Sixteen months at the gold diggingsWoods, Daniel B.
History
Sixteen months at the gold diggings
Woods, Daniel B.
California -- Description and travel; California -- Gold discoveries; Frontier and pioneer life -- California
Several were dangerously ill at the time of Mr. Ridout’s death, and,
soon after, our worthy president was at once prostrated by a similar
attack. For many hours we watched over him, endeavoring to cheer and
comfort him. At the last, he came to the conclusion that he must die.
Sending for me, he made me promise to visit his family on Red River, and
be the bearer to them of the sad intelligence; also of many messages,
which he delivered with the fortitude of a Christian philosopher; but
once, when speaking of his wife, his voice was choked, and the strong
man turned aside his head to weep. To my earnest entreaty that he would
postpone the subject till he was better--indeed, my own feelings were
so much overcome, that I feared I should lose control of myself in his
presence--he replied that he must finish, and then his mind would be at
rest. He feared not to die, but he would have desired to be at home, if
it had been the will of God; but he could not complain. He gave me, for
his family, his journal, a few articles of value, and his bag of gold.
His tent, clothing, tools, &c., he gave to his servant, old Allen, to
whom he had promised his freedom when he should leave the country, and
to whom he requested me to give free papers in the event of his death.
He told me, in conclusion, where he wished to be buried, and the mode of
his burial. Hearing that my valued friend, Dr. Candee, of Park Place,
New York, was in the neighborhood, I sent to him, urgently requesting
him to visit Dr. Hotchkiss. To my great relief, he was soon at his side,
and his prescriptions were blessed to his recovery.
These cases of sickness very much hastened the breaking up of our mining
operations for the season. Many of the company left for the mountains,
to be ready for the winter diggings.
Nov. 9th. This is my last day at the mines. We removed our cradles this
morning to the portion of the channel from which we had taken out the
largest amount of gold, hoping that we might find the vein again. There
were favorable indications close under the centre wall; but the vein
dipped below the wall, and we worked on, at every step undermining it,
and still led on by the hope of reaching one of those rare deposits in
which thousands are found. We were more encouraged in this idea by
learning, on good evidence, that from one small spot near us, in the
same channel, one miner, the last year, took $17,000. Why might not we
strike it also? Every appearance encouraged us, when we were aroused by
a sudden and loud call from one of the directors, who had discovered two
leaks in the dam, a few feet apart. In an instant we all rushed, with
our spades and barrows of dirt, to the breaches, which each moment gaped
wider, and presented a more hopeless appearance. All our efforts would
have been vain, and the dam swept away, but for the aid of another
company near us. There was no more work, however, to be done that day,
every thing being under the water. That was the last of my gold-digging.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account