“‘There were but four American ladies in California when I arrived. I found myself alone, a stranger in a strange land; but, with courageous heart, pure purpose, judgment matured by experience, and a firm trust in God, I had no fears for success. I soon became familiar with the marvellous richness of the mines, the solitary life and many wants of the miners. My opportunity was apparent. Purchasing a small assortment of stationery, consisting chiefly of pens, ink, paper, envelopes, and postage stamps, I visited the various mining camps, selling my wares to the miners, writing letters for many whose hands were so stiffened that they could not guide a pen, and singing the simple ballads I had learned in the days of prosperity. They paid me generously, often an hundredfold the value of their purchase. I was everywhere received and treated with a respect akin to idolatry, regarded, indeed, as a being almost supernatural. These noble-hearted men, remembering beloved ones they had left in the States, were so respectful, so kind, so attentive, it seemed that they could not do enough for me. Commencing thus, afar up in the Sierras, near Hangtown (Placerville), I visited all the mining regions, until I arrived at Yreka, a new camp, just then creating the wildest excitement. “‘I had now money enough to carry out the design nearest my heart, of going East, and returning with my mother to live at San Francisco. While at Yreka, I put up at the principal hotel, a half-finished house, with rooms separated by light board partitions, and crowded with the varieties of a thriving mining town. “‘One evening, after a day of more fatiguing labor than usual, I retired early, but could not sleep. While tossing upon the pillow, I heard two men enter the adjoining room, and engage in earnest conversation. I could hear distinctly every word they uttered, and the subject they were discussing very soon riveted my attention. They were planning a murder and robbery. In the midst of their conversation, another man entered, whom they saluted by the name of Boone Helm. He seemed to be their leader, for he proceeded at once to describe the home and surroundings of the intended victim, said he had been there and shared his hospitality for several weeks; spoke of the road leading there, the trail from the road to the house, and the distance of the large herd of cattle, and the ready sale for them at Yreka. “‘“We cannot,” said he, “make more money in a shorter time, with greater ease, and less liability to detection, than to go there and dispose of the man and take his property.”