into the ravine below was a perplexing question. Our pilots had been to the creek, and would not let us go down the hill. In looking for a way out of this dilemma they discovered a strip of ground, about thirty feet wide, between the heads of two immense and impassable ravines, and connecting the ridge we were compelled to leave with another. It was like an isthmus connecting two continents. Over this narrow natural bridge we passed in safety.
That evening a large portion of our company camped on the summit of a dry ridge, among the intermixed pine and oak timber. They had traveled all day, under a hot October sun, without water. This was the first time those 384 PETKR H. BUKNETT. with the wagons were compelled to do without water at night. They chained their oxen to their wagons, as the animals would have gone to water had they been turned out. The ox has a keen scent, and they smell water at the distance of one or two miles. It was another sober, solemn, and silent time. Scarcely a word was spoken, and not a mouthful eaten. By daybreak next morning we were off, and had only gone about five miles when we came to the edge of a pine forest. From this elevated point we had a most admirable view. Below at the seeming distance of ten, but the real distance of twenty miles, lay the broad and magnificent valley of the Sacramento, gleaming in the bright and genial sunshine ; and beyond, and in the dim distance, rose the grand blue outlines of the Coast Range. The scene was most beautiful to us, thirsty as we were. How our hearts leaped for joy ! That was our Canaan. Once in that valley, and our serious difficulties, our doubts and fears, would be among the things of the past. But the last of our trials was the most severe. We had still to descend to that desired valley over a very rough road. From the place where we stood, we could see three tall, narrow, rocky ridges, with deep ravines between, running toward the valley. Neither our pilots nor any of us knew which of the three ridges to take, and we had no time to explore. We contemplated the scene for a few moments, and then looked down the ridges for a short time, and chose the middle one at a venture, not knowing what obstructions and sufferings were before us. We had in our company two classes. One was eager to enter the valley as early as possible, while the other had no desire for haste. I belonged to the latter class. I had lived and suffered long enough to have acquired some caution. The last camp before the one where a portion of our people had done without water had plenty of grass, fuel, Kl-:< ol.i.KrriONS OF AN OLD PlONKKK. ami water. We had been rapidly descending the western side of the Sierra Nevada for some days before we over- took Lassen and his party ; and we knew that we could not be very far from the Sacramento Valley. Besides this evidence, we found the red oaks appearing among the pines; and this was a conclusive proof that we were not far from that valley. I saw that there was no necessity that the wagons should follow our pilots so closely. Our true policy would have been to remain where we first found the oak timber until our pilots had explored and selected the route into the valley. We could have safely remained at that good camp a month longer than we did. But one portion of our people had the gold fever too badly to be controlled. We who were more patient and cautious were willing that those hasty and ambitious men should go on ahead of us, if they desired to do so. Our two classes were well matched, like the man's oxen, one of which wanted to do all the work, and the other was perfectly willing that he should. I had directed the men in charge of my wagons and teams to remain in that good camp until they should re- ceive other orders. I then assisted to open the road to the natural bridge mentioned. After that, the road ran through open woods and over good ground to the point where the pines terminated. I determined to leave the foremost wagons at that point and return on foot to the good camp, where I arrived in the evening. Next morn- ing early I took my best horse and started on after the foremost wagons, deciding that my own wagons and teams should remain where they were until I knew they could reach the valley by that or some other route. The dis- tance from the point where I left the foremost wagons to the good camp was about fifteen miles. About 10 o'clock, A. M.. I arrived at that point, which I had left the morn- ing before; and, looking down toward the valley, 1 could dimly discern some of the white-sheeted wagons on their dry and rugged way to the valley. I followed them as fast as I could at a brisk trot. At the distance of about eight miles I came to an immense mass of rock, which completely straddled the narrow ridge and totally obstructed the way. This huge obstacle could not be removed in time, and the wagons had to pass around it. They were let down the left side of the ridge by ropes to a bench, then passed along this bench to a point beyond the rock, and were then drawn up to the top of the ridge again by doubling teams.
I passed on about six miles farther, and came to another huge mass of rock entirely across the top of the ridge. But in this case the sides of the ridge were not so steep, and the wagons had easily passed across the ravine to the ridge on the right. Soon, however, the ridges sank down to the surface, leaving no further diffiulties in the way except the loose rocks, which lay thick upon the ground. These rocks were of all sizes, from that of a man's hat to that of a large barrel, and constituted a serious obstruction to loaded wagons. We could avoid the larger rocks, as they were not so many; but not the smaller ones, as they were numerous and lay thick upon the ground. In passing over this part of our route two of the wagons were broken down.
About noon I met one of our party who had been to the valley, and was on his return to the good camp, where his wagons and teams as well as mine were left. He reported to me that the route was practicable; and I sent word to my men to come on the next day.
I arrived at the camp in the valley, near a beautiful stream of water, a little after dark, having traveled that day about thirty-five miles. I could hear the wagons coming down that rough, rocky hill until midnight. Some of RKCOLLKCTIONS OF AN OLD PIONEER. 387 the people belonging to the foremost wagons had been without water nearly two days. Next morning I started on foot to meet my wagons, and found them on the middle ridge, this side the first huge mass of rock, about sundown. They had plenty of water for drinking purposes, and chained up the oxen to the wagons. Next day they came into camp in good time, without suffering and without loss. ARRIVE AT THE HOUSE OK 1'ETKR LASSEN ORIGIN OF TIIK TERM "PROSPECTING" ARRIVAL AT THE M I N ES M IN ING. Y left the first camp in the valley the next morning, and, after traveling a distance of eight miles, arrived at the rancho of Old Peter Lassen. The old pilot was in the best of spirits, and killed for us a fat beef ; and we re- mained at his place two or three days, feasting and rest- ing. All organization in our company ceased upon our arrival in the Sacramento Valley. Each gold hunter went his own way, to seek his own fortune. They soon after scattered in various directions. A day or two after we left Lassen's place, we were sur- prised and very much amused upon learning that the packers who had left us in such a hurry on Pitt River were coming on behind us. As stated on page 200, they had descended a long steep hill to a creek at the bottom of an immense ravine. They followed down this stream west for some miles, when they came to an obstruction in their route that they could not possibly pass, and were compelled to return up the stream east Until they found a place where they could get out of this ravine on its north side. They came to the creek on its southern side, and thought their best chance to escape was to be found on its northern bank. In this way they were detained in the mountains three or four days longer than we were. They 388 PETER H. BURNETT. had plenty of provisions, and had suffered but little. We therefore rallied them heartily, all of which they bore with the best of humor. Our ox teams had beaten their pack animals, thus proving that the race is not always to the swift. In passing down the valley, we encamped one evening near the house of an old settler named Potter. He lived in a very primitive style. His yard, in front of his adobe building, was full of strips of fresh beef, hung upon lines to dry. He was very talkative and boastful. He had been in the mines, had employed Indians to work for him, and had grown suddenly rich ; and, as his head was naturally light, it had been easily turned. He came to our camp and talked with us until about midnight. It was here that I first heard the word "prospecting" used. At first I could not understand what Potter meant by the term, but I listened patiently to our garrulous guest, until I discovered its meaning. When gold was first discovered in Califor- nia, and any one went out searching for new placers, they would say, "He has gone to hunt for new gold diggings." But, as this fact had to be so often repeated, some practical, sensible, economical man called the whole process "pros- pecting." So perfectly evident was the utility of this new word, that it was at once universally adopted. We arrived in a few days at Captain Butter's Hock Farm, so called from a small tribe of Indians in that vi- cinity. I called on the agent, and made some inquiries as to the mines. He replied that there was no material difference between the different mining localities, so far as he knew. Those on the Yuba River he knew to be good. We forded the Feather River a few miles below Hock Farm, and then took up this stream towards the Yuba, and encamped a little before sundown near the rancho of Michael Nye. Doctor Atkinson, then practicing his proRECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD PIONEER. fession in the valley, came to our camp. I inquired of him who resided in that house. He replied, "Mr. Nye." "What is his Christian name?" "Michael." I had known Michael Nye in Missouri, and my brother-in-law, John P. Rogers (who was with me) and Nye had been intimate friends when they were both young men. We at once called upon Nye at his house. He received us most kindly. He and his brother-in-law, William Foster, with their families, were living together. NYxt morning we left for the Yuba ; and after traveling some eight or ten miles, we arrived at noon on the brow of the hill overlooking Long's Bar. Below, glowing in the hot sunshine, and in the narrow valley of this lovely and rapid stream, we saw the canvas tents and the cloth shanties of the miners. There was but one log cabin in the camp. There were about eighty men, three women, and five children at this place. The scene was most beau- tiful to us. It was the first mining locality we had ever seen, and here we promptly decided to pitch our tent. We drove our wagons and teams across the river into the camp, and turned out our oxen and horses to graze and rest. rarrivedat the mines November 5, 1848; and the remainder of the day I spent looking around the camp. No miner paid the slightest attention to me. They were all loo busy. At last I ventured to ask one of them, whose appearance pleased me, whether he could see the particles of gold in the dirt. Though dressed in the garb of a rude miner, he was a gentleman and a scholar. He politely replied that he could ; and taking a handful of dirt, he blew away the fine dust with his breath, and showed me a scale of gold, about as thick as thin paper, and as large as a Hax seed. This was entirely new to me. In the evening, when the miners had quit work and re- turned to their tents and shanties, I found a number of 390 PETER H. BURNETT. old acquaintances, some from Missouri and others from Oregon. Among those from Missouri were Dr. John P. Long and his brother Willis, for whom this bar was named. I had not seen either of them for about six years, though our families were connected by marriage, Dr. Benjamin Long, another brother, having married my youngest sister, Mary Burnett. I was perfectly at home here. Nextday my brother-in-law, John P. Rogers, my nephew, Horace Burnett (both of whom had come with me from Oregon), and myself, purchased a mining location, front- ing on the river about twenty feet, and reaching back to the foot of the hill about fifty feet. We bought on credit, and agreed to pay for it $300 in gold dust, at the rate of $16 per ounce. We at once unloaded the two wagons, and sent them and the oxen and horses back to Nye's rancho, where we made our headquarters. As already stated, I had brought from Oregon new and suitable plank for a rocker, in the bottom of my wagon beds. The only material we had to purchase for our gold rocker was one small sheet of zinc. I went to work upon the rocker which I finished in one day ; and then we three set to work on the claim with a will. I dug the dirt, Horace Burnett rocked the rocker, and John P. Rogers threw the water upon the dirt containing the gold. Within about three or four days we were making $20 each daily, and we soon paid for our claim. We rose by daybreak, ate our breakfast by sunrise, worked until noon ; then took dinner, went to work again about half-past 12, quit work at sundown, and slept under a canvas tent on the hard ground. In the summer months the heat was intense in this deep, narrow, rocky, sandy, valley. The mercury would rise at times to 118 degrees in the shade. Dr. John P. Long told me that the sand and rocks became so hot during the day, that a large dog he had with him would RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD PIONEER. 391 suffer for water rather than go to the river for it before night. The pain of burned feet was greater to the poor dog than the pain of thirst. After our arrival the days were not so hot. This was a new and interesting position to me. After I had been there a few days I could tell, when the miners quit work in the evening, what success they had had dur- ing the day. When I met a miner with a silent tongue and downcast look, I knew that he had not made more than $8.00 or $10; when I met one with a contented but not excited look, I knew he had made from $10 to $20; but when I met one with a glowing countenance, and and quick, high, vigorous step, so that the rocks were not much if at all in his way, I knew he had made from $20 to $50. His tongue was so flexible and glib that he would not permit me to pass in silence, but must stop me and tell of his success. Ordinary hands were paid $12 a day, and boarded and lodged by the employer. I knew one young man who had been paid such wages for some time, but finally became disgusted and declared he would not work for such wages. It cost $1.00 each to have shirts washed, and other things in proportion. There was no starch in that camp, and shirts were not ironed. THE DONNER PARTY. During my stay in the mines I was several times at Nye's house, and on one. occasion I was there three days. I became well acquainted with William Foster and family. Foster, his wife, and Mrs. Nye were of the Donner party, who suffered so much in the winter of 184(>-'47. Mrs. Nye did not talk much, not being a talkative woman, and being younger than her sister Mrs. Foster. Mrs. Foster was then about twenty-three years old. She had a fine education, and possessed the finest narrative powers. I never met with any one, not even excepting Robert 392 PETER H. BURNETT. Newell of Oregon, who could narrate events as well as she. She was not more accurate and full in her- narra- tive, but a better talker, than Newell. For hour after hour, I would listen in silence to her sad narrative. Her husband was then in good circumstances, and they had no worldly matter to give them pain but their recollec- tions of the past. Foster was a man of excellent common sense, and his intellect had not been affected, like those of many others. His statement *was clear, consistent, and intelligible. In the fall of 1849 I became intimately ac- quainted with William H. Eddy, another member of the party. From these four persons I mainly obtained my information on this melancholy subject. I can not state all the minute circumstances and incidents, but can only give the substance as I remember it; for I write from memory alone. The Donner party consisted of about eighty immigrants, including men, women, and children. They were so called because the men who bore that name were the leading persons of the party. They decided for themselves to cross the Sierra Nevada by a new road. L. W. Hastings, then residing at Sutter's Fort, went out to meet the incom- ing immigration of that fall, and advised the Donner party not to attempt to open a new route, but his advice was disregarded. He returned to the fort and reported the fact to Captain Sutter, who sent out two Indians with five mules packed with provisions to .meet the party. The party had arrived at a small lake, since called Don- ner Lake, situated a short distance from the present site of Truckee City, and some fifteen miles from Lake Tahoe, and had erected two log cabins upon the margin of Don- ner Lake, when the Indians arrived with the mules and provisions. This was in the month of November, 1846. Up to this time there had been several comparatively light falls of snow. Foster said he proposed to slaughter RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD PIONEER. 393 all the animals, including the fat mules sent out by Cap- tain Sutler, and save their flesh for food. This could have readily been done then, and the people could have subsisted until relieved in the spring. But the immi- grants were not in a condition to accept or reject this proposition at once. They were unacquainted with the climate, could not well understand how snow could fall to a depth of twenty or thirty feet, and were so much worn down by the tedium of the long journey, and the absence of fresh meat and vegetables, that they were not prepared to decide wisely or to act promptly. Besides, the idea of living upon the flesh of mules and poor cattle was natu- rally repugnant to them. It is very probable that many of them considered such food unhealthy, and that, crowded as they were into two cabins, the use of such poor food might produce severe sickness among them, and many would die of disease. While they were considering and discussing this prop- osition, a terrible storm came up one evening, and snow fell to the depth of six feet during the night. The poor animals Hed before the driving storm and all perished ; the next morning there was one wide, desolate waste of snow, and not a carcass could be found. The little sup- ply of provisions they had on hand, including that sent by Captain Sutler, they saw could not last them long. They now fully comprehended their dreadful situalion. 1 1 was a lerrible struggle for existence. It was soon decided to start a party across the moun- tains on snowshoes. This party consisted of ten men, including the two Indians, live women, and a boy twelve years old, the brother of Mrs. Foster. I once knew the names of the eighl while men, but at this time I can only remember those of William II. Eddy and William Foster. The women were Mrs. Foster, Mrs. McCutchin, Mrs. , then a widow, bul subsequently Mrs. Nye, Mrs. 1'ilo, a 394 PETER H. BURNETT. widow, and Miss Mary , sister of Mrs. Foster, and sub- sequently wife of Charles Coviland, one of the original proprietors of Marysville, so named for her. This little party left the cabins on snowshoes, with one suit of clothes each, a few blankets, one axe, one rifle with ammunition, and a small supply of provisions. The sum- mit of the mountain where they crossed it was about fifty miles wide, and was covered with snow to the depth of ten or fifteen feet, and they could only travel from five to eight miles a day. On the summit and for some distance beyond it, not an animal could be found, as the wild game always instinctively fled before the snows of winter to the foothills, where the snows are lighter, and they could ob- tain food and escape from their enemies in flight. In the spring the wild grazing animals ascend the mountain as the snows melt, to crop the fresh grass and escape the flies. For the first few days they made good progress ; but while they were comparatively strong they could kill no game, because none could be found, and their provisions were rapidly consumed. When they had reached the western side of the summit, they encamped, as usual, on the top of the snow. They would cut logs of green wood about six feet long, and with them make a platform on the snow, and upon this make their fire of dry wood. Such a foun- dation would generally last as long as necessary ; but on this occasion it was composed of small logs, as the poor people were too weak from starvation to cut and handle larger ones ; and there came up in the evening a blind- ing, driving snowstorm, which lasted all that night and the next day and night. New snow fell to the depth of several feet. They maintained a good fire for a time, to keep themselves from freezing ; but the small foundation logs were soon burnt nearly through, so that the heat of the fire melted the snow beneath, letting them down grad- ually toward the ground, while the storm above was falling thick and fast. Toward midnight they found themselves in a circular well in the snow about eight feet deep, with the ice-cold water beginning to rise in the bottom. After the foundation was gone, they kept alive the fire by setting the wood on end and kindling the fire on top. While they were in this condition, one of the Indians, who had been sitting and nodding next the snow wall until he was almost frozen, made a sudden and desperate rush for the fire, upsetting and putting it out.
Eddy urged them to quit this well of frozen death, as it was impossible to live where they were, with their feet in ice water. They all climbed out of the well, spread one blanket on top of the snow, then seated themselves on this blanket, back to back, and covered their heads with the others. In this painful position they remained for the rest of the night, all the next day and night, and until some time after sunrise the last morning. During this time four or five of their number perished, one of whom was a boy. Mrs. Foster spoke of this young hero with the greatest feeling. His patience and resignation were of the martyr type. When we were reduced to half a biscuit each, he insisted that she should eat his portion as well as her own, but this she refused.
From this scene of death the survivors proceeded on their melancholy journey down the western side of the mountain. That evening, after they had encamped and kindled a blazing fire, one of the men, who had born the day's travel well, suddenly fell down by the fire, where he was warming himself, and expired. The cold, bracing air and the excitement and exertion of travel had kept him alive during the day ; but when he became warm his vital energies ceased. This is often the case under like circumstances. I have understood that deaths occurred in this manner among Fremont's men, while making the trip from Oregon to California in the winter of 1843-'44. 396 PETER H. BURNETT. At this camp another of the men sat down by a pine tree, leaned himself against it, and died. The remainder of this suffering party continued their journey. All the other men dropped off one after an- other, at intervals, except Eddy and Foster. When they had almost reached the point of utter despair, Eddy saw a deer, and made a good shot killing Ihe animal. This supplied them with food for a few days. After it was con- sumed, they met with a party of Indians, who furnished them with a small quantity of provisions. At length they arrived at the last encampment, and within six or eight miles of Johnson's rancho, on the east- ern side of the Sacramento Valley. Next morning Foster was unable to continue the journey, and refused to make another effort to walk. Eddy was the stouter man of the two, and he proceeded on his tottering course, leaving Foster and the five women at the camp. It was all Eddy could do to walk ; but, most fortunately, he soon found two friendly Indians, who kindly led him to Johnson's place, Eddy walking between them, with one hand on the shoulder of each Indian. They arrived at Johnson's house in the afternoon. Johnson was then a bachelor, but he had a man and his wife living with him. This lady was an admirable woman, full of humanity, and possessed of excellent sense, firm- ness, and patience. She knew from Eddy's condition what the poor sufferer needed. There were also several fami- lies of late immigrants residing temporarily in that vi- cinity. About ten men promptly assembled, and started for the camp, taking with them everything that was nec- essary. The relief men were piloted by the two humane Indians, and reached the camp a little after dark. Foster said that when t'hey heard the men coming through the brush toward the camp, the women began to cry most piteously, RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD PIONEER. 397 saying they were enemies coming to kill them ; but Foster comforted and pacified them by declaring that the men coming must be friends. The relief men SOOH came up, and were so much affected by the woeful spectacle that for some time they said not a word, but only gazed and wept. The poor creatures before them, hovering around that small camp fire, had been snowed on and rained on, had been lacerated, starved, and worn down, until they were but breathing skeletons. The clothes they wore were nothing but filthy rags, and their faces had not been washed or their heads combed for a month ; and the in- tellectual expression of the human countenance had al- most vanished. No case of human suffering could have been more terrible. No wonder that brave and hardy men wept like children. Of all the physical evils that waylay and beset the thorny path of human life, none can be more appalling than star- vation. It is not a sudden and violent assault upon the vital powers, that instinctive and intellectual courage may successfully resist; but it is an inexorable undermining and slow wasting away of the physical and mental ener- gies, inch by inch. No courage, no intellect, no martyr- spirit can possibly withstand this deprivation. When there is an entire deprivation of food it is said that the greatest pangs of hunger are felt on the third day. After that, the stomach, being entirely empty, contracts to a very small space, and ceases to beg for food; and the suf- ferer dies from exhaustion, without any violent pain. But, when there is an insufficient supply of food, the severe pangs of hunger must be prolonged, and the aggre- gate amount of suffering before death is most probably increased. The relief party did everything required for the poor sufferers, and next morning carried them to Johnson's house. The lady in charge was careful to give them at 398 PETER H. BURNETT. first a limited supply of food at a time. It required all her firmness and patience to resist their passionate en- treaties for more food. When the poor, starved creatures could not persuade they violently abused the good lady because she did not comply with their demands. Eddy said that he himself abused her in harsh terms. All this she bore with the kind patience of a good mother, waiting upon a sick and peevish child. I expressed my surprise to Eddy and Foster that all the women escaped, while eight out of the ten men perished, saying that I supposed it was owing to the fact that the men, especially at the beginning of the journey, had per- formed most of the labor. They said that, at the sta'rt, the men may have performed a little more labor than the women ; but taken altogether, the women performed more labor than the men, if there was any difference. After the men had become too weak to carry the gun, it was carried by the women. Women seemed to be more hope- ful than men in cases of extreme distress; and their or- ganization seems superior to that of men. A mother will sit up and wait upon a sick child much longer than the father could possibly do. The Eddy party were about thirty days in making the trip. Other parties left the cabins and made their way into the settlement, after losing a considerable portion of their number on the way. Many died at the cabins from starvation. Forty-four of the Donner party escaped, and thirty-six perished. A LONELY GRAVE -DEATH OF DAVID RAY JOHN C. McPHERSON. The first Sunday after my arrival in the mines, I was strolling on the side of the hill back of the camp, among the lonely pines, when I came suddenly upon a newly- made grave. At its head there was a rude wooden cross, RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD PIONEER. and from this symbol of Christianity I knew it was the grave of a Catholic. I never learned anything of the his- tory of the decease^. He was, most probably, some ob- scure and humble person. He had died and was buried before ray arrival. "But the sound of the church-going bell These valleys and rocks never heard ; Or sighed at the sound of a knell, Or smiled when a Sabbath appeared." Another death occurred in camp, and while I was there. It was that of David Ray. He was about thirty-five years of age, and his wife about thirty. They had five children, the eldest a daughter about twelve. They started from the State of Indiana. in the spring of 184.S, intending to locate in some of the agricultural valleys of California, not then knowing that gold had been discovered. But when they arrived they determined to stop at the mines for a time, and thus came to Long's Bar, on the Yuba River. Mr. Ray's business partner, Mr. Wright, was about the same age, unmarried, and sober, honest, industrious, and generous. He assisted Ray to build the only log cabin in the camp, for his wife and children without charge. This house was a rude structure of one room, about sixteen feet square, with a clapboard roof, wooden chimney, and dirt floor. Yet it was the palace of the camp, and was the only place where one could enjoy a cheerful fire without being annoyed by the smoke. At all the cloth shanties and tents we had to make our fires in the open air. About two weeks after my arrival Mr. Ray was attacked with fever, and died within a week. Neither he nor his widow had any relatives in California, and all the people of the camp were late acquaintances, except Mr. Wright. Our tent was near Mr. Ray's house and we soon became acquainted. He and his wife were devoted Methodists. 400 PETER H. BURNETT. She was a small, delicate woman, with a sweet musical voice and an eloquent tongue. We buried him among the stately pines, in the open woods, where the winds might murmur a solemn and lonely requiem to his memory. All the people of the camp left their work and attended the burial ; and I never witnessed a more, sorrowful scene. There were no tearless eyes in the assemblage. No clergyman was present, but at the lonely grave of her husband Mrs. Ray made an im- promptu address, which affected me so much that I soon wrote out its substance, preserving her own expressions so far as I could remember them. The following is a copy of what I then wrote: O David ! thou art cold and lifeless. Litfle dost thou know the sor- rows thy poor and friendless and sickly wife now suffers. Thou art gone from me and from our children forever. Thou wert ever kind to me ; you loved me from my girlhood. O friends ! he was a man without reproach, beloved by all who knew him. He was a just man, honest in all his dealings. He did unto others as he wished they should do unto him. He defrauded no one. He was a pious and steady man; a profane oath had never escaped his lips, even from a boy; he was never found at the grog shop or the gambling table. He it was who lifted the prayerful hands. His creed was peace. He died in his right mind, with a conscience void of reproach, and committed his children to my charge. The only thing that wounded his conscience was .the reflection that, on the road from Indiana to this country, he was compelled to do things that grieved his righteous soul he was compelled to labor on the Sabbath day. But he is gone to a bet- ter world, where his weary spirit will be at rest. Oh, if he had only died in a Christian land ! But the thought of his being buried in this lonely and wicked place ! He has left me alone in a land of strangers, a poor, sickly, weakly woman. Who shall now read to me from the Bible, and wait upon me in my sickness ? For months and years he waited upon his sickly wife without a murmur. He was ever a tender husband to me, but he has gone and left me. Who is here to sympa- thize with me ? Ah, me, what shall I do ? While in the mines I became acquainted with John C. McPherson, a young, genial spirit from old Scotland. He was a generous soul, and cared little for wealth. On UKCOLLKCTIONS OF AN OLD PIONKKR. 401 Christmas eve he composed a very pretty song, begin- ning, " Yuba, dear Yuba." He has since written many poetical pieces, and many prose communications for the newspapers. One thing can be said of genial, kindly McPherson, that there is Dot a particle of malice in his composition. No one ever thought of suing him for libel, for he never wrote a harsh word of any one, living or dead. No one then in the mines except McPherson had poetic fire enough in his soul to write a song. We spent many pleasant evenings together, around the camp fire at Long's Bar.