In my haste, I forgot that there was a bend in the bank of the stream below us, making it necessary for me to take a circuit round in order to reach my companions. I soon found myself lodged among the bushes and stones at the bottom of the bank. Then came over me a nervous feeling like a nightmare, and I could already feel myself in the grasp of the grisly bear--his claws and teeth were in my flesh. Dropping my ax, and every thing but my blankets, and losing one of my shoes, I began an imaginary scramble and flight from my imaginary pursuer. The remainder of the night I passed, wrapped up in my blankets, by the log-fire. A walk of twelve miles the day following brought me to the Stanislaus, where I was to separate from my companions, who had not yet come up--they going on to Stockton, and I to the Stanislaus diggings. The rain continued to pour down. Little dreamed our friends at home of our situation then! With scarcely a dollar in our pockets, a long journey before us, cold, hungry, and wet, our oppressed hearts were ready to sink. Alas! little did I anticipate what a gloomy future was before two of those companions! One of them was the only and the idolized son of his parents, and tenderly and dearly loved by his sisters. His home possessed every comfort and convenience. He had come far from his father’s house to perish with hunger. He resolved, “I will arise and go to my father.” But that father and that heart-broken mother he was no more to see. A year after we parted--and oh! what a year of suffering and privation must that have been--with that companion of his boyhood and youth, he reached Chagres in most destitute circumstances. To raise money enough to take him home, he engaged as a boatman on the river, took the fever, and died. In consequence of my recent exposure, I had a severe cold, and was entirely unable to travel; yet I had no means of paying my expenses at a ranch. Under these circumstances, I crossed the Stanislaus, went to the ranch of Mr. George Islip, a gentleman from Canada, and told him my situation. “Give yourself no uneasiness,” he said; “you are welcome as long as you choose to remain with us; all I request of you is that you will feel yourself at home.” I passed a very pleasant week with this noble-hearted man, and was treated as a brother. The wind had blown down his house, and torn the canvas roof to ribbons, and we were without shelter from the pelting rain; but warm fires, kept up in the middle of the temporary shelter, made us comfortable. To protect my body from the rain, I would creep under the table, managing to keep my feet near the fire. After a week of interesting and wild adventure, I was set over the river by my friend, and started for the mines again. The roads were very muddy, and the streams forded with difficulty. In my first day’s walk I passed three wagons which were mired--a common occurrence at this season of the year. There were many dead animals by the road side.