"My grist mill was never finished. Everything was stolen, even the stones. There is a saying that men will steal everything but a mile-stone and a mill-stone. They stole my mill-stones. They stole the bells from the Fort, and gate-weights; the hides they stole, and salmon barrels. I had two hundred barrels which I made for salmon. Some of the cannon at the fort were stolen. * * My property was all left exposed, and at the mercy of the rabble, when gold was discovered. My men all deserted me. I could not shut the gates of my Fort, and keep out the rabble. They would have broken them down. The country swarmed with lawless men. Emigrants drove their stock into my yard, and used my grain with impunity. Expostulation did no good. I was alone. There was no law." In face of all these disadvantages he struggled on until farm helpers demanded ten dollars per day, then, a hopeless old man, he gave up the struggle, and in 1849, with his Indians, he moved into Hock Farm, little dreaming that his Fort was to be the nucleus for Sacramento, the second city as to size in California. He retired, but his son took the reins out of the father's feeble hands, and staked out a town around the Old Fort, down to the embarcadero, and along the river front, naming the settlement Sacramento. The streets were laid out eighty feet wide, except the centre one, M street, which was one hundred feet in width. The purchasing of more than four lots by one person was discouraged. At first Sacramento was a "city of tents, with its future on paper;" but by April of that year, 1849, building lots were selling at from one thousand to three thousand dollars a piece; at that time there were twenty-five or thirty stores upon the embarcadero, and, in the vicinity of the Fort, eight or ten more. There was a hotel, a printing office, bakery, blacksmith's shop, tin-shop, billiard room, and bowling alley. In that month of April, the city had the honor of becoming a port of entry. By June of the same year, one hundred houses graced the city. A few months later the city hotel was completed at a cost of one hundred thousand dollars, and rented to Messrs. Fowler and Fry for five thousand dollars per month. In 1850, the scourge of cholera broke out, carrying off one-fifth of those remaining in Sacramento. The city was full to overflowing with a transient population. Accommodations were scant and primitive, vice and disorder prevailed. The disease became rampant. Patients at the hospital were charged sixteen dollars per day. Then it was that the order of Odd Fellows came nobly forward, setting to that plague-stricken district an example of charity and philanthropy long to be remembered, and accenting the fact "that simple duty has no place for fear!"