Four Months Among the Gold-Finders in Alta California: Being the Diary of an Expedition From San Francisco to the Gold Districts — John Shaqi
Four Months Among the Gold-Finders in Alta California: Being the Diary of an Expedition From San Francisco to the Gold DistrictsVizetelly, Henry
History
Four Months Among the Gold-Finders in Alta California: Being the Diary of an Expedition From San Francisco to the Gold Districts
Vizetelly, Henry
California -- Fiction; Gold mines and mining -- Fiction
We struck our tents yesterday morning, loaded our horses, and took our
departure. The river, at the fording-place, was broad and rapid, but
shallow; the principal difficulties in the ford arose from the number
of smooth round stones, covered with green rince slime, which formed
the bed of the river, and over which our horses stumbled, with a
violence which threatened to disturb the fastening of their burdens. No
disaster, however, actually occurred, except to poor Horry, whose horse
stumbled over a large boulder, and pitched its luckless rider over its
head into the water, to the undissembled delight of the entire party,
who hailed the poor sailor's discomfiture with loud bursts of laughter.
Horry made the best of his way to the farther bank, without paying any
more attention to his horse, which, however, emerged from the water,
and was on dry land as soon as Horry himself.
We now proceeded along the right bank of the North Fork, and on the
opposite side we caught a glimpse of a party of Indians at work, which
we afterwards learned were that of Mr. Sinclair. In one week this party
had gathered sixteen pounds troy of fine washed gold dust. They worked
hard, were well fed, and had liberal rations of "strong water" daily.
We rested a couple of hours at noon, in a pleasant bottom, heavily
timbered, and afterwards, striking away from the river at an acute
angle, moved leisurely on through a broken country, intersected by many
water-courses, and overgrown with dense clusters of trees.
During our afternoon march we passed several deserted Indian
villages--the round-shaped skeletons of the huts alone remaining to
mark the former settlements. Not a member of the tribe, however, was to
be seen; the beaver may build and the deer pasture hereabouts in peace.
Towards evening we entered the valley drained by the stream called
Weber's Creek. Its appearance was very beautiful, and the stream
descended along a steep rocky bed, foaming round large boulder stones,
and tumbling down low ledges of granite. The grassy slopes of the
valley are cut up in all directions with rivulets, the courses of which
are marked by luxuriant underwood, rank grass, and groves of stunted
oaks. Two or three arbours were to be seen with one or two rude-looking
tents, all with blazing fires before them. We encamped forthwith,
hoping the next day to reach a station which we could make available
for our purpose.
We were early on the move this morning, and soon saw several parties of
threes and fours washing in the bed of the river, or exploring the
mountain gorges with their shovels and mattocks. The weather was
getting oppressively hot; indeed, the further we got from the
Sacramento the hotter did it become. The sea-breeze never penetrates
here to refresh us, and, except when an occasional squall comes
sweeping down from the hills, the air is very oppressive.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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